#the fact that it was a wicked fic to push me over.......ok sure

[eurydicees]

1 million words all time on ao3.......i feel like maybe i deserve some kind of lifetime achievement award

[cinberella]

DEVIL IN DISGUISE

Artist: @skylar102

Rating: M

Pairing: Malec

Word Count: 48.500

This fic was created for the ​ Mini Bang 2023 presented by the @malecdiscordserver

CHAPTER 6/7 Unleashed

"God, Magnus, what have you done?"

The Vampire’s voice holds stupor and dismay in it as if he could not believe his eyes. Truthfully, the scene before him is nothing less than horrifying. It reminds him of what he found inside a rogue vampire’s den a while ago. It was macabre. And Raphael is pretty used to dealing with blood, isn’t he? But so much of it? From just one man? He is frozen on his spot, disturbingly aware that the blood, on the floor and all over the walls as well, belongs to one of his friends. 

"What I had to." 

Magnus answers him, his burning eyes glowing with a feral amber light.

"Did you torture him? Angels above, Magnus… Meliorn has always been one of us, how could you…”

Raphael can hear the horribly beaten man’s slow heartbeat, so he knows he is still alive. For now, at least. Magnus looks different, though. He has never looked more like a Prince of Hell than now.

“Meliorn is hiding something from us. I know the Queen is involved in this mess, and he will tell me where that fucking Sword is. Unless his loyalty to the Queen is worth losing his life.”

“I didn't think you would go this far... The Queen won't forgive you so easily if you kill him."

Magnus rolls his liquid golden eyes, snorting. As if he cared about the Queen; though, he cares about his dear Vampire’s feelings. Raphael may be difficult to deal with but he has always been a loyal friend and a fair man.

"Look, Raphael, I didn’t have fun doing this, ok? Ragnor here can confirm that I tried to reason with him at first.”

“He did.” Ragnor confirms, calmly, sitting comfortably in an armchair on the other side of the room, unbothered, looking carelessly at the Seelie man chained to the ceiling by his arms stretched upward as if he meant nothing to him, as if his life meant nothing.

Meliorn seems to be unconscious; his face an unrecognizable mask of blood and bruises and his eyes are swollen and black all around. Raphael wonders if looking like that, he’s going to lose his sight. He is shirtless and his torso is covered in cuts and bruising contusions. And a mix of dried and fresh blood as well. So much… blood.

All in all, the scene is quite disturbing to watch, especially because of the utter stillness of the man, which appears somehow unnatural.

As they step further into what seems to have become a chamber of horrors, Raphael hears the terrified gasp the Warlock that he is roughly pushing inside lets out, perhaps realizing he is the next one. Raphael also notices the slight but constant shaking of his body. Galaster hasn’t drawn a single breath since they walked in, probably as shocked as the Vampire was at being faced with such barbarity.

After Ragnor caught him and brought him to Magnus’ hideout, the High Warlock welcomed him and seemed ready to deal with him right away, but something made him change his mind. In fact, a fire message arrived, out of the blue. The tone of those written words, read aloud by Magnus for everyone’s benefit, was urgent and frantic, asking, demanding Magnus to open a portal for whomever it was. Magnus looked mischievously pleased by the unexpected visit and ordered Raphael to take Galaster, already handcuffed with special restraints blocking his magic, to another room. Magnus was emanating a spine-chilling, frightening aura and was sporting a wicked smile on his lips; that was a grimace Galaster has never witnessed before. Before being dragged away, he saw Magnus open the portal, and Meliorn step out of it. It seemed much more like a trap, but Galaster couldn’t know what happened next. He guessed Magnus and Ragnor would proceed to interrogate the man about the Queen’s real intentions. On the other hand, the Queen had just tried to trick him, or so Ragnor told him, and surely Magnus wouldn’t trust Meliorn to be on his side, despite their century-old friendship. 

But this was no interrogation…  This was brutal and merciless agony. Galaster has made many bad decisions in his life. Decisions he is not proud of. In the past, he had thought for a long time that Valentine could really be the only hope against Demons... But then the outcast Shadowhunter turned out to be a visionary psycho-murderer and Galaster regretted having fought alongside him. He contributed to the deaths of his fellow Warlocks. Of innocent Downworlders. But Galaster has always been a coward and has been in hiding for 20 years, knowing he wasn’t worthy of forgiveness. Magnus Bane, instead, has always been a man of different moral stature. So far at least. Now he too seems to have lost that same humanity that makes Warlocks better than their demonic parents.

Galaster starts squirming against Raphael’s body. He is terrified. Meliorn was Magnus’ friend, so he can’t even think about what the Warlock may have in store for him. What kind of physical and mental torture he will make him endure? And Galaster is not that strong, is he?

“Unfortunately, I still need confirmation that the Sword is kept at the Seelie Court.” Magnus goes on, wiping his bloody hands on a rag. He could have cleaned them magically, but the effect would be different. Way less dramatic or horrid.

Raphael holds the Warlock firmly, still gawking at Magnus with a shocked expression. Magnus is finally showing what his true nature is, isn’t he? He is more than just a half demon, in his veins runs the blood of one of the most powerful Greater Demons. Raphael gets it, but this? Torture?

His face must be showing his consternation, because Magnus laughs at him, half amused and half annoyed.

“By Lilith, Raphael, don’t look so appalled! Meliorn is a tough nut to crack. But I am going to give him a little respite, ok? I guess I can lavish some of my attention on our dear Galaster now. What do you say, Ragnor, will we be luckier with this one? Will he tell us what we want to know? Or will he break too soon… He doesn’t seem very… resilient.”

At that moment the chained man moans and begins to cough up blood.

"Help… Please... Raph…" His voice is feeble and gurgling as he keeps drooling reddened saliva.

Magnus throws the blood-soaked rag to the ground angrily and stalks toward the man, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back violently, causing him to whine in pain again.

"Meliorn, don't be so annoying. We are having a conversation here. You better shut up and save your breath for later. Don’t worry, I’ll make you scream again soon. Now it’s Galaster’s turn, though. So, be quiet, yes? And enjoy the show.”

He releases Meliorn’s hair and spins around to stare at the other Warlock.

“Galaster, are you ready? I think you'll find these chains very interesting. They not only prevent you from using magic like the handcuffs you're wearing now, but they're made of adamas. So, they will be very unpleasant against your skin. You know that those marks don't heal, right? You will carry the scars forever, assuming you’ll survive."

"What? That's barbaric. Please Magnus, no… You can’t..."

Magnus shrugs nonchalantly, while Raphael starts pushing him to make him advance toward the chains dangling from the ceiling. The Vampire has not much of a choice, even if he doesn’t agree with Magnus’ methods, he won’t get in his way. He is not that stupid.

"Well, Galaster, I can, actually. Yet… what is gonna happen it's up to you, really. Meliorn has been useless so far and I'm losing my temper. If you tell me where is the Sword and who got it in the first place, I'll let you go, you will be free to run away and keep hiding like the filthy rat you are. Otherwise, I'll take all my wrath out on you, Galaster. This is a promise… I won’t hold back; I won’t spare you any suffering. Or even death, if necessary."

"Fuck, Magnus. We're not like that. Don’t you want to try and persuade him to cooperate? You can’t kill someone in cold blood like this."

"Oh, no? Well, watch me, Raphael. We have demon blood, my dear. And it is cold. Shadowhunters are right about that. Our blood calls for blood. And I'm sick of everything. Rebel Warlocks, hypocrite Nephilim people, and even friends who don’t trust me…” 

That sounded dangerously like a threat. Raphael widens his eyes, taken aback, but shuts his mouth once and for all. Magnus’ expression softens then.

“Raphael, I would never hurt you, but I won't let this world go to shit. Not if I can avoid it. There are still people I care about and I need to make it clear to the Consul that if she doesn't want the Shadowhunter line to be exterminated, she'll have to listen to us. I’ll put my hands on that damn Sword, no matter what the cost and I am not going to hand it back to the Clave. It’s too dangerous. By Lilith… They are nothing more than a bunch of incompetents at best and bloodthirsty traitors at worst."

Magnus looks around, catching the irony in his words, and giggles briefly.

"My God, Bane, you're a monster." 

Galaster whispers with a strangled voice, trying to escape the lethal grip of Raphael’s hands around his arms. But he isn’t strong enough, and his magic is obstructed by the restraints Magnus put around his wrists. Magnus lifts one of his eyebrows, smirking. Raphael shivers again.

"Am I a monster? Me? And what about you, then? You joined the Circle 20 years ago, you betrayed us and stained your hands with the blood of so many innocents. I just want justice, Galaster, and I may spare your life if you tell me where the Sword is. Otherwise, you are going to suffer… well, a lot."

A sob erupts from the Warlock’s mouth, his face transfigured by fear.

“Magnus…” Raphael knows he is not going to stop him. But…

“Raphael, if you're not strong enough, please leave the room, I've made it soundproof so you won't hear his screams, as I bet you didn't hear Meliorn's.”

Raphael shakes his head.

"No, I'll stay. I don't like this, but if this is the only way..."

"You know it is... We need to retrieve the Sword before it's too late. Shall we proceed?”

With a flick of his wrist, Meliorn is freed from the chains and his battered body slumps awkwardly to the ground. 

Ragnor stands up from the armchair and kicks him away with his foot, making room for Galaster to take his place. When he deems it enough room, he turns to the Vampire. The British Warlock oddly seems to be having a great time.

"Raphael, bring him here so I can hang him. I think Meliorn has passed out again and won't wake up anytime soon. Magnus went a little rough on him.” He sounds almost amused by the situation.

“Magnus, this time try to make this last a little longer, ok?" He concludes and Magnus shrugs,as to say “I’ll try”  and starts rolling up his sleeves intently. Raphael thrusts Galaster forward to make him move, but Galaster puts up some resistance.

"No… Wait, please…”

The Warlock drops to his knees, resting his forehead on the ground in prostration before Magnus; he is sobbing in earnest now, but Magnus looks down at him with undisguised contempt. For being a magical immortal being Galaster is admittedly reduced to an embarrassing begging mess. But he must know he is nowhere as powerful as Magnus, and if the High Warlock has decided to torture him to death, his only hope is to tell the truth and implore his mercy.

“Please, Magnus… I’ll talk, please.”

Magnus stops rolling his sleeves and grins.

“I’m listening.”

Galaster straightens up, sitting on his heels and looks up at Magnus like a mistreated puppy.

“Ok, sure So… Valentine... when he died… I knew I had to run away… And I never meant to go back to New York, I swear… But they found me, somehow, and they asked me to portal the Sword from Paris and to obscure any trace of the portal. They threatened me, and I thought… I could do just this one thing, right? I could disappear again, afterward, I thought… but Ragnor... Shit... I didn't mean... Please, Magnus… forgive me, ok? I'll do whatever you ask me. Just… Spare my life… I am immortal, I cannot die... Please…" 

The Warlock is rambling by now, having his fear taken the best of him. Magnus’ eyes are cold and unforgiving, though. His words even more, spat out through his teeth.

"Frankly, you are unforgivable, Galaster. As I said, I have no pleasure in inflicting pain, although I am good at it since as you know, I am my father’s son, after all. Do you wanna have a taste of my skills?"

"No… For God's sake... Magnus… Please…" Galaster whines and Magnus’ eyes shine with impatience.

"Stop begging then and tell me where the Sword is, so Ragnor can bring you back to whatever sewage he found you all in one piece."

A glint of hope lights the Warlock’s eyes. He nods frantically. He will talk, he will tell Magnus anything to save his life.

"The… The Sword is… It is already in Idris, ok?” Galaster is clearly overwhelmed by sheer terror and seems now unable to stop the tears, as he tries to speak between sobs.

“They… They asked me to create a portal near… near Brooklyn so you would be indicted… But the Sword was taken to Idris, I think... Oh God… I think pretty much right after I portaled it to… to New York..."

“Whom are you talking about? Who brought it there?” Magnus asks, relentlessly. He expects the Warlock kneeling before him to say Alec’s name; Alec Lightwood and his siblings were responsible of this whole mess. He has been so damn sure, but… apparently, he has never been so wrong in his life.

"Johnathan Morgenstern.” This is the name Galaster chokes off in the end, bowing his head forward in total surrender.

Magnus frowns, wordlessly. Because Johnathan Morgenstern is, was actually, Valentine's long-dead son. So, maybe he got it wrong.

“Who?”

“You heard me right. Valentine's son. I know, he died when he was just a toddler, I… I can’t explain why, or even how he has come back… But he is not human anymore. He’s not even a Shadowhunter anymore. He returned from Hell to take his revenge. He wants... He wants to break down the gates of Hell and rule Edom together with his sister. He told me as much. And I know he has made a deal with the Queen. She… She will reign on Earth, this world will be a… colony to her Seelie Court, while Johnathan wants to dominate Hell. But… there will be no more barriers between worlds, they will merge into one single realm. With the Cup and the Sword, he will be able to control demons and annihilate all the Nephilim people who are now protecting Mundanes... So, they will all die. Everyone without demon blood in their veins  will die. I am so sorry…"

Galaster seems to have regained his eloquence, but what he just said… It makes Magnus' blood run cold in his veins. Raphael and Ragnor seem equally petrified. Valentine's son? The little baby had horribly died in a fire at the Morgensterns’ mansion in Idris, shortly before Jocelyn managed to deceive and end her husband's life with the help of Lucius Greymark, the man’s parabatai. That night Jocelyn got pregnant with a girl, who was born nine months later in Alicante. 

How did Johnathan even survive? One thing is for sure though; being Valentine and Jocelyn’s son, the boy must be a Shadowhunter, he has angelic blood and could not have survived in Hell. So, what Galaster said makes no sense. In any case, his angelic blood may have granted him free access to Idris until now, and if he already brought the Sword there… It would be a disaster.

“Look, there's no way he survived the fire, much less he came back from Hell. Don’t mess around with me, Galaster… You don’t wanna play this game, do you?”

The Warlock seems calmer now, as if resigned to his fate. There is not much more he can do. He is at Magnus’ mercy and there is no point in keeping the truth for himself.

“Magnus… I’m not lying. He is a monster… He has demon blood in his veins and he is powerful…”

He is not human anymore…  The Warlock’s previous words sink in, eventually. Magnus’ eyes widen in realization.

"...there is something wrong with him… I mean, he’s not a Warlock, or a Seelie, but he has something absolutely demonic in him. And he is a shapeshifter… I saw him change… so he now looks like one of them... He took the place of the nephew of the Head of the Paris Institute a while ago and he had been living there for months.”

The Warlock stops speaking and looks up at Magnus, desperation and regret clear on his face. 

“It’s too late, Magnus. He has the Sword…. And when he puts his hand on the Cup... He... He will destroy our world to its foundations. I am sorry… So sorry."

Magnus’ jaw twitches and his hands close in tight fists. It’s way worse than expected, but it’s not his habit to give in without a fight.

"Raphael… We have to hurry."

The Vampire nods, looking alarmed, and willing to follow Magnus’ orders.

“I know… Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it… Just… It seems that Alec is not involved, after all.”

“No, he isn’t.” Magnus admits, flatly. He is relieved, but he has no time to process what happened with the young Shadowhunter. It must be an explanation for his behavior. Raphael and Maia, and even Meliorn, they were right.

“And Isabelle either, right?” 

When the Seelie man, still laying on the floor, speaks again out of the blue, Galaster trail off in surprise. Meliorn scoffs then, shaking his head and lithely sitting up. His voice is firm and steady and he glances up at Raphael, grinning at the Vampire. Then he turns his awfully swollen eyes toward Magnus.

“I told you, didn’t I? Isabelle is not a traitor.”

He stands up easily, a moment later, his lopsided smile still plastered on his bruised face. Galaster gapes at him, and he gasps in surprise when his whole body shape becomes blurred and glows with a multicolor light. 

Right… He thinks. Seelie magic. 

When the glimmer around his figure fades away, all the bruises, wounds, and even the blood that covered his skin have disappeared. Meliorn is completely unharmed and standing in front of the Warlock in all his angelic-and-demonic combined glory.

“What the fuck?” Galaster mutters in disbelief.

Magnus can’t help but chuckle softly at the man’s mystified reaction, while Meliorn picks up a tunic that was on another armchair and puts it on.

“Galaster? Are you ok? You seem a little pale…” Magnus mocks him with evident satisfaction.

“You… You didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t hurt Meliorn, I don't usually engage in torture and turn my back on my friends. I’m not that kind of man, and I pride myself on trying to listen to them, despite my prejudices. I was sure that the young Lightwoods were behind this, but they made me reconsider my assumption. Or at least they convinced me that there might be another explanation. As much as I don't trust Shadowhunters, I do trust those who have stood by me for centuries. I can't say the same thing about you, though. You betrayed us twenty years ago, and you are going to pay for that, now. We will deliver you to the Clave and you will be tried for the crimes you committed when you were in the Circle. I'm sure the Clave won't have as much mercy on you as I'm having. I didn’t lie, you know? I don't like to inflict pain... But you... You deserve no mercy, Galaster, and my hands are itching… Raphael? Please, take him away, before I can indulge in rash deeds."

"What? No… No, you promised to let me go if I told you the truth. Magnus… You gave me your word…"

Magnus scoffs and points at him, looking at Meliorn in clear amusement.

"He still doesn't get it, does he?” He asks the Seelie man, feigning incredulity.

Then Magnus steps forward and crouches in front of Galaster. He utters his following words coldly and in such a detached way that the kneeling Warlock seems to be about to burst out crying again. 

His eyes are wet and his lower lip is trembling, but Magnus doesn’t pity him.

“This was all a farce, Galaster… Everything I said was a lie. Besides, I can't let you go. You're my ticket to get to Idris now, I need you. You shall meet with none other than the Consul herself, in her opulent office in Alicante, pleading your case. Raphael? Call Isabelle and tell her to get ready, we're taking this scum to the Institute."

"Got it… I'll call Izzie right away. Let me just get this package ready to be delivered to the Clave, ok? Just… Don't you think you overdid it with the amount of blood? It bordered me on the far-fetched side."

Magnus shrugs. “Maybe. But it worked; so…”

Raphael is unabashedly grinning now as are Meliorn and Ragnor. Who can blame them, though? This was so easy, after all, and they played a great team game. More than great. And above all, Magnus is such a good actor, isn’t he?

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

Every Shadowhunter knows that in one of the guarded rooms adjacent to the Consul's office, there is a permanent portal, that can be connected to all Institutes in the world. It is mainly used by high-ranking officers of the Clave visiting one or other Institute or by the Heads living and working in the diverse cities who need to go to Alicante for whatever reason, or even to transfer prisoners who are to be incarcerated, tried, or executed at the Guards. The procedure is magically complex and is operated by a few portal workers, properly trained to interface with each portal on the other side of the magical channel. They are responsible to make sure that travelers arrive at the desired destination safely.

Clary and Sebastian are walking along the corridor to get there and two guards are following them, as ordered by the Inquisitor, but the girl knows that, provided they really go through the portal, it is very unlikely that they will land in South Africa as they should. Probably, one of the Shadowhunters in charge of their transfer is a traitor. But Clary is prepared. For starters, she is ready to react, she has her weapons and won’t hesitate to use them in case the blond Shadowhunter attacks her. Secondly, she has activated a special rune to be localized by her mother and Lucius, Luke, as she has always called him. And most importantly, the Cup she is holding in her hand is not the Cup. 

It's a simulacrum. A fake. The Cup has already been brought to safety for some time. When all this mess started, Clary was sent to New York undercover, to figure out who at the New York Institute could be the traitor. Because it was obvious there was a Shadowhunter involved. It must have been. A Downworlder alone could not have activated the Sword and in any case, Jocelyn knew that Magnus Bane was a man of honor, even though the two hadn't interacted in the last 19 years and were never friends. But both knew the value of loyalty. During the Uprising, Jocelyn pretended to be part of the Circle, she double-crossed Valentine, dangerously putting her life at risk. And she lost a son for the cause; in the end, she murdered her husband and Magnus respected her for that; he understood her pain, in some respect at least. And Clary knows her mother has always returned the favor toward the Warlock. But the Inquisitor... She had no idea, and she issued an arrest warrant for the High Warlock. In fact, no one knows about Clary’s true mission. Only her mother, Luke, and the Consul of course. Not even the Inquisitor knows the truth; as far as she is concerned, she did entrust the Cup to Clary a few minutes earlier and Magnus Bane is nothing less than a criminal. Well, the Clave will apologize to Magnus Bane when it's all over. The High Warlock is on the run at the moment and Clary hopes they don't catch him. She doesn't want him tortured or worse when she knows he's innocent. Not that she could do anything about it right now. Now she has to stay focused; anything can literally go to hell in a blink of an eye.

Now, Clary's at the reckoning. The Sword hasn't been found yet, but she knows it's her job to find it, and to do so she must humor this imposter, whoever he might be. The short distance from the Inquisitor's office to the Portal room feels longer than usual. Clary feels the tension in her shoulders as she walks unhurriedly, Sebastian following.

In the end, nothing happens and they cross the portal, under the watchful eye of the few Shadowhunters in the room. She is not very surprised, though, when past the glowing light of the portal, finds herself at the edge of a forest edging the shore of a lake. Well, the place is familiar to her. She has often seen those tall conifers and the silver water of the lake; on the other hand, she grew up in Idris, so she knows immediately that they are near Lake Lyn and the fact that Sebastian, or whoever this intruder is, wanted to take the Cup with him is concerning. She knows what that means, even more, if he has the Sword as she suspects.

And she bets the Sword is nearby. Who the Hell is this man? A well-disguised Warlock? But he entered the Institute and Idris’s wards without issues, so he must have angelic blood in his veins.

This makes no sense at all. He must be a Shadowhunter, but he needs demon blood to accomplish the ritual with the Cup. Maybe he has an accomplice… She must be very, very careful.

Clary is walking ahead of Sebastian again, slowing her pace and with all her senses on alert. The young man follows her and doesn’t say a word, but she needs to face him, so she stops in her tracks and spins on her heels, abruptly to look at him straight in the face. He is… smiling.

“Clarissa. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I have waited for this moment for so long, you have no idea.”

She frowns. The impostor cannot know it, but Clary met Sebastian five years earlier and it is not possible that the boy doesn’t remember her. They were barely teenagers when they met and they traded a soft, innocent kiss on the lips. Sebastian had been living in Paris for a few months then, after having lost his parents, and he was a timid and kind boy, and Clary spent a few days with him when she accompanied her mother to visit her friend Elodie. She and the blond boy clicked very fast somehow; they were so young and after those few days together and that delicate kiss they hadn’t seen each other again. Clary had her life in Idris and Sebastian in Paris, but she is sure he would remember that kiss.

However, when she introduced herself to him, the day before at the New York Institute, he gave no sign of recognizing her. And he looked eerily different. His eyes had lost all their gentleness.

Clary immediately considered that he had just arrived from Paris... and it was a sketchy coincidence, right? Of course, she couldn't share her suspicions with anyone. Not even with the young Lightwoods, who immediately welcomed her with open arms. Well, at least Isabelle and Jace.

She had yet to figure out what kind of person Alec was. But it was pretty clear that he didn't trust her, which made him either a possible suspect or a precious ally in her eyes. Clary leaned more toward the latter. Again just because of her instinct... And yet, she was rarely wrong.

"Where are we? And above all... Who the Hell are you?"

She finally asks, showing no agitation or fear. Her mother knows where she is, or at least Clary hopes so. Someone will come soon for her.  And the Cup is far away, somewhere safe.

"Oh, you're right sorry. I should introduce myself. And maybe show you what I really look like. I bet you'll notice the resemblance."

Saying so, the young boy changes his shape, his appearance. It’s a complete, full morphing of his body and face and even though Clary has already seen shapeshifters change their shape before, she knows no Shadowhunter possesses that ability. They may use a glamor but the effect is not the same. It drops altogether, it’s just an illusion. Therefore, the transformation that is slowly happening before her eyes is fascinating and horrific at the same time. The body structure of the boy, his skin, his eyes... everything transforms deep to its inner essence. Sebastian is gone in a few moments and instead of him, another boy is standing before her, more or less of the same height, slender, with red hair and green eyes, exactly like she and her mother.

"Hello… Sister." He confirms with a smirk.

"No... It's not possible. You are dead. Our father killed you; you died swallowed by the flames."

"No…” He retorts angrily, “our father saved me. He took me away from the fire and entrusted me to my mother. Or at least to the mother who actually raised me, nurturing me with her blood."

"Who are you talking about?"

Johnathan shrugs as if anything he was referring to was absolutely obvious.

"Well, Lilith… of course. I grew up in Edom, Clary and I assure you… It was not an idyllic experience. But the time will come when I will get my revenge against her, too. I will get even, Clary, in due course and for everything that happened to me. I will rule over Edom. I will dethrone her, and I’ll do it for you. I... I want to make you my Queen, what do you say? When I heard that our mother had another baby, that I had a little sister... Well, I decided to survive in Edom to come back to you. Despite the torture and all the pain Lilith inflicted on me every single day I spent with her, the thought that I still had someone to live for... To fight for, well, it made me hold on. Now give me the Cup, Clary... You need to drink my blood before I can put an end to every Shadowhunter’s existence, reduce them to be human again as they should be."

"Your blood?" 

Clary mutters in dismay. She is shocked by what this boy revealed. Is he really her brother? And was he raised by Lilith? The Queen of Edom?

"Yes... Lilith’s blood in my vein will make you a creature of Edom, like me if you drink it from the Mortal Cup. When our sword, the Morning Star Sword, finally burns your runes away and gets rid of any drop of angelic blood in our veins, we will rule over Edom, together."

Johnathan looks so calm and confident, and Clary is overwhelmed by a new feeling. She is sorry for him. Alone and abandoned, raised by a Demon, unaware of what love can be. What having a family even means. But she can’t let him win. She can’t.

“I am not going to Edom. Here is where I belong, ok? And you too. I am not going to drink your… blood.” 

The mere idea makes her stomach churn in disgust.

“Oh, but you will. This is the most precious gift I can offer you, or do you prefer to become a Mundane and succumb to the horde of Demons that are about to pour into this World?”

Good Lord.

“How…”

The boy rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed by her continuous puzzlement.

“The Sword, my dear… The Morning Star Sword that has belonged to our family for generations and that only you and I can activate with a simple touch, because of our name, can open a rift between here and Edom, but first I need to get rid of Raziel’s blood in our system.”

Of course, he is the only one who can use the Sword even if he is not a Nephilim anymore. That’s… terrifying. Clary can’t allow him to put his hand on that infernal blade.

“Where… Where is the Sword?”

“Not far from here. So... Are you with me, Clary? I know you are not to blame for what happened to me. You weren’t even born. Our mother abandoned me to die in that fire and our father left me in the hands of the Mother of Demons. But you? You are not to blame and you are my lil’ sister. I want to share my glory and power with you. We'll get to know each other, and I promise you, you'll be happy with me. Nobody will get in our way; you will get everything you want. I'm your brother, Clary, I just want to protect you and you'll learn to love me back. I'm sure of it."

He spoke his last words more sweetly, as if he really believed them and it’s heartbreaking in its craziness.

“Johnathan… I can't believe you survived… But our mother… She didn't abandon you, she tried to save you. It was Valentine's fault. That night… It was he who started the fire… She… She loved you and she has never forgiven herself for failing to protect you. I'm so sorry for what happened to you, but… I can't give you the Cup. You will have to kill me, Johnathan. Is this what you want?"

The boy's young but unsettlingly sharp face hardens a bit more at her rejection, and his eyes turn pitch dark. They are evil, bloodcurdling, revealing his demonic nature. Clary notices that he has no runes on his skin, at least on the visible parts of his pale body, and wonders if he can even bear them without losing his mind. Even more than he has already had.

She instinctively recoils when those devilish orbs meet her eyes. Her brother stares at her with those abyss-black eyes and Clary suddenly feels weak, and dizzy, her wobbly legs are suddenly unable to keep her on her feet.

"What the Hell… What are you doing to me?"

"Sleep, little sister, and when you wake up, it will be in a new world. A wonderful world that we will build together..."

Clary feels her lids heavy as she collapses, somehow gracefully, to the ground while her senses leave her, rendering her vulnerable and completely at her brother’s mercy.

She won't surrender… she must stop Johnathan and retrieve the Sword… It’s her mission, she must resist the sleepiness… But it's a losing battle.

Clary closes her eyes, as darkness envelops her. She hopes that her mother is on her way before it’s too late. Before Johnathan can open a rift to Edom, before he finds out she hasn’t the real Cup, cradled to her breast and his hopeless wrath destroys the World.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Alec enters the Consul's office, head held high and a stern scowl on his face, pushing Galaster Qibynn in front of him, in an attempt to make him walk faster. They were just in time, the portal to Idris was about to be shut down.

The plan Magnus Bane proposed to them was… well, literally crazy. But the Warlock was persuasive enough and convinced him that this was their only way to get to Idris in time. The unsanctioned transfer of the rogue Warlock would cover Magnus’ traces entering Alicante’s wards. Or at least, this is what they hope. Alec of course, but also Isabelle, Jace, Maia, Lily, Raphael, Meliorn, Catarina, and Ragnor.

They stayed in New York, waiting at the Institute to Maryse's sheer bewilderment; she was however silenced by a truly menacing Raphael. 

Such a large gathering of Downwolders all together under the roof of the Institute was surely unprecedented. They are ready to jump into the portal, should it open again. But for now, Alec is alone. The Consul is standing in front of her desk and is glaring furiously at him.

"Alexander Lightwood, you know we were about to close all the portals for a reason, don't you? You were not allowed to bring that Warlock here. The orders were clear. So, I wonder… what on Earth was so difficult for you to understand in the sentence "No Downwolders are allowed in Idris"? My life is at stake here."

Alec can’t really help but roll his eyes. He is already so…done. Everything happened incredibly fast and he has still to understand how he ended up in Idris with this handcuffed Warlock. At the same time Catarina was updating Maia about what happened with Galaster, Isabelle called him, summoning him back to the Institute. Apparently, Magnus had gotten his hands on the one who stole the Sword and was willing to hand it over to them. But the Warlock demanded that the prisoner needed to be taken to the Guards in Idris, using the portal at the Institute. Galaster Qibynn would talk to the Consul and the Consul alone, revealing Johnathan Morgenstern’s plan. Isabelle explained that the Warlock wanted to get immunity for himself in exchange for information about the Sword’s whereabouts. That was what Raphael told her.

Alec then rushed to the Institute with the two werewolf girls only a few moments before the small delegation of Downworlders arrived, dragging Galaster in chains with them.

Obviously, Maryse Lightwood freaked out, but eventually, faced with proof of Magnus' innocence and the real risk that the Sword could have been already in Idris, she let Alec go, pursuing this crazy idea Magnus came up with. Just before jumping into the portal to Alicante, though, Magnus grabbed his wrist and looked straight into his eyes. It wasn’t a friendly look. And his words still resonate in his ears.

"Apparently we need to work together for the greater good, Shadowhunter, but don't think I can ever forget that you deceived me and tried to incriminate me for things I didn't do and would never even think of doing. You got into my pants for your vile purposes and I hope you did have fun because that won't happen again. I despise you, are we clear? When we get out of this mess, just stay as far away as possible from me... The risk that I may try to incinerate you remains absolutely plausible. Do you understand?"

Alec was overwhelmed by guilt and regret and he was sorry for… for everything. But Magnus’ hurt feelings and his anger needed to wait. So, he rebutted, trying to convey his displeasure, but cutting it short nonetheless.

"Magnus… Look, I don't have time for this right now. But don't worry, I promise I won’t bother you with my presence. I know I hurt you and even if it wasn’t my intention, I am well aware of what I have done and I’ll take full responsibility for that. Now let's go and get the Morning Star Sword before Valentine's son succeeds in ending the World, shall we?"

Magnus’ eyes shone with something similar to admiration, and a weird form of respect.

"Lead the way, Shadowhunter." 

The Warlock said in the end.

And now here he is, following Magnus’ plan, trusting him, and putting himself at risk, fully and without any safety net. Good Lord… He is going to die, isn’t he?

"Consul, I am well aware, but I wouldn’t have brought him here if it wasn’t crucial. Much more than your life is at stake here. There's no need to lie. You should know that someone with Demon blood has already managed to sneak into Idris, so there is really no point in keeping those people who can help you away from here. They can help you… We can help…"

"So, this is the Warlock involved in the theft of the Sword? I remember him, he is a traitor, he used to work with Valentine. But he is of no help now and he can’t remain here. You need to take him back to New York. You can put him on trial there if you want. I don’t care. You can also execute him right after, for what matters."

Galaster fidgets on the spot, clearly at unease with the Consul’s words.

"You’re not listening to me, Consul.” Alec goes on. “We know who else is behind the theft of the Sword. We know who wants to derune us."

She furrows her brows in sign of annoyance.

"How do you even know about this? It’s classified."

"Seriously? My mother told me. I can’t believe you hid this from all of us. We could have lost... everything... Our runes, our blood, our power… our angelic mission…"

"Lightwood, I can assure you; it wouldn't have been of any benefit if Shadowhunters panicked and started picking on the Downworlders. Fear is no good counselor and emotions cloud judgement."

God, why she keeps giving out platitudes?

"Well, but it wasn't a Downwolder who wants to destroy us, but a Nephilim, right? So, you need to secure the Cup, now."

And it’s then that the Consul does something unexpected. She snickers smugly at him.

"The Cup is perfectly safe and Clarissa Fairchild is pursuing the finding of the Sword. We think the Verlac boy may be the culprit. His Aunt is already under arrest and the Paris Institute is compromised. I know you and your siblings don't think highly of the Clave, but we're not a bunch of idiots."

An ungracious and disrespectful snort resonates in the office.

"Well… I beg to differ, Consul."

It was Galaster who spoke so irreverently and quite rudely to the woman, making her eyes widen in surprise.

The man easily jerks off Alec's steel grip around his bicep and the cuffs around his wrists vanish into a blue cloud of magic. The glamour falls in the blink of an eye and the Warlock standing there next to Alec is no longer Galaster, but Magnus Bane in person.

Alec can't help but look in admiration and awe at him. His posture, his proud gaze, his loud and intimidating power. Something flutters in his stomach, something that is more than wonder, more than respect. It's something he can't come to terms with at this moment. Now they apparently have to go and save Clarissa Fairchild, left alone against her demonic brother. If only they knew where he brought her. Magnus seems to read his mind.

"Where is Clarissa?" the Warlock requires, in a resolute tone that demands nothing but an answer. "Her life is in danger and I can't believe you let her go alone."

The Consul seems more irritated than concerned.

"By the Angel, what do you think you’re doing, Mr. Bane? Ms. Fairchild is perfectly capable of neutralizing one Shadowhunter. She is with Sebastian Verlac, and we don't know yet if he is the traitor. We are waiting for her to report back. They headed to the Johannesburg Institute where they are ready to receive them. We need to understand his motives and to find out whether there are other Shadowhunters involved. It's a very delicate mission, as you surely understand. In any case, the Cup is safe. You don’t need to worry about that. We gave her a fake one."

Magnus closes his fists and glowing blue sparks start spreading from his hands. He looks furious.

The Cup may be held somewhere secure, but the Clave always puts its people’s life in danger, recklessly and without sparing a second thought. Clary is alone with an infernal monster and Magnus cannot stomach their indifference to her fate. What would happen when Johnathan discovers she doesn’t have the Cup? Who knows how he would react?

"Idiots! Sebastian Verlac has probably been dead for months. The Shadowhunter with her is Valentine’s son, her brother. And he came straight from Edom to destroy us all."

The Consul looks at him dumbfounded. Now she is decisively listening to them. 

"What?"

"Valentine's son. He didn’t die in the fire at the Morgenstern’s mansion as we thought, and, don’t ask me how, but he has Demon's blood in his vein. You see, Consul, he is a Nephilim, and even with his contaminated blood… he can both activate the Sword and use the Cup to derune us all."

At that moment, a red-haired woman and an African American man burst into the Consul's office.

"Jia! Clary has never arrived in Johannesburg… She's still here, in Idris… she's at Lake Lyn… We need to go."

Alec hears Magnus whisper a curse that no one would dare to utter in the Consul's presence, but… whatever. He is not wrong. The two men look and nod at each other, with the same resolute expression on their tense faces.

"Let's go. Maybe it's not too late. Jonathan doesn’t have the Cup, after all." Magnus says, whirling his hand to open a portal. Maybe he can’t obliterate the Nephilim kind, but he can still hurt Clary and open a rift to Edom. No Demon Tower in Alicante could protect the city then.

Alec braces himself to jump into the light with the Warlock, thinking once again that it’s true… He is going to die, isn’t he? Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s for a good cause. They will stop Johnathan Morgenstern at any cost. He and Magnus together.

[runningtwiceasfast]

I’ve Never Not Wanted You

This is my contribution to the Hinny Ficfest organized by the wonderful @clarensjoy - Thank you for organizing and for the fantastic contributions. I haven’t published a fic in awhile and this one is very not proofread and rough but I wanted desperately to contribute something. I hope you don’t mind this one is under the wire! Eventually I will post a cleaned up version on AO3, but in the meantime I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “I’ve never not wanted you”

“You have to come to dinner tonight. Mum has invited another suitor and we are all going to want to watch the bloodbath.” Ron’s mouth was full of curry, so it was hard to make out exactly what he meant, but the gist was an invite for dinner.

Harry scowled in response and pushed his food away from him, suddenly having lost his appetite.

“When will Molly stop? After Ginny has killed someone?”

Ron gave a barking laugh. “Maybe. It’s hard to stop a determined Weasley though.”

“So, who is more determined? Molly to marry Ginny off or Ginny to resist?” Harry wondered out loud, still staring at his noodles as if they had offended him.

Shrugging, Ron reached over and helped himself to Harry’s discarded lunch. “Mum just wants Ginny to be happy. Wizards marry pretty young in our world and everyone else has mostly coupled off,” Ron pointed his chopsticks at Harry. “Well, except you mate.”

Harry frowned.

“I’ve been busy,” he finally said, and Ron gave a series of nods.

“Of course. Ridding the world of unstoppable evil and what not. I’m sure that’s why Mum is focused on Ginny and not you.”

“That’s a bit of a double standard, isn’t it?” Harry asked, irritated at the way the conversation had changed. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his sorry dating life. Or Ginny’s for that matter.

“The entire wizarding world is a double standard innit? Best to just make the best to just make the best of it and enjoy the show.”

Harry merely gave a small noise of assent, turning back to his noodles to find them completely gone. He looked up at Ron’s sheepish look.

“I thought you were done.”

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

Avoiding the floo network entirely, Harry opted to apparate to the Burrow, pausing outside the familiar door to collect his thoughts.

Using his free hand, he smoothed down his shirt and jeans, his other hand grasping the bottle of red wine Arthur had mentioned he liked the last time they had dined together at Grimmauld Place. He rose his hand to knock, but the door swung open before his fist even made contact.

“Harry! You’ve come to save me!” Harry was rather unprepared for the sight of Ginny, fresh faced and beautiful, greeting him at the door and found himself unable to say much of anything other than a grumbled hello as he shoved the bottle of wine at her.

She was wearing a simple black cotton dress that hugged her waist and flared out at the bottom. Her hair was down and bouncing around her shoulders. He gestured stupidly at his ears.

“You are wearing the earrings.”

She gave a tinkling laugh and pushed her hair behind her ear so he could see more clearly the diamond studs that he had given her last Christmas. “I’ve practically never taken them off. They are gorgeous. Probably one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten.” She smiled at him sincerely and he felt his heart rate accelerate uncomfortably.

“I’m glad you like them so much.” He smiled back at her and they remained that way, smiling at each other silently before Ginny was called rather abruptly from the other room.

She gave a grimace in response. “She’s invited Ernie Macmillan over can you believe it? Him and Hermione are currently fighting over some horribly boring historical fact in the other room and she expects me to marry this man?” She rolled her eyes and Harry gave a weak laugh in response.

Learning up, she gave him a light kiss on the cheek, her hand resting on his arm. “It’s so lovely to see you, Harry. Please feel free to rescue me from inane conversation as you see fit.”

She floated away and he stood there struck rather dumb for a few moments.

Following the trail of voices from the entryway, Harry entered the living area to various greetings. It appeared he was one of the last to arrive and he grabbed a butterbeer and joined in where Ron and George were huddled together by the fireplace.

“I think the formula is off. People shouldn’t be incapacitated. Just unconscious for a short while.”

George shook his head. “They are fine if you just poke them—Harry! You’ve come to join us!” George gave him a broad smile that Harry couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“Is this for something you’ve already invented, or you have created something else to wreak havoc on the wizarding public?”

“Harry my dear boy, I’m not sure why it can’t be both,” George said sincerely causing Harry to snort into his bottle.

Ginny’s laughter brought their attention to where she was standing in the center of the room with Ernie.

Ron frowned. “Maybe mum actually found a winner.”

They watched as Ginny laughed again at something Ernie said, her hand placed on his arm.

“Apparently he works with Percy. Probably in the Department of who has the biggest stick up their arse,” George laughed to himself.

Harry frowned as he watched Ernie with his patrician features and pedigree push a tendril of crimson hair behind Ginny’s ear causing her to blush.

“What did that bottle do to you mate?” Ron joked and Harry looked down at the tight grip he was maintaining on his butterbeer. He loosened his grip and stretched his fingers.

Molly’s appearance in the room quieted most conversations as she herded everyone into the dining area where amazing smells were wafting. It required gymnastics in order for everyone to get into the magically enhanced room.

“No no Ginny. Don’t sit there. Sit over here by Ernie,” Molly smiled warmly at the tall boy. Ernie smiled back in a way that made Harry’s hand flinch towards his wand, imagining all the new curses he had recently mastered in his second year auror training.

“Mum it took me straining my hop to even get a seat. I’m going to stay right here,” she turned to Harry who suddenly realized how close she was. “You are ok with that right Harry?” Her eyes widened slightly and he managed to cotton on.

“Er yes sorry Molly. Ginny is fine here.” She gave him a brilliant smile and nudged his shoulder with hers.

“I think I’ve lost some of my brain cells.” Harry had to resist flinching as he felt her breath brush his hair as Ginny leaned over and whispered to him.

He gave a tight-lipped smile. “You seemed rather fond of this one,” he whispered in return to her causing her to wave a hand at him dismissively.

“I’m just trying to be nice. If I hex this one she will just bring in someone worse. I heard Malfoy was keen,” she gave a dramatic shiver, her impish smile telling another story.

Harry felt a rush of relief he tried not to analyze. “Molly can keep on bringing by all the unsuitable young men of the English wizarding world if it means I get to sit next to you.” The words are soft and filled with way too much feeling and for one frightening heartbeat he wished he could take them back.

She remained silent, grabbing a dinner roll form the passed tray and fidgeting with it between her hands. “Harry, you shouldn’t say such things to me,” she finally said mildly, refusing to look at him. “I might start getting ideas.”

Impulsively he reached for one of her hands, forcing her to drop the bread. He pulled her hand under the table and squeezed it gently.

They sat with hands clasped under the table, but otherwise ignoring each other, answering direct questions but otherwise staying mostly silent. Harry thought he saw Ginny’s face was rather shiny and he wondered what he looked like. Probably pale white and sickly.

“Ginny, how goes the season? Should I be placing my Harpy’s bets now?” Ernie asked Ginny directly causing her to drop Harry’s hand and inhale shakily.

“Oh, I’m just reserve for now. But a bet on the Harpies is always a safe bet,” Ginny gave a wicked smile causing the table to collectively give a ruckus laugh.

“Ernie, you know Ginny is the youngest reserve chaser in the league,” Molly boasted, and Harry noticed Ginny resist rolling her eyes.

“Mum, I’m so glad you support my career choice now.” The words were biting but the soft look in her eyes made Harry think Ginny actually meant them.

Harry stole a look at Justin. To his disgust the boy was looking at Ginny rather starry eyed. It isn’t like Harry could blame him; a similar look frequently graced his own face.

He was rather sick of it all though. The constant parade of unworthy men being thrust at Ginny.

The rather petulant thought that Molly had never asked him to be one of those unworthy men flew through his brain unhelpfully. Perhaps everyone had given up on the possibility of him and Ginny ever making it work.

They had made it work though. For a few blissful months they had been something new and delicate and untouchable. Frequently Harry thought back to some of those times. Of walks around the school, hands clasped and of breathless goodbyes leaving them both wanting and late for class.

Ever since the war Harry had been trying to pick up the pieces, but it had been hard and often he had found himself rather aimless. Without even realizing it, he had found that he had pulled back on all the ties that bound him-rarely coming by the Burrow, never seeing friends other than around the office and busying himself with work and tracking down rogue Death Eaters.

He had finally looked up and while he had stayed in the same spot, everyone else had moved on. Ron had ditched the aurors and found his calling with George in the joke shop. Hermione had proven herself immensely capable apart from him in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And Ginny had graduated from Hogwarts and immediately absconded to Harpy training camp.

Unfortunately, in all his chosen one lessons with Dumbledore, the wise wizard had never told him what happens after the bad guy has been slain. What happens to the chosen one when he’s done being chosen?

In this instance it seemed as if Harry was doomed to sit there and watch as everyone he loved moved on without him. Bitterly he looked down at the roast on his plate, moving the discarded pees around with his fork.

“You gonna finish that?” Harry looked up to find he was almost done at the table, Ron leaning over him, fork in hand.

Scowling, Harry pushed his plate towards Ron who tucked in happily. “Ernie left a bit ago,” Ron said, in between bites. Harry’s eyes snapped up at that.

“Why would I care whether or not Ernie had left?” Harry snarked at him, frowning when Ron paused his eating to give Harry a knowing look.

“Either way, Ginny is in the backyard if you want to talk to her,” Ron scooped up some mashed potatoes. “Or not.” He shrugged.

Harry pushed away from the table and paused in front of the living room. He could hear the rest of the Weasley’s making their normal noises and he hesitated before joining, his eyes straying to the backyard where Ron had said Ginny was.

Whatever gravitational pull Ginny had made the decision for him as Harry turned and slipped out the door.

She was silhouetted against the starry sky, the light of the moon reflecting off her hair in a way that made his throat dry. He approached her slowly and she turned at his footsteps, giving him a warm smile.

“I came out to get some fresh air,” she told him unnecessarily and he plopped down next to her, his arm brushing hers. “These family gatherings can be a lot,” she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her, but that’s probably more to do with the quick sound of his heartbeat in his ears.

Feeling that same impulsive urge he had felt during dinner that let him hold her hand, he lifted his arm up and over her shoulders. They both froze at the contact, but before he could regret it, she leaned in, setting her head on his shoulder.

“Where did Ernie go?” Harry asked eventually, that familiar monster roaring in his chest.

Ginny leaned even further into his side. “He got an owl, had to go into the office.” Her hair brushed against his neck and he caught a whiff of her comforting flower scent that hadn’t changed since sixth year.

“Did you want him to stay?” He asked her, the darkness giving him some sort of courage.

She shook her head. “Not really. He wasn’t as bad as the other’s, but he’s not really who I want,” she said, voice low and husky.

Finally, she sighed deeply and pulled away, pulling her knees under the skirt of her dress and into her stomach.

“At least he seemed to want me,” she mumbled, and Harry took a deep breath, tired of always waiting for the right moment.

“I’ve never not wanted you, Ginny.”

Amazingly, the words didn’t sound weak or pathetic out loud like they did in his head. Instead, all he felt was relief.

The sound of a sharp intake of breath was the only indication that he had been heard. Summoning his Gryffindor courage, he looked up at Ginny. She was staring at him, eyes wide.

“You want me?” She asked finally, incredulously.

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Watching your mum parade those boys in front of you has been a special kind of hell for me Gin. I miss you.” They aren’t the most eloquent words, but they are the ones he had.

“Then why didn’t you say anything, you stupid arse?” Ginny finally spit out and Harry let out a choke of laughter.

“I’m an idiot?” He told her helpfully and she shook her head, a fond smile on her face.

“Can you come closer Harry? I need to smack you,” she laughed, and Harry obliged, scooting back towards her until there was no space between them, his body tingling in anticipation.

“So no more set ups from your mum?” He asked, moving his face toward hers so close he could feel each breath she took, could count the freckles on her face from just the soft light of the stars.

“Harry I can confidently tell you I will no longer let my mum dictate my romantic life from here on out,” she giggled and Harry fought the smile that threatened to climb up his cheeks.

“Harry,” she said, drawing his attention back to her and her lips.

“Yes?”

“I’ve never not wanted you to kiss me,” she said before closing the small gap between them, her soft, sweet lips under his. Suddenly all the pining and scowling became worth it as he rolled them over, her body under his, molding to each other as if reminding him that they’ve done this before.

As he kissed and kissed her, lips trailing down her neck, he sent a silent thank you to whatever work emergency had claimed Ernie’s attention. Tonight and forever Ginny was his. And he set about showing her over and over.

_*_*_*_*_*_*_

“Ernie Macmillan? Really?” Ron took a noisy bite of his biscuit.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Ronald,” Molly tutted, waiving her wand so the corresponding feather duster would wipe down the windows properly.

“I just want you to know that I know what you did,” Ron shrugged, gesturing out the window Molly was cleaning to where Harry and Ginny were clearly engaged in some unwholesome activities.

Molly smiled at the image the pair made before closing the curtain and turning back towards her youngest son.

“Don’t you have your own home?” He lifted his hands in surrender before leaving the room. Molly watched as he disappeared from view. Really, what was she supposed to do? Let them pine away for each other forever? No, she did the right thing. She did feel a little bad poor Ernie would have to go all the way into work to find that emergency cauldron bottom situation wasn’t quite the emergency that ministry owl had made it seem. But the boy had gotten a home cooked meal for dinner so he surely made out alright.

Smiling one more time to herself, a very satisfied Molly Weasley set about cleaning dishes, brainstorming how she might next get Percy to dinner along with that nice young man Oliver Wood.

[mxvladdy]

Ey, could you make food source reactions for Mammon & Levi like you did with the others?

I've read it like 3 times now, they're all so sweet and believable you did a great job!

You got it Fam! Glad you like them so much lol. (I got a lot more angsty with Mammon than I thought I would but I love him sooooo)

Mammon

This poor man. He gets to spend so little time alone with you. He has to make every second count. Between the hustling, modeling, and running from Lucifer, he’s a pretty busy guy. 

So he plans date nights. Just you, him, and his leather couch. Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere, ya hear? He looks forward to this every month. He pins it on his calendar too just so he doesn’t double book himself. 

Now, don’t get me wrong. Just cause he plans this doesn’t mean he necessarily has a plan. Not that you care. Most of his activities turn into trouble anyway, even when he is not trying.  

 Sometimes he teaches you how to play cards (also shows you human ways to cheat-just in case you need it). The hours are spent pleasantly sitting in his lap while he teaches you how to count cards.

But, most nights, he just wants to talk. He enjoys his time with you. You and him cuddling and chatting away the hours before passing out for the night. 

He has a lot of things he wants to know about you. To him, he feels like if he knows you better than the other brothers he’s won. 

Won what? Idk, your affection? Approval? He already has it, but he is insecure about his place in your heart regardless. 

This evening starts out like any other. Mammon dashing to the kitchens to pilfer some snacks and drinks before Beel can steal them all, and you bring your cute self over to his room. 

You two toss back a few drinks and spend some time looking over his latest photo shoots before going on to the main event. Tonight you brought one of your favorite human card games. It was like 20 questions, but some questions were more risque than others. Was it meant for more than two players? Yes, but whatever- Mammon wants to play it so you are.

You both are relaxed and drowsy by the time you start playing. Your stomachs are full of junk, and the morning moons are just on the horizon. It’s the perfect mixture for loose lips and secrets, before falling asleep in each other's arms. 

You pick easy cards first, jumping from silly innocent questions to one that made him blush from ear to ear. The hours pass quickly and Mammon’s answers become more slurred and accented as he tires out. 

He was on the verge of sleep when you ask,  “What’s your favorite dish?” 

It was a slip of the tongue, a long-lost memory pulled up from the dregs of his exhausted mind. He remembers a savory dish Barbatos use to make way back when. He can still smell the savory smoky spices mixing with the fresh vegetables and meat- Oh shit.

He feels you stiffen and he ain’t sleepy anymore, that’s for sure. Immediately up and apologizes. He stumbles over himself in his haste to explain himself. 

You spend the rest of the evening with him in your arms trying to comfort him as he tearfully swears he hasn’t eaten a person in a couple of hundred years. 

Mini Fic

He regrets it the moment the words slip out. His sleepy remark hangs out in the chilly air of his room. He feels you jerk in his arms as if punched. “Shit! I-I didn’t mean.” Mouth agape, he backtracks, tongue working faster than his overtaxed brain. He looks down at your head on his chest. 

Your eyes are wide. Their surprise reflected in the bright blue moonlight. His heart sinks to his stomach. Gods, he ruined it. “I’m sorry- I.”  Pushing you off of his chest he goes to grab his shirt and redress, ignoring the prickling heat growing at the corner of his eyes. He could sleep somewhere else tonight. You could have the room if you wanted, or at least give you a minute to flee in terror from the demon that masqueraded as your friend. He can’t look at you. Hells, he was too ashamed to even glance in your direction. What kind of idiot let’s slip that? They even had a council meeting about this very thing before you arrived. 

So lost in his panic he doesn’t notice you trying to get his attention. It wasn’t until you forcefully grab his arm did he hear you. “It’s ok Mammon.” You engulf him in your warm and comforting scent. Strong arms dragging him back to the crumpled sheets of his bed. Your soft fingers wipe at the silent tears streaking down his cheeks. 

He dislodges himself from your light grasp to rub at his own eyes. “How can ya’ say that?” Where was your sense of self-preservation? Ain’t humans supposed to be aware of such dangers? The irony wasn’t lost on him though. Being your ‘protector’ and all.

You shuffle closer, hellbent on comforting. His pack mark hums gently on his chest when you touch it. As much as his body wanted to run, your pact mark cemented him to his seat. He sits while you fuss over him slowly breathing through his mouth to calm his racing heart. He can’t help but drift closer to you when he feels your hand on the top of his head. When had he become so weak for you? 

“Well-How can I not?” You shrug. He closes his eyes when you start ruffling his fringe. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to me. Yes, you have,” You cut him off firmly before he can object. “Always my number one anyway.” That pulls a wet chuckle from your demon. His eyes clear up at your admission. “I trust you Mammon, honestly. I mean, I kinda knew that you’ve probably eaten a human or two in your life. Knowing, and knowing are more different than I thought.” 

 Mammon cages you in his arms, his nose brushing along your neck and jawline. “Damn-.” He huffs covering you in his warm body, arms tight around your sides. “I’m sorry. I ruined tonight.” Mammon sighs into your skin. 

You hug him back. “Nonsense, if you want to get technical I think you won this game. I can’t top that answer.” You push away with a wide yawn. “Now can we go back to bed?” With a nod, he flops over pulling you down with him. You bully your way into his arms again. Sighing constantly you snuggle in for the night, ready to drift off. His eyelids began to feel heavy again too. Your soft weight on him like a security blanket. He listens to your slowly beating heart, matching his breathing to yours. The rhythmic thumps working to calm him better than his noise machine. He basks in your presence, rubbing his broad hand down your back for a moment before you speak again.

“Hey, Mammon.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you think I would taste good?” 

Leviathan 

Awkward boy. Of course, he has had his fair share of humans. Not particularly his favorite through. A lot of the time it wasn’t on purpose. His demon form is big and sometimes more than just fish and other demons get swallowed up. Course when that happened, they weren’t exactly fresh either. Bleh-just thinking about it makes his stomach turn. 

No, he never got a taste for it, even when it was served in the royal palace. The memories of the sea are still pretty vivid. It never really crosses his mind anymore. Till you bring it up.

He invites you over for a game night. A new VR game he had been saving up for just dropped and he had to play it with you.

It was a horror stealth game. Heavy on critical thinking and solving puzzles in real-time.

Your two characters were on a race against time against a flesh eating cult that had invaded a small village. He thought it was a fun concept and you both liked horror games. He didn’t notice how quiet you had gotten until you had set your controller down. 

You ask during a loading screen after a pretty graphic cut scene of a npc getting caught. How realistic was that cut scene? Had he ever eaten a human before?

Boy is a brighter pink than Ruri-chan’s signature outfit (and twice as cute lbr) 

He gets so flustered that he misses the start of the next round and gets you both eaten. 

He doesn’t take conflict well. Like at all. He much rather slink off into his fish tank and hide than answer you. In fact, that sounds like an excellent idea.  

He slithers back out of his tank hours later thinking you had left or found a better brother to hang out with. Yucky people eaters like him aren’t good company for humans. 

You jump him the minute his feet are back on solid ground. Have an answer now you must! Yrssss. 

Mini Fic

“L-Let go!” Levi shrieks, caught in your sneak attack. He locks up when you jump him, all four of your limbs wrapping around his soaking body like an octopus. 

“No!” You squeeze him harder taking full advantage of the fact that he won’t remove you himself. You feel the heat of his blush through his soaked clothes as you cling closer. If he could blush any harder you were pretty sure steam would be wafting off of him. 

“Why do you want to know anyway?” He wiggles gently, trying to loosen your tight grip. 

“Morbid curiosity.” Well, at least you were honest. He was still going to say no, you didn’t need to know that about him. He opens his mouth to shut you down but makes the mistake of looking at you. The words die when he catches the pout growing on your face. Oh no- his one weakness. Your way your lower lip pops out adorably, accompanied by slightly puffed-out cheeks. It was a one-two punch to his defenses. 

“I-they weren’t on purpose.” He pleads. Nevermore in his life did he wish he could turn into a mist-like his brother. He feels you slip off of him. Your bare feet don’t make a sound on his carpeted floor. “It just happened sometimes.” He admits. You accept it for a few seconds before his words fully hit you.

“Wait? How do you accidentally eat someone?” You ask incredulously. “All though- that’s something Beel might do.” You ponder the logistics and step back to give him some space.

He rights himself, wicking the moisture from his coat and pants with magic until he is completely dry again. You start asking a dozen more questions in rapid fire. It was enough to make his head spin. You were too curious for your own good. “Ever heard of basking whales?”  

You blink. 

Levi sighs and waves a hand to himself.  “When I lived in the ocean… I’m big ya know. I kinda would just open my mouth and swallow. Whatever I caught I ate.” He waits for you to get the jest. Most of the time it was smaller fish and aquatic mammals. When a demon encroached on his territory he would eat them too. The dead were meant for his army, but sometimes they got sucked into.

Instead of nodding in understatement, you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand and snort. His eyes grow big and his blush turns brighter. You were spending way too much time with Asmo. “No-Not like that!” His flailing only makes you laugh harder. Great, as if he didn’t want to die of embarrassment already.

“Well word it better, nerd.” You laugh retreating back to the mound of pillows you claimed for gaming, VR headset in hand. “Come on, we have to start over now- thanks to someone.”

“You started it!” Levi shoots back grabbing up his gear as well. He fiddles with it for a moment before glancing back at you. You were oblivious to inner turmoil over this admission. A naval admiral was one thing. Humans had them too, that wasn’t too much for you to comprehend. Being a devil was easy enough to understand too, at least in his mind. But eating people? Shouldn’t you be more concerned? “So-that’s it?”

You look up questioningly. “What’s it?” 

He raises a purple brow. “You have nothing else to say? I just admitted to eating people!” 

“Not really.” You shrug. “I can’t get too pressed about it. It’s not like you are human. I’m like what-at the bottom of the food chain to you, right?” Levi nods. “See! So no point stressing over it. ‘Sides, you haven’t munched on me yet.” You turn your attention back to the screen, flicking your controller to wake his flat-screen back up. “Unless~” He gulps at the sly eyebrow wiggle you throw at him, the shit eating grin that accompanied it only made him worry.  “Perhaps you just have an appetite for seamen.” 

Your peals of laughter mix with his shrill yelps of objection, as he tackles you. His previous worries were completely forgotten by your teasing. 

[thetorturerwrites]

Heads I Win/Tails You Lose

Summary: Silly sex games + Adam Sackler = Best date night ever?

A/N: What can I say. I love me some Sackler perversion. This is part of the LC universe for continuity but can be enjoyed as a one-shot.

This is an adult fic. 18+ only. Shameless smut. Enter at your own risk.

Words: 3.7k

“Heads,” he said, cocky and smirking, “No bra, no panties, and those tight pants I love.”

You had been playing this game since your first official ‘date.’ Adam had taken you to an arcade, won you a teddy bear, and flipped a coin for a blow job in the photo booth. 

You still had the pictures.

“Tails,” you countered, knocking your knuckles on the kitchen island pensively, “MY panties and those tight pants I love.  And you draw a heart on your dick.”

He chuckled, spinning the little gold coin around and around on the glossy counter top. You watched him, doing your best to keep a poker face because Adam could read you like a book. He could always tell when you needed a cuddle, a cup of tea, or a quick, hard fuck in the bathroom, any bathroom, the nearest bathroom.

All of which he was happy to supply.

“Deal.”

He flipped the coin high in the air and snapped his palm over it when it landed, inching it out to you so you could look first.  He loved that you wanted to play his games, and he told you that he never wanted you to feel like he cheated, even though you suspected that fucking coin didn’t have a tails side.

You groaned and flipped off the shiny mascot head. Adam slunk around the island to crouch and wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face between your pajama-clad breasts.

“Wait,” you pushed at his shoulder until he looked up, a smirk playing on his plump lips. “Double or nothing?”

He growled into your neck, intrigued, and stood up to fake glower at you, crossing his muscular arms, and pulling a mask of seriousness over his entertained features.

“Heads edging,” you licked your lips, playing out the idea of him leaking rivers as you tormented him, “Tails...uh...over-stim?”

Adam captured your mouth on a heated kiss, sucking at your lower lip and teasing your tongue out to play with his. You slid your arms around his neck to draw him down to your height, bowing his large frame towards you.

“Deal,” he said it against your lips, pushed you a step away, and flipped again.

You wailed, loud and dramatic.

“Fuck that fucking coin.”

“It's gonna be a long night for you, Little Cunt,” he crooned it against your temple, slapped your ass, and walked off.

Post gamble, there had been some argument over the shirt you wanted to wear because Adam wanted something clingy so he could see your bra-less tits bounce and wobble, and you wanted something flowy so nobody else could see that very thing.

Ultimately, you compromised on a light, white tank under a cute, button-up blue flannel that went so well with the dark blue tight pants he wanted.  He bit your fingers when you tried to button the shirt, and you resigned yourself to the fact that you were just going to have to keep closing it to cover yourself.

An hour later, you were on the train to your friend’s house for magic hour. Tossing you a bone, Adam wore the tight pants you loved, and you were absently rubbing the seam at his outer thigh as you leaned back into his chest, lulled into a relaxed state by the routine rumble of the tracks. He drove you absolutely crazy, but he also made you feel safe, the way his body naturally caged and curved around you.

His lips at your ear drew a happy sigh and smile, and you gave a wholly contented coo as he tucked your ass into his pelvis, holding you just there by those large, ever-so-helpful fingers. Wrapped up in him like this was your second-favorite place to be.

He concentrated his kisses on the space just behind and below your earlobe, the one that sent shivers and goosebumps down the length of your spine. His fingers skimmed just under the edge of your shirt, rubbing little circles into your tummy.

“Lemme see,” he nipped at your earlobe.

You harrumphed and glanced around, certain that everybody on the train was watching you, but the car was only half full of readers, people listening to music, phone junkies.  Begrudgingly, you tugged the flaps of your flannel apart, showing Adam the pebbling, straining nipples poking through the thin tank.

He hummed appreciatively against your throat, lifted the low neckline of the fabric, and blew hot breath down against your already flushing skin.

“You have perfect tits, did you know that?”

Tucking his hands into your pockets, Adam rubbed his already hard cock into your ass, hips working slow and steady. Dipping his head down to your ear, he licked at the delicate shell and whispered how hard he was going to fuck you later and what a dirty thing you were to play his wicked games.

Your body loosened and melted.

It was definitely going to be a long night.

~

In the elevator of your friend’s building, he growled a pleased “oh fuck yeah” at the tiny, cramped, closet of a thing, mashed the button to the very top floor, and hoisted you into his arms before the door even closed.

You clung to his neck and waist as Adam pushed you into the wall and kissed you stupid.  His mouth slanted eagerly over yours, licking at your lips until you granted him entry. He greedily swallowed every sound you made, coaxing more saliva, more whimpering with his sliding tongue.

Your thighs clenched around his middle when he bit and tugged at your lower lip hard, and you clawed at his scalp, having carded your fingers into his raven locks to stop them from trembling.

When you were gasping for air and rocking your body against his fervently, he spun around, set you on your feet, and pressed the button for the 3rd floor, sending you back down to the party. You clung to his shirt to re-establish some version of equilibrium, and he nuzzled your neck to help you balance.

~

In the kitchen, after you’d escaped his grabby hands to pour yourself a drink, Adam cornered you against the cabinets to nibble at your mouth again, lifting up to purr into your ear that he liked the way they looked all swollen and pink and he kept thinking about them wrapped around his dick.

You blushed furiously and batted at his shoulder because there was a whole other goddamn person in the room, and he was manhandling you like a touch-starved teenager. He stood across from you, arms folded against his chest, flexing his dick at you in those tight pants until you were alone.

“Fucking Christ, Adam,” you whimpered it as quietly as you could, backed into the counter top again. 

He gave you his best ‘Who? Me?’ look even as he pushed your shirt up over your collarbone. You squeaked and shot up onto your toes as though you could catch your shirt and chase it back into place.

Adam’s large, warm hands blanketed both of your breasts, and you bit your lip, looking up at him helpless and beyond aroused. He squeezed and rolled your stiff nipples, tugging at the sensitive skin until you danced and arched against him. He pushed both of them together and bent down to lick a fat swath up the middle followed by a trail of kisses up your neck and, finally, to your mouth.

Before you could beg him to do something, anything more, voices drew near, and he tugged your shirt back down with an evil wink. He pushed the whiskey into your hand, bent down for another quick kiss, and led you from the room and back into the party.

~

On the patio, where you’d escaped for some cooler air, Adam dragged you into the darkest corner, tucked in between a power box and a drain pipe.

“Are you hiding from me,” he chided, fingers already pushing your flannel apart and raising the paltry white fabric.

You groaned loud at the cold air upon your sore tits and shook your head. He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours to shut you up, murmuring against your mouth that it was ok with him if you had an audience but you better hush if you didn’t want one.

Pushing his knee between your thighs, he pinned you to the wall, dipped his beautiful face down, and licked at your nipple, slow and deliberate.  You tugged at the hair decorating the back of his neck, intending to move him away, but flattened your fingers against his scalp when he sucked the pert peak into the hot cavern of his mouth.

He could almost make you cum from sucking your tits, and he knew it.  Switching from one to the other, he nibbled and teased and mouthed until you were whining and wiggling.

“Shit. Fuck. Adam, don’t…”

But it was too late, he was doing that thing you loved so fucking much where he rolled your nipple between tongue and teeth, sealed his lips tight around it, and let it go with a loud, slurping pop.

There was no way your friends on the patio didn’t hear it, you thought, no fucking way.

~

Thinking you’d surely get a moment’s reprieve, you ducked into the bathroom only for Adam to shove you the rest of the way in and follow before too many could see.

He stripped you of your shirts entirely, bent you over the cold sink, and peeled your jeans down to your knees.

“Is my Little Cunt hungry?”

He clucked it at you, eyeballing the absolute mess you'd made in your pants, and you nodded pitifully, knowing he loved it when you played your part. Adam pushed you up onto your toes, slapped at your bare ass, and buried his face in your cunt.

“Holy shit,” you moaned louder than you intended, but it was just too good.

The cold sink against your inflamed, overworked breasts was heaven.  Adam’s mouth sucking on your puffy, fat pussy lips was heaven. His hands kneading and spreading your ass cheeks was heaven.

Adam himself, however, was the goddamn devil because he plied your thighs and cunt with hungry kisses, fucked your slit nice and deep with his tongue, nipped and nibbled at every square inch.

Except your clit.

“Goddamn, I can see your pussy clenching.” 

He had tucked his thumb into the left labia and was tugging you open, staring directly into the most intimate part of you. It was vulgar and obscene, and you absolutely did it again for him without needing to be told.

“Mm, good girl.”

On a debauched growl, he pressed in again and tongue-fucked you until you shook and your pussy perfumed the air. You panted and whimpered, pushed your ass back against him, and squirmed to try and get him where you wanted.

You were just about to beg when there was a light knock on the door.

~

In the library, Adam pulled you into his lap on the love seat and dropped his hand between your legs. He again instructed you to show him your tender, perpetually hard nipples, and you tugged the tank up just enough that they peeked out.

He nuzzled your jaw, licked at your pulse, and stroked his agile, wide fingers up and down the seam of your pants, from clit to flowing cunt, over and over and over.

You clutched at his shirt and rocked your hips for him, too far gone to lascivious need to give two shits about who might hear you or walk in to see.

“I need to fuck this pretty mouth. Now.”

His voice was low and thick, and you purred at the tone, loving the command and the begging that mingled when he had spent so long turning you on that he was about to cum in his pants.

You slithered off his lap and between his legs, pushing his shirt up to pepper the taut abs with kisses. You wiggled your tongue into his belly button, mimicking the way he’d plunged into your pussy earlier.

“Sweet,” you asked coyly, roving a hungry look up the length of his body, “Or sloppy?”

He groaned and leaned forward to force a kiss on you, canting your head far to one side and fisting his fingers in your hair. You knew it drove him crazy when you said indecent things to him in such nice ways.

His dirty, dirty librarian.

“Filthy girl,” he bit at the corner of your mouth, “You can cry on my cock later. Don’t think your friends would believe I hadn’t hurt you.”

He leaned back into the cushions, popped the button on those tight, tight pants, and wrenched them down his hips enough for his hard, leaking cock to burst out, ready and waiting. Your mouth watered; and when he reached for your head, you knew this was a time-sensitive operation. He was ready to cum, and he wanted your mouth for it.

Pressing your hand into his abdomen to line him up, you licked your lips and wrapped your mouth around the thick column, burying it as far in as you could get it and settling, letting the saliva build and pool and letting your tongue and the back of your mouth get accustomed to being so pressed.

“Fu-huck, I love when you do that,” his throat bobbed, voice strained.

You purred around him, acclimated to the invasion, and pulled all the way back, letting his cock pop free of your mouth so you could gulp in a breath.  Nearly all of his length was shiny now, coated with your spit, and you watched him wrap impatient fingers around the base to squeeze.

"One more time," he rasped it out, "Gimme that hot cunt of a mouth one more time."

It liquefied you to watch him embroiled in such lecherous need and to know that his relentless tormenting had him just as riled up as you.

He reached for your face, cupped your cheek, and tugged you back down to his weeping dick. He wasn’t going to make it much longer, but he was going to be primed and ready to make sure you spent the night riding lightning under him.

Parting your swollen lips, you slid his cock along the length of your flattened tongue and allowed him in as far as you could.  Your fingers splayed across his jumping thighs, and your nose nudged his fingers where they were wrapped tight around the thick base.

“Nnmstaythere,” he was all want and demand now, nearly whining at how close he was.

Adam threaded fingers into your hair, palming your scalp and keeping your flushing face right where he wanted it. His hips bucked upwards, and you moaned at the smutty sound of him fucking your mouth, your heat always kicked up a notch by the profane noises.

“Guh! That’s it, baby; swallow.”

His fingers dug into your neck, and he pushed up hard into you just as you complied, swallowing around him so the roof of your mouth and tongue undulated, working him right past that edge. You hummed your praise, feeling the surge shoot up through his cock just under the skin to flood your eager throat with his hot taste.

You didn’t push at his legs until you felt the last twitch and dribble; and then, you propped yourself up on his thighs and demanded sticky kisses, which you were rewarded with.

“Goddamn you guys,” said a female voice behind you, shooting your eyes wide. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

~

On the train home, you had your blushing face buried so far into Adam’s neck you nearly couldn’t breathe.  He thought the whole thing was hilarious and that you were, in fact, the hottest fucking thing ever, but you were so mortified that you practically sprinted out of the party.

He cajoled you out from your hiding spot by standing up abruptly.  On a yelp, you shot to your feet so that you wouldn’t fall over only for him to tug you back down into his lap without your burning face buried where he couldn’t see it.

“Look, lemme take your mind off of it.”

He dug the gold coin out of his pocket and showed it to you. Your breath caught and you looked from him to it and back again.

“Heads, right now, hard, on this train.” You flushed but nodded, hoping that regardless of where or how, you were going to get fucked and soon. “Tails, nice and sweet, home in bed.”

You very nearly threw the coin out the window because hard and fast right here right now was your preference, truly, but you nodded again and waited for the flip. Even if he edged you all the way home, you would always play his game, reveling in the perversion of it with him.

Holding your breath, you watched the gold glint for a second and then leaned over to peek.

“Thank fucking god,” you grumbled, never so grateful for his bastard, trick coin.

“Double or nothing,” he quipped, and you shot to your feet.

“Adam, if you don’t fuck me in the next two minutes, I am going to find someone else who will. I swear to God.”

Your voice carried, but you truly didn’t care who heard you now.  It hadn’t really registered for you that the train car was empty.  It only mattered that this sex-pot of a man had edged you all night long, and you needed to be fucked. Pronto.

He chuckled darkly and stuffed the coin back into his pocket, spinning you around and bending you slightly forward over the little, brown partition. You hastily fumbled and tore your jeans open, shimmying them down your hips just enough.

When his fingers connected with your sopping, impatient pussy, you moaned in wanton need and pushed back into him, lifting onto your toes and down again to ride his touch. You whimpered, the plea in your voice evident, and you slammed your hand on the window when he stepped behind you, rubbing his hard length between the slick lips.

“This what you want, Little Cunt?”

“Jesusfuckyesplease.”

“When we get arrested,” his breath caught as he pushed into you, “I’m telling them this was your idea. Fuck.”

You nodded, ready to blindly agree with anything he said. You’d agree with the police, too, and then promptly explain that you absolutely just HAD to because he’d been driving you into dick-frenzy all night. 

Gripping the little metal bar, you pushed back against him until he was sunk to the hilt in your clenching core. You bit down on your lip hard because you were already ready to shout his name, to wail and scream for him.

Adam gripped your hip in one hand and slid the other up under your shirt to palm and squeeze your breast. Finally, fucking finally, his hips began to piston forward, slamming you into the seat in front of you, and your eyes rolled back into your head.

Your face, mouth, throat fell into a mantra of yesyesyes as he buried the fat length of his rigid cock into your pliant, slippery cunt again and again. He grunted and dug his fingers into your flesh, and you hissed when his hips moved even harder, even faster.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the subway car, and you lost your fucking mind when you could hear the erotic squish of him pommeling your overflowing pussy.

Your cunt clenched and spasmed, and you keened, face scrunched up in desperation. You were right on the edge of those deep, deep orgasms only he had ever been able to conjure. Your thighs burned, your fingers and toes tingled, and your throat was dry and hoarse from all the whimpering and wailing.

“Adam,” you croaked it out, voice cracked and worn thin, “Baby please.”

He leaned into you, slithering fingers around your neck to hold you back against his chest and dipping his lips to your ear. He murmured into your ear that you should concentrate really hard, think about him sucking on your tits, about him tongue-fucking you in the bathroom, about him burying his face between your legs and lapping at your clit.

You nodded along with every filthy word, picturing all of those things and more, concentrating on your bouncing nipples, the subtle gyration of your throbbing clit, the relentless, expert plunge of Adam’s perfect cock.

Your face smoothed out as the wave crested, your mouth falling open on breathless acceptance. When you were right there, teetering on the edge of the kind of orgasm that would rattle your bones, he slipped his fingers in between the puffy, glistening lips and rubbed tight circles against your clit, fast and demanding.

“That's it. Such a needy, hungry thing. Give it to me.”

Every part of you trembled and sizzled. You’d been wound tight all evening, his wicked game keeping you right there, straddling that line. When you finally came, it was profound and thunderous and a great loosening of every muscle, joint, and nerve.

You couldn’t even shout.

On a low, pornographic moan, you pushed your ass further back into him, and your body gushed a new torrent of hot and wet, the orgasm lighting you up and giving him new convulsions and syrupy slip to play in.

You quaked, fingers gripping the silver bar tight. You held your breath because it seemed like it wasn’t going to stop, and you were so flooded that you felt it sliding down your legs to disappear into your jeans.

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

Gripping your thighs, he pushed your strung out body off of his dick and pressed his forehead into your shoulder.  Somewhere in your mental periphery, you knew it was because he almost came in you for the second time tonight, and he certainly had other plans.

“Shit, babe. Next stop is ours.”

He helped you button your pants and tug down your shirts, kissing your nose and telling you how cute you were when you were cock-drunk. You chuffed a laugh and shrugged.

“What can ya do,” your voice was small, still a bit unsteady.  He grinned and stole another kiss.

“C’mon,” he turned and patted his shoulder, “Hop up or we’re never gonna get out of here.”

Grousing, you stood onto your toes as he crouched and wrapped your arms around his neck.  He tucked his hands beneath your knees and shot to his feet just as the train doors opened. 

And like the absolute gentleman that he is, Adam Sackler carried you home.

[captain-s-rogers]

The Party Effect

(gif credit to the creator)

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Word Count: 1,305 Warnings: drinking, implied smut Square Filled: Summer Camp AU A/N: Another square for @marvelfluffbingo​​​​​​​ 2020! This is a rewrite of a fic I have previously posted on my Supernatural blog (@d-s-winchester​) so don’t come at me about plagiarism and shit. It’s my writing and I’m allowed to tweak it and repost it however I’d like. As always a HUGE thank you to the best bestie around @arrowsandmixtapes​​​ for looking over my stuff and making sure it isn’t terrible. If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

“They’re here,” she said, with a wicked grin. 

“What do you mean they’re here?”

“I mean the new batch of counselors are here. Elizabeth showed up with all four of them.”

“How is that possible?! I thought they weren’t due in until tomorrow.” 

“I guess they showed up early,” Lacey shrugged.

“Well, let’s get them some drinks and go introduce ourselves,” you said, sobering up slightly. 

Lacey nodded and you handed her two beers as you grabbed another two before going to meet your new guests. Elizabeth greeted you both with hugs before turning toward the group of people she’d shown up with.

“Y/N, Lacey, here’s the new blood, Chris, Sebastian, Anthony and Scarlett,” she smiled, “guys these are our gracious hosts tonight Y/N and Lacey.” 

You said your hellos before handing each of the newcomers a beer. Your drunken mind still wasn’t letting you comprehend that the newcomers arrived a day early but you weren’t about to complain about it. You’d struck up a conversation with Chris while Lacey was talking to Sebastian. Your conversation was interrupted, however, by someone calling your name.

“Yo! Y/N/N! Tables clear, you’ve got winners!” 

You nodded over to the friend that had called out to you before turning to Chris to apologize. 

“Got dibs on a game?” he chuckled. 

“Beer pong,” you smiled. “My name’s been down since the party started. You’d think hosting the party would give me first pick, apparently that’s not the case.” 

Chris nodded. “You got a partner?” 

You glanced over at Lacey who was too busy hooking up with Sebastian to notice what was happening around her. “Well, Lacey was supposed to be my partner but it seems like she’s really preoccupied. So, no, I don’t. You any good?” 

“I’ve played a few games in my time,” Chris chuckled. 

“Alright,” you laughed. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

“Yo, Y/N/N you coming or what?!” 

“Don’t get your fucking panties in a knot, Brett! I’m literally walking over!” 

Chris followed you out the back door toward the large table that was set up in the middle of the clearing behind the cabin. The cups were already set up and Brett was standing on his side of the table along with his teammate. 

“Who’s the new guy? Where’s Lacey?” 

“Lacey’s occupied,” you chuckled. “This is Chris. He’s my new partner. What’s it to ya? You worried or something?” 

“Well not really, you always carry the team,” Brett shrugged. “We’re still gonna kick your ass.”

“Suck it.” 

Brett just smirked and turned to his teammate as you turned to Chris.

“I hope you’re better at this than you let on cause Brett and I have had a beer pong rivalry that’s been going on since freshman year of college and I am determined to knock him down a few pegs.” 

Chris grinned at you mischievously, “I think I can handle this. You ready?” 

“Ready.” You grinned.

The game started and Chris was clearly playing down his beer pong abilities because he was dominating the game. It had come down to one last cup in double over time. You’d missed your shot and you were reeling, it was entirely up to Chris to win the game.

“Ok, Christopher. I’m counting on you here. Don’t fuck this up for me.” 

“Don’t worry, Y/N/N.” He chuckled, “It’s in the bag.” 

You silently prayed he was right and stood there watching as he squared up and took the shot. You held your breath as you watched the ball fly through the air. It was a perfect shot and it landed in the cup with ease. You jumped up and down screaming with excitement as Chris wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up to spin you around. 

“Suck on that Brett!” You called over Chris’s shoulder to your opponent. 

Chris chuckled as he set you back down on your feet. You smiled up at him, unable to contain your grin.

“I could kiss you right now!” you said. 

“So do it.” Chris challenged, smirking.

You didn’t even think, instead you pushed yourself up on tiptoe to make up for the height difference and pressed your lips to his. As you were kissing Chris you heard Brett yell over to you that you had the next game. You waved him off, however, knowing that you would be far too preoccupied to play another game of beer pong. 

You woke up the next morning with your head pounding. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d experienced a hangover so bad. You climbed out of bed still groggy and unsure of who was still in the cabin. Without thinking you grabbed a pair of pants off the floor and pulled them on before heading out to the kitchen to get some coffee. The fact that the jeans you’d pulled on were way too big and kept falling off your hips was  the last thing on your mind when you saw Lacey standing at the counter already pouring you a cup of coffee.

She handed you the steaming mug and you accepted it with a smile. You took a deep drink of the caffeinated beverage before either of you said anything. 

“How drunk were you last night?” Lacey asked. 

“Well,” you responded, “I still have my pants on, so not that drunk?” 

“Dude,” she chuckled as you squirmed a little, hiking up the pants. “Those aren’t your pants.” 

You turned bright red as flashes of the night before filled your mind. You remembered kissing Chris after the beer pong game and leading him to the bedroom. After that all you could remember were the very explicit images from the night before. You looked up at Lacey, your eyes going wide as she looked at the doorway behind you.

“Anyone seen my pants?” you heard Chris say and your cheeks flushed once again. “Oh, there they are.” 

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“They’re a little big,” he commented, kissing your cheek. “But they look good on you. Any coffee left?” 

“Yeah, there’s another cup in the pot,” Lacey grinned. “I’m gonna take this cup to Sebastian. Talk to you later, Y/N/N.” 

You nodded at Lacey as she walked past you, still grinning.

“So last night was fun,” Chris smiled at you, taking a sip from his mug. 

“Definitely,” you smiled weakly, the explicit images from the night before flashing in your mind once again.

“How about we do it right this time,” he suggested. “Dinner. Tonight. If you’re free that is.”

“I’m free,” you smiled, regaining your composure. “Dinner sounds great and I promise not to get in your pants this  time.” 

You smirked looking down at the jeans you were wearing and Chris laughed. You had a feeling you probably would end up in his pants again you were just hoping that at least this time you’d have more than flashes of images to remember.

@arrowsandmixtapes​ @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​ @growningupgeek​​ @phoenixfyre374​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​ @patzammit​​ @what-is-your-plan-today​​ @sagechanoafterdark​​ @kitkatd7​​

[meetmeinthematinee]

Present Frustrations (John Wick X Helen)

A/N: Exactly today is my 1 year writingiversary -- June 22, 2019 I wrote and posted my first ever John Wick Fic over on A03. So it’s perfect timing that I have this fic ready to go today. It started out as a very different story but I kinda love the direction this went in. So--as always--thank you so so so much for reading and commenting and liking. Sometimes I read your comments and I cry a lil bit because I get so emotional about it. But in a nice way. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Kinbaku (a.k.a. Shibari, a.k.a Rope Bondage) If you don’t like people being tied up and their feelings explored this fic is not for you and that’s a-ok. Angst (kinda?) Lots of feels. 18+ please, probably NSFW.

It was the swearing and clattering of objects that drew her to the basement stairs. Helen had been reading--or trying to--but enough was enough. John had been moody and irritable since he’d woken up. Usually she’d just leave him be until he’d worked out whatever he needed to but sometimes, like today she’d have to intervene. She listened for a moment as the swearing got louder, his voice deeper and sharper in tone before she sighed and went to fetch his car keys.

“WHAT?!?” 

He snapped as she padded softly down the basement stairs.

He threw the awl in his hand onto the counter in irritation and spun to face her.

“You have two choices here John. Take the car for a real workout OR kneel at my feet as you silently turn the pages of my book for me. Simple as that. Take your pick.”

He didn’t answer but held out his hand for the car keys and she held them aloft, above his open palm for a moment.

“Come home in one piece, alright?” 

She said with a small smile before dropping them into his waiting hand. She didn’t wait for an answer, she turned and climbed the stairs and made her way back to the livingroom and her novel.  A few minutes later the door slammed and she knew exactly where he was at. 

They went through this from time to time. John would become restless and quick to anger. Transitioning to this new and much more normal life was hard for him and Helen tried her best to provide the structure he so clearly needed to keep himself together. He needed tasks. To be told what to do. Especially when he was like this--any shred of self awareness he possessed went right out the window.  

She heard the mustang squeal into the driveway an hour later. She finished the last bite of her sandwich and brushed the crumbs off her lap just as John made his way into the kitchen.

“Hungry?”

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow as John pulled the fridge open hard enough to rattle the condiments in the door. He seemed to stare blankly into the fridge for a while before slamming the door shut again without taking anything. 

She wrapped her fingers tightly around his arm as he brushed past her. 

“Is today one of those days, John?”

He stiffened in her grasp and let out the breath he didn’t even realise he’d been holding, he relaxed his clenched hands and nodded, silently answering her.

“Would you like my help?” 

He nodded again.

“You know the rules, darling.” She reminded him, gently. Her voice, calm and soothing but also firm.

“Yes.” He made eye contact with her for the first time since he’d gotten home. It made her heart ache to see the wildness in his eyes--the misery and frustration.

She moved her hand from his arm to the side of his face and he flinched a little at her touch. 

“You’re going to get everything we need and lay it out for me on the bed. I have a few things to take care of -- and I want you waiting for me on your knees. Understood?”

“Yes.”

John leaned in for a kiss and Helen gently pressed her finger to his lips. 

“None of that right now. Just do as I’ve asked, darling.”

She knew he hadn’t eaten since breakfast so she took a few minutes to put together a plate of cheese and fruit for him and stowed it in the fridge for later. With the mood he was in she wanted to be sure he felt extra safe and extra cared for after their scene. When he was unmoored and tense like this she never really knew how he’d react afterward. It’d taken a while for them to figure that out together. Helen rolled her shoulders and took a few deep breaths as she left the kitchen and went to find him in their bedroom.

John was kneeling on the floor facing away from her, resting back on his heels with the neatly tied hanks of jute rope, the safety shears and a blanket and pillow laid out on the end of their bed. Helen took note of the tension in his shoulders and the fact that he wasn’t fully kneeling like she’d asked as she moved closer to him. 

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” She asked as she slid her hand into his hair, her thumb lightly caressing his cheekbone.

He pressed his face into her touch and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yes, please.” 

She picked up one of the hanks and undid the knot, shaking it lose and forming a bint.

“Chest harness?” 

“Please.” 

She stroked the rope slowly along the broad line of John’s shoulders. 

“I need clear answers, John. Try that again.”

“Yes, chest harness, please.”

“Arms free or box tied?’ She asked as she began the process of wrapping the rope around his bare chest to start building the diamond patterned harness. The soft sound of the tails of the rope swishing as she pulled them through her capable hands. 

“Bunny ears.” He said lowly.

“You’re sure?” She pressed him. It was such a vulnerable and open position -- he was pushing himself and that was cause for some hesitation. 

“Yes.” 

“John, you don’t--”

“I want it.” 

Helen finished off the chest harness and stepped away to admire her work. The jute was tied in beautiful diamond shapes that pressed into his skin just enough to leave marks later on. She circled around him and slipped her fingers under the ropes checking her work to make sure it wasn’t too tight. 

“How’re you feeling, John?” She asked as she threaded her fingers into his fair, gently brushing it back and tilting his head up to look at her. With semi-glassy eyes and gently parted lips he blinked slowly at her. Almost like a contented cat sitting beside a fireplace--letting her know he was well on his way already. The deep frustration she saw in him earlier had vanished.

“Good. I’m good.” 

Without prompting he raised his arms and positioned them behind his head groaning a little as the rope on his torso bit into his skin as he moved. His elbows pointed up to the ceiling with his toned forearms pressed against his biceps. 

“Fuck. You look like a little present. Maybe I’ll open you later if you’re good.” 

John sucked in a breath at her words and marvelled at how she always knew exactly what to say and even more importantly, when to say it.

Helen tugged his hair a little and wrapped her hand around his clenched jaw, regaining his focus and attention.

“Promise me you’ll use your safe word if you need to.”

“I will.” He answered, without hesitation and she felt his jaw relax under her fingers. A subtle but reassuring sign. As much as she trusted John she also knew he would push himself beyond his limits if she didn’t keep checking in and reminding him that this wasn’t meant to be a punishment, but rather something that could bring them closer together. She had no interest in breaking him. She wanted to bring him to the edge and safely back again.   

As she undid another hank of rope she nudged his thigh gently with her foot. 

“Crossed legs. Kneeling will be too much.”

John briefly lowered his arms and repositioned himself, moving off of his knees to sit as Helen instructed. He settled himself and trailed his hands up and over his chest. The rope restricted his motion somewhat and the jute dug roughly into his skin as his muscles shifted with each movement. By the time he had his arms back in position he was covered in goosebumps. Desperate to be touched and handled by her again.

Helen moved quickly, standing over John as she worked up the series of loops and hitches to secure his arms in the desired position, always checking to make sure his joints were in alignment and not over-extended. As she secured the final knot she paused and checked his hands again to make sure his circulation was fine. 

She circled around to the front of him and crouched down, gently placing her hand on the centre of his chest. 

“Feeling ok?”

“Uh huh.” He uttered quietly. 

“You look so beautiful like this.” John blushed crimson at those words and his already altered breathing picked up speed.

She brushed her hands up his side, feeling the contrast of the rough jute rope and his soft, warm skin as he shivered under her touch. She crowded him and leaned over checking his hands again. He leaned his head against her and pressed his face into her thigh. Losing himself in her softness, her warmth and her scent until he felt her pull away. Or at least he thought she had. He really wasn’t sure. 

“I wish you could see how gorgeous you are right now. Would you like to see what I see?”

“Mmm.” He murmured as he nodded slowly.

Helen reached for the polaroid camera he’d set out for her earlier.

She smiled to herself as she felt him start shivering in earnest, more of his bodyweight leaning against her than before. She carefully guided him just under the arms so that he was sitting more on his own again as she sat down beside him. 

His chest was a deep pink colour now. Helen cradled his face with her hands and spoke quietly but firmly. 

“Do you remember your safe word?” 

It took him a moment to register her words, his eyes were glassy and heavily lidded.

She waited, patiently, searching his face and body for signs of distress but she found none -- he was afloat and drifting.

“Yeah.” He said softly in a tone she hadn't heard from him before--as if he was dreaming.

Their bedroom always had such beautiful light so Helen had no trouble snapping a few beautiful shots of John as he sat there, tied, exposed and utterly vulnerable to her--and for her. The rope bisecting his scars and tattoos. Transforming them into something new and unreadable. Disrupting their place and meaning on his body. The marks she’d leave on him were temporary and the longer lasting ones--the ones that mattered most of all were and would always be invisible.

John’s chin quivered as she snapped the last shot and she could see the goosebumps were all over his body now. She let him have a few more moments before she began untying him. 

As she carefully guided his arms back down to his sides his teeth started to chatter.

“I’ve got you.” She said as she pulled out her safety sheers and cut the rope off his chest quickly and efficiently.

She pulled a blanket and a pillow off the end of the bed and wrapped it around him before she moved the pillow into position.

“You did so well.” She said as she guided him to lay down. It was much easier to keep him on the floor where he was than to risk moving him and having him fall. Helen was strong but not quite strong enough to handle his dead weight. 

“Are you ok now?”

She laid next to him and smoothed her hand soothingly through his hair as he shivered.

John made small contented sounds as he focused on her touch with his eyes closed.

He was slowly coming back to himself--he’d never floated that far and become that unaware before. It was blissful and terrifying all at once.

“Yeah. I am.” He said as a languid smile stretched across his lips. 

Helen kissed his forehead. “I’m going to get you something--do you feel ok to be alone for a moment?”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t you dare get up, though.”

He laughed softly. “I won’t, promise.”

Helen padded to the kitchen and got the snacks for John as well as some water and an advil. 

He was sitting propped up against the end of the bed when she walked back in. He was so overwhelmed by her love and care he could barely breathe.  

“I thought you promised not to move.” She said with a rueful smile, interrupting his reverie as she set down the snacks beside him.

He grinned sheepishly at her and shrugged as she slid her arm around his waist and settled herself next to him. She picked up a piece of strawberry and held it aloft before she offered it to him. He leaned forward and bit into it--his lips brushing against her fingers, the bright flavour and sweetness washing over his taste buds. 

Helen’s eyes crinkled softly as she smiled and picked up some cheese.

“I’m so sorry, Helen.” John said suddenly.

She watched as the tension crept back into his body. 

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Let’s just enjoy each other for a while, hmm?”

For a moment John looked like he was about to say something but instead he leaned closer to her, looped his arm around her waist and allowed himself to sink back into the relaxed calm he’d felt only moments before. 

--------------------------------------------------

TAGS:

@inlovewithliferuiners​ @nnneith​ @xo-dragonette-xo​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login

@fanficsrusz​ @baphometwolf666​ @sgt-morgan​ @thesadvampire​ @mikaneonox​ @paanchu786​

@ficsnroses​ @keanuwwu​ @kathorax​ @beyond-antares​ @fics-not-tragedies​ @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​ @jardani-jovonovich-bitch​ @21stcenturyyfoxx​ @ladyreapermc​

@holiday-armadildo​ @harrisongslimited​ @keandrews @danceoftwowolves​

If you want in or out of the tags let me know! I’d never be insulted if you’d like to be removed and of course, I’m delighted to add you to it. 

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (gene/paul, nc-17) (part 23 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter:  Paul and Gene watch T.V. and continue to delay the inevitable.

          They went home after that, stopping only to pick up some more takeout for dinner. Paul was bemoaning it a bit, and offering to make them both sandwiches instead, even when he was pulling up to the restaurant.

         “I’ve gained three pounds just this past week.”

         “You’ve been weighing yourself?”

         Paul looked at him weirdly.

         “Well, yeah. Every day.”

         “Even since this happened?” Gene was a little bewildered to think that even getting cursed hadn’t been enough to distract Paul out of that particular concern.

         “Yeah. I think I’m still gaining it all in the abdomen.” Paul took a disgusted glance down at himself, assuming he could even see his stomach past his chest. Gene was beginning to wonder. “We can’t keep eating like we’re on the road.”

         “Can’t we?”

         “Fuck, no.” Paul grimaced, shaking his head as he parked the car and turned off the engine. “I spent the entire break trying to get my weight down.”

         “You look fine. Why are you so worried?”

         “The costume girls’ll have a fit.”

         It was the first time either of them had mentioned anything related to the tour all day. It cut through the Central Park fantasy like an Exacto knife. Gene wasn’t going to have some cute girl—this cute girl—hanging on his arm for much longer. Maybe no more than a few hours.

         Gene rubbed his elbow uncomfortably. Paul, gazing at his own reflection in the car mirror and pushing his hair in front of his shoulders, didn’t seem to notice, so Gene pushed the rest of his thoughts aside. They got out of the car together; Gene paid for the food, and they returned to Paul’s place soon after. Half the takeout was gone before they’d even gotten home with it. They finished off the rest at the kitchen island, then laid around on the couch awhile, T.V. running in the background while Gene read and Paul doodled.

         It was kind of funny, really. Occasionally it felt like nothing had really shifted. Still watching T.V. together like they used to in the hotels, back when getting laid after the show was a distant hope and not an inevitability. Eating out of Styrofoam boxes. Joking around and shooting the shit.

         The rest of the time, Gene was painfully aware of how much had shifted. There was the sex, sure, even if they hadn’t gone all the way, but that wasn’t the whole of it. He’d still have his gloomy spells, sure, but overall, Paul seemed so happy. So open. So—maybe Gene was giving himself too much credit, but Paul seemed—taken with him. He’d never been aware of anything like that out of Paul before. If those big, dark eyes had ever looked Gene’s way with half the warmth and attention he was getting now, then—well, then, Gene hadn’t noticed.

         He’d thought Paul didn’t like him a bit when they’d first met, in fact. He’d been high on his own bravado, and Paul had just hung in the periphery of his circles. Somebody had introduced them, and Gene had popped off immediately, something like oh, you write songs?, and Paul—well, he’d been Stan, and Stanley if you wanted to piss him off, back then; he hadn’t gone by Paul until a year or two later—had snapped right back with an affirmative.

         He remembered asking him to play one for him, and Paul had. The song was a lousy, incoherent mash-up of the Stones, Bowie, and the Beatles at their most soused, and his playing was worse. But somehow after, they’d just… Gene didn’t know. He couldn’t remember a definitive point where they’d clicked. Paul had still been in the process of nearly flunking out of high school, while Gene was a sophomore, or maybe a junior in college. But he remembered starting to call him up after classes, inviting him to parties and jams. He remembered thinking Paul was standoffish and nervous, not cut out at all for the rockstar career he was so desperate for. But he didn’t remember ever getting the feeling Paul dug him. More that he was just lonely.

         He didn’t want to delve into it too deeply. Rethink nearly ten years of interactions. It wouldn’t do any good, and it wouldn’t change any of the way things were right now. He watched Paul kick up his ankles against the arm of the couch, and finally spoke.

         “What did you take us out for, anyway?”

         Paul glanced up from his drawing. It was something weird and abstract, not the eerily-accurate dick sketches Gene was accustomed to out of him. Hatchmarks, parallel lines, and weird, elongated shapes were well on their way to completely covering the sketchpad.

         “To pay you back. I told you.” The pencil resumed its scratch across the page.

         “No, why did you really do it?”

         “Because we’d never get to again.”

         That was all he said for awhile. The words hung like streamers. Gene sort of wanted to argue him down, even though he wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know exactly what Paul meant.

         “You can take me out anytime.”

         “Not like that.”  Paul shifted abruptly. “I’m gonna go shower.”

         Gene raised his head, half at the words, half at the slight thump of Paul’s sketchpad next to him on the couch.

         “Want some company? I hear there’s a water shortage.”

         Paul shook his head. Gene felt guilty at his own weird relief. For whatever reason, Paul wasn’t ready yet. They could keep on pretending for awhile longer.

         “Maybe later tonight.”

         Gene nodded. Paul’s expression seemed a little bit strained, but he turned and headed for the bedroom, not closing the door behind him. A minute or two later, Gene could hear the sound of the water running.

         Then he got up, looking through the living room’s bookshelf as if he hadn’t done it prior. Paul didn’t really read for pleasure. He had stuff like  The Power of Positive Thinking,  Games People Play, I’m OK – You’re OK, and a ragged copy of  How to Win Friends and Influence People, the last of which was highlighted like a book of scripture. Gene had been flipping through it while Paul drew.

         Then he had magazines with his face or KISS’ picture on the front cover. No intellectual reading material at all, though that wasn’t what he was looking for. At the bottom of one shelf were Paul’s junior and senior annuals and a small line of photo albums. Gene pulled one of the older-looking albums out at random.

         It was green and typical, with thick black pages. Probably one Paul’s parents had started of him. The initial contents weren’t surprising. A faded birth announcement. A taped-in lock of baby hair dated August 2, 1952—Paul’s parents hadn’t bothered with upsherin, so maybe it was no wonder he’d never had his bar mitzvah. Sepia infant photos—Gene swallowed a bit when he realized that even in the pictures where Paul was barely able to sit up on his own, the photographer had him posed with his head turned to the right, to hide the microtia. Some pictures from birthdays. A picture of him along with the rest of his second grade class. They were lined up by height, and Paul was standing towards the back, easily recognizable just from the eyes and expression. By that point, he’d apparently figured out the pose on his own; he was almost aggressively facing right, while everyone else was looking the camera head-on.

         All that misery and insecurity over two square inches of missing cartilage.

         Gene shook his head. He flipped past most of the rest of the pictures of Paul as a kid, past even the awkward handful from when he was a teenager, before finally coming up on photos slightly closer to current. He’d apparently kept a few Polaroids from Wicked Lester and the earliest days of KISS, before they’d even had the makeup. Then, as he turned the pages, he found a scattering of random, more recent shots. Paul goofing off in hotel rooms. Paul lounging in swim trunks by the pool. Paul in a tux sucking cake frosting off his fingers at Ace’s wedding.

         He was trying to hammer in his head that this was how Paul really was and really looked. He was trying to figure out if he’d still be attracted to him once he was back to normal. If he’d feel something while he looked at the pictures. Start getting hot under the collar, maybe, the way he did with Playboy centerfolds. But—well, Paul only tried provocative poses when he had on the greasepaint, and most everything in the album was barefaced and fairly candid. Gene wasn’t sure he was feeling anything beyond some fondness while looking over pictures of Paul in front of the Eiffel Tower or eating poi in Hawaii.

         That bothered him. Not that he was planning on jacking off to a stupid picture of Paul sitting shirtless on the hood of his car, but—he’d—he’d wanted something definite out of this. Arousal or repulsion. He needed to know. Whether Paul had wanted him for four days or four years, Gene owed him that much.

         The dull white noise of the shower cut off. Gene put the photo album and the book back on the shelf and waited for Paul’s returning footsteps. Maybe later tonight, he’d said. Maybe later than that.

--

         Paul spent longer than he meant to in there. Cleaned himself up, washed his hair and shaved. He’d gotten into the habit of shaving almost everything but his chest and sometimes his underarms because of the tours. Now that he was basically down to only having to worry about his underarms and legs, the effort took two minutes or less, leaving him just standing useless for awhile under the spray.

         He knew what his next move ought to be, just as well as Gene did. Invite him in, get rid of the whole virginity problem, and get back to normal. There was no reason to keep delaying it. He’d had his time with Gene. More of it than he probably deserved, the way that they’d already wormed themselves out of the curse’s terms of consummation, like wily lawyers with contracts.

         He wasn’t scared. Well. He wasn’t just scared. He knew it was probably going to hurt. He hadn’t tried to penetrate himself since that second night with Gene, and even Gene’s fingering had pretty much been rubbing. If he couldn’t tolerate a finger inside him, a dick would be even worse. Paul was tempted to blame it on Carol, but if one less-sexy Playboy article was anything to go by, it was really just his nerves. He’d have no bulwark against them, either, no drugs or alcohol, when he slept with Gene. When he really slept with Gene.

         That wasn’t his real problem, anyway. His real problem was the same as ever. Knowing it would all be over as soon as he let it happen.

         He skimmed a hand over one newly-smooth thigh, fingers sliding across his wet skin. Up to his stomach, then his breasts, idly pushing them together. Considering. Wondering how it must’ve felt for Pinocchio once he got everything he ever wanted, once he was flesh instead of wood. Funny how that was Gene’s takeaway from that movie. Work hard, get your wish. Input-output. But he wasn’t going to get his wish here. Paul couldn’t be a real girl for him. No part of him ought to have ever wanted to try.

         He’d just have to steel himself up for the end, that was all. Delaying it too long was only going to make it worse. It was—it was abysmal, not having taken care of it already, when he’d been so desperate to do it only the day before. But he couldn’t bring himself to commit just yet. Whether out of cowardice or longing, he didn’t know. He wanted to keep messing around with Gene as long as he could. Have Gene keep looking at him, keep touching him. Keep being with him. 

         He swallowed thickly, stepped out of the shower, and dried his hair off a bit with a towel, pulling on a bathrobe before heading back out to the living room. Gene was still on that same couch,  Hawaii Five-O playing in the background. Jack Lord was really starting to look craggy now.

         “You wanna go to bed?”

         “This early?” Gene looked a little amused, but Paul thought there might be something else there. Something on the border of disappointment.

         “There’s nothing on T.V.”

         “Did I play my cards right?”

         “You didn’t play them wrong. We can fool around some more. I’ll keep my top off.”

         It was a lousy offer for a guy who had girls chomping at the bit to sleep with him, and Paul knew it. But the grin he got in response was enough to make some of his guilt, some of his self-disgust, ease off, if only briefly.

         “C’mon, I’ve got an idea.”

--

         Gene followed him to the bedroom affably, taking off his borrowed t-shirt and tossing it on the floor. He didn’t start on his pants, but Paul did for him, unzipping and tugging them down. Gene’s mouth crooked up, uncertain but pleased.

         “You’ve got an awfully wide berth for fooling around, Paul.”

         “I’ve got an awful lot of practice.” Paul untied his bathrobe but didn’t take it off yet. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing beneath it. His hair was still pretty wet, skin pink from the shower. The musky scent of him was almost gone, rinsed away by the shower and soaps, only readily apparent again when Gene’s hand moved between his thighs. It was kind of a thrill to find that earlier hadn’t been a fluke. Paul just kept getting wet for him easier than even a groupie.

         Kissing down his neck as he kept stroking, getting a couple soft grunts in response, Gene wondered what Paul was up to. He was positioned a little awkwardly, legs spread wide, with Gene kneeling in the space between them. Paul kept shifting on the bed, posture a little stiff. Not like yesterday; he just seemed like he was deliberating, anticipating. Gene didn’t think Paul was comfortable enough to pull out any toys or handcuffs. Even light bondage seemed like a little much. Possibly—

         “Did you want to 69?”

         “Nah, I hate that shit. Give me your hand.”

         “Paul, if you’re going to tie me up, I want a striptease first.”

         Paul shrugged off the bathrobe and tossed it at him with a grin.

         “I’m not gonna tie you up, Jesus. Just give me your hand.”

         Impishly, Gene offered the right one, already soaked in Paul’s fluids. He was surprised when Paul took it, grabbing his wrist and pressing Gene’s palm into his cleavage, guiding it up and down. Gene felt a shiver run up his back, dick stiffening to full attention when Paul let go of his hand. The thin streaks of clear fluid left behind were their own promise, one that only got more definite as Paul lowered himself onto the bed, gesturing for Gene to come forward. He did, straddling him carefully, cock resting between his slightly-slick breasts. Paul squeezed them together experimentally, the brief pressure enough to make Gene twitch. Fuck. He hadn’t even fantasized about this one. Fucking Paul against the wall, eating him out--sure, sure. Paul letting him go for a titfuck had been way too far out of the realm of possibility for him to picture.

         “It’s enough, right?” Paul’s voice was soft, vaguely pleased. Gene grunted an assent. They were definitely enough. Another squeeze, though Gene hadn’t tried to thrust yet, Paul watching for his reaction. “Figured we could put them to some use.”

         “What’re you getting out of this?”

         “The same thing you got out of me getting off on your leg. A good view.” Paul reached a hand up, stroking along Gene’s arm. “Now c’mon, I don’t wanna have to put K-Y on my tits.”

[teenitinygod]

Hello, Hello, this is the person who did the last submit. Thank you for the offer but I don’t have a discord account, Idon'thaveanyfriendswhouseittowarrantmakingone.

Although, if you liked my previous submit, I thought you might be interested in hearing me out when it comes to mischaracterization since I didn’t go into detail in my previous submit since that’s a whole rant of its own. I’ll be taking inspiration from neutinya’s haikyuu mischaracterization post but give it a BSD twist. My intention isn’t to call specific people out, I’m simply going off what I’ve seen within the fandom. Which in turn leads to diluting or mischaracterizing a character until they’re nearly unrecognizable or portraying them in a bad light that they don’t deserve. There may be a few tw instances, so you’re free to edit this post as you see fit and add any necessary warnings.

So to begin with. Let’s get the big one out of the way real quick.

- Dazai -

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve seen Dazai being portrayed as nothing more than a twofaced lying bastard, I wouldn’t have to work anymore. Most of these support it by saying that he doesn’t actually trust the ADA since he didn’t tell them about his past and doesn’t inform them of every little thing. Basically, they portray him as being 100% an act who doesn’t care about anyone. And then berate him by saying that they refuse to take his mental health seriously until he’s shown to have a breakdown.

I believe anyone who has suffered from depression or any other kind of mental health issue has felt the need to act happy all the time when in public and then quiet down when they’re alone. That doesn’t make them a fake. They are under no obligation to tell every single thing going across their mind to their friend and that same logic applies to Dazai.

Moreover, we also have to take into consideration Dazai’s past. He simply can’t afford to make himself vulnerable. There’s literally a list of people out for his head. Additionally, of he were to tell everything to the ADA, he would be potentially dragging his new friends into his own mess and put them in unwarranted danger. Sure, the ADA already deals with a lot of dangerous stuff but I doubt he would purposely put them in harms way because of what he would consider his own selfishness.

Now in the terms of romance. A lot of people just mark him as the one who could never be faithful. I believe a romantic relationship with Dazai would be completely trust based. Ergo, a “love at first sight” scenario would definitely lead to it becoming nothing more than a one-time fling. To go off your last Dazai scenario, I actually do believe that if Dazai felt like he was getting too attached to someone, he might try to push them away out of utter self-loathing that he could never give them what they want. Essentially, fearing a scenario like that in No Longer Human where Yozo got together with Yoshiko and she ended up getting raped because of his involvement with her.

Atsushi isn’t just a crybaby. He’s brave simply because of the fact that he’s willing to do his best despite his fear. Moreover, his initial fear of being seen as a burden to the ADA is completely valid when you take into consideration his past treatment. A lot treat him as dull and boring character and go on about preferring his Beast counterpart. It’s fine to have a preference but I don’t think this is a reason to hate on him since the point of Beast was to elaborate on how alike Atsushi and Akutagawa are by putting them in the other’s shoes. And we see in even Beast, Atsushi is just the ultimate good boy cinnamonroll.

In romance, I keep seeing him being forced to portray the badboy roll and being just terrible to whoever is his partner within the story. Do people really think that he would so much as even consider berating his partner after all he’s been through?

- Kunikida -

He isn’t just some emotionless asshole. He cares. He’s just doesn’t show it in the most conventional way some are used to. Perhaps this is because the anime caused confusion by changing the time setting of the Azure Disciple event— But within the novel you can tell that he cares for and eventually starts to think highly of Dazai as the story progresses. He doesn’t express it since Dazai would tease him to the ends of the earth. But there were moments like in the embassy in which he mentally admired how talented he was. Or how elaborated that his way of knowing when something was wrong with Dazai was when he starts acting “normal”. As the novel put it, basically, weird is normal for Dazai while normal is weird. So when Dazai starts acting “normal” that’s his way of knowing that something is up.

In terms of romance… I swear I want to fight someone. The majority of Kunikida content I find usually involves him be pedophilic by having this thing for schoolgirls or just has whoever is his partner constant cry at him that he doesn’t love them since he doesn’t show his affection the conventional way. Then, the story goes on about how the partner keeps trying to change them. For starters. There is nothing wrong with having the thought of an ideal partner. Most of have twisted the idea of him having an ideal partner as him having this list of physical traits he wants them to have or some crap like that. Do people really think he’s that shallow? Having an ideal partner just means that you know what you want in a partner. Like how they treat you, if they’re neat and polite, etc. Moreover, we’ve seen time and time again that despite what he says, Kunikida is still willing to bend a little. Obviously he will hold his ground if you berate his ideals. But it’s possible to change his mind if you respect his ideals and offer alternatives and are willing to work with him.

- Chuuya -

Look. I don’t care what you ship. But Chuuya is way more than just that one guy who is constantly yelling about Dazai. He has every right to be portrayed as his own character without the need to involve Dazai around the line.

He may be angry when Dazai is involved but he’s the nicest grump you’ll ever see towards everyone else. In the spin-off novel, there’s a scene where he talks to Tsujimura, for example. He still kept this badass aura but spoke to her with the dignity and presence of a respectable mafia executive. Moreover, I noticed this why checking. Kyouko really did make sure he drank his respect-women dose every day since I noticed he never actually curses at female characters. With the Tsujimura scene, for example, he kept his usual rude speech but didn’t start to actually curse until Ango was brought up. With the battle against Yosano, he never pulled the “oh, you’re just a woman” crap when they appeared.

In the terms of romance. I swear I feel the need to break someone’s nico-nico-kneecaps for the outrageous amount of fics I find with Chuuya straight up raping his partner. Like, the man didn’t even want to fight against his sheep friends when they literally and figuratively stabbed in him in the back. It’s hard for me to imagine him as someone who wouldn’t treat his partner with the utmost respect in the world.

- Higuchi -

People seriously need to stop hating on her just ‘cause she’s “getting in the way of ships.” The gal clearly cares about Akutagawa and I don’t think it’s fair to hate on her just because of that. On that note, the whole idea of hating on female characters under the pretext of them getting in the way of ships seriously needs to stop. The fact that a female character cares for a guy, be it romantically or not, isn’t an excuse to antagonize them and treat them as an eyesore. She’s funny, she’s goofy, She’s just an ordinary lady who might be momentarily blinded by affection and get carried away. Which surely must happen to anyone who has experienced some kind of crush.

In the terms of romance. I haven’t read much fics with Higuchi as the main love interest. However, I have seen the AkutawagaxSomeoneElse types who just blatantly portray Higuchi as this terrible and wicked woman who is trying to ruin Akutagawa’s partner’s life. Sure, Higuchi may be heartbroken that she couldn’t be the chosen one but I doubt she would stoop as low as to ruin Akutagawa’s potential happiness. The most she would do is perhaps investigate if they’re a spy who intends to harm or use him.

- Yosano -

She’s a strong independent woman, enough said. I feel like a lot of people interpret her dislike for weak men as her either disliking physically weak men or disliking men altogether. Naturally, a strong woman would want and deserve someone who is equally as badass as them. So what I interpret her saying when she says she dislikes weak men is that she dislikes mentally weak men who bend over backwards easily and men who are so petty that they feel the need to look down on women just because of the fact that they’re a woman. The anime did her dirty by sexualizing her during her first introduction. We all know that one scene where she strips off her shirt before treating Tanizaki. Heck, I remember when I first saw that scene without knowing much about BSD I legit thought her healing ability involved her having sex with the guys. It was only until I read the manga some time later that I realized that wasn’t the case.

In the terms of romance. Again, she has every right to have someone as strong as herself. A badass would want someone who is just as badass standing as their partner. Moreover, I haven’t seen it to the degree as Higuchi’s case but I have seen the occasional hate on her under the pretext that she’s getting in the way of ships. To which I say again: We seriously need to stop antagonizing female characters who so much as exist in the same panel as a male character that’s involved in a popular fandom ship.

——–

Well then. Those were the most prominent ones that came to mind, so I surely left out some characters who have been mischaracterized just as badly.

Thank you for your time.

Ok quickly, our discord (dazai simps) is open to having you. We love new friends and meeting people, so an open invite is available.  i couldn’t agree with you more- i hate how Dazai is portrayed sometimes, his emotions are complex and he’s not as simple as an angsty suicidal flirt. Especially went the reader comes into the picture and it turns into a “love at first sight” thing. They may be fictional characters but i care that the characters i write for are as close to accurate as i can

I’ll go deeper into this later but i agree

Also I love when you send me these, i love reading them and you’re so sweet <3

[fanficsrusz]

Bedroom Window - John Wick Smut

A/n : so this is based of a situation that happened to me yesterday 😭😭 i wish i could make this shit up but my neighbour saw me get undressed because i left my curtains open and yhh it was the most embarrassing thing ever. @xo-dragonette-xo and @mikaneonox suggested i should turn this into a fic so i did 😂😂😭😭

Sighing, y/n slammed the door to her apartment shut. Her day at work had been long and frustrating. Her manager had kept nagging her to complete her work faster, her colleague smashed her favourite cup and she had dropped her laptop causing it to smash to pieces. 

She wanted nothing more than to change into comfy clothes and ingest an unhealthy amount of ice cream in an inhuman amount of time. 

She shuffled into her bedroom, throwing her heels of along the way. 

"Rebecca" the girl called out to her roommate. When no reply came she assumed she was out. As she approached her bedroom door, she noticed a note stuck to the handle. 

"y/n, i've gone out for the day. I won't be back to late. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Love you". Y/n laughed to herself and sighed "at least I can watch my shows alone" she smiled to herself happy at the fact that she would be able to relax in the silence of the flat by herself. 

Once in the bedroom, she threw her bag onto the bed as she turned the light on. Pulling out her phone she pressed shuffle on her playlist and let her worries wash away as she sang along to the lyrics, moving about the room as she sorted herself out. 

She  removed the hair band from her ponytail and ran her fingers through her hair, releasing the pressure it had on her head. 

Once happy with her hair, she began to remove the pencil skirt she was wearing. Pushing it to the floor she sighed as she felt like she could finally relax without the tight material around her waist. 

She picked it up from the ground and moved to hang it up on a coat hanger before beginning to remove her blouse. 

She stood in her lacy black underwear as she hung it up with the other clothes in her wardrobe. 

She moved over to her dressing table and began to take off her jewellery, placing them in the trinket box where they belong. 

"good evening y/n"

Y/n stilled her movements as she heard a voice call out to her. It was a man's voice, smooth like honey and warm like a hot apple pie, yet she could hear that whoever spoke had a smirk on their face. 

At first she thought she imagined it, knowing that she was alone in the house but then she heard him chuckle, confirming that she did in fact hear someone call out to her. 

Slowly she turned to the direction that the voice came from. 

Letting out a yelp, y/n grabbed a pillow from her bed in an attempt to cover herself as she looked out of her bedroom window. 

The curtains and window were wide open, revealing her to the world but more importantly, revealing her to her handsome neighbour known as John Wick. 

He stood in a white button up shirt as he leaned onto the windowsill, staring at the girl who stood only in her underwear with his dark brown eyes that seemed to be able to stare right into her soul.

 His hair was slicked back and he looked memorising. If under any other circumstances, y/n would have swooned at how good he looked but instead she just wanted to die. 

She never really had a chance to talk to him properly, just barely having time to say a quick good morning when she passed him in the street or having a quick conversation when she bumped into him at the local store. 

Y/n stepped out of view of the man and to the side of the window. She heard him chuckle to himself and her cheeks burned red from embarrassment . 

"John, im so sorry. I- um- i dont - oh god. I'm so sorry." she peeked around the corner as she looked at the man as he laughed. 

She couldn't deny the fact that he was attractive, especially the way he stood at that moment. 

His muscles prominent in the tight shirt he wore. 

" its ok. Y/n. it should be me apologising, besides i quite enjoyed what I saw if im honest. I think any man would enjoy watching a beautiful girl get undressed" the words made y/n blush deeper and she opened her mouth to say a smart remark back but nothing came. For once in her life, she was speechless. 

John laughed deeply as he watched the girl shuffle awkwardly. 

" if you want, I can return the favour?" he joked as he began to unbutton the top button of his own shirt and y/n quickly covered her eyes. 

"no it's quite ok. I think im just going to go die of embarrassment if you don't mind. Goodnight John". 

Y/n rushed to close the curtains, not giving John the chance to answer. 

She held her hand to her chest as she tried to control her breathing. 

"Why do you hate me God" she sighed and began to make her way to the bathroom to shower. She double checked the curtains were shut before she stepped into the shower, not wanting to give any one else a private show.

~

Sitting on the sofa, y/n lazily flicked through the various programs on netflix, not being able to settle on something. Finally she decided to just listen to some music instead. 

She picked up her phone as she flicked through social media. 

For some reason, she couldn't quite concentrate on what she was looking at as her mind kept wandering back to the events of what happened earlier. 

She squeezed her legs tight together as she felt herself become wet just thinking of the look on John's face as he watched her. She shook her head as she threw the thoughts out of her head. 

"get it together y/n" she whispered to herself as she went back to scrolling through Instagram. 

The doorbell rang, causing y/n to jump out of her seat. She looked up at the clock and was confused as to who it could be. She wasn't expecting anyone and it was too late for any packages to be delivered. 

Slowly she made her way over to the door, the oversized shirt she wore fell to her knees as she stood on her tiptoes to look out of the spyhole. 

Her stomach twisted as she saw who was at the door. 

"just a minute" she called out as she stumbled to the nearest mirror, quickly fixing her hair. 

She flung the door open, revealing john as he leaned against the door frame. "john. What can I do for you?". She tried to play it cool as John looked down at her, taking in her outfit before he stood straight, extending a bottle of wine that he held in his hand. 

"as an apology for…the little show i wasnt suppose to see" john laughed as y/n blushed looking down. 

She stepped aside, allowing john to enter. 

He looked around at the flat and smiled. "you have beautiful taste in decor y/n" he looked around the flat and y/n thanked him as she walked into the living room. 

John followed closely behind her, watching as she made her way over to a cabinet, pulling out two wine glasses from it. 

John poured the drinks and handed one to y/n who quickly downed it in one. 

"did you enjoy the show then?" she said bravely as she twirled the glass in hand, the alcohol in her system now making it easier for her to speak. John sat down on the sofa as y/n stood in the middle of the room. He looked at her with dark eyes before smirking.

" I didn't really get to see that much. Maybe you should do another dance for me" john sat back in his seat as he opened his legs wide, his bulge now evident as a tent formed in his pants. 

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip as she contemplated on the idea. 

She had remembered something her roommate had told her: "you never take any risks". And that's all she needed for her to make up her mind. 

She walked over to the dimmer switch on the wall and dimmed the lights enough for him to still see every detail but dark enough to set the mood. 

She could feel john's eyes on her every move and so made sure to sway her hips more than usual as she made her way back to the centre of the room. 

The music she was listening to in the background continued to play and she closed her eyes, letting the soft beats take control of her body. 

Her hands gripped onto the hem of her shirt as she began to sway her hips in time to the music. 

Johns eyes were glued to how the girls body danced to the beat. 

She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, she was so glad she had decided on wearing good underwear that night. She made sure she stuck out her chest as she moved the material off her body and through it at john. 

He sat forward, catching the shirt and beckoned her closer with a single finger. 

Y/n approached carefully as she smirked at the man. Once she was close enough she leaned forward placing her hands onto his knees. 

"do you do this for all your neighbours?" his voice was low as he asked the simple question. 

Y/n dropped to her knees and rested her head onto his jeans clad thighs. Looking up at him with doe eyes she thought for a moment before dragging her fingers up his leg, stopping just before she got to his crotch. 

"only the ones who deserve it". Johns cock became painful in his pants, the material becoming to restrictive for his liking. Y/n noticed how he squirmed and so moved to pull his jeans down. She 'accidentally' grazed against his crotch as she removed the jeans. John let out a hiss as he threw his head back. "you're playing with fire little one" he warned her and y/n took that as her own personal challenge. 

Y/n threw his pants and underwear to the floor, watching as his cock sprang free, hitting his stomach as it stood tall. She admired how veins danced across the skin and she licked her own lips. 

She looked up at johns eyes that bore deep into hers and she slowly moved up to his face. 

John let out a moan as she passed his cock and moved towards his face. 

She placed a hand onto his face, feeling the stubble under her palm she couldn't help but anticipate the feeling of it rubbing against her thighs. 

She leaned in slowly before she kissed him, her soft lips tasted like wine and complemented johns rough lips. 

He reached a hand up and brought it to her hair as be gripped it tightly. Y/n moaned at the movement and moved her hand down to his cock. 

She gripped the base of if slowly and john let out a moan. Y/n moved her hand from the base to the tip, feeling him twitch under her hand. She memorised every vein that she came across before she reached the top. 

Once there, she flicked across the slit as pre cum leaked from it. He pulled away from the kiss, earning himself a small moan of disappointment from y/n. He leaned his forehead against hers as he breathed heavily. 

"so you like to tease people huh" he breathed out as he reached behind her, unclasping her bra, letting it drop as it revealed her perky breasts. Her nipples were hard with arousal and John placed a kiss on her neck, making sure to bite down so he would leave a mark. 

It was now y/n turn to let out a moan as she stretched her neck back giving him more space. She grabbed onto his shoulders to stop herself falling back. 

John kissed his way down to her chest where he took a nipple into his mouth. His tongue dancing around the sensitive lump. His other hand moving to grab the other tit harshly. Y/n pushed her chest further into his face as she rocked her hips against his cock. The material of her panties rubbed against his throbbing cock causing john to moan against the nipple in his mouth. 

"John please. I want you inside me" she begged and john pulled away as he looked at her face, small beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. 

John picked her up by her hips, making y/n laugh and he flipped her around so she laid on sofa. 

"I think I should take my turn in teasing you first. Show you what it's like to get only half a show". He crouched between his legs and Y/n watched as john rubbed his large hand up to her heat, rubbing his thumb over the clothed area. He slowly pulled the panties down to reveal the glistening liquid that seeped from her. 

"we haven't even done anything and you're already this wet?". 

Y/n hid her face in her hands as John placed his large hands on her thighs, spreading her wide for him to see. Y/n shuddered as she felt his hot breath on her heat, letting herself relax in his touch. 

Y/n watched as John leaned down and pressed kisses to the inside of her thigh.

John kept eye contact with her as he made his way up, stopping just inches from where she wanted him to touch. He admired how beautiful her pussy was, pink and luscious, ready for him to explore. 

John stuck out his tongue and gave one long lick up her slit.

Y/n threw her head back at the sudden sensation, pushing her hands into his hair to keep him there and a small moan escaping her lips. 

John smirked at her reaction and spread her with his fingers. He used her own wetness as a lubricant as be pushed two fingers inside her. 

She was tight around him and he smirked as he began to pump slowly in and out of her. 

Y/n moaned quietly as she closed her eyes and John began to draw circles around her clit with his tongue and y/n tightened her grip on Johns hair. She felt as his stubble rubbed against her thighs and She arched her back, bringing her knees up higher as she felt a knot begin to form in the pit of her stomach as she edged closer to her release.

"oh God John, ple- ah please don't stop" she begged him. John felt her walls tighten around his fingers and he suddenly pulled away. 

Y/n let her arms fall to her side at the lack of contact and her chest heaved from her heavy breathing. 

"why did you stop" she asked pouting through breaths and John just laughed as he crawled over her.

"pay back for teasing me for that little show of yours earlier." he reached his hand down as he lined his erect cock up with her hole and pushed the tip in slowly. 

John closed his eyes tightly as he took in how good she felt around him. Y/n voice hitched in her throat as she gripped onto his shoulders, digger her nails into his skin deeply. 

"besides, I want you to cum from my cock y/n not my fingers" he moaned out. 

He began to push himself fully into y/ns cunt. He had never felt someone so tight around his cock and if he wasn't careful he would cum from just that alone. 

John watched as y/n scrunched up her face at the burning sensation that she felt in her pussy. She was being stretched more than she had ever been before. She bit her lip as she tried to suppress the urge to scream her lungs out. She could feel him deep inside her and she let out a moan of ecstasy. 

John stopped briefly once his whole cock stretched her out, waiting for her to finally adjust to his size. 

Y/n opened her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer so she could capture his lips in a kiss. "fuck me John. Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone else before". 

John didn't need to be told twice and so he pulled out of her before slamming straight back in. Her walls were tight around him and the pair moaned in unison. 

He slammed in and out repeatedly, y/ns mouth falling open as she began to feel the beginning stages of her release approach. John watched at y/n's tits bounced in time to his thrusts and he reached to grab one, playing with the sensitive nipple. 

"ahhh faster please" y/n begged and John moved to grip onto her hips, complying with the girls demand. He pushed her hips down in the mattress to stop y/n from bucking them up. Johns hair clung to his forehead as sweat began to drip down his face. He felt as y/ns walls began to tighten around him once again, stopping him from moving in her as fast as he wanted down. He knew she was close just as he was. He reached down between her legs and flicked her sensitive clit and watched as y/n fell apart. Loud moans erupting from her pretty lips as the pleasure took over her body. She no longer cared if the neighbours heard her, all she wanted to do was scream to her heart's desire. 

"cum for me y/n" John whispered into her ear and that's all she needed as her climax hit. "ah fuck John" she moaned out. Johns dick twitched inside her as his own release hit. His thrusts quicken as he milked the last of his cum out of himself. The sticky substance coated y/ns walls and mixed with her own cum. 

Johns thrusts slowed as they both rode out their climaxes, their moans quieting down and being replaced with quick breaths as they both tried to control their breathing. 

John pulled out of y/n and fell next to her on the sofa. 

He turned to look at the y/n's face which was turning red and y/n turned to look at him. They stared at each other momentarily before they both erupted into fits of laughter. 

"I should have left my curtains open a long time ago if i knew that would have happened" John grabbed her hand, enlacing their fingers together and brought it to his lips as he placed a kiss to the back of her hand before letting it  fall onto his stomach as he laughed. "if im honest, you've left it open a few times and I've just watched but I finally had the courage to tell you this time" John laughed as the girl sat up suddenly a small grin on her face.

"so you're telling me you've been getting free shows for god knows how long? You owe me big time" she moved to straddle him, leaning down to kiss him,

Their lips moving in unison. 

"WHAT THE FUCK Y/N". Y/ns eyes widened as she recognised the voice of her roommate Rebecca. She turned quickly to confirm her fears and there she stood, a smirk on her face. Y/n scrambled to grab a blanket and covered herself as she jumped of John who hid behind y/n. 

"i dont care if you have sex in the living room y/n but jesus christ i could hear you down the hall, i think the whole road could hear you" Rebecca walked off to her room muttering something about cleaning up any mess, leaving y/n and John to just laugh at the situation they were in.

The end

_______

A/n: Apart from the smut this is actually what happened to me. My roommate also once walked in on me with a guy so thats also fun. Ok hope you enjoyed it.

Tag list:

@gwenebear @celestiaelisia @blondieee-me

[myqueenjudeduarte]

Something Like Trust: Chapter 1

Here it is y’all... the fic you’ve been waiting your whole lives for... a 10k word first chapter of Jurdan BDSM. 

Post-The Wicked King

Tags/Warnings: Slapping (in a sexual context), references to spanking, teasing, orgasm delay, uhh angst and emotional fuckery, BDSM obviously, alcohol, also alcoholism because Cardan is present, kind of exhibitionism, I can’t accurately prepare you guys for this fic so just don’t read it if you aren’t comfortable with BDSM relationships. The later chapters will have a lot more intense stuff so just... be warned. OH also warning for them both being COMPLETELY out of character like honestly y’all this is DISGRACEFUL.

Summary: “I was thinking of an arrangement which would allow you moments of powerlessness. An arrangement in which I would take the control, allowing you to experience the feeling of an utter lack of responsibility, a feeling in which I am in command of all and you have no worries to speak of.”

Word Count: 9,426 I’m sO SORRY

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my fics!

Everyone who knew Jude Duarte came quickly to realize that what she sought, above all else, was power. Control. Influence. That she had long felt powerless, and that she remedied this through a combination of scheming and working to rise to the top.

And rise to the top Jude had.

There were few higher places for an 18-year-old mortal girl to be than by the side of the High King of Elfhame, ruling a kingdom with him. And there were few people more profitable to be close to than the High King himself.

There were times, though, when Jude — though she would never admit it — craved above all else a respite from the power. The control. The influence. Craved, in fact, a moment of return to that place of powerlessness, when the worries of the kingdom had been anyone’s but hers and she was free to rest and roam rather than reign.

And there were moments, now, after nearing 6 months since Jude’s return to Elfhame and eventual semi-reconciliation with Cardan, when Jude imagined herself as powerless once more and still imagined Cardan by her side, not ruling together, but simply being together.

When these thoughts struck Jude she would roughly and with decisiveness shove them to the back of her mind and pretend she had never experienced them. Jude could no more afford a break from her power than she could afford to become emotionally involved with her fellow ruler. These were thoughts she had no choice but to keep to herself, as she did most of her thoughts and all of her feelings.

Until tonight, when Jude was drunk.

Jude was, to be quite transparent, far past drunk. Jude was heavily intoxicated, and, she reasoned, through no fault of her own. She had overheard several subjects of Elfhame debating how, exactly, they were expected to take seriously a queen who was not only mortal, but didn’t even drink. The King, of course, drank his fill — why was the queen so serious all the time? How could she ever expect to fit in with faeries if she wouldn’t even let loose at a revel?

Jude, of course, wanted nothing more than power, and power was a child, born of respect and fear. She rationalized, then, that to fit in in Elfhame more fully would be to earn respect, and with respect, power. She gained from this the idea that she had no choice but to drink.

And drink she did.

Cardan looked on from his throne in bewilderment and something akin to amusement as Jude danced and drank with the people of Elfhame. He wanted nothing more than to join her in her drunken fun, but felt that this was something, strange as it was, she needed to do on her own.

When Cardan was falling asleep on the throne and the sun was beginning to make the day known, Jude finally approached the dais, stumbling and smiling and so, so stunning — at least, that was all Cardan could think of as she draped herself over her throne, positioned beside his.

“Cardan, I danced,” she said. Cardan made a most concerted effort to school his face into seriousness, or at least not to laugh at her. He didn’t want to ruin this.

“Yes, Jude. I watched,” he said in a low voice.

To Cardan’s surprise, he saw a faint blush spread over Jude’s cheeks.

“Did you?” she said, and pushed herself with some difficulty closer to him. “Would you like to watch me further? Perhaps in my chambers, and perhaps wearing less than we are now?” Jude whispered the words, but Cardan was still taken aback. It was rare — unheard of, really — of Jude to be so forward, or forward at all.

Cardan and Jude were no strangers to sleeping together, but Cardan usually initiated it, delivering smirks and pointed remarks until Jude rolled her eyes and almost admitted to having desire of her own. Now, though, Jude was too drunk to care that her want could be used against her as a weakness.

As strongly, though, as Jude’s words and posture affected Cardan, he was loathe to do anything with Jude that she would regret in the morning, or that he would regret as taking advantage of the woman he had begun to admit to himself that he had feelings for.

“I think, my dear Jude, that you have had too much to drink for me to consider your admittedly delightful proposal.”

Jude merely smiled and closed her eyes, swaying slightly. “I love it when you call me dear,” she said softly.

Cardan felt a pressure on his chest, the sensation that his ribs might break and puncture his heart and end his immortal life right here and now.

“And I love that you’ve told me that, but I think I should return you to your chambers before you say anything else you will hate yourself for in the morning.” The words were sad, and so was Cardan as he considered what Jude would likely do to herself for even that small admission.

Jude and Cardan didn’t share chambers, and certainly not for Cardan’s lack of trying. Jude refused to become closer with Cardan than sex and a rare moment of shared silence afterward, than discussing the workings of the kingdom. Cardan had asked — near begged, really — Jude to move in, but she had steadfastly refused to assent.

“Your chambers, today, I think,” said Jude, her voice low. Cardan felt his blood heating despite himself, but pushed the thoughts away — now was not the time to lose himself in his passion for her.

“My chambers, then, but to sleep.”

Jude positively pouted. “You’re no fun. Why are you no fun? I’m supposed to be the no fun one.”

Cardan smiled at that. “Yes, those are our usual roles, aren’t they? But tonight, you’ve had a little too much fun, so I am saddled with the role of the serious.”

Jude continued to pout. “Are you gonna take care of me?” she asked, brightening slightly at the thought.

“For the night,” Cardan said quietly, before standing and offering Jude his hand. “On any other, you would run me through for the barest implication that you needed caring for.”

Jude laughed. “I wouldn’t run you through. You’re Cardan!”

“So I am,” he replied.

“I wouldn’t run Cardan through. I’d miss him.”

Realizing that Jude seemed to have forgotten with whom she was speaking, Cardan led her in silence to his chambers, still mulling over her words. It was nice, at the basest level, to hear that she had no desire to kill him. Even that small mercy took him by surprise. “My ruthless girl,” he thought, and then corrected himself. She was not his girl, after all.

When they arrived in his chambers, Cardan helped Jude into bed before lying down beside her. He may have been unwilling to engage in anything sexual while she was in her present state, but he had no qualms about taking advantage of it to be close to her. The morality of his behavior had improved over the past months ruling with Jude, but he adopted no pretense of being perfect.

To his shocked delight, Jude snuggled close to him, tucking her head against his chest when he rolled toward her. He tentatively placed an arm over her side, and she hummed happily. Jude and Cardan had shared time, shared kisses, shared rule of a kingdom, but they had not shared true intimacy since the night they were married. Until, that is, this moment, a moment Cardan placed quietly into his heart to cherish in the days, weeks, months of cold that were sure to follow this night.

He thought this was the end of the happy moments, that Jude would drift off to sleep and that he would face an angry, hungover mortal the next day, but instead, Jude spoke.

“I know I’ll be too afraid to say this tomorrow,” she whispered. “I’m not so drunk as to forget my own nature.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t—“

“I’m cruel to you anyway, Cardan, wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say now and face my wrath tomorrow?”

Cardan remained silent.

“Sometimes I don’t want this power,” Jude spoke, slowly, softly. “Sometimes I want to feel powerless again, to feel like the weight of a kingdom doesn’t rest on our shared shoulders. Like we’re kids again, like you’re treating me badly during lessons on warm evenings in the gardens. Or like we’re older, and you’re kinder, and we have time to be away from all of this. Can you imagine if we had the space and time to be powerless, even for a second?”

Jude sighed. “I know it makes no sense,” she said, “I know you think that everything I am seeks power, but there’s something else there, inside me. Don’t forget that there’s something else, ok?”

Her words grew more desperate, and with the desperation, more slurred, as she continued speaking. But Cardan barely noticed her fading — an idea had come to his mind, one he could not release despite its insanity, despite the fact that all would be lost when they woke.

“It makes perfect sense, Jude,” he spoke as she drifted off to sleep. “And I know exactly what you need.”

—

“What is it?” These were the first words Cardan heard upon waking. He had slept until nightfall, they both had, and he could see the rays of the setting sun outside the window, the pink and purple hues of the night-turning sky. For a moment, he didn’t even process the question.

“What?” he asked sleepily, beginning to sit up only to find a hand on his chest pinning him to the bed.

“I asked you what it is,” Jude said, voice nothing more than mildly annoyed despite the harshness of her actions. “What is it that I need?”

“You remember that?”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I may have been mildly intoxicated, but I still remember the morning, Cardan.”

Cardan smiled at what she termed “mild” intoxication. “Do you truly want to know?”

“Yes.” Her voice was solemn now, almost nervous, as if she could sense that his answer would not be an easy one.

It wouldn’t.

Cardan’s smile turned to a smirk as he looked up at her, hair and clothes rumpled from sleep, eyes wide with anticipation. She was beautiful, and he was glad to be telling her this, despite how she would surely react.

“I was thinking, my Jude, of an arrangement of sorts.”

“What kind of—“

“Let me finish, Jude.”

She was quiet.

“I was thinking of an arrangement which would allow you moments of powerlessness. An arrangement in which I would take the control, allowing you to experience the feeling of an utter lack of responsibility, a feeling in which I am in command of all and you have no worries to speak of.”

“You would take charge of the kingdom?”

“I would take charge of you, Jude.”

There was silence for several moments, utter, complete silence as Jude studied him. He expected at any second for her to yell, hurt him, get up and leave, or in some other way snap. It would be worth it. But, to his surprise, she merely said,

“Explain.”

And explain he did.

“I would take charge of you — specifically of your body, and specifically sexually, but your mind would follow, I expect. My every command you would follow, or risk punishment. This could be situational or constant, depending on your level of comfort. That means that we could either have assigned stretches under which these conditions are met — you obey me, I care for you, and the focus is on the sexual — and the rest of the time we would be the same Jude and Cardan we are now, bickering and never once obeying the other, unless forced to do so” (this he said with a pointed look, reminding Jude of their past arrangement). “Alternatively, we could have a constant arrangement, one in which you always obey my commands or you are punished. In this way, you could both have power and powerlessness simultaneously, depending on the situation. Both of these, I assume, sound far outside your comfort, but Jude, I implore you to at least consider what I suggest, even if you do no more. Consider what it would mean for you.” With this last desperate plea, Cardan fell silent, awaiting the stormy anger he expected from Jude. This time, his expectations were met.

“Do you think,” she said in the deadly calm he had learned to fear in their time together, “that I trust you, Cardan?”

“No, but I think that you need to.”

“For this? For your deranged sex idea?”

“For this, for our ruling together, for our marriage, for your health.”

“Our marriage has been a sham since you exiled me,” she spat, bringing up wounds Cardan had never been so bold as to think healed.

“I should like it not to be.”

There was a moment of silence before Jude spoke once more.

“What kind of punishments?”

Cardan felt acutely the whiplash of this conversation.

“Some physical, some lack of privileges, depending on the intensity of the relationship. Some pleasant and playful and some less so.”

“Would you ever hit me?”

“Only with your explicit permission and desire.”

“Hit me. I desire it.”

Concentrating on the effort not to let his shock and his own desire show on his face, Cardan brought a hand up from where it had rested on the bed, reached to where Jude still hovered over him, and slapped her thigh, hard. She still wore her dress from the revel of the night before, allowing his hand to connect with bare skin.

Jude gasped in surprise, then rolled onto her back beside him.

“And what if I did obey?” was her next question, asked tentatively.

“I would reward you.”

“What kind of rewards?”

“Would you like me to demonstrate those, as well?”

Jude’s silence served as assent, and Cardan rolled onto his elbow to hover over Jude’s frame.

“I might start like this,” he said, trailing his hand across the high neckline of Jude’s dress, over her throat.

“And move lower,” he added, running his hand over her chest to cup her breast gently. “Like this.”

Jude bit her lip, rubbed her missing fingertip against her thumb, the tell-tale sign of her nervousness. Cardan continued.

“I might tease you a bit, even when you had been good, because the important aspect of this is that you are subject to my desires. No matter how good you’ve been, if I want to punish you, I may, and if I want to reward you, I will do so at my leisure.” As he spoke, he grazed his fingertips over her breast, studiously avoiding her nipple. She wasn’t wearing a bra — she must have removed it in her drunken sleep, and he could see the peak of her nipple under the thin fabric of her dress.

When, after several long minutes, he finally brushed her nipple with his knuckle, Jude breathed a sigh of pleasure.

“Here,” Cardan said, pausing his ministrations, “I might give you an order. I might tell you to be quiet, or not to move, or both, and if you break the rules...” he slapped her thigh hard once again. “You might find you rather dislike the results.”

Cardan could see the effect he was having on Jude and pushed forward, wanting nothing more than to convince her that this was what she needed. He had never expected to get this far on a subject he expected her to shut down immediately, and he would not sacrifice the opportunity.

“Next, I might move lower...” he slid his hand down over her stomach, felt the softness there that covered hard muscle.

“Down to here, perhaps,” he said as he reached the junction of her thighs. “And since this is a reward, I would likely not make you wait too terribly long for what you would so desperately, desperately want.”

As Cardan’s hand slipped under Jude’s dress, he felt the wetness between her thighs and knew his words and actions had their desired effect.

“I see that this is already what you desperately, desperately want, my dear Jude?”

Jude’s hand darted out and clasped Cardan’s wrist, pulling it out from under her dress. He could never hope to be stronger than her, so he waited in anticipation for what she would say.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly, and Cardan relaxed slightly. “Alright, Cardan. Let’s try. You have tonight to convince me that this is anything other than a horrible idea.” Here she paused, and he saw a shadow come over her face, knew that whatever she was about to say was hard for her.

“I don’t trust you, Cardan, and maybe I never will—“

“Jude—“

“But,” she said emphatically, “I’m willing to try. To see how it goes. And besides, I suppose that I trust you more than most people in my life, okay? That’s something.”

Cardan felt the familiar chest-crushing feeling as he gazed at her in the wake of that admission, one that would have been small had she been anyone but Jude Duarte.

“Does my time start now?” was all he replied, not wanting to get emotional and ruin this moment.

“I suppose,” she said, feigning a lack of care when Cardan could tell she was still flustered from his actions.

Cardan leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Jude’s lips. To his continual surprise, she didn’t pull away- instead, she reciprocated, deepening the kiss slightly. This, if nothing else, revealed how aroused she was, and Cardan couldn’t help but smile at her willingness and desperation.

When he finally pulled away, it was because Cardan had business to attend to before they could truly begin the day that might change everything.

“There are a few things we need to discuss, and they happen to be the type of things that are best gone over with paper and pen.” He moved to retrieve both of those items, and to his delight Jude remained still on the bed, awaiting his return. Perhaps, he mused, she would be more obedient during this whole endeavor than he ever expected.

When he returned, Cardan sat cross-legged on the bed as Jude drew a knee up on which to rest her chin.

“The first item we need to discuss is your limits. These are the things I am absolutely, under no circumstances, allowed to do to you or to order you to do. These can be sexual or not, and this list can be edited at any time as you think of more.”

“I don’t...” and here Jude paused, taking a moment to overcome embarrassment over what she was about to say. “I don’t think I know enough about the things we might be doing to know what my limits would be.”

“And that is utterly acceptable,” Cardan said, rushing to reassure her. “They can be anything. For example,” and with this, he ran a hand down the side of her arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “you’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no qualms about being slapped. If you did, we would add it to the list. But if it helps you, I can list some things I may do and you can enlighten me as to how you would respond to them.”

Jude nodded, and Cardan steeled himself against his arousal, driven higher by the prospect of listing potential acts, to focus on the task at hand.

“How would you feel,” Cardan asked, “if I made you wait to orgasm for, say, 2 hours as I teased you?”

Cardan could see, feel the change in Jude’s posture as she became more aroused.

“I’m sure I would not feel good about that in the moment,” she replied, eyebrows raised, “but hearing about it, it sounds... appealing.”

“And if I made you wait for a day?”

Jude snorted. “As if you have the time as High King to take an entire day to tease me.”

“Nothing would be stopping me from ordering you to tease yourself when I was otherwise occupied.”

Jude flushed now. Cardan had been trying, to little avail, to help Jude become more comfortable talking about sex. They were doing it, after all, but outside of the act itself when Cardan brought it up Jude often became irate or uncomfortable.

Maybe, Cardan mused, some part of that was to do with the fact that he, as frequently as possible, brought it up loudly and in public.

Still. This conversation was a significant step towards growing Jude’s comfort in the topic, and Cardan planned to milk the opportunity for all he could.

“And if I didn’t have the time?” Jude asked at length, returning to the conversation.

“You might be surprised,” Cardan said, lowering his voice and leaning closer to Jude’s ear, “how easily you can slip out of a meeting and into a closet when the threat of my hand on your beautiful ass looms over you.”

Jude tried to jerk away from Cardan, but he held her chin tightly and pulled her back.

“You forget, I think, that we have already begun. You will not pull away from me, do you understand?”

Jude flushed hotter and grumbled something that resembled, “okay.”

“That was your first and only warning. Back, now, to the limits. Answer my last question.”

“Yes, I think I would accept waiting a day.”

“And a week?”

Jude’s eyes grew wide. “I... would prefer not to, but it isn’t a limit.”

Cardan, alert to the smallest minutiae of Jude’s actions, noticed as she shifted near imperceptibly closer to him. He smiled inwardly. What this small action conveyed to him was that his plan to make Jude desperate for his attentions, both sexual and non, before they even began was beginning to work.

“And if I wanted to brand you?”

“Limit.”

Cardan grinned, having known, of course, that this would be the answer.

“And there, my dear, is an example.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry that I needed to make clear that ‘permanent disfigurement’ is off the table.”

“You need to make everything clear, Jude, to reduce the possibility of my doing something that genuinely distresses you. And,” he said, growing serious, “I will allow it for now, but when we are done with writing and discussions and begin in earnest, I will expect a more respectful tone from you than that.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll punish me?”

Cardan could hear in Jude’s voice that her reply was no form of backtalk, but one of apprehension and excitement.

“Yes, Jude,” Cardan said, leaning closer once more. “I will punish you, and you will not enjoy it.”

“And if I do?”

Cardan frowned. “It is... a complicated line, to answer you with honesty. I want you to enjoy all that we do, because that is the main purpose of all of this. My role, above all else, is to protect and care for you while putting you in positions of vulnerability, and to make sure that the things we do while I am in control serve you well. However, a part of your enjoyment and powerlessness will be the knowledge that when you transgress, you will be corrected, and that the correction will make you want to avoid repeating the offense. So while I want you to enjoy the process, I do not expect you always to enjoy the particular instance of punishment. Confirm whether or not that makes sense to you.” This was Cardan’s attempt to help Jude grow used to following orders, and it succeeded as she obeyed without question on this small matter.

“Yes, it makes sense.”

Cardan saw Jude rub her legs together, almost too lightly to be noticeable, and smiled.

“Growing a bit desperate, are we?”

Jude scowled, then realized herself and schooled her face into neutrality. Cardan smiled wider at this indication that she was beginning to behave.

“Are you trying the teasing thing now? Trying to make me desperate?”

“Oh, Jude. If and when I tease you, I strongly suspect you shall know. No, when we finish this,” and he waved the paper and pen, “I will make sure your desperation is alleviated.”

“Then let’s get back to work.”

“Begging?”

Jude scoffed again, then looked guiltily at Cardan. It would take some time to break her of these habits, and Cardan fully expected to enjoy every moment of doing so.

“You are free to try to make me beg,” she replied, opting for a neutral statement that still conveyed her derisiveness.

Cardan smiled. “I love a challenge,” he retorted, “thought I doubt that it will be one after I have brought you to the appropriate headspace.”

“What does that mean?”

Cardan set down the paper and turned toward her for this section of the explanation.

“Sometimes, during arrangements such as the one we’re forming-“ At this, Jude raised her eyebrows, reminding him that this arrangement was far from settled.

“The one I hope to form,” he corrected himself. “During these arrangements, there is a certain state of mind you can enter. I have done it at the hands of others- it is a most wondrous, delightful feeling, as though everything in the world is taken care of and the person in control can do no wrong. I tell you this in advance of its happening because I want you to know that I in no way am provoking this state in you for my own gain, or so that you will think more highly of me. I do it because I want you to feel that incredible feeling, and to feel that you are safe and cherished. Do you understand?”

Jude nodded, but then a shadow passed over her face, as though thinking of something she would rather not.

“How do you know all of this? Who made you feel that way? Have you made others feel that way before?”

The jealousy present in her tone was uncharacteristic, and Cardan couldn’t help experiencing a rush of pleasure as he heard it.

“I have a good deal of experience with the topic, and a good deal of knowledge in how it can go poorly,” he answered with a sad smile. “There was a time when, in search of that feeling, I would entrust myself to anyone willing to help me. Many of them took advantage of the situation to cause me pain, not that I can say I didn’t often deserve it. But this is my promise to you, Jude - I will cause you pain, but it will never be more than you can tolerate, it will never be emotional pain, if I can prevent it, and it will never be for the reason that I want you to genuinely suffer. If I punish you, it is to correct you, and if I hurt you because I want to, it is for both of our pleasures.”

“But to your other question. Yes, I have made others feel this way, but never one who I... cared for, as I care for you. It will be entirely different. I hope you can believe that.”

“Nicasia?” was all she replied, unwilling, of course, to acknowledge the depth of feeling in his statement.

“Among others.”

Jude nodded, apparently satisfied for now with his answers.

“I think I understand the limits now. I would not like to be permanently disfigured,” she said with a pointed look, “nor would I like to be overly disgusted by anything we should do.”

“Elaborate.” He knew this would be a challenge for Jude, to speak explicitly about her likes and dislikes.

“I would not like... spit,” she said, “if that was even an option. Nor would I appreciate an excess of any fluid to touch me. I would like to remain relatively clean. Is that—“ Jude caught herself about to ask if that was acceptable and stopped there, frowning as it came to her attention that she had already begun to enter a place of asking his approval.

“Yes,” Cardan answered, as if she had finished the question. “Very good. Lie on your back.”

Jude tentatively did as instructed.

Cardan leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her breast and pressing light kisses along its top, still working through the fabric of her dress. His tongue moved lower to circle her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, hard. Jude gasped in pleasure and Cardan hummed against her tender flesh.

He pulled back, but left a hand lingering on her cheek. “When you do as you are instructed, you are rewarded,” he said lightly, before returning to the paper. Jude tried to sit up with him, but he held up a hand.

“I want you in that position until I indicate otherwise.”

Jude lay back down.

“Good,” said Cardan with a smile. “Now. Any other limits you can think of currently? It is completely understandable if not, and we can add more at any time.”

Jude shook her head.

“Then we will move on to apprehensions. What are you apprehensive about going into this?”

Jude thought for a moment before replying.

“Vulnerability,” she said slowly. “Putting faith in someone other than myself, not that I even have too much of that in myself lately.” She turned her head away after speaking, realizing she had shared more than she meant to.

Cardan reached over to take her hand gently. “Keep going.”

“Being without weapons, without defenses. Being in a situation where I need to be protected. Being in a situation where I can’t protect you.” The apprehensions came out of her in a rush now, to Cardan’s relief.

“I’m also apprehensive that I will be bad at this, that I won’t be able to bring myself to be obedient and that you will quickly tire of trying to correct me.”

“Oh, Jude. I will never tire of correcting you, and you never need worry that you will be too disobedient. You have already shown me, given your actions of tonight alone, that you will be good at this, not that there is even a way you could be bad.”

Jude shot Cardan a quick grateful look before continuing.

“I’m apprehensive that this is going to make me seem weak.”

“To me?”

“To you, to the kingdom. To anyone who knows.”

“No one will know without your express permission, Jude. Besides, who would I tell?” Cardan spoke the words with some bitterness, reminding Jude that he had few people in his life besides her. The thought crossed her mind that she should endeavor to treat him slightly more kindly, as he had her.

“Those are all of my apprehensions for now,” was all she said. “What else do you need to write down?”

“You need two words - one which stops everything we are doing completely, and one which signals me to make sure you are okay before we continue.”

“Nicasia and Locke.” She answered without hesitation.

“Fitting,” Cardan said, amused. “Our ex lovers.” He hurriedly wrote down her answers before continuing.

“What shall you call me?”

“Cardan, perhaps?” she answered sarcastically.

Cardan frowned at her.

“A name which denotes respect, Jude. May I suggest ‘My Lord’ or ‘My King’? I won’t make you go so far as to call me master.”

“My Lord,” Jude replied after a brief moment of consideration.

“Good. For the rest of the night and day, from this moment on, you will address me as ‘My Lord’. You will respond to my questions with answers like ‘Yes, My Lord’ and ‘No, My Lord.’ Is that clear?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Jude said quietly. Cardan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Good. That concludes the information I need to gather for now. I will store this sheet safely for future use.”

“You seem quite confident that there will be future use.”

Cardan raised an eyebrow but let the disrespect in her tone slide. “I think you need this, Jude, and I think you will come to realize that by the end of the time you’ve allotted me. Another thing to note is that from this moment forward, I will not take your disrespect quite so lightly.”

Jude nodded once, and Cardan seized her chin in his hand once more.

“Say, ‘yes, My Lord’.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Jude replied, averting her eyes, still unable to believe she had put herself in this position.

Cardan smiled. “So far, you have been fairly obedient, and completed all that I’ve asked of you with a minimum of complaint. Frankly, I’m impressed, and I do plan to reward you.”

Jude shivered.

“But first, I want to address something you said earlier, about my viewing you as weak. Jude, to submit to my control will be the ultimate show of strength. I know what it would take from you, and how bold you will have to be in order to do so. I will never, never think you weak for giving up a small piece of your power. I will see you as all the more powerful for it, do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said quietly.

“Good. Then let us begin.” With that, Cardan returned his mouth to Jude’s breast, licking and sucking over the fabric of her dress as his hands inched the bottom upward, baring her upper thighs. He finally pulled back to remove her dress entirely and stayed hovering above her, gazing down at her near-naked form.

“Tell me what you think of your body, Jude.”

Jude blanched, and Cardan could see the panic in her eyes, wondered if he had gone too far. Then, though, she reminded herself of his prior words - that this was strength, power, not weakness and defeat.

“I think it is strong, and serves its purpose, but is out of place among those of the faeries. You are all so... well, thin, and I am not. I have always wished to look as you do, despite knowing I never can.”

Cardan nodded, having suspected exactly this response.

“And would you like to know what I think of your body, Jude?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I think your body far surpasses the beauty of that of any faerie I have ever seen. I think there is nothing more attractive to me than your muscles and flesh. I think that the more of you there is for me to touch,” and he touched her, “kiss,” and he kissed her, “and caress the more I will be satisfied. And I think that your body gives you life, and that is the most beautiful thing of all. After the undersea, when you had so little flesh on your bones, I was terrified. I would never want to see you like that again. I am grateful for every day that you have enough to eat, and I count myself lucky to share the bed of someone strong enough to snap my body in a heartbeat.”

Jude laughed at this. “I meant what I said, though. I wouldn’t kill you.”

Cardan put his hand over his chest and said with mock sincerity, “and you have no idea what that means to me,” but they both knew it was far from sarcasm.

“Thank you,” Jude said softly, “my lord, for what you said.”

“I speak only the truth, unlike some,” he replied, touching her face lightly. “Anyway, Jude, would you like me to return to the task at hand?”

“Very much so — my lord.” He heard her stumble, forget herself for a moment, and resolved to push her deeper into the headspace she so desperately needed to enter.

He started by kissing his way down her stomach, running his tongue along the bones of her hips, the line of her pelvis. He nipped the skin of her inner thigh gently, causing her to yelp, and grinned against her.

Finally — finally — he attended to her burning need, pulling her remaining underwear down her legs and situating himself between them. He heard her give a sharp intake of breath as she realized what he was going to do, as she did every time they did this, and smiled once more at the familiarity of the situation.

With one hand, Cardan spread Jude before him, as he pressed his tongue against her folds.

“Spread your legs for me, Jude, dear,” he muttered against her, and she squirmed even as she did as he asked. Demanded.

When she had obeyed, he resumed his actions in earnest, licking and sucking with vigor, trying to bring her to the edge as quickly as possible. He entered her with two fingers so suddenly that she gasped in surprise, and he pulled back to grin up at her and gaze at her flushed cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Your nipples. Touch them,” he commanded, and she did as instructed, pulling and rolling them between her fingers, moaning lightly at the sensation and more loudly as he curled his fingers inside her, still watching.

“You are stunning,” he said simply, before resuming the work of his mouth against her. He flicked her clit with his tongue, slowly at first, but increased speed with his tongue and fingers until she was on the edge, crying out that she was about to go over it.

He stopped all motions, pulled back, and said, “hands at your sides.”

“I thought this was a reward,” she said, anger flashing in her eyes even as she obeyed.

“It is,” he replied. “The reward is the fact that I’m touching you at all. And I don’t appreciate your attitude. Spread your legs.”

She had snapped them closed in the wake of his motions ceasing, but opened them again now. Cardan pushed them farther apart roughly.

“In the future, know that it is my right to stop touching you at any time, and that you have no leave to contest my decision. I won’t fully punish you now, because this is a first infraction, but I will give you a small reminder of your place.”

With those words, he slapped her directly on the junction between her legs, one of his many rings hitting her clit. While he congratulated himself on his excellent aim, Jude cried out in shock and pain.

“Car— My—“ she sputtered, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t provoke another slap. Cardan merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for her decision.

She stayed silent, biting her lip against the desire to protest and the residual stinging between her legs.

Cardan looked down at her. “Next time, your punishment will not be so easy to bear. And before I forget, there is a rule I want to set for the future- you ask me, rather than tell me, when you are close to orgasm. Do you understand?”

Jude closed her eyes briefly before responding. “Yes, My Lord.”

Cardan could see the struggle in Jude, sense the way she worked to control the impulse to resist him, and found himself impossibly proud.

He lay down beside her and began steadily stroking a finger in circles around her clit, so slowly that there was no risk of her coming from the stimulation. Jude bit her lip and moaned.

“Normally, at a time like this, I would be waiting for you to beg,” Cardan said conversationally, as if discussing the weather in Elfhame. “But, as circumstance has it, begging will do nothing for you here. I plan to let you come—“ with those words, Jude’s wide eyes shot to his, but he continued with a small smile “but not for some time.”

Jude’s face fell, but lacked the spark of anger it had earlier held. Good. That meant she was beginning to accept that she had no choice but to allow Cardan to do what he would with her pleasure.

He continued his gentle ministrations on her clit, listening for small moans and breathy sighs as she wished for more stimulation, for several minutes. Then, without warning, he rose.

“Get dressed,” he ordered.

“Why?” she asked, even as she stood from the bed.

Cardan raised an eyebrow by way of answer, and Jude paled.

“I will, My Lord.”

Cardan knew that Jude was likely still allowing this sort of behavior from herself by rationalizing that it was only for the night, but it still pleased him to see signs of her growing obedience.

Jude had dresses in one of the many closets contained by Cardan’s chambers, for those times when hers became rumpled and dirty and she didn’t want anyone to know what she had been doing or with whom. She pulled one on now, not bothering to search for a bra, knowing Cardan would likely stop her anyway. She did, however, pick her underwear back up from where Cardan had carelessly discarded it earlier, but he tsked and plucked it from her hands.

“Not tonight,” he said decisively, and she had no choice but to obey.

When she was dressed and had smoothed down her hair enough to be presentable to... wherever it was they were going, Cardan led Jude from the chambers and into the halls of the palace. When they reached the throne room, a horrible thought occurred to Jude. Surely, surely, Cardan didn’t expect her to spend hours on the throne as she usually did at night, watching revelers and hearing complaints from the citizens of Elfhame. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel, when she could still feel the wetness between her thighs and knew her clit remained as swollen as ever.

But he was so cruel, and in they went to settle on the twin thrones, side by side, perhaps an inch of space between the two seats.

“Bring a table,” he ordered loudly to the room, “with a cloth.”

Cardan was quickly obeyed, and a table was set before their thrones on the dais, covered in a white cloth that reached to the floor. To Jude’s shock, Cardan actually thanked the faeries that delivered the table. He was clearly on his best behavior in an attempt to convince her that this was a worthy arrangement.

Jude had no idea why Cardan would request a table when, again to her shock, he did not appear to be drinking. His reason soon became apparent, though, as his hand slipped across the space between their thrones and under her dress once more, blocked from the sight of the room’s revelers by the cloth on the table.

She realized at that moment that Cardan planned to keep her on the edge of orgasm for the entire duration of their time in the throne room, and closed her eyes as a flush began to rise on her face.

“My lord,” she said, too quietly for anyone but Cardan to hear her. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can,” he responded, “because I know your limits, and because I am telling you that you can, and because you want to please me.”

Jude was surprised to find that she did, indeed want to please him.

“My lord,” she started again, “you aren’t drinking. I was just wondering why.”

Cardan’s face grew serious. “As greatly as it pains me to go a night sober, I don’t believe in engaging in this sort of... activity while intoxicated. One of my main responsibilities is to ensure that I can read you well enough to know your limits, and I can’t easily do so with an alcohol addled mind.”

Jude nodded, touched and realizing for the first time that Cardan’s role in this was as difficult, if not more so, as hers.

“So, in the hypothetical and far from plausible situation that we made this arrangement permanent...”

“I would still drink on occasion, but any rewards, punishments, commands, or otherwise would wait until my sobriety.”

Jude found herself slightly disappointed. She wouldn’t admit it to him, but she worried about his drinking, about the fact that his drunken state seemed the only time he even bordered on happiness. Not that she did much to help with the misery he experienced in life.

All thoughts shattered in Jude’s mind as Cardan brought her nearly over the edge once more.

“My Lord, can I-“

He pulled away.

Had they not been in the middle of a room full of faeries, Jude might have cried out in frustration.

They passed the next hour in silence, Cardan bringing Jude to the edge again every time she got far enough from it to be comfortable. She spent the hour in misery, near writhing in her seat from the arousal. She knew she would have a damp spot on the back of her dress when they finally left the throne room, and couldn’t bring herself to care. She couldn’t even care, in fact, that all of this was happening publicly, and that someone could rise too high on the dais and see what Cardan’s hand occupied itself with at any moment.

“Alright, Jude,” Cardan said loudly, finally taking pity on her. “Let us retire for the rest of the night.”

Jude sighed in relief and stood, following Cardan out of the throne room. When they reached his chambers, Jude had no time to react as Cardan pinned her to the wall, holding her wrists above her head.

“You’re mine, Jude,” he said, stroking her wrists with his thumbs. “I love having you as my own, to do what I will with. You have no idea how deliciously appealing you looked on the dais, sitting in your throne and letting me touch you like the slut you are quickly, beautifully becoming. Tell me - are you enjoying yourself?”

“No, My Lord.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Cardan smiled. “It’s not nice to lie, Jude.” He slapped her in the face, hard enough to sting and take her by surprise but softly enough not to leave a mark. Jude exclaimed in surprise.

Cardan knew he had taken a risk, that face slapping was something they had not discussed and something with which Jude might be wholly uncomfortable, but she said nothing, merely looked at the floor in guilt.

And she did feel guilty — guilty for lying to him about her enjoyment in one last, desperate attempt to pretend this wasn’t exactly what she needed, that she couldn’t already feel a glimmer of the feeling Cardan had described, that she wasn’t close to total surrender.

“Look at me,” Cardan said softly.

Jude looked at him, biting her lip gently, willing him to forgive.

“There’s something important which I neglected to tell you.” He continued stroking her wrists in small, reassuring circles. “After I have punished you for whatever infraction you’ve committed, it’s over. I harbor no more negative feelings about it, and you have no more repentance to do unless I explicitly tell you otherwise. A punishment is an absolution.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Jude said, lifting her head in an attempt to push the conflict from her mind. “I will not lie again.” She meant the promise.

Cardan bowed his head. “Noted and appreciated,” he said, before looking up at her, sternly but with mischief on his face.

“Now. Get on your knees.”

Jude dropped to her knees immediately, growing more and more eager to please, and reached up to undo the buttons of his breeches.

“No,” he said, and stilled her hands. “Take off your dress.”

She obeyed, sliding it over her head eagerly and casting it aside, leaving herself naked before him once more.

Cardan cast his own shirt over his head and undid his breeches himself, much to Jude’s disappointment, before sliding off the remainder of his clothes.

“Start slowly, and using only your mouth.”

Jude obeyed, leaning forward to kiss her way up and down the length of him, pausing to give particular attention to the head before moving back down. Cardan braced a hand against the wall behind her.

“Lick me. Stay slow, but be thorough.”

Jude did as instructed once more, licking and gently sucking her way around his cock, over the head, pausing to swirl her tongue around his balls.

After several minutes, Cardan gave his next order.

“Pull as much of me as you can into your mouth. You may use your hands now, and do go a bit more quickly.”

Jude smiled, hearing the effect she had on him in his voice, and proceeded to do as told, sucking him into her mouth and blowing him in earnest.

Cardan’s sounds were like a reward, as they always were on the rare occasions that she did this, and she smiled as she worked on him, desperately wanting to bring him over the edge, desperately wanting to please.

“Jude,” he groaned, “yes, yes, like that.”

Quickly, Cardan went over the edge, spilling come into Jude’s mouth which she swallowed diligently before wiping her face with her hand. She smiled up at him when she finished, a mixture of sweetness and wicked pleasure on her face.

“Evil, talented girl,” was all he said before pulling her to her feet and pushing her across the room, onto the bed. “It’s my turn now.”

Jude did not point out that Cardan had, in fact, taken many turns already, merely lay on her back awaiting him. When he arrived, he quickly got back to the task at hand, spreading her legs and using his tongue to work her clit, alternating speeds to keep her from coming to the edge too quickly.

Still— after hours of torment, it was a matter of moments before she was at the edge, legs trembling hard beneath Cardan’s hands.

“May I come, My Lord, may I come?” she pleaded, close to begging, desperation evident in her voice.

“Yes,” he paused just long enough to say before resuming his ministrations.

He didn’t stop, nor even slow down, as she came, crying out and tangling her hands in his hair, chanting his name and “my lord” and “god, god, god” intermittently. Nor did he slow down when she came a second time, writhing beneath him. By the time she neared a third orgasm without a break, Jude had tears of pleasure and overstimulation in her eyes and was pleading with Cardan alternately to stop and keep going. He chose to continue, and she came four times before Cardan finally slowed to a stop and pulled back to look at her.

Cardan moved to the top of the bed and pulled Jude into his arms, head resting on his chest. She let out a slight whimper of protest, a part of her uncomfortable with this level of intimacy, but was too spent and needed to be held too badly to resist.

“Are you in a space where you can listen to me, my darling Jude?” Cardan asked, so heartbreakingly gentle in voice and touch that she felt as though her chest was cracking.

“Mm hmm,” she said in assent.

“Another important thing to remember about what we’re doing is that you must allow me to care for you. This is undeniably important. This sort of... play, if we might call it that, can only happen with the knowledge that I will care for you afterward. You cannot protest when I pull you into my arms after whatever we’ve been doing, whether punishment or pleasure. You cannot prevent me from tending to any injuries I may have caused or ensuring your safety, health, and wellbeing. If it is my responsibility to correct you, and to keep safely your power, then it is also my responsibility to care for you, and I take it quite seriously. Do you understand?”

“Yes, My Lord, I understand,” Jude tried to say, but it came out more like “hmmlord derstand.”

Cardan smiled tenderly down at Jude, and knew in that moment that he was much farther gone than he had ever suspected when it came to his feelings for the woman he held.

Jude, for her part, was terrified. Since her return from exile, she had never allowed herself this kind of intimacy with Cardan, and she was shocked by how desperately she desired it. She was mentally and bodily exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms, but her mind would not allow her that, setting off all the warning bells of the danger she could be getting herself into by allowing this, and with him.

But she had promised to be honest, and knew that he would consider keeping her thoughts a secret when they needed to be shared a lie of omission, so she spoke.

“I’m afraid,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, and for a moment they were silent. “I don’t want to put pressure on you, but if you’ll give me the time to do this right, I’ll prove to you that you have nothing to be afraid of.”

Jude opened her eyes. “I want to,” she whispered, as though saying something shameful. “I don’t want this to end, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I do. I know.”

“Where did this resounding faith in my strength come from?” Jude’s words were teasing, but her sentiment was genuine.

“I’ve had it for a long time, I think. Since I’ve known you. I was cruel to you in part because it was easier than acknowledging my feelings and in part because I saw strength in you where in myself there was only weakness, and I hated you for that.”

For reasons Jude could not understand, the reminder that Cardan had ever hated her nearly brought tears to her eyes at this moment, but she remained silent as he continued.

“I now see that hating you for your strength was the solution of a child. You have my apologies and my regret.”

They both were silent, unspoken emotion crackling between them, for several minutes.

“Why can’t this be easy?” Jude said at last.

“It’s not too late,” Cardan whispered, and kissed the top of Jude’s head, the mortal curve of her ear, the tip of her nose. “Jude, admit that you need this.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I get to have it when it feels like giving up all that I’ve worked for.”

Cardan closed his eyes in frustration. “You’re giving up nothing, Jude! You would only be gaining a new form of freedom. You lose nothing by surrendering.”

“I lose the war between us.”

“What war!” Cardan exclaimed, raking his hands through his hair. “The war of children? The war of two people who have been horrible to each other and now have a chance to be good? There is no war for me, Jude - not any more.”

Jude was choking back tears now, impossibly distressed at having gone from the sweetness of a few moments ago to the harsh reality of their situation and of Cardan’s frustration with her.

“I’m sorry,” she started, but then Cardan was there and he was holding her again and comforting her and kissing her temples and oh god, Jude had never been so overwhelmed by emotion and sensation and desire.

“No, Jude, do not apologize. It was my responsibility to keep myself calm after putting you into that emotional place and I failed. The responsibility is mine, and I am truly sorry.”

Jude didn’t cry, not any more, but she came close now, squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears, and finally, finally assented.

“I don’t know what I can commit to, and I don’t know that I won’t back out at any moment, because I’m terribly, terribly afraid. What I do know is that I want this, and I’m willing to try.”

“That’s more than I expected from you, Jude,” and she could hear the grateful tone behind his words.

“We can try it all the time, if you still want to.” The words came out of Jude in a rush of nervousness, and Cardan took her trembling hands in his own.

“I would love to, Jude. Go get the paper and pen from earlier.”

“Yes, My Lord,” she said, already relieved to be back to this, showing her just how badly she did need this arrangement.

She returned with the paper, which Cardan quickly signed at the bottom.

“Sign this when you’re truly ready to begin,” he said. “I won’t rush you. You can take all the time you—“

With decisiveness, Jude signed the document.

[angsty-nerd]

Echo-inspired Season 1 Playlist

So I’ve been meaning to share this for… a really long time.  But I’m kind of glad that I waited so long because I found a bunch more songs to add and ended up doing an edit on this playlist this weekend, so this is where it landed.  It’s a bit of a beast—40+ songs. (And it’s my shorter Echo playlist… I have another one I’m still playing with that has all of these, plus the show’s soundtrack songs, plus recommendations that I’m still considering for future Echo use…so this is the reasonably lengthen one…haha).  If you just want to go to Spotify and check it out, here’s the link.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/14ZIHN2MwjfgFbA6yF3RAO?si=5vPkiahyQw-voaZjqMLWsw  

If you want to read my rambles about the progression of the songs and why I picked them, along with some lyrics from each one that make me think of Echo, that beastly monstrosity is below the cut for you!  Here’s just the track list:

1. Armor - Sara Bareilles 2. People Need a Melody - the Head and the Heart 3. A World to Explore - Joshua Radin 4. Missed Connection - the Head and the Heart 5. Summer Years - Death Cab for Cutie 6. It’s OK - Natalie Taylor 7. Something American - Jade Bird 8. Anchor - Novo Amor 9. Harvest Moon - Neil Young 10. Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band 11. Silhouettes - Oscar Blue 12. The Storm - The Airborne Toxic Event 13. The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band 14. Walls - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 15. Ruins - Jade Bird 16. The Last Time - Taylor Swift feat. Gary Lightbody 17. Run No More - the Talbott Brothers 18. Wild Heart - Bleachers 19. Dream - Bishop Briggs 20. Lullaby - Lord Huron 21. Watch Me - Labi Siffre 22. Grew Up Fast - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers 23. 17 - Jade Bird 24. Your Hurricane - Death Cab for Cutie 25. Lose that Light - Folly and the Hunter 26. Such a Simple Thing - Ray LaMontagne 27. Make These Colors Real - Hush Kids 28. Surrender - Natalie Taylor 29. I’ll Be Your Mirror - Clem Snide 30. Courage - P!nk 31. Easy - Camilla Cabello 32. Day Too Soon - Sis 33. Truly Madly Deeply - Yoke Lore 34. Side by Side - Layup 35. Electric Love - BØRNS 36. Duet - Penny and Sparrow feat. Stephanie Briggs 37. Atlas: Two - Sleeping at Last 38. Another Story - the Head and the Heart 39. Come to this - Natalie Taylor 40. Six Feet Under - Billie Eilish 41. Hello My Old Heart - the Oh Hellos 42. Poetry by Dead Men - Sara Bareilles 43. Recovering the Satellites - Counting Crows 44. The Chain - Ingrid Michaelson

PRE-SHOW

1. Armor - Sara Bareilles

Stolen from Carina’s Liz mix, and obviously heavy on the Ortecho vibe in general. I might associate it a little more with Rosa back in the flashbacks, being proud of Liz and protective of her.

You think I am high and mighty mister Wait til you meet my little sister

2. People Need A Melody - the Head and the Heart

This song just gives me images of Max sitting at home over the years, listening to music, and then Bright Eyes comes on and it just takes him back to that day in the desert when he was lucky enough to be openly in love with Liz for one day before everything went to hell. 💔

All those books in your head, Is that all this really was? Just a role you play that you could hide behind Is it what you want? To bury yourself away Before your time goes I don’t want a love that holds us back I don’t want a life that I can’t have

Cause people need a melody to open their eyes Like a key to a memory frozen in time Holding onto everything, you’re stuck in the past Boy, when you gonna learn the world moves fast?

3. A World to Explore - Josh Radin

Liz leaves on her road trip, pushing the past away, and moving forward into her new life.

Yesterday rains came Everything’s changing The past has closed its door Well I know there’s something more I know there’s so much more So far to go On this open road, a world to explore So far to go On this open road, away we go

4. Missed Connection - the Head and the Heart

Somewhat self explanatory, I think. Mostly I just think of Max staying in Roswell haunted by all of the what ifs, and how close he and Liz came to being something real.

Did you find what you were looking for? Had to open every single door I get the feeling you’ve been here before From a missed connection Don’t tell me I lost a step Criss-crossed in the wrong direction Found myself in a conversation From a missed connection

5. Summer Years - Death Cab for Cutie

This is, like, my #1 Max over the 10 year gap song. I just hear him all through it, haunted by Rosa’s death and the coverup, heartbroken by Liz’s sudden departure, and trapped in his life.  

Sometimes I’m overcome by every choice I couldn’t outrun… And I wonder where you are tonight If the one you’re with is a compromise Cause we’re walking lines in parallel That will never meet and it’s just as well

6. It’s Ok - Natalie Taylor

You know in the pilot, Max says he used to think about what he’d say if he ever saw Liz again. Meaning he didn’t really anymore. Meaning at some point he let go of the hope of her returning to Roswell. That’s kind of where my mind goes listening to this song.

It only hurts me to live this way Holding on to yesterday… Close my eyes, you’re gone And I’m the only one still holding on It’s ok I’ve got to let you go

7. Something American - Jade Bird

I have an old-school song fic just waiting to come out inspired by this song… I hear a lot of different things in it. Mostly I hear Max and the memory of Liz and Cameron in it. With a little bit of Kyle thrown in too.

In my dreams I find The stars align and they all collide And it’s you and I back in time It feels so right But you don’t call me now And I don’t think too much about you When she’s not around I can feel you’re lonely

PILOT

8. Anchor - Novo Amor

Max’s reaction to Liz finally coming home & hoping she’ll stay.

I hear your ship is coming in Your tears a sea for me to swim I hear a storm is coming in My dear, is it all we’ve ever been Anchor up to me, love

9. Harvest Moon - Neil Young

Max gets that brief smile on his face when he’s watching Liz dance in the Crashdown, before he lets her know he’s there. And this is what I hear going through his head in that moment.

When we were strangers I’d watch you from afar When we were lovers I’d love you with all my heart… Because I’m still in love with you I want to see you dance again

10. Crash Into Me - Dave Matthews Band

It honestly took me a long time to get on board with adding this one, because it’s such an important OG Max/Liz song.  But a while back in one of her Q&As, Carina said that if she could give the pilot a title it’d be this, and even with this different version of Max and Liz it still is the perfect song and perfect metaphor for their experience in the pilot.

Lost for you I’m so lost for you You come crash into me

11. Silhouettes - Oscar Blue

I mean…. 

Do I need to say anything more?  Okay, well here are some lyrics to emphasize my point.

She’s a diamond in the coal Something that enchants my soul Graceful and captivating Just one glance and my mind is invaded… So should I try really really hard Or just keep loving you from afar… Oh can we walk into the sunset Until our bodies are silhouettes Cause busy days cause busy lives And maybe you’ll just keep on walking by Are my hopes just gonna suffocate in my doubt Or am I being my anxious self drowning my chances out

SO MUCH FOR THE AFTERGLOW

12. The Storm - the Airborne Toxic Event

I definitely stole this from someone else’s Echo mix…but take it as a compliment! I definitely see a little bit of Liz coming home in this song, both from her perspective and Max’s. But in my playlist’s narrative I also see this as being kind of like the end of 1x02, when Liz makes the decision to stay and investigate Rosa’s murder.

I surprise myself sometimes The way the days unfold and this road unwinds You tell me you see it too And the miles seem like inches when I think of you It’s been 25 days since I’ve been gone 25 weeks since I’ve seen my home I spent 25 months chasing this song and all of this time I’ve been alone Then you walk right through the doorway You tell me you’re here to stay

TEARING UP MY HEART

13. The Space Between - Dave Matthews Band

So if the last song was the end of 1x02, that means now we’re in the awkward, heartbreaking period where Max is pouring his heart out, and Liz is pretending to feel nothing because she doesn’t trust him. 💔 Which is basically the running theme for the next few songs…

You cannot quit me so quickly There’s no hope in you for me… The space between the wicked lies we tell And hope to keep safe from the pain… We’re strange allies with warring hearts…

14. Walls - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

My brother played this song while we were driving from Phoenix to the Grand Canyon in February.  It was the morning after Smells Like Teen Spirit aired, Liz had just told Max that she never wanted to see him again, and I heard this song for the first time and said to myself, “YES.”

All around your island there’s a barricade That keeps out the danger that holds in the pain Sometimes you’re happy sometimes you cry Half of me is ocean half of me is sky But you’ve got a heart so big it could crush this town But I can’t hold out forever even walls fall down

15. Ruins - Jade Bird

Just…I think about Max and that painful scene between him and Liz at the end of this episode, and how much her accusations throw him off.  And the resulting explosion that caused the blackout.

How do we have to do this again? I’ll tell you how I’m feeling You’re like a cryptomaniac trying to connect the dots and the facts How do we have to be here? ‘Cause these hotels, I just can’t relax The more I bend, the worse that I snap I feel like a goddamn maniac

Tell me what did I do to deserve somebody like you? It’s too hard to tell the truth nothing’s real and nothing’s rude I’m just a product of my emotions and they’re all setting off again… You sure you wanna do this now? Oh, you sure you wanna do this now?

'Cause I mean it when I say that I don’t understand And I mean it when I say that I’m not sure who I am 'Cause one minute I love you and the next it’s all in ruins One minute thinking of you and the next my mind’s in ruins

WHERE HAVE ALL THE COWBOYS GONE

16. The Last Time - Taylor Swift feat. Gary Lightbody

Very much the Crashdown “how do you truly feel about me” scene.

Find myself at your door just like all those times before I’m not sure how I got there all roads, they lead me here I imagine you are home in your room, all alone And you open your eyes into mine and everything feels better And right before your eyes I’m breaking No past, no reasons why just you and me This is the last time I’m asking you this Put my name at the top of your list This is the last time I’m asking you why You break my heart in the blink of an eye

DON’T SPEAK

Don’t Speak is one of my favorite chunks of this playlist. I love the pre-pilot set of songs, this set, and then the Recovering the Satellites to the end set the most out of all of this whole thing. Just thought I’d share. Also 3 of my 4 favorite episodes. Hmmm… 🤔

17. Run No More - the Talbott Brothers

So, this is kind of my interpretation of Max’s POV after learning that Isobel sent Liz away. I feel like that knowledge and the realization that Michael and Isobel had manipulated the biggest heartbreak of his life, and lied to him for a decade about it, kind of freed him in a sense.  And for the first time he felt like he could stop hiding and release his guilt.  If Liz hadn’t been in trouble, I think he would have gone straight to her and confessed everything.

It doesn’t get easier the further I run It gets harder to carry the weight of what I’ve done I am speaking from experience I don’t wanna run no more

18. Wild Heart - Bleachers Pretty much same themes as above.  These two songs to me are kind of the combo of that determination in Max.  Above is more focused on his guilt and wanting to reveal the truth.  This one is more about his love for Liz and his determination to find her and protect her and love her.

As I sat with the echoes of lies that I told I felt young, never changed by crooked hearts… Well, everything has changed And now it’s only you that matters I will find any way to your wild heart

19. Dream - Bishop Briggs

I don’t remember who did a fanvid to this…was it Mo? It was wonderful and it’s perfect for the end of this episode.  Max running to save Liz from Wyatt Long and wanting to come clean to her, even though he knew it would likely still make her turn away from him. Liz breaking down at the end…sniffles.

Oh, I had a dream that you couldn’t hear me screaming Trying to tell you everything but it wouldn’t stop you leaving I wanna wake up where your love is 'Cause your love is always waking mine

I wanna break down where your heart gets So torn it’s almost breaking mine I wanna lay here, lost and bitter So long, I feel like I could die I wanna tell you what my truth is But it’s buried down inside

20. Lullaby - Lord Huron

I heart this song… and I think it speaks to Liz in this episode so much.  The danger she puts herself in, Wyatt!Noah coming after her, Max desperately wanting to protect her… 

You arrive along with the sun Where have you been darlin’? What have you done? You were out finding trouble again There’s a fire in your eyes and there’s blood on your hands Come inside and lie down to sleep You ain’t gonna run and you know that you’re beat Rest awhile, they’re coming for you There’s a price to be paid for the things that we do

Fall asleep and forget all your troubles Dream of laughter and old friends and lovers Dream of when you were innocent

SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT

21. Watch Me - Labi Siffre Early in the episode, when they were happy and innocent. I feel like this song just kind of captures that young love, high school vibe.

Watch me when you look my way See me smiling, be my night and day Touch me in your own sweet way Feel me tremble, you take my words away All of the time I love you Make you a rhyme, I love you

22. Grew Up Fast - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

Here’s another Tom Petty song from my brother’s playlist that we listened to on the way to the Grand Canyon on the day after this episode aired.  I heard it, and immediately thought of the Pod Squad (and Liz) and how the incidents surrounding Rosa’s death kind of forced them all out of their youth and into a traumatic adulthood.  Also I think it kind of bridges back to the present with Max telling Liz the story of Rosa’s death and her reaction towards him at the end of the episode.

We grew up fast when lies were just a fact of life We grew up mad cause we never had a home… Hey, my brother I’ve got no fight with you, I just can’t lie down Hey, my brother I’ve got no fight with you, I just can’t lie down No, I just can’t lie down, I just can’t lie down Well, you know who I am So don’t treat me like I’m someone else… You never talk like that to no one else You never scream like that for no one else

23. 17 - Jade Bird

This…just…the look on Max’s face when Liz runs out after telling him she never wants to see him again. It’s like his heart is breaking all over again.

You asked me to be yours, well you’re tempting fate How I left a promise but it’s one I can’t make Lord knows it’d kill me if you walked away But darling my lies, they hide you from the pain Stay, let me explain why I act so mean Don’t look away, baby, it’s not all that it seems I’m so afraid that you’ll just get up and leave My heart will break like I’m 17

I SAW THE SIGN & BARELY BREATHING

24. Your Hurricane - Death Cab for Cutie

“Liz Ortecho is my hurricane.”  Max is such a ball of anger and angst in this episode.  This song may lean a little more on the anger side than really played out in the episode, but I still think it works, considering that Liz spends much of this episode creating the serum.

You used to be such a delicate kid A lonely fish in a sea full of squid So I can’t blame you for leaving how you did You just fell off the grid 'Cause heaven is a hole in the sky The stars are cracks in the ceiling of night But you can’t be your own alibi As hard as you try It’s a tired refrain you’re singing over and over again As you try to explain who’s at fault for your mistakes But I won’t be the debris in your hurricane

25. Lose That Light - Folly and the Hunter

I don’t recall where I got this song from…it may have come from someone else’s playlist.  But it makes me think about how rough of a go Max has it in Barely Breathing and how Liz is, like, the light that kind of guides him through it, that he has faith in to save his sister.

In my arms you fell, after fighting tooth and nail. The convictions you have are all gone now. You followed that trail, just to take a chance and fail. Do not let that dark voice call you out Even if it gets hard, don’t lose that light…

26. Such a Simple Thing - Ray LaMontagne

I see this as the end of the episode, when they are so close to being on the same page, but Liz is still afraid and still puts up that wall.  Max sees how amazing she is, how she’s willing to fight to save Isobel for him.  And Liz is beginning to feel it as well, because the drive to do it for Max, to comfort him, was so powerful.  “My heart is like paper” = Max, “yours is like a flame” = Liz.

Tell me what you’re feeling I can take the pain Tell me that you mean it That you won’t leave again Tell me what your heart wants Such a simple thing My heart is like paper Yours is like a flame

SONGS ABOUT TEXAS

27. Make These Colors Real - Hush Kids

This song just makes me think about that vibe all through Songs About Texas prior to the kiss.  The heart eyes looks, the touches, how close they are to going there, even though it hasn’t happened yet.  This is also the only song I couldn’t find lyrics for online so I transcribed as best I can, but I couldn’t figure one line out, so I just left it off the post! Sorryyyy… 

I guess you win, I guess I’ll see you around again Locked eyes, brushed hands. I’ll lie and say we’re only friends Yes I want you but I don’t want to Cause I can’t hold you when I want to So maybe I’m selfish, maybe it’s reckless Maybe I’m out of my mind

Ooh you make me weak you, you make me seek you You’d make me dive down to the depth of your ocean Ooh if I could hold you… I’d make these colors real

28. Surrender - Natalie Taylor

Throughout this whole episode I feel like there’s a general sense of Liz giving up her fight against Max.  She can’t hide how much she loves him anymore.  She hasn’t quite decided to be with him yet…but throughout the episode that wall thins more and more until she finally does give in to him.

No one will win this time I just want you back I’m running to your side Flying my white flag, my white flag… Whenever you’re ready, whenever you’re ready Can we, can we surrender I surrender

29. I’ll Be Your Mirror - Clem Snide

I’m pretty sure this came from another Echo playlist…because it’s the perfect song to represent Max’s speech to Liz to reveal how well he sees her.

I find it hard to believe you don’t know The beauty you are But if you don’t let me be your eyes A hand to your darkness, so you won’t be afraid When you think the night has seen your mind That inside you’re twisted and unkind Let me stand to show that you are blind Please put down your hands 'Cause I see you I’ll be your mirror, reflect what you are

30. Courage - P!nk

That split second before Liz decides to grab Max and pull him in for the kiss…

See, I let the light in the darkest places Let the sun shine, pain goes away Nothing is permanent for me Have I the courage to change?

31. Easy - Camilla Cabello

It’s almost ridiculous how Echo’s first kiss this song is. Like, seriously, Camilla? Do you watch RNM? Are you an Echo shipper? Is this your own personal fan song?

You really, really know me The future and the old me All of the mazes and the madness in my mind You really, really love me You know me and you love me And it’s the kind of thing I always hoped I’d find

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy Touch me 'til I find myself, in a feeling Tell me with your hands that you’re never leaving Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy All I know is you, heal me when I’m broken, heal me when I’m broken All I know is you, saved me and you know it, saved me and you know it

32. Day Too Soon - Sia

Liz making the choice that it is finally the right time for her to stop running. Okay, Max has been waiting patiently, but for Liz everything has finally perfectly collided.

Pick me up in your arms Carry me away from harm You’re never gonna put me down I know you’re just one good man You’ll tire before we see land You’re never gonna put me down You’ll risk all this for just a kiss I promise I will not resist

Promise you won’t hold me down And when we reach a good place Let’s be sure to leave no trace Promise they won’t track us down

Now I’ve been running all my life I ran away, I ran away from good Yeah, I’ve been waiting all my life You’re not a day, you’re not a day too soon

33. Truly Madly Deeply - Yoke Lore

Awesome cover of 90’s song? Check! Super romantic to the point of almost cheesy? Check! It’s got Echo getting together written all over it.

I’ll be your dream, I’ll be your wish, I’ll be your fantasy. I’ll be your hope, I’ll be your love, be everything that you need. I’ll love you more with every breath, truly madly deeply do I want to stand with you on a mountain I want to bathe with you in the sea. I want to lay like this forever. Until the sky falls down on me

I DON’T WANT TO MISS A THING, CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA, CREEP

34. Side By Side - Layup

Sadly, I don’t have a lot of songs for this chunk of episodes for Echo. But they’re finally together, on the same team, being awesome, so that’s pretty much all I’m getting at with this song.

And so, now I go down all these roads with you, my home And now, I’ll keep you close I hope you know - I love you most So here I walk by your side, oh, on our own time Oh, we’ll be alright, as long as we stay side by side From the coldest nights to warmer degrees we’ll get by You and I, side by side

RECOVERING THE SATELLITES

35. Electric Love - BØRNS

I mean… Alien!God Max channeling all that lightning to get the job done is fucking sexy. And then he just marches home to worship his love the way Liz deserves. *nods firmly*

Baby you’re like lightning in a bottle I can’t let you go now that I got it All I need is to be struck By your electric love Baby, you’re electric love Electric love Rushing through me I feel your energy rushing through me…

36. Duet - Penny and Sparrow f/ Stephanie Briggs

Echo love scene. Just ignore that Liz is not wearing a dress. Everything else fits. And the chorus? *chefs kiss* “Because I’ve seen you and I know you”...ties right back to their first kiss and Max proving to Liz that he isn’t holding onto some high school fantasy.  “And I’m not going anywhere”...it breaks my heart because it was 100% true in that moment…but hours later Max is dead. 😭

I bet your shoulders can hold more than just the straps of that tiny dress That I’ll help you slide aside when we get home I’ve seen 'em carry family and the steel drum weight of me Effortless, just like that dress that I’ll help off I bet your back can carry more than just the weight of your button-down One by one, they’ll come undone when we get home I’ve seen you carry family and all my insecurities One by one, they’ll come undone when we get home

Because I’ve seen you And I know you And I’m not going anywhere

37. Atlas: Two - Sleeping at Last

This is, like, the most Max song ever. Especially where his head is at right at the end of Recovering the Satellites after he and Liz make love, when he is straight up in worshipful puppy mode.  It makes me both 😍 and 😭, because I love how much he loves her, but I know how unhealthy his devotion is, and that it leads to him dying. 

Sweetheart, you look a little tired when did you last eat? Come in and make yourself right at home stay as long as you need Tell me, is something wrong? If something’s wrong, you can count on me You know I’ll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat It’s okay if you can’t find the words Let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders

Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have Like a tidal wave, I’ll make a mess Or calm waters, if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached It’s okay if you can’t catch your breath You can take the oxygen straight out of my own chest I know exactly how the rule goes put my mask on first No, I don’t want to talk about myself tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up ‘til you’re good as new And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too I don’t even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you without any strings attached What a privilege it is to love A great honor to hold you, love Like a force to be reckoned with A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss I will love you with every single thing I have Like a tidal wave, I’ll make a mess Or calm waters if that serves you best I will love you without any strings attached I will love you without a single string attached

38. Another Story - the Head and the Heart

In my head this is another afterglow, Max manic on love & power and it pushes him to do something crazy song...I both see he and Liz happy together in his bed in the morning sunlights and flickering firelight...and Max deciding to heal Rosa. 😍😭

These are just flames burning in your fireplace I hear your voice and it seems as if it was all a dream I wish it was all a dream I see a world, a world turning in on itself Are we just like hungry wolves howling in the night I don’t want no music tonight

Every time I hear another story Oh the poor boy lost his head Everybody feels a little crazy But we go on living with it

39. Come to This - Natalie Taylor

Liz crying over Max’s body 😭😭😭. There is no heart eyes here.  It’s all just paaaain. 😭😭😭

How can this happen? How can this be? There is no ending, there is no peace The darkness is so close The light so quickly goes And now it’s all gone Now it’s all gone Will you hear me when I speak? Do you feel the pain with me? I’ve tried to be so strong I thought that hope would come But you’re not here

Oh, the darkness keeps its grip Oh, how’d it come to this? Oh, please come back Please come back

40. Six Feet Under - Billie Eilish

More Liz crying over Max’s body…and just love and pain and death and sadness. 😭😭😭

Retrace my lips Erase your touch It’s all too much for me Blow away Like smoke in air How can you die carelessly? Our love is six feet under I can’t help but wonder If our grave was watered by the rain Would roses bloom? Could roses bloom?

POST-SEASON 1

These are just kind of my headcanon songs of various post-S1 reactions from Liz at various different dark moments.

41. Hello My Old Heart - the Oh Hellos

I see a lot of people attribute this song to Liz at the beginning of the show, but I think it’s more appropriate at the end of the season. I’d love it if they use this song in Season 2.  I see it more as Liz putting the walls she had at the beginning of the show back up again after loving and losing Max, which would break my heart. But I think it’s how she would cope while he’s gone and then those walls would come back down.

Hello, my old heart It’s been so long Since I’ve given you away And every day, I add another stone To the walls I built around you To keep you safe

Oh, oh, don’t leave me here alone Don’t tell me that we’ve grown For having loved a little while Oh, oh, I don’t wanna be alone I wanna find a home And I wanna share it with you

42. Poetry By Dead Men - Sara Bareilles

I can see this scene in my head. I can see Liz and Max both longing for this scene in their head. Just the simple domesticity of drinking coffee together in the afterglow, while Max reads poetry to Liz.  Except that he had to go and die first and that just fucking sucks.  So I hear some anger and a little bit of “don’t let the door hit you on your way out” in this song, and I could see Liz occasionally just having moments of anger in her grief where she feels this way. Briefly.

By the time you hear this, who knows where I might be Singing about another near-miss love that ended incomplete I was ready, but you weren’t So jump with your net from this bridge you’ve burned I wanted to tell you things, all the secrets I’ve been keeping I saw it in front of me, but then you just kept disappearing A good dream, almost, now I tell your ghost

I wanted to be your girl in a white T-shirt Over coffee, stirring in the cinnamon While you read me poetry by dead men I wanted to be your girl with your hands on my skin Stirring in the cinnamon While you read me poetry by dead men

43. Recovering the Satellites - Counting Crows

This is one of the few episode titles where the lyrics actually get to me, like in a plotty way. But not necessarily from what happens in the episode, so much as the idea of Liz questioning later whether the brief moment of love she had with Max was worth all of the accompanying pain. 😭😭😭😭

So why’d you come home to this sleepless town? It’s a lifetime commitment, recovering the satellites All anybody really wants to know is When you’re gonna come down, when you’re gonna come down But we only stay in orbit for a moment of time And then you’re everybody’s satellite I wish that you were mine, I wish that you were mine

44. The Chain - Ingrid Michaelson

Definitely stole this from someone else, but it’s perfect and I love ending with it, because even though it’s loaded down with all of the pain we’re feeling at the end of the season, it also has a little twinge of hope and possibility for that future day when Max comes back (which we all know he will)!  So in other words, it’s 😭😭😍😍

The sky looks pissed The wind talks back My bones are shifting in my skin And you my love are gone My room feels wrong The bed won’t fit I cannot seem to operate And you my love are gone

I’ll never say that I’ll never love But I don’t say a lot of things And you my love are gone

So glide away on soapy heels And promise not to promise anymore And if you come around again Then I will take, Then I will take, The chain from off the door

[jungcock]

fatal attraction⎜05 (m.)

→ pairing: reader x jungkook (feat. taehyung)

→ genre: serial killer au, smut, angst

→ word count: 8.5k

Your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one.

→ warnings: unprotected sex, defloration, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of death and murder, major character death

→ disclaimer: myself and this fic does NOT condone the act of killing or the romanticisation of those who kill. if themes of violence, killing and/or stalking are triggering to you, please do NOT read this fic. 

→ author’s note: this update would not have happened without @kookingtae credit for my sanity goes to her.

↳ series m.list | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | ongoing

Three years, eight months ago

Despite the fact you were on your way to losing your virginity, you were seemingly more nervous to visit the Jeon residence for the first time. Jungkook drove in silence, leaving you to your thoughts. It was late, almost 10 pm. Would his parents still be up? Would you finally be able to meet them? Or would Jungkook sneak you in through the backdoor? Your thoughts settled on the fact that meeting a guy's parents for the first time and then fucking him for the first time moments later wouldn't be an ideal or realistic situation. You were sure Jungkook would avoid it.

You couldn't help but think why you had chosen tonight to be the night. You hadn't planned it but you had been thinking about it for a while. Maybe, having a banana milkshake that night instead of your regular strawberry had you thinking differently in all sorts of ways. After your first date in that motel room months ago and a few subtle instances of him shrugging you off, you were almost too scared to make the first move. Your confidence was weak. You wanted to have sex and you knew he did too but his self-control was strong. You didn't know what was different for him now, especially to suddenly confess he would die and kill for you. Maybe, ultimately, he simply had had enough abstaining.

You knew Jungkook came from money but you never expected his family home to be the most lavish villa you had ever seen. He snuck you around the back as you had expected but it was the quickest route to his bedroom—which was downstairs and attached to a young man cave. He had held your hand the entire way, squeezing it for comfort. But surprisingly, you didn't need him to—you weren't nervous or scared. Maybe, you should have been.

His bedroom was not what you had imagined. It was tidy, close to spotless. Framed pictures and trophies decorated his walls and shelves. It was well lit, despite it essentially being a basement. It goes without saying you waltzed straight over to the pictures.

"You want candles or something?"

You had picked up a frame, it was a picture of Jungkook and Namjoon as toddlers—perched on their father's lap. His father was in a suit and aviators, holding a fat cigar between the fingers of the hand wrapped around Jungkook. Setting the picture down, you chuckled to yourself thinking about how much he looked like a mob boss.

"Sure," you answered him.

He nodded before disappearing into his ensuite. You picked up another picture of Jungkook, he was little older than he was in the first picture, this time—kissing his mother. He was the cutest kid you had ever seen. You had to hold in a squeal.

"I could only find one," Jungkook announced, walking back into the room. "But it's scented so I hope that makes up for it."

It was incredibly sweet he was trying to create a romantic atmosphere—it was always the thought that counted. You smiled softly and he smiled back. You watched while he reached into his back pocket to grab his zippo and lit the wick with ease. After setting the candle on top of his dresser, he stood there staring at the flame.

"What scent?" you asked, strolling closer.

"Vanilla."

You nodded. There was a silence. What now? He seemed to be content just standing where he was. Was he having second thoughts? You were suddenly nervous and it made your palms sweat. Were you supposed to just... pounce on him? Why could he never make things easy for you? You looked over your shoulder, back to the pictures you were admiring.

"You were an adorable kid," you grinned. "I'm almost mad you didn't show me pictures before."

He chuckled, finally turning to face you. "You do know that's the mother's job, right?"

"Yeah, if I ever meet her," you mumbled unintentionally. You didn't want an argument but the words just fell from your lips before you had a chance to stop them.

His shoulders slumped. "Princess—"

"It seems like you have a really special relationship with her. I can tell by the pictures... it's lovely," you interrupted him.

"I'd rather not talk about my mom when I'm about to fuck my girlfriend."

Your eyes bulged. "Right, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he sniggered, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer. He looked deep into your eyes, your pupils, your soul. "Have you done this before?"

"Yes," you lied shakily and you don't know why you did.

He raised an eyebrow at you. You had to avoid eye contact—anything for him not to see how fucking nervous you had become. He lifted your chin to look at him, denying you to hide.

"Ok," he replied sympathetically, knowingly. It was as if he heard your answer as no—as if he knew your answer should have been no.

When he kissed you, your nerves melted away. It was tender and slow and it felt like he was kissing you for the first time—the butterflies in the pit of your stomach made you feel like you were kissing him for the first time. In a waltz, he led you back towards the bed until your calves hit the end of it. Although, he didn't push you down as you had expected. He kept kissing you, passionately, running his hands all over your body but always returning to grip your neck. At one point you moaned into his mouth and he growled back at you. You didn't know if it was a virgin thing, or if it was just him, but you were already feeling wetness pool in your panties.

Lust and excitement took over and you tugged at his shirt—a silent plea for him to take it off. He obeyed and as he did so, so did you. His eyes roamed over your body in admiration and it gave you the confidence to slowly remove your bra. There was a fire in his eyes as his rough palms caressed your soft bare skin.

"So beautiful," he murmured before attacking your lips again.

Once you fell back onto the bed, Jungkook began slowly kissing every inch of you. He left a trail of wet pecks from your lips down to your cheek and neck—sucking until he found your sweet spot and earned a moan. You had never felt so turned on and he hadn't even properly touched you yet. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against him as he moved his kisses down to your breasts.

"I've been dreaming about these for months," he growled before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking softly.

You keened, arching your back and lifting your chest into his face. He responded by switching nipples, licking and nibbling while his large hand cupped the other breast. Suddenly, he retracted from you, sitting up to tend your jeans. He popped the button undone before slowly shimming them down your legs and chucking them over his shoulder. Next were your panties and it made your heart race in anticipation. He fiddled with the flimsy straps before you eventually lifted yourself for him to pull down the lace and discard them with your jeans.

You were completely bare for him. His lust-crazed eyes drank in your figure as you laid there, hair fanned out across the bedspread in the shape of a halo, your cheeks tinged pink and your thighs clasped together. With his palms on your knees, Jungkook attempted to spread your thighs apart but found you resistant. He tried again, but you wouldn't budge. You trusted him, you wanted this but you couldn't help it, it was like a reflex. He sighed and rested his chin on your knees, sliding his hands down to cup the top of your thighs.

"Princess, if you're not ready, we don't have to."

You shook your head. "No, I want to!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"I just... I wanna be on top," you explained. "I want to control it."

You swore you saw Jungkook shiver.

"Fucking hell, you're so sexy," he exclaimed. "And I can just smell how wet you are."

"Oh, Jesus!" you cried, your hands flying up to cover your face in embarrassment.

Jungkook leaned down to pull your palms away. "And it's more delicious than the vanilla."

He gave you another kiss before climbing off of you to take off this pants. You sat up to watch as he shamelessly pulled down his underwear—his hard cock springing free. It was bigger than you had imagined, girthier. It was beautiful and you unintentionally squeezed your legs together. You were sure your eyes were the size of saucers as you began to worry how that could possibly fit inside of you.

"Lay down," you ordered after clearing your throat.

He sniggered and he what he was told, climbing onto the bed and lying down with his head propped up against the headboard. You crawled over to him, hovering over his body the same way he did to you moments ago. He was so much bigger than you, longer—you had to straddle his lower stomach in order to reach his lips.

After a few kisses, he looked up at you with wonder—eyes then flicking down to your drenched core against his lower abdomen. He smirked before mumbling against your lips, "I can feel how wet you are for me."

You groaned back into his mouth—automatically grinding your wetness against his navel. He reached into his nightstand, pulling out a small foil packet. You used his chest to push yourself up to watch him rip the packet open with his teeth. Your eyebrows furrowed before taking the slimy rubber off of him.

He frowned. "Wait, I always wear one," he protested.

You shook your head. "Not with me," you murmured.

A devilish smirk spread across his face before he shot up to kiss you, quick to push his tongue into your mouth. You chucked the unused condom over your shoulder and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back fervently. He tried flipping you over but you counteracted, shoving his chest and making him flop back down. You hovered over him, his cock hard and leaking and it enticed you to settle yourself on it. You had no idea what you were doing and his tip missed your entrance, sliding up towards your clit. He sighed at the small contact and boosted your confidence. Soon, found your hips moving—your slick pussy sliding up and down his shaft. You moaned at the ceiling, enjoying the friction of his warm hardness.

You didn't get to enjoy it for long because the next thing you knew, you were on your back. Jungkook loomed over you, propping your legs open and steering his cock towards your entrance. You held your breath.

He pushed into you slowly, leaning over you to watch your reactions. You could tell he was being careful not to hurt you but it was impossible to ignore the strong burning. Your face contorted at the stretch and he froze. He kissed you softly as if to try to kiss the pain away. You giggled, stroking his clammy face.

"Keep going," you whispered.

He nodded, thrusting inside you all the way and releasing a sigh of relief. You felt so incredibly full, you couldn't describe the physical feeling in any other way. But having Jungkook inside you, apart of you, finally, made you feel so overwhelming content. You had each other completely, mind, body and soul.

When he gradually began pumping into you, little whimpers escaped your mouth. He seemed to inhale the sounds, his heavy breathing fanning over your face with your foreheads pressed together. While he focused on keeping a steady pace, you focused in on his face—the pure pained restraint and pleasure clear as day in his expressions.

"You ok?" he grunted, careful not to thrust particularly hard.

You nodded and he kissed you before sitting up and adjusting the position of your hips. This way you both watched as his length worked in and out of you, appearing slicker and wetter the longer he fucked you. You almost couldn't peel your eyes away, heart racing and cheeks flushing at the fact such a filthy sight was turning you on to the point of no return. The pain had almost completely subsided and you threw your head back, whimpering and moaning shamelessly.

Jungkook's grip on your hips became tighter. His thrusts gradually became faster and harder. You clawed at his forearms when his pace turned into a pounding, the bedposts banging against the walls. His tip was constantly hitting your sweet spot and it forced your eyes to roll back. The pleasure was like nothing you had ever experienced, your own fingers couldn't even come close to compare. Your moaning increased into screaming as the coil in the pit of your stomach pulled so incredibly taut you thought you might explode.

"Oh my god, Jungkook!" you squealed, whining and wriggling.

Sensing you were close to your end, Jungkook smirked and bent your legs to push them against your chest. He pounded you into the mattress, snaking a hand between your thighs to rub your clit. The coil snapped and you came with a scream. Your body jerked against Jungkook but he managed to control your body enough to keep ramming your convulsing hole. You were squeezing him so perfectly, he couldn't sense or foresee how close his own end was.

"____, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he rasped, "Oh, fuck!"

Suddenly, you felt empty and you let out a deflated sigh. Long spurts of cum splattered all over your stomach and chest. Jungkook hissed and growled and then yanked at his almost softening cock to shoot the rest of his load around your belly button. In a post-orgasm haze, you tapped at the pools of milky liquid and rubbed the substance between your two fingers. Jungkook watched you intensely as you popped a finger into your mouth to taste and giggled.

He chuckled to mask the chill that went down his spine before fishing off his bed for something to clean you up with. It was the black tee he was wearing that day and he had no hesitations to use it to wipe his cum off of you. Quickly after that, you both got under the covers and laid there silently, feeling completely satisfied and euphoric. You had finally done it. You had sex with Jungkook and it was everything you had wished it to be.

"I swear I last longer than that," Jungkook broke the silence after clearing his throat.

In the moment, you hadn't noticed but on second thought, it was quite fast. You hoped he wouldn't be too hard on himself because for you it was perfect. You were satisfied and for your first time, you didn't think you'd be able to go on that much longer.

You giggled, rolling over to drape your arms around his neck. "It's because I'm better than them," you teased.

He chuckled back. "Yeah, you are."

He leaned in for a big kiss, lazy and sloppy. When he broke away, he dived under the sheets and tried his utmost to settled himself between your thighs. You fought him off and then lifted the covers to confront him.

"What are you doing?!" you squealed.

He looked up at you with a smirk. "I'm taking care of you," he answered, finally wedging himself between your thighs.

He gave your clit a little kitten lick and you squealed, "JUNGKOOK, NO!"

He chuckled evilly before continuing to softly lap at your folds. You were so sensitive from your orgasm it was near torture and you tried to kick at him to stop. He held your legs down and licked a little softer. It tickled like crazy and you kicked and screamed and laughed like a maniac.

"Jungkook, please, please," you begged him as you wrestled through the sheets.

He stopped almost immediately and you tried so hard to straighten out the sheets to find him but to no avail. Instead, he yanked you under, attacking you with kisses until you were snorting from laughter.

Night after night, those sheets compassed you and Jungkook in your own little world of safety and comfort and pleasure—not even the red wine you spilt the week after was enough to tarnish those sheets.

*

Staring at the same red wine stain no longer gave you the feeling of safety and comfort and pleasure. You felt dirty staring at it, crumpled in the middle of the mattress. You were trying to be strong but felt so undeniably pathetic letting something as simple as a stain on a sheet weaken you. It was an awful feeling and it had you wholeheartedly doubting your ability to do what you had to do, what you came there to do—face him.

The shower was running. You could still leave and he'd never know you were there. You could run out of the room right that second and erase the possible encounter from your memory. That would be the easy thing to do, what you had been doing the last three years.

He turned the shower off. And despite the overwhelming sense of dread and anxiousness and panic that brewed at the pity of your stomach, you stood your ground. Three years of the easy way out was quite enough and your decision to stay gave you a strong sense of empowerment. You could do this.

When he walked into his bedroom, his eyes doubled in size seeing you waiting for him. You tried your best not to mirror his expression. He was half dressed. Water droplets from his hair cascaded down his neck. You didn't know if you could do this.

“____, I really didn't expect you here.”

You didn't expect to be there either. You got up early, careful not to wake the sleeping boys scattered around your bedroom floor. You didn't even take a shower. You were almost certain residue from last night’s makeup was on your face. You didn’t even realise the sweatshirt you chucked on was massive on you and Jungkook’s—which earned a questionable look from him. To say you didn’t think this through was the understatement of the century.

You weren’t in your right mind when you stole Taehyung’s car and drove yourself to a murderer’s house. After reading and attempting to process Jungkook’s text, you felt the overwhelming need to take matters into your own hands—to somehow try to fix it and to ultimately try to save your friends. As much as it panicked you to admit and accept—he still loved you and you could play that to your advantage.

However seeing him in such close proximity, shirtless, tattoos on full display, black and coloured, obnoxiously covering the majority of his skin, had you weak in the knees. It was fear that had you trembling—the fear of him and the fear of old feelings. You tried the utmost to avert your eyes, denying yourself to feel the attraction you still harboured towards him. Your hands shook as you mentally reprimanded yourself for not feeling completely disgusted by the sight of him. The fear quickly turned into anger.

“Neither did I,” you forced through gritted teeth.

Jungkook paced over to his dresser but instead of grabbing a shirt he picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one. You watched him and tried not to watch him at the same time, hugging yourself—unsure whether to take a seat or stand. He took a long drag, staring at you brazenly while your eyes darted around the room.

"You're upset," Jungkook stated.

"You upset me."

Upset, angry, awkward, uncomfortable—he made you feel all of them.

“I’ve missed you, I missed you every day,” he chuckled as if he felt ridiculous for saying it. "Although, you already know that from my unanswered letters. I guess I deserved it for not being honest with you. You've proved your point, it doesn't feel good to be left in the dark."

He was speaking with you so civilly that it shocked you into silence. He was acting as if the events of the night before never happened. Your sight finally landed on him, determined to try to understand how he could be anything other than as hostile as he was less than 24 hours ago. Surely, your surprise visit wasn't enough to sway his bad intentions.

“I didn’t get your letters,” you stated matter-of-factly, “until just recently.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped at the information. “Oh,” he replied dejectedly, “did you read them?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. What was he playing at? It was like he still cared—like he still had feelings other than resent and anger and a deranged obsession with you. You would have taken pity on him if he hadn’t threatened to kill all of your friends the night before.

“No,” you lied out of spite.

He sighed. “I guess there are some things we need to talk about, then.”

He was attempting to reconcile... as if the whole thing was just a small miscommunication. You couldn't believe his audacity. He was delusional to think there was anything to redeem between the two of you. You weren't having it. You wouldn't let him indulge in the hope.

“I'm not here to talk about us, Jungkook,” you told him harshly.

He gave you a look as if to say he didn’t believe you. “Then why are you here?”

You looked back at him incredulously. “Why the fuck do you think I’m here?”

He cocked an eyebrow at the bed presumptuously. “You haven’t asked me to put a shirt on,” he added.

You could have punched him. “Put a shirt on,” you ordered flatly, barely controlling your rage.

He raised his hands up in surrender, sticking his cigarette in his mouth so he had both hands to rummage through his drawers. You instinctively exhaled in relief when he found a black tee and rolled it down his abdomen.

“Listen, I'm here because I want you to stay away from my friends," you revealed, approaching him with false bravery.

He kept his back towards you. “I haven’t seen you in three years and that’s all you have to say to me?”

“You fucking threatened to kill them.”

"I'm not going to kill them," he chuckled mockingly.

Your eyebrows knitted together. Your brain throbbed in confusion. He still wouldn't turn around to face you, as if your presence was now a burden and unwanted. Once upon a time, you would have yanked him by his shoulder and maybe even slapped him for his mocking tone. The fact you couldn't do it, the fact you were too scared to, only fueled your frustration.

"And I'm just supposed to believe that," you called him out, "after the stunt you pulled last night?"

"Yes," he answered, aggressively putting out his cigarette in the tray on his dresser.

"You're fucking insane," you scoffed, rubbing your temples.

Jungkook's shoulder's stiffened. You struck the right chord. In a flash, he turned to step into your face and screamed, “I’M NOT GOING TO KILL YOUR FRIENDS, ____.”

You should have cowered at his outburst, it made sense to. But instead, you screamed right back. “THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU THREATENED TO?!”

Jungkook sighed shakily through his rage. “You didn’t read my letters,” he almost explained to himself before turning back around to slam a drawer shut.

You flinched at the bang. You had no idea what he was on about but you refused to reveal you had read them. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Although, it did have you pondering whether he did explain some aspects of his actions in those letters apart from the one letter explaining he was his father’s personal hitman. You didn't remember anything noteworthy in regards to why he would subject himself to such a role and what that role entailed—but then again, you hadn't read them all. Regardless, that didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were talking to a deranged killer and that killer had your friends on his hit list. All that mattered was their safety and you had to ensure it.

"You kill people, Jungkook. You killed someone in front of me," you managed to choke out. "You can't blame me for not believing your threats are empty."

"They're not when it comes to business," he answered plainly. "This was personal so I take it back. Happy? You can leave now."

"That's not fair," you squeaked.

"What's not fair, ___, hm?" he mocked, "You came here to save your friends. You did that and now, you can go!"

You knew you shouldn't have let him get to you but he just did. This was the part where you would kiss him silly, reassure him it was just a stupid fight and you adored him too much waste a moment angry. You felt bad. You could still feel how much he cared for you. You could feel how disappointed he was that he didn't feel that care back—manipulation at its finest.

“It wasn’t easy for me, you know,” you called after him as he walked away from you and sat on his bed with his back turned, “I’m sure you think so. I’m sure you think I’m one heartless bitch but what was I supposed to do, Jungkook?”

Your question lingered in the air. You stared holes into his back while he sat there, silent, with his head in his hands. When he finally lifted his head, he looked over his shoulder towards you. Your heart raced, forgetting how gorgeous his side profile was—you could have screamed.

“Talk to me,” he replied.

You really could have screamed.

“Do you have any fucking clue how scared I was of you? How scared I still am?” your voice wavered. “You murder people as a job. Not to mention you lied to me about it.”

“You know that’s not who I am,” he murmured, “You know me.”

“No, I don’t," you shook your head. "The boy I knew and fell in love with didn't kill people for his father's drug cartel. And I won't apologise for turning you in but I am sorry it had to be that way."

He scoffed. “Why do you have to remind me?”

“I think we’ve both done enough pretending, Jungkook,” you said softly.

“Why do you have to remind me,” he repeated, disregarding that you spoke, “that you betrayed me and that I should fucking hate you but—”

“Don't—”

He chuckled at the ceiling. "Enough pretending, huh?"

Your heart ached for him and how badly you wanted to somehow fix him. It was a toxic feeling and you wished you had recognised it as such the first time you felt it—all those years ago in that motel room. You wanted nothing more but to cower away but you stood your ground and said the bravest thing you had ever said in your life.

"I was so in love with you, Jungkook," you croaked unintentionally. "I couldn't sleep for weeks with your voice in my head, screaming to see me one last time and when I could sleep, I cried myself to sleep for months, fucking missing you and feeling so goddamn guilty!"

You didn't realise how distraught you were until your vision went blurry from the tears. Jungkook approached you slowly but stopped once he noticed you backing away at the same pace. You would have had a panic attack if he got any closer.

"I was so in love with you," you repeated through your sobs, "and you made me hate myself for it! You made me feel like there was something wrong with me! You do the most despicable, repulsive, most horrendous things a human being could do—you kill—and I loved you so much it hurt."

"____—"

"You put me in that position," you interrupted him with accusations. "You fucked with my head and my entire life. You ruined me. "

"We ruined each other," he retorted.

"I guess we did," you sniffled, trying to wipe and dry your face with your sleeve.

"I'm sorry," he said with complete sincerity—you could see it in his eyes.

You nodded and tucked your hair behind your ears so the strands wouldn't stick to your wet cheeks. "I don't think I have or will ever get over you, but I have to," you admitted. "Goodbye, Jungkook."

As you turned your back on him, a weight lifted off of your shoulders—you felt almost as if you were floating. This was it. You said your piece. You got your closure. Now, you could move on—or so you thought.

"____," he called softly, "you can still be with me. I would never hurt you."

The weight returned, heavy as ever. Your stomach sank. The desperation in his voice so crystal clear, so raw it could never be unheard or forgotten—something new to haunt you. Neither of you were pretending anymore. You were both being utterly vulnerable and it was petrifying. But, you had said your piece and you had to stand by it.

"It's not me I'm worried about," you uttered before desperately continuing to make your leave.

"You're with him, aren't you?" he muttered under his breath and it stopped you in your tracks. "Taeyang... Taehyung."

You looked over your shoulder at him and you wished you didn't. The fire in his eyes was raging and terrifying, almost demonic. You felt frozen in place as if his gaze turned you to stone. He always had the worst temper especially when it was brewed from jealousy. You knew this but you couldn't find the words to reassure him, you couldn't even find the words to lie.

You swore you heard him growl when you swiftly escaped out the door and slammed it behind you. You didn't realise you were holding your breath until a loud bang emitted and caused you to gasp. The second bang shook the closed door and was followed by deafening crashes. Every bang and crash vibrated through you, paralysing you. Your memories of Jungkook thrashing around in that interrogation flooded your thoughts, evoking utter trauma and sadness to the point of your knees almost buckling beneath you.

"God fucking dammit, Jungkook! Don't destroy everything, for fucks sakes! I want those pictures of Mom—"

Namjoon halted his march when he saw you frozen in front of his brother's bedroom door. You wished you had the strength to slip away as soon as you heard him coming. Yet, your legs betrayed you and here you were, face to face with the person who started this nightmare.

"____, what a pleasant surprise!"

Somehow his radiance of arrogance and terribly masked hostility made you roll your eyes and shocked your body into movement. You pushed past him, ignoring his calls for you and didn't look back until you were in the safety of Taehyung's Aston Martin. Your hands were shaking against the steering wheel so you took a minute before driving off. Jungkook's eyes, the way that his stare bored into your soul, full of contempt and heartbreak and clear envy towards the boy who owned the car you were sitting in, haunted you. You just couldn't respond at the accusation he fired at you—his words now playing in your head over and over like a broken record. And as you sped onto the road you realised you said nothing, not one word because... you didn't know yourself.

*

"Hey, are you all wrinkly and gross yet?"

"Like a 90-year-old woman!"

You heard Taehyung chuckle from the other side of the bathroom door. The deep rumbling sound comforted you, confirming he hadn't heard the rasp and crackle in your own voice from crying. You had been crying for the last two hours while your naked body soaked in steaming hot water. The water now lukewarm, you had just managed to control your sobs and put on a brave voice for the boy who was checking up on you. The boy who would always check up on you, in the worst moments like he had a sixth sense for when you were upset. God, how you wished you'd fucking stop burdening him with your bullshit.

"So," he began, softly thumping his forehead against the bathroom door, "you went to see him?"

You went silent. You weren't ready for the grilling that would follow a response. All Taehyung could hear was water sloshing and he sighed.

"I understand why you did it," he continued, "but I just wish you would have told one of us."

"You would have stopped me."

This time, it was his turn to be silent. You heard him sigh again and then slide down the door to sit. As much as you normally wouldn't want to have this conversation—words flowed out of your mouth.

"I had to, Taehyung," you explained, "I couldn't let him come after you, any of you."

"I know, darling," he huffed.

Darling. That was new. But surprisingly, it didn't send your thoughts spiralling into a whirlwind of what it meant and what it meant to your relationship. Your head was too filled with Jungkook.

You grunted. "It's just so crazy to me how I could be so in love with someone for so long... and at the same time feel like I didn't know them at all."

"What did you guys... talk about?"

You sighed. You could tell he was speaking carefully, wanting to know what happened but wary you could shut him out at any time. Jungkook had always been a touchy subject but now, you felt ready.

"Us, the boys, you," you summarised.

"Huh," he acknowledged you as casually as possible—as if not to push it.

"He wanted to get back together..."

You heard Taehyung's shuffling around on the floor. His interest peaked at the confirmation you were willing to share. "And what did you say?" he prompted you.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No, of course! Why would you even ask me that?!"

"The last time we talked about him... it seemed..." he paused and you braced yourself, "it seemed as if presented with the chance... you might take him back."

"That's offensive," you deadpanned.

"There's nothing wrong with loving someone and wanting someone, ____."

Where the fuck was this coming from? Was he really encouraging feelings that tormented you? "He's a fucking murderer, Taehyung."

"You can't help the way you feel though, ____. I didn't judge you then and I won't judge you now for still caring for him."

You knew his words were supposed to relieve you but they only made you angry. "I don't," you said through gritted teeth.

Taehyung chuckled at your childlike stubbornness. "You can lie all you want to yourself but you can't lie to me."

"Why are you saying this?! Why are you putting these stupid ideas in my head? You're acting like I'm supposed to be with him when I'm supposed to be with—" you.

Even a closed door between the two of you couldn't ward off the tension. He didn't respond. And in his silence you thought, you and Taehyung couldn't be. His silence meant he didn't want you anymore—not only because of the pact but because of your mess of emotions and feelings towards this other man that rudely strolled back into your life. You thought, surely, Taehyung respected himself enough to not respond, to not get involved with you in that way. With this presumptuous realisation, you cleared your throat and decided to change the subject.

"I told him to stay away from you guys and he actually agreed," you almost chuckled. "Sometimes the long shots pan out, huh?"

"And you believe him?" he said softly, you almost didn't catch it through the closed door.

"I do... I mean I think so? God, I'm so sorry I brought you all into this awful fucking mess," you wailed, burying your face into your wet hands.

"No, no!" Taehyung exasperated, "Don't, please. I was stupid to question you. You put your neck out to protect us and we're so fucking lucky to have you. Don't you dare be sorry. We're gonna be ok. Please don't worry and please don't cry again."

Again?

"You heard me before?" you questioned painfully.

He sighed. "It was hard not to. It sounded like you needed it so I left you to it... which was harder."

You wanted to apologise again but you knew that would just upset him more. "Surely, you're used to me crying by now," you said, trying to make a joke out of it.

"It will always hurt to see or hear you cry," he admitted softly.

"God!" you exclaimed.

"That cheesy, huh?" he chuckled back.

"No," you shook your head, despite him unable to see, "sweet."

He groaned. "Just bury me a few feet deeper into the friend zone, why don't you?"

You laughed. "You the one prompting me to talk about my insane ex who I supposedly still want to be with!"

"Look, I'm not particularly enjoying that conversation but I want you to talk to someone about it and I know you won't talk to anyone without a little push," he explained.

You went quiet.

"____?" he called out after you didn't respond after a minute. "You've been quiet about this for three years, don't you think it's time?"

He was right. You stared at the faucet of the tub, sifting through your thoughts, attempting to unjumble them into sentences you could speak. It took you another minute or so.

"It was really hard seeing him today. I mean, last night was hard too but... that Jungkook wasn't my Jungkook. I saw my Jungkook today and saying goodbye to him might have been the hardest thing I've ever done."

Silent tears streamed down your face. You were thankful Taehyung couldn't see you.

"He was exactly how I remembered him, minus a few tattoos, and fuck me, I felt this weird attraction and I just couldn't fucking shake it. It was like I was fighting with myself to not act exactly how we once were. But, in my defence, how are you even supposed to act in that sort of situation? Especially when he was acting so... himself, just... angry and hurt. It felt so weird not to reach out to him and console him and makeup with him to the point where I didn't even know how to stand and hold my arms. It felt wrong and unnatural to leave him like that... Fuck, I'm just as insane as he is."

"No, you're not," Taehyung reassured you.

"I hate that he still haunts me. I hate that he's still in my fucking life."

"____, you never had that chance to say goodbye. It's normal to feel this way. You essentially pressed paused on your grieving process. You never had closure, Jesus, you never even had a proper breakup fight. Of course, it's going to feel weird but trust me, you'll get through this."

You were appreciative of his words, you really were. But as you laid there in, now, cold water staring at the ceiling—only one thought flowed through your mind. One thought that you believed, if actioned, could have prevented this entire emotional crisis.

“I should have just let you fuck me last night.”

You pretended not to hear the back of his head thud against the door.

*

When you eventually got out of the bath, Taehyung had set up a movie and had snacks sprawled across your bedspread. As gorgeous as the set up was, it was the boxy grin he gave you that was the icing on the cake. You crawled on the bed, pecking him on the cheek before slipping under the covers.

"Just us tonight?" you queried as before you had taken your bath, all four boys were lazying around your bedroom.

"Hoseok's coming in an hour or so," he replied. "Yoongi and Jimin want their own beds tonight."

"That's fair," you giggled. "You're all gonna be walking around with hunched backs like old men if you keep sleeping on my floor."

"We don't mind the floor!"

"Yeah, of course, you don't," you retorted, "you cokehead."

"Hey!"

You giggled again and Taehyung let you, just happy to hear you laugh. Although, you were right. He was always so faded it really didn't matter to him where he'd crash. And somehow, he'd always bounce back the next morning, unphased and unaffected by the uncomfortable sleep and substances from the night before.

"So, I'm guessing you told them Jungkook isn't coming for them?"

He nodded. "And they increased their security, just in case."

You groaned. "Please don't say that."

"Sorry, I thought that might have put you at ease a little more," he said, apologetically.

You shook your head as if to say it was fine. He gave you a small smile before starting the movie. You had trouble focusing on it. All you could think about was Taehyung's safety. If Jungkook was to go back on his word, it would be Taehyung he'd come after. The more you thought about it the more you believed it to be probable. You left Jungkook in a distraught state with Taehyung's name on his lips. Chills spread through you, to the bone and you were so grateful Taehyung decided he could go another night without his own bed.

Half an hour into the movie, your eyes became droopy. Taehyung had rolled onto his side and you took the opportune moment to spoon him, so tightly he let out a squawk and a chuckle. You wouldn't let go, you wouldn't even relax your grip to let him wriggle. He noticed the third time he tried to change his position.

"You good?"

You hummed.

"Um, do you think you can let me breathe then?"

"Taehyung," you sighed, "you just gotta let me do this, ok?"

He sniggered and then nodded, "Ok."

*

As you fell asleep, you had continued to hold onto Taehyung so tightly. You had to ensure he wasn't going anywhere, to ensure he wasn't leaving you, to ensure he wouldn't be taken from you. As you drifted off, you had felt a horrible sense of dread at the pit of your stomach that you couldn't shake. In the middle of the night, when you felt nothing but linen where Taehyung was supposed to be—it was safe to say that dread was amplified by a million.

Hoseok was sleeping on the other side of you, he must have snuck in right after you had drifted off. You woke him up with a frantic slap, you were aiming for his back but in the dark, you’d hit his head. Reflexively, he kicked you right back and groaned in annoyance.

“Hobi! Wake up, where's Taehyung?!” you fired at him.

After a few long seconds, Hoseok stirred awake. "What?" he replied groggily, "He's probably taking a piss."

You whipped the blankets off of you and jumped out of bed as if you weren't sound asleep minutes ago. When you saw the bathroom door wide open and the light off, you began to panic.

"No, he's not Hoseok!" you screamed, pure hysteria in your croaky voice.

Hoseok did his best to come to, slowly rising from his pillow and rubbing his eyes. "____, calm down. He probably couldn't sleep and went outside to smoke."

You shook your head frantically. "No, Hobi! He always wakes me up for that."

Hoseok sighed and sat up, ready to humour you and engage in the search for Taehyung—who was, in Hoseok's mind, most likely raiding the fridge. You, however, were convinced he wasn't. You just had a feeling something was terribly wrong. You ran over to your nightstand to grab your phone. No texts, or missed calls. He always texted or called. Something was definitely wrong.

"____," Hoseok called to you.

You turned to him to see him on his phone, his eyebrows furrowed and you could tell it wasn't because of his phone's brightness.

"Get dressed," he commanded, "I know where he is."

*

It was 3 in the morning. The only reason you had paid attention to what time it was was that in darkness it lit up neon red on the dashboard of Hoseok's car. After hounding him to tell you what was going on to no avail—all you could do was stare at the little red numbers. You had no idea where you were going, no idea where Taehyung was and no idea why Taehyung left your side in the middle of the night.

You tried your best not to think about how scary the situation was. Hoseok knew you well and even though it aggravated you for him to decide to not tell you anything for the time being—you trusted him. He was keeping quiet for good reason. Maybe he didn't even have all the answers? So, you kept your questions at bay, content with the fact you weren't having a full-on panic attack. But, oh how you felt it brewing.

You knew the apartment complex Hoseok pulled into. You'd been there many times it was like another home, familiar. What wasn't familiar was the police cars parked outside, blocking off the entrance. You didn't wait for the car to come to a complete stop before you bolted out, ignoring Hoseok's calls for you. You ran into the lobby and with shaky hands hit the button for the elevator repeatedly. When it finally came you hit the button for the penthouse suite and assaulted the button for the doors to close before anyone saw you sneak into a crime scene.

It was a crime scene. When you got to the top floor you were met with yellow tape and officers hanging around. Your heartbeat was fast and loud in your eardrums, drowning out any other sound, drowning out the police officers questioning you as you stormed into the apartment you had been in a hundred times before.

You didn't know what to think. All you felt was overwhelming dread and horror as you paced frantically around the open planned living room and kitchen—trying to figure out what was going on and hoping not to see the worst. But even if it was the worst, your brain would deny believing. If anything it all felt like a bad dream—none of it made sense.

An officer eventually got a hold of you, grabbing you by the arm. "Ma'am, you can't be in here, this is a crime scene," he informed you, trying to drag you off.

"No, no, this is my friend's apartment," you argued, still terribly confused and petrified.

"You still need to leave, ma'am," the officer said, trying to haul you away again.

"No!" you screamed, fighting him for your arm back.

"It's fine, she can stay!"

You had never felt so grateful to hear a voice in your entire life. You were so relieved, you immediately started crying. He was sitting on the couch in the dark as still as a statue and you ran over to him. Having walked past that same couch in your panicked state, his stillness seemed to have camouflaged him into the furniture. When you crouched in front of him, he still didn't move. He just looked at you and through his dead eyes, you saw anguish.

"Taehyung?" you called to him softly through your tears.

He didn't respond and it prompted you to reach out to him, to grab his wet hands. Your stomach sunk. You dived for the lamp and when the light shed upon him, you forced down a dry heave. He was covered in blood.

"Oh my god!" you cried, frantically feeling him for his wounds. You began hyperventilating, calling someone, anyone for help but the words got lost in your heavy breathing. He was so pale and judging by the amount of blood covering him, he must have lost a lot. Why was no one helping him? You were trembling. You tried to lift his shirt to find the source of the bleeding but suddenly, Taehyung grabbed a firm hold of your hands.

"____," he croaked with pure heartbreak in his eyes, "it's not my blood."

You fell back onto the coffee table. At that moment, you swore time stopped. You don't know how you found your footing, but you managed. You headed straight down the hallway thinking, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom.

"No, ____," Taehyung called after you desperately, "you let me explain! YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE THAT—”

The bedroom was crowded but you spotted a familiar face. He spotted you too, almost immediately and tried to usher you out. You protested, holding him at arm's length, searching his body for any blood or wounds through teary eyes. When you were confident he was ok, you buried your face into his chest.

“Seokjin,” you whimpered. “What the fuck’s going on?!”

He hushed you, rubbing your back. He wanted to tell you, he really did. But the fact you were so distraught already had him second-guessing telling you, almost never wanting you to know. But, of course, he couldn't shelter you from everything—especially not this.

“I’ll explain everything,” he murmured, looking over his shoulder at the bathroom door and continuing to try to push you out of the room. “We just need to leave this room first, ok?”

“Why—”

A man, an officer, a detective emerged from the ensuite with a bang. The door always banged against the wall if you pushed it just a little too much, but he wouldn't know that. This was a stranger’s apartment to him, to all of them and they were the ones to make you feel like the stranger, the intruder.

“Sir, please take her outside. We can't have you both in here— ____?”

The detective was Choi Seunghyun. You were surprised he even remembered you but then, your brain quickly connected the dots. You could have puked all over his coat and turtleneck ensemble. You could feel the blood drain from your face, you could feel yourself turn pale.

The detective had left the bathroom door wide open and staring into his concerned eyes you could see him realise his mistake. When you saw the owner of the apartment, the shock sent your whole body into numbness and caused white noise to deafen your ears. His naked body was lying on the tile, limp and contorted unnaturally. He was mutilated and soaked in blood, the red even streaking through his blonde hair—Min Yoongi's blonde hair.

You hit the floor screaming. Jin tried to haul you up again but you refused, whacking at his arms as he tried to lift you. Within seconds, Taehyung was behind you with his arms and legs enveloping you as you cried and screamed and cried. You had never before felt your heart break and crumble the way it did in that moment.

previous chapter`

[stereonightss]

Cut Scene - I’ll be your mirror

I started a fic with just one idea: the gang is sitting around a table making popcorn with their quirks. And Bakugou is frustrated because reasons (remember that trope where he can’t...because of his quirk?). And then I wrote the whole fic and the scene didn’t fit so I cut it. But here it is, just a little slice of life.

The common room was stuffy, thick with tension—or so it felt that way to Bakugou. Everyone was being particularly idiotic that evening. Bakugou didn’t even know why he was there. He told himself he’d address what happened that afternoon, but he didn’t have to do it in the common room in front of everyone. If shitty hair was gonna be weird about what went down, he could forget about extra training that night.

So Bakugou sat, nonplussed and aggressively quiet, watching his friends waste time. Round face and frog face and the alien bitch and soy sauce and that hot n cold himbo and battery brain buffooning extra hard, as usual, with Bakugou’s phone tucked against his belly while it charged, and Eiji and shitty Deku all sitting talking shit and being foolish.

The idiot pikachu had bought a family sized container of raw popcorn kernels. He was scooping up palmfuls of and zapping them with his quirk until they popped. He had a glazed look in his eyes by the third handful.

“I think I got it this time,” he said, eyes crossing.

Kirishima leaned in to pluck one smoking piece of popcorn from Kaminari’s outstretched palm.

“Aw man,” he said, the popcorn crunching loudly in his teeth. “It’s burnt again, dude.”

Bakugou wondered, not for the first time, at which point the sharp incisors and canines gave way to molars, if they even did at all. Four years and he still didn’t know. He stared daggers at the side of Kirishima’s head, trying to burn through all that red hair. That loose-hanging, soft-looking red hair that Bakugou knew for a fact smelled like tart green apples when it was gelled up and vanilla coconut when it was down and freshly washed. If the idiot could pay that much attention to his shitty hair, he could pay a little attention to his so-called maybe or maybe not “best friend.”

But they were ignoring each other.

“Lemme try,”Ashido said, scooping up another few pieces. The inside of her mouth was just a shade pinker than the rest of her, Bakugou noted with a kind of vague fascination.

“Oh no. Yeah this sucks.”

“Here,” Todoroki said, motioning to the container of raw kernels.

Kaminari poured a generous helping into Todoroki’s left hand. Todoroki held his palm high, pretty face turned up and eyes sliding closed, lips parted gently as though in ecstasy. Bakugou fumed. That someone so cluelessly sexless should look that good that often, Bakugou thought to himself, it was a fucking travesty. A total waste. Todoroki was stiff as any other nerd, even stiffer than Deku most of the time, but when he used his quirk he was a god damned ballerina. A vision, moving with such a native grace that even through his unflattering hero costume the beauty of his form projected at a distance. Bakugou scowled.

“Hurry up, Icy-hot. I’m hungry.”

A bright shock of flame ran up Todoroki’s lean-muscled arm, fizzling out at his fingertips. A cascade of pops sounded afterwards, and a few kernels of popcorn fluttered down onto his bizarre (empty, Bakugou thought to himself), bi-colored head.

Ochako plucked a piece from his hair and put it in her mouth—disgusting. The piebald bastard had the gall to look smug. Todoroki held his palm out to Deku, seated on his other side. He dumped the pile of popcorn into Deku’s big, scarred hands.

“Looks great. Leave it to you,” Deku said, stars in his eyes. The nerd. He was smiling that smile that turned his plain, freckled face into something irresistible, something close and comforting like an old leather jacket, perfect in its imperfections. Easy to punch. And they hadn’t properly fought in years but he thought of Deku laid out with a fat lip and tears glazing his big green eyes, and it soothed him. And then he imagined Deku’s broken “Ka-kacchan…” all breathy and cut with snotty inhales and got frustrated all over again.

“Hmm,” Ochako said, reaching across Todoroki’s chest. “Let me try another piece.”

Bakugou was curious, sure. This batch smelled good. Not good enough for him to eat out of shitty Deku’s hand. His big, strong, sexy hand. Not like he wondered what it would feel like if that scar-streaked palm gripped him by the back of the neck while the less mangled non-dominant hand forcibly fed him—

Fireworks crackled in his palms. He needed help, he needed Eijirou to help him.

“Ain’t got all day. Somebody make a bowl of popcorn already.”

Kirishima gently worried his lower lip with one sharp tooth. He glanced over at Bakugou, something hazy clouding the deep maroon of his eyes.

Bakugou slumped lower in his chair, feet kicked out to either side. He knew he looked like a brat, but he didn’t care. He felt like a brat. He felt crazy. And Kirishima was the one acting different.

“Well?” Bakugou said. “Is it fucking good or not?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s exactly bad,” Ochako said, touching her cheek.

“Midoriya, let me try,” Kirishima said, leaning back on the couch. “Two points for a bullseye.” He opened his mouth wide, showing rows of shark-sharp teeth.

Cute flashed in Bakugou’s mind before he could shut the thought down.

“Oh, me too,” Tsuyu said behind him, opening her too-wide mouth, long pink tongue lolling out the side.

“Fun,” Ochako said, gently touching reaching over Todoroki again to touch the pile of popcorn in Deku’s hands with all five fingers. The clump of pieces slowly floated up, and she pushed them out toward Kirishima and Tsuyu with the heel of her palm.

Tsuyu grabbed three pieces from the air with rapid snaps of her retractable tongue.

“Slightly burnt kero,” she said, swallowing with a gulp.

“Ok now me,” Kirishima said, opening his mouth again wide.

Deku flicked a piece of popcorn and Kirishima caught it in his mouth, the click of his teeth like a flint on the tinder of Bakugou’s nerves.

“Mm,” he said, chewing loudly. His eyes darted timidly up to Bakugou’s, then away. It was the first time he’d looked at Bakugou all night.

“Not perfect,” he said, “but it’ll do.”

“I’ll show you what’ll do. Christ,” Bakugou said, shoving roughly out of his chair. He drove his fist down into the tupperware of raw popcorn kernels and set off an explosion just big enough to shatter the plastic. There was a loud crack and a fizzy cascade of pops, and a flurry of perfectly popped pieces sprayed across the room.

“Kacchan!” Deku squeaked, shielding his face.

Hot and cold met Bakugou’s gaze for a quick moment. He looked pleased, and the little wicked smile made him look somehow both totally unhinged and extremely sexy.

“The FUCK you looking at, you neapolitan ice cream little bitch,” Bakugou growled. He surged forward, knocking the coffee table over.

“Short fuse much,” Ashido griped, clinging tight to Kirishima’s arm. Kirishima frowned and patted her hand.

“You seem tense, Katsuki,” Todoroki said, neatly sidestepping Bakugou’s lunge. “Is something the matter?”

“You. You’re the matter. You’re all the matter.”

“Oh! It’s like snow!” Ochako said as the popcorn fluttered down over their heads.

There was momentary chaos, and the noise and the bustle of it made Bakugou relax a fraction. The group scattered, clamoring to catch the popcorn. And Todoroki’s stupid tight abs flexed as he lifted his shirt like a makeshift bag to catch the falling pieces, and Deku stood up on his tip-toes and it rippled his thick-muscled thighs as he swept the popcorn into the crook of his arm, and Kirishima’s red red hair fell over the soft curve of his cheek as he bent to sweep piles off the couch and Bakugou’s hands sparked in frustration.

“Oh my god,” Kaminari said around a mouthful, cheeks puffed. “It’s delicious.”

“Tastes like caramel corn,” Ashido said, licking her petal-pink fingertips.

“You fucking morons,” Bakugou grit, throwing up his hands. “Nitroglycerin is poisonous. Don’t fucking eat it.”

“Bro, you’re delicious,” Kaminari said, and Bakugou threw a couch cushion at his head.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m poisonous! Not delicious!”

“The average adult human would have to consume an excess of eight hundred milligrams of nitroglycerin before fatal symptoms occur,” Yaoyorozu said from the kitchen, where she was brewing tea.

“Based on the chemical breakdown of your sweat as per the technical specifications on your support gear and extrapolating from the size of that blast,” Iida said from beside her, “I estimate that it would be safe for each of us to consume up to sixty grams of popcorn, or a generous bowl-sized portion.”

“We’re well within the margins for pharmaceutical applications.”

“Great,” Bakugou said, stalking off toward the hallway. “Go nuts. You can all die for all I care.”

[starline148]

[Memories] KDFD Ch. 02

Fan Fic Info:

Name: Memories Main couple: Kidou&Fudou Secondary couple: Genda&Sakuma Language: English, but you can ask for a Spanish version!

» First chapter: Memory 01 » Previous chapter: Memory 01 » Next chapter: Memory 03 » Index: Here

Chapter Info

Name: Why had he done that? Words: 1713  Warnings: » Boys Love

[Chapter 02] Why had he done that?

Fudou avoided Kidou as much as he could the next day, he was not prepared to face him after what happened the day before. When they finished training, the boy left to walk on his own, he wanted to be alone, he wanted to think, why did he feel so confused?

He did not realize that a boy with a red cape followed him, because he was worried about him. Every time he had tried to approach Fudou during that day he had moved away and the passes between them had not connected as they should within a few days of the final.

The brunette thought again about the conversation with Kidou from the previous day while he was walking, he did not quite understand it, despite taking all night and spinning around, and that frustrated him more than anything else, why had he his heart racing with an outbreak of joy? Why was he so happy that Kidou had told him that he trusted him? Why?

He stood by the window of the previous day and remembered what happened, his white hand leaned on the glass where it was reflected with a puzzled expression. Perhaps it was not so bad that someone came out to defend him from time to time in reality. He had learned that football was played with eleven people, maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to always be alone. Maybe just maybe ... he could also trust others outside the matches. Especially if it was Kidou, yes, Kidou was special to him, but ... why? He only knew that he too could trust that boy, that he could share his true self with him; but ... why? Why did his heart speed up when he thought of him? Why couldn't he stop thinking about him in the first place?

Suddenly he heard several shrieks, clicked his tongue and looked back, the people of that place really were very annoying, what stupid celebrity would be out there in those moments?

Fudou was surprised to discover that three girls were looking at him, he turned to see if there was anyone else around; but no, he was alone.

“Look, look, it's Fudou Akio!”

His turquoise eyes watched the girls, who suddenly stopped making noise under the pressure of his gaze. It was uncomfortable and at the same time pleasant, because those girls did not look at him as the others used to, they looked at him with admiration, why? Two of the girls nudged a third who looked down and swallowed, took something, a paper, out of her bag and with a hesitant and slow pace as if she were approaching a fleeting wild animal reduced the distance to the brunette. 

When he was close she stretched the paper making a bow with her face completely red, it looked like a photo although it was on the back, she shouted at him.

“Fudou Akio, could you give me your autograph, please !? I admire you a lot!!”

Fudou was perplexed, with red ears, and shrugged, it was the first time he was asked for an autograph or that someone unknown told him something so nice, he avoided smiling too much because he did not want it to be noticed that it had made him illusion. Or that he wasn't used to something like that. He responded as reluctantly.

“Ok.”

The girl smiled very excited while the boy took the picture without believing it.

"I have nothing to sign," he said suddenly with an expression of indifference, although his back really sweated a lot.

The girl handed him a marker and Fudou took it too, then he turned the photo to sign it and noticed that his colors were rising.

“What ...”

It was a picture of two boys, one was brown haired with mohican hair seen from behind, himself, and was bothering another boy with tan hair in dreadlocks with a ponytail and wearing a red cape. The brunette had his arm resting on the wall next to the other boy's head and his head tilted towards him in a way that could be very misunderstood. It seemed they were kissing! When had they taken that picture !? “Our friend thinks that you make a beautiful couple. And I can't go against it either” said another of the girls with a shrug.

Fudou felt he got goosebumps, what!?

“Kidou and I are not a couple!”

He noticed their eyes fixed on him and began to sweat more, they were waiting for the autograph and he could not escape, their eyes were like bars of a prison of expectations. With a lot of tension and nervousness he signed that photo to be able to leave and one day forget about it. He returned it without being able to look them in the eye. But they didn't leave, they looked very excited at the boy.

“But if Kidou and you were a couple, who would be the dominant one?” asked the girl who had asked him for the autograph without any shame approaching him and making Fudou turn even redder and felt a strange knot in his stomach, why did he react like that?

“That's not gonna happen!”

“But if it happened?”

The girls had come closer, they had him surrounded, he just wanted to disappear, to be swallowed by the earth. With his face completely flushed with shame and under their pressure he shouted at them:

"Of course I would be the dominant one!" 

He ran after the moment of stupor after the response, leaving the girls laughing and looking at the autograph with great emotion, now they just had to find the other boy to sign it too.

Fudou took advantage of the fact that the street made a narrow passage between two buildings to get away from them and the rest of the people, he needed to be alone; he passed some rubbish bins, taking his hand to his heart that was going too fast, had it ever gone faster? What had that been? Why had that sensation caused him to think something like that? Why was his body so hot?

“Do not even dream about it.”

Fudou who walked looking back to make sure that no one followed him made a huge leap at the site of fright upon hearing that voice and wished that the earth would swallow him, he wished Kidou had not heard anything, what was he doing there in any case? He opened his mouth, ready to release a mocking and offensive comment, but he stayed halfway.

“Hey Kidou-kun …”

With a rapid movement and a wicked expression on his lips Kidou grabbed Fudou by the wrists and pushed him against the wall immobilizing him with his body, the brunette had not been able to react in time. Kidou wore the glasses hanging on his neck and the mohican boy could see that unexpected glow in his red eyes perfectly. What was such a chilling glow in those beautiful eyes? Why did his stomach seem to squirm as he looked at those eyes? Why did his body continue to rise in temperature when he noticed Kidou's glued to him? Why did he feel so eager to bite him when he felt his breath on his face?

“What do you think you are doing, Kidou-kun !?”

"If you and I were a couple, the dominant would be me," Kidou laughed, making Fudou's words get stuck, he had heard it then!

“No way! The only dominant is me!” replied the brunette finally trying to let go, not realizing that the verb was conjugated in the present because he was very nervous having Kidou's body so close to his.

Kidou's smile deepened, he noticed that, and brought his lips to the brunettet boy's neck, licking him so that he shaked with a sigh of which he was immediately ashamed. Kidou looked up and seeing Fudou's expression he also felt a sudden heartbeat, why did he seem to have a tachycardia? The boy with cinnamon hair then left a bite in his neck over the area reddened by his lips and his tongue that caused them to have all the body hair standind on end and their hearts set in motion as race cars.

“Kidou! Kidou! Coach Kudou is looking for you. Kidou?”

The two boys heard how several voices called the strategist. He separated from the brunette with annoyance, why were they interrupted at that time? It must be really important! He put on his glasses again and prepared to leave, leaving Fudou totally embarrassed in that alley, but not before turning and adding in response to the last thing the Mohican boy had said.

“That must be seen.”

And he was pleased to see the face that the other one put before he went to meet his friends who were looking for him. Until he was in the loneliness of the night he did not realize what he had done. Then all the colors went up and he covered his face with the pillow. What the fuck had he thought when he did that !? Why had he done that? Fudou was going to kill him! And with a reason! Why did he want to do it again then? Why had his salty and slightly bitter with an acid touch taste been so pleasant? Why did he want to feel Fudou's neck on his lips again?

“What were you doing in the garbage, Fudou? Do you finally return to the place you rightfully belong?”

Fudou felt a spasm and turned, seeing a boy with white hair and a covered eye who looked at him with a sly smile as he left trying to go unnoticed.

As if it wasn't shameful enough what had happened with Kidou! Why had he had to make that noise when he licked his neck? He wasn't going to be able to look him in the face again in his whole life.

“Nothing of your business!”

“Of course” Sakuma's eye landed on the reddish area of ​​Fudou's neck “And Kidou's?”

Fudou's ears turned red, he covered the bite with his hand and ran without paying attention to Sakuma's screams.

“Don't think I don't know what you two are doing! You better not hurt him! Do you hear me Fudou!? Fudou!”.

[sergeant-shorty]

No Problem

Pairing: Bucky x female reader, reader x OC Jason

Warnings: mentions of cheating, fluff (not really a warning)

Bucky is in love with you, but you’re in a committed relationship. Despite this Bucky can’t say no to you.

A/N: Gif isn’t mine, this is my first fic so I hope you enjoy! Requests are open!

———————————————

Bucky watched quietly as the sun rose up over the horizon. He’d been up all night tossing and turning hoping to find even the tiniest bit of sleep, but his mind was restless. Today he has to sit through an evening of watching you on the arm of another man, simply because you asked him to. You had felt it would be a great way for your super soldier best friend to bond with your boyfriend.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend the evening with you, because to be honest he wants to spend every moment he can with you. He was completely and utterly in love with you, but you were in love with some frat boy wannabe. He hated that he couldn’t tell you no when you asked him, seeing those beautiful (y/e/c) eyes pleading with him so you’d get your way worked every time.

He begrudgingly got out of bed after laying there for what seemed like decades and got ready for the day, seriously considering going into hiding for the day in order to avoid going. He knew he would want to rip this kid apart if he saw anything he didn’t like about him. To Bucky you were a goddess, stunningly beautiful, independent, strong and kind. Every moment you spent with him he thanked whoever put you on this earth because he truly believed he didn’t deserve your friendship.

As he sat at the kitchen table eating his breakfast you entered with a giant grin on your face. “Good morning Buck!” You sat next to him before stealing a bite of his toast with a wicked grin. Bucky simply laughed admiring her quirkiness, he loved how lively you were, “Good morning Doll, where you off to?” She smiled at him, “I’m off to get my nails done then I’m going to Jason’s and then I’ll be back to grab you in time for dinner and drinks.” Bucky could feel his heart drop slightly at your words but he kept a smile on his face, “Sounds great, I’ll see you when you get back.” And with that you hurried off leaving Bucky behind.

Bucky kicked himself for not coming up with some lie as to why he couldn’t go. He saw how excited you were, he knew you wanted him to meet and like this kid even if it meant having his heartbroken, and for you he’d do that no questions asked. The hours went by slowly, his stomach sinking more and more the closer it got to dinner time. To Bucky’s surprise the hours kept passing and you never showed.

Around 8:30 Bucky started to panic, calling and texting you hoping for a response but getting nothing. Maybe you just decided you didn’t want Bucky to meet Jason, or maybe Jason didn’t want to meet him. His mind raced as he paced in his room, what if you were hurt? His worrying was cut short by quiet sobs coming from the hallway.

Bucky instantly knew who it was, and he found himself in a full sprint heading down the hallway to your room. He knocked on the door lightly not sure if you’re up for company. When you opened your door he was met by a very puffy eyed (y/n).

“Bucky I’m sorry... I just, I need to be alone.” Was all you could squeak out. Bucky pushed the door open and walked inside sitting against the headboard of your bed and opening his arms, “Talk to me, what happened?” You closed your door and rushed to him, crying hard into his T-shirt. Bucky could feel his heart breaking for you, but he knew you didn’t want to talk yet, so he rubbed your back and let you cry.

After a short time he felt your breathing start to slow and your sniffling became less frequent. Your arms were still wrapped tightly around him holding on like he’d run away, “I went to Jason’s and I caught him on top of some girl he works with that he told me not to worry about, guess I shouldn’t have listened.”

Bucky could feel the anger running through his veins ready to get up and kill this idiot for hurting you, but he knew you needed him right now. “Bucky I thought I loved him. But when I caught him I was more angry that he lied about that girl than the fact he actually cheated on me.” Bucky continued to rub your back, “(Y/n) listen to me. You deserve someone who is going to do absolutely anything to keep you happy and to love you like you’re the most valuable thing on this planet, because you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You looked up at him as he rambled on and it hit you. The reason you didn’t really love Jason the way you thought you did, you slowly sat up and looked at Bucky lightly cupping one of his cheeks in your hand. You rubbed your thumb over the light stubble on his face as you admired him for a moment. His blue eyes that you found safety in were looking at you in confusion, “Doll are you ok?”

You smiled softly at him, “Bucky I figured out why I didn’t love him.” He arched an eyebrow at you, “What do you mean?” You leaned closer to him resting your forehead to his, “Bucky I’ve been in love with you this entire time and I just now figured it out.”

Bucky couldn’t believe the words that just came out of your mouth. You loved him. The woman of his dreams that he spent countless nights staying up watching stupid Netflix films with, sharing his life story with, loved him too. He slid his hand around your waist a grin planted on his face, “Doll I need to hear you say it again, please.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “Need hearing aids already old man?” Bucky chuckled and shook his head, “It’s just too good to be true, because I’ve loved you for so long.. I just need to hear you say it again.” With that you pressed your lips to his softly. Your lips danced together and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You pulled away when you ran out of air burying your head in the crook of his neck, “I love you Bucky, thank you for helping me see that.” He hugged you tightly to his chest planting a kiss to your temple, “No problem.”