#my nose has been running non stop and it kind of hurts to swallow and it's like my crops wre watered

[france-isnt-real]

probably says something about my chronic lack of attention span that i'm way more productive when slightly ill

[bemylord]

ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛ + ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀᴄᴀʀᴇ │ ᴅɪʟꜰ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ ᴛᴏᴊɪ

pairings: toji fushiguro x fem!reader.

warnings: nsfw, spit kink, spanking, slap on the cheeks [once], size kink, belly bulge, tears, creampie, marks, dom/sub, cockwarming, nicknames, butt plug, edging [mentioned], degrading, gagging, oral [both?], breeding kink + aftercare and praising <3 grammar issues.

word counter: 4.2k

butler's note: extra hot and extra big. it must a 4.7k but i though it'd be too long, so i deleted some parts. if you like dilf toji - butler's here to serve your thirst. i did toji in his 30s not in 40s bc megumi is three years old.

'on your knees, slut' you swallowed, dare to have a quick look on your daddy before stood on the knees. toji will give you the punishment in a few seconds - you had given up on making excuses, yet preparing your throat and holes for his cock.

the playroom, which toji designated as the 'basement' for megumi, so that his son wouldn't enter, is arranged in relatively red colors: only the toy chest of drawers was made of wood, which had a shade of terracotta.

toji is into toys. edging you 'till your pussy will be soaked enough or else he'd turn the vibrator on the max, sat on the chair in front of the bed, putting his elbows on the armrests, making himself comfortable in the cushioned chair, to watch as how you're being a desperate slut for him.

trying to squirm from vibration on your overstimulated clit, as your legs have shaken as the toy brought you the new piece of the orgasm. toji commanded you to intently stare into his green lewd eyes as you feel the oncoming orgasm.

tears had come to the corners of your eyes, as you had reached the orgasm. you had given up counting the highest you've been reaching, but you knew toji hadn't touched himself - his balls are full of sperm to breed your pussy and mouth.

he turned off the toy, lightly rubbing your clit, as you arch the back for toji's caresses - he had enough to make a few circles as you milked on his fingers.

'your pussy so soaked, your juices are oozing all over your thighs,' he kissed the inner thighs, moving soft kisses to the succulent place. 'let daddy taste it.'

certainly, his tongue could bring you another pleasant satisfaction feeling in minutes due to the kind of torture he had placed you. he licked your oozing hole, tasting the juices, mooing into your bosom, causing vibrations.

you abruptly exhale, as toji moves his mouth to your swollen clit - you've been tortured and haggard, but you'll give your daddy the last creampie on his cock, will you?

of course, you will. you will milk his thick, hot cock when the tip literally touching your cervix, replenishing your vagina with his sperm. you had dig nails into his back, milking the cock, produce the white ring around the cock base, hearing as toji groans into your ear.

now, he won't be lenient. you had been a bad girl, very-very bad girl. you got daddy's permission to cum, didn't you? to be an obedient whore - is your role in the sex, so why did you disobedient the simple rule? you wanted a punishment.

toji sat on the upholstered chair, spreading his legs wide apart as if calling you to have your place. his cock is bulging from the sports pants - despite it was baggy, it seems that the cock would rip the material if it could do it.

you glare at him once again: green eyes are focusing solely on you, devouring, waiting for you to touch the cock with your tongue. he put elbows on the armrests, grinning - it's gonna be the rough punishment.

you placed palms on his knees, rubbing them slowly as if wobbling, should you continuing or you should have to stop. you're unhurriedly moving hands towards the bulge, lick the parched lips - soon, there will be his semen.

you touch his outlining dick with one finger, feeling how hard it is, how big your daddy cock is. the one thing that has been stopping his cock from being in your mouth - the elastic. you've lowered his pants, freeing up a fat cock.

you dare to look at the cock, before pulling it in inside your warm wet mouth: a small amount of precum on the pink glans and the protruding vein on the side of his cock, which you always had licked first. as usual - balls have a large amount of white, salty liquid to paint your mouth and pussy into white color.

fuck, perfect dilf in the prime of his life. toji in his 30s but his cock is fucking amazing. jesus, he's fucking good: he always pleases your needs with his cock, his fingers, his tongue.

fuck, what a perfect daddy you've gotten. primarily, toji hired you as a babysitter for his son, but lately, the both of you began to experience a completely non-working relationship, crossing the thin line of 'friendship' or 'boss and employee'.

do you mind when toji kisses your lips in the morning before making you a cup of coffee? do you ever put resistance towards his attempts to love you?

he snapped you out of your memories with a light slap on the cheek, more like a small touch of his palm on your cheek. toji put his chin on the palm as the little finger slightly covers the scar on his lip.

'suck my cock and gag on it.'

you wrapped your small palms around the base, licking the precum turning your head to lick the prominent vein. you had kept asking yourself, how does his fat cock fit in your little mouth?

although, toji fushiguro is definitely maddening by your small mouth that barely could fit the entire cock. the rare occasion when you managed to touch your nose against his pubic - after touching the bristle hair, you found yourself in tears as the glans touching the throat.

he'd lie if he tells he doesn't like when you get choked by his thick cock. toji feels like he's in heaven - doesn't need to use hands to press your head deep into the base. though, he could do it unexpectedly, take you off guard, overhearing as to how you're getting choked.

you're suctioning the cock as if it a lollipop with strawberry or cherry flavor, sucking as if you've been thirsty for weeks. scattering kisses along the length, pulling out the cock from the mouth with a pop sound.

the sound echoes through the room chugging and chomping. toji is smirking as seeing as his dick disappears inside your mouth, feeling as your tongue playing with the base inside. suddenly, you felt his big palms on your head, as he warned you with his giggled, suc as a telltale sign.

relentlessly, literally from the first second he had touched your hair, he fucks your throat without mercy as if you don't feel any pain. predilection of choke you with his cock.

you're trying to breath with a nose, but [forgive me] as toji replace palms to the throat and nose - this is what he calls a real suffocation. tears are running on your cheek as the glans touches your tonsillar.

'look me in the face, slut' he placed both palms on your throat, periodically squeezing and giving you few seconds to fill your lunges with the air.

you stare at the eyes full of lewd and the pleasure of your weeping face, he knows it hurts and throat will be sore in the morning - that is the reason why he will give you a day off on his large bed, where you'll be resting as toji will take of his son.

he will forbid you to get out of bed as if you could get out - the ass will burn as if you had been fucked by several men, not by one cock. by the way, you don't need several men as you've got toji. toji fushiguro and his cock will rip your pussy like you've been needy for it

there are times when the sorcerer killer is soft, his pace is slow as he covers your collarbone with quick hickeys that go away after a few minutes. he worships you like his queen, whispering that he will marry you one day.

'you're gonna be my little girl forever, only mine girl.'

don't think toji is a monster who loves to fuck you until you'll be a dumb as his cock breeding your pussy, you like it as well, when toji spanking your ass contemporaneously caresses your clit, reaching the new wave of orgasm on his cock.

'open your mouth little one.'

you pull out his cock, open your mouth wide, letting the saliva dripping down onto the chin, as you stick out the tongue. he cups your face, spitting in your mouth, mingling your drools together. you swallowed the mixture as a good girl, stick out again, asking for the supplementation.

'should daddy gives you more, should daddy kisses your lips?'

'yes, daddy, kiss me.' he squeezes the throat at your response.

'yes, daddy, kiss your slut, kiss her, please.'

he smiled, noticing how obedient you are by calling yourself his slut. he lowered his body down to kiss your mouth with a tongue, making you completely a mess, as you moan into the kiss. a small reward before the punishment.

he kisses your lower lip, slightly bites it, taking off your wet panties. not breaking the kiss, he runs the finger in your crotch, has a sensation of your dripping pussy - daddy's perfect slut. he entered with one finger without any warning, feeling your gooey walls.

you opened your eyes from the unaware action, staring into the green, loved one's eyes, feeling as his tongue is playing with yours, his finger tasting and preparing your hole for his cock.

'suck my finger and taste yourself'

you wrapped his wrist with a palm, taking in your mouth the soaked finger in your juice - toji's sperm is tasting better than any other liquid. he gets up from the chair, walking towards the drawer to get the toy.

'what color of the plug my slut wants?'

'whichever daddy chooses'

he put the one with a white, fluffy tail, lubricating hands, and plug. you knees on the edge of the bed, licking lips as anticipating the plug in your hole. fushiguro runs a finger along your hole, lubricating the ass, so it won't hurt too much - only his dick can bring the pleasant tingles.

he entered with one finger, feeling as the tight hole immediately squeezes it. he kissed your asscheeks, replacing into the toy. the sensation of the cool toy made you wobble your pelvis, but instantly you felt the strong hands of Toji, which calmed you down.

you had felt as the toy slowly coming inside the non-stretched, tight hole. you exhaled, arching the back, silently begging for the drooling pussy to be stretched with his fat cock. but instead of his cock you felt as his palms found themselves on your butt, squeezing them.

you screamed when toji spanked the right cheek. you've practically fallen as if toji's another palm which is holding you, so you wouldn't twitch and sneak away from the spanking.

another hit on your butt and another and another. your soft and once pristine skin is now covered with the marks of toji's palms, he marvels as he looks at the 'art' he has created - one touch and you shudder in suffering.

'turn around and face me.'

you hardly turn your body, looking from the bottom to meet his gaze - you've got a lovely opportunity to watch as he takes off the black t-shirt, he threw his arms back, pulling the fabric down, tossing it aside, placing his knee on the bed, opening your mouth with his hand.

he spits again in your mouth, as your hands found themselves on his stomach, outlining his sculpted abs with your fingernails. his muscular, athletic body feels so pleasant under your soft pads.

'give my dick a kiss before i'll rip your pussy'

once again you feel the hard cock in your mouth, salivating the base, pulling out to play with balls for a little. he groaned as felt your mouth has taken one ball then another, playing as toji loves, ogling at his foggy gaze and sanity. his cock twitched, when you kiss the head, turned your body.

his pads deftly find your clit, as the killer lay down on the stomach, moving your hips towards his face, forcing you to repeat his movement and lie on your tummy. he tucked the tail on your back, examining your oozing hole.

he couldn't help but bury his face on your pussy, tasting the arousal, knowing who your hole, body, and mind are belonging to. your arousal as well, tearing apart your pussy with fingers, entering inside with his tongue.

as if he could reach the spongy bug inside your vagina - he will wake you up every morning with a tongue.

going in and out in sharp movements, then lick the entrance such in a tease way. he had added two fingers simultaneously as you immediately squeezed 'em, quelling your moans with the pillow.

with one hand toji is stretching your gummy walls, feeling the friction when you adjust to his thick fingers; with another, he spanks your red butt cheeks, bringing you the discomfort.

't-daddy, i-i'm..'

'you've got my permission, cum on daddy's mouth.'

he caresses your clit with circles, anticipating for the liquid he'll lick. the euphoria had covered you surprisingly, when toji removed the plug, had kissed your ass. his strong hands were holding your legs widely as you were giving daddy the liquid he had been waiting.

licking the drooling cunt 'till your clarity is hazed and dazed by the marvelous feeling, you couldn't think clear, murmuring him different phrases.

'daddy, please fuck me rough, please, i need your thick fat cock in my pussy, daddy~'

you've purred like a cat last word, rocking the hips as you're still in the clouded conduction, unconsciously murmuring his nickname, stuck your butt.

'how can daddy say no to his baby girl.'

toji bent you over on the back, without hesitation threw legs over his shoulders. he spits on the pussy, smearing the saliva on the enterance. although you've been stretching before, his head had come inside with an effort, giving the moment to adjust to his size as the glance have touched the cervix, filling the space.

feel of being full by his cock definitely the best you had ever felt. you're melting by his warm and sweet body - drops of sweet starts to appear on the muscules as you're clenching the dick inside, attempting to adapting to his cock. he fucked your pussy almost every night, but tho you still fucking tight.

that's the thing toji loves - your hole as if renewal, making it difficult to fuck your relentnessly, so in the morning there will the pain between your thighs. he'll apologize with his tongue on your pussy, eating you as you like it.

the moment you clenched his wrists, leaving half-moon marks there, telltale sign for toji to move the pelvis. he pull his cock out to the glans, giving it back in a second, kissing your ankles, staring into your eyes, wrapping hands below the knees, using your legs to push into your wet bosom, stretching the walls to paint after in a white hue.

he moves the pelvis forth and back, beating out the moans out of your mouth, smiling to be the one who can and will bring pleasure to your body and mind. toji casts an insatiable glance over your body - with every thrust into your drooling pussy, your breasts bounce as your palms clutch the sheet, hoping to compensate for the blows.

as well, you glance over the man figure, staring as toji's chest rises when he goes all the way in. when he breathes out, his abdomen is visibly showing you the muscular. you clench the dick, as you have touched the abs, deftly touching his tense stomach.

you caught him twice in the gym, when you wanted to wake up megumi, had stopped by the crack in the door, had a peek on toji's body: wet, strong, and tense as he was standing in the plank position.

you had allowed yourself to watch as he exercises, had forgotten about the task to wake his son - wet strands of dark color fell on his face, if you pussy can talk, it would definitely say: 'fuck me, toji.' thank god your vagina is incapable of spilling your desire.

the goosebumps had covered your body as you saw toji's eyes were focusing solely on you, when you turned your head to look at the time - six in the morning, - you quickly ran to the 'gumi's room, pretending you weren't stalking.

does it count as stalking? toji should lock the door, you were just.. staring as he was exercising.

the next time he asked you to count his push-ups. you were happy. you nodded as the response, counting, as toji suddenly ask a question.

'lay on my back, y/n.'

you barely answered: 'yes, daddy.' again, you nodded uncertainly, afraid to make the slightest movement. can he hold you? but you wanted to feel his strong body more than anything else, and besides - he's your boss, you have to obey him.

you did as you told: first, you sat on his butt, then you lay down on his back with your stomach. surprisingly, he bent his arms faster, like you were a feather.

'one hundred, mr. fushiguro.'

you get on the floor, kinda upset leaving his body.

'you are so easy, have you eaten? i'll order us some food, you should eat more.'

the 'compliment' that toji had addressed to you made you blushed, as you found yourself smiling, looking at his face. you show by the gesture sigh 'okay', left the room.

'and it's toji, for you.'

you had murmured his name in the nights when you were closed as now, masturbating your little clit, pronouncing his name.

'toji.'

he suggested you move in with him because it was difficult to get to his house - he lived far from the city and transportation didn't go to the place.

'toji~'

you purred the boss's name, as the orgasm with a tremble covered your body, leaving you desperate to quell his name in your hand. you were thinking that the owner of the name is sleeping like his son is, therefore you could please your needs.

he was awakened as hell - being a sorcerer killer giving him the opportunity to sneak up on the victim quietly. especially to the mere human like you, who haven't got any curse energy or a good ear to overhear as he's jerking his cock, listening how you're cumming.

a kind of 'we're even' when you peeked at him.

the thing you didn't know is - toji always had peeked on you. in the shower, in the kitchen when you're wearing those fucking tiny shorts or when you just-just have awakened, aimlessly stretching your arms above the head, exposing your breasts as your top went up.

always.

now you are thinking about his massive cock is filling the former empty pussy, thrusting harder when your harsh and resounding voice caresses his ears - a delight to 'em.

the squelches are filling the game room, as you put your legs around his torso, making him bend over towards your face and kiss you.

in this position he could kiss your peachy lips, demolishing the coil in your stomach by his cock.

as soon as you started to rock your hips towards his cock, he momentary started to fuck you mercilessly, feeling as you're dragging nails through his back - he wants to find in the morning a dozen of red stripes dotted on his broad back.

he moves on your neck, like a habit of marking your conspicuous collarbones with hickeys and bites, dragging your teeth across your shoulders, leaving through the way bites or kisses, groaned at your skin.

his back as a bare canvas and your fingers are brushed with which you skillfully paint indecipherable red patterns.

your hole is constricting as toji started to fuck you brainless, grabbing your thighs, leaving a trail of half-moons there, driving the cock all the way in, balls slapping against your ass, prompting squelches that echo around the room.

thanks, megumi had never see as his father fucks the babysitter. megumi once called you mom, but you explained that you ain't his mom, in the response, you heard:

'but my dada [dad] said i can call you my mom'

you saw as toji smiles, waiting for your answer. then you have begun to know each other as partners. toji had known you're gonna the perfect mom and wifey.

'megumi will wake up soon.'

'i will take care of him.'

he kissed your lips before distracted himself from your lips to rock your uterus hard. you're both at your limit, feeling the breath becoming short and the heart beginning to pound frantically - soon the both of you will reach your orgasm.

he put your arm on the tummy, entering as far as it goes, as you felt his cock protrude. he murmured softly through gritted teeth: 'i'm here, baby.'

toji tossed his hand back, when the strands have finally covered his view of you, staring at your cute facial emotions as you're closing your eyes tight, shrinking the hole, milking his cock to cover walls in the white hue.

'cum with me, doll, cum, cum, cum-'

you have come first, creating a ring around his base, sucking out his sperm. his groaning filled the whole room as he fills your walls with his semen. the cock still pulsing in your hole that has been squeezing.

he bent your body over, making you lay down on his chest with the cock inside. your heart beats frantically in your chest as you both try to regain your breath. you squeeze his cock once more, feeling your joined fluid oozing slightly from your hole.

he put his hand behind his head, the other holding your waist. your body trembles slightly in a post-orgasmic state - toji is ready for round two, you can see it in his smug face.

'my good girl, you are my little girl'

you kissed his chest, moving towards his lips, wiggling hips to tease your lover.

'say it again, toji.'

'that you're my pretty little girl or that i love you so much, which one?'

you like hearing toji saying he loves you, kiss your palms and one finger on which he wants to wear a ring that will bind you by the bonds of marriage.

he's certain right now - he had found his family. his wife. he gently kisses your face, as if afraid to scare you off, pulling out his flaccid cock, to bring you as soon as it possible to his face, letting you sit on his stomach.

you run your hands over his strong shoulders, giggling - how he will explain that scratches to megumi? he ran his pads over your tired body, touching you lightly on your oozing crotch.

'love, we should take a bath.'

'not before i dot your body with kisses'

he again bent you over on your stomach, kissing the back of the shoulders, slowly coming down on your butt. as an apology, he grabbed your butt softly, leaving on the red butt-cheeks kisses.

he might be a psycho while spanking you, although always making out with kisses through all your body.

'megumi is probably have woken up, toji~'

'lay down here, princess, i will take care of our son'

he pulled on his sweatpants as he left the room. sex with him at times like this - is exhausting. you didn't notice how he covered you with a sheet before feeding his son. megumi asked him where you are, but toji answered him in a manly way:

'she's resting now after having s-, after playing, 'gumi'

'playin'? why i didn't play?'

he only sighed as he helped his son to eat. a childish question that he could have answered, but he didn't.

when you woke up, you found out toji's head between your legs as he licked you. you didn't try to push him away, you just spread your legs wide.

'you're awake now, baby.'

he kissed your inner thigh, wrapping his teeth around your clit, not biting it, just feeling how tender it is.

'toji, where's megumi?'

you literally jumped out of bed if it wasn't for his hand on your knee. he kisses your hole, clearly hearing you purr.

'baby, he's playing in the garden. focus on the euphoric feeling.'

regardless of still being tired from the spicy hours, you gave yourself to his tongue, allowing him to bring you one more orgasm before you will walk to the megumi to say good morning.

the only thing better than toji's tongue - his thick cock.

you had enough for a few minutes, lavishing his mouth with liquid. he chuckled, licking up all the drops, moving closer to your face to give you a morning kiss.

'good morning, little one.'

* * *

i'm sorry again for the mistakes and the long oneshot, maybe, you don't like big ones and i should make drabbles? it must a drabble, tho. okay, 0.3 notes [because i know it's huge, and you love drabble rather than os] and i'll write abt dilf satoru gojo?

↳ back to the main master list.

[darthwheezely]

dating fred weasley and being a ravenclaw

wow i am a SIMP for this man! this ain’t new info but! he is truly such a divine man and like…yeah i had to- also this might be longer because Fred has a lot more things to cover in terms of this and his own issues sksksjjs

warnings: light smut, angst at parts, wicked hot men named frederick gideon weasley, mentions of sexual degrading and not the hot or kinky kind :/ basically dudes being scumbags

people that might like this (?): @whiz-bangs78 @wand3ringr0s3 @gcdric @thatdumbbitchxx @pansydaisy​@vogueweasley @slytherinsunrise @thehufflepuffwife @theweasleyslut dm me to be on the twins taglist or for requests for blurbs/ships/one shots :)

fred thinks you’re an actual literal on god 111% angel sent by god

i swear-

he basically runs into (…literally) when escaping from filch, and knocks into you coming out of transfiguration

and i shit you not, he catches you by the waist like mid dip

oh my GOD please I’m in love with him

Fred Weasley, professional jackass, looked down at you hand still on your waist. He grinned at you and winked and you swore to god you heard the sparkle sound effect. “Hullo, gorgeous.” He heard filch scream “WEASLEY!” and broke away from you, pulling you up and pushing you off of him, leading a running filch to slip in the middle of the hallway, the hall erupting in laughter: including you. Fred inhaled harshly, heart pounding at you laughing at something he managed to pull off. “I’ll…I’ll see you again, yeah?” You froze smiling in place. “Um…yeah…yeah you will?” “Yeah?” He grinned. “Yeah.” With another wink he sped off down the hall…

he couldn’t stop thinking about the wicked hot girl in the hall

god what house was she he thought?

oh shit she had blue on fuck she’s a ravenclaw he thinks. why does he think like that?

she’s outta my goddamn league, he thought before he could stop himself

“Freddie, I know you’re not giving up on the idea of this girl this easy.” George shook his head smirking in the Hall.

“I’m not giving up on anything - she’s just…too good for me.”

“Mate, you know nothing about her except how her eyes ‘sparkled like the stars’ or some whack Tolstoy shit like that…besides, you always did love a challenge, yeah?” At that Fred grinned.

“Georgie, I was thinking exactly the same thing…”

frederick gideon weasley knew what he had to do

FUCKING RUN AROUND THE CASTLE AND LOOK FOR YOU DUH

i swear he probably skipped like a half a day of classes just running from classroom to classroom tryna find your gorgeous self

he also probably was like “anyone seen a literal angel around” and everyone was just like ~please shoot this kid he cannot be deadass~

anyway, he’s starting to run out of breath guys, pobrecito is about to give up for the day and throw in the towel but then

then, fellas and foals-

he sees you

sitting in the center of the quidditch pitch

reading a book and writing in your notebook

and god when i tell you he physically had his ass floored

i mean, Jesus Christ, it’s the way you were just serenely sitting in HIS favorite place in hogwarts, not even in the stands, just absorbing life in the ACTUAL PITCH just

just being there

“What are you doing here, love?” You look up and see Fred, chest heaving, rosy cheeked and fucking glorious. He looked otherworldly with the sun at his back, seemingly glowing. “Knitting a sweater.” You said coolly, and gave a small smile. He bit his lip and made his way over to you and sat down in front of you.

“I’d like that sweater somewhere else, gorgeous.”

“Where, in your mum’s dirty laundry?” He scoffed

“No silly, on me but I’ll take that option too ;)”

You scoffed back and rolled your eyes. “On you? Please, this is made to fit an actual person with a body, Fred.”

“And I don’t have a good enough body for it?”

You bit your lip, gathering courage to look straight back at him. “I wouldn’t know I haven’t seen it.”

and that alone has Fred Weasley garnering a massive tent in his pants

He gulped. “Whats your name, darling?”

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

He grinned, blushing wildly. “Y/N, you’re never getting rid of me now”

that, my dear, was the truth at its finest

for the first time, he’d found a woman that matched his energy

his banter his intellectual mind was finally satisfied by this beautiful, honest, blunt girl that made him

HIM, THE MAN THAT CAN NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP, be still.

be quiet. be at peace

“freddie, don’t fucking prank first years you’re better than that”

“Fred, please don’t be a bully. You’re not an unkind person so don’t act that way, okay? Come on”

it’s about three to five days of just non stop flirting

constantly leaving him breathless and without a rebuttal, again something no one has ever been able to do

after this period, he’s eating in the great hall, not having talked to you today and bouncing his knees violently

and he sees you get up and leave the hall

this prompts him to get up and run after you

“Y/N!” You turn to see him running full speed behind you, and you smile widely, blushing a fair ton as he stops in front of you, chest heaving. Your smile falters as he doesn’t say anything “Fred, w-what’s wrong?” He then bites his lip “I’m sorry but I have to” and presses his mouth to yours. You kiss back immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck as he backs you up against the wall. The kiss is hungry, passionate, and after a few moments he pulls off you and leans his forehead to yours. “I need you.” He says hoarsely. “And I need YOU, Freddie.” He smiles and you wrap your legs around his waist…

from that moment, you two are inseparable

we are talking handsy too

oh fuck this about to get fluffy as hell

freddie basically waits until you’re out of class and then will pin you against the wall and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years

“My angel, it’s been far too long.” He says breathlessly, smiling wide before giving you a kiss attack, sending ammunition of kisses all around your face, making you giggle uncontrollably. “My love, it’s only been an hour,” you say in between full body laughter. He then stops, looking at you very seriously. “Darling, that simply will not do,” he clucks and then throws you over his shoulder, sending you into fits of laughter again as he takes you to your next class.

you and fred have so much sex

empty classrooms

in his dorm

in your dorm

in the locker rooms

in the library

“Freddie, harder baby, please” you gasp out as he’s thrusting inside of you at a rhythmic pace, him slipping into you like hot oil, skin slapping as he has you in the shower. “How much do you need me, angel? Cmon love I wanna hear your words...” “yes, yes I need you please” you moan as he hits a new angle “That’s my princess, taking me so well, do you love it when I fill you up? Fuck you so good you can’t walk?” You nod and throw your head back. “Freddie, I’m gonna come” “Good girl, princess, come all over my cock” He growls setting a faster and harder pace, as he chants your name like a hymnal, his hips and movements getting sloppier as he finally releases into you, chest heaving and presses his lips to your forehead.

“Where should we try next, gorgeous, hmm? I think snape’s office should do it, he won’t even know us from the grease stains from his nose” this earns him a smack on the arm

fred marks you up constantly too

wants everyone to see how much his “good little princess” really feels

anything that says “I choose/belong to fred weasley” he’ll make you do

and you adore it and think it’s hot as fuck

he’s also marked his name onto your thighs and boobs before

george basically accepts the fact that you’re his new baby sister too, and when fred isn’t there will protect you like it ashsajdsahjsa

by this i mean fred has employed him to (but mainly george just does it because he loves you too)

but basically

during potions, draco slides in next to you and propositions you:

“How about we strike a deal, Y/L/N?” He looks at you smugly. You roll your jaw. “Yeah I agree, you shut the fuck up and let me pass our project, and I get all the credit without you destroying my handiwork?” He flares red and grabs your wrist. “I know Weaselbee the fourth probably tastes like the rest of his family - trash - but how I about I let you try something different, hmm?” You immediately pull away from him when he releases and make an attempt to focus back on your book. 

fred obviously hears about this because some slytherin guys in the hallway are talking about how much Y/N wants to suck Malfoy’s dick

he’s not stupid, he knows you get sexualized by that dumbass constantly, even before y’all started dating

basically he finds draco in the boys bathroom, corners him, and beats the fuck out of him 

“if you ever get near my girlfriend again, i swear to godric i won’t be so nice next time - don’t wanna get your balls cut off before 17 do you?” 

oh and he’s stupid hot when he’s mad btw but we all been knew

he finds you where he always finds you once you start dating, in his dorm stop his bed

He swallows thickly at the sight of you clearly upset, watching you sit up immediately tears welling in your throat as you begin to apologize. “Freddie, love, I didn’t do anything I promise I didn’t want him to come onto me-“ “Y/N, it’s never your fault. You have to trust me with that I...I hate seeing people hurt you love.” He pulls your body into him whne he reaches the bed, touching you like you’re porcelain, careful not to break you. “I know I get violent and angry or pouty when guys do that to you because I feel like you’ll either choose someone else or I can’t protect you and...you mean everything to me, my angel.” He whispers into your hair, tears stealing on his cheeks. “I promise no one will hurt you anymore because I love you and loving someone means you do anything for them.” He babbles like a small boy, convincing himself of everything until he realizes he’s said it and he inhales. “Y/N y-you don’t have to say it ba-“ “I want to say it back. Remember? I love you and I need you, Fred.” You look up at him softly, chin on his chest and he smiles through tears on his face. “And I love you and I need YOU, my love.”

fred knows you love him and choose him over everyone but again

he gets insecure

in the way George is scared people won’t see him as Fred

fred is afraid you’ll find someone better

someone more stable and less quick tempered

you guys have fights sometimes that end in frustration or angry sex

but fred is always there an hour later sitting outside your dorm door praying to god you forgive him for his mistake

he’s never abusive or malicious

he just gets impulsive with pranks or doesn’t consider feelings sometimes

ON TO THE BURROW!!!!

molly is so thankful for you and hugs you immediately as you walk through the door whispering

“Thank you for making my son feel how he deserves” and your eyes water lightly murmuring a thank you

you instantly catch bill’s attention as he notices the way fred is so much calmer and confident with you around

he seems more sure of himself, and not as angry

his temper too is calmer with your presence, as if the very essence of you is soothing to all youre around

he is, so so in love with you

and yes he can be brash

and yes he can be insecure

and yes he can be impulsive

but yes he would do anything for you

but yes he sees you like no one else can

but yes he knows you struggle and he wants to be there

fred weasley is absolutely incandescently in love with you

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[fruitydiaz-archived]

for the prompts: #70?

70 — “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

buddie fluff!

from this prompt list

“Do you think you’ll ever find love again?”

They’re in Buck’s kitchen, Chris sitting on the couch catching the end of their movie, while Buck and Eddie wash and dry their dishes, when Buck blurts the question out suddenly. Eddie pauses mid-wiping down a plate, and raises his eyebrow, turning slowly to give Buck an amused look.

“That’s a question,” He says after a moment. Buck flushes a little and rolls his eyes.

They’d been talking about a call they had this morning. It was one of those old married couples that always hit Buck right in the gut. He had sat to the side on the curb with the wife, while they carried her husband to the ambulance, and listened to her tell him their love story.

He didn’t even try to hide his tears as he climbed back into the truck with the rest of the team.

“I’m sure I will. I’m not interested in looking for it right now, though,” Eddie says, smiling over at Buck. “I’ve got everything I need right here, you know?”

Buck turns to look over at Christopher, smiling at the look of his face, transfixed on the movie.

“Yeah, I know,” Buck nods, turning off the sink and grabbing an extra towel to help Eddie dry.

“It just — don’t you get lonely sometimes? It’s been so long since I lived with somebody else. Sometimes I just think...it’d be nice to have someone to come home to.”

Buck’s starting to think maybe he shouldn’t have gone ahead and had that extra beer. He’s not sure what’s gotten him thinking like this. He and Taylor decided they were better as friends a long time ago — and since Eddie had broken up with Ana around the same time — they just filled the space for each other. He hasn’t really felt lonely in a while. He doesn’t really want someone else to be here...he wants Eddie to stay.

Eddie looks at him for a moment before he grabs the last plate from his hand and puts it away. He sighs and leans against the counter, reaching for his beer.

“You could always move in with me. Then you can come home to us,” Eddie says, like a joke. Except it’s not; he’s mentioned moving in to Buck at least a dozen times over the last couple of months, since they both got out of relationships and started spending almost every non-working moment in each other’s homes. Buck never seems to think he’s serious though.

“Right,” Buck chuckles, ducking his head. When he looks back up at Eddie, he’s a little shyer and quieter. It’s the look he gets when he starts to doubt himself, and it always makes Eddie want to reach out and shake some sense into him.

“It’s just different I guess. I want to come home to someone who loves me.”

That hits Eddie like a punch.

His body tenses up and he feels a wave of emotions building up in his chest. He’s hurt, for one, and angry.

“Buck,” He starts, running a hand over his face. He crosses his arms and sets his bottle back against the edge of the counter, glancing out the window. The city lights calm him a little bit.

“Why do you think I keep asking you to move in?” He asks eventually, his voice soft. Buck tilts his head to the side and shrugs.

“To save money?”

Eddie looks at him, unimpressed. It makes Buck shrink in on himself a bit.

“You don’t think it’s maybe because I want you there?” Buck blinks at him.

“Eddie…”

“No, listen to me, Buck. I don’t think — I don’t think you understand.”

Eddie looks down again and brings a hand up to his face, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose as he thinks. His head’s spinning a little bit — not drunk, just overwhelmed and dizzy — because of Buck. Because of all of these feelings he has about Buck that have been building up inside of him for years. Because it’s getting harder for him to pretend that he just wants to be friends with him.

These last months have been nice, the way they’ve slid perfectly into the empty spaces in each other’s lives. But any time they have a conversation like this, Eddie feels that fear spike up in him, the fear that he’s about to lose one of the best things that have ever happened to him. Sometimes he thinks he should just tell him, just rip the band-aid off and finally expose the softest, most vulnerable part of himself that he’s been guarding all these years. He knows Buck would never leave him — especially not over the fact that Eddie loves him. But things would change, they’d have to. And that’s the part that holds him back most of the time.

But tonight feels different. He knows Buck wants this as much as he does — he has to. But Buck will never be the one to make the first move, because he’s weighed down by his past: by the abandonment, the neglect, the fear that he’s too much for anyone to stick around for.

Eddie’s not sure how he doesn’t get it at this point.

“After everything we've gone through together, you still don’t think I love you?”

“I know you love me, Eddie—“

“No, Buck,” Eddie says again, and his voice is worn and exasperated. “No, you don’t. I love you. Christopher and I are here with you almost every night we have available. You keep the cereal we like stocked in your pantry just in case we’re here for breakfast. I keep those weird vegan protein bars you like. You have a drawer in my room with sweatpants and t-shirts and a spare uniform just in case. I broke up with Ana and haven’t even thought about another person in months because...I don’t want anyone else.”

Buck swallows hard.

“I don’t understand…”

“I’m in love with you, Evan.”

“...Eddie...”

“I mean it. And you don’t — you don’t have to say anything back or...or try to let me down gently, or whatever. I just...I need you to know. You always say you’re alone and that no one ever really wants you. I need you to know you’re wrong.”

Neither of them says anything for a moment, and Eddie busies himself with his beer, trying desperately not to let the panic take over him, trying desperately not to feel like he has to pack up his stuff and grab Christopher and get out of there immediately. He’ll give Buck space if he needs it, but only if he asks.

God, he hopes he doesn’t ask.

“I love you, too,” Buck says eventually, quietly. Eddie looks up at him. “I’ve just...I really like you, you know? This thing we have with each other. It’s special...and it’s different. And I’ve always known that, so I just...I never wanted to risk losing it. I’m so used to people I love leaving, Eddie.”

“I’m never leaving you,” Eddie says instantly, confidently. Buck stares at him wide-eyed, before the softest smile Eddie’s ever seen spreads on his face.

“I know.”

Eddie’s pretty sure that they should kiss, pretty sure that that’s the thing that they’re supposed to do next, but he can’t move. He’s fixed to his spot against the counter and Buck seems fixed to his spot in front of the sink, because all they can do is stare at each other, grinning like two fools in love — because that’s what they are, aren’t they?

Eventually, Christopher’s movie ends, and he calls out for Buck and Eddie.

“Dad, Buck, can we watch another one?” He calls, a hint of mischief in his voice. He knows he’s usually only allowed one movie and then he and Eddie have to head home after dinner. Buck grins.

“How about I pack a bag and we head back to yours and we can start another one there. Maybe I can even...stay a couple of days?”

“You moving in already?” Eddie teases and Buck rolls his eyes.

“Well, you’ve only been begging me to for months now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Go pack a bag and I’ll get Chris ready.”

Buck nods and then turns to run up the stairs to grab his bag — but he stops. He turns around and looks at Eddie, a small smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes, cheeks a little red.

“Um,” He mumbles, taking two large steps to close the gap between them and ducking to the side. He leans in quickly and presses a shy kiss to Eddie’s cheek and then steps away.

Eddie stares at him, a little stunned. He’s never known Buck to be shy with physical affection, especially not with someone he likes, but it’s endearing and sweet and breaking Eddie’s brain a little with the realization that they’re actually doing it. They’re crossing this line.

Buck spins around and disappears up the stairs into his loft before Eddie can say anything, leaving his mind speeding a thousand miles a second into the future, imagining all of their future kisses, their future dinners, Buck moving in officially, no longer having to travel 20 minutes to see each other, no longer spending the night alone in his bed wishing Buck was there with him, waking up to his face in the morning, kissing him goodnight.

Maybe they’ll even get married. Eddie would like that. He’s pretty sure Buck would too.

Not that he’s in any kind of rush.

He’s got everything he could ever want right here, right now.

[ragingbookdragon]

Tonight You're Gonna Go Down In Flames, Just Like Jesse James

A Jason Todd x Reader Story

Word Count: 7.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst, Mentions of Blood and Violence

Author's Note: This is the series I did a week or so ago. I figured I'd combine it into one big document so no one had to go searching for all the parts. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It was a horrible idea in the first place and yet, of all the bad decisions she’d made in her entire life, this one apparently was going to take first place. Of course, part of her told her to just chuck her feelings into the back of her mind and leave them there, but the longer she spent around him, the stronger they got. And regardless of how terrible her love life was—and to be completely honest, it was horrible—she was going to admit her feelings and accept whatever outcome came. What’s the worst he could say? No? No, she didn’t think he’d say that. He flirted with her all the time, called her doll, and complimented her on her reading habits—no one had ever done that.

***

She shifted the red roses into the crook of her elbow, free hand nervously smoothing down her pink sundress, discomfort running up and down her spine as she waited on the front porch of the imposing manor. She’d gone to his apartment earlier but after he hadn’t answered, she remembered that he’d once mentioned the manor as a secondary hangout, prompting her to go there after.

Inhaling sharply, she quickly took the flowers back into her hand when the door opened, and she smiled widely at the older man who stood before her. “Hello, you must be Mister Pennyworth.” she greeted warmly. “I’m (Y/N) (L/N), a friend of Jason’s. Is he here?” she raised the flowers and the gift box in her hand. “I’ve got something for him.”

The man smiled and stepped aside, letting her in. “Of course, Miss (Y/N), please allow me to fetch Master Jason.”

“Oh, you don’t have to call me—and he’s already gone,” she whispered. “Wow, he moves fast for an old man.” Her eyes drifted to the portrait above the hall table and she smiled at the faces of him and his brothers. They looked rather regal for the humorous stories he told her all the time. Footsteps drew her attention away and she turned, smiling at Jason as he walked towards her. He wore a surprised smile, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he asked and when she opened her mouth all she managed was a dumb, ‘uh…’ then she shoved the flowers in his face.

“These are for you.” She replied, face heating up as his fingers brushed hers when he took them.

Jason brought the bouquet of roses to his nose and inhaled. “Wow, they’re beautiful, (Y/N).” He gave her that smile that had her stomach fluttering. “Thank you.”

She nodded and held the gift box up too, no longer than about nine inches and about eight wide. “This is for you too.”

“Thank you,” he said, tucking the flowers into his elbow while he unwound the twine rope and opened the box top. He shifted away the tissue paper and pulled out a small book, about the size of his hand and his eyes went wide. “Is this—”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yeah! You mentioned that you wanted a pocket booklet of Emily Dickinson’s poems…so I went scrounging some old bookstores and found one.” She smiled bashfully. “For you.”

He huffed a laugh of disbelief and pulled her in for a quick hug. She tried not to pass out in his arms as he breathed in her ear, “Thank you, (Y/N). Really, thank you, so much.”

“It was no big deal,” she brushed off, pulling away from him and he shook his head.

“Well, it is to me,” he retorted with a grin, then gestured to her. “But I don’t understand, what brought this on?” he nudged her in the side humorously quipping, “I didn’t forget a gift exchange, did I?”

(Y/N) laughed. “No, no you didn’t, it’s just…” she trailed off, falling quiet.

“It’s just…” he repeated, tone and eyes ever curious, and she swallowed thickly.

It’s now or never, (Y/N). Just tell him how you feel.

She motioned to the book. “Well…they say it’s easier to relay feelings when you give gifts.” Smiling, she confessed, “Jason, I…have feelings for you. Really, really strong feelings.” He went slack jawed, and though she felt a pang of embarrassment, she kept speaking. “And I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out on a date with me tonight? There’s this really nice café uptown that has good soups…or maybe we could go to a bar and get a beer together?”

Clearing her throat, she added, with a flustered smile, “Whatever you wanna do of course. I’d be happy as long as you’re with me.”

He was silent. Jason was completely silent, and she wasn’t sure what was worse, his silence or the shock etched across his face, but she kept hoping for the best. That was until he said her name. And the tone he used…she knew instantly what was coming and all she wanted to do was shove her hand against his mouth and tell him to forget she ever said anything.

“(Y/N)…” he started sympathetically, recovering rather slowly. “I’m flattered,” he admitted, raising the flowers and book in his hands. “For the gifts, really I am…but…” Jason shook his head and gave her a pitied smile. “But I don’t feel the same way that you do…and I am sorry.”

For a moment she couldn’t remember how to breathe, simply gazing at the man she’d been friends with for the past seven months and trying to figure out how she interpreted every moment so horribly wrong. All the kind words and hugs. All the smiles and laughter. All of it.

“(Y/N)?” Jason worried. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, suddenly feeling a flush of coldness ebbing out through her stomach and down her limbs; she nodded, pursing her lips. “Yeah—I’m okay.” (Y/N) cleared her throat and pointed back towards the door. “I’m…I’m gonna go…”

She hadn’t even gotten a foot away when he caught the sleeve of her pink sweater and stopped her. “(Y/N), I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you like this.”

Sucking up all the embarrassment and heartbreak back in, she turned and let out a ‘pfft’, waving her hand as she lied, “What? No! I totally get it, Jason. Absolutely.”

He seemed unconvinced and she hated how he always knew something was off about her at every moment. “Are you sure?”

(Y/N) couldn’t fight the wobble in her lip as she nodded. “Mhm. Completely.” She tugged out of his grasp. “But I totally remembered that I have a thing to do. A very important thing not here.” She gestured to the door. “So I should go. Like now.”

This time, she didn’t wait when he called out to her and she yanked open the door and closed it behind her as fast as she could, hurrying down the steps to her car.

She climbed in, immediately gripped the steering wheel and pressed her forehead to the top of it, eyes starting to water as she tried to get her breathing under control. Her fingers fumbled with the keys and after the fourth missing of the ignition, she burst into tears and dropped her keys. Her lips wobbled and her sight was blinded as she reached for her keys in the floorboard and when she got them, she shoved them into the slot and twisted, barely hearing the engine roaring to life.

Wiping a hand across her face, she could’ve cared less about the makeup smearing across her skin and she put the car into drive, hoping that with every foot of distance she put between her car and the manor, she could leave a broken heart behind.

Because what was the worst thing he could’ve said?

No?

That was exactly it.

***Part Two***

Of all the bad decisions she’d ever made, this was probably the worst, and all she wanted to do was crawl into a hole and ride out every emotion that was coming onto her like a maelstrom. Every bad date, every failed notion of love just kept washing over her, but this one seemed like the nail in the coffin. She drove aimlessly for hours before she realized it was seven o’clock; a quick stop at her apartment and she fed her cat, also wiping the makeup and tear tracks off her skin before she wandered on foot with the direction of anywhere and nowhere.

***

Collapsing onto one of the benches that sat at the pier of Gotham Bay, she sighed heavily and gazed out at the water. It was calm compared to the storm inside and she propped her elbow on the railing, fist against her cheek, sighing again.

There was no way she could go to work and act like everything was okay. Kelly-Anne was going to drill her all about her “date” and she didn’t even go on one. She groaned. I never should’ve told her that I was going to ask Jason out. That’s going to be more embarrassing than being rejected by him. Another groan escaped her and she bent forward, burying her face in the floral dress pattern. I even wore a stupid dress and heels. Going slack, she let her feelings wash over her.

Something grabbed her shoulder. “Hey.”

“AHHHHH!” She yanked away, shooting up to see one of the masked vigilantes of Gotham city before her.

“Woah, woah!” they calmed, hands outstretched non-threateningly. “I’m not gonna hurt you!”

She pressed a hand to her chest and let out a sigh of relief, reclining on the bench as she heaved, “Oh my God, I thought—I don’t know what I thought you were.” A flighty laugh passed her lips. “You scared the hell out of me, Nightwing.”

He smiled and laughed. “Sorry. I saw you over here and thought I was going to find a new reason to call GCPD.”

“No, no,” she affirmed. “Just…dealing with things.”

Taking a seat beside her, he crossed his ankles and leaned back on the bench. “By groaning beside Gotham Bay at nine o’clock?”

She shot him a heat-less glare. “It was that or drown myself in cheap wine and Lewis Capaldi.”

He seemed to know what she was talking about, surmising, “Heartache?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she muttered, lolling her head back on the bench, trying to ignore his steady gaze.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” She grinned. “What’s yours?”

Nightwing chuckled. “Afraid I can’t give that out or I’ll be in with the Big-Bat.” She giggled and he followed with, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

(Y/N) pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nah…you’ve got better things to do than help a girl nurse a broken heart.”

“Sometimes the better thing to do is talk with someone.” When she met his eyes, he smiled wholeheartedly. “Try me. I’m a good listener.”

Something ached in her chest and after a moment of staring at him, she swallowed thickly and sighed. “There’s this guy I’ve been friends with for a few months now. And he’s really kind and intelligent and super good looking and I—” she shrugged. “I fell in love with him. I mean, it was hard not too with how amazing of a man he is.”

Nightwing nodded. “What’s his name?”

“Jason Todd,” she said, and she couldn’t help the smile that came across her lips. “One of the first times we were hanging out, I told him that his first name meant healer in Greek…but he didn’t seem too keen on that definition.”

“How come?” he inquired, and she shrugged again.

“I don’t really know…Jason’s never been all that open about his past.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I think some bad things happened to him when he was younger and he just…doesn’t let people in easily.” She managed a smile. “I feel like all the times he did tell me about his life, it made me feel special, you know? Knowing he trusted me enough to tell me.”

“You really seem to love him,” Nightwing noted and she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in her eyes.

“I do…Jason’s the first guy that’s ever seen me for me.” (Y/N) pursed her lips. “I’m weird. I work in a library and books are my life and I can talk your ear off about how Raymond Carver single-handedly saved the short story genre.” she sighed. “And I’ve always been the nerdy girl in the friend groups who watched everyone else fall in love while she pined from a distance.” She huffed a pitiful laugh that made even his heart tighten. “I mean, I even went to prom alone.”

Her eyes found his. “But Jason made me feel special. He listened and didn’t get upset when I apologized for talking so much. He just smiled and asked me to keep going.” (Y/N) wiped at her eyes. “I thought that we were getting closer, but God I saw all the signs of him being a good friend as romantic.” She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “And it’s so embarrassing to admit that I’m so starved of love that I saw them as loving gestures.” Another groan escaped her. “And then I asked him out today and got rejected.”

He blinked in shock, wondering why his brother would let this girl go. Obviously, they were perfect for each other. He didn’t tell her that though, instead asking, “What happened?”

(Y/N) moaned. “I showed up at his house with flowers and a book he’d been talking about.” She smushed her cheeks and glared out at the water. “And he was really nice about letting me down easy and I wish I could be upset about that, but I can’t because he was respectful.”

She sat back up on the bench and they both gazed at the stars. “Please tell me that even cute superheroes like you have romantic problems.”

Nightwing chuckled and nodded. “Oh, you’d be totally surprised.”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) giggled and he hummed.

“Two of my exes are super-heroines and they’re really good friends.”

She blinked at him. “Okay, yeah, you win, Nightwing.”

He chuckled and turned his neck, falling silent a moment to gaze at her. “…It does get better, (Y/N).”

Her lips pursed. “I know…I just have to wait it out.” She stared into his eyes. “But I don’t think anyone will ever be as great as Jason is.” Her eyes fell to the water and she sighed, “Is it too much to ask though…that I find someone to hold my hand and love me?”

Nightwing took her hand and laced their fingers. “I can’t do the second thing, but I can do the first for a while…if you want?”

(Y/N)’s eyes watered, and she squeezed his hand. “Yeah…I’d like that.” She propped her head on his shoulder, feeling his cheek press against the top of her head.

“Tell me what your favorite poem is, (Y/N).”

“I’ll bore you to death, Nightwing. And I apologize…a lot.”

“Someone tell you that no one cares when you were younger?”

“More than I’m comfortable admitting,” she sniffed. “From a lot of people I respected too.”

Nightwing hummed. “Well…I’m not them. And I care about what your favorite poem is.” He thumbed the back of her hand. “Please tell me.”

She sighed heavily and murmured, “I will hold you with harbor arms. The lighthouse finding a ship against the lonely sea. A shelter as your legs give out under torrential rain. What I’m trying to tell you is, you are safe here.”

He was silent for a minute, then he whispered, “That’s beautiful, (Y/N).”

“I think about it a lot…about it and Jason,” she replied quietly. “I think he’s afraid of love—of loving someone. I’d give anything to let him know that I’m not afraid of whatever skeletons he’s got in his closet…that…that I’m not afraid of him or what he’s afraid he is.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and she turned her head, quietly sobbing into his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she cried. “I shouldn’t be—I shouldn’t—”

“Shhh,” he whispered, pulling his hand away from hers to curl around her shoulders, giving her a hug. “Let it out. I’m not here to judge you.” He wrapped his other arm around her, resting his chin on her head. “Let it all go, (Y/N).”

And she did. Every rejection throughout her life, from elementary school to high school to every college bar, she let out. Every “You’re not my type” and “I don’t date X girls” she let go of with every heart wrenching sob that tore her throat.

***

She didn’t know how long she cried, but when she was gone, Nightwing’s shoulder was completely soaked and (Y/N) had a raging headache to go with her heartache.

“Feel better?” he questioned when her sobs had subsided into sniffles every minute or two.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “A lot.”

Nightwing smiled. “Sometimes a good cry is all we need.”

“Mhm,” she agreed. “It’s cathartic.”

“Alright, Aristotle,” he chuckled and to her surprise, she found herself laughing. “And there’s the smile!” he cheered, letting her pull away to wipe her face.

“Sorry for boohooing on your shoulder,” (Y/N) apologized and he merely shook his head.

“Nah, don’t mention it.” He brushed off. “I hope someone like you would do the same for me if I needed it.”

She giggled. “Then we’ll meet here when we need good cries, huh, Nightwing?”

He held out his hand, watching her shake it. “Sounds like a good plan, (Y/N).” A siren went off in the distance and his face shifted instantaneously as he rose to his feet. “Rain check on the cry days.”

(Y/N) waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, go save the city.” As he started off, she called out, “Nightwing!”

He spun just for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“Anytime, (Y/N),” he winked and turned, sprinting off.

“Be careful!” she yelled and laughed when he waved a hand in the distance.

***Part Three***

She balanced the tin of cupcakes in one hand and opened the door with the other, already more than nervous as she stepped into GCPD. Some of the officers smiled and nodded at her while others merely watched as she walked up to the desk and cleared her throat.

“Excuse me,” she interrupted. “Is Commissioner Gordon here? I’d like to speak with him.”

The man’s eyes went from the cupcake tin to her face and he asked. “Can I ask what for?”

“Oh, yes, I just need to speak with him about something…involving Batman’s, uh…helpers?” she winced. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

He cocked a brow, but shrugged and grabbed the phone, pushing a button. “Sir, you’ve got someone here to see you…no sir, she just said it dealt with Batman and the others…understood sir.” He hung the phone up. “He’ll over soon.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, and waited for the detective to arrive. When he did, she held her hand out, “Commissioner Gordon?”

He shook her hand. “Good evening, young lady. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I’m (Y/N) and um…it’s a bit complicated actually.”

“We live in a city with men and women who dress up in costumes and fight insane clowns.” He snorted. “We do complicated around here.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and nodded. “That’s fair, Commissioner Gordon.” She raised the tray of cupcakes in her hand. “This is going to be really weird, but I was wondering if I could use the spotlight to…call one of them.”

Gordon’s eyes drifted from the cupcakes to her, then back to the desserts. “You wanna use the Bat-Signal to get one of them…so you can give them cupcakes?”

Her mouth opened and closed, then she admitted, “Okay, that sounded a lot better in my head.” She sighed. “It’s not crazy, I swear but—”

“Why don’t you follow me to my office, and we can talk about this, hmm?” he asked, and she nodded.

“That sounds great, sir.” She followed close behind him to a closed-off room and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, waiting for him to sit in his chair.

“So,” he started when he sat down. “Start from the beginning of why you wanna give Batman cupcakes.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and she murmured, “Nightwing. I want to give them to Nightwing, actually.” He cocked a brow but said nothing and she cleared her throat. “So, the other week, Nightwing helped me out with something and to repay the debt, I made these.”

“What’d he help you with?” Gordon questioned and she played with the hem of her sweater.

“Uh, he…he, um, helped me with a um…a really embarrassing rejection.” She waved her hand. “And I sobbed like a baby on his shoulder and I just wanna give him these in return and tell him sorry for taking up his valuable time.” (Y/N)’s cheeks felt like they were on fire and she begged, “Please let me use the signal to call and I’ll leave. Promise, sir.”

Gordon watched her for a moment then he chuckled and rose from his desk. “I’ve been doing this for about forty years, and nothing has ever been this funny in my entire life.” She sighed, thinking a ‘no’ was coming and he stood beside her. “Come with me to the elevator and we’ll go up.”

(Y/N) blinked in disbelief. “Wait, what? You’re going to let me?”

“Of all the things I’ve ever had someone come in and ask for? Delivering cupcakes is a new one. And I pride myself on getting the new ones.” He smiled. “Come on.”

Not wanting to blow her chance, she hurried after him with a big smile on her face and soon she was standing next to the giant spotlight, watching it silhouette against the night sky. She waited for a moment, then asked, “So how long does this usually take?”

He grunted. “Takes longer when you ask how long it takes.”

“That makes sense,” she laughed, and someone cleared their throat behind them. Both her and Gordon startled, though his reaction was less noticeable than hers, whereas she jumped a foot in the air.

“Red Hood,” Gordon greeted, holding out a hand to shake. “Good to see you, son.”

“Good to see you as well, Commissioner Gordon.” Red Hood replied. “Big-Bat in charge sent me here to see what was going on. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, motioning to (Y/N). “You’ve got a visitor.”

The vigilante turned to her as if finally noticing her presence and he asked, “What’s wrong?”

(Y/N) held out the cupcake tin to him. “I was wondering if you could give these to Nightwing.”

Red Hood glanced down at the cupcakes. “Why’d you make cupcakes for that jerk-off?”

She was shocked to hear such an insult and she bit out, “Well maybe because I wanted to, jerk-off.” He was probably scowling at her from behind that mask, but she wasn’t going to back down. “Nightwing did me a favor last week and I always repay my debts.” (Y/N) held out the tin again. “Will you please give these to him and tell him thank you for his pep-talk?”

Red Hood took the tin from her, asking quietly, “What’d he help you with?”

“Oh my God, why does everyone wanna know?” she griped, then exhaled through her nose. “Fine, I got rejected by a guy I’m in love with, and I boohooed like a baby on a park bench with Nightwing holding my hand like a parent to a child and being super sympathetic.” (Y/N) glared, though she appeared flustered. “Are you happy now, Red Hood?”

“Be a lot happier if you weren’t giving my brother cupcakes,” he muttered under his breath and looked at her. “Do you want the Tupperware back?”

She nodded. “Just tell him that I’ll be back at the bench on Friday this week to pick it up. Same time as the other week.”

“I’ll tell him,” Red Hood said with a rather annoyed tone and started back towards the other side of the building.

“Red Hood!” she called out and he paused, glancing back at her. “Look…I know you’re busy with other things. So…thank you for doing this. Really, I appreciate it.”

He shook his head, murmuring softly, “Don’t worry about it, (Y/N).” And he was gone.

Gordon walked over to her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Miss (Y/N)? Are you alright?”

She blinked and nodded, though she felt a great deal of confusion as she said, “He knew my name?”

***

Jason watched his brothers dig into the cupcakes, groaning about how good they were. He didn’t even need to eat the one he had in his hand because he knew. He knew she made the best baked goods he’d ever had, especially these ones which were her specialty. Double Dutch Chocolate Cupcakes with little pink, shimmering pearls. She put them on because she thought they were cute.

He glanced down at the cupcake in his hands, asking, “How do you know, (Y/N), Dick?”

The eldest brother paused mid-chew and stared at him with a dumbfounded expression. “Huh?”

“Cupcakes,” Jason said, gesturing to them. “She made them as a thanks to you. For last week.” He looked at his brother. “What for?”

Dick swallowed the bite he’d been chewing and nonchalantly replied, “Oh, nothing big. Just being friendly.” He shrugged. “How do you know her?”

Jason scowled. “Don’t do that shit. We both know how I know her.”

“Oh, right! The rejection after the flowers and book!” Dick exclaimed, taking another bite. “So, why’d you say no anyway? She seems like great girl.”

“She is,” he agreed. “The greatest.”

Tim elbowed Dick in the ribs, murmuring, “Is this Jason admitting he’s in love?”

“I don’t know,” Dick replied. “Jaybird, if you’re this pissed at me—”

“I’m not pissed,” he retorted, very much so pissed. “I just don’t want her getting involved with this.”

Dick’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “So that’s why you rejected her. You’re afraid of letting her know about everything.” He hummed knowingly. “See, she said that was probably it. That you’re scared.”

“What?” Jason’s eyes widened. “What’d she say to you?” He handed his younger brother a thumb drive. “What’s this?”

“Recording of the conversation I had with her last Friday,” he replied. “I was planning on giving it to you later tonight.” Dick laid a hand on Jason’s shoulder and murmured, “She’s not going to run away if you’re vulnerable with her Jason.” He nodded to the flash drive. “She’s stronger than you’re giving her credit for.” Dick patted his shoulder and took the cupcake from Jason’s other hand, biting into it. “Oh my God,” he groaned, walking off. “What does she put in these things? They’re addicting.”

***

I’m not afraid of him or what he’s afraid he is.

Jason put his forehead on the desk and stared at the floor, not really sure what was tightening worse, his chest or his throat, but something in the mix started hurting and he let out a shaky breath, vision blurring and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Rejecting her affections meant she forgot about him. She forgot that he existed, and she stayed safe. She stayed alive. Jason wanted that. He wanted (Y/N) to grow old with someone and have a family, not die an early death at the hands of some crazed villain or worse, a failure of his saving.

He let out a low groan and rubbed his forehead against the desk, wishing that it would solve all his problems. Mostly the ones in his broken heart. They had texted each other and video called constantly. Usually meeting up once a week to hang out somewhere or go get dinner. His entire life had changed in one conversation, and the only thing he regretted more than telling her he didn’t feel the same way and making her cry was watching her lie that she hadn’t been bothered when he knew deep down that her heart was shattered. He knew it because he watched her breakdown in her car through the manor window before she pulled out of the driveway.

Maybe Dick was right though…and that thought made him wanna vomit because younger-brother syndrome was a real thing and listening to your older brother wasn’t fun. But if she were that honest with Nightwing, that real with him, then maybe he could tell her the truth. All of it. About everything he was hiding from her. His past and most importantly his feelings for her. Maybe he could really keep her safe if he did.

Maybe Jason could be the one she grew old with. The one who held her hand and loved her.

***Part Four***

“I don’t wanna die,” she whimpered, grasping at his wrists that were digging into her side. “Please, I don’t wanna die now.” Tears slipped down her cheeks and she let out a sob. “I don’t wanna die.”

He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. “You’re not going to die.” He promised. “I’m not going to let you die here.”

Her eyes found his behind the domino mask and she whimpered again. “I’m scared, Red Hood.”

“I’m going to save you. I swear I will.” He ignored the blood that had smeared across her cheek and pressed his hand back to her bleeding abdomen, tears of his own gathering in his vision as he whispered, “I won’t lose you too.”

***

She couldn’t help but look to her wristwatch again, just to make sure she hadn’t been late. Of course, she’d gotten there fifteen minutes early, but still—time was a funny thing and sometimes she found herself late to things even if she’d arrived early. She should’ve just told Red Hood to let Nightwing keep the Tupperware, but that thing was like forty dollars and it was her favorite cupcake tin—she wasn’t letting that go.

Footsteps sounded through the traffic from her right and she looked up, smile faltering just slightly when she saw Red Hood coming her way instead of Nightwing. “Hey Red Hood!” she greeted with a tad of confusion and he waved.

“Hey (Y/N).” he raised the tin. “Sorry for being the one to drop this off but Nightwing was…busy.”

She snorted. “Don’t worry about it. Did he like—”

Red Hood dropped the tin, breaking into a sprint towards her. “(Y/N)! BEHIND YOU!”

“What?” (Y/N) spun and gasped when she came face to face with two masked men. “Oh fu—UHN!” one of them sunk their fist into her stomach and she bent over with a gag, knees going out below her as they grabbed her by her arms and yanked her forward.

She heard him screaming for her as they dragged her to the side of the road and shoved her into the back of a van. (Y/N) tried kicking at them but one of them picked something up and hit her across the head and the last thing she saw before everything went dark was Red Hood fading from view as the doors shut.

***

The tires screeched on the van as it hauled off and Jason had barely managed to grab the back handle as it did. He gripped the sides of his hood and cursed sharply, heart already beating wildly as he panted. “Fuck!” he screamed. “Motherfucker!”

He spun around, mind hopping from place to place as if he couldn’t figure out what to do first, and he punched a button on the side of his hood. “Nightwing, do you read me?” The line crackled a moment. “Nightwing! Come in!”

Jesus, I heard you the first time, Hood. What’s wrong? Break a nail?

“Dick,” he whispered. “It’s—it’s (Y/N).”

Something in Jason’s voice told him all he needed to know. What do you need me to do?

He turned in the direction that the van sped off in. “Two masked thugs grabbed her and took off with her in a van.”

License plate and van description?

“I31-FL4. White Chevy van, tinted windows.”

Alright, I’m away from a computer right now, but let me get Tim on the line. Another crackle. Hey Red, you busy?

At the moment. Why?

I need you to run a license plate for me on a white Chevy van.

Mmm, can it wait? I’m in the—oh shit—middle of something right now.

Tim, it’s urgent. (Y/N)’s been grabbed.

Number?

I31-FL4.

Your van just clocked four traffic cameras heading over the bridge past Chinatown into Founders and off to north of Port Adams. Scans are telling me that Cobblepot’s manor is that way.

“Cobblepot?” Jason repeated. “What the hell is he—” his sighed. “Shit, Dick, one of Penguin’s thugs probably saw you and (Y/N) the other night.”

And Penguin’s assumed that she knows who I am. Ugh, times like these I wish I hadn’t busted his gun running from Blüdhaven. Jason, I’m on my way.

Do you need backup, Hood? I’m about twenty out from your position.

“Don’t worry about it, Red.” He assured. “Nightwing and I got this.” Jason started towards the other side of the street, already pulling out his grapple. “You stay on whatever it is you’re doing.”

Aw man. But rescue missions are so fun.

“Tim. Fuck over the line and get off.”

***

Cold water splashed across her skin and she gasped, startling awake with violent shivers. Immediately she tried to get away but found herself bound to a chair; eyes searching wildly until they came to rest on the short and fat man walking towards her, wearing an eyeglass and smoking a cigar.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” He greeted. “Sleep well?”

Swallowing thickly, her eyes darted to the various armed thugs around her and she murmured, “What do you want with me, Mister Cobblepot?”

“Mister Cobblepot?” he cackled. “So polite.” He got in her face. “I want something you have.”

Her eyes found his. “I’m willing to part with whatever you need in return for my life.”

“I want Nightwing’s name,” Penguin said, and she blinked at him.

“Come again?”

His hand split across her face and she cried out in pain. “I don’t want to be drug around. His name. Now.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know Nightwing’s name.”

“Really?” he asked, then held out a hand and she watched someone put a phone in it and he shoved it in her face. “So that ain’t you sobbing on his shoulder like a whore with a heartache?”

Her eyes followed the picture and even from a distance, her and Nightwing’s faces could be seen, as well as their conjoined hands. “Okay,” she started. “I see what that looks like, but it’s not what it is. I swear.” Laughter echoed through the warehouse and she squirmed in her binds.

Penguin gazed at her for a moment, then he cracked his hand back across her face once more, and this time, he busted her lip. “I want his name.”

“I don’t know his name!” she spat the blood out of her mouth. “I was having a moment of weakness and he comforted me like a good person does. That’s it. He didn’t tell me his name.”

“I don’t believe you.” He hissed and she rolled her eyes.

“Look, it’s not my prerogative what you believe but that’s the truth. I don’t know who Nightwing is. Believe me, I asked, and he said he couldn’t tell me.” She leaned forward. “Hit me all you want but I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

He shrugged. “Works for me.” And he punched her in the jaw, grinning proudly when her head lolled forward and she let out a low groan. “Who is he?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” She hissed through clenched teeth and he waved a hand.

“Someone bring me a knife. Maybe she’ll think better if she’s flowing.”

Her eyes widened and she started thrashing. “Okay! Wait! Let’s not be hasty!”

Penguin flicked open the knife and pointed it at her. “Name. Or I’m gonna slash you.”

“Mine? Mister Cobblepot, I’m disappointed that you don’t know the names of the women you kidnap.” She griped, voice turning into a shout of pain when he swiped the knife against her cheek. Blood flowed from the cut down her face, dripping onto her sweatshirt and she teared up, cheek stinging harshly.

“Want me to do the other side and make it match?” he asked, and she glared at him through her teary eyes.

“Go fuck yourself, oompa-loompa.” Glowering at the knife coming back down at her and she watched as something collided with it, causing sparks to jump as the knife practically jumped out of his hand.

Penguin cried out and spun in the direction of whatever had knocked the knife from him. “Red Hood!”

Someone dropped beside him and propped an elbow on the vigilante’s shoulder. “And Nightwing!” he glanced at her. “Sorry for getting you involved in this.”

She tried for a smile but still grimaced. “Say that after you get me out of this.”

He grinned and pulled out his escrima sticks, clicking the buttons. “That’s fair.”

“Well don’t just stand there!” Penguin yelled at the thugs. “Get them!”

It was a free for all. And even she was wincing with pity when a thug landed in front of her feet, blood streaming out of his nose as his eyes rolled back in his head. She figured since they were busy with fighting one another, she could use the time to get out of her binds—if at all possible.

She wriggled vigorously until there was slack in the ropes around her wrist and she started yanking her arms back, ignoring the way it broke her skin and rubbed it raw. Eventually she got one hand out and she let out a cheer, eyes scanning the ground for the knife.

It lay a few feet away and she grunted as she slouched in the chair, kicking her leg out as far as she could to toe it closer. Almost there! She strained against the bind and slammed her foot on the knife, dragging it to her. With a winning smile she picked it up and slashed the rest of the ropes on her wrist and stood up, immediately ducking as another thug flew over her head and she glared at Red Hood.

“Hey! Watch it!”

He stopped fighting, a gang-banger in a headlock. “How’d you get out of that?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not some helpless damsel in distress, Hood.”

Chuckling, he slung the guy into the wall and pointed to the exit. “Get out and run as far as you can.”

“Right.” She spun and started towards the double doors when two thugs got in her way and she sighed. “Oh, fuck off.” Taking a step back, she turned on her heel when one grabbed her around the waist, and she yelped as he lifted her in the air. “Lemme go you big bastard!”

“(Y/N)!”

Someone shouted her name and she did the only thing she could do—she swung knife downwards, narrowly missing her own side as she stabbed the thug in the hip. He screamed, dropping her and she grunted when she hit the concrete. (Y/N) crawled along the ground when the same guy she stabbed, hauled her up by her belt.

“Oh, come on!” she yelled, and he threw her into the corner of the warehouse into some plywood boxes. They shattered under the force of the throw and her weight and she collapsed in a pile of hardboard, something in her side aching much more than anything else, like she’d been stabbed.

After a moment, the fighting seemed to die down and she managed to crawl to her knees, glancing down to find whatever kept poking her in skin and her eyes widened when she saw the jagged end of a piece of plywood sticking out of her stomach. And the second she saw it, the pain came, and she gasped sharply, holding it as she looked up them.

They were dealing with Penguin and she watched as Nightwing shoved the escrima stick to his neck and sent fifty-thousand volts into his body, watching as he jerked and passed out.

(Y/N) fell back on her knees and weakly called, “Guys?” they turned and gaped at her. “Help me.”

Red Hood was the first one to her and he dropped to his knees, pulling her against him. “(Y/N),” he breathed, one hand skimming over her face, the other pressing against the wound. She cried out and he said, “You’re going to be okay.” He looked at Nightwing. “Call a bus. Now.”

Nightwing knelt beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, (Y/N). We’re going to take care of you.”

She nodded, though she wasn’t too sure of her belief in them. “It hurts,” she whimpered and Red Hood looked down at her side, raising his gauntlet to it.

“The wood punctured your liver.” He said and she sighed in shock.

“Am…am I gonna die?” she asked quietly, and Red Hood yanked off his hood, pressing down tightly onto her side.

“No. You’re not going to die, (Y/N).”

Suddenly, tears were gathering in her eyes and she whimpered, “I don’t wanna die.” (Y/N) grasped at the wrist that was digging into her abdomen. “Please, I don’t wanna die now.” Tears slipped down her cheeks and she let out a sob. “I don’t wanna die here.”

He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb across her skin. “You’re not going to die.” He promised. “I’m not going to let you die here.”

Her eyes found his behind the domino mask and she whimpered again. “I’m scared, Red Hood.”

“I’m going to save you. I swear I will.” He ignored the blood that had smeared across her cheek and pressed his hand back to her bleeding abdomen, tears of his own gathering in his vision as he whispered, “I won’t lose you too.”

(Y/N) pressed her head to his shoulder. “I have a cat at my home. If I don’t make it will you get him for me? Find him a good home?”

“Don’t talk like this. You’re going to make it, (Y/N).” He looked at Nightwing. “Where’s the bus?”

“Ten out,” he replied. “I’ll go open the doors.” He hurried off and left the two.

“Red Hood, my cat—”

“You’re going to see Matlock again, I promise,” he interrupted sternly, and she gaped at him.

“How do you know my cat’s name? How do you even know my name?” He met her eyes and slowly reached up, peeling the mask from his face and her jaw went slack. “J—Jason?”

He gave her a weak smile. “Surprised?”

(Y/N) could barely find the words and she huffed, “I called you a jerk-off last weekend.”

“Yeah, I kinda deserved that.” Jason laughed, putting the mask back into place. “Couldn’t help it though. You made cupcakes for my brother.”

“Jealous?” she teased, voice dropping into a groan when she shifted.

Jason cupped her cheek. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” He thumbed her skin as the paramedics entered the warehouse and he smiled. “You’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

She gripped his hand. “Don’t leave me. Please, Jason, don’t leave me.”

“I’ll come to see you after they get you into the hospital. Okay?”

“Promise?” (Y/N) whispered and he nodded.

“I promise, doll.” He nodded his head and stepped back, letting the medics do their job. And when they had her in the back of the ambulance, he sighed heavily and watched the siren wail as the red lights disappeared down the boulevard.

Dick rested a hand on his shoulder. “Go. I’ll call GCPD.”

Jason turned and pulled his brother into a strong hug, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you, Dick. God, thank you so much.”

“Oh my God, are you willingly hugging me!” Dick screeched, and when Jason tried to pull away, he held on and buried his face in Jason’s shoulder. “My Little-wing!”

“Okay, get the fuck off me. This is embarrassing.” He scowled.

***

Her head felt heavy and she barely had the strength to open her eyes. Brightness flooded her vision and she shut them again, waiting a moment before trying to open them once more. This time, it wasn’t as bright, and she blearily glanced around the room before catching sight of Jason curled up uncomfortably in the hospital chair beside her bed.

She didn’t wake him at first, simply gazing at him. He looked tired. Tired and worn out, like he hadn’t slept in years. Which might’ve been the case if the rumors of Red Hood being the second Robin were true—murdered then revived later. She doubt he slept much at all.

As if he knew she was watching him, his eyes opened and he met hers, blinking the sleep away and then he was leaning forward, gently murmuring, “Hey, (Y/N). How do you feel?”

She sighed, resting on the pillow, the thumb brushing her forehead almost lulling her back into sleep. “…Tired,” she mumbled. “And sore.”

Jason huffed a laugh. “Yeah, getting stabbed will do that to you.” He glanced towards the door. “Let me go get the doctor real—”

“Stay,” she said, grabbing his arm and he stilled. “Please stay. Just for a moment.”

“Alright,” he agreed, sitting back in the chair. “I’ll stay,” he said, but his eyes became firm. “but in five minutes, I’m going to get Doctor Brown.”

(Y/N) stuck her tongue out at him, and they collapsed into laughter, though at one point she groaned, “Oh God, don’t make me laugh.” She rested her hand on her abdomen. “Everything in this general area hurts.”

Jason took her hand. “It will—quit prodding it,” he griped. “You don’t wanna open up your stitches.” He ran his calloused thumb over the back of her hand and met her eyes. “I was so scared when I saw you get taken.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he shook his head.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve seen it coming earlier. I should’ve told you earlier, but I was so scared of letting you know everything.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “But I almost wasn’t fast enough tonight, and you got hurt and—”

(Y/N) brushed her fingers over his lips, shushing him. “Jason, it wasn’t your fault.”

He frowned behind her fingers. “But you—”

“I’m here.” She affirmed. “And I’m okay.” (Y/N) grabbed his chin. “You saved me.”

“What happens if I’m too late next time?” he asked, eyes searching hers and she smiled.

“We’re not going to let that happen.”

“But it—”

“It’s not going to happen again.” She brushed her thumb over his lip and smiled at him.

He cupped her hand to his face and bent over, pressing his lips to hers; Jason stayed there for a moment, merely resting his forehead to hers and he lamented, “I’m sorry I turned you down. I never meant to hurt you…I was just—”

“Keeping me safe,” she surmised. “I know, baby.” Jason froze, eyes wide. “Too early?”

He chuckled and kissed her again. “Say it again.”

“Mmm, say please, and I’ll throw in a ‘I love you’.” (Y/N) countered.

��Pretty please?”

She grinned. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you, doll.”

[plush-rabbit]

What A Good Little Girl

Warnings: Non-Con, Degradation, Humiliation

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I’ve uh,,, I did a fic. Headcanons probably would’ve had it gone out quicker but I was kind of excited to do this,,, hope you like it!! I think I’m depraved with this but I’m not totally sure!! Its hard for to be like “hm, is this heavy or am I reaching?” anyways, enjoy!

-

Your hands grab fistfuls of the comforter, pulling on it, desperately trying to grab onto something to pull yourself away from him. Your knees dig into the mattress, hands letting go of the cloth and reaching out to grab the linen, pulling it away, your teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, hope and fear coursing through your veins as you reach to grab the various layers that decorate the once pristine bed. You’re desperate, crying and begging, shouting until your voice is hoarse, until you’re sure that blood runs down your throat. 

His hands are on you, nails digging into your bare hips, the skin ripped and blood spilled as his fingers hook into your underwear, pulling it down, exposing your cunt and your bum. Your nails drag against the bare mattress, mouth open in a scream of help with spit spilling out and making the white sheets translucent. 

“Stop!” You shout, trying to dig your toes into the slipping bedsheets. “Please!” Your sobs are ripped out of you, hoarse and ruined as tears stream down the curve of your face. Your body is flipped over, his fingers leaving bruises along your sides. Hair spills in front of your face, catching on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks. “Overhaul, I’m begging you!” You spit the hair out, your mouth parted as you gasp for breath.

He’s looming above you, the sharp point of the mask poking against your nose, his knee in between your legs, the front of it pushing against your sex. His hands grasp your wrists, pinning them above you, his eyes frantic and wide. 

“I love you.” You can hear the smile on his words, gracing them with a twistedness that you’ve only heard in movies. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You stop your thrashing, chest heaving and nails pressing against your palms. “Let me go. I swear, I- I won’t tell anyone. Just- Just, please-” your voice cracks, praying to any god above that is willing to listen that they would show the humanity in your attacker- “let me go.”

“No.” His answer is simple and your trashing resumes, your legs kicking out, screams tearing through the air and his knee presses further against your sex. “Shut up.” You refuse to listen to him, crying out, your wrists swirling and twisting, an escape attempt that is futile. His hand slams against your face, smushing your face lips wetting the palm of his hand. “I said-” his voice is cold, harsh and unforgiving, eyes narrowed at you- “shut up.” You let out a shuddering breath against his palm, your shouts lowering into a whimper. His hands claw, nails scratching at your chin. “I lied when I said I’m not going to hurt you.” Your blood runs cold and your body still, heart beating rapidly against your ribs. “I don’t want to but if I have to train you, then I will.” His head tilts, his eyes pushing upwards, the smile hidden beneath the god-awful mask. “Understood?” You nod to your best attempt, and his smile presumably falls. “I asked you a question. I expect a response.” His fingers press against your forehead and you hate to think of his touch on you. “I’ll ask once more.” His head tilts and you can feel the aura that oozes off of his body- it’s slimy and thick, tar-like and nauseating. “Understood?”

“Yes, Overhaul,” you whimper. You swallow the lodge that formed in your throat, teeth clenching at the pain of the raw wounds inside your throat. “I understand.”

He relaxes, the smile returning, the point of mask gently rubbing against you as if it were giving you a kiss. “I’m going to let your wrists go but if you dare to try anything, I’ll disassemble you. Don’t make me do that. I’d hate for our room to be bloodied.” 

You want to vomit. Your fingers twitch as his hand releases your wrists and the need to survive wants to strike up at him but the look of his eyes make you stop. They’re unforgiving. You know that he isn’t lying. He’d ruin you in a heartbeat, in less than a blink of an eye if you even made a sudden movement. You lie still, your wrists aching and you have to ignore the urge to rub at them.

He grabs you roughly, pulling you onto your feet. Your bare body is against his, your chest against the fabric of his shirt. His hand rests on the beginning curve of your bum, his eyes, bright as the sun and golden like the blood of gods, burns into your very soul, marring you in a way that you will never be clean ever again. 

He holds you tight, his arms circling around you and hands slipping around your body. His chest rises and dips, even breaths that meet your chest. His hand turns over, bringing it under the cusp of your breast, goosebumps pricking at your skin. His thumb rises, edging under your nipple, pushing the pebbling bud upwards. He places the curve of his beak against the curve of your neck. You hear a sharp inhale, his beak brushing against your pulse point, edging it closer to you, the point of it pressed close to you. When he pulls away from you, his eyes have widened slightly, head tilting at you. His arms release you and he steps backwards.

He stands in front of you, his heels clicking against the floors. “Kneel.” There’s defiance inside of you, wanting to snarl and spit at him and as if noticing that you still have that bit of urge to fight inside of you, he flexes his hand open. You kneel. Your knees digging into the floor, hands flat on your thighs. “Beg for it.”

The room is silent, unable to hear anything but your own heartbeat that echoes in your ears. “What?” You ask in a horrified whisper, hands clawing on your thighs, leaving marks in its wake.

“I want you to beg for my cock. I want you to beg for me to fuck you.” A shiver of disgust runs through your body. “I already love you but to be honest, the whole appeal of sex has never been a favorite of mine. But-” his fingers snap and you look up at him immediately- “I would like to be your first.” Your mouth opens in defiance but he raises a hand and you fall silent. “I’m aware you’ve been with women before but never with a man. I’d like to be your one and only.” Your body is filled with ants, crawling inside of you, scratching under your skin, the shiver makes your twitch, a jerking motion of your shoulder as you your mouth is filled with poison. He takes a step closer to you, the sound of metal clinking together as he undoes his belt. “You’re going to beg, and you’re going to do it well because if you don’t-” his hand grasps at your chin, smushing your cheeks together, and with a careful hand, he removes his mask placing it on the bed beside you, a face that you sure would have been beautiful if not belonging to the monster that stands above you contorts into a mess- “I’ll make sure that you feel every second of pain that I’m going to bring to you.” He releases your face and stands back up right, a tent in his boxers that shows how much pleasure he’s getting from the entire experience. “Beg for it.”

Humiliation courses through you and no matter how much you try to hype yourself up in your head, trying to ingrain the idea that if you don’t do what he’s asked of you, the punishment will be worse than you can imagine. Any defiance inside of you dies quickly, a flame snuffed out by a cold gust of wind that leaves the room devoid of light and warmth. 

He clears his throat and you flinch. Your lips are dry, your tongue heavy with acid and with your eyes downcast, you speak with tremors. “Please, Overhaul.” You want him to kill you, you’d prefer it rather than anything else but a death with him wouldn’t be simple. “I- I want-” you might throw up- “your cock.” Tears burn your eyes and you’re begging for something worse than death on your knees. 

“Do better.”

You bite on the inner corners of your lips. “I want to suck on your cock. Please.”

The palm of his hand burns against the side of your face, a print left of it as you curl on the floor, a hand holding you up and the other cradling where he has touched you. Your face pulls into a frown, gasping for breath, trying to not give him the satisfaction of you crying. 

“I told you to do better.” His voice is cold, and when you look up at him, he’s rubbing the palm of the hand that had struck you. 

You slowly come back to your original position, rising to while holding your cheek, the other hand coming to graze your pubic mound, fingers touching lightly on it to cover the intimate area. “Plea- Please Overhaul. I-” you swallow the poison in your mouth and look up at him with watery eyes- “Overhaul, I’m on my knees. Please, let me suck your cock. I want your cock so badly- I- I-” your face stings and you curve your hand to cover your mouth, the hand above your pubic drifting off to the side as you spread your legs- “I need your cock in my pussy.” His eyes burn against your body. Your mouth parts behind your palm, the hand on your thigh lifting and hiding behind your palm. The index and middle finger rest on the flat of your tongue, your lips closing around the knuckle, cheeks hollowing as you wet your fingers, sliding them out and looking at the tent in his boxers that twitches when your spit coated fingers touch at your clit. “Let me have the honor of sucking on your cock.”

He inches closer to you and you can see the tip of where his cock rests darken. “Say that you're a filthy bitch who wants cock.” 

Your fingertips press against your entrance as you try to remember a previous partner, so desperate to make yourself want this. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock.” Your fingers tickle at the inside of your walls, the spit making the stretch a bit less painful. 

His hand rests above your head, fingers gripping against you to force you closer to his cock, nose against the tip. “Bark for me.” His cock leaks, arousal dripping on the tip of your nose and slipping to your cupid’s bow. 

Hopelessness fills you. “Arf.” Your hair knots into his fingers, a sharp tug on your scalp. “Arf! Arf!” Your fingers curl inside of you, your head lifted as he tugs on your hair. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock! I’m a little bitch just for you Overhaul! Please let me put my mouth to use and fuck my mouth! Arf!” His cock is pushed against your lips, splitting and the pre-arousal spilling past your teeth and filling your mouth with something bitter. Your fingers pump inside of you, trying to force arousal to drip. His hands curve to the back of your head, gripping your hair and forcing you further against him. “I’m just a filthy bitch! I want your cock, please! Arf!”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth, your eyes widening and squinting in distaste at the arousal that is forced down your throat. He holds himself close to you, his bills pressing against your chin. Your tongue is against his underside, the salty taste of him infiltrating your mouth and forcing you to remember how he tastes and feels.

“Move your tongue.” His orders are strict and you listen because you have no right to disobey him. Your tongue slips around him, feeling the vein that rests alongside him, the soft dip against his cockhead. “Keep fingering yourself but don’t you dare make a mess.”

Out of habit, you make a sound of understanding, the muffled voice surrounding his cock send vibrations against him. He grips your hair tighter, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, the bitter scent of his skin pressed firmly against your nose. The tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat, a bitter taste that slides down your throat, thin and slippery that makes you feel sick. Tears spill past your eyes, sliding down to drip from your chin and land on your breasts. Nausea is heavy on your tongue, your fingers still inside of your cunt, the small bit of arousal that you forced to coat your fingers has finally dried and now your fingers are tight inside of you. 

“You aren’t touching yourself,” he grits through his teeth, taking a small step further towards you. Your body stiffens and the hand knotted into your hair pulls away, smoothing over the stinging pain with a soft pet. “You know I hate messes, right?” You make a sound of confirmation with his length still inside of your mouth. Your fingers have begun to twitch, curling and petting over your velvety walls that slowly dribble with arousal. “I told you I would punish you, didn’t I? To keep fingering yourself and not make a mess? Well, you listened about not making a mess, but you still defied me.” Your body stiffens and he coos in a clincal voice, his hands slowly coming to curve to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to press firmly on your skull. “Well, consider this a lesser punishment for not listening to me. If you do that again, I might be forced to do something that you’ll regret.”

He pulls away from you, his cock slowly sliding out of your tightly closed mouth, his cockhead remaining between your teeth, more of the sickly, bitter thin arousal lands in a puddle on your tongue. He orders for you to open your mouth wider and you do so, the flat of your tongue resting on the underside of his cock and you take a shaky breath, tears still fresh and clinging to your lashes when he pushes himself forward, and you choke on your last breath.

His cock hits against the back of your throat in such a forceful manner that the only thought you’re able to hold onto coherently is that you’ll be left with a bruise. He slams to the back of your throat, holding tightly onto your skull.

Overhaul is unforgiving, holding your head to the hilt of cock, your nose squished against his groin and he stills for a moment. Your eyes water, spit running through the gaps in your mouth and his hand slaps firmly against your cheek. It’s an unwelcome feeling, the firm pat of his hand against your face, touching against his throbbing cock that pushes so deep into you that you are unable to breathe. He holds himself closely to you and one of his hand lifts, only to hammer against the other, pounding your skull closer to his skin. Tears burn their mark on the curve of your face, sliding and mixing with the thick, slimy spit that coats your shin and drips to your breasts and onto the back of your hand that is nestled into your cunt. 

He pulls away, his cock bobbing with spit hanging onto him and dripping off in thick strings to the floor. It splatters against your legs and it’s uncomfortably warm. You gasp for breath, your face burning and lungs expanding with precious air. Your jaw aches, opened wide for a monster who claims to love you, who wants you pure and yet defiles you with the very body that he keeps so clean. 

It’s a second of relief, the only pause you have in this nightmare of a scenario before he pushes into you once more. He swings into your still body, feeling the back of your throat with semen running down your throat. You are unable to move, your fingers slowly becoming coated in arousal that is induced by fear. The vision in the corners of your eyes begin to be speckled by black dots, your mind slowly lost as your hands curve around his thighs and nails press into his skin, a desperate attempt to be let go from the current scene that you are stuck in. He ejaculates into your mouth, spilling and forcing it down your throat even as your cough and speckles fly and land on his thigh. 

Survival instincts take over and you are uncaring of any punishment that can be given by him. You slap his thigh, begging in a muffled cry to be let go. His hand hammers to the back of your skull as a warning sign, and you still, the muscles in your legs tense and you are desperate to be let go, to breath for a moment as your vision starts to grow dimmer by the second. 

With a brief moment of mercy, he pulls away and you gasp for air, holding onto your chest that burns from restriction, your heart pumping madly. Your hearing goes distant as you focus on survival, unable to hear the scratching of fabric against each other, your vision blurry with tears missing that his bare legs come into view and walk away from you. You are on all fours, sobbing and begging to be let go, that you won’t speak a word of this. You trip over your words, blubbering, watching as spit that coats our chin drips to the floor, your sex hardly wet and the fingers that were inside of you moments ago are now curled into your hand in disgust. 

There is a horrible brewing inside of you, whatever fight that you left in you has disappeared, leaving you a broken husk of a person that was ruined by a man. Someone so clean and orderly, respected and cared for, has made you filthy, has ruined you internally and outside, ruined your worth with an intimate act saved for lovers. You are on your hands and knees, crying and begging to be let go, acidic spit coating your tongue as you promise him that he’ll be the only man you ever love as long as he lets you go. But your words are nothing more than fuel for him to continue, evil growing deep inside of him as he saunters to you, gripping you the hair and raising you, pearls of discharge bead from his slit as he listens to your cries. He walks and tosses you onto the bed and with realization of what is to come, you sob harder and bury your face into the bed, your hands clinging to the bed sheets that you held onto so tightly long ago.

“Make sure you cry, okay?” His lips are on your shoulder blades in a gentle kiss. “I want you and I both to remember who it was that took your virginity. Remember that I claimed you.” His hands are cold as the trail down your body, his legs kicking yours open and you can feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. He enters you, and you squeal, your scream high-pitched and hands tearing into the sheets. 

Overhaul is cruel, slamming his hips into yours in a telling way that he does not care for your own pleasure but is purely seeking out his own. With every thrust, he meets with a cry, your back arching and something war and slick spilling onto your inner thighs and you can only hope with a muddled mind that he’s spilled inside of you, but you know that that isn’t the case. You cry his name and it's ruined on your tongue, stuttered out and broken, filled with agony and hate, drenched in everything evil and it matches who he is. 

“Fuck-” his curse is cut off by breathless laughter- “you were a virgin!” His nails dig into your hips and your fears are confirmed. “Staining my cock is pure blood,” he claims and you can hear the smile, “you really are everything good and pure.” It's a mockery to hear those words. Time is blurring and your mind is starting to escape you, leaving you there to be motionless as he uses you to his own pleasure. He grunts above you, sweat clinging to you and your tears sliding down in silent sobs. Your hand is limp as he pushes it above you, curving over you as he holds your hand. Finally, in a ruined state, you can feel his seed spill inside of you, dripping in thick, white ropes that paint you pink and white, red messily swirled inside of you.

He pulls away with a gasp and his lips are on your burning body. He picks you up, holding you close to his chest, his heart beating reminding you that he is human. Overhaul picks you up and brings you into a bathroom and he lets you rest inside the tub, the water spilling onto your feet and soon rising to your collarbone. He joins you and washes your body with the scent of vanilla and orange blossom filling the air. His lips are pressed against your face, kissing you in what should be a loving motion as you cry and turn your body into his chest, mumbling how everything hurts. His hands are gentle on your body, cupping your sex and kissing your trembling lips.

[lemonjoonah]

Blood Bounty - Part 3 (M) - Finale

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, ft. Seokjin x Namjoon Word Count: 15.5K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings (CONTAINS SPOILERS): Dub-con (consent is freely given but the context is dubious), non-con vampire feeding, non-con kiss, unprotected sex, light bondage, oral sex (f. rec.), cum eating, pain during intercourse (don’t be like the OC here in the beginning and try to conceal it, you should tell your partner if something hurts), somewhat antiquated thoughts on virginity, virgin reader (it’s a flashback and there’s a small amount of blood...), death of major and minor characters, drugging (with vampire blood), murder, violence, blood, gore, sexism, blood slavery, kidnapping, captivity, forced marriage, manipulation, gaslighting, once again it’s some pretty dark shit, consider yourself warned.     

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me through this mini-series. I truly hope you enjoy the end of this tale (and the hints to another separate series in the works 😉).

...

Your new stead is surprisingly responsive to your commands, possibly desiring to get as far away from the predators as you. Taking you down the road to the kingdom at a startling pace, causing several branches to whip painfully in your direction. When a stinging blow inevitably lands on your brow, enough to draw a spot of blood, you pull back on the speed of your mount. You are not so far now that you worry about making it back before nightfall.   

The route home becomes more populated the closer you get. For the first time in years you are among people like you again. Those who see you as just another person passing by, not a temping entree, nor a traveller to rob. Some even nod to you as they cross your path, you respond in kind, but keep your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak.

Your first few paces inside the town comes as quite a shock. The notable gathering spots are even more vacant than they were during your nighttime strolls. With the stalls of the market bare, and so many businesses closed,  the only well occupied space appears to be the mounted boards on the end of every other street. You stop at one littered with official orders for curfews, new regulations, and missing souls. The most notable of all to you is the obituary detailing your brothers passing. 

You swallow back your grief, and proceed to examine the document claiming that he had died of a devastating injury and no more. It seems your parents will still not admit to any weakness that might carry in the family's blood. But with each stamped flyer, there’s been an addition made, one that was obviously not approved by the crown. 

‘The crown prince is dead, and our princess lost. If we let them rule any longer we will be next!’

You are stunned by the note, fearing how bad the circumstances must have become in your absence. Backing away from the board you prod your stead onward and in the direction of the public stables. Hoping to find the mount it’s own new home, while you return to yours.

“Three pence for a night,” The master grunts, looking up from his work as you dismount near the entrance to the paddock. 

“I have no coin, but-”

“No coin, no stall. Don’t waste my time and move along.” He interrupts before returning to shovelling the pungent manure.

You wrinkle your nose at the odour and persist in your efforts. “I was going to offer for you to take ownership of him instead. I have no use for him now.”

“Keep him? Tell me, how did you come to own this stead? Is it truly yours? ” He leers down, placing you beneath his scrutinous glare. “People don’t just give up a worthy horse. How can I know that there is not someone out there who will come looking for it and will blame me for their loss?”

“I can assure you the last owner will not come to retrieve him. Now do you want the horse or should I go find another who is willing to take my offer? Maybe that nice family there.” You point to a couple making their way into a nearby building. 

Your bluff calls his, leading the man to grimace and huff, “Fine. I will take it, now be gone with you.”

With the horse now tended to, you start to walk away, passing the entrance to the tavern, the door the mentioned pair just walked into. It’s hard not to take note of its current occupancy, for it is packed with people, all shouting and trying to have their say. With the entryway cracked open an inch you are able to catch several snippets of the debate.

“We can’t wait any longer. They are changing the narrative as we speak! Now stating they hold out hope for the princess’s return.”

“And what if she does?” A familiar man stands in argument. “Would you have us send the kingdom into turmoil when hope still exists? I would not be as I stand before you today without the surgeon she sent to us. A blacksmith cannot work without a hand. My wife and I would have been out on the street before long.” 

“Can you not see what they are doing for what it is?” The first speaks again to counter his point. “It’s a convenient ploy! With an heir lost, only the promise of another, with more favour than them will quell our anger. If she was still alive they would have found her by now.” He pauses to pat the smith on the shoulder. “I mourn her loss too my good friend, but we can’t wait for a small sliver of hope when we continue to live the way we do. Taxed within an inch of our livelihoods, while the list of missing continues to grow and those who are in charge hide behind their walls, keeping secrets that affect us all. If she returns we can offer her a good standing among us. But their rule must end.”

You edge closer and closer to the door trying to get a better view of the meeting in progress, when a throat clears and grunts, “Run along lad...” Nearly jumping from the fright you turn around to find the stable master having come up from behind. Bowing your head you comply, thankful that he had not realized the gravity of what you overheard. 

What had truly happened in the time you were gone? This isn’t just contempt but a full blown revolution building. Your people think you dead, and understandably so, but if they see that you are alive and well, maybe a better path can be found than one that will surely end in blood.

When considering your options you know there will be no way in through the front gates, your parents have always kept them heavily guarded, and no one will believe you are the child of the king and queen dressed as you are now. Rather than stir up trouble, you proceed to your fastest route in, the trap door hidden on the perimeter. 

In your absence it appears to have remained unused. The roots of the hedge have grown over, needing to be tugged out of place until the hinges and wood are freed from their grasp. You drop down into the passage, closing the hatch behind. With no light, nor lantern you are left to navigate the abandoned hall in the dark. The palm of your hand brushes against the damp stone wall, crossing cobwebs and critters on it’s trek to lead you to the portrait door. You try your best not to think of the time spent in this place, and the company you are now left without, but the sound of your steps resonates around you. Tricking your ear into thinking it a whisper of the past, as if his promises still remain locked away down here, echoing off the bedrock for you to claim.  

You are grateful when you finally reach the castle's interior, although for the time of day even the palace appears deserted and cold, you slip about the halls feeling like a stranger in your own home. Hoping to return to your old bedroom before you find anyone else, so you can at least reclaim another part of what you once were. But when you find the door and step inside someone is already there, crying at the foot of your bed. It’s too late to back away for they look up, just as startled as you. It’s your former lady’s maid who steps back from shock at your appearance, followed by a baffled stare when she catches a glimpse of your face.

“My word...” She gasps as tears continue to roll down her cheeks, “I never thought I’d see you again. He brought you back, I can’t believe he brought you back.” She runs forward wrapping her arms around you, a blubbering speech follows. “I’m so sorry, your b-brother... he’s gone. After everything that happened, everything you did, he’s still gone. An-and the threats to the crown, ever since his death everyone has been in an uproar. I haven’t dared to leave the grounds out of fear that someone will know I work here.” “It’ll be okay. We will figure this out.” You attempt to calm the maid you can only remember fragments of. She must have thought you had run off with Yoongi that night, but now is not the time to correct her with actual horrors you endured. 

“Having you back now will surely pull the king and queen from their stupor. They have been pleading and praying for your return.” She looks down at your clothes with apprehension. “Court is in session right now. They are locked away until a matter is settled, but we can ready you to meet with them once they are finished.” You nod prompting her to seek out your wardrobe. “I’ve been keeping them well looked after in case of your return.” She pulls out a dark dress, a sign of mourning for your brother. “I believe this will still fit. You don’t look to have changed much.” 

As she laces you in you can feel the garment tug on your ribs and chest. Maybe a little too small, but it will have to do for the time being. Once finished she escorts you to the dining room, while you continue to marvel at the empty halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Much has changed... your parents' fears have grown in the time you’ve been gone. They feel they can trust far fewer than they have before, and so, many of the staff were let go. If anyone ever even asked about you they too were sent away.” She stops at the set of double doors and urges you inside. “If you remain here and I will go and have the King and Queen informed as soon as the proceedings let out.” 

“Wait, don’t leave...” You were going to ask her more questions to address the gaps in your past, hoping you might stir more than a few moments you have of her and your life here, but she has already closed the door and departed. 

You are left in the dining hall, waiting only with the excessive spread of your parents forthcoming dinner. The feel of the room compared to the passage below is unfamiliar, unlike the dark narrow tunnel this place is void of memory and the feelings that come with it. You pray that such a disconnect will not last long. 

Mounted up on the back wall you find your family’s portrait. Staring at it at the faces and details, you remain so until slivers of the painting's creation surfaces in your mind. You hated that gown, for its rigid seams and heavy fabric took quite a toll as you stood there for hours behind your brother. He was seated due to his condition but you were told to stand and remain still, while the prince takes the forefront of the picture.

It had been made not long before you disappeared from the kingdom. You can recall dwelling on how little blood you had left, while the painter took your likeness. Your parents look so happy in the portrait, thinking their son to be healing and ready to take on the throne, while you spent the whole time daydreaming of Yoongi’s return.

Your anger spikes as you think of him now, it is beyond doubt that he has noticed your absence. You will have to warn your parents and their guard of his possible travel to the kingdom to claim you for his clan. The secret passage will have to be sealed, taking with it your hopes to ever leave again.

Grabbing one of the many decanters and with a shaking hand pour yourself a goblet of wine. Seeking to soothe your trepidation of meeting your parents, you sip on the bitter drink while picking at the food of the central spread.

The hours pass while you take your fill, until finally, when the sky has long been dark your mother hurries first. Looking exactly the same as she once did in your memories, frantic and worried. “Thank heavens you are back. You are safe, we are safe.” She looks down at you, her face unchanged with time, and the skin of the arms which clutch you... you stare at them for a moment, perfect and untouched, but you remember... you recall deep gashes and blood, so much blood pouring down your fingers. Disturbed by the thought you shake yourself from your horrific vision and smile back at her. Expecting her to launch into a flurry of questions but to your surprise, both her and your father pose no queries. 

“We knew he would find you again,” your mother cries with happiness. “We knew he would bring you back. The people, they will be so thrilled to hear of your return. The threats, the violence it will all be over soon.”

“You knew him? You asked him to find me?” The facts of her statement confuse you greatly, had they been privy to information your maid had not? For if she thought you were with him... what did your parents believe?

“My dear, are you well? Of course we did.” Your gaze once again focuses on the flesh of her forearms, as if entranced to the spot, while she brushes at your unkempt hair. Upon following your sight she pulls at the shawl of her dress in an awkward fashion, covering the length of her exposed skin. “Think not of what happened at our parting. All is well.” A painted grin plasters your mother's face. “We made all the changes necessary, you my darling, are to be next in line, not your children, but you. Your father had to work so hard to gain the approval of his lords, they thought it pointless to change the law in your absence, but here you are! Once your consort holds up the rest of his bargain your father will sign and you will be heir to the throne.”

This is all too much, you trying to keep hold of all the information while more is poured on to you. Unable to focus on anything other than their knowledge of Yoongi. Did they really meet him and make the request of him to bring you home? But to what bargain are they referring? “He did but I fear his clan has plans to remove me once again. We have to guard the old passage too, it’s already been nightfall for some time and I fear he won’t be far behind.”

“My poor girl... are you sure you are not ill?” Your mother’s head tilts in confusion. “He is already here, he has been for some time... you fled from his estate when he was just about to send for your return.”

You step away from your parents as fear tightens and grips your chest. “No, you can not mean. Not him, please not him-”

But your greatest nightmare returns to join you, with Taehyung waltzing through the double doors as if your parents castle is his own. “Princess, so good of you to join us. You shouldn’t have run off like that, you had your parents worried.” He approaches, inciting you to back into a wall in an attempt to keep your distance. Your parents don’t react with shock or fear at his sudden advancement on you, surely it is just a dream or vision then? One you are bound to wake up from soon. “But I knew you couldn’t run from me... only towards. Isn’t that right my sweet princess?” Though when his breath comes to find your ear you know him to be real. “I would have gone to find you myself, and take you back sooner, but your parents have been a rather large thorn in my side. Refusing to let me go until I-”

“And what of the other part of our bargain?” Your father calls from behind Taehyung, who grimaces and rolls his eyes at the interruption.

“They will be here shortly. My kin are acting on my behalf tonight, for I could wait no longer when I heard news of her arrival.”

“You have short changed us before,” the king admonishes. “I will not sign until I am certain the problem is dealt with.”

Taehyung turns from you entirely, the accusation leading him to snap back in anger. “That was your own doing, not mine, human. I gave you what you asked and you chose to squander it.” 

With Taehyung now focused on your father, you are ready to run, to seek anything you might use against him, but your mother catches you before you can take two steps. 

Shouting and jeering can be heard from just outside of the room, along with the heavy footfalls of several men, far too loud for what should be expected of the staff and guard. The procession outside bursts into the dinning hall. Your father’s lip curls ever so slightly as several men are pushed to their knees in front of him, muzzled and chained by the vampiric clan that restrains them. 

Taehyung introduces them with a proud and theatrical air, as he takes a seat at the head of the table.  “As you requested my liege, the leaders of the now failed rebellion.” 

You recognize many of them from the tavern earlier, even the blacksmith whose hand Yoongi saved long ago. Your father after taking stock, waves them away, ordering them to be held out of his sight, until a public execution can be arranged. 

You open your mouth to argue and condemn such brutal tactics when you are pushed down in the chair beside the monstrous vampire by your own mother. “You will sit still, be quiet, and do your duty for the family.” Despite her insistence your nails claw at her hold trying to free yourself from his side. As blood breaches her skin, so too does the memory of your first meeting with the vampire lord.

...

-Five years ago-

You look through the streets for hours hoping to catch even a glimpse or a whisper of Yoongi. Asking several people who pass you by, but no one knows of his whereabouts, nor has seen the distinguished surgeon in months. 

With the sun ready to rise, you retire from town for the night. Stripping from the simple dress, you toss it to the side and return to bed for the hour you have left to sleep. When forced awake by duty, your day ultimately passes with you a hollow shell. Barely able to keep your eyes open from lack of rest, with a gnawing disappointment taking root in your stomach, distracting you from much else. You tell your maid of your plans to venture out again to find him, but she looks concerned by the prospect. 

“You can hardly stand! What if, as a result of your current state, you cannot find him tonight? Your brother needs this and if you should fail... maybe we should tell the king and queen and let them put out a search for him?” 

“No, I must do this on my own. He would not want them to be aware of his kind.” You go to take the plain gown but your maid grabs it first. 

“I understand that you feel you must go. But please take an hour or two to sleep before you journey out. You look dead on your feet.” She does not relent, prodding and scolding until you are between the covers of your bed. “I will wake you once the castle is quiet enough for you to leave without being spotted.”

Nodding in agreement you submit to the coma of slumber rather quickly while she sits in the seat across from your bed. You wake hours later not by the hand of your staff, but from the hammering of rain pelting at your window.

You rise and call out, confused as to why she did not wake you earlier, but no answer responds. Lighting the candle on your bedside you find the chair empty of both her and the dress. You jump from your bed, in only your dressing gown and slippers reach for the door. When she bursts through it first, wearing the dress you intended to wear on the street. 

“Where were you? Why didn’t you-” 

“Princess, I found him!” Your lady’s maid exclaims happily, despite being absolutely drenched from the weather outside. “I went in your place so you could have more time to rest, and I found your friend, or I should say he found me.”

“You found him?” You breathe a sigh of relief, your brother is now safe and your plans with Yoongi can come to fruition. “Where is he now?”

“He’s with the king and queen.”

“My parents?”

“He wished to see them, mentioned something about desiring their permission. He’s already healed your brother, your mother and father couldn’t believe it.”  She grabs hold of your hand and pulls you from the room, not caring that you don only your bed attire. “Come! They are waiting for you.”

Still half asleep and only semi-coherent you allow yourself to be ushered along to your father’s den. There he sits behind a desk quill pen in hand, your mother hanging over his shoulder, and settled across from them both is... someone who is not your vampire, someone who is not Yoongi. 

The stranger smiles, showing off his sharp teeth as he gets up from his seat to deliver a sweeping bow. “Lord Kim Taehyung, at your service princess.”

You take a step back upon hearing the name that Yoongi warned you of so many times. “W-why are you here?” With concern immediately drifting to your lost vampire, for if his enemy has found you what could have befallen him.

Your mother scolds your response, “This man has offered his assistance, to aid in your brother's care, you will show him your respect.”

“It’s no matter,” Taehyung shakes his head at your mother. “Though I must ask, why do you look so scared princess? Your maid was looking for one of my kind, were you not seeking my help?”

“Is this true?” Your mother interjects, glaring at you. “You knew of people like him, those who could help your brother and you told us nothing?”

“I was looking for another,” you attempt to explain. “One who had been helping us in the past without your knowledge, he forbade me from revealing his kind to you.” 

“What did this other tell you of me?” The lord smiles. “I should like to set my story straight, because you, princess, looked ready to flee the moment you heard my name.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask again. If he refuses to answer your question why should you obey his own. “I thought your kind did not wish to reveal their existence to humans.”

“When the situation is as important as this, exceptions can be made.” The vampire justifies, a crooked grin refusing to leave his mouth. “I am only here to offer my services to your family.”

“We already have the services of another. He was doing so for years before you came here, he will help my brother should he need it in the future.”

“Then where is he now?” Taehyung asks the dreaded question which stabs at your heart.

“He will be back...” You retort, hoping it to be the honest truth. “We do not require your help.” 

Your father silences you with the stern call of your name and the hammer of his fist on his desk, before he too jumps into the argument. “I will overlook the concealment of your past acquaintances, along with the fact that you gave your brother treatment without our knowledge and consent. But I will not have you demean this man who just saved his life.”

“He is not a man!” You shout back at your king and father. “He is a monster. I have been told of his misdeeds, of his ethics. We can not trust him-”

“We have no choice! Without an heir the whole kingdom will become a place of ruin, an unclear line of descent will lead to chaos.”

“Then we wait. We wait for the one I can trust. He will be back soon, I know it.” Certain at least in this instance you know better than your parents, you plead for them both to listen.

“This is not a discussion.” Your father clarifies while the vampire takes out a bag, pulling from it two large corked bottles filled with a fluid far thicker than wine. “We called you here merely to inform you that we have accepted his services.” 

“This should be enough to keep him healthy for a long span of human life. It will heal most ailments, and injuries, and when enough is consumed will even slow the course of ageing.” You watch as the vampire's attention falls on your mother during his explanation, his lip curls even further when her eyes brighten in interest over the properties of the cure. 

You go to her, grabbing her arms so that she will focus on you alone, trying to convince her of the vampire's true nature. “This is a trick it must be. You can’t accept this, he will bring only ruin.”

“All that remains is the payment.” The Lord Taehyung adds, ignoring your plight.

Your gaze snaps back to him, when you hear of his charge. “What payment? What did you ask of them?”

“The cost for such a bounty of blood requires an equal sacrifice on your family's part.” The vampire beams with delight. “The blood needed for his life, in exchange for the blood of yours.” 

Your stomach drops when you see your father dip his head in confirmation. They already knew the cost and still they bartered you off without much thought. Your hands continue to grip your mother’s arm. “Please... please listen to me. It doesn’t have to be like this. There’s another way, there has to be.”

“There is no other way.” She responds, her tone cold enough to match her words. “It is time you stop living in your dreams dear girl, those books you cling to, those maps you draw, they will bring us nothing in the end. You have scorned numerous suitors in the past few months alone, leaving your father and I at wits’ end trying to secure a noble future for you. If you will not have that duty, you will take this. Better to have your hands stained with blood than ink if it will at least save our prince.” 

As she starts to push you towards your new fate, your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her arm, desperate to try and keep hold of your past life. Taehyung takes you by the waist and pulls you towards him leaving long lacerations down your mother’s skin as you continue to sob and beg for her to stop this. The thumb of your captor crosses your lips, bringing with it a metallic taste to your tongue. There’s a hushed order whispered in your ear to be quiet and complacent, and you do just that. Relaxing into Taehyung's arms while he carries you out and into a waiting carriage in the dark and drenched courtyard. 

Once out from the castle walls his slick smile falls. He may have taken your ability to speak, but not your tears will to flow. Pulling out a kerchief, he cleans your hands of your mother's blood. After removing every spot he lifts the fabric to his nose, and winces at the smell. “It is still amazing to me that one like yourself could be born of such soiled stock.” He then tosses the cloth out the window of the carriage. “That’s better.” His hand lifts up to the stream that continues down your cheeks. “Do not weep my princess. They may not see the same value in you that I do, but I promise we will prove it to them soon.”    

Angered by his declaration, you look away to the door, not wanting to give Yoongi’s adversary the satisfaction of your gaze. You knew you always weighed less in your parents mind. For you were second in their hearts even before your brother was conceived, second to the mere hope of a son. Swaying their love even a fraction in your favour was and is an impossible feat, a battle you could never win. 

“I know you wished to leave them, my kin intercepted a letter addressed to a royal who was willing to abscond with a vampire.” You look back at him with eager eyes. A letter? Yoongi must have sent word and this lord stopped it from reaching you. “I see that I have your attention now do I?” Taehyung scoffs and sits back in the carriage clearly enjoying your regard. “I knew of a woman much like you before I became what I am. I once travelled the land with a troupe. Entertaining both the nobles and the masses, while dressed in simple white garments, with only a tapestry as a backdrop, and the floor as our stage. It was invigorating, the life that came from holding the eye of the courts, and one lady... one princess in particular.”

Taehyung pauses to look back at your castle before continuing his tale. You can do nothing but sit there and listen, his blood and previous demands continuing to hold you in his custody. 

“She too was not content with the possible suitors before her, they could not offer her the multitude of lives she wished to live, but through narratives and plays I fulfilled that need. We could become whatever she or I wished ourselves to be. I was sure to see her as often as I could, but when her parents learned of our tryst, my group was banished, and she, to the bed of a neighbouring prince.” The vampire sighs as the story takes a darker turn. “I promised I would return to her when I could offer her a better home, but my cast and I, we ran afoul of a beast one night. When another caught the scent of our tragedy and found only me hanging by a thread, he took pity and made me one of them. I was so fearful to return to her at first, it took me several years to work up the courage and restraint before I could send her a letter begging to call on her again.” 

Now engrossed in the tale and the comparison of his story to yours. You stop an attempt to fight his will, too curious of the outcome.

“She agreed to meet, stealing away from the castle at night to find me at a nearby inn. It was my intent to flee with her that evening, to give her not only all the lives she had desired, but an endless supply of existence. What I did not expect was for her to deny my proposal. In the time I had gone she bore the prince a child, and no longer desired to part with her new role. I was not willing to accept her answer... lost in the heat of my anger and hunger for her, I took the princess with me. Draining her of life, I added her blood to mine.”

You stiffen in your seat wondering if this too will be your end, recalling a cautionary tale your mother used to tell you. The story of a noble lady, who was bled dry by the parasitic and sinful world outside. You thought back then it was her way to scare you into not leaving the protection of the castle walls, never did you consider it to be real, nor that she would be the one to give you to the monster of the fable.

“The smell and taste, I have not had anything quite like her since... until this night, when I caught wind of your own scent upon your maid's dress. I was already on my way to see you, but she made it so much easier, for she spoke on my behalf to gain my entrance. Such a sweet girl, and so very much in love with your brother isn’t she? A shame that she will likely feel the same pain as I once did, a love that crosses classes only to end in death.” 

Seething with rage at his confession, you wish to fight back and escape from his carriage but your own body will still not comply. You knew it, you knew he never intended to save your brother, he only wanted a bargain that would play in his favour. There is still a catch that remains unseen by you and your family, one that will result in the prince’s demise.

“They’ve hitched their kingdom to a dying horse, keeping it alive by selling off their only hope.” His finger follows the path of a tear down your jaw and falling to your collar. “I can promise you I will have far more roles and lives for you to play, more than you ever would have had with them. And you, you who have so much to give in return.” He opens his mouth, his breathing heavy as he leans towards your throat. “It's been so long since I’ve had someone of your calibre... I plan to savour you for far longer than the last.” Pushing you down, until you lie on the seat of the carriage, his teeth latch on, piercing the skin of your neck.     

...

You drop your mother’s arms, leaning back upon remembering the part she had to play in giving you away. “You forced me into his custody? You are the reason I was made to endure his torture.” 

“We had no choice. Your brother, he was dying.”

“And where is he now?” You shout back at them, all decorum vanished from the room. “You were given the cure, so why is my brother still dead?”

With that Taehyung smiles bringing light to the answer. “It would seem the temptation was too great for their own vanity. Even your lovely parting gift to her, erased by my remedy.”

The marks that should be on your mother's arms from your own assault, the ageing that should have become apparent since your last moment with them, none of it is there. All wiped away by the blood that would have given your brother a longer span of life. “You-you used it didn’t you... I should have known. It’s always been about appearances with you. Playing the strong hand to keep both me and your people in line. And when you ran out... you asked for more didn’t you?”

“He said he would keep our prince alive!” Your mother replies shaking from the accusation, but not denying it.

“I told you that what I gave you would be enough. It is not my fault that you chose to waste it.” Taehyung counters with a wicked grin, pleased by their faults and presumptions. “They let your brother die, not I.” 

“Then why return now? Why come if you already received what you wanted out of the deal?” You question fearing his answer, for what more could he want.

“I promised I would one day make them see the value in you.” Taehyung explains. “And there is always another bargain to be made.”

“With your brother dead and you gone we needed an heir.” Your father sets out his quill and ink on the table along with a rolled document he’s been clinging to. “It is as we feared what might happen. Our rivals at court have been stoking the fires of our people, without any official descendant they grow discontent and worried about the security of the country's future, we need you back.”

“Though you still belong to me as per the first agreement,” Taehyung interjects. “So you will return, the law will be changed, and you will become the next in line instead of any child you might have produced. With me by your side, living as husband and wife, the future rulers of this kingdom.

“I won’t allow this.” You shake your head aghast by the thought of such a deal. “First you give him me, and now your people?”

“Those people are currently rallied against us, they would see the end of us if they could. You witnessed the proof.” The king gestures to the floor where the captured were held just a moment ago. “We need assistance in controlling them.” 

“Because you’ve given them nothing to stand behind! Instead your first instinct is to feed them to a beast. Why do you still trust this monster? He will double cross you, my brother, your son is already dead, don’t let him take any more!”

There’s a knock on the door with the return of Taehyung’s vampire kin having stowed away the prisoners. He bids them to enter, while your father looks on somewhat ruffled by the impermanence of the lord’s comfort in his own home. “My part of the deal has already been given, they cannot back out now. Unless they would like those rebels to return to their people?” 

The king shakes his head. Dipping the feathered pen he signs the parchment, and hands it off to the vampire lord. 

“Thank you for your cooperation my liege...” Taehyung bows his head as he takes the paper, passing it off to one of his clan, before returning his unwanted attention to you again. “Your parents will live out the remainder of their lives as king and queen. As long as I can assure that their people will not revolt while they live. The throne will pass to us, and your people to mine.” He tilts up your chin, his thumb crossing over the small scratch on your forehead from your travels. Dipping his finger in your goblet of wine he touches the cut again. The familiar itch of healing skin crosses the surface of your brow. Your stomach turns with the knowledge of what you unintentionally consumed. “It’s a shame for them though...They won’t live long enough to see the benefits of my work here.” With the brush of his hand he gives the order to his clan, “Kill them.”

Your parents both stand in alarm, attempting to reason with the monster before you. “No, you swore-” 

“That I would keep you safe from your people, not that you are protected from myself or my kind.” He addresses his fellow vampires once again, “If you insist on feeding on them do not do it here. I find their smell distasteful and I would rather not lose my appetite.” 

His progenies take hold of your parents, dragging them away. They scream for their guards, but when no one comes to their rescue they call for you next. Pleading with you so that you might speak up on their behalf, with all dignity lost while they come to face their own mortality. You remain silent, any words frozen inside out of fear and hate. Your last duty to them would be what they always asked of you, to be quiet and still, until their screaming comes to an abrupt halt as they meet their end.

Now alone Taehyung rises from his chair and lifts you up onto the dining table, locking you in with his arms on either side. “I told you I could give you so much more than them, didn’t I promise you that? Do you remember?”

“I never said I wanted it from you.” Your furry has reached a new level, overwhelmed with contempt towards Taehyung, your parents, and yourself for not remembering sooner. “You believe their deaths will give you the kingdom? You forget that you had them sign it off to me. I will never consent to marrying you, and we both know your blood will not force me into such a binding contract. It's why you had to make deals with my parents is it not? Compulsion will not work when it comes to such bonds in ink, and you have nothing left to play in order to sway me.”

“Such a smart girl,” Taehyung coos, while brushing the side of your face. “However, it is not I who has forgotten but you, for I have already won that battle too. Here...” He takes a swig of the wine, and firmly grasps the back of your neck. Pushing more of the drink between your lips with his, Taehyung forces you to choke it back and drown in your own past. “Let me help you remember, my princess... my bride...” 

...

- 4 years ago -

You open your eyes, to be greeted by unfamiliar surroundings. A soft bed beneath you, lying between warmed sheets with a handsome yet concerned looking man sitting at your side. 

“Thank heavens you’re awake. You took quite a fall.”

You lift a hand to your head trying to dull a sharp ache in your temple. The man leans in closer without hesitation, an action which surely indicates a close tie with you, but you have no memory of him. His hands are cool yet you welcome them on the side of your face, for they diminish the pain. “I don’t remember-”

“It’s okay my princess. I'm glad you are saved from the trauma of reliving that event.” He comforts you with a boxy smile, that doesn’t quite reach the sadness of his eyes.

“No, not just that, I mean I don’t remember... I don’t remember you, where I am, nor why I am here.” You strain to recall your most recent past, everything seems so long ago. There are glimpses and fragments of moments and people which you manage to pull forth, your parents and their rule, your brother and his suffering, your castle and it’s cold walls that once surrounded you. The loneliness of your past brings a tear to your eye for it is all you can recall. Everything about this man before you seems to have vanished from your mind. 

“No, no, no, don’t cry.” His expression falls, as his hand shifts to wipe beneath your eyes, he swallows his shaking breath in clear distress over your loss. “I promised that I would look after you, that I would treat you well. Your parents, what will I tell them? They will rightfully blame me for letting you get hurt like this.”

The fear and sadness strewn across his handsome face is more than you can bear. You reach out a hand to his to comfort him back. “Could you remind me of your name sir?”

“Taehyung, and please don’t be so formal. There’s no need with me.”

“Then our relationship to each other...”

He takes your hand, tracing your fingers with his, before planting a kiss on your fourth digit. “We have been promised to one another. Your parents agreed to let you leave your own kingdom to be with me.”  

“Oh god, I’m so sorry... I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything. I can’t-”

“It’s okay my princess. It’s not your fault, but mine. You were hurt under my care. I’ll help you to rebuild what we have. We’ll start from the beginning, if we have to. I just can’t endure the thought of losing you entirely. Please just tell me what you need, whatever I can do, it will be done. I will help you to fall for me over and over, if it means I can continue to be with you.”

...

Taehyung spends the nights alongside you tending to your every desire, reciting poetry and plays to keep you entertained while you remain on bed rest for your injury. You feel bound by his kindness, and so guilty for not being able to recall your own past together.

During the day he is forced away from your side. He has a demanding role filled with travel and responsibilities, your only hope is that when he deems you well enough, you will spend that time together too. That you will be able fulfill this building desire within, to go out and journey for his role together.  

But the weeks pass with no change in your situation.

Until one night when it all becomes too much to conceal. When left by his caretakers to bathe, you dissolve into sorrow over the fact that your loss of memory is holding you back. Your wedding to him was to be days from now, but he has called it off until you can recover what you lost. Your wracking sobs echo through the empty room as you commiserate alone. Questioning what you could possibly do to dispel this suffering. 

You did not expect the sound to summon Taehyung, who comes bursting in without thought to your current state of dress. “Princess I-I...” He stops in his tracks and turns on his heel, shielding his eyes from your nude form. “Forgive me, I was not made aware that you were bathing.” 

You press yourself to the side of the tub. Shy at first but when you find him more so, you beckon him over, just as he is about to reach for the door. “No wait, don’t leave. If you go I fear I will only feel more guilt over our situation.” 

“Guilt? To what shame are you referring? Have I not made you comfortable here? Do you not have everything you need?” Taehyung abides by your call, joining you beside the tub, and swallowing as he glimpses you in the water.

“I do, and that is the issue. I remember nothing other than your care and kindness. You have given me everything you can, and I have nothing to grant you in return.”

“That’s not true-”

You press a damp finger to his lips, urging him to let you finish. “Despite not having a memory of our past, there is this need inside me... it’s difficult to express, but it calls out for someone like you. I do not wish to continue this cautionary stance, waiting and hoping for something that might not return. I do not want to hold us back. I think we should still marry, for I cannot see my life in any other way.”

Taehyung gives you a small smile along with a kiss to your hand which still lingers near his mouth. While his own reaches into the tub, his fingers twirling in the water just above your leg. “There is still much you don’t know about me.”

“Then I will learn it as it comes. Please, I long to move past this. I cannot and will not remain in this present, with you restraining yourself because of me. I truly believe that moving forward with the original plan is the best course of action.” 

“If that is what you desire,” He the tips of his fingers submerge further until they draw against your thigh. “I will resume the plans between you and I.”

...

The ceremony is modest, with only you and Taehyung reciting your vows under the night sky. After signing a document to confirm your ties, he whisks you off to the bedroom to consummate the new promise between you. 

The strength of the man before you comes as quite a shock as he rips the laces of your gown in his eager hunt to find the flesh beneath, until your best dress soon lays in tatters on the floor. His hunger for you appears to reach a new level, with his mouth nipping and devouring every inch he has exposed. Your situation has held you both back for so long, but at least now you will both get to revel in the path forward together. 

Once bare he flips you on to your stomach and disrobes himself. His taut legs come to straddle your hips, while his hands run up your back and down your arms. Taking your wrists he pins them over top of your head. “Just a precaution my princess,” He chuckles your ear as his leather belt wraps around. Tightening them together before the strap loops the headboard and is once again threaded through the buckle, wittingly securing you to the bed. “For if I am worried over the possibility of you fleeing, I might lose myself, and consume too much of you.”

“I have no plans to run.” You muse, giggling at his passion.“But I will concede to your bondage if it satisfies you.” 

“I was hoping you would agree.”  He teases his index along your slit, drenching your sensitive skin, and preparing you for his swollen cock. You raise your hips eagerly towards him and he takes the hint. Laying down over top of you he guides himself in with one hand while the other loops your waist. 

You gasp from the stretch before gritting your teeth trying to hide the brief moment of pain. Taehyung swears as his forehead comes to rest on your shoulder, his breath shaking as much as yours while he inhales deeply. A growl echoes in his throat which he promptly clears. “Princess, am I... am I your first?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, but you can not understand why that would be so.

“If I was promised to you... I can not see why I would have laid with another.” You answer somewhat hurt by the notion that he thinks you would have been unfaithful in the past. Your memories might be limited, but you can not believe that would be the kind of person you are, to be unfaithful to one so kind would make you a monster.

“Yes, of course.” He sighs, “I just, I had not...” He empties his throat again. Hugging you tightly as he pushes his cock in further. “My dear princess, so good to trust me with such a gift.”

You exhale with a confirmation. “I am all yours.” 

With Taehyung resting deep inside he pauses for another moment. His fingers trapped between you and the bed shift down to your mound where they press and cause you to buck back onto him. “Forget the pain for now...” He whispers in your ear while the deep circles he rubs shift you from discomfort to pleasure. Your twitching responses beguile him as you clench down on his shaft. The growl in his voice returns and grows deeper, he thrusts along with you. A need inside your start to build, your breathing stutters while he continues on. “...And come for me.”  Your nerves reach their peak at his words, holding you in place until the tension inside you finally releases and the warm waves run from head to toe. 

As you ride out your climax Taehyung pushes forward with his own. His cock continues to swell, demanding more of you, until he comes to his end and collapses twitching with content. With a groan he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your back, while you remain trapped beneath him.

You tug on his belt wanting to touch him and hold him as he does to you. But even once he has come himself, he does not appear to be fully parted from his lustful needs. He shifts down so that his face can be found between your thighs. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you inquire for him. “Taehyung, please-”

“Don’t fret my princess, I just- I just want to- there was some blood drawn in my haste to have you, I would like to kiss it better.” He chuckles before his tongue comes to find your folds. The beastly sounds from him become far greater than before as he laps at the spot. Your hesitation is cast aside as you soon delve into pleasure once again. 

His fingers clamp down on your legs as he feeds from your cunt with an even stronger resolve. “I must- I must have more.” He begs of you.        

“I am yours to take.” You respond, eager to indulge more from his affectionate appetite.

But as soon as your permission is granted an unimaginable pain pierces the skin and muscle of your thigh. His mouth latches onto the source of such misery, and draws on the wound taking deep drafts. “Taehyung?” You cry out in confusion, pulling the bonds he left you in. 

Your lord and husband suspends the act. Rising up to release you from the headboard, he takes your restraints in his hand. Flipping you back over and pinning you back down beneath him. You find your groom smiling while his mouth drips with blood. He chuckles lightly at your horror, taking in your fear. “Did you have a change of heart my princess? I’m sorry to have brought such a swift end to our happy scene, but tomorrow we may start over... once I’ve had my fill.”

...

After the first Taehyung proceeds to push upon you several moments wrought in passion and pain. The concealment of his identity to become your love, and of course the times when he chose purely to torture you as your captor.   

You come to understand that your past with Taehyung is a series of tales, with him portraying the villain, or the hero. Going from captor, to suitor, to husband, only to break you by becoming your captor once again. He’s crippled you countless times, in so many different ways, choosing whichever act suits him in the moment, gorging himself off your emotional defeat the same way he feeds your blood, in the most painful way possible. 

“A small sample of our time together, but you see princess, you are already bound to me in matrimony. I have what I need for my clan. My followers will have access to any house, any dwelling on our kingdom’s land once I give them my consent to enter.”

“Y-you have no right to do that!” You stutter, trying to push down the past to focus on the present. 

“Oh but I do as your husband, as the new king I now have partial claim. My men will be able to feed within the safety of your peoples homes. Hunting them in their beds will be far easier than being restricted to the streets.”

“They are not cattle for you to feed upon!”

“How is that any different than your family's rule?” Taehyung scoffs, looking to the ornate room around you both. “Your parents in their vanity and greed bleed them dry, to the point where they were begging for a change, even if it was the rule of a young man who had barely stepped into adulthood. They will be grateful for the passing of the king and queen, and for the new rule. Remembering the vampires who will now stalk them while they sleep only as a passing nightmare.” 

“That does not make what you are doing any better.” You argue, though you know it to be pointless. 

“Not in your eyes, but my people will at least benefit from the sacrifice of your own. They trust me to do right by them. Can yours say the same about you? Will you bear the pain of your suffering and theirs? All that’s left is for us to choose which story we should play next. Would you like to forget it all again? To have me return to the role of doting lover and husband? Or would you prefer to recall that which has brought you pain? Your parents, your brother, and myself, knowing that soon my people will feast on yours.” 

To remember would be the only chance you have in finding a weakness to him, any attempt to remove him from his position will require your knowledge of what happened in the past and what is happening in the present. Who knows what story he would otherwise weave next, but he will no doubt pull the wool over your eyes if you let him. 

“I will give you until the end of this night to choose, if you don’t I will do so for you. But I am so very ready to return to our routine. These past few weeks have been a torment without you to entertain and fulfil me.” His finger traces an x on your neck, marking the spot he intends to bite. “I will never again allow us to be parted for so long.”  The point of his teeth make contact with your skin, when the door opens and one of his keepers calls for him. “What?!” Taehyung shouts back in frustration. “What could possibly be so important that you must interrupt my dinner?” 

“There is a hunter demanding entrance at the gate.” The vampire informs, looking rather shaken for having displeased his lord. “Says he won’t leave until he sees proof that you received your princess. It seems that he was trying to deliver her when she ran off in the daylight earlier today.”

“So someone did find you... that would explain...” His hands soften on your neck running his fingers over the previously tortured flesh. He then turns to the vampire waiting for his answer. “What is the hunter’s name?”

“Agust, my lord.”

Your head snaps up with your eyes wide. Yoongi is here, and he knew to call himself Agust? That can only mean, the secrets kept from him by his clan, the truth that would break you, it was the knowledge of Taehyung’s presence here.

  “Is this the case my princess? Did this Agust find you and intend to bring you here?” You bite your tongue but he pushes his power over you again. “Tell me the truth of this matter.”

“He did.” You can’t be sure of what Yoongi intends to do once inside, but at least your forced honesty did not betray his cover.

“He has my permission to enter. Bring him to me now, I owe him my gratitude for taking such good care of my princess.” The vampire guard leaves to grant the other access. 

Taehyung traces his teeth with his tongue. Appearing unusually happy despite the fact that his meal was disturbed. “You will remain seated and quiet, while I reward this hunter for his deeds, is that understood princess?” You reluctantly nod, submitting to his compulsion. 

Yoongi, accompanied by four of Taehyung's kin, enters the dinning hall and promptly bows. “My lord.”

“Agust... I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking before have we?” 

“No my lord, I’ve dealt only with your keepers. But it was my honour to retrieve your princess as requested.” You meet his eye when they flicker in your direction trying to decipher his plan, but are unable to see a way out that could have possessed him to take such a risk.

“Yes, I must thank you for bringing her most of the way. I am surprised that you knew to find me here though, I thought that was kept confidential from the hunters.”

“It was my lord but I learned of your occupation here only recently, such a large group of vampires in a human city does not go unnoticed for long.” 

“Then I commend you, for doing what many of my other hunters could not.” Taehyung smirks at his own kin’s expense. “Tell me who was your maker, from which line do you descend?

“Your caretaker Egan, my lord.” Yoongi offers, his tone flat and even. “Though I don’t know if he would recall me, I am one of many.”

“Egan you say?” Taehyung pauses, with a raised brow and pout, which soon fades into a smile after a moment's hesitation. “He has created a fair few hasn’t he?” He chuckles. “Now you were not able to finish my task to completion, but I will still grant you the reward of becoming a keeper if you can complete just one other challenge.”

“Of course my lord.” Yoongi promises, watching adamantly with his hand twitching at his side. 

“There is someone I need you to find, one who has been haunting me for quite some time. Before my princess met me she fell in love with another of our kind. A vampire who works for Lord Hoseok, and goes by the name Min Yoongi. It took me a year to find the full extent of the boundaries in her memory that relate to him, I needed to empty her of love for that fool, and take it for myself. I was successful in the end of course.” He tips your chin with his finger delighting in the pained expression you bear at the thought. “But I would like to see the end of him, and purge anything that might hope to take her from me.”

“I understand...” Yoongi responds through a clenched jaw. Peeking a concerned glance at you when Taehyung's back turns to him. 

“I think she might be able to help you start your quest. You know where to find this Yoongi, do you not my princess?”

You dip your head, as a tear slips from your cheek and falls to your lap. You bite your tongue in an attempt to hold back your answer but Taehyung presses again with the compulsion of his blood. “You will answer me, out loud.”

“Yes,” you confirm,  your eyes meeting with Yoongi’s again, pleading for him to go now, and escape before you reveal anything else. 

“Do you think it will be an easy task for this vampire Agust to find him?” 

“I do.” You utter with a reply stolen from your lips.

 Taehyung mutters in your ear for his final question. “Is he the one who stands before us now my princess?” Panic instantly seizes you, with every function of your body coming to a halt, wondering how he could have found out. The moment your mouth starts to open, Yoongi launches himself at Taehyung, but his attack is quickly brought to a halt by the vampire lord who draws his own stake. Shoving Yoongi across the room and into the arms of his guard.

“You thought you could fool me after so many of your brethren tried and failed?” The cruel lord chides with a low chuckle. “There have been too many errors on your part, the greatest of which was the name of your false creator.” He approaches his new prisoner dragging the point of the stake along Yoongi’s chest while he is held in place. “A misstep of Egan’s allowed for her to escape, and so I sent the order for him to be disposed of. I knew the deed was done mere hours ago when I watched a progeny of his wither away before my eyes. If you were of his blood you too would have perished.”  Taehyung explains before he paces away twirling the stake between his fingers. “What a wicked curse we must endure is it not? Though it does have its advantages... I wonder how many will I wipe out with your death?” Your heart beats wildly in your chest longing to run forward and prevent such an event. “It will come soon, of that there is no question, but not before I take every ounce of information you hold about Hoseok’s current plans.” 

“You will get nothing from me unless you let her go,” Yoongi growls.

“Let go of my own bride?” The restrained vampire flinches at the comment as Taehyung grins and prods further. “I suppose you didn’t know. You must forgive her for not informing you, she couldn’t recall it herself until a few minutes ago. Regardless, I have no plans to free her, for I believe the closer I am to your beloved the more I will get from you.” Taehyung joins you at your side again.  “What do you think princess? Would you like an admirer for our performance? I’m sure even the steadfast Min Yoongi would bend to my will if he witnesses you in my favourite roles.”

Taehyung’s attention is drawn away from the pair of you when more of his keepers enter the room greeting him with a nod. “Alas the show will have to wait. I have permissions to grant, and a story to feed your staff,” The vampire lord sighs and acquiesces to their needs, grabbing the decanter from which you took a glass. “The rest of your people will come after.”

Taehyung gestures to one of his men. “He will take you to your room, and you will remain there until I return. I look forward to having a more fulfilling reunion between you and I come dawn.” His fingers brush against your cheek one last time before addressing the vampires holding Yoongi. “Keep him locked up along with the revolutionaries for now. I will call upon him later.”

Yoongi continues to lash out as you are both dragged in opposite directions. Barring his fangs at those who hold him, but he is soon subdued with the addition of another clan member and carried out of sight. 

Your own escort doesn’t say a word as he takes you through the empty halls, and staircases with one hand grappling your upper arm. Any attempt to pull it from him is met with a snarl and tighter hold. As you pass the rooms of the hall you wonder where Taehyung has the remaining staff kept and despite the lies forced down their throat you hope they will remain untouched.

The guard opens a door and pushes you in, sending you to the ground before locking it behind. The dimly lit room is unfortunately not your own, consisting only of a bed, washstand, and shuttered windows. Rising from the timber floor you find a stain on your hands and dress originating from the spot on which you landed, a spill, red enough to be the remnants of a vampire's meal. You start heaving at the thought, running to the filled basin desperate to remove the sticky scarlet substance. With hands shaking as they are submerged in water, your entirety follows suit, quaking in fear of what has just transpired and what is left to come. 

Your parents are lost, they dug their own grave, but your fellow citizens, and Yoongi... you have to find him, before he too is lost and your people are reduced to a mere spattering on the floor. 

You pull on the shutters of the window, releasing them to peer out and see if there is any hope to scale out of this one too. The height from the ground might be manageable, but a pair of glowing eyes looking up to you from the garden stops your attempt. The gaze from below continues to watch until you retract and close the space between you again. Taehyung's caretakers and keepers are as eager to keep and feed on you as he is. Visions of past attacks start to flood your mind, making you regret your venture to look out. You tried to escape so many times in your past captivity. Each one with the exception of the last was foiled by his keepers or caretakers, some brought you straight back to your room, while others... others were swiftly intercepted by the lord of the fortress, but only after they landed their first bite.  

Retreating to the corner of the room, you set yourself down at the furthest point from the door and window. Left alone to stare at the crimson puddle, as you wait for Taehyung’s return. There is no question that you have to bear the weight of your memories as painful as they are, you can not afford to forget the past. Not now, not with Yoongi nor your people in jeopardy. You wonder if Taehyung will strike such a deal with you. If you promise to abide by his command without his blood, will that be enough to buy at the very least Yoongi’s safety?

The minutes pass while you consider your options, distracted only when there comes a thump from the shutters. You rise from your spot and move closer to the door. The boards made to conceal the daylight shatter inward with another hit, knocking over the solitary candle and casting you into darkness. The shadowy intruder leaps in, their gleaming eyes holding you in their sights. 

Figuring it to be one of the Taehyung’s progeny’s come for a taste, you draw breath to scream. Until the vampire collides with you, holding you down, and covering your mouth. 

“I told you to stay in the room.” The hushed tones of Yoongi greet you to your immense relief. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why did you run?” He waits there for a moment, removing his hand only when you finally relax beneath him.

“Yoongi...” You gasp in relief. “I overheard you and Seokjin. When I saw you give into the demands... I-I didn’t know, I didn’t realize-”

There’s a knock interrupting your explanation, the vampiric guard no doubt alarmed by the commotion. You both fall silent, but that does not seem to satisfy the sentry,  who proceeds to unlock the door. Yoongi jumps up ready to meet him with a stake. As the barrier opens, the vampire tries to step inside, making it only far enough in for the wooden weapon to reach his heart. Yoongi grabs the enemies throat in the last moments, committing him to silence until death before tossing the corpse to the side. Treating the newly dead as nothing more than a bothersome distraction. 

Yoongi turns back to you but keeps his distance, a growl rattling in his throat as he takes deep breaths. “I told you before, I would never take you there. I had no wish to abide by the request from my lord. I could not tell Seokjin of my plans to disobey while we remained in his house. I was going to take you as far away as I could after learning the whole truth behind your capture, but your stunt put everything in jeopardy, including yourself.”

You start to sob upon hearing his deception, you should have guessed that with such a reveal from his own clan he would try to deceive them too, like the others he dealt with on your behalf. He closes the gap between you, pulling you in close, allowing your tears to fall on his chest. “How-how did you escape just now? I thought for certain he had us both in his grasp.”

“I kept hold of the tainted blood, and those holding me were in desperate need of a drink. One sip and they were at my mercy instead.” He lips grace the top of your head with a kiss as you cling to him. “We’re going to get you out of here okay? We’ll go down to the passage. I have already released those he captured, if he has a mob on his hands, we might slip out undetected.”

“I can’t leave, not yet-”

“Why, because he compelled you to stay?” Yoongi questions, attempting to dismiss your concern. “I will carry you out if your own volition fails to do so.”

“It is not that alone... he was not lying when he told you I was his-his-” You stall on the word unable to say it yourself. “In those five years, he played with my mind, he made me forget you and desire him instead, a-and I fell for it. It is because of me he now has a claim to every home in the town. This is my error to fix. I will not leave those who dwell here to feed his own.”

“You are not to blame for his actions.” He counters, his own voice cracking in desperation.  “Your remaining here will not change that.”

“I only wish to remain so I can bring an end to him, to kill him.” You promise. “Either way, whether successful or not I will not exist here long.    

“No, I am not letting you near him again. If we must do this then let him be mine to kill.”

“He thinks me in here unarmed and broken to his will,” You open Yoongi’s jacket to find another stake that he must have stolen from Taehyung’s followers. “I will have a better chance. It would be better for you to ensure that his clan has not brought harm to anyone else.”

“And leave you here to face him? If he falls so do his own progenies, which includes most if not all of his keepers. There will be no point in my leaving to dispose of them, if your main goal is to defeat him.”

“If he sees you he will be instantly aware. When he is as strong as you say then even you won’t be able to defeat him without catching him off guard.”

“I am not leaving you alone with him even if you are armed, and that is final.” Yoongi takes his firm stance, while grabbing at the stake in your hand. “I will not lose you again...”      

You look down at the deceased on your floor, fearing the same fate for Yoongi should he remain here with you. Taehyung has proven time and time again that none can fool him for long, not Yoongi, not his clan members, even those who disobeyed him attempting to draw blood from you were cast aside... with Taehyung throwing himself between you and them.  “If you will not leave then... I need you to bite me.”

Yoongi follows your gaze in confusion, “What is it you are plotting your highness?”

“He will no doubt come running if he smells my spilt blood. He has before. If he thinks I am in danger from his own, I will be able to get close with his guard down.” You take the stake back from him while he considers your plan, gripping it in your fist behind your back. “All you have to do is play the threat.”

“Will you not wait for another alternative? My clan could be here in a day to deal with them.”

“He is hungry, and all too confident of victory.” You plead with your vampire. “If we wait-” 

“If we wait he will be more likely to catch on...” Yoongi growls confirming your thoughts, as he begrudgingly bends down to take the cloak of the defeated guard. Tying it around he pulls the hood over his head. “This is unbelievably reckless you know. I should just take you from here this instant.”

“But you won’t.” You reply with a sad smile reaching up to touch his cheek with your hand, and press a kiss to his lips. “You long for an end to this as much as I.”  

With his back to the door he takes you into his arms. When hunched over you Taehyung should not know who he is until it is too late. Yoongi places his mouth ready to sink into your neck. “Are you sure you want to be the one to-”

“I have to.” You cut him off before he can even try to change your mind again.

With a deep sigh his teeth pierce your skin, the blood starts to flood from the wound and Yoongi lets out a low pained groan as he resists the urge to feed. For the more blood that escapes and is left to the air, the sooner that Taehyung will come running to investigate your situation. After a minute passes, you start to feel light headed and grip your weapon tighter. 

“If he doesn't come soon I will have to put a stop to this.”

“He will come,” you gasp. “Just wait.” 

Right on cue there comes a shout from down the hall along with the thunder of footsteps. Your door crashes open to reveal the ferocious monster. 

Yoongi is thrown to the wall, and promptly disregarded in the moment by Taehyung, whose immediate attention is more occupied with you spilling out before him. “She is mine,” he seethes looking ravenous after not feeding on you for weeks. His hunger distracting him from the arm you have tucked behind your back. While pulling you closer to take a taste himself, you draw your own weapon, stabbing him through his heart with the stake. 

He looks down to injury with a sobering disbelief, his words heavy on his lips with a low chuckle as he forces out his final thoughts before his demise. “Well played princess... you had me thinking I was to be your hero again.”

“You were never my hero, only my assailant.” You shove the stake deeper into his chest. “And now my fatality.”

Taehyung gasps and delivers one last cruel smile. “A fitting end, though I can think of one better. Why part here, when you can join me in death.” He launches at your throat ready to strike and bleed you further, when his actions are cut short by another. 

With the stake pulled from the other vampire, Yoongi pierces him through the back, and takes hold from behind preventing Taehyung’s last threat. The vampire lord's eyes go wide showing a brief moment of fear before he finally succumbs to death. Pulling yourself from his clutches you take a deep breath and rejoice in the freedom, though the feeling doesn’t last long. 

Already dizzy from the loss of blood you are in no way prepared for the surge of memories that flood back. With Taehyung dead his physical hold on you diminished, but the pain of his manipulation, the trauma and loss he has inflicted on you hits as a wave, and pulls you under. 

Yoongi is there to heal the wound on your neck, he calls to you repeatedly though his voice along with your vision of him are clouded amongst your thoughts. Your heart pounds and head races as it continues to try and register the influx of everything you lost. 

There’s a soft touch to your temple, as a whisper from him finally makes it through. “Be strong my love, you can conquer this too.”

You can feel yourself being lifted as the room moves around you. Clinging to his coat you utter your wish to leave, unwilling to spend another moment in this castle. Fully slipping as he draws you in closer.

...

When the haze lifts you come to find yourself in another bed. Not one of the castle’s no, it seems Yoongi had observed that request, but the location is still worrisome for it is the same room you had shared with him in Seokjin’s house. You immediately sit up, panicking over your last memory of this place, and fearful of Yoongi’s clan’s intent. 

Your vampire sleeps on a chair beside you, though his head and chest are slumped over on the mattress and his hand encasing yours. Stirring the second your grip leaves his and you attempt to get from the bed. He grabs at your shoulder pushing you back down with ease, “What do you think you are doing? You are in no state to be running off.” 

“Yoongi... why are we here? If Seokjin-”

“This was the only safe place I could think to bring you. You have nothing to fear here now. Seokjin will not do anything, he knows he was in the wrong to suggest such compulsion, and Namjoon has promised retribution on your behalf if he continues such behaviour.” Yoongi briefly smirks at the thought of the pair, though his expression soon darkens as his hand brushes your hair from your face as you relax back into the bed. “I thought- I was worried I lost you back there.”

“I-I couldn’t control it, there was so much that I had lost and most of it difficult to bear again...” You grimace at the pain of it, prompting Yoongi to lean in to kiss your blow and pull a small smile from you again. “I should never have returned. I should have trusted you more, I’m so sorry for putting you in danger like that.”

“It was not your fault. You had every reason to doubt me given your past and what you knew. I can’t imagine what it was like, but...” He looks down avoiding your eyes as he rubs your hands, the words that follow are just as tentative and soft. “If you should- I don’t know if- if you need me to help you discard any memories I will do so. Doesn’t have to be now or ever, but if you ever need me to... don’t feel like you have to carry the weight of it alone.”   

You nod your eyes tearing up with gratitude for his offer. “Thank you, there will be some moments that I- that I will be glad to be rid of.” Yoongi’s warm smile comes with his arms to wrap around you in a tight hug. You wince as your muscles stain to return the affection, feeling as though they have seized from lack of use. “How long have I been under?” 

“The longest two nights of my existence.”

“Two nights?” You exclaim pulling out of the embrace in shock. “What has happened since?  Was anyone else hurt before I-I-”

“No one else, but the castle,” Yoongi sighs looking hesitant to tell you the rest. “The castle was set aflame in an act of defiance. It was sentenced to burn once the staff and resistance had cleared it of everything of value.”

“Good,” you whisper. 

“There is more... Seokjin has been keeping a close eye on the situation.” Yoongi discloses. “But, when word spread that you returned only to vanish again, many believed your appearance to be that of an imposter rather than their former princess. They thought you a tool of the mysterious lord attempting to gain power.”

“And their plans to create a new form of rule?” You ask, the focus of your question leading Yoongi to tilt his head in confusion.

“Going forward without much backlash, but-”

“Then they have every right to think so. I am very different from their lost princess.” You smile to Yoongi’s surprise. “I am a threat to them now, a threat to the future governance they plan to install. Any version of me might sow the seeds of discord in progress if I was to return. If this story of me being a deceiver will help them to rebuild, then let them think it. I will make no plans to return.”

Yoongi nods in understanding, though his expression still holds regret. “I am sorry I was not able to deliver you home as promised.”

“That place was not my home for so long, not since you-”

A loud knock comes from the front door of the small home, reaching you all the way in your upstairs room. Yoongi stiffens in the seat next to you as muffled voices are soon heard too. Your vampire stands going to the door where Seokjin appears a moment later with news. “It’s Lord Hoseok. He’s here, and he wants to see you.”

“Don’t you dare let him in.” Yoongi pushes back. “Not with her here, not now.” 

“I can’t exactly deny him entrance,” Seokjin scoffs. “This is his house-”

“Fine, then I will.” 

Seokjin puts a hand on Yoongi’s chest and prevents him from storming off into a confrontation. “You know you can’t stop him. If he wishes to see her he will, but right now I think his main concern is you. Do not anger him if there is no reason to. See what he wants then come to a judgement.”

The same loud knock you heard below then arrives at your bedroom door, breaking off the disagreement between the two vampires.The guest you know not to require permission, but it seems that he would rather enter on your terms rather than his own. 

“Yoongi?” You call to him, witnessing the dread in his face when he turns to look at you. “I should like to speak to him too.”

Yoongi’s reluctant hand turns the lever, letting his lord inside. Your own vampire stands between the two of you preventing you from getting a good look as the first words are exchanged.   

“My Lord.”

“Tell me it is so, that it is true. Is Taehyung- ” The vampire lord immediately launches into the heart of the matter. The weight of his tone sends shivers to even you. 

“Dead, my lord.” 

“Thank you Yoongi, I am in your debt.” The tension in his voice quickly falls away. 

“It was not I alone who defeated him sir. The credit also goes to the woman who you thought you would contain to your fortress.” Yoongi mutters with malice.

“I app-” His lord steps further in, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of you. He pauses for a moment as he takes you in, his mouth hangs open and a single word falls in greeting, “Mansin?”

Though the word is foreign to you Yoongi reacts in an instant, returning to your side, he growls and his superior in defiance while positioned in your defence. “She is not-”

Lord Hoseok seems to catch himself and apologises. “A mistake Yoongi, an honest mistake, I see that she is bound to you. You must forgive me,” He whispers while giving a sad smile in penance. “Something in your expression reminded me of someone I once knew.” He politely touches upon his error, but leaves you with no reason for Yoongi’s reception. “I must give my thanks to you as well then, for you saved me the pain of having to kill my own creation.” 

Alarmed by the confession you try to stand but Yoongi’s hand once again comes down to your shoulder. “Then Taehyung was yours? You created that monster?!”

“It was not my intention to have him turn out in such a way.” The vampire lord growls at the censure, causing Yoongi to grow ridged next to you. “I found him as an innocent young man dying, whispering the name of the one he loved, the one he was bound to. I took pity on him, would you not have done the same?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow as he throws his choice back at you. 

You swallow and nod in response. “I suppose I would have.” The swift changes in mood of the vampire lord keep you on guard, intimidating in one moment and considerate in the next. It’s easy to see why Yoongi might be wary of him around you. 

“I chose to banish him from the clan when he killed his former mate, your ancestor, for I could no longer trust him. He sought revenge on both your family and mine, and it is my fault alone. I knew that Yoongi would prefer to keep you as far away as possible, but Taehyung would likely have tracked you down sooner or later. I wanted to make up for that by offering you a safe place at my fortress but I can see that it was misconstrued.” 

“Thankfully your assistance with my residence is no longer required.” You convey, hoping that he has abandoned the notion, since the threat is no longer stalking you.

“Yes... thankfully.” Lord Hoseok reiterates with a weak grin.

“If you are in our debt as you say then I would like to make a request of you.” You ask much to Yoongi’s surprise, resulting in his head snapping in your direction.

“A request?” Hoseok blinks, a grin twitching in his lips. He grabs the chair from the desk, turning it to face you before taking his seat. “What have you to ask of me?”

“My old kingdom, I want to ensure the health of the people. I ask that if your clan goes there to feed they use the tactics that Yoongi has been operating under.” Yoongi finally exhales and relaxes, as you explain your wish, a small smile crosses his lips with what looks to be pride.

“I understand your position, and would agree immediately if there were to be no recourse, but to put such limitations on my clan without any amendments or accommodations to offer in return... many would turn rogue.” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, if I ordered that, we might find ourselves in another situation like before.”

You consider what you have left to give with nothing left from your family to offer, you have only what you may have acquired through matrimonial bonds. “Tell me when a vampire dies, what happens to the ownership of their residences.”

“It will go to whomever they deemed a second who was not created by their own lineage. Yoongi was once my own. I don’t know if Taehyung- ”

“But if they had taken a wife who survived them?” You ask.

“They would be yours...” Yoongi mutters beside you in understanding.

You nod grimacing at the prospect of owning his land. “I want no part of them. But if they will help you to convince your clan to adjust their feedings and continue to help those of my former kingdom they are yours.” You offer to Hoseok. “Every fortress, waypoint and house that belonged to him will all be transferred to your own clan. ”

“Then I accept your terms,” Hoseok nods in agreement. “But where will you go?”

You look to Yoongi to give the answer. Caught off guard he pauses before responding with the simple direction of, “East, we plan to head east.”

  ...

...Two months later...

Yoongi stops the horse and dismounts beside an overgrown field, looking at the land with a deep contented sigh. “This is it.” He lights a lantern for you before treading into the long grass, in search of the foundation of his old home.

He was right, there is little left, but regardless of that fact you help him by clearing the roughage from any remains you can find. Pausing only when he does, while uncovering what seems to be a rotting wooden board laying on the ground. Upon further inspection you find it to shield a substantial cavern below with steps leading into the darkness. 

“If that’s the cellar... Then that must mean.” Yoongi mutters, before taking a few steps away, counting his paces as he goes. Hunching down over a higher patch of ground, he tears away the long weeds, until a stone hearth reveals itself. He takes the rotting wooden board, and breaks it apart into several pieces. Building them up before he sets them alight with the fire of the lantern. 

He lowers himself to sit in front of the burning wood and beckons for your hand, kissing you knuckles, raw from the cold wind of your journey as you take a seat next to him. Despite the lack of walls and roof, you are overwhelmed by Yoongi’s peace as he looks into the fire, feeling that same comfort and warmth within yourself. “I never thought I’d see this place again, but now, it feels right to return. Perhaps-” He meets your eye before expressing the rest of his tentative question. “Perhaps we could stay here for a while?”

“I would like that.” You answer with a nod, prompting him to beam back at you.

While Yoongi moves to lay on the grass relaxing in the light of the flame you pull out the new map you’ve been working on since the start of your journey east. The other still remains, not entirely forgotten, but of little use in this region. The fresh start on parchment comes as a much needed reprieve, the chance to begin again. 

“You are marking this place down for me?” Yoongi asks as you draw with your quill pen. 

“For us,” you correct him.

Looking down at the new point on the map now labelled with your description, he smiles at the sight of the single word you had written. “Have I fulfilled my duty to you then? Should we part ways here?” He jests pushing to rise up until you tug him back down by his long coat.

“You have,” Shaking your head at his joke, you explain your true feelings behind the word. “But if you leave, this place ceases to be so. It only exists as such when I am with you.”

“Then I must stay by your side, or risk breaking another promise?” He continues to tease you, with a twitch to the corner of his lip.

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to conceal his eagerness. “So it would seem. How long do you think you can keep your vow?” 

“For eternity.” Yoongi whispers, leaning in to kiss you over the setting ink of, ‘Home.’

...

-The End-

...

[bicycle4two]

say you wanna, say you wanna be || Sam Drake x Reader || Chapter 4

Summary: Sam isn't looking for a girlfriend and, frankly, you don't think you'd be a good one anyway, but you two aren't some one-night stand and it's been a long time since either of you thought of each other as a convenient booty call. This is something more, something the two of you didn't realize would be. It's uncharted territory. And there is no other choice but to figure out how to navigate through it together.

Pairing: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader

Tags(ish): developing relationship, implied/non-explicit sexual content, romance/fluff/hurt/comfort, age difference (though reader’s age is not stated), switching povs (second person reader, third person sam), no y/n but reader has a nickname

C.1 || C.2 || C.3

Chapter Four:

Here’s the thing.

Sam always knew that he and his brother were destined for something great. And, well, he can’t say that greatness didn’t fall on them. Yeah, sure, he spent thirteen years in jail. Who hasn’t? But despite that little hiccup in his life, Sam thinks that he’s done pretty well for himself. He’s discovered a lost city or two, with and without his brother, held some artifacts that were rumored to only be from stories, and tried one of the cigars from Sully’s collection. He even has a place to call his own now, his name on the mailbox downstairs, a doorman who greets him.

Honestly, it’s all he’s ever wanted growing up. More, even. Back in Panama, all he thought he wanted, besides, well, getting out, was to find Avery’s treasure with Nathan. It was that thought that kept him going most days. The idea of finding four hundred million worth of treasure! That was the dream. He and Nathan could finally settle down, or, rather, their version of it. Because they weren’t going to have a normal life. That was never in the cards for them growing up, but it was a nice thought, not having to worry about food or a place to stay.

And Sam hasn’t had to worry about that for a long time. He felt empty after Libertalia, that his story was only just beginning while Nathan’s was coming to a close. There are still things he wants to see, to do.

Time, he realized long ago, was something that he could lose so easily and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

So he went on more adventures, climbed higher mountains, picked up little trinkets (a habit he got from his little brother, starting his own little collection) along the way to bigger, better things. (It’s just a shame that some things were destroyed along the way, like statues and buildings, but what can he say? It runs in the family.)

But tonight, after a long flight and an uncomfortable chair, all Sam wants to do is go to her and crash on her bed.

Because although Sam has a place to call home, a big apartment that’s filled with his stuff, clothes, souvenirs, a fish…it feels empty. Cold. Even if he had all the money in the world, Sam can’t shake off that feeling that he shouldn’t have too much. That in just a blink of an eye, all this could be gone. Because that has happened before—moving from place to place, packing what you can immediately get your hands on.

Sam wants riches, searches for them all over the world, but deep down he knows he doesn’t know what to do with them. That even if he dreams of more, he only knows how to live with enough.

So, he only has one pillow, a blanket. A towel and an extra, shampoo (the kind that has body soap mixed with it. 2 in 1! What a deal) and deodorant. Clothes, he knows to get the sturdy kind, the kind that won’t rip easily, that stains won’t be too obvious on. Shoes, too. He gets the ones that have good traction, that won’t chafe his feet, won’t deteriorate when wet.

The fish, Jim Hawkins—Jimmy was an attempt to liven up the place. To make it seem homey, to keep him company. But there’s only so much you can do with a fish and Sam can’t deck out Jim’s aquarium any more than he already has. He’s afraid that something would fall on the poor thing, that maybe there’s more inside Jimmy’s castle than meets the eye.

“Welcome home.”

“I’m ho…ome?” Sam drops his bag to the floor, more from being too tired to carry it than shock. He’d resigned to seeing her tomorrow, that it was too late to go over now, but there she is, curled up on his couch, toes peeking out from under a throw blanket. It’s hers. Sam recognizes it easily. It’s the same one she has thrown over her arm chair, the same chair Sam likes to lounge on when he’s found a good book to read.

“How was your trip?” She looks so cozy on his couch. Hands wrapped around an orange mug he’s never seen before, book on her lap. She doesn’t look like she going to get up and Sam can’t blame her. He sort of wants to curl up next to her, somehow squeeze his large frame in the remaining space. “Get me anything nice?”

“I, uh,” Sam’s swallows, blinking. “I’m not dreaming, right? Like, I didn’t get knocked out when I fell off the mountain?”

“You fell off what?” She’s moving to stand up, mug thankfully placed back on the table despite her haste, and Sam doesn’t want her to do that.

“No. No, don’t get up.”

She gets up anyway, blanket falling to the floor, and, oh god, she’s wearing pajamas, oranges printed all over her cotton shorts. She’s by his side in seconds, hands reaching up to his face, bringing him down to her height so she can get a better look at him.

“Ouch,” Sam says, the movement too fast for his aching body. His muscles are sore and the trip home didn’t do them any favors. But she thinks that it’s her fault, that she’s hurt him and her hands are in the air, her eyes wide with both surprise and concern. “It’s not you. It’s just…,” Sam hates to say it, makes him feel old, but, “My back. I hit the ground pretty hard.”

“I feel dumb for asking…but are you okay?” Her hands are back on him, her touch gentle and giving comfort Sam didn’t know he needed. She doesn’t seem to know what to do first, how to check for injuries, but the thought is enough, her being here is enough, makes him feel better.

“Well, I’m alive,” Sam brings up his hand to push her hair away from her face. It’s soft, slightly damp from a shower. Oh. He probably needs one of those. “Nothing a hot shower can’t fix.”

“Can you…,” she hesitates, sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and Sam bends down on reflex, damn his back, and kisses her. She relaxes, sighs, and pulls away, blushing. “Uhm, I, huh?”

“Can I…?” Sam prompts, smirking.

“Now I’m embarrassed to ask.”

“C’mon, princess, don’t leave me hanging. What is it?”

“Can you, uh, do you need help?”

“Do I need help?” Sam grins. “In the shower? Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

…

Sam mentioned it to Nathan before, when they were in Italy, trying to find their way into the Rossi Estate. When you’re locked up with no hope of being let out, it’s the little things you miss the most.  

And Sam didn’t think that there was much to miss anymore now that he was out. He can ride his motorcycle anywhere he wants, go to his own bathroom any damn time he pleases, shower, eat, sleep, drink without permission. He can call Nathan and Sully and Elena without request, without reason. He can stay indoors or go outside without a schedule. He can live. The simple joys of being alive, Sam is able to enjoy them now, in much a greater magnitude than he has ever before.

Citrus, he remembers telling Nathan, he had missed the smell of citrus. The novelty of fresh fruit. The refreshing scent, the taste. The sweetness on his tongue.

“Clementine,” Sam gasps out without thinking, his mind stuck on things he missed and maybe this last trip had gone on longer than he liked.

He’s brought back to earth when the movement stops, even when he adjusts his grip, tries to get her going again, to move her hips the way he knows they both like. He opens his eyes to look at her when she doesn’t budge and she’s frowning at him, there’s a wrinkle between her eyebrows. An angry look.

“That’s not my name,” she says and it looks like she’s going to get off of him and, goddammit, why does she keep doing that?

“What?” Sam’s confused, blood not quite in his head.

“You called me Clementine.” Her tone is upset. Hurt. Sam’s never heard her speak like this before. “Who the hell is that?”

“Shit,” Sam breathes out. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah. No shit.” And there she goes, lifting herself off of him as quickly as she had sunk onto him half an hour ago. Sam lets out a grunt. His ribs are bruised yet she flattens her hands on his chest to support herself. She’s doing it on purpose. She was careful before. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to do this, but I guess I was wrong.”

Sam’s cold without her, for more reasons than one, and he knows that if he doesn’t say something, anything, now, she’s going to be out that door before he can even finish saying Hail Mary. And no amount of prayer, to any sort of god out there, is going to bring her back.

So, Sam swallows down his pride, and says, “It’s you.”

“Yeah, I heard you say that before. ‘Just you.’ How can I-I be so stu-stupid?” Her voice wavers and shit she’s crying, isn’t she? He made her cry.

“And I mean that. Hey, come here.” Sam doesn’t want to hold her too tightly, afraid to hurt her, but he has to know that she isn’t going to leave, that she’s going to stay and listen to him. She turns to look at him, tears flowing down her cheeks, nose red, lips quivering, and Sam’s heart just about breaks. He did that. He’s never felt more like an asshole. “It is just you. It has been since the start. I promise.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just waits. And Sam feels like he’s back in school, standing in front of his class, giving a presentation.

“I, uh, did I ever tell you that I was in prison once?” Sam manages to get out. He always knew he was going to have this conversation with her, knew that with how their relationship was going, he couldn’t keep her in the dark much longer, but he had hoped that he would at least be wearing pants for this.

“No,” she breathes out, wiping her nose with a tissue she got from his bedside table. Huh. Was that tissue box always there? Anyway. “But I figured.”

“The tattoos?”

“No,” she says again and by some miracle there’s a smile on her lips. It’s small, gone with a blink of an eye, but Sam knows what he saw, has all of her smiles memorized. “Someone like you just has the talent of getting into trouble.”

And Sam can’t help it. He lets out a laugh because it’s true. She knows him.

“Well, I can’t deny that. But anyway,” He clears his throat. Was talking always this hard? “When I was in prison. In Panama—that’s important. This was when I was in Panama. I was there for thirteen years and, Jesus, time moves differently there. It’s like the days can’t go by fast enough but next thing you know a year has passed by, two, three, and you’ve lost your youth because some asshole decided to get all stabby with the guard.”

The words are spilling out, like he can’t get them out of him fast enough. Because he needs her to know, to understand.

“It wasn’t my fault. Well, okay, I was there on purpose at first, but those thirteen years were like a punishment for what that asshole did. I was supposed to die there. We were escaping, we were almost there, almost free, but I got shot and I fell. The guards found me and got some ‘doctors’ to patch me up. They made sure that if I was going to die, I was going to die because I rotted in that hellhole.”

Sam can see that she’s listening, that she’s hanging onto every word so he continues, because now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

“I was only in my twenties. There was so much I wanted to see, to do. Nathan and I had plans, dreams. We were going to go all over the world. But I was stuck there. Alone. And no one knew that I was alive. It’s like I stopped existing. Sometimes.” The words are stuck. But Sam forces them out. “Sometimes I, uh, I wished it were true, that it would be better if I was just gone. That I had just died back there.”

She’s crying again and Sam wipes her tears for her, brings her closer to him. Because these tears aren’t because of him anymore, but for him. And isn’t that something? Having someone cry for you.

“You don’t realize how much you have until everything is practically ripped away from you. I didn’t have any privacy. I…I couldn’t take a leak when I needed to. You just end up thinking, cuz there really isn’t much to do but think, about what you had. How life was good. And I, I just missed everything. I missed Nathan, of course, he’s my little brother. But, it’s the small things, too. Like riding my bike into the sunset. Grass beneath my feet. A glass of cold water. And…”

“And?” She asks, eyes focused on the gunshot scars on his abdomen, fingers tracing their shape. It tickles.

“And the smell of citrus.” He makes her look at him because this is important. The most important thing. “I missed the smell of citrus. The taste. And when I was in Japan, I thought about it again. The things I missed back here, back at home. And it’s citrus—you. I missed you so much, you wouldn’t believe it. I could have called Nathan. Elena, even. To come over here but I called you because,” Sam clears his throat once more. “Because I wanted you here. I had hoped you would be here when I came back. And you were.”

She’s quiet, eyes searching. And Sam’s poured out his heart and soul and now he’s got nothing else to do but wait and see what she does with it. Is this what being honest is like? Being vulnerable? It’s torture. Sam hates it. But he can also think of worse things and that keeps him rooted in his spot, trying to keep his face as honest as he can. Years of hiding is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

“You must have been so lonely.” Is what she says, hands back on his gunshot wounds. She’s transfixed. Almost like she’s been wondering about them forever. And maybe she has. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Eh. It’s all in the past,” Sam says with a shrug. Because it is in the past. He’s made his peace with it. Mostly. Some things are harder to shake off than others but he’s okay now. He’s built from strong stuff, a sturdy breed. “But, y’know. You’re, uh, killing me here.”

“Killing you?”

“Cuz I don’t know what you’re going to do,” Sam admits. It’s all truth from here on out, huh? “I can’t read you right now. Are you gonna leave? Punch me in the face? Report me? Please don’t report me. I’d really hate to go back to jail. Nathan would kill me. And I still have a few years left to go, y’know?”

She smiles and Sam realizes that he was rambling. He takes a breath, feels himself calm down. Damn. He needs a cigarette. Maybe two. Are his hands shaking? They’re definitely shaking.

“I think you have more than a ‘few years,’” she says, fingers tracing scars. Sam twitches from her touch. Is this what it feels like when he touches her back? “Especially if you stop smoking.”

“I’ve heard it all before.”

“You should start listening.”

“Ah. Someday.” Sam takes her hand in his, mostly to stop her stop her from tickling him, but also to bring them back on topic. Because she still hasn’t said anything. Nothing to give him an idea where they go from here, if there is somewhere to go from here. “So?”

“So…” She leans close, talks in a whisper, like if she speaks any louder, something might shift, break this bubble that they’re in. “So, you have to tell me what you want, Sam.” It’s an echo of what he said to her months ago, a vulnerable, fragile moment just like this. “So I know what to give you.”

But this time is different because she’s always been more generous than him, always been willing to give.

And Sam’s always been someone to take what he wants and he’ll be damned if this time is any different.

“It would be nice if you stayed.”

“Stay? I can do that.”

...

Chapter 5

Read on AO3

...

Sam’s apartment was inspired by @missdictatorme​ ‘s post

[earliebirb]

too close for comfort

I kinda combined the following two prompts from an anon and @ishipallthings​​ into one fic. I hope you guys don’t mind! 

Sorry it’s taking me a century to go through all the prompts in my inbox. 😔 

I hope you enjoy the fic! 🤍

too close for comfort

steve/tony, fluff, getting together, 2532 words

It was born out of a genuine desire to help, but as with many things in his life, Tony soon finds that the situation is rapidly spiraling out of his control.

It all started because Steve had looked so goddamn sad all the time. The guy seemed to have the tendency to turn every single negative emotion inwards and Tony just couldn’t stand seeing him wound up so tight anymore, like if someone were to poke him in the wrong way he would just snap one day.

So maybe when Steve was seated at the dining table one day, shoulders hunched in on himself and a grim expression on his face, Tony’s resolve to just leave the man alone finally broke and he asked, between sips of his fifth cup of coffee of the day:

“Cap?”

Blue eyes turned his way, ever wary and apprehensive.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but—” Tony set his MIT mug down on the counter and took a fortifying breath. “Do you want a hug?”

Steve blinked a few times. To be fair, it was sort of a non-sequitur.

The perplexed expression taking over Steve’s features made Tony kick himself internally, because of course Steve was going to be weirded out—Tony wasn’t even sure if they were friends. 

Tony swallowed with difficulty, deciding to power through for the moment despite his better judgment, “When I was little, my mom used to give me hugs when I had a bad day. I learned to ask for them from my mom from time to time, growing up, and then from Rhodey during college, and then Pepper sometimes, and I just thought— You know what, never mind, pretend I never said anything, this was stupid—”

“I—” Steve blurted out. Tony paused. 

Steve was quiet for a few moments. The lines of his face crumpled up in an awful grimace, looking like it physically hurt him to speak as he gritted out, “I would like one. If you don’t mind.”

Tony blinked three times in rapid succession. Then he shuffled over awkwardly to where Steve was sitting. 

“So, like, do you want to stand up or do I just lean down? Uh, which one would you prefer? Or—”

Steve took the choice entirely out of his hands when he stood up, tall body towering over Tony. He then proceeded to wrap his arms around Tony tentatively, like he wasn't sure how Tony would fit in his embrace.

Their bodies pressed up flush against one another, the dips and curves lining up perfectly. With his arms curled around Steve, Tony tightened his hold around Steve’s midriff just a little bit, the way Tony liked it when he was stressed out, physical touch grounding him in the moment and reminding him to focus on the present. 

By the pleased and almost involuntary sigh Steve let out, he seemed to appreciate it, too. The cold tip of Steve’s nose brushed against the skin of his exposed collarbone as Steve curled even closer into him. 

They stayed like that for a few heartbeats, soaking up each other’s warmth. Tony could even feel himself relaxing, the tension ebbing away from his muscles. Maybe he had needed the hug just as much as Steve did. 

When Steve eventually pulled back to release him, he looked better. Not like he had been relieved of all of his burdens, but looking less like he was going to cave in due to the weight of the world. The line of his shoulders was less taut, like he had acquired the strength to push through at least another day. 

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said, voice all low, rough, and unmistakably earnest, blue eyes looking down at Tony in wonder. He looked like he was looking at Tony in an entirely new light and Tony was a little bit terrified to find out just exactly what kind of light that was. 

After all, they had gotten off on the wrong foot, meeting under less than ideal circumstances with tensions running high. 

“Anytime, Cap.”

“Steve,” Steve corrected gently with a kind smile, “please call me Steve.”

“Anytime, Steve,” he said, and found that he genuinely meant it. 

Steve seemed to think that Tony had meant it, too, because after that one fateful hug, Steve sought him out for more. He became surprisingly liberal with physical affection when it came to Tony, going to him for not only more hugs but also other kinds of physical touch: claps on the back, shoulder squeezes, and in one memorable incident that Tony remembers with way too much fondness and startling clarity—hand-holding.

Well, sort of. Steve had been watching TV in the common area on one chilly evening and his face lit up the second he saw Tony walking in. 

“What are you watching?” Tony asked, taking the empty seat beside him on the couch. 

Steve glanced back at the TV screen. Tony took in the sight of Steve, clad in a cozy-looking brown wool sweater and a pair of grey sweatpants, his long limbs lax and back sinking into the couch. His eyes lingered on Steve’s easy smile. He seemed more relaxed, no longer looking like he had a stormy cloud looming above his head all the time. Tony thought that maybe Steve was starting to become more accustomed to the twenty-first century.

Privately, he also liked to think that maybe he had helped in some way to make Steve feel more at home at the Tower.

“I’m not sure, actually. Some animated movie.” Steve shrugged, watching the TV absentmindedly, the colorful lights from the screen reflected in his bright blue eyes. 

As he spoke, he rubbed his hands together continuously, skin glistening under the lights. It was then that Tony detected a pleasant and sweet smell in the air. 

“What’s that?” Tony asked, nodding at Steve’s hands.

Steve’s smile widened at the question. He leaned forward and picked up a small tube that was sitting on top of the coffee table, handing it to Tony.

“Hand cream,” he said. “Vanilla and cinnamon-scented. Bruce finds it soothing and he recommended it to me.”

“Huh.” Tony smiled, inspecting the tube of cream in his hand.

“You want some?”

“Huh?”

“Here, I’ll apply it for you.” Steve snatched the tube out of his hands and turned sideways to face him on the couch. “Give me your hand.”

Tony did so obediently and watched as Steve squirted a generous amount of cream onto the palm of his hand. Steve began rubbing the dollop of cream around with both of his hands, spreading it all over the skin of Tony’s calloused palm—rendered sandpaper-rough from all his engineering work. He also made sure to apply the cream to Tony’s fingers, as well as the back of his palm and down to his wrist. 

All the while, Tony found it oddly difficult to breathe, heart fluttering with Steve’s every touch. When he was finished with the one hand, Steve asked for the other. Dazed, Tony gave it to him.

He continued to rub cream into Tony’s hand, pouring his full attention into the simple task, making sure the cream was spread all the way to the spaces between his fingers. At one point, he paused, frowning down at a spot on Tony’s hand. Tony swallowed, nervous for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint.

“What?” Tony asked.

Steve tilted Tony’s hand wordlessly, showing him a bit of discoloration located on the webbing of his hand, between his point finger and thumb. 

“Soldering iron,” Tony explained, voice tight and breathless. Steve nodded silently, but his eyes lingered on the scar for a few moments. He gently pressed on the healed burn mark with the pad of his thumb before caressing it in multiple strokes, like if he did it enough times the mark would eventually disappear.

“Sorry. I know my hands aren’t exactly the softest, what with all the work I do in the workshop.” Tony flexed his fingers, feeling more than a little bit self-conscious under Steve’s scrutiny.

Steve maneuvered Tony’s hand so that it was stacked atop his own, palm facing up.

“Not soft, no.” Steve shook his head, agreeing with Tony. Using the index finger of his other hand, he began to trace the lines of Tony’s palm.

Then his lips curved up into a soft smile, eyes following the movements of his own finger across Tony’s hand.

“But really pretty,” he whispered, voice hushed. Steve looked at him then, warm blue eyes holding his gaze steadily. “I think your hands are beautiful, Tony.”

Tony distinctly remembers the way he floundered for a few painful seconds, struggling to come up with a coherent reply, before eventually choking out a feeble “thanks”. 

That moment lingered in his mind for days afterward, and Tony started to find himself unable to stop his own mind from wandering toward thoughts of Steve on a daily basis, like the man himself had moved in permanently and taken up residence in Tony’s head.

When Tony’s heart couldn’t stop doing somersaults in his chest after Steve had ambushed him with a random hug one morning as the man made his way to the elevator for his run, Tony decided that all of this had to stop.

That is how he finds himself standing in front of Steve’s bedroom, trying to build up the courage to knock on Steve’s door to tell him that he has to start going to someone else for his fix of physical comfort, because Tony just can’t offer it to him anymore without feeling increasingly like he is taking advantage of Steve, greedily savoring every touch that Steve has been innocently giving him. 

It doesn’t take a genius to understand that what Steve needs is physical touch in general for the sake of comfort, and not necessarily from Tony in particular. Steve just seeks him out because Tony is the one person that has given him explicit permission to do so, the one that has offered him physical affection in the first place. 

Tony inhales deeply to calm his nerves and squeezes his eyes shut. His raised fist is about to rap on the door when said door opens abruptly from the inside. Tony takes a few steps back in surprise. Steve blinks at the sight of Tony, equally as taken aback.

“Tony? What are you doing here?”

“I just— I— Um. That is, I was, uh—”

Tony stills when Steve gathers him into his arms, pulling him close. Steve buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, breathing him in before sighing in relief. 

“What great timing. I’m having a terrible day. I was just about to go and find you,” Steve confesses, voice muffled, nose and lips brushing against the delicate skin just above Tony’s collarbone. That combined with the tickling sensation of his warm breath has Tony holding his breath and clenching his jaw to fight an inappropriate shiver from running down his spine. 

Tony’s heart is racing in his chest, blood is rushing in his ears, and he can definitely feel his palms starting to get clammy with sweat. 

“Actually, Steve,” Tony squeaks, “I need you to let me go.”

Steve tenses almost immediately around him, muscles locking tight. Slowly, he releases Tony. When Tony pulls back, he gets a clear look at the evident confusion and concern playing out on Steve’s face. 

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you somewhere?” Steve’s eyes travel down Tony’s body, looking for signs of injury.

“No,” Tony says as he shakes his head with a shaky exhale, “it’s nothing like that.”

Steve’s eyebrows draw even closer together. “What’s wrong?”

“I… don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Steve continues to stare at him, eyes unblinking.

“The hugs,” Tony clarifies, the two words leaving his mouth in a rush.

Steve blinks, processing the information. His mouth opens and closes quietly, like he doesn’t know what to say. 

“Oh,” Steve breathes. Tony thinks he catches a flash of hurt in Steve’s eyes.

“Yeah.”

Concern immediately floods back into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Tony. Did I make you uncomfortable? In any way, at all?”

You made me too comfortable, Tony thinks. 

“No. Uh, it’s not you, it’s me,” he says, and then winces at his choice of words. He averts his gaze, looking at Steve’s chest instead. The weight of Steve’s blue eyes has started to become too much to handle. “I… Uh. It’s just that. I’ve started. Developing feelings. For you.”

After a few seconds of silence, he chances a look up at Steve and finds the man staring at him with an intense look on his face.

Tony quickly drops his eyes back to Steve’s chest. To his horror, he begins to ramble, “Non-friendly feelings for you. I mean, not non-friendly in the sense that I dislike you, because I like you. It’s, uh. More in the sense that I like you... too much. I have feelings. Of the— The non-platonic kind. And, uh, yeah. There. Sorry. I really didn’t want to make things awkward between us.”

Steve continues to say nothing.

And then—

Steve chuckles. Tony’s head snaps up. Upon catching Tony’s eyes, Steve bites back a grin.

“What— Are you laughing at me? Is this funny to you?” Tony asks, quickly crossing the line from nervous and embarrassed to offended. Tony is putting himself in a vulnerable position for the sake of their friendship, okay? He is trying to do the right thing here. He expected a polite and painful rejection, but laughter?

“No, no,” Steve says in between chuckles that manage to slip out despite his best efforts, “please don’t be mad. I just—”

“What?” Tony interrupts, unimpressed.

“I’ve, uh… The truth is, I’ve been finding excuses to touch you for months now,” Steve admits sheepishly, cheeks tinged a soft pink. His gaze drops down to the floor. “At first, I really did look forward to your hugs because they brought me comfort. They calmed me down, made me feel better. But then you kept being so sweet and kind, always checking in on me, making sure I’m okay, even when you don’t have to. And you’re so funny, Tony. You make me laugh even on my worst days, when it seems impossible to, and I just…”

The words trail off and Steve shrugs before meeting Tony’s eyes bashfully. 

“After a while, you just made it impossible for me not to fall for you.” 

Tony blinks, heart in his throat. It doesn’t feel real, hearing that he can affect someone else in the way Steve just described. 

Steve swallows, stepping closer to Tony. Carefully, he cradles Tony’s cheeks in his hands.

“You make me really happy, Tony.” Steve looks down at him, sincerity gleaming in his azure eyes. “And I’d be over the moon if you’d be willing to give me the chance to try to make you as happy as you’ve made me.”

Tony’s throat clicks. When he remembers to breathe again, he replies:

“I’d— Love to,” Tony whispers, low voice fraught with emotion. “I’d really like that.”

When Steve’s lips melt sweetly against his, Tony feels him smile into the kiss, the first of a thousand more to come. 

[fan-art-ic]

Don't Stop Here

She's back. Anne is really back on Earth. She can hardly believe it.

(Picks up immediately after the episode ends) (ao3 link in reblog)

Anne can hardly believe it. Cars honked around her and every breath is heavy with unnatural smog. She meets eyes with a human stranger, who lifts a phone very quickly and stares bug-eyed at her. Not at her, no, at her family. She turns to Hop-pop, Sprig, and Polly, all scratched, bruised, tired, afraid, and looking at her with trust in their eyes. Hop-pop croaks and coughs and Anne notices her frog family's skin is graying. She has to get them out of here. Off the hood of the car, over five lanes of traffic, hopped over the guardrail, down the hill, through a sparse copse of trees, to the sidewalk under the bridge and-

"Anne?" A pink hand tugs on her wrist. "Anne, stop. Please." Her feet stumble to a stop and her socked foot lands on something sharp and cutting and she gasps.

"Anne!"

Two sets of hands catch her torso, and she faintly feels a wet touch pulling at her ankle. Her family carefully let her down, so she lands heavily on her butt instead of her nose. Anne's next breath is a punch of air and her lungs brighten with pain as she loses control of her inhales and exhales. Her eyes hurt and burn. When she wipes a dirty hand across her face, she winces as hot tears and snot sting her injuries. A light weight settles onto her back and rubs in a circular motion. Anne clings to the sensation. Between sputtering breaths, she begins to hear. "-in...and out...in...and out," Hop-pop's soothing, raspy voice repeats and then she can hear Sprig humming. It's a song Wally wrote about a silly snail getting lost and he had sung it at her Frog of the Year party. A laugh bubbles up into a sob and Anne reaches out her arms to pull all three of them close.

"I love you guys," she chokes out, and Polly pats her cheek.

"We love you too, Anne," says the polliwog, normally so energetic now wrung out and too bright-eyed. She needs to pull herself together. Anne releases her grip and her family takes a step back. She runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head, dust and dirt and surprisingly long twigs falling to the broken concrete.

"Alright, froggy fam," she begins, "I'm going to take you to meet my human fam." Sprig whoops, but he's clearly flagging.

"Yay!..."

Anne grimaces and looks at Hop-pop. The old, orange frog meets her gaze steadily, but she can tell how much he is missing his cane. "Hop-pop, you got Polly, I got Sprig?" He nods. "Alright. Let's make our way to the highway, follow along till we hit an exit, follow that till we hit town, figure out where we are, call my parents. Sound good?" No one protests and Anne helps Sprig up to her shoulder as Hop-pop collects Polly.

.

They're maybe ten minutes into their walk, and every step is a jolt to her nervous system. Her skin feels prickly, her jaw too tight, her muscles ache like never before. The pressure of her Newtopian breastplate, once reassuring, weighs her every step like a lodestone.  The heron-leather straps pinch at the underside of her arms. Sprig's cool, damp skin is refreshing against the back of her neck, but it's not slimy enough and it concerns Anne. She bites her lip and tries to time her steps so that her sneaker hits the rocks and roots, while her socked-foot hits bare earth. She isn't always successful, and everything is starting to throb. Her temples pulse loudly in her head and her knees are weak and her mouth is parched.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Polly..." Hop-pop murmurs behind her. She can't see him, but she hears the dragging footsteps crunch the dry grass and the low comfortings of the grandfather to the polliwog. A stabbing pain shoots through her chest, and Anne forces her legs into a march. Focuses on the act of raising her thigh, swinging her calf forward, shifting her weight, repeat ad infinitum.

In seventh grade health class, there had been only one day dedicated to 'mental health issues' and something mentioned was meditative breathing. In multiple P.E. classes, Anne heard the teachers talk about making sure to breath while exercising. One, two, three. In. One, two, three. Out. Anne can do this.

.

The clouds parted a bit as they walked and the sun is nearly blinding Anne, as she squints at the sign. DALY STREET EXIT, it read in giant white text on green. Okay, so now they can get out of the weird in-between highway area they've been hiking. She points at it. "This way."

Something is mumbled behind her back.

"Huh?" She stops to turn and looks at Hop-pop. "What's up?" The elderly frog's face is twisted in a very non-confidence inspiring way.

"Well...Anne, I can't help but notice you don't have your backpack. Or...or your phone. So-" All Anne could hear was a piercing, ringing sound. Her hands clenched and unclenched.

"Right," says Anne, interrupting whatever the old frog had been saying. "Right. I don't have my backpack or phone." She blinks rapidly and Hop-pop's brow furrows deeper grooves. Her fingernails dig grooves of equal depth into her palms. "Okay, so," she claps her hands and ignores Sprig and Polly startle, "we will keep going. We will find someone kind and nice who will be willing to call my parents. End of plan."

"Great plan," Sprig yawns in her ear, and she can't help the yawn in return. It stretches her neck muscles and she yawns again for good measure. Polly yawns, then Hop-pop, then her and Polly at the same time. They all smile and the moment of brevity gets the family going again, the plan -no matter how little Anne believes in it herself- solidly in mind and the goal spurring them on. Not too much further now.

.

The sign for 7-11 flickers and there is a closed down Redbox sitting stoutly next to a ash-tray/trash can. The ad in the window advertises Berry Glam Blitz Bomb and a two for four hotdogs sale. Her stomach rumbles.

Her family is crowded together outside the storefront, and Anne doesn't know what to do. She's loathe to leave the Plantars by themselves, but maybe the cashier won't be the most cynical soul in Los Angeles. Then the frogs won't go under the risk of wandering the streets, talking to strangers. She can't bring them in though, what if the employee freaks out (like...any reasonable person confronted by talking frog people would). A clammy, orange hand taps her arm twice. She looks down.

"We'll be okay for five minutes, Anne," reassures Hop-pop. "Hand me Sprig." She doesn't hand him Sprig so much as the pink frog melts off her back and flops down next to his grandfather, but either way transfer successful. Okay now it's just time to interact with a human who isn't one of her two childhood best friends. She can't be totally out of practice right?

Marcy's eyes had been so wide when she died. Her pretty, dark brown eyes glittering from the light of Andrias' sword. From the flashing blue of the portal home. From tears.

Anne swallows roughly and steps toward the entrance. She scolds herself when the self-automated doors startle her, and she glances around the store. Someone tall and bald by the coolers, someone on the phone in the back, besides them and Anne the place is empty. Well, and the cashier. She approaches the register before she can one-eighty out the stupid doors, and she clears her throat. The cashier, a young guy with bright green and black hair and a name tag reading 'Jared', looks up from his phone.

"Hey-o, ready to check out?"

"Um, no actually," Anne starts and stops. What is she supposed to say? "I...dropped my phone and it cracked badly," she lies. "I was supposed to meet up with my mom but I can't get the dang thing to turn on." She laughs, short and high-pitched, rubbing her neck. "Is there like, a store phone I could borrow to call her?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "No, there isn't a store phone. If you buy something I could exchange dollars for quarters, I think there's a phone booth near here." The lights are buzzing really loudly, Anne notices. She takes a deep breath.

"Sorry, that doesn't work. Could I borrow your phone?" She sees how the older guy assesses her. She sees her dirty torn school skirt, her scorched copper armor, the twigs that she can't stop finding in her hair. "Or could I give you her number? Please, I just want to get back to my mom." Jared's frown softens and his mouth opens to speak, but is cut off by a voice behind Anne.

"Annie Bone-choy?" Her neck complains at the speed she turns to look. The bald person she saw earlier. Face contorted in open surprise, finger pointed in her direction, he says in a nasally SoCal accent, "Your parents have been looking everywhere for you."

"Do I know you?" Anne asks. Bald guy shakes his head. "No. I like your parents restaurant, amazing noodles by the way, and they have your missing posters all over the front. Yours and two other girls."

"I thought you lost your phone and were meeting up with your mom," Jared unhelpful interjects. Anne looks between both of them.

"Can I please use someone's phone to call my mom?" The two adults look at each other.

"Tell me your mom's number," says Jared tentatively. Anne rattles off the ten digit code with ease. She remembers sitting in the kitchen and her mom helping her arrange plastic magnet numbers in the order of her cell phone number. Jared puts the phone on speaker and the dialing tone begins to ring. Once, twice, three times, four...

"Hi! This is Madee Boonchuy. Not here right now, please leave a message!" The messaging system beeps and Anne just shakes her head at Jared. He ends the call.

"Can you please try again?" She pleads. Jared frowns, but does as requested. The dialing rings again. And gets voice-mail, again.

"I could call the restaurant," the bald guy offers. "It's not exactly rush hour but they are open right now, right?" Anne blinks away the stinging in her eyes. She has no idea what time it is, no idea what day or month or even if it's the same year. Who knows how Amphibia time lines up with Earth time?

"Can you? Please?" He nods and pulls out his phone. A minute while he finds the contact, and now for the third time, the phone rings on speaker. Anne knows what they say about third tries, and she crosses her fingers tightly.

"Hello? Delivery or pick-up?" Familiar, accented English, and Anne has to resist falling to the floor.

"Mom," Anne whispers in Thai, and the voice on the line speaks rapidly.

"Anne? Sweetheart? Oh my god, Anne? Anne?"

"It's me Mom. It's Anne," Anne sniffs and hiccups.

Some sharp, unintelligible yelling comes out the receiver, and there is a rustling and slamming sound before Anne's mom replies, "Where are you?"

Anne blue screens for a second. "I'm..." She struggles to remember. "I'm at a 7-11."

"What? Where? What street?"

"Daly Street," Jared pipes up.

"Who is that?" Her mother says sharply.

"That's just the cashier, he was, he was helping me. Well and another guy who comes to the restaurant apparently? I uh, he says he recognized me from my posters, huh, I didn't realize I'd have any," Anne rambles.

"I'm coming to you, Anne," Her mom promises. "I'm going to hug you so much. I'm coming to you. I have to hang up now, to get in the car, but do not go. Please."

"I promise," says Anne, and when her mom ends the call, she starts crying.

.

She exits the 7-11 once she gets the bald guy and Jared to distract each other (i.e. purchasing a bottled soda), and she spots the Plantars immediately. They're on top of a parked USPS truck. When Anne peers around the vehicle to see the other side of the street, she spies the mailman making his way towards the truck. Crap.

"Guys!" She hisses through clenched teeth. She raps her knuckles against the truck's side and hear Polly yelp. "Guys, get off the truck!" A moment later, Hop-pop and Sprig land beside her, Polly in her brother's arms. Anne pulls them over to the Redbox and huddles on the side opposite to the store entrance. She steps in front of them, hoping her body will shield enough of the frogs so nobody looks closer.

"Your mom is gonna be here soon?" Sprig asks. Anne nods.

"Yep, she'll...she'll be here soon." There's no response, and there is a take-a-tab paper taped to the trash can advertising singing lessons, and it's all Anne can do to not remember the time Sasha threw a karaoke party and they all started singing badly and together, and Anne blinks and keeps talking.

"My mom will come, and she's probably in her mini-van, oh man she's gonna tear through like twenty stop signs and scare other drivers so bad," she snorts, "and maybe there'll be a loose water bottle or a chip bag in the car, and oh man, you guys don't know what sour cream and onion chips are I can't wait to show you-"

"Anne," Hop-pop cuts her off. "Don't forget to breathe." She sucks in a deep breath and feels bile creeping up her throat. She tries to swallow but her mouth is so dry it just hurts. She can't imagine how her frog family's is feeling compared to her, they must be feeling so much worse than her, and they haven't said anything yet. Anne exhales forcefully. When a hand squeezes around her own, she squeezes back reassuringly.

They all jump as a dark red mini-van screeches to a halt in front of the 7-11. The driver exits the car, not wasting time to even park, and runs towards them. "Anne!"

"Mom!!!" Anne cries and she takes only a few steps before she's barreled over.

"Anne, oh my god, thank the heavens it's you! Anne, Anne, oh my baby," Anne's mom sobs into her shoulder before pulling back. Anne stares at her mother. Lets her eyes trace the deepened wrinkles, notice the shining, brown eyes the same shade as her own, the beauty mark on her chin. Her mom's glasses are new. Anne can't remember what they'd been, but now her mom wears tortoiseshell frames.

"I like your glasses," is the first thing to tumble out of Anne's mouth, and she nearly slaps herself. Her mom laughs wetly.

"Oh, Anne, oh, I've missed you so much." Her mother folds her back into her arms. Anne hugs back as tightly as she can for a second before her mom stiffens with a surprised grunt. "And you're so much stronger, when did that happen?"

Anne smiles. "I'll tell you about it." She steps back and grabs her mom by the shoulders. They're the same height now. "I'll tell you all about it." And that means... "Mom, let me introduce you to the Plantars," Anne steps to her mom's side and reveals her froggy family.

Her mother gasps and says something in Thai that Anne doesn't know. She would bet it's one of the worse swear words. "I know it's a shock, cuz, well, two foot tall talking frogs," says Anne and motions for the trio to come a bit closer. "But they protected me, fed me, and loved me while I was stranded in their world." Hop-pop shuffles the closes with Sprig and Polly poking their heads out behind him.

Hop-pop extends his hand. "My name is Hopadiah Plantar, it's an honor to meet you Mrs. Boonchuy." Her mom looks down at the wrinkly, orange hand and then back at Anne. She nods encouragingly and her mom steels herself before meeting the hand with her own.

She gingerly shakes it. "Pleasure to meet you...Hopadiah," Anne's mom says his name carefully. "My daughter says you kept her safe?" Hop-pop nods.

"To the best of my ability," and his face gains a wry look and he rubs the back of his neck. "When she and my grandkids weren't off chasing trouble."

Anne's mom smiles tentatively. "I'm sure. Are these your grandkids here?" Sprig comes out behind Hop-pop's back and puts out his hand.

"I'm Sprig Plantar! And this is-" A loud honk interrupts him and everyone in the group startles, moving to look at the source. A silver BMW is stuck behind her mom's mini-van and the one-way street doesn't give any wiggle around room. A shout filters out of the sports car. "MOVE YOUR CAR!" Except with a lot more swears. Anne's mom sighs.

"Introductions later, let's get in the car," she instructs and everyone moves.

All the frogs hesitate as they get closer, Sprig even flinching when Anne hauls open the back seat door with a slam. She gestures inside. "C'mon guys, it's just like a wagon," Anne says. Polly hops in first and settles into the closest middle row seat. She bounces a couple times.

"It's comfy," the polliwog reports. The jerk in the BMW honks again, even longer. Sprig and Hop-pop pile in and Anne closes the door behind them. She gets into the passenger seat and the feeling of air conditioning against her skin is like. Magic wind. Super relaxing. Like insane luxury. Oh, Anne missed technology.

"Buckle up." Her mom clicks her seat belt into the lock and starts pulling away immediately. Leaving Anne to explain what 'buckle up' means, and what a seat belt is, and no she doesn't know when they were invented. The questions continue as the mini-van pulls onto the highway, but the group soon quiets down. Anne blinks slowly and looks outside the window. The trees and billboards and other cars pass by her so quickly, so much quicker than Bessie could ever go. A pang strikes her heart as Anne realizes Bessie will be all alone. She hopes the Plantar's family snail is taken care of while they're gone. Anne looks away from the window as nausea grips her throat. She's almost home. She can hold off on falling apart for just a little longer.

.

"Anne, honey, are you awake? We're home."

Anne blinks and she squeezes her eyes tight and yawns loudly and long. She hadn't realized she dozed off. "I'm...home." She opens the door and doesn't let her twinging feet deter her from getting a good look at her home. The small bushes that lined the driveway, the slightly dented mailbox, the umbrella her dad always left outside the red door. Anne drinks it all in.

For the past several months she had been in a world with fantastical flora and fauna and shocking experiences every day, but Anne feels dizzy at the sight of her home. Her eyes catch on every detail, the once too-familiar not familiar enough. The bristly door mat; the unpolished brass numbers: 301; the creaky porch step; the small, pink, clay owl figurine Anne had given to her mom for Mother's Day in fifth grade and sat tucked in the corner. Her eyelashes are sticky with tears.

"Your house is SOOOOOOOOO BIG!" Anne snorts and is grateful for Sprig. She turns around to look at the small, pink frog.

"It's pretty nice! I've loved growing up here. Three-oh-one Silver Spring Lane." A gobsmacked look.

"You have springs made of silver?" Sprig's jaw drops. Hop-pop's head pokes out of the van.

"What's this I hear of silver springs?"

Surprisingly, it's Anne's mom who answers. She laughs, and it soothes Anne, before saying, "No, Hopadiah. It's just a nice name for a road." Anne tunes out what Hop-pop replies in favor of turning back to the door.

The metal door handle is hot to touch, searing from the oppressive California heat. She breathes out in a harsh whoosh and forces herself to yank the door open. It slams against the wall and the hinges squeak. Anne hears a sound of protest from her mom, but she can't acknowledge it when there's a bullet of fluff running towards the door.

"DOMINO!" The cat jumps into Anne's arms and she catches her, swinging Domino around and around and gosh, will Anne ever stop crying today? She hides her tears in Domino's soft, white belly, and laughs as the cat wiggles around to climb up her shoulders. Domino wraps around her neck and rubs Anne's check with her cute, little face.

Anne collapses to her knees and she pulls her cat around and holds her so carefully and so, so close. Domino allows this longer than ever before, but soon she does squirm and fall to the carpet on all four feet. She chirps and purrs vacuum-like. Anne's hands move on their own accord, stroking down Domino's back, scratching all her sweet spots, reacquainting herself with her Domino, her beautiful angel baby.

"Anne, could you move your reunion a few feet more into the hallway? So we can come in?" Her mom says, her tone telling Anne she's smiling. Anne kisses her baby's head one more time before standing up and moves to the side. Ugh, her knees hurt from carpet burn. That's one thing she hadn't missed.

"Sprig, Polly, Hop-pop! Remember the killapillar?" Anne scoops up Domino and holds her out. "This is Domino One!" Sprig steps closer, squinting. He pokes at Domino's paw and she mrrps! at him. He flinches back for a second before staring deep into her eyes. Anne watches this stare-off with no small amount of amusement.

Eventually, Sprig asks, "So this Domino won't kill us for dinner?" Anne shakes her head and a leaf drifts from her hair.

"Nope!"

Sprig oh so slowly reaches a finger to Domino's long-haired back. "Oh!" He says, curling his fingers through the fur. "She's even softer than peatmoss."

Polly joins her brother and jumps up and down on her new, little legs. "Let me pet her!" Anne leans back down, but Domino wriggles out her grip and runs down the hallway, disappearing around the kitchen corner. Polly pouts. "Aw! I wanted to touch Domino One."

Anne pats her yellow bow. "Don't worry. There's plenty of time for that later."

"I believe a good use of time right now," Anne's mom says, still lingering in the open door, "would be for you to change out of your dirty clothes. Go take a shower."

Anne stares at her mom stunned. "Oh my god...," she whispers. "I shall finally be clean." Sprig laughs.

"Are there no showers where you come from?" Anne's mom asks Hop-pop as Anne still revels in the very idea of pressurized water.

"I can't say I know what a shower-whatsit is, but we did bathe," Hop-pop says archly, half at Anne's mom and half at her. Her mom nods understandingly. Then frowns.

"Do you have any spare clothes with you?" She asks and all the Plantars go wide-eyed.

"We..." Hop-pop can't finish his sentence hands twisting his ascot. Sprig looks morose and he's holding onto his slingshot tightly. Polly is similar, tugging at her frayed and dirty yellow bow. Anne's heart twinges, and she cuts in.

"We didn't exactly have time to pack our wardrobes when we came, Mom," she says. "I have piggy bank money, we can go shopping guys! You guys have to see the mall. This time, my treat," she tries to cheer up the little frogs.

Sprig and Polly perk up at the mention of visiting the mall, but Hop-pop and her mom both protest at once.

"Anne, that's mighty kind of you, but-"

"Anne, that's very generous, but-"

Both stop and her mom motions for the frog to continue. Hop-pop waits a second more before saying, "Anne, you don't need to spend your savings on us. We can make do if you just show us to a wash bucket and a needle with thread. When these get worn out, we'll cross that river when we come to it." Anne's mom then lays a hand on Hop-pop's shoulder, slightly crouching to reach. Hop-pop nods at her.

Her mom smiles before saying to him, "I can certainly show you the washing machine, but we'll figure out another set of clothes for you." Her gaze casts over Sprig, Polly, and Anne. "For all of you. And Anne," her mom walks up to her and she smiles with glistening eyes, "when did you grow up so much?" She brings Anne into a tight hug before releasing her. And boops her nose. Anne squeals. Her mom smiles. "I will pay for the shopping. Now!" She claps. "Shoes off."

Everyone looked down at their feet and noticed the frogs didn't have any. "Ah well, shoes and...shoe off. Anne, what happened to your shoe?"

Anne waves it off. "Lost it a few months ago." Her mother grumbles and Anne suspects she'll be getting a new pair of sneakers in the near future. Then it occurs to her, "Where's Dad?"

"He had to stay to make sure the delivery went smoothly since Jackson quit and everyone else messes it up," her mom explains while running her hands through Anne's hair.

Anne gasps. "No! Not Jackson."

"Yes, Jackson," replies her mom. Her fingers tug painfully through Anne's hair and come away holding a handful of leaves and twigs. "Is there an entire forest in your head? Now off you go, shower. Get the dirt off," she commands. Anne rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Mom," Anne says in Thai and kisses her cheek. She looks to the Plantars. "You guys okay with my mom showing you around the house? Show you somewhere to sit and some water?"

Hop-pop nods and Polly wiggles. "I have a mighty THIRST," she yells. Anne giggles.

"Well, alright froggy fam. See you on the flip side," and she starts to head up the steps, her fingers trailing the railing, when a cough causes her to pause. She glances back.

"Anne..." Sprig says, "welcome home."

Tears spill over her cheeks and Anne half-falls down the stairs to give him a tight hug. Quickly, other froggy arms surround the two and are joined by a pair of human arms. All together, all safe, all alive. Anne takes a deep breath, and exhales heavily. She's back home.

[miscellaneous-bnha]

Naga Aizawa AU

As requested by 🍄 anon.

Unfortunately, this is not a part of the Untitled AU (I’m sticking to calling it that even though I named it), but I’m really glad that I had a chance to write about Naga Aizawa anyway. 🍄 anon is my savior.

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THIS CONTENT CONTAINS OVIPOSITION, BREEDING, AND ONE (1) TIRED SNAKE MAN. DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ. ALSO, IT’S A LONG ONE.

- Aizawa as a Naga in general would be interesting.

- I can def see him sleeping all curled up in sun spots through the day, only really moving when he wants to.

- But then he becomes much more active at night, on the prowl for prey and potential threats to his territory.

- Unusual seeing how cold it can get at night, but effective for him seeing as he blended quite well into the dark with his midnight tail and markings.

- Regardless, as far as he’s concerned, nobody really has the guts to challenge him at this point.

- At least, that was until he met you.

- The scared little mouse that had lost their way into his territory.

- You had heard rumors of half snake people living in these parts, and you really weren’t trying to stray away from the path

- But it was like something in the forest itself was calling out to you.

- According to local legend, the voice of the forest would lead you to your soulmate so long as they were in the forest at the same time as you

- But as you were trembling under the gaze of the Naga before you, the legends felt like cruel, whispery lies to give you false hope

- Now was hardly the time to worry about that, however, considering he looked quite upset to have been interrupted.

- Before you could scramble back to your feet, he was upon you, coiled around you without actually touching you, making you feel trapped and small.

- “Hmmm....” the baritone of his voice sent a chill through you, half with fear and half with mild arousal. You cursed your ape brain silently, squeezing your body tighter.

- “What is a little mouse like you...” he finally touches you, tipping your head to look up at him with a finger under your chin, “.. doing so far away from the path. Hmm?”

- Your lips only tremble as you try to speak, but he presses a finger to your lips to keep you from attempting to speak anyway.

- “No matter... you’re quite lost now aren’t you?” you can only nod, refusing to tear your eyes away.

- You already know that you would never be able to react in time, but your instincts still tell you to keep your eyes locked on him.

- “I figured as much. Unfortunately for you—“ he points up to the darkening sky, “— the sun is going down, and you wouldn’t make it back to town at this rate even if you tried.”

- You swallowed hard, knowing he was right. Maybe the universe really is playing a cruel joke on you.

- He chuckles, running his hand through your hair and ruffling it.

- “Relax, you’re gonna be okay. Human isn’t my first, second, or third choice in food. I’ll bring you to my den to stay the night and lead you back to the trail tomorrow.”

- You squint hard, nose scrunching with doubt.

- “No need for such a sour face, little mouse. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now.” He winks, “Besides, people get lost all the time; the people of town already know who I am by this point.”

- You furrow your brows, but you suppose he was right. If he really did want to cause harm, you wouldn’t be here pondering the legitimacy of his words. It also made sense about how the village seemed to know of supernatural creatures such as Nagas in extreme detail.

- You figured that— worst case scenario— you were dead either way, and your best bet would be to go with the Naga for now.

- He watches you climb to your feet, shuffling a bit. “... That would be really great, thank you.”

- He smirks and blows a slight laugh out through his nose, unraveling his tail as he moves to lead the way. “Th’ name’s Shouta Aizawa, and who might you be?”

��—————————

- You wake up the following morning to the sound of crashing thunder and heavy rain pouring outside his den.

- You rub your eyes blearily, bits and pieces of the night before slowly coming back to you.

- You remember following Aizawa to his den, keeping good on his promise not to eat you as you slept.

- The conversation as he led you through the darkening woods was really quite insightful; what kind of (snake?)person he is, what he does in the area. The kinds of goods he trades with the village nearby.

- You were shocked to learn that the forest doesn’t only serve as home for Nagas, but harpies, sirens, and elemental spirits too. “And those are just a few of the people I know.”

- Though he pretended to be annoyed with talking about his blond haired harpy and the pale-blue haired water spirit friends, the shine in his eye gave him away; he definitely cares a whole lot more than his demeanor suggests.

- It was endearing.

-But that was then and this is now, and “the now” meant you would be stuck in Aizawa’s den for a lot longer than originally intended.

- “It’s no problem,” he’d said once he caught sight of your worried face, “we have more than enough supplies to last us a good long while. Comfortably, if I might add.”

- At that point, you were worried less about supplies and more about the fact that you didn’t want to intrude. “If only I hadn’t wandered off the path...”

- “Hey now, no need to start thinking like that now. You never meant to get lost, and this sudden downpour certainly isn’t your fault—“ the glare he suddenly shot outside made you curious, “— so don't worry about it, yeah?”

- Except, by the fourth week of non-stop rain, it was safe to say you were concerned.

- Sure, it did lighten up to a measly drizzle here and there, but the muddy ground was too unstable to try and traverse without risk. The chances of causing a landslide was too great.

- So it was with a guilty— mostly because of your silent cheers with each rainy day you woke up to— heart you shared yet another cup of tea, lounging back within Aizawa’s coils.

- The two of you had grown particularly close in your time staying here. Though you were originally concerned about the state of your clothing, it turned out that Aizawa had quite the collection in case of situations like these

- So alas, the two of you spent the day chatting away as usual.

- He has been in the middle of telling a particularly interesting story when you suddenly found yourself zoning out at the slight stubble on his sharp jawline

- You supposed it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, seeing the ‘nature’ of his species, but you were surprised to see someone so inactive also be so amazingly fit at the same time.

- You don’t know when he had stopped talking, or when the two of you had started falling into each other’s gaze

- But you definitely felt the moment when your lips pressed against his. Starting as shy little pecks until he started to press deeper, coils shifting as he brought you closer to him

- Hands setting your drinks aside, you wrap your arms around his neck as he traps you between a comfortable crook in his tail and his body, his hands resting on your hips

- Your head starts to grow clouded the longer you kiss him, a slight tang similar to citrus but as sweet as candy hits your tongue and suddenly he’s pulling back

- His eyes are blown wide, but you can see the struggle on his features as he catches his breath

- “Shit..” he presses his face into your neck, “I shouldn’t have lost control like that... are you alright?”

- You’re confused by his statement. Surely, he was asking if you were okay with him kissing you, but somehow you knew that wasn’t really what he was asking

- Your thoughts start to wander a little as you start to feel a low burn settle deep in your belly, and you’re almost amused by the idea that Nagas do— in fact— have aphrodisiac properties in their venom

- You can almost tell the exact moment when your eyes become completely glossed over, wet with desire and clouded with need.

- “Fuck... I’m sorry. I should have been more aware. I’ll get some water to help flush out my venom-“ he pauses when he notices the unhappy furrow in your brow.

- “Do... do you not like me like that?” You blurt out before you can stop to think about it.

- he hesitates and you close your eyes, disappointment charging through you, but suddenly they’re open again when he coils around you tighter, chest crushing against your own as he presses his face into the side of your head

- “Of course I do... but I didn’t want it to go this way. I shouldn’t have stayed so close while in my rut like this.”

- “Your rut?”

- he nods solemnly, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair

- “It started some time about a week ago... when I first realized that I’m attracted to you... emotionally and physically.” He presses his nose to your temple and inhales deeply “But I’ve been tryna keep quiet about it... wanted to give you the choice to go if y’wanted.”

- You can hear his words start to slur together. “Y’can stay if y’want... but if y’don’t go now, I won’t be lettin’ ya go. At least not without me.”

- You’re already nodding before you can even think about it.

- “Of course I want to stay... if you’ll have me.”

- There’s a deep rumble reminiscent of a growl in his chest

- “Of course I’ll have you. There’s no one else I’d rather have, little one.”

- You felt a strong shudder run down the length of your spine, but you weren’t given much time to dwell on it before his lips were devouring yours once more, the tangy sweet taste of his venom coming back tenfold.

- The haze of arousal consuming you, however, would have been just as powerful without it.

- The passage of time became non-existent the further you fell into his heat, the more you felt your body give in until you could barely bring yourself to do anything but lay back in his coils

- You felt like you were floating in his arms, giving yourself away completely to his wants and whims, the sultry sound of his voice carrying you through the haze.

- A part of you felt like you should have been more embarrassed; it’s only been about a month since you’ve met this man in a forest you’ve never been to before on an island you don’t even live on, but the thought floated away before you could get a grasp on it.

- “What’s wrong, little mouse?” His nose was buried in your hair, chest puffing with every deep breath he took.

- You shake your head sluggishly, body growing ever warmer as you attempt to pull the baggy sweater off your body. His calloused but gentle hands brushing your middle as he helps you pull it up and off

- The anticipation of what would be coming buzzed under your skin like electricity, but your inability to move very much hindered your movements to try and get him to move faster.

- Sensing your impatience, he merely chuckled before pressing yet another heavy kiss to your lips, the taste of the aphrodisiac thick on his tongue, filling your senses once again.

- You felt your eyes drift shut, your head tipping back as you let out a deep, satisfied sigh, wet lips pressing against the side of your throat, his stubble scraping against you gently. You could barely process the feeling of his teeth grazing against your shoulder before a finger slowly pushed into your hole, curling into that perfect little spot that had stars flashing behind your eyelids.

- The noises you were making sounded muffled to your own ears, heaving breaths silenced by the sound of his low hums and wet lips sucking at your skin. Low words of praise left his lips in abundance, as if keeping them in would be like trying to stop a flood with a lone pebble

- You felt yourself drifting along with the pleasure again, arms stretching above your head as he slowly added two more fingers, mouth pressed close to your ear as he murmured all the things he wanted to do.

- “Gonna fill you up… ruin you completely for any other person.”

- “Gonna make you so full and heavy.”

- “Gotta stretch this tight little hole open... don’t wanna hurt you with my cocks.”

- Your eyes cracked open at the sound of that. Cocks? As in more than one?

- You unconsciously tense at that, causing him to pull his fingers from you as he used both hands to stroke your sides, hushing you softly.

- “s’okay baby… m’not gonna hurt ya. Promise.” He grabs one of your hands, pressing kisses to your fingers before pressing it to his chest, encouraging you to slide it down at your own pace until you reach the spot where his human torso meets his snake half.

- You will yourself to bring your eyes to look down to where he guides your hand, your breath catching when you see two painfully hard cocks, both flushed so pink it could almost be red. The heads of both flaring a bit before tapering into a rounded point, the slit at the top of both weeping with precum with every throb.

- You feel your stomach flip with excitement and nerves all the same as he wraps your hand around the lower one, fingers barely touching. You can feel his eyes watching your expression as you slowly process what it is you’re seeing, the arousal pooling heavier into your stomach as you moan softly in anticipation.

- You feel his lips press to your cheek, more whispered promises of being gentle reaching your ears as his hand goes back to work, stretching you dutifully as you sink further into him.

- You don’t know how long he had kept at it, occasionally stopping the motion of his hand to let a thick rope of spit and venom drip down to your hole, but you squirm and whine when he withdraws again. Before you can open your mouth to complain, you feel both heads press against you, and you don’t have much time to even unconsciously clench before he’s slowly pushing in with a loud groan.

- You’re disappointed that you’re missing the way his jaw probably dropped open from the tight, hot pressure of your entrance squeezing around him as he slowly spears you open, but you can’t help the way your head tips back and your eyes clench tightly.

- He braces his arms on his tail next to head as he bottoms out, growling deep in his chest as he grinds deep, bringing his face down to yours as he captures your lips in yet another deep kiss. He grinds his hips slowly, breathing heavily through his nose when he suddenly grabs your hips, groaning loudly when you feel something heavy spread you before it suddenly felt like it dropped into your lower belly.

- He pulled away with sharp hiss, a soft “fuck” leaving his lips before you felt the sensation again, only the stretch was bigger this time. You feel yourself shudder and moan as you realize he was pushing his eggs into you, your face growing hot. His forehead pressed against yours as he struggled to keep his hips from moving, cut off gasps leaving him with every egg until he had no more left to give.

- “Twenty, huh…? Shit, you look so pretty all swollen like this…” you feel his hands caressing your belly now, his hips rocking gently. You work the energy to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him back down as his pace grows a little more rough, hips snapping into yours with a loud clap as he uses his hands to move your hips.

- You lose focus on his words the longer he fucks into your pliant body, growling and moaning low once he starts to get closer and closer to his own orgasm. With a loud cry, you pull his hips into yours with your legs just as your orgasm rips through you, sending him over the edge. Hot, thick spurts of his fertile spunk fills you as he pins your hips to his, eyes rolled back as he growls and grunts and hisses, a powerful shiver running through him as you both slowly come down from your highs.

- Between the sedative properties of his venom and the exhaustion from having your body filled so well, you barely register the feeling of a cool cloth running over your body as you drift into sleep.

- “yeah,” you grin lazily “I’m definitely not going anywhere.”

[descendantofthesparrow]

Shuffle Playlist - Rewrite - Part of Your World - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 14 - Discoveries

=

Evie hung one of the last dresses on the transportation rack, when a knock sounded on her door. She pushed the dresses apart for her to step on the other side and called out; “come in!” Doug entered moments later, a smile on his face.

“Hey! How was the camping trip?” Evie turned to him with furrowed brows.

“C-Camping?” Doug's smile diminished and he looked at her slightly confused.

“yeah?” He tilted his head at Evie “Carlos and Jay said you and the others went on a last-minute camping trip to relax?...is-is that not what you did?” Evie sighed, the questions running through her mind stopping as she realized what had happened.

“oh, um, yeah they lied to you” Doug looked a bit offended “you see, Ben was kidnapped on the isle” now he looked alarmed “let me finish, we saved him and saved Auradon” Doug let out a small sigh of relief and took Evie's hands.

“is everyone okay?” Evie looked off to the side for a moment “you hesitated what happened” She grimaced and shook her head a bit.

“um, well…you know how our parents are kinda pieces of shit?” Doug looked surprised at the swear but nodded “well… Harry's dad is…kinda really bad and…that didn’t turn out well on Harry's side…that’s all I’m saying” she gave a small smile and turned, grabbing some of Dizzy’s accessories that she had brought back with her and sliding some on her arm to carry easier.

“Is he okay now?” Doug asked quietly, stepping to her side and leaning into her field of vision.

“yes” Evie assured him “Mal healed him when we left the isle and he’s with (y/n) now, he should be just fine for cotillion tomorrow~” Doug nodded and gave Evie a small smile.

“that’s good, you had me really worried for a moment there, was anyone else hurt?” Evie thought for a moment then shook her head.

“Mal has a cut on her cheek but that was the worst of our end thankfully.” She gave another smile and looked back down at the accessories “you know…while I was there…I realized something” Doug put his hand on her shoulder “I was lucky enough to be given a chance, and now I need to give someone else a chance too” her mind flashed back to five months ago when Harry had asked Ben to bring Uma over, and maybe after cotillion she could ask about Dizzy?

“My uncle bashful used the say that” Doug switched the topic, sensing Evie was not in the mood to talk about what had happened on the isle with him. Evie smiled, happy with the sudden change and turned to him, her brow raised a bit.

“did he?” Doug nodded, then pursed his lips a bit.

“but, really-really quietly” Evie laughed, spinning around to face the transportation rack and gesturing to it.

“come on, we have dresses to deliver~!” Doug happily obliged to her non-verbal request and moved to the rack, pushing it as Evie pulled it out of the room.

-

Two hours later, after every dress had been delivered, Evie returned to her room and grabbed her last two outfits she had to deliver.

A red rose gown and a red and black suit.

She handed the outfits to Doug and dug into her bag again, finding the red ruby earrings with small crossbones skulls hanging from the top. “perfect” she muttered, carefully holding them in her hand and leading Doug to (y/n)s room.

She knocked on the door, humming as a couple of moments passed by and no response came. She knocked again and sighed when again no response came, she gently opened the door and cooed as she looked inside the room.

On (y/n)s bed was her and Harry, curled up together under her many blankets as soft yellow fairy lights hung above them, the title screen of a movie playing on her tv.

Evie snuck into the room, gesturing Doug to be quiet as she set (y/n)s new earrings on her desk and motioned for Doug to hang hers and Harry's outfits on her closet door.

Evie spotted (y/n)s notepad on her desk and wrote out a small thank you note, pinning it to her corkboard that hung just next to her desk.

She ushered Doug out and turned, smiling at the sleeping couple, and slowly closed the door behind her, shushing it as it shut with a loud click.

“There we go” Evie sighed, turning to Doug and wrapping her arm around his “I’m starving, how about you?”

“Food sounds good” he chuckled, guiding Evie to the cafeteria.

-

Carlos watched from afar as Mal swung her feet just of the gazebo floor, her toes just grazing the cool lake water. He froze as she turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes softening and she invited him closer, turning back to the water as he did so and sat down beside her.

Mal laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, while she and Carlos hadn’t been friends before Auradon, she was glad that she had him by her side now.

“so…you broke up with Ben?” Carlos started, giving Mal a soft smile as she looked up at him. She slowly looked back down at the water as she thought of what to say.

“I…yeah” she sighed, letting her weight fully lean onto Carlos, who lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulder. “I’m just…not ready for the relationship he wants…I know I hide my feelings and shit but…I really don’t know how he expected me to just, be good with all of this Auradon lady stuff within six months…I feel like a failure” Carlos let out a low hum, squeezing Mal's shoulder.

“well, you aren’t, you did your best, and your best was good enough, you just found out that that life…isn’t going to work out for you, it goes against your mental wiring, yes maybe you could adjust to it but would you be happy with it?” Mal pursed her lips, Carlos shook her a bit “well?”

“no” Mal muttered, picking at the loose thread on her pants “no I wouldn’t be happy like that…Ben…he said he wanted me…the real me, the isle me-wait…no he wouldn’t want her, she's rude as fuck” Mal smiled at the snort that erupted from Carlos, before it slipped off as she remembered something. Mal stopped Carlos as he was about to speak again “Hey…I did this for Evie but…I wanted to do the same for you” He looked at her confused “I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we were on the isle” he looked off to the side for a moment before he realized what she meant.

“oh! Yeah, it's no biggie” he attempted to brush it off but Mal adamantly shook her head.

“No! it's not “no biggie!” I treated you, Evie, and sometimes Jay, horribly! Even after we became friends! You were and are deserving of kindness, and I’m sorry that I was so fucked up that I was the rottenest little brat to you” Carlos stared at her with wide eyes. “what?”

His shocked look melted into a comforting grin “Thank you Mal” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling into a tight hug that only lasted a moment “sorry, just remembered; you’re not really affectionate” he laughed, grinning wider as Mal giggled along.

“it’s-its fine when it comes from you three” Mal hummed, turning to look back at the lake.

“sooo back to the Ben break up talk?” Carlos tried, smirking as Mal blew a raspberry “come on, you need to talk it out with someone, or else you’re gonna explode keeping it all bottled up.”

“…I’m happy I broke up with him” Mal spilled, not looking at Carlos as his brows shot up “I thought about our future and I realized if I kept doing what I was doing, and we kept going with how we were…neither of us would have been happy…I need to learn to love myself before I can love him properly, because…if (y/n)s forced quote an’ unquote therapy sessions” Carlos laughed at that “taught me anything. It’s that…I rely on someone else's love to measure my self-worth”

Carlos hummed, squeezing Mal's shoulder again “that’s not a good thing”

“no!” Mal huffed, running her hands through her hair and pulling at the roots “it isn’t! I've been trying to earn my mother's love for 16 years, then I just hop to doing so much bullshit to make sure Ben will love me! I dyed my hair blonde, I dressed in those itchy dresses, I dropped my entire personality for all that! And-and it wasn’t good, I felt like I was slipping away Carlos” Mal sobbed, tears trailing down her cheeks as she finally broke “I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to act like without all that because I spent so long doing it I just-I forgot what being ME felt like” Carlos fully wrapped his arms around Mal and pulled her tight to his side.  “I-I know it sounds like I’m being pathetic and having a fucking pity party but I’m just so fucking scared Carlos” Mal whimpered, throwing her arms around Carlos’ torso and pushing her cheek against his shoulder “on the isle my life was commanded by my mother and my identity was pleasing her, and here my life has been being Ben’s girlfriend and pleasing the people of Auradon so they think I’m not some villain whose just after Ben because he’s king…I-I do really like Ben Carlos”

Mal sniffed, pulling back one of her arms and wipe her nose “I do, it's just that…being with him hasn’t helped me move on from my mother bullshit and im-gah!” Mal let out a yell, pulling back from Carlos and burying her face in her hands “I’m having a fucking identity crisis because of my fucking mother! Why can’t she just leave me alone! Why can't all this dumb shit be left behind five months ago! Why do I still have to deal with it?!” Carlos let Mal rant, rubbing her back as she broke down.

“because life is unfair that way” Carlos sighed “Mal I know exactly what you're dealing with right now” Mal peeked out from her fingers, her eyes shining “I still have nightmares from living in my mother’s closet, getting trapped in the bear traps on the ground, or when she would burn me with her cigarette…even ones were she sends dogs at me to kill me…I still hear her voice in my head, telling me I’m worthless, that I’ll never be better than dog chow, my only use was being her servant” Carlos swallowed down the lump in his throat “but I know she's wrong, I’m not anything she says. I’m a tech genius, I've made several computers on the isle just from scraps, I've enhanced my 3D printer to be the best in Auradon, faster than any other and the quality is still top-notch, I've made a tiny little device that was able to make a hole in the barrier, I've gotten offers to work for Tony fucking Stark!” Mal gasped, reaching forward to grab Carlos' shoulders in excitement.

“holy shit what!? When? How? Why?!” Carlos smiled, prying off her grip.

“I knew you all were distracted by something else, especially you, so I didn’t want to make you stressed by my stuff either, it was two months ago. I didn’t take the offer because I want to finish school, but the offer still stands when I graduate in two years” Mal grinned, but it turned to a pout as Carlos gave her a look “Now back to the original topic, I’m not letting you deviate from it, you need to let it all out”

Mal stared at him for a moment before shrugging “I…feel like I already did…Auradon is stressful, my mother is the base of all my mental shit, and I’m not ready to be in a relationship with the dude I love because until I can love myself and learn not to rely on others value of me as my own value I can't be with him in a way that won't hurt him” Carlos slowly grinned “what?” “you said you love Ben~” he teased, laughing as Mal turned red and smacked him.

“I did not!!” she screeched, yelping as Carlos half tackled her and pulled her into an arm lock “Let me go you heathen!”

“you love Ben~ you love Ben~” Carlos sang, laughing as she tried to smack at his face “Come on, pixie! Let's get you back to the dorms, I think you need a nap”

“Don’t call me pixie!”

“How bout gremlin?”

“Carlos!!”

-

Chad carefully pulled the 3D printed copy of the king's crown from the printer and pressed a kiss to the emblem on the front. “Finally,~” He walked over to the mirror that was installed in Jay's standing dresser and carefully perched the crown on his head, smiling as his full cotillion outfit came to light.

He looked like a king~

He tilted the crown down a bit and laughed, posing in the mirror “oh what's that? Why no Audrey, I haven’t chosen my queen yet~” He purred to the fake Audrey in his mind. He turned and started to walk away before spinning back around to pose again “why no Audrey-”

Suddenly his phone rang, and he turned, raising his brow as he walked over to his phone “who could be calling me?”

Caller ID - Audrey <3

Chad let out a high-pitched scream of excitement, dropping his phone to the floor as he gripped his head “ahhAH! Audrey!!!”

“chad!” Carlos groaned, glaring as the other dived to the floor for his phone, and shushed him “Chad! This is my room chad!”

Chad shushed him again, making Carlos roll his eyes. Chad hit the answer button on his phone “Audrey?”

“Hey Chad um, I’m kind of stuck in Sherwood forest, my tire went flat. Could, could you come help me?”

“yeah of course!” Chad covered the mic and turned back to Carlos “she got a flat tire in Sherwood forest and she wants me to come fix it~” Carlos squinted a bit and looked at Chad with an odd look.

“that’s six hours away”

Chad looked at him as if what he said wasn’t a long road trip. “Really? Only six?” he turned back to his phone and put it back to his ear “I’m gonna be there faster than I thought”

“Thanks Chad, I was going to come to cotilli-“ he pulled the phone away and pressed a kiss to the screen, hanging up on Audrey and starting to walk out the door when Carlos stopped him.

“Ah-My printer my crown” Carlos took the crown off Chad's head, who chuckled and gestured back from the printer to the crown before shrugging it off.

“I’m coming Audrey!” he ran down the halls towards his car, leaving a bewildered Carlos in his dorm.

“wow,” Carlos snorted, shaking his head and walking into the room, tossing the crown on Jay's bed. Carlos flopped down on his bed, Dude hopping up next to him moments later “these last two days have been crazy huh?”

“You can say that again” Dude snorted, halfway crawling on Carlos' chest and laying his head down “Nap time?”

“Nap time” Carlos chuckled, pulling his pillow over his face to block out the afternoon sun and sighed.

-end of part 14-

yep, part 14, we’re almost to Cotillion guys! also yep, Doug does not accuse Evie of cheating on him even though he had no reason to do so in the movie and he shows concern over Evie and her friends safety when she tells him about the isle~ what?? no~ this isn't a dig at Doug's awful D2 writing!! how could you accuse me of such a thing~! (Doug had alot of potential but like Mal it got ruined in the second movie and he was pushed as a full on background character in the third) also MORE CARLOS CONTENT~ yes he is smart boi and deserves that recognition and yes, the avengers exist in this universe. hopefully that Mal talk didnt sound like a pity party. 

anyway PERMTAGLLIST

@queer-cosette​ @sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​ @daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​ @random-thoughts-003​

@remembered-license​ @rintheemolion​

@thecaptainsgingersnap​ @descendantsobsessed​

@verboetoperee​ @imtryingthisout​

taglist

@thesailbells​ @beccad10x​

[avversiera-writes]

try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Now

Summary: Tobirama’s secret disquisition is taking a toll on him. More of a comfort chapter. 

Word count: ~3k

available on AO3. 

Chapter 1 - Now | Chapter 2 - Then, part 1 | Chapter 2 - Then, part 2 | Chapter 3 - Now | Chapter 4 - Then | Chapter 5 - Then | 

Tobirama massages the bridge of his nose as the words on the paper in front of him starts to blur into incoherent sentences. Tremors plague his hands too often now, and his chest often feels tight. He knows these are signs that he is very fatigued and that he lacks sleep–these days, he has simply stopped sleeping altogether. The energy that he rides on is the hope that he can finish his secret disquisition, so that finally he can rest. He just needs to do this one last thing. 

 The events of the year had spurred him on to throw himself on his Edo Tensei . He feels that this is the only way he can cope and handle his troubles in the near future. Especially if his theory about his brother is true: that he is dying everyday he lives.

 He is almost never wrong. 

 He needs a backup plan. A safeguard, among his other collections of safeguards. Someone like him can never have too many. 

 And he believes that the answers lie in his creation. 

Tobirama sighs and he presses his palms into his eyes. Maybe he really needs sleep. 

 The office doors open after a knock, and he looks up to find his brother. He cannot help but notice that Hashirama’s hair is silky and that his face is smooth, free of the blemishes of a wrinkle. There are no spots on his skin, and in fact, his skin seems to glow with youth. 

“Elder brother,” Tobirama greets him, with utmost respect. 

 Hashirama’s face softens towards him. The glaze in his eyes from the other night is gone. He looks more alert. “You called for me?” 

Tobirama tries to hide the way his hands seem to shake and fishes for the papers that he wants his brother to see. He takes his time, in the guise of searching for it, even though he is organized enough to know where each document is. 

 “I…” Tobirama begins, taking his time to form his words. “First, I have told you that this is not a good idea. Despite my best efforts to persuade you, I know you are also quite stubborn. So here. The approval to begin the construction of your precious statues. It commences next month.” 

Hashirama’s eyes widened in surprise. “Brother, I don’t know what to say.”

 Tobirama rolls his eyes, but much to his chagrin, he gives his last sibling a genuine smile. “Don’t flatter yourself. My wife put me up to this.” 

 Hashirama laughs, and Tobirama is glad that it sounds carefree. His eyes form into beautiful crescents, and Tobirama softens. There is his cheerful brother. 

“Give my thanks to her,” Hashirama says. “She is the best of us.” 

 Tobirama nods, and he clutches his hands under the desk. He will always agree to that, because as compared to him, her flaws pale in comparison. 

Hashirama pauses before turning towards the door. “And come visit your eldest nephew and his wife soon. We have heard that they will have a girl in about a month.” Hashirama chuckles giddily. “I will be a grandfather!” 

Tobirama stops breathing, but thankfully, Hashirama has left before he can break down any further. 

 He closes his eyes, and suddenly, he is taken back to a more peaceful morning, as he prepares to travel to Kumogakure. That day will never be erased from his mind, not when he could have connected the pieces that were falling into place that almost cost her life. If he wasn’t so busy, if he just prioritized her a little bit more and only trusted himself to look after her, then maybe he could have been there on time. As the Hokage, it is his job to keep the village safe, but what kind of husband does that make him? When, once again, he has chosen the village over her.

Tobirama remembers her giddy smile, and the warm sensation spreading across his chest as she whispers to him a secret. 

 “ I think it’s a girl ,” she says, unable to control the wide grin spreading across her lips. 

Tobirama feels his heart break further. He hates to see his wife reduced to tears, because those are few and far in between. She is strong, and has always known a clear line between right and wrong. Now, it is almost like she is becoming like him. 

 He was very relieved to hear that she could not ever go through with killing Kimiko, but if he wasn’t there to stop her on time, who knows what could have happened. 

Tobirama does not cry, but if he is going to, this will be the moment he will choose to weep. 

 He feels as if there is nothing he can do, and there is no tangible way to come through on one end in one piece. The gods may just be out there to spite him. 

 Everything is falling apart. He can build kingdoms and construct beautiful castles. He can take dreams and make them into a reality, but they all mean nothing if the people that he centered his life around cannot be with him. 

Being alone has never been a worry for him. Solitude has been his preference for a while now, but being truly alone, and losing those he gave his all for, he would rather lose a limb than bear that kind of loneliness. After all he is human, and not a god. As much as he plays that part. 

//

He finally goes home, having lost his time once again over his endeavours. He trudges up the stairs quietly, and into the bathroom to try and wash up. He feels dirty. There is dried blood caked under his short nails, and he smells like chemicals, ink and death. He carefully peels his shirt over his head, and he stares at his reflection for a moment. 

 He is beginning to resemble the corpses that he hangs out with. 

 He leans over the sink and runs the water. He opts for using the faucet instead of the bathtub, afraid to make loud noises that will wake you. 

“Tobirama?” 

Your husband whirls around, and you give him a once-over. He is trembling a little. You note how messy his hair is–messier than normal–and how his eyes are stark bright like fresh blood, and how his face is becoming knife-like from the days he spends forgoing proper nutrition. Your eyes go to his cheek, where there is a smudge of dirt on it. It almost looks like dried blood, and it makes you swallow your words. 

 You are unsure what to say next, because you have a gut feeling that you should not get closer to Tobirama. He is different from the man you last saw this morning, who was calm and collected. The man before you looks like a stray animal ready to bite the hand that tries to pet them. 

Tobirama tries to get a hold of himself, but his mind and his senses betray him. He feels overwhelmed. 

 "You should be asleep," he mumbles under his breath. 

 "I have been sleeping all day," you reply softly, not wanting to alarm him any further. 

 "Please," Tobirama says. He does not want you to see him like this. You make him feel weak. "Go to bed." 

You ignore the slight hurt that you feel from being dismissed, but this is Tobirama. You have learned how to look beyond what he is saying outrightly. You can sense how freaked out he is. 

 "What happened?" You ask in a low, urgent tone. 

Tobirama turns away and he takes a few deep breaths. He feels like he is about to retch. "Nothing."

 He hears you step closer cautiously, and Tobirama tenses. If you touch him, he will melt and he will let go of any inhibitions he has left. If you touch him, he will want more. If you do, he may also react in a way that may hurt you as he could not bare any human contact on his skin at the moment. Just the thought of it makes his stomach curl.  

"Go to bed," Tobirama repeats and he fills his cupped hands with water. He slaps the water onto his face, but when he opens his eyes, he finds that you are still there. 

 "Tobi," you whisper. 

Water drips from his face and he turns off the faucet. He is not sure what to do next. The two of you have your own brands of stubbornness. 

 The sound of your voice saying his name seems to ground him, and this prompts you to get closer. 

 Tobirama takes the nearest towel to dab his face dry, and when he finishes, you take the towel from him and put it on the pile of used towels.  

"My love," you murmur softly. "Let’s get you dressed for bed." 

Tobirama takes a deep breath, and he turns to you. You wait for him to come to you instead of taking his hand to pull him forward, and from there, you follow him back into your room. Tobirama dresses in silence, and you stand there, your hands opening and closing, trying to figure out what to do next. 

 You are not a stranger to his changing moods, but sometimes they come unexpectedly, and they are not always the same. You know that he has stopped sleeping, and opts to skip meals to attend to whatever it is he’s busying himself with. His silhouette in the darkness is noticeably thinner, and while you are waiting for him to make you understand what he is doing or to let you know what else is bothering him, you are becoming more concerned. 

 You hate to see him like this.  

“Tobirama,” you utter his name, and slowly, you step closer into his space. You see how tense he is, so you make your movements slow and non-urgent. “It’s okay.” 

 You watch him run his fingers through his hair and let out a shaky breath. 

“It’s okay,” you repeat. You try to control the tears that are coming. 

 The shadows of the dark room seem to engulf him, but you will never abandon him and leave him to fend for himself. 

"I'm coming closer," you tell him, and slowly, you slide your arms around his waist from behind.

 You can feel him stiffen, but it does not discourage you. You press your chest on his back and you rest your head in between his shoulder blades, and you hold him. It takes a long time, but finally, his body melts into yours and he gives into your warmth.

 Tobirama lets himself rest in your embrace, and he reminds himself that you are alive, that you are breathing, and your skin has color, not like the ashen gray that dead bodies have. You are warm and supple, not cold and monumental. 

 He is so tired, but there is no such thing as rest for people like him. People like him rest in the battlefield, and it is both their bed and their grave. 

Tobirama rests his arms on yours and he holds your arms. For a moment, you make him still. For a moment, the world falls away, and the races in his mind make its pause. He is not one to ask for much, let alone look for comfort, but for now, he lets himself be held. 

//

After ushering him to bed, Tobirama is silent. 

 You sense that whatever thoughts that are swirling in his mind have settled like dust. He is not trembling anymore, and the natural paleness of his skin has returned, not like the pale green hue that he seems to embody earlier. The two of you face each other, hands entwined on your pillows. Sleep is a faraway thought, but you are glad to have him like this. 

 Tobirama watches you intently as you press a kiss on his knuckles, and then rest his hand under your cheek. 

“I love you,” Tobirama murmurs. He rarely says this, but it always rings true. He feels ashamed for saying this to you after hiding so many secrets, but he never lies about what he feels towards you. Those three words taste gritty on his tongue, but he thinks you must know. Just in case your perception of him changes.

 He doesn't deserve you, and inside, his heart clashes on trying to be worthy of your love and trying to be the leader this village needs. He is always sure of his ways, but when he sees you teetering between black and white, he questions his path because he sees a part of himself in you. 

 Perhaps, you do the same. 

“You have to rest,” you tell him. “Send a shadow clone. Or give yourself a full day-off. For your sake.” 

 “I don’t know how to stop,” he tells you bluntly. “I must remain steadfast.” 

 “Can you really do this for long?” 

“I have to,” Tobirama says. “There is no other way.” 

 Your eyes swim, and the pace of your heart starts to pick up. Those words scare you. 

  Your Senju husband will fail , Madara once said in your dreams. He will do everything right and what he is supposed to do, but in the grand scheme of things, he is nothing. 

You close your eyes, feeling dread creep under your skin. 

“You know I am right,” Tobirama continues. 

 “No.” You bite your lip. “Sometimes your right does not mean it is right.” 

 “I know,” Tobirama says and his eyes refuse to meet yours. 

A tear escapes your eye, but Tobirama is quick to wipe it away with his free hand. 

 “Do not cry for me,” Tobirama says. 

 “How can you say that?” You say with disbelief. “I have the right to cry for you.” 

Tobirama sighs, and rests his palm on your cheek. The two of you begin a staring contest, but you win when Tobirama finally looks away. 

“We’re becoming ridiculous, aren’t we?” 

 “Quite,” Tobirama yawns. 

 “You still have me.” You lean towards him. 

Tobirama pulls you closer, and he holds you to his chest. You close your eyes as you feel his heart underneath your ear. He still holds you as strongly and certainly. 

“I will take your suggestion tomorrow,” Tobirama finally says. “One thing at a time, right?” 

 “Good enough for me,” you murmur into his chest and you press a kiss on it. 

“All right,” Tobirama mutters, and his arms tighten around you.

To be continued...

Chapter 7 - Then >> 

[toosicktoocare]

Prompt:  A tma prompt! JonMarTim where they pass along a cold between each other and they all react to it differently. (And some possible bonus Sasha because I Love her and miss her 😭)

Sorry this took so long! I tend to shy away from more than one person sick in a fic because I get overwhelmed, but season 2 is hurting my feelings, so I want to drown my self in soft season 1 dynamics.

Tim shuffles into the building, sniffling loudly, hand curled around the crumpled tissue shoved far into his coat pocket.

He should have heeded the whispered warnings that he should “run” for his life when he slipped into the police station a few days ago to flirt his way into additional information regarding a case Jon’s covering. However, he priortized his work and ignored the numerous sick officers coughing and sneezing, claiming he’s fortunate to have an immune system of steel and hasn’t been sick in years.

If regret looks like flushed cheeks, tossled hair, and a red-rimmed nose, well, then, he’s the spitting image. He feels relatively awful- the kind of awful that’s not quite awful enough to stay home curled up in a blanket cocoon on his couch, which, he thinks, sucks quite a bit because that’s very much what he’d rather be doing.

He stops before his desk when the tell-tale tickle hits his nose, and he jerks his face into the crook of his arm to sneeze sharply, chasing it with a deep, drawn out groan.

“What’s wrong with you?”

There’s disgust dripping from Sasha’s tone, and if Tim’s head were a little clearer, he would take a jab at the underlining color of concern, but, his head somehow hurts worse than it did when he walked into the building two minutes ago. Forgoing sass, he sinks into his chair with another louder, longer groan, wincing as it pulls at his rough throat.

“I’m dying.”

Sasha takes a step backwards until her back hits a wall. She braces her hands against the wall behind her, fingers tapping anxiously. “Doubtful; however, you look like you could die, and that means I cannot work in the same vicinity as you because I value my health.”

“I value my health!” Tim argues, doubling over into a coughing fit. He clumsily presses his fist to his mouth, breifly noting how the coughing is a rather new, unfortuante development. Must be a chest cold, he thinks.

Sasha slides against the wall until she reaches the doorway. “Right, well, you’re clearly contagious, and I’m going to ask Jon if I can work on last week’s statement developments from home until I can come to work and breathe in less,” she pauses, waving one hand about, “sickly air.”

“Hang on,” Tim starts after her, interest piqued, “there’s development?” He stumbles down the hall, trying hard to ignore the heat prickling at the back of his neck. “Since when?”

Ignoring him, Sasha offers two courtsey knocks on the archive door before opening it, stepping far to the side when Tim staggers in after her, tugging at his shirt collar.

“Jon, can I work from home for the next few days?”

The annoyance painted across Jon’s face ins’t unfamilar, yet Sasha’s unfazed by his sour mood. She opens her mouth to defend her question, closing it quickly when Tim doubles over into another coughing fit that has her wincing but gesturing toward him.

“I see,” Jon mutters slowly, one brow arched, when Tim catches his breath. “Tim, shouldn’t you be the one-”

“-what’s the development?” Tim interrupts as he unconciosuly pops a few buttons of his shirt collar loose.

Jon mutters through information, finger still poised tightly atop the pause button on his recorder, and Tim nods along with his words, mind already jumping from past articles that have come up during his follow-up research.

“Right, yeah, I remember that! Let me print some news articles, and I’ll be back!” He spins on his heel, blinking through the haze that flicks across his vision, and slips out of the doorway, eager to revist the articles as this statement’s just been bugging him ever since Jon assigned it to him.

“If you think you can effectively do your work from home, I’ll allow it. The last thing we need is the entire staff sick.”

Smiling, Sasha claps her hands together and bows her head. “Thank you!”

***

Begrudgingly, Jon calls it after watching Tim detoriate for the last four hours. He’d been inclined to ignore Tim’s coughing and sneezing as they’ve fallen down a rather complicated hole regarding last week’s statement, one both thought was put to rest after hitting walls from every angle, but, when Tim, who’s already shed his coat and sweater and has his sleeves rolled up despite the unforgiving chill of the archive, mutters an absent complaint about how oddly warm it is, he slips his glasses from his eyes with a sigh.

“I think it’s time you go, Tim.”

“Sorry, what?” Tim asks, absently fanning his face, eyes glued to his laptop. He doesn’t hear Jon slip from his chair, but he does feel the almost icy brush of knuckles against his cheek. He freezes, eyes darting from the low glow of the screen to Jon, who’s frowning deeper than usual.

“Jon, what-”

“-You’ve got quite a temperature.”

Tim presses his palm to his forehead, grimacing at the damp heat. “I guess that would explain why I’m sweltering.” Taking a mental account to how he’s currently feeling falls just short of like absolute shit. He nods when Jon reclaims his seat.

“I’ll leave at lunch.”

Jon spares a glance at his watch before extending his arm out to show Tim the late afternoon time. “I believe it’s well past the time you typically leave for lunch.”

“You know what time I leave for lunch?” Tim teases around a few grating coughs. He heaves himself to his feet, feeling every inch of every muscle protest through cracks and pops.

“You aren’t exactly quiet about it,” Jon points out flatly, and Tim laughs even though he knows as the bubble of amusement swells in his chest that laughing will be a mistake. He grips the back of the chair he had pulled up to Jon’s desk as a coughing fit rips through him, tugging at his lungs. He can feel Jon’s hand find his back, a tad awkward, flat palm against trembling muscles, and when he catches his breath, he waves away the oddly unreadable look Jon’s shooting him.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving. No need to fret, boss.” He closes his laptop and tucks it under one arm.

“I’m not fretting,” Jon says a little too quickly, and Tim smirks as he shuffles to the door, coat dragging on the floor at his side for he can’t find the strength to lift his arms.

“Course not,” Tim nods over his shoulder. “I’ll be back-”

“-when you’re well.”

“When I’m well,” Tim parrots back, unable to keep the smile from his lips.

“Completely well, Tim.”

“100%,” Tim agrees, offering a final nod before he exits down the hall, and Jon begins moving papers away from his desk to clear space for his next statement, unfazed by the few sneezes that slip through.

***

Martin tries to pass his concern off as mere curiosity; however, the words still slip too quick from frowning lips, something he just can’t seem to help, especially when Jon sneezes for the eighth time while making tea.

“Alright, Jon?”

Jon hums in muted acknowledgement and offers a curt nod as he slowly turns around, fingers wrapped tightly around his steaming mug of tea.

“It’s just that,” Martin presses, aware that he’s approaching a potentially dangerous territory, “you don’t normally take tea after 3 p.m.”

Sighing, Jon moves the mug up to his mouth and sucks in the steam. “I don’t have a tea schedule, Martin.”

Martin winces. “Well, there’s also that...”

Irritation pulls at Jon’s brows, furrowing them, and his eyes mirror as such. “There’s what, Martin?”

“Your voice,” Martin tries, huffing slightly. “You sound very congested, and you’ve been sneezing non-stop since you walked in here.” To further push his point, Jon carefully sets his mug down on the counter behind him to sneeze sharply into the crook of his arm, three, harsh times that have Martin standing from his chair.

He holds a hand out toward Jon, just short of landing on Jon’s arm. The urge to provide any semblance of comfort is overwhelming, but he lets his hand drop to his side when Jon brings his face forward with a soft sniffle and blindly reaches behind him for his mug.

“I am fine, Martin. There’s no need to dote.”

“I heard Tim went home ill,” Martin crosses his arms, carefully watching as Jon all but hugs the hot mug to his chest as if pleading with the warmth to cover his entire body, which, Martin’s quick to note, is trembling ever-so slightly.

“I’m sure everyone heard his rather dramatic exit.”

“Do you think, perhaps, you’ve caught his cold?” Martin tries for a gentle tone, but Jon scoffs anyway.

“Of course not. It’s just chilly in the archives.” Jon shivers slightly at this, and Martin frowns, eyes wide and colored in conflcted worry, and he slips his cardigan off.

“Here.”

Jon makes to protest, but Martin’s already draping the cardigan over his shoulders. He steps in front of Jon to tug and pull at the cardigan until it’s covering enough to satisfy him, and Jon’s nose twitches before he can step away. He snags the mug from Jon’s hand while Jon falls into another sneezing fit that truly sounds painful and leaves Jon lightly gasping once he’s recovered.

“Am I understanding correctly that Tim’s infected my entire staff?”

Elias’s voice is both surprising and unwelcome, and both jump and whip around to the break room doorway to see Elias frowning at the two of them, arms crossed, lips taut. 

“It’s handled,” Jon grumbles at the same time Martin blurts out, “Jon’s sick.” 

Martin can physically feel Jon tense up at his side, and he doesn’t need to spare a glance to know that Jon’s gritting his teeth hard behind neutral eyes. 

“I can see that.” Elias is slow to study the two, dragging his eyes deliberately from one face to the other, stopping on Martin, and for a moment, Martin kind of wishes the floor will open up and swallow him whole. 

“Martin, you’ll see Jon out and make sure that he and Tim recover quickly. There is work to be done.”

“Elias, that’s not-”

“-I wasn’t speaking to you, Jon.” 

They watch Elias leave, and the tension coating the air is almost suffocating. Martin’s almost considering that perhaps he should have just kept quiet as he watches Jon start out of the break room. He makes to move, to call after him, to apologize, but then Jon wiggles rather ungracefully until he has both arms slipped into the oversized cardigan, and he hugs it tightly to himself. 

He’ll take it, Martin thinks, as he follows after Jon to gather his things. 

***

“Er, Martin. Jon.” Tim’s leaning against the doorframe in only a pair of boxers, his hair a tossled mess after being rudely pulled from sleep by the doorbell. “What’s-” he starts, mouth forming a round ‘oh’ when Jon falls into a sneezing fit at Martin’s side. 

“Elias said I should make sure you both recover quickly, and I figured it might be easier if we’re all in once place,” Martin starts quickly, hand tightening around the store bags in his hand. “I know I should have called first, but-”

“-This is ridiculous,” Jon mutters, sniffling loudly. “Sorry to bother you, Tim. We’ll be leaving now, Martin.” He makes to turn, to stalk back to Martin’s car, but then Tim calls out to him, and he pauses, one brow arched, and turns back around. 

“Hang on. You can stay, boss. I owe you that much, at least, since this is my fault.” 

“That’s really not necessary, Tim.” 

“No offense, Jon, but you look about as bad as I feel, so just come on in here so I can crawl back to bed and be miserable.” Tim turns to cough harshly into the crook of his arm, his fingers tightening around his doorframe, and then he’s being ushered into the house with Martin’s blessedly cold hand on the small of his back. 

“Wow, Tim, have you taken anything for this fever? You’re burning up!”

Jon watches the two, eyes tired, annoyed, and then an icy breeze whips around him, slipping through his coat and Martin’s cardigan, and he shudders, quickly shuffling inside and kicking the door shut. He drags his eyes around Tim’s house, eyes zeroing in on a couch that looks infinitely more comfortable than the cot at work he’s taken to on and off the last few weeks. 

He sheds his coat, dropping it clumisly on the back of a chair, but opts to keep the cardigan on because... His mind supplies soft, comfortable, warm, but he shoves all aside, supplying practical instead. He’s sick, so it only makes sense to keep warm, at least, that’s what he tells himself as he sinks down onto the couch. 

He’s nodding off beofre he means to. He can briefly hear Martin calling out to him, warning him not to go to sleep until he’s taken some medicine, but the exhaustion he’s been shoving aside is encompassing him, surrounding him in a cold wave. He sudders, pulling the cardigan tighter around him, and drifts off. 

***

Tim slips into the kitchen, smiling fondly when he spots Martin sleeping at his table, his head pillowed atop his folded arms. Though, his smile falters when he hears Martin cough lightly, and he inches closer to see Martin shivering ever-so slightly. 

Guilt coloring his eyes, he places a hand to Martin’s shoulder, giving it a light shake. “Martin-”

Martin jerks awake, and Tim pulls his hand back with a sharp gasp that gves away to a few, harsh coughs. 

“Oh, Tim, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Are you alright?” 

“Are you?” Tim cocks a brow, leaning forward to brush the back of his hand to Martin’s cheek. “You feel a little warm.” 

“I am feeling a little under the weather,” Martin admits, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips as he gets to his feet. “But, it’s fine. You and Jon need me.”

“Martin, you can rest. Actually, it’s my house, so I insist you do so.” 

“Tim,” Martin presses, moving to the tea kettle, “I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t-”

“-Martin.” 

Jumping, Martin whips around to see Jon shuffling toward him, hair a mess of long, loose curls, and skin far paler than Martin’s comfortable with. “Jon! What are you-”

He stops when Jon’s cold hand smooths across his forehead, and he can’t help the shudder that shoots up his spine, one he’ll peg on the low-grade fever he’s running and not on his fluttering heart. 

“You are warm,” Jon mutters, sniffling quiety. “You should rest. It’s late.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t-”

“-Despite what Tim says, we aren’t actually dying, Martin.”

“Still here,” Tim mutters, staring flatly at Jon. “But,” he adds, pulling a softer gaze toward Martin, “Jon’s right. I’ll grab some spare blankets for the couch.” 

“Oh, but that’s where Jon’s resting. I can take the recliner-”

“-Martin,” Jon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The couch is large enough. It’s fine.” He reasons, once more, that it’s practical, that the couch is better than hearing Martin whine about a sore back, but underneath practiced practically, he’s looking forward to having Martin’s natural warmth so close to him. Only because of the fever, he tells himself. 

“If you’re sure...” Martin mutters, hugging himself, and he follows Jon back into the living room, where Tim’s spreading out a comforter over the couch. 

“Right, so that should do it,” Tim says, hand smoothing over the blanket. “I’ll be in the bedroom if either of you need anything, but do try and wait until morning. I think we could all use the sleep.” Tim slips out of the room, a small smile creeping at his lips when he hears Jon and Martin’s muffled arguing on who sleeps where. 

“Jon, really, I’ll just take the recliner-” 

“-Martin, just...” Jon sighs, rubbing at his temples, “lie down here.” He points, and Martin mutters a polite “excuse me” as he slips past Jon and slowly drops onto the couch where Jon is pointing, his back pressed against the back of the couch. 

“Jon, where will you-” Martin’s words sputter to a stop when Jon slips onto the couch beside him, his back flush against Martin’s chest, lean bones molding perfectly in place. 

“Jon!” 

“Oh, don’t yell, Martin,” Jon drags out, eyes already slipping closed. “It makes the most sense, so do try and rest. Quietly.” 

“Alright,” Martin mutters, swallowing thickly around a lump in his throat, and though it takes time, the consistent tick of the clock seeminly mocking him, he begins to relax when Jon’s breathing evens out against him. 

[akaashisupremacy]

Between 3 - 4 AM

Summary: Three years after breaking up with Daichi, you run into him again. Are you willing to start over?  Or does he have someone new? Between 3-4 AM, time hangs in the balance.

Notes:  Daichi x reader

genre: angst, drama, grey areas,  (wc: 1.1k)

Masterlist

"Does anyone know that I'm here?" you ask Daichi, not looking in his eyes.

It is 3 am in the morning. The two of you lay in Daichi’s bed. He breathes out in exasperation and runs his fingers through your hair.

You had always been in love with Daichi, but you two didn’t always have the same values. Once you were inching towards your late twenties, the conversation on having children was brought up. Daichi wanted you to be open to having kids and you did not. You ended things with him soon after that.

"You make it sound like I'm cheating on someone.” he mumbles, rolling over to your side of bed. His breath is on the back of your neck.

You shrug in resignation, “All I’m saying is that I’m not supposed to be here.” You turn away from him, putting whatever distance you can between you. Tension floats in the room.

You both know he is casually seeing someone new. Neither of you want to outright acknowledge it. They aren’t seeing each other exclusively just yet, but still you feel uneasy that you two are sharing the same bed.

Daichi keeps his silence. After the two of you broke up, both of you decided it was best that you stop seeing each other completely. Running into each other tonight was a mistake.

But it was late and you had missed the last bus. Daichi saw you waiting for naught on the station and asked how you were. Half an hour later, you were showered in his home. Maybe you should’ve just spent the money for an overpriced cab.

"I think I should get up and leave," you sit up guiltily “saves you the trouble of asking you to do so later in the morning.” You are mad at yourself to have given into him like this. Nothing good can possibly come out of this impromptu sleepover.

"What? No. It's freaking 3 in the morning. It's not even safe. You're staying the night." He insists, tugging you by your forearm. His grasp is firm. You crawl back into bed without looking at him.

"Besides, between the two of us, I’m not the one who wants you to go." He swallows, that last sentence comes tumbling out before he can catch it.

You feel the hurt in his voice, but you know it’s the truth. After he had made it clear that he wanted kids, you became irrationally angry. If he was as kind and giving as you thought he was, how come he couldn’t make this concession for you?

Another bout of silence hangs in the air. The ticking of the clock has never been so loud.

"You're always so worried about the future.” He exhales, laying on his back, looking up to the ceiling. You lay back down beside him.

“I’m not. I just know what I want.” You snap, still looking away “And being a parent is not it.”

You turn to lie on your back so that you too faced the ceiling. Your eyes look to him.

“So why is it so difficult for you to face me? You literally had to be stuck in the middle of nowhere for you to even speak with me.“ He replies quietly.

"It's just...it's just complicated.”

“I really did love you though. I just can’t pretend like I want kids. It’s a non-negotiable for me. You want a partner who would be open to having kids and so I had to make my choice.” you add, “It’s almost always the woman making all the sacrifices for families here. You can’t just require that out of me especially when I said I don’t want to.”

Daichi doesn’t reply. He would want children running around his house, but he didn’t expect it to cost your relationship.

“You should find someone else who can love you and whom you can love. Make sure they actually want to start a family, ok? You’re a good person, it won’t be hard.” you reassure him, patting his arm.

“It’s been three years. I don’t think it’s easy as you say it is.” he sighs deeply. If it were easier, he wouldn’t have offered his home for the night.

“I didn’t say it would be easy. I just said it was what you have to do.”

He is looking softly at you the same way he always did. The two of you could not have it all. Daichi failed to see it and maybe you did too. Inviting you over was him grasping at the straws of your former relationship and you had agreed to stay with him.  

Daichi puts his arm around you. There’s something unconditional about the way he loved you. You don't resist. In a few moments, you are both pretending to be asleep.

Hot tears begin to melt off your face. You miss being in his arms. It has been so long that you almost forgot what he smelled like when you press your nose on his neck. His scent is overwhelmingly nostalgic. It reminds you of a different time, a different place and a different set of problems.

“Hey…” he says tenderly cupping your face.

“Leave those troubles for tomorrow. Let’s just go to sleep, ok?” he smiles sadly, hushing you gently. His eyes are glassy.

He wipes your tears with his fingers while he looks at you. How you miss the way he looked at you, his eyes full of unmatched sincerity.

“We’ll face tomorrow together, ok?” he soothes you, running his knuckles on your chin. He begins to hum a lullaby, one that he used to hum when on slow weekend afternoons.

The next day you are going to wake up like nothing happened between the two of you. You will forget about tonight and Daichi and all the reasons you wanted to stay with him. You will move on with your life.

But tonight all your other concerns don’t matter. You’re beside Daichi and you can love him back freely and without question for now. Tonight is the kind of night where you will momentarily let the world be.

He kisses your forehead goodnight as you close your eyes. Even if you are fighting within yourself to see a tomorrow together, you know you will not have it. You try not to mourn for the many things that could not be between the two of you and try to be happy for the time that you had. You give Daichi a chaste kiss on his lips and pretend not to hear the sob in his chest before you fall asleep.

Between three to four am, time hangs in the balance.

🍡-----------------------------  🍡

See more of my works here. If you like angst, you’ll probs like this too. 

[hazel-wand]

These are the stories that live in my head.

1. Being Steve Rogers’s Soulmate is a Pain in the Ass

Just a jumble of soulmate cliches, a Bucky who won’t express his feelings and a Steve who is far too vocal about expressing how much he hates the idea of soulmates.

“It’s you,” the suspiciously-rugged high-school jock said, his shoulders broad and steady in his letterman jacket. “It’s you.” He leant towards the nerdily beautiful captain of the Mathletics team, who had stopped wearing her thick-framed glasses forty-five minutes ago. Their palms were still touching, but he brought his other hand to cup her face. They moved towards each other, maintaining awkward eye contact, ready to share a soulmates’ first kiss …

Steve Rogers threw a cushion at the television.

“What a load of shite,” he said.

Beside him on the sofa, toes tucked under Steve’s thigh, Bucky Barnes snorted. “I love it when you get pissed off and Irish,” he said.

2. Ruby Slippers

I’ve spent so long thinking about this story and almost no time writing it. It’s a modern (maybe not quite modern. Think Facebook-era social media) AU focusing on what makes a home and a family.

Steve plasters his handful of discarded popcorn against Bucky’s mouth. Bucky clamps his lips shut against the press of Steve’s hand, but Steve twists. His long, thin fingers dig into Bucky’s side, poking and tickling. Bucky feels the flair of panic as he struggles to breathe, trying to push Steve off - but Steve is determined and insanely strong for such a small guy. Helplessly, Bucky wriggles as Steve’s fingers dig merclessfly into his stomach. Bucky gasps and, triumphant, Steve shoves the popcorn into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky briefly wonders whether to spit it out again - if he were at home, he probably would, but he doesn’t want to be gross all over Sarah’s couch cushions, so he chews the popcorn that Steve’s force fed him and swallows it down. When he looks over at Steve, Steve’s face is close to his, close enough that he can see the faint smattering of freckles on his nose and the long shadows cast by Steve’s blond eyelashes.

“Punk,” Bucky says, his voice soft and fond.

Steve passes him the bottle of off-brand soda that they’ve been sharing between them.

“Jerk,” he says, as Bucky takes a swig.

On screen, Dorothy and the scarecrow are arm in arm following the yellow brick road.

3. Small Alpha! Steve fic

This is Alpha/Omega indulgence because I do have a soft spot for the ridiculousness of that set-up, but I can’t bring myself to write it without overthinking the biology and its implications. This has Winter Soldier (in stature if not quite experience) modern veteran Bucky meeting pretty ugly with a small modern Mom-friend kind of Alpha Steve.

Bucky screws his eyes tight shut and tries to will down the tears that prickle behind his eyelids. As a child he cried easily, much to his little sisters’ teasing and his dad’s discomfort. Since choosing to join the army, he’s tried to force the emotions back. It’s too easy to be seen as a hysterical Omega if he cries, and he’s not. He’s not.

Bucky shakes as he feels himself come back. “Fuck,” he says. His voice is breath-soft and shivery. “I’m so sorry.” He forces himself to look at Sam, standing still at Bucky’s side, his eyes fixed on the hallway where the strange Alpha had run.

4. The Right Partner

Peggy wrote an autobiography, and out of all the amazing, kick-arse things in it, the part that took off was the comment Steve Rogers made about waiting for the right partner. Someone thinks it’s a great name for a dancing show…

Fast forward to a non-canon future, and Steve’s taking a break from Cap. He needs a challenge, and decides to take up his invitation to join the next season of The Right Partner - where celebrities learn to dance with pro dancers (so basically DwtS or Strictly Come Dancing). Only Steve wants to make a statement (and doesn’t want to be afraid of hurting a much smaller partner) and has decided on the pro dancer he wants to dance with: James Barnes. I love the thought of this story. I love Strictly Come Dancing. But I have no knowledge of ballroom dancing and don’t know if I’ll be able to bring myself to write this.