#❛ step into the daylight and let it go — ooc.

[cauterisen]

since it's the fifth anniversary of this album i still think this is a kimicoded intro AND a kimicoded song

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold III {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

word count- 3200+

or- the one where rooster can't cook, and lays everything out on the line for scout.

read part one and two

An aluminum wing catches a ray of flaming sunlight, rendering her momentarily blind. The moment passes and she catches sight of the plummeting aircraft expecting to see the words ‘LT Beau Wallis “Atlas”’ painted across the side, but what she sees instead is ‘LT Bradley Bradshaw “Rooster”’. A strangled scream tears at the tender flesh of her throat as she watches his FA/18 explode into the side of a mountain before he can safely eject from it. Another precious life snuffed out like a candle in the night. Another love lost forever. Her scream never materializes.

Scout Wallis jolts awake from her nightmare, her entire body covered in a slick sheen of perspiration. To steady her erratic breathing, she studies the movie posters that adorn the walls of Jake’s bedroom. Most of them are westerns; vintage, gun-toting shoot-em-ups that make her long for the simplicity of her grandfather’s cabin.

“Bad dream?”

Jake’s voice catches her off guard before she nods her head. He moves from his spot on the chair in the corner of the room to the bed, taking a seat beside her.

“Must have been out a little while,” She yawns. “Are you almost ready? What time did Rooster say to be over for dinner?”

Jake moves to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “Before we do anything, you and I have some unfinished business to attend to first, Wallis.” Scout suddenly feels the end of their time together looming close, like the ticking hands of an invisible clock. Silence settles a little too long between them before he finally sighs, “This isn’t going to work out between us, is it?”

And it breaks her heart a little bit because in every lifetime apart from this one, she can see herself with Jake Seresin.

She shakes her head, piteously. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

He lifts her hand from beneath his duvet and kisses the back of it gently. “No apologies, Wallis. Frankie’s crazy about you,” A sobering realization sets in behind those beautiful viridian eyes, a flash of something sorrowful passes through them and then it’s gone. Jake swallows hard and shrugs his shoulders. “Rooster is too.”

Scout watches him leave the room, wishing with a pang, that there were something she could do or say to make herself feel a different way, but if there was anything that losing Beau had taught her, it was the importance of letting go when the time came.

They meet on his front porch fifteen minutes later, both regarding each other with a thoughtful intensity. Jake’s the first to break the silence.

“I meant what I said the other night.”

Scout cocks her head in question. “What did you say?”

Jake sighs and squints into the waning daylight above. “That he’d take good care of you. He will take good care of you if you let him, Scout. And you deserve it.”

The inexplicable sting of looming tears pinches behind Scout’s eyes as she opens her arms for a hug which he reciprocates. They stand entwined for a couple of minutes, neither one of them wanting to part just yet.

Jake breaks away first and clears his throat. “Alright Wallis, get outta here.”

She steps down off the porch, walks the few steps toward her car, and then turns to face him. “I’ll see you around, Seresin.”

He grins. “Not if I see you first.”

~

Scout stands poised before Rooster’s front door. She considers setting the mason jar of shells down onto the frayed welcome mat and making a run for it, but no sooner has the thought crossed her mind that the door is opening, and Frankie is standing on the other side of it. She’s dressed head-to-toe like Jessie from Toy Story: cow print, a hat, boots, and all.

“Miss Wallis!” She grins and then excitedly follows that up with, “Papa they’re here!”

Scout hears a pot bang in the kitchen followed by a choice curse word and stifles the giggle that tickles the back of her throat.

“Well, let them in Frankie!”

She herds Scout into the living room and then peeks back out into the growing darkness of the late May evening.

“Where’s uncle Jake?”

Scout swallows hard; fumbles around for something appropriate to say when Rooster appears from out of the kitchen, his cheeks flushed.

“Hi.” He breathes out.

“Hi,” Scout's gaze drifts to the youngster. “You look spectacular Frankie. If I’d known, I’d have brought my Buzz Lightyear costume.”

Her eyes widen in delight. “You have a Buzz Lightyear costume?”

Scout nods.

Rooster rests a large hand atop Frankie’s head. “We’re going through a bit of a Toy Story phase at the moment.” He too, cranes around in search of Jake. “You by yourself?”

Scout nods slowly. “Yeah, Jake couldn’t make it.” Their eyes meet then, and somehow Rooster understands everything without a single word being uttered between them. “But I made sure to stop by to drop these off for you.” She hands Frankie the jar of shells and turns towards the door.

“You’re not staying?” Frankie asks.

Scout doesn’t miss the disappointment in the little girl’s tone. She turns back. “I don’t want to be a bother…”

Rooster shakes his head adamantly. “You could never be a bother. Besides, we’re having Frankie’s favorite.”

“Pancakes!” Frankie squeals and makes a beeline for the kitchen.

Scout sighs happily. "How on earth can I say no, then?"

“It wasn’t supposed to be pancakes,” Frankie licks a glob of maple syrup off her finger. It had been twenty minutes since they’d sat down, with Frankie being the first to break the silence. “But papa had an accident with the steak.”

Scout’s gaze travels to the charred piece of meat in a cast-iron pan at the back of the stove and giggles.

“Thanks Frank.” Rooster rolls his eyes and reaches over to pinch the apple of her cheek, playfully.

Scout swallows her bite and shrugs. “I tend to prefer breakfast for dinner over steak anyway.”

“Me too.” Frankie agrees.

While she’s in the washroom, Scout watches Rooster push the last of the bacon from his plate onto hers. “You full already?”

Rooster shakes his head no with a small smile. “But Frankie loves the stuff and that’s enough for me.”

Scout doesn’t allow herself much time to reflect on the things she looks for in a significant other, but watching Rooster sacrifice the last of his dinner to appease his girl, she can’t help but feel endeared to him more.

As soon as the eggs and bacon and pancakes have been devoured, Frankie turns to Rooster and asks if she can grab the ice cream.

“Why don’t we wait a little bit? Scout might be a bit full of dinner still.”

Frankie falters in confusion. “Your name is Scout?”

Rooster’s cheeks redden and he scrambles to explain himself, but Scout gives her head a soft shake.

“It’s simple Frankie. When you and I are at school together, you need to call me Miss Wallis because I am your teacher. But when we’re like this- or, if you see me at the beach,” She throws a wink Rooster’s way. “You can call me Scout. Does that make any sense?”

Doubt clouds her beautiful green eyes, but she nods her head regardless.

“And I would love you to grab the ice cream. My dessert tube is far from full.”

Rooster watches her head for the basement and then promptly apologizes.

Scout waves it off. “Not at all. It was bound to happen at some point. I’ve just found that it’s best to be as honest with them as you can- as is appropriate.”

Rooster watches her and she feels naked under his gaze but it’s a vulnerability that she doesn’t immediately shy away from. She reckons she could get used to it; likes how it feels akin to standing under a warm shower, or letting sunshine warm your frozen bones on a cold day.

“You do well with her.” He concedes after a while.

Scout allows herself thirty seconds to remember the seedling that had once grown in her belly and smiles. “She’s a wonder, Rooster. Truly.”

“Papa, can you help me please?”

“I’ll be right there sweetheart,” Rooster pushes himself back from the table with a happy sigh. “Frankie has helped prepare a very special dessert this evening. We’ll be right back.”

Scout takes this opportunity to fully drink in the beautiful space around her. The kitchen opens onto the living room which is all whitewash and navy-blue accents. A pair of sliding glass doors lead out onto a half wraparound porch, where a rope swing bench hangs from the second story awning. Open windows give way to the calming staccato of waves crashing against a shore nearby, and she decides then that her favorite part of the house (minus her two dinner companions) may just be its proximity to the ocean. It is entirely charming in its coziness. From her spot at the table, Scout can see that most of the wall space in the living room is hung with pictures Rooster collected during his time in the Navy, and of different stages of Frankie’s life. Her, as a fresh and endearingly wrinkly newborn, next to one that shows him and a toddler Frankie next to his beloved plane. Beside that picture is one of Frankie and Maverick at her kindergarten graduation. A warmth that had felt foreign to her for so long settles in next to her heart and refuses to budge.

“Are you ready Scout?” Frankie’s lilting voice, brimming with excitement, knocks her from her reverie and makes her smile.

“I’m ready, Frankie. Your dad said you worked extra hard to put this dessert together.”

Frankie, suddenly unusually shy, nods her head.

“Alright Frank, you grab the ice cream.” Rooster gestures to the rapidly melting tub behind him and carries a steaming dish of apple crumble to the kitchen table. He tops her plate with a heaping spoonful of the crumble and two healthy scoops of vanilla bean ice cream.

Scout takes a bite and lets her eyes fall shut, savoring the slightly tart taste of the warm apples on her tongue. “This is delicious, Frankie. You did a fantastic job.”

Frankie’s lips turn up into a toothy grin. “Thank you.”

They finish their dessert in silence, and when it’s over, Frankie tugs on the sleeve of Rooster’s t-shirt and leans up to whisper something in his ear.

Rooster frowns. “Why don’t you ask her yourself, Frank?”

Frankie turns to Scout, her expression bashful. “Scout, can I show you my seashell collection?”

Scout passes a napkin over her mouth and nods emphatically. “I would love that, Frankie. Lead the way.”

The rest of the house is just as charming as the main floor, and Frankie’s room is somehow exactly how Scout would have imagined it would be. A white, wrought-iron bed sits beneath a powder blue mosquito net, the top of it crowned with twinkling fairy lights. Behind the bed, a large whimsical rainbow takes up most of the far wall, and a sneaking suspicion tells her that Rooster had something to do with it. A lamp in the corner of her room emits a soft yellow glow, and an array of random wooden furniture takes up the rest of the quaint space. Frankie cradles her jar and points to a blue, paint-chipped shelf beside her bed.

“Mav made that shelf for me for my shells.”

Scout walks the short distance to the shelf in which she’s referring to and drops to her knees in awe. She’s sure Rooster had a hand in helping her organize everything, but even still, her collection is immaculate. There must be over a hundred shells on display- some ranging from the size of a quarter to some the size of a dessert plate.

“These are incredible, Frankie.”

The little girl carefully unscrews the lid on the jar and begins to add them to her collection, ranging in size and color.

“Thank you for helping me, Scout.”

Scout swallows back the sudden tide of emotion and smiles. “It was my pleasure, Frankie.”

“Do you have a favorite one?” she asks.

Scout sighs. They’re all so beautiful. After a while, she points to a small red starfish. “I think that one.”

Frankie grins. “That one’s my favorite too. It always reminds me of Patrick, from Spongebob.”

She’s not sure how long they spend huddled in front of the myriad of shells, but Scout reckons she could listen to Frankie talk about them for the rest of her days and never grow tired of it. A knock at her bedroom door pushes her from her daydream. She glances up to meet Rooster’s gaze, his head leans against the door frame.

“Hi.” Scout smiles.

“Hi you two.”

“Come look at the ones I added, Papa.” Frankie insists.

Rooster pushes himself from the frame and crosses the short distance to where they’re crouched down, planting his hands on her shoulders and leaning in to take stock of the priceless new additions. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Frank.” He murmurs after a few moments. “But I regret to inform you that it’s time for bed.”

Scout doesn’t miss the exasperated groan that emanates from Frankie.

“Just a little longer, Papa?”

Rooster laughs. “It’s already past your bedtime, sweetheart.”  

Scout rises from her crouched position and places a hand atop Frankie’s head. “Goodnight my friend. Thank you for showing me your wondrous collection.” A thought crosses her mind. “When we do our last show-and-tell before year end, why don’t you bring some of your shells in? I’m sure the other kids would love to see some of them.”

Frankie’s eyes light up. “I would love to!”

Scout grins. “It’s a deal, then. Goodnight Frankie- and sweet dreams.”

She wanders back downstairs, not entirely sure if she should stay. She figures the least she can do is wait to say goodbye to Rooster. A picture on the mantle above the fireplace catches her attention. It depicts a very young Maverick, with his arm wrapped around someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Rooster. Scout studies the photo; the smiles of the young men speak volumes of excitement and adventure, of youth, and the ability to believe that they would be safe in anything they set their hearts on. Rooster joins her then.

“Is this your father?” she asks, though she reckons she already knows the answer.

Rooster nods before clearing his throat. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Scout smiles. “He looks like you.”

Rooster shifts from foot to foot, as if crafting his next words with care. “I never really thought so, but my mother was adamant that he and I were cut from the same cloth.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Would you like to stay for a drink?”

Scout wants to say no. She wants to thank him for dinner, and for the companionship that he and Frankie had gifted her this evening, but she just can’t shake the feeling that she’s supposed to be here.

“Yeah, I would.”

“Is there anything you’d like? I’ve got wine, beer, whisky…”

Scout shrugs. “I’m easy. Surprise me.”

Rooster smiles and nods his head. “Alright. I’ll fix us something if you want to find a seat on the porch.”

She does as she’s told and settles onto the swing, reveling in the sound of the ocean nearby. Rooster joins her a little while later, offering her a tumbler of whisky which she gladly accepts. He takes a seat at the opposite end of the bench and raises his drink to her.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Jake.”

She snorts around the rim of her glass, takes a sip, and shakes her head. “No, you’re not.”

Rooster’s expression is suddenly sheepish. “You’re right. I’m not.”

They’re silent for a moment, Scout already feeling the whisky warming in her belly, causing her cheeks to flame and a flush to start at the base of her throat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Rooster gazes at her, his expression unreadable, and nods his head. “Anything.”

“Frankie’s mother, what’s the story there?”

A puff of air escapes his parted lips as if he’d been holding it all in. “Not much of a story at all, really. She, uh, left when Frankie was about a year old.”

Scout can barely fathom it.

“Her and I were young when we met. We figured that marriage and children were the next obvious steps, so we took them together and when life got real, she hit the road.” Rooster takes a deep sip and continues. “She tries to get a hold of Frankie every now and then. Always spews some bullshit about coming to visit her, but she never manages to materialize. Fortunately, Frankie and I do alright on our own.”

“You do better than alright, Rooster.” Scout murmurs.

“How about you?” He asks. “You ever been married?”

Scout hesitates before nodding her head. “Yeah, actually. I was married for five years before he passed away.”

It sometimes still feels surreal to her when she says it out loud. That someone could be so close to her for so long and mean so much to her, and then gone at the blink of an eye, keeps her up most nights.

Rooster’s face drops. “I’m so sorry, Scout.”

She swallows back the building emotion and offers a half-shrug. “It’s one of the costs of flying fighter planes for a living, isn’t it?”

Rooster’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Your husband flew planes?”

“There’s a reason I told you I didn’t date men in the military.” she simpers.

They’re silent for a while, the only noise between them the calming sound of waves against sand.

“You’re lucky you live so close to the ocean.”

Rooster smiles, but there’s pain in the depths of his burnt-honey orbs. “My old man perished over the ocean in 1986, so I think I did it to feel closer to him.”

And Scout, maybe more than anyone, understands that completely.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” He muses.

Scout shakes her head. “There’s no right or wrong way to grieve, Rooster. You do what you can.”

It is not lost on her how perfect this night has been, but she knows her time to go is fast approaching. She tips back the rest of her drink, favoring the way it scorches the delicate lining of her throat as it goes down and gets up from her spot on the swing.

“I shared more of myself with you tonight than I have with anyone in a long time.”

Rooster gazes at her. “I'm honored.”

“It’s time for me to go, though. I wanted to thank you for this evening, it was wonderful.”

“It was a pleasure to have you join us, truly.” Rooster follows her to the front door and leans on the frame for support. “I want to take you out, Scout.”

And there it is again. No bullshit. A man who tells her exactly what he wants, and it causes butterflies to take flight in her belly. She thinks of Beau and Jake, and the hell of it all is that she likes Rooster. God, she likes him so much. So she says the only thing that she can think of in that moment, and then regrets it immediately.

“I want to be friends, Rooster.”

And there’s so much more that she could say to him. I want to be friends to get to know you. I want to be friends before I scare you off. I want to be friends before we get in too deep. But the right words fizzle and fade before she can voice them.

Rooster walks her out to her car. He hasn’t said anything in the wake of her admission, and she wonders if she's already fucked everything up. But then he simply tells her, “I’ll take what I can get, Scout. Frankie and I aren’t going anywhere.”

And despite everything, she believes him.

[lemongingerart]

Chapter 4 - Breaking point (II)

Fic summary: The second arc of my Armitage Hux x OC fanfic, “chocolate cookies and tarine tea”, in which both need to deal with the mess they got into (and with each other, eh eh eh). Involves cookies that won't be eaten and tea that will get spilled. Same goes for certain feelings... they are going to be hungry ant thirsty 😏

You can find the link to AO3 and other chapters on Tumblr in the pinned message on my dash, both for the first and second arc 😊

Rating: Explicit. This is going to be very NSFW. So, Minors, do NOT read or interact. 18+. Family, friends and colleagues, please don’t read this. :’-)

Tags & warnings: TRoS fix-it (kind of), Hux!lives, Hux doesn’t like Kylo, Not a Redemption Arc, maybe a little bit, shameless fem!OC insert (there are cliches but entertaining ones imo), slow emotional burn, medium sexual burn, Enemies to Enemies With Benefits to Lovers, Hux is still a villain don't forget, Virgin Characters, masturbation against the door, pinv, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Awkward Sexual Situations, Past Child Abuse, dubious first kiss, Dom/sub Undertones, Mental Breakdown, Unprotected Sex, wet Hux, that deserves a tag/warning on its own, Minor Character Death

I will add tags as we proceed in the story, please let me know if I forgot one!

Taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess, @morby and anyone who’d like to join 🥰

A/N:   Okay so, they both might be a bit too OOC... at least that's how they'll think about it themselves in the next chapters 🙃

A little shoutout to my partner in crime @mylifeisactuallyamess who has these headcanons about a certain beverage which I shamelessly copied here because I loved the idea so very much 🥰

Hux slowly stepped into the wardroom. The place was dimly lit, only some daylight from Taris' setting sun was flowing from the cockpit. He felt out of place, even out of himself. It was as if his feet moved without him actually processing it.

He should be joining Miko in the cockpit, check out where they would be flying to. But his brain lacked the capacity to process what should be done next. 

Stars , it lacked more than that.

The last days, especially the last hour, had been surreal. He was completely out of his comfort zone and these last hours he wasn't sure about who he actually was anymore. 

And, who was he, before? The spitting image of his father, who he'd tried to impress so many times but loathed even more? A product of perfect indoctrination? Was he successful or a failure, and did that even matter? Maybe, in a few hours, he'd be executed. Would he die peacefully or not? He mattered for the Order, but what about mattering enough for himself? 

And then there was the girl. Sometimes she was a nuisance, sometimes a useful asset, sometimes a distraction, but most of all she… confused him. She did things to his otherwise so focused mind that he couldn’t comprehend.  A few minutes ago he almost apologised to her and he can't even fathom why he would’ve done that in the first place. He hadn’t apologised to anyone in a decade, and especially not for his conduct. But it was not the first time she threw him off balance, and most certainly not the last. It was as if she put a different perspective on things, added extra gravity to whatever he was going through, and he was longing and fearing for it all at once. 

Somewhere during the dark thoughts, Hux had slumped onto the bench, legs open and elbows on his knees. He leaned forward and placed his tired head in both hands. 

By the galaxy, he had never felt so lost. Everything was different now, he just needed to be back on the Finalizer or even the Steadfast , drown in his work, and plan strategies on how to deal with Ren and Pryde. 

But there was nothing left. Nothing but the constant confrontation with the fact that he was not part of the First Order anymore.  He was an outcast, a liability. Worthless,  just as his father loved to call him. Useless, as he could only wait and get more desperate. Alone, more than ever. On the verge of crashing even before he got to the Resistance and met his end.

Armitage suddenly looked up in surprise. He'd heard a soft noise, warning him something was placed before him on the table. Only now, he realised he was so lost in these downward spiralling thoughts, that he had forgotten about his surroundings. Something that had never happened before he took off from the Steadfast . Yet another indication he was losing his mind.  

He focused back to the object in front of him.

‘Is this… Tarine tea?’ he asked her with a voice of disbelief. 

Miko's face cringed, as if she had made a stupid and obvious mistake. When did she become this timid? He wondered for the second time this standard rotation . Is she that scared of me? Even after seeing me as the mess I really am? Or maybe, because of my slip up?  Is she trying to be considerate and scared of failing? 

He just couldn’t place the change in their way of interacting and he already missed her old self. This… shy version of her did weird things to his chest . He hated the uncharted feeling.

“S-s-sorry, I can get you anything else if you… “ she mumbled, taking a few steps back. Her retreat made his insides clench, something he didn't expect to feel after so many years of service. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so empty, just by looking at someone. 

Oh stars, what's going on with me? 

“No! No, it’s perfect. I’m just… surprised… that’s all. It’s a delicate tea, I didn’t expect to be able to drink this now, of all times.” he softly replied and sighed. He positioned himself over the cup, watching the damp escape the cup and noticing the petals were at the bottom of the beverage,  just the way Tarine tea should be prepared, unlike popular beliefs. 

Miko looked at him, as if she wasn’t really sure what to do with his statement. 

He tried to ignore her and the unexplainable heat he felt on his cheeks. In the meanwhile, he took the cup she had presented him and inhaled the vapour rising from the liquid, slowly calming him down. It also helped to soothe that inexplicable ache he just felt. 

He closed his eyes, and for the first time since he woke up on the Steadfast, his mind went blank. His thoughts slowed down, the anger and spite and ire dissipated so effortlessly and he felt as quiet as the tea water right before him.

“It’s my favourite,” he mumbled, not really knowing he said that out loud. 

He looked up again, only to see Miko’s eyes shine brightly before she swiftly turned around and departed to the hangar deck. The sudden change in her posture and the fact that she took off like that, would otherwise worry him, but this time it was exactly what he needed. A bit of her usual craziness could bring him back to normalcy. 

He heard her rumbling through the mess she bought earlier, sceptically - but without agitation - wondering what she was up to, again. Although his mind was still in slight chaos, the distraction in the form of tea she provided him with, had proven to be more helpful than he could’ve estimated himself. He took a first nip and tried to focus on the way the liquid moved in his mouth. The perfectly on point temperature made him sigh without sound and forget everything for a few seconds.

A few minutes later, she shuffled back with a small black box in both her hands. Hux took in the details of the object: the lid was embellished with golden ornaments, making the package look rather expensive. He was too curious for the content to ask her if she spent his money on this, and maybe he didn't want to step into another minefield of arguments right now.

Miko walked up to the table and carefully placed the box down right before him, minding that she didn’t bump into both of their teacups. He only noticed by now that she also brewed some Tarine tea for herself. A choice he had not expected, based on her usually bubbly attitude. It made him realise that he was assuming too much about her, without actually knowing her.

Miko slowly opened the box, pulling out some small confection. While she placed it before him she dared to give him a glance, and suddenly he was captivated by her gaze. The look she gave him for a second, was soft and maybe even happy. The way her mouth curled into a subtle hopeful smile didn't go unnoticed by him; it made his heart make a little jump but right now he didn’t care to think it through. How can I be so pitiful and spiteful, and how could she be so bright, when the both of us are almost in the same shit? He wondered, vaguely noticing the uncharacteristical choice of words.

Armitage blinked and tried to focus back on what she took out of the box. He looked at it with reservation, not inclined to try out something new that was offered to him out of the blue. She left the black round confection on the table before him, and took one for her own, placing it right beside her cup. 

She then glanced his way with uncertain eyes, as if she was on slippery terrain. He wondered what the story was behind the bite she offered him and the hope she seemed to cherish. 

“It’s a chocolate macaron… “ she almost whispered. 

Chocolate? He hadn't had chocolate since he left Arkanis, decades ago. But he clearly remembered the taste, as he secretly took some from the kitchen every now and then. It tasted like home. Frivolities he couldn't afford anymore, ever since he was pushed into the ranks. Like the feeling of being content and cosy sitting by the grand fireplace, or playing in the storage room while they were making futile efforts looking for him. Just being free. Happy. 

Things she never had to give up, things she still knew. 

Things, maybe, she could still offer, he wondered, nostalgia and an unknown type of longing taking over.

Miko went to sit down on the opposite side of him and looked at her hands in her lap. The little droid ran from her back onto the table towards the end, where he connected to the charge port.

“I find it a perfect combination with Tarine tea…” she quietly added while fumbling with her fingers and placing her lower arms on the table. 

He heard her shuffling her feet against each other under the table, rendering him aware of her sudden shyness and how it was attracting him like a moth to a flame, unlike any other person did before. 

 “At first sight they are both completely opposite tastes, but if you combine them, there’s an unexpected harmony - " she took a breath, looked up to him with doubtful eyes and continued: "together they taste so much better. I thought you should tr..”

Hux mind short-circuited.

He didn’t know what was happening with him, but hearing her say that and looking in her big and bright eyes just made him snap, and this time, not out of anger but out of a feeling that was much more sweetly agonising than anything he had ever felt. 

His body moved on its own, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up and almost over the table, spilling the tea in the process and kissing her violently on her mouth. There was this rage that wasn’t his usual locked up rage flowing through his fingers, and he just wanted to channel it, pull her over the table and pull her so close that they both would lose all air in between them and their lungs. 

But, the damn piece of furniture was fixed on the floor, making him hiss when the shot wound from his leg was pressed against the cold durasteel. He realised he could only pull her close that much, feeling this wasn’t enough, the emptiness still looming.

Stars… he wanted to take her in, taste her naive enthusiasm, feed on her smile, drink in her smell, forget about all the rest and just be one with her and her simple and soothing reality.

Armitage was already automatically pulling her right hand to his side, forcing her even closer, when he as by reflex added his other hand behind her neck, to give him extra possibilities, to gain better access. No sane thoughts crossed his mind, the only signals he was processing was how impossibly soft and warm her lips felt and how he wanted all of it. 

Without knowing what he was actually doing - gods, he didn't know and didn't want to think about it, in this moment time seemed to stand still and he didn't care - he opened his mouth, somewhere in the back of his mind registering she was spontaneously following his movement. 

She turned her head slightly, and he accepted the plausible invitation by invading her hot mouth with a savaging tongue. Hoping to get closer to her, feel how she was complementary to everything he was. In need to sense how she could make him whole again. Make the void go away. 

Some fraction in time later, reality violently kicked in, making him stop his movements and opening his eyes. Bright amber ones were staring right back at him, expressing surprise and confusion. 

She was so close, and that stare… 

What just happened?

Notes:

Ahhh, this was written so long ago, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic here... but FINALLY, a first kiss 😇 not sure it's entirely consensual buttttt... I hope you felt their vibes here, and enjoyed it ... please let me know what you thought of it!

[evilyr]

tag   drop .

[taliswift-blog]

tags !

[taylorali-blog]

i haven’t written an intro in like...900 years, so bear with me

about the mun :

hello hello new friends, i’m red, i’m 21, i use she/her pronouns ! the only fun fact i can think of is that last year when i went to the reputation tour and we were heading down to our hotel lobby to pick up our postmates, i found myself in the elevator with taylor’s dancers. it was very, Very awkward. i’m also kinda awkward, but i promise that i don’t bite & that i just wanna love on all of you and your babies ! give me all the connections, all the plots, all the things. i’m super stoked to start writing with y’all 

about the muse :

TAYLOR SWIFT has just arrived in hollywood and the TWENTY-NINE year old SINGER is already causing a stir! the CISFEMALE was seen leaving lax in a hurry, but not before the paparazzi could snap a few stunning photos ! from the looks of it, SHE/HER is going to be the new talk of the town. 

i’ve been playing taylor on and off for too long of a time, tbh — the fun of bringing her into a new group is that i get to kinda reinvent her and i never try to play the same taylor twice which is sksksks fun ! the only thing that stays the same across the board is that my taylor lives by the quote “be like a snake: be nice to people until they step on you”

sagittarius, slytherin, esfj

taylor’s bisexual, she’s not openly out to anyone beyond her immediate family and select friends and has no plans to come out any time soon. due to that, her public relationship history in the sake of this rp is very, very grey & i’m pretty much throwing it all to the wind until we accept said faces in the group & we have the chance to plot ! yeehaw creative liberties !

taylor is incredibly business-oriented; she doesn’t like to use the word calculating to describe her but there is an absolute method to her madness and she’s whip smart. she, for the most part, knows exactly what she is doing when she does it. as the years have gone by, she has strayed from the whimsical, carefree approach on life and everything she does is mapped out to a T. she’s iron-clad in her defenses and every move she makes has contingency plans for contingency plans. i think of it like this: her 1989 era was very rigid and impersonal after the release of the album. during the drama of 2016 taylor took her space and because she was out of the public eye, had to learn how to rework her life without such rigid structure. the reputation era was very blase and ‘i don’t give a fuck’ and the lover era is veering back into that commercial, "faces on, people !!” tone — because of all this, she can sometimes come across as cold and detached to the reality around her ? she’s in tune with the world but sometimes she doesn’t get that she has to switch the lens of ‘this is a business move’ into like, real life

*off key* truuuuUUUST issUUUUUES ! she’s super fucking guarded. she makes it seem like she lets people in very easily but that’s not necessarily the case, she’s just very good at making people feel accepted and included

forgiveness is easier said than done with her. she’ll say that she forgives you but her actions will scream “hi i’m holding a grudge”

if you have taylor in your corner, you have her there for the long run, period. the only time she willingly walks away is if she feels unwelcome or disagrees with something that’s been done/said (most usually towards her lmao)

i know labels died in like, 2015, but one of my favorites that i’d use to sum my t up in one word is cosmogyral —  the definition of the word cosmogyral is ‘whirling around the universe.’ she’s never content with stagnancy, she likes to constantly be thinking and doing and moving and striving to be all the things, essentially. taylor’s a very strategic, take no prisoners kinda girl; she’s also a huge dreamer with a big heart that often gets shadowed by all her steel that she keeps up. she tends to live in her head quite a bit, which comes at its costs. the big part that i usually read into with the cosmogyral is that they are incredibly volatile, they’re easy to flip or turn in their moods and are pretty fickle. taylor is the type of person who will change her mind a lot about something and she’ll be hella stubborn about it every time as if she didn’t feel some other type of way five minutes ago

positive traits include: sage, silver-tongued, fastidious, idealistic, intrepid, driven, hopeless romantic, affectionate, fervid, convival, generally a cinnamon roll (unless u invoke the Sin)

negative traits include: convoluted, self-isolating, sybaritic, clinical, somewhat neurotic, opinionated, lives with her finger on the trigger, vindictive, still sometimes kinda naive

i try not to write taylor as a caricature of herself ? because sometimes i feel like people do ? where the muse takes me is where the muse takes me and i probably won’t have a single explanation for it so this is me apologizing in advance !

anyways, i’ll shut up here ( otherwise i will go on forEVER ) so i can go grab a quick bite for dinner and then dedicate my evening to loving up your starters and babies ic & ooc ! ik it can sometimes be intimidating to message a whole ass stranger but if you wanna plot or just talk ooc, give this actual novella a like and as if by magic, i shall appear in your ims for all the things ! like i said above, i’m really excited to write with everyone and AHHHH I CAN’T WAIT love y’all already x

[lavenderdreams22]

Impossible - Fenrys x Reader

Request: Omg! The fic with Fenrys is so good! Can you write another one? Like they have an argument?

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for, anon! There really aren’t any warnings… maybe some OOC moments for some characters, some suggestive themes? I haven’t finished Kingdom of Ash yet, so if some details are wrong, sorry!! Also, very quickly edited.

*****

The beach. You had always loved the beach. But today, the sight of the waves crashing against the shore brought a sour taste to your mouth.

Fenrys had been gone for about a week on a mission assigned to him by Aelin. You were glad that he had been given something to do. He was becoming restless, and you feared that he may tear the walls of your shared home apart if he was left to his own devices for much longer.

No, him leaving wasn’t what had made you so upset with him… It was his return. He had gone directly to Aelin to give his report, which was to be expected, but then he had disappeared. You had searched for him, hoping to say hello and spend a few moments with him before you, yourself, had to leave for a week.

The beach was the last place you could think of to check, and he wasn’t here.

You threw your arms up as a particularly nasty wave crashed against the distant rocks. Even the North Sea seemed to be taunting you.

Turning on your heel, you stomped back towards your horse.

“Fine…” you mumbled to yourself. “If he doesn’t want to see me, then he won’t.”

*****

You found Elide waiting with Lorcan and the wagon that the three of you would be taking on your travels.

“Surprised lover boy isn’t joining you.” Lorcan spoke, drawing you from your thoughts.

“No idea where he is.” You shrugged, climbing in and turning to offer Elide your hand. “Let’s go before we lose anymore daylight.”

“You don’t want to say goodbye?” Elide asked, accepting the hand you offered to help her up.

“He didn’t bother saying hello.” You shrugged. “So, he doesn’t get a goodbye.”

Lorcan snorted and rounded the wagon to take his own seat. The two of you got settled as he took over the reigns. With a nod from Elide, the three of you were off.

“Are you okay?” Elide asked, patting your knee.

“I have never been better.” You plastered a fake grin on your lips that you hoped was convincing.

The look she shot you said that it was exactly the opposite.

*****

Dorian’s castle hadn’t changed since the last time you had been here. Chaol greeted you at the door, a warm smile on his lips as he pulled you into a hug. You searched around for Yrene, but he shook his head.

“She’s tending to the baby.” Chaol could barely contain his excitement.

“I will have to visit before we leave.” You said into his shoulder.

“Yes, you will. Yrene will have your head if you don’t.” He released you and you nodded. “Dorian is in the throne room.”

You patted his shoulder in thanks as you passed.

The greetings shared between the other two and Chaol were muffled as you rounded the corner. The double doors that led to the throne room had been left wide open, and Dorian sat atop his throne, examining his nails.

You cleared your throat as you entered, and his head snapped up. The grin that pulled at his lips was contagious, and, before you could stop it, you were grinning back.

“Hello, Y/N.” He strode to you in a few steps and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

“Hello, your majesty.” You made to bow, but he laughed, pulling you back up by the arm.

“Seems we have much to discuss, old friend.” Dorian gestured towards the door behind you. “Shall we?”

*****

The time spent with Dorian was short lived, and you found yourself dreading the ride home.

You knew once you arrived in Terrasen, Fenrys would be there. He would demand why you hadn’t said goodbye, and there would surely be an argument.

“You seemed pretty sure of your decision to leave without saying goodbye a week ago.” Lorcan said, snapping the reigns.

The horses moved with a jolt, and you reached out an arm to steady Elide. You weren’t sure how Lorcan always seemed to know what you were thinking.

“I was.” You responded, “but now I’m not so sure it was the right choice.”

*****

Dawn had just broken when the three of you arrived. The wheels and hooves seemed to echo in the quiet streets of Terrasen, and you groaned.

“Can’t we just walk the rest of the way? We’re surely waking up every living thing from here to Eyllwe.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What do you suggest I do? Leave the horses in the middle of town?” Lorcan snapped.

You rolled your eyes, and Elide giggled at the two of you. You and Lorcan always fought, though neither of you wished bad on the other.

“We will be there soon.” She said with a shake of her head. “Then you two can get a good nights rest.”

You knew he’d hear you, that he had been waiting for the sound of hooves on stone. You could practically feel his anger down your mating bond. With a shudder, you wrapped your arms around yourself.

*****

You had been right, not that you had doubted yourself. As you pulled into the gates of Aelin’s home, you caught glimpse of a white wolf sitting in the courtyard. Your heart dropped at the sight of him.

Elise reached over, giving your leg a quick squeeze and Lorcan brought the wagon to a stop.

“Good luck, Y/N.” Elide said as she stood. “Looks like you’re going to need it.” She glanced over your shoulder and you didn’t need to turn around to know who she was looking at.

Lorcan helped Elide onto the ground, and the two of them made quick work of getting inside.

You huffed out a breath, trying to reign in your heartbeat. Fenrys was glaring holes through the back of your head.

“A simple ‘welcome home’ would suffice.” You said, finally standing and climbing out of the wagon. He was at your side in seconds.

“A simple ‘goodbye’ would have been better.” He growled, helping you to the ground.

The second your feet touched stone, you pulled out of his grasp. Hurt flashed in his eyes before he trained his face into something impassive.

“Would have said goodbye if I had been able to find you.” You mumbled.

He took a step towards you, but you stepped away from him again.

“I didn’t even know you were leaving. I had to find out from Aedion. Aelin wouldn’t even tell me where you went off to.”

“Aelin has some sense, then.” You rolled your eyes before setting off towards you home.

“Did you have fun with Dorian?” He spat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah. Loads of fun.” You pushed past him to start the short journey to your home. “Really wore me out.”

He let out a low growl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fenrys had an awful jealous streak, and for a moment, you felt guilty at the implication that you had made. But you steeled your nerves before you turned back to him.

“Where were you?” You couldn’t keep your voice from cracking.

He only stared at you, his brows furrowed.

“I looked everywhere. I even went to the beach.” You shook your head.

“You obviously didn’t look hard enough.”

Your lips parted in surprise at his response. You and Fenrys never fought. It was rare that the two of you even got mad at each other. As passionate and intense as you both were, you were also soft and gentle with each other. Your tempers were normally reserved for other people or training.

“I’m going to bed.” You turned on your heel again, “find somewhere else to stay for a few days.”

He didn’t follow, and you struggled to keep the tears from falling as you ran the rest of the way home.

*****

It had been five days. Five days for you to think, think again and then over think the interaction that got you to this point.

You knew you had been too sensitive, and that you had overreacted, but your pride wouldn’t let you admit it to Fenrys. Even if he was gazing at you across the training ring with regret and longing.

As upset as he had been, he had honored your wishes for him to stay away for awhile. You had run into each other a few times in the past few days, and you had a hunch that Aelin and Rowan were doing all they could to force the two of you into the same room.

“Y/N, Fenrys.” Aedion called out, “Aelin would like an audience with you.”

You nodded, setting the wooden sword you had been practicing with to the side and nodding at Gavriel. He offered a small smile and turned to Lorcan to continue his training.

Fenrys hesitated for a moment, his eyes never leaving your retreating form as you crossed the room towards Aedion.

“Are you coming?” You asked, stopping by the door, finally meeting his gaze over your shoulder.

“Oh.” He scrambled to catch up with you. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

*****

When you got to the throne room, the two of you stopped as he knocked.

“Do you have any idea what she wants?” You asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall as you waited for permission to enter.

“No idea.” He shook his head.

“Hmm.” Was your only response.

You examined him. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t been sleeping. The thought of his restless nights tugged at your heart, but you quickly shook the thought from your mind. You were mad at him, you reminded yourself.

“How are you?” He asked, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m great. You?”

He cleared his throat, and you knew him well enough to know that he was struggling to form an answer that didn’t sound what he thought was absolutely pathetic. You hoped he would tell you he missed you.

He settled on, “I’ve been better.”

Before you could respond, Rowan opened the door, beckoning the two of you into the room.

“Hello, Rowan.” You greeted as you stepped past him.

Aelin sat atop her throne, watching as the two of you with a blank expression. It made your hands sweat.

“Good morning.” She said, her queen voice coming out in full force.

“Good morning, your majesty.” You said, and Fenrys bowed.

Aelin chuckled and motioned for you two to come closer.

“I have a task for the two of you.” Aelin started. “You leave as soon as you can pack a bag.”

You both froze. “What will we be doing?” He asked.

“There seems to be some unease near the mountains. Something about bandits attacking travelers. I need the two of you to take care of it.” Rowan nodded as he joined her, standing behind her throne.

“Just the two of us?” You asked.

“Will that be a problem?” Rowan asked, irritation lacing his voice.

“No, of course not.” You shook your head.

“We have a horse waiting in the stables for you,” Aelin said, “You’re free to go. I expect to hear that you’ve left within the next twenty minutes.”

You both nodded before turning to leave.

“I need to come by for some of my things.” He murmured.

“I expected as much.” You replied, shutting the door to the throne room behind you.

*****

An hour later, the two of you were atop the horse, and several miles from the city. The ride so far had been dreadfully quiet. Having him pressed up against you like this was making it harder to be angry with him.

You adjusted yourself in the saddle, and he chuckled behind you.

“You’re going to be in for a rough trip if you’re already uncomfortable.” He said, his breath fanning over the back of your neck.

“The saddle isn’t the problem.” You snapped back.

“I stand by my sentiment.” He tightened his hold on you.

“They only gave us one horse on purpose.” You pouted. You were aware you sounded like a child, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Most likely. They’re getting sick of having me in the castle.”

“You’ve been staying at the castle?”

“I have.” He cleared his throat, “not quite the same as our bed, but I suppose it could be worse.”

You nodded, leaning back into him ever so slightly. You missed the way his arms felt around you.

“All you have to do is ask me to come back.” He whispered.

“Maybe I don’t want you to come back.” You said, but he only chuckled. The sound rattled around in your head. 

“Your body says otherwise, my love.”

You shook your head, moving as far away from him as you could when you were sharing a saddle. “Knock it off. I’m still mad at you.”

*****

That evening, the two of you stopped to set up camp. The rest of the ride had been silent, and you were growing more and more agitated as time went on. He seemed perfectly content and happy to sit in silence, though, and that made you even more upset.

“Would you mind helping to set up camp? Or would you rather glare at me for the rest of the night?” He asked, his back still facing you.

You didn’t answer, and after a few heartbeats, he sighed.

“We should talk,” he said.

“Why? You seem perfectly happy acting as though nothing has happened.”

“Y/N…” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Where were you?” You asked, “the day you came back�� after you reported to Aelin. Where were you?”

“I was with Aedion. Ironically enough, he and Lysandra got into a spat, and he needed an ear and a shoulder.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know you were leaving until he asked me if I was going to say goodbye to you.”

“I looked everywhere for you.” You said.

“I was still in the castle.” He said, “and by the time I came to find you, you were gone.”

“I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.” You whispered.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t come find you sooner.” He said, taking a step closer to you.

“And I’m sorry for cursing your existence on our favorite beach.” You grinned at him as he belted out a laugh.

His laugh. It was like music to your ears. It was something that you missed dearly, and now you were so grateful that you got to hear it again. The brief chuckles on the horse were nothing compared to this.

“C’mere, my love.” He opened his arms.

You flung your arms around him and pressed a kiss to his lips. He pulled you as close as he could, and kissed you back.

When he pulled away, humor was dancing in his eyes. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“But you love me anyway.” You replied, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“You’re right. I do love you anyway.” His answering grin made a blush creep to your cheeks.

“So...” you started, glancing once at his lips. “What should we do to make up for the last three weeks apart?”

“I can think of a few things.” He pressed another kiss to your lips.

You swore to yourself that you would never spend that much time away from him again.

[vermillionmars]

YOU CAN'T HIDE — !!

yandere! funtime freddy x reader

cw/tw ; yandere, sadism, blood, strangulation, cutting skin idk, ooc ( ? ), manipulation ( ? )

a/n ; i have had this in my head for a week...please don't judge me...also this is rly bad ik, i just had to get it out of my system before i exploded / lost all interest and motivation to write lol, i can't write bloody scenes v well sadly. also baby is probably ooc idk im not going to rewatch sl gameplay for this lol

“ — YOU CAN RUN, YOU CAN'T HIDE ! ”

❝ Bring you down here, in the dead of night. Keep you working, try to survive. We are secretly watching you, too. Trying our best to get at you. Run. ❞

Steady your breathing. Keep calm, don't make a sound. Hide yourself from his view, make sure you're invisible. Don't let him know where you are, don't let him find you. These were all things you told yourself, over and over again. They were meant to reassure yourself, to provide yourself some momentary comfort.

They worked, but only for a few minutes. Because just as soon as you'd convinced yourself you were safe, you heard that familiar, glitchy voice. Funtime Freddy was broken, in desperate need of repairs, but no one really stepped up to fix him. It wasn't that it was an impossible task—anyone with experience could repair him in a jiffy—it was that most people were scared of him. And rightfully so, considering you cowered in fear from simply hearing his footsteps.

You were naive to think you would be different from previous mechanics. It's just a robot, you told yourself. You can do this. But you, quite clearly, couldn't. The night started off well. You did as the Handunit told you, performing your duties like a good employee. But then came the task of fixing Freddy. The Handunit was of no help to you right now, it was ominously silent, like it had no clue what you were intended to do, or it hadn't noticed anything went wrong.

Or maybe it simply didn't care. Maybe it expected you to fend for yourself. You were the one who took the job offer, after all. You were responsible for your own actions and if you put yourself at risk of getting murdered by some children's animatronic, then the company wasn't responsible whatsoever. Circus Baby's Pizza World was, under no means, responsible for any injuries caused to you, regardless of whether or not those injuries came from their animatronics.

So you were hopeless, pretty much.

❝ You can run, you can't hide. We'll always seek, we'll always find. You can run, but you can't hide. We'll always seek, we'll always find. ❞

Oh, but you couldn't be blamed for being frightened by the large robot. Whose bright idea was it to make these things six feet tall? And not to mention the faceplates that opened up to reveal their freaky endoskeletons...Jesus, wasn't this enough to give kids nightmares?

Maybe the animatronics weren't so scary in the daylight. But in the dead of night, deep underground, they (specifically Funtime Freddy) shook you to your core. Maybe you were just a coward.

But you weren't willing to quit this job because of your cowardice. You had to survive this, to make it through the week. Then you could collect your paycheck and leave. You could go home, watch that trashy soap opera that kept playing on your T.V. seemingly on loop, and never think of this place again.

No Circus Baby, no Ballora, no Funtime Foxy, no Funtime Freddy. Just you, The Immortal and the Restless, and your lovely bowl of popcorn. It was just a few more nights, in the grand scheme of things. It might've seemed like longer to you, but it really wasn't that bad!

A loud, metallic clank changed your tune quickly. You took it back, this was horrible. You couldn't go another night stuck with these robots.

❝ You can run, you can try. You can run, but you can't hide. You can run, you can try. You can run, but you can't hide. ❞

You tried to think of happy things. Your paycheck, your compensation for surviving this job. Your friends, the ones who had been worried sick when you told them you'd be working here. Your parents, who urged you not to take the job at the place with a history of child murder. Your—

It was no use. No matter what you tried to get your brain to focus on, all it could think of was the situation you were currently in. It was either that or flashbacks to moments prior to this, and you honestly couldn't tell which was worse.

What led up to this...oh yeah, your job to fix Funtime Freddy. In all your hiding from him, you had almost forgotten that was why he was seeking you out. It was part of your job to repair him, and you had come here with every intention to do so.

He was supposed to be powered down. The Handunit told you so. He wasn't. He was faking it, you could tell. But you couldn't do anything about it, so with shaking hands you began pressing against the small buttons on his face. There wasn't much movement at first, a slight twitch here and there as you poked and prodded.

When his faceplates successfully opened, however, he quit his deactivated act. You screamed embarrassingly loudly when he jumped at you. Scrambling around the room, you gripped onto any surface you could find to steady yourself.

From there, your night quickly deescalated into madness. It was an endless cycle of squeezing yourself into crevices and tight spots and then changing your spot as soon as you heard the robotic bear, and the both of you were growing weary of it. You were tired, exhausted from all the running and hiding. Funtime Freddy was...well, you couldn't know his emotions (if he had any) because you weren't him, but you could guess he was growing more and more agitated.

You held your breath as you heard him make another step.

❝ They're laughing while finding. I'm hiding, I'm trying. I feel like she's lying, I feel like I'm dying. She's guiding me quietly, instructing me blindly, afraid of what might be. I feel like I'm dying. Hide. ❞

"You seem to be in quite the predicament."

A voice resonated through your mind. You recognized it, of course. It belonged to Circus Baby, the ringleader of this animatronic circus. She had spoken to you on your first night, but hadn't said anything else after that. You weren't quite sure how she was talking to you, because she wasn't present in the room or anywhere close, and Freddy didn't seem to hear her. Though, you weren't going to question it.

"Don't worry, I'm here to help you."

You didn't believe her, but what other choice did you have? You nodded, unsure if she could see your motions or not. She appeared to be able to, oddly, as she replied quickly after.

"Good. All you have to do is listen to me, and you should be safe." You caught onto the ‘should’ rather fast.

'Should?' You parroted back. She hummed softly, clearly not as concerned as you were.

"Yes, should," she paused. "I’d like to believe I have a good grasp on the mindsets and thought processes of my coworkers, however, I cannot guarantee your safety. Funtime Freddy is unpredictable at times—he is erratic and acts on his emotions. So, I can only hypothesize the best possible outcome and how to get there. If you’re worried by my uncertainty, you’re free to go about this your own way, I will not stop you. Just don’t blame me when your organs are rearranged."

She said all of that so calmly, it unnerved you. Regardless, you accepted her offer. 'Why do you even want to help me?' You asked in your head.

"It’s really none of your business. If you wish to know, however, I need you. Not you specifically, of course, anyone would do, really—so if you die, it’s not that big of a loss. I would just prefer not having to wait for the next unfortunate soul to make their way down here."

You were too confused to ask anything else, which Baby seemed pleased about. A bang startled you into remembering Funtime Freddy was still here. "Relax," Baby began. "Do you see Bon-Bon?"

If your memory was correct, Bon-Bon was the puppet attached to Freddy.

"You're correct. The bunny has a mind of its own. He and Freddy are...friends, I suppose. It is perhaps the only thing that can calm him down. So, use it to your advantage. If you can convince it to help you without alerting Freddy—don't ask, I don't know how to accomplish that either—or can convince it you already left the room, you'll be safe. Freddy will listen."

You gulped. Okay, so planning time…Baby's idea was far too risky, you deemed. You couldn't get to Bon-Bon without getting to Funtime Freddy, so that was off the table. You needed something else…You glanced at the door briefly. There was little chance you could open the door without being followed, but…maybe that’s what you wanted.

❝ I hear a sound… (It's prolly just a mouse!) I see them in the dark... (I only saw a spark!) I know there's someone there… (Not as far as I'm aware!) Why don't you believe me? ❞

You zipped across the room. As you were no longer being sneaky, Freddy’s eye caught sight of your form instantly. He laughed to his puppet pal.

"You saw that, r-ri-right, Bon-Bon?"

The little rabbit placed a plush hand against his cheek. He looked contemplative, as if determining whether what he saw was a human or something else. "It’s probably just a mouse, Freddy. You know how they are, and with the cold weather they’re probably desperate for warmth—"

"N-no, Bon-Bon, I swe-ea-r! They were here e-earlier to make repa-air-airs, I doubt they’ve l-l-eft yet!"

"Freddy, I think you should let it go. There’s always next time."

"There won’t b-be a next time-e, Bon-Bon!" Whether that was in reference to the coming end of the week (and therefore your job) or in reference to his plans on killing you, you weren’t sure. It could’ve very well been either, or even both. It was hard to tell with these freaks.

Nevertheless, his distraction allowed you to reach the door. You made sure to be as loud as possible as you twisted the doorknob. It opened with a long creak and the path to the Funtime Auditorium opened up. Freddy perked up at the sudden sound. You shuffled back to a hiding spot.

"Birthday k-kid!" It wasn’t your birthday, and you weren’t a kid either, but you had learned this was just a part of his programming. His feet stomped, shaking the floor and you. He chuckled, probably calling you ignorant and stupid in hushed whispers to his puppet. You could care less what he said about you.

❝ Maybe you're right… (It's just another night!) But I heard a creak… (Just go back to sleep!) I'm always quick to rage… (So go back to your stage! Wait...Now I hear it...) Run. ❞

"Making your own plan, are you?" Baby chided. "I thought I said to make use of the Bonnie puppet. But if this is your course of action, I suppose I can't stop you. Good luck…" What did she...mean by that?

Funtime Freddy made his way into the Funtime Auditorium slowly, torturously. You just wanted him gone already so you could lock him out of Parts and Services and you could stay in the room for the rest of the night. Finally, his feet came in contact with the flooring, and he was fully in the room.

You were quick to approach the door. You fumbled around and locked it, then paused. You breathed in deeply, then shut it with as much force as physically possible, slamming it and possibly partly breaking it off its hinges.

You could no longer hear Circus Baby. She wasn’t talking…why? Did that mean you were safe, if she was no longer guiding you? Or did it mean—

Cold, metallic hands (paws?) clamped down on your shoulders. They pressed into your skin through the polyester work uniform. Oh, so that was why.

❝ What's that sound? I know someone's there, hiding in the shadows, thinking I was unaware! Who's that I see? The birthday boy-to-be! Let's invite him over, hurry up before he's bolder! ❞

You were too scared to look him in the eyes. Freddy didn't mind. He just dug his hands further into you. Neither of you spoke, the silence was engulfing.

"Surprise! I fo-ound you," Freddy said, breaking the silence. It was odd to hear him speak directly to you—all this time, he had just been making comments to himself or calling out to you, as he wasn't close enough to get his hands on you and actually say anything. "Ch-ee-er up, birthday kid! We're your f-friend-s!"

You didn't reply. He made a noise that you interpreted as a scoff (it was hard to tell with his glitchy voice), and he lightly shook your shoulders. "Bi-i-irthday kid?"

He repeated his call, again and again. It would've been funny, if he weren't a giant hunk of metal fully capable of killing you. At your persistent lack of a reply, he shook you roughly back and forth.

"Freddy! They're clearly frightened, you should let them go now!" Bon-Bon, thankfully, caused Freddy to loosen his grip on you.

The bear frowned—well, as much as a robot can frown. "B-but Bon-Bon!" He let out a mechanical sigh, removing his hands from your shoulders.

You took a shaky breath. It was still rather dark in the room, you couldn't see either Bon-Bon or Funtime Freddy in their entirety. You only saw the outlines of their bodies. The door was still closed, locked. You had no clue how Freddy had even gotten in here (perhaps he slipped past your gaze and entered the room before you shut the door?), but you had no way of getting out. Not with Freddy right beside you.

Then, to get out, what did you need to do? You could just run, sprint to the door and scramble to unlock it. But Freddy would never let you get that far, he would hear and see you the moment you started moving.

Freddy suddenly moved, directing himself to the corner of the room. He sat down with a resounding thunk...right by the door. It was almost like he knew what you were thinking, and quickly wiped away any chance you had of succeeding.

❝ Oh Bon-Bon, let's make this fun! You can't deter me this time, no I'm done. I won't go back to my stage, it's my new trend. Well, let's go say hi to the new friend! ❞

"Sit with m-me, friend!" Freddy's tone was cheerful, friendly even. You didn't trust it, not one bit. "C'mon, it'll be f-fun!"

You reluctantly sat down next to him, longingly looking at the door. He reached for your waist, and pulled you closer to him. You started at the contact. It was sort of like a hug, except not very warm or enjoyable.

“Why were you run-n-ning, birthday kid? Why did you hide from m-me?” He sounded rather sad at first, but there was something more sinister behind his tone. "Are you scared?"

There were two answers to that last question, both of which were wrong in some aspect. If you said yes, he clearly wouldn’t be happy. Or maybe he’d be delighted, actually, reveling in your terror. You didn’t want to potentially give him that satisfaction, but if you said no, you’d be lying not only to him, but also to yourself. He would likely be able to tell your deception, too, seeing as you weren’t the greatest of liars.

"Yes…" you admitted nervously. Better to be truthful than risk upsetting him if he found out you lied, after all. "I’m sorry…" you weren’t, but Funtime Freddy accepted the answer regardless.

"It’s alright, fr-r-iend," he mumbled something that you couldn’t hear (despite the echo of his voice), then whispered to Bon-Bon. The puppet looked down towards his bow, not meeting either you or Freddy’s eyes. He gave a tiny nod, and covered his eyes with his hands, plush ears drooping down. "You made a mis-stake, but you just have to lea-r-rn better! I can help."

"Wha—" He didn't give you a chance to reply, because he suddenly dug his fingers into your neck. You gasped, rushing to soothe pain, however Freddy pressed against your skin harder. Harder and harder, he scraped your skin. In spite of his dull, hardly sharp fingers, he somehow drew blood—it trailed down from your neck slowly.

❝ I knew I was right to think I would find you over here. Well isn't it intriguing that you seem to be just a little bit weary of Bon-Bon and me. Well there's no need… ❞

He smiled wickedly, eyes conveying the same, twisted emotion. He moved his thumb to your neck, wiping the blood onto it. He was all too passive about having his thumb stained red, eyeing the smudge like it was natural. Like he had seen the sight far too many times, and had grown desensitized to it.

"S-see? Was that so ba-ad?" It wasn't the worst of injuries you'd ever had, you conceded, it was just the knowledge that he was fully capable of much more that made it so bad. There was nothing stopping him from biting your head clean off, or knocking you out with his microphone (that you had only now realized was discarded on the floor).

He could snap your legs in two or three or four or five parts if he so pleased. It wasn't that hard of a task—your bones were brittle and weak and pathetic, especially compared to a 350 pound animatronic. It was child's play to him, all he'd have to do is put his entire weight on you, and you'd be out like a light. That was, no doubt, the reason every other mechanic had quit...or maybe they hadn't exactly 'quit.'

"I sa-aid, 'was t-that so bad?""

"O-oh! N...no…" your voice came out as strained, hoarse.

"Good! Thank me. I helped you, like I said, right? You'll be better now..."

You shivered. It was the first time you'd heard him speak without a stuttery echo. It was threatening, foreign and weird. You vaguely wished he'd go back to glitching.

"Don't ignore me, now. Do you need...extra help? I can provide that, if you wish. Can't I, Bon-Bon?" Bon-Bon waved his paw in confirmation. "Do you want that, birthday kid?"

You were well aware it was a rhetorical question. Even if you answered, Freddy wouldn't listen to your protests. He would just continue without a care in the world. So, you kept your mouth shut.

"Bon-Bon, what do you think?"

"I-I think you should lay off the topic for now...you can discuss this with them later, y-you know! It doesn't have to be right now, it could be tomorrow, or, or next week even! I think they're tired—"

"I shouldn't have asked you," Funtime Freddy sighed. "I said it before, there won't be a next time. Because they'll—you'll—just collect your paycheck and leave as soon as you can, won't you? It always happens…time after time...I don't blame them, the previous workers. It's not their fault they couldn't handle getting a little messy."

He patted your head condescendingly. He ruffled your hair, messing up the hairdo you'd worked on for a solid ten minutes to perfect. Then, he yanked on a tuft, and pulled violently. You cried out at the harsh snatching action. "But you're different from them, aren't you, friend? You know how to have a fun time, don't you?"

You whimpered, rubbing the spot he ripped the hair out of. Shaking your head and casting your view to the tiled floor, you dreaded his response. You didn't think you were mentally or physically prepared for how he could respond.

"What's the pained look for? I'll just teach you. There's nothing to worry about, [Y/N]."

"You...know my name?" He had never called you by your name before. It was always 'birthday kid' or 'friend,' or the very rare 'pal' or 'buddy.' You had been convinced he didn't bother to learn your name, or anyone else's.

"Of course I do, silly," he pointed to your uniform, and the shiny name tag attached. "It says it right there!"

You felt stupid for forgetting about the name tag, but in your defense, the only time you saw it was when you got dressed before coming to work. "Oh…"

"Back to business…" his hands reached for your neck. Not again…This time, he wrapped both paws around you, and squeezed, twisting around the skin and making it fold in on itself. He treated your neck like a wet wash rag or a towel, hanging it out to dry and wringing it of any remaining water. "Let's have fun!"

You felt like you couldn't breathe, his grip firm and tight. Your chest felt constricted and tense, it was so, so painful. You let out rough, anguished coughs. Could he just get this over with already, and kill you? Crush your chest with his weight, slit your throat with some sharp object...anything was better than this.

Squeeze. Paws, frigid and solid clasped down again and again. He maneuvered rhythmically, gaining a vicious pleasure from your pants and coughs. Twist. Fingers, dug so deep they could surely feel the underlayer of skin, twirled bits and pieces of your neck together and overlapped them. He let go briefly, to watch your long, unsteady intake of air, before he pinched immediately after, and let go. Agonized sounds tumbled from your lips, yelps and groans and screams.

All of your features communicated torment and terror. You hadn't processed it at first, too caught up in the moment, but there were salty, wet tears streaming down your face. You were sniffling, too, snotty-nosed and pitiful. But hey, at least you got a second to breathe, right?

Freddy gave one final, malicious wring of your neck, before he relaxed. He scanned your body, noting the cut from earlier and the dripping blood, the newly formed marks across your neck, and the tears. He chuckled airily, turning towards his bunny pal. Bon-Bon had his eyes covered and ear drooped down again, like when Freddy had made the cut against your skin.

"Yo-ou can open your eyes now, Bon-Bon. There's not-othing scary anymore…" Bon-Bon reluctantly did so, though he closed them as soon as he saw your miserable appearance.

"Freddy! Don't you think that's a little too...harsh?"

"Don't be su-uch a nag, Bon! They're abs-so-lutely fine. Just a little rough-oughed up."

❝ We know you want to deactivate us, but we just can't let that happen. Every night always, it never changes. But we can make accidents happen. ❞

Bon-Bon glared as best he could at his friend, and detached himself from his arm. He jumped down, falling flat on his face. He picked himself up, and started crawling, considering he didn't have legs.

He made his way over to you, which wasn't very far. He was slow, though, so despite the close proximity, it took him a good few seconds. He reached you, and jumped (somehow) onto your thigh.

He pressed a soft paw on your jeans, and stared innocently up at you. He offered one of his hands to you, and you slowly took it. He giggled softly.

"I'm sorry about Freddy! He's a little mean, I know…" 'A little' was an understatement. "I know you probably can't forgive him—I-I wouldn't either! But I'm not like him, I promise!" His already high-pitched voice raised a few octaves.

"So we can be friends, right? If," he started whispering now. "If you're friends with me, then Freddy might be less cruel...an-and I want to help!"

Funtime Freddy watched the both of you closely, curiously. He couldn't hear Bon-Bon's words now, because he was purely speaking in low, hushed tones. The puppet tugged at your finger and gestured for you to move him closer to your face. You did as he wanted, and he wiped your tears away. "You'll let me help, won't you?"

❝ We can make accidents happen, we can make accidents happen. We can make accidents happen, we can make accidents happen! ❞

You nodded—what else was there? Let Bon-Bon crawl back to Freddy and cry that you rejected his friendship? He'd strangle you again, or worse. Bon-Bon's eyes shined happily, and he jumped back to his companion.

"Wha-at did you talk ab-out, Bon-Bon?"

"Oh, nothing! I was just discussing something with my friend~!"

"Your friend?" Freddy peered at you intently. "The-them?"

"Of course, silly! Who else?"

"O-oh, Bon-Bon, that's great! You should've told me you were fr-riends with the birthday kid s-sooner! We could've had a party-y…"

"Aw, I'm sorry Freddy! We can always schedule that for some other time. I'm sure my—our—friend won't mind!" You would mind, in fact, but Bon-Bon was currently keeping you from dying, so you wouldn't complain.

"You wo-won't mind, wi-i-ill you?"

"Haha...nope, I won't mind a-at all…!"

"How fun! Whe-en should we ma-ake reservations, frie-end?"

"I—I get to pick…?"

"Of co-ourse! It's yo-our party, isn't it? I would hate-e to ruin your party plan-nning fun…"

"Ah...alright...then, how about...tomorrow?" You hoped that was a suitable reply.

Thankfully, it was, because Freddy perked up and clapped his hand with one of Bon-Bon's. "See-ee you tomorrow, [Y/N]. Don't keep us wai-iting…" He then unlocked the door (of course, he struggled to, with his big hands) and opened it.

You thanked him halfheartedly, and rushed out of the door. You slammed it shut, and sighed in relief. You were free to go now...so you did, running as fast as your feet could take you. You were going home after what felt like an eternity stuck here…

You'd have to come back the next day though, right? You told the rabbit and the bear that you would, and while you didn't particularly care if either of them got their feelings hurt, you also needed your paycheck. If Freddy believed all three of you were pals now, maybe he'd be softer?

Before you could leave the pizzeria in its entirety, you heard a voice in your mind. Baby.

"So, you survived…?" She sounded vaguely surprised. You understood why. "And...you're coming back, are you? Do you wish for pain? Or are you truly that desperate for your paycheck?"

You said nothing. "Nonetheless, I applaud you. Though, you certainly aren't the prettiest sight at the moment…"

'That wasn't my fault…'

"I'm aware. I warned you, so I can't feel all that bad about your current state...still, you should rest and patch yourself up. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

You wished Baby a goodnight in return. Finally out of the place, you found your car and hopped. You sped off, not looking back once.

Your house was peaceful, as was your state of mind. You weren't dead, just damaged emotionally and physically. But that was fine. It was nothing a little T.V. couldn't fix. You snuggled under a warm blanket and prepared yourself some popcorn. That same soap opera was on again...it was very clearly the vampire's baby, why didn't he understand that?

Yelling at the characters for their stupidity, you shoved another piece of popcorn into your mouth. You felt bad for Clara. Vlad was an idiot.

[audreysmusings]

your friend, ben | obi-wan kenobi

pt.I “rescued”

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x female!reader

part I

summary: obi-wan, now going by the name ben, rescues the reader after an encounter with pirates on tatooine. they both have a shared past, but covers to keep while inhabiting the planet. will their pasts get in the way of a possible friendship?

setting: set between episode III & kenobi (2022)

word count: 2.9k (omg i did not think it was that long)

warning(s): unedited writing, canon typical violence, slightly ooc obi wan (i say this because i’ve never written him before), let me know if i need to add more

author’s note: hey everyone! i’ve not written for a while now, but after watching kenobi, i was sucked back in. that being said, i’m really not sure how well received this will be. i have a general plan for the direction of the series, but i’m not sure if it’ll be wanted. still, i’m posting because i cannot get enough of obi-wan & i hope i can do the character some justice with this. i didn’t want the reader to be related to the jedi & i do have a plan for her & some conflict we’ll see soon. all i’m saying is i’m getting megara & hercules vibes from the reader & obi-wan.

please let me know if you’d like to read more!

i hope you enjoy!

27 BBY, Tatooine

It was a dark night in the desert, the air was cool, and the lack of sun welcomed all sorts of creatures to reveal themselves. Night on Tatooine was anything but serene. The shadows held secrets, cruel intentions, and wicked characters allowed to come out of hiding and roam free. Daylight offered safety and security, the twilight offered no such comfort.

The nightlife of Tatooine made up for its ordinary and rural daytime habits. The land was lawless past sundown. With crime high, security low, and a lack of imperial interference, this was every criminals’ playing field. Obi-Wan lived far from the epicenter of the planet’s crime world, far from anything lived in really, but ever so often there were stragglers. Like tonight.

There was a group of three figures, a rodian, a droid, and a figure shrouded in armor. Pirates or bounty hunters, maybe a mix of both. The closer the group got, Obi-Wan realized there was a fourth figure. Shrouded in a cloak with their head hung low and binders around their wrists, a captive.

The group suddenly stopped, not close enough to his home for him to pick up on conversation, but not too far to be out of eyesight. The three pirates moved to form a line and face the bound captive, their weapons aimed. Whatever intentions this band had, they were not hiding it. He hesitated, not sure whether to turn the other way or help the clear victim in the situation. It could very well be a trap of some sort. Whoever these people were, they didn’t acknowledge his presence if they know of it.

As he slowly approached the group, hiding behind rock formations, their voices were more clear.

The cloaked figure, still bound, spoke with confidence, “You’re making a mistake, boys.”

Her voice had a slight drawl to it, but it was clear she wasn’t from Tatooine. She sounded regal, her tone matching that of the politicians Obi-Wan had been surrounded by in the days of the Republic. Something about it was familiar enough to set off a light in the back of his mind, but besides the borderline familiarity he felt upon hearing the voice, he set it aside.

The armored man snickered and the rodian retorted right back in his native language.

It’s you who is mistaken. If you don’t come with us, you’ll never make it through the night.

You spit at them in response and shook your hands once more, attempting to reset the binders on your wrists.

The man in armor took a step forward and kept his blaster aimed at your head, “We have two options here: you agree to come with us and we wait for your ransom to be paid by your boss, or we leave you here defenseless in the night and come back to find you dead or gone by sunrise.”

“That’s assuming my boss doesn’t know you’re the ones who took me. Which I’m sure he already does or will figure out given the lack of rapport among you criminals.” You retorted, nodding to the other pirates.

The man chuckled, “Not if we’re the ones who return you and lead the crusade to finding your killer.”

You snorted at that, “No one would believe it for a second. You’d be just as dead as me!”

He stepped closer and pressed the blaster right against your temple, “You’re not leaving me with many options, sweetheart.”

You kept your chin high and spoke lowly, “You do realize that if I were to go with you it would be clear who my kidnappers were when you jump ship and leave this planet. You’d be putting a price on your head even you could never balance out, Jorel.”

The man, Jorel, held your gaze and lowered his gun, “Then I guess we’ll just have to leave you here.”

Before he could turn around you kneed his stomach and kicked his blaster out of his hand. The droid and rodian immediately cocked their guns at you before you could do anything else. Jorel stood back up and was laughing.

“The golden girl has some fight in her. Jabba would be proud.” He sneered.

He dusted himself off before making his way towards you. You scowled at him as he approached your frozen figure, still restrained. He held your chin and spoke lowly, “I wish I could say I’ll miss you, but that’d be a lie.”

You turned your head sharply and refused to meet his eyes, choosing to look at the ground, “If you think there will be no consequences to this, you’re wrong.”

He snickered, “I don’t think you know enough about this to really understand you won’t live to see the consequences.”

You stayed silent. Jorel gave a small nod to the others and they started to move around and behind you. In a swift movement, he shoved your shoulders back. Unable to catch yourself due to your restraints, you landed on the coarse sand with a thud. The shove knocked the air out of you, causing you to gasp for breath and strain against the binders.

Jorel crouched down to whisper in your ear, “I know you know better than to make any noise in the night, but just in case…”

He trailed off and before you could think, much less say anything, you felt a swift, yet forceful hit to the base of your jaw. It knocked you out.

When you wake up, your head is pounding and your chest feels tight. You slowly open your eyes to an unfamiliar room and furrow your brows as you take in your surroundings. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out shapes and implied lines. It’s a small room, a pallet of light neutrals and brown. You’re laid out on a cot with a thin blanket strewn lazily across your form.

You try to sit up, but your body is screaming for you not to. You barely lift your head up before you give up with a groan.

“Ah, you’re up.” A cool voice calls out.

“Where am I?” You ask, voice hoarse.

A man is walking around and he comes back to your side and gazes down at you. Your eyes begin to focus when he gets closer and you take in his features.

Maker, you must be dreaming. It can’t be him.

“You’re safe. Away from those pirates and recovering well, all things considered.” He answers simply.

“Pirates?” You repeat, furrowing your brows.

The man nods and gestures over to a pair of binders that rest on a small table. A dull pain makes itself known along your jaw and the memories of Jorel and his gang start to flood your mind.

“Oh, no. This can’t be a dream then.” You mumble, more to yourself than the kind stranger who rescued you.

“A dream?” The man repeats.

You chuckle dryly, “I’d only see a face like yours in my dreams.”

Jorel had to have done more once you were knocked out, your body should not be this weak. You struggle to sit up and settle on resting your weight on your elbows before looking the man up and down.

Right height, same build, same features, same eyes. It was definitely him. You’re staring. Who wouldn’t be? But, before you can inspect him further, he’s left your side and rummaging around in a wooden chest.

“They must’ve hit your head pretty hard then, I’m afraid my face is far from what I’d hope anyone could dream of.” He calls out over his shoulder.

You shake your head lightly, “No, it’s not that. You look like someone I once knew.”

The man stills, his back to you.

“A friend.”

“I have no friends.” He announces finally.

You stay silent, not sure where to go from there. He makes his way back to you with a small, warm cloth in his hands. He hands it to you and you place it lightly under your jaw. You study his face once more, becoming more sure by the second that it was in fact Obi-Wan in front of you.

If he recognized you, he didn’t address it.

You weren’t sure if the former Jedi would even be able to recognize you now. The last time you saw him would have been in the glory days of the Republic. Before both of your lives had been dashed away like a small speck of stardust in an instant. You represented the last of a dying age, the strength of the senate before it was corrupted. The galaxy had been far from kind to you since the rise of the Emperor.

You could only assume Obi-Wan endured a worse fate, judging by the fact that he now lives in the farthest point of the galaxy from anything significant. The man in front of you was no longer a regal warrior. He was aged, tired, and most of all, his eyes practically drowned in sadness. His soft auburn hair was grown out above his shoulders and there were silver strands poking through. His face, still handsome, adorned some new lines and wrinkles. You noted that they seemed to enhance his features more than anything.

You wondered how long he’d been here. Surely someone as powerful as he would choose a better place to exile. You weren’t here by choice. No one was here by choice. Maybe he wasn’t either.

You hesitate before questioning him, “What might I call you?”

He looks into your eyes and you can see a hint of recognition behind them, but he does not play with the idea.

“You can call me Ben.”

You nod slowly, “Well thank you for rescuing me, Ben.”

He doesn’t reply, instead he sits down on a wooden stool next to your cot.

“So, who exactly did I rescue?” He asks carefully, staring straight ahead.

You frown, unsure if he’s playing a game, or if he truly doesn’t remember you.

You answer honestly, confirming Obi-Wan’s suspicions. He could not ignore it anymore or chalk up your appearance and mannerisms to a mere coincidence. But the last time he saw you, you were on Coruscant, a senator, not someone taken hostage on Tatooine of all places.

“I take it that you’re not from here, then?” Ben asks.

You shake your head, “I got here a few years back.”

‘Before you became a war criminal and I fell from the ranks of a leader to something as insignificant as a grain of sand on this planet’ stays on your tongue, better left unsaid.

“I haven’t wanted to go anywhere else since.”

The words feel bitter rolling off your tongue, their aftertaste leaving nothing but spite behind. The statement surprises Obi-Wan, he’d assumed you were on a mission of some sort, not an inhabitant of this planet.

He studies you, his eyes flicking from your own to your injuries.

“You should be fine once you get some rest. Nothing’s broken.”

You nod, “I’m grateful, Ben. I must admit I wasn’t sure what would become of me at one point.”

“You say that as if you deal with this sort of thing often.” He muses.

You chuckle lightly, “I’m afraid I do.”

His brows raise up at your admission, “You ought to be more careful, then.”

You shrug, “I always manage to get out unscathed.”

He snorts at that.

You turn and look at him with an amused expression, “Besides, I always have friendly desert hermits save me in the night.”

Obi-Wan lets out a small smile at that. You sit in what you could only call a sweet silence before he clears his throat.

“I suggest you stay the night, I know those pirates are not the only dangers out there this late.” He announces.

You raise your brows, feigning shock. “My, my, desert hermit! Maybe I was too quick to call you friendly.”

He rolls his eyes, “If you’d like to be at the disposal of sand people, be my guest.”

You pretend to consider it.

“Their intentions may be more pure than yours, Ben.” You retort with a sly smile, accentuating the drawl on his ‘name’.

Obi-Wan huffs out a breath of air before turning to you with an amused gaze, “Do you always try to seduce your rescuers?”

“Do you always let it go this far?” You counter.

His smile fades and turns into a slight frown, “As I told you, I have no friends. It’s rare I get a ‘hello there’ from a stranger, let alone a come on.”

His honesty baffled you, the Obi-Wan before had a sharp wit as his defense, this one just seemed to have blatant honesty. Maybe that was the difference between an Obi-Wan and a Ben. No show, no defenses, just honesty. Something the war could’ve benefitted from.

“Well, if you’d like, I could be your friend.” You offered, angling your body towards his.

Obi-Wan sighed, “I can’t imagine what you’d gain from being my friend. I’m a lonely desert hermit as you so eloquently put it.”

“I never said lonely.” You interjected.

“It was implied.”

You pursed your lips at his retort. Clearly, any semblance of the man’s pride from before was worn down. You had the desert to thank for that.

“I don’t know about you, Ben, but it’s not often I encounter a friendly face.”

Familiar as well, you thought.

You continue, “That in itself is something to gain from a friendship. Kind eyes in a less than kind world.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t agree more, but there was something keeping him from acknowledging the fact that you were no stranger to him. It was a strong feeling, tangible in the air around you, that this was not the time. He was sure you’d already recognized him, but he felt certainly that you’d both be more than happy not to open up wounds of the past so soon.

Plenty of time had passed and it changed him, he knew it had changed you as well. Though you seemed normal on the surface, he could sense a shift in your countenance. Something only true despair and loss can do to a person. Something he recognized on his own face every time he saw his reflection. Though your strong will had not died, something else had. There was less of a warmth around you, something that had enveloped and surrounded him in the past.

A part of him wondered again if this was a trap. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly bring someone like you to place like this. You deserved to be in far better conditions than this, he’d seen you thrive on Coruscant and light up a room with your aura. Something dark must have happened, he was sure of it. He did not question it was the Emperor’s doing, no one as bright as you could be left to their own devices. You’d be a constant threat to the Empire.

Breaking himself out of his thoughts, he looked to you once more, “I suppose you’re right.”

You smiled softly, “I usually am.”

“Although, if we are to be friends, I need at least a days notice for when you’re in need of rescuing.”

If only he knew.

“I’ll make sure to keep you informed then.” You told him, your smile not quite meeting your eyes.

He nodded in approval before you spoke again.

“If we are to be friends, my one condition is that I need you to know what you referred to as a ‘come on’ earlier was no such thing.” You stated matter of factly.

“Ah, my apologies then.” Obi-Wan replied.

“Believe me when I say you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” You continued.

“Because you know me so well.” He interjected.

You nodded firmly, “As I said before, desert hermits rescue me frequently and they happen to be my area of expertise.”

At that, Obi-Wan, or Ben, apparently, let out a hearty laugh. It was something you hadn’t expected, something he did not expect either. This was probably the first time he’d even conversed with someone not involving directions or orders.

It was dangerous, Obi-Wan thought. He shouldn’t let someone in after all these years, risk blowing his cover. Especially someone he knows, or rather, knew. He has no true familiarity with this version of you; the kind he rescues from pirates at night on Tatooine of all places. Although he’d been your security detail more than once in his days as a young knight, so this was really an example of what had been prevented by him in the past.

What puzzled him more was the fact that you lived here. Even more so the fact that you didn’t address him, or really, past him. Obi-Wan, not Ben. It seemed you were in some sort of hiding as well. From what, he did not know. Though if the friendship were to continue, a secret part of him hoped to find out. To be able to be honest with you. That being said, he wasn’t sure what this could even lead to. Everything in his mind told him not to engage, but he had to trust that the universe sent you to him for a reason.

It was not like Obi-Wan to think that way, but after so many years alone, it had started to wear him down more than he’d like to admit. It was foolish really, to think anything good could come from you reuniting. But, a companionship with you seemed too tempting to say no to.

He chose not to dig further into why.

By the time you had woken up, Obi-Wan was gone. The only sign you hadn’t imagined him taking you in was a note next to you when you woke up. It read:

Stay out of trouble.

Until next time.

Your friend, Ben

[oblivionumbra]

Yay! I'm so happy you are taking requests. Thanks for answering! ❤️ I was wondering if I could get a fic with Ellis from L4D where him and the reader (female) have a young daughter together named Nessarose? No smut involved, just really fluffy little family fic. Cute, and I want you to have fun with it! I'll enjoy anything you post. Thank you again, I appreciate you!!! 🌝🥺

I absolutely adore this! My heart!!!

Left 4 dead Ellis x Fem! Reader Parenting at it's finest

(A bit OOC for Ellis)

You felt a smile tug at your lips as you watched the door to your bedroom slowly opened. Your husband was still sound asleep beside you, loudly snoring unaware of the small figure that snuck into your room. However, you pretend not to notice the little one that miserably hid how quiet their steps were. It wasn't until said little one was within arms reach was when you made your move. Yanking the covers off you and your husband, you lunged off the bed and wrapped you and your daughter in a blanket cocoon. "COME HERE!" You yelled scaring the daylights out of your daughter. The loud screech that followed after, woke up your husband a thud telling you he fell out of bed. "Ellis, love are you alright?" A muffled. "Yeah!" Made you and your daughter laugh.

"I almost had it!" Nessarose exclaimed as you made breakfast. This made you softly chuckle as Ellis held an ice pack to his head. "Well, your steps were a bit loud sweetie." You say as you place the plates down. Ellis made exaggerated kungfu moves. "Yeah, you gotta be sneaky like a ninja." Shaking your head, you nod to Ellis. "Not to mention your father's snoring like a damn grizzly bear woke me up way before hand." To this he looks at you with an offended look, Nessarose loudly laughed. "I don't snore." You raised a brow and look over at your daughter who took your side. "Daddy, you snore really REALLY loud. Like shaking the house loud!" Ellis placed a hand over his heart and let out a gasp. "My own daughter goin against me! What has the world come to!" You rolled your eyes and softly laughed.

Just then your daughter smiled up at you. "Can you teach me how to be a ninja mom?" You shrugged before standing up with your plate. "If you wish to be a good ninja first you must do the most important thing to becoming a good ninja." She beams up at you waiting for you to finish the sentence. Ellis chuckles knowing where this is going. "All good ninjas go to school and get good grades." You laughed as Nessarose deflated in her chair. "But school is boring!" Ellis points his fork to her then to you. "Yeah but how do ya think me and your mom are awesome fighters in those stories we tell ya?" With a little huff she lowers her head. "If it means becoming the best ninja in the world-" Suddenly she jumps from her chair almost scaring you. "-then I will go to school to become the bestest ninja in the whole wide world!" You pumped your fist in the air. "That's the spirit! Now lets get going, don't wanna wait on the road to become the bestest ninja now do we?" She hopped down from her chair and took a hold of your hand. "Let's go!"

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

EVENING OF THE SEVENTH

One-shot #: 29

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: For @bloodshot13​. You wanted a Japanese Festival. AU. So here it is. I must say it is an awesome suggestion and would be a pity if it’s only going to be a drabble. Besides the story itself wanted to be a bit longer so I yielded. Enjoy!

I used the Japanese Tanabata Festival for this hence the title. And for wordplay reason as well. I think this festival is a good choice of setting for these two’s not-so-perfect first date.

Summary: Not all first dates are perfect. And with Zoro and Nami… this shouldn’t come as a surprise at all.

“You’re late.”

A pout appeared on pinkish lips before a familiar I-knew-it-look appeared on Nami’s face as she stared him down.

Zoro scratched the back of his head. “It’s nothing new,” he retorted—a bit weakly though—trying to justify why he made her wait for him for a good fifteen minutes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she deadpanned. “It’s a miracle you even made it here.”

Zoro glared at her for that comment.

Nami glared back… more viciously. “Zoro, this place is just a ten minute walk from your apartment! Fifteen from mine and I still got here before you!” She explained with a huff.

“I’m here now aren’t I?”

Nami regarded him with eyes promising excruciating pain solely for him.

“If this is your idea of dating a girl, you definitely suck Zoro.”

“Oi!”

It didn’t occur to the green-haired idiot that Nami hated standing alone at festival’s entrance, waiting for him to arrive. It didn’t helped that a lot of couples who passed by gave her lingering, wondering gazes before whispering to each other making her feel uncomfortable.

“Let’s just go,” Nami spun around to leave him still scratching his dumb head. “We’re wasting time.” She said it in a rather curt tone that made Zoro feel dread coiling inside his stomach.

Damn it! They barely made it past the festival entrance and Nami’s already mad at him.

It only took three strides for him to catch up to her as she entered the festival street. It was filled with people of all ages. Japanese lanterns hung overhead lighting the whole place, along with decorations made from colorful papers in different shapes. There were ornamental balls with their colorful streamers everywhere while stalls for food, games and other items for sell bordered both sides. Children ran around them, as their parents breathlessly tried to catch up, warning them that they might get lost.

“Oi Nami,” he called as the orange-haired girl pouted her way through the festival’s jam-packed and noisy street. “Come on. Wipe that sulky look off your face.”

“Hmph!”

“Fine!” He huffed, feeling his temper flare at her tantrum.

Nami tried to hurry away from him and Zoro rolled his eye as her effort was futile while wearing a yukata.

He followed her with a scoff as she continued making her way through crowd, ignoring the stalls around them. She was heading at the end of the street where a bridge leading to the temple was situated. It was lit up with the same lanterns that were hanging above them. Bamboo trees lined up its sides decorated with tanzaku in different colors.

“Nami.”

“What?!” She hissed barely glancing at him as she continued walking, her wooden sandals clicking angrily at every step.

“Why are you angry? I arrived here didn’t I?”

She stopped in front of a stall selling candy apples and chocolate bananas and stared at him in disbelief.

The idiot had forgotten that they agreed to meet an hour earlier than what their friends had set so they could enjoy the festival together without any interruptions.

Nami didn’t bother reminding him of that. What’s the use? Instead she just pressed some fingers to her temple to subdue the impending headache that is Zoro.

They still haven’t made it past ten minutes together and she’s ready to kick the living daylights out of his moronic ass.

“Ugh. I give up,” she groaned after a few seconds, shoulders slumping dejectedly.

“What now?” Zoro growled at her.

Nami lifted her eyes to glare at him again. This was supposed to be a sort-of-‘romantic’ evening between the two of them.

They finally agreed to try and move their relationship one step further a week ago… from long-time friends to lovers finally…

She thought that this festival is the perfect opportunity to test the waters for their first ‘date’.

Did she honestly she believed things are going to be easy with this man? Not when it looks like Zoro still has to grasp the concept of ‘dating’.

This will definitely take a lot of work. A damn LOT of work!

She let out an exasperated sigh and Zoro’s brows furrowed.

“Let’s just go hang wishes on those bamboos and wait for the others so we can enjoy this festival.” Nami mumbled as she turned away from him for the second time that night, practically giving up the thought that they can pull off anything akin to a date at this festival.

Zoro frowned at what she said. Wait for the others so they can enjoy tonight?

Her statement actually hit a spot.

Weren’t they were supposed to enjoy this together? Wasn’t that the plan?

He ran a hand along his hair in frustration and followed her silently.

This time Nami was not hurrying away from him. She strode ahead in a cool manner, head shifting left and right as she observed the stalls lining the street.

His frown deepened.

Ok, maybe it’s his mistake for being late. But it’s not his fault he kept ending up on the other side of the street from the where the festival is taking place! It was too crowded and the directions posted for its location were confusing.

He had circled the area thrice before he spotted Nami—looking really pretty in her mikan-patterned, light-green yukata with her hair up in a side bun and decorated with a bouquet-like kanzashi, its dangling beads swinging slightly from her movement.

There were curling wisps of her orange hair framing her face and it made him want to reach out and touch them just to feel their softness against his fingers.

Zoro clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, mentally chastising himself as he recalled the look on Nami’s face earlier as she peered in the crowd waiting for him to show up.

It dawned into him that he didn’t like that expression on her.

He reached out to grasped her hand in his, stopping Nami in her tracks.

“Hey… I’m sorry ok?”

Nami looked surprised with what he said. She looked down and blinked at their joined hands disbelievingly before shifting her eyes up at him.

Then she pursed her lips as if trying to stop herself from smiling at him.

“You’re an idiot Zoro.”

“Yeah, I know.”

This time she didn’t fight the smile that wanted to appear on her lips.

“I should’ve expected this,” she said with a roll of her eyes as she squeezed his hand that was still clasping hers. “Next time… I’ll just pick you up in your apartment to save us time.” She stared straight in his eye, daring him disagree with her.

“Fine.” He answered and Nami looked startled at how easily he agreed. “If it saves me from your pouts and sulking as we—OUCH!”

Nami deliberately stepped on his feet with her wooden sandal with a cheeky smile on her face.

“I’ll make you regret saying that.”

It was Zoro’s turn to groan.

She tugged at his hand, urging him to continue moving forward into a less crowded spot near the bridge.

“Honestly… I’m looking forward spending this time with you,” she admitted quietly as they stood near the stall that sells tanzaku.

“I know,” he nodded and gazed at her seriously. He reached out to touch the curling wisp of her hair with his fingers. He was right. It was soft. “Me too.”

This one hour spent alone with him is precious for her and it is the same for him. They are still at beginning of their relationship… their friends still doesn’t have any inkling about the change in their status yet.

Nami had the right to be pissed at him earlier because he just wasted some of what was supposedly their time together.

They smiled at each other before Nami gave the sleeve of his yukata a rather hard yank.

“Let’s go Zoro! We still have a lot to do before the others are here.” Her tone immediately turned domineering as she pulled him towards tanzaku stall. “We need to hang our wishes on those bamboos first!”

Zoro just snorted and she grinned back at him.

“And you still have to treat me with some yakitori and candy apples!”

“Hah? Why should I do that?!”

“This is a date Zoro! The guy usually shelves out the cash when you’re out on a date!”

“You witch! You’re just trying to get back at me for being late!”

Nami gave him her most dazzling smile.

“That too… And we still have to check all the stalls with those games. You promised me goldfishes remember?” She pointed at the stall for goldfish scooping.

“I have?”

“Yeah… you did…” Nami glowered at him. “You’re bragging about your scooping skills the other day. And we made a bet on how many you’ll really be able to catch.”

Zoro laughed. That they did. “Fine, I’ll catch you some alright?” He conceded and gave her a soft smile that made Nami melt on the spot.

He reached for her hand again as she lead them towards their first agenda for the night.

They still have half an hour to enjoy their date without their cheeky friends intruding. Well… if worst comes to worst… he and Nami can just sneak away from them to enjoy the fireworks and the rest of the festival together.

[chromosome23hq]

august 11th, 1997, 6:05 am, silverhouse apartments

One fine morning, with a mug of coffee in one hand and a watering can in the other, Billie Foster was not prepared for the crack of a gun to kick her into a vision. A crowd. A masked figure. Mayor Peter Webber, now with a hole in his forehead. So many lives altered in one fell swoop that the crowd overwhelmed her. A small stampede had Billie stumbling back into her apartment. Coffee in her monstera and water soaking her feet. She didn't get a chance to see anymore details, only a masked figure and an untimely death.

It’s not something Billie can just ignore, especially when it comes to the death of a public figure, much less the mayor. She needed to tell someone, an officer of some sort who can protect the mayor from anything. It’s when she remembers them, the Omegas. It’s a part of their job description to protect the weak and innocent, which includes the mayor. A heavy and deep sigh leaves between her lips. This is not how she wanted to start her morning. 

august 14th, 1997, 11:45 am, somewhere in the city

This has to be the most boring protection assignment in the world. For the past few days, all Yazmín Navarro Montes’ (also known as Siren) done is escort Mayor Peter Weber everywhere to defend him against an assassination threat. He still has his bodyguards, but extra cushion with Yazmín here, as Prism described it. Of course, it’s unspoken that this also works as great publicity. She had wanted nothing to do with it, which meant Prism had to pick her for this. Her luck always worked that way. Today, she’s starting to wonder if this threat was real at all, or a phony stunt to benefit the mayor and the Omegas. There’s been no suspicious figures lingering around his office or home, no attempts, and no threats sent to him. 

Still, Yazmín doesn’t slack on her job. She always has an eye out, ready to push the mayor out of the way or stop a would-be killer. They’re outside for a few minutes when something starts to bother her. There’s water everywhere she can sense, then suddenly there’s a spike. It’s nowhere near winter, but something freezing just entered the vicinity. No one stands out in the crowd, until—

Already running behind schedule after sleeping in late, Ethan Sato pays no heed to his surroundings as he cuts past a gentleman on his journey to class. He’s cursing himself internally, vowing for the umpteenth time to start going to bed earlier, when his internal monologue is drowned out by a wave of terror. Ethan stops in his tracks, his heartbeat thundering, panic squeezing down on his chest. Breathe, he needs to breathe. He takes in one, shuddering breath, knowing that this—whatever this is—isn’t his, then turns around and he sees—

“Oh, my God.” He claps his hand over his mouth. Behind Ethan is the Mayor, haloed by his own blood as he lays on the footpath. It takes Ethan a solid minute to process what he sees, what he feels, before he scrambles backwards, yelling, “Help! Somebody help!”

As soon as his co-worker had walked in, Jaewon Oh had scampered off for his break. An entire hour away from inane questions was exactly what he needed. Deciding to take a stroll to his favorite nearby coffee shop was done automatically, he ate there almost everyday. Unfortunately for him, his hour was coming to an end and so he made his way back with an extra sandwich in his hand. 

He was contemplating whether or not he could get away with leaving the store early when he saw it. Or, rather, them. A person in a mask appeared seemingly out of nowhere and Jaewon, curious, watched as they walked ahead of him with purpose. something about this didn’t feel right, he wasn’t sure exactly what was going on but there was a sinking feeling in his gut. 

Should he do something? No, yes? He was just about to shake off the feeling, not wanting to get involved in business that wasn’t his own, when he saw a man ahead of him go down. It took him a moment to register that it was the mayor and said mayor had just been shot. The masked figure was running and Jaewon watched, frozen to his spot, as they did so. On the sidewalk ahead of him the mayor lay dying, the particles of energy around him turning a meek gray as the life left him. 

Jaewon took several steps back and pressed himself against a storefront, brows furrowed. it couldn’t have been a normal bullet, a gun going off was loud. this had been too quiet. suspicion rose in him, humans could quiet a gun, sure, but not to that extent. could … could it have been a mutant? Jaewon looked back at the scene that was now filled with people, all as terrified as they were shocked, and wondered. It certainly seemed like a possibility. shit, he’d just witnessed the mayor getting shot, the mayor being killed. Soon enough police sirens would echo down the street and detectives would go looking for bystanders. Not wanting to be questioned, he quickly walked in the opposite direction and stewed in his own theories.

Sitting on the stairs of a building that had been ‘under construction’ for five years now (he’d been keeping track of time—the crew seemed to have abandoned it), David Castillo withdrew his flask and took a swig, eyeing the passersby—trying to find who best to focus on. Woman with the dog thinking about how the groomers screwed her poodle’s nail polish up completely? (he didn’t agree, they looked marvelous)—she walked by too fast. Man with the shirt that read ‘D.A.R.E - to keep kids off drugs’ and was already thinking about that sweet weed he would score later? Also too fast. 

That was the only problem with a staircase in the middle of an ‘under construction’ type of place!

Voices swirling around, from those thinking about their affairs to those thinking about their loyal spouses, he shook his head viciously. 

And then a strong voice emerged. 

Strong emotion.

Strong passion.

Strong thought.

‘Got ‘em.’

Followed by screams—real ones.

And a silence. Even amongst the screams... a silence.

It’s too late. 

There’s barely any noise between the mayor standing in front of Yazmin, and dropping to the ground. Blood is everywhere. Some of it’s even on her suit, her hands. She had bent down to hold the wound without thinking, before realizing it’s all too late. 

There’s people running away in the crowd, and that’s how she knows the shooter isn’t far ahead. She’s running before the bodyguards do, head going through anyway she could to slow them down. Every option can lead to civilian injuries or worse. Shit! Yaz speeds up, water rising from her side pouch and striking out toward the assailant’s ankle as they round the corner. It misses by an inch. 

As she enters the alley, she sends a dozen sharp edged droplets at the wall with a yell for them to stop. But no one’s there. The only evidence that remains is a spray painted symbol.

august 17th, 1997, 5:34 pm, ramer cemetery 

Peter Webber is found dead on sight. Upon inspection, they’re unable to find a bullet but water is found. Because of Yazmín’s ability and past criminal record, the suspicion falls onto her. Banks and schools are closed early that day, and remain that way until the funeral. National news channels cover it nearly twenty-four seven, wondering how the mayor of one of the most prominent cities in America was shot in broad daylight and by who. All channels in New York cut into their current programming to broadcast the funeral, from the funeral home to the drive to the cemetery. Crowds line the streets during the procession to show their love for the beloved mayor, as well as grieve his loss and the loss it is to the city. His children and wife thank those for being there with them through this difficult time. The vice mayor, who was sworn in days before, tells the city they’ll get through this together and follow the vision Mayor Peter Webber had.

august 18th, 1997, 9:30 am, new york city hall

This isn’t the first time that Han-Byul Song (also known as Prism) stands surrounded by cameras, microphones, and journalists waiting for what he has to say. But he can say that it’s the first time dealing with them like this. Individuals who once looked at him as if he was like them, now they see him as something else. It doesn’t sit right with him, none of this sits right with him. However, he’s a professional and never the type to let someone see him when he’s at his lowest. With a straightened back and squared shoulders, Han-Byul begins his statement. 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the city, my name is Prism and as you all know, I’m the current leader of the Omegas. We are tasked with protecting the lives of the innocent, both mutants and non-mutants. Recently, we were given the mission to watch over and protect Mayor Peter Webber, sending one of our own to act as one of his bodyguards.” His eyes fall on Yazmín, the young mutant standing beside him with a cold stare and a rigid body. “Despite our best efforts to protect the mayor, we—” Failed. The words fall from his tongue but it doesn’t feel like he’s the one saying it. He can see the questions that are ready to leap out of their mouths, the hunger in their eyes, beasts. They were all beasts. “However, this doesn’t mean that our mission ends here. We’re now undergoing an investigation to look for and capture the person behind this. Once we find this individual, we’ll bring justice to all of you but also Mayor Webber.” 

There are questions, lots of them, and he answers, some of them. There isn’t enough or maybe that’s what he tries to tell himself as Yazmín takes his place to read over her apology. He’s listening but also not, he’s mainly just watching her and the crowd. Even though she was there acting as a bodyguard, she’s a suspect. Just because of her ability, just because she’s a mutant, just because they needed a scapegoat. 

OOC INFORMATION:

Mayor Peter Webber died on August 14th, 1997 and his funeral was held on the 17th. Various radio talk shows and news articles report on his death. Your muse can react however they want to this! 

The masked killer is Daichi Kato (played by Admin Kashia). No muse is aware of him killing the mayor, outside of Magneto. Yazmín is under the suspicion of partaking. 

This marks the true beginning of The Brotherhood showing themselves to everyone, which also means they’re recruiting people in. Your muse has the decision to join them but be aware of the true purpose of The Brotherhood! The spots are unlimited. 

If you play a Xavier student or staff member, things will be tense as Charles plans on what to do next.

And that’s the way the pussy crumbles.

[sinnhelmingr]

tell me about heldolin possible reconcilliation? // @usedhearts​

rubs my filthy little gay hands together. oh yeah baby talk complicated wlw to me--

So, the groundwork for this hypothetical: Our little AU for 3, where Gwyndolin is saved from her canonical fate by a daring rescue on the part of her ex-wife. The two have been distant for some decades, ranging from cool hostility to open disregard, but with that underlying air of disappointment lacing every interaction. There’s nothing to salvage, but Hel’s not the kind of person that can leave anyone to what was planned, regardless of their interpersonal issues. One fraught road trip through enemy territory until they reach safety later...

Well there’s a lot to work through. First being Lin’s lingering trauma surrounding her captivity. Her we get the first hints of reconciliation in Hel’s refusal to let her deal with it alone. Yes, Gwynevere can help, and yes, her realm is safe and offers whatever support the wayward queen requires, but no one here saw it. No one here understood what the Valley had become. Even if they have lingering disagreements, Hel is the one sleeping on the floor of Lin’s chamber rather than in her own bed, because she can’t stand to think of someone she once cared for dealing with all of this alone. It helps, in some way, because Lin does need someone there and is going through it trying to cope.

Every possible reconciliation attempt proceeds from there. Hel has gone through, well, hell and back to save Lin and is still devoted to making sure she’s safe, but it’s not romantic. It’s honestly just Hel doing what she perceives as the right thing. Whether it helps or not, or her role could be filled by anyone else Lin cared for, it doesn’t matter because she’s the one there. And like it or not, she’s not going anywhere. From this, we have a variety of options but the two I personally see working out are these: 

Lin coming to rely on that, sort of clinging to Hel even if not literally. When not dealing with any official business regarding the ongoing political nightmare, she might drift towards Hel, wherever she is within the palace. 

Alternatively, given the mood of most of their interactions post-divorce, there’s a chance it starts as resentment. That Lin can’t stand to be in her shadow, clinging to her in the daylight when her struggles are easier to bear. 

Either way, the two are at least within physical proximity to one another, given Lin’s mental health and coping skills. Which is, inevitably, going to lead to a lot more run ins with her nephew.

Hel in a lot of ways has come to care for Lothric as if he were her own, because my God someone has to love that kid beyond his brother. Someone has to care about his wellbeing. He’s irreverent and he’s anxious and he’s struggling but determined to keep going, hardly the pious saint of the royal family’s propaganda. His wit is sharp and at times cruel, and he’s unsure about a lot of things but trying to hide that fact. Lin’s going to have to, through watching Hel interact with him, accept that her nephew is in fact more than a sacrifice -- for now. I think it’s Lin showing initiative to defrost ice queen around Lothric is going to start changing Hel’s demeanor towards her as well.

Like that’s not to say Lin changing overnight to team ‘hey yeah let’s not roast a living person with autonomy who never had a chance to live!’ is what it would take. That’d be unrealistic and OOC. I think it’s just. Hel being able to see that Lin can set aside her pride or stubbornness just long enough to get to know her sacrificial lamb as a person, as something more than what the rest of the world makes him by hers and Nev’s design. Lin defrosts to Lothric, Hel defrosts to Lin. It’s equivalent.

I think that would be the tipping point to sort of lessen the feeling of obligation between them. Maybe they can finally start talking again like people who are on at least civil terms, if not outright friendly. In my head it plays a little like their initial childhood interactions where Lin is reticent but observant and Hel is the more daring of them. She leads, and for a time, to a certain degree, Lin follows. And during the course of the narrative, as the latter grows stronger, as she acclimates herself to life outside of a cage, Hel starts to back off more and more. 

Maybe Lin won’t need her so much now, maybe things will go back to normal. And instead, Lin still leaves the door open between them, as it were. Just because she’s no longer so reliant on Hel doesn’t mean she wants her gone. 

Or maybe she tries to keep her distance if she’s still fighting against certain imminent realizations. Maybe she tries to shut the door but finds, as always, Hel has a key and she just. Accepts it over time. It’s her choice whether to come and go, just as she can choose to tell her to leave. 

Another vital step in their potential reconciliation is that it not be built upon reliance or obligation -- now they can see each other as relative equals.

By this point Hel’s been doing everything short of actually saying the words to convey she’s not stopped loving Lin. Even if she doesn’t realize it, there’s no other way people can take her actions. For Lin, I don’t know if it’s that simple but we can talk it out next time you’re online because Christ I’ve been typing this so long the weekend is over and you are back at work. The vibe I get from your Lin is that even if she cares she’s daddy’s girl and stubborn as hell once she’s been hurt. She’s either unsure or unwilling to convey that she’d like to patch things up. Which is valid, she’s been through a lot, there’s so much to work through before she even thinks of romance ever again. She’s especially been through the loss of her daughter, and that bond comes before anything else.

(Sidenote for those who are not privy to our discord lore: Let’s put a pin in the fact that at present Lothric has decided his salvation lies in overriding his mother’s decision to just lock him in the kiln once he’s ‘ready.’ He’s seen how Hel can influence his aunt and said ‘Yes, of course, I have to Parent Trap them into a reconciliation and then Hel will convince Aunt Gwyndolin I deserve to live and Mother won’t have any allies left!’ All the while his primary lackey is just questioning what version of the Parent Trap he saw because that’s not the plot at all-- /j. Anyway there’s three idiots -- two princes and a physician -- out here trying to play matchmaker despite the fact none of them have any romantic experience. This can only end well.)

I feel like the real test is going to be whether distance makes the heart grow fonder. Hel’s got other responsibilities out there, and once assured Lin is in a more stable place, that others will be there for her in a way that helps, she has to take care of them. She has to be with her own people, has to make sure they are safe, keep an eye on the world beyond. She’s gone like a thief in the night, and Lin has to learn how to navigate the world without her, furthering the balancing act between them returning to normal. Hel rode off on her big black horse and no one cna say for sure when she’ll be back. She comes and goes through the kingdom like a storm, staying just long enough to cause problems but gone with the slightest shift in atmosphere. The horse comes back only weeks later. Its rider does not. Instead, perched upon that black stallion is a familiar crossbreed, tattered but hanging in there.

Hel saved her, at the cost of her own freedom. What can Lin possibly think about that?

So it’s a flurry of Lin campaigning for her sister to send a party to save Hel, Nev saying that she can’t do it yet, possibly as she is is too busy with the fracturing of her own kingdom to lend the men. All the same, she forbids Lin from going off and doing something drastic. Tells her younger sister to stay with her daughter and help Yorshka heal. She needs it. Which works bc we have that big dramatic Hel returning to the castle drenched in blood and falling cinematically into Lin’s arms. It’s the drama these wlw deserve. 

And as we know, Lin insists on being Hel’s own caretaker while she recovers. To the point she scrutinizes every move Lothric’s physician makes in checking that the newly returned Death isn’t badly injured. Lothric thinks he stays winning because now Lin’s doing the same ‘demonstrate love but don’t speak it’ bullshit that Hel is so adept at. He’s buying his physician drinks after this despite her protests that alcohol does not sit well with her--

Hel eventually recovers enough from the strenuous battle and escape to start moving around the castle more. She confesses that, despite gossip saying this was some act of passion to show her devotion, she didn’t do this for Lin. She did it because it was the right thing to do, because Yorshka was in danger, and it had nothing to do with her mother. Something that breaks Lin’s shell completely because it proves Hel is still the woman she fell in love with. She didn’t risk her life and return the one Lin loves the most as a hollow token meant to win her heart again, she did it because her conscience has never steered her wrong. 

Now try this one on for size: One day it dawns on Hel that something is missing. She tears up her room seeking it only for Lin to finally be That Bitch and hold out her exes wedding pendant -- one she found that Hel never stopped wearing, if the fact it was still around her throat when Lin stripped her of her bloody dress is any indication. Hel’s been found out. Lin’s about to start asking some serious questions.

And if one of them can finally confess at this point that whether the love stopped or never did they feel it now just as they did before, that’s not the end. That’s not reconciliation. Because the fact remains that they broke up over an act that Hel considered pure evil, when Lin helped decide the ultimate fate of Lothric. Reconciliation is going to depend wholly on how AU we want to go, if Hel and the revived Artorias are able to convince Lin that this is heinous and even if it is what her father would have wanted, it isn’t right, it makes her just as terrible as he was. If Lin can finally see to reason or at least sentiment over legacy and duty, then I can see the pair moving towards actual reconciliation and spending at least the last days of a dying world together and at peace with their ultimate fates. If not... Oof. There might be other ways to make it work once Lothric goes rogue and says he won’t be kindling, if Lin can admit that yes, that means all the cruelty was for nothing and she was wrong (like her sister does), then maybe some slowburn reconciliation could take place.

But ultimately it’s going to depend on both character development on Lin’s part, whether by choice or in spite of resistance, and Hel proving that all the things Lin has accused her of (changing, being untrue, being corrupted by heresies) are untrue. Changing and steadfast characterization in tandem. Barely even friends (after the divorce) then somebody bends unexpectedly--

[taylorali-blog]

to the anonymous in my inbox, thanks for the information? i guess? i’ve been playing taylor for years now and i’ve read just about every “psa” on her that there could possibly be on tumblr, therefore i struggle to see why you’ve sent me this message. i understand that taylor’s not always made the most politically correct decisions, that that leaves some people not fond of her and i respect that, and if the admins ask me to drop taylor due to whatever your aforementioned psa says, then i’ll gladly take a step back. until then, please take whatever grievances you have with me and my fc either off anonymous and in an IM or to the admins, or merely block me and continue about your day.

thanks! xx

[smarmaladey]

The Bad Touch - (3/3)

Chapter 3 - “the discovery channel”

Rating: 🇪

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure

Relationships:  🐞♡🚺

Words: 12479 (yikes i know)

Ao3 Link  Prev.

(For content warnings and additional notes, click read more)

Our “lovely” heroine finally reaches the truth. 

cw: rape/non-con elements, AU (probably), ooc (probably), break-ins(?), unintentional voyeurism, “sci-fi violence”, mind break (sorta), mildly rough sex, blood, yknow the uje

enjoy ♡

♡🐞♡ 

Tuesday.

12:00 AM.

The third incident. 

♡🐞♡

How?

How did it all go wrong?

It all sounded so slick in your head. It sounded foolproof. It sounded...smart. 

Your scheme, to you, felt like the best idea you had ever had in your life--at least in terms of your own, organic plans. But, as it always seemed to turn out, being a "thinker" just really wasn't your style.

What a shame it was. Really, to think that your egoism had already conjured up a hypothetical scenario about you solving the mystery of your boss’s behavior, therefore sparing countless others from the humiliation you went through, therefore gaining some kind of respect from people you barely knew. 

To your defense, anyone would’ve thought that it was flawless.

...Alright, in retrospect, maybe it wasn’t so great. 

The idea was to exploit a brand-new, experimental technique you’d been working on to make yourself utterly invisible, and to stow yourself away in Giorno’s bedroom until you got your answers. What you did was demonstrate Black Hole Sun on the surface of your skin, in such a precise way that the only light absorbed would be “visible light”, therefore making you colorless, i.e, invisible to the human eye. 

On paper, that was where it ended. Because to you, and your egoism, it felt untouchable. You had so much confidence, in fact, that you just up and did it! Right away! No further thoughts, no Plan Bs, just as soon as you got out of that sunroom you maneuvered your way to the second floor and swung open a random window.

To your luck, said window was just the one you were looking for. Upon stepping onto the plush carpet of your boss’s bedroom, shivers traveled down your legs at the temperature. It wasn’t as cold as the office, per say, but it was still madly different from the mild early-autumn climate. 

At least it smells nice.

The room looked exactly as you had imagined it, a fuchsia-purple-blue-gold color scheme, gaudy flower and ladybug themed decorations, and, of course, a king-size canopy bed. It honestly felt less like the room of a powerful adult man, and more like a clueless American teenager’s idea of what being a rich European was like. Ugh.

But you had no time at all to dwell on pointless things, you had a mystery to unpack! Moving as silently as you could, you began scouring the entire place, starting with the small bookshelf at one edge of the room. 

Nothing seemed to be evident, except for perhaps a thick-sleeved copy of Kama Sutra. Needless to say, you pushed that one in as soon as you pulled it out. At this point, you had already used your “technique” when you entered the room, but soon faded it out when you realized it was clear. 

It was frustrating, the fact that there was nothing abnormal about his room. Hell, he didn’t even have any condoms or anything in his nightstand! You’d think he’d at least have the audacity to plan on violating you using protection, but no! He didn’t possess anything suspicious aside from a shitty book or two, at least nothing he kept in his bedroom. 

Realizing this, you let out a groan, and coincidentally, you heard an unidentifiable noise right after and panicked. Heart racing, you rushed to a corner of the room, right next to a dresser, turning invisible. What you didn’t know was exactly how long you’d be forced to stay in this one spot. 

This was the point where the cracks in your plan really began to show. 

Consequences of this "technique" of yours wouldn't be apparent at first thought, but you already knew what could happen. During numerous past self-training sessions, you'd discovered how using your Stand in this way affected your body. 

By removing all visible light from your form, it basically made you a sponge for ultraviolet. The UV rays previously had, at the least, made your skin extremely irritated, and at worst, gave you a few medical scares. 

You thought that you’d be safe from this, since the lights in the room were all off, and the sun was already going down by the time you arrived. Although, when you saw the multiple light fixtures in the room, there was a sense of unease that overtook you. 

So, cut to the present, you’ve been standing in this one corner for countless hours, too terrified to move from the fear of getting caught, while dreading the inevitable daylight. Also, additionally, it was midnight at this point, and Giorno hadn’t shown up. Why?

The only people who’d come in were a few housekeepers that soon left upon seeing nothing wrong. Whenever that happened though, it was rough, as the light from the hallways tended to spill into the room and scald your skin a tad when the door was opened. 

Needless to say, your current situation kinda sucked. The only stroke of fortune you’d had so far was finding a few stale snacks in your coat pockets that gave you enough sustenance to not go insane. As for hydration, that was a different story. Before you had retreated into the corner,  you considered getting some water from the bathroom, but you held off on it until it was too late. This didn’t bode well, combined with your ever fluctuating body temperature, the dehydration set in much sooner than you had hoped.

You cursed the very concept of time, and the fact that there was no clock in the room. 

Normally, at these hours, you’d either be asleep, watching television, working, but usually asleep. Currently, you were more sleep deprived yet more awake than you’d ever been, leading to your mind going to places you’d never explored before.

It’s just not fair. You never asked for this. You never wanted to be put in this situation. What would eighteen-year-old you would’ve thought if she knew this was where she’d end up after becoming part of this organization? Crammed in the corner of her boss’s bedroom, because said boss tried to force himself on her (twice!) all of a sudden, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it instead of simply just avoiding him? 

At eighteen, during the first months of your “career”, you’d never seen your Don as a man, nor did you really see him as a boy either. Just an untouchable figure that you slowly seemed to get closer to, yet still remained slightly enigmatic. He was ethereal, beautiful, and assumedly powerful--like a god. You had no clue how he got to where he was, and you never planned on learning. Yet, as he got older, and became a little bit more reliant on you, that divine mask of his seemed to chip away. He felt more human, less like a god and more like...a demi-god? Something like that.

Despite all of that, he remained practically unreadable to you. And this persisted to this current situation, being that you still had no real idea what piqued his sudden “interest” in you. 

Your mind ended up going back to Sunday, to that first-ever incident. To his constant showcases of unwellness, to his abnormal teeth, to his fascination with that one vein in your chest. These, along with his apparent misunderstanding of temperature physics, were the only points you really had.

Racking your brain, you tried your best to come up with some kind of half-conclusion with these points. Was he sick? It’d seem like he was absolutely impervious to any kind of illness, but he was only human after all. But, you hadn’t ever heard of a flu that makes people inexplicably lustful, so that was probably off the table. 

Puberty? No, can’t be. He was too matured and too responsible to be having hormonal “rushes” like that, and succumbing to them, no less. Plus, neither that or the illness excuse explained his teeth. 

Did some kind of Stand possess him? The thought of anybody managing to lay even one finger on him seemed out of this world to you, hell, you still couldn’t fully comprehend how you managed to successfully break into his home. Even so, it did seem like it was the most plausible out of your three “theories” so that was probably the farthest you could reach with your current information.

Apparently, getting lost in your thoughts was a great time waster, as when you peered around to the window after settling down a bit, the sky had gone from near pitch black to a greyish blue. You couldn’t help but sigh when you realized this, both in weariness and fear. 

It wasn’t long before you sensed some commotion from under you, nothing too alarming, just a few signs of people walking here and there, mostly from the bottom floor. Working in stealth had caused you to greatly hone your senses, which came in useful for situations like these. You had even picked up a habit of memorizing footsteps, and that included the ones of your superiors. For example, one of Giorno’s right hand men (you didn’t know his name, but he was recognizable enough) had heavy, hasty footsteps, not unlike your mother, or a particular now-neutralized leader of a rival group. Giorno, on the other hand, walked slowly and lightly, the precision of his movements reflecting everything else he did. 

None of the footsteps downstairs stood out to you. They all blended into each other, all light and fast, the most common category you’d come up with. 

As time continued to flow, you slowly kept backing yourself even more into the corner in order to avoid as much light as you could. It revealed to be in vain, though, since you could already feel the UV seeping into your flesh and causing a mild burn. 

While uncomfortable, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, since there were no lights on in the room. At one point, you considered moving to close the curtains, but you decided against it. 

Is it really too late to leave? Most definitely. Perhaps earlier, you could’ve ditched the plan and left without leaving any evidence, but now you were in too deep. The carpet would’ve definitely had imprints of your shoes, there was probably sweat and other DNA samples scattered around, and you most likely wouldn’t be able to close the window behind you. Shit. You knew, no matter how deluded he seemed, he’d be able to know you had broken in just with those clues. 

If only I was like him. If only. 

With that thought, a sudden wave of depression hit you. 

You were a genuine fool, to think someone like you could’ve pulled off something like this. Truly. You weren’t a thinker, you weren’t a conniving mastermind, you were a pawn, a worker, a soldier. A machine that just knew how to follow orders.

But then again, you were kind of content like that. And besides, becoming a breeding doll for your boss wasn’t exactly your ideal type of promotion. 

So you stayed. Stayed in that one place, till something came up again.

♡🐞♡

You weren’t very sure, but you felt that it was around 4:00 PM when your situation truly began to shift. 

Leading up to said shift, you’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, as keeping B • H • S up took a lot of your energy. During those moments when you were present, you kept wondering if you’d end up eventually dying here, in this place. Wondering if you’d just end up succumbing to the dehydration and radiation, keeling over like a ragdoll while the light inside you faded.

What would people think of me if that happened? They’d probably see it as some kind of Aesopian tragedy, a cautionary tale to be passed on throughout the organization. A tale of a woman with a once efficient, somewhat important role in the great Passione machine, who threw it all away in the search for unnecessary answers. 

You were genuinely starting to feel hopeless. It was most likely showing, too, you could tell some of your color was fading back in, no matter how transparent it was. 

How ironic. In all of the many kinds of media you’ve consumed, color was usually a symbol of hope, while darkness and paleness was seen as evil. It seemed like, in your case, that was reversed.

Ignoring your past fears, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh when you thought of this. And that was when you heard it. 

Footsteps. Recognizable footsteps, no less, coming from the hallway just outside the room, getting closer and closer. 

Slow and light. Perfetto. 

 And just like that, all of your color faded away once more. 

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, though, there was something abnormal about those footsteps. They weren’t slow slow, like you were used to, they were a tad quicker, a smidge hastier. Medium slow. 

That didn’t matter when they paused, presumably just behind the door. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw the handle of the flower-shaped door knob begin to wiggle and turn. 

Time seemed to go slow as the engraved, gold-painted door creaked open, and from the corner came a shiny black brogue. Who else could it have been, but the man of the hour himself? 

Giorno stepped in slowly, a neutral, but slightly worried look on his face. He was being a bit cautious, almost reminiscent of how you stepped into his office that fateful Sunday. His outfit looked no different than your past few encounters with him, somehow, some way. 

You watched his eyes scan the room as he closed the door behind him. Again, it felt like your heart was stopped, especially as he was glancing towards the exact corner you stood in. 

This is it. He can definitely tell where I am. He’s going to find me. He totally is. I knew I shouldn’t have done this. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. In that quick second, regrets started filling your head for what felt like the thousandth time today. If you had decided not to go through with this, you probably could’ve just moved to California and lived out your dreams, devoid of worry. But no, no no no no, you just had to--

Giorno didn’t notice you. 

The confidence that refilled into you felt blazing. 

Your boss sighed and started taking off his shoes, and shortly afterwards, his socks. You watched him closely, even as he strode to his closet to put them away, walked back towards your side to grab a random book from his bookshelf, and then promptly tossed said book onto his bed. 

When he approached the door again, and his deft fingers neared the light switch, your breathing hitched. Fortunately, he lowered them, deciding against flicking on the lights. 

It felt so surreal, watching him like this, in his element. Perhaps it wasn’t exactly normal, as you took note of how dismayed his face looked, and how hasty he was when walking down the hall. Well, it wasn’t surprising, but it felt a little good to know it wasn’t just you he was acting weird around.

He stopped in the middle of the room and stretched his back, grunting very quietly before sitting down at his decorated vanity. A rolling noise echoed through the room as he opened one drawer and took out a bottle of liquid, and then a small crimson handkerchief. Then, he turned a knob on the side of the mirror, and the brim of the vanity mirror lit up.

Despite the sudden flash of excess light, you steeled your resolve and stayed silent. This was your chance, you couldn’t go and ruin it now. Besides, it wasn’t even that much artificial light--it’d take more than a tiny fluorescent bulb to take you down. 

You examined him as he dabbled the liquid on the hanky, sighed, and then began to smear it on his face. He started with his cheeks, then his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and ended with his chin. All while the red cloth gathered a stain of pale beige, and the true texture of his face was revealed. 

There was a noticeable red tint on his face, like he had a fever or something. It made sense. A lot of sense, actually.

Giorno turned the cloth over, re-applied the remover, and wiped off his mouth. The natural light pink color of his lips was uncovered, pert and shiny. 

Cute.

Wait, no. 

As soon as those intrusive thoughts entered your head, you shook them out and internally punished yourself for even noticing that. 

You still had a good reason for looking at his mouth, you were trying to spot his strange teeth, but they didn't seem to show. Bummer. He then moved on to his eyes, giving the lids a couple half-assed swipes before setting the hanky down altogether. 

He stood up, closed his eyes, and started fiddling with the brooches on his coat, while trailing off near your side of the room. Before you knew it, he was standing right next to you, topless, the garment folded in his arms. It all happened so fast and so smoothly, it was almost terrifying.

Now it really felt like you were invading his privacy. Especially after he put the coat away, walked a few meters away from you, and stretched his back again. You could see every inch of his slim, toned figure, every muscle that shifted underneath his flawless flesh. Needless to say there was a bit of heat on your face, and it wasn’t just from the radiation. 

After he had enough of giving you an unintended show, he sat back down at his vanity and rested his left leg on top of the other. Leaning back, he lifted his long braid onto his shoulder. You couldn’t remember where from, but you once heard that he hadn’t gotten one haircut in the entire time he’d been Don, allowing it to lengthen down to the small of his back. 

How does he manage all of that? You knew it wasn’t the most important thing to worry about, but still, how? 

      Perhaps the same way he handled everything else in his life; (Well, everything except advancing onto you, and most of his interior decorating) With inexplicable perfection.

He began to meticulously pull his braid apart, after removing all the ties. It was insane, how he managed to make even something as simple as unraveling his hair look so graceful, in a way only he could achieve. 

Under the cloak of your Stand, you bit your cheeks. 

When he was done, he tossed and shook his hair, a golden cascade that rolled off his shoulders and flowed down to the base of his spine. Soon he grabbed a brush from inside a drawer and started combing it, ever-so-slowly and gently, with zero hitches or knots. 

You were, frankly, quite enjoying the view up to this point, but this is where things started to get a bit...mundane. Never did it cross your mind how many times your boss had to brush his hair each night, but it was proving to be quite a few strokes. You were nearly thankful you didn’t decide to count them. 

While this was going down, however, you could feel the UV still penetrating your skin. Along with your ever irritated epidermis, there was a growing faint feeling in the back of your skull, and a rather queasy feeling in your gut. Crap.

The only thing you could really hear now was the sound of your own breathing. The more stress put on you, the louder it got, blocking out subtler sounds that you could’ve heard earlier. One said thing you did pick up on was the quiet but notable sound of the brush passing through his locks. 

For a second, you considered moving to a more comfortable position, but you knew it would be way too risky. What you did do, however, was look out the window again, checking the sky. While it was darkening, it looked to be a while before you’d feel any true relief from the ultraviolet. 

At this point, Giorno seemed to have finished brushing his hair, now just sitting down and watching himself in the mirror. You had expected him to get into bed and start reading the book he had gotten earlier, but no, he just...stayed still. 

The sound of your breathing got quieter. 

He exhaled. Then grunted. All of a sudden, he began showing visible and audible signs of pain, curling over with his hand on his abdomen. His other hand, steadying himself on the edge of the vanity, twisted into a fist, the knuckles white. 

“God…” You heard him breathe out, his voice brittle. Catching a glimpse of his face, you saw how scrunched it was, and how prominent the redness became. 

It really looks like he’s suffering.

You almost felt bad for the poor guy. Almost. Keyword, almost. 

Your line of sight wandered back to his eyes, which were dropped, looking down. He had leant back in his chair, gazing at his own lap. It didn’t register with you when his hands moved down to his hips. It didn’t register with you when he unbuttoned his paints, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband. 

The next time you looked down, you saw it. 

He was...exposed. To say the very least. And...erect. Very erect.

It was like staring into the goddamn sun. 

You almost immediately averted your gaze, your breathing stopping altogether, as the heat in your cheeks threatened to grow hotter than the radiation racking your body. Oh lord. Mother of god, what the hell?

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him wrap his hand around himself, and soon after you heard him moan. He moaned. Was this really happening? 

It shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did, it really shouldn't have. 

He gave himself a gentle stroke, and the weight continued to sink in. You frantically looked for something else to gaze at, but you couldn’t resist the urge to stare. Instead, you settled on squinting your eyes so much so that you could barely see anything.

The sound of his breathy voice cut through in the silent room, torturing your own ears with sounds that sent uncomfortable shivers through your torso. 

Now you really felt like a pervert. Truly. Never in your life would the thought of a situation like this ever crossed your mind, even at your most hormonal during your teenage years. Secretly watching someone, anyone “gratify” themselves was already a wild idea, and now that said person was your boss, one of the most powerful men in the goddamn country?

It made you want to scream.

Minutes went on, with no sign of him stopping. Although, halfway through, you picked up on something; something a little strange.

His soft, gentle moans had changed into what sounded more like sobs. Not even erotic sobs, just genuine weeps. You bit the bullet, looked at his face, and lo and behold, he was crying. His tears mixed with the leftover eye makeup on his face, and dripped down onto the surface of the vanity and the floor. It was the first time you’d ever seen him like this. 

It was the strangest, most disturbingly saddest thing you’d ever seen. And you'd seen plenty of messed up movies. Yet, instead of feeling sympathy, something else clicked inside of you.

The shock, embarrassment, and fear faded away. 

He was vulnerable. For the first time you’d ever seen.

I could kill him right now. 

You totally could. You could collapse the entire room with just one flick of your wrist, and most likely get away in time as well. All his efforts, over the three years he’d been at the top, could be destroyed in just a matter of seconds. And he wouldn’t even know. 

How ironically poetic would that be? After trying to violate his lackey twice, said lackey ends his life while he’s pleasuring himself--like a fucked up modern version of a cautionary Greek fable. 

What would happen after that? Would I take over? Could I?

The thought of that was enough to make you hesitant. Would that really be what you wanted? 

You moved for the first time in hours, bringing your invisible hand in front of your face. Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew it was there, and you knew what it could do. 

Would I be hunted? Killed? Assassinated? Or would people...worship me? 

While the morals of the organization confused you more than anything, you knew some people had strong, strong feelings about Giorno’s policies. You couldn’t even think of any changes you would make, honestly, you didn’t care or know enough about that kind of stuff. 

During your juggle of the pros and cons of that decision, the young man across the room grew all the more intense, bucking into his own soft hand, most likely wishing it was yours. His other hand moved from the vanity to the edge of his chair, his knuckles white and forearm trembling. He shut his stained eyes and tilted his head up towards the ceiling, voice growing higher and breathier. 

After a couple more solid pumps, he finally released. He let out one final whine as he climaxed, bringing you out of your thoughts and forcing you to lay eyes on him once again. As his essences surged out, he exhaled gently, his body calming back down. 

You watched as he sniveled one last time, before loosening his back and letting go of himself. He put his hands in front of him, seemingly coming to terms with what he just did, before tossing his hair up and sighing one more time. 

Giorno sorted himself out a bit, pulling his waistband back up again before slumping over with the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

Your window of opportunity was starting to close. You could feel it.

Near panicking, you put your hand out in front of yourself and did a quick rundown of all the consequences of taking action. 

This is my chance.

If I don’t do this now, who knows what will happen?

But is it really worth it? 

Who else could I hurt by doing this?

Shit. 

With the fingers crossed, you raised your hand up higher.

If I’m going to do this, I have to focus…

So you did. Your vision unblurred, and…

wait.

what the hell is that.

Across the room, the ghostly golden form of G • E had been manifested. And its fingers were at the light switch. 

no

no you cant do that

you cant

its not fair

Time seemed to go slow as you watched the switch flip up.

thatd be way too much light please

please dont do that

please 

dont

During that microsecond after the switch flipped, you almost came to terms with your downfall. 

The instant the ceiling light came on, what felt like a thousand suns bloomed upon your flesh. It was like every single atom in your body was being shaken, and a dozen needles were being shoved into the back of your skull. You gave in near immediately, crossing your forearms over your face in an attempt to protect yourself as your cloak dissipated and you came crumbling down to the floor. 

You hit the carpet with a thump, letting out the shrillest, most pained scream of your life. After all this time, you were finally able to see your own two hands again, but this time they looked emaciated and dull as they gripped onto the carpet. 

There was most likely something else going down in the room, but you paid it no mind, as you raised yourself up onto all fours. Something swashed through your head and caused you to heave, a concerning amount of liquidy saliva dripping out in place of vomit. 

Behind the sound of the loud ringing in your ears, you heard a voice. 

“I-I...ah…”

You turned your head towards him, neck cracking, eyes so wide they hurt. He looked absolutely taken aback, his jaw dropped and cold sweat on his forehead. 

Once again, a newfound confidence overtook you. 

I may still have a chance.

All of your remaining strength was used up trying to get back on your feet, all while you kept glaring at him. With your hand pointed to the sky, you shouted;

"Don't you dare! I can murder you right now, right this second! I won't hesitate, bastard!'

His face looked filled with dread. "H...how long have you--"

"Thirty-two hours! Thirty two fuckin' hours! I've been hiding here, cooking myself alive, waiting for you, for thirty-two...ho...urs…" your breath ran out as you finished your words. 

"I...dear lord…" he uttered.

Seconds upon seconds of awkward silence between you two passed, so much that you could feel the lactic acid building up in your arm muscles. Both of you were breathing heavily, you moreso, with your body begging you to stop doing things. 

Eventually, Giorno’s expression dropped, and he turned, once again slumped over while pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Is...is he not going to attack me? “H...hey...what’s your deal?” You asked, quieter.

He wiped his hands down his face, groaning. “Suppose this is what I get for being brainless...god almighty…” It was infuriating, how easily he brushed off your threats like they were nothing. 

Your rage flared. “You’re underestimating me, aren’t you? Don’t doubt me! I already have one of my Stand’s plants on the roof, and if you try to pull anything on me, I’ll destroy everything you’ve built up over the years!” That part about the plant may or may not have been true. 

The golden boy looked at you again, completely unamused. “Alright…” he breathed out, dropping his arms to his lap. “I understand why you’re angry. I really do. If--”

“Then why’d you do it?” You quickly spat out, “why are you like this all of a sudden? What’s going on with you?”

A few more seconds of silence passed. 

He sighed. Again. “If you really want it so badly...then I suppose you have the right to know. Just...calm down, please?”

You were a little stunned at this sudden turn of events. It felt like just a few minutes ago you thought he was like a heavily-guarded safe full of secrets, but now he’s just offering to open himself up to you, right here, in this very moment.

“Retract your Stand, please,” he made a lowering gesture with both hands. “I don’t want you to strain yourself anymore. Come and sit down, I beg of you.” His arm stretched out and he patted at his soft bedding. 

While you did indeed lower your arm, you stayed hesitant, refusing to let your guard down. “Hey, wait. I don’t get it, how come you’re acting so…”

Giorno quirked a brow.

“So...normal?” You gritted your teeth after the last word left your mouth.

“Sit. Please.” It would’ve been rude not to comply.

Now that you both were face-to-face, seemingly both in the right state of mind, he began. “Honestly, as mortifying as it is, I think you came at the best possible time. That’s because…” He cleared his throat. 

“It’s something I’ve been experiencing ever since April--perhaps even before then. I’ve been having these...urges, these...desires. And...oh, how do I put this...it started off somewhat normal, but it soon started to cause me...physical ailments.”

The eye contact didn’t last long, as you ended up dropping down onto his bed, resting your dire, dire self. You felt a tiny bit bad for paying less attention to his words and more attention to the lovingly soft mattress, but you still got the gist of what he was saying. 

“It’s been especially apparent in my…” again, he cleared his throat. “...abdominal region. There’s this pressure, this pain, and it doesn’t have anything to do with my stomach or my kidneys or what have you--it’s something different entirely. And that’s only where it begins…”

The feelings in your head were mixed. One part of your brain had sympathy, while the other felt a bit of gratitude hearing his ailments. It was a bit fucked, sure, but pretty understandable considering what you’d been through. 

"My body's been so hot--"

"--I know. I could tell."

He looked down sheepishly after you interrupted him. 

"That's the one thing I've been noticing." You went on, "it's weird, man. Plus, closing the door to 'keep the cool air inside?' That's not how that works at all!"

Silence. 

"Y...yes. You're right. But in addition to that, my throat's been so dehydrated, and near nothing will quench it. It's awful, truly…"

"And?"

"Mastur--ah, gratifying myself helps, but only temporarily. Each time that longing, that fire comes back to haunt me and it...it hurts…"

After some more silence, you propped yourself up by your elbows to look at him again. "That sounds...horrible, but I just want to know, why? Are you sick? I don't--"

"I was going to get to that."

He shut you up. 

Taking another sigh, he leant back in his chair again, holding his knee. "If you had asked me that, say, four months ago, I wouldn't have had a clue. Yet lately…"

"I'm listening."

He inhaled for a good second. "I've been looking deeper into my origins, ever since I turned eighteen, trying to find out where I came from...and what I discovered was--" 

And...out.

Everything your boss said started going in one ear and out the other. And who could blame you? It was a habit. 

He just...went on, about his family, parents, his Stand and even his birthmarks for some reason. You truly didn't see the point in 99 percent of what he was talking about. 

I just want to know why you're acting like this, you bastard. I don't care about your dad or whatever…

Despite your vexation, you did pick up on one subject that he seemed to bring up a lot during his tangent; Vampirism.

It stuck in your head so much, that when he finally stopped talking you instantly sat up and responded, "woah, woah, what? What are you talking about, about vampires? You're not seriously…"

His deadpan expression told you all you needed to know. It also told you that he could tell you were barely listening to him. 

“Well, that’s what I said.” He began, “my current theory, stemming from all the research I’ve done...is that I’m a vampire.” He paused for a second, then adding on, “or, at least an ancestor of mine was.”

More silence.

Wha?

It definitely should’ve shocked you more than it did, but...somehow, it made  everything make sense. The teeth, the thirst...still, part of your world was turned upside down. You weren’t even too unfamiliar with the supernatural, with your family being relatively superstitious, but something like this…

"And I'm thinking that this period is some kind of...awakening. A sort of…--"

"Vampire puberty." It wasn’t even a question, the pure disbelief in your voice overshadowed any other nuance.

"Oh, putting it like that makes it sound a bit--" you cut him off before his last word.

“--you...you’re kidding right?” You couldn’t help but stare him down, but he looked 100% serious. “Ho-how? How did you come to that conclusion, of all things? I mean, I get it, sorta, but…”

Giorno put his hands in front of his mouth and took in a deep breath. “Have you ever tried pork blood before, amore?”

Now it was your turn to stare at him with a judgmental look.

“I had some the other day at an Asian restaurant...oh,” he moved his hand to his cheek and looked away from you, “it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. Truly, it was amazing.” His eyes were near sparkling. 

You weren’t given a second to respond.

“After I had that, some of the dryness in my throat went away, but it was only for a while. I still found my eyes lingering on people’s veins, at the reddest points of their bodies...and you were no different.” A pang of your heart rang through your nerves. “Somehow, I knew that the only thing that would satiate me would be...the taste of a human, as awful as it sounds.”

Silence continued to prevail.

It was a lot to take in. You ended up getting up and standing in front of him, your back turned and your hands supporting the back of your head. 

In spite of the millions of words swirling in your head, one seemed to prevail. 

"Me…?"

"Pardon?"

You dropped your hands, but refused to look at him. "You could've chosen anybody to pursue, for these needs, but...you chose me, of all people."

“Well, I…” Giorno stopped talking when he heard you inhale sharply.

Rather slowly, you turned your head to look him in the eye. 

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” 

It became uncomfortably quiet, and he looked down at his hands, twiddling his fingers. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with--”

“You are! I fuckin’ knew it!” Your voice came out loud, louder than you intended, but you didn’t bother piping down, “holy shit…” The only thing that felt appropriate was to rub your temples while continuing to take in all you’d learnt. 

“What difference does it make?” His brows were slanted, a questioning and slightly furious expression on his face. “I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of it.”

“Be-because...ugh…!” You were having a tough time getting your words out, your voice going up a few more pitches. “That kind of thing...for your first time, you should do it with a person you, uh, really love…"

"But I-"

"An-an-and!" You held a finger level with his face before crossing your arms. "You should do it with someone your own age, too!"

He did some math on his fingers. "Wait, you're not that much older than me at all--"

"We-ell then whatever!" You knew you sounded irrational at this point, but something was still driving you to sputter out words. "The...the point is, someone like you should do this with somebody special...I mean, I’m just a random lackey, right? It’s not like I’m...uhm…”

His expression didn’t drop, it just grew more irritated. 

“You truly never listen to me, do you, cara?” Your boss sighed and looked towards the mirror again. “How many times have I told you, already?”

He watched as your once hardened appearance softened with concern. 

“I chose you to go after because I love you. Didn’t I tell you this before?"

"I...uh…"

“‘Random lackey…’” He repeated your words with venom on his tongue, shaking his head. “Ever since I met you, knowing all you were capable of, I’ve felt a connection to you. Not to mention you’re one of the most…” a dreamy sigh came out of him, “...interesting people I’ve ever had working under me. I mean...you broke into my house, that's so...bold."

It was too much. All this news, it felt like your brain was an overflowed sponge. 

“No...don’t say that…”

In the midst of all your confusion, he stood up.

“What do you mean? Do you not believe me?” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

"Amore mio, I’ve loved you for so long, now...I know this is all sudden, but I thought you would be the best one for this situation, I thought you of all people would understand…” His hand came up to brush some of your damp hair away from your forehead. 

“Lying...you’re lying, you have to be…” It couldn’t be genuine. It just couldn’t. “You...someone like you...can’t…”

One of his hands came to rest on your shoulder. 

“Oh, why do you reject me so much?” He breathed out, “you keep saying ‘someone like you’...what kind of person do you think I am…?”

Your name slipped out his lips at the end of his sentence. His words sent shocks right to your eyes, the liquid threatening to spill out. 

“Maybe…” his face became one of sympathy. “Perhaps you don’t think someone like you deserves a person like me?"

That was it. That was when your downfall became cemented in stone. It felt like he had just stuck a key into your heart, but instead of unlocking anything, it just made everything collapse. Your egoism, your confidence, and all of your self-security shattered, and the pieces that fell had cause your tears to overflow. 

Although, you did realize one thing. 

Giorno Giovanna was far from a super-secretive man, nor was he cold like one might expect from a goddamn mob boss. You had no idea how he got to where he was. But, despite that, you realized how he kept his place at the top. How he managed to control everyone under him, how he got so many people to submit without using force. 

He got inside my head. It's over.

The tears felt hot running down your face. 

All you could let out was a sob, and a fragment of a word. Without warning, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to yours, taking in the noises while holding your face gently. 

His lips taste like roses. 

Was there really anything else you could do, besides kissing him back? You gripped at his triceps, still sobbing out your nose as he deepened the kiss, without protest from you. It went on for a few seconds, before you finally couldn’t take it anymore and broke away from him, escaping his embrace and moving away quickly.

Despite you retreating into the bathroom, both you and him knew that he had won.

♡🐞♡

Click, clack. Click, clack. Click, clack. The imaginary clock in Giorno’s head was the only thing he could currently hear. It felt like it could be fit for a time-bomb, as the longer the uneventful period went on, the closer he felt to exploding. 

Five minutes. It had only been five minutes since you had ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind you, leaving him to contemplate his actions. (“Contemplate” in large quotes, since there was already a lustful smog growing in his brain, clouding up his rational thinking.) Since you had retreated, he had picked up on water occasionally running, a few concerning heavy impacts, and perhaps a cry or two. 

He was almost starting to think that he might’ve pushed you a bit too far, what with making you break down in front of him and all that. He would’ve actually begun to feel some regret, if not for him hearing the bathroom door behind him at the perfect time.

Giorno looked behind his shoulder, and there you were. Standing in the doorway, completely bare apart from your underwear, covering your breasts with your forearm. While there was still a shy, cold expression on your face, the three words you uttered told him all he needed to know.

“Do your worst.”

The pure joy inside of him fired up. He finally met with your eyes, giving you a small smile that said a thousand thankful words. 

Before you even had a chance to trail a meter away from the doorway, he had stepped over to you and trapped you in his oh-so-warm embrace. He soon kissed the shell of your ear, uttering out a soft "thank you."

Your legs felt weak.

He snaked around behind you, aligning his arm with your raised one. His hand cupped your knuckles, squeezing them. 

"Put your arm down...let me see you…" there was an almost desperate twinge in his voice, more apparent when it was so close to your other ear. 

Of course, you obeyed him. What else could you do?

The golden boy resisted the primal urge to grope and caress your chest, instead deciding to begin guiding you towards his bed. He still kept his bare torso flush against yours. 

When your knees touched the edge of the mattress you instinctively gave in and dropped down onto the comforter, momentarily detaching from him as you crawled up to your knees.

When you blinked, Giorno was in front of you again. He put his hand on your neck and gripped it very gently, getting up-close to your chest-shoulder area. You could feel his lips touching against the very slight hairs on your body, threatening to give you goosebumps. 

“Cara…” he still sounded desperate. “I...I don’t know where to bite first…” 

It was true. There were just too many places he could go for first; the soft, lovely flesh of your breasts, the accessible, potent croon of your neck and shoulders, or even a part of your face...it was enough to give him analysis paralysis.

He didn’t get any suggestions from you. 

Eventually he made his decision by pressing his lips against your chest, right next to where your heart was. For a split second he pulled away, allowing you to invite him by raising up your tits with your forearm. 

You watched him, his eyes happy, as he slowly opened his maw, revealing his small fangs. It wasn’t long before he finally bit down onto you, be it mildly. 

It didn’t hurt that much the first time around, but it made both of you realize it'd take more force to get you to bleed for him.

He wasn't deterred though, quickly after the first bite he champed down again, his canines poking down into your flesh, drawing a sharp exhale from you. 

The harder he bit, the more you whined. You felt a bit of suction on the spot, as he was trying his hardest to get any of your extract out and onto his tongue. 

Finally, after gnawing at you for a good half-minute, he broke skin. 

To your surprise, he pulled away, wanting to look at your blood before he indulged. The little red splotch bloomed bigger, and started to flow down your breast. 

The pure, unadulterated salacity in his eyes made your body feel warm. 

His tongue rolled out, his breath so hot it was like steam in the cold room. He swept up all the blood that flowed out, his saliva seeping into your small puncture and stinging slightly. 

But that sensation had nothing on what he was feeling. 

By God, it was the most sublime thing he'd ever tasted. Coating his tongue, your fluid sent him into a state of absolute ecstasy. 

It was as sweet as caramel, yet as intoxicating as absinthe. 

After letting out a small, amazed moan, he re-attached to your skin and sucked on it, trying to force out more of the liquid ruby. It was a miniscule wound, so only a small, thin stream was coming out, but he savored every drop of it by mixing it with his own saliva so he could swallow it down better.

His swallows were definitely audible. You tilted your head back, completely bewildered at what was currently happening. 

He’s drinking me.

My boss is drinking me.

My perfect, psycho boss is drinking me. 

You felt your flesh be released after a short while, Giorno letting out a groan. He moved his hands up to hold the sides of your face, staring deep into your eyes. His once pale-pink lips were stained with red. 

“I love you, I love you so much…” The words came out barely as whispers, before he kissed you again. You were instantly met with the coppery taste of your own blood. 

When he pulled away, the string of saliva that connected the two of you was dyed a light red. You glanced down and saw that the bite mark had been smudged, so even more of your chest was painted crimson. 

There was something...exciting about that. Something you couldn’t put your finger on. 

Giorno shifted, his hands on your shoulders, so that he was pressed against your back once again. He tugged you backwards, leaning onto the wall behind the bed. It wasn’t long before he sunk his teeth into your trapezius, again gnawing a few times before getting access to his ambrosia. 

It was definitely painful, getting your blood actively sucked out gave you cold chills wherever he bit. You were thankful that he wasn’t drawing litres from you, in movies it always looked so...violent…

You couldn’t help but throw your arms back around his shoulders, squishing your hands between him and the wall. 

He continued to drink for a good stretch of time, before sliding one hand down your body. You watched him as he pressed his middle finger against your clothed crux, producing a short yelp from you. His fingertip pressed down until there was an apparent wet spot in your dark grey bottoms. 

Hot air brushed by your ear. “You’re wet~♡” He cooed, pushing his fingertip lower down the cleft. You tilted your ear away from him, squeezing your eyes shut. 

A cry escaped your lips when he slipped his hand under your bottoms and wasted no time massaging your excited nub. 

“I wonder how it got that way?” His inquiry was met by a sob. “Hmm...maybe you like it when I drink you up…♡?”

“I-I...ah…”

“Or…” You could feel him smile against your shoulder. “You did watch me when I was enjoying myself earlier...maybe you get off to that kind of stuff?”

“Wha...no…”

He tittered and kissed the area behind your ear. “Well? Am I correct? Do you get off watching younger men touch themselves?” 

An uncontrollable cry came out of you. No...you’re wrong…

“Oh, you’re a pervert, aren’t you~♡ ” 

“I’m not...not a pervert…”

You could tell he was toying with you. 

Goddamnit…

While you cursed in your head, deep down, your body loved it. 

Another stint of him drinking you went by, all while his hand grew more vigorous. You managed to suppress most of your noises, but it grew harder the closer you got to your climax. The thought of cumming while he was still indulging in your blood...it was so…

He pulled away with a satiated sigh. 

When his fangs left you, so did his hand. It left your lower area convulsing, feeling abandoned.

“Tesoro…♡” Giorno nuzzled up against you. “That was amazing...you tasted so good, I think I might get addicted...I’m so happy...I love you…”

Despite being on the brink of orgasm, you felt a strong feeling of relief, knowing that this “saga” was over. You couldn’t help but smile, shutting your eyes and dropping your arms down and enjoying the feeling of being held in your boss’s warm arms. 

“I...uhm, Giorno...I think I…” The words you wanted to say were hard to get out, but eventually you managed to build up the needed “confidence”. 

You felt a bit dazed from getting all that blood taken from you, but it wasn’t too bad. 

It was still unbelievable to you, to think that all this time a grandiose man like him had taken such an interest in a lowlife like you...it still felt conflicting. What’s gonna happen now? What comes next? With the intent of asking him that, you opened your eyes, and…

Oh.

Somehow, you had changed positions without even noticing. He had laid you out on the bed, your head on the pillow, and was straddling you. The light from the window bounced off his eyes, and you knew it was far from over. 

He was pressing his hard-on right into your crotch, his hands on your waist. “Bella…” he murmured, dragging his hands closer to himself. 

You felt your heart thump harder as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pulled down his pants again. Your eyes went from the center of his briefs to his face, trying to signal your distress to him. Too bad he was only focused on “himself”. 

Determined to not see his cock again, you shut your eyes tight. Yet something in your head told you that it was inevitable, because honestly, where else could this go? 

So you opened your eyes, be it slowly, and laid your sight on him. 

This is really happening, isn’t it? 

It was utterly stiff, resting on your belly, and tinged with red, just like his face. His pre dripped down near your navel, the heat combatting with the surface of your skin. 

You looked up at him again, but couldn’t tell if he was doing the same to you. His eyes were pointed not at your face, but somewhere lower. Not being able to predict what was going to happen next, you swallowed nothing. 

Suddenly, the bed rumbled a bit, and you reflexively closed your eyes again. You felt the crown of your head knock against the wall, before you noticed a sudden weight on your torso. When you peeked ahead, you realized Giorno had moved up your body, now straddling your lower thorax. 

You were met with the head of his cock, resting comfortably in the valley of your breasts. Immediately your face reached internal levels of warmth you didn’t even know were possible.

“I wanted to try this, with you, for a while now…” he trailed off before putting some saliva in his hand rather solemnly. 

How long is a ‘while’?

While he massaged the makeshift lubricant onto himself, you were staring up at him, at a loss for words. “This-this position is...it’s, uhm…” To think that such a presumably perfectly proper person would have such...pornagraphic proposals. Maybe you yourself weren’t as “experienced” as you liked to think you were. 

His hands traveled to the sides of your chest, pushing them up so that the soft meat enveloped his shaft. A satisfied sigh came out his mouth, this was just the start and you already felt like heaven.

“Gio-ru-no…~” despite his nails being just barely a quarter-centimeter long, you felt them digging into your flesh. You were glad he wasn’t too heavy, if he was this would probably be even rougher. “Be gentle...please…?” 

Your pleas were unfortunately ignored. 

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled back a little bit before pushing forward, slightly rocking both the two of you and the bed. There was a bit of a cooldown period before he rammed his hips forward again, and again, and again. 

“Amore mio, amore mio~♡” Thoughtless words were spilling from him. “So, good...your body really is the best~♡! I love...everything...about you…” He kept speaking in between pushes, but you could barely pick up on it.

The sight of his cock rhythmically slipping on your chest--it was almost hypnotizing. It was just..so lewd, so much it was by itself stimulating. You were helpless, letting your tits get fucked by your beautiful bastard of a boss, arms limp on the bed. 

Under your breasts, you could feel his testes against you--you could tell they were heavy. Lewd noises kept coming out with each shove, and you had a front-row seat to them. That along with his ecstatic moans created a cacophony of smutty noises that assaulted your eardrums. His tip kept inching ever-closer to your face, to the point where you felt you would be able to kiss it if you wanted to. 

Giorno kept going, rocking his hips over and over again, and it made you wonder if he was ever going to finish. 

This really is happening, isn’t it...not a dream, or a trip, or anything…

He’s using me like some kind of object...

How long has he wanted to do this kind of stuff with me?

Where...did he even get the idea to do this?

Those questions were pointless, and you knew it.

You were jerked out of your thoughts when he pressed his thumbs against your nipples, making you flinch and scrunch up your face. The small amount of tears that had been building up in your eyes were squeezed out, coating your eyelids. 

Seeing that subtle change in your face, Giorno sped up his movements. The whines that came from you as a result of his roughness just tempted him more, giving him extra ideas of what he’d do in the future. 

Something dripped down and hit your cheek, as well as the pillowcase around your head. Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to tell what it was, which was sweat that was dripping from his bare body. It perplexed you how he still managed to smell like fragrant flowers. 

His “rhythm” was beginning to feel like it was synchronizing with your heartbeat, and in a weird way, it was relaxing. Maybe it was that, combined with his warmth, his weight, the soft mattress...you wondered that, if you did hypothetically fall asleep in the midst of this, would he continue? 

It proved to be another pointless question, as soon enough the golden boy’s moans peaked, before he suddenly stopped. 

Is...is he done?

For a split second, you felt his weight lift from your body, but at the same time one of his hands gripped at your jaw roughly. He pulled down, forcing you to open up but a tad, before he quickly moved even higher up your body and stuffed his cock in your mouth. 

Your tear-laced eyes went wide immediately. A muffled whimper came out your throat, but he ignored it and dropped himself lower down, stabilizing himself on the wall. Your abused gag reflex caused more tears to flow out, but it also just made your throat tighten around him.

After he let out a few sighs of pleasure, you glanced up at his face. His eyes were glimmering as he kept forcing himself into you, adoring the way all the soft ridges and bumps felt against his ready-to-burst cock. 

Tears were completely blurring your sight as he bottomed out in your mouth. A joyous, shuddering groan came out of him before you felt something hot bloom in the middle of your neck. 

Realization set in, and so did a slight sense of panic. It wasn’t long before your throat had been filled, agitating your gag reflex even more. Your heart thumped heavily as his essence invaded your mouth, the strange taste a bit too overwhelming. 

While one of your hands had fingers shaking and curling, you raised the other one up to batter at his side, trying to tell him he was starting to stifle you. 

In response, he reached down and pinched your nose shut. 

“This...this is only fair, right~?” There was some kind of sadistic giggle in his voice. "Come on, take it, take all of me…♡" his smile, despite looking filled with nothing but love, made you want to cry even more. 

You felt yourself begin to asphyxiate. 

“Swallow it.” While his voice was soft, it still managed to be commanding, almost intimidating. 

Not having any other options, you obeyed.

Soon as Giorno saw the lump in your neck go down, he removed himself and lifted off of your body. The excess fluid that didn’t go down came gushing out of your uselessly-closed lips, oozing down your chin as you struggled to sit up. 

You put your hand to your mouth as you coughed, trying in vain to stop it from getting everywhere. To your dismay, you felt a drop of it land on your chest. 

Despite the multiple fluids covering your face, you, once again, felt a strong feeling of relief. It’s over now, right? It’s gotta be. No way is he still…

You were distracted by him wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your temple. “There we go...it wasn’t that hard, right?” No response to that.

“See, I got to drink you…” he chuckled as if he had just told a joke. “And now you got to drink me! We’re equal now~!”

Even if you wanted to talk back to him, you couldn’t, as there was still liquid pooled in your mouth. After spitting out most of it onto your hand, you picked up on something--your bottoms were being lowered. 

You jerked to the side. “Wait, wait, wait--what are you doing?” His fingers were still pulling at your waistband, despite you kicking a bit to try and get him to quit. 

He looked at you with a rather sudden innocent expression. “Well, we’re moving on now, aren't we?” 

“You can’t be serious, ri-right? You...just finished…” without words, you were proven wrong by him straightening his back, revealing that he was still hard.

Lord have mercy.

“That...doesn’t make sense...how…” Giorno interrupted your driveling by pulling you back down the bed, tilting you onto your back. You genuinely didn’t know how much more you could take.

Your leg was lifted up, resting on the inside of his elbow. “Did you actually think we were done…?” He laughed while completely removing your soused underwear. It was humiliating, seeing him with the small garment dangling off of his index, and it got even worse when he carelessly dropped it onto the floor behind him. “You haven’t even finished yet, right? What kind of man would I be to let you--no, the both of us,--go unsatisfied...?” 

But I’m already ‘satisfied’... It was true, even if you hadn’t technically climaxed yet, you still felt like this had gone on long enough and--

“A-ah--!” Suddenly, you were ripped out of your thoughts by the feeling of him prodding your crux with the supple head of his cock. The sudden heat made your channel clench around nothing as he pulled away from your entrance. You uncontrollably pushed up your pelvis, most certainly looking oh-so desperate for him. 

While pulling even farther away from you, he moved his hand before spreading your vulva with his middle knuckles. He peered down at your drooling pink hole, watching your insides convulse with a voracious look in his eye. 

“Ah...I wasn’t expecting it to be like this…” he chuckled, while rotating his hand a bit to get a better look. "It looks like it's...begging for me…" 

A gratified smile stretched across his lips. He was right! He knew you wanted this just as much as he did! And when he took a look at your face, your frightened yet tantalized expression, the tear stains on your cheeks and the remnants of his semen covering your chin and jaw, he let out a happy breath, knowing he wouldn't be changing his mind anytime soon. 

That sight just made him simply ache. 

“Bella~” he crooned out, the edges of his eyes watery. “I can’t hold back anymore…~” 

The second after that, he plunged himself inside you all too quickly, giving you absolutely no time to think. You had only a split second to come to terms with what was happening before you were impaled by a certain scalding appendage.

All that built-up stimulation from before came to a crash, your jaw dropping as you humiliatingly climaxed around him. Your fingers curled around the sheets as you pushed your hips against him, only to realize he wasn’t even bottomed out yet.

While you managed to stay mostly quiet, even during your orgasm. That couldn’t be said for the young man above you, though. 

For him, it was just too heavenly to resist. You felt so soft and tight, everything he’d hoped it would be and more. A series of strained yet euphoric moans sputtered out of him as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you, closing his eyes and letting his tears fall down onto your face as he leaned over you. 

He stayed still for a small while, taking in the rapturous feeling before rising up a bit and looking down at your abdomen. “Look, look...we’re finally connected…~” 

Staring up at him with lidded eyes, you silently prayed that he didn’t notice you had--

“Hey,” his voice stayed breathy, as he started to roll his hips against you. “Did...you finish just from me putting it in?”

You covered your face with your hands, crying out in shame quietly.

“Don’t be embarrassed~♡!” Giorno cooed rather loudly, forcibly grabbing your wrists and pushing them back down onto the mattress, and while continuing to ram into you. Drool, tears and sweat still running down your face, you looked down at your pelvis, feeling taunted by the marshy noises being produced. “You feel really good, and so do I--be happy! I love you…!”

He kissed the side of your nose, holding the sides of your head. “I knew you loved me too, that you wanted me just as bad--I’m so happy I’m right, cara…” You couldn’t help but nod slightly in response, anything to make him be a little more gentle. 

“Suh-low...please…” it sounded like your brain was melting, which wasn’t exactly inaccurate. But even if your brain wasn’t melting, it definitely felt like your groin was. The combination of his roughness and his body heat was making your upper legs go numb, all feeling focused on the absolute stirring-up of your insides. 

To him, despite the fact that your internal heat wasn't low in the slightest, compared to his own it felt like you were almost cooling him down--it wasn't just pleasure he was feeling, it was also relief. And he wanted more. 

In order to try and get even deeper inside you, he raised your left leg higher, tilting you onto your side. Tugging you closer, he pressed his lips onto your ankle. 

The new angle made you grit your teeth and squeal, feeling his tip reach your fornix. You extended your arms, partly trying to get him to give you a break and partly wanting to hold his hand for some kind of support.

"You're good...so good...your body was really made for me~" he kept singing your praises while churning his hips, the upper base of his cock continuously pressing into your swollen nub. 

As embarrassing as it was, you could feel another building twist in your gut.

After a bit, he leant over you again, leering at the beet-purple bite marks on your skin. Those and the smears of blood on your skin looked like art of his own making to him. But something was eating away at the back of his mind, a strange instinct that was telling him to do...something…

You watched as he moved his hand closer to your bust, bending all his fingers except for the index and middle. You felt him poke at the soft flesh of your neck for a second, getting a tad confused before…

Wait, what--

Somehow, in some unexplainable way, he pushed his fingertips and into your neck, bypassing your skin without puncturing it. It wasn’t even exactly painful, but incredibly strange and almost frightening. 

Fear in your eyes, you watched the veins in his forearm swell as the chilling feeling that came with getting your blood taken returned. You cried out, tears falling while you put your own hands on the one that was drinking from your throat. 

For him, he could feel your blood flowing into his veins directly, even being able to taste the lovely sweet flavor. He picked up a severe pace once again, mercilessly ravaging both halves of your body. 

Despite his roughness, there was nothing but love in his glazed green eyes. 

I'm...getting my blood taken...while being fucked...♡

A small broken smile appeared on your lips. To think that such an amazing man was indulging in you in this way...it made you wonder why you ever tried to get away in the first place. 

"Do you like this?" He asked, dipping his fingertips even deeper into your neck. "That's really perverted...♡"

The second after he said that prodding comment, you felt yourself tremble as the tugging feeling in your belly burst, cumming around him once again. Your legs stiffened and seized up uncontrollably as you moaned out helplessly. 

After your second orgasm, the ever-growing exhaustion began to take a toll on you. You hadn't slept in over 32 hours, after all. Foolishly thinking it was finally over, you turned your body onto your stomach, sighing into the soft pillow after you felt him pull out both his digits and his cock. 

This really happened, didn't it? Was your seemingly last thought before you were about to drift off, but that was before you felt your backside get lifted off of the sheets. 

"You're a selfish woman, aren't you? I'm not even done yet and you already want to go to bed? Hm…" You heard the man behind you say before slowly penetrating your raw cunt. "...but I don't mind. I still love you~" he sighed happily. 

"Wow…" he kept talking, even though he knew it was most likely not reaching you. "To think you were really threatening to murder me just a while ago...just look at you now, bella~♡"

You genuinely couldn’t respond to him, you didn’t have the brain power to do so. All you could do was accept him as he began to fuck you once again.

“Ah~” A happy breath left his lips. “You still feel so good…” he rocked his hips and bottomed out easily, pushing your pelvis towards him to keep a sort of rhythm going. “Do you like it from behind, too?”

Before he had entered inside you, you had tried your best to raise your upper body up with your arms, but failed once you felt him inside. Your face dropped onto the pillow, all the sweat and tears surely soaking into the case. 

You felt his soft hands on your upper arms before he raised you up, so his chest was against your back. With his lips right near your ear, he started panting in your ear as he bucked up inside you. 

"I love you...I love you…" he repeated for what felt like the thousandth time today. "And you love me too, right? Right?"

When he didn't head a response, he grew rougher. 

"Say it...say you love me, please, bella…"

"I...I love you, Giorno…!"

You heard him let out a happy sound before kissing your ear. "Yes...yes...I, I love you, I love having sex with you...♡"

It felt like there was static all inside your brain. He let both of you lower back down onto the bed, still ramming his hips in an almost animalistic way. 

"We're gonna do this a lot, alright? I wanna do this with you every day...♡" He kissed at your shoulder before suddenly sinking his incisors into it, quickly creating another puncture he could sup from. 

You couldn’t help but cry, desperately clutching at the surely sweat-soaked sheets. It was unbelievable, but he had created another twisting feeling in your abdomen.

The broken and sane parts of your brain were having a battle, one in disbelief at how spectacularly your plan had failed and how this even came to be in general, while the other was just simply euphoric at the pleasure he was giving you.

“I’m close, tesoro…” he uttered after pulling his fangs from you. “Are...are you gonna finish again? Even though you’re so tired~? You think we’re gonna cum together…?” you gave him no response, looking at how his hands were now on the bed right by yours. 

It went on for a bit more, him continuously drinking your blood while plunging into the deepest part of you. All while your brain was on the very brink of shutting off and traveling into dreamland.

Yet, after a while, he said one more thing. 

“I wanna finish inside you, cara…” He moaned out before kissing the new bruise on your shoulder. “Let’s start a family~♡!” 

That one proposition was enough to jerk you out of your haze and bring you to action.

No. 

“No!”

You balled your hand into a fist and repeatedly pounded at the back of his hand. “No, no~! Take it out, take it out…!”

Even if it was disappointing to hear your refusal, he heeded and slipped himself out just as he started to climax. Your walls clenched around nothing as he whined out, letting his essences spill out and smother the front of your torso. 

He held you tighter than ever as he rode out his orgasm, almost suffocating you with how firmly he was pressing against your diaphragm. You had let out all the air in your lungs when you came for the last time today, the dopamine in your brain hitting the absolute max. 

In your last moments of consciousness, you picked up on him turning you around and letting the last few surges paint your stomach. He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, and exhaled, as his own brain was also flooded with serotonin. 

A great silence filled the room, apart from the sounds of his breathing. In the quiet, his mind finally came down from the high and he opened his eyes. 

Giorno felt great. It was like all of the excess heat had been emptied from his body, and all the pain and smogginess in his head had disappeared like it was never there. 

“Ah…thank you, cara, that was amazing--” When he looked down at you, he realized. 

“Oh...oh.” It was a little embarrassing, “she’s out cold…” he uttered, putting his fingertips to his lips. 

He was caught a little off guard, before seeing how you had been covered in his substances, as well as all the other fluids he had managed to draw from you. The sight was truly wonderful to him. 

Oh, how he longed to have a camera on him, as disrespectful as it would’ve been. He’d dreamed of this moment for so long...even more since this whole “vampire” debacle began. And now he had experienced it, and it was better than he could’ve ever had fathomed. 

To say he was overjoyed would’ve been an understatement.

Yet, as happy and satisfied as he was, he wanted to let you have your rest. So, after brainstorming a couple “thank-you gifts” and cleaning you up a little bit, he managed to manhandle your sleeping body under the covers. 

Seeing your peaceful, sleeping face, he couldn’t help but smile. 

“I wonder what you’re going to dream about…?” He breathed out before kissing the tip of your nose one last time. 

With nothing else to do, he slipped under the covers as well, holding your gentle, sleeping form. And with you in his arms, in his room, in his home, he finally felt content. It simply couldn’t get better than this.

Thank you, God, for such a wonderful, wonderful day. ♡

[ivanshatov]

trespasser

wc: 2.7k

i wrote this in january so it’s kinda bad and stilted and a bit ooc for the character development i’ve done </3 but it also comes slightly after the fic i just posted and i feel brave so i’m posting both xoxo gossip girl

Sujani knew the theatre like the back of her hand. After all, it had been her home for the last few years, and she’d grown accustomed to Edel’s labyrinths and corridors littered throughout the seemingly endless building. She knew every exit, entrance, nook, cranny, and section, the patterns and details burned into her mind. Just proper for a stage manager, even moreso for a familiar. Through her familiarity with the theatre, however, she had been acquainted with their newest trespasser rather quickly. It was Mia who had first spotted him lurking around the grounds in the weeks prior, just as dusk settled in. “Friend of yours? Friend of Luca’s?” she asked, masking the last hours of daylight with a paper fan.

“Certainly not,” Sujani insisted, peering out through the intricate windowpane at the suspicious figure. “I’ve never seen that man in my life.”

“Engländer,” Mia muttered. “A Briton. It must be. Donning his tourist fare and all. See?”

That was the first incident with the trespasser, until he became one frequent arrival on the security cameras and outer sidewalks. He had evaded interaction with Sujani, keeping his distance from the realm of the theatre, and she kept his lingering presence to the back of her mind.

During the daylight hours, Sujani took the liberty of drawing the curtains, allowing brilliant sunlight to enter through the theatre’s majestic windows. Edel often griped over open curtains and loosened blinds, but as Sujani was busy tending to the theatre’s auditorium and proscenium, the extra light was of use to her. It was also much more useful in exposing any pesky breathers trying to enter where they were not invited. The stray tourist or pedestrian could be turned away easily and handed a pamphlet with a gleeful smile, but it was seldom a breather entered the theatre with bad intent. After all, the theatre’s always been a place to relax and unwind. The new trespasser was certainly not a theatregoer, though, as his ruckus could be heard from the lighting booth where Sujani sat.

Finding her pocketknife and hiding it drawn behind her back, she crawled over the pit and glided over the stage, skirt bouncing behind as she pulled back the curtains. She hummed a light tune, scanning the dark area of the wings and backstage for any movement. Drawing her eyes from the fly weights to theq leftover debris from the last season’s closer, she at last spotted the trespasser.

He was staring at the portrait of Edel. Her symmetrical face, round cheeks, hypnotic stare. His hands were folded behind his back, crucifix held loose in one. It reminded Sujani of her own personal souvenir, and she unsheathed her pocketknife. Then, taking a silent step closer, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me.”

The trespasser flinched, remaining in his position for a fleeting moment before turning to meet Sujani’s eyes, crucifix raised. “I-It’s daytime.” 

Despite hiding behind sunglasses and heavy clothes in the peak of summertime, like a true coward would, Sujani recognized the trespasser. Mia’s Engländer, the one on the cameras, the one with the hat. He had evaded capture those last two times, narrowly escaping a meeting with Sujani as she observed the security cameras from her vantage point in the mezzanine. But, at last, she had caught him red-handed, in the midst of his favorite and only activity. She smiled, eyes shimmering with irony. “You’re mistaken.” This was no theatregoer and certainly no tourist, if the sharpened crucifix and silver rosaries told her anything. 

Sujani held her forced smile. Keeping one hand behind her back, she drew a hand up to her face, pulled back her lips, revealing two sets of straight and dull human teeth. “See?”

The trespasser didn’t relent, keeping his grip on his homemade crucifix. “A daywalker.”

“You amuse me, but no. I’m a breather like you. After all...” Sujani began, stretching out a hand to the crucifix and clutching the intersection. She released her hand, holding it up with a growing smile. “You see? No injury in sight. Not the smell of smoke, either. Proof enough for you? Good. Now.” Sujani waved a hand, waiting for him to lower his arm, and then continued. “I know who you are. You’ve been sniffing around for the past week. Not very subtly, might I add. If you don’t want to give away your penchant to destroy all vampirekind, perhaps don’t carry around wooden stakes and crucifixes everywhere. It alienates the locals, no?” she tilted her head to the crux.

“You are American,” he said, in a tone somewhere in between a question and a statement. His expression had not trembled or changed once, and he kept the look of utter disinterest firm, exacerbated by his shaded eyes. Yes, Sujani thought, this man is certainly suspicious. Undoubtedly up to no good.

“Yes, yes, I am. And you must be from some obscure bit of the United Kingdom nobody’s ever heard of. Rest assured, I do not care from where you hail. Rather, I’m graciously extending you the offer to leave, you know, before my boss flies down and shreds you to utter pieces,” Sujani continued, pausing to observe her nails. “I know what you are here to do. I don’t know your reasons, but I’ll politely ask you to leave under threat you may become drained of your blood and left a cold corpse in the bottom of this theatre.”

The trespasser— no, the Engländer, the Englishman— let out a sullen sigh. “A familiar,” he said in that deadpan tone.

“Yes, that is I. Now, will you accept my other? Kindly leave us alone? Return to whence you came from, and never disgrace us with your presence yet again?” She gestured to the door to the balcony, still ajar and weighted by a flyweight.

The Englishman glanced at the floor, then back at the portrait. Edel, in their ballgown, cheeks red with dye and falsified life. He turned back to Sujani and said, “I can’t do that.”

She scoffed. “Sure you can. What’s your name, young man? Don’t you have a life? A family? People you care for in this world? You’ve really chosen to resign your life to the slaughtering of beings you know nothing of?” She frowned, shifting her weight and waiting for another deadpan response from the trespasser.

“I know much of vampires,” he replied before turning his back once again, scanning the portrait. “My name is none of your business. If you allow me to do mine, you can be free from her bidding,” he declared, lifting a finger to the portrait.

“I am not looking to be freed by the likes of you,” Sujani snapped, running a finger over the blade of the knife. “I quite like my life, and my overseer.” He lowered his gaze, but did not turn to look at her. “You must go,” she pleaded. “For your own safety. You are still young. Why are you out here, concerning yourself with affairs of other people?”

“You are not people,” he snarled, whipping around with the crucifix in hand. “You’re the farthest thing from a person.”

Sujani stared at his cold expression and heaved another exasperated sigh, then pointed the pocketknife. “I suppose I’m going to have to force you to leave, then? You wouldn’t dare hurt another human being, now, would you? A breathing, bleeding, living human being.” She stepped forward, attempting to look menacing as she could in her frilly shirt and buckled shoes, knife drawn and eyes narrowed. “Much like yourself, young man.”

He scoffed and began to walk backwards, crucifix still dangling from the tips of his fingers. Sujani continued forward, knife drawn as he lifted his free hand, searching in the darkness for an exit into the corridors of the theatre. Between them, in the silence of the backstage, she could hear only the frantic pounding of her heart in her ears and the short  breathing of the trespasser as he searched for an egress.

Above them, a catwalk creaked, and then, descending from the second floor of the stage, still tying her corset, appeared Edel. “Do we have a trespasser on our hands?”

The Englishman stumbled forward, crucifix outstretched, before Sujani grabbed his arm, pulling him backwards, further into the darkness of the theatre’s left wing.

“You should be sleeping, Ms. Veice!” Sujani exclaimed, surprise evident. The Englishman’s glasses slipped down the bridge of his nose to reveal two olive eyes filled with dread.

Edel’s haughty laughter filled the stage, and she appeared above Sujani’s head, red eyes piercing the darkness of the wings. “Nonsense. He’s been bothering you, hasn’t he? No longer. Come on, now, I could use a midday snack.”

It only took a few words and a swift movement to break him from his trance. Sujani grabbed both his arms, slamming him against a door leading to one of the many corridors of the theatre, and it swung open. “Left, right, first door to your left. Run,” Sujani hissed, releasing him and watching as he stumbled out into the darkness. Edel landed on her feet and streaked past Sujani down the corridor, leaving behind a homemade crucifix clattering on the floor. The sound of panicked footsteps continued down the hall, and Sujani followed, leaving the door to the wings ajar. As she stepped across the resistant hardwood, she heard the familiar sound of a creaking door swinging open, followed by a light hiss and a fearful set of feet exiting down a fire escape. Edel appeared back in the hall, glum and undoing their corset as they floated above the floorboards. 

“Well, you just scared the living daylights out of the man,” Sujani commented, hiding the homemade crucifix behind her back. 

“That was but the intention, my darling Sujani.” Edel rolled their eyes, returning to the floor and picking up the edges of their petticoat as their corset went slack. “I gave him quite a fright! He won’t be coming back for a while now. That’s the one, is it not?”

Sujani peered over Edel’s shoulder, as if he would appear again in the hall as they talked, stake drawn. She blinked, averting her gaze back to a gloomy Edel. “Yes. Yes, I believe so. But, I must say, I do have a feeling we will not be seeing the last of him for quite some time.”

Edel bobbed her head and then raised a delicate hand to mask her yawn. “Why say you such things?”

“Suspicion,” she replied, offering a placid smile. “Do not worry, he will get nowhere near you, nor any of the others, let me say,” Sujani insisted, allowing the crucifix to clatter to the ground as she took Edel’s hand. “You must head back now. I wouldn’t want you to grow weak. Why were you out anyways? It’s unsafe these hours, especially in...”

With a wave of her hand, Edel cut Sujani off. “No need. I had a feeling. This theatre is but an extension of myself, my darling Sujani, and I know when there is something afoot.” They relaxed their shoulders, pressing their hands to their chest with a sigh. “And you must dispose of that, my darling, before someone is to be harmed.” Edel’s eyes touched the crucifix, burdened with nostalgia, before she lifted a hand to her face. “I do feel rather weakened by the light. I don’t suppose you will escort me back, and then do draw those curtains in the auditorium?” Edel folded their hands, turning their nose up as they continued. “I would rather my entire cast not be incinerated by sunlight.”

Sujani pursed her lips and held out her hand to Edel, kicking the crucifix to the side. “Certainly, Ms. Veice. I’ll attend to that right away.” 

Leading Edel through the dimly lit halls, then down the staircase to the hideaway, Sujani’s rising anxiety melted away and the corridors and patterns returned to her mind. “Goodnight, my darling Sujani,” Edel said as they disappeared into the shadows of the room, a faint candlelight outlining the cover of their coffin.

“Goodnight, Ms. Veice.”

The crucifix remained where Sujani had left it, right beside the open door back to the stage. Sujani sucked in a breath as she lifted it up, twirled it in her hands, and smashed it upon the floor. The wood buckled and split as she slammed it again, again, and once more for good measure, until her palms were streaked red and she had received a splinter in her index. Splintered pieces of wood now decorated the floor, and nobody on would ever be aware there was a crucifix to begin with, Sujani thought, as she swept away the pieces. Crossing the stage to the disposal and feeling the warmth of the summer light on her face, Sujani watched as it disappeared among the broken sets and discarded scripts.