#2 of them I never know when I’m needed until a few days beforehand

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Coming To An Understanding #2

Previous

“You got any plans for Saturday?” you ask, digging in your bag for your phone to show Melissa the lunch menu for the new place you’d found online.

“I got a thing,” comes the snapped reply.

You frown, not used to this sort of reply from her.  “Okaaay…like an all day thing or..?”

“Just a thing, okay?” she says without looking at you.

You shrug, not willing to fight over nothing.  “Fine.  You mind if I invite Jacob over to mine and we watch the Mandalorian then?”

“Do what you want,” she says making a vague gesture with her hands, still refusing to look at you. 

Pulling out your phone, you leave the tab for the restaurant open, but instead open up your messages, doing your best to distract yourself from the red head’s snippy mood.  Part of you wants to press further and ask what’s got her being so short with you, but you quickly decide whatever it is, you don’t need to pry.  If she has a thing she wants to keep private, then that’s up to her.  If she wants to tell you, she’ll tell you, but until then there’s always that level of Match 3D on your phone you could never get past. 

*

In bed that night at your apartment, you still haven’t got past that damn level of Match 3D and at this point, you’re starting to doubt you ever will.  To stop yourself throwing your phone across the room you’d swapped your phone for your book, letting yourself get lost in another world for a while.

You’re so engrossed that you almost miss Melissa setting down her own phone with a sigh.

“I’m going to the hair salon on Saturday,” she says quietly.  “Getting a few touch ups.”

Looking up at her, you smile.  “Okay.  You want me to meet you after?  Or we could maybe do breakfast beforehand if your appointment isn’t too early?”

She just looks at you, as though waiting for something.

“What?  You want me to be shocked?” you ask, putting down your book and turning to look at her properly.  “I know the rug doesn’t match the drapes, Lissa.”

At this, she rolls her eyes, letting out a huff.

“Are you getting something different done?”

“No,” she answers quickly.  Almost too quickly.  “Just touch ups,” she adds rather defensively, before looking away, fiddling with the blankets.  “Why, would you prefer I changed it?”

“Melissa, you know I’d love you no matter what colour your hair was, right?” you ask, waiting until she meets your eyes before continuing.  “I mean, do I think the red is hot?  Yeah.  But it’s hot because it’s on you.  If you wanted to go blonde, brunette, hell green, it wouldn’t change anything.  I want you to do what you want.”

She looks thoughtful for a moment.  “Even if I didn’t dye it at all?”

That’s when you see it; the hesitation, the worry.  “Have you seen Paget Brewster lately?” you joke, knowing she’d made fun of your reaction to the new look a certain Emily Prentiss was sporting.  “I think you’d rock whatever look you decided to go for.  And I’d love you all the same.”

You look down as you feel her toy with one of your rings.  “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

She lets out a sigh.  “I know you know how old I am, but I just…well it just felt easier to keep that kinda stuff behind the scenes.”

“Stay here,” you tell her, clambering out of bed and heading for the bathroom.  Grabbing the couple of boxes of hair dye from under the sink, you sit on the edge of the bed.  “You think mine is natural?  I pick whatever colour is on sale and takes my fancy that day.”

“Well, there ain’t exactly much down there to compare it to,” she smirks.  “Wait, you don’t even use the same colour?”

You can’t help but laugh.  “Like you’ve never noticed it’s been about twenty different shades, none of them exactly natural, since we met?”  You gather up the boxes of hair dye, moving to return them to the bathroom.  “You can even pick the colour next time if you want.  Though full disclosure, I’m working on a totally natural Cruella De Ville stripe and when that comes in properly it’s getting left well alone.”

You hear her chuckle from the bathroom and when you return to bed, she’s put her phone away and has already turned off the bedside light.  She opens her arms to you, letting you cuddle in close.

“Sorry I was snarky earlier,” she says softly in the darkness.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” you reply.  “Thank you for telling me though.”

“Thank you for putting up with me,” she says finally after a long pause.

Pressing a kiss to the closest patch of skin you can find, you tighten the arm around her waist.  “You got the rough end of that deal being landed with me,” you say, smiling as you feel her press a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Next

#melissa x reader #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary

[darlingshane]

In Other Words, Until I Die

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: T // Warnings: Angst, Language. // Word Count: 4,843

Summary – @gabymiller​ asked – can I request a frank castle fic where he’s married with a baby girl and they see on the news that he is dead but with the help of Curtis his wife finds out he’s Pete and they have a angsty fluffy reunion ❤️

A/N: This came out more angsty than I expected but I hope you like it anyway. There’s still some fluff and many bittersweet moments. // A/N 2:  Lisa is Frank and Reader’s baby, with all my respect to Maria and the Castle family. A/N 3: The title comes from  the song Baby, I'm yours, by Barbara Lewis. It's mentioned a couple times if you wanna listen beforehand.

- You can also read at AO3.

Frank came back for good.

That's what he believed. That's what he needed. To be home and become the husband and the father he always wanted to be, but the universe cared little for what Frank Castle wanted. It had other plans for him and wasn't going to let him settle that easily just cause he had a change of heart.

No, it wouldn't be that simple. Not after what happened during his last deployment. Not after Cerberus.

His bliss at home – with you and getting reacquainted with Lisa, who had just turned one, – was quickly cut short only three weeks after settling back in your lives.

What pulled him out of that delusion was when one day, while you were at work; he took Lisa to the park and on his way back he found an envelope in the mail slot with no stamp or address on it. Just his name and CD that contained a very damning video of his last mission in Kandahar.

A couple of days later, he disappeared before you woke up.

He took that piece of evidence as a threat and in order to figure out who was behind that, he had to be as far away from you as possible. It was the only way to keep you safe cause he knew that that mission was different, and while he hoped it had ended with that bullet, it didn't. It followed him back home, and he couldn't have that. He wasn't going to be the reason to put you and the baby in danger.

He wrote you a letter, though, that felt like a joke where he vaguely explained that he had to go away to figure things out and that he didn't know if he would ever come back. He said that you and Lisa were better off without him, that he'd never be what you wanted him to be.

You couldn't understand how he could have sunk that low to bury your relationship in such a crude manner like it was nothing. And despite being mad as hell, deep down you were certain that those words weren't true. If he was trying to make you angry, he knew how to. But he couldn't possibly believe that you were stupid enough to buy that.

You've been together long enough to read between the lines, and if he thought you were going to give up that easily, he was wrong.

Something was off, and you needed to know the truth, and the best way to do that was to visit some of his closest friends.

None of them knew shit, or so they said. Except for Curtis, if the others had lied, Curt didn't. He couldn't. He was an honest man and told you straight up that Frank had to leave to keep both of you safe, that there were people after him who weren't going to hesitate about hurting you to get to him. He also reassured that Frank didn't love anything more in the world than you and Lisa, that he was completely torn apart the last time he saw him.

But that wasn't very reassuring at all. It was bullshit. You loved Frank, but it didn't make sense to you what he could've done so wrong that prompted an escape number instead of going to the police or coming up with something else.

 A lot happened in the next few weeks since he left. To say it turned your life upside down was an understatement.

First, you were stunned by the bombarding news and headlines pointing your husband as the perpetrator of a series of murders, including his former CO, Ray Schoonover.

Quickly after that, you were brought in for questioning twice, once by the NYPD, and a second one by Homeland Security, claiming that he was part of two bombings along with a man named Lewis Wilson.

They got warrants and all kinds of bullshit to search the house. To their disbelief, they didn't find anything that could point them in Frank's direction.

It was then that you understood the coldness of his words in that letter he wrote. He wanted everyone to believe that he had abandoned you, so they'd leave you alone. He anticipated that happening, and they still went at you either way, but not as viciously as they'd have if they believed you knew what he was up to.

It was heartbreaking seeing your husband dissected by the so-called experts and people who once knew him, trying to put the pieces together of this person they claimed was a psychopath.

You wanted to believe Frank was innocent, but the evidence kept piling up against him.

At the end of the day, you missed him dearly and there wasn't a side or another, it was only his and yours and Lisa’s. And you were certain that behind all the secrecy, there was a good reason for his actions. You wished he had told you. Maybe he thought you were useless to him, or it was as dangerous as he said it was for you to be privy to all that, but being in the dark was just as bad. You'd have done anything for him if he had asked.

It was exhausting, you could barely keep it together. Most nights you didn’t sleep. And if it wasn't for your commitment to Lisa, you definitely would've lost your mind a long time ago. Taking care of her and making sure she was happy and healthy was the only thing that kept you going. She had the most beautiful face and smile, and you marveled at how much her eyes looked like Frank's every time she opened them in the morning, and you could even see it at night before she closed them.

Every evening before bedtime, you'd hold her up in your arms, showing her the picture of daddy in his dress blues sitting on the mantle, cause you wanted her to remember him as the good man you knew. As that same guy you met five years ago who stood in line for ten minutes every day just so he could talk to you for one while he ordered his coffee; until one day he was brave enough to ask you out.

“Don't believe anything you hear, okay? Daddy loves you,” you whispered in her little ear, staring at Frank's portrait, as if she could understand anything that was going on.

“Dada,” that night she stuck out her arm and pressed her tiny finger against his nose over the glass.

“You like dada's nose? It's kinda funny, isn't it?”

She stared at you and repeated dada.

“Don't tell him I say that,” you smiled tiredly and glanced at the still portrait of Frank one more time, holding back tears, blindly hoping he’d come back some day.

In an old building near the river, Frank was watching the whole thing through the cameras he had David install in the house, so he could keep an eye on you. The pace of his heart picked up, capturing his baby girl calling him dada behind a screen, and as much as he wanted to run back home and hold the both of you, it was nearly impossible. You were being watched, not just by him, and there wasn't a safe way for him to contact you without arousing suspicion.

He could see how tired you were and how much you had endured. You were strong, he had no doubt, but he hated seeing you suffering, and if he could go back in time and change the course of his actions, so he could be there with you, he abso-fucking-lutely would.

Once Lisa was asleep, and you turned in for the night, he laid back on the uncomfortable cot. He closed his eyes, as all those beautiful memories he built up with you flashed behind them. From the moment he saw you behind the counter at the café till the last: your first date, your first kiss, a couple of arguments in between, all the times he made love to you, countless times speaking on the phone, your wedding, the day his baby girl was born…

If you had Lisa, he only had his treasured memories wrapped in an old song that started playing in his head that you first danced to on the second time you went out with him. That same song was later the one that played at your wedding. It’s called– Baby, I'm yours.

Frank could hear the melody clearly and still feel the weight and touch of your hands when they linked around his neck on the dance floor when he invited you to dance. He couldn’t do the twist, but he could definitely swing with you to a couple of slower songs like that one.

It was at the fundraiser at a VA center in Brooklyn, where everyone was dressed like it was the 60s. He would have never agreed to go to a themed party like that, no, but it was for a good cause, and it also gave him the opportunity to ask you out on a second date. So, he bought the tickets, found himself a classic, nice suit like Don Draper wore in Mad Men, and traded his tactical boots for oxfords. Admittedly, he didn't consider himself as handsome as Don, but you made him feel that way. He wasn't a cheater either, so, all things considered, he could take pride in that, but he was too humble to recognize his own good qualities and wasn’t going to start any time soon.

For all the times he called himself old-fashioned, that day he looked the part too. He showed up with a bouquet of flowers and tucked his elbow out, so you could link your arm with his as you walked up to his truck. It was adorable how bashfully he looked at you and the way his lips curved up when you kissed him at the end of the night.

He wished for more moments like those. His life couldn't end like this without getting to hold you and Lisa again. Could it?

That unbearable need pushed him to keep going, to settle his score, clear his name, just so he could return to you and make new memories.

But again, his plans were destroyed once more the night on the pier when he found who was working with Schoonover…

All his dreams of getting back to you blew up in that explosion. The puzzle was more complex than he initially thought, so he ultimately had to let you go for good and let the world, including you, believe that Frank Castle had died in that boat.

In his wake, he kept working in the shadows with his partner while watching you helplessly bury a burned body that wasn’t his. He had David hack and falsify all the appropriate DNA and dental records, so nobody would glance at it twice, and it worked.

The world finally left you alone after his death and when they stopped watching– he stopped too because you deserve to grieve and live in peace; and because every time he saw you on the screen it was like being run over by five cars in a row.

He'd still get an update or photo of Lisa from Curtis, who tried to convince him many times to let you know that he was alive, but he wouldn't budge. He still believed you were safer not knowing.

Curt hated lying to you and after the funeral you only saw him a couple of times, briefly. First, you didn't want to face people at all for a while, and second, you stayed focused on Lisa and your job, and that didn't give you much time to do anything else.

Frank grew a beard, got a new identity for the time being, and kept his dead down. He lived like a ghost for ten months, hitting wall after wall of bullshit that kept him from finding out who was the real asshole behind Cerberus. That was the last piece he needed.

Being dead was easy, kind of. He didn't have to worry anymore, cause nobody knew what he was up to. And becoming Pete Castiglione gave him the freedom to come and go as he pleased, even during daylight, he’d just slip a cap on and call it a day.

What kept him up at night was abandoning the two of you. His whole damn word that he missed so much, it physically hurt. You were so close, barely a handful of miles away, that he could just be there in less than an hour if he wanted to. And that was it, he always wanted, alas the fear of putting you in peril was greater.

He’d stare at the picture of the two of you every night. Traced your features with his finger before succumbing to reading instead to keep his mind occupied. He had never read as much as he did during those months.

One day, he was getting a couple of books at this bookstore, cause he had already gone through Curt's and David’s entire bookshelves, and he needed new material.

In there, he was taken aback at finding you with Lisa on your lap over the kid's section. It seemed like some mommy and me kind of class, with mostly moms and a couple of dads, surrounded by babies and toddlers listening to a young girl and boy taking turns reading from a Dr. Seuss book.

Lisa had grown so much since he last saw her, obviously. And he couldn't turn his gaze away, memorizing every detail of his baby girl from her hair held in two buns atop of her head, to her outfit of a flashy purple shirt with a dinosaur, jeans, and sneakers. He was stunned by the way she freely gestured, expressing herself like he hadn’t seen before, laughing at the kids’ funny voices, and being nothing but inquisitive at her surroundings. She wouldn’t just stay seated on your lap and would stand several times up on her short legs, spin around, and go over to the front row with the other kids whenever she pleased.

His eyes welled up, realizing how much he'd missed. She could walk now, and he wasn't there to see that happen. She was about to turn two and wouldn’t be there to witness that either out of his own stupidity.

He tried making himself invisible, peering behind a bookshelf, so he could see you smiling and quietly sharing just a few words with one of the moms on your side.

His heart stopped when he saw Lisa’s little hand waving at him in one of her spins like she had recognized him, but she was just probably playing around. She couldn’t have. Could she? It’d be astonishing if she could.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he could barely see Frank any more behind all that hair. Maybe it was the eyes that gave him away, or the nose, probably. He figured you kept showing her pictures of him and telling stories no matter how painful it was; and he was right, you did.

His lips turned into a smile, and she smiled back widely, showing all her baby teeth before returning to mommy’s side.

When the class was over, he quickly slipped his ball cap back on and strode away towards the exit because if he didn’t, he might’ve ended up doing something he regretted.

“Bye-bye, dada,” you heard Lisa say to your surprise as you were putting her jacket on.

Your brow turned into a frown, glancing over your shoulder to see if she had seen someone that looked like Frank in the bookstore. That was the only explanation for it, you had never seen her say that other than when you put her to bed that she wished his picture good night.

She was too little to understand what death was, so you saved that conversation for later, all she knew that even if she didn’t see daddy again, he’d always be with her. Maybe that was a little confusing too for an almost two-year-old.

“You wanna see dada?”

She nodded, and it broke your heart a little more, if it was possible, after everything you’ve been through.

You handed invitations to a few moms for Lisa's birthday party that you planned for next week and chatted with them for a bit before heading home.

As you were finally starting to feel more like your old self, those few days left to her second birthday quickly changed that again. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but you could tell someone was watching you, and it started to creep you out that Lisa kept babbling with her little vocabulary that she saw Frank more than once. The first was at the bookstore, you thought it'd end there, but there was another time at the grocery store, and a third time at the park.

It was like his ghost was haunting you. After all this time, only Frank would dare to show up right when you were pulling yourself out of the suffocating pit of sadness.

On the day of Lisa’s birthday, you found a package addressed to you on the porch, but it was a present for her. Since there was no return address you opened it first, just for safety, unsticking carefully one side of the wrapping paper to find a box that had a stuffed green dinosaur inside, a cute card wishing her Happy Birthday, and a book titled ‘One Batch, Two Batch’ with a big bear and a baby bear holding a cookie on the cover. You knew she’d love that, so you put it back together as it came and hid it for later, wondering who could have sent that.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you told Curt after the party, fidgeting with Frank’s wedding band that was hanging on a chain around your neck.

He stuck around to catch up and helped you clean up, cause you hadn’t seen him in a few months.

You had put Lisa to sleep already, which wasn’t hard after all the excitement of the day. She enjoyed every single second and went to sleep with that stuffed dino cradled to her chest from the mysterious sender.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“I don’t know, I just… she keeps talking about Frank and I feel like he’s watching over us or something.”

You saw Curt swallow as he towel-dried the dishes.

“I am crazy, am I?” you said when he didn’t give you a reply.

“No, no… I was just thinking. That doesn’t sound crazy at all. You miss him, and so does she because you still tell her about him.”

“You think I should stop?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying it is normal to miss him. He's a great part of your life.”

“Yeah, but I’ve always missed him. This is different. It feels like I'm back to the beginning when he left, and I knew he was out there, but I couldn’t see him, you know?”

Curt simply nodded.

He couldn't keep up with the lie anymore and hated seeing you hurt because of Castle, which he was sure now he had been lurking around for what you’ve just had said. He wished Frank would've listened to him earlier. You needed to know the truth, but it couldn't come from him.

It was a few days later that you left Lisa with the babysitter in the afternoon and drove to St. John's after getting a text from Curtis saying that he needed to talk to you alone, that it was important.

The sky was already dark, since days were shorter then. As you pulled up at the end of the street you saw a few people coming out of the church, some gathering on the pavement to have a smoke and a few words before parting ways.

Curt was waiting for you outside when you got to the doors, a couple of guys were saying goodbye to him as you walked up the stairs.

“I need you to keep an open mind,” he started, treading carefully and motioning in the direction of the staircase that led to a basement.

“Okay.”

You didn’t know what to expect to be honest, but all the secrecy made you a little nervous. You started biting the inside of your cheek and tucked your hands in your jacket’s pockets, following him in silence down the stairs and across a long hallway until he came to a halt before reaching the end.

He glanced at you, tilting his head to the side, pointing to the room where his meetings were held.

“I need you to take a deep breath and go in. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“What? Who?” Your brow narrowed.

“Trust me. You gotta see for yourself.”

There was no breath to take but an exasperated sigh that left your nose before taking a couple of steps forwards. When you crossed that little threshold into this room you found a tall man, all dressed in black, leaning against the big, yellow tiled wall, with his head hanging down.

You looked back, over your shoulder, for a moment and Curt was already gone or out of sight, and for lack of words facing this stranger, you cleared your throat loudly in order to claim his attention.

What came next was probably the last thing that you thought of finding here. You’ve never been hit by a bullet, but at that moment – as the mysterious man slowly lifted his head, you captured Frank's features behind disheveled curls and a bushy beard – it felt just like one went straight through your heart.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, and it sounded like gravel coming out of his mouth that made the skin at the back of your neck rise at the texture of his familiar voice.

The utter shock that took all over your body didn’t let you move or speak up. You wanted to scream, but you could only stare, noticing your face quickly heating up, and it took you a moment to realize you were already crying.

Your heart pounded anxiously in your chest, begging you to take a breath.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m here,” he spoke again.

It felt like a cheap trick your mind was playing on you because that person in front of you couldn't be Frank Castle. It was absolutely impossible. You buried his body, almost in disgrace, after all the things they said he had done.

You blinked once, and twice more, as he moved closer, slowly presenting himself more and more as the man that once you recognized as your husband.

He was barely standing two feet away when you finally let a shaky breath fall between your lips that was held beneath that huge knot in your throat. And when his mouth opened again to say he was sorry, you used both hands to push him back with all the force you could muster, which wasn't much to be honest.

Frank merely swayed, and you pushed him again, harder, and he let you, and a third one.

“Let it out, sweetheart.”

On the fourth push, you started sobbing uncontrollably, and his arms finally surrounded you, holding you tight against his chest.

“Shh, shh. It's okay.”

“I hate you,” you repeated thickly a few times, falling apart against his hoodie, balling the fabric in your hands.

“I know, I know… I'm sorry.”

You felt his lips pressed on your head and a hand soothing up and down your back. He kept you like that until your heart settled at a normal pace and there weren't more tears to shed, at least for now.

With a little hesitation, you pulled your head back to take a good look at him again, calmer this time.

Locking eyes with him, you brought your hands up and framed his face, rubbing your thumbs on the bags of his eyes that were tear-soaked just as yours.

“You coming home?” Of all the questions you could have asked, that was the only one that mattered to you.

“I can't. It's not safe,” his gaze fell low.

“Will it ever be?”

“I don't know.”

“You're an asshole, you know that?” He nodded in your hands, and you released his face, turning your back on him in frustration, “you lied to me and left me alone to deal with all this. I've mourned you… and for what? You should've stayed dead.”

You didn't mean that, but emotions got the best out of you at that moment.

“Please, Frank. I miss you,” you begged right after, letting out a sob.

“I wish I could, baby. I wanna tell you everything and go home with you and Lisa, but there are still people out there that would hurt you if they knew I was alive.”

“Then, tell me what to do, I'll help you. Whatever you need,” you wiped your face and shifted on your boots again to face him.

“You can't. One of us has to take care of her, and I'm already dead.”

“You let her see you, didn't you?”

“I just…” his lips twitched nervously, “I saw her at the bookstore, and she smiled at me and waved. And I had to see that again. I tried to stay away, but she's just…”

“She's perfect and misses you too,” you finished his sentence, fitting your hands on either side of his neck, capturing the warmth of his skin. “Come by the house later at night, even if it's just for a little bit, just to hold her for a while.”

“I wanna. I really do, but if anyone catches a whiff that I'm around…”

“Nobody will. I promise,” you whispered and brought your fingers up to move his curls away from his forehead, “look at you… you look so different, I could barely recognize you.”

“Dunno know how she did.”

“She’s smart for a two-year-old,” you laughed softly, petting his beard next.

“She got that from you.”

“I don’t know about that,” you sighted as Frank got hold of one of your hands and brought your palm up to his lips.

A tap on the door frame interrupted the moment, and you glanced over your shoulder to see Curt looking apologetic for having to cut your time short.

“Everything good with you two? I need to close up.”

You both nodded.

“Thanks Curt.”

He was a saint. Whatever he did to convince Frank to show up here to see you, it mustn't have been easy.

Frank rode with you and explained everything on the way back home, every single detail without overstating or sugarcoating anything, and you listened quietly without judgment. You always knew he had his reasons, and now they were all out in the open, and you didn’t know how to process all that in that short time frame. You couldn't get behind all of it and wished he had found another way, but you couldn't resent him either.

“Do you still love me after all that?” he asked once you were in the garage.

“Frank,” you stated his name as if it wasn't obvious already that you'd never stop no matter what. “Until the end of time.”

It was a cheesy line from that song you both loved so much.

“Until the stars fall from the sky?”

“Until I die,” you leaned closer and pressed your lips chastely against his, and couldn't help but smile at the prickling of his facial hair.

Then, he cupped your face so tender as his forehead touched yours, staying there a moment in silence, gathering some much-needed courage to face your baby girl.

You went into the house first and when the sitter was gone he came in through the back door.

Lisa was soundly asleep, sucking on her pacifier, in her toddler bed that was converted from her former crib. That same crib Frank built three days before she was born because he got home just in time to see that happen. Then, she spent about three months sleeping in a bassinet next to your bed afterwards anyway. There was no rush, you told him, but he spent a day just putting all that together cause he needed something to do.

You switched the night light on that turned the room into soft blues and yellows, and projected stars and moons across the ceiling as Frank took a seat in the rocking chair.

You carefully picked up Lisa and laid her on her tummy across Frank's chest. She stirred up a little but stayed comfortably curled in daddy's embrace without fussing too much, even tucked her arm underneath his beard.

Your heart swelled watching them both, and you propped yourself on the arm of the chair, tucking your legs over his lap and hugging his neck.

#the punisher #frank castle #jon bernthal #frank castle x reader #lisa castle #curtis hoyle #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction #angst #darlingwrites #fanfiction #in other words series

[amazingmsme]

Curtwen hc time! Bc we always need some more of these. (And strap in theres a few—)

First things first, i ADORE your last hc with Curt finding out about Owen first. I love the lines of dialogue beforehand between the two of them so SO much. I like that Owen would be like "stop tickling!" rather than "stop tickling ME", makes him sound more british.

Alr here are my thoughts:

Curt obviously spends a lot of time on his hair to keep it ✨️perfect✨️, but actually so does Owen. Owen uses a lot of product to keep his longer hair silky and soft, while Curt uses product specifically for looks. SO Owen loves that when theyre making out his hair ends up all up in Curt's face. Curts squinting and squirming and like "Owehehen- use a hair tie!" and Owens like "I literally just washed my hair, I'm not going to ruin it now-" so Curt has to suffer through giggles.

I will always and forever adore Barb being unwillingly involved in the boys' lil games, SO— Curt keeps asking and asking Barb to buildnhim somrthing that'll help him get revenge on Owen, but he never specifies what he wants the invention to do. So Barb's like "Mega, if you cant tell me what you want the invention to DO, i cant make one for you!!" and Curt tries to explain it in the vaguest way possible so that 1) she doesnt think he only wants it for himself and 2) itll still do what he wants it to do. And wventually when she connects the dots she teases the hell outta him. Curt makes excuses about the 'bad guys' bring thrown offguard or itd be helpful in interrogations, but Barb says "no one would ever use tickling in an interrogation, Mega" and Curt doesnt have the willpower or pride to correct her.

Owen has ticklish arms. There i said it. He wore a tak top while he and Curt were cuddling, and Curt just traced lines up and down the soft skin of his inner/outer arm. He tries SO FREAKING HARD not to tense his muscles because he knows as soon as he does Curt will notice. So hes just like "Curt could you cut it out? You're nails are itching me." and tries to move out of the way. But Curt senses somethings up and prods him (figuratively and literally) about it until he spills. Owen's laughter from soft tickles is so much different from when he's "getting wreckt". Its very breathy and soft, and he covers his face with the back of his hand to hide himself, but doesnt actively lean away from the feeling. Curt gets heart-eyes and immediately wants to hear more. Owen's throwing insults at him to stop, but he just lays there giggling into the side of the couch.

Finally, LETS👏TALK👏ABOUT👏CURT'S👏TICKLISH👏EARS👏. Our canon. Our bread and butter. Curt originally hates wearing earpieces because Barb hadn't perfected the technology yet and it always buzzed. He got yelled at because one time on a very important mission in Budapest Curt was losing his gd mind with how tingly his ear was feeling and he had to take it off. When Barb couldn't get ahold of him, she knew she'd give him an earfull later. Curt also has issues with Owen. Now, Owen loves Curt's ears. He thinks theyre a cute shape and he loves that theyre so sensitive. Owen adores tracing them and pecking them. Depending on the day, Curt wil either get major goosebumps from Owen, or lose his shiy immediately as he did in the famous interrogation scene. Owen always keeps an ostrich feather in his coat pocket. He rarely uses it, but he likes that Curt knows its always there. Its like its watching him 👀

THAT is all i have, i know it is alot but i am obsessed w these two and i just aAA-

AAAAAAAAA THESE ARE SO FUCKING CUTE I’M DYING I NEED CPR STAT!!! These two are gonna kill me, they’re such fucking dorks I love them I love them I love them! & I love that it makes him sound more British, I didn’t even think of that but now that you pointed it out I can’t stop seeing it!

I absolutely LOVE the difference in hair care between the 2 because they both obsess over their hair in different ways. Curt will style & gel his hair before he even thinks about stepping out the door because he’s always gotta look his best. Meanwhile Owen takes fucking forever after his shower brushing it & putting products in it to help it grow, heal split ends, make it soft, literally the works. Curt’s always like what the hell takes you so long??? & Owen’s just like “you have your hair routine, I have mine”

But it makes his hair so silky smooth & soft & it’s the perfect length to brush against Curt’s neck & ears when they cuddle or make out & it makes him so blushy & giggly because wtf hair shouldn’t tickle! But Owen absolutely loves the fact that he doesn’t even have to use his hands to get him laughing

On a related note, his stubble is the bane of Curt’s existence, it should be illegal

& omg Barb is constantly flipping between extremely amused & very annoyed, these boys never give her a fucking break! She’s so patient with Curt trying to find out what the fuck he actually wants from her, but he won’t stop beating around the bush & is being vague af. So she’s just like “damn if you can’t even say it you can’t be trusted with it” & then he tries to make more of an effort to actually describe what it is he’s looking for & she just gets more amused by the second. & when she says no one would use that in an interrogation he like mumbles under his breath something like “well Owen did” or “must be an MI6 thing” & he’s just being classic sassy Curt but she hears what he said & is like wait a fucking second. “Curt you can’t be serious. Agent Carvour is a professional” & he’s getting flustered & huffy & just goes “yeah, a professional pain in my ass. So can you make it or what?” She has it ready for him by lunch the next day & demands a “full report” on the device’s performance. She even had a sticky note with it that just says “give him hell ;)”

FMVRMAGELW I AM FOAMING AT THE MOUTH RN! TICKLISH ARMS ARE SO UNDERRATED! Sorry for yelling but this really has me in a chokehold. Owen is pretty averagely ticklish in all the normal spots, but I like to imagine he’s a lot more sensitive in harder to reach or more unconventional spots like his arms. Light touches here drive him up the fucking wall ok, he cannot take it whatsoever. Immediately breaks down in a fit of giggles. He tries to hold out, but breathy snickers always force their way out as he squirms around trying to suppress his wide dopey ass grin. Curt thinks it’s the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen in his life, & he’s right. His forearms are pretty bad & he can’t help but twitch away with a huff of laughter when Curt brushes over the skin there. But his biceps? That’s a good way to kill him. Light tickles there will have him in shrill hysterics & squeezing the muscle will draw out full on belly laughs. Owen didn’t even know he was ticklish there until Curt, & so he was really trying to hide the spot from the both of them. Because what a stupid fucking spot to be ticklish, he did not need to know how sensitive that spot was & he really didn’t need Curt to find out either. But he can’t lie to him, so they went in a little journey of discovery together

Bro we’re so damn lucky that we got canon ticklish!Curt I literally couldn’t believe it! & on his ears no less, like that is legit one of my favorite spots! It’s just so sweet & cute & the way people giggle & scrunch their neck for protection is so kxganssmabfi & that’s his literal introduction to the show!!! Like he legit goes from suave spy who never cracks under pressure to cutest giggly dork in the world in seconds flat! Like wtf they can’t do that to me! But I fucking LOVE how he can’t handle the ear piece because he’s too sensitive there & he just straight up ditches it! & when they ask him about it he’s all dodgy & embarrassed & not giving a straight answer until Cynthia threatens not to pay him for the assignment if he can’t answer her & he just blurts it out, blushing so much & Cynthia just scoffs like “Jesus Mega, that’s it? Why didn’t you just say so, no need to make such a big fucking deal out of it” & he’s so shocked because he honestly expected a lecture about how a spy shouldn’t be ticklish, but she was cool with it??? & she can kinda sense what he’s thinking so she says “look, we’re all human, I get it. I’ll get Barb to make some adjustments” & he thinks that’s the end of it but now she just uses it to tease the shit out of him when he’s least expecting it

His ears are Owen’s absolute favorite spot because Curt is soooo cute & giggly when he tickles him there & it’s one of his worst spots, & he’s a bit of a masochist & likes to bully his boyfriend. & I’m fucking dying thinking about him carrying around that feather all the time “just in case” like just imagine the first time Curt stumbles upon it! Maybe he’s looking for something in his pocket or grabbing his jacket for him & he just freezes & turns completely red. & he pulls it out & looks at Owen like “what the fuck is this???” & Owen looks up & smirks like “well you should know what that is” all smug & shit & he fucking has the audacity to wink at him. He knows exactly what he’s doing, & Curt really can’t handle it

Also worth noting: this is one of the top pics that comes up when you google Owen Carvour

I love them so very much, if you couldn’t tell

#asks #fruitee-goose #saf headcanons #spies are forever headcanons #curtwen #owen carvour #curt mega #special agent curt mega #spies are forever #saf #ticklish!curt #ticklish!owen

[anashins]

hello i’m not sure if ure still taking requests or if ure comfortable in writing this but may request a jaehyun comfort fic on reader pushing herself too hard on studying to the point of passing out or at least not taking care of herself HHHHH i’ve been drowned with stuff lately and i needed a comfort fic 🥲 if ure uncomfy i would totally understand, u can just ignore this !

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: comfort, fluff

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I hope I'm not too late! Good luck on your studies 💗

You knew how many countries earth officially counted: 195. Not included were The Cook Islands and Niue, dependencies and Areas of Special Sovereignty as well as other countries recognized by the UN as not being self-governing.

You knew that the longest instance of someone holding their breath without inhaling pure oxygen beforehand was 11 minutes and 34 seconds. Most people could safely hold their breath for only 1 or 2 minutes.

You also even knew that Cleopatra was not Egyptian as opposed to common belief. Cleopatra VII, which was her formal name, was Greek and a descendant of Alexander the Great’s Macedonian general Ptolemy.

Yes, you had learned all these things and many more during your time in school and university. But what you had never learned in all these years, from childhood until young adulthood, was how to start studying ahead at a proper time and not cram everything into the last weeks, and only because you heard your classmates boasting about how far they had already come with the subjects. You didn’t know whether they were usually speaking the truth though, but it put you under so much pressure that you immediately pulled out your books with the intention to finally start reviewing to catch up. 

Yet, here you were again, one week before the exams, trying to get months of stuff into your head and almost pulling your hair because you weren’t so sure how that was supposed to work. Years of procrastination and you still didn’t know better. Perhaps, that was just how life was, and since you had never failed a subject so far, you didn’t see a reason to change this. Your absolute toxic trait.

“It’s me.”

You started up from your sleep by a soft voice and a tap on your shoulder. Your eyes needed a few moments to adjust to the new lightning in your surroundings. Only shortly before, it had been bright outside, your gaze glued to the sunset which you were able to observe from your window. Now, it was almost pitch black outside.

“You slept in,” Jaehyun said as he switched on a light. “I was passing by, so I thought I might check up on you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry that I’ve been so inconsistent with texting and calling and just…” He pressed a kiss on the parting of your hair and a heavy feeling weighed down your heart. “...an overall awful girlfriend. I’ve been studying ever since. It just… doesn’t seem to end.”

You looked at your notes in front of you. Within half a day, you hadn’t even gotten the entire page full and there was still one folder to revise until you finally got to the actual study part. No wonder, if you slept during the day, you could only work at night, but your brain wouldn’t adjust to this new biorhythm.

Jaehyun rustled with something, and only now you spotted the plastic bag in his hand. Out of it, he pulled a coke can, cold coffee, a bag of chips and chocolate. He had placed another, bigger one on your nightstand from where you could smell the delicious scent of food. Immediately, you felt your mouth watering. When did you last eat something proper? You couldn’t remember.

“This was not only passing by,” you concluded. “You came on purpose and prepared.”

“Guilty.” Jaehyun shrugged and smiled. “I know you, I also know how you are when you have to study. If you’re not going to take care of yourself, I’ll do it.”

He was so precious, you didn’t deserve him. How would you even get through your stuy phase if Jaehyun wasn’t by your side? You stretched out your arms and wrapped them around his hair. Since you were still sitting and he was standing, he was able to pat your head in a reassuring gesture. 

You didn’t have to say anything, he totally understood. How angry you were at all this work and at yourself. How much hatred you carried around, because you were so close to dropping out again, but for sure wouldn’t do it in the end. He also didn’t try to change the way you were. He accepted your not so ideal quirks and your long phases of hibernation and distancing, because you never learned from your faults. And he supported you all the way through with the best he could offer.

“You hungry?” Jaehyun asked and you nodded, still buried in his t-shirt. “I brought something delicious, let’s eat.”

It was 11pm as you could tell by your phone, so you had approximately slept for 6 hours already. This was going to be a long night, and you only allowed yourself this short break because Jaehyun was here. But even after you had finished, he didn’t leave.

“I’m going to help you with your studies,” he declared solemnly.

“How?” You were perplexed. “And why?”

“Why? because I love you and want to support you. How? I’m going to ask you questions and you need to answer them correctly.”

“I’m not even done revising everything yet,” you protested.

“You don’t have to be. Let’s just go through the first notes and see if you remember them already. If you do this regularly, you don't have to start from the beginning when you’re done revising the subjects. And if you repeat them over and over again, it will be easier to remember.”

That didn’t sound so bad, so you nodded. “Okay.”

“And for each question that you get right,” Jaehyun added, “you’ll get a reward.”

You turned keen-eared. “What would that be?” 

“A kiss.”

“And if I get them wrong?”

“A spank.”

“Now we’re getting to the interesting part.”

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop x you #requests

[ace-of-zaun]

The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time: pt. 1

Silco x f!reader - SFW

CW: swearing, threats, some violence, some injury, but nothing too serious

4.1k words

Summary: You meet Silco due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, but to your surprise, you’re not the only one who finds themselves kidnapped and bound to a chair…

A/N: this is kinda daft, but hopefully a fun read. enjoy a bit of sassy silco and just a hint of soft silco -elsie x

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8

-

The first time you met the King of the Undercity, you were in a dusty, old warehouse, tied to a chair, with a likely concussion given the way your head throbbed and your vision was blurred. It took you a few moments for your eyes to finally clear as you blinked slowly, trying to take in your surroundings the best you could. 

It had started out as a fairly average day for you. You’d worked a full shift at your boss’ market stall, selling various nick-nacks to the regular customers, fighting the urge to jump the table and throttle the rude ones – hell, you’d even sweet-talked one of them into buying an automatic egg separator that they definitely didn’t need. It wasn’t until after your shift, when you were walking back home to your shoddy, one-roomed apartment, that your day took a turn for the unexpected. 

You should have known something was up when you decided to take a brief detour to the docks but didn’t encounter a single dock-worker the entire time. In fact, it was eerily silent, up until the moment you passed a deserted loading bay and felt someone smack you on the back of the head with something dull and metallic. When you’d finally woken up, with the worst headache of your life and your stomach churning, you’d found yourself in your current predicament.

You tried to block your eyes from the, quite frankly offensive, light pouring through one of the windows where a loose board had fallen down from it. But your hands wouldn’t budge. A frown etched on your face, you looked down and realised exactly why your hands wouldn’t co-operate. They were tied behind you with some thick rope, arms looped around the back of the chair. Upon further inspection, you noticed that your ankles were also tied to the front two legs of the rickety wooden seat.

Your first reaction was to sigh. Thinking through the series of events at a later date, you decided that it must have been the concussion. Any sane person would have probably screamed or began to cry or at least tried to get out of this sudden entrapment. Of course, you weren’t feeling very sane at that particular point in time and in hindsight, the fact that you were about to meet the King of the Lanes made the whole situation infinitely more insane.

No, not in a million years would you have ever expected to meet the most dangerous man in the Undercity, on a miserable Tuesday, no less. Of course, you didn’t know it was the crime lord himself at the time, because if you had, you definitely wouldn’t have spoken aloud the first thing that popped in your head.

“Well, fuck me sideways, they could have at least asked before kidnapping and tying me up.”

“I dare say that asking beforehand would have rather defeated the point,” was the reply you heard from directly behind you, in a low, gravelly timbre.  

You hadn’t realised there was someone else in the room, so of course, your first instinct was to scream. In a panic, you tried to sharply turn to look at the man who had spoken, but quickly found that with the way you were tied to the chair, you couldn’t see much more than his shoulders that were covered by a sleek-looking coat.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out, your thoughts swimming as you took in this new aspect of your situation.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I literally have no clue. I’m honestly the most boring person ever. I mean, for Janna’s sake, I’ve never even-” You cut yourself off when a thought struck you and your voice dipped low to an almost conspiratorial tone.

“You don’t think this is because of the time I convinced a customer that putting a spatula under his pillow every night would make his wife love him again?”

You were met with a few seconds of (most likely stunned) silence from your new-found friend, before he responded, a sigh lacing his words.

“I highly doubt it.”

“Good, because I swear I-”

“Are you carrying any weapons?” the man cut you off before you could voice your concerns any further.

“Oh, uh, no. Sorry.”

You thought you heard a huff of frustration, but the noise was too quiet to be able to tell with any certainty.

“Are you tied up as well?” you asked, trying again to turn your head to get a glimpse of anything that wasn’t his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time speaking with you if I wasn’t.”

“Well, geez, you don’t have to be so rude,” you shot back, annoyance making your headache feel even sharper, “I mean, you can’t be as high-and-mighty as you clearly think you are considering you’re in the exact same position as me.”

Okay, this time you definitely heard a short exhale through his nose, making his frustration very clear. After a few seconds of heated silence, you felt a strange urge to clear the air. Something about annoying the only person who had any chance of helping you out of this state just didn’t sit right with you.

“So, what did you do to get yourself kidnapped?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” was the sarcastic drawl you received in response.

“Oh yeah? What like?”

“That is none of your concern.”

It must have been the concussion. You really weren’t one to argue or react when your buttons had been pushed (I mean, come on, you worked in customer service for crying out loud). But there was something about this man and the situation you found yourself in that was, to put it delicately, really getting on your tits.

“Seriously, mate, what is your problem? I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on right now because one minute I was taking a nice stroll down by the docks and the next I’m talking to one of the snarkiest people I have ever met.”

You could almost hear his jaw tightening at your pointed tone.

“How about instead of wasting your time figuring out what led us to these circumstances, you re-direct your efforts to getting us out of here?” he replied, in a dangerously low voice that could only serve as a warning.

You were about to scoff in response as you turned your head towards him again, but this time, instead of glaring uselessly at his shoulder, you let your eyes wander down his sleeve. Your indignant reaction was halted when you thought you spotted hints of crayon on the soft material of his coat. For some reason, you felt a strange ache in your heart at the sudden realisation that this kidnapping might have separated the man from his child, or possibly children. Reasoning with yourself that his anger towards you was probably from a place of worry, you felt all your previously built-up annoyance at the man drain away from you.

You took a small breath before softly directing your next question over your shoulder.

“Do you have children?”

“…What?”

“You have crayon on your sleeve.”

There was a pause. The voice that was carried through the air a few moments later was the softest and quietest you’d heard from the man in the very short time you’d known him.

“I have a daughter.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you.

“I hope she’s okay, you know, considering you’re here,” you told him sincerely, “and I hope you get back to her soon.”

The man didn’t say anything. Not even a breath that could possibly betray his thoughts about your surprisingly kind words. The thought of his potential anguish over his daughter made your heart twinge in that funny little way it had done only moments before. You might have been annoyed at how haughtily the man had been speaking to you, but you weren’t a monster, and despite it being a near-constant phenomena in the Undercity, you didn’t like the thought of anyone being in pain.

Recognising that both of your chairs must be back-to-back, you twisted one of your hands as much as you could in its binding and reached back far enough to graze your fingers across one of his own hands. You’d hoped the action might bring him a little comfort. Of course, you were wrong.

He jerked his hands away from you at the sudden touch and it felt suspiciously like he was trying to slap at them as he wriggled about in his chair. “What are you doing? Get off me!”

“Sorry, I was just trying to make you feel better!” you quickly rebutted in defence.

Before he could voice his displeasure, a loud bang of the main door being slammed open made you jump in your chair. Your head whipped to the other side of the room, where you observed a man entering the space and walking towards you both. You half-expected him to be holding a gun or a weapon of some kind, but you were surprised to see that he was empty-handed. He hadn’t even covered his face with a mask. As he got closer to where your chairs were situated, he turned up his nose and began to saunter arrogantly, as if he’d suddenly gained the persona of an aristocrat. It didn’t suit him.

“You know, it was almost too easy to get you both here. Just one shovel and one sedative was all it took to bring down the two filthiest rats of the Undercity.”

At this point, alarm bells should have been ringing in your head (additional of course to the ones already ringing from your concussion, that you now knew was caused by this eejit with a shovel). As far as you knew, you were no filthier than the rest of the poor souls that found a home in Zaun. But you’d been called much worse than ‘rat’ in your time working at the market, so that didn’t faze you either.

“And the best bit is that this wasn’t even part of the plan. Hendrick had this whole plan to steal your little empire right from under your nose and kill you both slowly and painfully.”

You didn’t even have time to consider the ‘empire’ comment the goon had made before the man tied to the chair behind you cut in, speaking again in that low, dangerous drawl. Only this time, it was tinted with rage.

“Did he now?”

“Yeah. Except he won’t need to do it now because we saw you both on the docks and took the opportunity. Honestly, I thought it’d have been harder to grab you both, considering all the stories everyone’s heard about you, but I guess you’re no match for me and Toddy. Man, I can’t wait until Hendrick sees you both. I’m gonna be rolling in it when he promotes me. Shit, I might even get to be his right-hand after this.”

By now, the goon was pacing slowly back and forth at the side of your chairs, making your neck ache as you strained to look at him, before you finally gave up and stared impassively in front of you. You wished you could look at your co-kidnappee’s face, if only to see if it matched your own one of utter disdain at this idiot’s pretentious monologuing. Instead, you could lightly feel him clenching his hands in anger. They were just slightly touching yours, but he was likely too infuriated to even notice.

“And-”

The goon was interrupted when the front door slammed open again to reveal another man, who took in the sight in front of him and stormed towards you all. This one had the sense to wear a mask, but it was made redundant by the fact that his colleague had just revealed his name to you both.

“What are you doing?” the second man snapped.

“Just telling them how easy it was to capture them both.”

“You’re not supposed to reveal the plan, you idiot!”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I’ve sent word to our boss that he should get down here as soon as possible, I-”

The masked man stopped short when he glanced down at you.

“Who the hell is this?”

There was a pause while the first man seemed to consider the question, confusion painting his face.

“Uh, Silco? Can’t you tell by the creepy eye?” was his reply.

You felt like someone had just sucked out all the thoughts from your brain, bar from the faint sound of circus music playing in the back of your mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The man tied up behind you was Silco?? King of the Undercity? The Industrialist? Crime lord extraordinaire?

Your mind raced through all the rude comments you’d made to him in the moments prior to this revelation and you felt bile at the back of your dry throat. In your heart, you now knew that you were going to die. If it wasn’t at the hands of whoever Hendrick was and if by some miracle you managed to escape these dire straits, you knew that Silco would be the one to end your miserable little life. If not for your impertinence, but for your lack of decorum when speaking to him. Fuck, you’d tried to caress his hands, for Janna’s sake!!

“No, you wazzock, her,” the masked man continued, pointing rather rudely at you.

“That’s his right-hand, isn’t it?” the first man responded, confusion still prominent on his features.

“That is not Silco’s right-hand.”

“What?”

“Are you stupid? That’s not Sevika!”

“But she was at the dock with him?”

“That is not Sevika.”

“Shit.”

Great. Just great. Well, that explained how you’d ended up in this mess. It was all a complete misunderstanding. A simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In other places, that would have been a relief. But not in the Undercity. No, in the Undercity, even the act of being involved in a situation like this, accidental or not, almost certainly meant you would soon be meeting your demise.

“How much did you tell them about the plan?” the masked goon demanded, folding his arms as he glared at his colleague.

“Uh, not much really, just that Hendrick was plotting to murder Silco and-”

“You told them we work for Hendrick?! How stupid can you get?”

As the two goons argued between themselves, you wondered why Silco wasn’t saying anything. From what you’d heard, he was a master of words, could talk his way through any situation, could get anything he wanted. But the one time where talking was his only weapon, he wasn’t using it. Then you remembered the goon mentioning something about a sedative. If Silco had been drugged, maybe he was still feeling too groggy to even try to talk his way out of the situation. Then again, he’d been plenty awake enough to snap at you earlier. You were brought out of your ruminations on the Kingpin’s potential state when the second goon gestured to you with a wave of his arm.

“Let’s just kill her and wait for Hendrick to arrive so he can decide what to do with Silco.”

Wait, what? No. No. It couldn’t end like this! Not yet! You still had so many more customers to annoy before you met your maker! In your panic, you started doing the two things you knew best. Rambling and bullshitting.

“Wait! Don’t kill me! I may not be Silco’s right-hand, but I am pretty high up in his gang’s pecking order!”

You felt the slightest brush of Silco’s fingers against yours at your blatant lie, but you ignored it in favour of developing a convincing enough story in your head.

“Really?” the first goon asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been working for him for about three years now.”

“See! She was going to meet him at the docks, I knew it!” the goon gave his co-worker a smug look, his arms folded triumphantly across his chest.

“Fine,” the masked man sighed, “we’ll just wait for Hendrick to arrive and decide how he wants to kill them both.”

You felt yourself speaking again.

“You don’t want to do that!”

“And why not?” Both men were frowning at you now.

You felt Silco reach back and rhythmically tap his fingers twice on your hand. A clear warning to Shut. Up. Of course, you didn’t listen to him because when did you ever listen to anybody?

“Because your talents are wasted with Hendrick. I mean, you captured the both of us all by yourselves and with barely any weapons. You’d be much better suited working for Silco here.”

“Really?” the second man asked slowly, looking at you with no small amount of suspicion.

“Yeah. Despite all the stories you’ve probably heard, he’s really quite a good boss. I mean, for starters, the pay is beyond anything you could even imagine. He really takes good care of us… financially I mean,” you hastened to add.

“Hendrick barely pays us anything, says we’re not worthy enough” the first goon admits with a scoff.

“That doesn’t sound very fair to me. Silco’s not like that at all, if anything he over-pays us! And not to mention unlimited free drinks at the bar, the weekly parties we all have, the bonuses when you do well on a job. Hell, if you two were part of our gang, you’d be climbing up the ranks in no time.”

“You really think so?”

Bless his soul. The poor guy looked so entranced by the idea, doubling down was the only real option you had.

“Absolutely. Hendrick must be an absolute idiot to let talent like yours go to waste,” your voice lowered, causing both goons to lean in further when you spoke again, “I bet you don’t even get Snowdown Day off, do you?”

You had them now. You could tell by the look in their eyes. The second goon tried to pretend he was still sceptical of your words.

“So, what? You’re saying we could work for you instead?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Untie us, join our gang and you’ll even get a reward for it. Upfront. Isn’t that right, boss?” you directed the overly confident question to the man behind you.

You had no idea how the Kingpin was going to respond. In the last half hour, you’d argued with him, insulted him, stroked his hands, lied about being his employee, and asked him to partake in your little deception, all in a desperate attempt to get you out of here alive. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure whether you wanted this ploy to work or not. Even if the goons did agree to let you go, you were almost certain that Silco was going to throttle you after he’d finished killing the two men.

You waited with bated breath for his answer. Luckily, it came only a few moments after posing your question, in that smooth tone you were embarrassingly just starting to miss.

“Of course.”

“See,” you beamed at the two men, hoping they couldn’t see the panic hidden deep in your eyes.

A beat passed until the second man finally relented.

“Fine, untie her and we can talk about our rate of pay.”

That was all well and good, but it didn’t feel right that you were the one leading this dangerous dance. You had to keep up the pretence that Silco was in charge. Which wasn’t very difficult, considering he absolutely was.

“Untie my boss first, he’s the one who’ll be paying you,” you told them, trying to maintain the confidence you’d somehow gained in this new character of yours.

“Yeah, alright.”

You felt the second man reach in between your chairs and drag Silco’s towards him. You hadn’t noticed until they were ripped away from you, but Silco’s fingers had been gently clinging to yours throughout your entire performance as his new fake employee. For some strange reason you couldn’t decipher, you mourned the loss of his touch that you hadn’t even been aware of.

You tried to turn your head to look at the man, hoping the distance would allow you to finally see him as you heard the ropes being cut away from his ankles and then hands, but you were once again startled by the sound of the door being smashed open for the third time that day.  

It all happened so fast. A tall woman burst into the room and you heard an affronted yell from one of the goons. You then heard a scuffle behind you, as the woman charged across the room towards the goon standing beside you. Craning your neck around to see what was happening with Silco, you were caught off guard by your chair being kicked harshly, causing it to topple over and unceremoniously crash your head against the concrete floor.

And boy, if your head didn’t already hurt after being smacked with a shovel, it sure as hell hurt now. You could barely make out what happened next as you fought to stay awake given how the room was now spinning out of control in your vision. A groan escaped your lips before you realised the sounds of struggle behind you had stopped, the air being filled instead with heavy breathing. You thought you vaguely heard the sound of a door opening and closing again and a muffled conversation, but you couldn’t make the effort to tune into it. Instead, you favoured closing your eyes in an attempt to stop feeling like you were on a carousel.

“She needs medical attention.”

You heard that one well enough, that smooth, self-assured voice appearing directly above you. Peeling your eyes open took no small amount of effort, but you endeavoured to do it anyway, if only to finally get a glimpse of the infamous kingpin.

And there he was. Stood tall above you, peering down his nose with his arms folded behind his back. You’d never seen him before, your market job not quite meeting the conditions to be considered a criminal enterprise (except for the downright criminal way you sweet-talked your customers into buying items they would never use once they got them back home). You wished you could get a clearer look at him, but the blur made it much too difficult.

If your eyesight had been better, you’d have noticed that he was breathing heavily, strands of his dark hair strewn across his forehead. Instead, all you could focus on was his eyes. No, not the black one with it’s infernal orange iris, but the seafoam green one, that if you weren’t so heavily concussed, you might have thought held an almost soft look to it as he peered down at you.

He continued to stare intensely at you and in your fatigue all you could do was stare back.

“What should we do with her?” you heard the woman say from somewhere in the room.

“We’ll take her back to the Drop. Give me your knife,” Silco replies, not breaking eye contact with you.

You blinked once slowly and by the time your eyes were open again, Silco was holding a knife and stepping closer to you. He crouched over you and began to cut through the ropes that tied your ankles and arms to the chair. And you’d be damned if you didn’t immediately think how attractive he looked as he loomed over you, knife coming dangerously close to your skin as he cut the rope away. Curiously enough, you didn’t seem to mind.  

Soon, your body was finally free of its captivity and you slump inelegantly on your side, finding no strength to pull yourself up from the floor. The movement caused the room to spin again and you decided to focus on breathing instead. That is, until Silco re-entered your line of sight. This time, he was close enough that you couldn’t mistake the concern he showed, his brow furrowed as he looked at your face. His mouth was moving, but you couldn’t really hear what he was saying.

You feel him lift you by the arms and suddenly you’re kneeling face to face with him. Gods, he’s even more attractive up close. You shake your head at your intrusive thought, looking down to see his hands either side of your shoulders, holding you steady. Staring at them with a concerning amount of intensity, you snap your gaze up to meet his when his fingers squeeze into you gently.

Any normal person would have been horrified that they were being touched by the most dangerous man in the city. But you’d never really been one to fit the mould. So instead of being horrified at your proximity to the crime lord, you leaned into it and blurted out the first thing that came into your head.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have lovely hands?”

There was no time to hear his response or even see his reaction because that one question apparently drained you of the last of your  energy and you promptly collapsed forward into him as the world went black.  

PART 2

A/N: I’ve never written fanfic before in my life… the middle-aged pixel man has got me baaaad. hope you enjoyed reading!! i will inevitably do another part bc i have no self-control and need to do something to distract my stupid brain

#silco #silco x reader #silco x f!reader #silco fic #silco arcane #silco x you

[veryblushyswitch]

🌼 That 70s Show ~ Jackie and Hyde ~ (tickle hcs) 🌼

I finished That 70s Show and I forgot how much I love Hyde and Jackie 🌼 Especially Hyde! Yes I know they don’t last unfortunately, as much as I wanted them to, but I’m still making these anyway. Hope you enjoy these and expect more ticklish Hyde because he needs tickles!! 💖

*————————————————————————*

*Hyde will deny being ticklish till the day he dies.

*That was until him and Jackie started dating.

*ALSO IT’S CANON THAT HYDE LIKES BEING TICKLED IN SEASON 8 EPISODE 2!!! There’s no actual tickling but a girl says that on the outside Hyde is tough and mean but on the inside he’s a sweet guy who likes to be tickled. 🦋💖 (I didn’t watch season 8 I just watched a short summary video and saw this clip from a random compilation video)

*Hyde tickles Jackie on occasion when she’s being annoying or needs to smile. Plus he absolutely loves her laugh and thinks it’s hilarious. It gets him giggling along with her.

*One day, she decided to finally get revenge. She went to Eric about it first so she could know all of his spots beforehand so she could win. (writing a fic about this currently)

*One tickle fight later, and she had Hyde begging her to stop while saying “Okay fine! I’m ticklish!” through his laughter.

*She never lets him live it down.

*I’m sorry, but the idea of Hyde collapsing into laughter while Jackie makes him say he’s ticklish is the cutest thing to me right now 💖💖💖

*Hyde gives Jackie ticklish kisses. His kisses already tickle, but the stubble makes it so much better worse.

*Not to mention raspberries!! On the rare occasion Hyde is feeling extra extra playful, he’ll give Jackie neck and stomach raspberries. He loves the way Jackie throws her head back when she laughs.

*Hyde also having a ticklish neck though 🦋💖

*And Jackie scribbles her nails there to make him squeal. Yes. The Steven Hyde squeals when his neck is tickled.

*He’s sentenced Jackie to secrecy. She uses it as blackmail.

*Jackie is a kicker and has gotten Hyde a good few times. He always makes sure to watch out.

*Jackie is vicious let me tell you. She’s practically gotten everyone in the gang at one point or another. Kelso was never free from her attacks.

*She spills all of Kelso’s spots to Hyde and they wreck him together.

*Hyde and Jackie probably make the most merciless ler duo. But it gets even worse when you add in Donna. (Love of my life)

*Overall, they’re goofy, they balance each other out, and tickles happen more often then Hyde would like to admit. 💖

#that 70s show #that 70s show tickle #that 70s show tickle hcs #that 70s show tickle headcanons #Hyde #Steven Hyde #lee Hyde #ticklish Hyde #ler Hyde #Jackie #Jackie Burkhart #lee Jackie #ticklish Jackie #ler Jackie #live action #live action tickle #live action tickle hcs #live action tickle headcanons

[bridgyrose]

Despite hardly knowing each other beforehand Weiss and Coco become close friends instantaneously. For some time, Weiss hides her secret that she’s trans, but Coco finds out herself in bed by seeing Weiss’s penis and it nearly causes them to lose each other as friends. Eventually the 2 become close friends again, eventually falling in love, enjoying sex and more.

“Nervous?” 

Weiss nodded as she looked up at Coco, a blush crossing her cheeks as she looked up at her friend. Her breath hitched as she felt Coco’s fingers brush across her skin and a soft moan escaped her lips. “A… a little.” 

Coco smiled and slowly thumbed the waistband of Weiss’s skirt, slowly leaning in and kissing her neck. “This is what you wanted, wasnt it?” 

Weiss nodded again, her blush spreading as she slowly moved her hips. “It is.” 

“Then maybe we can make things-” Coco paused as her leg pressed against Weiss’s crotch and felt a bulge she hadnt been expecting. She slowly pulled back and moved Weiss’s skirt down, hesitating as she saw the bulge at her crotch. “-feel good…” 

“Coco? What’s wrong?” 

“Since when did you have a dick? You’re a guy, arent you?” 

“W-what? No! I… I can explain!” 

“Then explain!” 

“I…” Weiss slowly sat up and held her arm to her chest and looked away from the other huntress in training. “I’m… I’m not a boy. Not anymore. I’ve been living as a girl for the last four years, taking medication to help me transition.” 

Coco sighed and pulled away from Weiss. “You… you should leave.” 

“Coco-” 

“Please Weiss, just… leave me alone for now.” Coco finally got up off the bed. “I need time to think this over.” 

“I… I understand.” Weiss slowly picked herself up and walked out of Coco’s dorm, holding back the tears she wanted to show. She had spent years being told she wasnt good enough, that she would never be a real girl, and yet, here she was, living as a woman away from her family, and she still couldnt seem to find the happiness she wanted. 

She felt her scroll vibrate with a call and she slowly answered it, putting on the false smile she wore around her team. “Ruby? I thought you and the rest of the team were in Vale for the day.” 

“We were, but had to come back,” Ruby explained. “If you’re not busy, we could catch up on studying in a bit-” 

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you.” Weiss started to walk back to the dorm, nervously tapping her scroll as a few tears managed to sneak their way down her cheeks. “Can you make sure Blake and Yang come back to the dorm with you? There’s… something that the three of you should know.” 

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

Weiss wiped away a few tears and shook her head. “I’m fine, nothing important happened. Just… you promise to be my friend no matter what, right?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Thanks, that’s all I needed to hear.” Weiss ended the call and opened up the door to her dorm and took a deep breath as she walked in so she could steady herself. She had to tell her team so they wouldnt think she was lying. They had to know the truth about her.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weiss tapped her mug nervously as she waited for Coco to join her in the cafe. Months had passed since they last talked, and since then, she has done nothing but worry about what Coco would think. Though, she was glad her team at least supported her. Her heart skipped a few beats as she watched Coco walk in. 

“Mind… if I sit with you?” Coco asked. 

Weiss moved her mug closer to her and didnt look up as she spoke. “You were the one who invited me here in the first place…” 

“Right.” 

Weiss looked up a little as Coco sat down, her heart racing as she waited for her to speak. She sipped her coffee. Her eyes focused on Coco for a moment as the minutes passed by, until she heard Coco finally speak, nearly jumping out of her seat. 

“I thought about things, Weiss, and… I think I acted… rashly.” 

Weiss’s grip tightened around her mug. “You…do?” 

“I do.” Coco sighed and looked away as she tried to figure out her words. “And… I’m sorry.” 

Weiss started to relax as she watched Coco start to become shy as she spoke. It was different from what she had been used to with the huntress in training. “I… thank you.” 

“And… maybe we can try again?” 

“Do you really want to?” 

“I do.” Coco smiled a little and looked over at Weiss, a small blush crossing her cheeks. “If you’ll let me.”

#rwby #weiss schnee #coco adel #drabbles #coco x weiss #trans!weiss #white chocolate #rwby white chocolate

[immergladsss]

Day 3- Flower Crown

[Continuation from Day 2]

“How is she?” Robin asked Loveday as he stepped into the manor the next day.

“Still the same, I’m shocked really. She’s taking it so hard.” Loveday led the way to Maria’s tower, hoping with every step of the way that he’ll be able to console Maria.

Inside her room, high up in her tower, Maria’s heart was still heavy and numb. She watched the world outside her window through listless eyes. Anytime a smile threatened to cross her lips, she turned to Serena’s empty basket and felt a jab a pain, thinking of the many joyous mornings they would no longer share. Maria couldn’t dare feel any joy. She felt too much guilt.

Her door creaked open. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Robin walk in and heard Loveday quietly walk away.

“Morning, feeling any better?” His horse voice threatened the coldness of her heart.

Maria shrugged. “Should I feel better?” She asked without peeling her eyes from the window.

Robin came from behind and enveloped her in his arms. Maria leaned back and took in a deep breath. Her eyes began to sting again.

“Let’s take a walk outside,” he whispered in her ear.

“I don’t want to get dressed.”

“You don’t have to.” He draped her long coat over her nightgown and led Maria down her winding steps, out the manor, and into the garden.

The morning sun blinded her swollen eyes. She dropped her head; her limp curls shaded her face from the world. Still, Robin pulled her forwards. Under a large, and old oak tree, there was a blanket and breakfast set up. No doubt from Marmaduke. Spring flowers bloomed around them. They were beautiful. Maria could just about imagine Serena eating them to her hearts content. Maria crawled onto the blanket, laid on her back, and spread out her arms. She closed her eyes and let out a shivering breath.

“You should eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Birds chirped around them. The wind rustled the trees. She took in another breath. The sounds of nature carried Maria into a daze. From afar she heard Robin humming to himself, it was Loveday’s Waltz.

Then she felt a pang of hunger. She turned to look at the food but couldn’t bring herself to eat. Robin was chewing on a piece of grass as he braided some flowers.

“What are you doing?”

“A flower crown.”

“What for?”

Robin shrugged.

“You should eat.”

Robin stopped and looked at her. “I’m not hungry,” he responded smugly.

Maria rolled her eyes but finally sat up. Robin poured them some tea and Maria placed some biscuits on their plates. She forced herself to eat. Every bite feeling dryer and less appetizing than the previous one, but she knew it was all in her head. Marmaduke’s food had never disappointed her.  

“I should have saved her.”

“There was nothing to save her from. She is one of the lucky few to die from old age.”

Maria’s heart ached, “It was too soon.”

Robin gave her a sad smile, “You’ll never feel like you have enough time.”

“It’s not fair. If only I had noticed beforehand. If I... I just...” Maria sighed. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to express or rationalize what she was feeling. Deep down she knew Robin was right. Serena was old and had lived a long, and rather spoiled, life. Still, she felt a deep, throbbing, ache through her heart. An ache that traveled throughout her body and threatened to consume her.

“It’s alright,” Robin took her hand. “You can grieve for the sake of grieving. You don’t need some tragedy or reason to blame yourself. It’s not your fault, and you did everything you could. Blimey, I’ve never seen anyone do so much to keep their pet alive. I know Serena loved you every second of her life and knows how much you did for her.” He pulled her close until she was on his lap. “You miss her. She was your friend. You’ll morn for her absence. You’ll morn for the new memories you wish you could share with her. Its ok to morn, even when a loss was as peaceful as hers. In the arms of someone who loved her so much. Reckon the rest of us would be so lucky to have half as much!”

Maria leaned into his shoulder and the numbness from her morning began to ebb away. She allowed her tears to trickle down her cheeks as she nibbled on her food.

“I want to see her again.”

“Well doubt you’ll want to unbury her. Reckon it’s a ghastly sight.”

Maria smacked his shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Robin laughed. “It’s a good thing you fought tooth and nail to include her and Wrolf in the family portrait. Though the painter may never forgive you for that.”

Maria chuckled, thinking about the poor painter who was about to lose his mind every time they had to reposition themselves. For some reason or another, either Wrolf, Serena, or her nephew would throw a fit and insist on removing themselves from the portrait. Including her beloved animal companions was difficult, and it was a choice that left her wondering if it had been worth the loss of the family painter. Yet now, she sent a small prayer to the heavens thankful to have that at least.

“Thank you, Robin.” She placed a damp kiss on his cheek.

“My pleasure, princess.”

He finished the flower down and placed it on her head. He studied her and frowned. “Bullocks. It’s too small.”

“I have a better use for it.”

Once their picnic was over, and Maria was in brighter spirits, they walked to Serena’s grave. Maria smiled, seeing new flower buds growing in between their white roses. She draped the flower crown on Serena’s wooden grave marker. “Perfect, it’s just the right size.”

#moonacreweek2022 #day 3 #the secret of moonacre #flower crown #incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre #Yep... still a bit of a downer as its just me venting my own grief and wishfullfillmebt #but thats life #it comes and go #and we just gotta learn to live with it #if you want a happier read #go to bed #Dear Maria Count me in #Chapter 3 #of soft bois and flowers #that ones much happier

[bokura-no-digital-world]

Ken Week 2023 - Day 1: Kindness/Grief/Selfishness

Days: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Title: Kindness (and the lack of it) Pairing: Ken/Hikari Characters: Ken Ichijouji, Wormmon and Hikari Yagami Summary: Ken's relation with his crest, for better and worse.

Cross-posted on AO3 and FFN

Ken looked at the drawing of his crest in his hands. Kindness. It had been a few months since he had to use it to save the Digital World and a couple more since Daisuke and the others defeated the Digimon Kaiser, but he still couldn’t understand why he was given that crest. After all suffering and pain he had made a lot of Digimon and his now fellow Chosen Children go through, he didn’t think he was worthy of such a virtue. “Ken, what are you thinking about?” Wormmon lifted his head beside his partner and looked into his eyes. “That’s a beautiful drawing. Did you draw it yourself?” “No.” He replied quietly without taking his eyes from it. “Hikari did.” There was a palpable pause, during which Ken bit his lower lip and contemplated to speak out what was on his mind with his partner. “She’s good at it, isn’t she?” “Yes, she’s very talented. Wormmon?” “What is it, Ken?” “If I ask you something, will you promise to be honest with me?” “Of course. I thought you weren’t going to ask.” “Wait, you knew I was going to ask you something?” Ken looked at him surprised. “Absolutely. I know you better than you think.” The boy couldn’t help but smile and felt like a lot of weight was taken away from his shoulders. When he thought about it, it didn’t seem so surprising that Wormmon knew it beforehand. It’s a known fact humans and Digimon partners had a strong bond. “What were you going to ask me?” “Do you think I deserve the crest of kindness?” “Definitely. There isn’t anyone else worth of it than you. It’s perfect for you.” “I’m not sure about it.” He shut his eyes hard and winced at the mere thought of hurting other Digimon in the past. “I captured Taichi’s Agumon and turned him evil. I made him fight his friends. I’m not worthy this crest.” “Yes, you are.” Wormmon climbed on his body and stared into his eyes with determination. “They have forgiven you and you made peace with your past a few months ago. You’ve moved on and is trying to be a better person and to make up for what you did.” “That’s true, but it isn’t easy to forget sometimes. It’s hard to look at them knowing it’s all my fault. I don’t deserve their sympathy.” “They all know by now there was someone else behind the Digimon Kaiser. Everything changed and I’m sure it’s just a matter of time until they trust you.” “I hope so.” “I have absolutely no doubt you will all be friends within time, and it’s going to be sooner than you think.” “I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.” “You will get there, I’m sure. But Ken… I never doubted you, not even for a second. I’ve always known this lovingly and sweet boy was hiding somewhere all along and now he’s finally here.” “Wormmon.” Ken couldn’t help but smile kindly and felt his shoulders relax. “I love you, Ken. I know you feel like some things were your fault, but they really weren’t. And if you need someone to hold your hand and help you go through it, I’ll be right here to go through it with you. I didn’t let go back then and I’m not doing it now.” “Wormmon.” “You deserve to be happy. No one should be punished for something they had no idea they were doing for the rest of their lives. They deserve the chance to move on and learn from them, if they truly regret it.” “You’re right.” “So if you need to, you should make peace with your past one more time. Maybe it’ll make you feel better about it.” “I guess so.” He shrugged, unsure. “Why don’t you get some rest? It’s late.” “I’ll try.” Ken turned on his side and stared at the window across his room. “Good night, Wormmon.” “Good night.”

****

“Ken?” Wormmon walked out his bedroom and joined his partner in the balcony. “What are you doing here? It’s too cold.” “Is it? I haven’t realized it.” “Here.” He climbed over the boy and put a warm blanket over his shoulders. “It’s not the ideal, but it should keep you warm a little.” “Thanks, Wormmon.” Ken smiled gently at his Digimon and fixed the blanket over him. “So what are you doing out here?” “I was just thinking about the kids with the seeds. I feel like I have to do something. I can’t help but feel responsible for their situation.” “But it’s not your fault, Ken. They are being used by Oikawa just like you were.” “Another reason why I have to protect them no matter what. Who knows what can happen to do if he gets what he wants?” “We’re not gonna let that happen, I promise. And I’m sure neither will the rest of the Chosen Children. We’re gonna find a way to turn things around.” “I know, but…” Ken stopped talking and looked over his shoulder when something inside his room started making noise. He realized right away his phone was ringing and buzzing over his desk. He quickly grabbed it and sat on his bed. “Hello?” “Hi, Ken.” “Hikari, is everything alright?” “Yes, everything’s fine. I just wanted to check on you. I’ve seen how much you were affect about the children.” “We all did, to be honest.” “That’s true, but you were more than us. Hold on a second.” Hikari did something on her phone. “I think it worked.” “It did.” Takeru’s voice echoed in his bedroom. “Hello, Ken.” “Hi.” “Takeru and I were talking and we’re worried about the kids, so we decided to go talk to Noriko’s parents tomorrow. Maybe it will help.” “That’s right. And we wanted to know if you’d like to come along.” “You want to talk to her parents?” “At this point we need to try everything we can.” Hikari spoke. “I’d rather try and fail than not trying at all and seeing Oikawa and his troupe get away with it without consequences.” “If you don’t want to, it’s fine too.” “Exactly. We understand it’s a tough subject for you.” “No, no. I do.” Ken said firmly. “What time are you planning on going?” “At 9 a.m. It’s not that early, but it’s not late either.” “Great. Count me in.” “Cool.” “Eh.. Ken?” Hikari said unsure and bit her lower lip. “Yeah?” “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, you can count on us if you need. You know that, right?” Takeru couldn’t help but smile. “It’s her way of saying she’s worried about you.” “Thank you. I appreciate it.” “So I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Absolutely. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” “Alright. Have a good night.” “Good night.”

****

Ken was making his way out of college that Friday. He was supposed to meet Hikari, so they could go Christmas shopping together. He was waiting for her when he spotted a woman seemingly being harassed by a few boys men in the sidewalk. “Hey!” He said firmly and loudly when he approached them. “Leave her alone.” “Mind your own business, old man.” “What did you call me?” He grabbed the man’s collar and forced him to look at him. “Chill out, man. We weren’t doing anything bad.” “Do you even hear yourself right now?” He ground his teeth and hissed. “You all were harassing this woman.” “Ken?” Hikari’s voice echoed in his ears and he loosened the man’s collar a little, but still held it. “What’s going on?” “Hikari, it’s not…” “Were you fighting these guys?” “No, no.” He stood up and fixed his black shirt. “I was just warning them. Shall we go?” “Sure.” Hikari pressed her lips together, clearly not believing a word he had said.

Hikari was quiet the whole way to the mall, but Ken knew quite well she was still thinking about what she had witnessed fifteen minutes ago. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. No, actually, I do. Those boys were harassing that woman and I couldn’t stand still and ignore it.” “I get it, but did you have to beat them?” “I didn’t beat them.” “You were going to, had I not arrived at that moment.” “I’m sorry. I lost my mind, it won’t happen again. I promise.” He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it lightly. “Okay, I believe you.” She smiled kindly at him. “Good, because I don’t like fighting with you.” “I don’t like it either.” They didn’t realize they were staring at each other until the driver behind them honked and Ken turned his attention to the traffic ahead. Hikari couldn’t stop laughing at what had just happened, and it didn’t take him to long to join her.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Hikari asked when they walked into the mall together. “I know you don’t like Christmas shopping that much.” “I like Christmas shopping, I just don’t like spending hours and hours choosing what to buy.” “Well, today is your lucky day then. Your girlfriend doesn’t like it either.” “That should make things easier then.” Ken placed a hand on her hip and touched her right cheek with the other one. “Once we’re done choosing each other’s presents, how about we go to the movies or something?” “That sounds perfect to me.” She looked up at him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I have a condition though.” “What condition?” “We’re gonna buy hamburgers, fries and milk-shake from a fast food store?” “You want me to ditch my diet?” “We can go jogging a little more over the week to make up for it. Besides, we barely eat junk food.” “You have a good point. Alright, let’s do it.” “Great.” Hikari stood on her toes and kissed him briefly. “We can meet in front of the fountain in about an hour and a half?” “That sounds good to me. Try not to miss me that much.” “I can’t guarantee anything, but I’ll try.” She smiled.

****

Ken started going through some stores, looking for the perfect Christmas presents for Hikari. They haven’t set a price limit, but he decided to spend about 2500 yen on them. He thought it should be enough to buy two or three presents. So first he stopped by at a stationery store and bought her a very beautiful agenda he’s seen. She’d been getting a new one each year since she started college, so she wouldn’t forget her exam dates or assignments dates. He counted the change and had more than enough to buy her two more presents.

Next, he went to a clothing store to see if he could find something Hikari’d like. She loved wearing winter hats during the season and had quite a collection of them, but he still thought another one would be nice. He found a lilac one that would match her pink coat perfectly. He still had quite some money, so then he went to a bookstore and bought two books she’d be eager to read, but haven’t yet.

****

After buying everything he wanted to, he headed to the fountain to wait for her. There was a coffee shop near where he was and the smell of hot black coffee filled his nostrils. It didn’t take long for Hikari to arrive with a couple of bags too, as well as a bag from a fast food and two cups of milk-shake. Ken stood up the moment he saw her. “You bought it already?” “Yeah, I passed by one and thought ‘why not?’ Thank you.” She added when he grabbed the cups of milk-shake from her hands. “I hope I got the one you wanted, by the way.” “You did.” He took a sip of his vanilla and strawberry drink. “I think we should take these bags to our car, so we don’t have to carry them around.” “Oh.” Hikari looked at her hands, feeling a little stupid for not thinking of it beforehand. “I should’ve really waited to buy food. Now they’ll freeze when we go outside.” “Don’t worry.” Ken grabbed the bags she was holding and then handed her his milk-shake. “I’ll take them to the car. I’ll be right back.” “But…” “It’s much warmer here. I don’t want you to risk getting sick.” “Okay, I’ll be here.”

****

Hikari was spreading her Christmas’ presents under Ken’s tree when he walked in. She stood up the following second and smiled widely at him, holding a large package wrapped in a Holiday themed red paper. “Can we exchange gifts now? I’m really curious to know what you think of what I got you.” “How much was it?” “What?” She blinked a few times, taken completely by surprised. “Does it matter?” “I just wanted to know if it didn’t cost more than we established when we went shopping for them.” “We didn’t establish how much we were going to spend on them. Why are you worked up with them, by the way?” “It’s just money that could be well spent.” “It was well spent though. It was spent on you. Also, what’s going on with you? You were never this greed before.” “I’m sorry, I’m just thinking ahead.” “Ken,” She put the package away and grabbed his hands softly. “I completely get it and agree with you, but it’s Christmas. It’s okay to spend a little more on yourself or on people you love. Of course you’ll have to be reasonable and not spend all your money, but it’s okay to let loose.” “You’re right, you’re right. I feel stupid now.” “Don’t feel. We’re all learning here.” She grabbed the present and handed to him. “Come on, open it. I think you will like it.” “Okay.” Ken grabbed it and sat down next to the Christmas tree. He noticed she had done the same through the corner of his eyes. He tore the paper off and came across a full set of working out related stuff. “Wow, there are a lot of things to do exercise with here.” “I know, I thought I’d put them all together in just one package. I thought they’d come in handy because you love jogging in the morning and in the ending of the afternoon too. Now you can have a suit just for that.” “I don’t know what to say.” He put his hoodie over his thighs and looked at her, before leaning over and kissing her briefly. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Hikari smiled and gave him the next gift. “No, it’s your turn now.” He took it away and placed one of the presents he had bought in her hands. “Alright.” She looked down and ran her hands through it. “I don’t even need to open this to know it’s a new agenda.” “Sweetie, if you keep guessing it right before you open your gift will take away all the fun of it.” “I’m sorry.” She laughed while she leaned over towards the second gift she got him. “I promise I’ll guess it wrong next time.” “That’s much better.” He smiled and proceeded on opening his second Christmas present.

#KenIchijoujiWeek23 #KenIchijoujiWeek #Ken Ichijouji #Wormmon #Hikari Yagami #KenKari #Digimon #Fanfic #Fanfiction

[lohserowland94]

substance painter brush size hotkey

For virtually any child, face painting has in order to one of the coolest activities ever known to man. Paint is like a forbidden substance to them, igniting a curiosity that won't be satiated become my merely watching a painter do his job. So when substance painter Activation Code painting opportunity comes by, a kid can hardly survive. To drown out the deafening noise, I let my dreaming take me to previously happy Mother's Days. Yearning home, my imagination takes me the bathtub filled with hot water, Epsom salts and essential oils. My kids are respectful, quiet, tiptoeing around property as I sit into my womb-like living room. Candles burn, instrumental music vacation. I savor this, knowing that at any time a dimpled little hand will knock lightly around door, or a sweet choosing voice will say, "Mommy, breakfast is practically ready!" Closing my eyes, gratitude for sweet moments as these begins circulation and I'm able to doze. In pursuing pages, you'll find the response to every question about keeping your RC car good. You'll learn easy methods to make private personal RC cleaner, take care of your RC body, clean and look after your chassis, tires additional components. Last, but not least, this book can have you a few tips and tricks regarding how to protect your car from large sums of soils. When it really is about realist paintings, I set within the model, I the composition, and however start painting. Quite simple. I don't make multiple compositions select from as i'm confident smaller first behavioral instinct. Painting process itself is a love / hate activity for everyone. Until 2006, all of my life, even for a kid, despite suggestions with the early mentor who gave me the first oils and who really hated abstract art, I loved abstractionism and I created for this reason. Well, there was this particular type of joy to color so! On good days (OK, nights) I had been painting 2, 3 or perhaps 4 artwork! The main problem was that that joy was short lasting. like an energy coffee. There's only one painting from that period I still like - Solar Incandescence. Use substance painter Activation Key - Sure, it's expensive, nonetheless saves a lot of time substance painter and irritation. Compressed air helps you remove an excellent deal of dirt, gravel or grit in practically no time. Generally, air compressors come with an air firearm. Useful tip: denatured alcohol helps loosen the mud and dirt on your chassis, a good using some beforehand. I will probably have. Not so sure. Because I am not sure if daily life would end up being same recently. and my life it is. So, if it is to call this a regret, this often I didn't go to art academy. When I finished up high school, I been curious about what I want from existence and About how exactly I should get rich. Soooo, I joined the Law school, where else to go in order to obtain rich with dead rich relative. Utilized a good law student until authentic calling emerged and made law study impossible for me personally. Hardly, I finished that school but I never carried out. substance painter Crack 2023 do not do well in steamy bathrooms or near greasy cookstoves, gathering dust and needing cleaning far too often. A tapestry or rug painted on tile will hang beautifully inlaid into any wall. Inside of the hall where people always bump paintings is a good idea. Stair risers that frequently get scuffed up could be painted in the myriad of design motifs, like southwestern, Mayan or Aztec, any colorful design, and fill a dull stairway with brilliant colouring material. Hence the actual planet end, their acts had not been adjudged as good but as evil by their own people whose sake they did all the evil. Tale of painter may be imaginary but the message engrossed is quite real. Much like it takes no effort in falling from a height to a gutter, similarly no effort is needed in falling from good to evil, or from light to the dark. Yet it requires considerable effort produce light and also to perform good deeds. One needs to therefore constantly desire and prey for light which arrive only internally by faith which enables the soul of man to be guided with the Universal Soul or Lord.

#SUBSTANCE PAINTER

[blondrichclosetwitch]

“Asked me to untie her.”

Apartment 5/9/17

May 9, 2017

(talking to blond):

This is important. I want you to leave the key in clear view. Is he on the couch? Yes. No. He’s on the bed? He’s on the bed

(Hyperventilates)

. Is the altar in there? Yes. You’re to leave the key on the altar. Do you understand? You’re to leave the key on the altar. (She starts to break down)

And you’re to leave. Blond..and I think you know,

(Breaks down)

He’s alive. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. He’s alive. Yes. Yes. Okay, okay.

Blond ? I command you to leave the key and anything else that you think I need on the altar. Anything.

(hyperventilates)

Anything at all. And then you are to leave the apartment

And you are not to return until I say

And you are to do this… Within 30 minutes

(Whispers to self) OK OK

(Walking through apartment slightly muffled) holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit

(Louder) holy shit! Holy shit Holy shit oh my God

(Sobbing, slightly animal like sounds coming from her) oh my God

(this goes on for about 45 seconds. End tape.)

(The first time Polly played, I knew they wanted me to put this one up, but then it played again and I got that they wanted it up now. This conversation took place somewhere between 2 and 4 am. From what I understood, Psychic Jakk had been tied to their bed for 12 days, was bleeding internally, and needed a hospital. A few days beforehand while I was in a session, I had been shown that they had used a knife on him, and cut off part of his sex. So suffice it to say, my nervous system was collapsing. In this, I was trying to convince Blond to leave the apt so I could go there and call an ambulance. I think I told her to leave town. I think she refused to go to the police. I was trying to figure out who could go with me; I almost called my cat sitter, but eventually I knew the likely hood was that Blond would be waiting there with a gun, and would shoot me, claiming she thought I was an intruder. If you heard this tape, you would understand the level of terror. )

And all the kids cried out, “please stop, you’re scaring me.”

I am well acquainted with villains that live in my head. They beg me to write them so they’ll never die when I’m dead.

Who is in control?

#watch the tapes #tw

[draconisxmalfoy]

so sorry I’ve been MIA lately 😞 I’ve been super busy with work and life. If you tag me or anything for potterblr I’ll try to get to it as fast as I can 🥺

#I’m having to work more cause my dad got demoted at work and had a cut in pay #I have 3 jobs #2 of them I never know when I’m needed until a few days beforehand #I’m so tired right now #I should be asleep #leah rambles

[boldlyvoid]

Million Dollar Man | chapter two

18+

summary: Spencer's therapist recommended he branch out and meet new people who don't want to talk about his work... she didn't expect him to sign up for a Sugar Daddy website.

Content warnings: sugar daddy!spencer, age gaps (14 years), daddy kink, blow jobs, kissing, drinking mention, lowkey perv!Spencer, cum play, praise, oral (female receiving), grinding, love confessions, arrangements, Spencers anxiety, (more to add)

word count: 3.4K

a/n: updates on Wednesdays and saturdays at 2 pm est

Chapter Two | Masterlist

She sat on the subway with an anxious pit in her stomach and her purse held close to her chest. Her laptop in her bag, she didn’t want to lose it on her way to the most important meeting of her whole life.

Her story was becoming a book, she was almost done the final draft, they were making touch-ups to the cover and picking the type of paper today.

Her dreams were coming true within the next month, soon she’d have a physical copy of her book, her pre-sales were showing that she’d be on the bestseller list, and her name was finally going to be on the cover of this one.

She sighed and reached for her necklace, holding it between her fingers as she took a few deep breaths. She was doing so much better today than she was last year and it was all because of Spencer, he was the best thing to happen to her. To think she complimented his sweater vest and now he’s the only person in her life she can count on.

All she can think about is him for the rest of her journey, through 4 more stops she keeps her eyes closed as she thinks of all his little facts and his cute laugh. She smiles to herself and the anxiety slips away, she loves him and she knows that for sure, but she just doesn’t know how she loves him.

She’s never had a sibling, her best friends are all women, her previous boyfriends were all shit and her other sugar daddies were never this wonderful, and her parents are lesbians… she doesn’t know what her feelings really are for Spencer, mainly because she’s never known any other men to compare him to.

But she does know the exact moment she realized she fell for him.

He booked a hotel room in DC after a local case, asking her to meet him in there at 10 pm. She was waiting in the bathtub when he arrived, bubbles galore, her hair up and arms open, “welcome home, honey.”

He laughs, “you want me to get in there with you?”

She just nods, “let me take care of you, daddy?”

He takes off his blazer, pulls his tie off and starts to unbutton his shirt. She watches patiently as he gets undressed, and it’s not sexual to her. He’s her person, her best friend, the only human being she would ever share a moment like this with and that’s when it hits her.

She doesn’t accept it just yet.

It’s not until he’s lying on her chest, between her legs, cheek resting on her boobs as she runs a sponge over his back while he gives her a little run down on his terrible week. His co-worker almost died, his mom is stressing him out, the only good thing he has left is her and she knows that.

“And then I get to my moms facility and she’s had a really good day, she knows me and she knows all of my childhood again and she’s all right there in front of me and yet she’s so far away. I’m never going to get all the time I want with her and it’s really hard to accept.”

He shares things with her that he doesn’t even tell his therapist. Because his therapist doesn’t hold him like a child against her chest and tell him he’s okay when he get’s upset.

Y/N loves him, so she kisses his forehead, “I’m so sorry, I have 2 moms if you’d like to have one?”

“It’s okay, I would love to meet them sometime though,” he wraps his arms around her waist a little tighter under the water. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Did I mention my leg is 44 inches from hip to toe?” She asks in the middle of the silence, quoting pretty woman, knowing he hasn’t seen that far into the movie yet. “So basically we’re talking about 88 inches of therapy for the bargain price of $800 dollars a week.”

Her legs wrap around him and their naked bodies are closer than they’ve ever been and yet it’s completely platonic, “I’d spend a million dollars on you if it always meant feeling this good after.”

She runs her cheek along his wet hair as he snuggles into her neck, “mmm, I like the sound of that,” she teased. “My million dollar man.”

Her stop rolls around and she pulls herself out of her day dreams to get off the train and head to her meeting. She smiles as she walks through the station, up the stairs and onto the busy downtown streets when she gets a text with Spencers special chime. She opens it when she gets to where she’s going, safely inside and in the waiting room.

It makes her laugh in the waiting room. People look at her but she doesn’t care, he’s so special to her she feels butterflies in her stomach even when he’s not around.

“Y/N!” She hears her name being called by her editor, he’s over ecstatic as he comes running out to get her. “Come, come we have so many choices to make!” He jumps up and down as he holds her arm, like a child in a candy store.

“Andy, chill man,” she laughs at him and plays it cool, “It’s just the cover being finalized.”

“It’s our baby!” He teases back, pushing his glasses up and tugging her behind the glass doors of the office.

She’s surrounded by people and paper and huge versions of her book cover. She has a sharpie as she fixed mistakes and jots down final ideas. “And I wan’t Phil to look more human and less like data from Star Trek?”

“But Dorothy looks okay?” The artist asks, nervously and Y/N can tell.

“She looks beautiful! You really brought her justice,” she smiles, “really she looks the same in my head! It’s just Phil and I’m sure it’s tough getting a drawing to look like a robotic human, let alone human.”

“I have some ideas?” She opens up more, taking her iPad out and sliding it across the table, “I wanted to give him more of a Sophia feel? His face is silicone but his joints and everything are more like an Elon Musk crash dummy.”

“That’s perfect!” She’s shocked, “why didn’t that go in the first draft?”

“I was worried it was too much,” she’s a little older than Y/N, and yet her anxiety is that of a teenage girl. “I’m going to get working on the final, do you want some emailed versions tonight?”

“Yes please,” she smiles.

“So we’re done?” Andy asks, “we’ve made all our final calls?”

“I believe we have,” Y/N closes her laptop and takes her phone out, taking a photo of the final rough sketch of her book cover on the table to send to Spencer before he comes to pick her up. She can’t wait to see him now.

—

They’re sitting side by side in matching spa robes, he’s getting a pedicure while she gets her nails done. Leaning back in her chair with a face mask and cucumbers on her eyes, she’s never felt more relaxed in her life. And just in time too, her back was killing her from writing, her knuckles hurt and she just needed a break.

Spencer did too, he was genuinely not having a good time at work anymore, every case made him spiral and he always looked to Y/N on days like that. They met more than once a week now, she got $800 every Friday and she didn’t even really need it anymore. He was coving for so much of her bills and lively hood that her savings account was growing and growing because of him.

For the first time in her life she thought she would be okay if a man left her. As terrible as it was, as much as her moms tried to raise her differently, she fell down the daddy issues rabbit hole and she’s never going to find her way out— however, luckily for her, Spencer is down here too, and he brought a flashlight.

He understands her, more than anyone else on earth. He knows all her secrets, every crush and bad grade and snide remark she’s ever kept to herself. He didn’t judge her, he could actually listen to her issues and tell her why she had them. He gave better advice than a therapist and he was able to get information for her if he didn’t know the answer to what she was going through.

He’s absolutely everything to her and yet he’s 14 years older than her, he’s still traumatized beyond belief, he’s sad and ashamed and recovering… but he’s the best man in the whole world and she wishes he could see that. If he just looked at himself from her eyes, if he felt how she did in her soul when they were together, he’d love himself.

They’re too relaxed to drive home, and Spencer knew that would happen beforehand, bringing her a change of clothes (lingerie) and that robe me mentioned. He books a hotel above the spa and takes her to it. Arms linked as they enter the suite, she’s amazed to find more than one gift bag on the bed.

“How many gifts is this now?”

“We’re at 5 out of 24.”

She laughs as she wraps her arms around him in a thank you hug, “this is what you consider 4 gifts? Spencer there are like 8 things on the bed, let alone the massage and manicure?”

“If you think this is too much I guess you’re going to get really mad next week,” he teases as she looks up at him with a surprised look on her face.

“Spencer, I am so busy next week, I cannot be galavanting around with my sugar daddy,” she tries to act like she doesn’t want to go on an adventure with him again.

The last trip they took was the best week of her life. They went to all the historical sites in the UK that she and Spencer had talked about. Mainly old churches and castles, strange poets graves, random art and most importantly; stone henge. It was a trip of a lifetime and he took it with her.

“I watched the rest of Pretty Woman the other day,” he smiles, “and I thought I’d pull an Edward Lewis and really surprise you because you deserve it.”

“You know how the movie ends, right?” Her heart beats really fast in her chest and she wants him to love her so bad but it’s also terrifying now that she’s this close.

“He lets her choose,” he whispers.

“He rescues her,” she corrects him.

“And she rescues him right back,” he really did watch the end of the movie.

It makes her heart skip a beat as she swallows sharply, “what does this mean for us?”

“I have a whole plan, a whole sequence of events I want to stick to. I wanted to make you fall in love with me this week and ask you on your birthday, can we still do that?” He pleads with her, he’s so serious. He’s clearly put a lot of effort into this.

“Absolutely,” she smiles, “but if you’re going to make me wait that long for you to ask, you still can’t kiss me till then. No matter how much I already love you.”

“Really?” He’s so soft with her, she knows he’s not reacting to the teasing. He’s never had someone tell him they love him and then stay after.

“I would never lie to you about that, spence. I know what love means to you, I know how scared you are and I’m scared too. But I know there is no one else in the whole world I’d rather be scared with than you,” she holds him tighter and rubs her nose against his, “so what’s in the bags, daddy? Finish your surprise.”

She plays along perfectly, stepping back and hauling him towards the bed. “I got you some outfits and things for the next 2 weeks, we have a few things planned. We’re going on a flight soon, I have new luggage being delivered to your apartment this week and we’re going to see your moms for 3 days.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “there’s no way, Spencer, I haven’t seen them in 5 years, I’m going to cry.”

“I know,” he cups her jaw with his hand. “They’re really excited to see you.”

She hugs him tight, kissing his neck as she holds him. “Thank you, daddy, do you want me to put something on for you now?”

“I’m just going to take it off you, plus, what your wearing is sexy enough, he whispers back. “You’re always so beautiful, baby.”

“I thought you were saving the best for last?” She asks as she pulls back, overly eager and he can tell.

“I want to repay the favour from the other night.”

She doesn’t mean to gasp and yet she does, “please?”

He pulls on the tie of her robe, opening it enough to snake a hand behind her back and draw her in with a hand on her bare back. “Please what?”

“Please, daddy?” She looks up with her best begging eyes, perfect pout and all. “I want you to touch me, I promise I’ll be a good girl.”

He steps away from her to swipe all the bags off the bed before picking her up and laying her back against the pillows. He kisses down her body, hand on her lover back as she arches, he drags his bottom lip from her belly button to her cleavage. Nipping and sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, pulling her breasts out of the bra to suck on her nipples, she moans and it’s louder than she expected.

As she plays with his hair, he marks her, bruising small little love bites all the way down as he makes his way between her legs, “take me, please?”

He’s been dreaming of this for so long, he can’t even give you an accurate number of times his mind has drifted to the thought of how wonderful she would taste, how beautiful she’d sound…

“Tell me how badly you want me?” He asks as he spreads her legs and kisses her left thigh.

“I haven’t had sex in 10 months while waiting for you. Daddy, please you’ve owned me for so long, just take what’s yours already for gods sa- OH!”

With a broad lick, his tongue flattens against her core and it shuts her up. She gets what she wants, holding into his hair as she tosses her head back, taking it all in and enjoying it. He’s been on her mind for months, every time her vibrator was where he is now, she thought of him. he’s been the man of her dreams longer than she’s known him, and he was proving it.

“Right there, daddy,” she speaks through shallow breaths, “do you know how much I’ve thought of this?”

“You know I don’t,” the vibrations of his voice against her skin are glorious, he looks up at her through his lashes as his tongue flicks over her clit and she shakes a bit.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping his hair tighter, “better than I thought you’d be, fuck, too bad you— Jesus, don’t have the stash anymore…”

He stops and looks up at her, the smirk on his face glistening with her juices, “the stash?”

She nods, “I’ve thought about calling it the pussy tickler,” she teases, running her hand down his cheek and swiping her thumb across his bottom lip before bringing it up to her mouth to taste, “I want more of you.”

He kisses back up her body and she reaches for his robe the second he’s close enough. “Just grind against me? I know you’re waiting but we can still feel good together?”

He kisses the side of her mouth and she takes that as a yes, wrapping her legs around him so his hard cock is pressed right against her core as they move their hips in synchronicity with each other. His breathing is heavy as he kisses her cheek and jaw, her nails scratch down his back, he feels absolutely amazing against her.

She feels so empty, she wants him so bad she’s clenching around nothing as she squirms against his cock and wishes she was full.

“I wish I could move time,” she whispers. “Fuck, why can’t it be my birthday?”

He laughs against her, grazing his teeth over her neck and drawing another moan from her but then he stops moving his hips, “why are you so impatient?”

“Remember I said I stopped enjoying everything? Well, taking a 10 month break from sex and thinking about you every time I got off has made me desperate,” her hand cups his cheek, “I’d wait forever for you, but a girl needs to be fucked hard every once in a while.”

Only she could find a way to make something both profoundly beautiful and whorish at the same time, he loved her for it and she knew that now. He smiles and leaned in to rub his nose against hers and it takes everything in her not to kiss him. The same way it was taking everything in him not to slip into her as he began to grind against her once more.

She’s so close, the accidental edging has added a whole new level of desperation she’s never felt before. She wants to cum for him so bad, but more importantly she wants him to cum for her.

“Take my bra off,” she whispers, Spencer’s hands travel behind her back to unclasp it and he helps her out of it before tossing it to the floor.

“Cum for me daddy,” she whispers in his head with a hand in his hair, gripping him tightly as he bites at her neck, “cover me with your cum like you’re marking your territory.”

“Shit,” his hips sputter against hers.

“Say it, I know you want to,” she teases, so close to the edge but it’s too good of an opportunity. She loves seeing him fall apart like this and she can’t wait to see it again. “Who’s am I?”

“Daddy’s girl.”

He grinds down on her harder and faster and she’s so close, the bubble in her gut is reaching a fever pitch and with a gasp, she’s cumming and then she feels it. His load covers her stomach as he pants against her neck and grips her hips tighter as he comes down.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him as close as humanly possible, her breathing still heavy as he rises and falls on her chest. He’s heavy but she doesn’t care, she just kisses the top of his head and thanks him.

He brushes his nose against her neck, nuzzling her like a cat, “do you really mean it?”

“What, honey?” He remembers so much, this could be a question about something she said 2 months or 2 minutes ago and she has no clue.

“You’re not just playing along with my kinks right, you genuinely want to be mine?”

For being her million dollar man, his heart sure was broke. This is why he wasn’t ready, he still didn’t understand why she would want to stay without anything in return, he’s gotten so used to paying her for her time now that his anxiety has managed to convince him that she’ll leave when he stops being worth it to her.

“What does my necklace say?” She asks, knowing how close he was to it. “Read it to me, I forget.”

“Daddy’s girl,” he smiles again.

She soothes her hands over his back, “I would do anything with you because I love and trust you, but also because everything you do is sexy… you could read me the dictionary and I’d still want you to pump me full of cum after.”

“It sounds so crude after,” he laughs, “speaking of, we really need to have a shower.”

“I’ll wash your back if you wash mine?” She teases as he gets up.

“Only if you let me wash the front too?”

She smacks his bare ass and races him into the bathroom, turning on the water and getting in with him while still laughing and carrying on. He’s her best friend in the whole world, there’s no one else she would rather do this with… there was no one she has done this with. No one has made her feel this good, before during and after sex.

Spencer Reid was an anomaly, but he was hers.

Permanent tag list:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @gubeskneescrew @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @sassymoon @shirleyrose

Sugar daddy fic (Some tags didn't work)

@mggs-sidehoe @bakugouswh0r3 @mggskneescrews @moonlight-2-6 @spencerreidscumwhore @my-thoughts-are-weird @violetclifford @youabitchhhh @bunny-script @baby-i-am-fireproof @moondustmemories @rexorangecouny @minervaonmars @onlyhereforthefanfics @anonymous-reading @go2sleepducky @kingcrain @beepbooptoop @givemeth @emma-is-a-nerd@wrecky-becky @eternalspence @ne--yo-pets @valerieweasley @coldlilheart @andiebeaword

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #sugar daddy spencer #perv!spencer #mdm

[butwhyduh]

Dead Clown 🤡

Jason todd x reader

Warning: smut, murder but it’s okay.

Jason pulled his helmet off and ignored the rain that poured down his face. He had to see this without a filter. He even considered taking off the domino mask but he was out in the open. The pouring freezing rain had him shivering but Jason was unaware. He literally couldn’t believe the sight before him.

The joker was laying in his back, the pasty skin on his forehead was marred by 2 small holes. The back of his stupid green hair looked almost black when mixed with blood. Blood and water mixed in a pink puddle around his head. Jason forced himself to check for a pulse before hitting his comms.

“Bats, you need to get down here,” he said in a shocked voice. “The joker is dead.”

“..... are you okay,” Bruce said in a measured voice.

“I’m fine. He was dead when I got here,” Jason added knowing he was number one suspect.

“On the way.”

Batman and Red Robin showed up shortly with Robin not far behind. It didn’t take long for the detectives to believe Jason’s innocence. The evidence didn’t match him.

Jason sat on a piece of concrete near the scene as they worked. He had hoped to see this for years now. But it wasn’t the same. Maybe it was because Jason didn’t get his revenge or because it looked too neat. Two quick shots to the brain. Probably didn’t even see it coming before he was lights out.

Bruce walked over to him as the other two took photos and bagged evidence. A little blood here. Some fabric fibers there. No fingerprints because of the heavy rain but a bullet casing.

“Did you see who shot him?”

“No B. I literally got here and he was already out. He was supposed to have a drug drop but I guess that didn’t happen,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You were going to fight him alone,”Bruce said with a raised brow.

“No. Just reconnaissance. I would have called it in,” Jason defended himself. Bruce gave him a side look before moving on to the case.

“Commissioner Gordon is on the way,” Tim said. He held bags of evidence carefully in his lanky fingers. “We’re finish collecting-“

“Can we go home, father? It’s freezing cold,” Damian interrupted. Bruce sighed before looking at him.

“Red Robin was talking but yes, you both should back to the cave to process everything. Red Hood, you too. The commissioner knows you have a history with the joker so it’s best you leave too. I’ll take care of this,” Bruce said carefully. Any wrong word might set Jason off with his trauma over the death of his murderer.

“Uh yeah, sure man,” Jason said clearly distracted. He would usually argue with everything Bruce said and this made Bruce even more worried for the young man. He sent a quick message to Dick before the commission met got there.

——————————

“We’re running the tests right now and there really isn’t much else to do. Robin already went to bed. Go home Hood and get some sleep,” Tim said by the computers. Jason hadn’t bothered to get out of his suit or shower.

“How long? How long until you get results?”

“Oh, uhhh maybe 12 hours? A while. Sorry DNA testing isn’t like in the movies. The meta or clone tests are even longer. It probably won’t be until tomorrow night that we know anything,” Tim said turning in his chair. “Get some sleep.”

Jason considered giving him a nasty comment but held it. He certainly felt dead on his feet and had a nice warm woman waiting at home for him.

“Call when you know anything,” he said with a growl.

“Yeesh, yeah. I will,” Tim said backing away. “Say it. Don’t spray it,” he muttered as Jason walked away.

———————————

Jason trudged into the apartment leaving wet clothing in his wake until he stumbled to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs. You were going to be mad at him for the mess in the morning but that could wait. He looked at you asleep on the bed. You looked so sweet and innocent. Like an angel compared to his dirty hands that practically dripped blood every night.

He slid under the blanket and pressed close to your warm form. You gasped awake before relaxing when you realized it was just Jason. Did you not realize he could kill you 84 different ways in your sleep? It didn’t really matter as you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck and slid your legs to entangle with his. Jason’s arms automatically wrapped around you and rubbed your back until your breathing was even in sleep. He stared at the ceiling until the hint of dusk could be seen outside.

Jason woke with a gasp followed by a moan as he felt perfect wet heat encompass his dick. He looked down to see the blankets move rhythmically as you slid your mouth along his dick. He blinked himself more awake to truly enjoy it.

It wasn’t the first time you had woken him as such but it was certainly a rare occurrence. Reserved for birthdays and Christmas, he couldn’t imagine what he did to deserve such a wonderful wake up.

“Fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you swirled before taking him deep. You hummed questionably.

“What did I, mmmm, do to deserve such a fuck! Perfect mouth. Perfect wake up,” he said pushing covers down to show you between his legs. You looked up at him with big innocent eyes as you licked long hot strips up his cock. You took him deep in your mouth before sliding off with a pop.

“I can’t spoil you?” You purred and he twitched. How did he get so lucky? “Do you want to finish in my mouth or can I ride you first?” You asked and he god honest choked on his spit.

“Baby, *cough* whatever you want, what. Ever. you want,” he said and you grinned before climbing up his body to straddle him. His hands ran along the side of your body before gripping your hips. You sunk down on him with a little mewl.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so wet. Do you like... do you like sucking my cock?” He asked breathlessly.

“Of course, Jaybird. Sometimes I touch myself when I blow you, like today,” you admitted with a sweet little giggle. He almost came right them. How could you say the dirtiest things while being the sweetest person he’d ever known?

Jason reached his thumb down to rub your clit as you moved. You whined before nodding at him. Your mouth fell open and your hips sped up. He knew that you weren’t going to last long. You really did get hot and bothered blowing him. You made little whined and whimpers before moaning his name loudly as you came. Your body clenching on him was enough and he thrust up into you as he came as well. You bent down and kissed him deeply. Jason was panting by the time you pulled back.

“Loved that for sure, but what the hell was that, Princess,” Jason asked breathlessly as you climbed off and threw on some clothing. You chuckled a little before tossing him his boxers.

“Just wanted to wake you up this morning. Do you want some pancakes, Jay,” you asked. He sat up and pulled them on.

“You certainly did. And I never say no to food. Especially my favorite food,” Jason said with a grin. “Is it secretly my birthday? Am I dying and you’re prepping me beforehand?”

You laughed. “You already did that, baby.”

Jason gasped a little before laughing.

“I just wanted to treat you like you deserve. Pick a movie. There’s a new slasher out that you can tear apart,” you said walking in the kitchen and grinned at Jason’s heart eye look he gave you.

He looked through the movies without paying them much mind. He’d seen the joker dead the day before and now his girlfriend was spoiling him. He didn’t know what to think about. He’d think about the joker finally being dead. He couldn’t hurt Jason or those near him any more. You’d been kidnapped 6 months earlier and it had almost ripped Jason apart when he found you bloody and beaten. Luckily alive though.

Then he thought about how sweet you were. A perfect angel who had nothing to do with that life. You couldn’t kill someone if you tried. He just wanted to keep you in an innocent bubble, especially after being kidnapped.

“Jay? Jason?” You said near him and he jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice you coming over to him with a plate of food. Heart shaped pancakes covered in whipped cream stared up at him and Jason had a little grin on his face.

“Sorry, thanks. This looks good,” he said and you grinned before sitting with your own. Jason turned on a movie and sat next to you to eat.

Jason’s phone rang.

He gave you an apologetic look before answering.

“Yeah,” he answered before quickly standing up to talk in another room. Definitely bat business, it sounded like. He came back in a few minutes putting on his suit. He bent and shoved most of a pancake in his mouth. Jason pulled you to your feet and swirled you around before holding you by the waist. You giggled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got to work. But when I get back, I’m making up for this morning, okay? Breakfast was amazing,” he said before pulling you into a dizzying kiss. You nodded before he left.

——————————

Jason arrived at the cave and realized something was instantly wrong. Tim, Dick, Damian, Bruce, and even Alfred were waiting for him around the computers. He slowly walked up. They didn’t think he did it, did they? Jason looked around in case of a fight.

“I have some bad news,” Dick said. Jason just stared at him. Dick sighed. “We know who killed the joker. You won’t like it. You- you might want to sit down.”

Jason frowned at his tone. It was the tone you used when telling a kid their parents died. He looked at the computer to see surveillance footage of the roof where he found the joker. He clenched his fist as the mad man walked in the screen.

“You know, this is the worst meeting place in the world,” joker said with a laugh. Jason’s eyebrows rose. He hasn’t expected audio. “So what do you have that I might want on the birds?”

A female voice off camera could be heard saying, “peace of mind.”

“Doubt you could give me that Princess,” he said in a mocking tone. His posture was casual even though the lower half of a woman’s body had walked into the screen and she held a gun in hand pointed at him. She froze at his words.

Jason couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know,” joker said. “I forget faces. Too many changing and quite a few people are a little two faced,” he said with a laugh. “But I never forget a voice. You sounded so much more sweet when you were crying tied to a chair. And the way you sobbed when I brought out the crowbar.... music to my ears. I bet it just reminded you of a certain bird that just didn’t quite make it the first time.”

“Shut up. I- I don’t care,” she said. Jason’s heart was in his throat. He knew exactly who that was before Tim’s DNA tests were complete. She moved around a little nervously.

“Honey, Princess,” he said drawn out in a mock of Jason’s voice. “Unless you plan on using that gun, put it down and we can play a game. You like games? You play one with the red bat all the time. Does he know? Does he know that you’ve been hunting me for.... geez, since you were kidnapped I’d bet.”

“Now drop that gun and I show you what pain really feels like,” he growled and she shot him in the forehead before he moved. He made a disconnected sound before falling to his knee, perfect height to be seen in the camera. She shot him again between the eyes and he fell back silently. His body splashed on the rainy roof before blood began to pool behind his head. The woman looked for a second, her body language painfully stiff, before running out the way she came.

The cave was silent as Jason realized what he just saw. He blinked a few times before clearing his throat. Has she- did she-??

“I assume the DNA matches?” He asked and Tim nodded before sliding him a paper copy. 98% match. Only chance it wasn’t you was an evil twin or clone but no, he noticed the clothing and mannerisms. It was you.

“Are you going to bring her in?” Bruce asked quietly and Jason gaped.

“I sure as shit ain’t. She killed the man who kidnapped her and abused her. That sounds like self defense to me,” he defended. Dick looked at him in pity and Jason quickly looked away.

“It was premeditated, Jason,” Bruce reminded him.

“I know. I’ll take care of it. She’s not going to prison. I’ll talk to her,” he said. Bruce gave him a hard look. “You come near her- I swear to god, Bruce. I’ll shoot you myself.”

Jason got up to leave. Dick moved out of his way. He wasn’t getting in this.

“Jason,” Bruce said but Jason was already gone.

——————————

Jason was a pretty smart guy but he was completely shocked at this moment. What possessed you to kill the joker? To seek him out? A man that tried to kill you and you were willing to meet him alone? Not even Jason wanted to do that. And that morning you were treating Jason special. He thought for a second that you killed the joker for him. It chilled him to the bone but he put that thought out of his head. No, you had your own reasons to do it.

Jason walked in the apartment cautiously. Who knows how you would be acting, the perfect girlfriend or finally breaking down when you realized you killed a man. He found you in the bedroom asleep. You didn’t look like you had just killed someone and for a second Jason had doubt but the video and DNA didn’t lie.

He crawled in bed with you. You pulled him close and laid your head on his chest and Jason’s heart hurt. You looked fine but killing people left scars and your first time killing someone was not something you forget.

You woke with a gasp and cry hours later. You trembled and grasped at Jason tightly. He woke up confused before pulling you closer.

“Hey, Princess, I’m right here. You’re okay,” he said rubbing your back and holding you close. “What’s going on?”

“I see him. When I sleep. Every time,” you breathed almost in tears. Jason kissed your cheek and he felt wetness on your skin. You had been crying. He didn’t want to ask but now was as good a time as any.

“Princess, what did you do last night?” Jason asked so quietly. You looked up at him quickly and it confirmed everything he needed to know.

“Nothing. I was here. All night. Wh-why?” You asked, lying terribly. Jason sighed. He closed his eyes before willing himself to speak.

“You know I’m a detective. I can tell that you’re lying,” Jason started gently.

“What does that mean,” you said a little too quickly. Your breathing started to speed up again and Jason hated the look of fear on your face.

“I’m not mad. I won’t turn you in. Just tell me what happened,” he said softly, watching you intently. You wanted to shrink away a little.

“I can’t,” you whispered. Your eyes started to water and you blinked them away.

“Did you do it? Did you kill him? I can help you,” Jason said and you froze. “Talk to me.”

“I-I did,” you said looking at him in terror. Your eyes were red rimmed. “I did.”

“I’m sorry,” he said pulling you tight to his body. You broke down in little sobs and clung to him. “I’m so sorry that you thought you had to. I should have. I’m sorry.” He wrapped you up and made little shhh noises and you cried until you fell back asleep.

You woke up later with a pounding headache wrapped up tightly against Jason. He was on his phone but sat it down when he saw you were up.

“Hey,You don’t have to worry about it. I’ve taken care of everything,” he said ever so gently. You nodded.

“What does that mean?” You asked slowly.

“Red Hood took the wrap on it. No great loss with one less psycho in Gotham. Harley Quinn had an impromptu parade with hyenas and jugglers and everything. Nightwing made an appearance. Dick said Barbie slept through the night for the first time in months and she said she’d help you with anything you need,” Jason said trying to be positive. You gave him a dry smile.

“That’s nice. What about- what about Batman?” You asked.

“He’s Batman. But he’ll get over it. And the next time you kill a murderous clown, let me help. He could have killed you. And if anyone knows how to hide a body, it’s me,” Jason said giving you a squeezing hug. You smiled despite yourself.

“I’ll remember that. I’m a little sad I missed the hyena parade,” you admitted.

“Oh she’s having a parade every day this week. An anonymous donor gave her a ton of fireworks. Fairly certain it was Tim,” Jason said.

#Jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood smut #batboy smut #the joker needs to die okay #and I’ll do it myself

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Hell he’s been through;

The Knights have no clue of the suffering Merlin has endured… until one day, they do.

TW: Scars, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD except they don’t have a word for that, non-graphic description of scars/injuries

Part 2(final part)

It was the height of summer, the bright blue sky was utterly free of clouds and the noon sun beat viciously down onto the training field.

Only the central six knights, their King, and Merlin braved the exhausting heat, the other knights had chosen to train later in the day, when it was cooler, so the field was empty of anyone else. Merlin was sat cross-legged in the shade of a tree, jacket and neckerchief removed (not that Arth- anyone noticed. Definitely not.), though his sleeves were still pulled low over his wrists and his tunic was fastened high up his neck. Despite that, the lack of an extra layer definitely displayed Merlin’s surprisingly broad shoulders more than normal (another thing that Ar-no one noticed). 

The knights were shirtless, despite Merlin’s warning of sunburn, sparring semi-playfully with wooden dummy swords, the type squires train with, and no armour.

Merlin rubs absent-mindedly at the dull, almost gone ache in his ribs, just below his armpit, as he rolls his shoulder. The injury, if it could even be called that, had never been serious and hadn’t even hurt that much when he’d gotten it on the last patrol (a stray mace swing from a bandit just clipped him), at least, not compared to other injuries he’s sustained over the years, but it was an annoyance that made his shoulder stiff on occasion.

Unfortunately, the movement caught Arthur’s eye, and the King frowns, stopping his observation of Elyan and Mordred’s spar to lay a crudely hidden concerned gaze upon his manservant. 

He’d fussed endlessly when he found that Merlin had bandaged his own torso after the fight, demanding that he let someone help next time; Merlin just rolled his eyes at that. The other knights had wisely chosen not to comment, knowing that the attack, and Merlin’s subsequent injury, had already put Arthur in a bad enough mood; though admittedly, the only thing stopping Gwaine from ruthlessly taking the piss out of Arthur’s mother-hen tendencies all the way home was Percival harshly clamping a hand over his mouth and pushing him away.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur staring at him, and the King quickly covers his concern with a look of annoyance when the manservant raises an eyebrow:

“If you’re not going to do anything useful Merlin, get up here, you clearly can’t be trusted to even cower effectively, so you’re going to have to learn to defend yourself.”

Merlin’s eyebrow just rises higher as the rest of the knights’ attention is drawn to the conversation. Lancelot and Mordred hide knowing smiles, well aware than Merlin was more than capable of defending himself, if he really needed to. Gwaine went to open his mouth with teasing grin, though quickly pouts when Percival punches him on the shoulder, and Leon and Elyan smirk at each other before moving their amused gazes to Arthur.

When Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at him disbelievingly, Arthur rolls his eyes and gestures at the half-empty rack of wooden swords:

“Come on, Merlin, up on your feet, grab a sword.”

Merlin just snorts in amusement and shakes his head, settling back against the tree trunk even more:

“Absolutely not. I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much.”

The knights (bar Lancelot and Mordred of course) raise their own eyebrows. Gwaine snorts out loud, stepping up next to Arthur and dropping an overly-friendly hand on his shoulder, much to The King’s displeasure:

“I know you can hold your own in a tavern brawl Merls, but that’s not the same thing as facing bandits and assassins and shit. Princess is right, it might be worth it for you to at least know how to use a sword.”

Arthur turns an accusing gaze on Gwaine, shrugging his hand off as he says:

“And I presume all the tavern brawls Merlin has apparently been getting into are your fault?”

Gwaine grimaces slightly before shrugging with a smirk, and Merlin hides his laughter with a cough before inserting:

“Entirely his fault. Gwaine starts the fights, promptly passes out, and I have to finish them.”

Arthur laughs incredulously; Mordred has to hide the angry clench of his jaw and Lancelot has to hide his sorrow when Arthur replies in a taunting tone:

“I’m meant to believe that you are regularly winning Gwaine’s unfinished fights, am I?”

Merlin shrugs in mock defeat, a grin on his face:

“Believe what you want, Sire, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing, I don’t need training.”

Arthur resists the urge to smirk at the appealing way Merlin manages to make his title sound insulting, and he instead raises his eyebrows:

“You’re not getting out of this, Merlin. I can’t have you bruising yourself every time we leave the city.”

Merlin takes in a deep breath, settling a disconcertingly assessing gaze on The King for a few moments before he sighs and stands up, walking towards the equipment and picking up a sword before turning back to Arthur:

“I suppose you’re right, I doubt any of the other servants would be willing to put up with you if I got too injured. Who would you like me to spar, My Lord?”

Arthur scoffs and shakes his head as the others step back, looking upon the whole scene with fond amusement, bar, once again, Lancelot and Mordred, who are looking an odd mix between concerned and proud. They know that Merlin is capable of more than he lets on, even with a wooden blade.

“You can’t spar with any of us, Merlin, that would be far too dangerous. We’ll start with some basic moves, and then maybe we can move on to a slow, choreographed spar.”

Merlin twirls the sword expertly in his hand, and he’s vaguely away of Gwaine nodding approvingly and Leon raising an eyebrow out the corner of his eye, though he pays them no mind, raising an eyebrow of his own at Arthur:

“Surely starting with a simple spar will tell you my exact skill levels so you can tailor the lessons? You need to know how crap I am before we start.”

Lancelot hides a snort behind a hand, knowing full well that Merlin is just trying to goad Arthur into letting the servant show off his skills without too much effort beforehand. Or without giving Arthur the satisfaction of thinking that he was the one who taught Merlin how to fight. Thankfully, Arthur takes Lance’s snort as a teasing one aimed at Merlin, as opposed to what it really is, so waves him into the ring with a smirk.

Merlin just rolls his eyes, moving to stand opposite his best friend and muttering, just loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Fine, but I’m not taking my shirt off, I’m not as arrogant as you lot.”

Lancelot widens his eyes as Arthur freezes, dread growing in his stomach at the knowledge that The King would take that as a challenge. Arthur turns slowly, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Lancelot grimaces as Arthur claps his hands together:

“Right! I wasn’t going to mention it, but you do have a point, Merlin, if you are to train, you must train as one of us. Come on, tunic off.”

Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine just laugh, but Leon rolls his eyes exasperatedly, and Mordred and Lancelot frown in concern. Neither of them have seen Merlin’s scars in their entirety before, but knowing about the servant’s secret second life had definitely made them more observant than the others, and they had seen hints of old injuries here and there. That’s not even mentioning the times he’s shown up in their chambers, bloody and bruised and in need of treatment, but not wanting to worry Gaius.

Merlin just flushed and stared at him indignantly and Arthur’s teasing grin grew:

“Don’t be shy, Merlin, I’m sure whatever horrific mole or ugly birth mark you’re ashamed of isn’t that bad.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, stepping away from Arthur when he moves towards him. The demand to de-robe, even partially, had immediately put him on edge, and he had gone from playfully annoyed to genuinely irate in a split second. He crosses his arms over his chest protectively when Arthur gestures at him demandingly:

“I don’t have a weird mole, Arthur, you Clotpole, but unlike you lot, I’m not all that keen to show off my old scars.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Merlin was hoping that mentioning his scars in passing would appeal to the knights’ warrior sides, would make them sympathetic to his… shy-ness. It did not. It just made them laugh, even Leon, and they all began to point out various scars they had on their chests and back, remarking that he couldn’t have worse than them. 

Gwaine twisted to the side, patting a pink, jagged circle halfway down his back, a grin on his face:

“This beauty is from when I propositioned a lovely fella who was, apparently, already taken. Man’s wife smashed her bottle on the counter and damn near took my eye out with it.”

Elyan cackles at Gwaine’s story, pointing to a perfectly square burn on his shoulder-blade:

“Yeah, well at least you didn’t fall back into a red hot brand at the ripe old age of fifteen because a girl smiled at you.”

Merlin’s back-up plan, which was sneakily sulking off whilst the knights compared their most embarrassing scars, was cut short basically immediately when he heard Arthur yell out:

“Absolutely not, Merlin, I’ve already told you that you’re not getting out of this. Tunic off, spar Lancelot.”

Merlin huffs, annoyed, feeling rather like he was backed into a corner, and Mordred walks forward, to be between him and The King, quietly saying:

“You don’t have to Merlin, just fight with it on.”

Arthur narrows his eyes in suspicion, but before he can say anything, Merlin squares his shoulders and looks at him defiantly, dropping his sword to the floor as he begins unlacing his tunic, his words coming out harshly, his tone dark:

“No, no it’s fine. The King wants to see my scars, and we all know that The King gets whatever he wants.”

The smiles melt rather quickly off the knights’ faces as Merlin speaks, and Arthur flinches slightly at his tone, starting to realise with just a little guilt that maybe this wasn’t funny anymore. He opens his mouth to take it back, to tell Merlin that he was only teasing and he could keep the tunic on if he really wanted to, but before any words come out, Merlin is gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head swiftly and screwing it up before tossing it to the side, not once breaking his stare on the now pale King.

Arthur lets out a sharp breath at the patchwork of scars that cover Merlin’s chest, and he’s vaguely aware of the various low cries and gasps of outrage coming from the knights behind him. There are so many, some are large and some are small, some look to be from clumsiness, but others look like they should have been fatal. Arthur’s eyes can’t focus on just one, he’s barely taking in each scar before his gaze is drawn to another, and then another, and then another; it’s a little overwhelming, and it’s only when he starts to feel a little woozy that he remembers to breath.

When he finally comes to the conclusion that his brain isn’t going to able to process this for a while, he looks up to Merlin’s face, instead taking in his resolute expression and hard eyes:

“Merlin, what… what happened to you?”

Merlin raises a slow, mocking eyebrow before breaking his statue-like stillness and picking his sword up again, turning to face a distraught looking Lancelot. This movement only reveals the second mosaic of scars covering his back, but he speaks over the next round of gasps and muffled curses, his tone still unbearably dark as he gestures Lance to get into position:

“I told you, I’ve faced worse than you lot and come out singing.”

The knights are so distracted by the myriad of scars covering Merlin’s torso that it takes the servant’s first harsh, well-aimed blow with his sword to break them out of their stupor. They watch the ensuing spar with morbid fascination, finding that not only can Merlin hold his own, he’s winning. Lancelot loses his breath and rhythm much quicker than Merlin does, and the fast-paced spar only lasts around three minutes before Merlin lands a strong punch to the centre of Lance’s chest and the knight stumbles back in shock, lowering his sword just enough for Merlin to step forward and trip him up.

The scarred servant’s chest rises and falls deeply, but not too rapidly as he lowers his sword and offers a hand down to the beaten knight. Lancelot takes it with a slightly shocked smile, patting Merlin on the shoulder as he stands. Merlin flinches away from the touch, no one misses it, clearly not too fond of people touching his bare skin, and Lance drops his hand rapidly, frowning only briefly before he smiles again:

“Bloody hell, Merlin. I knew you were good, but not that good.”

Merlin gives him a strained smile, grateful for the distraction. Everyone sees the moment Merlin’s mask goes up again; he gives Lance a smug grin and twirls his sword once again as he shrugs mockingly:

“I’ve been watching you lot train for ten years, and I’ve been in a few sword fights in my time. I picked up a few things.”

Arthur finally reacts, scoffing as he shakes his head in disbelief, scars momentarily forgotten:

“There’s no way that you can- that was a fluke.-”

He looks smug as he says it, like he’s figured out some great secret, and Mordred lets out a low, annoyed growl; no one notices thankfully, but Merlin shoots him a quick frustrated line across their mental link:

“Please try not to antagonise him any further.”

Mordred looks to him, keeping his face blank as he nods almost imperceptibly. Lancelot and Gwaine look openly disapproving of Arthur’s assertion, but Leon, Percival, and Elyan look almost convinced. Arthur nods decisively, picking up his sword once again and waving it in Merlin’s direction:

“-My turn. And once I’ve beaten you, you’re going to tell us about all of… that.”

Merlin’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t say anything, just nods slightly as he holds a placating hand out in Lancelot’s direction when it becomes obvious that his best friend is going to start trying to defend him.

Arthur takes Lancelot’s place in the ring and Merlin grips his sword tightly, his shoulders tense and his face showing only mild annoyance, despite the anger that Lancelot and Mordred were sure was simmering under his façade. At Arthur’s nod, Leon reluctantly counts them in, and the match begins.

This one is somehow even more fast-paced, though no one is surprised. The last ten minutes had caught Arthur extremely off-guard. An off-guard Arthur is a grumpy Arthur, and a grumpy Arthur is, unfortunately, still the type to take his frustrations out on others. Arthur wasn’t good at dealing with his emotions, meaning the disturbing mix of horror, guilt, and anger at Merlin’s scars, slight… shock, (because he refuses to call it anything else) at his deceptively strong physique, and surprise that apparently his servant can take out one of his best knights without all that much effort, all together have The King bursting with adrenaline. 

He throws blow after blow, but Merlin’s defence is incredibly strong, and Arthur has yet to land a hit anywhere other than the opposing sword. After a couple of minutes, Merlin switches styles, and Arthur almost trips when he realises his servant has, in the space of a second, gone from fighting like Arthur, to fighting like Leon. The knights notice it as well; Gwaine lets out a low whistle and Elyan smacks Leon on the shoulder, pointing incredulously at a sequence of complicated footwork that usually only the First Knight can manage so gracefully. Apparently Merlin can do it too.

Arthur adapts to this quickly; Leon was his sparring partner most often, meaning that he was accustomed to switching between their styles, and they were the most similar fighters in all the group. 

Another minute passes, and the pair still don’t slow, seemingly unbothered by their dumbfounded audience and the sweltering heat, and this time Merlin suddenly starts fighting more like Gwaine. Instead of staying on the defensive and trying to trip Arthur up, he goes on the attack, landing heavier and heavier hits as The King barely manages to defend himself in time.

Merlin is quickly growing tired, his stamina not nearly as good as Arthur’s, but The King grows complacent, even with the vicious pace, certain that he just has to wait Merlin out. He was wrong. Arthur finally gets an attack of his own in but Merlin dives to the side instead of blocking it, rolling and coming up to Arthur’s left before the blonde has time to regain his balance and turn around. He freezes in place when Merlin touches his wooden sword to the side of Arthur’s neck. He can feel it shaking, but it’s undoubtedly a killing blow, and when Merlin drops the sword to the floor in favour of bending over, one hand on his knee and the other on his side again as he pants, Arthur turns around faster than he thinks he’s ever moved before:

“How the fuck did you do that?”

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights all clapping and shouting encouragement at him, but he doesn’t look up, just waves dismissively in Arthur’s direction:

“I told you, I’ve been watching you lot train for years. It’s easy to imitate you after a little practice.”

Arthur just stares at him in disbelief, but Leon hands the servant a water-skin, ripping his gaze from the whip marks on his back with clenched teeth before schooling his tone and face into something more friendly:

“Merlin, you switched styles twice in as many minutes… you beat the best swordsman in the Kingdom after already being tired from another spar, that’s… that’s incredible.”

Merlin drinks the entire skin as Leon speaks, looking up with another playful mask on his face:

“Well believe me, I’m so sore I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do it again.”

Merlin’s smile drops when he realises everyone is back to staring at him, more specifically, his scars. He steps away from the curly-haired knight, who furrows his brows in concern and resists the urge to reach a comforting hand out to him. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest defensively, hunching his broad shoulders slightly as he frowns at the floor.

Lancelot quickly throws his tunic to him, and Merlin scrambles to pull it on as quickly as possible, but before he can even get his arms through the right holes, Arthur snatches it away, a stern, angry look on his face. Though every one of then can see the badly hidden concern as well:

“No, you agreed to tell us.”

Merlin makes a move for his tunic, but Arthur jumps out of his reach. The servant huffs, annoyed and close to tears all of a sudden as he petulantly replies:

“Actually, you said once you beat me, I had to tell you. I won.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, taking another step back:

“I’m happy to go another round if you are, Merlin?”

Merlin glares at him angrily for another few moments before completely sagging, staring at the floor with sad, tired eyes as his arms drop to dangle at his sides. Arthur and the knights are completely taken aback at Merlin’s sudden change of disposition, though it heartbreakingly strikes them as less of a change and more of a... reveal. A reveal of some kind of sadness that’s been there all along. How did they not notice this??

Arthur’s breath hitches and his tight clutch on Merlin’s tunic loosens slightly as he all but whispers:

“Merlin... who did this to you?”

Merlin finally looks up at him, letting out a humourless chuckle as he rakes a hand through his sweat-dampened hair roughly:

“Does it matter? Most of them are dead, I-”

His eyes narrow and his voice lowers. The knights hear it nonetheless:

“... I made sure of that .”

Arthur lets out a huff of frustration, not bothering to hide the desperation in his eyes as he pleads:

“Please, Merlin, you’re my... subject, you’re meant to be under my protection. And don’t lie, none of these are more than eleven or twelve years old at most and you got here ten years ago, so they happened in Camelot, under my watch. Please, Merlin.”

Merlin sighs, walking towards the tree’s shade once again. For a moment Arthur panics, thinking he’d pushed Merlin too far as he turned away, knowing that if this conversation wasn’t had now, their relationship would never be the same. But before The King can say anything, the servant slumps back into place against the tree trunk, sitting cross-legged again and biting his lip as he looks at Arthur expectantly.

Before anyone else can move, Mordred and Lancelot take the places either side of Merlin, sitting protectively close. Lance gives Mordred a pointed look, to which the younger knight nods before settling a blank expression on the side of Merlin’s head. Merlin doesn’t look back at him, but pats the knight’s knee as the corner of his mouth turns up briefly in a barely-there smile.

Arthur narrows his eyes, but stores that odd exchange in the back of his mind to deal with at a later date before sitting across from Merlin; the other knights look to each other, worried, before settling in the empty spaces to complete the circle. The group is silent for a while, all staring at a statue-still Merlin who in turn is staring at the grass in front of him; he doesn’t move even when Lancelot brings his hand into his lap, stroking his thumb over the servant’s knuckles absent-mindedly.

It’s Percival that finally breaks the silence, asking in a quiet voice:

“What happened, Merlin?”

Merlin looks up suddenly, as if he had forgotten he had company, taking in a deep breath and tightening his grip on Lance’s hand. He gulps before once again running his free hand through his hair, shrugging slightly as he mutters:

“I don’t recall all of them in perfect detail, just ask about... whatever catches your eye I guess, and we’ll see what I can remember.”

The knights all nod, looking to each other expectantly, no one really wanting to go first. Eventually Leon clears his throat, his voice gentle:

“Why don’t we start with the whip marks on your back?”

Merlin nods, grateful that they were at least starting off with the non-magical injuries. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he speaks, his voice croaky and quiet:

“The newer ones are from Cenred, from a few years ago. He wanted information and I spat at his feet and told him to fuck off. He... he didn’t take too kindly to that.”

Gwaine lets out a quiet curse, and Arthur sits up straight, saying in a crackingly authoritative voice:

“Merlin, if anyone ever tries to extract information from you again, you give them anything. Everything. We’ll deal with the fall-out afterwards, it is not your job to withstand torture.”

The other knights nod approvingly but Merlin just looks up at The King with a raised eyebrow:

“Like hell. I can put up with a remarkable amount, I’d never sell Camelot, or you, out. Never, Arthur.”

Arthur huffs and resolutely ignores the tears gathering in his eyes, but Elyan beats him to the mark:

“That’s not... you shouldn’t have to put up with anything Merlin, it’s not necessary. You just... keep yourself safe. We’ll worry about everything else.”

The other knights nod again, but Merlin scowls and tenses even further, even as Lancelot squeezes his hand comfortingly:

“I’ve been through literal hell, multiple times, in order to protect my home and the people that are important to me. I’m not going to stop that just because it makes you lot uncomfortable, and you have no right to tell me to it’s not my place.”

Everyone looks desperate to argue, but they can’t deny that, after what they’ve seen today, in the last half a candle-mark only, Merlin is evidently a lot stronger than they’ve ever given him credit for. Both physically and mentally. Leon just gives Merlin a small smile and nods; he’s the only one here who has known Merlin just as long as Arthur, and he may not be as close to the younger man as The King or Lance or Gwaine or Mordred, but he’s seen his loyalty in action several times over the years:

“You said the newer ones were from Cenred. You’ve been flogged more than once?”

Merlin nods at the knight, grateful for his understanding and change of subject, even if said change of subject was back to his scars. His expression turns slightly guilty as his gaze moves to Arthur, and The King has a feeling he’s going to feel incredibly terrible at whatever it is Merlin is about to say:

“The others are from... uh.... Uther.-”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath as the tears he had just about managed to get under control gather again. The other knights just look angry, bar Leon, who, though miserable, looks as though he sort of expected it:

“-He didn’t like me very much.”

Arthur whispers his response:

“When? Merlin, when and why did my father have you flogged, and how did I not know about it?”

Merlin tenses his jaw, going from guilty to angry in a split second, snapping his response:

“Why do you think?!-”

Arthur recoils and Merlin closes his eyes briefly as he takes a deep breath, looking back to Arthur with a blank mask and speaking in a monotone voice:

“What did you think he would do every time I took the blame for you missing a meeting or a meal or a training session because you were entertaining a woman or pissing about with your knights? I had to walk into the council room and apologise for your absence because I slept in or I forgot to tell you or I sent you on a hunt on the wrong day. Uther was in the habit of burning people and chopping off an alarming number of heads, did you really think I would get away with it punishment free??

Arthur goes pale as a sheet and his hands tremble with the understanding. He shakes his head slightly as he looks to his lap, ignoring the tears on his cheeks as he murmurs:

“Merlin I am so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think... if I had known I would have duelled him in the damn town square to protect you.-”

Arthur looks up sharply, wiping his face clean as he settles an assessing gaze on his servant, ignoring Gwaine’s murderous glare as he slowly continues:

“-... which is exactly why you never told me, isn’t it?”

Merlin shrugs, a small smile on his face:

“You may never admit it, Arthur, but you were protective of me, even then.”

Arthur flushes slightly, before frowning again and shaking his head:

“You should have told me, it’s my job to protect you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly:

“I think we’ve already had this conversation.”

Arthur huffs and narrows his eyes again, good-naturedly this time, and Merlin just rolls his eyes before seeming to sag again, speaking quietly:

“Come on, next one.”

Elyan raises his hand slightly before pointing to the centre of Merlin’s chest:

“How the hell did you get a burn like that?”

Merlin tenses, rubbing a hand over the roughly circular, pink and white scar in the centre of his chest. The flesh looked melted in places, white scar tissue spider-webbing out from his sternum, beginning to fade just before it stretched around his sides, and stopping a few inches above his naval:

“Witch threw a fireball at me. Hurt like hell, but there was quite a lot of adrenaline at the time so I didn’t really notice the pain until later.”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, evidently trying to control his anger as he asks, in a shaking, though forceful, voice:

“And what were you doing fighting a witch powerful enough to throw fire around?”

Merlin stops rubbing at the scar when Lancelot tugs his hand and Mordred mutters “You’re going to hurt yourself, Merlin.” in his head, curling his hand tightly in his lap instead and speaking slowly, as if he were choosing each word individually:

“Only Leon and Arthur were in Camelot for that. Arthur was dying from the Questing Beast bite, I... went to the Isle of the Blessed to speak to the followers of the Old Religion. There was said to be someone there who had power over life and death and I... Arthur was dying, I had to try.-”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s words, mostly the mention of such a power, but stays silent, nodding at him to continue:

“-But the Old Religion requires balance, a life for a life,-”

Leon releases a deep breath, looking to the floor at the implication with his eyes closed, and Arthur lets out a whispered whimper, knowing the depths of Merlin’s loyalty:

“-I offered my own in exchange for Arthur’s. She, Nimueh, that is, accepted,-”

Arthur opens his mouth to say something, he’s not sure what, but before he can yell about Merlin’s self preservation, he notices the darkness on his dearest friend’s face and his voice catches in his throat. Merlin stares at the floor, his face drawn and angry and his voice stormy and clipped:

“-but she tried to trick me. I didn’t appreciate that, we fought, she died. Her life for Arthur’s: the deal was done.”

An audible gasp goes up around the circle, and Percival, who is (other than Merlin and Mordred of course) the most well versed in Magic Info, responds breathlessly:

“Merlin... Nimueh is a High Priestess, The master over Life and Death, she’s very very powerful.”

Merlin looks up at the gentle giant sharply, his gaze unforgiving and his tone harsh:

“Yeah, and she’s also very very dead, because she pissed me off.”

Percival gulps and lowers his gaze, but Arthur seems to have missed everything the two of them just said as he stares blankly at his servant:

“You’d barely known me a year, and I’ll admit that I was an arse back then, and you tried to give your life for mine. Why?”

Merlin looks at him curiously, not responding for a few moments as his anger dies down and his pride grows:

“I had it on good authority that you would become a Great King one day. It only took a little squinting to see it, you were a good man, a man I was, and still am, prepared to sacrifice myself for. You were an arse, yes, you still sort of are, but I have faith in you, always have, always will.”

Lancelot and Mordred smile fondly at him as the other knights stare dumbfounded, but Arthur clenches his jaw, ignoring the shaking in his voice as he says:

“Well, I... I forbid it. You are officially forbidden from sacrificing yourself for me, legally.”

Gwaine perks up slightly:

“Out of curiosity, do we all get the same-”

Arthur interrupts him with a forceful, though slightly amused:

“Shut up, Gwaine. And no, you’re a knight, your entire job description is to jump head first into danger so I don’t have to. I have every faith that you’ll die for me one day.”

Everyone lets out quiet snorts at that, bar Gwaine of course, who looks jokingly affronted before he nods and shrugs, quietly muttering “Yeah, fair enough,-”, the rest of his sentence (”especially considering you’re in love with him but not any of us.”) goes unheard and unchallenged.

Merlin chooses not to respond to Arthur’s demand, but everyone knows that’s his way of not committing to anything, knowing full well that Merlin had never listened to Arthur’s orders before, and sure as shit wasn’t going to start now.

“Next one.”

Merlin’s face had fallen slightly, knowing he wasn’t going to get away with explaining only two sets of scars, and Gwaine asks next, his eyes being drawn to Merlin’s gesturing hand:

“The red bands around your wrists and neck. They look like burns, but not very deep ones. How did they scar if they weren’t deep?”

Merlin looks down at the scars on his wrists, resisting the urge to absent-mindedly claw at the one he knows sits low on his neck. They’re about two inches wide, pale pink and almost impossible to see in the dark but impossible not to see in the light of the noon sun, even sat in the shade. The edges were clean cut and perfectly straight, and Merlin winced slightly at the memory of his magic being contained in such a way.

He looks around the circle, speaking easily. Though it was painful, it was no where near the worst Merlin has ever had, and even if he couldn’t tell the full truth, it felt sort of nice not to have to hide these ones:

“Some sort of enchanted chains, they drained my energy, made me sick and tired, but the magic in the metal sort of... stung, I guess. I don’t really know. I’d been captured by Morgause (is Morgana not mentioned in this entire fic but still Good? Yes.) again and I suppose she didn’t want to take any chances.”

Everyone looks shocked at his casual admission, and Leon is the first to break the tense silence:

“When were you captured by Morgause?”

Before Merlin can respond, Arthur pipes up incredulously:

“Again. You said again. Merlin, how many times have you been kidnapped by Morgause without anyone realising? How many times have you been kidnapped in general?!”

Merlin winces slightly, speaking in a slightly defensive tone as he stares at Arthur as though the answer is obvious:

“Arthur... I’m The King’s personal manservant. I have the power to overrule the Steward and the Housekeeper if I wanted to; as far as servant’s go, I have the most authority, even more than some low level nobles, especially when it comes to running the citadel. I’m sort of... a big deal. I have access to pretty much any information I could want, even more than this lot-”

He gestures to the knights around the circle. Mordred and Lancelot look a little proud once again, Leon is staring at Arthur, shocked that The King didn’t know this, and everyone else stares at Merlin, only just realising that... Merlin was right. None of them have considered it before, but he practically runs the castle.

“-most of the time, and I’m the only one who knows every single state secret, simply from my proximity to you and your council and your paperwork. That is rather... desirable to people like Morgause, people who want to attack Camelot.”

Merlin purses his lips awkwardly as everyone stares at him blankly, but Gwaine is the first to break the silence:

“... and we’ve just been letting you walk around, unprotected.”

Merlin raises as eyebrow:

“I think we’ve already established I don’t need protection.”

Arthur huffs and throws his hands up awkwardly:

“Well you obviously do, if you’re getting kidnapped so often. When even was this?? You haven’t disappeared for a while, and we haven’t had any trouble from Morgause in months.”

Merlin’s face falls, and the knights are taken aback at the reappearance of the... cruel darkness in his expression:

“Believe me, I know. She... won’t be bothering us any longer, I wasn’t fond of her repeated attempts to kill me or you so I... took care of it.”

The knights go pale at Merlin’s casual admittance of killing yet another High Priestess of the Old Religion. He smirks into his lap briefly until Lance once again squeezes his hand, as if reminding him of the mask he should be wearing. Arthur stares at his servant and long time friend, struggling to reconcile the clumsy ideal he has in his head with this... hardened, tortured protector:

“How? Nimueh and Morgause... just... how??”

Merlin’s eyes slowly move up to meet Arthur’s gaze, and The King gulps at the assessing way the servant tilts his head:

“Playing the role of clumsy rural idiot can be a little demeaning sometimes, but it also means that people tend to underestimate me. They think I’m an easy target, and by the time they realise I’ve played them, it’s too late.”

Arthur recoils slightly, and Merlin once again changes dispositions, shrugging casually and smiling easily, his tone light:

“You can get away with a remarkable amount when people think you’re stupid.”

The circle lets out an in-sync breath. All of them knew that Merlin wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but they didn’t realise just how smart he is. None of them would admit it, but Elyan, Leon, Percival, Arthur, and even Gwaine on some level, still subconsciously considered Merlin “just a servant” in the back of their minds. At least... they did. 

(Not that that old thought process made them think any less of him, they just didn’t think of him as complicated, as a warrior.)

Merlin takes a deep breath, knowing that his friends would never see him in the same way, but sort of hoping that that was a good thing, gesturing vaguely to the circle once again. Arthur asks the next question, touching his hand to the back of his own neck softly:

“There’s a cut on the back of your neck. It looks deep, like it was reopened over and over, what is it?”

Merlin grimaces slightly, wiping his free hand over his face in exhaustion as Lancelot squeezes his other hand, and Mordred pats his knee comfortingly:

“That one was a few years ago, courtesy of Morgause again. She put something called a Fomorrah in me-”

Percival gasped slightly, harshly whispering “Gods.” under his breath. Arthur spares him a quick glance, making a mental note to question how his knight seems to know so much about sorcery at a later date:

“-so she could try to make me kill Arthur; it sort of... controls you. Makes you only able to focus on whatever instruction you’re given when it’s first put in you. Gaius kept having to cut it out of me, it wouldn’t stop re-growing until we killed the rest of it’s body, and that was with Morgause somewhere out of the city.”

Arthur looked a little outraged, hiding the worry of “I now know that Merlin could kill me without any trouble at all so how the fuck am I alive?”. Apparently he doesn’t hide it well; Merlin gives him a comforting smile and shrugs his shoulders slightly:

“I fought the compulsion pretty well, kept coming up with increasingly complicated assassination plans instead of just... stabbing you in your sleep or something.”

Arthur goes to respond, but he’s interrupted by Leon loudly cursing, his eyes wide as he stares at Merlin with flushed cheeks:

“I just... gave you a crossbow!! You said you were going to kill Arthur and I thought you were joking and I let you walk out the armoury with a crossbow and a handful of bolts!!”

Merlin chuckles, a blush of his own rising as he responds, rubbing the back of his neck again:

“Yeah... I don’t really remember it, but Gaius and Gwen filled me in on what had happened. To be fair, it’s kind of flattering that you never considered that I was the assassin, despite the repeated attempts being made on Arthur’s life and the fact that I admitted it to your face.”

Leon stares at the floor with wide eyes, seemingly trying to process the fact that he had pointed a would be assassin in the right direction, muttering something along the lines of “oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” over and over until Elyan awkwardly patted him on the back, breaking him from his embarrassed horror.

Arthur clears his throat, staring at Merlin with an almost unreadable expression:

“I did wonder why the attempts just... stopped?”

Merlin understands the question in his tone and nods slightly before replying:

“Hmm. Gaius and Gwen figured out it was me, found a way to paralyse the thing in my neck until I managed to get back to Morgause’s little lair and kill the main body.”

Arthur nods distractedly. How many times had this happened? “This” being something entirely ridiculous and/or incredibly dangerous right under his nose.

Percival clears his throat and Merlin looks to the nervous man, nodding at him to ask whatever it was that was on his mind, despite his growing discomfort:

“There’s... on your back, it looks like a stab wound but... worse. The veins around it are black and it looks painful despite it’s obvious age and... well... it looks like a Serket Sting, but it... it can’t be, right?”

Merlin tenses, back to looking as exhausted and scared and as ready to bolt as he had at the beginning of the conversation. Lancelot squeezes his hand again, tightly this time, and Mordred takes his other to stop him from clenching it too harshly, murmuring:

“You don’t have to, Merlin, not this one.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at the knowledge that two of his knights had known about this. Had known the collage of agony on Merlin’s body, had known what he’d been through and done nothing. Hadn’t prevented it, hadn’t brought it to Arthur, hadn’t protected him. But equally, with how protective and loyal and secretive Merlin is, and how heartbroken the two of them had looked when Merlin first took his tunic off, they likely hadn’t known the full extent of damage.

Merlin just sighs and shakes his head, sensing the curious stares of the others before rising to his knees and turning around, running a shaking hand over the scar briefly before dropping his hand to his side again. The others stare, astounded. They’d only caught brief glimpses of it before, but now they could see it properly it was undoubtedly a Serket Sting. 

The deep puncture mark on his lower back had closed up, but the skin was still sunken in slightly, red and angry looking with hints of purple towards the middle. Percival was right: dark veins, as if permanently poisoned, stretched out from the centre of the wound, dipping below the waistband of his trousers and fading about halfway up his back. 

After a few moments, Merlin turns around again and sits back down, placing his still shaking hand back in Lance’s lap without prompting. Arthur’s one-word question is whispered and cracked, and no one judges him for the tears in his eyes; most of them have tears of their own gathering and falling at their friend’s pain:

“How?”

Merlin gulps, not looking up as he leans slightly into Mordred’s shoulder. The young knight presses back, knowing how fond the servant is of warm pressure, not minding the sticky sweatiness of their still uncovered torsos in the noon heat:

“Morgause again. She got annoyed with me always ruining her plans, getting in the way. Left me chained up in the middle of a nest of... in the middle of a nest.”

Leon takes a deep breath, rubbing his eyes harshly and sniffing before asking, his voice strong despite the slight waver:

“How did you survive that? I’ve... I’ve seen men get stung by serkets and it’s not... nice.”

Merlin breathes shakily, his mouth open slightly as he stares at the floor, memories flashing through his mind and the scar on his back twinging uncomfortably. Again, Percival was right, despite it’s age, it did still hurt. He takes one last deep breath, clenching his eyes shut tightly before looking up at the curly-haired knight, not quite making eye-contact:

“I uh... a lot of screaming, and the help of an... old friend. I was out of Camelot for a few days whilst I recovered, my friend didn’t fancy being executed for helping me, for just existing.”

Arthur furrows his brows but the others, bar Leon, nod in understanding, looking only slightly guilty and not looking to The King as he asks:

“What do you mean? If someone has found a way to cure a Serket sting then they most definitely wouldn’t be executed for it.”

Elyan snorts and Mordred and Lancelot frown at the floor as Merlin stares at Arthur with poorly concealed contempt:

“Arthur... the cure for a Serket sting has been around for centuries, it just involves very strong, very complicated magic. I didn’t fancy dying in absolute agony, and my friend didn’t fancy being executed for the act of saving my life so we stayed away from the city whilst he treated me.”

Arthur looks at his servant, dumbfounded and confused, and the knights stay silent in their awkwardness. Leon, a lifelong citizen of Camelot, is the only other person to look surprised at Merlin’s explanation, though he nods after a few moments, conceding that it... makes sense. Of course it does.

Mordred frowns when he notices Merlin’s knee begin to bounce up and down slightly, but it’s the way he gulps and tightens his grip on Lance’s hand that has the two knights begin to properly worry. They share a quick look, obviously agreeing on something, before Mordred takes Merlin’s other hand and settles a soft touch on his vibrating knee whilst Lancelot looks to Arthur:

“I think we’re done for the day. This has been... a lot.”

Merlin is getting paler by the second and Mordred can sense the man’s distress, shooting Lance a desperate look before subtly trying to shuffle closer to Merlin, who leans even further into his touch. Arthur doesn’t seem to notice, looking annoyed at Lancelot’s assertion and rolling his eyes before moving his gaze back to Merlin’s quivering form:

“No, Merlin’s suffered and I need to know why. There are mace wounds on both your shoulders, I remember one, but not the-”

Arthur is interrupted by a low whine from the back of Merlin’s throat as he thumps his head back against the tree, eyes still shut tightly. His words out come quietly and broken, as if it were a struggle to breathe, let alone speak:

“Can we please stop now?”

Mordred ignores Arthur, moving to kneel in front of the servant whilst Lancelot glares at The King. Arthur just huffs slightly, though he obviously completely underestimates the distress his friend is in, looking concerned, but not letting up:

“Merlin, we’ve barely gone through a third of them, we can’t stop-”

Lancelot lets out a low growl, letting go of Merlin’s hand and moving towards Arthur, glaring as he says:

“Arthur, we need to stop. Now.”

The young King looks taken aback, though the argument is stopped in his throat when Mordred’s quiet voice interrupts him:

“Merlin, you need to breathe.-”

He peers around the young knight as best he can, but Lance’s still vicious glare stops him from moving too close. Mordred brings one of Merlin’s hands up, pressing it against his chest and continuing his soft instructions:

“-Copy my breathing, alright? Can you tell me where you are right now, Merlin?”

The knights all stare on in horror at Merlin’s pale skin and ragged breathing, staying still in their places when Lancelot gestures at them firmly. It’s Merlin’s next word, cracked and whispered, that trigger another round of tears to gather in their eyes:

“C...cave.”

Mordred shakes his head slowly and Lancelot curses under his breath, kneeling back next to Mordred and retaking Merlin’s other hand, holding it between his own securely. Mordred’s soft voice floats in the wind, and if the knights weren’t so distracted by their friend’s pain, they would think it sounds almost magical:

“No, you’re safe, Merlin. Think, listen, feel. Can you try to tell me where you are again?

Merlin shakes his head roughly, his still-shut eyes not stopping the tears from squeezing out as he flinches, strikes of lightening-like agony shooting out from the scar on his lower back. Lance worries his lip between his teeth, rubbing one of his hands up and down Merlin’s shivering arm; a nod from Mordred has Lance speak, his words soft and low despite the waver in his voice:

“Merlin, you know where you are, and me and Mordred are right here with you. You need to open your eyes buddy, tell us where we are.”

Merlin’s breathing instantly seems to calm a little at Lancelot’s voice, and he cracks his bloodshot eyes open, immediately sighing when his blurry gaze lands on the canopy above him, whispering:

“Tree... sky... Camelot.”

The others can see Mordred let out a relieved sigh, and they force themselves to relax slightly. Merlin’s body sags again and Lance frowns, but the young servant’s stuttering words as he stares blankly up into the tree interrupt any reassurance he could have offered:

“Please, I can’t... I don’t... please don’t make me-”

Lance stills his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not even paying the slightest bit of attention to anyone else as he replies:

“No one’s going to make you, Merlin, we can carry on another day-”

Arthur’s interrupted “But-” is quickly shut down when Lance turns around to glare at him, a sharp “-I said we’re done for the day.” sent his way.

Merlin flinches again, the pain in his back getting worse and worse and making it harder to keep a grasp on reality, so damning the consequences, Mordred presses a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes and he mouths the words to a sleeping spell as quietly as he can. Thankfully, everyone’s attention is on the glaring contest between Lancelot and The King, so no one immediately notices the way Merlin falls forwards into Mordred’s arms, not until he nudges Lance in the leg and mutters:

“He passed out. We should get him to Gaius, he needs proper rest and pain medication.”

Lancelot nods his head firmly, back to ignoring Arthur and the others as he moves to Merlin’s side, pulling his arm over his shoulder as Mordred does the same on the servant’s other side. Mordred’s eyes scan over the knights, searching for whoever looks the most likely to help without question; his gaze stills on a terribly worried looking Gwaine:

“Gwaine, run ahead to warn Gaius, tell him that Merlin had a really bad episode and then passed out.”

Gwaine gulps but nods, gathering his tunic in quick hands and putting it on haphazardly as he sprints back to the castle. Mordred and Lancelot adjust their grips, standing and bringing Merlin up with them as they turn in the direction Gwaine had ran and begin the careful journey back to the citadel. The knights follow behind them closely, hastily dressing themselves and desperate to ask questions, but knowing that now was not the time. Elyan jogs ahead of them to open doors and clear a path, and Percival had grabbed Merlin, Lancelot, and Mordred’s tunics as Leon put all of the swords away before catching up.

Thankfully they don’t come across many people, though Lance and Mordred still do their best to conceal Merlin between them, knowing that he would be distraught if anyone else saw his scars. They make good time to Gaius’ chambers, and they find the Physician preparing a few strong pain potions and sleeping draughts as Gwaine paced.

Gaius looks incredibly worried, but unsurprised, and Lance and Mordred carry Merlin up to his room without prompting; the sick feeling in Arthur’s stomach tells him that they’re practiced at this. The King goes to follow them, but they kick the door shut behind them so they can have at least a little privacy whilst they settle their friend in his bed. They leave the covers off, knowing that he’d just overheat or kick them off in the nightmares that they know are coming. Lance nods knowingly at Mordred, and the younger of the two moves swiftly back into the main room, shutting the door behind him again softly, avoiding eye contact with anyone bar Gaius, even as Percival hands him his tunic.

The elderly Physician raises an eyebrow, and Mordred answers the wordless question quietly, though not quiet enough for the other knights to not hear him:

“Not yet, but soon, he’ll definitely need a sleeping draught to get him through it. It was his back, so he’ll need the strongest pain one you’ve got.”

Gaius nods, picking up two of the many concoctions he had prepared, not reacting to Arthur’s desperate questions, leaving the conversation to Mordred:

“What are you talking about? Get through what??”

Mordred sighs and frowns slightly, unable to get over all of his anger at the King for pushing Merlin so far:

“The nightmares. He always gets them, especially after an episode that bad.”

Arthur recoils, just a little horrified, but Gwaine beats him to the mark, asking in a shaking voice:

“Episode??”

Mordred moves his gaze to the worried knight, a little more sympathetic to the man he knew was more loyal to Merlin than he was to The King:

“Flashbacks, panic attacks. Merlin has been through... a lot. Chronic pain or difficult conversations sometimes trigger a sort of... breakdown, he struggles to differentiate between memories and reality. Normally he can just wait it out with a little help. When it’s really bad we put him to sleep, it’s the only way to stop him from hurting himself accidentally.”

Everyone looks horrified at that, their focus on Mordred rather than Gaius, who was stealthily ascending the steps to Merlin’s room, potions in hand. Arthur is the first to break the tense silence:

“How long? How long as he been getting these episodes, and why the hell did no one think to tell me?!”

Mordred moves his harsh gaze back to The angry King, glaring at him when his voice rose:

“With all due respect, My Lord, lower your voice. Merlin needs rest, he needs to not be disturbed.”

Arthur looks annoyed, though still heartbroken, but nods slightly, almost whispering as he responds:

“You didn’t answer my questions. How long, and why wasn’t I told?”

Mordred sighs, looking to the floor briefly as he crosses his arms over his chest . After a few moments of considering his answer, he finally looks up again, suddenly appearing exhausted and resigned as he replies softly:

“I don’t really know. He didn’t tell us, we just... found out. It took us a while to convince him to explain it properly and let us help. He didn’t want anyone worrying or treating him like glass; it doesn’t happen very often at all, and this is... this is the worst one I’ve ever seen.”

Arthur frowns and shakes his head slightly, but it’s Leon that speaks next:

“Why not tell us, at least? What if something had happened and you weren’t with us? We wouldn’t have known what was wrong.”

Mordred takes a deep breath and shrugs, nodding slightly, obviously aware that he couldn’t tell them about his and Merlin’s mental link:

“We tried telling him that, but he wouldn’t have it. We were maybe one more conversation away from convincing him to tell Gwaine or Guinevere, but I guess that’s not necessary anymore.”

Arthur pushes down the twinge of jealousy that Merlin had never even considered telling him, but it obviously shows on his face; Mordred scowls slightly, clenching his hands to try and cover his annoyance. Before either men can say anything, Lancelot comes back down from Merlin’s room, leaving Gaius with the young servant:

“It’s starting, Mordred we need to go, everyone else, out.”

Percival throws Lance’s tunic to him as the knights move to the door, albeit reluctantly, but Arthur doesn’t move, glaring down at Mordred angrily when the younger man stops him from going into Merlin’s room:

“He’s my manservant, I want to be there when he wakes up.”

Mordred narrows his eyes, and Arthur kicks himself for never realising how much Merlin meant to him before now, but before the knight can say anything, Lancelot steps up next to him, answering in his stead:

“No, me and Mordred will be there, that’s all he needs. You need to go, My Lord.”

Arthur gears up to argue, to pull rank, squaring his shoulders and snarling slightly, but an angry Lancelot is something he’s never seen and never had to deal with before, so he’s far too surprised to say anything when the knight interrupts his posturing:

“I said no, Arthur. He has to pretend in front of you. You’ve already done this to him,-”

He gestures angrily to the door to Merlin’s room:

“-he needs to not tense up and stress out immediately upon waking up.”

Arthur steps back slightly, but clears his throat, pushing through the slight heartbreak and guilt to argue:

“Oh, and he doesn’t have to pretend in front of you two?”

Mordred rolls his eyes, giving Lancelot a pointed look before stalking up to Merlin’s room, leaving the older knight to deal with the angry King. Lance clenches his jaw and lets out a harsh breath, looking away briefly, as if trying to stop himself from saying anything cruel, before giving up and glaring back at Arthur:

“No. He doesn’t. Because we, and Gaius, are the only people who actually know the first thing about Merlin, and he trusts us. He needs space, and time to heal, and comfort, not the demanding presence of a King whose already pushed him too far, who treats him like shit and forces him to think he has to hide who he is. For God’s sake, Arthur, can you please, for once, think of anyone but yourself.”

Arthur widens his eyes, and though Lancelot looks a little like he regrets what he said, he doesn’t back down, nodding to the door behind Arthur and not moving away until The King steps back again. Arthur takes a deep breath, turning to exit the Physician’s chambers before the knight could see the guilt on his face and the tears in his eyes. He leaves without looking back, ignoring the gaggle of knights waiting worriedly in the hall and stalking straight to his chambers, only just managing to shut the door behind him before the tears finally started falling.

Back in Merlin’s room, the servant thrashes in his sleep, whimpering despite Mordred’s comforting whispers in his head, Gaius’ hand in his hair, and Lancelot’s soft lap as a pillow. 

This... was going to be a tough one.

~

The End of part 1!!!

This was legit supposed to only be one part buuuuuuut we can all see how that went. Part two will follow on really quickly, but it was getting far too long to leave all as one 😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it, link to part 2(the final part) at the top!! :)

#merthur #good morgana #bbc merlin #hurt merlin #good mordred #protective lancelot #protective mordred #merthur whump #king arthur #merlin/arthur #morgana #mordred #sir mordred #leon #sir leon #gwaine #sir gwaine #lancelot #Sir Lancelot #sir percival #percival #elyan #sir elyan #gaius #bbc mordred #scar reveal #ptsd #tw: ptsd #lots of angst #part 1

[zodiakuroo]

pierced

idk what to tell you this is just 2k of pussy eating (don’t blame me blame eren brain rot)

18+, minors dni

part 2

“What did you do?!” You say, incredulously. It’s a rhetorical question, you can see exactly what he’s done. Eren stands in front of you, shamelessly, with his pants and boxers dropped to his ankles as his flaccid penis hangs between his thighs. Your attention is mainly focused on the brand new, shiny titanium barbell that goes through the head of his dick.

“Do you like it?” You can tell by his posture and the shit-eating grin on his face that he’s incredibly proud of his newest body modification.

“Why on earth would you get a piercing there?” The bulbous head is just few shades of pink darker than the rest of his pale shaft. You wince in your seat, imagining what it would feel like to stick a needle right through your most sensitive parts.

“Well, it was a dare and Jean bet that I wouldn’t so I had to.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, fully aware of how silly it sounds as he says it out loud.

“Of course.” You mutter. What other chain of events would lead to your boyfriend coming home with a fucking Prince Albert. “Does it hurt?” You lean in just a little closer and notice the little bit of dried blood where the jewelry pierces his flesh.

“Nah. Didn’t feel a thing.” He says with a wink and begins dressing himself again before dropping down on couch next you, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest.

“You’re such an idiot.” You giggle, nuzzling your head into his neck, inhaling the heady scent you’ve come to associate with him.

“There is one thing though.” His voice is softer, lacking it’s usual self-assured tone. He can’t say that he’s happy about what he’s about to tell you. In fact, had he known about this small detail beforehand he might not have gone through with that stupid dare.

“Hmm?” You respond noncommittally, too preoccupied by your current task of leaving gentle kisses on his jaw and giving him the soft affection you know he loves but will never ask for.

“No sex for a month. Piercer’s orders.” His eyes drift down cautiously to gauge your reaction.

You stop in your tracks and frown up at him. At first you think he’s kidding but no such luck. “Oh my god.” You groan. “You’re such an idiot.”

Three days.

A grand total of three days.

It’s sad really, but you should have seen it coming. Like Eren Jaeger’s libido would ever let him go a whole 30 days with no sex.

He blames you and the way you prance around the apartment in those tight, short shorts. How is he not supposed to want you when he has to spend the day watching your tits bounce around in that white tank top, nipples just barely visible through the fabric?

It’s not like you put up much of a fight anyways. The way that man has you wrapped around your finger, all it took was a few well-placed touches and whispers of how much he misses the way you feel and the way you taste. Just like that, Eren has you naked, legs hanging off the edge of the bed with his face buried in your cunt.

“Love this pussy.” He murmurs, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Can’t live without it.”

He knows that he can’t be inside you. He knows. And yet he continues to torture himself because this is as close as he can get to what he really needs.

The rough pads of his fingertips massage your wall making you buck into his hand, silently begging for something deeper. He laps at you with his tongue, running it from your clit all the way down to your hole, licking up the slick that leaks out around his knuckles.

You feel the sparks of pleasure heating up your abdomen and you squeeze your thighs around his head, weaving your hands through his long, mahogany locks. ‘Eren’falls from your lips over and over in breathy mewls that only encourage him to keep going. His fingers put in double time hitting the special spot deep inside you while he seals his lips around clit and pulls it into his mouth. You dig your heels into his back to give you leverage to rut into his face as he pushes you closer and closer towards an inevitable orgasm.

You’re so hot and wet inside, squeezing so tight around his fingers. His mind conjures up memories of how good it felt to have your gooey walls clamping down on his dick and the soft cries you let out as he split you open.

He’s rock solid in his sweats right now and his cock hurts, sensitive tissue swelling and pulsating around his still fresh piercing. But he can’t think about that right now. All that’s on his mind is how badly he wants to be inside you right now. Any of your holes, it doesn’t matter which. But they’re all off limits.

Quite frankly, it pisses him off.

There is no choice but for him to take his frustrations out on your body. He slowly drags his fingers out of you, marveling at the way your needy cunt tries to pull him back in.

Before you can even protest Eren presses his fingers, still warm from your pussy and covered in your cream, against your lips.

“Open up.” He practically growls, voice thick with arousal.

You part your lips in response, letting him clean his fingers off using your tongue. Reflexively, you close your lips around them and begin to suck, moaning at the taste of yourself.

“God, princess.” He pants with his jaw slack. “Want your mouth around me so bad.”

It only motivates you to take his fingers deeper. Deep enough to make you gag as your drool runs down his knuckles while you swirl your tongue around his digits.

The way you look at him doesn’t help either. Usually you’d shy away from eye contact when he makes you do something embarrassing like this, sucking on his fingers like you’re sucking on his cock. But tonight is different. You stare straight at him with that heavy-lidded gaze, eyes glossy and full of want. The frustration is killing him, he can’t stand to look at you anymore so instead he gives his undivided attention to your cunt.

“Babe you wanna know something?” His breath fans over your soaked core, making you twitch in his hold. Something gives you the feeling that he’s not really talking to you, he’s talking to what’s between your legs. Although he’s not even looking at you, you still nod your head yes, so wound up you’ll take anything from him at this point.

“I read online,” He goes quiet for a moment, distracted at the way your weeping hole clenches around nothing, almost like it’s begging for him to fill it. “That dick piercings feel real good in pussy. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Eren bends down to lick at your dripping hole, he slides his tongue all the way down, making sure not waste a single drop, stopping just above the tight ring of muscle making your squeal in surprise.

”Can you imagine it?” He drags is fingers from your lips, leaving a path of saliva down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach until he reaches your clit, rubbing the sensitive numb in slow, steady circles with his thumb while you fist the sheets trying to swallow the sounds he’s coaxing out of you. “How it’s gonna feel inside you? How it’s gonna hit that spot that makes you go dumb?”

Sure, he sounds composed but when you look down at him and see the way his pupils are blown wide, pretty pink tongue hanging slightly out of his mouth, you know he’s imagining it too.

“Gonna drive you crazy.” His calloused fingertips dig further into your pudgy thighs, clipped nails leaving little crescents indented in your skin. “Make you even more crazy for my cock than you already are.”

“Yeah ‘ren.” You gasp as he runs his tongue through your folds. “Wan’ your cock.” You babble mindless agreements at whatever filth he’s spewing, too fucked out and desperate for his cock to care.

Like the bastard he is, he chuckles at your response, satisfied with knowing that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He leans forward and presses the flat of his tongue against your entrance, telling you (wordlessly) what he wants.

Beg

He wants you to beg for it.

And of course you oblige. You chant out ‘please Eren, please Eren, please Eren’ over and over again as if you’ve forgotten every other word.

He rewards for your obedience by pushing the slippery muscle into your hole, nice and slow savouring the way your tart essence covers his taste buds.

“Fuck- more please.” Your back arches off the bed in response but his left hand splays across your abdomen keeping you in place.

His right thumb is still rubbing you, pressing harder, going faster while he drives his tongue even deeper licking up all of your juices like a man starved. He devours you shamelessly, the sloppy sounds only drowned out by your pornographic whining. He thrusts in and out, in and out, in and out, fucking you with his tongue, making sure to taste every inch of you.

Your flavor is addictive, he can’t get enough. He grunts against with his face shoved against you, sending vibrations from your core, right up your spine. His fingers and tongue assault your pussy mercilessly, setting every single nerve on fire.

“Baby- ah- I- I’m close” you whimper, feeling tension brewing in your core, threatening to burst at any second.

“No.” The hand that was playing with your pussy comes down hard on your puffy clit, the sound of the smack echoing in the quiet room.

You let out a cry, so high pitched you can hardly believe it’s your voice.

“Can’t come until I do.” Just like that, he’s off of you completely, leaving you trembling without his touch.

The pain and frustration have tears brimming at your lash line. How cruel of him. To dangle an orgasm right in front of your face before yanking it away. You begin to stammer out pleas, begging him to touch you again, but they fall on deaf ears.

“C’mon princess. ‘S only fair right?” He looks up at you with the sweetest, emerald puppy dog eyes, juxtaposing the lewd way he licks the remnants of your arousal from his swollen lips.

It’s not fair at all. You weren’t the one who decided to get their dick pierced on a whim. Why should you have to suffer? But there’s too much blood in your throbbing cunt and not enough in your brain so you can hardly put together a coherent sentence, let alone argue with him.

“Gonna edge you like this every day yeah?” He shifts his body to hover over you, using his arms to hold himself up so that his nose barely brushes yours and stray stands of his messy hair tickle the sides of your face. “Till I get to fuck you again.” He dips down to kiss you on the lips. It’s barely more than a peck, far too chaste and gone far too soon.

“Christ, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

#eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren smut #aot smut #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yaeger x reader smut