#or if you go by does it sound familiar comments he traps you in the basement

[synthshenanigans]

okay but i was looking through the the unseen v shrikhand tags to feel something i guess and one of the tags was 'reblog to kill "chonny jash" faster' I CAN'T GET OVER THE SCARE QUOTES AS IF HE ISN'T REAL LIKE KJDSNFJKASNFKJL

I mean has anyone ever even seen Chonny before? Maybe he's australias new legend or cryptid

[fangirl-dot-com]

Charles Leclerc - Arthur, you are not French...yeah Charles, drag his ass!

I’ve been excited to write this chapter! I know that reader is a Red Bull driver, but I am a Tifosi through and through. Charles holds such a special place in my heart (but so does Max). I feel like one of those “breaking my silence – how I got into F1,” low and behold, I got into the sport from that one Ferrari thirst trap where Charles is lying on the couch. Yeah, you know, that one. 

Anywho, I write these little things before I even get to writing the story and sometimes I don’t even know where I’m going with it. I know it's not Christmas yet, but the people spoke - SO HERE WE GO!

Sadly, the tag list is closed to do us reaching the 50 people mark! I never thought that I’d get there though with my story! So thank you to every one of you for making that happen! 

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Love you all <;3 

Your beanie had started to itch. You had needed it outside due to the cold weather, but now that you were in the car with the heat cranked, it was starting to get a little too warm. As you pulled up to the red light, your hand quickly yanked the hat off. Not to your surprise, your hair was sticking in all directions. That’s ok, you could fix it before you walked into the house. The light turned green, and you had to remind yourself that this was a regular car, on a regular street. Not a hybrid-engine-ran rocket ship that exceeded 300 kilometers per hour on sweet Grand Prix asphalt. 

This year, you had finally accepted Arthur’s invitation for Christmas. Earlier, you had done Christmas morning and afternoon with Max, Kelly, and Penelope. It was everything you could have wished for. And now you were going to spend the rest of the evening with your best friend and his family. You were a tab bit nervous. Sure, you had met them on a handful of occasions, but you tried not to get too close. They were always at grand prixes for Arthur, not you. 

You glanced at the presents that were stacked on the passenger side. The most important one, however, was placed in a bag on the floor. You were not about to let that fall over and possibly break. You knew it was made to be sturdy, but you couldn’t be sure. Arthur had given you the gate key. You pulled up to the little black box and pressed the numbers. You rolled your eyes as you realized that it was just Charles’s and Arthur’s racing numbers squished together. 

Arthur had also reminded you that Lorenzo was not going to be joining due to him being at his wife’s family’s for the holiday. That was one less person to impress you had told yourself. 

You pulled into their driveway and parked your car. It was not as impressive at Charles’s custom 488 Ferrari Pista Spider. It wasn’t as if you were almost drooling at the sight of it. Knowing yourself, you’d probably be too scared to drive it to actually enjoy it. Max also had a Ferrari, maybe he’d let you drive it. 

In a parking lot and not exceeding 5 kph. You snorted. Yep, that was Max. 

You did however, have your eye on two special cars. But you wanted to wait a bit before purchasing. You Pinterest board was full of different ideas, but you had to be careful. Maybe Christian could help you out with purchasing. You technically hadn’t bought this car, it was a gift from Lorenzo. You wouldn’t trade it for the world, but it might be nice to have more than one car. Besides, multiple drivers had multiple cars. You’d just join their ranks. 

Juggling the presents, you walked to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Your face was hardly visible over the tops of the boxes. The door opened and a familiar voice sounded. 

“Mon Dieu, let me help you.” Presents were being taken from the big stack. 

“Thank you Charles.” You prided yourself on being one of the few people who could recognize the difference between Arthur’s and Charles’s voices. He didn’t reply as he took the presents farther into the house. You followed him through the door and toed off your shoes. Your eyes caught all the lights and decorations in the house. Growing up, you didn’t have such things. Your family always said that being in karting was always going to be your present. Nothing more, nothing less. There were no cookies for Santa and no tree to decorate. 

As you walked more into the warm house, the decorations just kept getting better. Where Max’s house was decorated by Kelly who like a clean Christmas aesthetic, the Leclerc household leaned towards the warmer decorations. The lights didn’t necessarily match and flickered colorful light. The stockings weren’t the same color: they showed personality that matched their owner. Even the ornaments weren’t all from the same container. You found Charles staring down at the presents that he had taken from you. 

“Who are these for?” he turned his head to look at you. 

You snorted, “They’re for your family.” His eyes widened as he rubbed his chin. 

“You didn’t have to.” 

You only shrugged as you began to take off your coat, “I felt like I did. You all have been so kind to invite me here on a holiday that I couldn’t come empty handed.” Charles gestured for your jacket and you gave it to him. 

“You can look around some more if you’d like to. Arthur and maman will be back from the store soon.”  Your cheeks heated at the thought of him catching you ogling at his home. You shook the thought away and looked at everything a little bit closer. 

Like all homes seemed to have, there was a wall filled with picture frames. Some were of each child; some had the full family. It was nice to see all 5 of them together in the center one. You cocked you head at one of them though. You all but tiptoed to get a closer look. It was one of Charles and Arthur, and then an unfamiliar but familiar man stood between them. 

“That’s Jules. If you were wondering.” 

You jumped in place, not noticed that he had snuck up behind you. You looked over and saw that a sad smile had graced his face. Arthur had told you little about him. Charles and Lorenzo would always have been much closer to him. 

“I met him once. During karting,” you trailed off. Charles raised his eyebrows. 

“Really?” It seemed as though the breath had been knocked out of him. 

You gave him a comforting smile, “Yeah. My race was right after yours. I think it was back in 2010,” you looked back at the picture, “and you won that day. I watched him cheer for you like he was the proudest person there that day. He was in a racing suit and had a helmet. I thought that he had come straight from a race or something. But, I only remember wishing that I had someone there for me like you had.” 

Charles now had a guess as to what day that was. He vaguely remembered finally beating Max and feeling so happy. But, he didn’t remember Jules having a helmet. He took the picture down so that the two of you could look closer. It was definitely not taken the day that you were talking about, but the way you talked about him intrigued Charles. He gave you a head nod, silently saying to continue. 

“That day, I also won my race. It hadn’t been the easiest, but the boys were too busy pushing each other off that they didn’t even notice me. I was able to overtake and win. The boys though, weren’t the only ones who didn’t notice. My parents weren’t around when I looked for them. I must have turned around so many times, just trying to find them, but I never did. I had taken my kart back to my station when someone tapped me on the shoulder. He scared the ever-loving crap out of me, but he held my shoulder and told me that I did a great job.” 

Your eyes were slightly watering at the confession. Charles just continued to look at you. 

“I knew who he was. He was the man who always cheered for the Justin Bieber look-a-like who liked to push a certain Dutchman off the track, into a puddle, and claim it was just an inchident.” Charles snorted. 

“I did not look like Justin Bieber.” 

“Whatever floats your boat.” He gave you a look. “American expression. Anyway, after he said that he gave me a hug before my dad came stomping over, complaining about something, I don’t even remember. But all I know is that he made my entire day. My godfather wasn’t able to visit that much or come see me race. So, it was nice to have someone in my corner, even if they weren’t truly there for me.” 

Charles hung the picture back on the wall. The two of you stood there for a quiet moment before Charles spoke up. “How’s your godfather?” 

You inhaled sharply. “He died in 2020. Caught some illness in 2018 and wasn’t able to recover.” 

It broke Charles’s heart to hear you talk about it so nonchalantly. 

“Does Arthur know?” 

You nodded your head. “He caught me crying the first year of his anniversary. Made me spill the beans about what happened. He thought he needed to go beat someone up.” You let out a wet chuckle. When did you even start crying? Looking at Charles, you saw that he was crying too. You continued, “Lorenzo, he, uh, died the day before I debuted in F2.” 

Memories hit Charles like an 18-wheeler. That was you? He remembered that most of the F1 drivers had been invited since the F1 and F2 races were so close together. Hell, even Max was given the opportunity to give the winner the trophy. He remembers watching you dominate that race. He watched you offer that trophy to the sky. He saw a hunger that he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

He finally spoke up, “You were incredible.” 

“Thank you,” you paused before adding, “he’d be proud of you. Jules, I mean.” You looked back at the picture and how it seemed right at home amongst the others. 

“Lorenzo would be proud of you as well.” You flashed him a grateful smile, full of teeth. He mirrored, dimples prominent. 

You threw your head back and laughed. Charles cocked his head. 

“What’s the matter?” he barely got out as he began to laugh as well. 

You poked his cheeks, “You and Thur have the same dimples.” Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair. You pouted. “Rude.” 

He was about to reciprocate but the sound of the door opening caught the two of yours attention. Charles quickly pushed you into a dark room. You gave him a confused look before he put a finger to his lips. You smirked back and stayed silent. 

Pascale walked in first followed by Arthur. Charles greeted his mother and then brother. 

“I saw Y/n’s car in the driveway. Where is she?” Arthur looked around the house. 

“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back. I think I scared her off,” Charles faked a sad look.  

Arthur flashed a comforting smile to his brother. “I’ll go find her. Hopefully she didn’t fall in or something.” That almost made you laugh. 

Arthur flipped on the lights to the hallway. This was your chance. He barely got past the doorframe before you jumped out onto him. 

His squeal echoed through the room, laughter following it. In your grand scheme, you had accidentally fallen on top of him. Your giggles continued as Arthur tried to push you off. He finally gave up after a few moments. You knew you probably looked ridiculous, but honestly you didn’t care. You swear you heard a click of a camera, but you disregarded it. 

“Are you done?” Arthur sarcastically asked. 

“No, I’m actually quite comfortable. Thank you for asking though,” you smirked. After a few more moments later, Arthur quickly rolled you off and got up. You let out a huff before making grabby hands at him. He rolled his eyes and pulled you up. 

You were finally able to greet Pascale. She brought you into a hug and did the two kisses. You reciprocated. It came naturally after being teammates with Arthur for so long. You smiled at the memory of him doing it to you for the first time. He was so embarrassed after until you calmed him down enough to say that you didn’t mind. You knew it was a part of his culture and that he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to do so. 

“Thank you for inviting me.” You shot her a shy smile. She rubbed your back before exiting the hug. 

“There is no need for thanks. Arthur has been begging for years.” A noise of protest rang through the air. 

“I have not.” 

“Non, it’s true. He has.” Charles looked at his brother. Arthur had a look of betrayal that sent you spiraling into another laughing fit. 

By the time you were finished, Arthur gave you a look. 

“Where’s you Christmas sweater?” You looked down at the one you were wearing. You thought it looked just fine. It was a nice dark green and Kelly had complimented you many times. 

“I thought this looked nice?” You were beginning to doubt. Maybe you couldn’t do this Christmas thing. 

Arthur shook his head before disappearing down a hallway. 

You glanced at Charles and whispered, “I ruined it didn’t I?” You looked down at your feet. 

“Non gosse, you didn’t ruin anything. Just look.” You looked back up and saw that Arthur now had another sweater in his hands. (translation : no kid)  

“I can’t believe I forgot to give you this. Sorry Y/n, we normally wear ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters to celebrate. The one you have on is fine, but this is the Leclerc celebration now.” He all but shoved you towards a bathroom so that you could change. You slipped the other dark green sweater on after you took off your first one. 

The front made you laugh. It wasn’t ugly per say, Arthur must have toned it down for you. On the front was the Grinch. It was actually kind of cute if you thought about it. You folded your first sweater and walked out. Now you noticed that Charles’s had a bright orange sweater with a gamer Santa on it; Arthur’s actually lit up; and Pascale had a cute one with a reindeer on it. 

When he noticed your return, Arthur’s arms shot up. “Now you look festive!” 

“How long did it take you to find that one TurTur?” You motioned your finger up and down, pointed at his sweater. 

His arms crossed protectively around it as he let his jaw hang. “I’ll have you know that this is imported.” 

You gave him a bombastic side eye. “Sure.” 

Pascale clapped her hands, “Picture time by the tree!” 

You kind of awkwardly stood there as she took pictures of the two boys. You warmly smiled as she gushed over the two of them. You made your way to the kitchen and picked up two bottles. Were these alcoholic? You squinted at the label. 

“Y/n!” You froze and looked at the family of three. Arthur was snickering. 

“You know you’re not allowed to drink yet.” You rolled your eyes. 

Charles shot you a mischievous smile. “Gosse, come, we’ll send a picture to old Maxy. Maybe give him a heart attack.” 

You smirked back as you walked with the two bottles. You posed in front of the tree with the glasses on either side of you. The four of you laughed as you set them down. You wanted to make a run for it, as to not ruin the pictures, but Pascale insisted that she wanted one of the three of you. 

Your heart swelled as she took a picture of you in the middle of Arthur and Charles. She also insisted to get one of just you and Arthur. Your cheeks heated as you caught her muttering about a picture to show your kids one day. You only hoped that Arthur hadn’t heard. 

He did and his heart soared at the thought. 

Once the pictures were done, everyone was able to have a few snacks and drinks, yours of course being non-alcoholic. 

Then it was time for the presents. The thing you were worried about the most. You soon found yourself seated on the floor in a half circle. Pascale was the only one in a chair, but you didn’t blame her. The boys were the ones to pass out the presents. To your surprise, you had received three presents. Your eyes wanted to water, but you blinked the tears away. 

They all opened the ones from you first. 

Arthur lit up like a Christmas tree (pun intended) when he saw what you had gotten him. The two of you had been shopping earlier in the year, when you had come across a watch shop. Arthur had wanted to buy a specific one, but was heartbroken when they said that they were sold out. But, while Arthur was having a crisis about it, you secretly asked to be put on the waitlist. They had said that they couldn’t be 100 percent that you’d get one, but there was no harm in asking. 

Surprisingly, when you got back for a small break, there was a package from the store waiting for you. You had also taken it to another watch store to have something added. 

“Turn it over,” you whispered, scared of his next reaction. He inhaled sharply at what the engraving read. 

January 25, 2020 – Best Friends for the Rest of Our Live, Keep at it TurTur! 

Arthur quickly clamored over to you and wrapped you in a deep hug. Again, you heard the sound of a camera, but dismissed it. 

Next Charles opened his. It wasn’t as sentimental as Arthur’s but you tried your best. Before hand, you had asked what type of jewelry Charles likes. You knew he was a ring and bracelet guy, but had rarely seen him with a necklace. So, you got him a simple one that he could wear with any outfit. 

He thanked you with a warm smile. 

Pascale was very happy with hers. Knowing that she had a hair salon, you googled many gift ideas for her. But every sing one of them to come up was always a pair of scissors. Wanting to do better, you did some more digging. Finally, you decided on one of those fancy circle vacuums that moves by itself. You knew how your back hurt after sweeping up a floor. You couldn’t imagine how her’s might feel. She also gave you a hug. 

Now it was your turn. 

The first present was from Arthur and it had you in tears. There in a rectangular box was a new pair of Lightning McQueen crocs. 

“You know this is like my third pair right?” 

He only nodded, “Yes, but are those pairs signed by Lightning McQueen himself?” Your eyes bulged as you turned them over. 

You were expecting Owen Wilson’s signature, but when you read it, you laughed even harder. There on the bottom, in fancy script, was Charles’s signature. You looked over at Charles as you wiped your eyes. 

“I’m honored sir.” 

Charles rolled his eyes, and touched his heart, as to accept the thanks. His present wasn’t as funny, but it was appreciated. You guessed that Arthur had told him what your favorite restaurant was because his gift was a hefty gift card. Your eyes widened when you saw the total. 

Pascale’s was very sentimental though. In her present were multiple pictures in frames. Some you noticed that she must have gotten from the internet or had Arthur reach out to Vito. The one that made you tear up was one of the last pictures taken of you and Lorenzo. Your smile was so bright as you held you trophy. You were looking into the camera, but Lorenzo was looking and smiling down at you. Your fingers traced his face. 

You placed the pictures down and brought her into a giant hug. After you were done, you wiped your eyes, overcome with emotion. Arthur clapped his hands to bring everyone’s attention to him. You almost jumped out of your skin. 

“All right, party time!” He raised his arms and started to walk toward the kitchen. 

Your eyes widened as you remembered something. “Wait!” 

The three of them stared at you. You inhaled. 

“I have one more thing. For all three of you.” They looked at you with a puzzled look. You walked over to the counter where you had placed the black bag that you came with. You gestured for them to come over. 

Arthur cocked his head, “Y/n, why’d you bring a helmet bag? We swapped helmets already.” His accent got thicker as he got more confused. 

You shook your head slightly as you let out a shaky exhale. You carefully started to unzip the bag. It was true, what Arthur said. The contents were a helmet. 

“Gosse, is this your new helmet for next year? It’s very outdated and I don’t think this is safe, ” Charles questioned, confused as to why you’d bring a helmet to Christmas. 

However, Pascale let out a gasp as her eyes danced over the helmet, now in your hands. She put her hands to her mouth. She had recognized it immediately. 

“Is this?” The rest of the question went unsaid, but you knew what she was going to say. You nodded you head and handed it to her. She turned it around, expecting all the angles. She let out a wet laugh as she carefully and slowly handed it over to Charles. Arthur stood close, looking at it as well.

“Arthur, before you got here, I was telling Charles of how I was able to meet your godfather,” you started. “And I wanted to tell you how thankful I was for his encouragement. I knew that he had come straight from a race, because he was still wearing his suit and he carried a helmet.” 

Charles made a confused face, “But he didn’t have a helmet. His hands were both empty, because he caught Arthur when he ran over to him after he showed up.” You could tell that his mind was trying to connect the dots.

“Well. He wouldn’t have had the helmet,” you trailed off. Arthur’s head shot up. 

“Because he gave it to you,” Arthur finished. Charles inhaled sharply as he looked over the protective gear in his hands. 

Pascale had come close to you, a hand around your shoulder that rubbed up and down, trying to give some comfort. 

The two boys looked as if they were going to cry. Charles let Arthur hold it. 

“How? Why?” Charles questioned, tears threatening to fall. 

“Well, I thought it had gotten destroyed or thrown away. I left it at my parent’s house, and when I told them I was moving out for reasons, they didn’t react well.” You didn’t want to give too much away. “I was sure that they were going to burn all of my things. But, I went back to see just in case. I was mostly correct; except they didn’t touch my closet. It was hiding in the back behind some clothes.” You remembered crying when you found it, holding it close for comfort. It had been one of the few things that you took from the house back to your apartment in Nice. 

“I also wanted to bring it back, where it belongs.” 

Charles glanced at you and then the helmet between Arthur’s fingers. “But, he gave it to you. You need to keep it.” 

You shook your head. “Jules told me to keep it safe and to hold onto it for safe keeping. I always thought that I’d be able to give it back to him one day. I guess this is the closest thing I can do.” 

Arthur gave the helmet back to his brother and walked over to you. You looked into his big blue eyes, filled with tears. Unable to hold back, he tucked his face into your neck, holding you tight. You squeezed your eyes closed, tears falling down your cheeks. 

You knew that Arthur always felt bad about not being as close to his godfather, like Charles and Lorenzo had been. He had been 15 when Jules died, and you always wished that the family had had more time with him. Pressure was added on your other side. Looking over slightly, your eyes caught sight of Charles’s brown hair. You managed to put your other arm around him. You held the two brothers close, your heart melting. 

Is this what a family is supposed to feel like? 

Max’s family was a different dynamic. Yes, they enjoyed hugs and being close, but it wasn’t like this where you could hold each other for hours. Well, maybe Max would let you, he was so overdue for a giant group hug.

Arthur couldn’t get over the fact that you were so close. He hoped that you didn’t hear his heart racing. He’s waited this long; he can wait a little longer. His tears had dried up, but he never wanted to let you go. Your heart was too big and too fragile for anyone else to have it. But here you were, opening it up to his family. He couldn’t have asked for someone better to hold your place in his heart. He could only dream that you held him close to your heart, as he did with you to his. 

You would never tell him, but you did. 

Charles on the other hand could not stop the tears. He wondered how long you had waited. Shy, quiet you. Before this, he had seen you a couple of times before with Max at the beginning of the break. He’d often run into the two of you shopping or getting groceries. You’d always find a way to give a small wave, before turning to do something else while Max talked to him. He wondered what was so special about you. Max, in all his life, had never looked at something as he looked at you. It was different than the way he looked at Kelly. Heck, he even looked a Penelope differently. Charles had rolled his eyes a few more times than he’d like to admit whenever Arthur would bring you up in conversation. But now, as you tried to comfort him and his brother, he finally understood. You were the family that they were missing. 

Pascale watched as the three of you broke your little hug. Smiles adorned your faces as you held the other close. She wished Lorenzo would have been here to meet you. She had a feeling that he and Charlotte would like you, as her other two sons did. 

Their little celebration started moments after, the helmet at the center. Your smile never left your face for the rest of the night. You were sad that they didn’t let you sneak in one sip of the bottled drink. 

“It’s probably not even good,” you told them as you took a sip of your drink. 

“Y/n it is good. We French know what good alcohol is,” he took a sip. You raised an eyebrow and smirked as you saw Charles gawk at him. 

“Arthur, you are not French,” you watched as Charles put an arm around Arthur’s neck. You were quick to grab his drink so it wouldn’t stain the carpet. “Yeah Charles, drag his ass!” 

Arthur held out a hand, dramatically going down. “My best friend betraying me for my brother. Could this day get any worse?” 

“Charles, you should have heard all the times he said that he was French when we would do videos.” You smirked evilly at the two. 

“Y/n! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” 

“Arthur, how many times to I have to tell you? WE ARE NOT FRENCH, WE ARE MONAGUESQE!! 

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ATTENTION: TAG LIST IS CLOSED

[kentobb]

The Bet (Part Four)

Characters: College! Sukuna x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Foul language, black mail, kisses, suggestive scene but is not smut smut. But just in case, I’m going to categorize it as smut.

Author’s Note: I will be taking a two day break due to work. But I will be reading your comments <3

Part 01, Part 02, Part 03

Everyone was getting out of practice, and Gojo watched as Sukuna packed up his things and started moving in the opposite direction. He knew exactly where Sukuna was heading—toward the library. She must be there, Gojo thought to himself, feeling the familiar pang of guilt twist in his gut.

As Gojo exited the facility, he saw Mei Mei lingering outside. He tried to walk past her, hoping she wouldn't notice him, but her voice cut through the air. "Gojo.”

Gojo stopped and turned around, forcing a neutral expression. Mei Mei smirked, a glint of malice in her eyes. "So… are you two good?” she asked casually.

"Yeah, thanks." Gojo replied tersely, his mind racing. He wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

A minute of awkward silence stretched between them before Gojo decided it was time to leave. He started to turn away, but Mei Mei's voice stopped him again. "Does he know that I know about the bet?"

Gojo froze, his heart dropping. He turned back to face her, his anger barely contained.

Mei Mei laughed, a chilling sound. "Oh, he doesn’t does he? Tch. What a shame…”

Gojo cursed himself inwardly. He had been angry and frustrated, venting to Mei Mei about everything. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "And I don't care. Just stay out of it."

Mei Mei's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, then I guess he wouldn’t mind if I told her, wouldn’t he?”

Gojo felt his frustration boiling over. "Are you seriously going to black mail me?” he asked, trying to regain control of the situation.

She shook her head, still smirking. "Relax, Gojo. I'm not that evil.”

Gojo felt a brief moment of relief before Mei Mei continued, "But... “

Gojo's stomach dropped. "But… there’s always a but.”

Mei Mei smirked, she saw through him, she had him in her hands. “What do you want?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Mei Mei's smirk widened. "I want you to help me get back with Sukuna."

Gojo's eyes widened in shock. "Are you out of your mind? No way, no fucking way. He doesn’t fucking like you anymore…”

Mei Mei shrugged, her expression turning cold. "He was interested before he met her.” She smiled, “But I guess you’re right… I should tell her.”

Gojo felt trapped. He didn't want to hurt his friend, and he definitely didn't want to hurt the innocent girl Sukuna cared about. But he couldn't see a way out.

"Why are you doing this?" Gojo asked, desperation creeping into his voice. "Sukuna's moved on from you. Why can't you? You only played with his feelings… hooking up with others and now… suddenly after hooking up with him over and over wanting nothing else… now you do?”

Mei Mei's eyes hardened. "That doesn’t concern you. We all make mistakes… you know? Like you trusting me with something so… so… sensitive.”

Gojo's mind raced. He felt sick, knowing he'd just betrayed his friend all over again. But he couldn't see any other way to protect him from the truth that would destroy everything. He looked at Mei Mei, her smirk never faltering, and felt his resolve crumble.

After a long, tense moment, he finally nodded. "I’ll help you. But…I don’t want it to hurt both of them.”

Mei Mei's satisfied smile made his stomach turn. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other," she said before walking away, leaving Gojo standing there, seething.

Gojo watched her disappear, his mind racing. He felt sick, knowing he'd just betrayed his friend all over again. As he walked away, Gojo felt a deep sense of despair and anger. He had to find a way to fix this, but right now, all he could do was hope that Mei Mei would keep her word and not stir up more trouble. He couldn't afford to screw things up again.

He cursed himself for ever trusting her, for letting his guard down and spilling everything in a moment of weakness. He replayed their conversation in his mind, wishing he could take it all back. But it was too late.

Sukuna arrived at the library, the familiar quiet hum enveloping him in a sense of calm. He scanned the room until his eyes landed on you, seated at a corner table, completely absorbed in your work. You were hunched over, scribbling away, oblivious to the world around you. As he approached, he saw that you were writing what he supposed was an essay for a class. Without thinking, he leaned down and kissed your forehead, a gesture that had become second nature to him.

You looked up, your face lighting up with a radiant smile. "Hey," you said softly, "I'm just finishing up."

Sukuna took a seat next to you, mesmerized by the way your pen moved gracefully across the paper. There was something utterly captivating about your concentration, the way your eyes flicked back and forth, your brow furrowing slightly when you were deep in thought. Your hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with a few strands escaping to frame your face. He couldn't help but feel like he was falling head over heels for you all over again.

To him, you were a living poem, every gesture and expression a line of verse that spoke directly to his heart. Your quiet dedication to your work, the way you chewed on the end of your pen when you were stuck on a thought, even the slight tilt of your head when you were considering something deeply—it all captivated him. He felt a warmth spread through him, a kind of contentment he had never known before.

As you finished up, you put your things away and turned to him, your eyes sparkling with curiosity. "How was your day?" You asked, your voice a soothing balm to his turbulent thoughts.

He smiled, feeling his heart lighten just being near you. "It was good. Practice was tough, but worth it. And Gojo and I are good now."

You nodded, relief washing over your features. "I'm glad to hear that. You two are like brothers."

"Yeah," Sukuna agreed. "We are." He hesitated for a moment, then grinned. "So, about our date tomorrow."

Your eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, where are we going?"

He leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a grand secret. "It's a surprise."

You laughed, a sound that felt like music to his ears. "Come on, give me a hint."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "You'll just have to wait and see."

You pouted playfully, crossing your arms. "You're no fun."

"Oh, I'm plenty of fun," Sukuna teased, winking at you. “You'll see."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Mysterious. What time are you picking me up?"

"How does seven sound?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, feeling more relaxed than he had all day.

"Seven it is," you agreed. "I'll be ready."

He watched you pack up the remaining of your things, feeling a warmth spread through him. You were everything he hadn't known he needed, and every moment with you felt like a gift. As both of you stood up to leave, he took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks for being patient with me," he said quietly.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with understanding. "Always," you replied softly. "Now, let's get out of here. I think we've both had enough studying for one day."

As both of you walked through the campus, the setting sun cast a warm glow over everything, creating a picturesque backdrop to their budding romance. Sukuna stole glances at you, marveling at how effortlessly beautiful you are. You caught him looking a few times, and each time you did, you would blush and smile, making his heart flutter.

"So, tell me, Mr. Mysterious” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, "what's this big surprise you have planned?"

Sukuna chuckled. "You really think I'm going to spill the beans that easily?"

You laughed, a light, melodic sound that made Sukuna's heart skip a beat. "A girl can try, can't she?"

He grinned, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "I promise, it'll be worth the wait."

When you finally reached your dorm, Sukuna reluctantly let go of your hand. "I'll see you at seven," he said, his voice soft.

You nodded, your eyes shining with excitement. "I'll be ready."

Before you went inside, Sukuna leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips, a sweet, lingering kiss that left both of you breathless. When he pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours savoring the moment.

"See you tomorrow.” he whispered.

"See you tomorrow," you echoed, your smile lighting up his world.

As he watched you disappear into the building, Sukuna felt a surge of anticipation. Tomorrow was going to be special. He was determined to make it perfect for you, for him. He turned and began to walk away, a smile on his face and a lightness in his step. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt truly happy, and it was all because of you.

The next morning, Sukuna arrived at basketball practice with a spring in his step. The excitement for his date that evening was palpable, and his teammates picked up on it instantly.

"Look at Mr. Lovebird over here," Geto teased, nudging Sukuna as they stretched. "What's got you so chipper, huh?"

Sukuna laughed, shaking his head. "You guys are ridiculous."

"Oh, come on," one of the guys said. "You gotta give us something. What's the plan? Fancy dinner? Moonlit walk?"

"Strip club?" another one quipped, earning a round of laughter.

Sukuna just smiled, keeping the details to himself. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Throughout the practice, Sukuna's teammates kept the teasing going, making exaggerated kissing noises and mock serenades. Sukuna took it all in stride, enjoying the banter. Everyone seemed in good spirits, except for Gojo, who remained uncharacteristically quiet.

As they took a break, Sukuna grabbed a water bottle and sat next to Gojo, who was staring off into space, lost in thought. "Hey, man," Sukuna said, nudging him. "You alright?"

Gojo snapped out of his reverie and forced a smile. "Yeah, just got a lot on my mind."

Sukuna didn't want to press further, sensing that something was off. Instead, he decided to change the subject. "So, tonight's is my first date.”

Gojo's smile faltered, and he felt the weight of his secret pressing down on him. He knew he should try to dissuade Sukuna, but seeing his friend's happiness made it difficult. "Are you sure she's really your type?" Gojo asked, trying to sound casual. "I mean, instead of going to that date, you could come with me to Mahito's party. It's gonna be wild."

Sukuna rolled his eyes, laughing. "Come on, Gojo. You're not getting cold feet about my date, are you?"

Geto, who had overheard the conversation, chimed in. "Don’t listen to Gojo, he just mad because he doesn’t have his party partner anymore.”

Gojo shrugged, trying to mask his internal conflict with a smirk. "Just offering options, man. Parties are fun too, you know."

"Yeah, but this is more important," Sukuna said, a hint of seriousness in his voice. "I've never felt this way about someone before."

Gojo's heart sank. He knew he couldn't sabotage his friend's happiness, no matter how complicated things were. "Alright, alright," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Go have your date.”

Sukuna grinned. "You got it."

The rest of practice flew by, the team's energy buoyed by Sukuna's excitement. But as they wrapped up and headed to the locker room, Gojo couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest. He wanted to be a good friend, to support Sukuna's happiness, but the looming threat of Mei Mei's demands hung over him like a dark cloud.

His phone rang and he saw the notification from Mei Mei.

Cunt: “Any updates?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. Debating whether to tell her that his plan has failed today.

As they left the locker room, Gojo tried one last time. "Are you sure you don't want to come to Mahito's party instead? It'll be legendary."

Sukuna playfully punched Gojo's shoulder. "I'll pass, thanks. I’ll come to the next one, I swear.”

"Alright, alright," Gojo said, raising his hands in defeat. "But don't blame me if you miss out on the party of the year."

"Yeah, yeah," Sukuna replied with a grin. "I'll take my chances." He said as he walked away.

Mei Mei sat in her room, the dim light from her bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. She tapped her fingers impatiently on her desk, her eyes flicking to her phone every few seconds. She was waiting for a text from Gojo, hoping that their plan was progressing. The waiting was killing her.

Her room was neat and organized, a stark contrast to the turmoil in her mind. The silence felt oppressive, and she found herself crossing and uncrossing her legs, trying to dispel the nervous energy coursing through her. She had always been in control, always managed to get what she wanted, but this time it felt different. This time, the stakes were higher.

Finally, her phone buzzed. She grabbed it eagerly, her heart pounding. It was a message from Gojo. She opened it, holding her breath.

Jack Frost (Cheap version): No luck today. Sukuna's still set on his date.

Mei Mei's face twisted in anger. She hurled her phone at the wall, the device hitting with a satisfying crack. She stood up, pacing the room, trying to reign in her frustration. How could this be happening? Sukuna was supposed to be easy to manipulate, but here he was, defying her expectations.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She couldn't afford to lose control. There had to be another way, another angle she could exploit. She needed to regroup and rethink her strategy.

As she picked up her now-damaged phone, she saw the screen was shattered but still functional. She would have to be more careful, more cunning. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Mei Mei was determined to get what she wanted, and she wouldn't let anyone stand in her way.

She texted Gojo back, her fingers flying over the cracked screen.

Mei Mei: You really don’t know how to do shit. Let’s talk on Monday. I have an idea.

She hit send and stared at the broken phone in her hand. Tonight was a setback, but it was far from the end. She would find a way to make Sukuna hers again, no matter what it took.

As the clock struck seven, Sukuna arrived at your dorm, his heart pounding with anticipation. He adjusted his jacket one last time and took a deep breath before knocking on your door. Moments later, the door swung open, and there you stood, a vision of beauty that took his breath away.

You wore a dress that hugged your form perfectly, the soft fabric flowing elegantly around your legs. Your hair was down, cascading in gentle waves over your shoulders, and you had done a little makeup, just enough to accentuate your natural beauty. The light scent of your perfume wafted toward him, a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla that made his head spin.

Sukuna couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you. "You look… beautiful.” he whispered, his voice full of admiration.

You blushed, your cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. "Thank you," you replied softly.

Without another word, Sukuna leaned in and kissed your lips slowly, savoring the moment. When he pulled apart, he handed you a bouquet of flowers, freshly picked and vibrant with color.

You gasped in surprise, your eyes widening. "For me?"

"Of course," Sukuna said with a grin. "Every beautiful girl deserves flowers on her first date."

You took the bouquet, your fingers brushing against his. "They're beautiful. Thank you." You hurried back into your room to place the flowers in a vase, and Sukuna waited patiently, feeling a swell of pride at your reaction.

When you returned, both made their way outside together. Sukuna led you to the parking lot where his car was parked, shining under the streetlights. He opened the door for you, bowing slightly with a playful grin. "Your chariot awaits, milady."

You giggled, charmed by his gesture. "Thank you, kind sir," you replied, stepping into the car gracefully.

Sukuna closed the door gently behind you and walked around to the driver's side. As he got in, the subtle scent of new leather and his favorite cologne filled the car, mixing pleasantly with your perfume. He turned to you with a smile. "Comfortable?"

You nodded, looking around the car. "Very. It's nice."

"Only the best for you," he said, starting the engine. The car purred to life, and they pulled out of the parking lot.

Sukuna drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on his lap. The soft hum of the engine and the gentle tunes playing on the radio created a soothing ambiance. You looked over at him, your curiosity getting the better of you. "So, where exactly are we going?"

Sukuna flashed you a playful grin. "It's a surprise."

You giggled, shaking your head. "Mr. Mysterious.”

He drove along the winding coastal road, the sky gradually darkening as the sun began to set. After a while, he pulled up to a secluded beach. Sukuna parked the car and turned to you, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"We're here," he announced.

You stepped out of the car, looking around with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "A beach?"

Sukuna chuckled, finding your bewilderment adorable. "Follow me."

He took your hand and led you down a sandy path. As you both walked, you could see something in the distance—a soft glow of lights and what appeared to be a blanket spread out on the sand. Your heart melted as you both got closer and you realized it was a beautifully set-up picnic.

"S-Sukuna" you whispered, your eyes wide with delight. "You did this?”

Sukuna grinned, pleased with your reaction. "Glad you like it."

As you both approach the picnic spot, you noticed two figures arranging the final touches. Sukuna waved at them, calling out, "Hey, dumbasses!”

The two guys looked up and broke into wide grins. "Hey, bro!" Yuuji shouted back, waving enthusiastically.

Choso straightened up and gave a thumbs-up. "Everything's ready, Sukuna."

Sukuna turned to you with a smile. "I want you to meet my brothers, Yuuji and Choso. They helped me set this up."

Yuuji bounded over, practically bouncing with excitement. "Hi! Nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you.”

You smiled and giggled, “Oh, really?”

Yuuji laughed, “No really, he won’t shut up.”

Choso followed, offering a more subdued but warm smile. "It's great to meet you."

You blushed, feeling a bit overwhelmed by their enthusiasm. "Nice to meet you both too."

Yuuji couldn't contain his excitement. "You look amazing! No wonder why Sukuna is head over heels.”

Choso nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he was super picky about every detail today. We even had to re-fold the blanket three times."

Sukuna laughed, shaking his head. "You guys are exaggerating."

Yuuji grinned. "Maybe a little. But we wanted to make sure you had a great time, you dickhead.”

As they finished up the introductions, Yuuji and Choso started to head off. Yuuji turned around dramatically, trying to suppress a laugh. "Alright, Sukuna, remember—don't come home too late, or you'll be grounded!"

Choso chimed in, pretending to be stern. "And no funny business, young man. We trust you."

Sukuna rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide his grin. "Thanks, Dad," he said sarcastically.

Yuuji and Choso laughed, waving as they walked away. "Have fun, you two!" Yuuji called over his shoulder.

Sukuna turned back to you, shaking his head with an amused smile. "Sorry about them. They're a bit much sometimes."

You laughed, feeling more at ease. "No, they're great. This is all so wonderful.”

You both walked over to the picnic setup, the blanket adorned with cozy cushions, fairy lights, and a basket filled with delicious treats. Sukuna gestured for you to sit, and you did so, still in awe of the effort he had put into making this night special.

As you settled down, Sukuna poured you each a glass of sparkling cider and handed you a plate of fresh fruit. "To a perfect evening," he said, raising his glass.

"To a perfect evening," you echoed, clinking your glass with his.

The sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore provided the perfect backdrop for the romantic beach picnic.

As the evening progressed, both found yourselves nestled comfortably on the picnic blanket. Your head was resting on Sukuna's thigh, and he gently played with your hair as you both gazed out at the waves crashing gently against the shore in the dark night. The fairy lights cast a warm glow around you, adding a touch of magic to the scene. Both talked and laughed, sharing stories and jokes, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

You looked up at him, your eyes soft and vulnerable. "You know, I've never fallen in love before," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "This is my first time going out with someone."

Sukuna's heart ached with a mix of tenderness and guilt. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Really? How come you've never gone out with someone before?"

You sighed, your eyes reflecting the moonlight. "I was scared. Scared of being made fun of or used. I've always been cautious, and this... this is the first time I've overcome my fears."

Hearing your fears mirrored his own internal struggles. Sukuna felt a pang of guilt. He had been part of a bet, something so trivial and hurtful, but his feelings for you had grown genuine. He knew he had to make things right.

He took a deep breath, his voice filled with sincerity. "I promise to take care of you. I won't let anyone hurt you, and I'll always be here for you." He smiled, kissing your forehead, “I promise to take care of your heart.”

Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, touched by his words. Sukuna leaned down and kissed you gently, a kiss that conveyed all the emotions he couldn't put into words. When hr pulled apart, you smiled, your cheeks flushed with happiness.

"Would you be my girlfriend?" Sukuna asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

You were surprised, your eyes widening in delight. A giggle escaped your lips, and you covered your mouth with your hand. "Y-Yes," you said, your voice filled with excitement and joy. "Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Sukuna grinned, his heart soaring. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "I have something for you."

You opened the box and gasped, seeing a delicate heart locket inside. You took it out, your hands trembling slightly with emotion. "It's beautiful," you whispered.

Sukuna took the locket and clasped it around your neck. "This is a symbol of my promise to you," he said softly. "To always be there for you, to cherish and protect you."

You touched the locket, your eyes filled with love. "I promise I won't take it off," you said, your voice choked with emotion. “B-But, Kuna, I didn’t get anything for you.” You said

He smiled and kissed you again, “You can give me all of your kisses.”

Both of you spent the rest of the evening under the stars, your hearts intertwined, knowing that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

As Sukuna drove back to the dorms, the evening's events replayed in his mind, a warm glow of happiness spreading through him. You were sitting beside him, your head resting on his shoulder.

When he arrived, he walked you to your door, reluctant to say goodnight.

You looked up at him with those doe eyes that always made his heart skip a beat. "Do you want to come inside for a bit?" You asked shyly.

Sukuna's cheeks flushed a deep red, surprising even himself. He wasn't used to feeling so bashful. "Yes” he smiled and chuckled.

You giggled at his reaction, finding it endearing. You opened the door and led him inside. As he stepped into your room, he was struck by how perfectly it reflected your personality. The walls were adorned with framed pictures of your family and friends, a collection of plushies sat on your bed, and shelves were lined with books and various trophies from your achievements.

He walked over to one of the picture frames, smiling at a photo of you as a child, missing a front tooth but grinning from ear to ear. "This is adorable," he said, his heart swelling with affection.

You blushed and smiled. "Thanks. It's a bit messy, but it's home."

He continued to look around, admiring the little details that made the room uniquely yours. Then he turned to see you pouring a glass of water. You handed it to him, fingers brushing lightly. Before he knew it, he set the glass aside and pulled you into a kiss.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle melding of lips that quickly grew more intense. You responded eagerly, your hands winding around his neck as his arms wrapped around your waist. Both of you stumbled slightly, laughing against each other's lips, and Sukuna lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist.

He carried you to the bed, gently laying you down and positioning himself on top of you. His kisses became more fervent, more urgent, as he trailed them down your neck, nibbling your ear and eliciting soft gasps from you. Your breathing grew faster, and you moaned his name, sending a thrill through him.

His hand began to travel down your side, sliding towards your thigh. But suddenly, you tensed and gently grabbed his hand to stop him. "K-Kuna, I'm …” you whispered, looking away in embarrassment. “I’m not ready.”

Sukuna immediately stopped, his eyes softening. He gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly as he kissed you softly. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I promise."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of relief and worry. "But... won't you be mad?"

He smiled tenderly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Mad? No way. I made a promise to take care of you, remember? That means respecting your boundaries too baby. We'll do it when you're ready, and if you're never ready, that's okay too. I won't leave you…you're more important to me than anything else."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you smiled, your heart swelling with love for him. "Thank you, Kuna.” You whispered.

He kissed you gently, a kiss full of love and reassurance. "I love it when you call me like that, bookworm," he murmured against your lips.

"Kuna!” You giggled at your nickname, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

Sukuna lingered at your door for a moment longer, savoring the sweet goodbye kiss you both shared. He brushed a strand of hair from your face and smiled warmly. "Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight," you replied, your eyes twinkling with happiness.

With one last kiss, Sukuna turned and made his way back to his dorm. The walk was filled with a sense of elation, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. As he approached the door, he could hear faint whispers and shuffling from inside. Yuuji and Choso were obviously waiting for him.

He opened the door, and as soon as he stepped inside, Yuuji and Choso sprang to their feet, eyes wide with anticipation.

"So?" Yuuji blurted out, barely able to contain his excitement.

Sukuna couldn't hold back his grin. "I have a girlfriend now."

The room erupted into chaos. Yuuji and Choso started shouting and cheering, jumping around like kids on Christmas morning. Yuuji grabbed a pillow and started waving it around like a victory flag, while Choso clapped Sukuna on the back so hard he nearly stumbled.

“Idiots,” Sukuna chuckled, rolling his eyes as he watched them.

Feel free to comment <3 new chapter in two days :’)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 3

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You hit the back of the trunk with your fist, the tires put to the limit as the man drives without caution. He's honked several times and screeched to many jarring halts. You're trapped in more than just that compartment, bouncing around with the groceries, you're enshrined in a fervour of fear and despair. 

Why is this happening to you? Who is this man? What is he going to do to you? 

Well, what has he already done? 

“Please, sir, I won't tell anyone,” you beg through the back seat, "please. Just take me back--" 

"Do you like classic rock? Jazz?" He asks as the car swerves and he switches lanes. Holy shoot, is he on the highway?  

"What? Please, I promise--" 

"You're distracting me, sweet stuff, you're gonna get us both pancaked by a sixteen-wheeler," he clucks, "just calm down and enjoy the music." 

He flips on the stereo and the local pop station plays. He hums along for a moment, "Ariana, nice." He turns up the familiar top ten and you whimper. 

This is surreal. You really can't believe it. It all happened so quickly. The way he touched you, the way you just stood there and let it happen, then how he just locked you in here! Who does that? Who lets someone do that? Who doesn't raise her voice and tell him to stop? Or ignore him and get in the car and drive away? 

You. You're stupid. You should have been patient and waited for Jake. You should have done so much differently.  

Your tears spring as easily as ever. Your hormones have you always ready to overflow and now seems as suiting as that cat food commercial. You crumble completely, giving up on begging, and bawl. You're going to die, your baby too. 

Maybe that's your fault too. You were so scared when you saw the positive. When you realised the condom broke. There was that split second you wished it wasn't true. When you hoped that it might undo itself. Then you wanted it. You still do. Your baby. Things aren't perfect but you can make them better. 

You jostle with the paper bags, wallowing in your resignation and dread. Time throttles you until it feels like the whole world is on your chest. You hug your belly and apologise to your child. You're supposed to take care of them. 

When the car stops, the sudden dearth of sound slaps you in the face. You sniffle and listen with breath bated. The driver's side opens and dips. He stands and his footfalls stride undaunted towards the trunk. 

You brace yourself. You can't give up yet. The lock clicks and the lid lifts. You push it up before he can open it all the way but he has his hand on your neck before you can leap out. 

"Oh, baby cakes," he squeezes and you cough, "you don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" 

The dimming sky shrouds his figure and he puts cold metal to your cheek, "you don't wanna get yourself hurt. Or the kid, huh?" He presses the metal barrel firmly to your temple, "I don't wanna hurt you either but you gotta give a little." 

"S-sorry," you choke out and latch onto his thick wrist, teetering on your knees as the rest against the edge of the trunk, "I---I--" 

"I know, baby. You're scared. Change is terrifying but I heard you talking to the deadbeat," he pulls the gun away and holsters it. He eases you forward and helps you put your feet to the ground. He keeps a strong hold on you, "you can do better." He smirks, "hi, I'm better, but you can call me Lloyd." 

You gape at him. Is that a joke? 

“And you are...” he enunciates your name. “Sorry about your purse, I tossed it some ditch, but I got the important shit out of it.” 

“Huh?” You blink at him dumbly. 

“Phone’s wiped too. So, I’ll probably just break that down for parts--” 

“Wait, what? Why—please, why are you doing this?” 

“I’m not too sure myself, shortcake, but we’ll figure it out.”  

He slips his hand down to your wrist and pulls you away from the car. He shuts the trunk and the noise echoes off the high ceiling. You look up at the interior of the garage. Several cars are parked in the space. What kind of place is this? 

“Come on, you don’t wanna hang out in here,” he snorts and tugs you to follow him. 

All you can do is let him guide you. You keep your free hand on your stomach as your eyes burn. You can’t give up. You have to keep going for your baby. 

He takes you up a short set of steps and into a house just as colossal as the garage. He looks down at your feet as you stand on the mat. He tuts. Your slides were lost somewhere in your struggle. Your feet are cold and dirty. 

“Hm, well... what now?” He asks. 

“What now?” You squeak. “What do you--” 

“Look, honey buns, I’m not asking you,” he turns and keeps his hand around your wrist, walking you forward as if you’re on a leash. 

You’re confused. What does he mean? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. What kind of man just does this spontaneously? 

“Erm, Lloyd,” you say softly, “it’s... not too late to take me back.” 

“Ah, but you’re wrong, sweet stuff. It’s way too late,” he snickers. “I scrubbed the traffic cams and the surveillance at the grocery store. It’s all gone. You’re gone.” He stops you in a bright foyer and faces you, “I don’t give my toys back.” 

[see-arcane]

Jonathan is escaping just as the beginnings of brain fever and far worse things are roiling in him. Making him more ill and haggard as he traverses the Carpathians in search of a train. Running, burning, withering. Dying.

The closer he gets to death, the more he can feel Dracula's poison trying to overtake him. It's a trap waiting to spring. He knows it. Dracula knows it. Just as the Count knows the Brides let him slip away--

Ah, well, their loss. It seems you are to be mine alone after all, my friend.

--and dreams little visions his way when Jonathan dares to sleep.

Flashes of dark water and mist. Men screaming like sheep before the butcher. Slaughtered with less mercy than any farmer ever showed his livestock before being discarded like trash.

What loss are they, my friend? I have tasted the finer things. A sweet English vintage; I shall savor more of the same in time. But these? Bah! I have seen a thousand of their paltry kind come and go. I would no sooner cherish their meal than you would swoon over a cut of shoe leather. What difference is it if I play with this coarse fare? You shall learn the same habits in time.

"No. No, no, I won't, I can't. I have to go home. I have to get to her. My life is there. My life is her."

What home is that, my friend? Who is she?

He does not answer. He cannot answer. His head is all fire, burning holes through mind and memory. No, God, he must know! He must remember! He has come all this way, he must know where he's going and who is there! His nightmares fill with as much saccharine sympathy as cutting laughter. The most sincere comment he receives in the mire of it is a single reassurance:

You will recall it all, my friend. Sickness makes no mark upon us. You will know. You will be well. Some night, in this year or the next, perhaps we can go and meet her together. In the meantime, cease your struggling. I can feel your fatigue, poor boy. Put down your head. Stop running. Let it take you. Let it help you. Rest.

"No."

Rest.

"No!"

Rest.

"No, no, no--,"

He stuffs himself with berries and a hare and handfuls from a river. A ferryman takes pity--he thinks? a river, he remembers a River, the Ferryman telling him where to go, how soon the sun will rise, he doesn't know, his head, his chest, everything burning, dying--and a blur passes between himself and the train station. He was loud there. Did he scream? Sob? Bare his teeth? They shoo him away with a ticket.

(Sharp. Why do his teeth feel so sharp? Why is he so thirsty when the fluttering shapes of the nuns keep forcing water down his throat?)

(Quiet now. He cannot get through the walls here. Ha. Could not even open his journal if he tried! The crucifix is wrapped around it! Ha!)

(Stings to hold. Why? God, God, please, not now, don't don't don't, please do not do this, the nuns, they think him mad! They are of faith, but they do not believe! They do not know! They won't understand what he is when they put him in the cemetery they won't know what they invited in unawares they won't know until he is up and out of the dirt and oh O God the Cross and the Son will not save them not entirely not when he feasted on an entire mountain range of the faithful whose prayer saved no one and soon he will not need their necks only whatever meat his teeth can reach and no no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO--)

Something is different.

A white light twinkling in the red inferno. He knows it. It has brushed him more than once. She found him in the graveyard, weeping over the stones of his parents. How did she know then that he was there? He'd never told her.

Her.

Her who?

(Love. Darling. Soul. I know this. I know...)

Even if he cannot pierce the veil of a holy place, her presence can. It fires through his eyes--he is caught mid-kiss, the girl's head is hanging down, familiar sunny locks, who..?--and into Jonathan Harker's.

Jonathan Harker. Yes. Yes, that sounds right. And she is...

Running to him, to the nodding girl, a wisp under the moonlight coming to throw herself into danger for the sake of another, as ever and ever amen, she is--

"Mina."

"Pardon?" asks the attendant refilling his pitcher. She watches him carefully. "Did you say something young herr?"

"Mina. Mina Murray." His bloodshot eyes roll to the window. It faces the west. It faces her. Within him, something blessedly cool turns over, quelling an irate blaze. "I should like to write to her."

"I can speak with Sister Agatha about this. Who is Mina Murray, if I may ask?"

"My fiancee. And my name is Jonathan Harker. We live in Exeter." He offers a weak smile. One without sharp teeth. "My apologies for taking so long to remember it."

[shanastoryteller]

Merry Christmas Grandma!! Three faced goddess was so cool?!? I need to know what happens next!🎅🏻☃️

a continuations of 1 2

Tony thinks that it’s probably selfish of him (knows that it’s selfish of him) but he never wanted to be king.

It wasn’t even an option, really. Greg was so much older than him and hated him from the day he was born. He thought that a spare made him expendable and he’d always hated that, even though Tony was so clearly not planned.

He’d been right, in the end.

There should have been more of them, Tony should have grown up with plenty of siblings, because everyone says that the Starks rule by divine right and the lack of Starks really makes the devout nervous. But his mother had struggled to have Greg and ten years later they’d thought having Tony really would kill her.

Before the accident and he’d had a crown forced on his head, he’d thought that would be his real contribution to the kingdom. Marrying who he was told and having a half dozen or so kids to run through the castle so people would stop fretting.

Then he was the last Stark left alive and there was a war and even though he knew he had a duty to secure the line of succession, it just didn’t seem possible. Turning a foreign royal or one of his own ambitious nobles into a princess and mother of his children had sounded fine, had been something he’d discussed with Rhodey as they plotted and planned how to live their lives outside the constraints of propriety.

But making one of them his queen? Impossible.

He needs someone he can trust to rule, in case the worst should happen. He needs someone who he can trust to rule even if it shouldn’t, so he has the freedom to actually help with this war that he’s found himself in the middle of instead of staying safe and useless in the castle.

Rhodey could help manage his soldiers and plan their battles and would stay by his side every minute that he could, but Tony needed something more, something that he never would have needed if he’d simply stayed a prince.

He needed a wife he could trust.

He got so, so lucky with Pepper.

“I met your champion,” she says, curled into his side with her head on his chest. He always runs hot now with the star living under his skin. It’s a cold night but they’re only covered by a sheet, trapping the heat he gives off around them. “Very pretty.”

“Hey,” he says, but he’s smiling. “He is that. Does he seem like he’s doing okay? I feel bad having him fight so soon, but he insisted. I guess it’s familiar.”

“War is war,” she agrees. “Yes. He spoke fondly of you.”

He blinks down at her, perplexed. “He did?”

Pepper’s lips twitch. “Edward you. He did make a pointed comment about the king’s absence that I graciously ignored.”

He saw Steve literally two days ago! But he is missing some important information. “It’s not my fault I met him as Edward first! You know they found him at the edge of the North border and he literally fought his way through battle that was in his way? Who does that? If I showed up seventy years in the future I’d need a stiff drink and a nap before anything else not to jump into work.”

“You know he needs the distraction,” she says. He’s trying to work on that but it’s hard when there’s a literal war going on. When it’s over, they’ll all get a chance to rest. “You could tell him the truth.”

No one knows the truth, not all of it, except for Rhodey and Pepper. “He already worries about me too much – both as Edward and the Iron Mage. If he knows not only are they same person, but also the king he’s duty bound to serve and protect, it’ll make things complicated. Too many conflicting orders.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, soft and teasing, “that will make things complicated.”

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ch.3

rick x reader, prime rick x reader

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 & 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘯𝘪, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘤: 3.0𝘬

The room swayed as you navigated the blurred edges of reality. Laughter echoed in disjointed fragments, and your senses danced in a kaleidoscope of emotions. The world, usually anchored in coherence, now floated in a hazy sea of intoxication. Your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, a symphony of uninhibited joy. Yet, beneath the surface, a subtle vulnerability lingered, as if the alcohol had unraveled the tightly wound threads of your composure. There was a fleeting sense of detachment, a reminder that the intoxicating elixir could distort both the present and your perception of self.

“D-didn’t I tell you-you…? This shit is fu-fucking good”, Rick took another sip of the glittery green substance. You already forgot what it was called and from where it was – honestly, you didn’t even care. One glass after another has been poured down your throat, five different drinks from five different planets. You were anything but sober just like Rick. Both of you sat crisscrossed on the bed in front of each other. Why did you hate him again? Who gives a shit.

“You’re right, yeah, you’re right”, you giggled as you leaned forward, your hands grabbing into the soft white mattress. Loose strands of hair were falling onto your face as you look up at Rick. Even sitting down, he was more than a head taller than you. “Feels like…hm…feels like I’m on some other fucking planet.”

By your switch of position Rick had a wonderful view before him. Your top was revealing and tight, pressing your tits together, your soft skin glistening in the dim light. His eyes wandered done to your hips and legs. Fucking hell, what a fine piece of ass. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe he was just fucking horny. Lust and desire filled his senses, but Rick didn’t want to do anything…yet. “I am the smartest man alive after a-all. You gotta trust-trust me on this sh-shit, y/n. And you haven’t even tried space weed, y/n, it’s going to bl-blow your fucking mind.” Should be blowing me instead. He watched as you started cackling once again, he didn’t know who was more wasted – you or him.

“Mhm”, you cooed, “Rick Sanchez is the smartest man alive. Be my bartender instead of a scientist, Rick.”

Slowly he laid his hand on yours as he got closer. His touch made your skin burn, goosebumps forming on your neck. He still doesn’t give a fuck about personal space. Quickly you pulled your hand away, a strange feeling clouding your senses and creeping down your body. “I-I could be something completely dif-different than your bartender, little one.” How could his voice sound teasing and seductive simultaneously? Why did his touch feel so familiar every time?

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind giving yourself to him right now. Both of you were more than just drunk and a little sex would certainly help you destress after this hard, nerve-wrecking day. Something in the back of your head though begged you not to do it. You also had some doubts – What if you’re actually a virgin? What if this is a test? What if it’s a trap and you’ll be kicked out afterwards? Rick would be egoistic enough to do something like that. So, you chose to simply ignore this last comment.

“Tell me more about space-weed, pretty please?”, big doe eyes met his gaze. 

Beg for it more. “Never seem to g-get enough, huh?”, swiftly he took a baggie out of his lab coat. Your eyes widened. the containment possessed vibrant colors, exotic patterns, and unique properties that contribute to its intergalactic allure. Grinning he opened the baggy and let the weed fall into his hand. “Wh-what type of girl are you? Bong? Joint? C-can’t bake some br-brownies for you now, princess.”

“Bong sounds like a vibe”, it didn’t take long for you to catch your composure. Rick also seemed to just ignore what happened a fee seconds ago.

Carefully packing the bowl with space-weed, Rick adjusted the water level in the bong. With a flick, he sparked the lighter, bringing the flame to the bowl's edge. Inhaling deeply, he brings the bong to his lips, igniting the substance and creating a milky swirl of smoke. As Ruck pulled, his eyes focused on you. Right after the bong left his lips and was placed on the bed, Rick grabbed you by your neck and forced you closer to him. His lips were almost touching yours. “Wait, what, Rick?!” Rick blew smoke into your mouth, coating your mouth with a sweet yet earth taste.

“It’s c-called shot gunning, baby”, his hand, which was previously grabbing your neck, was now tucking your hair behind your ear, “Wish you could see your slutty expression right n-now, y/n.”

Every cell in your body was yearning for more, your brain on the other hand “Stop fucking around, old man.” It wasn’t teasingly, you were stone cold and serious.

All of a sudden Rick seized you, his grip unyielding as he forcefully pinned you down onto the bed. The air crackled with tension as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a raw, primal hunger. You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity of his actions, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Rick’s touch was rough, his body pressed against yours with a commanding urgency. In that moment, you realized the depth of his desire, as Rick claimed you with an undeniable passion that left you breathless and powerless to resist. “D-Didn’t I tell you that next time you call me an ol-old man, I’ll make you scream it, dumb brat?”

Only now did you realize in what kind of position you were. One hand was gripping your throat while the other was groping your ass. He was lying between your legs and something hard – and big – was pressing against you. “Fu-fuck, look at your fucking f-face. Needy girl. Makes me want to ruin you.” 

His fingers almost dug into the soft skin of your buttocks as he finally placed his lips on yours. His tongue quickly found its way into your mouth as soon as you wanted to protest his behavior. The kiss was chaotic, full of desire and lust. His tongue closed around yours again and again and he began to roll his hips against you. His hard cock rubbed against your yoga pants-covered vagina. It caused the perfect friction for your clit, you felt how wet you were getting. After what felt like an eternity his lips parted from yours.

“What are you doing, R-Rick?!” Your intention was to sound angry or at least not as excited as you actually were. Instead, your voice sounded breathy and even worse, like you loved what was happening. Ashamed of your own arousal, you bit down on your lip and hoped Rick wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

"Ri-Rick? No. You must call me sir, master or Mr. Sanchez, dirty-dirty whore," he let go of your throat and ass to literally rip the white tank top off your body. In one quick motion, he pulled your breasts out of your bra. "Do y-you think I'm stupid? Senile? Have you for-forgotten that I'm the smartest man alive? I know exactly what you want, little one, even before you realized it." The whole time he was talking he didn’t stop dry humping against your pussy.

His lips enveloped one of the nipples, sucking and sucking on them while the other tit was squeezed by his hand. It was all too much for you, it was overstimulating. Your tits were extremely sensitive to Rick's tongue and hand. You moaned louder and louder, unable to form words, let alone sentences. “wai-…ah, w-wai-…plea-“

Rick's cock seemed to get even harder as your sugary moans fell on his ears. "Y-You like that, don't you? This old man makes you moan-moan like a bitch in fucking heat. You dirty little slut. Have you been provoking me all-all this time to make it end like this? Did you want to be punished, li-little one?" You could do nothing but shake your head. He was the one who had provoked and embarrassed you all this time, right?

"Are-are you really innocent o-or are you just pretending? I can see the looks you give me during our…hot mo-moments. The way your c-cheeks turn bright re-red, your heavy breathing and those eyes filled-filled with dirty fantasies. I've already noticed. I warned you…y-you didn't listen, so now you have to obey. Take your clothes off." He ordered while sitting up.

Tears filled your eyes. Was it the situation or was it the fact that Rick's fat cock was no longer pressing against your clit and sending your body into a state of ecstasy? You weren't sure of the answer yourself. Your brain and body were at odds - your pussy craved Rick while your brain begged you to leave the room. His power-hungry eyes stared at you as if he was waiting for your reaction to further assess the situation. Are you going to play along or are you going to stop? "Did you not hear me, whore? Undress, now."

"Y-yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

Maybe it was wrong, maybe not. Maybe it was the alcohol or weed, maybe you just wanted to keep being touched by this disrespectful man. While you threw your bra and pants as well as your thong on the floor, Rick undressed as well. The two of you watched each other. Rick took in every curve of your body – you were exactly what he wanted. Rick was thin but fit at the same time and – oh God – his cock... His cock was huge.

"Do you like what you see, p-princess?" a dirty grin graced his lips. "I like the sight too. Lie-lie down again and spread your legs. I want to see your little cunt." This time he didn't have to repeat his command twice. Slowly (and somewhat reluctantly) you lay back down and spread your trembling legs, not sure if you wanted his cock inside you. Shyly, you looked up at him and your breathing hitched. Rick's hand was around the tip of his member, moving it up and down as he eyed your most intimate area.

“Fu-fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet already. Jesus. I-I didn’t even touch you for real an-and yet you’re soaking. Desperate little thing.”

Out of nowhere and without any warning, Rick grabbed you by your thighs and pulled you effortlessly towards him. "Wh-wait! Please...please don't go in..." You were aware of how your voice was shaking and there was still a hint of absolute desire in it, you were ashamed of it. Would Rick even listen to your plea?

"I-inside? My cock inside you?" He threw your legs over his shoulders and slapped his hard member several times on your clit. “Do you really think th-that you’re actually worthy of my fucking cock?! I’m not rewarding you, this is a punishment, sl-slut. Even if you end up begging me to r-ram my cock inside your lil-little cunt, I won’t.” Mixed emotions filled your heart – relief and sadness. This man was driving you insane.

Rick took his cock into his hand once again and rubbed his tip and and down between your pussy lips, feeling your wetness. “F-Fuuuck, baby, that’s what I do to you, huh? Some dry humping and nipple play and you’re all hot and bo-bothered for this old man.” His cock never touched your clit and you felt yourself almost begging for it. Subconsciously you moved your hips, hoping it would somehow help.

“Lo-look at that. What a little greedy who-whore you fucking are”, Rick understood what you wanted, and he was kind enough to grant you wish. This pre-cum leaking tip circled your clit, causing you to whimper and moan beneath him. “You love this old man’s cock, do-don’t you? Mr. Sanchez is taking such good care of you.”

He leaned down, his chest hovering above yours as he started to grind against you. How could it be that his cock was satisfying you without actually being inside you? He kept rocking his hips – hard and aggressive – your wetness served as some kind of lube as his shaft kept rubbing over your clit again and again and again. It was driving you crazy.

“You’re such a fucking wh-whore”, he hissed into your ear, his hand smacking your ass red, “I bet-bet you want me inside you now, huh? Want-want me to abuse that small cunt and put you to some go-good fucking use. Mmh…fuck, fucking shit…”

He was right. Rick was always right. You wanted him, no you needed him buried deep inside your clenching, pulsating walls. He was rough and dominant. Choking you, spanking your ass, slapping your cute face while staring deeply into your eyes and calling you a worthless whore. 

“Please, sir, I-I’m begging you…”

“Oh, sweetheart, didn’t I tell you this was a punishment?”

And then he was gone, his back leaning against the wall as he sat on the other edge of the bed. No, he can’t be serious. “I actually w-wanted you to scream old man but I think denying you to cum is faaar worse for a dirty bitch like you.” He is actually serious.

“You’re an absolute fucking asshole! O my God!”, rage took over your body and shame slowly crept up. Instead of replying to you, Rick started to put his clothes on again. Even though he was still hard as a rock. Lazily he tossed your clothes over to you.

“Listen, princess, I-I told you I was going to punish you. How would it be pun-punishment if I let you squirt all over my dick? Besides”, he paused for a moment, “You were so fucking wet and begging for my cock that I was about to pound you like so-some fucked up wild animal. Wouldn’t want that now…or maybe you would, right, little one?” Yes, Rick was one second away from ramming his shaft inside your soaking pussy and fuck you to oblivion and back without giving two flying shits about your feelings. The angel on his shoulder – which barely showed up – advised him not to. He didn’t want to break your mind after all he just wanted to tame you and make you his fucktoy.

“Oh…”, dumbfounded you pulled your thong over your ass and your tank top over your head, didn’t really need anything else. You understood where Rick was coming from but you also senses that he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. Awkwardly you pulled the covers over your lower body and lowered your gaze.

A sigh fell from Rick’s lips, “y/n, chill out. I didn’t even fuck you. Here, take the bong.” He really didn’t have to tell you twice. In hopes to forget what just happened, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment, you first took a big gulp of some space-alcohol which was next to you on the workbench before taking a hit of the bong.

“We got five drinks down, another five to go!”

“What the actual f-fuck do you mean another five?! It’s like 2am, Rick!”

“I t-told you, y/n, we’re-we’re getting wasted tonight! No sleep just drinking and smoking, y/n! Let’s fucking goooo!”

His eyes narrowed with an unsettling intensity as he watched you, the woman he desired, moaning for C-137 on a large monitor. A surge of jealousy and possessiveness gripped him like a vice, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and despair. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, unable to bear the sight of you in the arms of another – whimpering and squirming, needy and horny. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to control the seething jealousy that threatened to consume him whole. With each passing moment, his obsession with you intensified, his mind swirling with thoughts of reclaiming what he believed to be rightfully his. He couldn't bear to see you with anyone else, couldn't fathom the idea of you belonging to another. In his eyes, you were his and his alone.

“How could you?! How the fuck could you?!”

With fury blazing in his eyes, he slammed his fists down onto the table with a force that reverberated through the room. The sharp sound of his anger echoed off the walls, punctuating the tense silence that enveloped the space. Each blow echoed his frustration, the intensity of his rage palpable in the way his knuckles whitened with each strike. His jaw clenched, muscles tensed, as he unleashed a torrent of pent-up emotions, his entire being consumed by a fiery wrath that threatened to consume him whole. The table trembled under the force of his fury, bearing the brunt of his unleashed rage as he struggled to contain the tempest raging within him. In that moment, he was a man possessed, his anger a primal force that demanded to be heard, leaving no doubt of the depth of his turmoil.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should have fucked your brains out before sending you off. Maybe he should have written in his notes that you are his. Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a last chance at all. He always yearned to see the face that you made just a minute ago. He wanted to beg you beg for his cock, soaking wet and desperate enough to not refuse him.

How did C-137 get that far within a few hours?! “Maybe her subconscious is bound to me”, he whispered to himself. That must be it. After all you were his and C-137 just happened to be a version of him. For a split second he thought about bringing you back to him, so that C-137 would never touch you again or fuck you right in front of that bastard to show him who you belong to. But he couldn’t do that – not yet. C-137 didn’t achieve what he wanted him to. Sex was something which could also be taken by force (or under dubious circumstances like C-137 did), what he wanted could not be forced onto you.

“I will kill you for this, C-137.”

[amoristt]

since you write for dbd now, can you write a drabble about frank (legion) finding reader in the trials, he used to know her and had feelings for her? can be dubcon/nsfw/sfw whatever you want!

yes yes yes ye sye sye sys yes

- gn! reader . NSFW . noncon referenced but if there's a continuation it'll be dubcon! - as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - want to support me? heres my kofi!

Run, Rabbit | Frank Morrison/Reader

You don't know how it happened.

One moment, you're at work, mindlessly sweeping the floors of the supermarket you worked at like all the other drones employees around you. Time was ticking by astronomically slow and a part of you just wanted to throw your broom down and waltz out. Money be damned.

The last memory you could recall was heading towards the supply room to retrieve cleaning supplies and then… Nothing.

Nothing, and then, it was cold. It was damp, with harsh winds ruffling the fabric of your work uniform. You were outside standing in the middle of what looked like a road that had definitely seen some better days. The streetlight over head flickered in spasms and offered little light. From what you could make out, with narrowed eyes and dilating pupils, you seem to have found yourself planted in the middle of an abandoned town.

Kidnaping had crossed your mind, along with a million other horrific thoughts.

Would anyone even know where to look for you?

With little exploring along the looming walls of the 'town' you found what seemed to be a massive, electric gate. No power, and no way to climb out, so you took to exploring the town further. A certain… Dread filled you.

You couldn't put your finger on it but you swore you were being watched.

Feeling more prey than human you sauntered about, and used what little technician knowledge you'd learned over the years to tinker with generators in the hopes of powering your escape. It had been going well- until it wasn't. One wrong wire and boom. You were off like a bat out of hell.

The way your blood turned to ice when you heard a second set of footsteps behind you was criminal.

Heart in your throat, your fight or flight pumping shockwaves of adrenaline through your veins, your lungs heaving as you ran without even daring to lookback. You didn't have to. Awful, evil energy chased you- practically nipped at your heels. Mind screaming, eyes searching in desperation for somewhere to hide, you could have cried when you found yourself trapped in a corner of those tall, tall walls. Only then did you whip around to face your attacker.

A white, dirty mask adorned by a tall skinny figure has your breath hitching in your throat.

---

Frank could have jumped for joy when he heard the delightful sound of an explosion merely yards away. It was like Christmas day- like a gift from god. His blade was hungry in his hand, his eyes searching through the familiar darkness for the survivor.

Excitement vibrated on his skin when he saw the faintest form of a figure in the mist.

His pace picked up, and he gained on you faster than you'd thought possible. In mere moments he was less than a foot away, practically able to reach out, grab your hair and rip you to his feet. But, Frank's always found he loves the chase. He lets you get a couple feet on him, he lets you think you have a chance.

He lets you run yourself into a corner like a frightened rabbit.

And god, when you turn to look at him, with those big doe-like eyes and a trembling lower lip, he knows why the Entity had brought him here. He takes a pause of appreciation for a few seconds while you stumble backwards. When your feet hit the wall behind you, he drinks in your appearance, clicks his tongue tauntingly, and twirls his blade in his hands. Your fear ridden voice reaches him like a song.

A song that he finds himself… Recognizing.

From behind his mask, he narrows his eyes. He knows you- he's sure of it. Somehow…

It clicks somewhere in his brain when he really looks at you- past the fear, past the shaking fingers and the sheen of sweat over your skin. A wiry smile forms on his lips and he can't help but laugh to himself deep in his chest. The sound brings waves of terror that he can see course through you.

Years it's been since he's last seen you, he thinks. He'd been in this place for so long he isn't even sure. Maybe it was years, maybe it was decades, even. All he knew was that no matter how long it had been, you were here now, standing before him and completely at his non-existent mercy. He'd always been fond of you since he'd met you in Ormond. You were a free thinker, treading on the darker side of the moon just like him. You saw the cracks in humanity, saw the world through his very same lenses.

He loved your fiery spirit, your impenetrable will.

And, most of all, he loved how he just knew he could tear it all down.

But he'd never got the chance. Your parents had damn near grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and dragged you to a different, safer city once they'd learned the types of people their child had been hanging out with. The types of influences you'd been around. He'd always felt a strange, out of place sadness at never even getting to figure out where you'd been taken.

Or maybe it wasn't so much sadness, as it was disappointment he hadn't really gotten the chance to corrupt you.

You were the one that got away.

Until now, that was. Because now you were here practically fucking gift wrapped for him, like the Entity was rewarding him for his devious behavior.

You're watching every movement he makes, pupils searching frantically for his line of sight, hands clasped at your heaving chest. It make's him giddy.

Frank can't hold back the snarky laugh that escapes him when he takes in your outfit, noting the corporate companies logo. If only your past self could see you now, they'd be sorely disappointed. But, surely that didn't matter. Not now.

Smoothly, he dangles his knife out to his side, before he lets it go. It thuds to the ground, abandoned. It offers little comfort to you, he notices, seeing your worried expression eye the knife before trailing back up to his mask. If he had a little more decency, he'd feel almost a bit bad for you. But, he doesn't, so… He doesn't.

After all, why deny himself of something he'd always wanted?

His figure looms over yours, a light behind him casting a deep shadow over your shrinking form. The outline of you vibrates as you shake fiercely before him. His fingers twitch to touch you, and something below his belt does too. His blood is hot under his skin as he imagines all of the things he wants to do you.

A part of Frank wants to rush in- tear away the layers of clothing keeping you covered and collapsing your shaking knees to the dirt, rip at your hair and force you to choke him down. Or, perhaps, use his trusty knife to drag weeping lines down your exposed flesh, have you cry out and squirm underneath him. The thought makes him shiver in need.

Or, he could take his time. A bit unlike him, sure, but this was a special occasion.

He could play it slow, drag the pads of his fingers up your arms, to the dips of your collar bones. Witness every last goosebumps in it's wake.

He could flatten the palms of his hands and slide it up your shirt until you're the one trying to take it off. Trace the outline of your arousal through your thin underwear until those terrified shakes turn into ones of want. And he knows he could do it, too.

Oh, he could work you until you're practically begging for him to take you.

Mind racing, eager arousal bubbling within him, he brings a hand up to your face and pats your cheek before he flattens his palm against your flesh. It's dewy, hot.

Soft.

Gently, he caresses you, thump rubbing saccharine circles into your skin. You barely flinch away, eyes fixated on him with a panting breath ghosting past your lips.

Frank grins to himself.

Talk about fun.

[box-architecture]

I was rereading some of your stuff on Ao3, and went “huh. I know Sapnap kidnaps Dream out of a misguided idea of what’s happening at one point, but how does that all go? How did Dream react? What was Sapnap like?”

So now I’m asking you. At 12:20 am. I have class in 7.5 hours!

Okay so we're going to ignore how long this has been sitting in my drafts, half answered. Okay? Okay. Awesome

-

So at some point during the Discovery Of Many Kinks (because when you're having a weird poly relationship with your former Warden, you're going to try a bunch of different things. For Science) awesamdrunz attempt to do a sex tape. It gets left around and found within like three days. By Sapnap.

So of course because of burning curiosity he has to watch the mysterious tape to see whats on it.

Then the only reason he kept watching was shock and also trying to figure out who the hell the third person was, why they looked familiar but also what the hell happened to them. Fun ways to find out your former best friend wasn't lying when he said he was horrifically tortured by your kind-of finance: finding his sex tape.

And listen, originally it was a fun crack idea to have him see this relationship nonsense where awesamdrunz was basically fucking in sex dungeons (made by Sam) after kidnappings, and decided that this was actually a really good template to fix his own relationship. He ends up trapping Quackity and Karl in what might be a previously unused sex dungeon!

(Resounding success: both of his boyfriends did not murder each other (due to bars in between them) and even spoke to each other in order to escape. This is the most progress he's had in months.)

But then! Alternate Idea! Sapnap sees the sex tape and (honestly not unfairly given his prior knowledge) believes Punz & Sam are at minimum, pressuring Dream into this relationship, and somehow this is a worse crime than murder. No wonder Dream couldn't stay in the prison! (Which. Not inaccurate.) So Sapnap sets about needing to find and protect Dream.

Sapnap finds Dream, and tries to convince him that he'll protect him. Dream is confused about what Sapnap saw, and has a tough time refuting anything. He also does really miss his friend. So he,,, doesn't really fight when Sapnap takes him to a secondary location.

-

"The windows are nice. Not as defensible, but you'll know if the enemy approaches." Dream commented, staring at the cloud-covered sea.

Sapnap laughed nervously, pulling open kitchen cupboards. "Yeah, I don't know. There shouldn't be any way for someone to find us out here though; its not like I told anyone where we were going."

Dream pursed his lips, but said nothing, eyes following the way the waves crashed against the shitty boardwalk Sapnap cobbled together half asleep. He figured Dream wouldn't want to be cooped up in the cottage all the time, not after… everything, so they could go sit out on the beach and fish, maybe, or go look for seashells. They hadn't built a sandcastle since they were kids, either, so it would definitely be something fun to try. Just like old times.

The wheat was crumbling in his hands, so Sapnap quickly tossed it on the counter.

"Are you hungry?" He called out, trying for a bit more cheer. Dream's gaze pulled to his, and Sapnap began pulling more ingredients out on the granite. "I know I'm not usually the person who cooks, but I've been getting into it lately! I made rabbit stew for Karl the other day, and he didn't even make a face when he was chewing."

He didn't really think about the potatoes as he dumped them into the sink, but he did notice the way Dream flinched, drawing in on himself and towards the doorway.

"Dream?"

"Just…" Dream looked back out into the sea. His fingers, what remained of them, dug into the fabric of his pants. "Nothing with potatoes. Please."

Sapnap felt his anxiety roll like the tide.

"Yeah, dude, that's cool. Doesn't sound appealing right now anyway." He said uncertainly. Dream's shoulders relaxed marginally, but Sapnap still felt off. "Anything you're in the mood for, though? Beet soup? Cheese sandwich?"

"Whatever you cook is fine." Dream reassured him. A brittle, but teasing edge appeared in his smile. "Unless you somehow got worse at baking bread."

He had, but god forbid would he ever admit to that. He grinned, and sat up on the counter. "Oh, like you're so good at it. I tried your stupid 'Everything' bread, and it tasted like ash."

"You turned off the timer and it burned."

"Well maybe next time don't leave random timers on the oven and expect anyone to know what they're for."

"Maybe next time you should assume its there for a reason and not touch it." Dream said in exasperation. Sapnap stuck his tongue out, and Dream threw his hands up, exiting the kitchen. He was so dramatic, Sapnap thought fondly.

-

Its a lot of Sapnap attempting to reestablish their previous connection and realizing how much Dream has changed, and staring at the scars when he thinks Dream isn't looking. He gets Super Protective and promises he wont let anything else happen to him. Dream is instinctively upset (why now, why does it matter now, why do you care, I am Perfectly Fine) but its one of his People and he is So Tired.

Sapnap is sorta kinda keeping Dream with him. It's not exactly against Dream's will, but it's also like, if Dream could walk out the door and come back later without Sapnap freaking out he'd rather do that. But Sapnap is freaking out, and seems to believe that there is a credible threat against Dream if he leaves. Given Sapnap's previous relationship with Quackity, Dream is willing to believe he might know something and that alone makes him anxious enough that he wants to stay.

Sapnap gets more horrified the longer he's with Dream (Dream flinches under his touches, his fingers are gone, Dream makes a snide comment about Quackity when Sapnap asks about the scars,) and this only convinces him more that clearly he needs to be protecting Dream. Sapnap expresses a lot of fury towards Sam, and Dream doesn't have any good arguments against it. There's a lot of stuff that he just sorta, decided to ignore, and now that coming back up is messing with him.

They get into a brief yelling match when Dream gets tired of what he presumes is pity and fake behavior, and it ends with Sapnap holding Dream to keep him from leaving or collapsing.

(The irony(?) of Dream comforting Sapnap for most of his life only for them to switch places in this moment is not lost on him.)

He gets to snuggle with him under the covers and gets a kiss on the chin (Dream is half asleep, and thinking about how much he missed him.)

Meanwhile, Punz is going to Murder Sapnap.

Punz has no context for why Sapnap took Dream so he is assuming Sapnap is going to attempt to imprison Dream again (after failing to kill him) and while he is 100 percent confident in Dreams abilities he also is aware that Sapnap is one of Dreams People and therefore capable of hurting Dream emotionally. Hurting Dream is Not Allowed.

Sam is having a panic attack because Dream isn't within sight line and isn't with Punz and therefore everything is Wrong and Bad in his world.

When you finally get a confrontation between Sam and Sapnap (because at this point, they don't know that Sapnap knows about Punz, so Sam is going in first), Sapnap responds viciously, tearing into Sam both for the scars on Dream's body, but also stating he knew they were fucking, and there's no way that's even remotely acceptable given the position of power Sam had (he's not wrong. this is a true statement of fact for everything that occurred prior to the prison break. it's just that things got weird after that). Sam has no good rebuttal, and faced with violence from Sap, has to flee. He's left shaken from everything.

Dream: listen he may have enabled my torture and abuse, and starved and isolated me, and accepted sexual favors from me while being in a position of power over me But he's also a very sad wet cat of a man, and I'm a control freak

Punz tries to talk with Sapnap on slightly less,,, angry grounds? On his part. Knowing about the interaction with Sam, he feels better about the fact Dream is probably safe and Sapnap probably has good reason for what he's doing.

To be clear though, Sapnap is furious with Punz. Right out of the gate he reveals he knows Punz was involved. At first, he's assuming that Punz was paid off to help Sam, but Punz decides "fuck it" and reveals at least part of things. He explains he was working with Dream after the prison break, that he felt bad for betraying him, and that they had a relationship. Dream wanted to involve Sam post-prison, Punz was against it, but wanted Dream to be safe.

Sapnap: you're forcing him to do this! Punz: I DON'T EVEN WANT HIM TO BE DOING THIS Sam: >:(

Sapnap needs to take some time to processes that, but he then presses to clarify; Dream and Sam had a relationship while Dream was in prison? Yes.

Sam had a hand in the torture and Dream's condition? Also yes.

After he broke out, despite all of this, Dream still felt like he wanted to return to Sam? Yes.

Sapnap: And you LET him?!

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, other than Dream is his own person, and Punz can't stop him from doing what he wants with his life. To which Sapnap responds, yes you can motherfucker

It's a very fundamentally rift in their two perspectives. Punz, particularly post-prison, couldn't morally justify restricting Dream or telling him how to life his life or cope. Sapnap, thinks that Dream was not in a position to make a choice like that.

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, it's the exact thing he's been feeling guilty over. So he ends up leaving, Not for forever. Just to think.

Meanwhile, Dream overheard everything. He now understands what Sapnap is seeing as the "real issue" (or at least, the current threat at hand), and he knows that he's going to make his own choice here.

Dream: I understand that my decisions are problematic but have you ever considered that I've made my choices and will continue to make them, even if you don't agree Sapnap: NO

Dream tells Sapnap gently that he's leaving now. He wants to go back. Sapnap doesn't want him to, he makes fair arguments about how much Dream could be hurt here. Dream understands, but he's also an adult, and he's decided what he wants. He's forgiven his stupid creeper hybrid boyfriend. It might not make sense to, but he has. It's his choice in the end.

Sapnap doesn't like it, there's a long people where he's just holding Dream and in tears. He's apologized a lot. For leaving Dream there. He says it again for good measure. Dream gives him a soft kiss on the forehead and he doesn't say it's okay, but he does say that he loves him. That it will be okay.

Dream has to go now, but he promises to come back, they set a time and they get to just spend time together. Talking about things one at a time.

(Sapnap and Dream see each other a lot now, as he slowly enters Dream's life again. Occupying his space and checking up on him and fretting. They get more kisses, more cuddles in bed. Once a week they come back to their little cottage and grow something that isn't what they used to have, but its still good, and its full of love.)

Later, Dream will be reassuring Punz that he made the best choices he could make, sighing and pulling Sam out of his prison depression hole. Kidnapping once again proves to be a great way to solve problems.

[pip-n-chips]

How about being Harper's favourite fucking menace though? Fighting everything he does tooth and nail, in a straightjacket every night, getting other patients to distract the orderlies so you can beat his ass... No matter what he does, it doesn't break down your spirit. It's infuriating, he just can't get his hands on you. he might have to use more... sinister methods...

YES YES AND YES!! also this didn't go in the direction I planned it to go, but here's something for you regardless

Harper absentmindedly drums his fingers against the wooden desk as he looks through patient files, the room filled with silence aside from the occasional clicking of his computer mouse. His fingers halt upon reaching your name.

Harper considers himself a patient man, and in his line of work it's absolutely crucial to be. But even the best of men lose their patience, and his is running very, very thin.

His eye twitches.

The reason?

You.

(continued under the cut)

You you you, of course it's you. He's dealt with patients in the past who didn't, ah,, favor his methods, but he's never met anyone quite like you before.

You're always resisting, always fighting. You just don't know when to quit, to give in, and it drives him mad. If you were anyone else, he would have accepted the loss and sent you over to Remy's, made you their problem, but no.

He couldn't. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't.

Because something about you draws him in; he wants to study you, get inside your head. He wants to fix you. He's not meant to be the bad guy in your story, why can't you see it? He can help you, he can make you feel all better, but you can't fucking see it yet.

Harper leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses to drag a hand over his face, frustrated. His attention shifts to the familiar tightness in his pants, and he glances down at his crotch.

He can't deny the effect you have on him, however.

Every snarky comment, every demand. Every kick and every scream. Everytime you shake yourself out of the trance he put you in, everytime you deny deny deny...

Oh,

you sweet little thing.

You must think it's wearing him down, bit by bit, but you'd be such a fool to think so. All it does is make him want you more and more and more. He can't lie and say a part of him doesn't like how you've been fighting him, because you give him a challenge. You give him a kind of thrill he's never felt before.

God, you're such a tease.

He wants to tame the untameable, cure the incurable. You are the mouse to his cat, and he wants to chase you down and show you what he can really do. And once he has you in his grip, he's never, ever going to let you go.

The tightness is almost unbearable now. Harper's belt clinks as he hastily removes it and unzips his fly. His cock is soon in his hand, the tip already dribbling with precum. He shakily lets out the breath he's been holding onto as he starts to stroke.

How do you tame a mouse? Do you give it cheese? What would be your cheese? Do you trap it? Maybe he should toss you into the quiet room again- but ah. Last time he left you there for too long, he saw you back in town after a while of searching here. He still hasn't figured out how you managed to get past security. Or the cameras. What a sneaky little bastard, you are.

He loves it.

Maybe he should throw you in a rigged maze, one you can never solve. One you can never escape. It'd wear you down until you come to him begging. But would you even ask for help? Maybe he could deprive you of everything except the basic necessities until you're forced accept his help, it'd teach you to be humble. You fight so much to maintain your broken yet incredible mind, so he couldn't imagine you giving up completely.

His breath quickens as he lets his thoughts run wild, the room filling up with his desperate grunts and the slick sound of skin rubbing against skin as he gets more and more aroused.

That could work, and he has a separate property in mind to keep you. Well- technically Remy owns it, but it's been unused for a while, and he's sure he could pull some strings to make it work. He's going to make sure he's all you see, all you feel. You'll be so starved for any type of interaction, you'll practically be begging for his cock inside you- any hole of his choosing. He'll drug and tie you up so you can't fight anymore, and you'll finally see just how much he can help you. How much you need him, and how much he needs-

Harper suddenly convulses, thick ropes of semen spurting from his cock, splattering on his desk. He sinks into his chair, panting, waiting for his mind to clear.

Only you could get him so hot and bothered like this. Only you can give him this kind of reaction. You must be doing this on purpose, this must be your plan. To rile him up, to tempt him. The way you fight, the way you look at him... You're asking for it, surely- It's all a cry for attention. You're playing games with him, hoping you'll lose. You just don't want to admit it, because if you did, you'd have to face the truth. And you and him both know that you prefer your little lies.

How could someone so strong be so cowardly?

Harper reaches into a drawer for wipes and begins to clean up the mess resulting from,, his activities. He thought he got all of it, but upon looking up he sees some managed to land on the computer screen, right on the image of your face.

Would you look at that...

A low chuckle escapes past his lips as he leans forward. His breath his hot against his face as he caresses your image and wipes it clean with his thumb. He wonders what it would be like, cumming on you like this. (You'd hate it with a burning passion, but he'll teach you to love it. Just like how he'll teach you to love him.)

He's itching to find out, but he can wait.

It won't be too long now, anyway.

(Not long at all...)

If you want to keep playing your little games of fighting and denying and teasing and pretending- then that's fine!

He'll play too.

It'll just make his prize upon winning that much sweeter.

[synthshenanigans]

I now have an alt account where I will post random things and talk about nonsensical ideas. If that sounds interesting have a go at it: @starfall-calamity >:}

[neondiamond]

🎁 Recently Read Fics - December 2023 🎁

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! ❤️

🎁 A Green Christmas by @tommokat (871, T)

A short, sweet snapshot of Niall and Shawn’s first holiday season living together.

🎁 to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by @beardyboyzx (1k, G)

Sometimes, Niall still thinks about the way Zayn’s laugh sounds when they watch TV and Niall makes up fake answers for whatever quiz show they’re watching.

🎁 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat (1k, M)

A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

🎁 make my wish come true by @voulezloux (2k, NR)

the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

🎁 Baby, please come home by @iysics (2k, T)

Breaking into his neighbour's house wasn't on Harry's Christmas checklist.

🎁 Stuck in Midnight Traffic by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (3k, M)

the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?

🎁 All The Way Home I’ll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue (3k, T)

Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🎁 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k, T)

When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer.

Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital.

But that was before he’d met him.

🎁 A Christmas at Home by @parmahamlarrie (3k, T)

After meeting his boyfriend in the emergency room, not having Louis home for Christmas Eve (and his birthday) was not a big surprise to Harry. What he didn't expect was just how hard that would be on his six year old son, Arlo.

Or, the one where Arlo wants nothing more than to celebrate Louis' birthday with him, and Harry hates having to be the parent who says no.

🎁 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by @londonfoginacup (3k, G)

Zayn and Louis are soulmates.

They're also missing some soulmates.

For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

🎁 Elf on the Shelf Suprise by @megz1985 (6k, T)

Liam brings home an Elf on the Shelf to surprise his and Zayn's toddler with Christmas magic, but things don't go as planned when she's completely terrified of her new Christmas friend.

🎁 The Busker by @chelsea-frew (7k, T)

A snowstorm has trapped artist Louis at home on his birthday--Christmas Eve--and on Christmas. Louis anticipates a lonely holiday. A mysterious stranger appears on Christmas morning, however, and Louis doesn't have to spend the day alone. But where did the man come from? Why does he seem familiar? It's a Christmas mystery.

🎁 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k, T)

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard.

It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day.

An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

🎁 You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by @londonfoginacup (32k, T)

Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

🎁 Snow In Love by @lululawrence (33k, NR)

Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny.

People thought they were already dating. Weird.

An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.

🎁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (33k, E)

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

🎁 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (34k, T)

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

[elthadriel]

(predictable request) codyfox? ❤️

There are cams all over Kamino, but not everywhere. Learning where the blind spots are is as valuable as any skill Seventeen teaches them.

Cody gets to latemeal before Tens. He sits with Bly, who doesn't apologise for his role in Tens sabotage during the training sim, but also doesn’t comment when Cody mostly ignores him, watching Tens arrive, collect his tray and sit on the edge of another group of command cadets. Cody will find a way to even the score with Bly later. Tens is the more pressing concern.

 Tens looks up once, catches Cody watching, sneers , and deliberately doesn’t look back at him. It’s an increasingly familiar sort of anger that Tens ignoring him pulls out of Cody. It’s hot and squirming and overwhelms all the steady consideration that makes him one of the best.

The best.

Or he would be if Tens would stop screwing him over.

He clenches his jaw, his face hot, his fist clenched.

He knows where the blind spots are between here and their pods, he’ll take care of this.

Tens eats slowly, acting like he’s listening to the conversation going on around him, pushing food around his tray, and rarely actually putting anything in his mouth. As though Cody can’t be patient.

Oh-Six and Blitz join Cody and Bly, eat, and leave. Bly finishes his own food and puts down his fork, but waits silently until Tens finally stands. Bly looks over his shoulder and follows suit, picking up both his and Cody’s trays.

“I’ll cover for you both,” he says. “Don’t leave marks where Seventeen will see.”

Cody clicks his tongue. He doesn’t need the advice—none of them are unfamiliar with unsanctioned fighting. Cody is on his feet the moment Tens is out of the room. He moves quickly to catch up, but he already knows it won’t be necessary. Tens is a slippery maggot, but he’s not a coward.

Cody catches up with him just a corridor out from the mess hall. Tens does turn then, glancing once over his shoulder and ducks into a fresher.

“Out,” he snaps to the room. Cody doesn’t recognise the cadet that dashes out past him, still tucking himself away. He’s got some survival instincts at least.

There’s cams in the fresher, but they don’t cover the back corner. It’s a small space to fight in—they’ll need to be careful—but that just plays to Cody’s advantage.

“Always such a sore loser, Twenty-Four,” Tens says, backing up into that blind corner. Cody wasn’t expecting regret, but Tens’ self-satisfaction makes Cody’s face heat and his heart pound furiously behind his ribs.

“I’m not the one who had to cry to Bly for help,” Cody snaps. One more step and he’s out of sight of the cams and firmly within arms reach of Tens.

Tens’ nostrils flare. “What makes you think I went to him? I’m not the only one sick of your shit.”

Best to avoid the face—Seventeen will notice a split lip.

Cody steps forward. Tens lashes out before Cody is totally out of line of sight. Cody blocks, and it degrades from there. There’s no space to back up, now they’re grappling they’re trapped until one of them gives up.

Cody catches Tens in the side, Tens twists him into a hold that makes Cody’s shoulder burn to slip out of. Cody shoves Tens back against the wall. Tens’ hands bury themselves in Cody’s shirt to shove him back, his mouth twists in a snarl.

Tens mouth is as much teeth as lips under Cody’s  mouth. The hands in his shirt pull him closer. Cody has the advantage, he has Tens pinned. Tens’ back is to the wall, Cody trapping him there with his own body. He could really hurt Tens.

Tens’ mouth is wetter than Cody would have expected, and their lips make loud smacking sounds. Cody’s heard hammers and Fox’s pulse flutters under Cody’s hand.

Cody brings his knee up between Tens’ legs.

Ten makes a very satisfying wheeze and Cody pulls away.

“You got off easy,” Cody tells him. “Pull that again and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Tens demands, sneering through his grimace, hands cupped between his legs. “Kiss me harder?”

Cody scoffs—Tens had kissed him.

Cody turns, wiping at his mouth. He got the little shit good at least, and Seventeen won’t be interested in checking down there.

He runs his tongue over his lips and swears he can still taste Tens.

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

Nursed

Summary: When Izzy gets sick, Stede insists he takes some time off. He also insists that you are put in charge of the first mate's care.

Word Count: 3477

Izzy knew that the best thing to do when a member of the crew got sick was to quarantine them, at least to some extent. Ships were prime spaces for viruses to spread and if the whole crew got sick that would be good for nobody. 

That rule hasn’t applied much to Izzy since he became First Mate, though. He was always needed for one thing or another, he couldn’t just take time off because he had the sniffles or a sore throat. He had to just work through it unless it got bad enough to have him unable to move from his cot, that wasn’t very common though.

Why Bonnet had insisted on following this one rule of ship and crew maintenance was beyond him, probably just to irritate Izzy even more than he already does. Izzy had let a few coughs and sneezes slip while he was up on deck, no big deal, but Bonnet had taken notice. Roach had agreed that Izzy was coming down with something, and Bonnet had insisted that Izzy retire to his cabin to sleep it off, to take as much time as he needed until he was feeling better. Of course, Izzy had thought it, but Edward had only backed up his co-captain on the matter.

So, Izzy had stomped down to his cabin while hurling verbal abuse at anyone who he passed just to make himself feel a little bit better. He supposed that if he was going to be trapped in his cabin until he could pass as being perfectly well, he might as well actually try to sleep some of this sickness off.

His short nap was cut even shorter by the sound of somebody knocking at his door. Surely Bonnet had told the whole crew that Izzy was in bed with some terrible illness by now, so maybe if he just stayed quiet the person outside would just go away.

Instead, the door opened. Izzy groaned as he sat up, finding that his head was actually aching a little more now rather than feeling any better. He glared at you, only snarling a little, as you entered his cabin.

“I guess I woke you…” you observed, at least looking a little guilty about it. “Didn’t think you’d actually go to sleep. Thought you’d just pace around until you passed out or something,” you didn’t look at him as you moved further into the room, placing a tray down on his desk.

“Anyway, got some…bad news,” you turned to him, a not so sorry smile on your face.

“If I’m dying, that would actually be a relief,” Izzy huffed. Even when he was sent to his cabin to wallow in his sickness, he couldn’t get a break from this damned crew.

“Ah, nobody’s that lucky, I’m afraid,” you joked, but it actually came out more light than malicious. “Stede has assigned me to nurse you back to health,” you finally informed him.

Izzy blinked at you like you had just spoken some other language he wasn’t familiar with. “What?”

“Best to only have one person coming to see you, reduce the risk of contamination and all that. Since I help Roach with the medical stuff around here, Stede thought it would be for the best,” you explained.

“Fucking hell,” Izzy sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. His head was aching more now.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you laughed to yourself before stepping to the side, gesturing to the tray on his desk. “Got you a pitcher of water, you really need to keep hydrated, and some broth. Won’t be too heavy on your stomach.”

At least you didn’t bring up the whole ‘Izzy the Spewer’ thing, even if Izzy could tell what you were getting at with the stomach comment. To his surprise, you actually sounded sincere and concerned rather than mocking.

“When did you start feeling sick?” you asked, almost clinically. A little like Roach would ask ‘does that hurt’ when he was poking at a bleeding wound.

“I can take care of myself. Done it plenty of times before.” Izzy wasn’t even sure why he was fighting it, stupid shit seemed to be inevitable on this ship.

“Oh, I’m sure. I bet you worked through it all like the stubborn little creature you are, right?” you rolled your eyes, your tone flat.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Izzy muttered.

“Well, you still don’t, now you have to let yourself accept help and be taken care of,” you tutted before repeating your question. “So, when did you start feeling sick?”

“...felt it coming on yesterday.”

“You’re at the beginning of it then. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Probably just the common cold, nothing to worry about, sure you’ve dealt with worse,” you shrugged slightly. “Drink. Eat. Drink some more. Then get some sleep. Let your body rest and heal,” you advised, “I’ll be back later to check on you, get you some more food and water.”

“Don’t feel obligated,” Izzy grumbled as you headed to the door, unsure if he even wanted you to hear him.

“I’ll see you later. Or not…if you’re asleep, I won’t wake you,” you told him, leaving no room for debate.

And just like that, you were gone.

Despite being frustrated with Bonnet's stupid orders and even more frustrated that you would be popping in and out, Izzy dropped down in the seat at his desk. He ate the broth and drank some water before dragging himself back into bed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

Just as you said you would, you dropped by his cabin later on to check on him. To your surprise, he was actually sleeping. Even more surprisingly, he actually looked somewhat peaceful, not as grumpy as he usually is. 

Maybe it was silly, but you couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight.

You placed the fresh pitcher of water and some leftover biscuits, in case he got hungry, down on his desk.

Silently, you stepped over to Izzy’s cot and carefully fixed the blanket over his frame. He must have kicked it off of himself a little in his sleep. Izzy hummed and nuzzled into his pillow, you bit back a small laugh. Wasn’t that just adorable? You dug a cloth out of your pocket and wiped away the slight sheen of sweat over his brow before returning to his desk.

With your job done, you gathered up the dirty dishes and left the cabin. You walked into the galley, dropping the dishes down by the sink.

“How’s the patient?” Roach asked. He had been very vocal about how pleased he was that Stede had assigned you to watch over Izzy and not him.

“Sleeping,” you told him, “think he’s getting a fever.” 

“Better you than me, I’d probably just tie him down to the bed and force feed him until he’s better,” Roach mused. He was a surprisingly talented medic but not always the most patient one. If his patient didn’t want help, they wouldn’t be getting it.

“Kinky,” you wiggled your brows at him before turning back to the dishes. “Let’s just hope the fever makes him easier to handle.”

You checked in on Izzy again before you headed to bed. He was sleeping again but there was less water and fewer biscuits than what you had left earlier, so you took that as a win. You would stop by before breakfast, make sure he wasn’t going without anything.

-

The next morning you checked in on Izzy, expecting to find him still in bed, but instead he was sitting on the edge of his cot. His clothes sat beside him, pants in hand. It looked like he had started to get dressed but had to sit down before really even starting.

He looked frustrated with himself but he clearly wasn’t well, his face pale and his shoulders slumped.

“Are you seriously trying to get up?” you asked with a huff, like you just couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You absolutely could believe that Izzy Hands was trying to get back to work when he was hitting the worst of his illness. 

“I’m fine,” Izzy insisted, cringing at how rough his own voice sounded.

“That’s a blatant fucking lie,” you rolled your eyes. “C’mon, back in bed,” you were in front of him in an instant, pulling the leather pants out of his hands. You folded his clothes neatly and placed them on top of the chest at the bottom of his bed.

Izzy just watched as you moved around his cabin, vaguely pleased that you had neatly handled his clothes, as ridiculous as that may be. Then you were returning to him, a hand on his shoulder as you got him to lay down and pulled his blanket over him. He protested and weakly thought but before he knew it, he was back in his bed.

“Too warm,” Izzy complained, trying to push the blanket off of him again.

“It’s your fever. Don’t kick it off, okay?” your voice was surprisingly soothing as you spoke, like you really wanted him to understand and not just do as you said because you said it. “I’ll get some stuff for you in a minute,” you assured, tucking the blanket back into place.

“Are you up for eating?” you asked, stepping back. Izzy just shrugged, feeling completely out of his element. “I’ll get you something small,” you decided with a small nod. “Want some medication?”

“No,” Izzy answered. You just nodded, not pushing him on the matter.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you promised before gathering up the dirty dishes and dipping out of the cabin.

When you returned again a few minutes later, it was with another tray of items.

Izzy grumpily sat up and let you give him what you brought for him. You got him to drink a full cup of water and then helped him eat a few spoonfuls of soup. He blushed the whole time at the fussing and protesting that he could manage himself, but you just shushed him and did your job.

Izzy drank some more and lay down properly again. You placed a cool damp cloth over his forehead, making him comfortable before telling him to get some sleep. He surprised himself by actually falling asleep, unable to fight his heavy eyelids.

This time, as he slept, you stayed. Sitting by his bedside so you could keep replacing the cloth and keep his temperature down.

You had to pop out of the cabin every now and again throughout the day to tend to other things but you would always return to care for Izzy, even if he fought you every step of the way.

-

On the third day, Izzy’s fever seemed to reach its peak. Which you hoped meant it would start getting better soon.

He ate very little that day but you managed to force him to drink whenever he woke up. When you had been asked to nurse Izzy a little, you had completely planned on giving him plenty of space and time alone since he seemed to enjoy it so much, but that day you barely left his side.

While he slept, you were sitting beside him, rinsing and replacing the cloth on his forehead to help keep him cool.

Your silent routine was interrupted by a quiet whine. You paused, frowning down at the sleeping first mate. He whined again, his brow pinching slightly.

“Shush, just gotta get through the worst of it,” you attempted to soothe him, even if he couldn’t hear you.

Izzy’s face scrunched up as he began to writhe on his cot, like he was having a nightmare of some sort. It was probably a symptom of his fever, or at least worsened by it.

“You’re alright, Iz. Just a bad dream, I’ve got you,” you continued to talk sweet nonsense until he calmed. He hummed slightly when you ran your fingers through his dirty hair, so you continued, happy that it was soothing him.

You smiled as he settled. “There we go, just sleep it off,” you whispered. Izzy let out a small sigh, slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

With a sigh, you stood and began tidying up again. You couldn’t sit around watching Izzy sleep all day, especially when he would most likely be perfectly fine, but you found yourself not really wanting to leave him.

-

The fourth day came around after you managed to pull yourself away from his side to get some sleep. Of course, the first thing you did was grab some food from the galley and went to see Izzy. He was laying on his cot, awake but not looking happy in the slightest. At least he wasn’t trying to get back to work this time.

“Still feeling shitty, huh?” you asked.

“You tell me,” Izzy muttered.

For some reason you felt fond about his grouchiness. “Alright, I brought some brekkie. Hungry?”

Izzy eyed the bowl in your hands. “...could eat…”

You insisted on spoon feeding him even when he fought it. He eventually allowed it, grumbling with each bite he took. The broth was good though, soothing his throat, clearing his sinuses, and warming his belly.

“Ate more than yesterday, that’s good,” you acknowledged.

As you placed the bowl down, Izzy actually asked for something. “Water?”

“Look at that, asking for things, accepting help. You’re growing, doing so well.” You were teasing, of course you were teasing, just joking around. Still, he couldn’t help the way he flushed at the praise. What the fuck? He only asked for some water.

You poured him a cup of water and handed it over without another comment. “If you finish the full cup and I’ll leave you alone until lunch,” you promised.

“If that’s all it takes,” Izzy huffed, bringing the cup up to his mouth.

“Ah, you like me. You haven’t even threatened to stab me once,” you teased.

Izzy distracted himself by finishing the drink, letting you take the cup back once it was empty. He really didn’t need all this doting, and surely he could fight it a little more…

“And we say…” you prompted.

“Fuck off.”

“Come on, Izzy. Say it and I’ll bring an extra treat with lunch.”

“Fucking-” Izzy sighed, knowing you wouldn’t drop this. You had probably earnt it at this point anyway. “Thank you.”

“See, not so difficult,” you smiled, seemingly pleased with him, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

Izzy froze but you didn’t pay it any mind, you just went about tidying up like you always do and headed for the door. “Get some rest. Feel better soon, Iz,” you left him with another sincere smile.

-

You returned to Izzy’s cabin later on that day. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Can I fucking move now?” Izzy glared at you. He was probably going a little crazy locked up in his cabin for the last few days, and you couldn’t really blame him.

“Nope, not until you’re back in perfect health. Captain’s rules,” you at least looked a little apologetic, “maybe tomorrow, though.”

“Got you some broth,” of course, you had your tray with you, “Roach is making stew for dinner today, think you’re up for that?” 

Izzy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Just some fucking stew.” 

“Izzy, work with me here. Don’t want to give you anything that upsets your stomach,” you sighed, something about it a little pleading.

You were right, he supposed. You only wanted to help, even if Bonnet had fucking ordered you to. “...yeah…stew will be fine,” he gave in.

“Good,” you smiled, bright and genuine again.

You let him feed himself this time, since this time you sat and ate with him. Letting him have half of your orange.

“Since you’re feeling better and not sleeping through the whole day, do you want me to bring you anything for entertainment?” you asked but Izzy just raised an eyebrow at you. “I dunno, like a book or something?” you weren’t even sure if he could read, you had seen him working on the logs but that was a little different.

“I could get Frenchie to sit outside your door and play some songs,” you suggested.

“A book is fine,” Izzy answered quickly before begrudgingly adding, “nothing boring.”

“It will be the most exhilarating book you’ve ever read,” you winked playfully.

-

Since lunch had gone so well, at least in your opinion, you had decided to eat your dinner with Izzy as well. Plus, he was more cognizant than he was yesterday and you thought the company would be good for him even if he didn’t much care for it.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick? I mean, you don’t have to eat with me,” Izzy eventually questioned after eating in silence.

“Don’t want you to be all isolated and lonely in here. I’ll take the risk,” you shrugged, sounding honest enough. “You’ll just have to nurse me back to health like I have so kindly done for you,” you teased.

“In your fucking dreams,” Izzy scoffed. He was a first mate, not a nurse.

“I bet you’d be the most effective nurse ever, very practical. Terrible bedside manner, though,” you thought out loud, hearing Izzy’s quiet snort of amusement. “Bet you’d just tell the illness to fuck off and it would.”

“Huh, haven’t tried that yet,” he muttered.

“Wouldn’t work on yourself. Bet your illnesses are just stubborn as you are,” you hummed thoughtfully.

At that, Izzy smiled a little to himself. He had to admit that this is kinda…nice.

“Think you’ll be back up on deck soon?” you asked.

“Could have been up there today but you’d snitch to Bonnet,” Izzy shot a halfhearted glare your way. 

“Damn right I would. You need to get fully better or you’re just going to make it worse again,” you chastised. “But maybe the next couple of days, maybe even tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck,” Izzy seemed genuinely relieved. You’ve never met somebody so reluctant to take a break, especially when they obviously needed one.

“That means you need to be caught up on what’s going on up there,” your eyes brightened at the realisation.

“Bet it’s not piracy,” Izzy scoffed.

“I’d say you won that bet, but I have no coin to give you,” you rolled your eyes fondly. “Anyway, here’s everything that has happened since you got sentenced to your cabin…”

You went on to tell him about all of the inane things the crew had gotten up too over the last few days, even going into depth about the most mundane things.

Izzy truly didn’t care about the stupid conversations the crew was having over dinner in the galley, but he found himself listening anyway. Admittedly, he lost the actual words every now and again when he really lost interest in the story, but he still found your voice soothing. Even if he couldn’t recall everything you said, a part of him didn’t want you to stop. He could just finish his stew to the soothing sound of your company.

-

On the fifth day, you might have even said that Izzy seemed excited to see you. As soon as you stepped into the cabin, Izzy perked up. “Thank fuck you’re here.”

“Wow, you’re happy to see me…did you fall out of bed and hit your head?” you squinted in suspicion. 

“No,” Izzy huffed. “No, I’m feeling better. I can be…discharged or whatever the fuck,” he insisted.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you tutted.

“Which is why I’m glad you’ve shown up already,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m right on time!” 

“Just get on with it!”

“Careful or I’m going to tell Stede you need a few more days bedrest,” you warned sternly, earning a small grumble from Izzy.

You gave him a quick check over, making sure his temperature was back to normal, that the colour had returned to his face. Asked how his throat felt, how tired he was, even though you knew he would most likely lie about anything he could. You had to admit, he did seem a lot better.

“Alright, first mate Hands, I think you’re good to get back to work,” you announced/ “But take it easy. First sniffle or clearing of your throat, as I’m dragging you back down here,” you warned.

“Fine. Now fuck off,” Izzy huffed, waving his hand to dismiss you.

“...I still brought breakfast…might as well eat before heading up,” you reasoned, gesturing towards the tray on his desk. Two servings of porridge that Roach had prepared for the crew this morning. 

“Yeah. Fine, alright,” Izzy accepted the breakfast, not complaining when you sat with him to eat together. “...thanks,” he whispered, his gratitude unprompted and sincere this time, making you smile as you ate another spoonful.

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 1

Today I’m going to be sharing some of my favorite Nick and June tracks that have us all hitting rewind over and over and over and over……..after all, who doesn’t love a good mix tape?

Oranges & Tuna

This is the first time we meet Nick but given June’s familiarity, it’s not the first time she has. In Atwood’s text, Nick sounds like a bit of alright and the POV camera shot when June comes down the stairs IS a touch pervy.

Nick’s working with his sleeves rolled up, sweating and judging by the wanton looks it seems June’s in no particular rush to go shopping. She also seems to know quite a bit about him already, including the fact that he’s single. In her head, June’s already inviting Nick down to the oyster house bar for a drink, a subtle reference to a well-known aphrodisiac. It takes all of 10 seconds for Nick to start flirting with her, by telling June a gag about not being a pescatarian. It’s a fact which June purposefully ignores, in order to return his flirtation, and that’s it, that’s all it takes…..Nick’s fucked.

Throughout the next few episodes we see that Nick can neither believe nor resist June’s audacity. Nick knows he should say something when he sees her legs uncovered but he says nothing and simply stares. The sound of the lid closing on the box in front of him is like a trap snapping shut.

He can’t resist standing waaaaay too close and stroking her hand when he brings her ice, the heat is palpable. Nick now knows he’s in serious trouble and June is left reeling. Throughout season 1 these two are constantly measuring and testing each-others boundaries, but honestly from the second Nick told his tuna fish gag, he may as well have waved a white flag.

You shouldn’t wear anything for me

Sweet mother of Mercy. Apparently the sight of June’s naked body has turned Nick Blaine into the master of the double entendre overnight. Season 1 sees Nick pulling the jokes out left and right, first with the tuna fish gag and now this. Nick can hardly keep a straight face as he delivers it and June barely stifles a chuckle. This casual comment is not only a statement about June never changing her appearance to please him, but also one about how desirable he finds her, naked and unmanicured.

This is also the first time we see these two perform their infamous hand brushing and it’s literally breathtaking for the both of them. It’s a moment steeped in danger, electricity and passion, as you sense them both recalling their previous night together. Glowing lights seem to follow these two around like a spell, and as they intertwine their fingers a luminous orb appears between their hands.

I’d like to say that June ever stood a chance at resisting the foxy driver’s charms but I’d be lying. He’s hot AF, lives less than 200 feet away and flirts with her shamelessly, this was all a done deal long ago. In Atwood’s text, these two can barely keep their hands off each other and Nick is described as absolutely fascinated with her. Not surprisingly then, this scene is closely followed by a knee trembling, face melting kiss that sends June straight from “it can never happen again, sorry Nick” to a dazed mess spelling saucy words during her scrabble game.

Is This It?

Nick thinks that breaking up with June is going to be simple, in fact he seems to think he won’t need to explain himself at all. June is having none of it, this is her one small ray of light in an otherwise dismal existence so Nick had better have a good reason.

He does, he’s already seen one handmaid die and he’s starting to get seriously attached to the new one. Seeing June on the wall just because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself is more than he could bear. This is Nick doing Nick: keep your head down, step aside, stay out of trouble and keep your mouth shut.

June rightfully calls him on his shit, accusing him of being a coward who wants only to be Fred’s whipping boy for the rest of his life. How could he want to live such a small life? It’s a gut punch that leaves Blaine looking suitably ashamed.

Their individual attitudes to “ending up on the wall” speak volumes about who these two are at heart. To June death is everywhere, living in terror isn’t living and the reward is worth the risk. Nick is a survivor, sacrifice for duty and self-preservation is second nature, a small life is better than no life at all. Unfortunately for Nick, his aspirations for a life half lived died the moment he met June Osborne. Before I get into Nick and June volume 2, I’ve got volume 1 of the Lawrence and June mix up next. Back soon.

[mizusswordtip]

Down The Rabbit Hole ⚝ Killian Jones x Reader (18)

find the story on wattpad

summary: Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.

masterlist

We'd been walking for what feels like hours when Hook, who's been leading us, calls out over his shoulder.

"Up ahead. We'll find the compass just over the ridge." I give him a nod to continue walking which he returns. Emma and Snow catch up to me.

"Do you get the feeling he's leading us exactly where Cora wants us? That this whole thing's a trap?" Snow whispers conspiratorially. I purse my lips, having been wondering the same thing the whole time. If she'd asked me yesterday, I would've jumped on that bandwagon without hesitation but... it doesn't make much sense.

"It's defiantly a trap." Emma concurs without hesitation.

"I'm not so sure." I murmer over my shoulder. Emma looks at me in disbelief.

"What? Don't tell me you trust him?" She asks, brows furrowed. Before I can answer she fires off another question. "How do you even know him?"

"He was in Wonderland. Cora forced him to blackmail me into leaving Wonderland." I explain shortly, not having time to get into the nitty gritty of the details.

"So why should we trust him?" Emma asks rhetorically with a suggestive raise of her brow.

"We shouldn't. But... I have a feeling that he's not loyal to Cora." I explain. Despite my own gripes with Hook (selfish, killer, pirate, thief) he doesn't strike me as someone who'd willingly align himself with Cora unless backed into a corner. Or maybe I'm just trying to see the good in him when there may be none. "But keep your guard up regardless." Hook comes to a stop at the tree line. I walk up to stand beside him and let out a heavy sigh at the sight in front of me. A giant beanstalk that reaches up to the clouds.

"Let me guess. The compass is up there?" I ask with a knowing look at Hook.

"Oh yeah." He answers, sending a sly smirk in my direction.

"So we climb?" I ask through an accepting sigh.

"It's not the climb you need to worry about. It's the giant at the top." He informs. I look at the others who look at the beanstalk with differing levels of concern. I take one last deep breath.

"Let's go then."

It only takes us another five minutes to reach the base of the beanstalk. Somehow, it looks even more daunting up close. I shield my eyes with my hand from the sun as I look up.

"It's a little freakier than I remember from the story." Emma comments.

"Reminds me of death." Mulan mutters to herself. My brows furrow.

"Encouraging." Snow snarks.

"A beanstalk reminds you of death?" I can't help but ask. Hook looks to all of us with a sarcastic smile.

"Well, your compass awaits. Shall we?" He asks with a wave of his arm.

"Wait. If these beans create...portals, why not just pick one and go home? Why the compass?" Emma asks.

"I imagine if there were beans, Cora would have used one already." I surmise with a shrug. Hook looks at me and smirks.

"Right you are love, there are no more. Whatever story you think you know is most certainly wrong." He tells Emma.

"There was a guy named Jack and a cow and something about evil giants with treasure and a golden goose." She explains poorly. What does a golden goose have to do with giants? Is the goose a gold color or is it literally gold? "Or harp." She mutters under her breath.

"Sounds like a lovely tale. But the truth's a little more gruesome. The giants grew the beans, but rather than use them for good, they used them to plunder all the lands. Jack and his men fought a terrible war, defeating all but one of the evil giants. The beans were destroyed by the giants as they died. If they couldn't have the magic, then nobody could. Certainly very bad form." Hook says. As he explains, the more this story sounds familiar to me. My father used to tell it to me when I was a little girl. I remember calling the giants 'villains' and my father correcting me. Told me that the victors get to tell the story, not necessarily the heros.

"Why doesn't anyone just go up and grow some more?" Emma asks.

"Because one giant survived. One that even Jack couldn't slay." I repeat my father's words. Hook nods at me in confirmation.

"And we'll have to get past him to..." He starts.

"The magic compass." I finish.

"Indeed. The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass. Now it will guide us to your land. Cora has the means to open a portal with the wardrobe ashes, but she can't find your land without the compass. Once we get it, we steal the ashes from her, then we're on our way." I almost laugh. He makes it sound so easy. As if we can simply pickpocket the ashes off Cora.

"How do we know you're not just using us to get the compass for Cora?" Mulan asks suspiciously. He looks at her for a moment before turning his gaze to me.

"I already told you why." Comes his answer. His gaze is so intense, hard to look away from. There's something unspoken in his gaze that I can't read. I turn away from him to face the beanstalk.

"Then we better start climbing." I say, starting to head for the beanstalk when Hook's voice stops me.

"Right, so, I failed to mention that the giant enchanted the beanstalk to repel intruders." I stop and clench my jaw. I turn to look at him over my shoulder with an unimpressed look.

"So are we meant to fly up?" I ask sarcastically. He gives me an amused smile.

"No love. I've got a counter spell from Cora." He says, pointing to the cuff on his wrists before holding his bound hands out. "If you'd be so kind." I walk up to him with a sigh, taking the dagger out of my boot. I grab the ropes and cut them with little trouble. I make the mistake of looking up and seeing the soft expression on his face that I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to see. "Thank you." He says, sounding genuine. What the hell is going on? It's hard to believe he's being genuine after what he's done to me and who he's working with. Could he actually be genuine? I turn away with a swift nod of my head. "I've got one more of these. Alice and one other can come along." My head snaps in his direction, breaking me out of my wandering thoughts.

"I thought you said you only had one other?" I ask. He points down to my sword.

"Yes but that sword you're holding wards off all magic so you don't need a fancy cuff." He explains. I sigh and then look to the others.

"You guys need to decide who then." I tell them with a sigh before turning my attention to the sky.

"Go on, fight it out. Don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it." Hook says sarcastically before turning his attention to me. "Afraid of heights?"

"No. I was imagining what it'd be like to fly." I say before looking over at him. My words are only half a lie. I'm not afraid of heights and I was thinking about what it'd be like to fly. My concern is over whether or not my body can handle the climb. Despite feeling a lot better than before, I'm still malnourished enough that passing out is a possibility. He looks like he wants to push further but simply nods his head, accepting.

"Ladies, in this world we are slaves to time, and ours is running out. In other words, tick tok." Hook says to the others. I look over to see Emma approaching, which doesn't surprise me. I give her a small smile that she returns as Hook places the cuff on her arm.

"I'm glad you're coming along." She tells me.

"Why's that?" I ask with a little laugh.

"Well if I trust anyone to kill a giant, it's the dragon slayer." She says with a raised brow and a smile.

"Actually, it's called a Jabberwocky." Hook corrects lightheartedly.

"That's not- not this time." I stumble over my words but he understands what I'm saying if his raised brows are anything to go by. I smile smugly before starting the climb up the beanstalk.