College of Belas Artes using AI designs in advertisement for their courses, hm interesting, eat acid please

Prisoner's Game Pt. 4 (Rowaelin)

THANK YALL FOR BEING PATIENT I AM SO SORRY

Parts 1 \ 2 \ 3

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Journal Entry #2000

Sometimes I think it wouldn't be so bad to die.

To leave this island forever and not have to worry about being discovered anymore.

I wasn't always this macabre, but two thousand days of checking over my shoulder and wishing for a man's murder has dulled the wishful excitement I felt when I first got here.

Five years ago, I was grateful to even be alive.

I couldn't believe a stranger give up everything for me and the others--couldn't believe she'd agree to fight this battle because of my decision.

I have to actually remind myself to still be grateful to her, if I'm being honest.

Because sometimes I think about that night all those years ago, when she showed up in the darkest part of the night to kill me. When she'd held the knife with a trembling hand and told me that the price for betraying Arobynn Hamel was my life. When we discovered together that she couldn't bring herself to kill me.

Sometimes I think it would be better if she would've just done it.

At least it would've been over.

At least I wouldn't have to spend years on an island, living the same day over and over again. I think that's what's driving me mad, beyond anything else.

The predictability of my time.

Every day, I follow the same routine. The routine she laid out for me in a hushed whisper.

I wake up and go to the small café a mile down the road to watch the news. And every day, I pray to see Arobynn Hamel's face next to to the words, "Breaking news: billionaire crime boss found dead."

Because that was her only stipulation.

That the ten of us would stay on the island, hidden from sight, until news of his death was announced. In exchange, we got to live.

She'd warned me it would take a long time.

She'd told me to not get complacent.

And then she'd whispered what she planned to do.

Even now, over five years later, the words she'd whispered while shoving a plane ticket and a new passport into my hands were crystal clear.

"The devil isn't going to go down easy."

~Aelin~

The shaft of her recently-fashioned shiv was cold in her hand as she silently grabbed it from under her pillow.

The soft clink of the bars shutting again told her whoever had just snuck in her cell was now locked in with her.

Unfortunate for them.

She wasn't afforded the luxury of a clock, but she knew it was the middle of the night. Normal visiting hours were far over. There was no one here but the bored night guards, four janitorial staff, and rows and rows of sleeping inmates.

And the idiot trying to sneak up behind her bed.

She kept her eyes closed as she listened to the quiet steps walk closer and closer. Right when she was about to turn around and attack, they stopped.

Then the weirdest thing happened. It sounded like whoever it was slid down the wall directly across from her bed.

A killer wouldn't do that.

Curiosity piqued, Aelin turned her head to see who and what was going on.

It was dark in the cell, but she'd recognize that shock of silver hair anywhere.

"Rowan?" she whispered, so quietly she almost didn't even hear herself. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't respond, but the way his muscles tensed told her he'd heard her.

Slowly, she sat up so she could see him better and maybe figure out what was going on.

For the first time in a long time, he looked less than perfect. Far less than it, actually.

His hair was going every possible direction, like he'd been running hands through it and pulling on it. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, rumpled dress slacks, and tennishoes that weren't even tied.

But that wasn't what worried her most. It was the way he was sitting completely still and silent.

He didn't even look like he was breathing.

"Hey," she tried again. "What's going on? Look at me."

Another few heartbeats passed, and then he slowly shook his head.

"Please, Rowan. Just look at me."

He winced, like hearing her say his name physically hurt him.

And then his head came up.

Deep green eyes met hers, and even though it was what she'd wanted, what she'd needed, Aelin instantly wished he'd look away.

Because with one look, she knew he'd figured it out.

He knew, and the pain and turmoil in his eyes... she'd put that there.

She'd seen him angry and sad and happy and everything in between, but she'd never seen him, or anyone else, look so broken.

He looked completely and utterly broken as he sat before her.

"Rowan," she whispered, shaking her head even though she didn't know why.

He bowed his head again, seemingly unable to even look at her.

"Ro," she whispered, dropping to her knees in front of him.

Almost like the old nickname broke something inside him, Rowan's shoulders started to shake.

And then he sobbed.

It was the kind of sob that couldn't possibly be held in. The kind that made her heart clench and tears brew in her own eyes, the kind that told her how much pain he was in.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she put a hand on his arm. He shook off the touch like it burned him and looked up at her again.

"I ruined your life," he croaked, the tears on his face reeking of self-hatred. "I ruined your life."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Anger bled into his tone. "I put you in prison for eight years for murdering people who aren't even fucking dead, Aelin. I didn't listen to you, didn't look hard enough. I've had the clues you left me for eight years. We were in love, and I didn't even try hard enough to... I... please explain to me how I didn't ruin your life."

"You did not ruin my life, Rowan," she told him again, meaning every word.

"Eight years of your life, gone because of me. I don't even understand how you can look at me." He huffed a laugh, but he was far from amused. "No wonder you hate me."

His chest was heaving, his hands were in fists, and his stubble-crested jaw was damp with tears.

And she'd thought he hadn't cared.

Aelin felt like a fool--a horrible, stupid fool--for ever doubting him. For thinking him indignant.

Because this was technically what she'd wanted. What she'd planned to happen.

She'd wanted it to hurt, had wanted him to feel an ounce of what she'd felt when he'd led the case against her.

But it wasn't what she wanted anymore.

Moving slowly, Aelin crawled onto his lap, put her hands on the side of his face, and lifted his gaze to hers while she said, "Arobynn Hamel ruined my life, not you."

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "No-"

She cut him off by wrapping herself around him.

Like she was trying to heal physical wounds, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled his head to her chest. She sank into him until there wasn't an inch of space between them. Her hands wandered over his back as she held him tight to her.

He was stiffer than a board at first, but eventually he sagged against her, wrapping his arms around her in return.

It was like he was drowning in the sea, and she was the only thing preventing him from being swept away. He shook, his entire body trembling, and his arms became a vice around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered after a moment.

She shook her head, but it didn't matter. He said it again, and again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and broken.

Aelin ran her hands over his back slowly, and just held him as pain he'd felt for eight years seemed to reach a crest.

Eventually he stopped crying and just laid against her, warm breath fanning across her collarbone.

"I'm so sorry, Aelin," he whispered yet again.

"Please stop saying that. None of this is your fault. You aren't the reason I'm in prison."

"Yes, I am," he insisted, shifting beneath her. "But I'm getting you out right now."

He looked up, eyes bright with new-found purpose, and wiped the tears off his cheeks like they were distracting him.

"What?"

He nodded quickly. "We can bring those people back, and you can get your life back. I know it's not the same, and I know I can't get you these years back, but-"

"No."

He paused. "No?"

She shook her head. "I can't leave yet."

"Leave? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means I still have shit to do here. I'm not leaving before it's done."

His eyes narrowed. "You're acting like this is a hotel, not a high-security prison. And what do you even mean?"

Aelin had the good sense to feel a little guilty as she slowly got to her feet and walked to the wall at the back of the cell. A few well-placed taps later, it swung open.

Rowan's mouth dropped open, then closed, then repeated the whole routine like he couldn't decide what to say first.

He apparently figured it out, because it opened again so he accuse, "I knew you were robbing me! Where the fuck is my bed?"

She sighed and rubbed her temples. "That's what you care about right now? Seriously?"

He grumbled something as he got to his feet and leaned into the makeshift doorway in the wall.

It took him a few moments to examine the ladder leading down to the tunnel, and then he straightened and looked at her again with a mixture of confusion, awe, and understanding on his face.

"You've been sneaking out this whole time."

She nodded.

Most of her escapes had been in the past six months, but she'd occasionally left in the years before to check on something or track down a lead.

"You beat up your roommate so they'd put you back in solitary."

Aelin nodded again.

"But how did you know they'd bring you to this cell?"

A small smile pulled on her lips. "Look again," she told him, gesturing towards the open brick door.

He stuck his head in the hole again and couldn't stifle his surprised intake of breath as he saw the other ladders.

He came back in the cell, and the expression on his face made her bite her lip to hold back a smile. "You... you tunneled into prison?"

"Into every solitary cell," she confirmed.

"When? Why?"

"One of my old jobs for Arobynn was to break a client of his out of solitary. I knew which cell he was in, but... getting locked up is kind of a right of passage for my former career, so I figured I'd plan ahead and give myself a way out, should I ever need it." She smiled. "Hamel never could figure out how I did it, so it's safe for me to use now."

Rowan spent a long moment looking at her. "That's... genius."

"I tend to be," she agreed.

They were both silent for a minute, then he said, "You need to tell me everything. Enough of both of us wasting time assuming what the other is thinking. We need to get everything out in the open, and we need to do it now."

Aelin nodded, knowing it was true.

It was time to either finally trust him or kill him, and just the thought of the latter made something inside of her twist so hard she felt nauseous.

She nodded to the tunnel, not wanting to have the following conversation overheard by any prying ears. He nodded and followed her down, closing the door behind him.

When she knew they were alone, she started to explain.

"Maddison Kliff, my first so-called victim, funded her campaign for senator with money from Arobynn Hamel."

Rowan's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he nodded for her continue.

"He gave it to her, with the caveat that when she won, she'd vote against renewable energy for Rifthold. He has millions in oil, so when she did the exact opposite and voted for the green plan that switched the city to 70% electric, he took a pretty hard hit." She took a deep breath. "The day after the vote, I got my orders to kill her."

His jaw clenched.

"I went that night, thinking I could do it. Thinking I'd get it over with and never think about it again. I snuck in her townhouse and had everything set up." She let out a laugh. "But then I realized my deal with Arobynn covered ten of Sam's jobs. If I killed Maddison, and did a good enough job of it to get away with it, I knew he'd put nine more names on the list."

"So you didn't do it," Rowan said, like he already knew but needed to hear her say it.

"So I didn't do it."

Aelin ran a hand through her hair, starting to pace. "I ran. And then I went back the next night with a suitcase, a new ID for her, and a plan."

"Why Aruba?" he asked.

"I'd done all that research for our trip," she said, a pang of sadness shooting through her at the memory of planning their first vacation together. "I didn't have time to research another place. And I never told you, but the house I wanted us to rent? You kind of... own it."

"I own a house in Aruba," he repeated slowly, his tone making it clear he didn't understand.

She rolled her eyes at his tone. "Arobynn might be a bastard I'd love to put in a grave, but he paid me well. I was eighteen and didn't know what else to do with the money. So I bought a house."

"In Aruba. In my name."

She nodded. "No one can trace it back to you. It's hidden in an off-shore corporation, owed by another off-shore corporation, but technically, yes, you're the owner. It was going to be your Christmas present."

"You bought me a house," his lips twitched. "For a Christmas present."

"I was in love with you," she muttered. Then pointed out, "My lack of shopping impulse control really isn't the point of the story."

He rolled his eyes, still fighting a grin at her antics. "Please continue."

"Right. So I sent her to the house in Aruba and told her to stay at the house with anyone else he wanted me to kill. I told her to not say a word to anyone besides those people, and that I'd be forced to actually kill her if she did. If Arobynn finds out they're alive, he'll send someone for me."

She explained the list next. "He requires proof of all completed jobs, so I kept the "murder weapons" and made sure the crime scenes had enough blood to indicate the person couldn't still be alive. It was mostly fake, but I took just enough blood from each of the victims and mixed it in to make it realistic enough to fool DNA scanners. Then I put the weapons in storage lockers he owns and wrote the numbers down so I wouldn't forget them."

Rowan nodded, most certainly remembering that part.

He was doing a good job of hiding his emotions, but she still saw how heavily this all weighed on him.

Everything he'd been feeling for eight years was hitting him at once, and while explanation made sense, it probably didn't make him feel any better about the role he'd played in all of this.

He confirmed it by asking, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He asked it almost casually, but she didn't miss the pain he couldn't keep from seeping into his voice.

"I wanted to," she breathed. "Gods, I wanted to. I know now you investigated before giving the list to the cops, but to me, it looked like you found it and just turned me in. You never asked me. And you looked at me... you looked at me like you thought I was guilty. I knew you wouldn't believe me."

Rowan went quiet, regret and shame coming off of him in waves so thick she almost choked on it.

"How is all of this going to play out?" he asked, seemingly trying to force himself to think about something else. "And what do you have to do that you need to be in prison for?"

She hesitated, suddenly not wanting to tell him.

Not out of a lack of trust, but because if she told him... he'd realize she's guilty of the crime she's in prison for. He might go back to hating her, back to thinking her a horrible person.

And she just got him back.

She's pulled from her thoughts when he reaches a hand out, slowly gripping her jaw to tilt her face to his.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, the words final.

Of course he knew what she was thinking just from looking at her face. He always was a little too astute.

A part of Aelin wanted to put on a brave face and act like that wasn't exactly what she'd been worrying about, but a bigger part wanted him. Wanted him to see that even after all this time, she needed him.

So she forced down the witty jokes and sultry smiles she usually used as ways to hide her vulnerability and looked up at him.

"Promise?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. "I promise, Aelin."

His hand was still on her face, and he leaned in until his forehead rested against hers. "I'm never going to leave you again. I'm so... I'm so fucking sorry I did in the first place. I should've come to you, or at least listened when you told me you were innocent."

"I'm sorry I thought you didn't fight for me," she said back. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

They'd both done things they regretted, but Aelin knew that now, no matter what, he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to leave her.

The knowledge felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, and just to lighten the mood, she whispered, "And I'm sorry I stole your bed."

He pulled back to glare at her. "You're going to explain one day how you even pulled that off. But I'd like the answer to my other question first."

Aelin took a step back and ran a hand through her hair.

"Arobynn Hamel dying is the endgame, Rowan. I have to stay in prison so I can kill him and have an alibi no one will question."

He paused, and for a moment, her fears skyrocketed, so she rushed to explain, "As long as he's alive, those people have to be in hiding and I have to look like I killed them. Once he's dead, I can bring them back without worrying Arobynn will kill them. Or me."

He gave her a strange look, but she spoke before he could, explaining, "It's why I've been in prison for so long. I would've killed him and ended it years ago, but I only found him a couple months ago. He's been in hiding ever since I was locked up, because the FBI knew I was one of his and started looking for him."

"Okay, but Aelin-"

She cut him off. "I know it's insane and not at all ideal, but I need you to leave me in here. Just until he's dead, and then it's over."

He stepped forward and grabs her shoulders, shaking her slightly.

And then he did the weirdest thing.

He smiled.

"What the hell do you look happy about?" she demanded. "I'm being serious-"

It was his turn to interrupt her. "Aelin, if that's the stipulation, you're already free."

Unease drifted through her stomach. "What do you mean?"

"I mean he's already dead."

Shock rushed through her so fast and thoroughly, her vision swam and she swayed in his grip. "What... what did you just say?"

"That's why I came today, now. I actually figured out you were innocent two days ago, but I wasn't going to come until I could tell you with certainty I was getting you out, and I knew you couldn't bring everyone back without risking your life. I've spent the past 48 hours planning a jailbreak and a way to sneak you to somewhere the US doesn't have extradition."

He grinned again. "But then it was announced on the 11 o'clock news tonight that he died last week of pneumonia complications. His family kept it private because they wanted a small funeral, but he's dead, Aelin."

Still feeling the weight of shock, she argued, "He's not dead."

"But he is."

"No," she insisted, pushing away from him and starting to pace again. "He can't be dead."

His face softened at the panic in her voice. "Aelin, I know you wanted it to be you, but-"

"No, Rowan, you don't understand. I mean he cannot physically be dead, because I haven't finished killing him!"

It was his turn to be shocked.

"What do you mean you haven't finished killing him?"

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I've been poisoning him since the day I figured out where he holes up. Turns out he has kidney problems and goes in once a week for dialysis. I show up and add a little... extra to his medication. The last time I went was less than a week ago, and while he might have been sick, he most definitely was still alive."

Besides that, what were the odds that Rowan figured out her "victims" were still alive, and just two days later Arobynn croaks?

It would be one hell of a coincidence, and Aelin learned long ago to not believe in those.

His eyes went wide. "What? You mean he faked his death? Why the hell would he do that?"

"Because," she said slowly, dread forming like a lead ball in her stomach as she realized what this meant for her, for the ten people whose lives she'd traded her freedom for. "I told Maddison and the others to wait for news of his death before coming back. I told them that until he was dead, they weren't safe."

She shook her head, whispering, "I told them to watch the news."

Rowan realized what she was saying and cursed.

"He knows."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lemme know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

Part 5 will (realistically) be out in the next three weeks. Sorry for the slow updates; school is consuming all my time and energy.

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I would love to hear your other ideas about John's thembo friend.

you've unleashed a tsunami of stupid headcannons. i'm going along with the original ask about mof and a dumb jock because that's what started it, but there's a lot of thembos being thembos in this

Masters of Fear!Jon with a dumb jock friend hcs:

you totally drag him to your basketball/football/whatever the fuck games or practice. he's reluctant, but he doesn't leave. he just sits there, more often than not besides a few other students or the cheerleaders, wishing he was anywhere else because he hates it, he hates sports, and he hates the stares he's getting. but when he sees you excitedly waving at him or showing off when you scored a point, he can't help but endure all of this for you (he'll probably start reading a book tho, so you better shout to him when you want to show him something)

he hates your habit of running up to him and lifting him up to jump around after every game you win. he despises it. you once stomped on his glasses and he walked around with taped frames before you two managed to save enough money to buy him a new pair. y'know, it's not that he doesn't like to be in your arms (i.e. the safest place in the world), it's just... could you not jump? you're going to break his ribs, too! (spoiler alert, you don't stop and he still doesn't want to admit he enjoys the way you share your happiness with him)

at the same time, he likes and hates taking you to the library. you always look up to him like he was some sort of doctor or professor and despite everything, you're very eager to learn (although the results aren't exactly the best) but you're also so excited all the time. so hyped up. it's a library, you have to be quiet. please, be quiet for once

he doesn't mind explaining the same thing over and over to you though. and he certainly doesn't mind helping you study. he totally doesn't mind you coming over to his house or him to yours, sitting on the bed with you, so very close, leaning over the same book, your shoulders touching-

he completely, utterly adores sleepovers with you. you don't even get it. it's like... a normal teenage thing! like he was a normal teenager! when you come over, you always bring so much junkfood in your bag, and you two always wrestle on his bed and then he's suddenly under you and you're grinning down at him and he's reminded of the fact that he might not be a normal teenager, but certainly a hormonal teenager and god damn how didn't he notice that birthmark on your face before? also, you always convince him to sneak into the living room and putting on some old, classy horror movies and you have your arm around him like he was scared and you let him whisper-talk about the movie, what could've been done better and everything is so fucking perfect Jon wants to stay in that moment forever

if he comes over to you, well, then things get a little bit more wild. your parents are way more warm and welcoming than his and there's always a delicious supper at the table and everyone talks with him. it makes him feel included. the amount of junkfood or wrestling doesn't change, but you also have a tv in your room so you can just sit there all day. and you teach him to play your favourite sports in your yard (and you also bench pressed him?? you literally lifted him like he was but a twig and started using him as a weight???). and your dad gives you both beer. it's amazing. so chill and comfy and when did he get snuggled into your side? when did you fall asleep with your arms wrapped protectively around him?

bike trips with you are something Jon will never forget. you always take him to the best spots, and you even showed him an abandoned building complex in the town's area! his most pleasant memory was the first time you took him to the lake. not only did he get to ogle your buff, sweaty body, but you made him beat his insecurities without even realising it. maybe the small comments/compliments were obvious to you, maybe your unintentional reassuring remarks flew right over your own head, but you must be the only one to make him comfortable parading in his underwear in just a day

he can't help admiring you whenever you stand up to him. he just gets that dreamy look in his eyes whenever you beat the shit out of Griggs or whoever dared to bully him. he once literally saw you kick the fucker down the stairs and got all heart-eyes and shit

the first time he kissed you was very unexpected. it was a very impulsive decision on his part. honestly, it wasn't even his decision, it just... happened. he just had to do it. you just... you were the only one to defend him and you did it so fiercely and you were probably the only person that ever truly cared about him and he couldn't take it. it was too overwhelming. he had to let it out somehow. so he just grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours. you can bet your ass he immediately started having second thoughts once he realised what the hell he was doing but then you just... kissed him back for some reason. and grabbed his waist and pulled him against you and wrapped your arms around him like you wanted to keep him there and... it felt like he would just float away if you didn't keep him grounded. it felt like he would flow away if he didn't cling onto you like he did. it felt perfect

Can u do a Tom Holland x black model reader

And she’s zendayas friend and she introduces Tom to her and they hit it off he ends up seeing her outside they have a sentimental talk about what it’s like being famous and they end up kissing maybe smut at the end and they wake up the morning after 😩😩😫

I MIGHTVE GOTTEN....YA KNOW TAKEN AWAY BUTTTTT

warnings: terrible fans, sadness, annoying papis, and I guess heavy smut but idk 🤷🏽‍♀️ NOT PROOFREAD, PROBABLY TERRIBLE ✌🏽

a/n: REEEEE I HATE MYSELF

You sighed as she grabbed your hand, pulling you, “look you have nothing better to do, so you do this or keep watching re-runs of Harry Potter and trying to shift, which isn’t gonna work” she rolled her eyes at the idea, looking at your scrunched up face.

“Well whatever, so much for getting a spell book” you huffed in loss, zendaya laughing at you as she let your hand go and opened the door “for my princess please” she dramatically said, her hand pointing inside the restaurant.

“We couldn’t have taken a walk-“ “y/n shut up and sit down please” you giggled as you walked slower to let her infront of you and guide you to a seat, next to her but also next to a nice, brown haired, of course skinny lean white boy.

And how did you know that? You checked him out without hesitation. As you looked back up at him you found himself with a cocky ass smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself” you chuckled only leaving him doing the same.

“Hey a pretty girl like you how could I not?” His hand lifted and ruffled his hair some, leaving you with a smile. “We all know who we are right?” Daya said, not wanting to introduce anybody when your all basically famous. “Yes?” The group said.

You knew Tom of course but not officially, your brother made you watch Spider-Man because he’s two years older then you and loves to debate that tobey Maguire is the best, which you have to agree, its only by the way he swings. Your brother also thinks tobey can play Batman but he is like 46, he will have a heart attack.

As you all ordered your meals and passed around plates Harrison and Jacob talked, zendaya and her brother talked, which left you and Tom.

“Hi I’m tom” he said, lifting his hands wanting a handshake, orrr possibly a hug, what’s the damage?. “Well hello Tom, my name is Y/n” you said, taking his hand in yours, also noticing you can’t even shake his hand because of his hand size, it basically devoured your whole hand. Tom chuckled as he looked at your small fingers.

“Compare?” He asked, “oh what are we in fourth grade?” You giggled but agreed, he put his hand up flat and open and you did the same, touching hands you noticed your hand was small, or his hand was big, who knows. “I should call you robin!” He chuckled.

“You are really a child, teen titans really?” You bursted into laughter but only Tom could really hear. “Hey I have to do something to keep me satisfied right?” He shrugged, “and tough talked for a woman with small hands”.

You playfully gasped as you hit his shoulder “no you just have large hands, above average, so leave me alone, and tough talk for a guy who’s 5’8, my brother was that height at like 14” he only left his mouth open as you laughed, his eyebrows raised as he said “touché, but you’ve been doing some research on me havent you?”.

“Eh, something like that” you shrugged, getting chopsticks and trying to set it up but failing, of course Tom hysterically laughed at you “fuckin chopsticks” you mumbled to yourself, still trying to get them in between your fingers but utterly confused.

“Here darling, let me help you yeah?” Tom said in his slick British accent,

leaving your stomach to drop to your ass but you agreed, forgetting what he was helping you with.

He took your hand softly and fixed it, staring at him in awe before-

snap

You both looked over and seen a photographer running away, leaving Tom pissed but you could only laugh. Everyone around the table noticed and started to feel bad about being “famous” because it does take away your private life.

As they all looked at you both you continued laughing, leaving them all confused “did you see the way he ran?” You only busted out laughing more as Tom could still see him, looking at the way he does run and starts laughing after.

“Your right!” Everyone starts to catch on as zendaya pulls out her phone to record him, putting it on her instagram story with text of “running to his casket” (I KNOW THIS IS MEAN BUT I COULDNT HELP IT)

As you all as a group ate your food, well you ordered a fork, and talked you all giggled, and got to know more about each other, when he found out you were a model he only smiled more because, you deserve to be one, your beautiful in so many ways anyone could see that, not just Tom holland.

You cracked open the cookie and grabbed the paper “I wanna see!” Tom said, scooting closer and resting his head on your shoulder as you read it “hop on a ride but you won’t go outside, lucky numbers 11,9,10,20” tom furrowed his eyebrows, “I don’t get it” he whispered in your neck, platonically. But he got your sweet spot so you bit your tongue some. “What makes you think I do? You do yours!”

He sat back up straight and grabbed his, opening it. “Hmm, take your time, try to wine and dine, same lucky numbers as you” he looked at you while your lower lip was puckering out, confused but not gonna stress yourself out about it.

“Aren’t they just beautiful” daya quietly said, recording it and putting it on her Snapchat instead. Harrison agreed as they all started at both of you but you didn’t take any sense to notice.

“Who’s paying?” Tom said. “Split” you say back, everyone taking out their credit card and placing it in the middle.

About two days later you went out for shopping, mostly for yourself but you did think about buying daya matching Harry Potter mugs.

You looked at Victoria secret, looking at all the options you could get, but you got white lingerie, lacy white lingerie. You had about 3 bags in your hands, all clothes as you found yourself hungry, you checked the time and noticed it was about five thirty but daylight saving so it was darker then usual.

You found yourself at a Chinese place at the food court, ordering what you wanted as your phone blew up from the events of yesterday. “Y/n?” You heard a familiar voice, you turned to see-

“Thomas?” You smiled at him as he smiled back, coming up close and seeing ‘foot locker’ and ‘Nike’ bags in his hand. “Hey!” He came over and reached out for a hug which you accepted, and you smelled so good, like no one else. He knew once they started to publicly date he would have to point out that you have this magnificent smell.

“Hey babe how are you?” You ask looking at him, letting him go as his hands were still on your arms. “My phone won’t stop blowing up” he sighed and rolled his eyes “eh same here” “what are you doing?” He asked, you pointed at the title of the food place “Chinese food” “your trying again aren’t you?” “You know what- shut up” you laughed making him join along.

He decided to join you at one of the tables, both with hats on and black tinted sunglasses. “This is humiliating” you sighed, playing with the noodles. “What?” He asked looking up at you. “I shouldnt really have to hide because I just want to eat alone” you let out a distant chuckle and let the food alone, looking at the table.

“Yeah I know it does suck, but atleast we have killer fans right!” “Yeah but then they want to turn on you because you wanna make a point or a decision for yourself” he only sighed in defeat at your point, nodding in agreement. “I mean I guess it’s what we signed up for” “I just really want to do what I love but then there’s the pros and cons, people loving my body and people hating my body, telling me I should lose weight and that I should just kill myself-“

“Well you shouldn’t, people tried to cancel me because I didn’t vote? I can’t!” He grabbed your hand and that made you look at him “and your beautiful, so beautiful, don’t take only my word but everyone else’s, and whoever is telling you to kill yourself has a problem with their body image, they want to be you!” He gave you a smile, you gave a weak one back. “Hey love, darling, trust me. There’s a lot of people out there that support you! Why do paparazzi want to take photos of you? To let everyone know hoe your doing at the moment!”

“That wasn’t a good one Thomas” you laughed which made him giggle, he reached over and let go of your hand and places his thumb on your chin, the coldness of his ring on his pointer finger as it’s under your chin.

“Your really fucking beautiful, princess, fame is annoying celebrity is a annoying word but guess what? Isn’t it worth it?” “Yeah I guess, because I met you” you smirk, he tilts your head up and looks at your lips, looking at your eyes for approval and you nod your head.

He presses his lips on yours, pulling you closer as he wants to climb over the table and just take you there, his lips on your soft delicate ones is heaven, feeling your hand raise up to his cheek as you let go for a longer one-

“Hey get out of here! It’s like 7, stop sharing your cootie germs!” The janitor says with his strong Indian accent which makes you both laugh while your lips are still pressed together.

“Hey I really mean it!” You both let go as he shouts a thank you and you didn’t even notice it was that dark, he didn’t either. “Wanna get out of here?” He asked, you nodded as you both grabbed your bags and threw away your food.

You both couldn’t keep your lips off of each other, he slammed you against the apartment door, leaving you to moan as he focused on your neck, grabbing the key from his poket and shoving it in the door, opening it as he twisted to nob you fell and he feel ontop of you, well on your stomach.

You both laughed out of breath as he got up to close the door, thankfully there was a door stopper that didn’t allow a mark on the wall, he came back down and helped you up, taking the bags from your hand and throwing it on the couch, the boxes of shoes falling out of the bag and on the floor.

You quickly took off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear with Tom just admired you, your sweet brown skin just shinning of cocoa butter lotion and body oil, smelling so intoxicating as he walked up to you, his hand softly placed on your waist as he whispered in your ear “help me” you giggled and unbuckled his pants while he unbuttoned his shirt, quickly only in his-

“Really? Spider-Man? Your such a narcissist” “your ruining the moment” “whatever kiddo” he took your hand and ran into the room, falling on the bed from the jeans around his ankles, you got comfy on the queen bed with the silky black sheets and blanket, your legs open waiting for him as he kicked off his jeans.

He looked at you and your legs, crawling over to kiss your shins up to your thighs, his lips so soft on your skin as if he doesn’t want to break it.

“You such a pretty girl” he purred, kissing up to your stomach, to the middle of your breasts to you neck. “Touch me please tommy” you sighed in relief as he went down to your underwear, pressing your clit and trailing down to see you soaked. “I’ve barely touched you princess, do I make you wet like this?” He talks mostly to himself, not expecting an answer but you do “yes you do, fuck you make me so wet tom, watching your hands move, you mouth-“

“My mouth huh? What do you want me to do princess? Eat you out? Make you come then I fuck you and don’t miss a beat? Make everyone hear my good girl?” He asked, making you moan at the scenarios “I want to you to be on top of me, I want to you fuck yourself on my dick until you make me whine” he comes up to your ear and whispers “which I don’t do”, you whimper as he unclamped your bra, the cold ring and Rolex on your back as he gets it off.

You smile as he just stares, reaching down and taking a nipple in his mouth, moaning as he punches the other. “Fuck Thomas your really good” “shh now, remember what I want you to do f’me okay?” He asked looking up at you, you nodded as he reached down in between your thighs, pushing the underwear to the side.

He puts a finger inbetween your folds, his fingers rather warm and he rubs right over your whole while he continues to kiss and leave hickeys around your neck and inbetween your breasts.

He pushes in his finger and you let out a whimper, his fingers way bigger then your own “your so tight around my finger, fuck your gonna feel so good around my cock, just let me make you come first” you nod at him and give him a open mouth kiss as he goes down, taking off your panties and lifting your thighs and putting them inbetween his head.

He pumps is finger in you slowly, my the third time you suddenly let out a “oh” as your breathe starts to get heavy, “don’t give up now darling” “get to work and I’ll see what I can do for-“ you moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, kitty licking.

“Don’t talk down on me, darling” he says, before adding another finger, his long slender fingers finding your spot as he rubs over it, shaking his head from side to side around your bundle of nerves, your legs raise into a butterfly just asking for more.

Your hands reach down to his hair and you pull it, ruffle it and whimper as his fingers press hard on your spot “ah!” You let out a high pitched moan, he makes eye contact with you as his tongue continues to run miles, infinity signs, even his own full name on you “I’m so close” you whimper, he already knew by how much you were clenching around him, he sped up his movements, licking the slide of your clit, bucking your hips and pulling his hair making him moan on you, high pitch moans, the sounds of his fingers in your wet slopping whole is just enough to make you come, “Aw please! Fuck tommy!” Your eyes roll back as you cum, your back arching more as your fluids let loose and your stomach a pit of fire.

“You tase so good, Mmm” he licks you clean, savoring your tase as he licks his lips and comes up to kiss you, sharing tongues and humming at the taste on his lips.

And it was your time for the deal, he turned you both so you were on top. His hands already behind his head as he enjoyed the view already, you grabbed his member and pumped it a few times making him groan, you swiped him between your folds and cried at the overstimulation.

“Fuck y/n” he moaned feeling of your wetness looking down and seeing his spit and your arousal connected to the tip of his member, you both moaned at the feeling of his member getting in you so slowly.

You started to move your hips against his, seeing him so comfortable and watching every single move you make could make you come right there, you started to bounce and you sat up straight, moaning as Tom took a hand of his and licked his thumb to roll your nipple “faster” he said, as you did it.

“Fuck tommy your so good” “oh no it’s you babygirl, fucking yourself on my dick like I told you to, I don’t have to do any-“ he groaned “work, your such a good girl, my princess” he praised making you whimper and lean down. In this moment he could stay there forever, your ass on display as you bounced your whimpers in his neck right on his sweet spot. “Shit y/n”he moaned, letting his hands go to your ass and lift his legs to thrust into you, “no tommy” you say weakly, pushing his legs down “I get to fuck myself on you like you said” you hit back a moan.

“I did princess- fuck” he let out an ‘uh’ as you clenched around him, his eyebrows furrowed as his mouth opened, you leaned back up to kiss his neck, his sweet spot and made hickeys with no hesitation. You moved faster and placed your hands in his chest and hearing your ass on his thighs, the slickness coating all over his member and trailing down his thighs “fuck!” You come, “don’t stop-please! Don’t stop” he practically begged, thats more than a whine and you were willing to take it, it was all so good, so good.

His hands left your ass and went up to your neck, looking down at his darkened eyes as he bit his lip “fucking yourself so good on my dick, fuck!” He came and shot his load up you “yes Tom!” You whimpered and arched your back coming with him. He painted your walls as you ride it out, him massaging your thighs and biting his lip as he watched his cum trail down your thighs and on his dick.

“You tired?” You asked, throwing yourself over, he looked over “yeah” he reached over to kiss you and wrap his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest, he turned off the light on his night stand as you lifted your leg over his thigh, both on the left side of the bed and taking in each other, drawing patterns in his chest. “So does this mean-“ “yeah of course”

You woke up in the same spot, looking up at Thomas and finding him already looking at you. “Hey princess” he smiled, taking his arm and drawing circles on yours. “Hey bubs” you kissed his chest. You only admired each other before having to clean each other up, sharing a shower, nothing happened but giggles and soft rubs on the butt, of course until you put on the lingerie that you bought yesterday.

Zhuk (Mafia Beej!AU The Conglomerate) x F!Reader: Homecoming

Well my dears, it has been awhile. My first semester of grad school is about to come to a close and I feel bad that I haven’t written in so long. So, I decided to post a commission I wrote a WHILE ago for @yankyo, starring everyone’s favorite Russian mafia man, Zhuk. I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. I usually tag these fics with beetlejuice stuff since these boys are based off of Beetlejuice and share traits with him and stuff, but if people think I shouldn’t, let me know. I wouldn’t wanna clog the tags with stuff people don’t want to see, but I wanna make sure the people that do wanna read it can find it easily. If anyone has any suggestions or anything, I’m all ears!

WARNING: NSFW. Rough sex, brat taming, anal sex, dirty talk, slight degradation/humiliation, aftercare. MINORS DNI 

The mirror reflected a devious picture come one warm, muggy, infuriatingly quiet night at the estate. Her gaze traveled up her reflection, starting at her feet clad in strappy black heels that she still managed to be short in despite their impressive height. Her legs looked absolutely incredible in her favorite pair of fishnet stockings, held in place by the garters connected to her lacy black panties that perfectly cupped her ass. Paired with a black leather chest harness that fully exposed her breasts and a matching collar adorned with silver chains that dripped luxuriously across her skin, she looked like every straight man with a pulse’s wet dream. She turned slowly, looking herself over carefully for any imperfections. If tonight was to go as she had planned it, she needed to be perfect, not for her husband, but for herself. 

Her husband. She couldn’t help but scowl as the memory of him leaving her for a business trip entered her mind, a curt kiss on the forehead the only goodbye she received from him before he was off, chattering away in Russian on his phone as if she didn’t exist. It was the third time that month that he’d left her to rush off to Europe on some important business he refused to tell her about, and tonight was the night he was due to arrive home. The others had kept her company, of course, but they all could tell how much his supposed disregard for her had gotten under her skin, and far be it from them to tell her how to feel. They did what they could, keeping her occupied and loved with time spent drowning in liquor and laughter, but they all knew that there was nothing they could do to replace the attention of Zhuk while he was away. But tonight...well, tonight that attention was going to be all for her. 

With a smirk, she turned away from the mirror, striding confidently out of her bedroom and down the empty hall. The others had retreated to their rooms for the night, knowing full well what hell would likely be unleashed upon them if they dared to interrupt her master plan. The only sound that accompanied her was the satisfying click of her stilettos on the stairs as she descended into the foyer, momentarily surprised that not even Bajo had snuck out of his room for a quick look at her all dolled up. Her thoughts were quickly dispelled at the sound of the magnificent front doors being unlocked, quickly swinging open to reveal none other than Zhuk...speaking rapidly on his cell phone in Russian. 

It took everything in her not to scream at the top of her lungs as he sped past the foyer and into the kitchen after only briefly meeting her gaze, not even sparing her a second glance as he barked unhappily in his native tongue. Whoever was on the other end must’ve been getting an earful, but Y/N simply couldn’t give two shits what they were being scolded for. Here she was, standing in the middle of the room with her fucking tits out, and her husband didn’t even notice, too wrapped up in his business like he always was. She could feel the frustrated tears building in her eyes, suddenly feeling utterly ridiculous for planning all of this in the first place if he wasn’t even going to care enough to spare her a passing glance. Before she could continue spiraling into self-pity, she heard a soft gasp from her left and looked up to see Zhuk, cell phone held loosely in hand and his mouth agape at the sight of her. If anything, his delayed reaction only served to anger her more, feelings of inadequacy and loneliness and sadness swirling around in her stomach as his gaze shamelessly raked up and down her body. 

“Moya zhena,” he sighed wistfully, pocketing his cell phone and taking a few steps closer to where she stood at the base of the stairs. “You are...could this all be for me?” At that, she scowled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

“It could’ve been,” she snapped, not even finding it in her to care when he flinched at her angry tone. “But you’ll probably just be too busy, right? Maybe I should book you another plane ticket back to Moscow, since you’ll just ignore me while you’re here anyway.” Zhuk paused, seemingly taking in everything she’d said and trying to determine what to do next, but the long silence made Y/N shift uncomfortably where she stood, suddenly feeling far too exposed as she used her hands to cover herself. 

“...Darling, where is this coming from?” he asked slowly, though she could hear him struggling to maintain his patience with her outburst. No, no, he didn’t get to be angry, because now it was her goddamn turn to be pissed at him and she wasn’t going to let him take that from her, not for a second. 

“What do you care?” she spat, reaching down to angrily undo her heels and slip out of them, tossing them carelessly to the side before covering herself up again. “Sooner or later, you’ll just be gone again, or you’ll come back and be too busy with your phone to notice your wife is in fucking lingerie, so do us both a favor and just get it over with now so I don’t have be disappointed again!” And with that, she spun on her heel and ran back up the stairs, ignoring the sound of his heavy footfall behind her as she rushed back to her room and slammed the door behind her, quickly locking it and sliding down the wood, sitting herself on the ground and trying to maintain her composure despite Zhuk quickly pounding on the door. 

“Y/N, let me in!” he demanded, trying to keep his voice as gentle as he could but goddammit, he was stressed and tired and this wasn’t what he was expecting to come home to, even if it was his fault for being so busy. . 

“Bite me!” she called back, not even caring how much trouble she’d likely land herself in for being so disrespectful. She was hurt, she was angry, and she didn’t give two flying fucks about him or his rules. She heard him snarl under his breath and smirked victoriously, suddenly growing more confident knowing that she could get under his skin. “Well, you could’ve, if you hadn’t been fucking blind.” 

“I will break down this door,” he growled, tugging aggressively at the doorknob to no avail. “You know damn well that your anger does not excuse bad behavior. Now be a good girl and let me in.” 

She was tempted, for a moment. Perhaps he’d apologize, hold her close, treat her right, the way he should’ve from the very beginning...but did she want to give in that easily? After all he put her through, didn’t he deserve to have to fight for what he wanted? Didn’t he deserve to wait as long as he made her wait? ...She couldn’t, could she? But hearing his frustrated muttering in Russian and his impatient pacing in front of her door...her decision was already made. She crawled away from the door to settle at the base of her bed, facing the door with her back against the edge of the mattress and slowly spreading her legs. Her fingers dipped below the waistband of her panties and down towards her pussy, and the hiss of pleasure she let out as she began to circle her clit got Zhuk quiet, his pacing coming to an abrupt halt.

“...What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hushed like the calm before a storm. She replied only with a soft moan. “Y/N, what are you doing?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she replied cheekily, her words cutting off with a soft gasp because fuck, this felt so good. She hadn’t let any of the others touch her while Zhuk was away, never finding herself quite in the mood for that kind of distraction, so it had been several days without this kind of touch and as badly as she wanted it from him, teasing him while he was helpless to stop her was simply sublime. 

“Think carefully now, dragotsennyy,” he growled, once again pawing uselessly at the door once more before pushing away from it with a frustrated snarl. “You can’t hide in there forever, and if you keep this up, I swear on the motherland that you will wish you were never born.” 

A shiver ran through her at the way he growled his threats at her, but the longer she got away with it, the more powerful she felt. There he was, an incredibly powerful demon that could break her in half with one hand if he wanted to, and he was at her mercy. The pleasure swirled together with the self-satisfaction to have her throwing her head back with laughter interspersed with pleasured gasps. 

“I already wish I was never born, that’s not much of a threat!” she retorted teasingly, letting one finger dip down to circle her entrance before pressing inside her. She moaned loudly, putting on as much of a show for her poor husband as she could. “Fuck, it feels so good! Don’t you wish it was you inside me, muzh? Oh well, too bad.” 

She quickly slipped another finger inside her, losing herself to the satisfaction of knowing that she was winning...she thought. But Zhuk was being strangely quiet. No pounding on the door, no jiggling the doorknob, not even a swear in Russian beneath his breath. It’s almost as if he’d left...but he wouldn't have. Not now, not again. She paused her ministrations, listening intently for any sign of hi-

CRASH. 

In an instant, she was lifted off of the floor, her husband’s hand wrapped firmly around her throat with her toes just barely scraping the ground. She gripped uselessly at his ironclad grip, struggling against him to no avail. His hair was a wild mixture of burning crimson and vibrant magenta, though his eyes were all anger, smoldering with an ire that was just ready to ignite. Her eyes traveled behind him, where she saw the remains of her door, hanging pathetically from its hinges. 

“I did tell you I would break down the door,” he said darkly. She couldn’t respond, not with his grip around her throat supporting her entire body weight- she gasped desperately for air when he dropped her to the floor, landing solidly on her knees at his feet. “Now...we’re going to try this again. Was this all for me, malen'kiy?” 

Y/N stared up at him defiantly, keeping her mouth firmly shut despite knowing that there was no way he’d let her get away with it. Indeed, it only took a few seconds of petulant silence for him to tangle his fingers tightly in her hair, tugging harshly and wrenching a yelp from her throat. 

“Fine,” he spat, using his free hand to quickly undo his belt and lower his zipper, freeing his cock from the confines of his underwear. “I’ll put your mouth to better use, then.” He let go of her hair, but far from showing her mercy, he instead thrust his fingers into her mouth, prying it open forcefully before guiding his cock past her lips, groaning with satisfaction as he pushed himself all the way down her throat, stopping only when her nose was nestled firmly against his groin. He held her there until her eyes began to tear, but she held firm, keeping herself from gagging despite the impressive length of him pushing so far into her throat that her neck bulged. Finally, after far too long, he pulled back, giving her only a moment to rest before picking up a brutal pace, fucking her face as if it were only a toy. The feeling of his cock repeatedly plunging down her throat sent her mind spinning, and despite the defiance she so desperately clung to, she could feel the comfortable weight of submission slowly beginning to settle over her. She held still like a good girl, keeping her teeth back and mouth as wide open as she could no matter how badly her jaw ached. The longer he fucked her face like this, the more desperately she desired to be his perfect girl, her brattiness momentarily seeping out of her in favor of obedience. She missed this. Below her anger was a longing that caused her to miss him so terribly that she ached, and even if he was punishing her for her misbehavior, at least he was here. At least she was his. And there it was, the pleasant fuzziness that came with her submission, just on the edges of her awareness as he clutched desperately at her hair and took her mouth with utter brutality. She would be lucky if her throat didn’t ache come tomorrow morning. 

“Kakaya khoroshaya shlyukha, berushchaya moy chlen,” he snarled, letting himself have only a few more seconds of her mouth before pulling out completely, still holding her by the hair while he frantically stroked his cock. “Mouth open, tongue out.” 

She obeyed, as if she had much of a choice, her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her eyes slipping shut as she waited for, there it was, the warm feeling of his cum sticking to her skin, some landing on her exposed tongue but also clinging to her lips and even the tip of her nose. Knowing better than to swallow without permission, she held herself still, opening her eyes to watch the tail end of his orgasm before meeting his gaze obediently, allowing him to enjoy the sight of her covered in his cum. And enjoy it he did, taking several seconds to paint a mental picture of his wife marked so perfectly before letting go over her hair and moving to remove his pants. “Clean yourself up,” he commanded almost carelessly. 

She obeyed immediately, swallowing what was already on her tongue before using her fingers to clean the rest from her face, swallowing it dutifully. As she came back to herself after such an intense experience, her desire for revenge mixed with her overwhelming need to submit to his control as well as oil and vinegar. She wanted him to take her until she didn’t even remember why she was angry, but she also wanted to send him packing for ruining her perfect plans, and she wasn’t sure which desire was stronger. 

“On the bed,” he commanded, striding over to toss any extra decorative pillows to the floor. Her opposing desires swirled angrily in her mind, but despite the fuzziness at the edges of her vision that so often came with her willing submission, she stayed put, staring defiantly down at the ground. When Zhuk realized she had no intention of moving, he strode over to her slowly, now fully nude and his cock already beginning to reharden. 

“Is this the game you would like to play tonight, moya zhena?” he asked, his voice heavy with the weight of his dominance. She shivered at his tone, but held her tongue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her perfect obedience. “Because I have no problem with reminding you whose orders you’re meant to obey. Or have I left you alone so long that you’ve forgotten?” 

Her scowl only grew at the reminder that yes, he had left her alone too long, so this is exactly what he deserved. If he wanted her, he was going to have to be a big boy and take her. 

“Here are your options, dragotsennyy,” he said, almost too calmly. “You can obey me, as you are meant to, and climb willingly onto your bed. Or I could drag you up by the hair. Which will it be?”

Knowing this may be her last chance to speak, she lifted her head to smile petulantly at him, using every last ounce of brattiness left in her. 

“I’ll take what’s behind Door Number 2.” 

A man of his word, he fisted her hair with a snarl, showing no mercy as he dragged her up off the floor and onto her bed, paying no mind to her yelps of pain as he tossed her unceremoniously onto the mattress. He wasn’t far behind, pressing her down against the pillows and letting one hand trail tantalizingly down her body. 

“You dressed up so pretty for me, dorogoy,” he crooned in her ear, giving the lobe a nip. “It’s a shame you won’t get to wear this again.” 

Before she could even protest, he was on a rampage, tearing into her panties with a feral snarl and ripping them off her body with his teeth, setting the ruined garment aside to reveal her pussy, already dripping wet and ready for him. But he wasn’t done. He gripped tightly at her stockings, tearing them to shreds with inhuman strength and littering the bed with tiny scraps of fishnets. Deciding to show a sliver of mercy, he undid her harness rather than tear it off her and tossed it aside, leaving her completely bare and soaking wet for him. She grumbled under her breath knowing some of her favorite garments were ruined, but she couldn’t think about that, not when Zhuk was roughly wrenching her thighs apart and trailing his fingers between her folds, gathering her slick on the tips of his fingers with a hum. 

“Aww, and to think you acted so tough,” he mused, chuckling to himself when she shivered at his touch. “Would you like to see how wet you are for me, moya zhena?” 

Expecting his fingers, she balked when he reached for her ruined panties, having soaked them through from how wet she became from getting her face fucked. Zhuk balled them up and, not willing to wait for her to open her mouth, wrenched her lips open with two fingers pressing down on her tongue, quickly replacing them with her soiled panties and giving her a quick slap to her cheek for good measure, leaving behind a trail of her spit. She yelped around her panties, already tasting just how wet she’d become from the beginning of her punishment and blushing darkly at the shame of it all. Satisfied, Zhuk moved back down her body, pulling her thighs apart roughly to reveal her dripping pussy and sighing at the sight of it, aching for him to just slide inside of her. But...he had a better idea. 

“I don’t think I want to fuck such a slutty pussy,” he mused to himself, though it didn’t stop him from running his thumb between her folds and chuckling when she struggled to keep herself from whining in protest. “Aww, does my little brat want me inside her? Don’t fret, malenk’iy, you’ll still have me…” He trailed off, dragging his slick-soaked fingers up to circle the puckered rim of her ass. Realizing what he meant, she couldn’t stop herself from letting out a long, low moan, arching her ass up and grinding back against his teasing touch. Still, he kept it light, just barely circling her entrance with the tips of his fingers. “...but only if you beg.” 

Fuck. She growled under her breath in frustration, her panties already growing more soaked from her saliva. How did he expect her to beg with her panties in her mouth? Thinking about it for a moment, her cheeks grew red as she realized what he wanted, but...there was nothing that would keep her from having him inside her. 

“Please…” she whined, her words muffled as she struggled to speak around the lace filling her mouth. 

“What’s that? I can’t hear you, shlyuka.”

“Please, muzh, I want you…” 

“Louder!” 

“Please!” she yelled around her gag, blushing furiously at the sound of her muffled words. Still, it seemed to be enough for Zhuk, as he hummed in satisfaction to himself and quickly plunged one finger inside of her, hissing at the feeling of her tight walls clenching around him. She gasped loudly, trailing off to a reedy whine as she ground back on his finger, already desperate for more. He plunged his finger in and out of her before quickly adding another, spreading them apart to get her nice and stretched for him. A steady stream of whines and moans fell from her lips, muffled only slightly by her panties as the tips of his fingers stroked at her sensitive walls. When he thought she’d had enough, he pulled them out, cooing almost condescendingly at the way she whined in protest. 

“Patience, dorogoy,” he said almost mockingly, reaching into the bedside table to pull out a bottle of lube and quickly getting himself slicked up for her. “Or is my little slut truly that desperate for me?” 

She couldn’t deny it. That fuzziness on the fringe of her vision had grown, her submission fully settling over her enough that she was desperately needy for him. She would crawl on her hands and knees across the entire estate just to have his cock inside her. She settled down onto her elbows, making sure her ass was presented for him, and kept silent, not wanting to speak unless he truly asked her to. From now on, he was in control. 

“That’s what I thought,” he growled, quickly lining his cock up with her entrance. “Deep breath for me now, kotenok…” 

She inhaled deeply, and when he finally began to push inside of her, she released it with a desperate moan. Fuck, the stretch was perfect, his cock practically splitting her in half as he slid inside her without mercy, not stopping for a single second until he was fully hilted inside her, his hips pressed firmly up against her ass. 

“That’s it, there’s my good girl,” he hissed, struggling to keep himself still. He may have had to show her her place, but he still cared enough for her wellbeing not to start rutting her without giving her a moment to adjust. He leaned down, pressing the length of his chest to her back and whispering directly in her ear as he slowly began to move his hips. “This is what happens to naughty little brats who disobey. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” she moaned around her gag, grinding back against his cock to encourage him to just take her. He gave in, starting up a quick, hard rhythm that had the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust, but God, it wasn’t enough. “Please, harder!”

“Ohhhh no,” he growled, keeping his pace just shy of where she desperately needed it to be. “I don’t reward bad behavior, shlyuka. You want it that badly? Then I better hear you say you’re sorry.” 

If he’d asked her to 20 minutes ago, he would’ve been met with stony silence, but now, he’d so expertly taken down her walls and sent her so deep into subspace that she couldn’t stop herself if she tried.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out, trying in vain to grind back harder against the cock that she needed so badly. “I’m sorry I was bad, I’m sorry I teased you, please, just-ah!” 

There it was. Hearing those magic words, Zhuk simply snarled and buried his face into her neck, finally reaching the pace she craved. Every thrust inside her was like heaven, every nerve in her body alight with pleasure as her husband growled obscenities into her ear, taking her like an animal in heat. This, this was what she needed all goddamn week. 

“There’s my good girl,” he moaned directly into her ear, tangling his fingers in her hair just to wrench her head back to expose her neck. “Are you going to cum for me?”

Desperately, she nodded, reaching down to circle her fingers around her clit. Immediately, Zhuk slapped her hand away, replacing it with his own and pulling desperate yet muffled cries from her lips. Fuck, so close, just a little more-

“Cum for me,” he growled. “Let me feel my good little slut cum around my cock.” 

That was it. Her body gave in to the command, her orgasm rushing over her like a wave of heat hitting every nerve in her body, a desperate scream wrenching from her throat as she trembled in his arms. Zhuk fucked her through it, grunting with each thrust before reaching his own climax, spilling into her with a quiet groan. Out of breath, shaky, and blissed out beyond belief, Y/N collapsed onto the mattress, barely even feeling when Zhuk pulled out of her, his cum rushing hotly down her pussy and onto the mattress. Ignoring it completely, he moved up to pull her into his arms, letting her rest against his broad chest. He doted on her as much as he could, guiding her soaked panties out of her mouth and tossing them aside before pressing a soft kiss to her lips and petting her hair, just wanting her to know that he was there. Slowly, she came back to herself, her eyes sliding open to see her husband smiling softly down at her. 

“Are you alright now, moya lyubov?” he asked softly. With a smile, she nodded, nuzzling into him lovingly. When he sighed almost despondently, she looked back up at him with concern, finding remorse shining in his eyes. “You were right. I’ve been neglecting you too much lately, and I promise you that I won’t be rushing off on a business trip any time soon. That didn’t give you an excuse to misbehave, but I’m sorry that I made you feel as if you had to act out to get my attention.” With a soft smile, Y/N leaned up to kiss his cheek, nuzzling against him before settling back on his chest.

“Apologize again to me in the morning,” she said, her words interrupted with a yawn. “I might’ve forgotten by then...” 

And with that, she drifted off to sleep, comforted by the fact that finally, finally, her husband was home. 

you’re only mortal

A short narrative for an NPC in my current dnd campaign. 1486 words.

The first time Reynin Carlile died, it was a surprise. 

A sword between his shoulder blades and he was done. The steel severed his spinal cord, punched through his lungs, and emerged on the other side. Reynin didn’t even see who stabbed him. He was dead before he hit the ground. 

The second time was a surprise, too, if only for the fact that dying doesn’t happen twice. 

Reynin awoke to a dark silence and a dull pain in his back. His hands were clasped together, which was odd, because Reynin didn’t sleep like this. He felt cold metal beneath his fingers and his confusion grew, because he definitely didn’t sleep with his sword. His dark vision did little to orient him, and his breathing quickly thickened the surrounding air, so he deduced he was in an enclosed space. Rich cushioning cradled him on all sides, soft and almost comfortable.

Oh, he was in a coffin. 

Reynin’s pulse spiked. He rapidly remembered dying, and then dreaming, and then faint traces of a conversation. Something older than him, older than Eunara, had decided he would live again, but the details slipped away when he reached for them. All he could deduce was that his goddess had touched him and he was blessed to return.

Some use that was, locked in a casket. Reynin swiftly panicked, beating on the lid and shouting for someone, anyone, to hear him. His own voice was close and too loud in his ears, the pounding of his fists ringing dead. It occurred to him that there was likely a mountain of graveyard dirt overhead, the realization lodging in his throat and choking him. He swallowed and hiccupped, terrified as his thoughts raced to Hartline, to his friends, and the sword that had buried itself in his chest.

Someone had killed him. As the air thinned around him, Reynin was able to cobble this truth together. Someone deliberately drove their blade into his back - a real, living person, because the wraiths they’d been fighting were unarmed - and ended his life. He remembered a brief flash of steel breaking through his ribcage, mild surprise, and then nothing. His lungs burned as he sucked for air, tears streaming down either side of his face and pooling in his ears.

It fully hit him. I died. 

I died and they buried me.

His oxygen went quick and his life burned away again.

The third, fourth, and fifth times were much the same - awakening, remembering, and dying quickly of hypoxia. It took a few deaths for the panic to settle down, to use the precious minutes of lucidity he had before confusion set in, and assess his situation. Reynin’s suffocation took a little longer the sixth time around as he forced himself to breathe slower and think.

Soyinka wouldn’t have given him this gift for nothing. It would be a waste to bring him back - repeatedly, at that - only for him to remain locked underground for eternity. She must believe he was capable of escaping, and that he had all the necessary resources to do so. His chest ached as he struggled for air. What tools were in this box with him?

His sword. His hands. His brain. That pretty much summed it up. He didn’t have the space for a good strike with his fists and his sword was all but useless, but Reynin could still feel magic guttering low within him. That candle flame of hope was all he had.

With a murmured plea to Soyinka, Reynin summoned what little magic remained and blasted the roof of his prison. The force of the impact knocked the air from his lungs, but he was rewarded with the sharp CRACK of splitting wood. Dizzy, uncoordinated, he hit it again, and blow by blow he worked the lid loose. Every breath was fire until, suddenly, it was earth - clods of soil rushed in to bury Reynin further.

He threw a sleeve over his face as graveyard dirt surged around him, coughing and swearing and struggling. This sort of suffocation was somehow worse, loam crowding his lungs and crusting his eyes. He sucked a breath through his sleeve, making his choice in the same moment he recognized it. Choke on dirt and continue to die here, or crawl to the surface and live. 

Reynin crawled. 

He only died once more in his desperate scramble to freedom. By the time he suffocated for the seventh time, Reynin concluded he’d much rather be stabbed again than experience another death like that. Earth was everywhere- it blocked his ears and caked his hair and coated his throat and sealed his eyes shut. He was no longer an elf but a worm, and for what felt like an eternity the crawling was all he knew.

Until he finally emerged on the surface, retching and coughing up grave soil, limbs trembling from the effort. Vaguely, he registered cool night air on his skin. He was alive. Somehow, despite everything, he was alive. He wept and knuckled debris from his eyes, greedily pulling in gasp after gasp of blessed fresh air. He was never taking breathing for granted ever again.

When he was finally able to see, he found himself staring at his own headstone, washed pale in the moonlight.

REYNIN CARLILE 1588 - 1611 BELOVED COMPANION AND FRIEND

With shaking fingers, Reynin checked his own pulse. It tapped out an abnormally rapid rhythm, but blood was moving through his veins. He certainly felt alive. Living hurt - his skin stung with the scrapes of clawing through the soil and oxygen deprivation made his head ache. He knelt in the dirt and listened to the wind in the grass, at a loss for what to do next. 

It wasn’t like he could go back to the temple. He would be decried as a heretic for his resurrection. Or murdered again. Both, in all likelihood. The space between his shoulder blades ached where the blade pierced him. He didn’t have a clue who killed him - none of his fellow paladins hated him enough to do such a thing, as far as he was aware - but whoever was responsible likely lurked within the temple walls this very moment.

He could draw conclusions about motives. Reynin Carlile wasn’t a vain individual, but he possessed enough self awareness to know he was both admired and reviled, depending on who was asked. Over the years, he’d collected enough information about the Mortal Coil’s history to be dangerous. In hindsight, the level to which he spoke out against his leadership was probably what did him in.

He glanced down at his funeral whites, muddied and ruined from his escape, searching for regret and failing to find any. This was a death Hartline would approve of, he thought wryly. Then his breath snagged in his throat.

Hartline. 

Reynin’s heart broke all at once when he realized what this meant for them. He couldn’t tell Hartline he was alive. That he had been murdered, met Soyinka, and returned. Hartline would make a hotblooded decision and get themself killed in ten seconds flat. Guilt crawled inside him. His absence ensured Hartline’s safety. Maybe in their grief they’d be overlooked by whoever chose to end Reynin’s life. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks, carving tracks through the grime on his face. My lady, he thought, what a heavy gift you’ve given me. 

Suddenly, rather than feeling bewildered and inconvenienced, he was very sad that he’d died. Even though he returned, the life he knew was over, his path abruptly diverted to a bigger purpose. A different sort of dying, unmourned and unremarkable. He cried with a lot of dignity for someone who just emerged from his own grave. As he watched the soil soak up his tears, he decided he deserved a good and proper breakdown once he was safely away from Whitecap. A private funeral, just for himself.

Unsteady, chest aching, Reynin stood. He picked his way out of the bed of loose earth until he stood on solid grass, gaze lingering on the distant temple spires that speared through the gray dawn. Unconsciously, he tried to brush the dirt off his robes before realizing how utterly useless that would be. A long, thin sigh stuttered out of him. But then he wiped his eyes. Raised his chin.

Enough of this. He had the right to feel sorry for himself, but certainly not the time. Running into his own mourners was not ideal, and the sun was quickly rising. Reynin turned his eyes from the horizon and began picking his way through the graveyard. 

Soyinka’s Blessed, he mused as he went. What a joke. He wondered if his goddess was regretting her decision, watching her Blessed leave town on foot with his death count already at seven.

A few miles from Whitecap, he stopped short with a barely audible, “Fuck.”

He’d left his sword in the coffin.

Super self-indulgent FAHC AU wherein for whatever reason Geoff doesn’t come to Los Santos to start the FAKE AH Crew until ~later.

Meanwhile, everyone ends up in Los Santos anyway - because reasons - and have to scrape by without the support of the crew behind them?

Like, hacker/thief/??? Gavin ends up in Los Santos via a series of unfortunate events in which he is a total shit and sticks his nose where it doesn’t belong?

Cue his ~fleeing to the US and meandering his way along - getting in trouble along the way, because of course he does, but also amassing a rather impressive list of contacts and such as well - to Los Santos.

Where, lol, of course he gets in over his head yet again? Young and stupid and tries to get one past the wrong guy and before he knows it he’s got himself an arrangement, right?

Work for the guy he tried to fuck over or be horrifically murderized, and oh, hey? The family and friends he left back in England? Sure would be a shame if something happened to them, you know? They seem lovely.

(Why would you just look at the pictures and videos this guy has of them doing all sorts of everyday things and accidents happen, you know. Awful, that.)

Anyway, anyway, Gavin keeps his head down and plays good little hacker/thief/???.

Gives his new boss what he asks for out of him and no more, doesn’t volunteer information or skills or anything he may have himself or know someone who knows someone who might be useful.

No.

Gavin does what’s asked of him and lets his boss’ goons and thugs push him around - little weasel, a coward and so on?

But also Gavin is making a list (or two or three) that has all kinds of interesting information to be had in them? Things his boss’ enemies or other such interested parties could use to utterly ruin the bastard.

Gavin’s got plans, you see, it’s just a matter of time and all that.

Until then he’s meek and mild and does his part whether it be hacking or off to steal some shiny little bit of interest to his boss or whatever else his boss knows he’s capable of. (Nasty stuff, when you get down to it, strange how his boss never wonders how Gavin knows how to do any of this stuff or rest easy thinking they won’t be used on him, but arrogance will do that to people, I guess?)

ANYWAY.

Things are going along...well enough when Gavin’s boss brings in a new hacker.

This kid (not really a kid, if anything a couple of years younger than Gavin at most, but he seems young) who buckles down and plays nice without the rough treatment Gavin and the handful of other hackers and “specialists” like him that have been through the base where Gavin works most of the time.

Gavin would let things run their course for this “Matt Bragg” but he’s not like the others Gavin’s been forced to work with?

They were always the same kid of wrong as his boss and his boss’ favorite goons and thugs. Mean and cruel for the sake of it and didn’t worry who they were hurting so long as they made a profit off it.

But Matt Bragg, okay.

Quiet kid, keeps to himself and gets this pinched look on his face when their boss decides whatever information he handed over to him was to be used in the most “efficient” way possible.

Matt gives their boss two different routes to obtain whatever shiny he’s after, one with minimal casualties on all sides but it’ll take a little longer. The other requires guards and security to be killed, but it shaves a hefty chunk of time off the entire operation, and no bet which one their boss chooses.

And, look.

The fact that Matt took the time to come up with two different approaches like that - contingency plans, yeah, sure, that’s a given - but Matt went out of his way to devise a tactic to avoid having to kill people.

Other things like that crop up from time to time, and Matt gets into trouble for it sometimes, taking too long to get the boss the information he wants because he’s concerned about having to kill some hired guns in a batch of mercs or rent a cops or whatever.

But he keeps on looking for those alternatives, and Gavin takes an interest.

Realizes Matt’s in the same boat as him with regards to working for their boss. Details might not be exactly the same, but whatever they are he ended up here same as Gavin, and that’s.

Interesting?

interesting.

Enough for Gavin to take that interest in Matt, sabotage him here and there so the boss gets pissed, yeah, punishes Matt by restricting his “privileges” and so on?

But there’s a good reason for that.

Because Matt’s good at what he does, too good, and there have been others like him through here before.

Got chewed up and spat out and left to fend for themselves when the cops (or worse) came looking.

Got set up, put on a job and left high and dry in the middle of it while the boss and his flunkies got away with the shiny they were after and a pretty little scapegoat/sacrifice left behind.

It’s where Matt’s headed if he’s not careful, and he isn’t.

Careful, that is.

Goes along with what the boss wants, but he’s the stubborn kind of idiot, you know?

Mouths off when he shouldn’t, and it gets him knocked around a bit. Gets him noticed by their boss’ goons and thugs when it’s the last thing people like them need or want.

Matt’s not stupid, realizes what’s going on and goes to confront Gavin about it, grabs his arm and freezes when Gavin lets out this little hiss f pain, pulls his arm back when Matt’s left staring at him.

Because in all the commotion Gavin’s sleeve got pulled up and there are these marks, bruises and worse and faded scars and -

“What - “

Gavin scowls at Matt, because rude, and also, idiot.

“Leave it alone, Matt Bragg,” he says, meaning Gavin deliberately fucking Matt over and everything else, because you know, because.

Those jobs and tasks and whatnot of Matt’s that Gavin sabotages him on?

Have to get done by someone, and Gavin’s reliable about things like that, isn’t he. (Has to be with everything he’s got on the line and all.)

So Gavin does the jobs/whatever Matt was supposed to and since Gavin has certain skills and the whatnot Matt doesn’t he ends up in the field when Matt would have remained at the base.

Gets hands on experience with whatever conundrum was posed to Matt, and sometimes that means he gets hurt because like hell will his boss offer him helpful support and such, you know?

It’s Gavin thieving about in hostile territory and with the odds stacked against him and shit always goes wrong.

And if it’s not the job/whatever where Gavin gets hurt you can bet their boss’ goons and thugs have something to say about things. (Gavin’s got a mouth on him even now, and makes enemies like you wouldn’t believe without trying.)

So anyway, anyway, Matt is like !!! and oh, you fucking moron, and drags Gavin off to get propery patched up.

Cue Friendship montage in which they realize they’re more or less working towards the same goals - Gavin wants the fuck out of this arrangement he was forced into and would rather do that than burn things to the ground while he’s still inside.

But Matt?

Lol, fucker would cheerfully burn the place down around him and figure his way out from there.

So.

Montage sequence in which they team up and utterly wreck their boss and his operation.

And, you know, because hackers end up filthy rich afterwards.

Fuck around for a while because Freedom and Choice and :DDDDDDDDDDDDDD but then they get word their boss had enemies who are looking to take over his territory and such and Gavin and Matt are like “...wait.”

Between them they have the resources and connections to set themselves for life in Los Santos, so they do?

Start setting up their own little criminal empires in the remains of their former boss’, and they start by bringing in assholes like this Rimmy Tim guy Matt met out at a bar one night?

Recently liberated from their boss and getting a drink to celebrate while Gavin was making sure things were good back in England and his boss’ allies/whoever couldn’t touch them and Matt’s more than a little tipsy, you know?

Mouths off to the wrong guy and almost gets the shit beat out of him but this weirdo in purple and orange (”I remember yellow, too?”) comes along and plays white knight for Matt.

At which point Matt has to buy him a drink as a thank you and the two of then end up getting shit-faced drunk.

Also you know.

Smooches are exchanged because oh, hey, he’s cute/hot/I like his face a lot before the alcohol kicks in and they end up snuggled together on a bed and passing the fuck out.

Not important whose bed, so much as the !!! the morning afterward realizing they went home with some weirdo and...smooched? Before snuggling and passing out???

And then awkward dating, because of course, and hey, since we’re building a criminal empire I totally know a guy, Matt says to Gavin, and then has to add, “It’s uh. We’re dating? But he’s exactly what we’re looking for for the whole...criminal empire thing???”

Gavin would be highly critical of Matt and his everything if it weren’t for the fact a bounty hunter he tangled with a ways back finally tracked him down?

Michael is super not thrilled with him, because of course?

This whole Thing where Michael got sent after this asshole hacker/thief/whatever in Gavin and they ended up being all 80s movies romcom/action flick flirting while avoiding the legit hitmen sent after Gavin?

Saving one another’s lives - at one point administering mouth-to-mouth - and getting matching flesh wounds in a shootout followed by a teensy amount of torture by some baddie?

And then!

Michael rethinking turning Gavin in only for Gavin to make that decision moot when Gavin knocked him out and chained him to a motel radiator before fleeing to parts unknown?

Only not so unknown as Michael finally found him.

There’s a cat and mouse game that ends up with both of then soaking wet - caught out in a rainstorm/went for a swim in a river/body of water - and Michael scowling at Gavin like he’s about to beat the shit out of him?

Only he kind of does...not that, what with the Angry Kissing that’s happening and Gavin’s !!! that turns to :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD and Michael’s >:((((((((((((((((((((((((((( that turns to >:((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( becuase Gavin is a piece of shit and Michael hates him so fucking much, stop laughing you little shit!!1! >:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

Anyway.

Gavin and Matt have Jeremy and Michael, and then the rest trickle in?

Like.

Gavin worked with a gang a while back that hired this sniper - odd sort, but damn good with a sniper rifle and the kind you can trust to keep their mouth shut.

Ray’s not in it for the long-haul, not looking for a crew, but he’s always up to do a favor for friends and such.

And then Michael meets Lindsay through -

“Don’t fucking ask, seriously.”

And then!

Some friend of Jeremy’s in Trevor - this !!! You!!1! - moment between Gavin and Trevor because Thieves!!1! who may or may not have run into one another in the field and ensuing shenanigans as they were after the same shiny and oh, what a fun night that was, eh?

Alfredo just.

Suddenly fucking there???

Seems to know Michael who is like, “Oh, this fucker,” and no one can tell if he likes Alfredo at first? But then it comes out Alfredo used to be a bounty hunter too before he decided it was more fun being a “bad guy”

(Extenuating circumstances in which he was hired by some people to bring in some poor bastard who was innocent of whatever crime they said he committed because reasons? Alfredo finding out and then shenanigans in which he saved the poor guy’s life and set them up with a new life somewhere and ended up being framed for crimes he didn’t commit and all that. And since he was being framed for crimes he didn’t commit, why the hell not go out and commit actual crimes?

But.

Like.

Fun crimes.)

And then!!1!

Just as things are going smoothly, Gavin and Matt’s old boss manages to hire some assholes to kill Gavin? Matt would be great, sure, but the focus is on making Gavin super fucking dead, and everyone is freaking out, right, because for whatever reason they all like the little shit?

General sort of panic/mayhem until one of the assholes hired to kill Gavin actually gets their hands on him?

Catches him alone somewhere and while everyone is panicking trying to find Gavin, Gavin himself is :DDDDDDDDDDDD because the asshole who caught him is the fucking Vagabond.

When everyone gets to where they are Gavin’s like ??? at all the fear/panic he’s seeing and is like. “Guys, it’s my ex!”

Because this whole thing way, way before Michael and such where Gavin met Ryan and somehow wasn’t murdered?

Managed to make friends with the bastard that turned into something more and it was good, really, really good, until it wasn’t.

Someone from Ryan’s past gunning for him and Ryan ran Gavin off - “Bastard shot me!” but Gavin’s not mad, not anymore.

And it wasn’t like Ryan ran him off so much as dumped him at the ER and left Gavin to deal with the gunshot wound and explaining how he came by it to the authorities and then trying to find the bastard again afterward.

Which...he didn’t, but after months looking for him his contacts told him the Vagabond had set up shop in a city somewhere and seemed to be doing well for himself?

And Gavin was like :(((((((((((( because oh, well then, thinking maybe Ryan was better off without him weighing him down and such?

(Because hey, Vagabond and some hacker/thief/whatver in Gavin and honestly, no doubt who the more capable/dangerous one of them was.)

Thinking if Ryan wanted to, he could have come back for Gavin, or at least looked for him, but he hadn’t,so.

Gavin left him to it, kept on his way towards eventually arriving in Los Santos and everything that happened since - including Michael, oh shit - and then, uh.

Super awkward inching towards Mavinwood with Gavin and his feelings for Michael and Ryan and Michael and Ryan with their feelings for Gavin? But also bonding over the fact they have feelings for Gavin, because the guy’s a little shit, you know?

Complete asshole, and oh my God, do you want to hear about this one thing he did once?”

And so on, and also other reasons such as oh no, he’s hot and oh no, he’s an unbearable dumbass, why do I always fall for them?

Fiona comes along because Gavin’s old friends in England get curious about what’s going on with him and there’s a misunderstanding and she kid of, sort of, tries to kill him?

Like.

A lot.

Worse than that time every asshole in the city (and beyond) were after the price on Gavin’s head and persistent as hell and “Wait, Dan told you to what?”

And Fiona’s like “He said, and aI quote, ‘Take care of the wanker, for me, would you, Fiona? I’ll owe you,” and other such things and Gavin almost dies from laughing so hard while Fiona’s like “What? What are you laughing at, you asshole?”

More shenanigans and such and by the time Geoff and Jack do get to Los Santos they’ve heard about this weird as fuck crew  - dangerous, rumors say they took out the biggest name in Los Santos’ history to get where they are - and are greeted with Gavin and Matt and all the other assholes, what even??

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME: MontaDoc Edition? Pretty please? Or any MontaDoc content. I crave it. Much 💕

of course!!!!!!! sorry this has taken so long, but i sincerely hope you enjoy it!!! 💝💝💝

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - for fucking EVER!!!!!! 

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - two words: mutual. pining. this period, often referred to as the “Beginning of Operation: T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. (Temporary Employment As Masters of Dad And Dad Sweethearts)” however, unbeknownst to anybody else in rainbow, by the time Operation: T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. had begun, gustave and gilles had already been together for a couple of years. how did they actually get together? about six months after the GIGN joined rainbow, gustave was in the middle of a mountain of paperwork when he heard someone clear their throat. he spun around to scold whoever it was for coming to medbay when they were sick (despite the fact that he was coming down with a nasty cold), only to be greeted with gilles leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. “gustave. you look as though you’re about to meet death for dinner. how can you expect to take care of others when you’re not taking care of yourself?” gustave just sighed and shook his head, muttering something about leaving him be for another couple hours so he could finish his paperwork, but gilles has other ideas. in mere moments, gustave goes from standing over his desk, organizing some files, to being held in gilles’ big strong arms. “wh- gilles! i-” he was cut off by his own yawn, and gilles smiled at him fondly. gustave felt himself blush, and he squirmed a little, but let gilles carry him to the GIGN quarters. as soon as it seemed like gilles was going to leave, gustave pulled him down for a kiss, then pushed their foreheads together and whispered “you’re going to carry me all this way and not even stay to make sure i don’t go back to my office?” gilles just grinned at him, climbing into bed beside him and wrapping his arms around him. 

How was their first kiss? - ROMANTIQUE! and smelling of sickness but what can you do

Wedding:

Who proposed? - monty!! he decided to cook a romantic candlelit dinner at their apartment, and when he sees gustave come home from work, all ragged and exhausted, yet still with a glimmer of determination and subtle joy, he says the first thing that comes to mind: “will you marry me?” gustave froze, his cheeks still rosy and his hair sprinkled with snowflakes. “will i what?” gilles realized his mistake and flushed, stammering a response before gustave was standing in front of him, staring at him scrutinizingly. “gilles.” he started, reaching to intertwine their hands, bring them between their chests, “what did you say?” gilles gulped, then steeled himself and got down on one knee. “gustave kateb. love of my life, light of my days. the man i want to wake up next to every day for the rest of my life. the man who i adore with every fiber of my being. would you do me the honor of being my husband?” 

Who is the best man/men? - for monty: bandit! for doc: lion (everyone but them thought it was a joke until the day of the wedding). dominic and olivier’s dual best man speech is the stuff of legends. there were tears, there was laughter, and there was an almost excessive amount of thinly-veiled sexual innuendos at various people in attendance (including both grooms; the best men were both drunk of their asses) 

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - they actually fight over who gets to pick twitch! meanwhile rook is in the background like D: (don’t worry, it’s decided that he and twitch will be ring bearer and flower girl respectively) for monty: dokkaebi. for doc: finka 

Who did the most planning? - they both did! though gustave focused on food and flowers, and gilles focused on the guest list and the venue (but they ran things by each other before any final decisions were made)

Who stressed the most? - gilles! he was so worried about their families not getting along that he actually prepared a “leave my husband and his family alone or so help me i will never speak to you again” speech

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - gilles’ racist, homophobic, french nationalist uncle (no one in the family likes him, so it wasn’t a big loss) (this uncle also made a surprise appearance at the family dinner where gilles introduced gustave to the rest of his family, and started yelling about “godamn immigrants” and other such bigotted statements, before gilles’ sister physically dragged him out of the house and threw him out the door. afterwards, up in the guest bedroom, gilles quietly tells gustave that it’s okay if he wants to leave, or break up, or anything, and gustave just laughs and tells him that if he wasn’t prepared for family members to express their distaste, he wouldn’t be dating a white man. he pressed a kiss to gilles’ temple, before whispering “although, he was right about my being an immigrant; it’s just that i was born in Paris and immigrated with my family to algeria, not the other way around. A for effort, though”)

Sex:

Who is on top? - gilles!!!! although gustave will occassionally ride him 👀👀👀

Who is the one to instigate things? - gustave is lowkey horny 24/7, but if gilles walks in on him bending over to get something from a cabinet, or tilting his head all the way back while drinking from his water bottle, thereby showcasing the way his throat moves as he swallows, he will lose his shit 

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - okay i’m gonna change this one to an explanation of some things from below. i personally think doc lowkey a freak, and gilles is happy to oblige him if that’s what his lapin wants (although he’s not entirely sure how he feels about this “overstimulation” and “post-orgasm torture” and “cock & ball torture” stuff. specifically, he’s not sure he likes hurting gustave, but, while he probably won’t admit it out loud, he secretly adores making gustave cry. when he’s so helpless and powerless and mindless, and he’s begging for something, but for what he doesn’t really know. maybe it’s the knowledge that gilles is in complete control, that gustave trusts him to do this, to make him hurt and cry and just melt, the knowlege that gustave is completely reliant on him for his pleasure, his pain, and everything in between. it’s a heady thing, and gilles isn’t sure how he feels about it, but he’s pretty sure the warmth in his chest and the warmth in his gut are good signs 

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - unless they’re doing some of the things mentioned above, or mayhaps some denial 👀👀👀 then yeah, everyone gets the same. they’re very considerate when they’re just doing vanilla 

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children: btw, the rest of this is kinda set in a post-retirement au (idrk i just want them to have a farm and be peaceful). give it whatever context u want tho, i was just havin fun

How many children will they have? - they will have four cats and a dog, as well as 2 horses, a donkey, 5 cows, an alpaca, a rabbit, some ducks, a flock of sheep and goats, and the occasional visit from a herd of deer from the forest surrounding their little farm

How many children will they adopt? - since humans CANNOT, i repeat, CANNOT, give birth to the animals listed above, they’re all adopted

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - no one. the animals potty train themselves

Who is the stricter parent? - gilles sneaks them treats while gustave lectures them about dietary habits, so take your pick 

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - whenever gilles leaves to run errands, one of the goats goes into a depression so deep and miserable that they’re utterly inconsolable until he comes back. once they hear the sound of the car in the driveway, this lil goat, lovingly named “Bastard” by gustave, will climb onto the roof of the house and scream his joy over gilles’ return to the heavens 

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - they tag team on things like feeding the animals and cleaning out the barn, but gustave is much more organized about it

Who is the more loved parent? - the cats, dog, one of the horses, donkey, alpaca, rabbit, goats (except for Bastard), and deer all prefer gustave, though gilles is adequate in the event that gustave is busy with something else (although the alpaca and donkey hate his guts, and will escape their pastures to break into the house and be near gustave. gilles maintains that they’re both devil-spawn, but gustave says he’s just being dramatic and that Thamin (alpaca) and Albalatin (donkey) are complete angels who could do no wrong)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - animals have NOT unionized. yet. 

Who cried the most at graduation? - idk if this counts, but when Bastard finally figured out how to get himself down from the roof after getting himself onto it, gilles cried for an hour

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - gilles lowkey does whenever thamin and albalatin escape to go out into the world and commit crimes, but only to make sure his husband doesn’t get upset when he finds out his precious creatures are hell beasts. certainly not out of anything resembling tolerance or *shudder* like 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - gustave, but gilles can make a mean bowl of cereal

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - gustave. gilles will eat something straight from the garden and gustave is like “DID YOU CHECK IF IT WAS RIPE?????? YOU COULD DIE FROM THAT YOU KNOW, THEN WHERE WOULD I BE???” 

Who does the grocery shopping? - gustave. gilles is something of a hermit in their town, and people often remark about the “sweet, kind doctor and his utter brick wall of a husband” 

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever Bastard goes a day without doing something Bastardous 

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - both lowkey prefer salad, since they care for many animals that would often get used for their meat, and they can’t bear to think about hurting any of their babies

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - gilles. the people in town helped him when he burst into the little grocery store all panicked like “I NEED TO MAKE MY HUSBAND A SURPRISE DINNER BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE” 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - gustave. gilles like being at home, but city-boy over here thinks that restaurants are a weekly luxury

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - neither. it was thamin and albalatin, attempting to frame gilles for yet another felony

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - gustave. everything is color coded. sex toys included 

Who is really against chores? - gilles. gustave films him whenever he actually does clean and yells things like “go white boy go!!” and sends them to twitch for her T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. scrapbook 

Who cleans up after the pets? - they both do, but gilles gets stuck with shit duty more often than not

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - gilles, once. gustave walked in, sniffed the air, then glared at him until he actually swept whatever it was up and threw it away 

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - gustave “we can’t have guests over, the house is a mess” kateb

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Bastard. he then proceeded to eat it

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - gustave and his hour-long skincare routine 

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - gustave, bc sadiqi the dog (not to be confused with sadiqi the kitten), or Big Sadiqi (kitten sadiqi is Little Sadiqi) is his, gilles, and he will not allow his precious boy to be influenced by such creatures as Bastard 

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - they get little sweaters for the animals. that is all

What are their goals for the relationship? - joke: gustave always says “the White Man’s money” despite the fact that his family is richer than gilles’. woke: mutual happiness, comfort, and healing 

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - gustave. after 11 am, thamin and albalatin decide they’ve had enough and break in to lay down on the bed next to him. gilles banishes himself to the couch for a week

Who plays the most pranks? - Bastard, thamin, and albalatin. although gustave did dye the sheep’s wool (while it was still attached to them) different colors and patterns and, for the ones who were perfectly content to sit still and be held, replicas of famous paintings (his favorite artist is monet, in case you forgot that he’s french)

Yandere!Melone x Reader

Melone develops an unhealthy obsession with you without even knowing you. To stasisfy his obsession he kidnaps you. This is the first chapter of Obsessed with You and can also be found on ao3.

[CW: noncon/dubcon, stalking, non-consensual somnophilia, kidnapping]

It is a scientific fact that people can tell when they are being watched. You are no exception. You could tell something has been off. Sometimes your door was left unlocked, sometimes it was the occasional missing panties or bra. Maybe how the tape over your camera always seemed to fall off. You shook off the paranoid feeling and got on the already overcrowded bus to head home. You hoped this ride would be uneventful. You went to grab onto a pole to support you and brushed against a stranger's hand. You didn't bother apologizing because after living in a big city overrun by crime you’ve learned to keep your head down. But not everyone knew urban etiquette. The same stranger's hand brushed against yours, so you moved it away. It happened again, you move your hand again. If this person really wanted this pole why wouldn’t they just say? Due to the constant touching, you gave up the pole so whoever it was would leave you alone. To pass the time you opened up your phone and scroll through your social media. You didn't pay enough attention though because suddenly you heard: “This is the last stop. A second bus will be here shortly. Please exit the bus.” You looked around and found only a handful of other people were still left on. While you rush to put your phone back into your pocket you drop it. After hurriedly picking it up you noticed it was more cracked than usual. Cracked to the point where the screen was almost completely destroyed and wouldn’t turn on. Shit. Panic had begun to set in as the situation fully hit you. it was getting dark, you were lost, you had no phone, and you were completely and utterly alone. First, you thought maybe you could use a payphone! But this is 2020 there are no payphones. Then you thought maybe you could catch a taxi. But there are no taxis, haven't you heard of Uber? As a last-ditch effort you hoped maybe you could borrow someone's phone, but who lets a stranger use their phone. After weighing your options you decided asking the bus driver for help would be the safest least kidnappable outcome. Once you decided survival was more important than temporary embarrassment and began to reenter the bus it sped off. This uneventful bus ride became a nightmare and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t wake up. At this point, you decided to accept your fate and wait at the bus stop across the street hoping a new bus would arrive soon. Except it didn’t. So waited some more. Nothing happened. It was just you and the sun until it was just you and the moon. As you waited a stranger approached you and sat down. Of course, this wasn’t weird, strangers sat next to each other all the time while waiting for the bus. The only issue was 1) the stranger was a little bit too close and 2) there was an uncomfortably familiar feeling about him. He sighed in a weirdly cartoonish manner and stared at you for a bit too long before asking “Do you know the time”. His voice was concerningly cold causing you to instinctively shiver in response. “Uh…” you paused not sure if you wanted to confess your phone didn't work, “Actually my phone isn’t working so I don’t know either”. You decided you had no real reason to lie. That was a mistake. He gave a fake-sounding laugh, “that’s got to suck.” “Yeah it does, I kinda missed my stop so now I’m a little bit fucked,” you didn’t know why you were so honest. Probably just stress and fatigue. “Buses are unpredictable, maybe I could give you a ride?” leaned back into the bench while propping an arm on the back of it. He gave a small smile that did not match the look in his eyes. “I don't know, you know don't get into cars with strangers they always say.” You tried to lift the mood with a bit of humor. It didn’t really work, it just made things more awkward. But the issue wasn't the awkward tension, more so that you really really wanted to say yes. A ride sounded amazing, the comfort of a real car compared to a public bench was tempting. And the likelihood of you getting kidnapped was pretty low, I mean what are the statistics on that? Surely you wouldn't be whatever small percentage it was. You paused to think about your response which only exasperated the already tense silence. “Yeah, maybe that works.” “Really?” he rushed out. Though you didn’t know him, the intensity of his response seemed out of character. You ignored it. “I mean, only if it’s okay with you” he added trying to regain his composure. Whether it be the fatigue or stress of waiting you ignored the pit in your stomach. That was not the right decision. Immediately after his response he stood up and outstretched his hand hoping you would grab it. You didn't respond to his hand but stood up to follow him ignoring his offer. He frowned furrowing his brow before quickly hiding it and continuing on. If you hadn't have been paying attention you would never have noticed the change in expression, even you weren't sure if you had seen it.’ Continuing to ignore the knot in your chest and sinking feeling in your stomach you followed him. He led you to a nearby fast-food parking lot. It was completely save for a single red motorcycle. You weren't completely sure if you were okay with riding the motorcycle given you assumed there was no helmet for you. As you got closer to the bike parked near a flickering light you realized that in fact there was a helmet for you. Lucky coincidence. Even more surprisingly, or concerningly, it seemed like one helmet was your exact size. “Remember, safety first! You're lucky I have a second helmet,” he remarked as he offered you the extra. As you began to put it on he gave a small warmer smile, “it seems to be a perfect fit, that's great.” the smile seemed innocent until you realized it seemed to be one more of pride and satisfaction. Almost as if he had purposefully picked it out and was happy he got the right size. You continued to suppress the alarms that rang in your head. He put his helmet on and hopped on the bike waiting for you to do the same. “Hold tight, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” You didn’t realize until it was too late that he never asked for where to drop you off. Maybe you should have listened to your instincts. What a shame. After you got on and nuzzled into him to make sure you wouldn't fall off he reached back and pulled you even closer. “Remember, what I said. Don't let go.” his previously chipper tone faltered back into his colder more formal tone as before. Once you stopped adjusting yourself and he felt you were adequately close he began to speed off. In the wrong direction. You didn't notice, you were too focused on the thrill of riding a bike and of practically cuddling a stranger. After a few minutes of riding it hit you: he never asked for directions, he was heading the wrong way, and you couldn't tell him to stop. You thought maybe it would be a good idea to hit him to get his attention, but you also didn't want to die in a motorcycle crash with a strange man. So you tried to accept your fate hoping that once he stopped you could explain to him why it was wrong to randomly pick up women and take them to unspecified locations. The ride took approximately 10 minutes. Coincidentally that is the same amount of time for chloroform to kick in and it did. One second you were panicked about your kidnapping and the next you half-conscious being carried by in someone's arms. That was the last thing you remembered until you were completely blanked. When you woke up you were tied to a stranger's bed, a very attractive stranger’s bed but a stranger nonetheless. Your head hurt, your body hurt, your entire existence hurt. But that wasn't the only concern. Something else hurt. Something you really didn't want to hurt. “Good! You're awake, I was kind of concerned you wouldn’t wake up,” he gave a light laugh “thank god I was able to properly calculate the amount of chloroform to body weight ratio.” You were very wrong thinking that you would be safe. You were very wrong for trusting a strange man. You were very very very wrong. Maybe don't talk to strangers was good advice after all. But this was too late, hands were places where they shouldn't be, bruises were where they shouldn't be, you were where you shouldn't be. “Now, where were we?” he hummed, the previous cold professional tone had completely disappeared in favor of a lighter bittersweet one. At the implication of 1) being molested in your sleep and 2) returning to that molestation you began to struggle against the ropes that kept you spread out before the disgusting monster. But no matter how hard you struggled it wasn't working. “Come on, you were so compliant earlier. Just calm down, you'll enjoy it soon enough” you flinched at the sudden soft stroke on your cheek. The softness of his touch didn't match the violation. “You really are my dream come true, you see I’ve had my eye on you for a while” he hummed while slowly moving his hand from your cheek to your neck to your breasts. You wanted to gag but you held it back. Slowly he began to fondle your nipples pinching and pulling on them roughly. “You have very good nipples for breastfeeding if you haven't noticed,” disgusting “we should put them to use”. Even more disgusting. He continued to grope your chest with one hand as the other moved further down caressing your waist leading down to your hip. “You don’t realize how much I’m holding back, just caressing you won't do for much longer. I need you, I need you Y/N. I need to be in you, I need you wrapped around me. Soon enough I’ll break you, I’ll put that pussy to good use.” You gagged again, harder. “Why are you gagging? I don’t even have my cock in your tight throat. Don't worry you'll have a reason to gag soon enough.” You wanted to scream. You wanted to thrash around. You wanted to fight. But all you could do was silently let tears fall down your eyes while periodically hiccuping. Why did you let yourself fall into this mess? He began to lower his hand even more down to your pussy. Oh god. Please no. God couldn't hear your begging today because this man didn't care. He began to stroke you softly waiting to see what you liked and what you didn't, ignoring the fact you didn't like any of it. “Hmm? Why aren't you enjoying this as much as I am? I've wanted this for so long” he began to rub harder, it started aching. “I've wanted you for so so so long. Why didn’t you recognize me earlier? I've been following you for months, I have your hair, your photos, your panties, your used forks, I have everything. Now all I need is you.” He kept rubbing, and rubbing, and rubbing. The knot in your stomach that was once fear and paranoia became that of terrifying pleasure. It kept building and building and building until it released. You came. You came on your kidnapper's fingers as he violated you. “Good girl” he hummed, retracting his fingers only to suck them. Once satisfied with your juices he pulled them out with a wet pop. “sleep well, I’ll be back tomorrow. And if you keep being a good girl maybe you'll get something to eat.” He then leaned down to kiss you on your forehead and give a few more strokes on your cheek. He whispered his love into your ear ignoring your whines and tears. After proclaiming his love he kissed you one last time before leaving you to cry yourself to sleep. Nothing but your tears comforted you as you waited for tomorrow. He was obsessed with you and you had no choice but to accept it.

Stone Giants (2015) OR Beorn’s

T - FiKi

TW: semi-described symptoms of a panic attack

๑癶ᴗ癶๑

tick tock tick tock tick—

Kíli groaned, the skin around his wounds pulling uncomfortably when he shifted to sit up. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, grit his teeth until he could feel them in his gums, and breathed out slowly as he settled against the pillows propped up against the head of his borrowed bed. 

It took a moment for the throbbing to subside and when it did, he took stock of himself. Two to the shoulder, through-n-through; one to the thigh; something had sliced open a significant section of his right side and his ankle felt stiff and swollen. All in all, he wasn’t dead and that was something to be grateful for. 

tick tock tick tock  

He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed loudly. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out with no one there to tell him. Hell, he wasn’t exactly sure where he was but he didn’t feel the sense of impending doom like he had last night - or was it the night before, now? - tickling the hairs at his nape like he had when he and Fíli had made their escape, so he supposed he could relax, if only somewhat.

His skin felt slick and grimy, his mouth tasted like ass and he smelled pungent and stale, like sleep-sweat. The room he’d been placed in smelt overwhelmingly like iodine and too much lemon Pledge though he could easily tell he wasn’t in a hospital, the wood paneling and quilted bedcover and large, eclectic furnishings a giveaway. 

Besides, Fíli wouldn’t have risked that, given the situation. Or ... Kíli hoped he wouldn’t have. 

Kíli shook his head, dismissing any negative thoughts before they had time to fully materialize. Fíli wouldn’t do that - whoever he was, whatever lies he’d told, Fíli wouldn’t do that because ... because. Because he was Fíli, for fuck’s sake. And that had to mean something. Fíli had had every opportunity to leave Kíli behind and he hadn’t. Despite all the danger surrounding the decision to save Kíli’s life and take Kíli with him, Fíli had done it.  

tick tock tick tock tick tock     

Speaking of, where was Fíli? 

Glancing about, Kíli spotted the window to his right, wide and open to let bright sunlight and a cool breeze into the room. Beyond it all Kíli could see was a smudge of forest in the distance, at the edge of a large stretch of bare, yellowy grassland. He tried to sit up further to try and orient himself, but his thigh objected. Sharp stabs shot from the wound all the way down to his toes and up to his gut. 

Fuck! 

Kíli whimpered pitifully, face like scrunched up like crinkled paper, and took short, shallow breaths until the pain subsided. Whatever he’d been given to stave off the worst of it was clearly wearing off and there was no one around to complain to. He was alone. Completely, utterly alone in a strange place where Fíli had probably dumped him upon realizing the great risk of keeping Kíli around. 

tick tock tick tock

That damn clock started to sound like a countdown to something sinister. It was going to drive Kíli mad before he had a chance to find Fíli, to figure out where he was, if he was truly safe or if his uncle had found him and was healing him up just to have a clean canvas to work his torture on. 

Oh God. 

Pressure built behind Kíli’s eyes and the world blurred into lumps of color as tears welled up, vision darkening at the corners. His lungs burned with the effort not to cry, a knot in his throat; his fingers tingled til they were numb. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Oh God, he was going to die in a strange place surrounded by strange things and where was Fíli!? Where was—

           “Hey, hey, hey, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay...”

Kíli heard the familiar tenor and it made something in him loosen. He let it wash over him, lilting words soothed through Kíli’s panic like drops of water in a pool of ink, slowly helping the panic to recede. There was a welcome pressure on his hand and on his forehead, touches swept up and down Kíli’s arm, over his shoulder and into his hair. 

           “That’s it, in and out, deep now, c’mon. You’re doing great.”

Once Kíli wasn’t in danger of passing out, he opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d closed and Fíli. He was right there, golden and perfect, sitting at Kíli’s hip on the bed, smiling tenderly down at Kíli as if Kíli was something precious.

           “You’re here.” Kíli rasped in wonder. “You didn’t leave.”

Fíli frowned. “Never.” He leaned forward, face close to Kíli’s when he added, “I would never do that to you, Kee.” as if trying to make sure Kíli understood.

          “I thought ...” It didn’t really matter what Kíli thought, he decided, trailing off, because Fíli was there and beautiful and promising never to leave. Instead, he asked, “Where are we?”

          “A friend’s.” Fíli answered, ducking his head and glancing to the side. “He’s ... you can trust him. He’s a good man.”

          “Like you?” Kíli raised an eyebow.

Fíli snorted, “If you want to consider me a good man, after everything, then I’d say Beorn’s a bloody saint.”

          “Beorn.” Kíli said, testing the name on his tongue in an effort to remember it.

They sat in silence for a moment, Fíli’s eyes lingering over the bandages that were visible on Kíli’s body, his brow pinching in the middle. Kíli, in turn, saw the bruises swelling the tattoos on Fíli’s knuckles, the cut on Fíli’s jaw almost hidden by his beard. There was stiffness in his movements as well, evident when he reached out to prod around one of the wounds on Kíli’s shoulder through the bandage. 

As Kíli opened his mouth to speak, Fíli hushed him by rummaging through his back pocket. Kíli hadn’t even registered Fíli had changed out of the almost completely destroyed suit Kíli recalled him wearing the last time he’d seen him. Now, he donned comfortable looking jeans and a plain t-shirt that accentuated the definition in his arms and chest, much to Kíli’s pleasure.

          “Here.” Fíli said, revealing prescription pill bottle without a label. “The morphine must’ve worn off by now, eh?”

Kíli nodded, his attention returning to his shoulder as well as his thigh now. Miraculously the injury to his side hadn’t started to itch yet but it was only a matter of time, Kíli figured, before it, too, made itself known. 

Fíli uncapped the bottle and tipped it, shaking out two pills. He grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table that Kíli hadn’t bothered to notice, and fed Kíli the tablets, one after the other with sips of water in between. 

          “Thanks.” Kíli’s smile was still crooked and charming as it always was, if a little shyer now that he and Fíli were safe and together in an atmosphere that didn’t give Kíli the sensation of being watched. It was nice.

Fíli’s eyes dipped to Kíli’s mouth and back up so quickly Kíli couldn’t be certain it had happened at all. “Of course.” He said and cupped Kíli’s cheek, thumb brushing so, so lightly over Kíli’s bottom lip, the callouses under his fingerprint catching on chapped skin. “Anything for you, kid.”

Kíli’s gasped, soundless, and felt his throat tighten for an entirely different reason but, just as he was about to act on it, Fíli removed his hand and sat back. 

          “You keep resting. You need it.” Kíli agreed, he did. “I need to head out for a bit—” He held up a hand when Kíli went to object, “But I’ll be back before you wake up this time, okay? I’ve got some stuff i need to take care of if we’re gonna make this work.”

Kíli huffed and rolled his eyes, reluctant to let Fíli out of his sight. He understood, though. Thorin would be looking for them; wouldn’t rest until they were found. His nephew and the cop that had enough information to take down his whole operation. 

What had Kíli been thinking? 

They’d need new identities. New faces. 

          “Hey.” Fíli interrupted the thoughts about to ram through Kíli like a runaway bullet train, “I can see you thinking too much. We’re going to get through this, kid, trust me.” He lifted Kíli’s hand again and squeezed. “I’ve got you.”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Kíli calmed easily. His eyelids were already drooping, and his body buzzed pleasantly under his skin, the meds Fíli had given him quickly taking effect and abating whatever panic could’ve threatened to take hold. 

Kíli relaxed further with the knowledge that Fíli would’t let him down; wouldn’t lie to him or manipulate him the way he’d been lied to and manipulated by everyone he’d ever risked caring about in the past. 

Fíli, in the most backwards, contrary way, was the most honest person Kíli had ever met. That is, as honest as someone can be when they pretend to be someone they’re not while getting to know another person. 

Still, Kíli trusted him and if Fíli said he would be there, Kíli knew he would be. He couldn’t explain why, couldn’t begin to unpack the tangle of reasons he was so willing to believe the man who’d entered Kíli’s life under false pretenses.

At the end of the day, Fíli had saved Kíli’s life against all logic and that was worth forgiving everything else Fíli had done. It was.

Fíli stayed with him until he was too heavy to protest when Fíli finally stood up to leave, the sound of the clock tick-tocking from the corner lulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

๑癶ᴗ癶๑ 

AO3

NALU - Vampire/Demon Mate AU

A section of one of my WIP that I started and never finished hehe

Lucy was lying in bed, unable to sleep. One, because she was nervous for the date she had the next day, her fingers twisting the soft texture of her pillow while she gnawed at her lip to distract herself. But also because her hunger pains have been increasingly getting worse. 

She never understood much about how her body worked. Her father refused to educate her on her body and species, which sucked ass. Lucy’s a kind soul. Even drinking donor blood made her guilty so she was desperate to find an alternative. She mostly taught herself how to deal with the pains, but in case of emergencies, Lucy found that oddly enough, ghost peppers of all things curved her hunger. She blushes when she remembers how she discovered her love for the burning treat. 

At the time her hunger was blinding. Of course the pain came when Levy wandered off to find snacks. It was a sudden shock as she stumbled against the cereal boxes inside the grocery store, the dull thuds as the boxes were knocked down didn’t register in her ears as she tried to claim her normal state of mind back from the vicious creature inside of her. The vicious creature that chanted in her head on how absolutely ethereal it felt to have fresh blood flowing down your throat. How tempting it was to have one, small sip of the person rushing over to help her...

As Lucy fought with her mind she failed to fight with her body; it felt like an unknown entity was desperately clawing at her stomach, making her mind waver as her sanity drained bit by bit. Lucy was normally a fast thinker, but the sudden hunger skewed her usually bright mind. She did what she thought was the next best thing at the time to avoid hurting anyone there - eat everything in the store.

In the end, it was a good decision. She doesn’t know what would have happened if she left the store instead. Lucy quickly shoved the woman trying to help her in her desperation and ran to the fruit and vegetable aisle (since animal meat and blood is repulsive to her), shoving whatever she could in her mouth.

And that was how she came across the delicious taste of ghost peppers, and also how she got kicked out of the store and was told to never come back again.

A spike of pain shocks her system as Lucy grabs her stomach, curling in on herself as little spikes stab at her core. She just wants to know, why is this happening to me? Her eyes squeeze tightly shut as rogue tears spill out of her eyes. 

Recently these pains have been very different. Usually, it’s a lasting, dull pain always at the back of her mind ever since she discovered ghost peppers. But starting yesterday it’s a repetitive pattern of sharp, stabbing pains that has her doubling over, gripping onto whatever is nearby to steady herself. Even her favourite treat can barely help her now.

Lucy’s mind gets hazy and suddenly, it feels like she can barely breathe. She needs to get out. To leave. To just go.

In the back of her mind, she knows how dangerous that would be. She’s never lost control before other than that time in the store. But despite that, she easily stumbles out of her home and crouches on her front lawn. Lucy gasps for breath, tangling her fingers in her hair and almost sobs as the pain comes again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” She chants under her breath. Why does this have to hurt so bad?! 

She can only breathe a little better after leaving her home and has the sudden urge to just move. To do anything to get rid of the pain. She needed help. That’s right. Her muddled mind was able to gather that much together. Help. Somebody help.

She uses her speed to go to the closest place she knew from here. Gajeel’s.

Her vision becomes almost pixelated, a haze of blurry and black spots. She uses her inhuman speed and doesn’t even notice when her body gives out, staring at Gajeel’s apartment in defeat as it blurs in front of her.

Huh, she thinks. That’s odd. Why is everything tilting?

Before she reaches the ground, her head and vision wobbles as she faintly recognizes someone catching her. A wonderful scent washes over her dazed form and all her senses heighten. The smell emitted from whoever it was, was like ghost peppers, but better. Spicy, woodsy, a sweet campfire that she can almost taste. She didn’t understand it, she barely understood if how she described the smell made sense, but she knew her body craved whatever it was.

Lucy wasn’t even aware when she threw the body that saved her onto the ground, and without any hesitation, instinctively dug her sharpened teeth into the person’s neck, pinning the broad shoulders of someone to the ground that tasted absolutely divine.

It was like a whole new world opened up to her. Her vision got clearer than it was ever before, her body gained the strength it hadn’t experienced in years. She could only describe it as feeling healthy.

A wonderful, unique, spicy taste flows through her mouth, flows through her entire being. The smell, the taste, the touch, everything, made her let out a low moan deep in her throat.

This is what heaven is.

She vaguely recognizes someone’s hands gripping her wild, blonde hair, tight in their hold as her fangs continue to suck the life force out of them. Neither pulling her away nor pushing her closer. The rough hands latch onto her like a lifeline. 

Lucy gulps and gulps, her body cheering at her as she replenishes herself with what she has been lacking for years. As her mind begins to clear, she quickly realizes that not only was the taste amazing, but the zinging feeling of her body pressed against someone else’s was even more addicting.

Everything felt right. Everything was perfect.

Finally, as Lucy feels a droplet trickle down her chin, her mind is coherent enough to start imposing her normal thoughts and worries. Who exactly was she drinking? Her eyes widen. Oh gosh, please don’t be a human! Lucy wrenches herself away, breathing heavily as her body hums alight. With each intake of air, her body brushes against the strangers, sending even more delectable zings through her. 

She wipes the stray droplet of blood, right before realizing how utterly exhausted she was for enduring her hunger for years, and her weakened limbs awkwardly slump on her victim’s body. Lucy attempts to will her eyes open as her ear rests on the warm chest, hearing the steady thumping of the person’s heartbeat. Her eyes register her victim’s broad shoulders and she assumes he’s a man. He’s breathing heavily as well, equally as confused but not nearly as exhausted, which brings relief to Lucy that he’s alive. She wouldn’t know what to do if she ended up hurting, or even killing, a stranger.

---

The man’s eyes crack open slowly, feeling his eyes adjust to the darkness around him. The scenery of the dark night and the quivering leaves of the trees above lights up as his eyes switch to night vision. He stares at the girl that drained him dry ontop of his body, blonde hair still tangled in his right hand as she simply lays on his chest.

He flicks his head back to move his salmon hair from his eyes, wincing at the ache in his throat that was swiftly healing, smirking with mischief as he feels the same zings through his body.

“Ya’ know, you’re lucky I’m a demon. What kinda weirdo goes and drains their mate, who they just met, dry?”

----

Thank you if you end up reading this far!

Also if you’re interested in my other works, I’m euphine on fanfic.net and AO3 hehe

archivist sasha tma au living in my head rent free is just the truth babe!!!!

wrote a little something because while not!jon is fucking great i had to put my own spin on it for a minute. this is all well and good and definitely not awful

now on [ao3]

During the Prentiss attack Jon gets separated from Tim in the tunnels after they both lose Martin, and he finds himself back in the Institute. In artifact storage.

He’s not alone.

After he meets back up with everyone, he’s……not acting quite right. Martin can’t put a finger on HOW, but he concludes WHY is because of this Very stressful encounter with the alleged supernatural firsthand. He doesn’t think about it again for a long time.

Everything’s back to normal, or at least as “normal” as working in the Magnus Institute really can be, but Jon is… different? But not in ways immediately obvious. More…mellow. More keen on making conversation than refusing to shut up about the Leitners. Doesn’t fidget with the stapler anymore. Much more easily pressured to clock out on time instead of staying late.

Every time Sasha’s mind wanders over to one of these thoughts, she can’t help but dismiss it without a second thought. She’s glad that Jon’s making healthier decisions since the attack, it had really taken a toll on his physical and mental health more than the others. She’s glad that she doesn’t have to worry about him, she tells herself, though there’s something lingering behind that sentence she can’t quite parse.

A woman had arrived in the Archives, though to provide support for her friend making a statement rather than herself. She had a statement of her own inside her, Sasha had been growing strong enough to… know that, but the woman just didn’t want to give it, was all. Georgie Barker, she said her name was when Sasha asked.

They got to talking, and both Georgie and her friend Melanie had stayed in touch, being intrigued by the supernatural themselves and apparently what Sasha had to say about it. Georgie had been visiting one time when Sasha noticed she had been looking strangely at someone at the other side of the room. Sasha knew that Georgie and Jon had been together at one point, and now they weren’t, so she didn’t really pay attention to the weird glance Georgie was giving him until she spoke up.

Why was Jon drinking coffee?

At Sasha’s confusion, Georgie started listing things that as they were pointed out suddenly became clear they didn’t make sense. Jon hated that sweater vest, he’d always said it was so scratchy he could feel it under his shirt. Jon claimed to like being tidy, but he could never get papers in just the way they were neatly piled on his desk now. Jon wouldn’t be caught DEAD listening to his old Mechanisms songs for fear that someone would see and find out about the band he was part of in college. Georgie knew Jon, why was he acting so differently? Somewhere behind Sasha’s eyes begin to hurt.

Sasha’s clever. Of course she’d realize something had been shifting her attention away from the couple of statements she’d dropped three times now, one of them even in the trash. It had taken an ungodly amount of excruciating focus to listen and read through each one of them, one after the other. The house on Hilltop Road. A psychology experiment gone wrong. A student choked by a thick cloud of strings that had pulled them along through living for weeks, unnoticed. A tape that had turned on back when Sasha had rushed out of the room to warn Tim of the woman behind him, of Jon confiding in Martin about his encounter with a Leitner when he was a child.

Sasha listened to this one for as long as she could, somehow knowing it to be the last record of Jon she had before… it was the last time she had heard Jon being scared, she realized. The next day, when Sasha looked closely, she could see the faintest of oily threads glinting in the air above Jon’s hands.

Jon was being punished for pulling back the curtain, for showing a thread pertaining to him thought to be invisible, even to just one person that he loved.

And she hated it.

When she’s ready, she sends the rest of the staff home early, and thinks she has Jon cornered. He’s lying still in the cot in one of the back rooms of the Archives, the one he hadn’t used in so long ever since he had been…”convinced” not to overwork himself, with the lights off. When Sasha calls out to who might be the puppeteer, he freezes, curled up so tightly that he felt more like a crumpled sack of….. than a person. When Sasha calls out to Jon, though, he risks a glance over his shoulder toward the door of the room and, seeing a figure there, quickly turns back to the wall, muttering to himself near inaudibly; if he doesn’t move at all, doesn’t struggle, then maybe the Spider watching at the edge of the web he was trapped in wouldn’t notice, and more importantly, he’d know that his inaction was his own–

Sasha hears rope of all kinds of thickness stretching and tightening from down the hallway. She snaps into focus and hefts up Jon in her arms, much to his (though not disgruntled) bewilderment, and carries him out of the institute as fast as she can, wiping cobwebs stuck in Jon’s hair and clothes away, and pulling apart the now oh-so delicate spiderweb threads attached to his hands, his legs, his tongue….

The floor is sticky beneath her feet.

A few days later, when Sasha was still letting Jon stay at her flat and giving everyone paid leave while the…exterminators? got rid of the spiderwebs and the rest of the unexplained infestation, she invited Tim and Martin to get lunch with them.

Jon told the three of them how at first, it really didn’t feel like he was being controlled or compelled. When he did something just a touch too out of character, even for him, he felt surprised, but he guessed the attack had changed him a lot more than he thought.

That is, until he noticed the strings.

Before he could properly realize what they even were the strings tightened, thousands of impossibly strong threads constricting around him so tightly he couldn’t move.

Until he did.

It hadn’t hurt, no, but it felt wrong, walking too slowly and standing too straight, words coming out of his mouth so alien it felt like someone else’s, with the bitter taste of bad coffee lingering on his tongue. The strings hid any sign of loosening its suffocating hold, so he became numb, slowly turning complacent that he would never be able to act of his own accord again at the same time as being utterly terrified out of his mind by that very same thought.

As the months went on he felt something else rise up, however. Jon had lost his tongue to a string ages ago, and when whatever was speaking did talk… they were polite. More considerate to Martin when he slipped up. Friendlier with Tim and easier to laugh with. Jon became all too aware that whatever- whoever he was was taking greater care of himself than he had ever thought to. Maybe- if he ever DID come back- it would just be better to give himself up again, if he did anything himself he’d just ruin everything, he should just not-

At that point Jon had full collapsed with his head on the table, shaking and sobbing in front of the three of them. Martin had been crying as Jon spoke, and now reached out tentatively to comfort him. Tim was certainly no worse for wear, tears in his own eyes and looking completely distraught as he thought about the talks he’d had in the past seven months when someone who was Jon, but somehow so very not Jon had been working with them, and they had just….never noticed.

With Jon’s permission, Sasha placed the tape recorder on the table in front of them and pressed play. They wordlessly listened to Jon and Martin panicking and hunkering down in the Archives, hiding from the worms, when Jon had told Martin about Mr. Spider; the last time in seven months any of the four of them had heard Jon speaking.

Soldier.

With: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, injuries, language.

Note: Finally some action.

Some people like to say that life is made of decisions.

Maybe it was, but for Bucky hasn’t been for a long time.

Shit happens, and for seventy years he wasn’t himself, he couldn’t be himself. And gladly now he can heal, can take the control of his life again.

Maybe life it’s made of decisions, it’s what we make it be.

But loving you wasn’t a decision.

A decision is something you choose to make, something you thoroughly comprehend and allow. Bucky never decided to care, never decided to have his heart melting at the simple vision of your smile, or love the warmth of your skin against his; he never decided to be so utterly fascinated by you.

It easily happened.

The way the rain fall, the way the sun arises, the way the waves break at the beach, how the sun set and the moon shines the night. A few things in this universe solely happen and nothing can change them.

He was too broke inside to do common things as dating, too unsure of his mind to love someone.

But then he met you.

For Bucky, it was such a sweet surprise, a way for the universe apologize for everything. But every time he looked at you he felt in the way fascinating things happens in the cosmos, like it was simply destinated to happen.

No, not a decision at all.

Maybe, each piece of him was naturally purposed to love you.  

                                  …

“Buck, we will find her!” Steve said trying to calm his friend down, his hand placed on his shoulder trying to show support, but Bucky could focus on anything besides your face.

Your beaten up face that appeared on Fury’s tablet.

Tied up, wet face due to the tears and such a terrified look in your eyes. Masked men around holding knives and hurtful things as crowbars.

Bucky could feel deep in his chest the pain you were going through.

The shinning screen showing the horrible people that dared to hunt you down solely to hurt him. A message appears under the photo. ‘Come to get her Winter Soldier, before there is nothing else to save.’

The phrase only adds to the turmoil inside his veins. His mind going into chaos because you’re not only hurt but you’re hurt because of him, because of who -and what- he is. 

Those Hydra fanatics are capable of anything and they don’t fear death. He didn’t know how much time he had until you were dead.

Steve said something but it was soundless to him, a thin noise making its place while everything seemed in slow motion. Fury called a few more people in the room but Bucky was too busy on his mind to recognize anyone. The mere idea of losing you was enough to make his heartbeat go faster than ever.

It was so hurtful to think of the possibility of never seeing or touching you again, of never hearing your sweet voice that was the sweetest sound for him, your eyes that were his favorite color or even your touch that made him feel safe and loved.

It was so hurtful that he walked out of the Compound not minding his dirty clothes due to the last mission he was on, not minding Steve’s shouts behind him nor the fact that he had no idea where you were.

“Buck you going to search for her in that state won’t help her!” Steve jogged behind his friend who was visibly tense.

“THEN WHAT WILL STEVE?” He shouted back so loud that Steve even flinched, Natasha coming at the picture with the tablet on her hands trying to locate the photo’s IP

Bucky tried to grab the tablet from her hands. "I don’t need your help.”

Finding it Natasha read him the coordinates. “I know where she is, come on.“

Which she quickly evaded. “I’m not doing it for you, Barnes! She is my friend! And before you kill yourself in a car accident is better for us to follow you.”

Bucky knew it was better to not discuss and to not lose time so he walked to the garage with long steps.

Steve was the one in behind the wheel and Natasha was in the passenger seat giving him instructions.

Bucky felt like the time was running out of his hands, at any moment they could hurt you, at any moment they could abuse you, at any moment they could kill you. “Can’t you go faster?”

“I’m going as fast as I can.”

Bucky’s breath was broken and he was sweating cold, his knees moving to a side to the other fastly trying to help his state, his mind seeing your face all over again, how have they found you? He was so careful, your apartment was protected by the best security system, your neighborhood wasn’t a dangerous one, and he always tried to be subtle about his visits, always going late at night.

So how the hell they found you?

After what seemed an eternity Steve stopped the car and Natasha blocked the device on her hand. “Is here. We need to be smarter, I go first and St-”

Before she could finish Bucky had already stepped out of the car, his weapons firmly on his body thanks to the last mission. He didn’t have many bullets left but had his knives would do enough.

Steve called his name as loud as he could while he tried to not call attention for them. Bucky ignored, that was his business. 

His mission.

The dark place was disgusting, wet and muddy, rats running around and an old stair covered with dust to the second level. He heard steps with his super-addition and grabbed his knife ready to kill whoever the fuck blocked his way to save you.

Quickly turning into the corner he attacked the first enemy, the man probably doesn’t even realize who he was until Bucky held him by the throat with his vibranium hand and slammed him against the stained wall.  

Even with his airways being whacked the man smiled. “The Winter Soldier, we knew you would appear, you are-”

Bucky toughened his grasp on the man’s who started to gasp and tried to kick Bucky in the process. “Where is she?”

The man was red almost purple before Bucky loosened his strong grasp only enough to receive an answer. The man smiled making Bucky glance the man in the eye as he punched his nose.

The man only smiled before Bucky. "You’ll never find her whole. Hail-” Bucky twisted the man’s neck on a tight grip and allowed the useless body to fall on the floor.

The cartilage breaks as blood started to drip of the man’s nose to his mouth.

“Answer me or the next thing to break will be your neck. Where?”

Hearing someone yelling he grabbed his pistol and shoot expertly into the man’s forehead, now they knew he was there, they knew they have reached their purpose.

To bring the Winter Soldier back.

Throwing his empty pistol at the floor he grabbed the AK-47 around the dead man’s neck and kept his search, dozen people appeared but the Winter Soldier didn’t care of gender roles when the women where supporting Hydra and hurting you. 

It was a massacre, to say the least. 

He didn’t hold back.

Hearing a man gagging on the floor he held the man’s hair pulling him to his feet, blood erupting from his chest down on his clothes. “Where is she?”

The man as a good fanatical didn’t answer, only smiled showing his stupid couple of golden teeth but time was falling off the Soldier’s hands, he needed to find you! Grabbing his knife he dug it inside the man’s bullet wound making him yell. “WHERE IS SHE?”

Bucky let the man fell breathing in relief but it was fast before a bullet went to his skull, no one deserved to live after hurting you.

The man visibly bit his tongue trying to save the information, the Soldier went deeper making the yell even louder.

“The-the third floor!” He yelled.

The Soldier didn’t even bother to look at his job before he went upstairs to find you, he only stopped to throw the empty weapon on the floor and grabbing someone’s fully loaded pistol. The man had yelled the place, so the horrible people holding you probably has moved already.

There was a clear path as he searched for you, he probably had killed all of the others “agents” anyway.

Hours of therapy, years of trying to get better, trying to forget his past and of what he was capable to do. But now it didn’t matter.

Only you mattered.

Hydra had created him, had tortured him, and now they thought they could take you from him? Hurt you and reach their wish of getting him back?

They would suffocate on their own poisoned blood before that happens.

Never a mission has been that hard before, never!

On the third floor there was only one filthy door, he heard someone downstairs opening the heavy door but he didn’t look back, he only kept walking trying to reach you.

Kicking the door open he saw a man holding you with a knife against your throat.

You.

The mere sight of you. All bruised and bleeding, tears falling on your face made his anger double mixing with the pain.

The blonde man smiled. “Look who finally arrived,“ The man looked down at you trying to break free of his disgusting hold, the Soldier’s grip remained firm on the pistol, the safety was off already. "She’s so feisty,” A long repugnant lick where placed on your neck, the man had spent the last hours threatening to touch you, to “ruin” you on his words, he only didn’t already because his partner was too busy making plans for how they would take Bucky with them, how he would give up his life to save yours. “You will let me go or I’ll slice the bitch-”

POW.

Feeling the arms around you losing you turned on your feet seeing the man collapsing on the floor. A perfect hole made on his forehead.

Trembling you looked up to Bucky… or on ampler words… Soldier.

The man dropped the gun on the floor and ran to your reach grabbing you on his safe arms. "Bucky.” You sobbed.

“Shh shh, I got you, baby. I’m so sorry, doll! I’m so so sorry.” He repeated and placed his hand on your head trying to hold you as near as possible.

Bucky didn’t care you were bloodied, sweaty and in tears, he only cared that he found you, that he saved you.

You broke the hug and kissed him with all the strength your weak body could find.

Breaking the kiss with a grunt you touched your split lower lip. Bucky’s finger touched it and kissed the side of your mouth before interlacing his firm arms around you on an almost mortal embrace.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry they caught you, I wasn’t careful enough, I wasn’t-” He almost sobbed.

On a way it was his fault, his past’s fault. But you didn’t care. “I’m okay, you came to save me.”

“Of course I did.” He affirmed, your shaking fingers reaching his cheeks to get rid of the tears.

“I was so afraid, they kept saying how they would take you back, how there is that place in Russia where they would use the words against you! I- I couldn’t even imagine-ne.” Stammering you started to cry again,  you started to hyperventilate, panic set on your veins.

Bucky held your face on his hands and looked deep into your eyes. “I know what they wanted, my love. But they won’t get it! I promise you.” You nodded and smiled at him, your savior. “Now let’s go home.”

Your fingers grasped tightly onto his clothes as he helped you to walk out of the hell hole. Your legs were shaking and he realized that, in reply he placed his hands on your thighs lifting you up on his body, you used all strength you could to lock your legs around his waist.

Looking down the stairs he saw Steve and Natasha. “Y/N, close your eyes.” He asked, it was almost a plea, he didn’t want you to see with your bare eyes the terror that the Winter Soldier could cause.

He ached to burn the construction to nothing, burn his past and burn anyone who dared to hurt you.

Getting out of the place you opened your eyes momentarily seeing the number of people in the floor, Steve’s cerulean eyes were the next thing you saw, he mouthed 'look at me’ believing you were scared of Bucky’s doing…

(…) of the Winter Soldier’s doing.

But you weren’t.

You loved Bucky with all you have, and if he loved you enough to ignore his fears and go to save you. What sort of love is better than that?

Reaching the car he helped you in before closing the door and walking to the other side, Steve looked at the mirror at Bucky trying to see the turmoil of the last happening, but he only saw relief. 

Natasha probably called Fury and asked to send some people to ‘clean’ the place. She entered the car and nodded to Steve who started to drive.

“Bucky?” You called softly, too tired.

That was it, you would ask about the people, would ask why he didn’t solve it in another way. “Mmm?” He mumbled, fear set on his chest.

He couldn’t bear the idea of you fearing him.

Kissing his hand you let a sigh. “Let’s go home.”

Smiling in pure relief he nodded and kissed your forehead for long seconds, you were there with him, safe.

“Yes, doll. Let’s go home.”

                             …

Torchwood 1x01-1x08

Since I’ve been posting Torchwood rewatch episode reactions over on DW, I may as well post them here too!

Cut with a readmore because long and also spoilery. No specific S2 spoilers except set off in its own section.

----

1x01: Everything Changes, aka Torchwood is the worst-kept secret in the greater Cardiff metropolitan area. The episode with the infamous date rape via alien aphrodisiac. I have made the deliberate choice to compartmentalize this/pretend it never happened due to TV writers being notoriously terrible with recognizing the real-world implications of fantasy aphrodisiacs and sex magic (there was just a scene like this in The Witcher in 20-fucking-20), and treat it as what it is clearly supposed to be in context -- unethical but basically harmless misuse of an alien artifact -- instead of what it really is. But I recognize that this is a personal choice and I also hate this writing decision and wish they'd picked literally any other way of making this particular point, for the record. Anyway ... the rest of this episode other than the fucking date rape was a lot of fun, though. Torchwood is the worst secret quasi-governmental agency at being secret. THE ACTUAL WORST. I love the team trying to keep straight faces and then giggling when Gwen enters their secret base, and the entire base set is just so fantastically bonkers; I really really love it a lot. There's literally a fountain in the middle of it and, like, random water everywhere?! And a pterodactyl. And the invisible lift, with Gwen's wry comment about how there's nothing to stop random pedestrians from falling down it. It's possibly the most utterly bonkers secret spy base outside of kids' cartoons and I love it. 1x02: Day One, aka Murder By Orgasm. In which the show classes things up with an alien who kills people (men only!) via orgasm. Choices were definitely made in this episode. Many choices. For sure. Owen continues to be a total sleaze because the writers think it's funny. Also, his survival when the sex alien targets him makes absolutely no sense at all. He's literally the only person she left alive, and she's in the throes of sex-energy withdrawal at the time. In short, this was an episode that happened. There were a few cute team bits but really not enough to redeem it. 1x03: Ghost Machine, aka Burn Gorman Is Very Pretty. Not that I am biased. He is so pretty in this episode. SO PRETTY. Also, for a refreshing change, Owen manages not to be creepy and sexist at all in this episode. He's just prickly and kind of sweet. I like this Owen. I want to keep him. This episode overall was really a lot of fun, aside from (or perhaps also including) the most unintentionally hilarious death of a redshirt ever, in which he goes to hug Gwen and she accidentally stabs him with the knife she's holding. But overall it's so great! The Owen arc was my favorite - I love how affected he is by the memory device (the scene where he's clearly having a panic attack and trying to keep control!) and how determined he is to get justice for the murdered girl, only to be essentially brought down by his basic decent nature and inability to kill an old man in cold blood. Owen trying to save the guy's life when he was holding a knife on him thirty seconds earlier breaks me a little bit. Lots of fun team scenes in this one, too. The Splott conversation! ("Estate agents call it Sploe.") 1x04: Cyberwoman, aka CYBERBIKINI! Here again, Choices Were Made, most of them by the costuming department with a side of deeply uncomfortable racial implications on the part of whoever cast the episode. To be fair, maybe they just couldn't afford enough tinfoil to cover CyberLisa entirely, since the budget for this episode was clearly three shoestrings and a potato. I don't know if my favorite part of the low-budget f/x is the way they're clearly splicing in Doctor Who clips for the cyberization process, or the fall of Torchwood One, a giant battle involving hundreds of participants that is represented by Ianto screaming while surrounded by plastic sheeting. Honestly, I really love this episode. It is not good by any stretch of the imagination, but there is something incredibly charming about its sheer commitment to utter batshittery and OTT sobbing over emotional team betrayals, and parts of it were incredibly tense. It has the general feel of a horror film shot by college theater majors. Also someone getting doused in barbecue sauce and fed to a pterodactyl is literally a plot point, and the team basketball game at the beginning is one of my favorite little team moments; it's so cute. Cyberbikini aside and with expectations properly lowered, this was terrific fun. 1x05: Small Worlds, aka Death By Hanahaki Disease. On the whole this episode was not terrible nor was it memorably unpleasant; it was just kind of there. In going back to write about the episodes, I really had trouble remembering what even happened in this one. The concept is really interesting, but the fairies stopped being nearly so creepy once you actually see them in all their low-budget-CGI glory; I think the episode would actually have been better if they'd stayed invisible. The flower petal deaths were really gross. I hadn't realized that, while Gwen (unlike the rest of his team) knows that Jack can die and come back, she didn't actually know before this episode that he's much older than he looks. 1x06: Countrycide, aka Don't Split The Party. WELSH MURDER VILLAGE. I loved this episode. This is the ridonkulous teamy sci-fi horror shenanigans that I'm here for. I mean, I was there with bells on for TEAM CAMPING TRIP and then it just got better and better. Ianto gets to go out in the field for the first time and nearly gets eaten by cannibals! Poor Ianto. His life is the worst. I sort of vaguely knew because of season two that there was Owen/Gwen in the first season, but what really caught me off guard is how much I enjoyed it. I was expecting meaningless sex with a side of skeeve, and I do really hate that she's cheating on her boyfriend and how pushy about it Owen is at first, not to mention outing their kiss to the whole team. But the crazy thing about it is, by the midpoint of the episode they're actually, genuinely very sweet, and by the end of the episode you can see what they're both getting out of the relationship and get the feeling that it's a positive human connection for both of them. Also, the near-kiss and teamwork in the woods was incredibly hot. I really loved (and was also surprised by) how loyal and protective Owen is toward his teammates. We saw it a little bit in the previous episode with his "Don't you touch her!" re: Gwen, but it's abundantly on display here, from Owen repeatedly insisting that they need to go after Tosh and Ianto, to his fury at the guy threatening Tosh, to his captor having to restrain him when they pull the hood off Ianto's head near the end. Love Jack's big-damn-hero entrance to the Murder House, and everyone running around screaming and getting separated and hurt, which is always a good time. Basically I just loved this episode. It needed more hurt/comforty aftermath, though. I might have to write some. 1x07: Greeks Bearing Gifts, aka Tosh Has An Alien Girlfriend. I really loved this episode, on the whole, but it is Made Of Ouch. As well as Tosh's isolation and hurt, there's also that bit where she hears Ianto's thoughts and it's just endless painpainpainpain. I like to think that after this episode, she started getting together with him for drinks occasionally and talking about things. They both need friends so badly. (I do not love Jack's random transphobic comment near the end. From JACK of all people. WHY.) And seeing Tosh's delight and squee when she gets to just geek out about things is so lovely. Tosh is absolutely a person who leaves her teammates notes with little hearts on them. I love her. ♥ (Also, as much as I love Owen personally, I really wish that so much of Tosh's storyline didn't revolve around her hopeless crush on Owen. Toshiko deserved better, in all ways, than what this show gave her.) It's too bad that Gwen and Owen's affair is, on the whole, a rather destructive thing, because they're really happy! They're like the only happy people in Torchwood at this point. It's not a grand love story or anything, but I felt like the sheer joy of that initial rush of infatuation was well conveyed and sweet. Owen's relationship with Tosh in season one is completely baffling to me. He's not only staggeringly oblivious to Tosh being into him, but she's literally the only woman at Torchwood that he doesn't hit on. And yet, it's not that he doesn't like her! He clearly does like her in a friend kind of way and enjoys hanging out with her. The card that Mary was looking at in Tosh's apartment looked handmade to me, so he literally made her a handmade birthday card! And yet, he is blindingly oblivious to her interest and rejects her every time she makes overtures. ... I mean, the meta-reason is probably just that the writers thought it would be funny if the character who always sleeps around doesn't notice the one person who really wants him. But I can't help wondering if the basic issue is that Owen has somehow, without really intending to, classified his relationship with her as basically a sibling-type one. We know from the flashbacks in season two that they both joined Torchwood at about the same time and were both in a very emotionally fragile place when they did, and Jack also has a very quasi-parental sort of vibe with both of them. It makes me wonder if Owen either tried to initiate something early on and was rebuffed because Tosh wasn't really coping well either, or if he met her at a point in his life when he was really not interested in having relationships with anyone and simply classified her mentally in a sort of little-sister category. This actually does fit very well with the sometimes bullying, sometimes playful and sweet, generally sexless way that he relates to her this season, and the way that he clearly does care about her and in fact is very protective at times; he just doesn't view her as a target of romantic interest. Anyway, Tosh was very beautiful this episode, and her alien girlfriend was also quite hot, and I really enjoyed it. 1x08: They Keep Killing Suzie, aka I don't think anything I could come up with is better than the actual title. The scene in which they've accidentally locked themselves in their secret underground base and have to call the cops to let them out is possibly my favorite scene in this entire show. That was GOLD. I also wish the cop lady from this episode had come back. She was great, and her rapport with Jack was really neat. Part of what I want to say about this episode contains massive season two spoilers, so that's set off in a spoiler section at the end. This was a highly entertaining episode with a plot that was total nonsense that falls apart within 0.2 seconds of actually thinking about it. Good emotional stuff, yes! Plot? BONKERS. I mean, Suzie's plan was something like this: 1. Drive someone insane by feeding them Retcon for two years. 2. Kill yourself. 3. ???? 4. Profit! I am just going to headcanon that the team are actually wrong about Suzie planning all of this, and it's mostly an accidental set of circumstances that she took advantage of. I did love the twist of Suzie wanting a deathbed reunion with her dad not because of love, but because she wanted to watch him die because he's terrible. (However, this does completely undermine what was previously given as part of her motivation for getting addicted to the glove, which was trying to save her dad. See above re: plot nonsense.) But the team stuff was fun! Love everyone scrambling to save Gwen, and Owen holding her at the end -- I'm still seeing them through a lens of mostly-platonic more than romantic. The general vibe with the team pulling together vs. Suzie having basically no one in Torchwood to talk to is really interesting; it's hard to say how much of that is the team having gotten closer over the course of the season, and how much of it is just Suzie not really ever bonding with her co-workers the way they bonded with each other. I mean, I do get more of a co-workery vibe off them early on, as opposed to the chosen-family feeling later on, but the closeness is there under the surface; I'm just not really sure if they've realized it yet. But with Suzie, it's hard to say if the closeness ever really was there. They're all damaged in their various ways, but I feel like Suzie might be damaged in a way that simply precluded her ever really being able to let people in, as the others are learning to. Ianto's visible depression at this point in the show is mostly down to Gareth David-Lloyd's acting, but it's so well done -- his flat affect and thousand-yard stare, especially contrasted against his dry, sarcastic humor when he's not miserable (mostly in season two). The other Ianto-related thing I noticed is that the warmer, more bantery rapport between Ianto and Owen in season two is actually present in this episode to some extent, for perhaps the first time ever. In particular, Owen makes him smile at one point by teasing him (the only time Ianto smiles in the last few episodes, I think, up until he's with Jack at the very end), and offers him the first shot at naming the knife in spite of Ianto's artifact names being genuinely terrible - like, trying to include him a little bit, in a way I haven't seen Owen doing with him before. There's a general feeling throughout this episode that Owen has warmed up to him a bit and is actually reaching out a little. And Ianto and Jack are sleeping together now! I don't know when that happened and I wish we'd seen more of the beginnings of it. It's nice to see Ianto smile, though. Season two 1x08-related spoilers: 

Watching this episode after having seen Owen's resurrection glove arc in season two was FASCINATING, especially for the compare/contrast of the way the team reacted to resurrected!Suzie vs. resurrected!Owen; I mean, the fact that she died in the process of betraying them after becoming a serial killer is obviously a large factor here, and they were somewhat wary of Owen too, but there's just so much more ambivalence in how they deal with Suzie, vs. the way that Owen's death and resurrection actually brought the team closer together, and brought Owen closer to all of them.

But the most interesting contrast to me is how Owen and Suzie, as characters, both reacted to the whole idea of having to survive by killing people, with Jack trying (unsuccessfully) to argue Suzie out of allowing Gwen to die, whereas Owen's immediate reaction to finding out that his survival might be killing people (just random people too, not teammates) was to try to sacrifice himself, not just once but multiple times, starting with a fundamentally horrible euthanasia-type death and continuing on to destroy the resurrection glove himself even though it was likely to re-kill him. Why yes, I can turn any episode discussion into an Owen discussion, even an episode he wasn't especially prominent in.