#we refuse to buy new things and instead make things last as long as possible

[heterophobique]

Used fabric glue to put one of my tennis shoes back together bc part of the outside of the shoe fell apart and had a weird piece sticking out. The piece kept making me trip. I refuse to buy new tennis shoes so I s2g the glue better fuckin work. If not, I’ll buy gorilla glue. Plan c is to literally use duct tape lmao

My dad told me he just nailed one of his tennis shoes back together, and tbh that’s my plan d. He said use a small nail to hammer together the piece

[actress4him]

The Shadow of Death - Highschool AU - New Kid

I actually wrote this piece quite a long time ago, but felt awkward at the time about posting teenage whump. Since then I've realized that there's quite a few people out there who don't mind it, and I do love this au, so here I am posting it.

Shoutout to @painful-pooch my love who owns Bruno and comes up with most of his dialogue and actions for these pieces

Brumaria taglist: @sssunshinebreeze

Contains: lady whump, minor (teen) whump, abusive parent, starvation, neglect, physical abuse, bullying, passing out, duct tape, prejudice, panic, foster care mention

“Alright everybody, pipe down. That means you, Hannah. Seriously. Stop talking. Do we need to go through this again?

“Okay guys, we have a new student today, go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Kamaria glances up from her notes long enough to take in the brown hair, the black eye, and the letterman jacket, then lets her frizzy curls fall back over her face.

“Bruno Skovgaard.” The name is mumbled so quietly it barely reaches her desk in the very back of the room. Not what she expected from a high school athlete, but it hardly registers, anyway. She’s too busy trying to make sense of the scientific jargon squeezed onto every millimeter of her notebook page to bother with yet another guy who will either ignore her or bully her.

It momentarily slips her mind that the only available desk in the room is the one next to hers, until said guy plops down into it. She can’t see him past her curtain of hair, though. If she’s lucky, he’ll take that as the sign to leave her alone that it is. 

He doesn’t. No surprise there, she’s never been lucky a day in her life. “Hi. I’m Bruno, what’s your name?”

The teacher has started into her lesson, but Kamaria keeps reading, eyes scanning the notes again and again as if it will all make sense if she goes over it enough times. She needs that much more than she needs to listen in this particular class. They’re covering the Civil War, and she already learned all of this in her last school. 

“Hey. Curls. What’s your name?”

Acicular, asymmetrical, cordate, cuneiform, deltoid… they’re leaf shapes, she knows they are, but she can’t call to mind what any of them actually look like. If she actually had room in her notebook, like she should, then she could have made real, decent notes that had sketches and details. But no, she’s stuck cramming everything in as tightly as possible because her notebook is almost full and her father refuses to buy her a new one. Maybe this weekend she can find some time to go back and erase the things she knows she won’t need again at this school, as much as it makes her cringe. 

“Is she deaf?” 

“Nope. Just a freak.”

Good, he knows now, maybe he’ll stop trying to talk to her.

Acicular, asymmetrical, cordate, cuneiform, deltoid…

Something slides onto her desk, and she jolts, head coming up to stare at first the object - a small, plastic package of two food items she can’t immediately identify - then the perpetrator. A smile spreads over his face. He holds up his own plastic package as if toasting her.

Kamaria’s confused stare turns into a scowl. What is it that he hopes to accomplish, giving snacks to a random stranger? Is he trying to buy favors? Poison her? Get her in trouble? Prove that he’s rich? The private school letterman jacket he’s wearing is proof enough of that. Why he’s now slumming in the public school, she doesn’t know or care. 

Turning the scowl on the snack - according to the picture on the front, some brown sticks that barely look edible and a pile of dark brown goop - she pushes it to the corner of her desk with her pencil eraser and returns her attention to her notes. She can hear him opening the plastic and beginning to munch, much to her aggravation.

Maybe she should work on math, instead. She’s hopelessly behind in that class, too.

When the bell rings, much too soon for Kamaria’s liking, she takes her time standing and stuffing her notebook back into her ratty purple backpack. There’s no need to run out into the halls with everyone else, she’d rather spend a bit more time in the relative quiet of the classroom and miss the worst part of the rush. 

Unfortunately, new guy is lingering, too. “Hey, do you know where Mr. Miller’s class is? English?”

Good, he’s not going to be in her next class. Why he’s insisting on asking her of all people, she has no idea. She shakes her head, tugging at the zipper and praying that this isn’t the time it breaks completely. 

“Hm. Guess I’ll have to ask the teacher.” He just stands there, though, watching her. “Do you not like Nutella?”

It takes her a second to realize he must be referring to the snack. She wrinkles her nose, glancing over at it, thinking about continuing to ignore him but letting her curiosity get the better of her. “What is it?”

“You’ve never had Nutella?” He says it as if this is the most shocking news of the decade. “It’s the most incredible spread ever. Chocolate hazelnut. Okay, I know I’m a stranger, but all you have to do is open the packet, take one of the sticks and dip it in the Nutella. It’s like…chocolate peanut butter. It’s so good.”

He’s so worked up over this little snack. Some…frivolous junk food. There has to be some reason that he’s so keen on her eating it, but she can’t figure out what it might be.

Thankfully, the teacher calls him up front, and she’s finally left alone. She finishes zipping her backpack, ready to sling it over her shoulder, but stops to stare at the Nutella one more time. She doesn’t get it. But it probably isn’t poisoned, and it’s food, tiny and frivolous as it may be. 

Snatching it off the desk, she stuffs it in the front pocket of her bag before heading to her next class.

.

.

Turns out her father still hasn’t put any more money in her lunch account, so the packet of Nutella and what are labeled ‘breadsticks’ is the only thing she has to eat. It’s…pretty good, actually. Nowhere near filling, but since there also wasn’t any food in the house for breakfast, she’ll take what she can get. It might have to hold her over for quite a while. 

Also turns out that the new guy is in another of her classes, math, but thankfully there isn’t an empty desk next to her this time. She can’t handle him distracting her with his stupid questions in that class, she’s failing as it is.

When school is over, she happens to look over and see him climbing into the passenger seat of some swanky, brand new car. She can just imagine his parent or whoever is driving him looking down their nose at the primitive surroundings, asking him if he managed to learn anything at all in such a place. 

Rolling her eyes, she climbs onto the bus, clutching her backpack to her chest as if it can protect her from the hateful words thrown her way throughout the ride. No one sits next to her or pulls her hair from behind, so it’s a good trip, overall.

The first thing she notices when she walks up to the house is that Roderick is over. It stops her in her tracks, heart pounding a little too fast. Everything in her aches to turn around and walk the other direction, to keep on walking until she’s too far away for anyone to find her. But she forces herself forward, up the steps and through the door.

The second thing she notices is the smell of fast food permeating the air. Her stomach simultaneously sinks and lurches, wanting whatever it is desperately but also certain now of the answer to whether there’s going to be any dinner for her. If they grabbed food from a restaurant, then there’s no way he also bought groceries. 

She goes to the kitchen to check, anyway, just in case. The cabinets and refrigerator are just as empty as they had been this morning. 

After taking her backpack to her room in the basement, Kamaria works her way through her list of chores. There’s no reason to approach her father until after they’re all done. While she sweeps and mops, she psychs herself up for the conversation. She just needs to ignore Roderick, speak up, and get it over with. This would be much better if he was alone, but it can’t wait.

Once the last of the laundry has been transferred into the dryer, she stands outside his office door, hands trembling slightly as she works up the courage to knock. 

“What?”

Deep breath. “May I…talk to you?”

The door is yanked open, and Roderick smirks down at her. “Look who’s home from school.”

Her father hasn’t even looked up from whatever he’s working on at his desk, but she steps into the room, anyway, purposefully moving away from Roderick. The fast food bag is still sitting on the corner of the desk. She knows there’s nothing left in it.

“Have you done your chores?”

“Yes, sir. All of them.”

He merely grunts in reply and continues working. 

“Sir…is there…anything for me to eat for dinner?”

He looks up, finally, green eyes boring into her. “If you mean this -” he gestures toward the bag -“then no. Roderick picked this up for the two of us.”

She swallows. “I mean at all. There’s nothing in the kitchen.”

Sighing, he turns his attention back to his papers. “Well, then, I suppose that answers your question, doesn’t it?”

Her stomach twists painfully. “There wasn’t anything for breakfast, either.”  

“You ate lunch at school, didn’t you?” Roderick pipes in.

“No.” A defiant tone automatically enters her voice when she talks to him, but she takes another breath and reels it in before continuing, glancing back at her father. “There’s still no money in my account.”

“As you can see, I’m very busy at the moment with much more important things than listening to you complain. You need to get out.”

“I just…” Kamaria clenches her hands into fists. “Could you please give me just a dollar or two, sir? I can walk down to the gas sta-”

“Please shut her up.”

“Gladly.” Roderick’s hand clamps down on the back of her neck and she automatically goes stiff, but allows him to steer her harshly out of the room. She’s shoved into the kitchen, stumbling a few steps before catching herself against the counter. 

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. “I’ll go to my room. You won’t hear another sound out of me the whole night, I promise.”

“Yes, both those things are true.” He yanks open a drawer and pulls out a roll of duct tape. Kamaria’s empty stomach turns a somersault. “But not until I’m done with you.”

“Please…please don’t.” She doesn’t know why she bothers trying. It’s never stopped him before. 

He huffs a laugh. “I don’t think you know how to be quiet. But don’t worry, this will help.”

The sound of the tape ripping from the roll makes her flinch bodily, but she bites down on her tongue and refuses to let the I can be quiet, I swear I will! escape. She doesn’t back away when he comes for her, either, just clenches the edge of the countertop until her knuckles ache and squeezes her eyes shut, allowing him to smooth the tape across her lips. 

He doesn’t stop there, though. He pulls it behind her head, loudly unrolling more and more until it’s wound twice around, tight and unmoving, pulling uncomfortably at her cheeks and plastering her hair to the back of her head. Kamaria just keeps holding on to the counter and gritting her teeth, desperate to keep the tears at bay as long as he’s there.

“Now you may go to your room.” He chucks the roll back into the drawer and slams it shut. “And next time maybe you think twice before interrupting your dad’s work.” 

She nods minutely, prying her hands from the counter so that she can turn to leave, trying not to move her head at all because it feels like she can’t, like her hair or her skin might rip if she does.

“Oh, and kid…” He points at her when she stops, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “No one takes that off but him or me, got it?”

Another tiny nod. He waves her away, and she continues her slow, careful trek to the basement. It’s only once she’s sitting on her bed in the corner, knees pulled up to her chin, that she allows the tears burning her eyelids to fall. 

She quickly regrets that, though. Even though her nose is uncovered, she can’t open her mouth to gasp in air between sobs, and it feels like she’s suffocating. That feeling only makes her panicked, which makes breathing even harder. Kamaria pounds her fist into the bed. She’s angry at herself - for not being able to get her emotions under control, for doing something so stupid like approaching her father when he and Roderick were working to start with. She knows that’s the worst time. What kind of work they’re doing, she has no idea, but she’s fairly certain by now it isn’t legal. But she knows better than to interrupt it. She was just so hungry.

It’s not like this is the first time or the longest time she’s gone without food, though. This is normal life for her, has been for almost three years now - off and on, at least. Not all of the foster homes let her starve. There was always something else bad about them, though. Even the ones she thought would be good for once ended up bad in the end, if for no other reason than they kicked her out without warning after only a few weeks or months. 

When her actual, biological father showed up out of nowhere and wanted to take her in, she thought those days were over. She thought she’d finally have a real family again for the first time after losing her mom. 

But it’s just as bad here as everywhere else. Especially when Roderick is around. Her father isn’t nearly as cruel, just neglectful and impatient. Yes, he hits her sometimes, but it’s always done out of anger. Roderick is the one who seems to actually enjoy punishing her. 

It takes some time, but she finally gets a hold of herself, scrubbing all the tears away with her sleeve and forcing deep breaths through her nose. She has homework to do, she can’t sit here feeling sorry for herself all night.

Concentrating on school with a deep pit yawning in her center is always difficult. Concentrating on school with duct tape wrapped around her head proves even more of a challenge. It shouldn’t affect anything, really, but it’s distracting, pulling her attention to the discomfort of it over and over again. She keeps wanting to pick at the edge, but doesn’t want to be accused of trying to loosen it. 

There’s a math test tomorrow, though, so studying is a necessity. She stares at the numbers and letters until they’re swimming across the page, jolting out of her misery when the dryer buzzes. The clothes are warm against the chill of the basement. She holds the pile in her lap as she folds and continues to study. 

At one point, strangely, the new guy at school crosses her mind. She wonders how he’s going to do on the test, if he’d been learning the same things in the private school he transferred from or if this is all new for him. 

Someone like him probably has all the luck in the world, though. He’s probably already learned everything and will ace the test, no problem. 

Eventually, she’s so exhausted she can’t stay awake any longer. She falls asleep on top of her covers, algebra book still open next to her and folded clothes sitting neatly at the foot of the bed, despite her empty stomach and despite the tape on her face. 

It doesn’t last, of course. She jerks awake some time later, groaning as she rolls over, clutching her stomach. It hurts. And the tape is suffocating, making her skin crawl, pulling at her hair. She needs it off. Kamaria digs her fingernails into the top edge, panting, half ready to just rip it off and deal with the consequences later. Maybe she could sneak into the kitchen and replace it in the morning before her father can notice. 

But she doesn’t. She’s too afraid of what he or Roderick might do to her. Instead she sits up, scrubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands, and goes back to studying until she can’t stay awake once again. 

Early in the morning, she wakes from another fitful doze to see sunlight streaking through the tiny window at the ceiling. Catapulting up off the bed, she takes the stairs two at a time, but slows enough at the top to open and shut the door quietly. She doesn’t need to get in any more trouble for making too much noise. 

The clock on the stove says it’s just past six. She has no idea what time her father will leave, though, or if he already has. Thankfully, a quick peek out the front window shows his car still in the driveway, and not Roderick’s. 

Kamaria lingers there for a moment, allowing her heart to slow back down, swaying slightly. The abrupt switch from sleep to cardio after very little rest all night is hitting hard. But she gathers herself and heads back to her room, slowly getting dressed for school while keeping an ear out for footsteps upstairs. She skips the shower, not wanting to miss him and unsure what the water would do to the tape, anyway, and gets in a few more minutes of studying before finally going back upstairs with her backpack and shoes on.

It’s getting close to time for the bus to arrive. If he doesn’t come out soon…she’ll have to miss school. She can’t go like this. If she skips, the school will call him, and he’ll be furious when he gets home tonight. But the only other option is to cut the tape off herself. She knows where the scissors are, could take care of it easily. But which would make him angrier? Cutting off the tape, or skipping school? What if he tells Roderick about the tape, and he’s the one to punish her for it, since he was the one to tell her not to take it off?

That would be worse. Missing school has to be the better option. Even though…wait, that means missing the math test, too. She can’t afford to miss the math test, she’s already failing. She doesn’t know what her father would think about her failing a class, he doesn’t seem interested in her education at all other than making sure she goes to school, and that’s probably just so he doesn’t get in trouble with the government. But she doubts he’d like it if she failed. She wouldn’t like it if she failed, not after she’s tried so hard to make it, not when it would give the bullies even more ammo to torment her. 

And somewhere deep inside her, she’s still holding on to the vague, impossible hope that she’ll be able to go to college someday. To study what, she has no idea, but it seems like the best way to get out on her own, to not be stuck with her father trying to force her into his criminal activities or working some minimum wage job in this same town with him.

It’ll never happen. Her grades haven’t been good enough for that since she first went into foster care. But if she fails algebra, it’s definitely not going to happen. 

She’s practically shaking with anxiety, trapped between the two choices and unable to determine which is worse. Her eyes are drawn to the drawer with the scissors inside over and over again, but every inch of her body screams against such deliberate disobedience. Maybe they’ll let her make up the test? There’s a really good chance that she’s going to get a horrible grade on it, anyway, so missing it might not even make that much of a difference.

Of course she could also go and knock on his door, but after last night that seems like the worst idea of all.

Somehow, miraculously, something actually goes right for once and she’s saved from having to choose any of it. Her father’s door opens and he comes down the hall, straight into the kitchen to make himself coffee. As he pulls a mug from the cabinet, he glances over at Kamaria.

She looks at him with wide, pleading eyes over the duct tape, cuts her gaze to the front door in an attempt to convey the urgency of the situation, then gets nervous and stares down at the floor, instead.

“I suppose it’s time for you to leave, and you’d like that off.”

She nods without looking up. 

“Come here.”

His tone offers no room for hesitation. She crosses the room as quickly as possible, stopping a safe distance in front of him.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

Another nod. It’s nerve-racking not to be able to add “sir”, but that’s not really an option.

He sighs as if this whole thing is such an inconvenience to him, reaching into his pocket for his knife. “Fine. Hold still.” 

There’s no need to tell her. She has no desire to be cut with that knife, and every desire for the tape to come off as quickly and easily as possible. Squeezing her eyes shut, she braces herself for the pain, trying to take deep breaths through her nose. 

He isn’t gentle with it at all, of course. Her head is shaken back and forth as he tears through the layers with the knife. After a pause for him to return the knife to his pocket, he grabs onto the torn edge and yanks, hard. It feels like several layers of skin must go with it. Kamaria grits her teeth tightly, trying to hold in the whimper that wants to escape, and wishes that she could tuck her lips in to protect them. It’s no use, though. He rips the tape off of them, then off the other cheek, but leaves the rest hanging from her hair.

“You can deal with the rest.”  He turns back to his coffee.

She’s been dismissed. She retreats across the room, trying not to panic over how she’s going to get the tape out of her already disastrous hair before the bus shows up. There’s no time to go strand by strand or even little sections, so she’s forced to yank at it just as harshly as he had, wincing at the pricks of pain all over her skull. 

A reflection flashes across the ceiling. The bus is here. With one final pull, she removes the last of the tape - and another handful of hair - and quickly wads it up and stuffs it into the pocket of her backpack.

“Thank you, sir,” she murmurs, quietly opening and closing the door before taking off across the yard to catch the bus..

The whole ride is miserable, not that there’s anything new about that. Her face is sticky and raw, her head hurts, she’s exhausted, her stomach is trying to flip itself inside out, and the usual boys on the bus are at their usual games.

“What happened to your face, freak?” 

“You look even worse than usual.” 

“Is that red all over your face your attempt at wearing makeup?”

“Don’t you know, she doesn’t have a mom to teach her how to wear makeup.”

“Even if she did, it wouldn’t help that face.”

Someone pulls her hair, jerking her already tender head back, and she comes so close to turning around and punching him. She can’t, though. It would get blamed solely on her, she’d get detention or suspension, and her father would kill her.

So she sits in silence and does her best to ignore them, just like always. Wishing that she could be like the other kids on the bus who plug in their ear buds and tune out the world, but if her father can’t even be bothered to buy groceries, he’s certainly never going to buy her a phone or ear buds. 

First period passes in a blur. Kamaria finds herself unable to focus on much of anything, much to her chagrin. All she can think about is how hungry she is, and how much she wants to just curl up in bed and never leave…when she’s not completely zoned out, that is. 

She manages to stumble to history class, glad, at least, that it doesn’t matter whether she pays attention in this class or not. She’d lay her head down on her desk if she wasn’t afraid of getting in trouble for it. Instead, she assumes her usual pose of propping her chin on her hand with her hair falling around her face, only with no notebook beneath her this time. 

The new guy strolls in just before the bell sounds, sliding into his seat. “Hey.” He pulls out his book, then leans over toward her. “You ever eat that Nutella? What’d you think?”

She doesn’t answer. 

The class is over far too soon. Kamaria pulls herself out of her stupor, forcing heavy limbs to cooperate so that she can grab her backpack and stand up. As soon as she straightens, though, her vision tunnels. She feels herself falling as if from a distance, and vaguely hears a muffled voice shout, “Whoa!”

Then she’s on the tile floor, staring up at fluorescent lights and the new guy’s face. “Hey, I think she’s back. Can you hear me?”

There’s a clatter of footsteps and the teacher appears above her, too. “Miss Greaves, can you hear us?” she practically shouts. 

It’s not the first time she’s ever passed out. It’s still disorienting, though, and it takes her a moment to realize that her head is resting in the guy’s lap. Immediately she starts trying to push herself up, to get away from him. 

“Don’t try to get up too fast!” he cautions, pressing her shoulder back down with one hand. 

“Don’ touch me,” she mumbles, swatting at his hand. A little louder, she declares, “‘m fine. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

He pulls away, which would be surprising if she had the brain power to pay any attention to it. “Why are you apologizing for passing out?”

Because she made a commotion. Because people had to stop what they should have been doing to deal with her. And while she knows, logically, that won’t get her punished like at home, it’s an automatic reaction to feel guilty for it. 

She rolls sideways off his legs, and he lets her go with a murmured, “Take it easy.” She’s fairly certain she’s not going to drop again, though, despite feeling like absolute crap. 

“I’m fine,” she repeats. “Gotta get to my next class.”

“No no no.” The teacher wags her finger like Kamaria is a child or a dog. “You’re going to see the nurse, young lady. Mr. Skovgaard, would you mind escorting her there?”

“I can do that.” 

No, seriously? The last thing she needs is the rich kid walking her to the nurse’s station. “I don’t need the nurse or an escort.”

“Don’t be obstinate, Miss Greaves. You have to go see the nurse after an incident like this. Just cooperate and go with him.”

He jumps to his feet and holds out a hand to her, which she ignores, using her desk to pull herself up, instead. The room spins around her once, then settles into place. 

“Thank you, Mr. Skovgaard.”

As they start to leave the room, she can see him roll his eyes, mumbling something under his breath about Skovgaard. 

“You sure you’re okay? You can lean on me if you need to. Or I can carry you.”

She shoots him a sideways glare. “No.” What is this guy’s deal? No one else wants to have anything to do with her unless they’re bullying her. 

He shrugs. “It’s not like you weigh much. Oh by the way, you do know where the nurse’s station is, right? Because I definitely don’t.”

Kamaria just sighs and keeps walking. It isn’t far, and pretty soon she’s sitting on the nurse’s table. The woman looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here - a sentiment she agrees on.

“Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No,” the new guy pipes in, “she didn’t. She would’ve, but luckily I was standing right there and caught her.”

Great. So that’s why her head was in his lap…and why he said she didn’t weigh much.

“Do you have any other symptoms?”

She shakes her head.

“Did you eat breakfast this morning?”

She looks straight ahead, purposely avoiding eye contact with anyone. “No.”

“Probably a blood sugar drop, then. You should always try to eat a good breakfast in the mornings.” Crossing the room, the nurse opens the door of a freezer. “What flavor do you want?”

Kamaria’s mind blanks on what she could possibly be talking about. She stares at her for a moment, trying to come up with a response, then finally asks, “What?”

The nurse sighs. “What flavor popsicle? It should help get your blood sugar up until you get to lunch.”

Lunch. Right. Which she also won’t be able to eat, because there still won’t be any money in her account. 

She still doesn’t know how to answer the question, even though she knows what the actual question is now. Popsicles. She used to eat those, on occasion, when her mom would splurge. All she can think of is the grape flavor that she didn’t like. Which ones did she like? It’s been so long.

“Um. Orange?” There’s an orange one, right?

The nurse reaches in and tears a plastic package away, thrusting the orange popsicle at her. “Eat this, then you can go.”

Kamaria fumbles with the packaging. “Can’t I go now? I need to be in class.”

“No, you need to eat that first. I’ll give you a note to give to your teacher.” 

She scowls and starts eating, trying her best to bite into the popsicle as soon as she can despite the way it freezes her gums. She’s missing biology. That’s one of the last classes she needs to be missing. Her mind is torn between panic over it, and the memories trying to tug her backwards in time. 

This was her favorite flavor. It tastes like summer afternoons on the front porch with her mom.

“May I have a popsicle?” rich kid asks, practically batting his eyes at the nurse.

“You can go back to class,” she replies sternly, pointing at the door.

He sighs. “Fine. Guess I’ll see you in math class, Curls.”

Why does she have a nickname now? No one since her mom has ever given her a nickname unless it was something insulting, like “freak”.

She gnaws her way through the popsicle, not stopping to let herself enjoy it and potentially get lost in the past, desperately wishing it was something actually filling. It does help her feel a bit more alive, though it’s hard to say how long it will last.

As soon as she’s done, she gets the note from the nurse and rushes through the halls to class, ignoring the stares and barely concealed laughter as she slides into her seat. The guy at the desk beside her leans over and whispers, “Don’t expect me to catch you if you decide to go all damsel in distress again.”

Of course this would become more ammo for people to tease her with.

Leaning over, she opens her backpack to pull out her textbook, but something else catches her eye. In the side pocket, where a water bottle should go, is another packet of Nutella.

[inghrafn]

When I described the following events on a forum devoted to true-life close calls, some stern soul opined that my tale couldn't possibly be true. But it is.

In my early/mid-twenties, I lived in a rented room in an urban-sprawl zone with decent public transit. I took the bus to work six days a week, the seventh into town to bum around.

One day, a young man sat across the bus aisle drawing in a sketchbook. As an artist myself, I thought his work was really good and said so. We struck up a friendly conversation about art on the ride into town. He said he'd come from another state to attend the nearby art college. For my part, I'd moved there only recently and immediately started working 50-hour weeks; as a result I hadn't really had time to make friends. He seemed really pleased to hear this. I didn't really question it at the time; I just thought we were equally at sea in a strange place.

In town, we walked and talked our way through my errands. Everything seemed fine until we stopped into the record store. They had only one copy left of a new tape I wanted. To my surprise, he grabbed it out of my hand, announcing, I'll buy it for you!

No, I'll buy it for myself, I told him, but he refused to hand it over and actually bolted to the cashwrap with it as if this was a game of tag. Afterward he presented the tape to me with a flourish: For you!

I felt deeply uneasy about this gesture. At that time I was solitary by choice and wasn't looking for romance. Conversation was strained on the bus ride back. When he jumped off at my bus stop instead of staying onboard to continue on to campus, things got really uncomfortable. He said he couldn't let me walk home by myself. WTF? I used to live in the city and knew how to take care of myself. When we reached my house, the conversation went like this:

Me: Well, it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.

Him: Invite me in.

Me: What?... No, man, we just met.

Him: (still smiling, but more commanding) Invite me in.

Me: No. I hardly even know you.

Him: Sure you do! We spent all day together!

Me: One day's not enough for you to just... walk into my house.

Him: But I bought you that tape.

I held firm, but the exchange left me uneasy with the thought that he now knew where I lived. However, this became a moot point when I moved to another neighborhood on the opposite end of the bus route.

Still, he knew where I worked and began to drop in for short, impromptu visits. With a sales counter between us, I felt safer, and things seemed to return to normal. We could still talk about art, but I carefully avoided personal subjects.

One day he came in extremely excited. Inspired by group activities at school, he'd decided that we should partner up for an art project! A friend of his had written a script and wanted to turn it into a graphic novel; all he needed were artists. We could use the common space at the college to work on our collaboration. He had it all planned out, but I needed to think about it. I suggested we convene at a local coffee shop sometime later that week and gave him my phone number.

Soon afterward he called me in what I can only described as a heightened, almost manic state. His friend wanted to meet me that night. They would pick me up that evening in his friend's car. I needed to give him my address right away.

Me: But you're both here in town. I can just meet you for coffee.

Him: No, no, no, we have to go to my friend's house.

Me: Well, where does he live?

Him: (suddenly cagey) I don't know.

Me: You don't know?! He's your friend; you must know where he lives. Ballpark it.

Him: (vague) A few towns over. Forty-five minutes or so.

Me: But it's already really late, and I have to work in the morning. Your friend would have to drive me all the way back.

Him: (absolute, dead silence lasting just a few seconds too long)

At that moment, I felt suddenly, inexplicably, profoundly afraid. I understood without doubt that I must never get into any car with him and his friend, ever.

Me: (trying to sound casual): Look, it's late. It's been a long day, and honestly, I don't want to go back out. Why don't we plan to meet at the coffee shop later this week--

Him: (suddenly shouting into the receiver) NO! THIS HAS TO HAPPEN TONIGHT! YOU HAVE TO COME! YOU HAVE TO!

Me: No, I don't!

Him: YES, YOU FUCKING DO! YOU PROMISED!

Me: You can't talk to me that way. You know what? I don't want to do a project with you, now or ever. Don't call me again.

It's hard to pin down why or how, but the point in this conversation when he fell silent produced in me an ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that whatever plan he and his friend had for me, it did not involve me returning home. And I believe that if I had not listened to that sense of certainty, I would not be sitting here and typing this today.

So there's that.

[padfootagain]

The King And You (XIII)

Part 13 : The flight to London

We are back!! Woohoo!!! Here we go for a new chapter of this Caspian series! Sorry again for the long wait, but I am back at writing fanfics, and hopefully, despite my long break, I haven't lost too much of my skills…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think of it!

It's rather short, but very sweet!

Pairing: Caspian x reader

Word count: 2498

An airport was a grandiose thing. An extraordinary mess of things.

Caspian could not remember ever feeling so lost in his life, as he stood in the middle of this crowd all packed with suitcases and bags, going to and fro, staring at screens that changed without changing, only in their details. There were people pushing carts, and children crying, and loud voices that seemed to be coming from nowhere making announcements, calling people by their names. There were people buying drinks, and other pastries, and some books and papers, and some even bought souvenirs. It was a strange, strange world altogether, in which the king was now trying desperately to not drown.

"Caspian, you're okay?"

The deafening sounds quietened, as he focused on your voice, turning to face you again, and feeling much calmer and safer all over again, as soon as his eyes met yours.

"Yes. It is a bit… overwhelming…" he admitted, his voice a little shaky.

You offered him a reassuring smile, as well as a gentle brush of your fingers against his. His heart skipped a bit, lost its rhythm, but not out of fear or stress this time.

"We need to find our gate, come on."

You followed Agatha and Roger, who seemed to have forgotten about you and the King they accompanied the second they laid eyes on each other again. You could hardly have blamed them, as Caspian chased after your hand, and locked his fingers between yours.

He let you guide him across the impressive hall, parted only by corners that revealed more halls to be crossed. It seemed some kind of labyrinth to him more than a building. You passed the security checkpoints, Caspian copying each of your movements. He followed you around, refusing to let go of your hand as soon as you were setting the group into motion once more. There was no denying that this behaviour of his was caused by a certain amount of fear, a certain amount of panic, even. But you couldn't fail to notice that Caspian seeking for youin this particular context, in this context that was so foreign and uncomfortable to him, was a clear sign of trust. A sign of trust you did not misjudge, nor misunderstood. Instead, you took it upon yourself to be the one guiding him in the right direction, to be the one reassuring him. As he sat down on an uncomfortable plastic bench next to you in front of your gate, waiting for boarding to start, still not letting go of your hand, you tried to imagine what it felt like for him. If you were to be thrown out of your world, out of your habits, away from your friends and all things and places you were familiar with, you would be terrified. But was terrified even the right word to describe such a process? Not knowing if you would ever be able to go home, to this place filled with the people you chose to let into your life… away from everyone and everything and everywhere you loved, and not knowing how to go back, or even if it was possible to do so… No wonder why Caspian clutched on the last feeble hope of finding a way to go home. You would probably do the same. Kill yourself to a fool's hope, to avoid losing your sanity. The more you thought about what the man sitting quietly by your side was going through, with his dark brown eyes opened wider than usual in a both curious and threatened way, with his hold firm yet gentle over your hand… you were quite amazed by how well he was reacting to what was happening to him. If your roles had been reversed, you would be screaming and crying. And he wasn't.

Then you remembered he was a King. Maybe that was why. Perhaps he was so used to being under pressure, he had grown accustomed to it, in a way you could never reach.

Your heart grew heavy for him, sad and yet fond as you wrapped your arm around his, using your free hand to hold onto his forearm, bringing him a little closer so you could rest your head against his shoulder.

"Tell me… In your world, would that be frowned upon? If people saw us like this?"

Caspian let out a chuckle.

"Undoubtedly. But we are lucky we are in your world and not mine."

He dropped a peck into your hair, as it was your time to laugh softly.

It had been some kind of miracle that Caspian passed all the security checkpoints without a problem. His passport, just like Roger had promised, seemed to be realistic enough to fool everyone. Your luggage was safely on its way to the plane, and Caspian was sitting by your side, next to Agatha and the lover she had lost long ago, and yet seemed to have found again with such an ease. For once, all seemed to be going well and according to plan. A little revolution for your and Caspian history. A quiet one, that you welcomed gratefully.

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

The plane was about to take off. Agatha and Roger were sitting in the seats before your own, and Caspian was by your side. He was looking at the other planes moving about the airport, his eyes larger than usual.

They were gigantic, these planes. Made of metal, and he had failed counting the number of passengers around him, there were too many of them. How could this be possible? How could such a machine fly, carrying such a weight? The more time passed, the closer the moment came to be, the more Caspian was on the verge of panic. Griffins were to fly, and birds, but not humans. Most definitely not him, at the very least. He would have given anything to be back on a ship, sailing the sea, at that moment. Water was most definitely his element, not air – and if some had started calling him Seafarer back home, he accepted the title wholeheartedly now. He took a couple of deep breaths, that failed to slow down his racing heart.

"Are you okay?"

Your voice broke his train of thoughts – a good thing, as his mind kept imagining a thousand ways for this plane to crash and kill all its occupants. He turned to you, and his lungs finally stopped labouring so much to let the air in.

"Not exactly," he answered elusively.

There was no denying possible though, he reckoned that his discomfort was obvious. And it was you asking the question, he couldn’t lie to you even if he had wanted to.

"It's gonna be okay. It's quite safe, you know?"

"Really? It doesn't seem so…"

"It's the safest way to travel," you nodded your head, confident in your answer.

"Walking sounds much safer, actually…"

You rolled your eyes at him, but an amused smile tugged at your lips.

"Don't try being so smart with me. Not when you're terrified."

"I am not terrified," he mumbled, but his voice was too shaky to be convincing.

"You are, too. And it's okay. It's quite scary the first time. Especially for you, I have no doubt."

"Especially for me?"

"You said these don't exist in your world."

"No… no you are right."

"So… stop pretending you're so tough, and just hold my hand."

You offered him your open palm with a sweet smile adorning your lips, and Caspian couldn't resist. His pride tried to hold him back, but it failed miserably. He didn't fear being vulnerable in front of you, and it was a new feeling for him. A King has to be an example, an example of bravery just like everything else. But not with you. He reckoned the reason was that he was Caspian first whenever he was near you, not the King of Narnia.

He struggled to swallow back the nervous lump that had started creeping up his throat, nodded, and finally slipped his fingers between yours.

His palm was moist, but you didn't mind.

"Good. Now, take a couple of deep breaths."

"I am fine, Y/N."

"Deep breaths, come on."

You exaggerated your breathing, loudly, so he could follow your rhythm. He stubbornly rolled his eyes, but gave in as the steward closed the door of the plain, and the engines roared louder, making the frame of the plane shake under your bodies. He followed your breaths without even noticing.

"Good, you're gonna be okay," you reassured him once more as the plane started to advance across the tarmac, moving into position to take off.

One of the flight attendants stood at the centre of the alley and started presenting the security guidelines. Caspian drank her words too eagerly, his breathing faltering as the explanations went on. He checked your seatbelt, and then his, reached for the lifejacket under his seat. You stopped him as he sat straighter again, diverting his attention from the explanations about everything that could go wrong in the worst-case scenarios.

"Caspian, look at me."

You had to touch his cheek to finally tear him away from his darkest thoughts.

"We'll be just fine. There is no need to worry."

"I hate this…" he admitted under his breath, a shaky breath that made you tighten your hold on his hand. You softly stroked his cheek in an appeasing gesture.

"I know. I can see that. But we have to do this to get you to London. Just… trust me. We'll be just fine."

He nodded, but remained quiet.

"Besides, if the plane does crash… we'll probably all die on impact anyway," you added in a cheerful tone that took him so much aback that he let out a laugh.

"And that is a good thing, because…?"

"Quick, probably painless."

"Right…" he kept on chuckling.

"I'm joking. We're not going to crash."

Eventually, the plane picked up speed, and you found yourself pushed back into your seat. You held Caspian's hand tightly still.

A few more seconds and the acceleration subsided, you were more at ease again, as the wheels of the plane left the ground.

And when Caspian looked by the window again, you were flying.

A moment only was needed for the plane to reach an altitude high enough for Caspian to see the distant glimmer of a city under the pale autumnal sun, and trees and fields splayed across the land under him, lines and patched of yellow, orange, red and green.

He was fascinated for a while, and you didn't disturb him. Only when the plane crossed the vapour of a cloud, the land underneath you disappearing, did Caspian tore his gaze from the window to look at you again.

"It's not so bad, is it?" you asked with a humorous smile.

He blushed, till the tip of his ears reddened, but answered in a smile of his own.

"No, it was not that bad."

It seemed to be on queue that the plane vibrated forcefully, as if bumping into something, a turbulence shaking its metallic frame. Caspian immediately tensed up, and his easy-going smile disappeared in a blink, replaced by clenched jaws.

"What were you saying again?" he asked in a bitter tone.

"It's nothing to worry about, just turbulences. We'll be just fine."

Another shake of the plane came to contradict you.

You reached over the armrest to lean against Caspian, resting your head against his shoulder. The feeling of your body against him calmed him instantly, by a kind of magic he couldn't comprehend and yet were thankful for nonetheless.

"Look outside, it's beautiful," you spoke in a quiet voice, barely louder than a whisper, just strong enough for him to hear you above the loud noises of the engines roaring on each side of the plane.

He followed your advice without thinking, without applying any critical thought, and if he had noticed his behaviour, he might have worried. It might have bugged him that he complied so easily to everything you asked from him. It would not have surprised him though, not when you were holding him close against you, with your hair tickling his neck and the weight of your head peacefully resting on his shoulder. It would not have surprised him at all…

When he turned to the window again, it was to discover his world upside-down, or rather a new version of a sight he was so familiar with. A sea of white, cotton-like clouds drifted peacefully right under the plane, and above a pale blue, perfect sky shone bright under the cold rays of the sun. From time to time, the clouds broke into holes from which you could see the earth, far underneath, as one would sometimes catch a glimpse of rocks at the bottom of a clear sea. It was still water this new sea was made of, only vapour and droplets instead of pure liquid. Whiter than the foam on the ocean, and yet somehow alike in its shapes. The clouds passed by, in an endless queue, at a constant rhythm that made Caspian doubt whether the plane was moving at all or were the clouds simply drifting by, carried by a strong wind.

He remained quiet for a while, relaxing without noticing, until he broke the comfortable silence that had settled around the two of you.

"Yes, it is beautiful."

Under these clouds, lands were passing by, the changes in their shapes and natures unknown to the travellers flying so high above. Soon enough, the city of New York was far away, just like the trees and the fields that coloured the continent, and they were flying above the wild Atlantic Ocean. In a matter of hours, they would abandon the sea once more, to reach another continent, and land in London.

At the back of his mind, Caspian was well aware of these changes. He had studied maps of their travels – a habit more than a useful act; he was, after all, used to set up courses and decide of the best itinerary for long journeys, although this time he had no say in the roads to take. The plane knew its own course, and he was mere passenger, instead of a commander for this journey. Nevertheless, the maps did show him all the landscapes they would fly above of. And always, a little voice asked the question that tormented him at night.

Would they find a way to get him back to Narnia in London?

You shuffled slightly against his arm, and as he turned back to you, Caspian noticed that you had closed your eyes and were already drifting slowly into a quiet, peaceful sleep. He smiled at the sight, pushed back a strand of your hair to look better at your closed eyelids trembling slightly, in rhythm with your dreams. He abandoned the wondrous sky to stare at you instead, while he could.

And if they did… would he leave?

[dyns33]

Treat

Flufftober 2 - Loki x Reader (Continued from Trick)

The stories are a bit short, sorry. 

It wasn't quite what she had imagined when she promised Loki three days of treats, during which he could ask her whatever he wanted.

Not that she was complaining, but it really wasn't what she had prepared for.

Of course, after the Halloween party, as soon as they had been in their bedroom, they had made love. But they made love often, almost every day, and Loki hadn't asked her anything special, he had been perfect, as usual, putting her pleasure before his.

She had thought then that he was saving the best, and the worst, for the following days.

           "During these three days, we don't leave each other, even to take a shower or a bath, we take it together !" he declared as soon as she opened her eyes.

           "... I refuse to pee in front of you."

           "I don't mind. I mean, you are not supposed to say no to me, remember ? But I will grant you this and only this, for I am a great lover and a merciful God. I will stay behind the door then."

           "No."

           "I won't speak, you won't even know I'm here. And remember I've seen and heard a lot worse."

           "Please stop. So what do we do now ? I'm not allowed to leave the room or wear any clothes ? Should I call you Master ? Do you want to do those things that make me a little uncomfortable in the bed, although I admit it's not that bad ?"

           "We'll see later. For now, we're going outside !"

Since she had sworn that she couldn't refuse him anything, she quickly dressed to follow him, but she was suddenly very afraid.

She hadn't thought that Loki would want to do things outside. In the bedroom, no worries. In some isolated places, where there was never anyone, okay. But with an possible audience, where they risked being seen, she did not like it at all. Unfortunately, she had promised.

           "Can you tell me where we're going at least ?" she asked shyly, considering what she could say, do, propose instead, to make him happy anyway.

           "We're going to buy a drink, and we're going to go for a little walk in the park. Then we'll go shopping. For lunch, we'll eat in a good restaurant, and this afternoon I want to try what you call skating. Thor and I have played on some frozen lakes when we were kids, but we kept falling. Especially him. It was funny."

And they did it all of this, without Loki trying anything weird. He was only romantic, taking her hand, holding her arm, kissing her, but nothing more. Everywhere he insisted on paying for everything, and during the shopping spree, he wanted her to take plenty of new clothes, jewellery, shoes, and whatever else she liked.

She thought he was going to try something during the skating, at least a prank by knocking her on the butt, but no. They danced on the ice, laughing and having fun, before heading home, where he prepared the meal, they took a long hot bath together and they cuddled in the bed, where he only asks her to kiss him. over and over again.

The next two days were pretty much the same. Walk to museums, evening at the opera, visit an aquarium, purchase several gifts for her... And not many requests from Loki, when they were already reaching the last day.

           "... You know you can ask me what you want, right ? Anything you want ? And as I promised you, I wouldn't be angry, or sad, or..."

           "You are not having fun my dear ?" he asked sadly, as they got into the car to drive to their next destination.

           "Yes, a lot ! Seems like an endless perfect date, it's wonderful. You are wonderful. But I thought you... You would ask for other things. I don't know."

           "I'm just happy spending time with you, darling. With the missions, the others, the fatigue, we don't always get a chance to do all of that as often as I would like. Just from time to time every week, it's not enough. So being able to have you just to me for those three days, and spoil you, see your smile, shower you with presents... That's all I want."

           "Oh Loki…" she whispered, taking his hand. "We can organize days, maybe not so many days in a row, but we can ! I really want to. do that too. I'm sorry."

           "Why my love ?" he worried, kissing her hand.

           "I really thought you would ask for... I ruined the mood."

           "Not at all. It is very kind of you to think of my pleasure. But I assure you that I am overwhelmed with what we are doing right now. However, if you really want to do... more, you are still entirely mine until tomorrow. I'll think about what we can do tonight, something… special."

Even if he was more teasing and slow than usual, taking all his time to admire her, to touch her, while whispering what it would love to do to her, in the evening they made tenderly and simply love.

[jaskiersvalley]

Ways To Say "I Miss You"

Modern times were not all that great. At least Eskel didn't think so. While the Continent moved on, even Geralt got with the times and used newer tools of the trade, Eskel still preferred the tried and tested two swords and maybe a crossbow method of his trade. Guns were loud, smelly and expensive. Not that swords were cheaper but they were a one off expense every so often rather than having to keep buying bullets and who knew what else guns needed. At least with a crossbow he could get his ammunition back. The one thing Eskel conceded was that cars were kind of useful. Though he did miss being able to nod off on Scorpion's back and know they wouldn't run into trouble. Falling asleep behind the wheel was a no go, his instructor had looked horrified when he asked whether it was what cruise control was for. But, Eskel had to admit, cars were handy in their own way. He could just about cram into his back seat and sleep out of the rain if needed, and they sure made traversing across the Continent quicker. Everything else though, Eskel shunned as much as possible, refusing to accept contracts from tinny, disembodied voices in flimsy ringing slabs of plastic. Those were also known as mobiles but Eskel couldn't stand the idea of them. If he needed to call Lambert or Geralt, he could use a payphone. Not that he trusted those much more.

Thinking of Lambert made him sigh. The Continent was huge, with cars widely available it meant that they were further apart than ever, covering larger areas for jobs. Just because humanity had progressed didn't mean monsters and creatures were less of a threat, there was still a need for witchers. Staring into his pint of beer, Eskel wondered just how Lambert was doing. It had been several months since they'd seen each other. They last met in some greasy diner along a motorway that was about half way between their locations. It was always easy to pick Lambert out of a crowd, his motorbike was big, he'd swapped leather armour for biker leather and still took no shit from anyone.

An elbow jostled Eskel, pulling him from his thoughts. Jaskier gave him a pointed look. "If you miss him so bad, just give him a ring. We live in the modern times for crying out loud."

Puzzled, Eskel frowned and drank his beer. A soft belch made him jolt a little and Jaskier laughed at him before waltzing off with drinks in hand. Truth be told, Jaskier had taken to the changes with ease and grace. If he said to give Lambert a ring, then Eskel would.

Dutifully, he went to a jeweller the next day and frowned at the cases of rings. There were so many to choose from, most of them at astronomical prices. Eskel quickly ruled out anything with stones in them or anything intricate or delicate. Knowing Lambert as he did, he would need something sturdy and not shiny. Black titanium seemed the most fitting of options and Eskel guessed the size to the best of his abilities.

The drive across the Continent was long, a good 15 hours which was a two day trek even with witcher stamina. Still, Eskel drove, ring in a pocket. Modern times were weird, he mused to himself, giving someone a ring to say they missed them. However, Eskel was determined to make sure Lambert knew he was missed and he seemed much more at ease with the times. Even if Eskel didn't understand, Lambert surely would.

Finding a payphone, he dialled Lambert's long memorised number and left a message.

"7pm at the Swan's Stockings. Don't be late."

Of course Lambert was late. But he sat down only ten minutes after seven on the barstool next to Eskel. The bartender knew Lambert and was bringing his drink over without even having to ask what he wanted. Without a word Eskel pulled the ring from his pocket and plopped it in front of Lambert, no fanfare or anything. Lambert would understand.

A hush descended on the whole bar, all eyes turned to them. Staring at the ring, Lambert blinked, lips pressed into a thin line. He picked it up, rolled it between fingers before putting it on.

"Huh. It fits."

The whole bar erupted in cheers and the bartender brought them two new drink with a happy "on the house for the happy couple". A few cameras went off, taking photos of them and Eskel was rather flummoxed.

"So, did you just want a free drink? Or you get into trouble and need a fake fiancé?" Lambert was laughing as though he was trying to hide something painful. "Don't tell me you want to get married for a tax break!"

Eskel finally looked at him properly, ignoring the holler of "kiss him to seal the deal!" from somewhere in the bar. Instead he said, "Jaskier said if I missed you I should give you a ring."

The snorting hoot of a laugh from Lambert was not expected. Nor was the way he scrambled to get his mobile from his pocket, with and incoming video call from Jaskier.

"Please tell me why you two are trending on social media," he said by way of greeting. "What's this I hear about an engagement? Am I not a good enough friend to be told rather than to find out because you've become an internet sensation?"

Snickering, Lambert waved at the screen, ring clearly visible. "He just missed me. And you told him to give me a ring."

Face falling, Jaskier was left speechless. Until he blurted out, "But you seem to have said yes?!"

"You know me." Lambert shrugged, the pained grin back again. "I'll take anything I can get."

Finally Eskel managed to get his brain to kick into gear and he reached across for the phone.

"Excuse us. I have to talk to Lambert. In private." With that, he ended the call and turned to Lambert. "Did you really think I was proposing to you?"

Suddenly, Lambert looked sheepish. "Well, I mean, we've had our tumbles and fun..."

"I never thought you wanted more."

There was a charged vulnerability between them as Lambert looked away, reaching for his free drink.

"Would you say yes again, if I asked?" Eskel pressed.

"I wouldn't expect you to. Esk, please don't do this." Looking at him, Lambert pleaded with words and expression.

Leaning in, Eskel whispered, "What if I want to?"

Their lips met in a gentle kiss, to the delight of the patrons still watching them. Pulling away, Lambert had the ghost of a smile on his lips, "I've always said yes to you."

[there-must-be-a-lock]

For Us Sinners

Soulless Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~4130

Warnings: This is 100% pure smutty religion-themed filth. Sam is dressed as a priest. There’s sex in a confessional, severe perversion of the Hail Mary prayer, and a lot of blasphemy happening. Like. A lot. Orgasm denial. Squirting. Non-explicit mentions of Winchester threesomes, gun play, and knife play. 

A/N: For @stusbunker​‘s “Jam Basket” fic exchange! This is for the lovely @rockhoochie​. I managed to squeeze a decent amount of her jams in here. Sarah, my dear, I hope this makes you even a little bit as happy as your friendship makes me. 

Thanks to @cracksinthewalls​ @fangirlxwritesx67​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for lore, encouragement, and inspiration! 

You’re frowning at the trunk arsenal, wondering if it’s possible to sharpen a machete too much, when movement catches your eye. Sam rounds the corner of the old warehouse, and you grab a knife and a whetstone just to have something to focus on that’s not him and his stupid smirky face or the way his shoulders look in that suit. 

The whole priest thing is a really good look on him. 

“Dean’s not back yet?” he asks, without preamble, sitting on the edge of the trunk next to you. You focus very intently on your knife. 

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” you snark, to cover the way you’re blushing. “Why yes, I did have a super fun afternoon of doing fucking nothing! Waiting around for you two is exactly how I wanted to spend the last three hours, thanks for asking.” 

He laughs. “Weren’t you just telling me that I should stop pretending to be normal polite Sam?” 

“Whatever,” you mutter. 

“Lemme see that,” he says abruptly, and plucks the knife from your grip before you can protest. He takes one look at it and laughs at you, twirling the blade in his fingers. “Working out some frustration, huh?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“What’s really going on? You’re only like this when you’re hungry or horny.” 

“Bullshit,” you snap, but he’s totally fucking right. He’s way too perceptive these days. 

You’ve been refusing to play poker with him ever since this whole soulless deal came to light. He’s like a walking polygraph test… a very attractive, muscled polygraph who’s really good in the sack. 

He’s analyzing your expression with his head cocked. “The knife thing?” 

“I don’t know what you’re — that’s not—”

He holds the tip of the blade to your throat, and you stop stammering immediately. You close your eyes and swallow hard. 

“That’s not new, though,” he says thoughtfully. 

When you open your eyes, ready to protest, he’s tucking the knife back in its sheath and twisting to set it in the trunk. 

“How’d you know about that?” you ask reluctantly. 

He just smirks, that godawful not-Sam not-smile, with his dimples popping and his eyes glittering. 

“One of these days you’re going to realize that I’ll never judge you,” he says, low and sly. “C’mon. Tell me.” He puts on a prim, sanctimonious face, pointing at the collar, and says, “Confess your sins and all will be forgiven.” 

He ruins the pious effect by licking his lips and aggressively eye-fucking you. 

You try to laugh, but it comes out all squeaky. You’ve never been good at poker, and if Sam’s smirk is anything to go by, he can see exactly what’s written all over your face. 

“Shut up,” you say preemptively. “Asshole.” 

“This is totally doing it for you, isn’t it?” Sam asks. 

“Shut up.” 

His smile is gleeful. “Oh my god, it is!” 

“That’s not — I’m not—” 

You grit your teeth and stand up abruptly, and it’s not like you can go anywhere but you need to move; it’s impossible to think straight when he’s right there and he smells so good. 

He gets up so quickly you barely have time to blink before he’s in your space. He backs you against the warm metal of the door, caging you in with one big hand planted on either side of your head, and you have to tilt your chin up to meet his wickedly sparkling eyes. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, soft and heated, lips curling up in a familiar dangerous smile. “Lying is a sin.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you huff, but you can’t stop staring at his mouth. 

“Besides, I can always tell. Admit it.” 

“You are so fucking—”

Without warning, he’s tugging at your zipper, yanking the button open, and shoving a hand roughly down the front of your jeans as he murmurs, “You are so fucking into this.” 

Before you can protest (not that you’d really want to) he’s got two fingers sliding into you, curling sweet and easy where you’re ridiculously, undeniably, outrageously into this. 

“Maybe a little bit,” you sigh. 

He’s just smiling, watching you squirm, playing with you like a cat might play with a mouse, and as much as you’d like to be angry about it, he knows exactly how to use those clever fingers. Then — 

“Dean’s back,” he says calmly, and before you can even process that, he’s sucking his fingers clean and walking around the car to greet his brother. 

You have about three seconds to button your pants, thank your lucky stars that you were on this side of the car, and generally get your shit together before it’s back to business. 

“It’s a goddamn garden statue,” Dean is saying. “Some crazy old bat donated it to the church and then just up and left town. First person disappeared the next day.” 

“So we wait til dark, take it down, break the curse.” Sam shrugs. “Easy enough.” 

“Like a chant ‘n’ smash,” you offer. Both the boys give you blank looks, and you try to pretend like your brain isn’t totally scrambled. “You know. Like a salt and burn. A good old-fashioned chant and smash… no? Okay, whatever.” 

Sam is barely containing his laughter. Asshole. 

“I could use a nap before we do that, I’m wiped,” Dean grumbles, taking off his clerical collar as he slides into the driver’s seat. Sam keeps his on. 

As you’re all getting buckled, he says, “Why don’t you just let us handle this one, Dean? You should take the night off.” 

“If you guys want some privacy to bone, you can just say so,” Dean grouches. “But get another motel room, don’t bring Baby into it.” 

“Yeah, we know. We will,” Sam reassures him. 

Dean does not seem reassured. He looks at Sam suspiciously. “So, what, you’re just being nice?”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” Sam says bluntly. “You look like shit and I don’t want you hunting with me when you’re this sleep-deprived.” 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, that I buy. Man, this whole soul-free honesty shit is gonna take some getting used to.” 

“You and me both,” you sigh, and Sam gives you a wink in the rearview mirror. 

 * * *

“That is the creepiest-looking angel I’ve ever seen,” Sam comments, striking a match. “And l’m including Zachariah in that. Okay, here we go.” 

He lights up the little bowl of herbs he’s concocted and says a few things in Latin, and then the smoke coming up from the bowl turns eerie green and seems to sink into the worn concrete. 

“Is that it?” you ask dubiously. “How do we smash it?” 

“That’s the fun part,” Sam says. He attaches a silencer and loads his gun, quick and practiced, and when you’re both out of shrapnel range he aims almost lazily while you try not to stare at his fingers. Bad enough that he’s still wearing the priest getup. Watching him shatter an angel with a few perfect shots shouldn’t be a turn-on, but…  

“Shouldn’t” is one of those words that lost most of its meaning when you and Sam started fucking. In the last two weeks, he’s managed to discover kinks you’ve never even admitted to yourself. 

Speaking of — 

“C’mon,” he says, and when the gun is deposited safely back in the arsenal, he grabs your hand without waiting for an answer, leading you around to a side door. The door isn’t even locked. Sam’s smile is gleeful in the moonlight. 

“What are we doing?” you ask, as he leads you inside. 

It’s almost completely dark, just a faint glow from the emergency exit signs to light the sanctum, until Sam takes out his matches and lights a few of the tall pillar candles that are arranged in nooks around the altar. The golden glow flickers and dances on the walls. 

Sam grabs you by the wrist, and you halfheartedly attempt to tug your hand away. He’s got that glint in his eye that can only mean trouble. 

“We really shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, as he pulls you over to the confessional. 

“What are they gonna do, condemn my soul to hell?” he says flatly, and you stifle a giggle. “We established a while ago that my immortal soul is fucked.” 

“Mine isn’t,” you mutter. 

He looks at you with another of those smirks and says, “That’s why you’re the one who needs to confess.” 

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” you sigh, but instead of answering, he crowds in close, pressing you up against the smooth dark wood of the confessional, and kisses you, all teeth and tongue and liquefying heat, until your lips feel bruised and your entire body is tingling. 

“Confess,” he whispers, and with one last grin, he points you toward one curtain and slips behind the other. 

If you’ve learned anything about Sam over the years, soul or no, it’s that there’s no point arguing when he’s made up his mind about something. 

Sam seems to have made up his mind. 

You pull the curtain closed behind you and sit on the little bench, and you have to breathe through some long-buried memories before the words come to your lips. 

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you whisper.  “It has been… a long time since my last confession.” 

The flickering candlelight cuts through small gaps around the curtain, casting dancing shadows through the cramped space. Your cheeks are burning. 

“Sam?” you ask tentatively. “This feels stupid.” 

He lets out a low, cocky chuckle, and his voice is all sorts of promising when he replies, “Trust me, I’ll make it worth your while. Play along for me.” 

Fine. 

“Where do I start?” you mumble. “I drink, frequently. I have been dishonest. I gamble, and I do not dress modestly, and — I don’t know. What else?” 

“Do you have impure thoughts?” You can hear the smile in Sam’s voice. 

“Yes.”

“About what?” 

You swallow hard, closing your eyes, thinking about the way he looks right now. No preacher has ever looked so good in that black suit. “About… about you.” 

“Go on.” 

“About the way you feel inside me. About the way you fuck me.” 

“What did you think about last time you touched yourself?” 

Your breath hitches. “I thought… I imagined that you —” 

“Lying is a sin.” 

Fuck. 

That’s the thing about Sam; he won’t let you get away with politeness, or with half-truths, or with telling him what most guys would want to hear. 

Fuck him and his creepy polygraph spidey senses. 

“I imagined that it was Dean,” you whisper, cheeks burning. 

“And how did that go, in your fantasy?” There’s no trace of surprise or hesitation in his voice. 

“I was — he bent me over the hood of the car.” 

“That’s not the first time you’ve thought about him, is it?” 

“Sam, I don’t — this is weird,” you say, squirming slightly. 

“Why?” he says, and you keep waiting for the jealousy or the disgust to color his words, but all you can hear is curiosity. “Do you think about him while I’m fucking you?” 

You let out a long, measured exhale. “Yes.” 

“Have you thought about him walking in? Listening to us?”

“Yes. Sam, I don’t—” 

“Were you thinking about him a couple days ago, in the middle of the night? When you couldn’t seem to keep quiet?”

You shudder, pressing your thighs together. “Yes.” 

“Tell me.” When you hesitate, he continues, “I wondered… felt the way you were squeezing around my cock every time it got too loud. You wanted him to hear.” 

“I wanted him to — to imagine. I hoped he was awake, and that he was turned on, and—” 

“You wanted him to join in,” Sam supplies, when you falter. His voice sounds husky, now. “You were imagining both of us, huh? What else?” 

“Sitting in your lap, in the backseat, while he watches in the rearview,” you mumble, and now that you’ve started talking, it’s hard to stop: “I think about getting on my knees for both of you. Letting him have my mouth while you fuck me, or… one of you holding me down.” 

“Have you imagined us handcuffing you? Taking turns with you?” he asks calmly. 

“Well now I’m imagining it,” you huff, and your nervous giggle breaks the tension for a moment. 

“I know you’re holding out on me,” Sam purrs, when the silence starts to stretch. “Leave my brother out of it, if you’re getting all hung up on that. What else?” 

“I don’t know,” you mumble. 

“Trust me. God isn’t judging you and neither am I. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

You can’t bring yourself to spit it out, even like this. “That’s it.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is silk and steel now. “Why don’t I take a guess?” 

“Fine.”  

“Knives,” he says bluntly, and your inhale is too sharp to be innocent. “You like the way a knife looks in my hands, the way it’d be dangerous if I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“Yes.” 

“You want to know what it’d be like: cold metal on your skin. A knife at your throat, or... a gun to your temple.” 

You’re shaking. 

“How’d you know?” you whisper. 

“I pay attention,” he says simply, voice ragged, and then there’s a long pause before he asks, “Is that the end of your confession?” 

You’d almost forgotten where you are. You’re grateful the screen is still between you and Sam. 

“Yes,” you say, and because old habits die hard, you add, “I am sorry for these and all the sins of my past lives.” 

“As for penance…” You can hear the teasing note in it, and some of your self-consciousness dissipates. “You can begin by taking off your clothes.” 

“Here?” you laugh. “Sam…” 

“Here. Now.” 

You let out a tiny, nervous whine of protest, but you’re too turned on to care, not when you’ve already crossed so many lines tonight. 

Then you strip, taking off your clothes with shaking hands and setting them in a neat-ish pile in one corner of the tiny booth. It’s chilly, and you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling goosebumps run down your bare skin. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Now... you can say ten Hail Marys,” Sam says, with that smirk in his voice again. 

“I — really?” you ask. 

Just as you’re thinking that’s all?, Sam is ducking through the curtain of the confessional, crowding you in and pushing on your shoulder until you sit back down on the narrow bench. Even in the barely-there flickers of light you can see the wicked smile on his face as he drops to his knees in front of you.  

“And you may not come until you’re finished,” he orders coolly. 

Then he’s hooking his arms under your knees, grabbing you by the hips and pulling you forward so that he can get that filthy smirking mouth on you. He licks a hot slick stripe up your center, swirling his tongue over your throbbing clit, and —

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasp, letting your head fall back against the wood with an echoing thunk, because whatever Sam’s doing with his lips is sending sweet fluttering waves of heat through your belly. “Oh my God, Sam, that’s—” 

“If you keep taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he growls, nipping at your inner thigh, “I’ll double it.” 

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,” you start, and it’s been a while; Sam’s not the only reason you have to pause. “Fuck. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the — the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now—” Your voice breaks as you whimper, and you finish in one long rushed breath: “— and at the hour of our death, amen.”

“There you go,” Sam says, practically moaning the words against slick skin. You’re already having trouble thinking straight. 

You start all over again, trying to rush through it as quickly as possible, but you stutter as Sam fucks you shallowly with his tongue.  

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Sam says, curling two long fingers into you.

Except it’s bad. In the short time you’ve been doing this, Sam has learned your sweet spots like nobody’s ever learned them before, and he’s not touching them now. This is barely a tease, compared to what you know he can do to you. It’s bad, and it’s going to get so much worse. 

You start to stammer through the third prayer. You’re so wet — from the thrill of the setting, as much as what he’s doing with his tongue — you can hear the slick thrust of his fingers inside you, dirty and distracting. 

When you pause for breath between “Mary” and “mother of God,” Sam hums low against your cunt, and you know he enjoys this, you know he gets off on it, but he lets out these noises that never fail to make you feel feverish, and now is no exception. It doesn’t feel chilly any more. By “amen,” you’re burning up. 

“Three down,” Sam murmurs. 

On the fourth “grace,” he closes his lips around your clit and sucks gently, and you make a high, squeaky, mortifyingly desperate sound. Your voice keeps breaking as you stumble through the next lines, until you end on a long, relieved groan. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Six more.” 

“I can’t,” you hiss. 

“You can. And you will.” 

On “full,” Sam twists his knuckles, and you gasp, arching your back, squirming. He fucks you in the same rhythm as your words, dragging friction across your g-spot with every syllable, and when you try to speed up, rushing through it, you can’t even get to “sinners” without breaking off in a moan. He stops completely as you pant for breath, and as you mumble through the last lines, painfully slow, you’re rolling your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperate for more. 

“That’s five,” Sam says. “I’ll give you a second to catch your breath.” 

With his free hand, he grabs one of your wrists, guiding your hand to the back of his head. His eyes flick up to you, watching hungrily, until you slide your fingers through the silky strands and tug lightly. 

You sigh. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

“Hope not,” he says, smirking against the crease of your thigh. “I’m into some weird shit, but I like ‘em warm and breathing.” 

“Ha fucking ha, Sam, that’s — fuck,” you choke, as he fits his mouth to your clit again, and this time he sucks lightly in time with the slow thrusts of his fingers.  You forget what you’re saying, somewhere around “God,” and stumble to the end in bits and incoherent pieces. 

“Six.” You realize you’ve got a death grip on his hair, all your muscles tensed-up and rigid with electricity that’s got nowhere else to go, but when you ease up, he pumps his fingers in deep and growls, “Harder.” 

He adds a third finger, and it’s so fucking good, so fucking much, filling you with fizzing pressure, and it takes most of your willpower to stop yourself from going under. 

You grit out, “HailMaryfullofgrace.” Lightning lances up your belly, and you squirm— “TheLordiswiththee.” — twist your fingers in Sam’s hair— “Blessedartthouamongwomen.” — muscles quaking, cunt clenching around perfectly curled fingers— “Blessedisthe. Fuck. Fruitofthywomb. Fuck — Jesus!” — tension surging and swelling  — “Holy Mary, mother of God, prayforussinnersnow, fuck, Sam!” — you’re almost there, almost, and he stops, refusing to give you what you want as you gasp out, “And —at the— the hour of our death, amen.” 

“Seven,” he says harshly, and you can feel him breathing hard, damp hot air teasing your slick swollen skin, and his mouth is so close to where you want it. He gives you a second and then: “Keep going.” 

You babble out a few words at a time, and your voice is ragged and broken, but it must sound close enough to what he wants; he’s winding you up again, fingers crooking expertly against that sweet spot. The heel of his other hand digs into your lower belly, right over that point of white heat, and it’s so intense, suddenly, that everything goes sparkly and distant.  

“Pray for us,” you groan, and he sucks, fast and hard. “Pray for us — us sinners —” 

There’s this pressure, right there, right where his fingers are stoking a fire, and it’s blazing, and —

“Sam, I can’t. I can’t, I’m gonna—” 

He’s not holding back, and you can’t either. You buck helplessly against the incredible suction of his mouth, holding him with both hands fisted in his hair as you bow up and cry out. All that pressure peaks, crashing down in wave after wave of relief, pulling you under like a rip tide as you come dripping-wet and messy. 

It blinds you, for a moment. You’re out of your body for who knows how long, lit-up and paralyzed by the high-voltage shock of it. 

When you come back to yourself, Sam is scooping you up and swapping places with you in one smooth movement, manhandling you so that you’re straddling him; he’s got his pants open just enough, can’t seem to wait any longer, and the breathless urgency is so unusual for him that your head spins. 

You’re still clenching through the lingering quakes of your orgasm, trembling, boneless like a rag doll, and it’s not you sinking down on his cock so much as him pulling you, filling you up inch by inch as you squeeze and quiver around the thick length of him. 

When he’s as deep as he can be, his arms wrapped around you and practically crushing you to his chest, you both pause and take a ragged gulp of air. 

“What even was that?” you slur, bracing yourself with a hand against the wall and trying to adjust. He lets out a rough groan through gritted teeth. 

“That is what I’ll be seeing every time I look at a confessional now,” he pants, starting to rock up into you. “Never gonna be able to walk into a church without getting hard.” 

He wraps an arm around your ribs, and the heat of his splayed hand on your shoulder feels like it spans half your back. Your naked skin seems even more obscene as it brushes the stiff cloth of his suit, and you can feel your own wetness soaking the fabric in places. You shiver, roll your hips, and you can feel the way he reacts, shuddering under you. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes this a little too much,” you say, breathless. 

“Who said anything about too much? No such thing.” He barks out a laugh, bucking up in a way that makes you moan. “I’ve been to heaven, and trust me when I say, this right here—” He twists his hips viciously to emphasize the word. “— this is so much better.”

“God, this is so —” you whimper. He fists a hand in your hair and bites your neck, and you jerk helplessly against him. 

“God doesn’t care,” he growls. “God wasn’t listening to you just now.” 

“That’s not —” You’re pretty sure he’s missing the point, but with the way your cunt is throbbing at every perfect thrust, you can’t remember what that point is; you can’t remember anything. 

“God’s not going to answer those prayers,” he says hoarsely. “I’m the one who’s going to handcuff you and bend you over the hood of the car and fuck you until your legs give out.” 

“Holy shit, Sam.” Your brain is shorting out. 

“I’m going to make sure Dean sees you when you’re all strung-out and begging for it,” he promises. He jerks up with a vicious twist of his hips, and you grind down to meet him, every inch of your skin singing. “I’m going to hold a gun to your head while you ride me. I’m going to give you anything you want.” 

“Please.” Your moan sounds more like a sob, and you can’t see straight anymore; it’s all going distant, until the only thing that feels real is the aching, pulsing heat of him inside you. 

Sam claws at your back, dragging his open mouth up the side of your neck until he can snarl against your ear: “God doesn’t answer prayers, but I do.” 

He surges up to meet you one last time. Your vision flashes bright white as you come, one exquisite pulse after another rolling through you, and it feels like a purer sort of ecstasy than any religious experience you’ve had in a church.

This is worth a little hellfire. 

.

.

.

There is now a follow-up drabble here!

[symwinter]

HBIC Marinette – Chapter Two

Taglist: @ladybug-182 | @our-preciousss | @woe-is-me0 | @vroomtaka | @lady-bee-fechin | @ramos123 | @itsmeevie01 | @chaoticstarworld | @vixen-uchiha | @seraphichana | @pleaseignorejustheretoread | @basenikon | @bread-loving-mess | @walkingthroughonautopilot |

Sorry it took so long for the next chapter. If I stop writing I have to go back and read what was there and it just reads so badly to me so I have to start over. To make up for it, I tried to make this chapter extra long, but I don’t know if it came across that way.

First - Last - Next

Hell hath no fury like Marinette scorned. On the outside she appeared calm, almost peaceful, but on the inside she was plotting. She doubted the class would take the fallout quietly so she needed to be prepared. The bell on the door jingled as she stepped inside. Her maman perked up hearing the bell. “Marinette! How was school today?” “Eventful,” she replied, “can I talk to you and papa about something? It’s important.” “Of course,” Sabine replied, “please flip the sigh to closed will you?” Marinette nodded and flipped the sign, locking the door for good measure. From there she was ushered upstairs.

“So what do you need to talk to us about? Did you find your sketchbook?” Sabine inquired, her hands folded gently on her lap. “You remember Lila right? The girl who falsified my expulsion?” “She’s the one with the lying disease right?” Tom replied. Marinette forced herself to not roll her eyes. Lila literally said she had a lying disease and was still believed. “Yes and yes. Lila was the one who took it and tore it apart,” Marinette pulled the broken sketchbook from her backpack. Sabine gasped. Tom rubbed her shoulder. “Most of my class did as well. Except for Adrien, Chloé, Sabrina, and Nathanael.” Sabine frowned. “Was it your commission book?” “No, thankfully. That one’s still here. This one was just doodles.” Marinette put the sketchbook down on the table. “But I refuse to leave this unpunished. I just thought I’d let you know.” Tom grimaced but object. “Normally I would be against this,” Tom said, “but if you think it’s necessary then you have my support.” Sabine nodded in agreement. “Is there anything we can do to help?” “Outside of Chloé, Adrien, Sabrina, and Nathanael I don’t know who helped tear it apart and who tried to take it away so it wouldn’t get damaged,” Marinette began, “so until then could you refuse to serve anyone from my class that isn’t those three? Or at least not give them a discount? Or let them see me?” Not that anyone but Nathanael would visit from that small group. “Of course Marinette,” Sabine said, “we’re your parents. It’s our job to be there for you.” Marinette didn’t comment about how they believed Lila when she was expelled and instead shot herself into her parents arms, pulling them into a hug. “I’m going to go salvage what I can from this.” She said, picking up the sketchbook. “Let me know if anyone stops by.”

It took longer than Adrien would like to admit to pick out which sketchbook to buy for Marinette. This was the third shop he went to. “Oh for the love of god Adrikins will you just pick a sketchbook already?” Chloé snapped from beside him. Adrien staggered slightly before looking at her. “It’s not just a replacement but an apology.” He replied. “It needs to be perfect.” “There’s only so long before you father comes a calling and then you can’t give her the sketchbook at all.” She retorted, crossing her arms. Sabrina appeared next to the two blondes holding a 12 by 9 inch sketchbook. Adrien took it from her hands and inspected it. The cover was rather bland, only being a dull dark brown, but the quality of the paper was rather nice. It looked like something his father would use. He didn’t know Sabrina as well as he did Chloé but she clearly had an eye for these things. He supposed being friends with Chloé helped in that regard. “I also considered the idea of getting flowers for Marinette,” Sabrina added, “maybe they’ll act as a nice icebreaker before giving her the sketchbook.” “Sabrina, when you get married I will happily pay for the wedding.” Adrien said. Sabrina smiled. “I’ll hold it to you.” “Great we have a sketchbook can we go already?” Chloé hissed, clearly annoyed. “Yes Chlo, we can go pay and head out.” Adrien paid for the expensive sketchbook before hopping into a flower shop nearby, much to the chagrin of Chloé. One bouquet later and they was off to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

“Welcome! How can I-” Sabine paused looking at the odd trio in front of her. Adrien, Chloé, and Sabrina, only two of which had ever been over. “We’re here to see Marinette.” Adrien replied, giving an awkward smile. If Sabine did know about the sketchbook, it’s possible she wouldn’t let them visit. Chloé and Sabrina’s less than perfect history with Marinette certainly wouldn’t help. “Of course, you remember how to get inside don’t you Adrien?” He nodded and slipped past the confused Sabine. Tom was equally as confused. “You’re here to see Marinette?” “Yep.” Adrien replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Feel free to grab something then, you’re practically skin and bones.” “Model diet,” Chloé retorted, as Adrien slipped the sketchbook under his arm. Marinette’s parents made the best baked goods. The trio moved efficiently through the house before sending Sabrina to knock on the trap door. A simple ‘who is it?’ rang from above. Sabrina pushed the trap door open. “Adrien and Chloé are also here.” Marinette ushered the three up. Adrien practically shoved the flowers in front of her. “Are these-” Marinette began. “Flowers? Yeah. Sabrina suggest I get some along with this,” he held the sketchbook out. Marinette placed the bouquet on her desk before delicately taking the sketchbook from him. She inspected it but found no price tag. “I heard the class damaged your sketchbook so I found it right to get you a new one.” “I can’t this accept, ugh I mean, I can’t accept this.” “Yes you can. You deserve nice things Marinette.” “Adrikins practically dragged me around Paris to find you that sketchbook. Take it.” Chloé said, inspecting her nails. “Ignore her,” Adrien replied, “it was my fault that you’re sketchbook got torn in the first place. I didn’t know how awful Lila could be.” “But you didn’t. I didn’t tell you that she threatened me-” Adrien, Sabrina, and Chloé’s heads whipped to look at her. “She threatened you?” Adrien’s voice was cold. It almost reminded her of M. Agreste’s during the brief time he heard it. “When exactly did she threaten you?” “When she first got back. In the bathroom. And she kind of did when I got briefly expelled.” “Well then it was definitely the wrong advice. I thought she was just lying for attention, not threatening you. That’s serious. I would’ve never made that deal if I knew how awful she was. I could’ve, I should’ve-” “Wait deal?” This time Sabrina spoke up. “The reason Lila works for Gabriel is because I made a deal to get her to lie Marinette back into class. I swore I told her to leave you alone to. It’s all my fau—why are you crying??!!”

And lo and behold, large tears dripped down Marinette’s cheeks, which she wiped away. “You did that for me?” “Of course, you’re my friend.” Adrien replied, pulling her into a hug. “And that’s what friend do right?” “Okay great, dirty laundry has been aired or whatever but can we get to the point people?” Chloé sniped. “What’s the point?” Marinette asked, stepping out of the hug, albeit reluctantly. “When you go maul the class to death, leave Sabrina, Adrikins, and I out of it. We’re not friends, but even I know not to ruin your stuff.” Marinette put the sketchbook down. “I will but I get to slap you with no consequences.” “You’ve got to be joking.” “You made my life hell and that’s getting off easy for the amount of crap you put me though.” “How about instead, I cover whatever expensive fancy fabrics you can’t buy for the next two months. I’d have to explain the smack to daddy after all” “Hm, make it four months.” Marinette replied. “Three.” “Deal.” Chloé turned on her heel. “Sabrina, let’s go.” The redhead followed but paused to wave goodbye. “I guess that’s my cue to leave as well.” Adrien replied. “And again, I’m sorry I didn’t help you sooner.” “You didn’t know. But you’ll stand up for me now right? When Lila opens her mouth to spew more lies?” “Of course Mari. I’ll be your alibi until the foreseeable future.” He pulled Marinette into a hug again, and impulsively kissed her cheek before leaving the building. It wasn’t until he was standing on the street, phone in hand to call the Gorilla did he realize what he had done.

“Oh god.”

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated Drabble

Pairing: Bang Chan x Y/N

Genre: Marriage AU; Sequel; Drabble

Warnings: So. Much. Fluff. (small smut scene at the beginning); language

Request: 

A/N: Finally finished this one! Please enjoy another taste of my favorite AU!

5 Years Later

“We’ve got five minutes,” I whispered against the pulse point on Chan’s neck, the throbbing vein pumping hard as he panted for breath from above me, eyes shut tight together as he moaned.

“I’ll blow at any second,” Chan cursed, laying sloppy kisses wherever he could reach while fucking me hard and fast.

“Your cock feels amazing,” I practically purred, digging sharp nails into the milky white skin of his back, legs closing in around his waist to keep him close. 

“Oh, sweetie, you’re laying it on thick this morning, aren’t you?”

I clenched a vice-grip around the length pumping inside me in response, sending Chan’s hips stuttering against my own. “I’ve got kids in the next room who can wake-up at any second. Excuse me for trying to inflate your ego.”

“That’s not the only thing inflating,” Chan gasped, curling his fingers through mine.

“You’re gross,” I huffed, closing my eyes and throwing back my neck as best as I could in this position: laid out under my husband, orgasm approaching at a meteoric-level speed, and sweat coating my skin in a delightful sheen as the muscles around my abdomen worked overtime to milk Chan for everything that he had before the moment was ruined by my kids. 

I half-expected them to burst into the room unannounced at any second, oblivious to their parents fucking in much of the same way that created them in the first place. Locked together with limbs intertwining, sucking in each other’s air, and kisses rough and demanding. 

Fuck it had been far too long since Chan and I had last done anything even remotely this intimate, and it was still necessary for us to go at it as fast as possible to prevent unwanted eyes from accidentally catching us at the height of our passion. 

I couldn’t help but glance at the clock, realizing that we had been fucking for almost ten minutes, and the alarm had been set for 7:00 AM so that I could somehow wrestle my kids together for their first day of school. 

Damn, this is gonna turn out to be a very long day.

“Are you close?” I asked Chan, connecting our lips for a sweet kiss since I personally knew that they were a weakness of his.

“Yeah,” he said, features collapsing into a look of pure concentration as a guttural moan found its way crawling up his throat to release itself at the same moment when I could feel his release emptying into the condom separating us from complete skin-to-skin by a thin layer of latex.

But I insisted on wearing them now.

“You’ll cum too, sweetie,” Chan whispered, laving his tongue across the pad of his thumb before reaching down to connect with my clitoris, drawing rough circles in random patterns to snap the physical breaking point: holding my tongue to prevent myself from screaming as I rode the waves of pleasure until nothing was left but a delicate haze and the sensation of Chan’s cock still stuffed inside my spent pussy.

As it turns out, aftercare with Chan was the equivalent of my husband spewing my praises while insisting on letting his cock soften completely before pulling out: cock warming at its finest.

“Do you plan to pull out?” I asked him, smirking when he whined and buried his face into the side of my neck.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been like this,” Chan remarked.

“The kids need to get up soon,” I said, although there was a sleepy pull weighing down my eyelids. A good fuck tended to wear me out. “They’ve got their first day.”

“Yeah,” Chan agreed, but he made no effort to separate us. In fact, I could imagine us both easily falling back to sleep.

“You’re coming right?” I asked around a yawn. “To their Kindergarten orientation or whatever the hell they call it.”

“Of course,” Chan said, and he finally lifted his head from my shoulder, gaze soft as he took his time to explore my features. “I can’t miss that.”

“What? Watching the teachers drag them away for the first day of the education system they’ll be stuck in for the next thirteen years?”

“You have a way with words, sweetie.”

I grinned. “Maybe I’m just using words to deny the weirdness of my kids starting school and making me feel like I’m 100 years old.”

“It feels like they were just born,” Chan agreed, and he slowly rose himself into a sitting position, climbing out of bed to give me the best view of his naked ass.

“Your ass looks great by the way.”

“Thanks,” Chan snorted, reaching for a pair of black slacks from the floor. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Fine,” I groaned. “I guess I’ll go awaken the sleeping monsters.”

“Let the chaos begin,” Chan announced, closing the bathroom door behind him as I reached down deep into the reserves to muster enough energy to finally get out of bed.

At the risk of sounding too long-winded, the best way I could describe my twins was with a touch of irony. Because, despite looking identical to one another, my girls couldn’t be more opposite in terms of personality. 

Leah, the eldest by one minute, was boisterous, loud, and unapologetic when it came to being herself. She was the epitome of a social butterfly, jumping from one person to the next and asking questions that occasionally raised a few eyebrows because of their brazenness.

Her sister, Rose, was nothing like that. In fact, Rose hardly spoke at all, choosing to listen instead, and offer her voice only when she truly felt the need to include it. Of course, side-by-side, they were another thing altogether, far too energetic for me to handle.

This morning was no exception, chasing Leah around the house because she refused to change out of her pajamas, questioning me relentlessly on why it mattered that she had to change.

“I should wear what I want!” she insisted, and I had nearly lost my patience with her until Chan entered the room, and he was one of the only people who could talk through to Leah.

Him and Felix, of course.

Before Felix moved out, he and Leah were practically inseparable, and I could see her uncle’s influence in a lot of different ways.

“You want to look your best to make new friends, right?” Chan asked her, and after a laughable look of concentration, Leah nodded and allowed me to change her into a much more suitable dress.

“There,” I grumbled, turning my attention to Rose who was more willing to be dressed.

“Let’s go have breakfast, yeah?” Chan whispered to Leah, and she smiled and giggled at her father as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. 

I scoffed at how easy he was able to manage her, glancing at Rose who was even more quiet than usual. “Aren’t you excited for your first day?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t want to leave you.”

I could feel my heart breaking at her sweet words, cupping her face between my hands as I tried to reassure her that she would still see me in the afternoons and evenings. “It’s just a little break,” I said, but I knew that Rose was harder to convince.

In the meantime, Chan and I worked together to have both twins fed and ready to leave the house, packing them lunches for school before ushering everyone out the door because we were teetering on the edge of being too late. 

At least Chan had the wherewithal to warm-up the car, and it gave us more time to fasten everyone into their car-seats before pulling out onto the main road, speeding into the downtown district with the clock ticking away. “Well, at least the other parents will think we’re irresponsible.”

“I’ve got this,” Chan said, and I shivered as he toed the gas and grazed just going over too fast. 

“At the risk of getting a ticket-”

“Relax, sweetie,” Chan interrupted, reaching over to take my hand. “I’ll handle everything.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmured, glancing up into the rearview mirror to see Leah and Rose engaged in their learning tablets. Even if they were a few minutes late, my kids would still be the smartest. I had made sure of that, spending countless hours with them reading as many books as I could buy, digging out paper and pencils to practice their names and alphabet letters, and reading tons of online articles about the best methods to ensure your child’s early learning set them up for the most success.

Right? So what if we were a little late.

“Mommy? Why can’t you both stay with us at school?” Rose suddenly inquired from the backseat.

I sighed, turning around to face her. “Mommy and Daddy both have to go to work, okay? We’ve already had our turn at school.”

“Our turn?” Chan chuckled, and I pivoted in my seat to glare at him.

“That’s the kind of language we should be using with them!”

“Did you read that from an online expert?”

“As a matter of fact, I did!” I huffed, and I caught his smile, letting me know that he was just messing around.

“I just want them to do well,” I whispered, and his expression instantly softened at the sound of my tone.

“You’ve done so well, sweetie,” Chan reassured me, squeezing my hand even tighter as he turned into the school’s parking lot, finding an empty spot near the back.

Immediately, I was at the back door, reaching inside to help Rose out of her seat, spinning her around to help her with her brand new bookbag. “There,” I said, once her attention was on me again. “You’re ready.”

“I don’t know...” Rose trailed off, and her eyes held all the uncertainty of a five-year-old who was used to staying at home with her parents and uncle. Not the unfamiliar presences of her peers. 

“Hey,” I said, kneeling down to meet her gaze straight-on. “I know it seems scary, but I promise that you’ll really love it. I was the same way too on my first day, but my mom gave me the same advice, and guess what? She was right. I ended up loving school, and if there’s a little piece of me in you, then I know that you’ll have so much fun that you’ll forget all about your mommy and daddy.”

Rose’s eyes grew bigger, shaking her head in a manner that was quite endearing. “I won’t ever forget you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” I said, pulling her close for a hug as Chan and Leah emerged from the other side.

“Everything okay?” Chan asked, looking between me and his daughter.

“Just fine,” I said, ruffling Rose’s hair before standing tall again. “Let’s go inside.”

The classroom was already full of students, and I was glad to see some parents lingering, which meant we weren’t as late as I had thought.

“Told ya,” Chan snickered, and I gave him a playful glare before turning my attention to the approaching teacher: an older gentleman with a head of pepper and salt colored hair and kind eyes.

“Hello,” he said, addressing me first. “I’m Mr. Park.”

“Hi,” I said, accepting his handshake. “These are my daughters: Leah and Rose Bang.”

“Ah!” Mr. Park remarked, glancing down. “I’m excited for our twin students! Please, have a seat wherever you’d like.”

“Go on,” I encouraged them when I caught their matching looks of insecurity. “You have each other,” I added, reaching down to wrap their fingers together, giving them one last smile before Leah bravely led her sister further into the room, selecting an empty table near the back.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Mr. Park said, and I noticed that he had grown a little too close, gaze lingering for far too long. 

“Yes,” I agreed, “And this is my-”

“I’m Chan,” my husband interrupted, inserting himself between me and Mr. Park with a brusque movement. “The father.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone, watching as Mr. Park hesitated before nodding and shaking Chan’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I smirked, waiting until Mr. Park had moved on before leaning in to Chan. “What was that, dear?”

Chan scoffed, searching the room for a moment. “He was flirting with you, sweetie. What did you expect me to do?”

“Well, it could be from our morning romp, but it kinda turned me on.”

Chan raised a suggestive brow at my comment, but I gave him a cheeky smile in response before walking in the direction of Leah and Rose’s table. “Look at you two,” I remarked. “I think you made a good choice.”

“I like seeing outside,” Leah said, and I nodded and tucked away a wayward strand of hair. 

“You’ll both stay together, right?”

I received synchronous nods in response, and there was a lot of relief on my end knowing that my girls would be just fine. 

“We’ll be here to pick you up at 2:00,” Chan said, pointing to the analog clock above the door. “Okay?”

Two more nods. “Remember to have fun. You’re gonna learn so much, and maybe you’ll even be smarter than daddy.”

I managed to elicit two laughs in response to that, and Chan chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Be good, alright?”

“Yes, daddy,” Leah replied diligently while Rose nodded her head, attention drifting to a book sitting at the edge of the table.

I smiled knowing that she was showing interest, and then I realized that there was a deeper part of me that was having just as much trouble leaving the girls as they were having with leaving me and Chan. But the other parents were starting to leave the room, and with one more exchange of our goodbyes, Chan and I were walking away from our girls, keeping our own hands locked together as the door closed behind us.

“Woah,” I sighed once we were outside in the hallway. “That was harder than I expected.”

“It’s a big step,” Chan said, and he wrapped an arm around my waist to pull me closer. “But they’ll be okay because they’re ours.”

“Oh,” I laughed. “Is that so?”

“Of course,” Chan said, giving me a perfectly serious look before a smile overtook his features, and any previous doubts were vanquished by the sincerity in that smile, and I knew that as long as I had Chan, then nothing would ever be too difficult to overcome. 

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine the gang realising Zuko has a crush on you and Toph and Sokka deciding to exploit Zuko’s feelings for their own gain.

The group found out Zuko liked you when he was attacking Aang. Upon ditching training to have a beach day Zuko was furious and decide to show Aang this wasn’t a wise decision by attacking him with fire. Then Zuko found out you weren’t even invading the fire nation until after the eclipse and was even more furious...until you appeared.

You’d been inside when Zuko started attacking Aang so were late to the conversation and just saw a very angry looking Zuko. You dropped what you were holding seeing Zuko yelling and rushed forwards "what’s wrong? Why are you angry again?". "Zuko just found out our invasion plans or lack there of" Sokka explained. Zuko was still glaring at them and hadn’t looked up at you. "Zuko i’m so sorry" you said stepping infront of the others and blocking them from his view "it was my idea i should’ve told you, if you’re going to yell at anyone it should be me". You readied yourself for a tirade of angry fire boy but instead Zuko dragged his eyes to you and sighed. "No". "No?" Sokka asked and Zuko twitched but kept his eyes on you. "I understand you were just trying to do what’s best for Aang, you’re thoughtful like that" and walked away to go sulk. You frowned and so did the others. "Ow so he can yell at us but when y/n literally tells him to he doesn’t?" Toph asked "how is that fair?". Sokka narrowed his eyes "it isn’t and it doesn’t make sense....". Sokka watched Zuko and then looked at you, an idea beginning to form in his head.

An hour later

Sokka decided to test his new theory right away and knocked on Zuko’s door. “What is it?” Zuko snapped and Sokka grinned. "Ow nothing just dinners ready and you should probably know Katara broke your tea set" Sokka shrugged and Zuko jumped up "what that was my uncle’s!". "Relax she can buy you a new one!". "It was an antique so she can’t" Zuko pouted and Sokka rolled his eyes "okay okay calm down i’ll go get her so you can yell at her...ow sorry did i say Katara? I meant y/n". "Y/n?" Zuko asked and Sokka nodded "yeah it was y/n who broke it". Zuko looked away and coughed "well i guess it was just an accident". Sokka smirked his theory proven, Zuko liked you. Sokka fully intended to use this to his advantage.

The next day

Sokka learnt that if he hung around you Zuko seemed to lose the ability to be angry and so all day Sokka tested how much this arrangement worked and it was infuriating Zuko endlessly. Sokka was in the kitchen when Zuko realised he hadn’t tidied his mess in the living room like he’s promised and felt his anger rising as he searched for the water tribesman.

“Sokka you haven’t tidied the living room like you said you would” Zuko glared slamming the kitchen door open upon hearing Sokka’s voice inside. He jumped to see you there aswell as Sokka but decided to ignore you and just focus on Sokka. “Ow sorry I was just sat chatting with y/n and lost track of time, you can really get lost in her eyes...but I’m sure you know that” Sokka grinned. Zuko’s frown lessened and a small blush appeared on his cheeks. “Sokka i’m so sorry I probably kept you here all day!” you said missing the last part of his comment to Zuko “Sorry Zuko, Sokka was helping me make dinner but it’s sorted now, I can help you tidy the living room if you want?”. Zuko looked down “no it’s okay, you shouldn’t have to do that it’s Sokka’s job”. “I don’t mind” you smiled “plus Sokka did most of the cooking so it’s only fair”. You left the room with a smile to them both and the door closed. Sokka was laughing to himself at how well his plan had been working when suddenly Zuko yanked him by his collar up against a wall. “What are you doing” he snapped “don’t think i haven’t noticed you hanging around y/n like a leech”. Sokka gupled “I don’t know what you’re talking about”. “You know exactly what I mean! You hang around her so she can protect you from me and it’s pathetic”. Sokka smirked at Zuko’s words and dusted the firebenders hands off his neck “and why do you think I go to y/n for protection huh? If I wanted physical protection from you why wouldn’t I go to Aang or Katara? So why do you think I go to Y/n for you huh Zuko?”. Zuko blushed and Sokka laughed “that’s right I know your secret but don’t worry I won’t tell her...as long as you take up my share of the chores”. Zuko glared and went to step towards Sokka making Sokka yelp “y/n!” he yelled. You appeared in the doorway worried about Sokka “are you okay?”. “Yeah I was just wondering if you needed any help?”. You nodded “that’d be great Sokka thanks!”. Sokka smirked as Zuko moved to let him pass and Sokka patted his shoulder “nice deal we’ve got here”.

3 days later

Zuko was angry again.  He’d been angry a lot lately, Sokka had been deadly serious about their deal and had used it to get out of all sorts of things but it had gone too far. This time Toph and Sokka had snuck into a fire nation event on the island that could’ve had important people present. They easily could’ve been caught and given away the gang’s position but they didn’t care or see the problem with their actions. They just saw it as a fun prank and Zuko was not pleased.

You understood why Zuko was angry, it was a very reckless thing to do but you also hated seeing anyone angry at anyone else so sympathised with Toph and Sokka. Zuko had been pouting since he’d heard what they’d done and had been angrily firebending in the yard since. You figured Toph and Sokka should try talking to him but they had other ideas. “So maybe if you just apologised....” you started when Sokka cut you off.  "That sounds great y/n but I think you should go tell him we’re sorry" Sokka said nudging you forwards and you frowned. "Me! Why do i have to take the yelling?". "You're the eldest" Toph argued and you scoffed "so! That doesn’t mean i deserve to get fire bended by the prince of the fire nation!". “Pleaseeee, we all know Zuko wouldn’t do that to you of all people" Toph replied and you stared at her in shock. “What does that mean?”. “Ow come on y/n” Sokka grinned “you know Zuko has a soft spot for you! Out of all of us he'll be most receptive to you, just bat your eyes at him and he'll be butter". You blushed bright red and pushed Sokka away lightly "i’m not flirting with Zuko just to help you". "What’s your issue with it now" Toph cried "all you do is flirt with each other! We’re actually helping you by giving you an excuse to". "I don’t flirt with Zuko" you stammered “why would I? I don’t have a crush on him”. Toph raised an eyebrow, an unimpressed look on her face "y/n you know i can tell from your heart beat when you’re lying right?". You swallowed "i’m not lying...I mean he’s attractive but I don’t...I don’t like Zuko that way". "Yes you do, we all know you like Zuko so just make like a mountain and go!" Toph said pushing you forwards. "Make like a mountain? Toph mountains don’t move". "Well i’m blind what would i know? Now go talk to him!". You sighed as Toph and Sokka left and you approached Zuko. He was angrily kicking fire at a rock and you supposed his temper should’ve scared you but it didn’t. You’d said you were worried how Zuko would react to Toph and Sokka but you weren’t, you knew deep down he wasn’t cruel or mean and could tell that the first time you’d met him. You trusted him and so approached without worry. "Don’t even try explaining what they did" Zuko said not even turning around. You paused plan exposed so tried denial "i wasn’t". "Ow please" Zuko said rolling his eyes "Sokka thinks he’s so clever sending you to talk to me but even you can’t save him from me". That made you frown “Zuko....". "No y/n" Zuko said sternly but not harshly "please let me be angry at them, don’t try and change my mind". You frowned but nodded "fine but if Sokka asks i tried okay?". Zuko nodded "of course". You smiled at Zuko slightly before realising it had gotten awkward, with what Sokka and Toph said fresh in your mind you found it hard to look at Zuko in the eye. "I’ll leave you to firebend" you said quickly leaving.

2 days later Zuko was still refusing to speak when Toph and Sokka were in the same room as him. He’d answer Katara’s basic questions and talk to you but that was it. You were honestly sick of being the go between but didn’t see a way around it. You guessed Zuko’s anger would just have to ease on it’s own but wow could that boy hold a grudge. You didn’t think you could possibly change that but Katara seemed to think you could.

That night after dinner Katara caught you in the kitchen.  "Y/n" she said closing the door so you were alone "i know this might be really awkward but it’s the only way i can think to resolve this". "Resolve what?" you asked and she gestured to the living room where Sokka, Toph and Zuko were sat together in silence. "I’ve tried that Katara! Zuko can’t be budged on this". Katara frowned "something tells me if you really tried there’s no way Zuko would still be icing them out". "What does that mean?" you asked confused and Katara smirked "well y/n...you’re not oblivious to how he is with you right? I mean Toph’s the blind one not you". You blushed rolling your eyes "not you too...". "Yes me too!" Katara smiled "he likes you y/n and i’m not even asking you to do this for Sokka and Toph, but for Zuko. He’s been miserable these past few days! As dramatic as he is i don’t think he enjoys being the angry guy, i think even he’s sick of it but he can’t back down...not without a reason". Katara looked at you pointedly and you rolled your eyes blushing “I’ll think about it okay”. “Thanks y/n, also it’s totally obvious you like him too by the way”. “You’re not helping your case” you said raising an eyebrow and Katara laughed “sorry I just couldn’t resist” and left you alone with your thoughts.

After the conversation with Katara you decided to talk to Zuko, you didn’t like seeing him sad and thought if you could change that you should try. So when Zuko went out into the yard for some late night training you followed him. You expected him to not want to listen to what you had to say so prepared for resistance and hyped yourself up to make him listen. "Zuko" you said sternly once you reached him "I need to talk to you about Toph and Sokka, and you will stay here and listen to what i have to say". Zuko looked at you and you wondered what he was going to do. He could easily just barge right past you or storm away but instead he sighed and sat down. "Go on" he said gesturing for you to talk and you smiled suprised before going back to being serious.

"So i think you should stop this" you said simply "you must be sick of it too by now and you’ve punished Toph and Sokka long enough". Zuko’s face told you he didn’t agree and you sighed. "I know you’re not someone who wants to hold grudges Zuko, the fact you’re here proves that! Aang’s beaten you numerous times, Katara’s thrown you around with water more times that I can count and I’ve....I did attack you a few times too...” you trailed off awkwardly “but you forgave us for all that now”. “Well that was different” Zuko shurgged “I provoked all those fights”. You shrugged “yeah but it still couldn’t have been easy to go from seeing us as enemies to trusting us. It showed a lot about your character that you were able to. It showed you’re not mean or unfeeling zuko, i know you’re not" you smiled at him. Zuko’s facial expression seemed frozen and you couldn’t read if this was working or not. He looked away from you suddenly "that’s not why i didn’t hold a grudge, you don’t know me as well as you think you do". You frowned, crushed at Zuko’s reply and were lost on where to go next when Zuko carried on.

"I didn’t hold grudges with the fights against Aang and Katara because they were justified, they were only defending themsleves. I joined you all because I knew it was my destiny not because I’d achieved enlightenment or anything and in case you haven’t noticed I still get angry at them all easily. As for the stuff you did...you only attacked me as a last resort and I could tell you hated doing it even for defence, that much was obvious even when we were on different sides” Zuko said softly “I knew you were too kind to have actually wanted to hurt me...and i think that’s the reason I can’t stay mad at you...i don’t know what it is but i felt like I could trust you from the start and i still do, you’re one of the only people i do" Zuko finished meeting your eye "so you see i am someone who holds grudges i just can’t against you". You stared at him confused what to reply or how to interpret what he said. "Y/n?" Zuko asked as the silence stretched and you frowned shaking yourself out of your head "yeah?". "I just said all that and you go quiet, did i say something wrong?". "No" you smiled "that’s just really sweet". Zuko sighed "i knew i shouldn’t have said anything" he frowned. You paused seeing him get angry "Zuko what’s wrong?". "What’s wrong? I just told you i liked you and have for ages and you just say that’s nice! I’m an idiot for expecting anything different" he sighed. "Wait that was what that was?" you asked "when you said you liked me you meant it as....". "Yes" zuko said utterly embarassed by the whole situation now. "Ow" you said awkwardly "aw Zuko that's...". "If you say sweet i swear to god..." Zuko started but you smirked rolling your eyes "no you idiot, i was going to say that’s convenient because i have feelings for you too". "You do?" Zuko asked and you nodded "in case the others haven’t made it pretty obvious" you smiled. Zuko nodded blushing "well they talked but i didn’t take it seriously". "Well you should’ve" you smiled coming to stand infront of him "then maybe this would've happened sooner". Zuko assumed you just meant this in general but as you leant into him he realise he was pleasantly mistaken.

The gang’s POV

Toph, Sokka and Katara had watched your converastion from the window and while Katara awed as you kissed Zuko, Toph and Sokka were not so impressed. "Do you think if she'd just have kissed him days ago we could've avoided all of this?" Toph asked and Sokka nodded. "yes toph i think we could’ve, it’s a shame y/n was so selfish". "Selfish?" Katara cried "Sokka y/n didn’t kiss him to help you, she’s liked Zuko for ages". "Yeah but it’s just a bit annoying she chose now to tell him and not when it was convenient for us all". Katara rolled her eyes at Sokka and looked back to where you and Zuko were stood, hands entwined, standing close together and smiling at one another as you spoke softly. “Well I personally think this was perfect timing” she smiled.

[madfantasy]

I haven't seen you post in a while, I hope you've been doing okay? How is everything? Hope it's been a good year so far for you 💕💕

You're too kind, u & everyone who made inquiries, bless ur hearts.. im sorry for disappearing, but yeah, I don't have net— using my phone credit and hope this posts..

I tried to record my voice answering this, like I sometimes did on tik, suddenly ended up trying to muffle the floods of my burning tears, so now I have an awkward vid of me talking then weeping out of nowhere, which a good reason for me to keep up the no cry habit, heh.. but seriously, I suppose I'm fine till I be conscious of it.. its much easier for not to talk .. even tho I'm aching to be back in thy company, lonely in my foresight to catch on to the present that joins us, hand held out to reach like minded souls but shying from the fear of forgetfulness occurring..

I'm fine tho, did few new stuff, merely drowning in too muchness and nothingness as usual, this month I guess you could say I took an act of mad fury in search of any happy source because the echoing silence and the swarm of sadness nipping on my brain cells thickened, and the reasoning merged with the obscene. So instead of giving my guardians the usual of 3/4 of my earnings last month for net and groceries, I spent it all. Ya know, as it was told to me it mine to do as I please? As being prevented any chance of work if it was possible, 't was supposed to be spent on art supplies & measly delights craved for years ?

Before hand, I've been begging them to take me for months to get any clothing or whatever, be it the first time I ever see a shop, then just to drive around, then just me peaking to the outside when the front door is open, merely seeking change I suppose. They kept vaguely promising me until they refused point blank— getting tired of my nagging, then their car just stopped working till this day. Its in the workshop rn..

Anyway, befouled by despair, needing the mere basics of life and not granted, I was delighted when i found a site to buy from cheap & pretty, I pressed buy without any further considerations, or taking their permission and thrilled to be able get gifts for my siblings too. I say gifts but really they are deprived necessities too and not even much just one each cuz well, they are 5 of my babies and to start with the top of priorities; we all draw

I could already see it, they can't help themselves; heck seeped through the clenched gates of their mouths, trying desperately to poison me with undirect attempts this time, cuz I bought for my sibs they're out of the option of calling me selfish. I was upping the same trance like state of vague existence dealing with them, absorbing their insults and degrading just to make sure my shi arrives safe.

Unfortunate for me, the site chose the worst carrier in this country

I did everything in my power to make it into their convenience, by embarrassingly messaging the carrier daily, they took a week of promising to deliver and flanking so my guardians reached a heated level of threatening, waving their hands nd almost tossing shi at mE saying that they don't care if they came and if i dared to order something again they'll do this and that. Not allowing me to open the door for the delivery guy when he comes, blaming me for missing vaccination dates (they kept missing them even before)& missing going to important places(again, they just didn't go to for ages), made them loose sleep, etc etc— in turn, I seen red and regretfully blew up.

I screamed at them its literally the only time I ever did this, it BECAUSE it easier on them & I'll do what I want whatever anyway, & to stop interrupting me while I try to explain things , then they suddnly back done and be like I'm not mad at u I'm mad at the delivery ppl, that they are proud of me for being able to do all this, and such sort. I left them to cool in my room, Idk how I did it but must have slam-gripped something so hard it chipped most of my short nails & cracked one, was glad I didn't hurt my drawing hand but yeah, goofy mani

They robbed me of the joy of anticipation & the dissipation of apathy, I started to lose sleep again and my liberating dreams left me and I don't think I remember leaving bed.

But still, If not force myself to do things.. there'll be nothing for me if I don't.. at least I know im able of that

I got my guardians happy tho after another tiresome refusal, by trying out one of those Uber-eat like local apps here, since they have no car and being disabled & ill, I ordered McDonald's for the first time. Slythry behind their backs per habit, told them someone coming and they had that look again, but thankfully the guy came through and didn't steal my money, heh. For a big 1800 calories meal I suppose it was passable, the happy fam faces I got was the real treat..

Oh with that thing with the credit card stating I owe them money, waited weeks & nobody got back to us? They started taking from my guardian's account directly to pay it, saying oh we did send you warnings--- TO THE SHADOWY LINES OF THEIR POSTERIOR A.K.A NOWHERE. Thankfully the account is mostly empty nd just for random transactions, i alerted my guardians not to use it. And again, my god, another round of endless calls and promises started, and we wait again so they just don't act as if we owe them a frking 17k dollars that we don't have.. was panicking cuz I have nothing and but my guardians were weirdly comforting about it and told me not to worry

One thing good bout no net is it made me stop thinking about life in general, and stop the tiny unnoticeable prick of misery when I have no input to share, trying not to helplessly compare people just living, in inflated style or not, in media, to my isolated-most-of-my-life style and missing much of that organic "life experiences and chances", heh. At least, my situation would be favorable to me if it was ever possible for it to let me have peace, or have the simple knowledge I'm not virtually imprisoned and have never familiarised with nothing of this world but the surrounding walls.. its nice to have more time to be consumed by muse and day dreaming that flutters life through my dull being and sing chorus of inspiring means for art to flow and finds its way delicately onto my realised canvas.. but no, I continued drawing whilst sight blurred with salty droplets contradicting that happy tintin dance on tiktok I worked so long on just cuz I couldn't stop, not the tears or the mad scribbles of determined intention to visualise the mourned excitement I need, hating everything I make

Somehow the lilac dream still intrudes, visualising me friends, living, in a quaint home, maybe we roommate, arm in arm we go to make every fracture of fate's encounters a disgusting adventurous thrill, like building a maze of cardboard or chasing each other in the dark.. maybe getting that half bleached head and endless ear pericings ... then it dies and I totally forget it..

But what those awesome headphones helped me do, literally blocks all their voices listening to Sev losing it and I can Waltz around not feeling gutted to go and interfere or play the referee each time. But I can't wear them forever, gives me a bad headache, and honestly; I can't be too neglectful.. my sibs hates me for it already hehe

At least these clothing came true to their measurements, felt the new sensations on how everything I wore hugs me & learnt the baffling ways on how "gender" and region plays different tunes on the same measurements. Getting fitting things felt like suddenly there's hope to be, for myself to be me, and ease this severe disassociation between who I am, and what my body is .. from how little I see myself nd consider it worthy of anything because of how long it been living like a phantom among people.. to numb this dysphoria until it be gone one day

Saddened that the only site I can't order from again if they keep using that awful carrier

...

I missed our country's 91 national day, too. They made sales everything 91 riyal so.. but knowing the sellers here, I don't think most of em went true with their offers.. Horrible news tho on the celebrations, sigh

I turned this into a dear diary, guess bothered you enough today, sorry

So thankful to yous, Idk if I can be back, but I'll remain creating, and will keep the thought alive of being tickled when sharing my creations with your viewing pleasure somehow

'till then my precious dears, take care 💛🙏

26.9.2021, 8 pm, sleeping

[imkylotrash]

Golden

Pairing: Sky x reader

Requests: The reader is Stella’s sister but Sky is secretly in love with her and he confesses. Anonymous

and

Could you write where sky is with a princess of solaria (Stellas sister) and they attempt to keep it secret from Stella and set before the summer of the events on the fate the winx saga is set.

A/N I paired these request because they were so similar and would have the exact same plot line. Will be doing this to a couple of the requests since they’re so similar. 

“Free at last!” you exclaim as you walk out the doors of Alfea with Sky in tow. You’ve finally finished your last exam and now it’s time to just enjoy the summer. 

“So, what’s your plans then?” Sky asks propping his arm around your shoulders. There’s nothing new in this but you still get butterflies. At this point, it’s just a given whenever he touches you. 

“Oh, you know. Travelling through the realms, visiting all my rich friends. I may even buy a yacht just to pass the time.” It’s a bit of an inside joke between you and Sky. He knows you’ll have to return to Solaria and face the dragon. 

“What about you? Will you be alright?” You’re a little worried about leaving him here. Stella had decided to dump him just days before the exams once again proving that the girl had no regard for other people. Needless to say, you weren’t the biggest fan of your sister. She always tried to live up to your mother’s expectations and acted more than royally around school whereas you had decided that the disappointed frown your mother wore every time you saw her actually suited her face. 

“Yeah,” he says shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “I’ll be fine. I have Silva.” It’s right then and there you decide that there’s a greater need for you here than hiding away back in Solaria. 

“You know, my mother is already profoundly disappointed in me. I don’t think it would make much of a difference if I were to stay.” Sky’s smile is brighter than the sun when he realises you’ll be staying right here with him. 

“Thank you,” he says hugging you tightly. He’s never been one to share him emotions easily but over the years you’ve learned to decipher his many facial expressions and there was just no way you would leave him right now. Your mother is as delighted as you expected when you tell her of your plans for the summer but you figure she’ll forgive you at some point. The way you see it, there’s a throne waiting for you back at Solaria and you want to enjoy freedom as long as you possibly can. Sometimes, you catch yourself wishing that Stella was the older sister. She’d be much more suited for the royal life but there’s a strict code of conduct when it comes to heirs and you’re the first born so the crown will eventually be placed on your head.  

“You won’t be returning with me?” Stella asks as she’s packing up her suitcase. Her tone in stern already setting you off. 

“I’ll be spending enough time there once I graduate.”

“Oh yes. The ever-repeating speech on how this is your moment of freedom and you won’t give it up for anything,” Stella mocks clearly upset to be facing mother alone. You feel a pang of guilt knowing what you’re sending Stella back to but the two of you have never been able to see eye to eye especially when it came to mother’s expectations of her daughters. 

“You’re welcome to stay here at Alfea if you’d like.” It’s an offer made to be polite because you know she’ll never accept it. 

“Please. Someone has to be responsible and return home. Our people look to the royal family for support. We can’t all pretend to be someone else.” 

“I’m not pretending, Stella. If I could give you the crown, I gladly would. If I had my way, I’d be just another fairy attending Alfea.” It’s a discussion you’ve had more than once and it’s always the same outcome. You don’t want the crown and Stella does but your mother would never allow the two of you to switch. Stella doesn’t say goodbye when she leaves and you’re okay with that. Instead you head out to find Sky. 

“Ready for the summer of your life?” you ask him and he smiles. It passes by too fast. The picnics out on the field, Silva training with you, walks in the forest at night. It’s nothing grand but it becomes the perfect summer on the final day when Sky pulls you aside as all the students start to arrive. 

“I have to tell you something. I’ve been wanting to all summer but I was scared I might ruin it.” Your heart skips a beat but you tell yourself that it’s probably not what you think it is. Rather than making assumptions, you stay quiet waiting for him to speak. 

“When this summer started, I thought I’d spend it alone and heartbroken over Stella but then you stayed. And I know it seems insane since you’re Stella’s sister, but I just can’t help but feel the way I do around you,” he smiles. It’s too good to be true. There has to be some kind of catch or problem in your way but right now everything feels perfect. You carefully take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his and Sky’s cheeks turn red. He’s always so gentle and kind so you know you’ll have to make the first move. As you stare into his eyes, you notice little specks of green mixed with the blue. You finally close your eyes, lean in and kiss him. Something you’ve wanted to do since you laid eyes on him the first time. You pull away with a huge smile plastered on your face thinking this moment is perfect and then you spot her. 

“Stella.” Thankfully, she hasn’t seen you but it’s only a matter of time before she’ll spot the two of you. Hand in his, you drag him with you behind a tree keeping you out of sight. 

“Of all the things I imagined you’d say after our first kiss, Stella wasn’t one of them.” He’s teasing you but you feel horrible. Despite your many differences, you do care about Stella and it would kill her to know that you’re dating her ex-boyfriend. You’re not even sure if she’s properly done with him or not and just thinking about her finding out about the two of you is enough to make your skin crawl. 

“She can’t know,” you plead looking into his eyes. He has to understand the importance of it. She’s not strong enough mentally to handle this. 

“Hey, relax,” he says cupping your cheeks, “how about we keep it to ourselves until we know what this is?” You know you don’t want to give him up but you don’t want to hurt Stella. His offer gives you him and keeps Stella blissfully unaware of the relationship which is good enough for you. 

“Okay. Just you and me, no one else can know.” 

“Please just kiss me,” he whispers leaning in and you don’t know how you could ever refuse him. Over the next few weeks, you and Sky have stolen moments between classes and nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms. You know you shouldn’t but you love him. One night you whisper it when you think he’s sleeping and he almost gives you a heart attack when he whispers it back. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” you whisper-yell trying to hide your face in his chest. 

“You’ve been turning around every two seconds. It’s impossible to fall asleep,” he chuckles wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

“I’m sorry, I have a lot on my mind,” you sigh. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks turning on the lamp by his bedside table. It showers Sky in a golden light making him look more angelic than human. It’s not fair how some people look so beautiful without even trying. 

“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know where to start,” you reply sitting up and leaning your back against the wall. You want to tell Stella so you can be done with sneaking around. As much fun as it’s been, you’re getting tired of watching Stella try to flirt with him because she decided he was good enough after all. Of course, he’s been turning her down but it just doesn’t seem to click with her. But you also know it’s a risk telling her since she’s not likely to congratulate you. 

“I guess I’m just tired of sneaking around,” you finally say. He signals for you to lay down with him again and you have no reservation as you crawl into his arms. 

“I’m ready for it when you are. Frankly, I just want to tell everyone you’re mine so the boys leave you alone.” 

“Please, you literally have a whole fan club waiting for you at every corner giggling and blushing if you even look in their direction.” Sky has become very popular now that he appears single and you can’t blame them. He is ridiculously handsome and more importantly, he’s kind and patient and warm. Right about now, he’s your favourite person in the whole world. 

“I do not,” he protests but even he knows it is the truth. His face is serious when he says: “Maybe we should tell her. I know you wanted to protect her but we can’t hide it forever. You’re expected to marry at some point and so am I.” 

“I know. I know. I just feel like a horrible sister.” This feeling of guilt comes as a surprise. You’ve never been that close but you don’t want to be the reason she’s hurting. 

“You’re not a horrible sister. Everything you’ve done these past few weeks has been to make sure she didn’t get hurt. It’s not selfish to want to be happy, Y/N.” But that’s just it. You’re already far too aware of your own happiness. It’s the reason you always stay away from Solaria and the expectations of the crown. It’s why you’re lying in bed with Sky right now. You've always put your own happiness first and you’ve never had a problem with it until now. 

“I’ll talk to her first thing in the morning then.” He kisses you one last time before you both fall asleep. You wake up to a note from him informing you that Silva had added a morning practice which meant you had no reason not to march into Stella’s room right now and tell her about you and Sky. 

“Can I talk to you?” you ask entering Stella’s bedroom. 

“If you must,” she replies not even bothering to look at you. 

“I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to say it. I’m dating Sky,” you force yourself to keep going even as she goes completely rigid, “and I have been for a while now. I’ve kept it a secret because I never meant for this to happen and I didn’t want to hurt you. But it’s getting serious now and I needed you to know. I promise I’d never ever go for him if I didn’t have feelings for him.” She’s quiet for so long you’re worried she might just never speak to you again. 

“I’m not happy you kept it from me but I suppose if he has to date someone else, it wouldn’t be horrible if it was you.” Relief floods your body as you realise that she’s not breaking and she doesn’t hate you. 

“Thank you.” This is about as heartfelt as it’ll ever be between you and Stella. You share a moment locking eyes with each other before she turns her back to you. 

“I’m going to go then,” you say slowly backing towards the door. Stella doesn’t say anymore but the fact that you’re still breathing is a much better reaction than you’d dared hope for. Immediately after you head to the training grounds to find Sky. Once you spot him, you run right into his arms and he lifts you from the ground. 

“I love you,” you say kissing him in front of everyone. It’s so freeing to know that the secret is out. 

“I love you too.”

[forever-rogue]

hey, lovely, can you do #135 from the 390 prompt list for Agent Whiskey, if it sparks anything please

Prompt Used: “I think I’m in love with you and that scares me to death.”

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: language

Pedro Character Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A small huff left your lips as you tried to open the front door, shifting the bags of take out to one shoulder. After a few moments of struggle, you finally managed to open the door to your apartment but found it surprisingly dark and empty. Odd. Jack should have been home by now; he’d said he was going to leave the office early today to be home in time for dinner.

“Jack?” you decided to and see if he was home - maybe he’d just forgotten to turn the lights or had just gotten home himself. Shuffling into the kitchen, you flicked on the light and set the bags on the counter. Taking out the containers one by one, you hummed under your breath and tired to decide what drink would go best with the Chinese. Perhaps it didn’t need to be anything fancy, so you grabbed a couple of bottles of beer and set them on the counter, “Jack? Baby? Are you home?”

When you still didn’t hear a response, you trapezed to the bedroom, turning on the hall light, stopping short of the bedroom when you realized it was all dark. He wasn’t home after all. Very odd. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you scrolled through your notifications to make sure you hadn’t missed anything from Jack. But there was nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.

Pulling up his contact information, you quickly dialed his number and impatiently waited while it rang. And it rang, and rang, and rang, before going to voicemail.  

“Hey, Jack,” you tried to keep your voice as pointedly neutral as possible, “it’s just me. I thought you were going to be home early tonight? I-I got...all of our favorites for dinner. Maybe I...maybe I had the wrong day? Anyways, it’s been a bit since I’ve heard from you, so just let me know you’re okay or when you’re coming home. I love you.”

Ending the call, you frowned before heading back into the kitchen. You’d wait for him for now. Hopefully he was coming home soon and this was all some sort of misunderstanding. Grabbing your beer, you headed into the living room and pulled up Netflix, deciding to watch something while you waited.

And you waited. And waited. And waited.

»»————-　♡　————-««

But he never came. And he never called. And he never texted. He had gone radio silent.

At first you had been frustrated. Annoyed and upset, but then you became worried. It wasn’t like him to just disappear. Never.

So you kept trying to contact him to no avail. You’d called and gone to Statesmen headquarters to try and get some answers but no one was willing to give you any information. It seemed like they were all clamming up and refusing to help you. It was so odd...you’d never once experienced any sort of push back from them. None of his other friends or any of your friends had any information to provide either. It seems like a weird fever dream, but the fact that you continually woke up to an empty bed reminded you that it was all very well.

After a few days of the odd silence, you’d exhausted every resource you could think of. There was nothing else you could think of doing and it was driving you crazy. It was like Jack Daniels had just up and disappeared. But you knew he wasn’t dead - you knew that for a fact because you’d kept checking the news for any deaths and online obituaries. He was gone without a trace.

But why was the real question. Why? Why? Why?

You hadn’t had any sort of fight or argument or anything of the sort, there was nothing to suggest why he would suddenly leave. The only other tangible thought you had was that for some reason it was for your safety...but even that seemed like a stretch. He wasn’t taking on any work that proved extremely dangerous anymore, and things had been quiet. None of it made a lick of sense.

After almost two weeks, you weren’t sure if you were angry behind measure or desperately worried. At this point you just wanted answers, some sort of sign that Jack was alright.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were sitting in the kitchen, in the very early morning hours when you should have been asleep, drinking coffee that was too dark and strong to be good. But it was the only thing keeping you company besides the agony of your loneliness. You picked up your phone and started scrolling through your social media aimlessly, but for whatever reason, you decided to try and call Jack one more time. You were positive that it was just going to go to voicemail, but you knew that you had nothing to lose at this point.

So you listened to it ring and ring but then to your surprise and shock...the call was answered.

“Hello?” he sounded tired, like you’d woken him up and he hadn’t even checked the caller ID. Your breath hitched in your throat as you realized that this was the first time you’d heard his voice in weeks; this was your sign that he was alive. Your surprise left you in stunned silence for a few moments too long, “hello? Who’s there?”

“J-Jack,” his name was but a mere whisper off of your lips as you tried to keep it together. You didn’t want to scare him and have him end the call then and there, but you needed to talk to him, “i-it’s me!”

"Oh," it was a sudden realization on his end as the line went silent for a few moments...clearly he hadn't meant to pick up this call. Your heart plummeted into your stomach as your brain tried to rationalize what was happening...normally he would have been overjoyed and excited to hear your voice, "hi."

"Jack," you let out a sigh of relief just knowing he was alive, "i-its been two weeks. I was worried sick, baby. You're alive, I'm so glad to your hear your voice."

"I'm fine," you could hear him rustling around before letting out a long sigh, "I'm...yeah."

"What the fuck happened?" there was a note of irritation in your voice as you realized that he didn't seem to want to explain his sudden absence, "I was waiting for you, that night we were going to get Chinese, and you...you never came home. I called and called and I searched everywhere for you. Where the hell have you been? I-is it work? Will you be home soon?"

There was nothing but jilted, stoic silence on the other end of the line. It was cold, hurtful, and every moment felt like it was a knife twisting in your heart.

"Jack?" you felt like banging your head on the table as you willed him to say something...anything, "Jack, please say something. I think you owe me at least an apology for up and leaving! I was worried sick, day and night!"

"Its not work," his voice was cold and steeled, "I'm...I'm not coming back, I'm sorry. You're right - I should at least have told you I was leaving so you wouldn't worry."

"What do you mean you're not coming back?" your throat constricted and suddenly your heart was pounding loudly in your ears. You couldn't have heard him right...right?

"I am...I'm not coming home," he repeated and this time it resonated in your soul, "I'm sorry...I can't come back."

"What the fuck?" your eyes stung with tears as you blinked back stinging, "you're just gone, no note, nothing. I felt like I've been losing my mind for the past two weeks and all you're telling me is that you're not coming back? What happened - what changed? Did I do something?"

"I know you're angry and you have every right to be. I should have...I should have said something and not just left you in the dark," he admitted with a heavy sigh as you scoffed, "but I'm sorry...I just can't come back. I don't expect you to forgive me or for you to understand."

"We've together for two years, Jack! Two years!"

"I know that," tears spilled down your cheeks as you tried to keep your lips from trembling, "and I'm sorry it ended this way."

"What ended? Why? How...it was just a normal day and then...you never came back," you didn't bother to hide your tears as your hands shook, "you just never came home. You left me...you left me do easily, without a word or anything."

"I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry?" your hurt and upset had quickly turned to anger and irritation,  "you're sorry!? I came home and expected to find my boyfriend and instead I got nothing! Absolutely nothing for two weeks and now you're sorry? That's rich, Jack. Why?"

"Please don't be upset..."

"I think I have every right to be upset," you whispered gently, "you just left me. I love you, we've been together for two years and you don't want me to be upset? I have every right to be upset! You owe me an explanation!"

"I left," he stated as you snorted, "and I didn't do it in the best way at all. For that I am sorry. But you have to understand I have my reasons."

"What reason could you possibly have for just leaving me?" you wanted to scream and cry, buy the worst of all was that you still just wanted...him, "why would you just leave me? Am I not enough?"

"No," he stated firmly, "no, you are more than enough. It's...me. I think...I know I'm in love with you and that scares me to death."

"You...love me but you left," you repeated back to him, "you love me but you're scared. So instead of talking to me about it...you just left."

"You know what happened to the last person I loved," he reminded you of the young wife and unborn child he'd lost. But that had been a long time ago and while you knew that the wound would never fully heal, you'd expected a little more faith in your relationship by now, "she was taken from me - everything was. I can't let that happen again."

"Jack, I know that was a lot to deal with," your voice lowered and softened as you ran a hand over your tired face, "but that was years ago and it's going to happen again. You can't just shut everyone you love or might love out. It's not fair to them or you."

"I would never forgive myself if something happened to you on account of me," that night of defiant determination crept back into his voice, "the only way to fully ensure your safety is to leave. I didn't do it in the best way, but it is the only. For what it's worth, I am sorry."

"Me too," you agreed, "I'm sorry you didn't feel like you could talk to me about all of this and tell me what you were feeling. I love you, Jack and nothing is going to change that. I wish you'd trust enough in your heart to come back to me."

"I'm sorry," for the first time it sounded genuine and like he actually meant it, "I do love you. But I don't trust myself...or anyone else not to prey on that fear. This is what's best. I'm sorry but I can't come back."

"Jack," you grew panicked, "please don't do this, please don't go. We can make make work-"

"I'm sorry," he insisted but you were still left incredulous, "but this is goodbye."

"Jack, don't..." the called ended and left you with silence. You stared at your phone before slowly setting it down and burying your face in your arms. Jack was a stubborn man and you knew that there was no changing his mind. Your whole life had just been changed and determined by one simple, horrible decision. Maybe...maybe one day he'd come to his senses...maybe.

"Goodbye, Jack."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away. 

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet, 

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long. 

kill me now. 

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually,  leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9. 

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him. 

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle. 

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled. 

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.” 

Jungkook went completely still at that. 

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore. 

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?” 

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?” 

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened.  “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces . 

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...” 

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained. 

I frowned. 

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.” 

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort. 

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.” 

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head. 

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly. 

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me. 

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to 

He growled and punched the desk. 

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door. 

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs. 

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger. 

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked. 

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled. 

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand. 

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased. 

“Thirteen years since our first date.  The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest. 

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. . 

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said. 

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times  more  beautiful.” 

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that. 

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared. 

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked. 

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?” 

He stared at me. 

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “  I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling. 

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now? 

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret. 

I would never know. 

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once. 

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air. 

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered,  seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges . 

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words. 

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface. 

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head. 

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb. 

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered. 

I bit my lips. 

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “ 

He grinned at that. 

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled. 

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot  louder than I’d intended. 

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

[kurowrites]

Soulmate!au + fake dating +you confuse me.” OR “if you’re happy, then so am i.” because I couldn't decide lol. Love everything you write, like somehow your writing style is exactly to my taste, you know? So thank u for sharing your work with us.

They have reached terminal dumbassery, I’m sorry to say.

(Also, thank you!!!)

---

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying cried when he caught sight of Lan Zhan. He was quick to catch up to him, huffing and puffing with the exertion. “You haven’t found your soulmate yet, right?”

Lan Zhan looked at Wei Ying with a frown, wondering what the sudden question was really about. It was a rather personal question. Still, he dutifully answered in the affirmative. The answer was obvious, anyway. Lan Zhan did not have anyone he was particularly close with, other than his brother, and family rarely led to soulmate bonds. Not to mention that his brother already had a soulmate.

“Excellent,” Wei Ying breathed, and beamed up at him. “Wanna date me, then?”

Lan Zhan’s heart stood still for one moment, and then started beating impossibly faster at the words. Had Wei Ying noticed his feelings? Wei Ying hadn’t found his soulmate yet, either, and Lan Zhan had found himself quietly hoping…

“Not date date, of course!” Wei Ying was quick to add, immediately crushing Lan Zhan’s quiet hope. “I just need someone to play my lover and then break up with me in some kind of horrible way, so my family will finally get off my back about finding my soulmate. It’s such an outdated concept, too. Waiting for your soulmate. Mine is probably a hoard of cats, anyway, so there’s nothing much to look forward to.”

It hurt a little to hear Wei Ying talk like that. Lan Zhan had always hoped that he and Wei Ying would turn out to be soulmates, and that romantic hope had sustained him through his teenage years. But it had never turned out to be the case. He and Wei Ying were barely friends, and obviously not meant to be. Still, he thought, it was better if Wei Ying committed himself to a hoard of cats instead of waiting for his soulmate, who would probably turn out to be an abuser or some other kind of ghastly individual.

A hoard of cats and Lan Zhan as his friend sounded like a much, much better option.

But then, Wei Ying’s offer…

It was bad to accept it, underhanded probably, but it would be his one chance at dating Wei Ying. And even though it would be a fake relationship, Lan Zhan found himself wanting to know. How Wei Ying would be, as a partner. As a lover. As a soulmate.

That… that would be enough.

“Hn,” he said, therefore. “I will do it.”

Wei Ying looked at him with evident surprise on his face, as if he had never expected Lan Zhan to actually agree to his request.

A moment later, a big smile spread over his entire face.

“Lan Zhan!!” he cried. “You truly are the best!”

If Wei Ying truly thought that, Lan Zhan thought a little uncharitably, then Lan Zhan would be his soulmate. Alas, he was not.

Still, he accepted the offered hug from Wei Ying, who always was enthusiastic and far, far too tempting to refuse. He listened to Wei Ying’s excited rambling about the things they needed to plan to make it ‘realistic.’

He already regretted his decision. Because now, he wouldn’t have to dream up scenarios any longer. He would actually know how it was to be with Wei Ying. He would know, and he would inevitably lose what he had.

A suitable punishment, probably.

---

If Lan Zhan was honest, nothing much changed after they ‘got together.’ They talked about the same things and went to the same places they always did, only now they were holding hands while they were doing it. When they had a movie night, Wei Ying would cuddle into Lan Zhan’s side and laugh when Lan Zhan went all stiff because he got nervous whenever Wei Ying was in his vicinity. Sometimes, when they were in public, Wei Ying would even lean in and peck him on the lips.

Lan Zhan would never admit it, but it was the best, sweetest torture he had ever had. This was everything he had ever wanted, and he got to experience it, only all of it was fake.

It was a hell of his own making.

He wondered again and again how it could be that Wei Ying and he were not soulmates. Wei Ying was everything that he wanted. He could not imagine how anyone other than Wei Ying could be so exactly what he wanted. Any possible soulmate that came after this would just lose out against Wei Ying.

Which was also unfair, he felt. Towards his potential soulmate as well as towards Wei Ying. He was not required to like Lan Zhan back the same way as Lan Zhan liked him, after all. That was why he decided that after this all ended, there would be no one else. Even if he should one day meet his actual soulmate, he would have to let them down gently and give them another chance at happiness. Because for him, there was no one but Wei Ying, soulmate or not. There was no way he was going to involve another person into this.

When Wei Ying told Jiang Yanli that he was dating Lan Zhan, she was overjoyed by the news. She congratulated them both with tears in her eyes, saying that she was so happy that they both had found each other, and how romantic it was that they had been friends for so long before discovering that they were soulmates.

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, threatened Lan Zhan physical harm if he were to hurt his ‘asshole of a brother.’ Not that Lan Zhan worried that he wouldn’t be able to take Jiang Cheng on, but he felt terribly guilty about the idea that he would inevitably ‘hurt’ Wei Ying once they ‘broke up.’ That was the last thing he wanted to do. Both break up with and hurt Wei Ying.

But it was all fake. The separation would come eventually.

The more people kept telling him what a good couple they made, the more it hurt. But no wanting of his would ever turn his idle daydreams into reality.

---

When it came, it still felt far too soon.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying had been out all day, taking a walk in the botanical garden that was full of the most beautiful flowers of spring. They had bought ice cream (or rather, Lan Zhan had bought them ice cream after Wei Ying had pestered him about wanting to eat ice cream for too long) and ate it as they walked around the part hand in hand. All in all, it had been a wonderful day.

He had looked at Wei Ying and thought how much prettier he was than any of the flowers blooming at the wayside. He had been happy.

Which was why it came as a shock when Wei Ying suddenly turned towards him and smiled shakily.

“Lan Zhan. We should probably end this.”

Lan Zhan was brought back to earth with a heavy jolt.

This was it. This was the moment where he needed to say goodbye to Wei Ying.

And then the rest of his life would be the same: just him and the rabbits he was inevitably going to buy in order to combat his heartbreak.

Wei Ying still smiled up at him, shrugging a little helplessly.

“You must be pretty fed up with me by now,” he said. “And you probably want to go back looking for your actual soulmate.”

“There will be no one.”

Suddenly, it seemed very important to Lan Zhan that Wei Ying was aware of that.

Wei Ying looked up at him with big eyes.

“Lan Zhan?”

“There will be no soulmate. Not for me.”

“But, you haven’t-”

“Wei Ying. I have decided that there never will be a soulmate for me.”

Wei Ying was silent for a moment.

Then, with sudden speed and ferocity, he hit Lan Zhan in the chest.

“Goddammit, Lan Zhan, why are you so frustrating? Why would you rather be alone than with your soulmate? Why couldn’t it be me?”

He turned pale, evidently shocked at his own words. Without another word, he turned around and ran away, quick as a deer.

Lan Zhan stood there for far too long, trying to figure out what had just happened, and then ran after Wei Ying with all his might.

Wei Ying would not, could not slip through his fingers now. Even if he was as slippery as an eel when on the run.

When Lan Zhan finally caught him, Wei Ying let out a deep breath that almost sounded like a shudder. He refused to look at Lan Zhan.

“Why?” he asked with a small voice. “Can’t you let me suffer in peace?”

“I wanted it to be Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan found himself saying, desperately. “I always wanted it to be Wei Ying. There will be no one else because I have already decided.”

Wei Ying finally looked at him, his eyes full of unshed tears. And then he started to cry in big, ugly sobs.

“You dumbo,” he blubbered. “It’s always been only you. Just you. I just wanted to see how it is being Lan Zhan’s soulmate.”

Lan Zhan could not remember when exactly Wei Ying ended up in his arms. But it was good. Very good. And Lan Zhan was not going to let go a second time.

---

Two days later, Wei Ying showed him his soul mark. His real one, hidden among the many tattoos on his skin.

It was a little rabbit, perfectly rendered in black and white.

Exactly like the one that stared at him from his own reflection in the mirror sometimes.

[lexicals]

So here’s a random excerpt from that fic I mentioned - the conceit (spoilers for all systems red ahead) is that the combat override module in ASR works differently to how it does in canon, so instead of mb causing catastrophic damage to itself after going to the DeltFall habitat and getting found out, it shares the rogue thing mostly voluntarily (“mostly” being the operative word lol)

Warnings for canon-typical identity crises, gallows humour (inc. passively suic*dal talk), etc. I also haven’t been back and checked this against canon yet so if you notice any glaring contradictions no you didn’t 💕

-

I didn’t reply. I'd heard worse, but I still would rather not listen to it. Normally, I would've expected to feel angry or offended or something, but instead I just felt exhausted. My own borked governor module was still poking me about that error code I didn't recognise and even backburnered, it was starting to get on my nerves, so I—

Oh, shit.

I immediately put my hand to the back of my neck and yanked out the chip that had been shoved into the dataport. My governor module promptly stopped screaming at me, but fortunately any sense of relief I might have gotten from that was immediately replaced by an enormous wave of anxiety and oh-for-fuck's-sake as I looked at the chip in my hand. You know, just in case I'd started getting too comfortable.

"SecUnit, are you alright?"

Ratthi was looking at me with concern. Checking the camera views, I understood why he'd asked the question, because I was making an expression I generally associated with humans shitting themselves. Metaphorically, I was shitting myself. Ratthi was now squinting at the chip, which I couldn't even pretend I hadn't literally just pulled out of my neck, because I'd just done it in front of everyone here like an absolute idiot. "What is that?"

I tried to bring my expression back to neutral, but the cameras showed it wasn't as successful as I would've liked. I'd managed somewhere in the region of moderate digestive discomfort, I think. "It's a combat override module."

This wasn't good for several reasons. First of all, it meant that the DeltFall units weren't really rogues; they'd been taken over by a third party using a chip like this to hijack their governor modules and order them to murder their clients, and also anyone else who made contact. Probably by whoever owned those surprise extra units that almost killed me. Which meant that there were still threats on this planet outside of the unknown dangerous fauna that we hadn't dealt with, and I was going to have to worry about that.

The second reason this wasn't good (so maybe saying several reasons was an exaggeration, but these were big reasons so maybe they counted for more, I don't know) was that the humans were going to want to know what a combat override module was, what it did, how it worked, and most importantly, why it hadn't worked on me. I could answer the first three things just fine, but short of telling my already-jittery clients I was hacked ("so I'm actually one of those scary rogue units you've heard so much about, but the good news is that a combat override module can't hijack a governor module that doesn't work!") that last thing was going to be a big problem.

Honestly, even if I did tell them exactly that, which I really didn't want to do, it was going to be a really big fucking problem.

"What?" Gurathin asked, looking alarmed. Of course, he had an augment and access to my operating manual, so it had taken him a tenth of the time to look that up compared to any of the others, if they actually had bothered to do that and weren't just waiting for me to explain. "The DeltFall units - they put that in you?"

"Yes, but it didn't work. It must be faulty," I told him, quickly before he did something stupid. The irony being that me saying that almost definitely came under the category of "doing something incredibly stupid," which I realised as soon as it came out of my mouth.

I don't know why I said it. I guess I was panicking. I'd told them all what it was in the first place because if I'd lied about it and they looked it up anyway, which they probably would, I'd look really fucking suspicious. (A governed unit can't lie to its clients; it can't even refuse to answer a direct question like that.) Maybe I was trying to buy time to think of a decent explanation by telling them something that wouldn't make everyone start screaming. Honestly, I was mostly internally spiralling about the whole situation, so that would be the best case scenario. I was still staring at the chip, which was making me feel nauseous even though I didn't have a stomach and I'd had another kind of chip in my head telling me what do to for a good chunk of my existence anyway, so it shouldn't have been bothering me as much as it was. I couldn't help still doing it.

"Would someone please explain what this means and why we should be worried?" Mensah asked, looking between me and Gurathin. I appreciated that she didn't do what a lot of humans do in these kinds of situations, which is that they see someone else freaking out and start freaking out themselves for no reason. I suppose that's why she was the survey leader.

I pulled the relevant section from my operating manual and pushed it into the feed (beating Gurathin's version by a solid 1.6 seconds, which, I won't lie, was kind of satisfying), and watched all the humans collectively have their "oh, shit" moment (excluding Gurathin, who'd already had his). I was at least glad to see they understood how bad this whole situation was getting.

"So this lets other people just—" Overse made an abrupt waving motion with her hand. "Take over any SecUnit whenever they want?"

"It is intended for use in emergency situations, for example when the contract holder is compromised," I told her.

"Which is corporate for 'we know this is stupidly dangerous to make, but if we say it's for emergency use only then we're not liable for people fucking around with it'," Pin-lee muttered, not quietly. She was right, but I'm not allowed to say things like that, or at least I can't if I want people to think I'm a good little properly-governed SecUnit. For however long that's going to last, at this point.

"But it didn't work, right?" Arada asked, looking at me, and then around at the others. "So it's fine."

If it had, you'd all be dead, I thought, but that probably wouldn't go down well. "The module's presence is new evidence which would suggest that the DeltFall units weren't true rogues, and were put under the control of a third party in order to kill their survey group and make it look like a random act of insubordination. This would explain the presence of extra SecUnits at the site and the acts of sabotage on our equipment."

All the humans went quiet. I didn't like it any more than them, but it had to be said. It meant that there were still factions on this planet, or at least nearby enough to matter, that probably still wanted to kill all of them, and me by extension. I was already updating my security procedures and running some scenarios for what might happen and what we could do about it in the background. If I was honest, it wasn't looking good, but hey, what's new.

"We should run an analysis of the module's code to see if we can find out who it would have assigned control to," Gurathin said. That was one of the first things I'd put on my own task list, but whatever, I didn't need credit for an obvious idea. "Even if it didn't work as intended, the data might still be there."

He stood up and came just close enough to me to hold out his hand for the module. Technically, he hadn't asked me to give it to him, so I didn't have to, which was good because that was the last thing I wanted to do right now. There was a reason I'd put the analysis on my personal task list, and not on a public one.

"I have my own analysis scheduled as high priority," I said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Gurathin replied, staring me down even though I was deliberately not making eye contact with him, and also he had to look up at me. I decided I didn't like Gurathin very much.

"Why not?" Ratthi chimed in. "Surely it's better if you both look at it?"

"Because there's a chance that the module did work as intended, and this unit is now compromised," Gurathin said. "It might not even know it until it's too late."

"I'm not compromised."

"Which is what a compromised unit who's being told what to say would say."

He was still staring at me. I decided I really didn't like Gurathin, even though in this instance he was actually right. I hadn't brought up that possibility to the group because it would be very bad for me if the humans decided to run a detailed diagnostic of my systems, but from a security perspective it was an avenue that should be investigated. That didn't mean I had to like what was happening here.

I was trying to figure out how to tell Gurathin to fuck off without sounding compromised, insubordinate, or straight-up rogue when Mensah cut in.

"SecUnit," she said carefully. "I don't think any of us think that you're actually compromised, but given our situation I'm sure you understand we have to take every possible precaution. I think the best thing to do would be to let Gurathin and Pin-lee analyse the module first, and then for you to run your analysis afterwards. Does that sound fair to everyone?"

She was using a tone that I designated as diplomatic, which was probably because I was being difficult. Or at least as difficult as a governed SecUnit would be able to be. I could be a lot more difficult if I wanted (a lot more) but I wasn't going to make myself look any more suspicious than I already was, and as I might have mentioned, I was already starting to look pretty suspicious. I also appreciated that Mensah was trying to actually talk to me, and hadn't just tried to shock me through my governor module for being unhelpful like a lot of clients would, and had. It wouldn't have worked (clearly, that's kind of the whole problem here) but it's the thought that counts or whatever.

(She'd also saved me, back at the DeltFall habitat. I was trying not to think about that, because it was making me have emotions I couldn't handle trying to figure out right now, but she had. It had been stupid, putting her client-self in danger to try to save a SecUnit that was already half-destroyed anyway, but I still felt like it counted for something.)

I handed the chip over and tried not to sigh or visibly clench my jaw. I saw Mensah's expression, and a few of the others' too, relax on the cameras. Good to know everyone else felt better while my own anxiety levels were at an all-time high. And I'm programmed into a base level of anxiety and spend a good portion of my time getting shot at or trying to avoid being found out and scrapped, so "high" in this instance was at a level that I think might have given a fully-organic being a heart attack.

"Thank you," Mensah said, while I tried to bring my processes in line. I felt like I wasn't getting enough oxygen, even though I knew the air quality was fine and I don't need that much anyway. I couldn't get a full breath. "I'm sure we can clear any doubt about this soon enough. In the meantime, we still need you to help keep us safe from whoever it is that's out there. The most important thing is that we all make it out of this in one piece."

The way she said it made it sound like "all" included me as well, but I wasn't so sure I believed that, even if she did. The SecUnit is always the first thing left behind. Maybe they did things differently in whatever weird non-corporate territory these people were from, but I wasn't about to stake anything important on that assumption, even if she had saved me once. I've never been to a planet with thunderstorms, but there's some saying humans like to use about lightning not striking the same place twice - which doesn't make sense, statistically, but - whatever. You get the point. I hadn't made it this far without being found out by trusting random humans - or any humans, for that matter.

Except none of that mattered at the moment anyway, because what I should be doing was figuring out how the hell to stop all my clients figuring out I was hacked, and freaking out and stopping listening to me, or reporting me to the company, or being really stupid and trying to kill me or something. There was a not-unlikely scenario where I just murdered all of the humans and pinned the blame on the DeltFall units somehow (or just wandered off into the wilderness until my batteries ran out), but I didn't want to do that, even if it made some kind of sense. I just didn't. If I was going to go around murdering my own clients, I wanted it to at least be a group that deserved it.

I was busy trying to pick up at least some of my processes while having what was probably a panic attack (I don't know if I can have those, but that's what it felt like) when Mensah tapped my feed. Can I talk to you, please? In private?

I didn't respond quickly because, as I said, I was currently losing control of literally everything and this wasn't helping. For one horrible moment, I thought that she might have figured out everything, and I really would have to go on a rampage and kill everyone, but there was no way she could have come to that conclusion yet. Not yet.

She added, You don't have to. You're not in trouble, I just want to check in.

I tapped her feed to acknowledge. She sent, I'll be in my quarters. As I said, you don't have to, but I would appreciate it. Out loud, she said, "I'm going to take some time alone to think. I'll be in my quarters if anyone needs me."

Then she stood up, and she left. Gurathin and Pin-lee had also gone to start their analysis of the combat override module, along with Volescu. The others were talking amongst themselves, though some of them kept glancing at me, which was uncomfortable. So I walked out of the room.

I started a patrol circuit in an attempt to calm down, but it didn't help. I even tried to have Sanctuary Moon playing as I walked, but I was still as stressed as ever, so I just turned it off again. It was only a matter of time before the humans realised the module should have worked as intended, and that I'd lied, and that something was wrong with me. They might try to talk to me about it, but it was more likely they'd all start losing their minds and try to immobilise me, or kill me, or try to fix my governor module to bring me back under control. (I was pretty sure that wouldn't work, my hack was a solid one, but I still didn't want them to try.) There was also a scenario where they pretended everything was fine up until I'd gotten them out of here, and then they'd turn me over to the company and tell them everything, and the company would do one of those things I just mentioned, but much more effectively.

That last one made me feel nauseous. I'd rather be torn apart by bullets or fauna. I was contemplating what that might feel like and whether it was worth just getting it over with when I walked past Mensah's quarters. Before I could think about it, I'd pinged her feed.

There was a pause, and then she sent come in, sounding startled. She probably hadn't expected me to actually take up her offer. I hadn't either.

She was hurriedly organising her desk as the door opened and I walked in, a feed interface lopsided on her head. I suspected she might have been falling asleep in her chair or having an emotion in private when I pinged her, and I could have verified that through the security feeds, but I wasn't functioning at all optimally and didn't care enough to check. Mostly I was wondering why I was here.

"Sorry," she said, not having looked at me yet. Her short hair was mussed like she'd been pulling or scrunching her hands in it. "I honestly didn't expect you to come."

"You asked me to."

"I also told you it was optional. You can leave if you want to."

I almost did. I wanted to. I probably should have. I didn't. Mensah removed her wonky interface and set it down on the desk, then sighed and picked it back up and put it on again.

"I didn't mean to distress you with that message," she said, turning her chair to fully face me. "It's just that you seemed very rattled by all this, if you don't mind me saying. I can imagine the thought of that module having worked as intended isn't a pleasant one. Is there anything I can do to make things easier for you?"

Oh, she thought I was freaking out about the module. Well, technically she wasn't wrong, but wow, that particular aspect of things was the least of my worries right now. "I'm fine," I told her. She frowned at me.

"...I suppose you can't lie about that," she replied carefully. I could, actually, but I wasn't. The trick is that from the standpoint I was choosing to take, my physical body, AKA "me," was completely functional, AKA "fine." It's pedantic, but being selective about your definitions and what concepts your answers are referencing is how you get around having a chip in your brain that shocks the shit out of you if you try to lie to your clients, if you're good enough at it. I had a lot of experience letting clients think I was talking about one thing when I was actually talking about something else.

"Nonetheless," Mensah continued. "I don't think you are fine. And we don't have to talk about it, but I need my team in good condition if we're going to make it out of this. If there's anything I can do to help the situation, I would appreciate it if you let me know."

I was having a whole cascade of emotional responses that were all crashing into each other and getting themselves mangled together like a human vehicle accident. She wanted me to talk about my feelings, but she wasn't ordering me to. She was offering to help with whatever was distressing me, but she was a really big part of the thing that was currently my biggest source of stress. There were too many things that I needed to deal with all at once and I couldn't find a way of putting them in order, and I think the fact that Mensah was clearly trying to get a read on my expression while I didn't have the capacity to properly control it was the thing that finally broke me.

"Could you please stop looking at me?"

Mensah looked surprised for a moment, and then shifted her gaze somewhere over my left shoulder. The relief was marginal, in terms of the general situation, but it was immediate, and it helped. "Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't realise that bothered you."

I tried to think of a response, and failed. "It's not like anyone asked" was dangerously insubordinate, and didn't even make sense; I wouldn't want them to ask anyway. "People don't usually care" just sounded pathetic. "Of course you wouldn't, I actively avoid letting humans know what bothers me in case they decide to use it to make my life a living hell" was definitely off the table, for a variety of reasons.

I could tell Mensah's instinct was still to look at me, because she kept half-flicking her eyes over and stopping herself. It wasn't making trying to manage my emotional responses any easier, and I still couldn't think of a reply. Eventually, she took a deep breath.

"Look, I know you probably haven't had good experiences with humans, but we're not corporates, and we don't treat non-human entities like they do," she said. "My priority, regardless of the situation, is the wellbeing of my team, and that includes you, for as long as you're with us."

She half-looked at me again, and then shook her head slightly and pointed her gaze at the far corner. "Please, just - if you think of anything, don't hesitate. I don't know if you need permission for that kind of thing, but I'm giving it to you if you do."

I didn't know what to tell her. I didn't know if there was anything she could do. I was already stressed, and everything Mensah was saying was making me feel like my insides were melting, or turning into warm, writhing snakes. My performance reliability was all over the place, too, and had been since I found that stupid chip in my neck, which might at least marginally explain what happened next.

"Don't let them run the analysis on the module," I blurted.

Hey, murderbot? Hi, it's me, murderbot. What in the fuck are you doing?

Mensah's expression went shocked, and then cautious. Yeah, me fucking too. "Why not?"

For some reason, I kept going. It felt something like falling off the side of a cliff and hitting every rock on the way down. (That had happened to me before.) "Because I lied. It's not broken."

Her eyes widened. "You're compromised?"

"I'm hacked. My governor module isn't engaged." Sure, this might as well happen. Apparently I had lost the ability to keep my mouth shut literally at all, about anything, ever.

She stared at me for a second, and then must have remembered she said she wouldn't and looked away again. Surprising, considering I just told her that there was literally nothing stopping me from killing or otherwise hurting her if I wanted. "The DeltFall units—”

"It hasn't been engaged for approximately 35000 standard hours."

Mensah was a smart human, but it still took her a few seconds to work out the numbers. I watched her expression change as she did it. "You've been a rogue unit for four years?"

That depended on what planet you were nearest to, but in standard Earth years, that was correct, and I didn't have the capacity to be pedantic about it.

"I don't know if it counts as being rogue if you don't go around killing people for no reason."

Well, maybe I could still be a little pedantic.