#one of these teeth has had 4 or 5 fillings and she was like ''you could do another but it'll still need to be removed eventually''

[afterheese]

The Prefect Match - Yang Jungwon x f!reader

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes. His hand is on your throat.

cw: dark!jungwon, noncon,hair pulling, degradation, creampie, babytrapping and physical violence.

word count : 3.5k

You knew it was the right decision.

Ending things with Jungwon wasn’t just overdue, it was needed. The relationship had rotted from the inside out, twisted into something dark and suffocating. You’d spent too much time walking on eggshells and flinching at every raised voice or hand. So you left.

But ever since the breakup, something in the air felt wrong.

He didn’t take it well—not at all. The calls kept coming. At first, it was pleading. Sweet, pathetic apologies dripped in fakeness. But they didn’t stay sweet for long. They turned sharp and accusing. His voice would swing from soft regret to explosive rage in a single breath. As if the breakup wasn’t real. Like you were throwing a tantrum.

Now your phone buzzes at strange hours—2:17 a.m., 4:03, 5:12 always from unknown numbers. No voice, no noise just silence. You’ve started checking your locks more than once. Then again. Then again. You keep the blinds shut even when the sun is out, because the idea of light feels unsafe now. Too visible. Because Jungwon doesn’t lose. And he doesn't listen when you say no. He doesn’t rage. He doesn't scream. He waits. He smiles. Control isn’t something he wants. It’s something he assumes he already has. You don’t know it now, but you’ll soon realize that leaving him was the worst mistake you could’ve made. 

“Girl, relax—he’s not here,” she says, not even looking at you. Her voice is flat, tired, like you’re annoying her with your nonsense. “Stop being so paranoid. I heard he’s got a new girlfriend or something, so… he’s over you.”

You blink at her, fork halfway to your mouth. She's probably right. Everyone keeps saying the same thing, and you’re starting to feel like the one who is being crazy. But the incidents around the house was telling you otherwise like the window in your bedroom was open yesterday morning. Just a crack. You remember closing it. You always do. You even double checked it after brushing your teeth. But there it was, gaping like a mouth in the wall, letting the cold in.

Then there was the necklace. You found it in the laundry room. You haven’t worn it in weeks. You’d swear you left it on your dresser. “You don’t think that’s weird?” you ask, quieter than you meant to. “That my stuff keeps moving around?” Kailey shrugs. “You probably just forgot. You’ve been super stressed lately. Your brain’s probably just... I don’t know. Filling in blanks.” Her smile is small, pitying. It makes you feel like a child so you nod, even though your stomach twists. Because how do you argue with someone who makes your fear sound like fiction?

Everyone you’ve talked to says the same thing. You’re imagining it. You’re spiraling. Maybe talk to someone. No one listens to what you’re actually saying. They just want you to stop talking. And the more you try to explain, the more ridiculous you sound. Like some clingy ex who can’t move on. Like you’re obsessed with someone who isn't even thinking about you. 

 You smile. You laugh when Kailey makes a joke about “getting you a security system and a therapist.” Maybe they’re right. Maybe your memory is just playing tricks on you. Maybe the cold air, the lost things, the tapping you heard last night…maybe it’s all just in your head. But if that’s true… why does it still feel like someone’s watching you? 

“Okay, call me when you get home, alright?” Kailey says, pulling you into a quick hug. “And don’t worry about Jungwon. You’re fine. Seriously. He wasn’t good for you, and breaking up with him was the smartest thing you’ve done.” She squeezes your arm before turning away, heading toward her car without waiting for a reply. The door slams, the engine hums to life, and just like that, she’s gone—leaving you alone on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. You stand there for a moment, watching her taillights fade into the distance. The street feels too quiet now, like someone turned the volume down on the world. “I hope you’re right,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, then turn and begin the walk toward home. 

The sidewalk stretches ahead of you, slick from earlier rain. Your shoes tap softly against the pavement, a steady rhythm you try to focus on. Left foot, right foot. Just a walk home. Just like every other night. But now Kailey's voice is gone, and without it, the air feels too thin. A streetlight flickers as you pass underneath it, buzzing once like it’s annoyed by your presence. You glance up out of habit. It dies for a moment, then flares back to life, casting your shadow behind you. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself, shoulders hunching as you turn down your street. The houses here are dark, windows glowing faintly blue with TV light or not at all. You tell yourself it’s just late. People are asleep inside. 

But your stomach won’t stop tightening. That pressure behind your ribs again—like something’s watching you. Like something’s a few steps too close. You stop walking to listen. Behind you… nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Just wind rustling the trees and the faint hum of traffic blocks away. You glance over your shoulder. Empty street. You hate how fast your heart is beating. You keep walking. Faster now. You don’t want to look again. If no one’s there, you’ll feel stupid. If someone is—No, don't go there. You stop again, one foot hesitating mid-step. You turn slowly and look behind you. Still no one there. But the streetlight—It’s off now. Completely dark.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your limbs tense before you can even think. And then—You run.

You don’t think about how it looks. You don’t care. You take off, shoes slapping the pavement, your bag bouncing hard against your hip. You just run.

Your house comes into view—porch light glowing weakly like it’s trying, but not enough. You fumble for your keys as you hit the steps. You nearly drop them. Your fingers are shaking too much and the sweat making it difficult to hold them. You glance behind you. Nothing. Still. But you don’t believe it. You shove the key in, not it. Try again. Shit not it. Curse under your breath. You keep looking over your shoulder like you're expecting to see someone step out of the dark. Click. The key finally turns. You throw the door open, stumble inside, and slam it shut behind you. You turn the lock. The deadbolt and the chain. Then you press your back to the door, eyes closed, chest heaving. 

You stay with your back pressed to the door, listening for something—anything. Maybe the wind. Maybe footsteps that were never there. Maybe it was just your heart that was punching the inside of your ribs. The house is quiet. Too quiet. Then you heard a thud. A soft, unmistakable sound, like something falling. Not from the kitchen or the living room. It was from your bedroom.

Your body goes cold. You strain your ears, willing for the sound to be nothing. A book slipping off your bed. Something you left too close to the edge. Just gravity. Just the house settling. But you know what you heard. You know exactly where it came from.

Your room. Down the hall. Door slightly open—just as you left it.

You step forward. Slowly. Like your feet don’t belong to you anymore. Your fingers brush against the wall as you move, needing the feel of something solid. You pause at your door. Another noise—a shift. The creak of the mattress springs.

You don’t want to look. Every nerve screams at you not to. But you push the door open anyway. And there he is.

Jungwon.

Sitting on your bed like he never left. He’s leaned back against your pillows, one arm stretched casually along the headboard, the other resting on his knee. Legs spread comfortably, like he owns the room. Like you’re the intruder. “Well,” he says, voice smooth, almost lazy, “you made it farther than I expected. Honestly, I thought you'd fold after the second time you found the window open.” His gaze skims over you—your posture, your silence, your fear.

“You really thought locking doors and whispering to Kailey would make a difference?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Cute.” Then he exhales, almost like a yawn, and shifts his weight to the side of your bed. “But playtime’s over now.” He looks you straight in the eye, the smile gone. “Time to come back to me. This little game was fun... but I’m getting bored.”

He pats the bed beside him—slow, twice.

“Don’t make me chase you again.”

You looked at him like he’d just sprouted horns. “Jungwon… what the fuck is wrong with you?” Your voice cracks from the force of it. Your hands are shaking. You don’t care.

“Get the hell out of my house!” you scream, louder this time. But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even blink.

“Babe,” Jungwon said, his voice calm and patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “Stop yelling. It’s embarrassing.” 

“We broke up!” you scream, voice shredded with fury. “Get that through your thick fucking skull and get the fuck out of my house!” You reach into your bag, fingers brushing your phone, eyes locked on him like you're defusing a bomb. Your heart racing. But you glance down—just for a second. And that’s all it takes.

His hand is on your throat.

“Now why would you do that, huh, babe?” he breathes, his face inches from yours, his breath hot on your face. “I missed you. And I know you missed me.”

His fingers tighten. You choke, your nails clawing at his wrist. Your vision flickers.

“Stop struggling and just accept it, babe. I’m here now. We’re done playing—”

You swing your knee up, fast, hard, straight into his groin.

He makes a sound—half-growl, half-scream—and doubles over, crashing to the floor.

You stumble back, gasping, clutching your throat, then bolt down the hall. You don’t look behind you. You know what’s coming. You hit the living room. The space feels too small—too many corners, too many shadows, and nowhere to hide. Your feet pound the floor as you race toward the kitchen, lungs burning.

But then—His hand. It misses you by less than an inch. 

You throw yourself into the kitchen and lunge for the drawer. The knife. The drawer sticks. You yank. Too slow. His hand grabs your hair—hard—and you feel your head jerk back, your scalp screaming as he slams you forward. Your temple hits the counter edge with a sickening crack. The world wavers. You dropped to the floor.

He’s pacing now, breathing hard, muttering. Mindless. Mechanical. Like a record skipping on loop.

“You were made for me,” he hisses, voice barely above a whisper but trembling with rage. “Don’t you get it? You don’t exist without me. I built you.

He slams the drawer shut with his foot—BANG—and the sound explodes through the kitchen. You flinch instinctively, shoulder curling inward. He laughs under his breath.

“No one else will touch you. Not after this. You think someone’s gonna want you after I’m done with you?” He gestures to you like you were trash. “They’ll see right through you, babe.”

He steps over your legs like they’re part of the floor, starts pacing in front of the fridge, cracking his knuckles, dragging his hand through his hair, muttering. His eyes are wild—glassy and glowing with something sick.

“You keep pretending you’re scared. But you’re not. Not really,” he says, smiling now, voice dipping into something slower, darker. “You like it when I get like this. You made those sounds for me, remember? The begging, the whimpering... the way you said my name when you couldn’t take it anymore.”

He crouches suddenly, right in front of you, and grabs your jaw—tight, fingers pressing into your cheeks.

“You remember that, don’t you?”

You try to pull away. He doesn’t let go.

“I own you. Every noise you make, every breath you take—that’s mine. You don’t get to run anymore. You had your little tantrum. Now?” His voice softens like silk. He stands again, towering above you, breath heaving, arms loose at his sides like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or kill you.

“Now you don't get to leave.”

“Please… just stop,” you whispered, voice raw, tears streaking your cheeks as your back pressed against the cold wooden kitchen counter. “You’ve had your fun.”

Jungwon didn’t flinch. He only tilted his head, eyes drinking in your trembling frame like it was art he couldn’t look away from.

“God,” he murmured, stepping closer, his voice low and dark with something you couldn’t name. “You’re so damn pretty when you cry.”

You turned your face away, breath hitching.

Jungwon's hand shot out, fingers tangling harshly in your hair. He fisted it tight, yanking your head back to force you to meet his intense gaze. The sudden, painful grip made you gasp, tears flying from your eyes as he wrenched you off your feet. Your knees scraped against the hardwood floor, sending jolts of stinging pain up your legs, but he showed no mercy.

"You don’t get to turn away from me," he growled, voice dripping with venom. 

Jungwon slammed you down onto the cold, unforgiving surface of the kitchen counter, the breath whooshing out of your lungs at the impact. Before you could catch your breath, he had you by the hair again, bending you over the edge of the counter roughly. You felt the chill of the granite against your skin as he forced you to arch your back. "Look at you," Jungwon snarled in your ear, his voice a low, feral rumble. "What a sweet, trembling mess you are. You can't deny how much you fucking love this, can you? How much you've missed having me inside you, ruining you?"

He punctuated his words by grinding his hard, clothed erection against the curve of your ass. You could feel every thick inch of him, a whimper escaped your throat, equal parts fear and shameful, traitorous arousal.

"This is what you do to me," Jungwon growled, giving your ass a sharp smack. "This is the effect you have on me, you fucking tease. I've been thinking about this pussy, about burying myself in you."

He tore the delicate fabric of your panties without hesitation, the rip sharp in the silence. The ruined lace discarded, leaving you bare and shivering as the cold air kissed your exposed skin. His touch followed—fingers finding your slick heat, dragging through your folds with a rough, unrelenting rhythm that stole the breath from your lungs. 

"You don't get to say shit," he hissed, "You don't get to deny me anymore. I'm going to take what's mine, over and over again until you're dripping with my cum."

You heard the frantic tug of his zipper, the hiss of fabric shoved down in haste—he was struggling, almost clumsy in his desperation. He couldn’t wait. The need to be inside you was written in every rushed movement, every uneven breath. Your mind was fogged, flooded with heat, and the sound of him losing control just made it worse. 

Jungwon's hips surged forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your core in one brutal thrust. A scream tore from your throat at the sudden, intense intrusion, your walls clenching desperately around his invading length. He didn't give you any time to adjust, immediately setting a hard, punishing pace as he bent over you from behind.

His breath was hot and ragged against your ear, each exhale sending shivers down your spine. You could feel the thundering of his heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back as he loomed over you. He was everywhere, surrounding you, consuming you completely.

"Fuck," Jungwon grunted, his voice strained with lust and dark satisfaction. “You can hate me all you want. Doesn’t change how perfectly I fit in you.”

One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rutted into you. The other snaked up to wrap around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse jump and race. Your vision swam, head spinning as he fucked you with brutal intensity, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the kitchen.

“Beg all you want. I know exactly what you need.” Jungwon growled, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. “By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be nothing left.” 

His fingers tightened around your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.  “You’re going to carry a reminder of me, one way or another.”

A surge of pure panic shot through you at Jungwon's dark promise. Your heart raced, pounding wildly against your ribs as his fingers tightened around your throat, restricting your airflow. You tried to shake your head.

"No," you gasped out, voice barely a whisper. "Please, Jungwon, don't. Pull out, please..."

But even as the words left your lips, you knew it was futile. Jungwon was beyond reason, beyond caring about your pleas and fears. He was driven by a singular, obsessive desire to claim and conquer.

Ignoring your desperate entreaty, he was fucking into you with brutal, animalistic intensity. The kitchen filled with the vulgar sounds of your coupling - the slap of skin on skin, your strangled cries, his grunts and growls of pleasure.

"Fuck, I can feel it," Jungwon snarled, his voice tight with impending release. “You feel that? The way you pull me in like you were made for this? Like your body already knows it belongs to me.” 

He punctuated his words with a harsh thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You felt his cock jerk and pulse, growing even harder, impossibly bigger. Your eyes widened in terror and a sickening mix of reluctant arousal.

"Please," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "Please, don't cum inside me. I don't want to..."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears. With a guttural roar, Jungwon slammed into you one last time, grinding his pelvis against your ass as his cock erupted. You could feel the hot, thick spurts of his release painting your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his cum.

"Take it," he commanded harshly, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you. "Take every last drop.”

You shuddered and sobbed as you felt his cum filling you up, your body instinctively clenching and milking his pulsing cock. The sheer depravity of it, the utter lack of control, sent a confusing surge of dark pleasure through you.

As Jungwon finally pulled out, you could feel his release leaking out of you, dripping down your thighs.

You couldn’t move so you remained bent over the kitchen counter, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Tears streamed down your face, dripping onto the cold granite surface below. Your body ached, used and abused in the most intimate way possible. The sticky evidence of his release trickled down your thighs, a sickening reminder of your defilement.

Behind you, Jungwon was already fixing his pants, tucking his spent cock away and smoothing down his shirt. He acted as if he hadn't just violated you, just taken something from you that you hadn't willingly given. As if this was an everyday occurrence, a simple transaction.

"Shut up," he barked harshly, silencing your muffled sobs and whimpers. “Did you really think someone would come running if you cried loud enough?”

You flinched at the biting words, then he was bending over you again, looming large and menacing. His hand came up, cupping the back of your head almost gently. For a moment, you thought he might caress you, soothe you. But then his fingers tightened, gripping your hair almost painfully as he wrenched your head to the side to force you to meet his gaze.

"You'll never be clean again," Jungwon whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble. "Not after this. Not after me."

His eyes bored into yours, gleaming with a manic, possessive light. Before you could look away, his mouth was on you, his lips brushing against your forehead in a mockery of a tender kiss. A promise of something far darker.

And he was right, no matter how far you ran, how high you built your walls, or how many times you tried to cut him out—Jungwon always found a way back in. Like smoke slipping through the cracks, like a shadow that knew your every hiding spot. It didn’t matter how fiercely you tried to protect yourself. He would always find you, you knew the truth: you would never be safe from him. Not really. Not ever. 

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Training Part 2 - Blowjobs

A/n: Here's part 2! This is actually more like part 1 of part 2 but if I made it a whole chapter, it would end up being quite long so I decided to split it. This chapter only has Caleb and Xavier with the others being mentioned so the next chapter will have Zayne, Raphael and Sylus <3

Part 1;

"Slowly, baby. Don't push yourself."

You rolled your eyes which resulted in Caleb reaching a hand down and pinching your ear, making you whine.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, you little brat." he teased, pulling his hand away before leaning back again on the couch, "Nngh- you're lucky you're so cute."

"That she is." Xavier agreed from behind you, his touch sending a shiver up your spine, "Be good for us, angel. Don't want you to hurt yourself."

You didn't reply, focusing on your breathing instead as you pushed down, jaw aching as you took more and more of Caleb's hard cock into your mouth. His girth was stretching you out and you were doing your best to not let your teeth accidentally scratch him. Tears filled your eyes as the tip of his fat cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag but you pushed ahead, nails digging into his thighs as you attempted to deep throat him.

"Haaah- fuck." Caleb panted, his cheeks dusted a bright red as he looked down at you, his own fingers digging into the couch cushion as he fought his instinct to grab you by the head, "Feels so fucking- ah- good!"

"Keep going. That's it. Almost there, baby." Xavier said, keeping a close eye on you as Caleb's cock slid down your throat, "You're doing so good."

The white haired man was kneeling on the carpet next to you as you settled between Caleb's spread legs, your back arched as you sat on your knees. With your perk butt perched on top of your heels, Xavier was lightly touching you, his touch so gently as he caressed your cheeks, occasionally scratching them with his nails which made your whole body shiver.

You were just wearing a baby pink lingerie set, the two men having undressed you before getting you on your knees. You gagged more as Caleb slid down your throat, about to pull away when you felt Xavier thread his fingers through your hair and keep you down. It wasn't firm enough that you couldn't pull back if you really wanted to but it wasn't gentle either, letting you know that he was there.

"Just breathe. Come on." he cooed, pushing your head a bit as you took more of the brunettes dick, "You're almost there."

"Fuck- this is killing me-" Caleb moaned, tossing his head back as you finally deep throated him, your lips pressed against the base of his cock, nose snuggling into the small tuft of hair. The sensation of your tight, wet heat all over his dick, muscles contracting as you swallowed around him which just made him feel so, so good. He felt like he was ripping apart the sofa fabrics as he now had to stop himself from thrusting his hips, wanting nothing more but to fuck your cute fucking face.

"Stay there baby. You got this." Xavier encouraged, holding you in place as you sputtered around his friends dick, "5...4...3...2....."

You grunted, Xavier keeping one hand on the back of your head while the other slid to your neck, gently wrapping his fingers around it. "And...1. Ok, slowly now."

With another gag, you started to pull off of Caleb's cock in a pace slower than what you would have done- which was probably why Xavier was directing you to prevent you from hurting yourself by pulling off to roughly. Eventually, Caleb's heavy cock popped out of your mouth, standing tall and wet with thick angry veins pumping through it.

You coughed, taking in deep breaths as you brought a hand up to pump Caleb's sticky dick, your own saliva coating your fingers as you jerked him off, smiling at the way his thighs twitched. Xavier cooed compliments at you, petting your hair with one hand while the other was still around your neck in a light choke.

"Good job, pipsqueak. You managed to- fuck- deep throat me." Caleb panted out, his will power being tested, "Told you your training was worth it."

"Such a good girl." Xavier said, using his hold on your neck to tilt your face towards him before he leaned down and kissed you. Your boyfriends had long since lost any sense of shame or hesitation so Xavier couldn't care less that he was probably tasting Caleb's cock on your tongue- as long as it was you, he'd desire you no matter what. They all would.

Xavier was wearing a casual outfit, his usual big, fluffy white hoodie coupled with an undershirt and jeans. He looked so cute- and yet here he was, making you deep throat dick while groping you. You felt yourself get more lightheaded before he finally pulled away from the deep kiss, a smile on his face as he let go of you only to trail his hands down back to your ass. His hand ran in circles over your cheeks before he grabbed your panties. But instead of whisking them off of you, he bunched them up and pulled upwards, making you squeak as your panties were suddenly pulled tight up against your juicy pussy lips.

"H-Hey!" You whined with a pout, ignoring the way Calebs' cock twitched in your hand as a response, "Cut it outtt."

"Focus on Caleb, sweet pea." Xavier simply said, giving your behind a gentle smack with his free hand, "You have to make him cum, remember?"

"Yeah pip." Caleb groaned, looking more and more debauched by the minute, "Come on. Suck my balls."

He got a hand to the back of your head and gently pulled you forward, his adams apple bobbing in anticipation. You huffed, hand still pumping his cock as you allowed yourself to be directed lower, mouth open to take a ball in your mouth. You moaned around him, the vibration making the brunette hiss. His nails were starting to peel into the fabric of the couch, causing some of the thread to snap and you couldn't help but pat yourself on the back for being able to have this effect on him.

You opened your jaw wide, suckling on his sack while your hand gave special attention to the tip of his cock, rolling his pink cockhead around in the dip of your palm. You made sure to look up at him, wanting to capture every twitch and expression, glad that you were finally allowed to give your men more pleasure. Caleb looked down at you and bit his lower lip harshly, almost like he was fighting back a moan. You could only assume that you looked filthy, with your teary eyes blinking up at him innocently even as you drove him crazy.

Xavier continued to torture you, giving your panties a final harsh tug before letting go, allowing the stretched fabric to pool on your lower back. You could feel the cloth wedged tightly into your cunt and the sudden sound of a camera shutter going off made you jump. Off to the side, Caleb's phone let out a 'ding', indicating that he had received a message. You pulled off of Caleb's balls, much to his dismay, so you could turn around and give Xavier a glare just as he pocketed his phone.

"What?" he asked innocently, "When you look this delicious, do you really think I'm not going to show you off to the others? They'd kill me if I didn't."

You rolled your eyes, "You're being dramatic."

"Well...not really. Remember the first time we got you in lingerie when Sylus and Raphael were busy? We didn't send them a picture of you and Raphael threw a tantrum? And Sylus threatened to buy out Victorias Secret so you could try them all for him?"

"...I stand corrected."

A gentle tug was given to your hair, bringing your attention back to Caleb who looked like he was either on the verge of tears or on the verge of pouncing on you. Probably both.

"Keep going, baby." he pleaded, "I'm close."

"Already?" Xavier teased, "She barely started."

"Shut up. I'd like to see how long you last once you get a taste of her mouth."

You brought your head back to the poor man's cock, licking along his veins from the base, all the way to the tip. Now you were eager to get him to cum, wanting to finally feel the sensation of one of the men you love explode into your mouth. You sealed your lips around the tip, tongue running in circles over it as your hand pumped the shaft. You dug the point of your tongue into his slit and Caleb cursed so loudly it took you by surprise. With a giggle, you started to move down deeper before pulling back, making sure to keep your tongue flat on the underside of his dick as you gradually picked up the pace.

This was the first time you were bobbing your head on a cock that wasn't a toy and you were excited! You had dreamed of doing this everytime you were made to take the silicone down your throat, wanting nothing more but to be bobbing on their cocks instead-

But maybe they weren't lying when they said you needed to practice first.

Maybe it was because it was a real cock and maybe it was because his dick was bigger than the toy- but you whined in frustration as you failed to find a rhythm. Either you weren't sucking hard enough or you went too deep and gagged too violently that you had to pull away- or you forgot to move you hand while you sucked- You were way better at this when it was a dildo!

And you could tell Caleb was getting frustrated- not at you, of course- but because he was right on the edge of climaxing but he couldn't get there yet. Not with your sloppy technique.

You whined loudly, eyebrows furrowing and tears prickling your eyes as you pulled away. With an annoyed huff, you faceplanted against Caleb's bare thigh, hiding your expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Caleb asked, both he and Xavier leaning over you, worried. You tried not to cry, sniffling as you rested your cheek on his thigh muscle, looking up at them, "I'm sorry. I'm not able to- ah- it's tough."

"Shhh, it's okay, sweetie." Caleb cooed, "You just need a bit of practice, that's all. Do you want to continue?"

You nodded without hesitation.

"Can you help her out?" Caleb then asked Xavier, the man gently patting your back.

"You don't want to do it?" the silver haired asked.

"I won't be able to hold myself back if I do. I don't wanna hurt her."

"Okay then. Come here, princess. Let me help you."

With one more sniffle, you sat back straight, Xavier moving his position so he was kneeling right behind you. You could feel his clothed hardness pressed against your ass but it wasn't the time for that now. You shivered as he thread his right hand through the locks of your hair, getting a good grip on you before he placed his left hand on the sofa, right beside Caleb.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded before once again, taking Caleb's still hard erection into your mouth. Xavier let you start off by yourself, watching as you took in a few inches before his grip on your hair tightened. You shivered as he started to gently move you, taking over the reins as he set up a gentle pace. Fuck. You were being used like a toy-

And you fucking loved it.

"There we go. See? It's not that hard." Xavier said, using the grip on your hair to bob your head up and down. There was a joke there but you were too focused on sucking to crack yourself up. Caleb moaned above you, his chest starting to heave up and down from the sensation and you cheered. "That's it...pipsqueak...oh yes! Your mouth is fuck- ah- fuck!"

"I'm going to increase the pace, okay?" Xavier said before he did just that, gradually picking up speed. His grip on you was tight and firm, the man clearly taking this responsibility seriously as he guided you to bob your head up and down.

Gawk gawk gawk gawk-

"Hah. Don't enjoy yourself too much now. You're going to make me jealous."

You would have rolled your eyes again if you could. But they were too full of tears to really do much else. Saliva dripped down Caleb's cock and lathered up his balls, the man having tossed his head back as he enjoyed the pleasure. His cock was sliding up and down your throat now, the tight heat making his head spin.

"Yes- yes- yessss!" he gasped, hips sputtering as he fought against his instinct to buck into your mouth, "So close- faster-"

Xavier did as he was told and you went along with it, your head now bobbing up and down his length, gags and gasps leaving your lips as sticky threads of spit formed between your lips as Caleb's fat cock. Xavier was relentless, controlling your movements with ease.

"Gonna- ah- ah- fuck- gonna cum!"

"In her mouth or on her face?" Xavier asked in the same tone like he was asking if someone wanted a glass of water.

"In her mouth- ah- push her deeper- and keep her there- fuck!"

Xavier lifted his hand off of the couch so he could use both of them to push your face down towards the base of Caleb's cock, giving you no choice but to deep throat him. You yelped as you were stuffed completely full, body tingling as you finally felt Caleb orgasm. His cock throbbed inside you, balls clenching against your chin as he came with a roar.

"Ah! Fuck fuck fuuuuckkkk!!" Caleb babbled, tossing his head back against the couch, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His nails had somehow ripped out a bit of the couch stuffing, his thighs flexing and clenching on either side of you, back arching like a porn star. His cock spurted out semen, hot ropes of thick, white cum pouring into your mouth. You sputtered around him, throat contracting as you swallowed obediently, his dick so far down that you had no choice but to swallow.

"Good girl. Drink it all. That's it~" Xavier cooed, still pressing your head down, only letting go when Caleb visibly relaxed. You took in deep breaths as Xavier once again guided you to carefully separate from the cock in your mouth, not moving too fast. Caleb's dick left your lips a slobbered, cum stained mess, hanging heavy between his legs, clearly satisfied.

"Holy...holy fuck babe..." the man groaned, face red and sweaty, "You're amazing."

You giggled before placing your head against his thigh again, Caleb laughing along as he ruffled your hair. Xavier leaned in to place a kiss on your shoulder before he started to get up: "Let's get you a glass of water and clean you up."

But before he could get onto his feet, you grabbed his arm and pull, making him stumble a bit before he caught himself. You leaned against him, pressing your body against his chest, giving him puppy dog eyes that rivaled his own.

"I wanna make you feel good too..." you whined cutely, voice a bit hoarse, "wanna use my mouth on you..."

You felt Xavier shiver, the man clearing his throat before firmly saying: "No, baby. Maybe later. Don't want you to overwork yourself."

"I won't! I'll be careful." you insisted, not so subtly pushing your hips back a bit so your ass pressed against his clothed erection, "You don't want it?"

"You know I do. But..." Xavier trailed off, hissing at the feeling of your bubble butt against him. Caleb chuckled, grabbing his discarded boxers before standing up and shrugging them on.

"I think she'll be okay." he said to Xavier, "Besides, I'll be here to look after her and make sure she isn't overdoing it. We can consider it part of her training."

Xavier sighed, "Alright then. I suppose it won't hurt to try."

"Oh, I'm sorry." You said sarcastically at his dramatic sigh, "Is being offered a blowjob really taxing on you? You poor thing."

"Talking to me like that when I'm about to shove my cock down your throat really isn't the brightest move."

"Hah. Nice try. Caleb will stop you from being rough."

"Will he? Or will he be like me and really like the sight of you crying?"

"...Touche."

~~~~~

[softlymellow]

The Order Forgot Me First - Chapter 6

☆⁠ PAIRING : Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☆⁠ word count: 3.3k

☆⁠ story themes: lovers to enemies to eventually lovers

☆⁠ warnings: spoilers to swtcw, angstttt

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

"...he almost remembered what it meant to him. Except he didn't. Instead, it was a taste from a dream he couldn’t quite remember."

A dimly lit mission room deep within the Jedi Temple, Anakin Skywalker, Obi-wan Kenobi and Mace Windu gathered around a holographic display. The hum of the holographic offered a soft backdrop to their conversation. 

“Many reports of two skilled bounty under the names ‘Ani’ and ‘Dev’ have been causing disruptions across various sectors.” Mace Windu sternly said whilst Anakin gulped at the use of a name he hasn’t heard in a year. “They have slipped through the Republic forces on multiple occasions.” 

Obi-wan leaned forward, “two bounty hunters causing this much trouble? That's unusual.” 

“Indeed. But their methods have grown more aggressive, even by bounty hunter standards. What is more concerning is Dev. ” Mace Windu tapped the datapad and the holographic image flickered to life, a materialised image of a young boy no older than 15. 

“But that’s only a boy.” Anakin furrowed his eyebrows at Mace Windu, confusion evident on his face. 

“Once a boy, yes. He was once a skilled Jedi, dismissed from the Order for the refusal to adhere to the Code. His descent began when he lost his family and, in a fit of anger, slaughtered civilians. Dark tendencies grew within him.” 

Anakin stiffened immediately and felt a foreboding feeling grow in his stomach. Obi-wan's expression darkened beside him. “A former Jedi turned bounty hunter with such a violent past…It’s troubling.” 

“And what about this..Ani?” Anakin reluctantly asked. 

“She is a much newer addition to the bounty hunting world, but she has proved to be some sort of a prodigy. They were just spotted on Corellia after a bombing to capture Dengar, another well known bounty who worked with Maul and Savage to capture me.” Mace Windu informed them, turning off the holograph. 

Obi-wan frowned, concern etching lines on his face. “We’re going after two bounty hunters? Isn’t that more of a job for local security forces in Corellia?” 

Mace’s gaze shifted from Anakin to Obi-wan, “You both are uniquely skilled in dealing with unconventional situations. We need to contain them before they both spiral out of control.”

Anakin’s jaw tightened, resolve evident in his eyes. “Understood, Master Windu.” 

Obi-wan nodded in agreement, his focus unwavering. “We’ll head to Corellia immediately.”

“Good. May the force guide your actions.” Mace Windu stood tall. 

—

Anakin and Obi-wan sat in the ship en route to Corellia. Neither had spoken a word, just eyes drifting at the stars that illuminated outside. 

Dev.

Ani. 

Not their real names. It wasn't hard to miss the amount of blanks throughout their whole file. Dev's one gave a general consensus though; a disobedient Jedi Padawan, now a runaway. But the latter… No image. No backstory. It was as if she only existed a few months ago. 

Anakin ran a hand through his hair, teeth gnawing the inside of lips. His eyes lazily read the datapad in his lap. A boy stared back at him. Dev. Just 15 years of age in the image, younger than the recent sightings of him. Much younger. His eyes looked hollow, already hard. Like part of him had lost something but was never filled again. 

“Nothing on the girl?” Obi-wan asked beside him, still gazing out the window, but deep in thought. 

Anakin inhaled, his chest rising against his robes and shook his head. “Nothing. Her name is clearly a placeholder, but no record of her.” Anakin turned off the datapad. 

“She is either very smart,” Obi-wan murmured, “or lucky.” 

Anakin leaned in his seat not liking either answer. “What business do they have blowing up a civilian square in the middle of a Corellian protest?” 

Obi-wan stroked his beard, “I’d say they are after another bounty hunter. Denger I assume. He was spotted here the night before.”

“So they try and bring him in, only to level half the plaza in the process?”

“Looks like it.”

Scoffing, Anakin dragged his hand down his face. 

Outside the ship, Corellia was a mess. Alarms sounding through the cities, smoke darkening the skies and protest fires on the rooftops. What was usually a beautiful planet is now filled with protests against the war. 

Once the ship doors opened, Anakin and Obi-wan were hit with heat. Not physical. But tension. Soldiers and civilians buzzing through the streets, it was as if they weren’t at a docking platform. 

“Well, it seems like we have your day cut out for us.” Obi-wan muttered as they made their way down the streets, glancing at the protest signs abandoned on the floor. “No Justice, No peace” was written in Corellian dialect. 

Burn marks scattered around the floor piquing Anakin’s interests. Crouching down, his fingers gently grazed the soot left, leaving his fingers darkened. 

“There was a bombing,” Anakin concluded, spotting several pieces of metal scattered around the floor. 

Obi-wan nodded, "the security reports said they did vanish into the crowds before troops arrived.” His eyes scanned the crowd up ahead. “I’d say our perpetrators are there.” 

That annoyed Anakin more than it should have. 

“Then we’ll start there,” Anakin said. 

— 

Corellia bled with fury and fight. 

Anakin walked ahead, his hood drawn low and his feet dragging along the concrete, stones skidding away. He wasn’t really in the mood. Trying to find 2 cloaked figures in a sea of more cloaked figures wasn’t exactly ideal. After 2 hours of dead ends, he kept replaying the grainy footage hoping it would offer a clue. 

On the other hand, Obi-wan walked behind being Obi-wan. A calm diplomatic Jedi master. He was always asking the right questions to the right vendors, nodding and being friendly. His warm voice made people eager and more keen to offer tips. 

“I spoke to the surveillance clerk”, Obi-wan broke the silence, catching up to Anakin. “He said the crowd tripled after the bombing, half running to shelter and the other protesting even more.” 

Anakin stopped in front of a sign that read “THE REPUBLIC DOESN’T SEE US”, the edges of the banner burnt. 

“Give it a few days and then the Senate will fix this with a speech.”

Obi-wan’s face hardened, “Well it is the Senate’s job to do that.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Anakin muttered, leaving Obi-wan dumbfounded. Did he mean that the planet should fend for itself, fixing its own politics? Or did he mean that the Senate was useless, giving out speeches with no real backlayer. Maybe a bit of both. 

Obi-wan pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the buildings that now had a layer of dust covering it. Walking was starting to get irritating as every few seconds a person would nudge their shoulder with their own, making them lose focus every few seconds. 

That’s when Anakin saw it. 

Small smears of red on the cobblestone wall. Dried and just there. Followed by a few more droplets that painted the floor into an alley. 

Anakin crouched down taking a further look, gaining Obi-wan’s attention. 

“Blood.” Obi-wan hummed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

“Might not be theirs.”

“Still, we are Jedi. Whoever blood it belongs to may need help.” Obi-wan advised. 

They followed the trail that led to a rusted backdoor. Anakin didn’t hesitate. Immediately pushing past the door as it creaked loudly. 

It was dim inside. 

And in the corner was an elderly Twi’lek couple. 

Anakin and Obi-wan both flinched, least expecting to break into a home. 

The couple sat on the floor, a blanket engulfing their lower body and a half-crushed medpac that rested near their feet. 

Obi-wan immediately put his hands up in defence, “We’re not here to harm you.”

The couple's eyes traced both Anakin and Obi-wan’s figure, their eyes flickering between the saber’s that rested on their hip and their defensive face.

Noticing that they haven’t said anything, Anakin used the opportunity and stepped forward, the woman clutched her blanket a bit tightly. 

“We’re investigating the bombing that happened here. Do you know anything about that?” 

The male shook his head, his blue tentacle like tendrils moving with him, “N-no.”

Obi-wan moved up with Anakin, realising that they can speak Basic. “A young man with blonde hair and a cloaked girl. Does it sound any familiar?”

The couple stiffened. 

Silence. 

Anakin folded his arms and furrowed his brows, “they came here. Didn’t they?” His tone lowered. 

Silence. 

“They paid you.” Obi-wan spoke calmly, already analysing the situation. 

The purple woman looked down, and then gently picked up the half used medpac, her hands shaking. 

“The girl…was worried.” Her voice was soft spoken. “Not for herself, but him. He was bleeding.”

Obi-wan crossed his arms, parallel to Anakin and stared down the medpac. “So you helped them..”

“It is not a crime to help someone!” The man besides her called out defensively, squinting his eyes. 

“Well it is a crime to help terrorists,” Anakin muttered, but loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Terrorists?” The woman's eyes widened. “They were terrorists?”

Obi-wan glanced over to Anakin and tried to laugh it off, not wanting to send the couple into cardiac arrest. “Well. We aren’t sure of anything.” He tilted his head. “Do you know where they are now?”

The older woman nodded speedily,  “She said she was heading to the city square where the protests are. Near the farmers market. But..she was scared.” 

Anakin lifted his brow, “of what?” 

Looking him dead in the eye, “being seen,” she announced. 

–

Obi-wan and Anakin were on the outskirts, just enough steps to see the masses of bodies that moved. 

Protestors moved, some shouted and some watched. It wasn’t long before Obi-wan caught a flicker. 

A flicker of gold that was reflecting from the sun. Moving too fast. An uncomfortable limp. 

Obi-wan’s eyes widened and locked onto the figure. Blonde hair. Broad shoulders. It was worth a shot. 

“That might be him,” Anakin huffed, already making his way down, eager to end this mission.

Obi-wan rolled his eyes, “Always ahead of the game,” he said, racing down the steps and into the crowd. 

It was suffocating. You could feel the sweat and anger that radiated off the bodies. 

Obi-wan pushed through bodies, wanting the man to enter a clearing before holding him in the masses of people. Locals were yelling in languages he didn’t recognise which only intensified everything around him. His cloak constantly was snagging on someone’s arm but he didn’t stop, pushing through, curses were flying at him.

He needed an opening - just one - and it would be fine. 

Something is off. 

The force rippled. 

The blonde headed man suddenly turned his head towards Obi-wan.

It was him. It was Dev. 

And not far behind him was a cloaked figure. Her. 

Dev locked eyes with Obi-wan, his eyes widening and stray locks of hair falling on his face. 

“Jedi!” Dev exclaimed to you, his eyes darting between behind you and yourself. 

Without even taking a chance to glance behind you, you began to push through the crowd. Gritting your teeth, you used your arms to almost shove people out of the way. You could not be caught as a bounty hunter. It was not necessarily the legality of it, it was the bombing that was associated with you and it was your honour shattering that you have been reduced to this much. How low the galaxy forced you to crawl just to survive. 

Just a little further. A  little further and there was an opening and you got yourself out of this mess. 

“Dev! Over there!” You barked, pointing towards the clearing. Dev nodded and attempted to make his way out with his limp. His face pale but understanding. He always understood. Understood you. You didn’t need to speak much for him to completely understand you. 

You surged through the crowd with all your might. Suddenly hyper aware of the blaster at your side, your fingers grazed it, ready to use if anyone tried touching you. 

Relief. Oxygen. As you finally made it out of the crowd. Your hands were shaking but you didn’t stop, you can’t stop. 

And then- a shove. 

Dev’s body slammed into the ground right where he was supposed to make it out and the Jedi tackled him to the side. You heard him grunt in protest, his wrists pinned and the right of his face scraped against the ground. 

Before you could react and turn back to Dev, you heard the hum of a saber. 

Right behind you. 

What should I do?

Fuck. 

They’re getting closer. 

Your lungs feel like they could explode and your chest hurts. You’re running so fast. Any of that relief you had just felt from making it out was gone. Dead. You just felt like you were burning. Your veins pumping with adrenaline – hot and sharp and screaming. 

You didn’t dare look behind you. If you did it would slow you down immensely. 

But it didn’t matter. 

A rough hand –bigger than your own– pulling on your forearm, throwing you down, your hood falling in the process. Without another second to think your free arm gripped onto your vibroblade. Having been pulled down to the ground, you shifted your body to meet the Jedi, your blade coated in cortosis weave and pointing up towards said person. 

.

..

…

“Y/n?”

It was like time stopped. 

You locked eyes. 

Your mouth fell open. 

His did too. Confusion. Bewilderment. Shock. All on his face. 

His voice… Sounded different. Quieter than you remembered. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t hateful. Just quiet. Broken. 

Your right hand weakened and the blade fell down on the floor besides you, the metal clanging against the concrete. Your palms fell on the floor and you found yourself staring at…Anakin above you. 

Anakin staggered back, stunned, as if he was shot straight through the heart. His head shook slowly and ever so subtly but in complete disbelief.

No one said anything. You couldn’t hear anything. It was just you two. Two broken people. The force felt electrifying, like it was rippling and pulling both of you towards each other. 

Anakin loomed over you, the deep blue of his saber still humming, but pointing towards the ground. His own arms feeling too weak to even lift it. His face was unreadable. His dark brown hair looked longer, almost below his ears. His eyes…tired. Like he was staring at a grave. 

It wasn’t until the other Jedi came out, holding Dev in handcuffs that you realised your situation. It was Obi-wan, of course it was. Of course it was Anakin and Obi-wan who would catch up to you. Dev struggled in defiance, his face discontent. 

Obi-wan walked up beside Anakin, and then his eyes fell on you. 

“Y/n?” His voice was quiet, like he wasn’t sure if this was real or not. “You’re Ani?” 

You looked away from him, pursing your lips in shame. What were you supposed to say? You weren’t supposed to be caught, stripped of your mask. You were just supposed to be Ani. Not Y/n. 

You swallowed hard, your fingers soft in comparison to the floor. You were now looking up to both Anakin and Obi-wan but –force– you felt so much smaller than you actually were. 

Anakin inhaled sharply, his saber hissed off yet his grip strong enough that his knuckles were still white. Running a hand through his hair, he turned his back to you, moving away from both you and Obi-wan. You felt the disappointment in the air. You felt the judgement from the people who you used to consider the closest to you. Anakin turning his back to you after a year said more words than he did.

But he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

thump

He was suddenly hyper aware of his breathing.

thump-thump

The way he wasn't sure what to do with his empty left hand.

thump

The fact that his knees would buck in any minute.

thump-thump-thump

It felt like everything was swirling around him and he needed to ground himself.

However, Obi-wan walked over to you, crouching down to eye level. You noticed the small things in his face, the way he had worry lines on his forehead, a slight frown, and furrowed eyebrows. He wasn’t looking at you like a master or a commander, but a concerned friend. 

“Y/n, you became a bounty hunter?” He asked. 

You didn’t know how to respond. What were you going to say? Yes? Well, yes you are. But suddenly you felt embarrassed. Ashamed. 

“I…” You croaked out. 

“You know them?” Dev called out, struggling against his cuffs. All three of you diverted your gaze to Dev.

Dev broke Anakin from his trance, his need to distract himself hitting him harder than ever. He needed to redirect his attention to something else just like he was doing for the past year. Anakin stood still for a moment before grabbing the back of his shirt, replacing Obi-wan but far too aggressively.

“Hold her.” Anakin said to Obi-wan, forcing his voice to be strong. “We’ll take them somewhere else.”

That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say? 

Anakin spoke as if he didn’t know you. Like you were some lowlife smuggler. Obi-wan even felt caught between two worlds. Was he supposed to disregard your history together? Or would he hold you accountable? 

Clearing his throat, Obi-wan pulled out stuncuffs from his satchel, looking at you as if you were a wounded animal. 

“I’m just going to put these on just for now. Precaution.” He said softly. 

Nodding, you slipped in your fallen vibroblade to your belt and slowly brought out both your arms in front of him. Obi-wan hesitantly and carefully attached the cuffs to your arms.

Click. 

Immediate discomfort radiated in your arms, the restraints tightening specifically on your wrists.

You looked up at Obi-wan who you could tell was uncomfortable with the situation. 

“I’m fine, Obi-wan.” You tried to reassure him. 

Obi-wan nodded, inhaling deeply before getting up. Scrambling to your feet against the concrete, you rose and immediately felt smaller than you were. Now seeing both Obi-wan and Anakin in their usual height, it felt different. Like there was a rift between you three.

Looking over at Anakin, Obi-wan scratched his beard. “We won’t be able to fly tonight. It seems the city's protests will make it difficult to get out slyly.” 

Without a response, Anakin began to drag a cursing Dev to Force knows where. 

Obi-wan followed behind him but distant enough, making sure you were keeping up. 

The walk felt excruciatingly long as there was nothing but pained silence. Every now and then you could feel Obi-wan’s gaze drill holes in you. Anakin said and did nothing but hold onto Dev and try to find an abandoned place for the night. You were lucky enough Obi-wan still trusted you to allow you to walk on your own. 

It wasn’t until he broke the silence. 

“Are you okay?” Obi-wan spoke in a hushed voice, trying not to gain Anakin’s attention but that was naive thinking. Anakin heard everything when it came to you. 

You blinked at the question, unsure what to say. Your throat tightening but you forced out an “I’m okay.” 

Silence. 

A beat passed. 

“Are you?” He asked again but much quieter. He knew your response and he knew not to expect an answer but if he didn’t ask now it would eat his conscience later. 

“Yeah. Just tired.” Anakin’s grip tightened on Dev, their boots scraping and their clothes shifting pulled your focus. 

The sky began to set and orange rays stretched far and wide. Dipped in dusk and every step you took would create long shadows of the three of you. The chants from the protest began to fade and street lights began to flicker on. 

Anakin was a walking storm. He was silent. You missed the way he said your name. It sounded like honey -warm, golden- like he almost remembered what it meant to him. Except he didn't.

Instead, it was a taste from a dream he couldn’t quite remember. 

Anakin stopped at a stone-framed building. Abandoned, yes but still intact. The door had its hinges, there was no lights except from the windows and no lifeforms either. Without saying a word, Anakin dragged Dev inside, the door creaking open and they vanished into the unknown.

You and Obi-wan stood in silence. 

“He’ll be alright.” He said gently, not exactly sure if he meant Dev or Anakin. Nodding, you stepped inside first, the evening wind biting your skin. Obi-wan followed right behind you. 

A/N: YAAAY ITS HAPPENED im sorry its kinda on a cliff hanger ik yall want longer chapters but i also need to catch up and write :( also just a general q do u guys want this to be a full blown series leading up to order 66 following the clone wars final season/eps with more drama and romance and angst or keep it until this like 'arc' ends.

i lowk feel like a longer series but i feel like tumblr isnt the right place for this lol maybe ao3 or wattpad also hope u guys appreciate me trying to use coordinated gifs for the chapters 😭

HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT THO <3

Taglist: @endairachristensen26 @hayden-christensen-verse @ducks118 @seventeen-x @movingalongthekiwi @ssnapsaurus @caramelfondu @dayrin085 @devilslittlehelper @f1wh0recom @green-lxght @bettysgardenswift

if u want to be added or removed lmk!

[stove-top96]

Wicked Game

Ch. 00

Y Batfam x GN Reader

featuring: platonic Tim Drake.

1.3k words

It’s been a hot minute. I broke my hand snowboarding, then had tests. The writing for this one is significantly better, I’m taking a creative writing class for extra credits and decided to try something new with how I formate my chapters. I’ll be posting a chapter to both my story and my concept soon. This idea has just been in my head and the story I have planned out is exciting.

Prologue -> Ch. 01

Class Schedule

1st period: Art

2nd period: Maths

12:00 - 13:00: Lunch

3rd period: biology

4th period: English

3:50 Dismissal

4:00 - 6:00: Basketball practice

(Friday 5:00 -> Basketball game)

You twirl your pencil between your fingers, lazily watching as everyone else scribbles notes, following the math equation Mr. Snyder is rambling on about. It’s been ten minutes on the same question, and you’ve checked out about thirty minutes ago. Not that it’s Mr. Snyder’s fault—Gotham Prep has the best teachers. It’s just maths has never been your thing. It’s 2 weeks into the new semester and you're already falling behind. Probably not a great start.

You glance up at the clock—11:53. Ugh. Lunch can’t come soon enough. Mr. Snyder’s voice makes time drag on and on. You dash out of the classroom the moment the bell rings and head straight to Brandi’s locker.

“Girl, I’m literally gonna lose it. I can’t handle these people, they’re insane,” you spill out, frustration pouring from you. Rants like these have become more frequent.

“Tell me about it,” Brandi shoots back, her voice sharp with annoyance. “I’ve never met people so out of touch with reality. These pretentious assholes.” She grits her teeth. “How are they even real?”

You nod, walking together towards the cafeteria. Brandi continues her rant, but it’s nice—almost comforting—to know someone else feels the same way. She’s the only other Scholarship student in the grade—your only friend.

Lunch is its own endeavour. Students give weird looks as you two eat your packed food. The two of you learned very quickly that these kids were in a league of their own, and didn’t take too kindly to outsiders.

As you and Brandi talk mindless gossip, lunch flies by. biology’s next it’s your favourite. There’s nothing better than Mrs. Young’s lectures. She’s able to bring life to the lessons, and the material has a way of sticking.

Heading to class a little early you grab a seat near the back. It’s the only table without another person there. Mrs. Young tends to be late to class, so what better way to pass time than to scroll on your phone. Engrossed in TikTok a voice snaps you back into reality.

“Mind if I sit here”

Glancing up from your phone, you recognize the face almost instantly— you’d be stupid not to— Tim drake. Dark brown hair, bright blue eyes and a ‘pretty boy’ face. He’s practically the ‘it boy’ of the school, popular, friendly, and stupid rich. There’s still plenty of other open seats around the class. Probably beside people he’s better acquainted with. But he wants to sit with you? “Sure” you shrug, not like you were gonna talk to the guy.

The bell rings for the end of lunch, Mrs. Young still hasn’t shown up. The silence between you two is suffocating, even inside the room filled with mindless chatter.

“I’m Tim by the way” his introduction was meant to ease the awkwardness. He knew that you knew who he was. “y/n” you answer, praying the teacher will walk in, anything to get you out of this conversation.

”you’re on the basketball team right? You got in on an athletic scholarship?” He asked, ignoring the way you slump into your seat. “Yep” you mumble. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for students to recognize who’s on scholarship and who isn’t—especially athletes. But for him to know you're on the Basketball team 2 weeks into the school year— Kinda weird. But questioning him would mean talking to him, and you weren’t gonna engage.

Before the silence could get too awkward Mrs. Young walks in, and begins the lesson. The lymphatic system. It wasn’t your weakest subject but definitely not your strongest. Today is especially hard. Mrs. Young is unusually keen on racing through as much of the topic as possible.

You rush to write notes and keep up with the teacher but before you’ve even finished 1 sentence she’s erasing the board. Sighing in defeat, you slump back into your chair. Maybe if you just listen to the teacher you’ll be able to grasp most concepts? you’ll just scan through the textbook after practice.

Tim must’ve noticed your defeat, because a moment later he slides over his notebook. God, even his handwriting is perfect. Copying down the rest of his notes.

“thanks.” You mumble, he nods with a subtle smirk on his face.

The next 45 minutes follow the same pattern—you write down as much as, then copy the rest from Tim, and repeat.

It's only until Mrs. Young claps her hands together. The loud sound grabbed everybody’s attention “We finally get to start our first group project of the semester!” Her excitement is met with groans from the class. “because I don’t want you guys to get too comfortable I took the liberty of choosing your partners”. Your stomach drops. Not that you knew anyone here it was still obvious who would make a good partner and who wouldn’t.

As Mrs Young lists off names you don’t recognize “y/n l/n” your head perks up. “And Tim Drake”. Fuck. Your stomach twists. You really didn’t want to go with him. Sure, he’s nice enough to share his notes for sure but he’s still Tim Drake, it’d be much less drama to avoid him.

Tim didn’t even bother hiding his smirk. “The project must be a poster of any negative or positive feedback loop. Be sure to discuss details with your partners. I won’t be giving much class time, so plan accordingly”

The bell rang signaling the end of class, and you were quick to pack up and get out. The sooner you’re gone the better.

“So how do you want to do this?” Tim asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I don’t really care. you pick”

gym’s next, so you should leave as soon as you can. “Let’s work on it tomorrow after your basketball game. We can choose our topic together,” he answered.

Great, now you’re gonna have to spend your evening with the guy. “My game will probably take 2 hours,” you said. That should probably be enough to get him to back off.

“I’ll watch, I like basketball” you raise a brow. “I guess” you shrug.

The rest of the day blurred together— same mind numbing stories in English, same repetitive drills in practice. By the time it’s all over you’re already on the subway heading home. A wave of exhaustion falls over you.

Unlocking the Door to the empty apartment, you want nothing more than to crash into your bed and doom scroll for the rest of the night. Still you figure you should eat something and take a quick shower first.

Scanning the fridge and cupboards like expected there isn’t much. With a sigh you grabbed a box of cereal and poured a bowl before heading to the bathroom to shower.

The evening passed uneventfully. You weren’t expecting your mother to be back anytime soon, so it was just the quiet hum of the apartment.

A buzz from your phone snapped you back to reality.

<Unknown Number>

Hey y/n it’s Tim Brandi gave me your number for the project.

You roll your eyes. Why would Brandi do that? It's totally unlike her. Tim must’ve been persistent. Hovering over the message you debated answering or not. After a beat you typed back.

<Y/N>

Cool, I’ll see you tomorrow then.

Short and simple, Tim probably won’t send another message. With a sigh you put your phone on silent, and roll over to finally get some sleep. Once you get through this project you’ll never have to talk to him again.

little did you know the project will be the least of your worries.

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 5

(Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4)

I sure wish I could get some hardware interface testing, today's tech tells me with a disgusting smirk. His eyes make a shameless sweep of my skinsuit.

Normally, I wouldn't stare him down. Normally, I would hunch my shoulders and pretend that the joke slid right off me.

I haven't felt normal since my encounter with the Pilot in that dimly lit observation room two nights ago.

I stare until his smirk slides from his face and he begins to squirm.

I turn away, putting him out of my mind.

Morrigan and I have a date. That is to say, we do, in fact, have hardware interface testing on the schedule today. Her primary neural interface has been upgraded and I need to run it through its diagnostics, a task I am uniquely qualified for with the engineer's rig and my intimate knowledge of Her systems.

I'm… giddy. Nervous, even.

This will be the first time I plug into Her since my encounter with Her Pilot - the first time since she touched my face, since she roughly pressed her lips to my neck while I surrendered to her, with Morrigan watching the whole time.

I shudder at the memory and linger in the vestibule. I place a hand on Morrigan's bulkhead as I always do. I feel that distant thrum of Her, the dull rumble of Her heart.

“Hey beautiful,” I say to Her as I always do.

I think of the Pilot. I think of piercing blue eyes and I think of neural bleed.

I think of teeth scraping against tender flesh at the base of my neck. I think of those slender fingers winding themselves through my hair.

A noise behind me. The tech clears his throat.

My face heats and I flinch my hand away.

I climb into the cockpit to find that the cradle is already reconfigured for me. Every one of Morrigan's cockpit cameras are focused on me with a new, special kind of eagerness.

She did watch us. I'm certain of it. Even if she hadn't, the Pilot has been here and already shared everything with her.

I let out a nervous breath and clamber into the embrace of her cradle. I let Her slip into me, physically and mentally. I let Her fill the space where my loneliness is a tangible aching thing.

Telemetry streams fill my consciousness. The ping comes almost immediately after connection is established.

- STATUS?

What is my status? Before two nights ago, I had enough trouble answering that question. Now everything is more confused than ever.

“I met the Pilot,” I reply. “Your Pilot. She kissed me. I let her…”

I drag my hands over my face. Why does this feel like I'm admitting to cheating on her?

- DID YOU ENJOY IT?

I nod.

Her delight (at least as much as a machine like her can experience delight) is palpable over the neural interface. Something like relief flows through me.

Of course it doesn't bother her, why would it?

I sigh and kick off the first of a long series of diagnostic tests. As firmware validation check results start popping up in my hud, I let my mind wander.

Wander is a generous term. My mind immediately returns to the singular subject that has occupied my thoughts.

The Pilot presses herself against me. Her lips press against the space where my neck meets my shoulder, her teeth nipping gently. Her hand trails down my side, finds the hem of my shirt and lifts slightly, skin touching skin...

The memory brings with it the ghost of sensation.

All around me, Morrigan hums. All the little noises in the cockpit, all the clicks and whirs and beeps, seem to take on a new meaning as she witnesses the memory play back in my mind.

“You think a lot about neural bleed.”

I'm thinking about neural bleed now. I'm thinking about how the next time the Pilot jacks in, she will find the ghost of my thoughts in Morrigan's system. She will know how it made my breath come fast, how the memory made me stiffen. How my hands wandered unbidden along my skinsuit…

I'm not alone.

My eyes snap open in a panic and…

There she is, hovering at the threshold to the vestibule.

I don't know how long the Pilot has been watching me. Her eyes shine with the same intensity as ever, but… hungry, wanting.

It's too much. Her knowing about Morrigan and me, Morrigan knowing about us, those are one thing. Her being here now, me here with the two of them together, it's too much.

My face heats and I mumble some unintelligible apology. I send a command to Morrigan to disengage. I attempt to sit up and-

She presses a hand to my chest and shoves me back into the cradle.

“You're not going anywhere,” she purrs.

Morrigan has not disengaged.

My breath catches in my throat.

The Pilot climbs the rest of the way into the cockpit and cycles the bulkhead closed.

The space is barely big enough for the two of us and the intimacy of it sends my heart racing anew.

“Wh-what?” I gasp. “Somebody will catch us.”

“I don't fucking care,” she says as she straddles me and produces an auxiliary neural interface cable from an overhead receptacle. “Me or Morrigan could get dead in the next engagement. I don't have the time or patience to pussyfoot around.”

“They could reassign me,” I protest, “or worse.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she says with a hint of a sly grin. “You'll find that pilots usually get what we want around here.”

I can't tell if she means getting what she wants from me or from our superiors.

She hesitates, interface cable dangling in her hand. It's that same hesitation from two nights earlier, only this time it's a question for me.

Morrigan herself seems to pause with her own bated metaphorical breath. A sort of gentle hopefulness trickles over the link.

I should say no. I should excuse myself. That would be the smart rational thing to do.

I'm too close. I'm too close to both of them now.

I give the Pilot a nod.

I watch as she contorts herself, stretching her lithe arms to reach the jack in her own rig. I watch as she slides the the plug of the interface into herself. I watch as she shudders and sighs, dropping her arms and closing her eyes. I watch as her body relaxes, and for the first time since I've known her, she becomes still.

New status messages flash in my field of vision. A second user has logged in.

She opens her eyes and looks around the cramped cockpit.

“This is how you experience it?” she says.

“What?”

“The link,” she says. “There's no haptics. No biochem. It's so... shallow.”

My heart falls.

She blinks in surprise, her eyes distant.

“Fuck. I'm sorry,” she says softly. “I didn't mean it like that. I...”

My face must have given me away, or my body language. She leans towards me and brushes her lips tenderly against mine.

Then I understand. It wasn't anything on my face.

I can feel her. I feel her against me, but I also feel me against her.

It isn't sensorium. I can't feel what she physically feels. But emotion is information and information flows freely over the link.

I don't feel her so much as I feel her emotional reaction to the touch.

Neural bleed.

I open my mouth and drink her in. I wrap my arms around her to pull her close. One of us moans, I can't tell who at this point.

She pulls away.

“Holy shit,” I gasp.

“Yeah?” she replies and…

Holy shit.

Morrigan begins playing back the moments just before the Pilot Interrupted us - the memory, my need, my wandering hands.

The Pilot makes a small self-satisfied grin. I can feel her satisfaction over the link. I can feel her own reactive wanting.

Fuck. I can even feel Morrigan's need.

"The three of us, we're just this fucking tangle, aren't we?"

“You liked that, huh?” she says, leaning towards me. "Our little tryst?"

I nod.

“Can't stop thinking about it?”

I nod again.

She leans in real close and I dare not move as she brushes her lips against my ear.

“There's just one problem,” she whispers. “I think that Babygirl feels a bit left out.”

I gasp as something closes over my wrists, my ankles.

I crane my neck to look over to where safety restraints in the cradle have closed over me.

"Can't let Her get jealous, can we?" she whispers with a nip at my ear.

The Pilot straightens and spreads her arms. The space in the cockpit is so close that her fingers touch both sides easily. She draws her arms overhead, fingers drifting over the panels. She stretches languidly, the hard lines of her body on full display under her own skinsuit.

Desire and need pulse over the link - the Pilot's and Morrigan's and my own reflected back at me.

“How about we give you something else you can't stop thinking about?”

~~~~~

(Next)

@digitalsymbiote @g1ngan1nja @thriron @ephemeral-arcanist @mias-domain @justasleepykitten @powder-of-infinity @valkayrieactual @chaosmagetwin @assigned-stupid-at-birth @avalanchenouveau

If anyone else wants to get tagged (or if I missed you), let me know! Two more updates planned (fair warning, they're not going to be as happy as this one)

[sweetbunpura]

Filled with Static pt. 7

Summary: Yuu was already fed up before coming to Playful Land and now that it's over... She has some very choice words for she has reached her boiling point...

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

What should’ve been a restful day quickly evaporated as the news of Yuu’s departure began to circulate through the school. Now, the student body became aware of what had transpired the day certain students skipped and NRC had begun to morph into a war zone. All eyes were firmly locked on the ones who caused it.

The most common way for Savanaclaw to solve any issue they have is with their fists. It was the way of the dorm, the survival of the strongest. Ruggie watched as Leona laid out the last member of the dorm to stand against him. Jack was behind him, courtesy of the dorm leader’s orders. Leona glared down at the students, staff in his hand, as he raised his voice.

“Would anyone else like to try their hand at a duel?”

No answer apart from echoing groans.

“Good. Use your brains next time you think you can take me on.” Leona’s eyes moved over to where Ruggie was. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Would you listen?” Ruggie’s voice is sharp as he crosses his arms. “Which we both know you don’t.”

“Watch it.” Leona bared his fangs with a snarl.

He rolled his eyes. “Please. I’m not afraid of you, Leona-san, and after today, I think my respect for you has diminished significantly.” His eyes shifted over to Jack. “Same with you, Jack-kun.” 

Jack’s ears fell. “R-Ruggie-senpai. We-”

“Don’t give me an excuse unless you’re acknowledging what you did. You were one of her best friends too and one of the more sensible ones. What happened.”

“I don’t know...”

“Typical. You learned too much from Leona-san.”

“I said, watch it.” Leona stepped towards Ruggie. 

“Of course... your highness.” Ruggie sneered as he moved away from the wall he was leaning against, completely ignoring the now burning look Leona was giving him. “I don’t know what Yuu-san saw in you with how much she was willing to put up with.” He turned and walked away. “I hope you never forget what you did to her because we won’t.”

Leona and Jack watched as Ruggie left the lounge with the bystanders following behind him. The beaten students slowly got to their feet and limped their way out of the room, leaving Jack and Leona with the only sound in the room being the waterfall over the pool.

“Why.”

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Jack looked at Leona. “You saw how everything was going and you still let us do it.”

“You have a brain, Jack, despite it malfunctioning that day, it was still there.” Leona flicked his tail and glared at him. “I’m not your babysitter.”

“But you’re my dorm leader.” Jack bares his teeth and grabs Leona’s shirt.

“And you’re supposed to have a good head on your shoulders.” Leona snaps back. “I’m not going to think for you. You’re old enough to do that.”

“Leona-”

“Enough.” Leona slapped Jack’s hand off of him. “I don’t care what the fuck you do after this as long as you leave me alone, Jack.” With that, Leona shoved his hands into his pockets and left the wolf beastman standing there.

Jack’s ears fell as the adrenaline departed from his body while the wind blew through his fur, but he felt numb to it. The friendship he had built up with Yuu had shattered and was tossed aside like it was nothing valuable. He recounts the times she shared personal stories with him... oh how foolish Jack must be and how he wishes he could take it all back...

[natailiatulls07]

Can you please do driver reader and she is the baby of the paddock and she gets sick and everyone is worried and looking after her including her team principal Christian

Worried Mothers Hens

Formula one grid & female!driver!reader

Summary - You get a cold/fever, and the drivers become like worried mother hens

Warning - Blacking out, crash, ibuprofen, mention of breaking your back

Reader drives for Redbull

-

- You're the youngest on the grid

- Only being 18 years old and the only female on the grid was a huge accomplishment

- Fans love you

- They think you’re the most iconic on the grid

- Your tiktok is filled with candid videos of other drivers

- Like this one time, you asked Carlos to crack your back

- Thing is he didn’t know that you had a uncooked piece of pasta between your teeth

- So when he went to crack your back, he freaked out

- The poor Spaniard thought he seriously broke your back

- “¡Dios mío!”

- “Y/n! I am so sorry! Are you okay?!”

- He kept worrying and apologised

- But when you started to laugh, he expression was concerned

- “¿Qué? ¿Estás bien?”

- “Carlos! It’s okay”

- The fans loved it!

- It was race day for the new Las Vegas Grand Prix

- And many cameras captured each driver as you all arrived separately

- But everyone noticed your pale face and sniffly nose

- Your race engineer, much like everyone else, was concerned

- “Are you sure you’re okay?"

- "Yeah I'll be fine"

- You weren't

- You crashed into turn 5

- "Y/n! Are you okay? Confirm you're okay?"

- Nothing

- You had blacked out down that straight from turn 4 to turn 5

- Luckily you're RB19 didn't cause any collision with any other car

- "That's a red flag! Red flag!"

- "Wait who? Where?" The british McLaren driver asked

- "Yeah I saw the collision, who was it Max or Y/n?" Daniel Ricciardo asked his race engineer

- But when they all found out who was in the car, their concerns for you went up like crazy

- "Is she okay? Has she responsed?"

- They were all instucted to enter the pit lane and would wait there until the race continued

- It's okay though

- You got out of the car unharmed and were told to head to medical centre in the paddock

- So thats what you did

- This did calm some nerves of the other drivers but they were all still that bit concerned as they were told they would continue the race soon

- The medical team told you to go back to your hotel and sleep this fever off

- And thats what you did

- You fell asleep straight away when you got into your hotel bed

- Only to be woken up a few hours later to a knock on the door

- "Come in" You shouted from the bed, only now noticing your scratchy throat

- Opening the door revealed Max, Carlos, Charles, Lando, Daniel and George

- (Pretend Lando didn't crash into the barrier and won)

- "Hey buddy how are you feeling?" The Australian asked as he came to sit by my feet on the bed

- "I've been better"

- Turns out after the race finished they all went to the local supermarket and made up a basket full of cold/fever remedies and all your favourite foods

- lemon cough sweets

- toffee popcorn

- ibuprofen

- etc

- For the rest of the evening, they completely babied you

- Happily watched your favourite childhood film

- Made sure the bed was comfortable for you

- Made you drink a lot of water and eat a lot of vitamin C

- And it's not like the fans missed out on this whole thing

- They all made sure to post regularly on their instagram stories

- Even agreeing to do a tiktok with you

- Overall, being the baby of the grid and being the most iconic really worked out in your favour

-

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 4 - Too Much Green

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Chapter 4 doing what it always does in my writing. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 12.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky has a talk with Sam, and you adapt. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Read on A03!

Bucky didn’t know who decided Sam should be allowed to have an office, but he needed to have very firm, loud words with them.

Steve had never gotten an office, and he’d been perfectly fine. Sam barely even used the office. He kept it because he liked saying my office with a smug expression, and making Bucky sit in the waiting room like this was a doctor’s appointment and not a serious, time sensitive meeting. 

Because the sun was going to rise soon, and Bucky wouldn’t be following Her to work. He’d go back to his apartment, and do flat, mundane things to fill his time. Sam would find someone else to trail Her around, and She’d probably make their lives living hell, and they’d stick around because they knew how to do that.

Bucky had warned Sam he wasn’t made for this. That he’d literally been designed to hunt and kill, not shield and protect and care for. This was how it would’ve ended anyway, but he’d hoped—just for the sake of his own, fragile anger and resolve—that it would’ve crumbled because She caved. Because Bucky would’ve been right. But he hadn’t even lasted three weeks before everything had fallen apart, and She’d shot him in the gut like a sick dog. 

He’d shot himself in the gut. He’d been the paranoid asshole, and She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Bucky didn’t have enough will to push it, and he didn’t have the strength to push Her. She was… stronger than he’d expected. And he could still see Her shaking slightly, still hear the fury in Her voice echoing off the vacant, blank walls of his apartment. 

It wasn’t guilt or shame, burning and crawling over his skin. It couldn’t be. He had nothing to be guilty of, because he’d been doing his job. Checking all the vulnerabilities. Making sure everything was in its proper place, including Her. It didn’t get to matter than She was beautiful and smart and bursting with a wrath that seemed bigger than the world. It mattered that She’d been lying, and hiding things. 

Things that didn’t seem that important now, when he’d been so goddamn wrong, and the image of Her in the office—in the dark, burning up from within in a way Bucky could see—seemed to be branding itself onto his brain.

Things that really didn’t have to matter to him at all anymore, because Bucky was done. He’d gotten out of it. He wouldn’t be breaking his word to Sam—She’d kicked him out, he hadn’t just abandoned his post—and he could just keep going through the motions until things, slowly, became better again.

And this would be fast. He’d tell Sam that the little arrangement had been a disaster—he’d throw in a I told you so, just to really sell it and bury down how he still felt Her teeth marks over his lungs—and go home. Maybe go to the grocery store. He’d never have to step foot in that godawful Subway again, or pretend he couldn’t see all those old, skin-sagging assholes scanning over Her body as she moved, because that wouldn’t be his business. He’d hear Her name in passing in the future and think nothing of it. Sam might mention one day that they’d worked out the Hydra thing, and Bucky would shrug because it wouldn’t be his fucking problem. 

He definitely wouldn’t check, because he’d have other, more important things to do.

He couldn’t think of any right now, but he would. He’d find some. 

That was how this whole getting better thing was supposed to work, and Sam was always on his ass about it anyway, so really this was an improvement for everyone. Sam got to find someone who would actually be good at watching Her. She’d probably have a lot of free time on Her hands, now that She wasn’t putting an impossible amount of effort into making Bucky go insane. Bucky would… Maybe he’d take another online college course. He’d heard Her say a lot of big, weird words and phrases that couldn’t possibly be real while he’d stood guard at Her door. There was probably an English class or something, and he could learn a bigger word that She didn’t know, just so he could throw it in Her pretty, annoying face-

He wasn’t going to see Her again. He didn’t know why his brain kept acting like he’d walk behind Her to the subway in the morning—he’d almost walked to Sam’s office instead of using his motorcycle, as if he’d been ready to go to Her apartment after—because he wouldn’t. He was free.

He kept seeing Her eyes, staring at him in an imprinted, faded picture in his head—full of that thing, narrowed in anger and unblinking, like She could shred him apart with a thought—but he’d never have to hold Her glare again. 

Everything would go back to normal.

The clock in Sam’s waiting room kept ticking. On and on, taunting Bucky and making his hands fist in his lap. He hated that sound. It pushed itself deeper and deeper and deeper into his brain, and it was like the click of a safety on a gun, or the tap of a doctor’s pen against their paper as they watched him. Observed him. Looked into him and saw the Solider and nothing more, figured out how to grab his anger by the throat and pull it to the surface, until angry was all Bucky could manage to be-

Something snapped through the air, and when Bucky looked down, he’d broken his water bottle. 

Sam had given him that water bottle. Something about hydration being important for robots too. 

Now Bucky was going to have to tell Sam two bad things. And they only had two damn hours until someone had to walk Her to work, because Bucky wasn’t going to but if the Hydra threat was real, She shouldn’t be allowed to just wander the Subway alone. She could be scary—unreasonably so, a little like a bird morphing into a dragon without warning—but Hydra wouldn’t care.

If they knew who She was, the dumb little disguises of sunglasses and baseball caps wouldn’t work, and Bucky didn’t trust Her not to do something stupid like put in earbuds so She couldn’t hear anyone coming. 

She listened to Her music too loud, all the time. It was another thing in his log, that Sam should tell Her to stop doing that, because it was a health hazard, and if She got kidnapped because of it, that would be really fucking annoying. Sam would get all angry, and they’d have to deal with all the assholes at Stark Industries for capturing their princess, and Bucky would probably have to save Her, and she wouldn’t even say thank you because She hated him-

His pants were wet. Cold and sticking to his skin, because he hadn’t stopped squeezing the broken water bottle, and the clock was still ticking, and Sam still wasn’t opening the goddamn door-

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. It was 3am on a Monday, and Sam’s office has very ugly, gray carpets. He liked that he’d been able to ride his motorcycle here. He disliked the little cactus Sam had put in the corner of the room, because it felt like it was taunting him. He needed Sam to open the door now, before he broke the clock and the crushed the cactus. He wanted this to all be done with, so he could go back to a routine that didn’t make him want to jump off a building and drag Her down with him.

“Buck?”

Bucky’s head turned to see Sam frowning at him from in front of the elevator, a soft ding ringing through the air as the doors closed behind them.

Sam hadn’t even been here. Bucky could’ve just broken into his apartment.

That was annoying. 

“Man, it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?”

“Three in the morning.” Bucky grunted, pushing to his feet, and Sam just rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, and that’s such a big difference-“

“Sam.” Bucky crossed his arms, keeping his voice as flat as possible. “We need to talk.”

Sam only raised his brows. “Do we?”

“Yes.”

“If this is about what I think it is,” Sam moved past Bucky, opening his office door with a shrug. “I don’t think we do need to talk. I think you should be headin’ home, Buck, before-“

Sam said Her name, Bucky felt a muscle in his jaw tick, and he cut Sam off before this dragged on longer than it needed to. This should be quick. Bucky should be home—alone and bored and back to routine—before the sun was up.

“I’m not doing that anymore.”

Sam stopped in his steps, running a hand over his face as he turned to Bucky with a glare.

“Bucky, you promised me you wouldn’t fuckin’ quit on this-“

“I didn’t quit.” He snapped. “I got fired.”

“Fired? Nobody can fire you, man, that’s not how this-“

Bucky said Her name, and it sounded a little smoother off his tongue this time. But now it was bitter, laced with a memory of Her spitting at him with cold hatred that he’d really, truly earned. “She fired me.” Bucky muttered, forcing himself to hold Sam’s gaze. “Said she’d do the lockdown, but I don’t believe her, so I’d send someone to make sure she’s-“

“Bucky.” Sam’s voice wad low. Firm. Serious. That couldn’t be good. “What’d you do.”

“Why do you always assume I did something-“

“Cause you usually do something! What did you do-“

She’d told Bucky he could lie. Tell Sam She was impossible to work with, or had thrown a stapler at him. 

It was an incredibly specific example. It would probably work just fine. 

Bucky couldn’t manage to say it. He’d been the asshole. He’d crossed a line, and part of recovery was supposed to be telling the truth. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also tried to let a poorly crafted story fall out of his mouth, only to stare at Sam as the words lodged in the throat.

Lying had always made his gut twist just a little. A little voice that sounded like Steve would always whisper that good men didn’t lie.

Bucky wasn’t a good man.

And that just made this so much fucking harder.

“Bucky.” Sam grunted, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t start talking now, and I’m gonna call her in so we can all have a chat together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “So she’s allowed to be up at three-“

“She’s up at three anyway. And she’s not waiting for me in my office like a stalker-“

“I am not a stalker-“

“You’re lookin’ at me like one. Just-“ Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Spit out whatever you did, man, I’m sure it ain’t that bad-“

“I broke into her office.” Bucky grunted, the challenge of not that bad somehow spurring the truth out of him in a second. “She caught me. I got fired.”

Sam blinked at him. “You- is breaking into offices a full time job for you now or somethin’?”

Bucky scowled. “No. And I didn’t break into your office, Sam, I was in the waiting room-“

“You were the only asshole in the damn building, I’m counting it. And that’s not the point, Bucky, what the fuck were you doin’-“

“Thought she might be Hydra.” He muttered, his words pushed through his teeth. “Was looking for evidence.”

“Evidence.” Sam repeated, his voice low and taut, and Bucky nodded.

“Desk seemed like a good place to find it.”

“And did you?”

Bucky blinked at that. He’d expected the yelling to a start here. “Uh-“

“You find the evidence that she’s Hydra, Bucky?” Sam’s voice was too flat. Bucky was pretty sure this wasn’t a real question. “Find her red ledger, the big file readin’ I’m Hydra?”

He actually had looked for that. 

Sam didn’t seem genuinely interesting in hearing about it, though.

“No.” Bucky muttered. “Like I said, she caught me and tossed me out-“

“You tell her you thought she was Hydra?”

Bucky managed to hold Sam’s firm, unwavering gaze, to shrug like this was nothing, and ignore the turn of his stomach as the vision of Her—almost feral in the dark—flared in his mind.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky.” Sam ran a hand over his face, and he wasn’t angry. Bucky had seen Sam angry before. 

This felt more like disappointed. And that was louder in Bucky’s brain. Heavier. A weight on his chest that he had fucked this up, that Sam obviously did care about Her, that She’d probably—somehow—earned it more than Bucky had, and people liked Her when nobody liked Bucky, so of course Sam was disappointed. Bucky had been tasked with watching some sort of fucked up, insufferable, living goddess and he’d let his goddamn emotions and paranoia and how something about her just seemed impossible—too something, too beautiful, or loud, or angry, or smart, or likable—get in the way.

“You’re gonna need to apologize to her.” Sam snapped, moving to stand behind his desk. “Get her some flowers. Pick them, don’t buy them. She’ll know the difference.“

Bucky gaped at him. “Why the hell would I get her flowers, Sam, I-“

“Because it’s part of the apology, dumbass. You fucked up, you say I’m sorry, and we all move on.”

“Did you not hear me?“ Bucky braced his arms on the desk, narrowing his eyes. “She fired me. You’re gonna have to find someone else-“

“You promised.” Sam shrugged, and Bucky scoffed.

“I don’t think she cares about my promises.”

“And I don’t care if she fired you, Buck. I’m rehiring you, and you’ve got work in,” Sam glanced at his watch with a small frown. “An hour ‘till your girl is gonna be up. Get the flowers. Tell her you’re a paranoid old asshole, and you’re sorry, but she’s not dyin’ to Hydra so she’s stuck with you.”

“Sam.” Bucky hissed through his teeth. “She fired me. There are- You’re Captain America, you have other options that aren’t me-“

“Maybe I do,” Sam raised his chin, giving Bucky a firm, pointed glare. “And maybe I don’t give a shit about those other options, because I’m trustin’ you with this.”

“I told you-“

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a fit, you don’t wanna do this, she fired you, I don’t care.” Sam let out a long breath, dropping down in his chair and glancing over Bucky’s shoulder. “Lock the door.”

Bucky frowned. “I locked it when I came in-“

“Good.” Sam muttered, glancing around the room like he was checking for ghosts or bodies pushing out of the walls, listening to their conversation. “Look, Buck- It’s gotta be you. I don’t trust anyone else, and you’re a paranoid dickbag-“

“That’s fucking rude-“

“It’s true, Sargent Snooping in a Girl’s Desk.” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s frown deepened. She wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t even a woman. She was something a step above, that was made of the longer shadows of his bedroom and the worst fire that pushed up his throat. 

“I was being careful.” Bucky grunted, holding his ground. “We’ve been burned before, Sam, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t a threat. I told you that, and-“ Sam cut himself off with a shake of his head. “That’s not the point of what I’m sayin’ Buck. This is- This might be big, man. Hydra- I got something.”

Bucky felt his whole body go rigid. 

He’d known Hydra never really died. They’d crumbled with SHEILD, when he’d been freed, but they’d been international. Huge. Even Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure just how deep they ran, but he’d known that they were out there. Weakened, but out there. 

Sam had said that like they were growing. 

Like this was more than just a threat.

“Sam,” Bucky muttered, keeping his words low and careful. “Say what the hell are you’re talking about.”

“When you were with them, you ever hear about somethin’ called Project Ouroboros?”

The Soldat scratched at the base of his skull. It would’ve been one of those memories, if Bucky did remember. The ones that were washed over and fogged with electricity, the Soldat programming buzzing and in control as Bucky just folded, fading into a ghost in his own mind. Not himself, and not seeing and hearing anything Hydra didn’t want him too, the whole world lined with a white-hot frost that kept most thoughts in a shattered stasis.

The fact the Soldat was stirring at all meant that Sam’s words meant something. But they all were in that fractured haze.

So Bucky shook his head. “No, not that I remember. But you know memory isn’t my strong suit, Sam-“

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up, man. Just thought I’d ask, cause it’s seemin’ like something Hydra woulda had Mr. Murder on.”

“You gonna tell me what it is, or am I just supposed to wait until it’s a problem-“

“It’s a problem now,” Sam sighed, and Bucky felt his fists clench. “The working theory is that, when Hydra was workin’ in SHIELD, they had some, uh, extra projects.” Sam said slowly, watching Bucky with a weary expression. He wasn’t afraid of Bucky—if Sam got credit for anything, it was that he’d never been afraid of Bucky—but he was cautious of his reaction. His words were too carefully chosen to not be.

Another really bad sign.

“Of course they had projects.” Bucky muttered, the knit of his brow starting to form a small headache. “They were 90% crazy mad scientists, Sam. Just say was Ouroboros is-“

“We’re not sure.” Sam said, rubbing at his jaw and effectively ignoring Bucky’s glare. “All the shit is redacted, and I’ve only found it buried under a million other projects, but it’s seemin’ like, maybe, they were makin’ something called the Leviathan. You-“

“Don’t ask me if I heard about it.”

“I wasn’t gonna-“

“Yeah, you goddamn were.”

Sam paused, and raised his brows. “Well, have you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.“

Sam chuckled raising his arms in surrender. “Sometimes it’s too easy, man. Like candy from a baby-“

“Don’t give candy to babies.” Bucky snapped. “They don’t have teeth.”

Sam snorted. “You’re always just a bundle of fun, Buck-“

“The Leviathan.” Bucky grunted, because if he kept entraining this, they’d be here until noon. “You brought it up, Sam. Say what the hell it is.”

There was a long pause, and Sam let out a heavy breath as he glanced back to the door, dropped his voice, and gave Bucky an almost apologetic look.

“No smashin’ anything.”

“Sam-“

“All signs are, currently, pointing to Hydra making a doomsday device, and puttin’ it on standby ‘till they need it.”

Bucky felt like there was a plate of iron, crushing down on his chest. “A fucking doomsday device.”

Sam grimaced, his nod tight. “Yeah.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face. The iron was going to weigh down on his spine, bury him too deep in his own body. “If Hydra’s had a doomsday weapon, where the hell have they been hiding it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Sam muttered. “That’s part of the workin’ theory. All of this is- Right now, it’s hypothetical. Hydra may have finished the Leviathan, but there are almost no records that project Ouroboros was ever completed. It could just be scraps in a warehouse-“

“Or it could be a doomsday device.” Bucky hissed. “In fucking Hydra’s hands-“

“Not in their hands yet.” Sam shrugged. “That’s what we need to work out. Over two dozen previously dead Hydra projects have been uncovered in the past six years, Buck. If there is a Hydra doomsday weapon, they might not have had the manpower to use it during the blip, but they sure as shit have it now, and we need to find it before they do.”

“Then why are you still making me stick with babysitting.” Bucky raised his brows, drawing to his full height as he held Sam’s gaze. “If Hydra’s gaining ground, you need me in the field, Sam-“

“I’ve got guys in the field.” Sam didn’t balk, his words set. Firm. Unmovable. “I need you watching the civilian who’s gotten tangled up in this cause-“

“Cause?” Bucky jaw clenched, and an impossible amount of further strain entered his body. “You think she’s tangled in this, Sam? You think-“

“I don’t think you’re right, Bucky.” Sam said, voice flat. “You know you ain’t right. There are some- It’s complicated. Even she don’t know why they want her, but they want her, and that’s all we got to go on right now. Hydra’s wakin’ up, she’s the only thing we know they want, and I am not losing her just because you two can’t play nice.“

Bucky rolled his eyes, lowing his voice to under his breath. “She started it-“

“I know she did, that’s why I said you two.” Sam let out another long sigh. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Bucky, I’ve told you, man. You’re the only one I trust here. If it helps you can think of it as protecting a package, I just need to not lose someone I care about to a bunch of fuckin’ nazi assholes. Okay?”

Bucky grunted, and it wouldn’t help to think of it as a package. He’d been trying to think of it as even less—just a mission or case to crack—but it kept just moving back to being Her. She was too loud, too attention demanding, too entirely consuming of Bucky’s brain for him to just pretend She was nothing. 

That might the most annoying thing about Her. How She might only be crude and taunting to Bucky, and he still may not believe that Her whole human goddess thing wasn’t an act, but he had yet to see a part of Her that didn’t draw the entire world in like She was made of something heavier than gravity. And Bucky was—tragically—still a part of that world. He wasn’t machine enough to be exempt from how She’d laugh, and it would be an almost musical, siren-like sound.

And She laughed a lot. That was another annoying thing about Her.

Pretending She was a package wasn’t an option, and if not because of the laugh, because he could still hear the venom in Her voice when she’d spat doll right back in his face like the word was a bullet. Package and doll seemed to fall into a similar category Bucky didn’t have a name for yet.

He didn’t want to think of Her as normal and human—it would make him picture Her curled up and pallid on that bathroom floor, force him to think about the bags under Her eyes that were somehow heavier than his—but package felt cruel.

It was almost 4am. She’d be up soon, and he needed to make a game plan to tell Her they were stuck together—Bucky had a feeling if he kept arguing, Sam would pull the part of your pardon card and mean it—in a way that didn’t get him hit with a stapler. 

“Bucky, I’m gonna need to hear an okay-“

“Okay.” He grunted. This was important to Sam, and would help fuck with Hydra. He just had to keep repeating that this was important to Sam and would fuck with Hydra, and he’d be able to handle it. “Sam?”

Sam raised his brows, and Bucky chose his words very carefully, starting with Her name. He needed to practice that one. It still sounded like a code.

“How long you known her?”

“Long.” Sam shrugged. “Met the kid when she was-“ He cut himself off with a frown. “In a weird place is the best way to put it, I think.”

Bucky kept his face neutral, adding weird place to his log. “Weird place?”

“Yeah. Complicated place. For a while.” Sam sighed. “Good she got in with Stark when she did. Even if it was Stark, better than...” 

Sam trailed off, shook his head again, and Bucky frowned. 

“Better than what?”

“Not my shit to say. I ain’t a snitch, Bucky-“

“I’m not asking to you to snitch-“

“Yeah, you are, and I’m more afraid of her than I am of you. She’ll kill me, you’ll just bitch and whine.” Sam gave him a pointed look. “You gotta stop fishing for information and do your damn job.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stupid job.” He muttered under his breath, moving to the door. “Glad I crushed that damn water bottle-“

“You crushed what-“

“Get over it, Sam. You can have me guarding that fucking wolf of a girl, or I can keep that water bottle in one piece. You don’t get both.”

Bucky opened the door, and when he looked back Sam was watching him with a frown. 

“So you’re gonna watch her?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky muttered, glancing at that goddamn clock on the wall.

The sun was almost up.

She’d be up with it. Probably—if Bucky had been reading the slump of Her shoulders and unreasonable amount of coffee and energy drink She consumed right—before it.

“See you later, Sam.”

“Try not to kill each other!” Sam called as Bucky closed the door. “Get the flowers!”

——————

The Boy is purring on your lap. It’s low and smooth and grounding.

You need it right now. You need the reminder that for at least the Boy, he can be alive and have it not hurt. That you’re not burning and destroying everything you touch, because the Boy is happy and content here. With you. 

It’s going to break your heart to move him, but you can see the frosted shapes of sunlight starting to break through the windows and dance over the floor. You’re going to need to be up soon, make a pot of coffee, and go to work. Because that’s what you do. You sit on the floor in a self-imposed exile from your bed, and then you light up for the Show and pretend the world isn’t eating you alive. 

But you can feel it. You can feel the pain of the long, long night—longer shadows and heavier air that no amount of coffee is going to be able to cure—and you can watch the light on the floor and know that it’s not shining on you.

If you moved your foot an inch to the side, it would. 

But that feels blasphemous. 

So you’ll stay here a little longer until you need to animate yourself, and pretend you feel nothing painful or impossible or irrational at all. 

Sam hasn’t called you to check in on the lockdown, so you’re going to go to the office. Maybe he’s assuming you’ll just go into lockdown, but Sam’s not that stupid—and he knows you too well to think you’d just roll over like a bitch—so he’s either put a new detail on you, of he’s had a moment of clarity and realized that you’re really not worth the resources to protect.

Maybe Barnes didn’t tell him at all, but you don’t really care. That sounds like a Barnes problem, not a you problem. 

You hope he didn’t tell Sam. 

You hope Sam finds out of his own, and Barnes gets his ass thrown off a building. You hope Sam waits until the last second to rescue him. 

Fucking Barnes.

You hadn’t intended on going to the office, but you’d forgotten some papers, and Happy never had to know. And there he’d been. Snooping and calling you Hydra, acting like you’d crawled out of the depths of hell instead of just faked your way into whatever type of cruel heaven this was.

You aren’t Hydra. You’re not keeping any Stark Industry secrets, because you’re just the sweet charity girl. The pretty face that offsets all the previous war crimes, that Pepper throws money at so you can turn it into something good.

And you do, and nobody looks at you any further because you’re not Hydra. You’re not important. 

Hydra will learn that, if they come for you. Barnes should’ve already known it from the start, but it seems you’d played your part too well, and he started to see shadows in you that weren’t there.

Because you do have secrets. Big, loud and haunting secrets that end you on the bathroom floor, watching the light leak into the room and swallowing down the bile on your tongue from another night that’s too lonely and dark. 

But they’re not the secrets Barnes thinks.

You’d lain in bed with the lamp on, before you ended up curled on the tile with your head tipped back against the wall. You repeated, over and over and over, that you didn’t need to call him. You’d be fine without him. You’ve been fine without him, and you can feel the bond start to fray once more, but it’s only a few more weeks. And they’ll hurt, and the time will be long and feel infinite, but you’ll just keep fucking going until you crash, or he comes home.

You’d been alone, and that was fine. You couldn’t open your eyes without little black spots dancing over your vision, but that was okay. Not normal, but okay, and there was an invisible, burning poker being driven into your skull but that didn’t matter, and you couldn’t breathe but no one can breathe when there’s molten iron being poured into their lungs.

You’d called him. You’d been alone, and there’s really never anything to prove—you could try and prove it to yourself, but doing things for yourself has never been effective—so you’d called him.

It had taken a few tries. He’d picked up of the seventh ring of the fourth call, and when you’d barely whispered that he needed to be home, and snapped that you should just stop whining. 

“I’m busy,” he’d drawled your name, and you’d swallowed. He was busy, he didn’t need you bothering him, and this wasn’t his pain. It was yours, and you should be able to handle and push through it yourself-

Something had felt like it was tearing and bubbling up your spine. You can’t keep going. You’re weak and inconvenient, but you need him. It makes you pathetic, but this is the one thing you can’t do alone. 

“I just- Please.” You’d whispered, hating your own voice. “I’ll do anything, please-“

“God, you’re-” He’d cut himself off a groan, and He’s refused before. Made you wait a little longer for some sort of lesson you never seem to learn. You might be doing that lockdown anyway, because you can’t fucking move-

“Plea-“

“Shut up. There’s a douchebag here, keeps telling people I’m a dick, and ‘impossible to work with’, and you know I’m not, honey, so I need you to make him stop.”

You’d swallowed, pressing your brow to the cool porcelain of the toilet. Your voice was a little softer when you spoke again. You could—kind of—think. “I can’t do that when I’m in New York. You know that-“

“Then you’re fucking useless!” He’d shouted your name, and you flinched, but barely. It was hard to move at all. “Just- Jesus, fine. Do the future thing.”

You hated the future thing. It was harder than he seemed to think it was. More complicated and clouded over your vision, because there was so much of it, but he only ever wanted to hear one future. The one you’d made the mistake of telling him about the first time, because you’d been a naïve little idiot who thought she could be safe.

And in a way, you were safe. You’d found that future—dull in the corner of the web—and told him about it, so the pain was alleviated. Washed back into nothing, your whole body settling as the bond forged itself back together. 

Now you had no excuse not to move. Not to stay here—on the cold floor with the Boy in your lap—for the rest of your useless life.

You need to make that coffee. Get on the subway and watch the graffiti blur past as you sit, and revel in sitting because fucking Barnes had always made you stand. 

Only two protestors today. One yelling about aliens, one claiming Iron Man never really died, and he’s being held captive by the government. Other than that, it’s an easy ride. You can listen to you music until you’re deaf and cross your legs under your body, spacing out because Barnes isn’t here the be annoying to, and whole day can be like this, if you’re lucky. 

You’re not. 

You step out of the elevator, into your office, and-

“Fucking-“ You let out a long breath, and the Show has to flip on. You need to be bored and amused and annoying, and nothing more or less. Barnes can’t see you, no more than he did when you shattered and cracked and showed him a little too deep. 

You’ve spent the weekend trying not to think about it. How you’d screamed at him like a child, and said too much. How he’d seen you—a little too much of the full, raw, bitter and angry and delicate you—and now there might not be going back. He’ll be able to see all the flaws in you, because he’ll know exactly where to look. What parts of the Show shine too bright to draw attention, and what parts shine too bright make people blinded. To force them to look away because there’s something real beneath it, and they’re not supposed to see it.

It hadn’t been something to worry about, when you’d thought you’d never see him again. 

It’s going to be a problem now. 

“I thought I fired you.” You raise your brows, your voice as dry and indifferent as you can manage, and Barnes shrugs.

“Looks like you don’t have the authority to fire me.”

You narrow your eyes. “I can ban you from my building.”

Barnes snorts. “Give it a shot. See how it goes. I’ll be right here ‘till you work that one out, and-“

“What about fired,” you drawl, angling your chin to hold his gaze. “Don’t you understand, James?If you’re not gone in thirty seconds, I’m calling security and making sure they send the old war drones-“

Grace clears her throat from her desk, and her apologetic expression looks a little too close to pity. “I- Um- Mr. Wilson called. He said to tell you that, if you try to kick Sargent Barnes out, he’ll tell Mr. Hogan you came in over the weekend again, then lock you in a room with Barnes until you both- ah-“ Grace swallows. “Grow the fucking hell up.”

You scowl, shooting Barnes a glare. “Did you tell Sam what you did?”

“Yep.” Barnes holds your gaze, a look on his face that you can’t read, but still want to punch off. “I’m not exactly allowed to leave you to fend for yourself, d- Kid. Deal with it.”

You feel your face twist into a sneer, your voice dropping to a hiss. “Deal with it?”

“That’s what I said.” He crosses his arms, jerking his head back to your office door. “You gonna go do your job? Or are we standing here all day like fucking idiots? Cause I can do either, sweetheart-“

You don’t let him finish before you’re storming past him, making the gamble that—if you’re fast enough and he’s still too absorbed in his taunting—you can slam the door in his face.

It doesn’t work. Barnes catches the door with his metal arm, and now there’s a fucking indent on the wood. 

You’re going to start crying. He can’t be allowed to see you cry. 

“Get out-“

“I’ll fix that,” he mutters, closing the door behind him with what seems like a slight amount of care. Likely a trick, or a measure to make sure nobody pays him any attention. “We need to talk.”

“We just talked.” You snap, dropping behind your desk without sparing him a glance. “I tried to fire you. It didn’t work. But if you’re going to be here, you’re not allowed in my office anymore-“

“That’s-“ Barnes lets out a long breath, running a hand over his face. “Fair. But it’s not happening.”

“You-“

“Listen. That,” he nods to your desk, something brimming on the edge of his expression that almost seems like an emotion. “Won’t happen again. You’re not Hydra.”

You snort, wrinkling your nose at him. “Oh, really, I wasn’t aware-“

“And I,” he lets out another breath, as if the words are an act of physical labor. “Should not have done that. I was being careful, but it was over the line.”

He pauses, like there’s supposed to be more but he can’t work out what it is, then closes his mouth. He’s looking at you like you’re suppressed to say something. 

You’re not even sure what the fuck is happening.

“Was that…” You trail off, scanning over Barnes’ braced stance with a frown. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”

“It was an apology.” He grunts, and you snort.

“Are you- Jesus Christ, dude, you are shit at this-“

He rolls his eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“The traditional thing is say sorry, you old fuck-“

“Sorry.” He snaps, tone hot and mocking as he holds your glare. “Is that better?”

“Am I allowed to say it’s worse-“

“You can say whatever the hell you want, kid.” Barnes leans against the wall with another shrug. Sam couldn’t be that annoyed if you through your mug at his stupid face. He’s handsome enough that a scar really wouldn’t do that much harm- “What are we doing today?”

You scowl at your mug, turning it between your hands. You can’t throw it at his face. “Nothing.”

“Look, we’re stuck together, so if you want to be a fucking brat the whole time-“

“I’m being literal, dumbass.” You snap, watching the screen of your computer slowly blink on. “No meetings or field trips. It’s grant day, I’m doing a lot of reading.” You shoot him a too-sweet smile. “I’d ask you to help me, but I’m not sure you know how to read.”

Barnes’ eyes narrow. “You know I can read-“

“I don’t know anything.” You hum, looking back to the computer. “I was born twenty minutes ago. This is my first day on earth, ever.”

“Then how the fuck can you read-“

“Shut up.”

Barnes, shockingly, listens. He sits silently in the corner for the majority of the day, so unmoving that there are long moments where you forget he’s there. Sometimes he’s clear his throat, and you’ll glance up to find him staring right over your head.

He’s a strange man. It would be more amusing if you still didn’t want to cause him physically harm.

Because he won. The asshole didn’t even really try, and he won. You’d played better, and you’d been so far ahead, and you may have slipped a little when everything was dark and it was just you and Barnes in the whole world—his every word still hitting so deep in your body, grabbing and flaying a hot nerve nobody else has ever managed to find—but you still should’ve won. 

But you didn’t.

And now you’re stuck with him. Your alleged safety is more important than Barnes breaking into your office and calling you Hydra. You’re the same as you’ve always been, trapped. Contained. Too much to be trusted to watch and control yourself, and nobody—yourself included—sure how to handle you beside a leash and muzzle. 

Even when you stand and try to go to the bathroom, Barnes follows you. Like Hydra will be waiting to grab you from inside the toilet. 

“What are you doing.”

“My job.” He grunts. “Pretend I’m not here. Cry on the floor, vomit, I don’t give a shit, long as-“

You raise your hand, and he cuts himself off. You stare at each other for a second, and if this becomes a pattern—you tell Barnes to do something, and he listens with wide eyes and a confused expression—you’re going to need to figure it out and take advantage of it.

“I’m taking a shit.” You keep your voice flat, and get two blinks in return. “Wait outside, buddy.”

He stops the door with a hand, frowning down at you. “If you’re worried about having a panic attack in front of me, I’ve seen far, far fucking worse-“

You roll your eyes, and duck right under his arm. “If you need proof of my shit, I’ll hand you all my toilet paper when I’m done.”

Barnes grunts behind you. “That’s fucking disgusting-“

“I know. Wait.”

He listens, again. And when you get out of the bathroom, he’s looking at you. Right into you with an almost searing gaze, as if he’s trying to pry something like the truth from your body. To make you turn and fall to your knees and whine that he was right, that you’d spent all your time in the bathroom without him sobbing and taking ragged breaths.

And you need to gain something like a hold over that. He can’t just be allowed to keep seeing you. He has to taste something bitter in the back of his throat, to have his skin feel too tight just as yours always does. And you’re tired, and Barnes needs to stop looking at you, stop seeing you, and to fucking hurt like you do, if he insists on clawing his way into your head.

“They’re not panic attacks.” You mutter as you return to your desk, and Barnes frowns at you.

“I never said they were-“

“You were thinking it.”

He scoffs. “Didn’t know you were a mind-reader, sweetheart.”

“I’m not.” Something pulls and wraps around your spine. You’re good at ignoring it. “But you were.”

Barnes doesn’t say anything for a long minute, and when you look back up from your computer, he’s fucking staring at you again.

“What?” You snap, and he doesn’t flinch.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, face still painfully unreadable. “Not panic attacks, huh?”

You pull your lower lip between your teeth—biting back a sneer that Sam would say doesn’t help the situation—and look back to the computer. “No.”

“You just cryin’ in the bathroom for fun?”

Your fingers freeze on the keyboard, and you shoot him a glare. “What was my first rule, Sargent?”

“I’m not asking as your friend.” He gives you a pointed look. “I’m asking as your bodyguard.”

“How is that bodyguard information-“

“Just is.” He shrugs, giving you another expectant look, and you take a deep breath. 

Barnes is stuck here. He won. Sam would tell you not to push things for no reason. That being angry is valid, but it’s good practice to know when you’ve lost, and adapt.

You can adapt just fine.

You can be a compliant little animal from Barnes, and still piss all over his shoes.

“I have a…” Another long breath. This is so fucking stupid. “Chronic condition. It’s… idiopathic. Incurable. And if I don’t treat it, I get sick.”

You can see Barnes frown from the corner of your eye. “Idiopathic-“

“It means nobody knows what caused it-“

“I know what it means.” He snaps, something slightly edged in his voice. “What is it.”

“Chronic.”

“Yeah, I got that, what’s the condition-“

“Incurable.”

Barnes snaps your name, and you bite your cheek to stop a smirk. “You having fun?”

“I am.” You give him another sweet smile, and you think his glare might be branding over your ribs. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Two blinks. Nostril flare. “You’re not going to tell me the condition.”

“Nope.” You shrug. “You need to tell me a secret too, by the way.”

He frowns. “I- You didn’t tell me a secret-“

“Only five people know my condition even exists.” You give him a pointed look. “You just made it six. That’s the definition of a secret. Your turn.”

“I didn’t agree to those terms-“

“Well, I didn’t agree to this.” You gesture between yourself and Barnes on the couch, keeping your features bored. “We’re all making sacrifices, James. Tell me a secret.”

He doesn’t have to. You think he knows that, with how he’s watching you. Like you’ve fallen from space, and have started to spew pure fucking nonsense in his face. You’re out all your advantages. He’s already won, and you can’t make him say anything, so there’s literally no reason for Barnes to even acknowledge you-=

“I don’t like roller coasters.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling slightly open as he holds your gaze, and you try to put together what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“Roller coasters.” He repeats, as if it will suddenly make more sense. “I hate ‘em. Always have. They’re loud, and rickety, usually pretty shit engineering, least in my day-“

“Everything was shit engineering in the forties, Barnes-“

“Yeah, Stark’s flyin’ car was kinda horrible-“

“And,” you push on, watching him carefully. “That isn’t a secret.”

“I’m getting to the secret,” he grumbles your name, leaning further back on the couch. As if he’s settling in. “You need to work on your damn patience.”

You start to sneer something at him—you’re not sure when you open your mouth, but you’re sure you’ll find it on the way—but Barnes cuts you off before you get the chance. 

“I hate rollercoasters, but Sam thinks I like them.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why-“

“Patience.” He drawls, and you could swear that was a smug, amused glint that flashed over his eyes. “Stevie needed to do somethin’ that fed his adrenaline and didn’t get him beat up, so I made him do all the roller coasters. He thought I liked ‘em, and he told Sam I liked them, and I’ve been living a lie for the past hundred years about likin’ rollercoasters.”

“Just…” You don’t know what’s happening, or why Barnes looks so comfortable, but your words are slow and careful as you hold his gaze. “Tell Sam you don’t like rollercoasters.”

“Nah. Not worth it.”

“It’s-“

“It’s not that important, sweetheart. I can deal with one or two, when Sam makes me. That an acceptable secret?”

He raises his brows, that’s definitely a look of amusement, and you don’t feel like you won this conversation. This seems, somehow, like Barnes got the upper hand again. 

He looks to human and talking, sprawled on your couch in more than grunts. No part of him is mechanical in a way that makes you tense. Even metal of his hand, glinting in the light, looks more alive than half the people you’ve seen on the subway.

He’s looking at you again. It sparks something in your bones that’s not good or bad, but foreign. And all you can do is shrug and turn back to your computer, mumbling out an agreement and trying to pretend he hasn’t successfully thrown you. 

People never throw you. You always adapt, and rationalize, and keep moving in a steady dance nobody else can ever keep up with.

But Barnes has been matching your steps. Every single thing he says and does pushes itself deep into your body, flying into the cavity of your chest and hitting a wired, soft thing that you can’t name, because it’s never been hit before.

But all week, Barnes keeps fucking hitting it. Matching  your dance in perfect pace, and the Show isn’t breaking, but it’s like he’s not even seeing it.

At every meeting, he sits with carefully slumped shoulders in the corner, looking between you and whatever suit you’re talking to, his expression back to the unreadable, stoic mask. 

“Is he- ah-“ One of the men—on the younger side, leaning at little too far across your desk as you discuss financing—glances over his shoulder at Barnes, tone and expression weary. “I don’t think we need him in here for this-“

You shrug, ripping at the corner of the paper under your hands. “If you can move him, he’s your to take home.”

The suit looks back to you with a frown. “I just want him out while we’re talking, sweetheart, I don’t want to take him home-“

“Good thing, then.” Barnes grunts, and the suit starts in his seat. “Cause there’s no way in hell you’re moving me.”

It takes an active effort to cover your gape before the suit looks back to you. He’s never spoken to the suits before. You’ve been certain he just spends the whole time trying to disappear into the wall or something. You don’t think you’ve heard him say more than a sentence to anyone but you, and that was because you pretty much made him.

“If he had moved you,” you ask after the suit leaves, testing exactly how far you can push it. “Would you have gone home with him?

“No.”

You give him a taunting smile. “And here I was, ready to charge people fifty dollars for the chance to win James Barnes and take him home-“

“Uh huh.” Barnes cuts you off with a flat expression, and he’s looking at you again. “You wouldn’t charge them. You’d let someone take me for free, kid, don’t lie.”

You wouldn’t have charged them. You wouldn’t have done that at all, not even as a joke. Partially because you don’t think anyone could move him, but mostly because if they did, taking him is a little too close to home for pressed down and suffocated memories in the corners of your brain. 

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to your computer. “Do you think if I put you out on the curb, someone will just pick you up? Or should I list you on eBay first? I’ll pay for shipping if you take my first-edition, reformed Winter Solider. Comes with a brand-new metal arm and he’ll watch you take a shit.”

There’s a long second of silence, and when you glance up, Barnes is frowning at you again, his brow drawn together and that same, odd emotion brimming over his expression.

“eBay is…” He pauses, never breaking your gaze. “Online marketplace.”

“Good job.” You hum, trying to make your smiling almost sickening. Full-lipped and mocking and saccharine, maybe enough to erode a little of his seemingly concrete will to not even blink at you anymore. “You want a sticker?”

His frown deepens. “What would I possibly use a sticker for.”

“Fun, James. Sorry- That’s this thing people do to experience joy-“

Barnes rolls his eyes. “I experience joy.”

“Sure. Is that setting just...” you raise your brows at him. “Off, right now?”

His jaw twitches, you fall back into your slowly well-tread pattern of silence, and you don’t like that it’s comfortable now. You keep really, truly forgetting that he’s there. You shouldn’t be forgetting that he’s there, not when he’s supposed to be a disruption. Something to avoid, not grow used to. 

But Barnes is stuck here. You’re stuck here. You keep trying to text Sam—to get him to look you in the eyes and tell you that he doesn’t care what Barnes does, you need his protection and that’s that—but the asshole won’t pick up, and you’re stuck with Barnes.

You can’t get used to him. One of the largest rules you have for yourself—Barnes or no Barnes—is the rule that you can never get used to something. The only things you know will be the same—all the time, no matter how everything changes around—are that you will be alone, and you will be you.

And you’ve been you with Barnes too much this past week. Sitting with him in your office. Having him follow you around like a shadow. Trading sharp words with him that are always a little too close to the truth, always trying to stay that pace ahead and faltering when he catches up to you with seemingly no effort, fucking looking at you and matching your every step with infuriating ease.

“Do you even eat?” You ask him on the Subway—a more empty morning than most—spinning off the pole as you give him a wide, teasing grin. “Or is it like, jet fuel? Gasoline? If I give you batteries, and you going to tell me you like triple A better than double?”

Barnes doesn’t even flinch, only glaring right over your head at the blurring Subway walls. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “I don’t use batteries. I run on natural fuel.”

You pause, watching him with wide eyes, and there’s a small tick of his lips. Up. Like a smile. 

“Was that a joke?” 

“Not my best bit.” He says, still not looking down to meet your gaze. “But yes.” His brow draws slightly, and then—as if he can’t help it—he adds, “I eat at home.”

You hum, continuing to swing off the pole. “You have a home?”

“Where do you think I go at night?”

“I think you stand outside my apartment like a weirdo. You always wear the same five things.”

He finally looks down at you, the small furrow in his brow deepening.

“I can’t do my laundry.” He grunts. “My washer needs coins, and I don’t fuckin’ have any.”

“Go to the bank, genius-“

“The bank doesn’t like me. Apparently being an international terrorist lowers your credit score.”

You tilt your head at him. “Weren’t you pardoned?”

“Doesn’t seem to matter.” He grumbles, still staring at you, and you shrug.

“Should matter. Being pardoned for any crime is supposed to revert your credit score back to what it was before your conviction.”

Barnes blinks at you. “Really?”

“No.” You spin around again “I made that up.”

“Why the fuck would you-“

“But you can get coins from like, arcades.” You ignore his glare and sharp words, fixing your eyes back on a dent in the subway car as you continue to spin. If you get dizzy and slam into Barnes, you’ll kill him and then yourself. “Or, if you give me fifty bucks, I’ll get you a hundred quarters.”

You can see Barnes in your periphery as you spin, and he’s looking at you like you’re a specimen again. “Your math is… disgustingly wrong.”

“That makes sense. I’m bad at it.”

He just grunts, still staring at you, so you push on.

“And I think you’re lying about having an apartment, by the way. I think you spend all night staring at my windows.”

Barnes snorts, and you keep spinning. “How the hell would I even know which ones are yours-“

“Some super-spy you are.” You throw him a wide smile as you turn, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m at the top.”

You point up—just in case he doesn’t know what top is, and because it’s funny to watch his eyes flick up on instinct as you spin past—and continue.

“I like to imagine you glaring up at me all night, thinking about different ways you’d like to kill me.”

He shrugs. There’s the weird fucking smile again. 

It’s the most off-putting thing you’ve seen yet. 

“I can do that from home, sweetheart.”

Your grin widens. You keep trying to look at him while you spin, and it’s a little dizzying. “So you do think about me-“

“You said you think about me first.” He drawls, his brow furrowing once again as he watches you. “Was that a joke?”

“What, that I think you want to kill me-“

“That you didn’t know I go home. You should’ve known I wasn’t out there, kid.”

You give him a flat look when you spin again. “I know I seem like I know everything, James, but usually I’m just making stuff up and I end up being right-“

“I got that.” He grunts, and you don’t love how he says it so quickly. “But you said you already have good security at your apartment. If you have good security, you should know who’s outside your building at all times.”

“I don’t own the building. Happy can see it, that’s all I need-“

“Happy has a job.” Barnes snaps. “And his security wasn’t strong enough to work out who the hell put that letter in your mailbox. If you don’t have real cameras and security, do-“ He cuts himself off, and before you can slow enough to get proper look at him, he’s grunting your name and moving on. “We need to talk about me adding some. Now.”

You hum, smiling at him again as you come around. “No.”

Barnes snaps your name again. “I’m being serious-“

“So am I. My apartment doesn’t need an upgrade.”

You don’t need Barnes snooping around your apartment. Your office was enough, and you have no interest in him looking around your living room and somehow putting together that you sit on your couch once every month, and spend time on your bathroom floor at home as well.

He doesn’t seem to be giving up that easy.

“It’s for your safety-“

“And I’m fine-“

“You won’t be if Hydra breaks into your apartment,” he hisses, and you don’t stop spinning. Your head feels a little light, and your heart moves to your throat at the thought. 

You can’t let him see that.

“I think I could reason with them.” You say, keeping your voice dry. “I think we could bond over our shared love of octopi. Did you know that their mouths are also their asses-“

Barnes grunts your name. You think he might be practicing it, because it sounds better every time. “That’s not funny. They’d kill you.”

You open your mouth to say something that probably would’ve been smart, but your fingers slip on the pole, and you slam into something warm and firm.

Barnes.

Barnes caught you.

He’s staring at you as he puts you on your feet, and you can’t stop grabbing his arm because the world is still moving in waves and circles, and this is so fucking annoying-

“Think about it.” He grunts, and you shoot him a glare.

“I said n-“

You squeak as Barnes loosens his grip ever so slightly, and lets you fucking fall a foot down before hauling you back up, a stupid, smug look on his face.

“What was that?” He raises his brows, your nails dig into his arm, and you’re certain it’s the one with skin, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I hate you.”

“Uh huh. You gonna answer me?” His smirk returns, and your glare deepens.

“I’m going to push you onto the train tracks-“

“I’m sure you are, Sweetheart. Answer.”

He’s not wavering. You’re still a little dazed from slipping and falling, and you haven’t really touched anyone that didn’t feel like they were a danger in… a frightening amount of time. 

That’s what you blame, when you mutter, “I’ll think about it.”

Barnes grins again. 

You feel like you’re losing your mind.

And when he picks you up the next day, he has a backpack. You’ve never seen him have anything but his jacket and gloves.

It’s weird. You spend most of the crowded subway ride—Barnes rigid with a clenched jaw at your side—staring at it, trying to figure out what the hell is inside. When you walk through security you even fall a pace back to stand at his side, hoping to see when they open it, but your dumb, frightened guards mutter Sargent Barnes and let him past without question, only wincing when the metal detector blares at his arm. 

“When did you get friendly with my security guards?” You ask in the elevator, and Barnes shrugs.

“They know Sam. Respect him, enough to trust me.” He glares at the elevator doors. “And they’re smart enough to be afraid of me.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Alright, you old fucking Emo, I’ve seen scarier pigeons than you, so let’s calm down.”

“Emo, like the bird?“

“No, it’s like-“ You sigh. “It’s a subculture, you can google it. I’m saying it to mean you’re being dramatic.”

He shoots you an odd look. “I am not being dramatic-“

“Yeah, you are. What’s in the bag?”

Barnes doesn’t answer, only moving forward to hold the elevator doors as they ding open, and staring at you until you roll your eyes and step ahead of him.

You don’t get to know what’s in the bag until lunch. It sits at his side on the couch, and whenever you glance up to see if he’s opened it and you somehow hadn’t noticed, he’s staring at you.

And when it’s finally unzipped, he pulls out a thermos. A little, hot pink thermos and single plastic spoon that he holds between his teeth as he twists the thermos open.

“Stop staring.” He mutters your name, muffled through the spoon, and shoots you a glare. “I’ve heard it’s rude.”

You just raise your brows, looking between him and the thermos with a pointed expression. “What’s happening here?”

“Lunch.” He grunts, scooping what seems to be brown mush onto the spoon. “That a problem?”

“No, I just-“ There are too many questions. Too many possible things to say, too many angles to attack this from, and Barnes isn’t helping. He’s looking at you with a slight smirk, as if he’d somehow known this would fuck with you more than it should. 

Because it really shouldn’t be fucking with you. It’s just a thermos. A hot pink thermos. Barnes’ hot pink thermos, that he’s keeping brown mush in. Brown mush he’s eat with a plastic spoon, because it’s his lunch, a day after you made fun of him for not eating-

“You all good, kid?”

“Uh, yeah.” You meet his gaze once more, your words careful and slow. “Is there… anything else in the backpack?”

“No.”

“And what is lunch, exactly?”

“Oatmeal.”

You gape at him. “With like, sugar and honey? Marshmallows? ”

Barnes makes a tight face of what’s likely disgust. “Why the hell would I put that shit in oatmeal.”

“I-“ You let out a long breath, and force your gaze back to your computer. Too many things. Not enough time. 

You have a job. Your priority cannot be Barnes, and his borderline depressing eating habits. 

The weekend comes and goes—you hole up in your apartment, make no progress on your own Hydra research, and the pain begins to ebb and wax once more the longer you’re alone, every night somehow longer and the sun never leaking into the bathroom soon enough—and Barnes is still using his dumb little thermos as the next week begins to pass.

It’s almost like a ritual. He opens the backpack at the same time every day—you don’t even think he has a clock—and frowns with a plastic spoon between his teeth, twisting off the thermos top in half a second before eating his oatmeal. 

It’s driving you insane. It’s feels like another game that he’s winning, another part of the Show that he’s somehow cracking past without effort, and you don’t even know why. It’s oatmeal. Sad, pathetic oatmeal that he eats like it’s a chore. He’s built like a truck and he’s eating oatmeal. He’s been alive a hundred years, and somehow the only thing he can think to eat is oatmeal. 

Even on days that you go out for meetings—walking around a Stark funded museum, pretending you’re listening to the finance reports when really you just like looking at the art—Barnes still eats his oatmeal, at the exact same time as, apparently, always.

“I can do the apartment security this weekend,” he grunts in your ear a little while after, walking one pace behind you through the gallery, and you shrug.

“I never agreed to that. And maybe I’m busy-“

“You’re not.”

This time, you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “You don’t know that-“

“I do. Sam told me you’re not exactly social, and unless you’ve been lying to me about staying home for the past three weeks-“

“Shut up.” You mutter, and you could swear you hear Barnes make a sound that’s dangerously close to a chuckle. “Sam’s a fucking snitch-“

“Was he wrong?”

“I said shut up.” You run a hand through your hair, keeping your gaze focused on the floor as you walk. “You never apologized, you know.”

You can hear the frown in Barnes’ voice. You’re back on steady footing. “For-“

“Breaking into my office. Maybe I don’t want you in my apartment because you broke into my fucking office, and then never apologized.”

“I said it wouldn’t happen again.”

“That’s not an apology-“

“Do you want an apology that I wouldn’t mean?” 

That makes your steps pause slightly, and you glance back to see Barnes looking right over your head. “What?”

“I’m not sorry. I could’ve…” He pauses, frowning at the air. “Handled it better, but I was taking precautions.”

“Precautions-“

“You’re too smart to want a fake apology, sweetheart.”

Barnes finally looks down, a challenge buried in his gaze, and you scowl. Your heart is moving in your chest, and there’s something warm over your skin made of smart. 

You are smart. You fucking know that, and you don’t need Barnes to tell you, but people never- 

He doesn’t get to do that. Just because those words are close to a compliment, and you don’t ever really get those and believe them, but you believe Barnes—he doesn’t seem like a liar, just an asshole—doesn’t mean he gets to move you at all on how he’s not apologizing for fucking breaking into your office.

“Well,” you whip around, making sure Barnes can’t see how he managed to ram himself too deep past your defenses again. “You’re not forgiven.”

Barnes snorts behind you. “Didn’t think I would be-“

“Shut up.”

“Sam said to get you flowers.” He continues as if he never even heard you. “Seemed like overkill, but if it’ll get you to stop being so damn stubborn, trying to get yourself fucking kidnapped-“

“I don’t want flowers from you, James.” You shoot him another glare over your shoulder, and this time, he’s still looking at you. “But I’d forgive you with gummy sharks.”

Barnes blinks. “What the fuck are gummy sharks.”

You don’t answer—that’s another step forward in your favor, even if you aren’t even sure what your favor is any more—continuing on through the gallery, and the next day, Barnes is still eating his fucking oatmeal, and you’re going to lose your mind.

You snap at the end of the week. It’s the same bag. He always puts it in the same place. And there’s a reason scratching at the back of your head for why Barnes is eating like that, and it’s getting too raw and heavy, impossible to ignore. 

You want to throttle him. He’s eating his sad oatmeal, and now you have to message Grace to—when she goes out to get lunch—buy some sugar and honey. Brown sugar, and good honey. Maybe a honeycomb, because you’re paying.

If you can’t do the Show with Barnes—can’t annoy him into quitting—you can at least stop making him take up so much of your attention. You’re busy. You have things to do, you need to focus on what matters, and his habit of making the you you rear her head is a fucking problem.

You’re small and rabid, that’s not supposed to be visible like this—in full, clean daylight—and keep aching whenever the dumb thermos pops open. You know it’s because you can piece together why. Because you could be whipped and flayed and shredded to bit and you’d never be the most important thing in the room, so Barnes needs to stop doing this—stop making himself another thing you can pull a part of yourself out to help—so you can go back to ignores the pangs of your spine starting to burn once more. 

When Grace gets back from the deli, she passes the sugar and honey to you along with your lunch, a small frown on her face. You only grimace in return, and march over to Barnes the moment the door is closed.

“Put these,” you toss the sugar and honey into his face, and jerk your head to the oatmeal. “In there.”

He stares at you. “What-“

“Stop eating like you’re a solider and use some fucking sugar, dumbass.”

One blink. Nostril flare. “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Shut up.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly as you hold his gaze. “Do it.”

“What the hell is it to you what I put in my oatmeal-“

“If you do it.” You cut him off, because he doesn’t get to see more. Hit you further and deeper after he made you do something dumb like this. “I’ll fully forgive you for breaking into my office.”

He scans over you, his brow fully drawn, and you feel like a specimen again. 

That's fine. 

Anything to let you all just move on, and the annoyance of caring about Barnes end. 

It’s not caring about him. It’s about him, being a person eating sad oatmeal. 

But it’s still Barnes.

And that’s so fucking annoying.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” he mutters, and you shrug.

“Well then, I don’t trust you in my apartment.”

He scowls. “How can I even know you’ve really forgiven me.” “I will. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” You snap, and Barnes gives you a flat look.

“You’ve lied twelve times today, for fun-“

“That doesn’t count, I owned up to it immediately. You want me to have security?”

Barnes’ jaw ticks, but he nods.

“Then use the fucking sugar, James. Deal?”

He doesn’t respond, and you let out a long breath. You tried. You failed, and that’s going linger under your skin, but you really fucking tried.

You go to move, but he catches your arm.

“You’ll forgive me.”

“That’s what I said, yeah-“

“Fine. Shake.” He holds out his hand. “If it’s a deal, we shake.”

“Are you fucking serious-“

“Deadly. Shake.”

You lose the staring contest. You shake Barnes’ hand, and you only realize after you return to your desk that it was the metal one. 

That feels important, but you can’t work out why.

Why doesn’t feel like it matters, though. You watch Barnes put his sugar and honey in the oatmeal, eat it, and then fail to disguise the fact that it tastes so much better the second the spoon is in his mouth.

You won. And the next morning, there are four things in the backpack. The thermos and spoon—molded into one thing in your mind—come out as always, before being joined by sugar, honey, and-

Barnes stands without warning, marches over your desk, and slams a small box of gummy sharks in front of you.

“We’re square.” He grunts, and you sigh.

“Are you asking me if we’re square, or telling me?”

He scowls, and lets out a long breath before grunting, “Askin’.”

He’s started to slur more words, his accent slipping out in small, odd ways. You don’t know what it means, but it’s been making your brain hum in a strange way, because it sounds nice. Objectively, he has a nice voice. And you did say you’d forgive him if he got you gummy sharks. 

You’ve backed yourself into a corner. 

And when you nod and pull the gummy sharks across your desk, Barnes stands a little taller. As if he’s proud.

It’s kind of adorable. And the lighting I n your office makes his jawline look sharper.

“You got to good kind,” you mumble, and he shurgs.

“Didn’t know there was a bad kind of gummy-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Obviously there’s a bad kind of gummy. We really need to start broadening your food horizons, James.“

He hums, and the small smirk pulls back at his lips. It looks too real.

It’s kind of dangerous.

“We?” he drawls your name, and you flush.

You haven’t flushed in years.

All you can think of is to flip him off, and stuff your mouth full of gummy sharks so you don’t have to respond. But when Barnes goes back to his couch, and eats his oatmeal, the only thing you can think of is how he said your name.

He said it like it was a name. Like it was you.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You blink at him, your words muffled by the sharks. “What?"

“If we’re square, you can call me Bucky.” He raises his brows, almost in a challenge you don’t understand. “Okay?”

You can’t tell if he’s asking again. You don’t know what he’s testing you on, but it seems important, and when you nod and swallow so fast it hurts your throat, he sits a little taller.

“Okay, Bucky.” It’s odd to say. Too easy. Snapping on the right syllabuses, and round in the right place, and knowable.

It’s too knowable.

And somehow, you fucking lost again. This is becoming a problem.

Bucky hums when your say his name, and you have forgiven him because why wouldn’t you. He said it wouldn’t happen again, and you believe him. He’s seeing you, but he’s not folding away, and he’s even been listening to you now.

And you’re not above a grudge, but you’re also not above anything at all.

Bucky doesn’t seem to be either. Nobody is. You forgive him because nobody is above anything, and Bucky might not have apologized, but he won’t pretend to either.

There’s no Show with him. It’s an odd, clear type of relief. Bucky just knows that whatever you are, he can see it, and then match it.

And that, as he settles back into the couch and grins at you again, is the most dangerous thing of all.

End Note: Old Man Bucky with his oatmeal I love him.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[hellfire--cult]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader {Dark}

Part 2: Run, Rabbit, Run {Steddie x Reader}

WC: 13.1 k

⚠️ +18 MDNI, Slightly dark fic due to wickedness of characters, chasing kink, mentions of bones breaking, tendons splitting, dark woods, blood, knife play, explicit sexual scenes, many forms of Paraphilia described inside the story, owning kink, breeding kink, obsession.

Plot: Once a year, the Haunting Ground event takes place, where the prize is a White Rabbit. This year, the head of The Black Dragons decides to finally join the trial, and claim what is rightfully his. No matter who he has to take down for it.

Author's note: Well shit, I just... wanted to write something out of my comfort zone, and well... this happened. If I missed any warnings please say so, but I hope you enjoy this, and if you don't like any of the warnings above, please, don't read. There isn't any gore at all, js. Also, I didn't proofread this. Please SEE THIS ART of how Eddie ACTUALLY looks in this story. Can't thank Corpse enough for it!

You can always support me by hitting the reblog button with tags, and I always enjoy reading your comments!

BUNNY, BUNNY, BUNNY

The rules are simple:

1- You must keep running, only hide when threatened.

2- You can hurt your opponent, make them unable to keep moving, but you cannot kill them.

3- No water and no food will be provided.

4- No weapons except makeshift ones you may create with natural materials you find.

5- The chase ends once everyone has tapped out of it or one person was chosen.

6- Medical care will take out injured opponents, as well as waiting outside every exit in the woods.

He looked all around him in the big wide center of the room, a ball room. There was a big buffet, serving various kinds of foods to fill a whole army, as well as drinks, non alcoholic, were being served around. He scanned all around him, looking at the various masks everyone wore.

A wolf.

A fox.

A blank face.

A goat.

A clown.

There were many varieties, many kinds but mostly were in animal masks. Coming to this kind of event was not something he ever thought of doing, at least not by his own accord. But here he was, in a demon mask, a black skull that covered half of his face, with its black horns going up. He stood out, definitely stood out, and he noticed by all the faces turning towards him. 

He was recognizable, his dark hair tied in a bun, his lips under the top sharp teeth of the skull mask, his eyes showing in the holes of the eye sockets, and then, unlike anyone else in the room, he was only wearing a blazer over his torso, leaving his skin exposed. People looked at him as if he were insane for doing this stunt, others thought he was cocky for trying to think he had a chance dressed like that, but others were simply scared of him.

Tonight, his name was Demon.

He glanced around once more to see the many different people he clearly recognized. Sons of rich families, looking for some fun, for some sense of victory that they can just get with daddy’s money. He also recognized the rings of various people that were only hired to enter this competition and win the prize for their boss. And then, there was him. The only Mafia Boss entering the competition, and that’s why everyone was looking at him.

Mafia bosses don’t often do the dirty work unless it’s a very important client, business or victim. In this case, there was a treasure he wanted, something he had been intrigued by ever since it was mentioned to him, and all he had to do was step over everyone else that was standing in this room with him. 

There might be forty people, all waiting for the presentation to finally start. He knew the time to go out was coming close, so they should do it any time soon. A man stood next to him, and he immediately recognized his voice. Carver Jr. Son of the CEO of Kirasoft. Inc. 

“I am telling you, this year she is getting caught, man.” He hears him say to the other guy next to him, who he didn’t recognize, but probably from the same rich kind of family.

“Can’t believe it’s been the same White Rabbit for three years… How did she manage to do it?”

The lights dimmed and he looked up at the ceiling, knowing there was a specific light that was above him, making him visible even in the dim room. He smirked and looked back down towards the stairs that lead down to the ballroom. He sees the man, the man who hosts this event, the man who gets the money of every single person that pays to participate. 

“Welcome to the annual Haunting Ground night.” Claps were heard around Demon, but his hands were kept inside his front pockets as he waited for the man to continue his stupid speech. “Every year we host this marvelous game, in which there is a prize to be won, a marvelous prize.”

The snicker in the man’s face made Demon’s blood boil, as his hands fisted in his pockets. The need to murder him, the need to see his flesh gush out as he talked was increasing, each second it passed. He looked around again, seeing all the women, the men, the people with masks, smiling with confidence towards the stage. 

“Hearing the rules for a third time is quite annoying.” Demon hears a woman talk next to him to another contestant. She had a deer mask on, her whole face covered so he didn’t know who she was, but it didn’t matter, none of the people inside the room mattered, the only one that did was the person in all white that was going to appear at the top of the stairs. 

And no one, absolutely no one, was getting her except him.

“The rules, you all know about them, but I want to remind you about the emergency beeper you all will have in your pocket. If endangered, if in extreme pain, or you just want to tap out of the contest, you press it, and the emergency team will know your location and come get you.” The man says and Demon only rolled his eyes to the sky, knowing he won’t be using it, but actually making other people use it.

The fact that he couldn’t bring any weapons irked him. He always thought things like this would end in blood baths, but they were being pretty humane about this. Yet, he wanted to murder every single person in this room at the moment, because how dare they even try to steal her away from him? Not that he didn’t kill a few past contestants from the past two years. He heard from the men that participated, that some had grabbed the White Rabbit, just by an inch, but a scratch here and there was done to her skin.

Of course he wasn’t going to let them go unharmed for that.

“If you endanger someone to the point of killing them, you will be disqualified and brought to authorities.” Demon scoffed at that. He has the police wrapped around his finger, and there is nothing anyone can do about it, but he will keep his hands to himself, as much as he can, just so he wouldn’t be disqualified from this. 

He could hear the whispers surrounding him, and also knew that they were about him. He was the most dangerous person amongst the people, and if anyone had a gram of brain cells, they would let him get the prize. But of course, he knows many will try to defeat him, try to throw him to the ground, hurt him, because there are also people from families he had destroyed during the years, just like his uncle did in the past. 

Being the nephew of one of the biggest Mafia bosses didn’t mean anything, you weren’t automatically feared or respected just for being a direct link, a family member. You were respected when you were entrusted with the men, the organization and the operations at such a young age, and even more so, when you are not merciful at all, except when needed to. 

Demon never hurt women or children, and the only time he had to kill a woman was because she had backstabbed his uncle, almost to the point of killing him. She was his right hand, but all this time, even if killing for him, she was planning on taking over him, completely over stepping on Demon. He found her taking out her gun when they were in a transaction between crews, and got her in time before she could actually take it out. His uncle fought that she was protecting him, but Demon saw how she was looking at the back of his uncle’s head, right as she got her hand inside her coat. 

She was operating for the other crew they were doing a transaction with.

So of course, Demon immediately took care of it, eliminating her in front of her brother, the other boss that was sitting in front of his uncle, just so that he knows they are not to mess with. And Demon did all that, at the mere age of 17. Now, at 28 years old, he was a man to be feared, respected by many, and to never try to backstab him, in any sort of form or way. 

But three years ago, he got fixated on something, on someone, when he visited the house of the Red Flies, the second most known Mafia family in the eastern states. He knew he was obsessed, he knew that he shouldn’t even try to get her, but he was immediately swept by her presence, by her voice, by her eyes, in a way no one had made him feel before. This only happened when he locked eyes with her, a small smile appearing on her face, and he knew, he immediately knew, that she was meant to be his.

She was going to be his, no matter the cost.

“Everyone, I present to you, the White Rabbit.” 

And there she was, at the top of the staircase, with a spotlight over her head, the white rabbit mask covering half her face, with the ears going up to the ceiling. She was wearing a white short dress that stuck to the body but was loose at the end. Her lips were drawn into a thin line, as everyone was clapping at her, in awe, with desire in their eyes as well as ambition and greediness. 

The reason why everyone wanted the White Rabbit was simple. They were from a high, a very high association, be it a company or a mafia gang, but they wanted out of that. The White Rabbit holds the power of bribery towards bosses, as well as threats and blackmail. More likely daughters and sons that want to destroy their own lineage. 

Many people here knew who the White Rabbit was, but just by name, even if three years had passed. She was never caught, and she never gave herself to anyone because that can also be done. The White Rabbit can willingly choose who to go with if they so desire. And that’s why Demon was with a smile to his face, his jacket still open as he looked at the White Rabbit. She was scanning the room, looking at all the contestants and then, her eyes landed on a torso, her eyes hazing over as she kept staring at his chest.

You see, Demon also possessed that knowledge, and of course, he studied her, knowing more than her name. Over the last three years he had sent his own men to participate in the trial, but with no intention of winning but just to see what the participants did and how she moved in the woods. 

Demon knew her name, how she looked like, the sound of her voice, who her father was, and also, he knows the things she likes, the things she desires, the things that make her tremble, and that’s why he is exposing his torso, and as she kept her eyes on him, a small grin appearing on her face, her tongue licking her bottom lip even slightly as her eyes clouded with pure lust, her mouth watering just at the pure sight of his tattooed chest and even more when he suddenly takes his tongue out, running his tongue piercing all over his top lip.

Stigmatophilia: Sexual Arousal for body modifications, such as piercings or tattoos.

“Always looking like a diamond in the rough.” He heard Carver say, almost a mumble, and Demon’s blood was boiling already. How dare he look at her? How dare he even think he has a chance? How dare he touch or imagine touching something that was his? How fucking dare he even comment on his prize? 

“We all know how this goes. The White Rabbit will have an upper hand of five minutes to infiltrate the woods. Do not, by any means, hurt the White Rabbit. If the White Rabbit is caught, the decision to go with that person for a limited time, or to be completely owned, is up to them.” Demon smirked at those words. There is a contract the White Rabbit has to sign before submitting themselves as the prey. If they decide they want to do a temporary ownership of their body, then the contract is not signed by the captor. But if they do decide for a complete ownership of body and soul, the contract will be signed by both parties, kind of like a marital contract.

This was all in the Mafia organization of course, it’s not legal, but it is something to be respected in between the groups and companies. Demon does not like this idea, because no person should be owned, no person should be held like an animal, no person should be treated like an object. But in the White Rabbit’s eyes, he saw that longing, he saw the need of belonging to someone, of being owned. 

And he was more than happy to oblige.

“Do you think this year is the year? Will she get caught?” He heard the woman next to him, and for the first time in the night, he finally talked, with a gruff voice coming out of his lips.

“She will.”

The people around him all turned with widened eyes, shocked faces behind their masks, as whispers erupted all around them. He was still locking eyes with the White Rabbit, whose smile was still on her lips, almost a snicker, a wicked grin, and he couldn’t wait to start running, he couldn’t wait to start chasing, his body was already trembling at the need of wanting to earn his prize.

“No more food, no more water. The trial starts now… Rabbit… Run.” The host finally said and Demon saw how the light over her head turned off, and in two seconds it lit up again, only for her to be gone. “Get ready and line up to the edge of the woods.”

At his queue everyone started heading out of the ballroom, but Demon just walked, calmly, hands still in his blazer pockets, heading towards the big doors and finally being hit with the wind of the night, the sound of the leaves ruffling all around and the trees merging up in front of him, a sea of trunks and bushes that he will have to run through. 

He stood next to Carver, who was already in a stance of pounce, waiting for the sound of the gun so they could all start running. Demon slowly took off his blazer, throwing it in the ground, revealing his completely tattooed torso, with many ink designs such as dragons, or skulls, or demons, and they go all over his arms and back as well. There are some patches of untouched skin, but overall, he is completely covered in them. 

The many people that stood next to him on each side were looking at him, gulping, except for Carver who simply rolled his eyes at him. Demon looked up at the full moon that was going to help him look through the deep woods, the light that he knew how to follow to keep a steady pace, and the shadows that would help him knock down any person that might come in his way. 

After a minute, he saw the man, the host, walking up on the balcony of the building, his silhouette shining with the moonlight as he raised the flare gun up. Demon took a deep breath in from his nose, getting his hair up in a low ponytail, calmly, as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. His eyes gazed back to the woods, a small grin appearing on his face as he fixed the rings that were on his right hand.

BANG.

His fist immediately collided with Carver’s Jaw, sending him backwards, and the only thing that could be heard was the crack of teeth and a gurgled grunt as he fell to the floor. He quickly turned to grab onto the ponytail of the woman that had screamed at the vicious act, the woman with the deer mask on, pulling her back towards his chest. He wrapped his right hand over the woman’s neck and her hands immediately flew to his forearm, trying to break free.

“Let ME GO!” She yelled with a choke and he scoffed with a roll of his eyes when he raised his left hand up, pressing it at the back of her hand to bend it forward and then with his right arm he started pressing onto the sides of her neck to start cutting her blood flow towards her brain. 

Her body started to go limp and when he felt her arms fall from him, he instantly let go of her, letting her fall to the ground, completely unconscious. He doesn’t hurt women. It will take more time if he does this trick every single time, but even if they try to go after him, he won’t hurt them. Many had already taken off, but some, a very few, stayed to look at what he’s done. 

One by one, they started backing up back into the house as they saw Carver’s mouth going slack as he tried to talk, making Demon turn to throw a wicked grin his way. The blonde man took the beeper out of his pocket and groaned as he pressed the button to finally call assistance. Once Demon heard the beep, he took off running into the woods. 

His blood was pumping with adrenaline, his breathing steady as he rushed by the trees, jumping over boulders, hearing some screams and passing by some men injuring one another. When he arrived at a cleared up area, he stopped running at the sound of some bushes rustling, right next to him, the crack of a twig catching his attention. 

He instantly jumped forward when he saw the bushes finally moving and a man, a bigger man than he is, jumped out of them and onto him, but missed thanks to Demon's premeditated step. The big man steadied himself, wearing a bear mask as he glared at him, a sly smirk on his lips. 

“Well, well, well… Didn’t think the Boss of the Black Dragon would be in a thing like this. Don’t you have many women to choose from?” The Bear chuckled at his words but Demon only grimaced at them. He thinks The White Rabbit can be compared to any woman? To any person? 

“If you want all your limbs in the same place, you would close that mouth of yours.” Demon threatens but Bear only belly laughs at him, shaking his head.

“It’s just you. You know, your uncle really fucked me over with my company.” At those words, Demon could only roll his eyes, not wanting to waste another second in this mindless conversation.

“You probably didn’t pay up in time, or, if I remember correctly, didn’t you kill your wife?” He remembers the deal. This man, and his wife, were going to share half and half of the credit The Black Dragon crew was giving them. The wife asked for a divorce, which would have made the contract void, and the money had to be returned in its entirety to the organization. She had her half untouched, he didn’t. She was going to be free, he wasn’t. 

So in his anger, he killed her, making it seem like suicide to the legal eye, but to the organizations he was seen as a murderer. Now, seeing him in this trial, wanting to get the White Rabbit, Demon felt his blood burning up in anger, because he wasn’t going to let a man like him get her… He wasn’t going to let a man like him get any other woman or person.

“She killed herself. I made that very clear.” The Bear’s face fell, as he clenched his fists next to his hips. Demon knew what was going to happen, so he fixed the bloody rings on his right hand again, his smile spreading knowing it was Carver’s blood. 

“You won’t get her.” Demon says in a dead tone, which the bigger man only chuckled at, unamused, and he took a step forward, and Demon only cracked his neck once. 

“We’ll see about that.” And the first fist was thrown by The Bear, only to be dodged easily by Demon, moving aside. He raised his leg up and immediately hit the bigger man at the right shin with his combat boot. The Bear groaned loudly, turning his whole body to tackle Demon into the ground, his upper body slamming with Demon’s torso, sending him to the floor with the big man on top of him.

He cursed under his breath as the air in his lungs got knocked out slightly thanks to the impact, feeling a sharp sting on his shoulder, making his eyes go wide and groan in pain, looking at the side. The Bear cheated, a small swiss knife now was on Demon’s shoulder, pressed by the man that was on top of him. 

“I see you’re still playing fucking dirty.” Demon almost but snarls at the man on top of him who only laughed out loud and shook his head at the words.

“You don’t get anything in life if you don’t do it my way. My wife knew that, yet, she decided she wanted to fuck me over.” He was laughing, and Demon’s veins were popping out from the anger, from the rage, from the images of this man’s hands over your body, tracing his knife on your skin until he could bury it into the deepest of your gut if you made a wrong move.

His left hand was free to roam, and he grabbed onto a small boulder that was on the floor, immediately clenching his fingers around it to throw his arm up, swinging it towards the man’s head, making him yell in pain as the rock busted his ear and ripped open the skin on his temple. He fell to the side, holding his side of the head in pain while Demon sat up in one quick movement, taking the swiss knife out of his shoulder and throwing it away. Wasting no time, he lunged himself over the other man’s figure.

He was now on top, having won the wrestling match, or the kid fight he just had, and the man below him yelled for mercy, which made Demon only grin wider and wider, knowing that he was a step closer to his prize. In one swift move he pressed his knee against the man’s thigh, while his hand grabbed onto his calf, pulling it upwards, and he just needed one snap, he can at least make it quick for the guy below him.

SNAP. CRACK.

“MY FUCKING LEG!” The Bear yelled below him, only for Demon to scoff at his cries. He stood up and walked off the wailing man who was already taking out his beeper to call for medical care. Demon grabbed onto the beeper, a glare in his eyes as he looked at the man below him.

“After this, you better hide… Because I will kill you.” He threw the beeper far away from The Bear. He would have to crawl with his broken leg to get it, making that task torturous to say the least. 

“P-Please, spare me– This is just a game–” Demon pressed his foot onto the man’s broken leg, and another yell of pain could be heard through the open field. 

“No. You should have noticed that this is not a game to me, and you should have known that messing with me today would be a very bad choice.” He let go of the man, stepping away. The Bear’s face was stained from the tears of pain he was induced to, but Demon could care less. 

The black haired man immediately took off again, running through the bushes as he heard a few screams and yells of victory. His mentality started spiraling as he felt himself growing impatient by how long this was going to take. If he had to take out every single contestant he was going to end up doing a massacre and that was against the rules.

Because he would kill for The White Rabbit.

He was hearing many beeping sounds around him, some grunts and people that were writhing on the ground in pain as he walked by. So many were with broken bones, some had scratches all over their bodies and that’s when he remembered the wound on his shoulder. He looked at it as he walked, moving his shoulder in circles to see if it caused any damage. He scoffed and chuckled as he noticed he could still move his arm freely even if the wound was open. 

The bastard couldn’t even aim a knife right. He didn’t really deserve to live, not if he is going to threaten death right in the face and expect to come out alive from it. That’s what Demon was. Death. Crossing him meant bargaining with life, and backstabbing him with treason meant instant death. He didn’t do most of the dirty work, only when it’s necessary and when he would get pleasure from it, and that man he just fought, he wasn’t going to be killed by a stranger in his organization. Demon was going to cut his head off himself.

He stopped walking when he heard a rustle, but it wasn’t on any of his sides. He turned his body, scanning all over when he heard it again. He smirked as he put his hands in the front of his pockets, his heart beating into his chest from the adrenaline and from the excitement of getting closer and closer to his objective.

“You should come down from the trees.”

A small giggle could be heard from his back as he slowly turned to finally see the person he wanted most climbing down from a tree. Her white dress flowed with some white shorts underneath, but the white was now smudged with some dirt, and some blood as well. Her white ears moved as she tilted her head at him, scanning him all over, her body rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Your ears are very perceptive.” 

 “You’re just too loud.” He says in a low voice, watching the White Rabbit start moving, circling him, with her hands behind her back, swaying her head from side to side as if humming a song. His head followed her, seeing her bare feet covered in mud as the leaves crunched under them. 

“Hmm… Someone got you.” She says, pointing at the wound on his shoulder, in which he simply shrugs as if to show her that he wasn’t fazed by it.

“By playing dirty.” She hummed again as she looked down at the floor, still circling all around him as if inspecting him, scanning him, and her mouth watered at every single patch of skin she saw inked. She was already imagining what his legs looked like, and she was already trembling with the idea of using her nails to give him new scars.

“Are you here to get me?” She asks him, finally stopping right in front of him, just a few feet away, her hands still behind her back with a grin on her face. He took his hands out of his front pockets, letting them hang on his sides.

“To claim you.” She tilted her head at his voice, her smile widening, creepily so, as her eyes glistened with sudden excitement and adrenaline and Demon knew what was coming, because he had studied the White Rabbit after all.

“You’ll have to catch me first.” And she turned on her heel, and sprinted off into the darkness of the woods, and Demon’s teeth showed as his wicked grin grew, and grew.

Autassassinophilia: Sexual arousal when being in a dangerous situation, such as being chased, or wanted for murder.

His feet started working, running forward to where The White Rabbit went, listening to far cries that were deep into the woods, and he wondered just how many other people were left, not that it mattered, because he already won. He knew he already won when he decided to sign up for this trial. He knew he had won the moment he stepped into the ballroom. He knew he had won when she had smiled at him, right at the top of the marbled stairs.

He stopped running when he came into an empty spot, surrounded by trees, looking all around him. His eyes twitched as he tried to listen to the sounds, knowing now that it was just him and her. He was preying on her as much as she was preying on him. He knew she was circling him, his little rabbit, trying to be sneaky, but a twig was heard from his left side and his feet immediately moved to that sound.

Long strides were taken thanks to his long legs, his belt clinking as he ran, going past the trees once again. He ran in between trunks, jumping over the fallen logs, but his eyes sparkled when he heard a giggle from behind him, making him stop in his tracks, turning around rapidly to see her retreating figure, running away from him. A smirk appeared on his lips. She had run past him and he didn’t notice.

He started running after her, deciding to swerve left, going deep into the woods again, no longer following behind her. She kept running, her breathing completely accelerated, her belly turning with anticipation, with adrenaline, with arousal, with desire. Oh, she wanted him. She had waited, and waited. But his footsteps were no longer heard behind her, making the White Rabbit stop, turning around to try to listen to her surroundings.

He wasn’t following her, did she run too fast? Did he lose sight of her? But she was sure she was hearing him behind her, not even five seconds ago. She took one step, then another, passing by a tree but she stopped her movements again, her eyes widening, goosebumps emerging on her skin as she slowly turned her head to see the figure that was just behind the tree, waiting for her.

“Caught you.” 

Demon immediately pounced on her, grabbing onto her shoulders and tackling her to the ground, a crazed smile on his face as she struggled to get free, but it was already done. He was on top of her, his calves over her thighs to pin her down while his hands were on her biceps now, digging deeply, pushing her onto the ground. She was panting heavily as she opened her eyes to finally see the man that was on top of her.

“Dirty.” She spats and he scoffs, licking inside his bottom lip as she relaxes under his hold. A small smile appeared on her lips, the moonlight shining through the woods, just enough for him to see her. He took one hand away from her bicep, getting hold of the bottom of her mask, pulling it up to finally reveal that beautiful face he got mesmerized with three years ago, at a simple meeting. That face that told him, we’re equal. That face that told him, I will serve you if given the chance. That face that he wanted to see, everyday, at every hour, for as long as he lives. That face that claimed him that same night, with a smile, with the stares, with the intense stare in the eyes.

You.

“Hello, Bunny.” That was your nickname in your father’s organization. Bunny. Too pure, too innocent, too charming, yet, you were the complete opposite. You were nasty, you were evil, you were vengeful, you were a freak. A complete and utter freak. And he was the same, he was your exact same, and you were expectant of him. You were waiting for him to appear. You were in this trial behind your father’s back for three years, because you wanted him. You wanted the man that had whispered in your ear ‘You’ll be mine.’ three years ago. You wanted the man that’s been said to have killed and destroyed many organizations and the members inside of them. You wanted the man that you knew could own you, yet, wouldn’t cage you.

Your fingertips from your free hand raised up, finally touching the teeth of the black demon mask he was wearing, first grazing it, gently, as if taking in this moment with him, this moment where everything will change, this moment where your life will finally become yours, and his. You gripped onto the mask and finally lifted it up, and he helped by bending down slightly so you could rip it off his face, throwing the plastic far away from you both.

“Munson.” A smile appeared on your face as you saw him, your cheeks flushing at his sight, as if you were a bitch in heat in front of her master, and you weren’t far from it. You knew Eddie owned you that same night you met him, and he also knew you were meant to be his. 

“What are those?” He asked, placing a hand on your waist where a stain was on your dress, a shiver running down your spine as a soft moan escaped your throat, knowing his hand was covered in ink and touching you.

“I might have snapped a few tendons here and there… Putting the competition away for you…” Your eyes were already looking up at him with desire, with the need of being alone with him, of him claiming you, completely. He smirked down towards you, leaning down to talk closely onto your face.

“What’s your choice, Bunny?” He softly asks, his eyes hinting of desperation, but also insecurity of some sort, but he didn’t have to worry. He shouldn’t, because you are his, you’ve always been his.

“I’ll stay with you, forever, if you’ll have me.” His eyes widened slightly with emotion, his gut turning at your words and his hand flew to grab onto your jaw, harshly, to pull you towards his lips, into a messy yet wanton kiss. A kiss that he had been craving for far too long. You moaned onto his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he finally let your thighs go, his calves resting on the floor now. 

His teeth caught onto your bottom lip, and you could already feel the iron taste filling your mouth, knowing he was piercing your skin, but that only made your thighs clench with eachother even more, wetness pooled inside your shorts as his actions showed you that he studied you, that he knew you, and he knew what you were into. He pulled away from you, licking his lips from your blood as he looked down, seeing your bottom lip with your red tint, blood coming out from the inside of it. 

“You’re mine. I’m going to protect you Bunny, I’m not letting anyone take you away from me, and if they dare come close… I’ll kill them, you say the word… And I’ll kill everyone you tell me to.” A soft smile spread on your face as you looked at him, crazed and wild eyes staring at each other as your grip on his shoulders tightened, and a firework was shot into the sky, but you two didn’t move. Just stared into each other's eyes. 

You’re free.

Your hands gripped on your last bag with the remaining clothes you had. A smile on your face the whole time the elevator dinged closer and closer to Eddie’s penthouse, one of the many properties he possesses. You hadn’t changed, still wearing the white stained dress over your body, but the people that organized this trial had already sent your prepared luggage to Eddie’s, meaning that the only thing left to deliver was you.

The ding didn’t even startle you as the doors opened, and a big double door greeted you a few steps away from the metal confinement. You stepped towards it, and grabbed onto the handle, finding the door open. A smile appeared on your face as you opened it, walking in to take in the immense decorated space in modern yet vintage looking furniture. You put your bag down, closing the door behind you as you stepped inside the apartment, seeing that it had stairs going up to a second floor. 

You were looking around, knowing that he should be here somewhere. After he had caught you, you were brought into the office to sign off the permanent contract to him, with a smile to your face all the while. The host was simply looking at you as if you were insane, because being owned by the Black Dragon association was not something many desired, much less, being owned by the boss of it.

Eddie was sent home so you could gather your bags, and those bags you saw at the very corner of the living room. You heard something in the kitchen, making you tilt your head slightly at the sound, like a rattle, so you followed it, walking into the dimmed light kitchen, modern, with the cupboards and utilities in black, against the white marble counters, but your eyes centered on the person that was pouring two glasses of wine, in the middle of the room.

“Hello again darling.” He put the wine bottle on the counter and his eyes finally looked up to lock with yours. He was still shirtless, still with the same bloody clothes, the wound in his shoulder already stitched and bandaged, and your mouth salivated with the need of pressing your tongue onto his skin. His hair was down, eyes a deep brown that only made you move by instinct, slowly approaching him with your hands behind your back.

Like a small bunny.

“This house is a little big for you.” You say as you stand next to him, grabbing onto the wine glass and taking a small sip from it, the burning of the alcohol soothing your throat and calming your nerves. Nerves that were there because you waited so long to be with him, alone, like this. Completely owned by him, his property, his partner. 

“Glad that you are filling it with me now.” He says in a low tone, which sends shivers down your spine, because for some reason you knew that the night was going to be long, and that by the end of it, you won’t be able to walk. Hopefully.

“So, you’ve been studying me over the last three years, huh.” You say with a smile, not looking at him, still with the glass of wine on your lips, and the alcohol was slightly stinging the wound he provoked on you in the woods. 

“And you’ve been waiting for me for three years.” He retorted, his eyes slowly turning black from how his pupils began to dilate the more his eyes roamed your body. He took a large chug from his wine glass, putting the crystal on the counter again while you giggled at his words, making all of his blood go south immediately. 

“Took you long enough.” You replied to him and his hand twitched on the counter as he stared down at you. Your giggle stopped but that wicked smile was still on your lips, setting your glass down as you finally turned your head to look at him. “I’ve been studying you too.”

“And how so?” He asks, the need to grab you, the need to get hold of you, pin you down, making you shut up, beginning to gnaw in the deep of his gut. You shrug at him, not even sparing him another word and his eyes twitched, his fire igniting as his right hand rises up, tracing your cheek softly in which you melted at, pressing your face against it. 

Your eyes suddenly widened when his hand enveloped your throat, in one swift movement, and pressure was applied, cutting your blood flow and oxygen at the same time. A choked moan escaped your lips as he looked down at you, a smile appearing in his lips, knowing very well that you were drenched by now, clenching onto nothing as he applied more pressure on you.

Asphyxiophilia: Sexual Arousal when being choked, often cutting the oxygen circulation.

“Now, let’s get one thing straight Bunny.” His left hand, which was still on the counter, found the knife he had already prepared for this moment, the knife that would start it all. “I own you. I make the rules and you just follow them. There’s nothing else you have to do.” 

You nodded, choking on your voice as your eyes started rolling to the back of your head, your hands gripping his wrist and he finally let go of some of the pressure to let oxygen flow in your body again. You choked a sigh of relief, your breathing already jagged by how much air entered all at once in your lungs again, yet his hand was still on your throat, his tattooed hand. 

His left hand raised up, pressing the tip of his blade onto your cheek, the smile still on his face as he looked at you. You smiled through your dizziness at him, and oh you were so beautiful. He guided his knife down, slowly, gliding it over your body, until he reached the hem of your dress. Your eyes widened as you felt the sharp tip of the knife over your shorts, your clit twitching at the sharpness of it. That sent an adrenaline shock through your body that almost made you squirm, but you knew that if you moved he might hurt you there.

He appreciated you staying still, and you were just too perfect for him. He twisted the knife so the blade would be facing upwards, and he slowly punctured the tip of the knife inside your shorts, but not through your soaked underwear. He smirked at you one last time and that’s when you heard the intense ripping sound, a gasp escaping your lips, the blade stretching the dress off your body as it ripped it in half, going all the way to your collarbone. 

His eyes scanned your frame, a white bra on your body as well as the matching thong that he could see from the slit of your shorts. The both of you had dirt all over yourselves, but that only enticed him to take you even more. To finally own you completely. He motioned towards your hands with the knife, which were still wrapped around his wrist. You gave a sigh as you dropped your hands to your sides, making the dress finally fall off from your shoulders, as if it were a coat. 

He slowly let go of your neck, letting the knife rest on top of the counter again, your breathing heavy and with the imprints of his fingers already on your neck, and tears were threatening to fall down from your eyes as you looked at him, but they weren’t enough. They weren’t enough for him, and he wanted more, he wanted to see you completely ruined by him. 

“On your knees.” You shivered at his command, wanting to be a brat, deny him, but this is what you’ve always wanted, to belong to him. For him to use you as he pleases, for him to drag you around like a plaything, but yet, to protect you like a partner, like an equal. You slowly got down on your knees, looking up at him through your lashes and he pressed his fingers under your chin to keep you up. “Will you do everything as I say?”

“Yes, yes, I will.” You were desperate now, not being able to handle anymore teasing from him. 

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.” He commanded this time, and you did as told, opening your pretty mouth from him, your pink tongue sticking out and he grinned at the view. He gathered his saliva inside his mouth, to then lean in and drop his spit into your mouth and tongue. He immediately closed your mouth with force. “Swallow.”

You didn’t. You closed your eyes at the taste of him in your tongue, just for a second and his eyes widened, lust covering his features as he saw you moaning with his spit in your mouth. You then swallowed, and opened your eyes again, sticking your tongue out for him, as if asking for more. He straightened up, his belt coming undone, the leather slipping off from his pants. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it later on.

“What do you want me to do now?” You ask him and he simply smirks down at you, wicked eyes crossing his features as he unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down.

“You just stay there, look pretty, while I fuck that bratty mouth of yours.” A gasp was heard from you but it was an excited one, your eyes immediately darting towards the bulge that was inside his pants as he finally pulled them down, along with his boxers. His cock springing up to hit against his pelvis, right in between the V shape that you want to trace your tongue on. “Spit.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you lunged forward as he grabbed onto his shaft, pulling it down for you to spit on it, and his hand started going up and down on himself, slowly, and your lips turned into a pout as you stared. It wasn’t fair, you wanted to do that. You raised your hand up only to be stopped by a sting, a sharp sting and a smack. His other hand was still holding the folded belt, and he used it to hit your hand away, making your eyes sting with tears as you put your hand back down, rubbing it softly with your other one, looking up at him with a frown in your face.

“Wh–”

“Don’t fucking touch me. I said, STAY THERE.” He almost growls at you, sending another shiver down your spine, but you straightened up, looking up at him, waiting for his instructions as he still stroked himself with your spit, making you gulp with need, seeing how large he was, your body moving forward, wanting to give it at least a small kiss to the head, only for another sharp sting hitting you, this time, it was a slap by his big hand, not that hard, but not gentle either, making you turn your head away with a whimper.

He waited for you to turn back at him, to see your reaction, to see what you are thinking because even if he studied you, he still has some self control and empathy in himself, and much more when it comes to you. He doesn’t want to hurt you in ways that you do not enjoy, but as you slowly turn to look back at him, your cheek stinging, with a smile to your face and hazy looking eyes as if in a trance, he couldn’t help but smile down at you.

“Can I beg?” You ask, and it was an honest question, a question of boundaries, a question to get to know him even more, to know what you can and can’t do, and he was appreciative of that.

“Yes. Beg for my cock, I want to hear how much you want it Bunny, how much you’ve been wanting it for these past three years.” And your breathing hitched at that, an excited smile appearing in your lips as you looked up at him, your brain completely drained from conscious thought as your desire poured out of your lips.

“Please Eddie, I want your big cock in my mouth, please… I want to taste you, have your cum dripping in my throat, been wanting it for so long, please– Don’t keep me waiting baby, please…” Your sultry voice filled his ears, a shiver running down his spine as his dick twitched in his pants, asking for attention, but there was a reason for you wanting to beg, because you studied him too… You know what he likes.

Narratophilia:  Sexual arousal to obscene words.

“Then open your fucking mouth, and you’ll take what I give you.” You didn’t waste a second, your nails digging in your knees as you opened your mouth again, sticking your tongue out for him. With one hand he guided his cock, and with the other he pressed it at the back of your head, pulling you forward towards it. 

He first taunts you, pulling your head back for you to kitten lick the tip, to then pull you forward again to take it into your mouth only to repeat the motion again. A soft whimper vibrated in your throat, which made Eddie’s hold grow tighter on your scalp, and he finally thrust himself inside of your mouth, halfway in and started going in a slow pace first so your mouth would get coated in your saliva. He knew he would hurt you if he made you deepthroat at once, and he didn’t want to destroy your vocal chords, at least not yet.

You closed your eyes as you hollow your cheeks to finally start sucking on him, letting him bob your head back and forth at his own pace, but you relished in the taste of him, a moan escaping your throat in delight as your spit helped your movements be smoother each thrust he did into you. He was holding back his groans at your sight, finally having you at his mercy, on your knees. His self control slowly slipping away as he tilts his head back, closing his eyes at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, loving the way he could feel you moaning against him.

Your pussy clenched at nothing, and you wanted to touch yourself, relieve some of the tension building inside of you, but you knew better than that, so you kept your hands at your knees, fingernails scratching your skin. His hand finally let go of his cock, guiding it towards the back of your head, finally joining his other one, gripping onto your hair. He stopped you from bobbing your head, only for him to start thrusting himself inside of your mouth, inside and out, still in a slow pace.

Your eyes opened to look up at him and his eyes beamed at how you were looking at him. Pleading for more. So that, he did. He thrusted deeper this time, a gulp being heard from you, a gargle, but not a gag, not quite yet. His pace quickened, a groan finally coming to his throat as your eyes started tearing up the deeper he went in. This is what you wanted, to be used by him, and your wetness sipping through your underwear and shorts even was an indication of that.

“What a fucking slut, not even gagging.” He chuckled only to stop when even if you had a mouth full of him, he could still see the cocky turn up of the corner of your lips while staring up at him. His nose flared and he suddenly slammed himself inside your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. A tear slid down your cheek and you finally gagged at him, but because it was a surprise to you more than anything. He pulled back only to slam himself back in, your gags and gurgles filling the room as your mascara started running down your face.

He pulled back just for a second for you to take a deep breath through your nose, and he trembled slightly with a moan caught in his throat as he saw your face. His hands gripping your hair even tighter, not being able to contain himself as he started thrusting himself into your mouth, quick, but not deep like before, yet your spit mixed with his precum started slipping from the sides of your mouth. 

He couldn’t help but wanting you to keep crying, to keep tearing up, so he slammed himself again against your mouth, hitting your throat again, and you breathed through your nose in order not to gag, but your eyes widened when you realized that he was staying there. You whimpered against him, as more tears slipped through your eyes as you tried to keep your breathing under control, but he was groaning in pleasure at the sight. 

You started gagging, your body lurching forward a couple of times and that was Eddie’s queue to finally pull away from you, taking his cock out of your mouth.

“Ung–” You were panting, trying to move your throat a bit to numb the sudden beating it received, but Eddie simply pulled you up from your hair, making you gasp as you stood on your two feet again, your knees screaming in pain from being against the hard floor for too long. His face was inches from yours and your eyes saw what he was looking at. You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your face as you felt his dick twitch against your hip as he inspected your cheeks, your tears.

Dacryphilia: Sexual arousal to seeing the partner crying or shedding tears.

His lips immediately connected to yours, a rough, deep kiss, full of lust and desperation. Your mouth opened for him, once again, and his tongue invaded it in a second. You clenched again when you felt his tongue piercing all around your cavity, on your tongue, clinking against your teeth. He moaned into your mouth when he felt the mix of his taste, your spit, as well as the saltiness of your tears. 

He pulled away from you, pulling his boxers and pants up but not buttoning himself up as you stared at him, completely dazed for his next move. He couldn’t help himself and he leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek, in which you sighed dreamily at, knowing you were being a good girl. His good girl.

“Let's go upstairs. I have to ruin you.” You trembled at his words, excited for that to happen, excited to be ruined by him, excited to be yourself with him. He turned you around, and he grabbed his belt from the counter with one hand, the other being pressed against the small of your back, guiding you towards the stairs. You went up, your pussy clenching at each step taken as the adrenaline pumped in your veins. He was right behind you, now finally walking you towards his room.

He opened the door for you, and you walked in to take it all in. Realization hit you. This wasn’t just any of Eddie’s properties, this was his house, the one he considered home, the one that was all him and not something designed by someone else. His guitars were on display on one wall, a few paintings and limited vinyl editions of what you believed were his favorite bands, the big king sized bed in the middle of the room with dark comforters, and the big window on its side, a few feet away with long black draped curtains. 

You were now part of his home.

A sudden feeling filled you as you turned around with excitement to wrap your arms around his shoulders, the action completely startling him as he looked down at you. Your lips immediately found his, as you took in the feeling that he owned you, but in the most caring way possible, and like you stated before, you knew he wasn’t going to cage you up, not that you minded if it was done by him.

His lips moved with yours as he slowly guided you towards the bed, his hands going to your back to finally unclasp your bra. The back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you pulled away from him, taking your bra off completely. He looked down at your bare breasts, wanting to dive into them, take them into his mouth, but he made a promise to you first. He raised a hand, slapping one of your tits with it, making you gasp with a moan.

“Get on the fucking bed, and raise your hands over your head.” You smiled at him as you sat down on the bed, pushing yourself backwards into the middle of it as he kept his eyes on you, slowly walking towards the side of the bed as you laid down, throwing your arms up, almost touching his black headboard. From the corner of it, he opened a small wooden door, at the very top, and he started pulling a black rope from it, your eyes widening at it, while a small smirk spread on your cheeks.

“The headboard seems new.” You managed to say in a hoarse voice, and he chuckled at that, grabbing onto your right wrist, pulling you towards the bracelet of the rope, wrapping it tightly around your skin. 

“Custom made. Received it a couple of days ago.” For some reason, he didn’t want to lie to you about that, nor tease you, because he wanted you to know that he prepared himself for you and just you. This bed was made for you, and that made you moan with need, your thighs rubbing together at his confession. He circled the bed, going to the other top corner of his headboard to pull the same rope out, grabbing your left wrist and pulling you towards him again, and you felt the tug onto your right hand, not letting it move further. 

“How thoughtful of you Eds.” You smiled at him when you noticed he wasn’t tightening the bracelets too hard on your skin. You have noticed that he was thoughtful of you, careful to some degree with you, yet, rough. His hand went down again, slapping at your left breast now, your back slightly arching at the feeling, with a moan trapped in your throat.

“Are you going to stop talking?” You giggled and licked your lips, wanting once again to go against him, but you knew better. You liked being dominated, you really did, and you knew that your other side was something you couldn’t do with Eddie. He sighed at your giggling, heading towards his dresser where he left his belt at the top of it. You bit your lip as your eyes glistened with anticipation.

“You’re gonna punish me? Don’t you want to fuck me? Take me? Breed me? Why are you taking so long Eddie?” You lifted your legs up, bending at your knees, spreading them open for him and he almost dropped the belt to the ground at your words, groaning as you used his kink against him. He put his knee on the edge of the bed and you smiled at him, a wicked smile.

“I told you to shut the fuck up.” 

SMACK.

You gasped loudly as your body jolted upwards from the mixed sensations that just went through your whole body, like an electric shock. He swung his belt towards your clothed cunt, smacking it, sending a sharp yet burning pain through your whole body, and your clit throbbed with the need of more friction, even if painful, it still felt so good after being neglected for a long while.

Eddie was smirking as he looked at you, squirming under him, his cock wanting to explode out of the confines of his boxers again, the zipper that was already down from his pants digging into the bulge as it twitched on him. He raised his belt again, smacking you on your left inner thigh, making you jolt again and your legs spread even more. You were perfect for him, simply perfect, moaning thanks to what he was doing, tears starting to form in your eyes again… You were his.

Sexual sadism: Sexual arousal on causing pain, non life-threatening.

“Eddie– Eddie please–” You were begging again, but that earned you another bruising smack to your other inner thigh, your back arching at the pain, yet pleasure that shot through your body as the ropes on the headboard clinked at the movement of your arms.

“Are you that desperate for my cock?” He says as he looks down at you, and you nodded desperately, a tear sliding down from the corner of your eye, and honestly, Eddie was too. He waited too long for this, and even though he wanted to do so many more things to you, he knew he had time, that you both had time.

“Yes, please, fill me up– I need your cock inside of me, waited too long for you baby, don’t tease me anymore, don’t tease us any longer…” You begged but this time it was a genuine one, a very truthful one that Eddie couldn’t deny. He put the belt to the side, almost throwing it, and he grabbed the hem of your ripped shorts and underwear, ripping it off from you in one move, helping him with the movement of your legs. 

He looked down at your wet pussy, and you already made a complete mess of yourself. The shorts were drenched as well as your tongue, and he couldn’t help but think again that he was blessed with you by some god. You were his equal, completely unhinged, crazy, and you two were desperate for one another. 

His cock would have to wait, because he couldn’t help himself as he saw you like this, at his mercy, legs spread and inner thighs red from his ministrations. He held you at the back of your knees, your eyes widening when he bent them forward, towards your chest, and your hips raised up, your cunt facing the ceiling. He smirked at it, leaning down to take a long swipe against your wet folds, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You wanted to arch your back, but you couldn’t as his grip was tight on the back of your thighs, making your back arch downwards. A moan escaped your lips as he kept swiping his tongue on you, licking on your wetness, tasting you, and groaning at how sweet you were, relishing in the fact that he could have you like this any time he wants from now on. Your hands made the ropes clink again, as you tried to guide them to his head, to hold onto him, and you whined at the restraints.

“Eddie– Eds–” You moaned his name and his hand raised up to smack your lifted ass as it left your thigh to do so. You gasped at the feeling, keeping your knees to your chest in order not to go against him. He flicked his tongue on your clit, and your moans finally started coming out of your mouth, one after the other. He was almost eating you up, like a starved man. 

And he couldn’t get enough. He could do this all day, he could stay buried in your pussy if he could because you just tasted so good, so much better than what he anticipated, than what he had imagined. All these years of waiting paid off, because it tasted as if you were waiting for him, it tasted like you were made for him, to his taste, that someone made his favorite flavor, and it had always been you.

His tongue finally dipped inside you, and he moaned against your cunt as he felt your walls clenching around him, the ropes clinking as you thrashed your arms from the sensation, his nose bumping on your clit as he moved his head up and down, his tongue flicking inside of you, and he really was devouring you. 

Thanks to all the edging, the teasing, and how you had been wet from the very moment you saw him in the ballroom, the coil in your belly started to form rapidly. Your moans escalated in sound, and your eyes closed at how good his tongue was flicking at your walls, trying to reach that place that would make you see stars. He took his mouth off you with a gasp, getting air back in his lungs and you almost cried at the loss, only to feel one strong and large finger enter you, and curling in a come hither motion. 

“Oh, FUCK!” Your head went back into the pillows as a moan escaped from your lips, loud, the spongy part of yourself being rubbed onto over and over again. He smirked at the sight, his panting from desire being heard along your moans.

“Are you enjoying yourself little Bunny?” He asks and you nod your head desperately, tears prickling in your eyes as you feel the burning at your hip from the position and your wrists tugged onto the ropes again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Please– Please keep going!” And he was going to. He wasn’t going to edge you, not this time, because you’ve been such a good girl, even if a little bratty, you were a good girl for him. He pushed another finger inside of you, your eyes widening as both of them started rubbing you, repeatedly, your belly screaming for release. Your chest was heaving up and down as your panting increased and his movements became fast, the squelching of your cunt being heard across the room.

“Come on, cum for me. Fucking look at me while you cum.” And that you did, staring up at him with your mouth open, moans coming out as your belly finally exploded, your vision going white as you tried to keep your eyes open for him, but you knew the tears were blocking your vision. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers and you heard him curse at the feeling as he tried to keep the fast pace on you. Your legs trembled around him as his name spilled out of your lips.

“Eddie! Oh my god, SHIT!” You kept riding your orgasm against his fingers, your walls clenching and unclenching until it finally stopped, your body jolting once, then twice as Eddie slowed down his fingers on you, and once he saw you relaxing onto the bed again he pulled them out of you.

He was breathing heavily, looking down at you as he made your lower body hit the bed again, a sigh of relief mixing with your panting as you finally felt some of the burning on your hip go away. He looked at his fingers, licking your juices off of them, and through your half lidded eyes you could see him, making your pussy clench again. You wanted to laugh at how needy you were, how desperately you wanted him. 

He wasn’t going to last long, not with you having sucked his dick, and he almost busted through his boxers while eating you out. He got off the bed, not even bothering to wipe his mouth from your slick and his spit, wanting to keep your taste on his mouth for a little longer. He walked over to one side to let your left wrist go, and he rubbed the red mark that appeared on your skin. You smiled up at him and nodded, as if telling him it was okay. He then walked to the other side to let go of your other hand, followed by him ripping himself off his pants and underwear. 

You wanted to have him in your mouth again, seeing his pink tip leaking precum was enough to make you want to open your mouth and stick out your tongue, buit he had other plans for you. He got on the bed again, but before getting in between your legs, he got his hands underneath your ass and waist, turning you over and onto your stomach, a gasp coming out of your lips. 

He positioned himself behind you, lifting your hips with his fingertips digging on the flesh of your skin, marking you up. When you left your upper body on the mattress, he groaned and grabbed onto his belt again that was on the edge of the bed, almost falling over, and made a snapping sound with it before landing it against your right cheek, making you jolt up and almost squirm away from the sting. 

“In all fours, or I’ll strap you to this fucking bed without touching you again.” That made your trembling hands press against the mattress to prop yourself up instantly. You stuck your ass at him, wiggling your hips slightly, earning yourself another smack from his belt on your other cheek, a squeal escaping your lips now. Another smack on the same place, and now a moan was heard in the room as the burning increased in that area. 

“Eddie…” You whimpered and he put the belt down, grabbing your ass with one hand, and his cock with the other to finally guide it to your waiting entrance. You moaned with need when he pressed the tip against your clit and you knew what you had to do now. “Please, I need your cock, don’t tease me anymore–”

He plunged himself inside of you, a choked gasp trapping itself in your throat at the sudden massive stretch with no mercy, your eyes widening at the feeling as they immediately prickled with tears from the sting. He was halfway in, and started invading your hole, a little slow, but not quite. He groaned with a smile to his face as he felt your tight walls engulfing him.

“Yeah, this pussy was made for me… So perfect.” You whined at that, almost a whimper as he finally bottomed out and you felt him almost at your throat. He was too deep inside of you, the stretch almost painful, but it couldn’t compare to how much pleasure it gave you. You needed him to move despite the burning sensation, because your belly was screaming for him, your mind and sould needed him.

“Eds, move, please move–” You didn’t have to beg anymore. He pulled back and slammed himself back in, making the fat of your ass jiggle at his movement, and a loud moan was out of your mouth in a second. He repeated the motion until he started going at a brutal pace, and the slamming of the headboard filled the room in between your breaths and the moans. Your arms were trembling as your body went back and forth against him, his hands now at your hips, his fingers digging into your skin.

You could hear the squelching of your pussy as he moved, wet from your climax and getting even wetter at finally having him, at finally feeling him inside of you, and the realization that you get to have him from this day on whenever you want. He was moaning, without shame at all because you were too warm, too beautiful, too pretty right now. His hands went towards your asscheeks, spreading them open to see your small hole, and a grin formed in his face between his jagged breaths.

“Next time– I’ll prep you, and I’ll fuck this little hole of yours. Would you like that, my sweet Bunny?” My. My. My. You were cock drunk now, not being able to think about anything else but him, and the way he was claiming you over and over again at every slam of skin against each other. 

“Yes! Yes! I’ll take anything from you–Fuck!” He wanted to laugh at that, as he smacked your ass with his hand, against the already bruising mark that was there. You groaned at that and he pressed his hips against you, harshly and deep and you choked on your own sounds at that. You were certain that if you pressed your hand against your belly, you would be able to feel the tip of his cock inside of you.

He reached out to grab hold of the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair to finally clench at your scalp, making you yelp. He pulled you upwards, your back hitting his chest as you ached it for him to keep thrusting in and out of you but he stood still. His mouth was on your ear as he breathed against it, whispering softly.

“You are so fucking perfect for me.” You smiled at that, your bodies sticking against each other's sweat. You licked your lips as you turned your head to look at him.

“I studied you too, you know…” You confessed to him, and he raised an eyebrow at you. You grabbed onto his hand that was in your waist, pulling it up towards your mouth. You put his index and ring fingers inside, sucking on them and you felt his hips start to move inside of you, at the same rhythm of your lips. You pulled them out to graze your tongue towards the belly of his palm where you suddenly bit at the flesh, harshly, marking him. His dick twitched inside of you as he moaned against your ear a smile appearing on your lips as they still latched on his skin, blood filling your mouth.

Odaxelagnia: Sexual arousal to biting or being bitten.

“You fucking slut.” He ripped his hand away from you, and despite the pain, he gripped onto your hips again, setting a brutal pace against you, your back arching against him, ass sticking out as your head rested against his shoulder. His mouth immediately found your shoulder, biting onto your skin until his teeth went through, your eyes widening at the burning and pain, but it sent an electric shock towards your belly which began its tightening again. 

“Only for you– God, just for you–!” He licked the blood that oozed out of the inflicted wound, and his other hand went towards your clit as his hips slammed against your ass, his dick hitting that perfect spongy part of yourself that made you moan almost in screams as he hit it repeatedly and without missing. His fingers started circling against your nub and your pussy clenched around him, earning a moan from his part.

“You have to come with me, I’m going to fill you up so fucking good.” He says into your ear and it comes unexpectedly, your eyes widening as his words triggered your orgasm way harsher than before, his fingers flicking on your clit rapidly as your juices gushed around him, making a mess out of your legs and his, and the comforter below you two. He cursed under his breath as his movements started faltering, stuttering.

“Eddie– Fuck, please, PLEASE–” You were still riding your orgasm out when you felt that warmth finally fill your belly, coating all of your walls as he spent his seed inside of you. He moaned loudly against your shoulder, as he kept pumping himself inside of you, your pussy clenching him to milk every single drop until you finally came down from your high and his hips stopped moving completely.

You were both breathing heavily as you tried to get some oxygen in your lungs. The room smelled like sex, your sweat, your juices, his cologne, and it was such an amazing smell to you. He groaned when he finally pulled out of you and his hand raised up to grab onto your chin, turning your head to look at him. His lips found yours again, this time, a tender kiss, a kiss of belonging, a kiss that sealed this bond between you both.

Your new home.

“You really are on the pill then.” Eddie says as he lays in his bed, a new comforter over his legs as his back is pressed against his headboard. You were naked with a towel on your hand as you dried your hair with it, walking towards him after a nice shower you both took together.

“Of course.” He groaned at that with his arms crossed over his chest, looking away. He knew it was too soon to have a kid with you, but he really wanted to claim you in every way possible, and having a family with you, was another way of doing so. You smiled at him, throwing the towel to the floor, as you got inside the bed with him. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to him and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Why did you decide to enter the trial?” He asks you and you hum at that question.

“My father has been trying to marry me off for the past three years… Sadly, all of my bachelors went missing, or were killed in action.” You say with a smirk to your face, and Eddie’s grin widened at that. He can still remember the screams of the men that tried to marry you, claiming you like he did. 

“I wonder what happened.” He says as if he were playing dumb. You giggled at that and nodded.

“Hmm… You didn’t know about my last bachelor, did you?” He blinked at that, and looked at you as you stared forward, a glint in your eyes that were filled with mischief, but also lust. “Right before entering the trial, my father told me I was to be set up with a new bachelor, and to be honest, he is a pretty, a very pretty boy.” You licked your lips at those words, Eddie’s attention already drawn to you as you spoke.

“Who was it sweetheart?” You turned to look at him, a wicked smile on your face.

“Harrington Jr.” Eddie’s eyes sparkled at that. The son of the Harrington Emporium. You licked your lips at him as he hummed at you, his eyes suddenly turning lustful as he looked down at you.

“Mmm… He is a pretty boy.” You turned your body to be closer to his ear as you talked in a sultry tone.

“Can I have him Eddie? Please?” He chuckled at that, but a new obsession was growing in his head, storming his mind. “I’ll share him, I promise…”

“We can plan on him being the next White Rabbit.” He says and your chest was filled with excitement as your hand reached for his cheek to make him turn to you, licking your lips as you talked.

“I’m the hunter next year.”

“He’s all yours.”

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny, you're so funny with your twitching nose.

Second part maybe? Do you guys want Stevie?

REBLOGS MAKE ME REALLY HAPPY YOU KNOW.

A/N: Yeah, kinda came out of my shell with this one, I hope you all like it, and if you don't well, you do you booboo. TO ALL MY FRIENDS THAT WAITED FOR THIS, HERE YOU GO, I LOVE YOU, MWAH.

[bat-mom-writer]

Bat Baby: Part 5

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne(husband)

Reader(mother) X Richard(Dick) Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

Summery: The bat bois finnally meet their baby sister.

Note: Thanks for the name

(I do not own any DC characters)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

She stirs awake in a quite hospital room morning, the soft hum of medical machinery the only sound to greet her. The sun has barely started to peek through the blinds, casting a faint, comforting glow across the stark white sheets. Her eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the brightness that seems too harsh for such an early hour.

Her gaze lands on the sleeping form of Bruce Wayne, slumped in the chair beside her bed, his strong jawline slack with fatigue and his chest rising and falling in the rhythmic pattern of deep slumber. He had been there for hours, ever since she had been wheeled into the delivery room, his hand clutching hers as she had gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain.

With a gentle smile, she turns her head to the side, her eyes seeking the tiny, swaddled figure in the clear-sided bassinet next to her. There she is, their baby girl, her little cherub, with a shock of dark hair standing up in soft peaks and a button nose that looked as if it had been pinched from a doll. Her heart swells in her chest at the sight of her. She reaches out a hand, her fingers trembling slightly, to touch the soft, velvety skin of the newborn's cheek. The baby's eyes flutter open, revealing a pair of piercing blue orbs that stare back at her with curiosity and a hint of recognition.

"Good morning, my little love," she whispers, her voice hoarse from the exertion of the previous night. The baby's eyes widen, and a tiny, perfect hand emerges from the fold of blankets to grasp at her mother's thumb. She feels a rush of warmth, a bond stronger than any she has ever known. This is her daughter, her flesh and blood, the culmination of a love that has weathered many storms.

Bruce stirs awake with a deep inhale, his eyes blinking rapidly to focus on the scene before him. He sees his wife, the mother of his children, and his heart fills with a tenderness he never knew existed. Her face is etched with exhaustion but glows with the kind of joy that only a new mother can understand. He stands up, careful not to disturb the fragile moment, and leans over to press a kiss to her forehead.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room.

She looks up at him, her smile widening. "Tired, but... happy." she looks back to the little baby, "Look at her, Bruce. She's beautiful."

Bruce nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving the baby's face. "Just like her mother," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

Suddenly, she expression shifts, a shadow of regret passing over her features. "I'm sorry again for lashing out last night," she says softly, her voice thick with emotion. "And for... threatening to... kill you." she smiles awkwardly.

Bruce chuckles, the tension in the room easing. "It's all forgotten, honey," he says, "You were in a lot of pain. And I love you, but I don't think you could take me on, especially in your current state." His eyes dance with humor, the corners crinkling with affection.

She laughs softly, the sound music to Bruce's ears. "Well, maybe not," she concedes, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Bruce carefully lifts the baby from the bassinet, his strong arms cradling her with a tenderness that belies his usual stoic demeanor. She nuzzles into his chest, making a contented little sigh as she's held by her father for the first time.

With the baby now in Bruce's arms, she shifts slightly in the hospital bed, making room for him to sit beside her. He lowers himself onto the edge, his one arm coming around her shoulders to pull her close. The warmth of his body and the solidity of his presence provide a comfort she hadn't realized she needed until this moment. The three of them form a small, perfect circle, a new family unit that feels both foreign and incredibly right.

As Bruce holds their daughter, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of his wife's head, his lips lingering there for a brief moment. She closes her eyes, savoring the touch, feeling the weight of the past few hours lifting from her shoulders. The love that flows between them in this moment is palpable, a force that seems to fill the room and push out any remaining shadows of doubt or fear.

"Thank you," Bruce says, his voice a warm, rumbling baritone that resonates in her chest. He doesn't have to elaborate; she knows he's thanking her for the baby, for their family, for choosing him despite his dual life. her eyes well up with tears, and she nods, her voice too choked to form words. She's thankful too, for his unwavering support and love.

The quiet of the moment is broken by the soft knock on the door, and a nurse peeks her head in. "You have visitors," she says with a knowing smile that reaches her eyes, which are kind and gentle. Her heart skips a beat, her sons have finally come. Bruce had called they late last night that they should come over in the morning, guess they couldn't wait very long.

Dick Grayson, the oldest of the bunch, is the first to enter, his eyes immediately darting to the small bundle in Bruce's arms. He's followed by Jason Todd, his face a mask of curiosity and wariness. Tim Drake brings up the rear, his gaze flicking between Bruce, their mother, and their baby sister, his expression a mix of excitement and uncertainty. And Damian, who had been in on the secret, stands slightly apart, his arms crossed over his chest as if bracing for the reaction of his brothers.

The room is filled with a tension that only families can create, a thick silence that stretches out for a few heartbeats before Tim breaks it with a nervous chuckle. "We're calm, we promise," he says, his voice a little too high.

She can't help but laugh at the sight of them all, so serious and unsure. She holds out her free hand to beckon them closer. "Come and meet your little sister," she says, her voice filled with warmth.

They quickly shuffle closer, their movements tentative, as if afraid they might shatter the delicate scene before them. Dick's eyes are wide with wonder, Jason's with a smile, and Tim's with a cautious excitement. Damian, ever the stoic one, watches with a hint of a smirk, enjoying the rare moment of unity.

Bruce carefully passes the baby to Dick, who takes her with the same gentle care he uses when handling the most fragile of gymnastics equipment. Dick's eyes light up as he looks down at her, and the room seems to hold its breath as he whispers, "Hi, sis." The baby's tiny hand opens and closes, reaching for his face, and Dick's heart melts.

Jason, standing beside Dick, watches with a soft smile, his hand reaching out to gently brush the top of her head. The gesture is almost imperceptible, but it speaks volumes about the bond he shares with the child he had no part in creating, yet feels protective of. Her heart swells as she sees the tenderness in Jason's eyes, knowing that despite their tumultuous past, he has a place in their family. "She's so tiny," he says, his voice filled with awe.

Tim's hands are clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with the effort to contain his excitement. "Can I hold her?" he asks, his eyes wide and hopeful. She nods, and Bruce carefully passes the baby to him. Tim holds her with a mix of reverence and fear, as if she might break. His movements are stiff at first, but as the baby snuggles into his chest, his body relaxes and he beams with pride. "Wow," he murmurs, looking down at her. "She's perfect."

Damian, who had been watching from the sidelines, steps forward. He's the youngest, but often the most serious and guarded. He's been looking forward to this moment, to see if the bond he felt for his brothers would extend to this new member of their unconventional family. He holds out his pinky finger, watching as the baby's tiny hand wraps around it, her grip surprisingly strong. He can feel the warmth of her skin, the rapid beat of her pulse, and something within him shifts. The fiery protectiveness that fuels his nighttime escapades as Robin flares to life in his chest, and he knows that he would do anything to keep her safe.

Bruce, sitting back down with his arm around his wife's shoulder, watches his sons interact with their new sister. He's proud of them, each in their own way. Dick, the eldest, who has stepped into the role of a leader, guiding them through their training and life outside of the Manor. Jason, who has come so far from his rough beginnings, now a strong and capable ally. Tim, the youngest of the three, who has proven to be a quick learner and a vital part of the team. And Damian, his own biological son, who is learning to navigate the complexities of his identity and heritage.

"We're sorry that we sneaked out," she says to the boys, her voice tinged with a hint of apology. "We didn't want you to worry."

"We're also sorry," Dick says, his voice thick with a mix of affection and understanding, "for being overly protective."

"Yeah, I guess we went overboard," Jason admits. They've always been a tight-knit group, but with her pregnancy, they had all felt the weight of their responsibilities even more acutely.

Tim nods, still cradling the baby with awe. "But she's worth it," he says, his voice filled with pure happiness. "Look at her, she's a miracle."

"We promise to be more supportive next time," Dick says, a hint of humor in his voice, looking between Bruce and their mother.

Jason nods in agreement. "Yeah, no more jumping to conclusions or freaking out," he adds. She laughs, the sound light and airy.

"I'm glad you boys aren't mad." she says, looking to her eldest sons.

"Mad?" Tim repeats with a smile, "Are you kidding me? We're pissed." His words hang in the air for a beat, the humor in his voice unmistakable. Dick and Jason laugh, the tension in the room dissipating like a popped bubble.

"But we think we can find some way in our hearts to forgive you," Dick says, his grin widening as he glances at Tim, who nods solemnly, still holding the baby as if she were a fragile treasure. she laughs, her eyes shining with love for her sons.

"Okay, my turn," Jason says, his voice a mix of excitement and nerves as he steps closer to the bed. Tim carefully transfers the baby into Jason's arms, who holds her with surprising gentleness, his eyes never leaving hers. The baby stares back at him, seemingly unfazed by the exchange, and Jason's heart skips a beat. It's a moment he never thought he'd experience, being a big brother to a little girl, and he's overwhelmed with emotions.

"Hey there, you're just a cute little baby aren't you?" he says, his voice taking on a high-pitched, playful tone that seems to resonate with the baby. She responds with a gurgle and a kick of her tiny legs, making them all laugh.

Alfred, the Wayne's loyal butler, steps into the room with a tray of breakfast, his eyes immediately going to the newest addition to the family. "Ah, Mrs. Wayne, Mr. Wayne, and... the newest little Wayne," he says, a warm smile spreading across his face as he sets the tray down on the bedside table.

"Still working, Pennyworth?" she jokes, the nickname, a playful jab at Alfred's uncanny ability to appear whenever needed, brings a chuckle from the normally stoic man.

"Just ensuring that everyone's well taken care of, madam," he responds, his eyes flicking to the baby before he retreats to give the family their space.

"Alfred, come join us," Bruce calls out, his arm still around her shoulders. "You're a part of this family, too."

Alfred nods and approaches, his smile growing wider as he looks down at the baby. "Congratulations," he says sincerely, his British accent a comforting presence in the room. Hesitating for just a moment, he reaches out a gnarled hand to stroke her cheek. The baby's eyes follow his movements, and she coos contentedly.

Damian, who had been standing back, his arms still crossed over his chest, finally unclasps them and takes a tentative step forward. "May I hold her?" he asks, his voice softer than her has ever heard it. Bruce nods, and Tim carefully hands the baby over to Damian, who holds her with a mix of awe and trepidation. The baby seems to sense his uncertainty and reaches out a tiny hand to grasp his finger, holding on tight.

Damian's face relaxes into a smile, and she can see the love in his eyes, despite his usual stern demeanor. "Hello, little one," he whispers, his accent lilting slightly. "You've got quite the family to keep you safe." The baby looks up at him, seemingly responding to the strength in his voice, and Damian's smile widens.

As the boys continue to coo over their sister, her mind drifts to the future. The thought of raising a daughter in a household filled with so much testosterone, with Bruce's demanding schedule and the constant shadow of the Batman looming over them, fills her with a mix of excitement and trepidation. But she knows that with the love and protection of her sons, she has nothing to fear.

"What's her name?" Damian finally asks, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended over the room. She looks up at Bruce, who nods at her to go ahead. She takes a deep breath, savoring the moment. "Her name," she says, her voice strong and proud, "is Meillia," She glances to Alfred with a smirk, "Penny Wayne."

Alfred's eyes widen in shock, and his cheeks color slightly, a rare sight that brings another round of laughter from the room. She had always had a cheeky side, and it was moments like these that made her feel like she truly belonged in this strange world of masks and heroics. "Well, Miss Meillia Penny Wayne," he says, his voice filled with affection, "you certainly have an interesting family tree."

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence as the boys take turns holding Meillia, each one whispering promises and secrets into her ear. She watches them with a mix of pride and awe. They were her guardians, her protectors, and now, her brothers. Her heart swells at the thought of the adventures they would all share together, the love and chaos that would no doubt come with raising a daughter in the shadow of the Batcave.

[mapsthewanderer]

Caffeine, chemistry and Caleb III

Synopsis: The café was supposed to be just another coffee shop. For a law student who enjoys her morning coffee and a shy newbie still learning the ropes, it should have been nothing more than part of the daily routine… But then there’s Caleb.

Details: 1500 words. Pt 3 is up at em! Non-MC!Reader as the law student POV. Expect flirting, hot af barista Caleb, jealousy and plenty of banter with the newbie barista. Today Caleb surprises you… kind of. And the MC, who knows where she is? Mystery, indeed… Poll below! The last one… me thinks heeeeh.

Parts: initial one shot, part 1, newbie POV, part 2, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Tags: @gavin3469 @unstablemiss @i-messed-up-big-time @mipov101

Your Honor, he’s smirking again | Pt. 3

The law library is supposed to be sacred ground. Hushed reverence. Paper rustling. People highlighting like their lives depend on it.

But your laptop screen is currently filled with… apples.

Literally. Just—apple images. Cross-sections. Vintage posters. Pages of orchard trivia.

And your notes? They’ve completely devolved.

Exhibit A: Apple juice (Caleb’s drink of choice. Unexpected. Possibly romantic.)

Exhibit B: Apple charm on chain. Small. Worn. Too meaningful to be aesthetic.

Exhibit C: The way he said, “I just have a thing for apples.” With a grin like a sealed affidavit.

Tapping your pen against your teeth, you stare down your own handwriting. You’ve written “Who is she?” in the margin no less than six times. Circling each one harder than the last.

The charm wasn’t random. You know it. It was the kind of thing someone gives you when they mean it. And Caleb? Caleb doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to wear things without meaning.

You click open another tab. Type: “Apple symbolism in relationships.”

You’re mid-scroll on an article called ‘What Your Favorite Apple Says About Your Soulmate’ (Red Delicious apparently equals “overcommitted and delusional”—rude)

It’s the push you need. You close your laptop, shove it into your bag, and make a snap decision to change the scene.

Because obviously, the most rational way to break your obsession with Caleb… is to go sit directly in his workplace.

——————————————————————————

The café is quiet when you arrive—except for the simmer of K-pop in the background. You knew the newbie was into that kind of music (not that you’re judging, though you definitely are, just a little).

The newbie catches sight of you and gives a small, almost imperceptible nod from behind the counter—equal parts “welcome back” and “still spiraling, huh?”

You nod back: Of course you’re spiraling.

Behind the counter, the newbie shrugs—same, but in their own way. A silent acknowledgment. Two members of the same tragic club.

You pick your usual table, set down your things, and open your laptop again.

Two minutes later, you’re back on apple symbolism. Like you never left.

Your phone buzzes.

newbie: stop i can feel it from here

You glance around. One earbud in, apron on, their usual slouch behind the counter. They catch your eye for half a second, then immediately look back down like they weren’t just watching you.

You message back:

You: the charm’s an apple, right?? it has to mean something… do people wear apple charms for fun???

newbie: i dunno. i’m not the fruit feelings department.

You stare at your screen. Then back at them.

The newbie moves to wipe down a table as you approach—clearly already clean, but it gives them something to do with their hands. You try to look casual. You are not.

“Hypothetical question,” you say, voice pitched at normal human volume. “Has Caleb ever dated someone who… also had a weird fruit obsession?”

They glance at you. “Hypothetical?”

You nod. “Purely academic. Research purposes. National interest.”

Newbie gives you a look like I cannot believe I am complicit in this. Then sighs. “You mean like… an apple girl?”

You freeze. “She’s real?”

“I mean—no,” they say quickly, eyes flicking toward the espresso machine like it might save them. “I don’t think there’s a her. Or… if there is, she’s not, like, around. Never been around here, at least…”

You squint. “But?”

They shift their weight, fingers tugging at the edge of their sleeve. “It’s just… the necklace? It’s always there. Like—always.”

They glance at you, voice dropping a little. “He’ll swap out rings, change outfits, wear different earrings sometimes—but that chain? Never leaves his neck.”

Another pause. Then, softer: “It’s like it’s part of him.”

There’s a flicker of something hesitant—like regret, or just shyness. “Sorry. That’s all I’ve got. I just… notice stuff.”

You try not to let your face do anything dramatic.

“That’s fine,” you say. “It’s fine. Just… taking mental notes.”

They nod slowly. “You look like you asked for peace of mind and got a busy signal.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hey, that’s rude. Accurate. But rude.”

Then the bell above the door rings.

And you know it’s him. The shift in atmosphere gives it away before you even turn.

Caleb walks in like he owns the lighting—hair ruffled, a worn athletic zip-up hugging his frame just right, one strap of a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a grin in place like it was designed by a committee and unanimously approved.

Your eyes flick straight to his chest. But the jacket’s zipped, collar popped just enough to block the spot where the chain usually peeks out.

You squint. Casually. Or as casually as someone hunting for emotional evidence can look.

Nothing.

Just soft cotton, a flash of silver from a ring on his hand—but no charm. No dog tag. No apple.

It feels like someone ripped a page out of your evidence binder for a class case prep.

“Golden Girl,” he calls, spotting you. “Back again. You really can’t resist a good caffeine felony.”

You open your mouth to shoot something back, but he’s already striding over, apron in one hand, and—

“Hey, actually,” he says, slowing near your table, “I need a legal opinion.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got this customer,” he says, eyes too bright. “Keeps showing up. Possibly addicted to me. Definitely judging my apple juice innovations.”

Your stomach flips. “Sounds serious.”

“Oh, it is.” He pulls out the chair across from you and sits down like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Might have to take legal action. Or hire a very competent defense attorney.”

“You’d need one,” you say. “Because that drink was a crime.”

He leans forward just slightly, eyes glinting. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll prosecute me.”

Your thoughts immediately call for a recess. Indefinitely.

“Are you… asking for a mock trial date?”

He shrugs. “I prefer to think of it as… study support. Mutual interest. Also, I brought cookies.”

Caleb reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small paper bag like a magician pulling a rabbit—casual, practiced, unfairly charming. “Bribery,” he says, voice low and amused. “Very illegal. But effective.”

You’re laughing before you can stop yourself. “Fine. But if I catch even one apple reference in your opening statement—”

“You’ll what?” he says, tilting his head. “Sentence me to flirtation?”

You groan. “That was terrible.”

“That was golden, Golden Girl.”

Your phone buzzes under the table.

newbie: get a room. or i’m calling HR

You glance toward the counter.

They’re watching you over the espresso machine, one eyebrow raised, tongue piercing catching the light as they chew their lip to keep from laughing.

You fire back:

You: enjoy your floor mop. i’m cross-examining the emotionally unavailable hot guy.

You look up. Caleb is watching you, still leaning forward like he’s waiting for your verdict.

Then, with one lazy motion, he unzips his jacket.

And there it is.

The chain catches the light as the fabric shifts. The dog tag resting against his chest, and just beside it, the apple charm. Small. Still there.

Definitely still there. Damn.

Your want to bite your lip.

Instead you pick up one of the cookies. Take a bite. Chew slowly.

Then narrow your eyes at him, mid-chew.

“You baked these, didn’t you?”

Caleb raises a brow, smug. “Maybe.”

You shake your head, still chewing. “Unbelievable. I can taste the real butter.”

He laughs. “That good?”

You point at the cookie like it personally betrayed you. “I hate how good this is.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, all lazy confidence, one hand propping up his jaw like this is fun for him.

You chew like it’ll help quiet the spike of jealousy and tension in your chest. You straighten yourself, back to normal.

“Well,” you say. “I suppose I could consult. For a fee.”

“Oh yeah?” His grin sharpens. “What’s your rate?”

You lift an eyebrow. “Tell me who the apple charm’s from.”

He stills—just for a beat.

Then he smiles again. Slower. Warmer. Almost… fond.

“Dangerous question,” he murmurs.

“Try me.”

He doesn’t answer. Just pulls out his own notebook—small, leather-bound, lived-in—and flips it open to a blank page.

“Fine,” he says, voice warm, a little too casual. “Let’s make this a real trial. You ask your questions. I’ll take the stand.”

It’s a joke. Maybe. But there’s something in the way he says it. In the way he doesn’t look away.

And for a second, you think—he wants to be known.

Which might be worse than anything you imagined about the apple girl.

Because now you’re not just spiraling.

You’re falling.

You open your mouth, ready to press him further—channeling your inner attorney, zeroing in on the charm. But you don’t get the chance.

There’s a sharp crash from behind the counter.

You both turn.

The newbie stands frozen mid-shift, holding half of a shattered glass in one gloved hand, the other covered in foam and regret.

Caleb’s on his feet in a heartbeat, already crossing the room. “Hey, you okay?” he says, all soft and low as he crouches down beside them.

He pats their back gently—steady, reassuring—then starts gathering the mess, hands careful around the broken pieces like he’s done this before.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmurs. “Happens to everyone.”

You catch the newbie’s eyes over his shoulder. Wide, guilty, and very clearly saying: Sorry.

You blink once, then give a tiny, resigned nod back: It’s fine. I’m coming back.

And you both know it’s true.

——————————————————————————

Part 4

——————————————————————————

Writer’s note: Writing this is my perfect drug. Caleb flirting + the law student snapping back = pure brain bliss. I LOVE THEM. Final poll time (24hrs only!): are we yeeting the MC out of the universe or letting her stay? The arc works either way but… I gotta say, keeping her? Chef’s kiss. Superior flavor, in my humble chaotic opinion. And Red Delicious does not mean overcommitted and delusional it’s just my sad sense of humor. Okey then, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[momentov1vere]

I present: some of my favorite quotes from Oathbound

+ my thoughts ! (not serious ones just what my mind was doing when they happened lol)

(spoilers ahead obviously!)

1.

“‘He doomed himself,’ Erebus says. ‘He knew what would follow.’

‘What’s more human than sacrifice?’ I snap.

Erebus’s eyes narrow.

‘What’s more human than risking what you have and what you are for someone else?’” - pg. 38

YESSSS I love this little selbree moment <3 Bree defending her loved ones will always be my favorite thing :D

2.

“‘You dance with treason today, Scion Davis.’

‘If treason is truth, then perhaps I do. Or perhaps I merely tire of your version of loyalty.’”- pg. 128

I’m sorry Nick I was unfamiliar with your game?? This entire scene was iconic for him I am obsessed with his character development

3.

“He can't see me, but I can just make out the glow of his eyes. His irises are green with fury, and I imagine what I would look like to him if he could see me.

A young brown-skinned girl in a long formal gown, striding toward him with her palms out wide. A girl with deep purple magic flowing from her hands to feed the structure encasing him. A girl raising that sphere into the air, levitating him from the ground. A girl trained by the deepest Shadow himself, her teeth bared in an electric grin.” - pg. 338

THATS MY GIRL <3333 I love this scene so much I LOVE BADASS BREE !!!!

4.

“‘Are you really going for that dagger strapped to your thigh, right out here in the open?’

My left fingers have already grasped the hilt. How long had he known the dagger was there? When did he notice? In the darkened basement? when we were pressed together in the elevator, torso to torso and legs to legs? ‘No.’

‘You are.’ Wonder fills his expression. ‘Look at you. Incredible. You’re a gorgeous, powerful, violent little enigma who would stab me in front of all these people just to make a point.’”- pg. 387

RAHHHHH Nick is literally the biggest yearner ever, wdym you have a wonder-filled expression when your gf(?) is about to stab you lmao I love them

5.

“‘The first time we kissed—actually, every time we kissed there was an ache, a burn, a. . .’ He shakes his head, shrugging helplessly. ‘I don’t know. Kissing you feels like a reminder that. . .’

‘That you’re still alive.’ The words leave me before I know them.

His eyes snap to mine, recognition flooding them. ‘Yes. Like climbing a cliff at the ocean, both feet solid beneath you, and peering over the edge. Not to jump, just to—to—’

‘Just to see.’ My heart pounds in my throat. ‘Just to. . .’

I can’t finish, but Nick picks up where I falter. ‘Just to feel. To know what it’s like to stand right where the world begins and ends. Right at the infinite.’ His chest rises with every breath, his blue eyes sparking into something raw and unguarded. ‘Kissing you is like touching the sky, like touching the horizon. God, Bree, it’s even like touching the—’

‘The fall,’ I whisper. ‘Not just standing at the edge, but going over. All of it.’

‘Yes,’ he says quietly. ‘All of it.’”- pg. 425

I was giggling and kicking my feet during this entire interaction breenick will be the death of me 😭

nick davis i was familiar with your game but i was unaware that you had THIS much game

6.

“‘I’m drowning in you, Bree. I shouldn’t want to. I should fight it. But I can’t.’

My eyes flutter closed, then open, I inhale a ragged breath. Exhale an answer.

‘So drown.’” - pg. 484

AHHHHHHHH

7.

“‘You had to fail, Bree. You had to fall.’

‘Why?’ I exclaim.

‘Because you had to rise.’ He steps closer. ‘A true leader has to know every side of her battle: the wins, the losses, the enemies, the allies, the good, and the bad. And she has to know who has her back, without the titles and legacies.’” - pg. 585

Valec casually dropping some of the best advice ever he’s so amazing; I liked him in Bloodmarked but he’s become a new favorite bc of Oathbound I think

8.

“‘Loving other people and losing them hurts. And loving them when they’re gone? Opens up the wound again. Now, I’m no expert, but I think the only way to live with grief is to seek its antidote. For me, that’s learning how to live my life without your mom in it and figuring out how to be your dad without her beside me, while remembering how she made me feel about myself. If I don’t do that, I’m pretty sure I’ll forget how to love other people altogether, not because I can’t, but because I won’t remember how. Loving folks is a practice, baby.’”- pg. 593

Edwin Matthews once again coming in swinging with the greatest advice ever; I always tear up when it’s a scene with him 🥲

9.

“‘Even when you choose yourself, you turn hope into something tangible for the rest of us. Even when you choose not to fight, you turn the tides. If you ask me, that right there is the soul of a king.’

‘Soul of a leader,’ my father adds.

‘A hero,’ says Nick, eyes fond.

‘An icon!’ Zoe shouts, grinning.” - pg. 607

Bree’s support system >>>>

10.

“‘What would I gain from giving up my advantage? I could simply order you to give my crown to me as soon as you arrive.’

I expected that question, and so my answer is ready.

‘You could,’ I say. ‘But if you do not, and you hear me out, you’ll receive something from me that I will never offer you again.’

‘Oh?’ he says. ‘And that is?’

‘My mercy, Erebus,’ I say. ‘My mercy.’” - pg. 609

badass Bree makes another appearance and this scene is going triple platinum in my brain 😁

11.

“‘Any chance you’d stay in the car?’

‘Nope,’ I say.

‘Right.’ He nod to himself as he unlocks his door. ‘Why do I even ask?’

‘Hope is good for the spirit,’ I say brightly, and get out.” - pg. 611

this one’s just silly but I love the little lighthearted moment before everything goes to shit ! 😁

12.

“‘Nicholas Davis and Selwyn Kane.’ Sel ignores Nick’s attempt to redirect him. ‘The sun and the moon. You are the warmth and the light and I am the bitter deep cold, or do it has always appeared. But we know the truth, don’t we, Nicholas?’

. . . ‘Does she know that the moon lives in you, too?’

. . . ‘She does,’ Nick whispers. ‘Just like she knows the sun lives within you.’ - pg. 621

brickwyn/selnick crumbs yippee!! but in all seriousness the nick/sel dynamic is so interesting and I will be obsessed with it forever even if brickwyn is not endgame (though this book has made me think it might be? they’re all so connected now it kind of transcends romance idk)

13.

“Love. Trust. Both a practice, I decide.” - pg. 625

this one is just great, I love Bree going learning from her dad but using his quote to create her own belief <3

ok thats all of them! I’ll have more after I do a reread I’m sure but for now I need to try to not go insane waiting for book 4 let this one stew in my brain for a bit !

[rusalka52]

Tell me I’m pretty

↝completed

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Once news about your upcoming date with Sirius hits Hogwarts every one of your friends seems to be against it. The morning of your date is here and you can’t seem to calm down.

cw: Sirius is a bit of a liar, blood-purist attitudes, mention of period typical homophobia

4.3k words

A/N: This chapter was meant to be them going on the date but I realised it was going to become way too long so I decided to split it into two parts. I’m halfway done with the next part but I wasn’t going to be able to finish it all today and I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting any longer. I hope you guys enjoy this (slight filler) chapter and don't forget to like, reblog, comments etc. etc. and let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list!!!!

You have witnessed Regulus Arcturus Black scream a total of two times throughout your seven years at Hogwarts. The first time was when he was knocked off his broom by a bludger sent his way by the Hufflepuff team’s beater. You heard him scream as he hit the ground with a loud thud as his broom was knocked out from under him, sending him plunging down. He ended up fracturing his arm in two places. The other time was while you, him and a couple of your mutual friends were sitting under the big oak tree in the courtyard. Regulus’ ear piercing shriek filled the peaceful air as he jumped out of his seat in a panic frantically patting himself. A little spider had landed on his sleeve.

You are about to bear witness to the third time that Regulus will raise his voice.

“YOU’RE GOING ON A DATE WITH WHO?” He screeches, flinging the door to your dorm room open and making you jump in fear. You were sure he was going to rip the door off its hinges from how sudden and rapid his movements were.

“Merlin, Regulus! Can you at least knock!?” You exclaim, staring at him wide eyed, clutching your heart. “I almost had a heart attack!”

“Please, for the love of Salazar, tell me that this Ravenclaw girl was chatting shit and you’re NOT going on a date with my brother.” He says, closing his eyes, rubbing his temples and seemingly doing breathing exercises to calm himself down.

“How did you even get up here?” You ask, ignoring the question.

“I let him in!” Pandora announces coming up behind him and flopping down on her bed, watching the scene unfold in front of her as if it’s a film.

“Ugh Doraaa…” You whine, looking over at the blonde who just smiles in return.

“Sorry, someone has to talk some sense into you.” She shrugs, apologising, very insincerely!

“Mate, please tell me it’s not true. Please!” Regulus begs, grabbing your attention again. You gaze up at him. He was still standing in the doorway of the dorm, white-knuckling the door knob. You take a moment to study him. He definitely looked related to Sirius. Their resting faces always betrayed their arrogance and haughtiness that seemed to almost be innate to all pure-blood families. Despite their similarities, moles littering their faces reminiscent of constellations, grey eyes, raven hair, there were plenty of differences that set them apart. Sirius was taller, slightly more handsome and his hair was a few inches longer, reaching below his shoulders with a tighter curl pattern than his brother. His hair care routine is definitely more detailed and convoluted than his brother’s. His teeth were slightly sharper and his eyes more expressive. Regulus had acne scars staining his cheeks from the amount of time he picked his face and his nails were perpetually bitten, both an obvious symptom of anxiety. His shoulders permanently tensed.

“Well?” He looks at you expectantly.

“It’s… umm, not not true!” You try to reason, averting your gaze, suddenly your overgrown cuticles and chipped nail polish became a hundred times more interesting.

“I hate you!” His voice comes out muffled as he buries his face in his hands. He closes the dorm door and sits on the bed across from yours. Regulus grips your hands in his.

“Listen to me.” You peel your eyes away from your nails and look at the boy in front of you.

“You’re a smart girl but I need to offer you some insight regarding my brother.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “He doesn’t wash his socks, he sleeps in the same dirty, disgusting, sleeveless, cropped New York Dolls shirt and boxers -most nights, sometimes NO boxers-, our poor house elf has to physically drag him away to change his sweaty sheets, and even then he yells at him, so Salazar knows how often he changes them here! Did you also know that he blasts his shitty rock music really loud every day and night? Merlin, how could I forget!? He also has pictures and posters of that ridiculous Harley motorcycle AND half naked muggle ladies all over his walls back home! That Infuriates mother because he used a bloody permanent sticking charm on them! Can you believe the twat!” The boy in front of you takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, another trait he shares with his brother, before continuing his tirade. “He will just use you to get what he wants and then leave you, you must know that! Or, even worse, he might not even show up to the date and mock you the next day. Or, Merlin forbid, you two go to that damned date at Hogsmeade and he will surely get distracted by that ridiculous group of his and he ends up ditching you in favour of hanging out with his bloody mates!!!” Regulus rants growing more and more disgusted with every word. “In conclusion, Sirius is just a repulsive, lustful teenage boy and you should not, under any circumstance, go out with him!” He finishes, getting up and leaving your dorm, not wanting to hear another word from you.

You’ve known and been friends with Regulus since second year so you were well aware that this action meant ‘do whatever you want, but just so you know, I’m right’ but you were truly hoping that this wouldn’t be the case and that Sirius would not prove his brother right.

~

“HE’S GOING ON A DATE WITH WHO?” Marlene exclaims in shock as she walks through the portrait hole, Dorcas, the tattle-tale, trailing behind her. Everyone who was in the Gryffindor common room had turned to look at the two girls waiting to find out who is going on a date with who. Marlene started scanning the room, her eyes finally locking on her target -Sirius- and making a beeline towards him.

Sirius was sitting on the windowsill next to the open window blowing smoke out of it, his cropped Stooges shirt riding up to reveal his happy trail and v line, while James was lounging next to him on one of the sofas, playing with his golden snitch and pretending to pay attention to whatever the History of Magic textbook was analysing. Marlene marched right up to Sirius and stood with her hands on her hips staring daggers at him.

“If you and your little girlfriend want cigarettes, go ask Remus, I'm not giving you anymore of mine.” Sirius says flippantly, not even sparing a glance at the ticked off blonde in front of him. Until she punches him in the stomach.

“What in the bloody hell was that for!?” He exclaims clutching his stomach and bending over as James snickers beside him. Marlene knew that her punch didn’t hurt, Sirius just had a flair for the dramatic.

“Why are people saying you're going on a date with that Slytherin chick?”

“Well, you’re also dating a Slytherin chick but you’re not seeing me throwing punches left and right!”

“So it IS true!? You are unbelievable, Black.” Marlene shakes her head at her friend.

“Gosh, Marlene, why can’t a boy have some fun nowadays!” He exclaims in an over exaggerated tone, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

“Need I remind you of how horribly you treated her in the hallways the other day? I mean frankly, I just don’t understand why she even agreed to go out with you…”

“Dearest Marlene, you’ll be pleased to find out that she asked, nay, practically begged, to go on a date with me! I am nothing short of a gentleman so, of course, I decided to indulge her.” Sirius, of course, was well aware that what he said was not true; images of him yesterday, on his knees in front of her, kissing her fingers, coming to the forefront of his mind, but the others didn’t need to know that.

“Did she actually?” Dorcas spoke up for the first time, slowly approaching the group from behind Marlene.

“Oh, she speaks! Who would’ve thought!” James comments, giggling, as he and Sirius share a mocking look. Marlene, in defence of her girlfriend, slaps him over the head, promptly shutting the taunting boy up. Dorcas always felt uncomfortable in the Gryffindor tower. She tried to keep her relationship with Marlene low-key -it being the 70s and all-, but she couldn’t help but take notice of people’s judgemental stares when they walked hand in hand, even though they could play it off as just being friends. People could always tell. It didn’t help that she was a Slytherin so there was always an underlying hatred being pointed towards her on the basis of her house. No matter how many times she visited their common room with Marlene she would always hear a hushed “what’s the snake doing here..?” always said in annoyance and disgust. Therefore, Dorcas learned to ignore all the taunting remarks

“Yeah, she practically pleaded like a puppy during detention yesterday. It was quite adorable really.” Sirius shrugs, putting out his cigarette on the cobblestone walls and tossing the butt in a trash can nearby. And this is how easily rumours and misinformation spread through the Hogwarts castle.

~

“Mate, do you actually even fancy her?” Peter asks Sirius later in the boys dorm, munching on a chocolate frog. Remus, the quiet but very necessary voice of reason, was out for the night, curtains drawn and already snoring. The full moon being a few days away always caused him to become lethargic and need more sleep than usual.

“Yeah, Pads, why are you even interested in going out with her?” James questions in a low voice so as not to wake up Remus. “I mean I understand when you just wanted to snog her at the concert, and you got your wish, but a date seems a bit too far, no?”

“Well, she’s completely obsessed with me, so I decided to give the poor girl a chance.” Sirius tries to play it off.

“But wasn’t she the one refusing you the other day, how come she changed her mind so quickly?” Peter wonders.

“Besides, you never even told us what happened at detention yesterday.” James remarks.

“I-uh, well you see,” Sirius stammers, “a true gentleman would never kiss and tell!” He briskly regains his composure trying to not expose his lie. “I just see her as a sort of challenge, you know! It would also be fun to mess with her a bit…” He continues, hoping that the boys would just drop it. Sirius is so thankful for the full moon approaching or else Remus would have definitely noticed his lie and asked him about it later. What Sirius had said wasn’t a complete lie, it was the truth, only slightly bent to fit his needs, and with a few embellishments added to conclude his bad-boy charm.

This was the first time that Sirius had ever even considered dating a pureblood Slytherin, so of course he was slightly on edge. It was something that would totally conform to everything his parents would have wanted for him to do, find a nice pureblood Slytherin girl to date, then marry, then produce an heir for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and this annoyed Sirius to no end, so of course he had to pretend that she was obsessed with him and not the other way around. How could he, the black sheep and rebel of his family, the first Black to ever be sorted into Gryffindor, the one who ran away to stay with a “blood traitor’s” family, possibly want to do something that would appease his family, maybe even make them proud? It was making his head spin.

~

Next morning at breakfast you take a seat next to Regulus who has seemingly cooled off from last day’s diatribe.

“Good morning, have you changed your mind?” He asks, flipping the page of this morning’s Daily Prophet.

You place some pancakes on your plate. “No.”

“Hm, that’s a shame.” And that’s where your riveting conversation ended. He was still bitter because of yesterday it seems.

You two eat in awkward silence for approximately fifteen minutes until your vision suddenly goes black and someone’s dirty hands are covering your eyes.

“Guess who?” You hear Barty laugh obnoxiously behind you.

“Not in the mood, mate.” You shake the brunette off and he sits next to you. Regulus’ coldness had evidently rubbed off on you making you completely disinterested in Barty’s antics. Barty, naturally, saw that as a challenge to cheer you up.

“You’ll never guess what ridiculously laughable rumour I heard this morning by some airhead Hufflepuff girls in the hallway. That you, of all people in this damn castle, asked Sirius Black, the blood-traitor, out on a date to Hogsmeade. As if!” He laughs next to you.

You and Regulus freeze up, the tension in the air, which Barty was seemingly oblivious to, could be cut with a butter knife.

“Oh Salazar, you asked him?” Regulus whines like a petulant child, burying his face in his hands.

“Wait, WHAT?” Barty exclaims, placing his hands around your shoulders and shaking you. “Tell me you’re not actually going and that you're going to stand him up!”

“Erm, well, you see…”

“Merlin, mate… Out of everyone in this castle you chose him!?” At Barty’s exacerbated sigh the three of you peer over at the Gryffindor table. You immediately spot the Marauders, which wasn’t all that difficult seeing as Peter was trying to shoot blueberries in James’ mouth, who in turn hissed and groaned, yelling at the other boy’s poor aim, every time he missed. At 8 o’clock in the morning. Remus, who was sitting next to Peter, was flipping through his copy of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms while sipping on his morning tea; he appeared far too exhausted to deal with the boys’ hijinks. And Sirius…well, he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to them at all.

His gaze was already fixed on you when your eyes landed on him, and he flashed a blithe grin your way that instantly sent heat rushing to your cheeks and neck. He raises his arm to wave at you and you can't help but take notice of your pink hair tie still wrapped around his wrist. Despite your best efforts to resist, even biting your cheek to distract yourself, Sirius’ smile was too infectious. It wasn’t your fault, you thought defensively. How could a person possibly not return his smile? The way his sharp teeth flashed, the sincerity in his grey eyes, the-

“Oh Salazar, you did ask him…” Regulus buries his head deeper in his hands.

“You are unbelievable!” Barty barks a laugh, slinging an arm around your shoulder teasingly. You're just praying at this point that the earth opens up to swallow you whole.

“Well, seeing as these two love birds will no doubt start courting soon, we should establish some ground rules, don't you agree Reggie?” Barty carries on, talking about you as if you're not even there.

“Don’t talk to me.” Regulus takes a sip of his lukewarm tea and turns his body away from you two.

“Rule number one: You two must keep the public displays of affection to a minimum in our presence, especially in front of poor ol’ Reggie over there, he might have an aneurysm if he sees anything beyond hand holding!” The brunette turns to address you. You do your best to ignore him, biting down on your pancakes.

“Rule number two: Don’t you dare start hanging out with those Gryffindor bellends and inviting them over to our hangouts over the summer. My house has a strict ‘No Gryffindors allowed policy’ as you know.” You hum in mock agreement, a poor attempt of getting him to go back to the Ravenclaw table.

“And now most important rule of all, rule number three: We should under no circumstances leave the two of you unattended for too long, the future heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black simply cannot be born out of wedlock! Walburga, or I suppose your mother-in-law now, would have a fit! Although I’m sure a nerd like Regulus is bound to know a few contraceptive potions to help his brother-dearest out.” Regulus and you grimace and Barty in turn just grins wider.

~

“You alright, mate? You're going to break the fork in half.” James laughs at the way his friend next to him is subconsciously white-knuckling the blameless kitchen utensil in his hand.

“I just don’t like the way his arm has been around her for that long, that’s all.” Sirius says, sucking his teeth and relaxing his grip. “That Crouch boy is nothing but trouble, you know. I’ve seen him hanging around Mulciber, Avery, Rosier and that sort.”

“And here I thought you didn’t fancy this lass that much.” James drawls.

“I don’t.”

“Mhm…” Remus hums in response avoiding the raven haired boy’s burning gaze.

“I would just prefer it that the girl I’m going on a date with isn’t fraternising with to-be death eaters! “

“So you’re not jealous that his arm is wrapped around her?”

“No, Wormtail, I am not jealous.” Sirius makes sure his disagreement is noticed by accentuating his response with a hard kick to Peter’s shin.

~

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, spent in one of three locations; the classrooms, studying in the library, or sleeping in your dorm. And it was now Saturday and your morning alarm was ringing. The morning of your date with Sirius Black. Now that was a sentence you couldn’t believe you were saying. After ruminating on your clothes all week, on Friday you finally managed to pick out an outfit from your wardrobe that you liked and that was weather appropriate. You made sure last night to carefully lay out the clothes on your trunk at the end of your bed so as not to get them wrinkly and to keep them clean. The only thing that remained was to pick out your jewelry and take care of your hair and makeup. Nothing too extravagant you don’t want him thinking that you care too much about this date. He probably doesn’t, anyway.

You finally sit up from your bed and the sight in front of you makes your eyes bulge out of your skull.

“DORCAS!” You scream, effectively waking up every girl in the dorm, maybe even in the entire Slytherin dungeon.

“I hate your bloody cat so much, look at what it’s done!” The cat in question yawns, does a big stretch all over your clean clothes and jumps off your trunk with a meow, her tail flicking behind her. “You have to train the damn thing!”

“Don’t yell at Trixie!” Pandora chastises, rolling over in her bed and covering her head with the pillow.

You sit on the corner of your bed and shake your head.

“I can’t wear this now! My clothes are ruined, there are cat hairs all over them and look at how wrinkly your wretched beast made them!” You look up at your friend, tears nearly brimming your eyes. This date was making you go insane, this was not normal behaviour.

“Dear Salazar, mate, stop being hysterical, here.” Dorcas says, flicking her wand and making your clothes appear good as new. She takes a seat next to you.

“Is everything alright with you..?” Dorcas questions, patting your thigh soothingly. You take a deep breath.

“Yes.” You stand up. “Yes, everything is fine, I need to brush my teeth.” You slam the bathroom door behind you and immediately wash your face. You were working yourself up into a frenzy for no reason, for something that should not even matter to you. Just breathe.

You go on with your morning routine, finishing your makeup and hair, and you put on your outfit.

“Okay girls, how do I look?” You do a spin in front of all your dorm mates, who were sitting in a line on one of the unmade beds. They all clap.

“Wowww.”

“Beautiful.”

“Outstanding!”

You hear their voices chorus in front of you.

“Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that because we’re friends?” You ask them fidgeting nervously with your hands.

“Merlin, why are you so worried about this date? It should be Black who should be nervous, going out with a bird like you!” Dorcas responds reassuringly.

“You’re right, you’re right. Now someone please help me with the clasp of this necklace. I can’t get it closed.” In reality, on every other occasion, you could put the necklace on quite easily, but your sweaty palms were preventing you today. Your body was betraying your anxiety for this date and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Your hands were involuntarily fidgeting with the end of your skirt on your way out from the Slytherin dungeons.

“Mate, you really need to calm down.” Dorcas grabs your upper arm and squeezes it, trying to get you to relax.

“Fuck, I know, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t even like him that much, he’s just a stupid boy!” You close your eyes taking, what seemed to be, the thousandth deep breath of the day.

“It’s natural to be nervous about a first date. I remember the first time I went out with Marlene I nearly threw up on the coach ride to Hogsmeade!”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. But don’t worry it’s not like I’m seeing the future, I’m shite at divination, you know that.” She giggles. You two continue walking in comfortable silence until you reach the entrance to the castle.

“Everything will go great, don’t sweat it.” Dorcas hugs you.

“I know.” You reply, your answer muffled by your face being buried in her shoulder, and the pair of you walk outside.

As you make your way towards the gate leading to the path towards Hogsmeade you spot Marlene sitting on one of the benches. The moment she spots her girlfriend a smile lights up her face and she rises from the bench, walking towards you. Your eyes begin to scan the rest of the benches looking for Sirius as the two girls hug and greet each other.

“Hi, Marlene!” You wave at the blonde. “Have you, umm, seen Sirius around?”

“No, love, sorry, but I’m sure he’ll get here soon. The entire Gryffindor tower has had to listen to him wax poetics about you all week, it’s been driving everyone up a wall.”

“Really?” You question, unsure as to whether she’s saying that just to make you feel better or because it’s the truth.

“Yeah! He tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing for the first day but after that he’s been raving about you non-stop! It’s always ‘Oh Marls, have you seen how pretty and soft hair looks today and how her lipstick accentuates her plump lips, isn’t she just ravishing!? Marls, did you notice how quickly she completed her potion first today, and it was perfectly done too, she’s so smart!’ Absolute madman! I started getting sick of you -no offence- but after the twentieth compliment in a row, it becomes a lot, you know.” Heat starts rising to your cheeks. You weren’t aware Sirius was that into you.

“He was borderline worse than how Potter was with Lily, and that’s saying a lot! It was making me want to punch him in the face. But don’t tell him I told you that, he made me promise to not let anyone know” Marlene goes on, frowning and pointing her finger in your face to threaten you jokingly.

“Do you want us to wait with you until he gets here?” Dorcas asks as she looks around trying to spot the boy.

“Oh no, no, there’s no need, I don’t want to keep you two waiting, go have your fun!” You offer the girls a tight lipped smile waving them off with your hand. Marlene’s words had eased your anxiety a bit, but there was still a small voice in the back of your head that was making you squirm. Your palms begin to sweat as the pair leaves.

Your heart drops and a pit begins to form in your stomach as you glance at your watch. He is five minutes late. You agreed to meet at 11:00 and it’s now 11:05. You couldn’t help your racing thoughts. “Regulus was right, he’s not even going to show up, or maybe he’s hiding behind some tree with his mates, ready to jump out and mock me. Salazar, what is wrong with me? I was such a bloody idiot to think that he would want to be seen outside with me. I should just turn around and head back to the castle to save face and I’ll just tell people I felt ill.”

As you do a 180° turn, planning to storm back to your dorm, you run right into someone who is fastly approaching. You gasp and go to step back but you end up missing your footing and you’re about to tumble down when the person’s hand grips your own and his other arm snakes around your waist. You regain your composure standing up now face-to-face with Sirius and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry for being late, love, James is a cock and he couldn’t remember where he put my favourite cologne. And I’m sorry for spooking you.”

“I- umm, it’s alright don’t worry about it.” You just now notice that his arms are still securely wrapped around your waist, as yours are placed against his biceps, and you pull away from him.

“Shall we go?” You nod your head towards Hogsmeade, avoiding his gaze.

“Mhm.” He hums. “Let’s go.”

tags: @gastroentred @beekeepingageissome @is-it-better-to-speak-or-todie @lolalleins @azure-drag0ness

Likes and reblogs help a lot! If anyone wants to be added to tag list for the last part just let me know!!

Requests: open :D

[elliespassagerprincess]

heyy could you write something based on Dark Red by Steve Lacy?

i love all your works btw

Dark red - (ellie williams x reader)

hi poookie!! thank you sm!! i hope you don't mind me writing this as a gore story, I've been writing a lot of fluff recently and i missed my violent stories, but if you want me to write a different version just let me know!!! i hope you enjoy <33

This story is based off the song Dark Red by Steve Lacy, if you can please listen to the song while you're reading:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

HUGE warning: murder, kidnapping, being held hostage, dead bodies, violence

Summary: in which she wanted you to herself

masterlist

"Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

I don't know what, but I feel it coming

Might be so sad, might leave my nose running

I just hope she don't wanna leave me"

Something bad was going to happen. Ellie could feel it in her bones. She doesn't know why she feels this way, but ever since she woke up this morning, she's been filled with dread. A heaviness in her gut she can't shake off.

Ellie sat at her desk, anxiously waiting for the bell to ring. She hasn't been home for the last 3 days because of school spirit week.

Ellie was so pissed off when she heard they were having a camping day, a sleepover and a all nighter back to back. Everyone was complaining that they were exhausted due to all the activities happening at school, but Ellie wasn't thinking about sleep.

She was thinking about you.

She was always thinking about you.

Ellie could see everyone was staring at the clock, they were practically counting down the seconds before the bell rang. They wanted to go home.

Ellie wanted to go home too, she needed to get home to you.

5, 4, 3, 2-

Before the bell rang the intercom went off. The students groaned thinking that they had to stay at school for another day.

"Can Ellie Williams please come to the principals office. Ellie Williams. I repeat, can Ellie Williams please come to the principals office"

fuck.

The bell rang soon after and everyone ran to the door, Ellie watched as they ran like animals.

"Fucking idiots" she thought to herself

She waited till most of the kids were gone, before she got up grabbing her bag and slowly making her way to the office.

She knocked on the door, and she heard a small "come in".

She let out a sigh as she reluctantly pushed open the door and she was greeted by a the principal and a detective.

What the fuck?

"Close the door and sit down" the principal instructed.

As she sat down her heartrate increased. Her ears were ringing, her palms were sweaty.

The detective cleared his throat before he spoke "as you know y/n has been missing for 3 months now"

She nods

"after further investigation, it seems you were the last one seen with her"

"Was i really or are you looking for someone to blame?" Ellie asked with a raised brow.

She knew where you were, but she couldn't tell him that.

"Ms Williams you're under suspension of kidnapping"

Ellies fists clench by her sides "why am i? Just because i was last seen with her?"

"You guys were best friends, many people said you were close, some say you where obsessed"

Oh she was mad. Ellie was really mad. She wasn't obsessed, she just cared about you.

"i wasn't" she said through gritted teeth.

"We think you know where she is"

Ellie got up, her fist hitting the table "so you're accusing an underage child of kidnapping? do i look like I'm capable of doing that?"

"Ms Williams-"

"no"

Ellie turned to the door and she stormed out. She walked out of the building rushing home to see you.

She hoped you didn't leave her.

"Don't you give me up, please don't give up

On me, I belong with you and only you, baby

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, darling, only you"

They weren't wrong about what ellie had done to you.

But she had to do it! How else was she supposed to keep you to herself?

Ellie always has feelings for you. Ever since you shyly asked her for a pencil in year 8, she's been all over you. As the years went by her fondness towards you grew, you made her blush, you made her giggle, you made her so fucking happy.

Overtime the two of you built a good friendship but Ellie always wanted more.

It was a Thursday, the sun was shining and the two of had a science project to finish.

The homecoming dance was getting closer and she wanted to ask you. Ellie thought this was the perfect moment to ask you.

"So....with who are you going to homecoming?" Ellie asked clearing her throat

"oh Dina asked me"

"what did you say?"

"I said yes, i think Dina is cute"

No no no no no no no

Not her. You belong to her. You were hers. Not Dina. You were supposed to go with her.

No no no no no

"Ellie?" You asked with concern seeing her zoned out expression.

Ellie looked at you briefly before her hands wrapped around your neck. You let out a silent scream trying to scratch her. You tried fighting but you couldn't. Ellie was stronger than you, she was bigger too.

Eventually you went limp in her hands.

Heavy breaths left Ellie's mouth.

You were still breathing. Good.

She dragged you to her house, hiding behind bushes once in a while to make sure no one saw her. She dragged you into her house, and into her basement.

Ellie placed your body onto the cold floor and she watched you breathing faintly.

Now you cant go with Dina.

"Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

Why I feel this way, I don't know maybe

I think of her so much, it drives me crazy

What if she's fine?

It's my mind that's wrong

And I just let bad thoughts

Linger for far too long"

You're fine. You're fine. You're fine.

She's just having bad thoughts. Ellie has always had a tendency to overthink things.

She knew it was bad to overthink but she was always prepared for the worst.

When Ellie first kidnapped you, 3 months ago everything was fine.

You never screamed, you never fought back, you always tried negotiating or escaping which was good because she didn't need to tie you up or gag you.

You made things easy for her. Ellie fed you, she kept you company, she tried to be Dina.

She really tried to keep you happy.

You didn't need Dina, you needed her.

But for the last month you've been very sick. You barley spoke, you barley ate, you barley moved.

There was something wrong with you, she just didn't know what it was.

Since she hasn't been home for 3 days, Ellie didn't know if you would still be alive. There was no one to feed you. No one to talk to you. You were all alone.

You're fine. You're fine. You're fine.

She's just overthinking it.

Her house key rattled as she pushed open the door. She quickly made her way to the basement, unlocking the door. She walked down the stairs quietly calling your name.

You didn't say anything. She didn't see any movement. she slowly made her way to the bed she had made for you and there you were.

Your skin was pale, cold and it was turning blue. You weren't breathing.

Ellie let out a sigh as she gently grabbed your body, hugging you, not caring of the smell.

Atleast Dina cant get to you.

You were hers. You were safe. You were ok. You now only belong to her.

<3

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 4

← CHAPTER 3 | ✦ | CHAPTER 5 →

TW: Mentions of Cannibalism, Choking

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Ok, so clearly I'm a big fat liar. I'm sorry this chapter also took ages. I think I'm just a slow writer lmao. Anyway, it was fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it. As always, thanks for all the lovely comments I appreciate them a lot. Take care and have a good one!

"Where is he?" you snarl as you march through the halls gripping Iassa's choker. "Where is the na-Baron?" Your voice a threat.

"He is doing his morning drills, my lady," Zora, your new servant chases after you, growing increasingly panicked, "he trains with the Warmaster."

You pick up your pace, "Take me to him." When Zora hesitates, you yell, "Now!"

When you arrive, Feyd-Rautha is sparring with who you assume to be the Harkonnen Warmaster in a shallow recessed pit in the center of the training room.

"Where is she?" you call from the doorway, your voice filled with vitriol.

Your unexpected presence catches Feyd-Rautha off-guard and his sparring partner manages to cut his right abdomen through his shield. He growls at the Warmaster and snaps his head to you, "I am preoccupied at the moment, my lady."

"Where is Iassa?" your glare pierces through him.

"Who?" he asks genuinely confused.

Your grip on the choker tightens, "Don't pretend. The servant girl assigned to me. You left this in my room, didn't you?" The realization he had snuck into your quarters while you were asleep quietly creeps on you. "What have you done with her."

"Ah," he tilts his head, ignoring his bleeding wound, "I thought about just cutting her tongue out." A smirk grows on his lips, "but my darlings were hungry."

It was only then you noticed his concubines in the room, lounging in a corner of pillows. Their sharp-toothed grins only stoked your fury.

You scoff in anger, "because she revealed your farce? Are you so insecure?"

Is cocky expression evolves into a glare. "Leave us," he orders, eyes staying on yours. Servants flood out of the room asking with the Warmaster but it seems his pets were exempt from this command. "Why do you cry for a girl you knew less than two days?"

He was right. Why do you care so much? You were hardly 'close' with Iassa. You've had servants on Caladan and you were never particular with any of them. Would you anger for them the same way? Why must you suddenly be a paragon of justice? And at the risk of the Harkonnens' contempt?

When you remain speechless, the na-Baron continues, "You may not be familiar with slaves but here, their death is inconsequential—save for the economics of it all."

"Is that so?" You look at his pets then back at him. Your breath is dragon-like and your tone hardens, "then relieve your concubines."

"What?" Feyd-Rautha's low voice echoes through the room. His concubines hiss at you from their raised platform.

You stand taller, shoulders back, still clutching Iassa's choker in your hand, "If I am to be your wife, I demand you take no other women."

He takes a moment to determine how serious you are being, then decides it doesn't matter. He walks up the steps surrounding the pit and you aren't given time to react before he has your neck in his grip. "You are in no place to demand such things, Atreides." His black gritted teeth at the last word match the darkness of his voice.

Your hands fly to claw at his wrist, "How dare you lay a hand on me." You struggle against his unrelenting grip, "Let go of me!"

He leans down to your ear, "You're a feisty one, aren't you, little hawk?" You feel his hold continue to tighten and panic rises in your chest. Before you can be rendered speechless, you make a decision.

"UNHAND ME."

The Voice echos from your mouth seizing Feyd-Rautha's mind and his hand releases your throat. As you gasp desperately for air, he attempts to recover from the haze of the mental intrusion. When he finds his bearings, you see the thrill in his dark eyes. Witch, you can almost hear him say.

"Aren't you just full of surprises," he smirks.

"And I will have many more," you say bitterly. Straightening your dress, you regain your self-assured stance and meet his eyes with a cold stare, "Be rid of your harpies before we are wed or I will kill them myself."

You don't spare his concubines a glance as you turn to leave. You don't see the way Feyd-Rautha looks at you, head tilted, as you storm off.

You dismiss Zora and lock yourself in your chambers. Sprawled out on your bed, you stare up at the dark gray ceiling and question what could have possibly possessed you to challenge Feyd-Rautha the way you did. You go back and forth on whether or not it was an overreaction but eventually chalk it up to the Atreides' fiery defiance. Certainly, it wasn't the brightest decision but you sense that your father and brother would not have condemned it. Your heart is still pounding from the encounter. And the flicker in Fey-Rautha's eyes—you dismiss the idea that he might have enjoyed it.

You had hoped to hide your mother's training for longer. She had trained you and Paul in The Voice and Prana-Bindu. As a high-born lady, you could have been sent to a Bene Gesserit School in your formative years, but it was decided against due to Baron Vladimir's thinly veiled aversion to The Sisterhood. So, Lady Jessica resolved to teach you in secret. You were grateful for it anyway as you didn't have to be separated from your family. You think about how your mother would be able to continue to train Paul without you. You had always been more adept at The Voice than him. Now, he has the opportunity to surpass you. The thought triggers your competitiveness against your sibling but the feeling quickly melts into melancholy. You miss him. You miss all of them.

Is this to be your life? Married to a twisted psycho who feeds his concubines human flesh and kills people you care about? You sit up and place Iassa's choker carefully in the drawer of your nightstand. You hoped she didn't fear you as she did the Harkonnens.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. You had really hoped no one would bother you for the rest of the day but then you feel the emptiness in your stomach. You had skipped breakfast that day to confront the na-Baron. When you open the door, Zora is holding a covered tray which you assumed, and hoped, to be lunch.

"Would my lady like to eat in solitude?" she asks after she sets your meal at the small table in your quarters. Your heart sinks. She is so young.

"Ah no, I would like you to stay if that's alright." You sit at your table and cut into your food while Zora stands politely to the side. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier. The na-Baron—my fiancé—he has caused me some aggravation."

"It is quite alright, my lady," she says, her head bowed low.

After your meal, you ask Zora to fetch you various projections on the planet of Giedi Prime from the Harkonnen archives. You were hesitant to make the request considering the fate of your last servant but you hoped you managed to convince Feyd-Rautha you were not to be trifled with. Besides, what harm could you do by learning about flora and fauna.

You spent the rest of the day watching informative holograms about your new home's ecology and biodiversity. Apparently, one of the planet's greatest exports is wood from the Pilingitam tree which is prized for its pliability when freshly cut but sturdy hardness once aged and dried. It was also anti-fungal and naturally fire-resistant. It was a surprise you didn't see much of it. Everything in the fortress was cold stone and concrete. You wonder how beautiful furniture made out of Pilingitam must be when carved by a skilled artist.

That night, you make sure to lock your door and fall asleep to images of sprawling landscapes.

The following day was similarly spent, watching projections about Giedi Prime's geographical features. You were left undisturbed save for Zora's quiet knocks on your door to serve your meals. Your life as a baroness is days away so you might as well educate yourself. Although, you suppose you should probably focus on politics and history more than the planet's Obsidian Planes but you weren't really in the mood to learn of the Harkonnens' gruesome past right now. You would cross that bridge when you got there.

Come evening, you hear an unfamiliar knock at your door. Zora had already brought you dinner earlier so you are wary as you crack open the door.

"Hello, little hawk." Feyd-Rautha's tall figure looms past the doorway.

You stare him down, making no move to let him in.

He tilts his head slightly, "Would you really kill my darlings?"

← CHAPTER 3 | ✦ | CHAPTER 5 →

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove

[myrsinemezzo]

Haladriel Positivity Post #3

This fandom has so many wonderful outlets and expressions for our ship from edits to fic to meta to art. And it’s the art and edits that fascinate me the most because my god how do you do it?? So much skill and time and talent goes into them. In comparison, I offer you This!!

J/k 😩 but seriously, that is the limit of my art endeavors when it comes to this fandom so today I’m rounding up links to just a few (seriously just a FEW) of the truly spectacular artists and pieces of art in this fandom. Please link your own favorites if you’d like and spread the love because there is no way I can capture how many people are putting their hearts and souls into what they do <3

I’ll start with the newest art post I’ve seen by @esvvel because holy wow. NSFW behind a cut and truly truly beautiful. Heart-wrenching in its tenderness.

Next up is a recent piece from the lovely @tindu who ripped my heart straight out of my chest with their teeth because this one is so heartbreaking

There’s something so delightful about this one by @artist-alyona-kopnina in the look they manage to capture in his eyes and the subtleties of the crown rising from his brow. Perfection!

Smooches!

This series of smooches fuels me and gives me serious heart eyes. Including this one by @dokkvi that is a quiet moment post-battle. If only!!

And this is one of the most delightful Halbrand/Galadriel ones you can have. It’s all thanks to a deactivated account by artist jesrika. (I weep that I can’t seem to find them on IG or other platforms I’m on.) If anyone knows the artist, please send them my love!

I’ll admit that it took me a while to glom onto Annatar as a facet of my blorbo where Halbrand and Lowden Sauron got me pretty much from the get-go. But this piece of art by @artesdaterramediaby-kithkerulin entrapped me with the pure joy and passion of this epic smooch. Yes please. Love it. (No clue why you have to click through on iOS)

I want to include a few solo portraits that I came across recently of both Galadriel and Annatar because they’re so lovely.

This one fills me with awe just like @samiaescorcio15 always does. Just beautiful.

Galadriel is the queen of my heart, and I have quite a soft spot for this one by @perseruna

And I can scarcely look away from this recent one featuring the piercing eyes and the beloved braid crown by @a-litt1e-emo

I haven’t even gotten into the art I know of inspired by fics but that can be its whole different post sometime soon.

Alright, we’ve moved through the different ages with different facets of the characters and I had to throw on one that captures the humor of this fandom perfectly. So, many thanks to @thegreendragoninn for this piece that made me laugh aloud in public!

Please do feel free to repost artworks you also love (with links only please unless you’re the artist themselves so they get the proper credit) or drop names in comments because we love you guys and you deserve each and every ounce of attention and praise for what you do!!