#(only if my sequel thoughts refuse to leave me alone)

[wolfjackle-creates]

The Two Ghost Motel Chapter 4 (Final)

Finally finished the editing on this one!

Story Summary:

Danny is tired. Endless ghost fights with too many responsibilities and too little time; he barely passed sophomore year. When Ember visits town for a bit of fun, she mentions the Two Ghost Motel, a place of peace and refuge for restless ghosts who aren't ready to cross over. “I’m fine, Ember.” Danny’s got a home and friends. He’s fine, really. But when his parents begin experimenting with electricity to destabilize ghosts, it’s too much for Danny. Unfortunately, neither Sam nor Tucker can host him for the night and he’s left wandering in the night, alone. Then he sees it: The Two Ghost Motel. He checks in. “Welcome.”

AO3 Link

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Minor Original Character Death

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Danny ran, hand tight around Jay’s, ignoring his friend’s attempts to stop him.

He didn’t even slow when Jay yelled, “What happened? What was that ball that fell when Matt disappeared?”

All Danny knew was that they had to get away. So he kept going, dragging Jay with him. Within moments, they were at the sign. Only… Amity didn’t wait for them across the sidewalk.

Nothing waited for them at the edge of the parking lot. Just a thick fog that blocked sight of everything past the boundary of the motel property. His head spun, looking in all directions for some sort of break in the barrier, but there was none. Desperate, he shot an ectoblast at the fog, hoping the light would help him see what was past it, only for it to fizzle upon making contact.

His core thrummed in fear and he shot a more powerful blast, but the same thing happened.

“Phantom!” shouted Jay. “Answer me!”

“We’re trapped,” said Danny. Carefully, he reached out a hand. An invisible barrier stopped him from pushing into the fog. He could no more cross the boundary out of the motel than he could’ve walked through walls before his accident.

“What happened to Matt?”

“He— He was Ended, Jay.” Danny turned so he was facing his friend. He was glad the goggles hid the fact that he was tearing up, but they also prevented him from wiping them away. The world blurred around him. “This place, it’s sucking away the life force of ghosts. That’s probably why I’ve been so tired lately. It’s stealing my strength. Trying to wipe us out until there’s nothing left and we fade. Like Matt. And most likely Alan and Tom before him.”

Jay took a step back and glared at him. “Then what are we doing out here?”

“Getting out, of course! This place will kill us!”

“We’ve both been there, done that. And we can’t just leave everyone else here while we run off to save ourselves. We’ve got to save them all.”

Danny opened his mouth to protest. He wanted to go home. Jazz and his parents and Sam and Tucker would be worried sick. Jay needed to get out, too. He could come back with weapons, better prepared.

But if they got out, would he even be able to find his way back? Would escaping mean leaving all the ghosts he’d seen to their fate? His shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Of course you are. Sorry, seeing Matt’s core shatter like that… No. I won’t let it happen to anyone else if I can stop it.”

Jay’s eyes widened. “That was his core? The thing you told me about before?”

“Yeah…” Danny sighed and looked back towards the motel. He didn’t want to get a single step closer to the building, but it couldn’t be helped.

“How do you think it’s eating people?” asked Jay.

Danny held his hands out. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of something like this before.”

Jay grinned at him. “Then I guess we’ll just have to figure that out. And we’ll stop it. Then we’ll free everyone. And then we can go home to the people who are waiting for us.”

Danny huffed out a laugh and slipped his hand into his pocket where he gripped the bouncy ball. “You make it sound so easy.”

Jay grabbed his wrist and pulled him back in the direction of the hotel. “Not easy, but it is simple. Now, let’s go check out the roof like we’d planned. Just, instead of looking for records, we’ll be looking for what makes this place tick. Once— Once we’ve got everyone out, then we can grieve for Alan and Matt and Tom.”

“You’re right. I’ll be okay. We have to get out first.”

Jay nodded, and the rest of the journey to the roof was made in silence. By unspoken agreement, they avoided the passage where Matt and Alan once played jacks and flew to the roof.

Once in position, Jay pointed to a vent. “This is what I used to crawl in. I can show you the passage that leads to the main office. I didn’t explore much beyond that, though.”

“Then we’ll start with the office before branching off to see where else they lead.”

Jay grinned at him and removed the grate. He was much more efficient and quiet at it than Danny would’ve been.

Without waiting, he dove in, leaving Danny to scrabble after him. He grit his teeth and bit back the scolding he wanted to give. Jay did know the way, so having him lead made sense. Mostly the vents looked like what he’d expect from movies, however thin, ectoplasm-green tendrils wound their way through the metal. Jay didn’t waste time, so Danny couldn’t examine them too closely, but it looked like they were almost part of the metal rather than something added to it.

In the end, they arrived at the grate near the ceiling of the main office in less than two minutes. The path had only branched twice and both times, they took the right passage.

Jay pushed himself to the side and Danny took advantage of his intangibility to squeeze in next to him. From the grate, they could see the receptionist frozen in her default position. Only one ghost was sitting on the couch, and another was standing by the vending machine.

The door would be set below them in the same wall to the left. It wouldn’t take more than a handful of steps to reach, but the receptionist would have to be incapacitated or distracted if they were to make it.

Danny caught Jay’s eyes and jerked his thumb back to indicate they should back up. This time, Danny took the lead. It gave him the chance to examine the green tendrils, but they seemed to be flush with the vent. With his gloves on, he could detect no difference in texture or temperature between the regular metal of the vent and the tendrils.

When they reached the point where the vents branched, Danny led them down the way they hadn’t gone before. However it was disappointing. It led along the the length of the motel and branched into the guest rooms. First floor rooms had outputs near the ceiling; second floor rooms had them near the floor.

They reached the end of the path without finding anything useful. Jay led them back, and the remaining branch of ventilation was a mirror of the first. By the time they had explored everything and returned to the roof, night had fully set in.

“We have to get past the receptionist, don’t we?” asked Jay.

“I can’t think of anything else to do,” admitted Danny.

Jay nodded. “So how do we do this?”

“I’ll go through the front door, you go through the vent.”

“Ugh, I never get to do the fun things.”

Danny bumped their shoulders. “If you had the proper training, I’d totally take you in guns blazing. But you don’t and we don’t have the weaponry available for you to make up for it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Jay pouted, but continued, “So what next?”

“I’ll fight the receptionist. As soon as you get an opening, I want you to jump down from the vent and get through the door. Do not go further than you have to until I can join you, though.”

“Wish I could use powers like yours. Do you have any backup weapons for yourself?”

Danny waved him off. “I’ll be fine. And you need them more than I do.”

“You know, it’s a bad idea to rely on powers so much. What if something happens and you can’t use them?”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve always figured it out.”

“So far,” retorted Jay.

He sighed. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s split. Don’t do anything until I have the receptionist’s attention entirely on me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Worrywart.” Jay turned and retreated back into the vent.

Danny shook his head and flew off the side of the building to enter the office. This time, he didn’t pay any attention to the ghosts in the room. He stalked right up to the front desk and slammed his hand down with his key.

“I’m checking out.”

The receptionist didn’t respond. A glance up at the vent assured him Jay was in position.

“I said—” Danny picked up the key and slammed it down on top of the ledger “—that I’m checking out.”

Sure enough, touching her precious book was enough to wake the receptionist. Her from transformed once more: hair transforming into flames, eyes going red, and hands changing into claws.

“I told you before: You do. Not. Touch. My book!” The last words rose to an inhuman screech.

“Then let me leave!” yelled Danny back.

Smoke came out of her nose as her eyes narrowed. She leaned down, getting her face close to his. Her teeth were pointed and green not-ectoplasm dripped from them. “You will never leave,” she growled.

Danny rose into the air to even out their height difference. “Oh, you will regret trying to hold me captive. I’ve fought scarier things than you.” He shot a blast of ice at her and dove out of the way of her return fire.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jay phase through the vent grate and land in a silent crouch on the floor. For a moment, it looked like he had a yellow cape and a black mask over his eyes. Danny blinked and he was once again in jeans and a t-shirt and gripping the knife.

He couldn’t let himself get distracted. He took several running steps in the opposite direction to keep her attention on him.

“You might be on fire, but your aim sure isn’t!” he quipped as he ducked another attack. Danny shot an ectoblast at her face and immediately followed it up with a sharp spike of ice.

She dodged the ectoblast, but the ice pierced her chest. The receptionist let out a cry of pain as Danny laughed in celebration.

The door behind the receptionist banged shut as Jay succeeded in running past her. The noise caught the receptionist’s attention. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

The distraction was just enough. Danny pulled out his thermos and aimed. She was sucked in and Danny ran after his friend.

“You made it!” exclaimed Jay, lowering the knife as soon as he recognized Danny.

Danny grinned and spun the thermos. “Yep. She’s in soup time.”

Jay groaned. “That’s terrible. Is that really what you call it?”

“Damn right it is!” said Danny. He clipped it back on his hip. “So where are we now?” They were in at the top of a set of old, wooden stairs. A single bare light bulb illuminated the landing they were on, but the bottom of the stairs was cloaked in darkness. “Ready to see what’s down there?”

Jay bumped shoulders with him. “Let’s do this and then we can get home.”

Danny lit up his hand with ectoplasm just as he had earlier that day and took the first step. The wood groaned under him. He immediately rose up a few inches. “Fly. I don’t know if it’ll hold our weight,” said Danny.

The stairs went down farther and farther. A hand on the walls confirmed these were also warded against ghosts so they had no option but to continue on the path.

“How far down do you think these go?” asked Jay.

Danny shrugged. “We’ll find out, I suppose.”

Finally they reached the end. The floor was uneven cement and more not-ectoplasm dripped down the walls. A few feet in front of them stood a metal door.

“Do you think this one will open?” asked Danny quietly.

“Won’t know until we try it,” Jay whispered back.

“Get your knife out. And listen to me if it comes to a fight. I’m the one with experience in ghost fights.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

Danny wanted to glare at him, but he knew from experience it was pointless with his suit. Only Sam, Tucker, and Jazz could reliably read his expressions as Phantom. Pure willpower was the only thing that kept his hand steady as he reached for the handle.

To his surprise, it turned easily under his hand. The door squeaked loudly as it opened.

A large basement room sat behind the door. In the middle, possibly growing from the floor or else sunk into it, sat a giant ectoplasm-green, pulsating mass. From it sprouted what looked like roots that were sunk into the very foundation of the motel. Some were thin, barely thicker than a pencil, but others were as thick as a tree trunk.

“This is what those things in the vents were,” breathed Danny. Something about the mass drew him closer and he took a step forward.

Jay grabbed his arm to hold him back. “We don’t know what it is,” he hissed.

“This is only the second time one of my victims has learned about me,” a voice echoed through the room.

The sound reverberated through Danny’s bones and his core thrummed with it. He didn’t know if he wanted to run towards it or far, far away. “What are you?” demanded Danny. He rose into the air and took a fighting stance. Jay remained on the ground, but had the knife in his hand, blade out.

Discordant laughter rang through the room. “I am the motel. It’s buildings and grounds but an extension of me, just like the bit of me that you tried to contain in that device you carry.”

“The receptionist?” asked Jay. “Is that why she’s so creepy?”

“There is no ‘she’; there is only me. I chose this form to entice ghosts to come visit. And it has worked better than I could have ever dreamed.”

The reminder had Danny tensing. “I won’t let you end any more ghosts!”

The thing laughed again, louder this time; the entire room shook with it. Danny wanted to slam his hands over his ears but held his position. It spoke again, “I’ve been here since before you were born, let alone died. Do you really think you can stop me? No. The last ghost to figure out what I was made a deal with me and I let him go. If you can think of a good enough trade, perhaps I’ll let you go, too. But the rest are mine.”

Jay, just loud enough for Danny to hear, said, “I don’t think it can move from that spot.”

Danny turned his attention to the ground. It was true, the being bulged around the floor where it was positioned. And the tendrils had obviously not changed position since the floor and walls had been built.

“What are you?” asked Danny again.

“I am what happens when creatures are born between life and death.”

“Oooh-kay. Got it, dude. But, like, do you have a name?” Danny ignored the way Jay snickered at his question.

The creature spoke with a boy’s voice, “I’m Matt!” Then, in a different voice, said, “I’m Alan.” Its voice got deeper and older said, “I’m also Tom.” Then the names and voices came faster and faster. Too fast to understand with some male, some female, and in many different languages.

As the voices overlapped, they also became louder. Before Danny could think of anything to do, Jay slapped his hands over his ears and shouted, “Enough!”

The creature stopped. “You asked,” it said in its original inhuman voice.

“Something I regret, not gonna lie,” said Danny.

“You can make me a deal or you can join the ones you’re searching for now. It makes no difference to me.”

“What deal did you make last time?”

The thing laughed again and next to him Jay tensed. “Had he not also been born between worlds like me—like you—I would not have listened to him at all.”

“I’m nothing like you!” protested Danny.

“We were both created between Death and Life. We are more alike than you know.”

Jay growled next to him. “Yeah, but he gives a shit about people and you eat them. I think that matters more than whatever similarities you think you have.”

“Tiny ghost. You’re already more than half mine. Soon you will join the rest of them. I’ve taken so much from you already, so much you don’t remember.”

“The deal!” shouted Danny to bring its attention away from Jay. “What was it?”

“Yes, the deal. Plasmius has been a very good help to me. He promised to send other ghosts my way. I’ve never fed so well in my life. So many of my rooms are occupied now. I had to add on more just for all those that have found me thanks to him.”

Danny flew back a foot involuntarily. Vlad had helped this thing? Was Vlad the entire reason the motel had made it’s way to Amity in the first place?

He shook himself. It didn’t matter. He could deal with Vlad later. Right now, he had to get everyone away from this monster.

“If that’s what you’re after, we will never have a deal.”

“Then I’ll take your power. How much greater will I be if I gorged on a prince, I wonder?”

Before Danny could even question the statement, one of the creatures tentacles tore out of the floor under them, sending cement flying.

“Jay!” Danny called as he saw his friend get tossed up; but Jay caught himself mid-air and gave Danny a grin and a thumbs up.

Danny nodded back and shaped an ectoblast into a blade that he shot at the tentacle even as it raced towards him. The appendage was torn in two, spraying him with more of the not-ectoplasm. He was grateful his suit kept it from actually touching him. His mask even filtered out most of the smell, though not quite all.

Jay was far enough away that he avoided being splashed. “Dude, you reek. Can’t you get a shower down here or something?”

Danny laughed. “If the sprinkler system reached down here, would it release water or more of that rotten ectoplasm or whatever it is?”

With a wordless yell, another tentacle yanked free of its confines, sending concrete falling from the ceiling.

Danny dove at Jay, pushing them both just out of the way. He sent another ectoblade at it and this time they were both sprayed with its blood. Jay cried out in pain as it hit him.

“Shit, sorry!” Danny set Jay down. “Are you okay?”

Jay grit his teeth and nodded. “I’ll be fine. But I don’t think this knife is going to do much.”

Danny winced and threw up a shield as another tentacle pulled loose and a chunk of the ceiling nearly hit them. He formed an icicle and pinned the attacking appendage to the wall. Already he could feel himself getting tired and the fight had only just started.

“Can you make me a weapon out of ice?” asked Jay as he watched to make sure the pinned tentacle stayed trapped.

“Good idea!” Still maintaining the shield with one hand, Danny used the other to make an ice sword. He put extra focus into making the edge as sharp as he possibly could. “Will this do?”

Jay grinned at him and took it. “Fuck yeah!”

“Careful, blade’s sharp!”

The monster was clearly done letting them fool around. The floor shook as it pulled free two more large tentacles and hit the shield hard from both sides. Danny threw out his other hand and poured as much power as he could into maintaining the shield.

“I can’t keep this up for long,” he warned Jay through gritted teeth. “Hold onto me and I’ll drop the shield and fly us away.”

“Got it.” Jay wrapped his left arm around Danny’s stomach so they were facing opposite directions and held on tight. With his right hand, he held the sword out, ready to attack.

Another roar echoed, followed by a blast of flames.

Danny cursed and the double onslaught of flames and tentacles shattered his shield. He sent blasts of ice to block as much of the fire as he could, but he and Jay both screamed when they were burned by what he couldn’t stop.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he shot another ectoblade at a tentacle. This time, it only sliced halfway through before dissipating.

Jay had better luck and managed to cut the other one with his sword. Only to let out another yell when its blood splattered both of them.

Some landed on an area where the fire had burned through his suit and it felt like acid on the wound. Danny turned them both invisible and dragged Jay away, sending a wave of healing ice over both of their bodies to soothe the injuries.

“Thanks,” said Jay.

“We need to come up with a strategy,” said Danny.

“I think it’s sitting in something. A crack in the ground, looks like it’s filled with more of that green stuff.”

“What?” Danny turned to look, only to trip over one of the small tendrils.

“Found you!” yelled the creature as it pulled free another three larger tentacles.

Danny dropped the invisibility and focused on keeping the any debris from hitting them while Jay hacked at the tentacles with the sword. Danny used shields to block as much of the blood splatter as he could, though a few bursts of pain on areas where his suit was damaged and curses from Jay proved he wasn’t entirely successful.

The movement of the monster did allow Danny to see what Jay meant, however. The floor surrounding it was being torn up as much as everywhere else and, through the destruction, he could see the tell-tale swirling green of a portal.

“It’s sitting in a portal,” breathed Danny. “Half in this world, half in the zone.”

The moment’s distraction was all it needed, however. Danny yelled in surprise as a tentacle wrapped around him and lifted him high into the air.

“Phantom!” yelled Jay who rushed forward, sword raised, oblivious to the tentacle behind him.

“Behind you!” Danny shouted back.

Jay spun, slashing with his sword, but it was too late. He was captured, too. The weapon fell from his grasp as his arms were bound tight to his sides.

“Jay!” called Danny again. But the tentacle holding him rotated so he could no longer see his friend. Instead, he faced the giant mass that took up the center of the room.

In it opened a crack. Flames escaped the gap which widened as Danny was dragged closer. As it shifted, however, the ground cracked around it, making the portal more visible. Danny watched as it sunk a few inches.

“I’ve got you now, young prince! And a nice little bird for desert after.” The creature’s echoing laugh was going to feature in Danny’s nightmares, he just knew it.

Danny twisted and squirmed, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake loose. Not even his intangibility let him phase through the appendage holding him captive. He closed his eyes and reached for his core. His power levels were low, much lower than they should’ve been, but he pulled anyway and aimed through his feet.

The ectoblast hit the ground at the edge of the portal, sending chunks of cement and dirt falling into the Zone.

It laughed again. “How did you manage to win your position with aim that poor?”

Danny laughed. “Oh, you wish I’d missed.” He yanked on his core again and shot another ectoblast at the ground. More crumbled away and the creature sank a few feet into the portal.

The monster roared and every tentacle not holding onto it’s prisoners jammed into the walls and ceiling to hold itself steady. Chunks of the already damaged building fell all around them. Danny cried out as he was hit hard on the head with a slab of cement.

Cries that were echoed by Jay.

“You okay, birdie?” shouted Danny. His transformation threatened to wash over him, but he grit his teeth and pushed it back. He could do this. He needed to do this.

“Just peachy,” was the terse reply.

Danny didn’t bother replying, just closed his eyes, gathered as much power as he could, and let out one more ectoblast. This time, several feet of flooring broke apart and fell through the portal, destabilizing enough that the creature was relying on his anchors to the building to keep from falling through.

The tentacle holding Danny loosened its grip just enough to allow him to pull free. He turned to Jay only to find he’d also escaped.

“What have you done?” screamed the monster as the building shook above them. The tentacles that had been holding Jay and Danny also shot forth to dig into the ceiling, but that only succeeded in it destabilizing further.

Now the holes were big enough to see through and so much of the building was crumbling that the creature was clearly struggling to keep its grip. Every movement just pulled down more of the building around them.

“Come on!” called Jay. “There’s a door over there!”

Danny grabbed his hand and turned them both intangible to avoid as much of the collapsing building as possible. It didn’t entirely work—some of the pieces hit them despite their intangibility—but it kept them from being completely buried.

Jay reached for the handle and it didn’t turn. “Fuck,” he cried.

Without letting go of his hand, Danny pushed him behind him and thought back to the martial arts lessons his mom had given him when he was younger. He kicked the door.

It shook in its frame, but held solid.

He grit his teeth and tried again. He felt a pull coming from behind him and looked over his shoulder. What the creature wasn’t knocking into the portal with it’s struggles was being sucked in.

“Shit!” cried Danny. He kicked the door again. On the fourth try, it finally gave. Though that could’ve been because half the wall next to it also collapsed. Danny didn’t care and flew through, dragging Jay behind him.

Instantly, he recognized the hallway. It was the one he and Jay had explored earlier, and the door he’d broken down, the one they couldn’t get through. He pushed forward, though it was getting harder to fly against the pull of the portal.

“Hurry up!” cried Jay.

Danny didn’t turn to look, just kept going. They were at the stairs and he was going up. He didn’t slow as they approached the door, just flew right through it. Luckily it let them.

He veered right, making his way to the parking lot and the entrance to the motel property. They had to make it through this time. From the corner of his eye, he could see the motel collapsing into the portal, sucking everything in.

“What about the others?” yelled Jay.

“They’re being dragged into the Zone! They’ll be fine. Better’n here at least. But we want to go back to Earth. We can’t afford to be lost in the Zone if we’re going to return to our families!”

“Promise?”

The pull was getting harder to fight, but they were almost to the boundary of the parking lot. “Promise!”

And he hit the fog. This time, it didn’t feel like hitting a wall. Instead it felt like flying into water. It was heavy and slowed him down. So, so hard to fight through. But he thought about Jazz and Sam and Tucker. He remembered the good times with his parents and school and evenings at the Nasty Burger.

“You’re going the wrong way!” called Jay.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Trust me, birdie. This’ll get us home!”

Jay tugged on his hand, trying to pull him off course. Danny refused to budge and kept pushing forward.

And Jay let go.

Before Danny could cry out, before he could decide whether to go back or keep pushing forward, he was dropping out of the sky and landing hard on pavement. Completely drained, his transformation washed over him before he could even try and stop it.

“Jay? Birdie!” he called and looked around. He pushed himself up, only for his arms to give out. From what he could tell, he was in some alley between two buildings. Before he could figure out more than that, his vision spun and the world went black.

---

He heard voices. “…readings… nearby…”

Danny groaned. Whatever he was sleeping on was hard and his everything hurt. But he couldn’t muster up the strength to move.

“I think I heard something!” called a voice. A familiar voice.

“Mom?” moaned Danny. He forced his eyes opened and winced when a bright light shone in his face.

“Danny! Jack, Jack, come quick. It’s Danny!”

The light came closer and he pulled back. It turned off, and Danny could see him mom there, running towards him then kneeling in front of him. She peeled off a glove and ran her hands through his hair.

“Oh, sweetie. Your father and I have been worried sick. Where’ve you been? What happened?”

“Dan-o!” His dad sprinted around the corner and half collapsed to the ground right next to Danny. “You’re all bruised up! Was it a ghost? Where is it? It’ll regret the day it ever laid a hand on Jack Fenton’s boy!”

Danny huffed a laugh and pushed himself up until he was sitting. His dad immediately pulled him into a tight hug and Danny relaxed into it.

“I fought it off, dad. It’s not gonna come back.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Oh, but Danny,” said his mom. “You’re absolutely covered in bruises! And is that a burn? Let’s get you to a doctor, hun.”

“No!” Danny winced when his mom pulled back at his vehemence. “I mean… I just want to go home. Can’t I go home?”

“I don’t know, honey. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

Danny’s stomach growled. “Please, mom? I just want something to eat then to crawl into bed and not move for twenty four hours.”

“Come on, Mads! Boy’s a Fenton and we Fentons are tough. We’ll fill you up with ham and fudge, Dan-o.”

His mom sighed. “Oh, if you’re sure. And Jazz would kill us if we didn’t let her see Danny immediately.” Before Danny could do more than grin at her, she was continuing, “But I’ll be looking over your injuries and if anything looks out of place, we are going straight to the hospital. Got it, young man?”

“Yes, mom.”

Before Danny could pull away from his dad to push himself to his feet, he was being picked up. He relaxed into his dad’s chest and closed his eyes. He drifted, vaguely aware of his parents talking, of getting into the GAV, and of driving off.

Then he was being carried inside and he heard Mom calling for Jazz. He shifted, trying to force himself to wake up.

Dad set him down on the couch. “Waking up there, Danny-boy?”

From upstairs, he heard running footsteps and Jazz shouting “Danny!”

He pushed himself up so he was standing just in time to see Jazz practically fly down the stairs and tackle him in a hug that sent them both back into the couch cushions.

“Hey, Jazz.”

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you hear me? Never, Danny!”

Danny hugged her back tightly and tried to ignore how her weight pressed on the small rubber ball in his pocket. “I’ll do my best, Jazz. Promise.”

More quietly, she asked, “You’ll tell me everything, right?”

Danny nodded his agreement. “Tomorrow. I’ll want your help with something.”

“Jazz, let Danny up,” ordered their mom. Jazz obliged and shifted until they were sitting side-by-side. Mom nodded her approval and shifted closer to put a hand on his chin so she could examine his face. “What on earth did you get up to? It’s not just bruising, you’re bleeding, too! Jack, get the first aid kit.”

“You’ve got it, snookums!” And he ran out of the room, shaking the walls as he did.

“Mom, mom. It’s okay. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”

“Daniel James Fenton, stop downplaying your injuries. All of this will have to be disinfected.”

And Dad was back, holding the kit above his head like a trophy. “One first aid kit coming up!” he exclaimed as he handed it to Mom.

“Thank you, Jackiepoo.”

Dad winked at Danny. “Now for the fudge! Nothing helps chase away pain like a large piece of fudge.”

Before Danny could reply, he was running back out of the room. He met Jazz’s eyes and they both broke out in giggles which made him mom tut and order him to remain still.

Danny was still worried about Jay and the other residents of the motel. But he’d look for them tomorrow. Tonight, he let himself relax with Jazz pressed up against his side and his mom fussing over him and his dad forcing a piece of fudge the size of his head on him.

He was finally home.

---

Hundreds of miles away, a boy opened his eyes only to find himself trapped in dark box. He banged on the top, but it didn’t budge move. His hands explored the space, looking for a knife. Or even anything sharp.

All he could find was his belt buckle. He pulled it out and used it to tear apart the wood of the box above him. Dirt greeted him on the other side, but he kept digging through it. Inch by inch for six feet.

When he pulled himself out of the ground, it was to come face-to-face with a gravestone.

For the first time in months, Jason Todd breathed.

-----

The End

Hope you enjoy! It's been so much fun working in a new genre.

[nnight-dances]

REPETITION / RARE LOVE

pairings: kim mingyu x fem!reader (ft. yoon jeonghan)

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive & sexual content

tropes: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers (except mingyu's the only idiot), pining, flirting

warnings: explicit language, banter, alcohol consumption, borderline jeonghan slander but it's okay because i would die for the man, has been proofread by me once but only barely. kazuha (le sserafim) is your roommate, huh yunjin is present.

WHAT TO EXPECT

it's simple enough: you and mingyu are perfect for each other. you've told him as much but after years of him avoiding the topic, you leave him alone. but when your long-time infatuation with jeonghan gets rejected, you have nothing to distract you from your desire to be with mingyu. all it takes is you making out with the wrong person and a can of beer for mingyu to come to his senses. (about 11k)

OR: maybe you don't hate repetition as much as you claim to.

SEQUEL OUT NOW!

“why are men on tinder actually vile?” you question out loud, not quite expecting an answer as your eyes continue to read the offensive opener you’d received from a recent match. mingyu, who’s crouched on the desk across from you, frowns.

“y/n, we’re meant to be studying,” he points out, “but also i thought you were over tinder?”

you look at him blankly, “i am! i just gotta finish what i started you know…”

mingyu looks deeply disappointed in you and you slide your phone across to him, “look at this message i just got! it’s disgusting! i don’t need to know if someone’s wet at the thought of—”

“god, y/n, do you have to scream?” he asks as he takes hold of your phone, busying his fingers probably with blocking the guy. you momentarily look back at your screen where the black document meant to be the outline for your final art history paper taunts you.

you sigh, looking down at your phone when mingyu returns it. “i paused your account and deleted the app.” you sigh yet again, “man! if you were gonna uninstall it without my permission you should’ve just deleted my account.”

“you’d just make another one anyway,” he shrugs, “plus, this way when you go back you’ll remember why you left in the first place.”

you grumble something under your breath but resume your attempts at writing. mingyu smiles a little as he goes back to his own work. a beat passes before, he puts his pen down again and when he sees you’re staring at your screen distantly, he asks, “did you talk to jeonghan yet?”

you gasp at the mention of your years-old crush, glancing around you as if you weren’t in a private study room (because apparently the only way either of you could get anything done was while talking to each other). “what?” mingyu continues, “one of us had to address the elephant in the room.”

“wow, you’re just the worst friend ever, aren’t you? it’s like you can’t read rooms at all. i clearly did not want to talk about jeonghan.”

“well, now you are. so you might as well be honest with me. did you think about confessing to him?”

you deflate, stomach suddenly uneasy, “no. i don’t think i will. i don’t need him to know.”

“you kinda do. y/n, look at me,” mingyu knocks on the wood to demand your attention, “it’s the only way you’ll ever have an answer.”

“i don't want an answer.”

“…”

"because i'm going to move on from him!"

"..."

“okay, well, i’m starting to! just watch me, okay? i have the agency to not be completely consumed by my very shallow attraction to a very attractive and impressive man.”

“right. you just used attractive twice in a sentence— and no, i don’t care if it wasn’t the same form of the word, you absolutely hate redundant things. and yet, you refuse to recognize the way out of this pattern of yours.”

“you are so tiring, mingyu, you know that? exhausting, even. i don’t want to do this anymore.” you shake your head at him, suddenly invigorated to finish this damn preliminary proposal of yours.

—

yunjin cackles as she plops down across from you in the dining hall, finding you scrolling ever so dedicatedly on pinterest. “what’s this?”

you look up at her with a pout, “i need a dress for hoshi’s little party. it’s in two weeks and i have zero options.”

“fuck, i knew i was forgetting something,” she grimaces in her typical huh yunjin way and shifts closer, “i need to find something for that too. can’t just wear a corset and call it day since he’s labelling it a formal and whatnot.”

“he really is the worst,” you agree, pausing to muse over a pretty white dress with red roses all over it. “hmm, what about this one?”

yunjin tilts her head and nods as she looks between you and the dress, probably imagining you in it. then, you sigh, “it’s just i don’t think red is my color like that.”

you’re about to elaborate when you hear a gasp from behind you, “that is simply not true!” you don’t have time to react when a figure slides in next to you. goddamnit, it’s jeonghan, you realize, trying hard to keep it together when his shoulder comes to sit next to yours. “you absolutely fucking rock the color red.”

“i do?” is all you can muster as yunjin chokes out a badly covered laugh. you glare at her, “what’s funny, jen?”

“hah, nothing, i agree with jeonghan, you’d look lovely in red.”

you frown, unconvinced as you scroll some more, feeling dizzy from jeonghan’s presence.

“preparing for hoshi’s party i presume?” jeonghan asks and you nod. “i’m so stressed, i have nothing and it’s approaching so fast.”

“you have time though,” he reassures but you’re quick to protest, “i’m not going to have any time next week because we’re organizing that night flea market. i’ll be running around campus so i need to take a trip this week.” the beauty of going to a college with an isolated campus: peace and you gotta plan every time you leave campus because there’s a singular bus that takes you to the city. it’d be a whole day trip for you if not for mingyu, who thankfully has a car that he can drive.

“ahh, tell me when you’re going into the city, y/n,” yunjin pats you, “i gotta go too.”

you nod and then remember, “right of course, i just remembered kazuha saying she wanted to come too.”

“nice,” yunjin approves, “we need all the opinions we can get. did you get mingyu to agree to drive you yet?”

“i texted him earlier but he hasn’t replied, which is slightly concerning because he may not know how to spell but he does write back very fast.”

jeonghan chuckles, “mind if i join you guys too?”

you stop in your tracks, turning to face him, “you wanna come shopping with us?”

he nods, that sweet smile of his plastered across his face, “yeah, i could use a new formal outfit. i’m tired of wearing the same black suit to everything.” he nudges your side, “plus, you guys could help me out. i can never decide on anything all alone.”

—

“maybe i should just not go,” you groan with your head in your hands. mingyu rolls his eyes, slapping your back, “why would not go? if your problem’s with jeonghan, he should be the one to stay back. not you.”

you sit back up, staring at the eggs in your plate. beside you, mingyu chugs his glass of orange juice, and you lean against him. “god, i hate him so much. do you wanna go see if the playground’s free?”

“right now?” mingyu looks at the time. it’s 11 am on saturday, still an hour from the time everyone agreed to meet in front of mingyu’s car, which is conveniently parked right across from the playground. as if following your line of thought, he grins, “alright. but you finish your food first.”

you sigh, “okay, mom, i will.”

five minutes later find you racing mingyu for the best swing in the playground— months of visiting the place had taught you the first swing was the only one that didn’t creak too loud and experienced the least amount of bumps during the ride. mingyu’s fast but you’re stubborn so you reach out for his arm midway, sticking your nails into the skin, knowing how dramatic he is about these things.

he gasps, “DO NOT CLAW ME.” strong as he might be, he slows down to rip your grip off. you seize the opportunity, getting a headstart and laugh when you reach the swing before him, sitting down firmly before mingyu can pull you away.

“that’s cheating, y/n, you know it!”

“hey, you’re the one that has an advantage. you go to the gym like eight times a week. i go like thrice a month.”

“sounds like someone’s lazy and whiny to me.”

you smile, “someone lazy wouldn’t win that race. and you’re the one that’s whining,” you point to his stance, his arms at his hips like an affronted toddler. he loosens his body with a pout as he walks over to the second swing. “whatever.”

time passes a little too fast for you two when you’re fighting like this because kazuha’s running over to you, breathless. “y/n! what are you guys doing?”

“zuha, hi! did you—”

“yep, i got your lip gloss.”

you chuckle, throwing your arms around her, “why are you the best roommate ever?”

mingyu scoffs, “what about you being the worst roommate ever?”

kazuha laughs, too nice to agree with him, “hey, that’s not true.” you hit him in the side, “you’re just jealous that you’re in a single. i guess money really does make people lonely.”

“i’d go for a double even if i was that rich,” jeonghan’s voice pops up from beside you. he sure has a knack for appearing out of thin air. “i couldn’t handle being alone.”

“not everyone can love themselves as much as i do,” mingyu shrugs, smugly as crosses his arms. “i’m self-sufficient like that.”

“if you guys are done, we should start moving,” comes yunjin’s voice from near mingyu’s car, “it’s already fifteen past 12.”

“i call shotgun!” yunjin shouts and you’re quick to fight back, “no way, i already called it.”

“if i didn’t hear it, then it doesn’t count,” she teases, leaning against the passenger side. you glare at mingyu, “i called it in front of mingyu! the driver is the one that counts.”

mingyu laughs at the petty fight, “y/n did call it earlier this morning.”

“that’s not fair! mingyu’s obviously going to take y/n’s side, you guys spend every breathing minute together. the rest of us don’t stand a chance.”

you smirk, “don’t be a sore loser, huh yunjin, you can call it when we’re coming back. if you remember to.”

“i hate you,” she mutters as everyone settles into the car.

“i’m open to music requests, dear friends,” you announce once you’ve started off. “but i reserve the right to reject any tasteless songs.”

“isn’t this the textbook example of a tyranny?” jeonghan breathes and you shoot him a look over your shoulder, “hey, the power comes with the seat. it’s natural selection.”

mingyu groans through laughter, “you know you don’t make any sense. just play some music.”

you roll your eyes, “he says as he laughs his fat ass off.”

“she’s just salty my ass is fatter than hers,” he mutters under his breath. the three in the backseat break into laughs at that, all at your expense as you gape at them. such betrayal.

“i don’t know why i call you friends. you’re monsters.”

kazuha pipes in, “y/n, are you calling your sweet roommate a monster right now?”

jeonghan is quick to join in, “honestly, i’d say kazuha is the nicest friend among us here.”

“fine, everyone but zuha’s out to get me right now.” the screaming continues for a little bit longer until yunjin and kazuha tire themselves out and pass out. you chuckle when you look at them, yunjin’s head bobs in the middle of the three until it hits kazuha’s shoulder, whose head then rests on top.

swiftly, you pull out your phone camera and capture the moment, sure to tease them later. as you’re clicking the photos, jeonghan’s face sticks into the corner with a sneaky grin and you shift the angle to include him. enjoying the attention, he shoots the camera a peace sign, followed by a little heart, and then a cheek heart and now he’s a bunny and then—

you pull yourself away abruptly with a shaky laugh, “god, jeonghan, this isn’t a photoshoot.”

he laughs back, “ha ha, sorry, i can’t help myself. it’s so fun to tease you like this.”

you feel the blood rush to your face at that, so you turn to face the road completely, a weak, “fuck off” on your tongue. mingyu silently observes the interaction, not without a little side-eye that you don’t know what to think of. “you should get some rest, y/n, you didn’t sleep last night.”

you frown, surprised mingyu knows that and you don’t get to ask him why he knows that because jeonghan interrupts, “you guys sure are close. i was talking to hoshi the other day, he misses y’all a lot.”

“he does? he can just come talk to us whenever though,” mingyu replies, doubt tracing his tone. “i don’t think we’re exclusive like that.”

“right?” you agree, “we used to be so close to hoshi, too, and then he moved to the other side of campus this semester and now i have like one class with him.”

“i don’t know,” jeonghan says, “you should talk to him about it, but there’s always been something stronger about the two of you together.”

you shrug, “we always end up together. it’s not that deep i think. it’s just how it is.”

the topic ends there as jeonghan agrees and dozes off himself too. you, however, feel eerily awake. awake? no, more like unsettled. something in your nerves is off and you feel on edge. you’re a little spaced out after that, as you finally reach the city circle with all the shops crowded next to each other with a little mall in the center.

as everyone gets off and gathers their things, mingyu pulls you aside with a concerned look, “are you okay, y/n?” his grip on your elbow grounds you a little. you inhale, knowing better than to pretend in front of him, “yeah, just a little uneasy. i don’t know why. probably just tired.”

mingyu looks like he knows something more about your condition, “are you sure? we can take a break at one of the restaurants before shopping if you want?”

“nah, i’m okay, don’t worry. i’m a strong girl,” you smile, reasurring him with a pat to his chest, “i feel better now. thanks, mingyu.”

he frowns, hand loosening against your skin, “you never thank me, weirdo. don’t be so formal.”

“man, there’s no winning with you, is there?”

he chuckles as he pulls you after the others, “no, i’m insatiable.”

—

an hour into shopping, you realize why you hate doing this. everything is so overwhelming when you’re in the city, so many people, so many clothes. at least you have friends with you as you scan racks after racks, ending up with three potential dresses on your arm. you mutter a prayer in your head that you can find something nice here so you don’t have to walk more. this is already your third store.

the first one is a classic: a little black dress. it’s satin so it sits smooth against your skin and feels soft when you twirl around. it’s a little short for your liking, perhaps too tight against your ass. you turn to the side to get a better look. you take a photo and send it to mingyu, who you’d been going back and forth with. he’d last sent you a photo ten minutes ago: him in a stupid minion onesie. you’d cursed him out real well in response telling him to stop fucking around. he writes back fast.

big gyu: u look good

big gyu: kinda basic tho

you: yea i thought so too

you agree with that, putting the dress aside in case you don’t find anything else at all.

candidate number two is more over the top: a long red dress with little black patterns on it, with a leg slit on one side. getting into it was a whole struggle but you get it on finally. it fits well thanks to the slit which also shows off some skin. you’re hot in it: like literally. the long sleeves don’t help at all. but you look good too, the flare doing wonders for your figure. you pause, sending a photo hoping mingyu would be of help.

however, when mingyu takes longer than a minute to reply, you groan, already sweating a little. concluding that he’s probably changing or something, you peek out your curtain, hoping yunjin was still in the stall next to yours. you call out her name, straining your neck to see if there was anyone else you could ask for help.

you spot jeonghan walking around the shelves near the fitting rooms and before you can hesitate to call him over, he notices your head poking out. he raises an eyebrow, sending your heartbeat into a spiral. “y/n? do you need help?”

you clear your throat, “um, yeah, i need a second opinion on this dress.” jeonghan approaches your corner and you panic when he reaches for the curtain to draw it back. his eyes question you, “can i look?” you let go of it to let him in, a tiny little rational part of you wondering he needed to come inside the room to see.

“ohhh,” he exclaims as he takes you in, “you look amazing. told ya red was your color.”

you turn away from him a little, “this dress is hot.”

“it sure is,” he agrees and you blush harder, “no i meant, like literally. i’m so hot right now.”

jeonghan presses his lips together, giving away the fact that he understands but being the little bitch he is, he chooses the option that makes you wanna combust. he presses two fingers to your cheek and mumbles, “yeah, you are.”

you push his arm off, “yoon jeonghan! you’re such a damn flirt! get out of here.” you force him out of your space and he’s uncontrollably laughing as he lets you. “i’ve another dress to try so wait outside for me.”

“sure you don’t need a hand changing—”

“no, thank you very much!” you scream, greeted with more pleased chuckling. your phone buzzes, catching your attention. you lean down to look at it.

big gyu: niceee thats hot

big gyu: u should get this dress

big gyu: pls

big gyu: pls

you: …girl why are u begging me

big gyu: because.

big gyu: you’re getting this dress right

you: no i’d die of overheating in it

big gyu: and it’d be worht it

you: i dont like how enthusiastic u are about this...

you: wtv this one's rejected.

you: i still have another dress to try

you put your phone down to try the final dress. this one was a purple slip dress with white flower detailing. it was skin tight against your boobs and a little transparent, giving away your black bra underneath. and to contrast, it sat a little loose on your hips which was honestly not the worst look, keeping from the dress becoming too scandalous. you enjoyed this dress the most so far. that was enough, given the track record.

“you done, y/n?” you’re startled when the voice outside is mingyu’s instead of jeonghan. you pull back the curtains in confusion, “gyu? what’re you doing here?” mingyu stops short, “fuck, i like this one.” you flush a little when you notice his eyes settle on your chest for a beat too long. “that’s stunning, for real.”

you laugh. “look at you using big words. but yeah, i think this is the one.” you look over at him, “did jeonghan leave?”

“um, yeah, he said he had to use the washroom when i ran into him on the way,” he mumbles. you nod, a little relieved because you think you’d die if he saw you right now. “anyway, i’m offended you were showing him your dresses and then all i got was a photo.”

“hey, you were taking so long to reply that i had seek someone else out. he just happened to be her.”

mingyu ignores that and tells you to hurry up, “i need your help choosing something for myself.”

“ugh, alright, give me five.”

in the end, you decided you’d get both the classic black dress and the slip dress, you needed more dresses in general. wouldn’t hurt to have more. when you’re done checking out, you find mingyu in conversation with kazuha who’s smiling with a shopping bag in her hands.

“zuha, you get anything?” you ask. she nods eagerly, “yeah! i got this pink dress that jeonghan helped me find just now. it’s really pretty, i’ll show you later in the room.”

you falter a little at that, glancing at mingyu who’d told you he went to the washroom. ignoring the growing unsettling gut feeling, you inform her you’d found something too. “nice, we should have a try-on in the room later.”

“you guys!!” yunjin joins the group, “this is insane. i hit the jackpot and found the sexiest green dress ever.” you laugh, linking arms with her, “you should come over later and try it on with us.”

“ah, the beauty of womanhood,” mingyu grumbles beside you, and you shove him. “you’re not invited, pervert.”

his jaw falls open, “excuse me? what did you just call me?”

you press an index finger into his bicep, “don’t think i didn’t notice you checking my boobs out earlier.” mingyu’s cheek redden at the light-hearted accusation, worsening when jeonghan appears right at the climax of the argument.

“okay, okay, first of all, i wasn’t checking anything out!” he complains, “and-and well, they—”

jeonghan cuts him off, patting his back with an amused smirk, “it’s alright, buddy, it happens to the best of us.” everyone laughs at that, much to mingyu’s chagrin who then becomes pouty for the rest of the walk to the next shop.

“c’mon,” you pull him into the store, “my turn to stare at your tits.”

“god, would you drop it?” he groans as he follows you in. “it won’t happen again.”

you giggle, “it’s okay with me, gyu, because that just means the girls look good.”

he groans again, “i really don’t need to be a part of this.” he wanders off into the store, embarrassed. you let him go, looking at clothes for him separately. turns out shopping for mingyu is harder than the concept of it sounds. it doesn’t help that he’s an expert at criticizing the small detail in every item you choose for him. half an hour later, you’re tired of him.

as if on cue, kazuha calls you to tell you to come over to an asian restaurant nearby to grab lunch. you thank the lords as you pull mingyu away, “there’s nothing here for me anyway,” he grumbles as you meet up with the rest.

entering the restaurant, you spot kazuha and jeonghan at a table nearby. yunjin’s still on her way it turns out as you sit across from them, heart in throat for the worst reason possible: you’re jealous. you may be down bad for jeonghan but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your ability to take a hint. trying to keep the thought from completely forming in your head, you make conversation with everyone, wanting to be better than this.

you want to avoid thinking about it so you’re quick to shut jeonghan off. he’s his usual self, joking around with everyone but he picks up when you’re not as receptive as usual. you hope he just thinks nothing of it, but you know that’s not possible when he approaches you after lunch as everyone else is washing up in the bathroom.

you’re outside alone, waiting, when he slightly pushes your shoulder to draw your attention. you gasp lightly. “jeonghan?”

“can i talk to you for a sec?”

you frown, “yeah, you’re talking to me right now.”

“come on, y/n, don’t be cold. let’s go for a walk.”

“but, the others—”

“i let mingyu know we’ll be back in a few.”

out of excuses, you silently follow jeonghan’s stride through the busy street. he makes conversation really well, easing you up in no time as he distracts you from what was on your mind. it’s illegal how smoothly he then proceeds to drop the act.

you’re laughing about what he’d said about hoshi’s drinking habits just now, when he suddenly goes serious, “i think i like kazuha.”

you freeze up at that, fighting the frown that itches closer, looking at him like you didn’t hear him. heart’s out of control right now, but at least you were already expecting this outcome. “huh?”

“sorry, i just thought you should know. i’m really into her and i was planning to ask her out sometime this week.”

you would love to pass away right now. immediately, you think you hate jeonghan for doing this to you. it’s clear from his behavior that he knows you like him and that he’s apologizing— he’s rejecting you before you have a chance to confess. he likes kazuha. he’s going to ask her out. you should know that.

you sputter awkwardly, “that’s great! good for you, jeonghan. and um, you really didn’t have to tell me. i’m sure kazuha would love to be with you.”

you never want to speak a word to anyone ever again and you're sweating ever so profusely, so you speed up a little, “and we should get going, no?”

sensing your mood, jeonghan follows along but says, “i’m sorry, y/n. i- i know you…”

you don’t let him finish because it would genuinely kill you to hear him say he knows you like him. “you don’t have to be sorry.” with that, you essentially leave your body. you move fast enough to reach the car, wordlessly getting into the passenger seat and yunjin somehow knows better than to fight you.

the car ride back is filled with music. not much chatter. you realize it’s partly your fault and silently dread being back in the room with kazuha, but to your relief, when you reach she doesn’t bring anything up. you’re too tired to do a try-on like you promised and when mingyu asks if you want to come over to his place, you tell him you’re feeling sleepy. and for once, you actually sleep after telling him that.

sleep is not as much of a comfort as you’d hope for it to be: less of an escape, more jeonghan-themed content. something about heartbreak and living the rest of your life, lovelessly.

—

the next week starts off hectic and you’re thankful for it this once. you could use the chaos of organizing an event to take your mind off things. a small part of you wonders if jeonghan was being merciful by letting you down and timing it so well. knowing him, that doesn’t seem so impossible.

you feel better than you’d imagined you would. you cried like once since the rejection. you didn’t need to worry much at this point, having realizing that it was less important that you’d made it out to be. mingyu, on the other hand, doesn’t give up his worrying, especially when he doesn’t see you until three days into the week. and that, too, because he gave up and thought it would be a good idea to invade your room, at one in the night.

his knocking wakes you up fairly quickly, since you’d only put your phone down a few minutes ago. you rush to the door, afraid of waking kazuha up. “what the fuck, mingyu?” you ask at the sight of him.

“what the fuck yourself! stop ignoring my messages maybe?”

you groan, stepping outside your room, feeling the cold air hit you in your night clothes. “why’d you have to confront me so late at night? can we do this tomorrow? when i’m coherent and not half-naked?”

mingyu falter as if he just realized the time, noticing your tank top and shorts. “i don’t care. i’ll give you my jacket but we’re doing this right here and right now.”

you sigh, knowing this was coming. “forget it, keep your jacket. i’ll go change and be right back.”

mingyu grabs your arm when you try to go back inside, “how do i know you’re not just gonna leave me here to die?”

“dude, my room’s right here. you can come watch me change if you fucking want.”

he lets you go, flustered when you offer and you laugh as you rush back in. in the darkness, kazuha’s voice startles you, “y/n? is everything okay? are you being abducted?”

“oh god, zuha, you scared me. and no, it’s just stupid little mingyu who wants to have a talk. i’ll settle this. go back to sleep.”

she groans, “god, you guys are just like my parents sometimes.”

you laugh at that as you slip into a hoodie and exchange your shorts for pajamas. when you return, mingyu’s sitting at the stairs in front of your room and you hit him in the back.

“ouch! fuck you!” he stands up with a glare, “also i heard what you said about me. why am i stupid and little? can you just choose one insult?"

“let’s go down if we’re gonna argue. zuha can hear us, too. and did you hear what she said after that?” when he seems clueless, you go on, “she said we remind her of her parents sometimes.”

he coughs, “her parents?? what are we, married?”

you roll your eyes, “married and sick of each other, apparently.”

“being zuha’s parents doesn’t sound so bad honestly. she’d be the easiest child to raise.”

“i feel like zuha would raise you if you were her father,” you laugh, “me too, probably.”

“who’d be the father then?”

your smile falls when an answer occurs to you, you mumble, “jeonghan,” sitting at a bench outside your dorm. mingyu joins you, equally solemn now.

“did something happen between you two?”

“yeah. he rejected me when we went shopping that day.”

mingyu’s eyes widen, “what? you confessed?”

you shake your head, a strained smile, “he already knew. i guess i was obvious, but it’s still driving me insane that he rejected me without even giving me a chance to confess.”

“i can’t believe he did that. that’s conceited as fuck.”

“conceited or impressive, i can’t decide. but he told me likes kazuha and that he’s sorry. i genuinely wanted to die when he said that. he was cool about breaking my heart, too. lowkey fell a little harder for him.” you laugh at your own joke, but mingyu looks unhappy, jaw clenched like he’d tasted something bitter.

you hit his arm, “it’s not a big deal, dude. i was thinking about it the past few days and i realized i barely knew the guy. i just knew what he told me over the last year.”

after a pause, “and he’s one beautiful man, so there was that.” you smile a little.

“but he didn’t have to do it like that. he could just stop flirting with you, you know, or wait for you to come around and confess like a normal person,” mingyu says, “he’s such a little jerk.”

“hey, it’s okay, a little flirting didn’t hurt anyone.”

“yeah but he was leading you on, leaving you in ambiguity by doing that. he should’ve been flirting with kazuha, not you.”

“okay, now that’s starting to hurt,” you whine, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, “but i can’t really blame him, no? kazuha’s so precious.”

“don’t be like that, y/n.”

“what? be like what?” you look up, “didn’t you also used to be into kazuha?”

mingyu bites his lip when you bring his years-old crush up, “when will you forget about that? that was so long ago and it was barely serious. she’s too nice to be my type.” (what does that even mean? you wonder but don't have the time to ask.)

“sure, you didn’t want to change residence halls to be closer to her?”

“alright, how many times do i tell you that i did that because of you? why do you never believe me?”

“it just makes more sense the other way,” you mumble, suddenly feeling teary-eyed and hating that you were feeling teary-eyed, which only intensified the teariness in your eyes. “god, this is stupid.”

mingyu’s arm is around in no time when he notices you curling up, your lip tucked between your lips in anticipation, “hey, hey, c'mon, i thought you said it wasn't a big deal. so how come you're crying?"

“because! i feel lame. and because kazuha’s perfect, by the way. she’d probably cry too if she knew i was crying.”

he pulls you closer, “you’re not lame, y/n. you think i’d keep you around so long if i didn’t think you were insanely cool?”

you breathe through your tears, “you just keep me around because i’m insane?”

“insanely cool! open your ears, idiot.”

“you just called me an idiot. idiots are pretty lame.”

he sighs when he feels his tshirt get damper, your body so weak under his hold. he pats your hair softly, “sorry, that’s not what i meant. but seriously, y/n, you know i’m bad at saying this stuff but i seriously cannot stress enough how highly i think of you.” his hand moves to rub your back, “and you’re so much more than perfect, you know? like sometimes you don’t do a paper till three hours before and still get an A. and then, you come up with comebacks to my arguments in your own unique ways, and trust me, nobody can argue with me like you do.”

you pull away, “all right, now you’re embarrassing me. why do i sound like a bossy nerd or something?”

“you can be that at times. hey, but you forgot the part where you’re hot as shit. and also pretty.”

“i feel like that last part was an afterthought, mingyu,” you bite back a laugh, “you really only keep me around for my tits, don’t you?”

“dude, can you let me wholesome for once? i’m trying to console you, so would you stop playing devil’s advocate?”

“sorry, i’m just,” you hesitate with a heavy sigh and then, you blurt out, "i’m scared i’ll never fall in love. i’ll never find it at all.”

“now that’s some stupid thoughts you’re having,” mingyu shakes you by the shoulders, “you’ve just been blinded by your crush on jeonghan for so long that you haven’t explored anyone else at all.”

“are you volunteering to be my crush right now?” you ask, jokingly.

mingyu’s smirk catches you off-guard, “what if i am? it wouldn’t be the worst thing if i was your boyfriend.”

you feel yourself heating up a little for some reason, head in a daze from his earlier shower of compliments and now this. so instead of trying to make sense of it all, you press yourself into him in a hug. “yeah, it wouldn’t.”

—

“hoshi, you little shit!” you throw yourself around the guy when you spot him on the night of the flea market, the product of a long and actually insane week. he laughs when he realizes it’s you, pulling you into a hug, “bro, y/n, why is this my first time seeing in you in literal years?”

“i don’t know, i just kinda see you walking around sometimes. maybe if you actually showed up to econ class, i’d see you more.”

hoshi flinches, “you can’t be bringing econ up right now. that class is kicking my ass. i can’t keep showing up to that kind of humiliation.”

the two of you catch up at last, as people swarm around the different stalls set up along the college street. you were relieved after having finished this damn event. cheers to sleep, right?

hoshi tells you all about his new situationship with a guy in another class and how he’s regretting inviting him to the party tomorrow night. “why? believe it or not, people are more fun when drunk.”

hoshi rolls his eyes, “yeah, well, i couldn’t get any more fun. so instead i become incontrollable. an absolute animal.”

“right, i remember that. so you’re scared you’re gonna drive him off? i wouldn’t worry honestly. and if you want, i can keep you in check.”

he narrows his eyes in distrust, “you? you’re not much better than me drunk, okay? i feel bad for mingyu who’s gonna have to take care of you the whole time.”

you gasp, “wow, you’re taking mingyu’s side now? over mine? i thought we had something special.”

“you thought wrong,” comes mingyu out of nowhere, slinging his arm around hoshi’s shoulders.

“why are you here suddenly?” hoshi looks between the two of you, “i couldn’t not come to an event my lovely y/n herself planned, could i?”

hoshi laughs, “nice to see you two as jolly as ever. but also i must take your leave. i gotta go grab dinner soon.”

“hey, why don’t you come with us? we were gonna check out the new outlet the college opened.”

“oh, i would love to but i have plans with someone already.”

you nod your head in realization, “right of course, have fun. not too much, though. leave some for tomorrow.” he leaves with a full-toothed smile and you face mingyu.

he playfully pinches your cheek, “you confront him about missing us yet?”

you raise a shoulder in response, and as the flea market starts to fizzle out thanks to the darkening sky, your stomach grumbles. “let’s eat, please.”

ever since that night— you don’t want to say anything had changed between you and mingyu because your friendship had been long enough that even the slightest shift in dynamics would harmoniously just become the new status quo; the two of you had been through a lot together. but ever since that night, you’d been fooling around with him more, if that was possible.

it was along the lines of: less banter, more flirting? although one might argue that the former was just a derivative of the other. but semantics aside, this is what you know to be true: friends flirt with each other all the damn time.

that’s what you’re telling yourself when mingyu asks you to feed him some of the fried rice you’d gotten on your plate. and it was true: you’re almost a 100% certain that you’d flirted with every friend of yours, and that was just how it worked.

but intimacy came differently to everyone and mingyu’s just manifested in clinginess. he was pressed to your side for the entirety of dinner, and you couldn’t complain about the proximity. it was welcome, even, this form of friendship.

“you’re thinking too hard.” mingyu’s voice pulls you out of your little reflection session. “what’re you even thinking about? you should be all burnt out from all the work you did this past week.”

“i am,” you affirm, “but some things just don’t let up.”

he chuckles, patting your head affectionately as if to persuade your thoughts to let up for a while. it doesn’t help really, only gravitating the direction of the said thoughts toward kim mingyu even more.

“maybe repetition isn’t as bad as i always make it out to be,” you say, chin propped up against your fist on the table. mingyu had chosen a corner table of the newly opened eatery, next to a low window that glowed behind you in the remains of sunset as he shifted to completely face you. the sun had finally set. again.

“you’re right. routine is good for people.”

“but it doesn’t have to stay the same forever, you know?”

“hm?” mingyu can’t help but feel like you’re edging toward some underlying topic. you were like this since he could remember: you’d start off with some abstract and vaguely relevant concept (that had no doubt been plaguing you for a long time) and slowly circle around till he caught onto what you meant. you love playing games with him.

“repetition doesn't have to be redundant? i think there's something more subtle about it.”

he doesn’t know where you’re going with this, “but repetition is literally the same thing over and over?”

“yeah, but the ‘same thing’ itself can evolve,” your fingers knock against his, “i don’t know, i was just thinking about… us.”

“us? i guess we would be a good example of repetition.”

your gaze falls from his to find your hand instead, your fingers wrapping around his wrist until you’ve forced his palm open. his hand in your lap upside down, you pull at the fingers, “yeah, but we’ve changed a lot. for one, we fight a lot less. sometimes when i’m going to tell you a thought, you understand mid-sentence what i mean.”

“yeah, well, that’s what we get for knowing each that long. but really, what’s this about, y/n?” he captures your hand in his expertly, pulling your attention back to his face.

“do you ever think we should be more?”

mingyu breathes a laugh at that, a shiver running down his spine when he spots the solemn look on your face. and then, his smile turns grave. “y/n, we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?”

“have we? every time i’m the one who brings it up and you kinda just shrug it off. no, don’t even try to argue with me. you shrug the serious stuff off. always.”

it’s true, mingyu admits in defeat, mind racing as he considers why you’re bringing this up now. the answer is easy: you were finally available. but he doesn’t say it out loud, like he never does. you’d confronted him about the state of your friendship before, unafraid to wonder out loud what it would be like if you started dating. you’ve received all forms of shut-downs from mingyu before so you figured you were the only one in an ambiguous place about your feelings for him.

if someone was to ask if you like mingyu, you’d probably say yes, but it’s more than that. you know better than to blindly fall for him. witnessing him in his relationships before, you know he can be ruthlessly cold to his partner once he’s out of love. you practice romantic love for mingyu: carefully because too much would definitely be dangerous.

“i have my reasons, y/n.” there it is. the strict mingyu. the rigidity in setting his boundaries was something you admired and aspired for when he exhibited it in the past. right now, you want to punch him.

you’re without a filter with him so it’s unfair when he treats you like this. you let him know as much: “i want to punch you right now. i’ve hidden nothing from you, and yet, there’s this wall you keep yourself behind. is this really one-sided?”

mingyu doesn’t know what to do with you right now, “y/n, why are you—”

“no, because it's not like i can't take a hint. so one minute you're flirting with me and then, you push me away like right now,” you point to his estranged fingers, “but then you act like nothing happened and go right back to being all intimate and touchy.”

“i just…” mingyu lets out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t see the reason for labels. why do we have force ourselves into a restriction like that? we’ve always been above conforming.”

it’s your turn to sigh heavy enough your head hits the wall behind you. wasn’t this just his way of friend-zoning you back into silence? you’ve always been too embarrassed to push him this far because you don’t mean to hurt him. but you feel as though you’ve hurt yourself long enough now.

“so why’d you say that the other night? that it would be nice if you were my boyfriend?”

this leaves him speechless for a few beats and you continue, “that was just because i was heartbroken from jeonghan? you’re playing prince charming for me so i can go back to being your trusty little best friend?”

“y/n, you know that’s not true. i’m not playing anything in your life. i’m just being myself.”

you scoff, “you really are so fucking—”

“why are we actually fighting right now?” mingyu asks through an incredulous laugh, “this is actually so petty, dude, let’s stop. you know i love you, right?”

mingyu’s last resort makes its presence: a non-committal i love you. because at the end of the day, you’re still best friends. what was a little ‘i love you’ in today’s economy? nothing. especially when you’d hear him throw the phrase around all the time.

you stand up in defeat, “fine, let’s stop. you win.” you gesture for him to move to the side and he does so reluctantly when you glare at him like you’re genuinely mad. (you are.)

he follows you out the door, catching your elbow to slow you down. “don’t be like this. i know you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not mad. i'm tired and i just want to go back to my room,” you seethe, walking faster than him. he grabs hold of your shoulder turning you around.

“if you’re gonna storm off, at least go the right way.” you huff softly and let him steer you the right way to your dorm, hands still on you. you spend the way to the front of your room silently, waiting for mingyu to say something but he just does what he does best: take care of you.

as you reach the door of your room, he pauses, apologetic smile on display. “listen, let’s talk more tomorrow? get some sleep.” he reaches for your hair, tenderly running his fingers through the locks. there it is: the soft mingyu, his eyes wide as he stares you down for signs of stress.

his warm arm pressed againsts yours, you realize you don’t want him to just leave. you know the drill: tomorrow morning, he’ll text you to meet for lunch and everything will go back to being unsaid. maybe he’ll bring along seungcheol so you don’t bring anything up again. either way, it’ll be so natural you’ll think nothing ever happened. but you want something to happen.

so your hand settles around his bicep to hold on and partly to keep him in place. you lean in, “let me do one last thing and if you want to stop, i’m never bringing this up again. i promise.”

you don’t give mingyu a moment to react to your words and instead raise yourself up to his level, other hand on his chest, and press your lips to his. you kiss mingyu after the thirteen years that you’ve known him and the ten that you’ve wanted to. you counted the years just as you count the seconds that it takes for him to come to his senses and pull himself away.

he looks less upset than you imagined: more dazed. like he can’t believe what you’ve done. he looks at you with his lips parted and you have to tear your gaze apart, lest you should tear yourself apart with longing.

“y/n, i…” he looks away and that’s enough evidence you need. you step away from him, your easy smile back in its place, not before you pat his arm as it falls from you.

“it's okay. i understand. let’s be friends, mingyu,” you declare suddenly, catching him off-guard. you'd pulled all the stops and if he genuinely was uncomfortable with pushing the line between platonic and romantic, you would respect that.

he begins to say something but you don’t want to hear him speak, at least not right now when the sound of blood rushing to your head is the loudest it's ever been, and you certainly don’t want to falter again. you’ve decided. “good night."

—

mingyu should feel relieved. he really should be happy that you’re back to normal around him, friendly and playful like you’ve always been. he should count his blessings that you’ve accepted the status of your relationship with him as it is. but as he falls asleep that night, all that comes to his mind is the smile you’d sported as you asked to be friends.

it was all wrong: your lips against his, that was something of his dreams, not a reality he has to be escaping from. it replays in his head, your scent that he’d caught a whiff of now and then, whenever you’d wrap your arms around him. the heat of your skin he’d rationalize as the comforting presence of a friend for days later.

he’ll soon come to know how insanely stupid he’s being right now but until you knock some sense into him, he simply plays along with a sting he hides pretty well. he should, he’s been doing it for years now.

it’s the night of hoshi’s party already and he’s walking over to the location of the pregame, alone because according to a text fifteen minutes ago, you’re still not ready. you’d invited yunjin and some other friends to your and kazuha’s abode to apparently make the process easier, but if mingyu knows anything about the group, you’ve probably spent more time selecting the right song to play than get ready.

the door to dino and hoshi’s shared residence is already open as he strolls in, finding a group already on the floor, taking shots. he makes eye contact with jeonghan who beckons him closer and mingyu takes a seat next to him.

space is scarce so mingyu finds his arm pressed uncomfortably close to jeonghan’s, who oohs at mingyu’s fit, “ooh, you look positively sexy.”

mingyu grimaces, “do you have to put it like that?” he does look … positively sexy, mingyu admits, in the navy blue shirt he wore but— and here’s the punchline— with the buttons undone all the way to right above his navel.

“where’s y/n, by the way?” jeonghan asks, an eye at the entrance as he slides a shot glass toward mingyu. the question irks mingyu for obvious reasons and he keeps him waiting for a minute, waiting to down the liquid in glass (vodka unfortunately for his throat) to answer him. “um, she’s still getting ready. any minute now.”

“ha, that means she’ll be another ten. that’s a shame, i was hoping to pour her first shot.” jeonghan shrugs resentfully.

maybe the alcohol’s working faster since it’s been a while for mingyu, but his mouth runs faster than his head, “why’d you care? i thought you asked kazuha out a while ago.”

jeonghan raises a brow at that, “hmm. i did. but things did not work out so well. what with kazuha feeling guilty about y/n and… well, i also…”

“feel guilty?” mingyu asks, voice strained. he’s annoyed at having to listen to jeonghan’s side of the story. he could not care less about humanizing him and whatnot. he’s watched you suffer for far too long to be empathetic right now.

“yeah. and i thought i might like y/n, too, after all.” jeonghan says it so casually as if discussing his performance in a particularly challenging college course, not his feelings for a person who he’d recently rejected.

the word might pierces mingyu’s ears. the uncertainty behind it is in such stark contrast to his own… feelings toward you that he genuinely feels his breath heat up.

or maybe that’s just jeonghan when he leans over to refill his glass. “drink up, buddy.” mingyu’s just about ready to make a scene right now, shoving jeonghan’s hand off his back but suddenly jeonghan’s standing up, making his way to—

you. you’re here.

almost as soon as he catches sight of you, he looks away, pretending to give the vodka in his hand all the attention in the world, as he puts his lips to it and empties it. head is now light. that’s probably enough for now, he decides as he puts his glass down.

when he looks back up, you’re at the kitchen counter with yunjin and kazuha.. and jeonghan, who’s grinning as he hands out the bottles of fireball to the group, no doubt marketing it so convincingly that you’d think you came up with the idea yourself.

mingyu shoots to his feet, regretting it when his vision darkens but he pushes past, eyes focused on your figure— god, he forgot how hot you look in that dress. he tries to keep his thoughts in check as he approaches you, but it doesn’t help that your makeup’s even more meticulous than usual, eyes glittering and lips delightfully glossy.

he breaks into the space between you and jeonghan, arm against yours, catching your attention.

“my guy!!” you exclaim when you see him and then your eyes trail down to his chest and then back up to his face where his hair sits parted with the help of some gel. “you look like a slut. i love it.”

mingyu laughs, subjecting you to a similar once-over, “you’re one to talk.” your hair’s back in a bun of sorts, a rare occurrence because you seem to prefer have it around your face. he can’t help but pause at your exposed collarbones, the gold shadow you applied there earlier doing wonders to his already dazed headspace.

“is it already that part of the night where mingyu starts hitting on everyone?” yunjin complains, reserving the alternate version of her question (something along the lines of how impolitely he’d been eye-fucking you in front of everyone) for some other time as she nudges you to open the fireball in your hands.

you do so, looking at jeonghan who offers one to mingyu, which he refuses as he leans against the counter, hand silently at your back just in case. “you’re not drinking?” you ask, quietly enough only for the two of you, just in case he wasn’t comfortable sharing.

“nah, i just had two shots of vodka back there. trying not to mix for the sake of me tomorrow,” he mutters, patting your back encouragingly, “but let me know if you need help finishing that.”

jeonghan eyes mingyu on the side as the trio clink their bottles together and get to downing them. later, as things start picking up and more people make their way into the party, mingyu finds your arm. “do you want me to stay close by?” he frames the question in a way that you have an out, because he can tell that you’re still unhappy with him.

but you’re tipsy when your hand interlocks into his, “only if you’re going to dance like you mean it.”

the night goes better than you expect it to, especially since mingyu’s let loose for once. or perhaps… he’s always this carefree when drunk, palms kneading at your waist, keeping you close to his chest, which you try your best to not get too used to touching. he sure knows how to keep you on your toes (sometimes literally) even when wasted because you’re trying not to get too close. for you own sake.

that is until hoshi shows up beside you two, pulling you apart as he introduces you to a friend.. or a partner? you can’t hear in this state and just as you try to lean in closer to hear what he’s saying, you feel a presence at your shoulder, fingers poking you.

you turn to find jeonghan behind you, sloppy smile on his face as he screams something at you. you frown, asking him to repeat himself, hand on his bicep to steady yourself against the movement of the party.

“need to talk to you about something!” his words come at you, clearer. “right now?” you shout back, “what the fuck is it?” your body doesn’t want to stop moving so you groove against his side, and momentarily catching a glimpse mingyu’s heavy gaze on you. you almost completely stop then but jeonghan’s pulling you away, after him to a relatively emptier zone of the house.

you’re breathless, you realize, now that the spell of the music’s been broken. you rest against the damp wall behind you, uncaring as you look around for a liquid to quench your thirst. cunning as ever, jeonghan’s already handing you a plastic cup with a transparent liquid.

you narrow your eyes at him despite how wasted you are. “what’s this?”

he laughs, “i’m glad you’re vigilant as ever. this is water. cold. drink up.”

you comply, your throat throbbing ever so lesser after you’re done and you sigh in relief. “you might have broken my heart but you’re still an angel, jeonghan.”

“ahhh,” he exclaims joining your side against the wall. you frown when you take note of his fingers clasped together, almost fidgeting. yoon jeonghan, fidgety? that’s a first for you.

“actually, that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

when mingyu looks away from hoshi and his company to see if you were listening and when he finds out that you’re in fact in jeonghan’s embrace, he’s suddenly sober. and when your eyes find his for a moment, something in them changes and he calls out your name like a warning. but then jeonghan’s already leading you elsewhere.

mingyu wants to follow after you immediately but he realizes hoshi’s still talking to him. “hoshi, bro, can i find you in a while? i gotta make sure y/n’s okay.”

but hoshi stops him in his tracks, hand on his chest, “wait. please tell me you told her…?” he trails off uncertainly as mingyu catches on what he’s saying.

“i haven’t,” he admits, eyes still searching the crowd for you, “but i think it’s time that i do. only so much i can take.”

“that’s the spirit, man! okay, now go kiss y/n for me.” hoshi pushes mingyu with a start, not before the the latter shoots the man a glare and takes off in his search for you.

you’re still in that corner with jeonghan, who’s done narrating the past week’s revelations to you, all about his failed attempts with kazuha and his slow understanding of his real feelings about you. you’re far more unaffected that either of you was expecting, arms crossing in thought.

but then you say, “well, that’s fucking stupid. because i’ve realized i wasn’t as down bad for you as i once thought i was.” jeonghan’s smile falls a little with a disappointed sigh. “but,” you continue, “you know what i’m still curious about?”

when your hand creeps up jeonghan’s shoulder, he thinks he knows where you’re going with this. “i’ve wanted know if you’re really as good at kissing as everyone makes you out to be.” jeonghan’s already moving closer to you, enveloping your face in his hands, and his devilish grin’s spills out as his lips find your ear. “let’s find out?”

and that’s how mingyu finds you wrapped around jeonghan, making out like this was your last day living. and for a moment, he considers giving up and letting you have this. he even stops in his tracks in the crowd, his thoughts so easily drowned out by the music if he just lets go.

but his mind’s reeling when the sight of you kissing someone else just pushes him back a day ago when you were leaning up into him, soft breaths risking your lips against his and the way your body pressed into his just right. his feet move without a thought, then, shouldering through the bodies around the two in the corner.

you’re just pulling away from jeonghan to start to say something about how that wasn’t too bad when his body is lifted away from yours with an unannounced jerk. you gasp and then once again when mingyu’s face comes floating in front of yours.

“mingyu,” you breathe, unsteady from the series of events this past minute, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“what the fuck are you doing?!” he screams in your face, hands on both arms to keep you from moving. jeonghan’s walking to your side and you want to say something to apologize but you’re far too infuriated with the man in front of you to think.

“i don’t know! trying to get laid? finding happiness? love?!” you scream back with as much force. you call out jeonghan’s name, “i’m sorry. mingyu’s too drunk to—”

“jeonghan,” warns mingyu when the guy tries to break you free from his embrace, “can i have a minute with y/n.” it isn't a question.

jeonghan has the nerve to say, “maybe not. i wouldn’t leave you alone with her in this state.”

“oh, she’ll be just fine,” he replies and jeonghan simply looks at you for confirmation. but you’re still looking at mingyu, starting to tear up, head throbbing all at once. you stop fighting against his grip and mumble in defeat, “whatever.”

“if you’re going to lecture me about being bad, i don’t really want to hear it.” you’re back next to the kitchen counters with mingyu beside you. slowly, you sit yourself up on the surface, feeling exhausted. “i’ve heard it before.”

“no, that’s not what i’m doing. i just want you to stop and think clearly—”

you groan when you hear the beginnings of a typical you’ll regret this in the morning type talk, you slide off the counter and to your delight, you run into a guy holding up a can of beer for the taking. you’re quick to jump at it, grabbing it up from him and pulling the tab of the can open. just as you put the beer to your lips, ready to chug it, you feel it being pulled away, the next few moments occuring before you can comprehend anything.

suddenly you’re sitting back on the counter and your dress rides up when you feel mingyu push himself in between your legs. at first, you see his face close on yours and then the taste of beer meets your throat. no, it’s not just beer— it’s mingyu. his tongue spills onto yours, beer mixing with saliva and when you try to pull away, his hand at your neck tightens. you sit up straight and you feel his watch digging into your spine.

your head spins when you can finally breathe, inhaling only to cough out. heart in your throat, you look at mingyu in disbelief, “what the fuck!” but he’s already taking another sip of the beer and some of it slides down your throat into your dress, when his mouth finds yours again.

you’re weak in his arms, and the heat between your legs is only so rational. so you find yourself giving in and kissing him back when the liquid runs out, nails finding his scalp, earning you a deep groan that vibrates against your chest. that’s when he pulls away again, eyes finally meeting yours with an unprecedented intensity.

he leans in again, wet kiss against your cheek, followed by a grunted whisper of, “i love you so fucking much, y/n. it’s so hard to watch you run around with other men.”

you want to think you’re hearing things but mingyu doesn’t let you, another kiss right in the nape of your neck that sends shudders down your back. “i want to be yours so fucking bad. want to spoil you like you deserve.”

you swallow against the moan that rises in your throat, to pull mingyu’s face back to your eye-level, “then why aren’t you mine? why’d you push me away?” your voice breaks, betraying the pretense of indifference you try to prop up. his eyes soften, fingers brushing against your forehead.

his lips quiver and he sighs defeatedly. it’s a miracle you can hear him with all that noise around you. but you hear him clear as day against your hair when he finally says, “i’m scared. of loving you too much, of being too much. and i’m scared of losing you.”

mingyu’s imagined telling you these exact words before and how you’d react to them infinite times before but when you giggle into his collarbone, he pulls away with a blank look. your forehead is against his all over again and for the second time night you say, “that’s fucking stupid! if you were going to lose me, it would’ve happened a while ago.”

of all the things he’d imagine you saying in response, this was the simplest option, so unlike your usual overthinking self. maybe it’s the alcohol and adrenaline in your system speaking but mingyu somehow feels comforted, because maybe it really is that simple. it would’ve happened if it was going to. or maybe mingyu’s too drunk to make sense of it all right now.

so his lips are moving against yours once again, without warning, your breath all his when his arms tighten once against around you. you’re laugh grounds him enough to break away. you open your mouth to complain about the distance when mingyu’s back against your skin.

“shut the fuck up,” he groans, the command making you hotter than you’d like to admit. your legs close around his ass, pulling him closer and his hand slips across your boobs. the friction of his palm against the tight fabric of your dress makes you let out an undignified moan into mingyu.

that’s when he knows he needs to take you to somewhere more private for reasons more than one. you’re too lightheaded to move yourself so mingyu’s carrying out the house without a word anyone you two came with. it’s only when the cold air hits you that you realize you’re outside.

you struggle against mingyu until you're back on your feet and stop. “where are we going? i’m— do i know you, mister guy?” for a second, mingyu’s heart sinks when he wonders if you thought you were just making out with a stranger. then, you say, “i need to go back and find mingyu. gotta kiss him.”

ignoring the blush that colors his face, he grabs hold of your elbow, “i am mingyu, idiot. and we’re going to my room.” you shake your head to clear your vision, eyes widening when you recognize him. your hand finds his face with a light laugh, “ah! it’s my big guy.” the name doesn’t help mingyu’s condition at all, so he’s pulling you after him faster than before.

back at the party, kazuha starts panic when she realizes she’s lost hold of you, unable to locate you anywhere within the party. she tugs at yunjin’s sleeve who looks over in concern, “what happened to y/n? i can’t find her anywhere.” yunjin laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand. “don’t worry about her. i saw her and mingyu leave together earlier. she’s probably in heaven by now, if i’m right.”

“hmm?” kazuha pauses as a thought pops up into her head, “wait… did they…?” yunjin grins knowingly, “yup. it really was high time they fucked.” the former lets out a satisfied giggle, “i know. they were so obvious without even being together. i was getting tired.”

“you were getting tired?!” you gasp at mingyu later in the night, panting against his pillow. you’re on your back and he throws you a tshirt of his to sleep in now that your dress is… demolished. you look at it sadly out of the corner of your eye. “i really liked that dress,” you whine, as he picks the remains of it up with a somewhat smug grin, “planned to wear it out again.”

“i couldn’t risk that. you looked too good in it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps into bed with you. you sit up, feigning anger as you slip the cotton over your head, warming up when the smell of mingyu greets you. “i don’t know if i could resist seeing your tits out like that.”

you hit his chest hard with a lighthearted scoff, “i knew it! you’re such a pervert. not just a pervert, you’re also a brute.” you groan as you rub your thighs together gingerly. mingyu props himself up, pulling you down into a hug, rubbing your back. “sorry, does it hurt a lot?”

“it’ll hurt more in the morning,” you relax in his arms, pressing a loving kiss into his hair, “should’ve known you went so rough. asshole.” you giggle when he pulls away in disbelief at the last insult.

“how could you—!” you roll away from him, laughing. he shifts closer, caging you against the wall behind you, “hey, you can’t say stuff like fuck i knew you’d have a big dick and then expect me to go all vanilla! do you know what that does to a guy?”

you shriek in embarrassment, “don’t bring that up now!” your ears redden when mingyu forces you by the chin to look up at him. “besides, where do you think the nicknames like big gyu and big guy came from?”

mingyu’s jaw falls open at the revelation and you break out into a fit of laughter at his mindblown expression. “how- how long have you been thinking about my di-”

you hit him to stop him, “ever since you kept pushing me away,” you run a hand down his side, sly grin on your swollen lips, “and i had to come up with something if i wanted to get myself off alone.”

with an exasperated groan, he falls against you, suffocating you as his body goes limp above yours. you let out a gasp when you feel him hardening against your leg and he speaks into your neck, “you’re seriously telling me i’ve been missing out on taking you like this for… for how long now?”

you kiss his cheek, hand slipping down his boxers with a soft exhale, “a while. and if you hadn’t come to your senses today… well, i’d all but given up on you today. when jeonghan kissed me, i was just going to—”

suddenly your breath escapes you, mingyu’s hand around your throat and his lips on yours with a loud grunt. he stops your hand in its movements, “please tell me you’re not talking about jeonghan while— fuck!” he gasps when you bite his lower lip to protest his hand on yours. his hand gives way and you’re palming the tent in his boxers again, pushing him down against the bed, so thankful he doesn’t have a rooommate in times like this.

you place a kiss at the corner of his lips and trail down his chest, shirt long gone, before muttering, “forgive me?”

—

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

i really want to write a more wholesome ending but have not the time or energy right now, so i'll be back with a shorter spin-off/ epilogue of sorts about how you and mingyu as a couple work out, how your friends react, some skinship, etc.

anyway, this is my official announcement that i've become a baby carat :] didn't know how much i was missing out on before svt so this is very fun. so far, jeonghan's my favorite little guy, although as is clear from this... mingyu makes me do things. on the roster are: minghao and joshua. hopefully there will be more svt fics in the future. no promises <3 goodbye friends and foes!!

[valwrote]

MELUSINES ON THE MISSION

pairing: neuvilette x reader

synopsis: he takes you to Merusea Village for his birthday as a friend, leaves the village with you as his significant other. All thanks to some wingwomen- no melusines.

contains : reader is a baker by profession, fluff, wingwomen melusines, whipped, lovesick neuvilette, mutual pining, corny, neuvillette can deal with anything expect romantic feelings and gestures, spoilers for 4.2 story quest, references to his birthday letter.

a/n : happy birthday to best boi neuvi. he is deffo a lovesick dude and you can't change my mind.

sequel of this fic , but can be read as a stand alone.

Neuvillette stared at the calender, eyebrows knitted together, pen twirling in his slender fingers.

"Should it be in spring? No that would be inconvenient...same holds true for autumn." He grumbled.

"My Dear Ludex, What's got you so tensed?" Furina chimed in, taking a glance at calender.

"I am trying to settle on a day to serve the purpose of being my birthday." Neuvillette sighed. If only he remembered the actual date. Furina took the pen from his hand and randomly circled a date without sparing a glance.

"18th of December? Why so?"

"My dear Ludex, this is such a trivial matter! Don't waste your energy on this. We must save it for the thrills of the court!" She patted his shoulder and walked off.

18th Decemeber.

That was today.

Neuvillette recalled while signing some documents he had received this morning. He finished up his work and turned around to arrange all the files and declutter the cabinets.

When he glanced back, he saw a small gift on the edge of this table. A smile crept up onto his face as he peeked a bit further to see the head of a melusine sticking out.

"You can stop hiding." He mused as the melusine slowly revealed themselves. Slowly but surely more melusines emerged out of their hiding spots.

"Happy Birthday Monsieur Neuvillette!" They all cheered as Neuvillette had a hearty laugh. The strict and straightforward Chief Justice had a soft spot for the adorable creatures and went to lengths to assure their safety.

"Thank you all. I appreciate your kind gesture." He smiled and picked up the small gift delicately and unwrapped the present. His ears could pick up the melusines muttered amongst themselves.

"...ask him."

"No you ask him!"

"Ask me what?" Neuvillette looked up to see the pleading faces of the Melusines. Yup, they were most definitely trying to persuade him into agreeing to something and Neuvillette knew he couldn't refuse.

"Will you come to Merusea Village this time?" They asked but it sounded more of a demand than a question.

Neuvillette paused. Of course they would ask that. He hadn't visited last year due to the chaos in Fontaine and the death of Focalors. He couldn't bring himself to celebrate his birthday after her death. This time, he agreed on it.

"Sure. I will make sure to extricate myself of my duties and come to Merusea Village." He reassured the Melusines, who bounced up and down in excitement before scurrying out of his office.

Neuvillette sat down and began making preparations so that he could depart worry-free to Merusea Village without any problems arising.

He found his thoughts drifting towards you. A promise he had made you a month ago.

"My schedule is full for the following month. However, I will be sure to pay you a visit after that." He recalled his words to you. Neuvillette had now made up his mind. He was going to take you with him to Merusea Village for his birthday and let all the melusines meet you.

He couldn't help but long for that queasy feeling with stirred in his chest everytime he was in your proximity. He would feel jittery and his palms would feel clammy and sweaty everytime he saw your beaming smile and witty remarks that never ceased to amaze him.

Well that was easier said than done.

"Would like to accompany me to Merusea Village?" He said before facepalming. "No that would be too straightforward...I might sound authoritative and I don't wish to given off that impression..." Neuvillette had been pacing back and forth in front of the bakery and had been rehearsing the past 15 minutes.

He remained apathetic towards the people who would gasp and mutter at the sight of the Chief Justice's unannounced appearance. "Hello, it is my birthday today and I would like you to accompany me to Merusea Village." Neuvillette said before groaning in annoyance.

"No..if I were to straight away declare that it is my birthday then, it would sound self-centered of me." He muttered, his hand on his chin. "Ah, Yes. Greetings, it has been a long time since we last met. According to our public pronouncements, it is my birthday today and since I take out time each year to visit Merusea Village, I would love for you to accompany m–

"It's your birthday?" You gasped, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. You could see him tense up before turning around and awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh erm- yes." He fake coughed to compose himself again. "You should've told me, Monsieur! I would've prepared you a special cake!" You suggested. It would've made up for a good and genuine gift.

"No need for it. I was wondering if you would accompany me–"

"To some place you visit every year on your birthday? Sure! I was just finishing closing up the shop for the weekend, so yes I can accompany you!" You chimed at him. Spending time with Neuvillette, that too on his birthday!? Now that was opportunity you weren't letting go.

You weren't going to admit that you had taken interest in him and wanted to get opportunities to get to know him better but since he was a busy man, this was a perfect opportunity!

"Then let's leave, shall we?" He offered his gloved hand to you. You reached out to take it but he retracted his hand back and instead gestured in the direction you had to walk towards.

You could see his ears turn pink as he started to walk away. You were about to hold his hand? Then why did he back away?? Right someone as high and mighty as the Chief Justice won't settle for a ordinary baker–

You shook your thoughts away and followed him.

"Monseiur Neuvillette is here!" The Melusines erupted into cheers and circled around him. You could see him smile and pat their heads. Neuvillette's smile had swept your heart off its feet. Your heart swoll at the sight of him smiling, heartily laughing at the swarm of Melusines. Dare you say, you were trying to stop your face from turning red.

"Everyone, meet [Name]. They are my friend and I presumed you would all love to meet them." He gestured towards you as the little melusine heads turned towards you, judgingly.

"Um- hello." You awkwardly smiled. The Melusines seemed to have marked you off their suspicion list considering they had now dragged you away to indulge in their silly activities.

Chasing other melusines, laughing with them, sitting around the bonfire, making flower crowns, it seems like you had a whole new world. You took the crown to Neuvillette. "Monseiur Neuvillette! Look!" You ran up to him as he turned towards you, with a smile lingering on his face.

"Is that a flower crown?" He mused, inspecting the bundle of flowers. You nodded and reached up to put it on his head. However, as you were putting it on his head, you both found yourselves gazing at eachother, fondly.

His eyes said so much despite his face showing so little. You two were unaware of the conversation between the melusines in the background.

"Oui oui! Monsieur Neuvillette definitely likes her!"

"Oui! You are so right, he looks at her in a certain way!"

"Should we help him?"

"Yes!" They all agreed.

"Monseiur Neuvillette! [Name]!" All of them yelled. You and Neuvillette snap out of it and turn your faces away, both of your cheeks flushing a shade of red.

"You guys should stay for a bit longer!" The Melusines tugged on your clothes and his robe. Eyes widen like puppies. Now how could you refuse to those cute faces.

"Sure! I would love too. It is the weekend anyways." You nodded and Neuvillette also agreed.

Now the plan was in full swing.

Neuvillette went inside the accommodation the melusines had prepared. He walked over to the desk and spotted a neatly kept letter.

Dear Neuvillette,

I wish to tell you that you are really pretty and I find you interesting. I can't seem to find the courage to express it though.

Sincerely,

[Name]

His face flushed red as he did a double take, flipping the letter to assess its legitimacy. The Melusines peeped through the small window, seeing his reaction.

"He is blushing!" One whispered.

"Huh? I never thought those cheesy and corny sentences would actually make him all flushed." Another marveled

"I tried my best okay? It's hard to act like that girl considering we just met her." The third nudged the other.

"You think sending them fake letters is going to work?" The fourth asked.

"Duh!" The first 3 yelled at him.

You, on the hand, were reading the letter given to you over and over again.

Dear [Name],

You seem to have captured my thoughts. I find myself thinking about you every passing moment. However, I don't mind this feeling.

Sincerely,

Neuvillette.

You giggled like a high-schooler with a big fat crush on a ficitional guy. Who knew the Chief Justice was so lovey-dovey! How endearing.

"The plan worked!" The first melusine beamed.

"Both of them hopeless." 2nd one sighed.

"Hopelessly in love!" 3rd one snickered.

"Let's wait and watch." The 4th reminded.

The next day, you both were busy with groups of Melusines, chatting and playing yet both of you kept catching glances at eachother and looked away in embarrassment.

The Melusines rejoiced in their plan of fake letters to both of you, working. This kept on going. Both of you would find a letter in your room each time you came to freshen up or rest.

You and Neuvillette found yourselves blushing and feeling clammy at the letters, unaware of the true sender of these letters, until...

Meet me by the lake, 9pm.

As planned, both of you reached the lake, looking around to find the other. When you caught sight of Neuvillette, your breath was taken away. His white hair framed his fair perfectly and his eyes shined in the moonlight.

"Hello.." you started.

"Hello to you too." He replied. Well this is awkward.

"So um..do you truly believe I am- uh pretty as you mentioned in the letter?" Neuvillette asked, refusing to make eye contact. How fascinating that a man of status and authority is reduced to a flustered mush infront of the person he wishes to be with.

"Huh- what letter? I don't remember sending you a letter." You tilted your head in confusion. You received letters but you never wrote any reply back.

Neuvillette's eyes widened. "Then who sent- oh. The melusines.." he sighed, pinching his nose. "I am so sorry for the inconvenience." He apologized.

"Oh.." you sounded disappointed. So it was a lie then? Neuvillette said any of those sweet words which you had read in the letters. You could feel your heart break and chest ache. How did you manage to fall into this rabbit hole of loving the Ludex of Fontaine only to have your hopes crushed.

"What did they write in the letters given to you?" He calmly asked after a brief moment of silence.

"They said that you kept thinking about me and how you liked me and didn't mind the feeling...it is fine though! I am glad it is a lie hahaha." You waved your hands dismissively.

"..it is true." He blurted out. In his mind, it was now or never.

"Huh?" You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"It is true. I am indeed infatuated with you." You could visibly see his face flush pink. After your brain computed the information, you also turned red.

"I- I feel the same-..I always thought that I was too plain and simple for your liking.." you awkwardly muttered.

"No. It may be inappropriate of me to say this but..I believe that you are just perfect. You are perfect the very way you are, [Name]." The words effortlessly rolled off his tongue, though his flustered face told another story.

You hugged him without a warning, nuzzling your face into his chest. The hug felt warm, like the ocean hugging you with their waves as the sun dawned its warmth on your skin. Neuvillette wrapped his arms around you. You could hear his heart thundering against his chest.

"You like me that much huh?" You wriggled your eyebrows, with a teasing grin.

"Let's not bring that matter up." He huffed, trying to maintain his calm and composed composure. Oh he definitely was feeling giddy but why admit it?

"We will miss you!" The Melusines whined and fake cried, clinging to your legs as Neuvillette chuckled.

"Well, let's leave, shall we? It is a long walk back." He asked you, a soft smile on his face, his smile lines crinkling. Oh Archons! If only you had a Kamera on you.

"Mhm!" You nodded. He, again offered you his gloved hand, which you took into yours as you both started your journey back.

This time he didn't back away. Instead, he took your hand firmly in his and walked away, together, with you by his side.

a/n : happy birthday dear Neuvillette. Gosh i love this man so much, it's unhealthy. I can listen to him talk for hours about different tastes of water.

not proof read.

don't copy, plagiarize, repost.

©definitelysel

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Further inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

❕but also Sauron x Celebrimbor + slight Celebrimbor x reader❕

-> in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

Warnings: smut, voyeurism kink, exhibitionism kink, tease and denial, handjob (Annatar x Celebrimbor, Annatar x Reader) oral (R + C receiving from A), mutual masturbation (C x R), p in v (A x R), manipulation cause you still don’t know he’s Sauron, Sauron will have more influence over the Rings if he soft doms their creators or something, I just wanted to write pure filth

Note: sequel to Inspiration. I wasn’t expecting to write something like this but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I experimented a little🤭

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

You are not proud of the disappointment you feel knowing Celebrimbor has returned to his work. You should be glad that he has recovered enough to carry on with forging the Rings—using the designs with which you provided him, no less—and you are happy. Truly. It’s only that part of you wishes you still had the forge room to yourself and Lord Annatar.

You had not been alone with him since he had... aided you to finish the designs, and you are driving yourself mad with thoughts of what might happen when or if you shall find yourselves in an intimate setting again. Will he be poised as ever, as though you had never known each other most intimately? Or will there be recognition between you? Connection.

Repetition.

The thought sends a pleasant shiver racing down your spine, right as you reach the forge room. You stop to breathe. Even if Annatar is inside, he is there assisting Celebrimbor with his work, and that is your purpose as well. Nothing more.

Before you can push the doors open, just as your fingers nearly reach the wood, one slides ever so slightly ajar, as if moved by the wind. Except there is no wind, and the doors are too heavy to be simply blown open, and so quietly no less. But you cease to ask yourself how such a thing has happened the moment you catch a glimpse of the sight revealed by the small opening.

From your angle, you can see Celebrimbor at his worktable, Annatar sitting beside him. There would be nothing unusual about that, if they were not sitting so much closer than you have seen them do on previous occasions. If Annatar’s arm were not wrapped around Celebrimbor’s shoulders, as if to cradle him close. And if that may yet pass for an exceedingly warm gesture of friendship, there is no mistaking the rhythmic movement of Annatar’s other hand in the area of Celebrimbor’s lap beneath the table, or the nature of the smith’s tortured groans as he struggles through the finishing touches of a Ring.

You cover your mouth to prevent an audible gasp. So, you had been right to assume you were not the only one for whom Lord Annatar performs such unconventional acts of... creative encouragement. Your first, panicked thought is that you need to leave before they sense your presence, pretend as though you never witnessed such a thing. But your legs simply refuse to move. Your eyes will not, cannot turn away from the sight. You watch, heat blooming within your belly, as Annatar’s fingers pinch and fondle the tip of the smith’s pointed ear, and Celebrimbor shudders almost violently.

“Please,” he begs, barely above a whisper, “I can bear it no longer.”

“You are capable of much greater feats than you know, my friend,” Annatar encourages, ever so trusting. But Celebrimbor shakes his head in utter defeat. His hands cease their trembling work and lower the utensils on the table as he turns to Annatar with an anguished gaze.

“I beg you,” he all but whimpers, “grant me release.”

Annatar smiles, a tinge of disappointment in his eyes, and releases Celebrimbor altogether, standing from his seat. The smith cannot help but whine, looking down at what is sure to be a most helpless state of arousal, but makes no attempt to touch himself, either. He must have understood by now, as you did before, that he is not to act without Annatar’s permission.

A trembling breath escapes you. Your hand is on your stomach, having come to rest there you know not when, and you stifle the growing urge to reach lower, between your legs, if only to ease the light throb that has begun there with a quick press of your fingers.

You shake your head, squeeze your eyes shut, and turn away to press your back to the wall by the door. It’s Lord Celebrimbor, you remind yourself. Your mentor. Your friend. If anything, you should be mortified that you have witnessed him in such a state of arousal, or envious that he is receiving the same attentions as you did from Annatar. And, to some extent, you are, but... seeing Annatar’s hands upon him only reminds you how they felt upon you, and Celebrimbor’s pleas for release remind you of the torturous stretch you had endured with Annatar keeping still inside of you, of the ache of helplessly unfulfilled pleasure and the beauty that had come from it.

Celebrimbor must have gathered his will, same as you did back then, and resumed his work, because his moans reach your ears again. You will your legs to carry you away, but all they do is take you back where you can peer through the crack in the door once more. Annatar is now hunched over Celebrimbor, mouth on his neck and hand back to stroking him beneath the table, and when the smith wavers anew in his feeble attempts to work, the cry he gives out at the loss of stimulation sends a bolt of pleasure to your clit. You press your thighs together, in vain. You cannot touch yourself in the hallway, where anyone might see you.

Just as you think you have gathered the resolve to flee to your chambers, where you may indulge in the pleasure of your own fingers without risking your dignity, Annatar says your name. It happens in an instant—a flick of his wrist, and the door slides all the way open, leaving you exposed to their sight.

Every cell in your body freezes.

“I am glad you have joined us,” Annatar greets politely, standing to his full height at Celebrimbor’s side.  “You need not linger at the door.”

Celebrimbor, on the other hand, goes into a wide-eyed panic that matches the one no doubt written on your own face. His jaw drops, trembling, and he fumbles beneath the table to make himself decent again before he shoots to his feet.

“I-I assure you,” he stammers, awfully flushed in the face, “this is not at all what you might imagine—”

“Do not fret, Celebrimbor,” Annatar intercedes, mildly amused. “She is quite familiar with my methods.”

A small gasp leaves you as you avert your eyes, heat flooding your skin. It is one thing to catch Lord Celebrimbor in the act, quite another to admit to your own. His eyes dart between you and Annatar as he blinks, stunned at the revelation.

“Come... come inside,” he urges you. “Shut the door.”

You do so in haste, but remain standing in the doorway. You cannot tell whether Celebrimbor is more angry or ashamed. Though he hardly has the right to judge your behaviour, given that he has engaged in similarly improper acts himself, if he were to banish one of you, it will not be the emissary of the Valar.

“Is it true?” he asks, thankfully seeming more curious than scandalized. You glance at Annatar, unsure, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod of his head. It serves as a balm to your nerves.

“Lord Annatar...” you begin, willing your voice to be steady as you look at Celebrimbor. “He helped me to finish the designs, my lord.”

Celebrimbor’s brows shoot up. His mouth opens, then closes. Then he scrambles to pick up the sketches by which he had been guided as he worked—your sketches—from the table, and holds them up to you.

“You made these, while...?”

“Indeed,” Annatar says, the sole word imbued with such pride and admiration, your knees weaken.

“But they are excellent! Flawless!” Celebrimbor protests, his tone raised in disbelief. “It cannot be that... Under such torment...?”

It is plain to see, from the distress in his eyes, that he truly does not understand how such a thing might be possible. This must be the first time Annatar has tried this with him, catching him as off guard as you had been, and he has yet to learn how to accept the gift as you did. A gift which is too precious, you realize, to be kept only to yourself, especially with the fate of all Middle-Earth at stake. Sympathy for Celebrimbor fills your heart, and you meet his questioning look with a slight nod. Once again, your gaze briefly meets Annatar’s, and something in his eyes along with your own inner realization gives you the boldness to go on and confess, “It helps, Lord Celebrimbor. If you allow it. And... it does not go unrewarded.”

Celebrimbor releases a stunned huff, and puts the paper back on the table with a small thud of his fingers against the wood.

“She is right,” Annatar speaks when Celebrimbor seems at a loss for words. “But then again...” His brow knits, and he ponders something. “No two creative minds are alike,” he muses. “And yours, Celebrimbor, I’m afraid is in a rather fragile state. Perhaps a less... direct approach would suit you better.”

Celebrimbor eyes him warily, but his interest is visibly piqued, your words having eased his reluctance to believe such a method might prove fruitful. Slowly, he returns to his seat.

“And... what might that be?” he asks, cautiously.

Annatar gives him a rather cryptic smile before he turns his gaze to yours, extending a hand towards you in invitation.

“Would you come here?” he beckons.

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing to Celebrimbor to find him as puzzled as you, then looking back at Annatar in silent question. He gives no answer, only waits patiently. Waits for your trust, as you have given it before.

And as before, you give it. Holding his gaze, you go to him, and place your hand in his. Your skin tingles pleasantly as he takes it in his gentle hold, reminding you how you had longed to feel his touch again. He pulls you close to him and wraps his other arm around your waist with elegance, almost as if preparing for a waltz. You are transfixed by his eyes as he speaks in that wise voice of his, close enough that his breath touches your lips.

“There are more ways to open one’s mind to their most natural instincts than touch itself,” he says. “Sometimes, one needs only to be reminded... shown... how fulfilling it is to cease denying oneself.”

The last words are spoken just as he presses his lips to yours, and you sigh into the gentle kiss. His mouth’s caresses are so languid, so patient as you follow their lead. He takes his sweet time tracing your lips with his tongue, then sliding it against your own, allowing them to intertwine and dance together at leisure, savouring each and every sensation. But that is not all he means to do, you realize as a sudden intake of breath reaches your ears, one which belongs to neither you nor Annatar. This sensuous display is meant for Celebrimbor—who is still sitting right at your side, though the haze of desire had all but erased that knowledge from your mind.

When Annatar removes his lips from yours with a softly wet sound, you cannot help but glance a bit self-consciously to the smith. His eyes are clouded with an emotion you have never seen in them in all your years working together—yearning of the purely carnal sort. Though he flushes at being caught eyeing you so, the look he sends Annatar holds a glint of ruefulness.

“You can hardly expect my eyes to not stray from my work,” he warns, “whilst you engage in such... titillating behaviour a mere glance away.”

“And yet,” Annatar says, looking at him but leaning into you, “I expect you to not only finish your work,” you give a soft gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “but to craft your greatest creations yet.”

“I do not think—”

The protest dies in Celebrimbor’s throat as Annatar engulfs you in his arms and swiftly lifts you onto the table, close enough to Celebrimbor that you could reach out with your leg and rest a foot in his lap if you so wished. You make no move to do anything but remain right where Annatar has placed you, your breath quickening as he reaches to your ankles and begins to draw the skirts of your dress slowly up, up, over your knees, until they are gathered gracelessly around your waist and all that covers your modesty is your undergarments.

You can’t help but squirm lightly, adjusting to the most unusual exposure. It’s already more than you had ever imagined Celebrimbor would see of you, and now Annatar is running the palm of his hands gently along your thighs, coaxing you to part them and reveal the damp fabric between your legs. His piercing gaze won’t let you look away. He holds such power over you, willingly given yet ruinous in its might.

And he is no less in control as he lowers himself to his knees before you, in the space between your legs. The realization of what he means to do, and in what circumstances, punches a small mewl from your chest. But perhaps you should know better than to think you can anticipate his actions by now. You must only take what you are given, and at the moment he gives you feather-light caresses of your legs, from your ankles to the sensitive skin at the back of your knees, whilst his lips begin a trail of kisses upon the inside of your thighs. A few on the left, a few on the right. Languorous, attentive, drawing ever upward.

If you were aching before, you now crave him with devastating force. You want to moan, but some deeply rooted instinct within you still tries to clip the sounds in your throat, sharply aware of your audience. Unbidden, your eyes drift to Celebrimbor. His are glued to the spot where Annatar’s lips meet the soft flesh of your thigh, his lips slightly parted in silent desire, and his fingers digging into his own thigh as he no doubt withholds from seeking his own relief. You shudder with a sudden burst of bashfulness... but also the thrill of it. Of behaving yourself in such a scandalous manner, leaving all thoughts of propriety aside and wearing your pleasure on display.

Lifting his head from your leg, barely a few inches from where you need him most, Annatar gives Celebrimbor an encouraging look. “Go on, then,” he instructs, much like he had done when coaxing you into resuming your drawing whilst impaled on his length. Celebrimbor’s throat bobs with what looks to be a painful swallow, but he does as he is asked and picks the object of his labour back up.

Satisfied, Annatar aims a wolfish smile at you, then works to free you of the only fabric covering your wetness. Once he has pulled it down your legs and tucked it safely within his own robes, leaving you quivering in anticipation as the cool air meets your soaked center, he parts your legs once more and looks up at you.

“Would you be so kind,” he says, caressing your thighs, “as to share with Lord Celebrimbor exactly what transpired between us upon our past encounter? From beginning to end. In as much detail as your sensibility allows.”

He says it with as much ease as he would request that you bring Lord Celebrimbor some tea. You’d scoff at the absurdity, at the word ‘sensibility’, if not for his thumb, which begins to massage your clit with small, slow circles as he awaits your compliance. You are helpless to do anything but whimper as you nod, and will yourself to speak through stifled sounds of pleasure as your swollen bud sings beneath his touch.

“Lord Annatar... he touched me,” you begin, egged on by his approving gaze. You can hardly make the story sound as coherent or vivid as it felt at the time, but you do your best to at least remember the sequence of events. “First, he massaged my shoulders. Then, he traced his fingers along my cheek and... my hair... and then he... touched the tip of my ear. Tugged at it with his fingers. I-I was surprised, but... I let him, because it felt... so good.”

The word melts into a moan, for Annatar has replaced his finger with his lips, pressing them gently to your clit before giving it a firm lick. All inhibitions set aside, you lay your hand on Annatar’s head and hook your fingers into the bow at the back of it, marvelling at the softness of his tresses. He raises his eyes to yours as he continues to kiss you between your legs, and by the Valar, he is the most divine sight you have ever laid eyes upon.

“What then?” Celebrimbor asks, nearly as breathless as you feel. When you glance at him, his eyes are painstakingly glued to his work, obeying Annatar’s command. The Lord of Gifts gives your thigh a soft pinch, silently instructing you to do the same.

“Then, he kissed my neck,” you go on, in between mewls and little gasps of pleasure as Annatar makes a meal of your most intimate flesh. “And touched my breasts. He kneaded them and... pinched my nipples through my dress.” Almost absent-mindedly, your own hand which isn’t in Annatar’s hair does the very same now, overwhelmed by the combined elation his mouth offers at present and the memory you are recounting out loud. “Then... his hand went lower and... touched my— between my legs.” You avoid the word, and immediately find it laughable. Annatar’s face is buried in your cunt right now, so close to Celebrimbor that he can no doubt hear the wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your folds—why on Middle-Earth would you shy away from something as harmless as a mere word now?

As if to further emphasize that point, Annatar’s kisses turn more vigorous, and he slips a long finger past your entrance, adding to the squelch. You gasp and tighten your grip on his hair, writhing on the table.

“Then, he stopped,” you go on, and your voice might as well be one continuous, obscene whine. “Told me to stand, and sat in my chair instead. And then... I sat in his lap... with my back to him... with him inside of me.” You mewl as he slips in a second finger, and begins to curl them into your sweetest spots with ravaging precision. “And it felt so good... and I wanted to move so badly... but he said I was to finish the designs first... and I trusted him... so I obeyed. When I had him in me... I could finally let go and just... create.”

He groans into your cunt, and you quake with the overwhelming sensations. It’s too much, how he sucks your clit into the heat of his mouth, how his fingers put relentless and heavenly pressure to the parts within you where it most wrecks you to feel it. Your already breathy voice grows in pitch, littered with desperate mewls as you pant and writhe your way to your peak.

“Once I finished, he lifted me from the chair... and into his arms... and he took me against a wall... hard and deep... until, finally... finally... My lord!”

You grip his hair mercilessly as you clench around his fingers, lost to an onslaught of pleasure that leaves you gasping and panting without shame. Annatar laps at your folds all the way through it, until your hips begin to twitch with too much sensation to bear.

“Until, finally,” Annatar continues, calm and composed as he rises to his feet, “she found her well-earned release.” He cups your cheek, admiring your pleasure-dazed expression with a blend of pride and hunger as you lean into his touch. “And looked as splendid as her creations whilst she clenched around my cock.”

He kisses you, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue. You feel so light and so wonderfully tired, all you want is to fall into his arms, rest your head upon his shoulder and close your eyes. So you do, breaking away from his lips to melt into his embrace, where he welcomes you with utmost tenderness.

“She does,” Celebrimbor agrees. You open your eyes to find his gaze has strayed toward you after all, and is filled with a soft kind of awe. “You do. Together.”

Annatar coaxes you to part from him with care, and a pleased smile graces his lips as he looks down at Celebrimbor’s hand.

“As does the fruit of your labours.”

You notice then, too—Celebrimbor now holds a finished, most exquisite Ring.

“I suppose I have begun to understand what you meant by... surrendering,” he admits, contemplating the precious jewel before he sets it carefully into one of the nine ring holders on the table. He knits his brow, somewhat nervous as he turns to Annatar. “Am I to finish all the rest before...?”

“That would be rather cruel, would it not?” Annatar says indulgently. “To craft none rings is more time-consuming than to draw them, after all. Stand, Celebrimbor.”

Hope sparks in the smith’s eyes as he obeys. Annatar rearranges your dress, allowing it to fall over your legs once more, and leaves a tender caress on your cheek before he turns to Celebrimbor.

You are not sure what you’re meant to do, but you don’t feel strong enough to stand yet either way. It’s almost as though you’re peering through the crack in the door again as, without further teasing, Annatar parts Celebrimbor’s robes and unfastens his trousers, releasing the hard and swollen flesh beneath to the air as well as your sight. It’s strange to think you and the Lord of Eregion have now officially seen each other’s private parts not only bared, but also evident with arousal. Celebrimbor is already weeping at the tip as Annatar wraps his elegant fingers around his cock and gives it a tug.

“Oh, my friend,” he coos, cupping Celebrimbor’s cheek. The smith whines softly, leaning into his touch. “How you must be aching.”

Celebrimbor nods, beyond words as Annatar begins to stroke his cock. The Lord of Gifts claims his mouth, and the smith clings to his shoulders desperately. You remember how it felt, to have gone so long without release and finally have the promise of it within reach. Arousal stirs anew within you, as though it had not been thunderously relieved barely a minute before.

At the same time, however, you are beginning to feel quite out of place as the kiss unfolding before your eyes grows deeper, more intense, Annatar’s tongue dominating Celebrimbor’s. His movements are still teasingly slow, despite the promise that he would finally relieve Celebrimbor’s suffering, and the more self-conscious part of your mind is beginning to wonder whether you are not hindering Annatar’s plans, somehow.

“Should I...?” you say, hesitating to interrupt. “Would you prefer if I left you to...?”

“No, please,” Celebrimbor blurts out, breaking the kiss and flushing as he meets your eyes. Remembering himself and to whom he must submit, he turns to Annatar, and somewhat bashfully asks, “Would it be all right if she stayed?”

Annatar nods, pleased by his deference. “If that is her wish.”

They both look to you then, awaiting your response—Celebrimbor with hope, Annatar with patience, and perhaps a tinge of expectation. You nod, a welcome one for all three of you. Now that you have become a part of this creative process, you wish to see it through to the end, whenever Annatar deems that may be.

“Good,” Annatar smiles. “There are eight more Rings to be crafted, after all.”

The implication thrills you to the core. Only the first of the Nine is finished, and it had mostly been completed by the time you had joined Annatar and Celebrimbor in the forge. How many more sensuous games will the emissary of the Valar invent until all the Rings are finished? In how many ways will he have you unravel, mind and body? The creamy sensation between your legs grows ever more persistent as you realize Annatar is unlikely to let it recede any time soon.

Under your gaze, Annatar returns his attentions to Celebrimbor’s neck, nipping and sucking at his skin in rhythm with his still-languid strokes. Celebrimbor says your name, practically moans it, and he wears a deep frown as he looks at you, half from pleasure and half from guilt.

“I do not wish for you to think that...” he falters when Annatar’s teeth find his ear, “in all our time together, I was harbouring improper thoughts towards you...”

“It’s quite all right, my lord,” you reassure him, watching as Annatar’s thumb gathers the bead of arousal blooming at his tip before you give him a fond smile. “There were many things I did not understand about myself and the act of creation, until Lord Annatar helped me to discover them. There is no shame in sharing in such knowledge. I do not think so,” you add, a bit more quietly. If one of the other smiths were to go against Celebrimbor’s wishes for some reason and come inside the forge now, surely they would scorn the three of you for engaging in such apparent depravity together. But you are equally sure that Annatar would help them understand the importance of your endeavours, just as he had you and Celebrimbor.

Annatar pulls away from Celebrimbor’s neck, caressing his cheek as he wears an adoring smile with which he then graces you as well as he speaks. “It brings me such joy,” he says, “to see the greatest of Elven smiths working in such harmony. Learning from one another.”

“We learned from you, my friend,” Celebrimbor is quick to return the praise. “We have you to thank for everything.”

“Let us say that we should thank one another,” Annatar insists. And as if in his own gratitude, he kneels before Celebrimbor, though he does so in that same manner he did with you before, without losing an ounce of the authority he commands. If anything, having his gaze meet yours from below has a way of making you feel as though you are standing on a precipice, dangerously close to toppling into the abyss, and he is all that keeps you upright still. Celebrimbor certainly seems to share that sentiment, his fingers brushing Annatar’s smooth cheek with deep reverence, as if he barely dares to touch such beauty.

Annatar begins with small kisses peppered to Celebrimbor’s cock, tongue darting out ever so teasingly to flick against the straining length and sensitive tip. The pleading sound that escapes the smith’s throat combined with the sight has you crossing your legs where you are still sitting on the table, to better press your thighs together.

“Oh, by the Valar,” Celebrimbor rasps out as his length is all at once engulfed in Annatar’s mouth, not a trace of discomfort on his face as the smith’s cock sinks deep into his throat.

“Lord Annatar,” you breathe out, unable to contain yourself any longer, “may I touch myself?”

You expect—hope—to be given a hum of approval, the rumble of which in Annatar’s throat will surely prevent Celebrimbor from begrudging you this small interruption. But Annatar releases the smith’s cock abruptly, pulling a strained groan from him.

“You shall take your pleasure when I see fit,” he replies before returning to his task. His voice is soft, yet the command in it is clear. It only serves to highten your arousal. And really, you should not interfere with Celebrimbor’s long-awaited pleasure again, but you fear the wooden table might begin to splinter within your white-knuckled grip unless you do something.

“May I touch you, then?” you entreat.

This time, when Annatar frees his mouth, a mischievous smile is tugging at its corners. “So long as you do not interfere with my task,” he says, looking up at the trembling smith before him. “Our dear Celebrimbor might be quite upset if you do.”

Celebrimbor caresses Annatar’s hair, giving a slight shake of his head. “I shall gladly take whatever I am given.”

You, on the other hand, waste no time to take that which you have asked for and were generously granted. You leave your seat to go and kneel behind Annatar, humming with delight as your fingers caress the soft strands of his beautiful, long hair. You brush it to the side to reveal his neck, and begin to leave your own kisses there, laving the skin between his jaw and shoulder with affection as he bobs his head while sucking Celebrimbor.

How ironic that he should warn you about interfering with his task, for a change. But even now, you seem to be the one in more difficulty as you reach around his waist, seeking to gain access to the part of him you have been missing inside you for every second since your last joining had ended. It’s an awkward position, with him kneeling and you trying to work through the layers of his clothing from behind, and however you try, you cannot seem to figure out how to even part his robe enough to reach the fastening of the trousers beneath.

He groans impatiently, and you soon find out why—when, in a few swift movements and shuffles of fabric, he frees himself from their confines and takes your hand to wrap it around his cock. He is hard and eager, practically pulsing with need within your grip, and you are reminded that to offer you these gifts requires his own sacrifice, his own desire going unfulfilled.

His hands return to Celebrimbor whilst yours remains on his cock, and you marvel at the heat and firmness of him in your grip as you begin to stroke it. He is leaking generously at the tip, and you smear the wetness along his length as you hasten your pace, and you moan as though the ridges of him are catching on your inner walls instead of the palm of your hand as your cunt aches helplessly.

But you focus solely on him. Your lips travel up the curve of his neck, trying to adjust to the movements of his head as you lick a stripe up his ear, and catch the pointed tip between your teeth as you had been longing to for so long. He groans, a low, hoarse sound that must scrape against Celebrimbor’s cock oh so wonderfully. Or torturously, if the smith’s broken whimper is any indication. With Annatar, it tends to be a blend of both.

It isn’t a coincidence, you think, but rather Annatar’s perfectly controlled timing, when they both find their end at once. It’s plain to see, from the way Celebrimbor bucks forward with a sob of relief, that he is spilling inside Annatar’s mouth, who keeps it firmly closed around him, receiving every drop—whilst Annatar’s own hips give a tense jerk and he throbs in your hand, some of his spend landing on Celebrimbor’s pant leg and some dribbling down your fingers.

It’s nearly enough to have you coming yourself. Alas, you clench around the emptiness within you, gently stroking Annatar until he pulls away from both of you. Releasing Celebrimbor’s spent cock and removing your hand from his own length, he rises from the ground, poised as ever, leaving the smith stumbling back into his seat and you panting on your knees. It isn’t long, though, before Annatar’s hand is held out within the line of your sight, and you raise your eyes to find him looking down at you like a blessing sent to be your salvation—which he, in fact, is.

“Come, now,” he urges tenderly. “The floor is hardly the place for an Elf of your talents. And generosity.”

Touched by his compliments as always, you place your hand in his and let him pull you to your unsteady feet. Though he praises your generosity, the result of it hardly shows—his cock still appears to be as furiously rigid as ever, and you frown slightly as it catches your gaze.

“Have I not satisfied you well enough, my lord?” you ask, barely a whisper. He lifts your chin, having your gaze meet his.

“You have satisfied me wonderfully,” he reassures you. “However, I shall not be truly finished until I will it so. And we still have long hours of toil ahead of us. Do we not, Celebrimbor?”

The smith gives a small chuckle. He had tucked himself away, and is now leaning on the table, resting his chin on his fist as he looks at you and Annatar with a hazy gaze.

“I am afraid I do not possess your prowess, my godly friend. It shall be a little while before I am able to endure such wonderful torment again.”

“How fortunate, then,” Annatar says, “that our dear friend is willing to share in your burden.”

You think you would share in any burden he might ask you to, so long as he kisses you all through it the same as he does now. His tongue plunges past your lips, and your eyebrows raise slightly as you realize both that the musky taste you feel is Celebrimbor’s spend, and that he must have felt your taste as well when Annatar had kissed him after feasting on you.

You are tempted to reach for Annatar’s length again as you feel its inviting weight on your belly, but then his arms surround you and you are being swept in his embrace effortlessly. You wrap yourself around him as he carries you back to the chair right beside Celebrimbor’s, sitting down with you astride him. He makes quick work of lifting your dress to expose you to him once more. Nothing would have made you happier. The moment you are able to, you cant your hips so that your moist folds caress his cock, moaning softly as your clit catches on the tip of him.

Annatar murmurs your name, gaze trained on your mouth as he traces your slightly parted lips with his thumb, “So needy,” he muses. “You neglected to mention, when you told our little story, how you came undone with barely a few grazes of my fingers, right before I took you fully.” He leans into your ear, “Should we see if we can achieve that once more?”

He grips your hips, preventing you from seeking friction much like he did the last time you had been seated in his lap. But at least then, you were achingly full instead of empty.

“Please,” you whimper, pulling away so he may see the plea within your eyes as well. “I’ve missed you inside me. So much.”

Annatar regards you tenderly, as though genuinely touched by your sentiment.

“Very well, then,” he says, running his knuckles down your cheek. “When I next bring you to the height of your pleasure, it shall be whilst we are most intimately joined.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in relief, and you turn your head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Whether that is to be now, however…”

You open your eyes to find a now familiar glint of mischief in his.

“Celebrimbor.” He turns his gaze to the smith, who seems quite surprised to be addressed in the midst of your exchange. “If you were to choose,” Annatar begins, voice honeyed with promise, “would you like me to keep you full while you work... or to hear me fill her?”

Your heart all but stills in your chest. It was one thing to put yourself at Annatar’s mercy, but for him to have Celebrimbor decide your fate is a turn you had not expected. Perhaps it is only the illusion of control which he offers, a choice he asks Celebrimbor to make only for him to do the opposite instead. Either way, it’s a new flavour of the same addictive torment you have known at his hands, and your heartbeat practically echoes between your legs as you await Celebrimbor’s answer.

For his part, the smith seems at an utter loss. He meets Annatar’s expectant gaze, then your pleading one. “Both,” he confesses in the end. “Only... might you see to her first? I am quite sated for the moment, and she…” His eyes drop to your glistening folds. “Oh my dearest, look how wet you are.”

He forgets himself for a moment, resting his hand on your thigh. It’s nice and warm upon your already heated skin, but tenses when Celebrimbor notices Annatar eyeing it with a slightly raised eyebrow. Realizing he had failed to ask for permission, the smith bows his head in apology and begins to retreat.

Annatar, however, lays a hand upon his, keeping it pressed to your skin. He must have deemed, in the end, that the touch was tentative enough to count as a plea for more rather than a claim to it. He meets your gaze with a searching look and, finding nothing but the heat of anticipation there, he slides Celebrimbor’s hand further up your thigh, guiding it to the aching flesh between your legs.

A breath escapes Celebrimbor as he feels you intimately. Annatar ensures the tips of the smith’s fingers find your bundle of nerves, and guides them into circling it with torturous slowness before leaving him to carry on with the touch on his own. Your eyes fall shut, relishing the stimulation even as it worsens the emptiness you feel within.

“Wet indeed, is she not?” Annatar murmurs. Celebrimbor nods, unable to look away from the sight of your flesh beneath his fingers. You’ve never had two pairs of eyes trained on your exposed sex, drinking it in at the same time, and the rush brought by that fact alone pulls a whimper from you. Celebrimbor’s pace increases slightly as your hips chase his touch, but Annatar puts a tempering hand to his. “Not too much,” he instructs. “Not yet.”

Looking down, the sight you find is most frustrating. Annatar’s cock is so close, lying rigid and eager right before your core, yet your cunt weeps helplessly under much too tame a touch. You feel like you might cry if you don’t get to come soon, but you remind yourself to breathe and leave yourself to Annatar’s care, knowing his ways will leave you more fulfilled in the end than what you think you need in the heat of passion.

To your partial relief, Annatar takes himself in hand, teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, below Celebrimbor’s fingers. He leans closer, as though he means to kiss your cheek, but before his lips touch your skin, he gives Celebrimbor a meaningful look, tapping a suggestive finger to the side of your neck closest to him. Here.

Celebrimbor’s eyes brighten with understanding and eagerness. They both lean in, and then there are two sets of lips, two tongues, wet and warm and soft on the sensitive skin between your neck and both shoulders at once. All whilst Celebrimbor caresses your clit, and Annatar soaks his cockhead through your folds, and you moan as you tremble under their combined attentions.

Then, all at once and at long last, Annatar tightens his hold around your waist, and pulls you onto him. You gasp and mewl, your hand flying to grip Celebrimbor’s sleeve as you are finally filled to the brim. Celebrimbor pulls away from your neck to look down, a shuddering breath escaping him at the sight of Annatar’s flesh engulfed by yours. His fingers falter on your clit.

“Tell me,” Annatar murmurs in your ear, “is our friend still ‘quite sated’?”

You lock eyes with Celebrimbor, then lower them to his crotch. He opens his legs slightly as you reach out to return his intimate touch, and groans as you feel the renewed hardness between them.

“He is hard, my lord,” you reply, breathless, as Annatar retreats from you enough to watch you fondle Celebrimbor through his clothes for himself. You would like to relieve him, and you wish to begin riding the cock within you more than anything, but you know better than to do either before Annatar has allowed it. Your brow knits in apology as you remove your hand from Celebrimbor. He catches it in his, though he doesn’t return it to where he aches most.

“Please,” he breathes out, gaze shifting between you and Annatar. “Would you...? Could she...? If only for a while?”

Annatar smiles, wickedly. “We’ll see later if she feels inclined to return your generosity. For now, Celebrimbor,” he gently removes the smith’s hand from where it was still working slowly between your legs, “I believe the skills of your fingers are needed elsewhere.”

Celebrimbor deflates somewhat, releasing your hand. But he is no longer a stranger to this game, nor does he question Annatar’s judgment. “Yes,” he agrees, shifting in his chair to face the table. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent,” Annatar praises, his voice coated in the sweetest honey. “As for you…” He takes hold of your chin, turning your head so you meet his gaze. “You may take your pleasure. Once. Then, you shall lend your talents to the making of the Rings, along with our friend. Under my instruction,” he adds with the kind of gentle firmness only he can manage. You nod at once.

“Yes, Lord Annatar,” you promise breathlessly, already beginning to fuck yourself onto him. “Oh, thank you.”

He takes on a most humble expression, though you are too busy seeking the right angle at which to ride his cock to notice his carefully crafted façade. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

It truly is—for your pleasure, as well as Celebrimbor’s, belongs to him. The smith performs his craft with a faint smile as he listens to your pretty moans, his mind no longer muddled by the toils of the past weeks, both of you trusting blindly in your beloved emissary. And your sweet surrender to his will shall bleed into the Rings through the fingertips with which you bring them into being, and bind them to their Lord all the more closely.

He claims your mouth, your moans melting on his tongue as his cock throbs in pleasure with each eager roll of your hips—and creation has never tested sweeter, indeed.

[dinsbeskar]

To Have and To Hold; To Corrupt and Defile (Sauron/F!Reader)

After you discover his identity, Sauron's master throws a wrench into your happily ever after; or:

You're living in Gondolin before it falls; Sauron currently has you fooled, but his plans are falling apart, and the end of the First Age draws closer.

Sequel to The Number of the Beast // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine, Don't Let Me Go by RAIGN, Say You’ll Haunt Me by Stone Sour

Warnings: Angst! Plot heavy, no smut this time!! I know, who am I??

A/N: so we've messed around with the timelines a little, I've alluded to some of the major events of the War of the Jewels, especially Lúthien's victory over Morgoth, and Eärendil's subsequent taking of the recovered Silmaril to the Valar. There is so much to cover, frankly too much, so I'm keeping the references to my favourite stories; a lot of it frankly isn't relevant to our Reader. If Amazon can mess with the timeline, so can I 😂

Word Count: 3.4k!

When you'd returned to your tiny village, eons ago, hand in hand with your new husband, the resulting impromptu celebrations had gone on all day and night. No-one thought to question the sudden appearance of this beautiful stranger, as your kin were so overjoyed for your new love, and still as yet so innocent to the evils of the world.

The subsequent years of being without him so often were only eased by their rallying around you, keeping you occupied to stave off your loneliness. It didn't ease the yearning late at night when all were abed and you were left alone to crave him, but you were used to it by now; which only made his visits all the sweeter.

You woke up today to find your husband stretched out next to you, a pleasant surprise that he must have instantly regretted as you threw yourself on him with a squeak.

"I didn't know you were coming! I'd have prepared for you," you say, your tone faltering as you survey the mess in your cosy rooms with a crease in your brow.

He shakes his head fondly; sometimes the lack of order would set his teeth on edge, but today he was just content to be by your side once more.

He murmurs sweet nothings into your hair as he nestles you closer, wrapping you up and refusing to allow to leave your bed this morning.

The city was growing prosperous, becoming the heart of Elvendom in Middle Earth, and your small abode was so different to the humble beginnings of your kin. Your people were finding strength in numbers, building great cities to fortify against the Enemy.

He cannot visit as often as either of you would like, busy with the war in the north, and now you understand why. His confessions about Morgoth threw you, made you doubt everything you knew, but your soul sang for him regardless, so you pressed it to the back of your mind, your heart and your mind fighting a losing battle. He promised you it was simply too late for him to change sides, that his master's wrath was better fought within his service than without. How could you refuse him?

You had asked him long ago if you could visit him instead, perhaps even pack up your life and move to be with him. His face grew dark, and he refused to even consider it. Now that you knew in whose service he toiled, you understood, and didn't press the issue again.

So you had become increasingly interested in the martial affairs of Gondolin, always hoping to hear nothing of Sauron, for no news was good news.

Your kin ask after him often; you tell them the truth where you can. That he is fighting the war in the north, that his brief respites are spent with you in private. Sometimes, you wish you could show him off to the world; it gets lonely surrounded by your family and friends, happily coupled and deeply in love, whilst you await your beloved for what feels like a lifetime.

When he visits, he crosses the borders of your kingdom with relative ease. Even entering the Hidden City, after centuries of being married to you, they greet him as one of their own, something which now plagues you with guilt; though not enough to keep you apart.

You are unfortunately not the only one, as many of your friends wait for their husbands too, who are also away fighting. The siege of Angband has taken much out of you all, and the number of half-souls wandering Gondolin grows day by day as more Elves are called away to bolster the beleaguered armies.

It is the knowing he is out there, yearning for you as much as you for him, that makes it a little easier. When the war is over, he says, you will be together, nothing will keep you apart. So you pray for his master's downfall any chance you get.

Unfortunately for you, it's not as if Sauron has to worry about any other's affections stealing you away; perhaps if he did, you might see him more often. Binding yourself to another soul changes the way you are perceived, a glimmer of the unseen world breaking into the everyday, in a way that to any other creature is imperceptible. But Sauron takes great pleasure in the knowledge that you are his, and no-one else's, that no-one would even think of touching you, not that you would let them. That possessive streak is something that you'd have thought would repulse you; instead it is deeply and mutually returned, the pair of you wrapped up in each other, blind to any others who might have tried their luck.

~

He's deep in thought, sketching long black lines on his paper, but every so often his eyes flicker to you watching his every move.

You love to see him hard at work, it lets you see what makes him tick, what gives him his boundless energy. You worry that you annoy him with your incessant questions, but any time you falter, he encourages you to ask, so you figure he must like the attention.

Today he is sat working on something very important, something that cannot be rushed. And you're sat at his side, head in your hand, thinking idly of everything and nothing, as his hand races across the paper.

"You haven't said a word," he looks over at you with a small smile, "something the matter, my love?"

"No, darling," you sigh, stretching your arms above your head and pulling yourself closer into his side. "Don't want to disturb you."

"You could never, I've told you so many times." He reaches out with his left hand and squeezes your knee, strokes the side of your face, then presses on with his task, one-handed as he commits to holding your hand.

You hum in assent, leaning your head on his shoulder. You feel him relax into your touch and you fear that perhaps you've ruined his industrious streak.

He puts down his pencil and pulls you close, chin resting on the crown of your head. You feel his heart flutter in his chest, and yours can't help but mirror it.

You enjoy his embrace a moment before disrupting the peace. "So what are you working on?"

He snorts, a noise you don't hear very often from him, usually so composed, and it makes you giggle, pulling away and looking up at his affectionate gaze.

"Not a moment's peace," he chuckles, rubbing the small of your back whilst reaching for his discarded sketches.

He rolls them out and watches for your reaction; yours is the only opinion he would deign to heed.

The long black strokes, the angular shape of it, it looks nothing like you expect. Twisted and wicked, it doesn't match the man sitting at your side.

"Is that... is it some kind headpiece?" You stutter a little under his intense stare; he wants the truth even if he dislikes what you have to say.

He raises his eyebrows a little and nods at you to continue your line of thought.

"Not a helmet. No, too many holes, frankly it would be useless as a helm, there's a great hole in the centre of it-" he can't help but laugh at your rambling, joking at his expense. If only you knew what happens to anyone else who would dare to.

"-Oh! A crown? Who needs a crown?" You finally get there, and you take the scroll from him, holding it up and scrutinising every detail.

"Who, indeed?" His tone is suddenly solemn; you've reminded him of what awaits him when he leaves you.

Morgoth in his crazed stupor, lusting constantly for the star-bright jewels that he already possesses, jealously guarded with a ferocity he hasn't seen in an age.

Your face drops and you pull him to you.

"I'm sorry, love, I didn't think." You know very well his trials and tribulations at his master's hands, but were somehow foolish enough to allude to him. You thought He already had a crown, and you remark as much in your naivety.

He traces your neck and kisses your palm. "It's quite alright, love, I know how... faraway my troubles must seem."

A cold sweat breaks down your spine.

"No, my darling, your troubles are mine, I would carry your burdens if only you were to share them with me." You plead softly; how could you be so naive, spoiling a sweet moment that is not so easily stolen now that he is so busy with the war.

He doesn't speak for a long time, and tears prick your eyes, almost painful in your efforts to hold them back. It is his pain you should focus on, not your own selfish regret.

You lean your head on his shoulder, hoping perhaps that he will open up to you for once, tell you of his torment in the north at the hands of the enemy, the part he plays as an unwilling accomplice to Morgoth's destruction.

As if he can hear your thoughts, he interrupts them softly.

"It is a crown. A conduit, for a power over flesh." He licks his lips nervously, avoiding your gaze.

"What could He need of such power?" You ask, before realising that of course, such power would ensure His victory.

He doesn't answer that question, preferring not to lie to you; you don't need to know exactly who it is for.

"I'd prefer something smaller, more elegant-" he begins to explain before you interrupt.

"Like a ring." You muse, meeting his eye. He raises his brow and looks past you, seemingly intrigued, and you can't help the pride that wells within you, happy to have pleased him so.

He looks back to you, smile fading quickly as he is reminded of what he came to tell you today.

"Speaking of my master, I-" he swallows thickly, the words refusing to cooperate with his tongue. "I have news. Concerning you and I."

His eyes are suddenly dark, and his expression sombre, and all at once you feel an all-encompassing dread that makes you press your hands to his mouth.

"No. Don't tell me. Not now. Please, love, I cannot bear any tale of Him while I worry for you." That much is true, you are too concerned about your lover to hear anything of the Enemy right now; but a tiny part of you simply never wants to hear about Morgoth, never wants to think about the evil your husband has been forced to wreak upon Middle Earth, so hard you have worked to forgive and forget, and you have had your fill now for one day.

"It is important, sweetness," he cups your chin and turns your face to look at him, the dread in your soul seemingly shared if his expression is anything to go by.

"Tell me." You nod reluctantly, anxiously awaiting whatever horror you will have to face together.

~

The fortress is always so hot, fiercely dry like a blazing desert heat, scorching his skin. It is nothing like his golden days with you, dappled sunshine on your skin, a cool breeze on his face.

He has been summoned by his master, which can only be an ill omen. Ever since the fiasco involving the lost Silmaril, and his defeat at the hands of Lúthien and her hound, Sauron had suffered nothing but wrath every time he returned to Morgoth; blaming him for the loss of a jewel from His crown, since he had not been there to defend his master from Lúthien's sweet song. The jewel was now set in the sky by the Valar, a constant reminder of his failure.

For you, as much as it pained you to see him suffer, it was a blessing; more precious time spent with your beloved as he avoids the fortress entirely.

Had it been a shock, when your husband appeared to you as a wolf, gravely injured and desperate for you? Of course. Was his betrayal forgiven and forgotten? Absolutely not. But he was so sincere, so sweet, that every time he told you his servitude to Morgoth was in service of a greater purpose, you believed him. Of course, he wanted only to heal Middle Earth; of course, he was working to lead all free peoples to a greater future; of course.

He was not forgiven, but you were so desperately, blindly in love with him, the dark half of your soul, that you might take him any which way he comes. And he had promised you that the greater good was all he worked for, that he was the salvation of Middle Earth, and how could you not believe him?

So when he told you he'd be gone a while, gone to see his master in the North, you were hardly beside yourself with joy.

"How long?" You entwine your fingers with his, studying every contour of his face, in case it is a lifetime, not a day.

"He did not say." There is trepidation in his tone, and you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

"You are his most valuable servant. All will be well." You cannot say that for certain, but you try to sound convincing.

He exhales slowly, pressing his face into your neck, his flaming hair tumbling across your skin as you lie folded into one another, unwilling to be parted a moment earlier than necessary.

~~~

His blood runs cold as his master's words ring in his ears.

Bring her to me, and let's see how worthy of my favourite servant she is.

He paces his forge, cursing and railing, his plans to keep you secret now gone so horribly awry.

He had been so careful, slipping from the fortress seemingly unnoticed by all but the wolves, whom he easily placated with just his word, perhaps a bone thrown in their midst for good measure.

In fact it was not his absence at all that gave you away.

It was your light, seeping into his fëa and glimmering like the northern star in a pitch black night. Morgoth had noticed this straight away, of course; but rather than punish him inmediately, he chose to toy with him, leading him to believe his great deception was successful.

If she does not come to me, I will be forced to name her, Mairon.

He could not have that, could not let his master's power touch you in any way. You were his, and his alone, and the idea of Morgoth even setting eyes on you made him seethe.

And so he began to plot; too little, too late.

~

"What do you mean, my love? You're scaring me, what do you mean, named?" Your voice shakes as he grips your fingers so tightly, you fear he might pull them off.

"He gave you a title I cannot take back, it is beyond my power to do so." Now it is his turn to tremor before you; you have never seen your husband in such terror, the sight brings you to your knees and you lean your forehead against his.

"Whatever has happened, darling, we can fix it. You and I, we are one, are we not?" You try to smile reassuringly, but he shakes his head and puts a finger to your lips.

"You know the importance of names, love." Of course you do; your kind receive many names over the course of your long lives, names from your father and mother, names for your great deeds, or traits your loved ones find admirable. You already had two, you hardly need another, let alone from his master. Never mind the power of words woven into spells and songs, the unbreakable kind your husband seems now to fear.

"When a being such as Melkor uses his power to bestow a name-" his voice breaks and he swallows thickly, buying himself time before the dam breaks.

"He bestows a name, and so a fate with it."

You raise your eyebrows quizzically, but as his words sink in, you gasp and pull away. What fate could the Great Enemy possibly have in store for you? You were nothing and no-one; why would he elect to use even a tiny morsel of power on you?

"I don't want to know." Your words surprise you both.

He draws back, regarding you, brow furrowed.

"You must, my love, you know I cannot break his will-"

"I don't care." You draw yourself up, taking a deep breath. "I forgave you your sins when you came to me with the truth. I have kept your secret from everyone I know and love. You promised me Morgoth would never discover us. This is your doing, and I will have no part in it."

His heart sinks, wrenches in pain, as the gravity of your words hits him, as you refuse to allow him to brush away the tears streaming down your face. Do you not understand? He cannot unsing the will of his master, it might as well have been written in stone, if the fabric of the universe were not hardier.

You jump to your feet, anger bubbling in your stomach, and you pace and curse Morgoth and all he stands for, Sauron wincing every time your lips twist to make the ugly sound of the Enemy's name.

"Amarië-" At hearing your name, you round on him, your eyes blazing with a fire he has only ever seen in himself, and though your anger is directed at him, it thrills him, the hair on the nape of his neck standing on end, and he has to fight every instinct to take you and hold you and ravish the wrath from your being.

"Will it help? If I know my fate? I cannot change it even when you tell me, so perhaps I should live in blissful ignorance, as I did before you revealed yourself?" Your tone is so sharp, it cuts him like no sword could; he recoils from the heat of your words, the furnace blast that emanates from your anger, trepidation and admiration combining in a heady mix that makes his heart sing for you.

You feel a pang of guilt; you hate these new emotions, these feelings you'd never experienced before meeting him. Anger, sadness, betrayal; these had all been alien notions before Mairon, no, Sauron, had walked into your forest.

He has worked his expression into something more impassive, but you know he is hurt; sighing softly, you kneel and take his hand, still gripped with rage but mollified a little by your husband’s remorse. He has worked so hard to make it up to you, to show you how he is not the Enemy that your kin believe him to be.

"Will it make you feel better if I know?" You ask, searching his eyes for an answer. Please say no, please say you'll bear this burden alone... Your heart cannot take more sorrow, more betrayal; and to know would be to worry about something you cannot change.

"Eglandis." If your Elf ears were not so sensitive, you might not have heard him, how quietly he admits your doom.

Your blood runs cold, sweat breaks in uncomfortable waves down your back, as you realise the horrible truth, why your husband is so often absent, and why he was so terrified of your reaction.

"Forsaken one." You pause, thinking a moment, your heart beating out of your chest. "No, forsaken bride."

Doomed to live without your husband, this was the fate Morgoth had chosen for you. To punish Sauron for choosing a bride at all, for weakening himself in the pleasures of the flesh, he had also punished you. Had you not suffered enough? Forced to keep your love a secret from your kin, now you feared losing him forever.

"That is a cruel fate." You mutter, nose to nose with him as he seeks to comfort you.

"I am not going anywhere." He takes your hands in his once more, thumbs rubbing small circles in your palms.

"I swear to you, you will never be rid of me, no matter how hard fate pulls us apart, I will always be with you." He presses a kiss to your lips, trying to reassure you that he is here, that nothing will take you from him, but you can't move, can't breathe, as a crushing wave of grief overtakes you.

As you curl into his chest, he sweeps his sketches out of the way; it would be a shame to crumple that which is of the utmost importance to him, your crown to match his.

[genshin-side-piece]

Never Let Me Go

He didn't leave me alone. Neuvi demanded I finish this story, so here we go.

Sequel to : Love Me Tender, Love Me True, Tell Me You Are Mine

Warnings: Yandere Content, Dark themes, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, Implied Stalking, Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual themes, not smut (sorry),Not Fluff, Uncomfortable themes, not a portrayal of Stockholm Syndrome, but can be interperetted that way, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

The sky had an odd look to it, decidedly foreign in comparison to how storms normally looked in Fontaine. Thick bulbous clouds hung heavily in the skies, stifling the air around you as they drifted above rolling across the heavens like waves. Blacks and grays, mixed with a hint of navy and what you swore was ocher swirled above you, mixing together in what you could only describe as a volatile dance. The motion of the colors was the only movement the clouds had. They had come from nowhere, as clouds often liked to do in Fontaine, but these had a lingering quality. Despite the strong winds that raked their way across the steadily diminishing landscape, the clouds above remained fixed to their place in the sky. Holding everything below them fast as the rising water steadily swallowed all of Fontaine.

You stood on your perch near the peak of one of the taller mountains, braving the torrential weather as you tried your best to see anything that looked familiar. Even as the cold rain fell in sheets around you, the wind whipping against your skin, making it icy to the touch, you held firm. You ignored the cold and the weather, pushing yourself even higher as you tried to see more. The only thing that stopped you from going much further were the small hands of your keepers as they attempted to pull you back. They pleaded with you to return to the cabin they had brought you to. They told you that the weather was too much for you. There were mentions of you becoming sick should you stay out in it for too long. They begged and pleaded with you to come back, yet you silently refused. Your eyes remained ever fixed on the dimming lights of what you thought was the opera house, though it was truly impossible to tell from this distance. By now most of the landmarks that had been a part of your daily life were gone. Washed away or engulfed by the turbulent sea. Only black churning water remained. It lapped at the rock cliffs below you, climbing higher with every second. There had been no sign of danger. No warning. Only torrential rain and rapidly rising seas which caught nearly everyone unawares. To the horror of all, the prophecy had finally come. You tried not to dwell on it as best you could. Dwelling would feed the panic that was rising as fast as the water was around you. Panicking, wouldn’t do anyone, least of all you any good. Instead, you attempted to focus your concerns elsewhere. You fixated on the lights in the distance, silently praying, hoping, yearning for even the faintest fleck of blue or white to appear amongst the blacks and grays that surrounded you. You told yourself it would come. It had to come. Despite the uncertainty of your present, there was one thing you knew would always remain true; Neuvillette wouldn’t fail you. He wouldn’t abandon you. Not now, not when you needed him the most. 

It was an odd sensation to want him now. A delicious irony really. After months of silently loathing him to the point that you had wished he would vanish, he was now the only thing you wanted. You would later blame it on a combination of both the situation and your very real fear, but for now, you held firm in your belief that Neuvillette was the only person who could make this better. Surely he could calm the raging skies and the climbing seas like he did the court. A stamp of his cane or a stern word would send the horrors that surrounded you away. Fontaine would come to order again. Then you wouldn’t have to face the horrible fate that was inching ever closer with what felt like every breath. You would be safe. Neuvillette would keep you safe. That had been his one promise to you when he had taken you away. He would do everything in his power to protect you. That was his reasoning for tucking you away from a world that wished you harm. Now, as you found yourself adrift in that same world, you wished for nothing more than to be within the safety of his apartment again. The thought of the cold stone walls that had been the bane of your existence for nearly a year, brought you minimal comfort. They had upheld Neuvillette’s promise to you. They had, like him, kept you from harm. How you silently wished to be within their confines once again. How you yearned for Neuvillette to appear before you. Yet when you called his name into the howling wind, hoping for any kind of sign, only the echo of the rushing air as it whipped past answered. The skies above the opera house remained as dark as when you had first laid eyes on them. Fittingly, your captor was nowhere to be found. 

Neuvillette had been scarce in recent weeks. His work or rather the work he was required to do to keep the nation running, had kept him away. Through the grapevine of the house, you had been able to learn that there had been a crisis he’d been summoned to deal with. A matter so great, so important, that he had been forced to abandon his routine concerning you so that he might focus on it. The afternoons he had spent by your side were replaced with Neuvillette locking himself away in his office for hours, even days at a time. The only time he left was to either attend court or make an odd trip home to rest. Otherwise, you were generally alone. Your only companions were your little wardens. They kept you occupied during the day, nothing really changed in that regard. The nights though, the evenings that had been spent filled with awkward dinners and one sided conversations became hauntingly silent. In the time that was supposed to be yours and Neuvillette’s, your wardens stuck to their well practiced schedule. The clocks in the house would strike 6 and suddenly you found yourself utterly alone. You were never told whether he was coming or not. It had become a waiting game of sorts. One you quickly grew tired of playing. You’d had half a mind to give him an earful for this new tortuous delight. It was a level of cruelty that seemed out of place for him. You had made it a point to raise the issue to him, but when you next laid eyes on him, you thought better of it. His normally kind features held a strange tension to them. His jaw was almost always tightly set, his teeth appearing to grind against one another as his mind held his thoughts far away from you. His distraction was so profound that he didn’t notice you were there. Even after you made what you felt was a ruckus, he didn’t look at you. Not once. His eyes remained pinned to one piece of paper or another, his dark eyebrows furrowed, knitting and fighting against one another as he read page after page of reports. 

After that, you viewed his lack of presence as a welcome thing. Let him be completely distracted. Let his feelings for you be the furthest thing from his mind. You could sleep soundly knowing those clammy hands of his wouldn’t haunt you in the night. The peace of your morning levee had been restored as he was not there to watch you wash and dress. The need for frills and formality were dropped in a heartbeat. The clothing he preferred that you wear was somewhat simplified to be more comfortable. You dropped the unnecessary layers in favor of things that were easier to get on and off on your own. The dining room he insisted you use, was instantly abandoned. Solo breakfasts out in your garden, weather permitting, became the norm. Luncheon was officially moved to either the conservatory or one of the corner rooms that overlooked the surrounding area so that you could enjoy the view. Dinner, oh the tedious ritual that was dinner, saw the most drastic change of all. The oneness of it was replaced with quiet evenings spent in solitude, the roaring fire in your bedroom filling the silence, while one of your favorite books kept you company. It was the happiest you had been since he had first brought you here. You could almost imagine that Neuvillette didn’t exist at all. The fantasy of being alone in such grande circumstances was a delicious thing. In place of dealing with him, your afternoons were spent flitting from imaginary ball to imaginary ball, conjuring all kinds of suitors and gossip that were left in your wake. A mysterious noble, with an even more mysterious past. How had you come to be in your current position? Was your family secretly well to do? Were you involved in some nefarious affairs? Had you married well only to suffer the loss of your spouse? Even thoughts of a rich benefactor had begun to fill your fantasies. Other days you were a successful adventurer. Blessed with fortune from your extensive travels. The best the adventurer’s guild had. You had conquered all kinds of foes, large and small. Entire nations owed their gratitude and their treasuries to you. Your reward for your efforts were the surroundings of which you were now enjoying.

It was easy to get lost in your fantasies, to indulge in them as time went on. The melusines did little to discourage them. Some of them even played along, enjoying your make believe world almost as much as you did. The only thing that put a dampener on the fun was the infrequent sound of your captor’s shoes echoing off the parquet floors. Neuvillette was a specter in that regard. His heels striking against the wood always pulled you away from your intrigue and adventure. You would sit up just long enough to see his shadow slowly sweep by the drawing room door. Once, it would linger, eventually it would invade the sanctity of your space. You had tried to run from it. His shadow had stalked you through every room in his house. Following you as it passed through hallways and corridors alike. Now, he didn’t even pause. He just kept going, the sound of his shoes fading as his work pulled him further and further away from you. It left you with an odd feeling.

As the days blurred into weeks and the weeks into months you began to feel a certain kind of longing take hold. You didn’t dare admit that you missed him or his attention. Your continued freedom, though limited to the confines of your captor’s home, was a blessing. Short of leaving, you could live how you liked. The regular rules and restrictions had been suspended in the crisis. Once it had been enough to do as you pleased. You had even taken it for granted. Since your rather abrupt capture, the very idea of having your full autonomy returned to you was something that you had striven for. Now that you had it, you found it to be less satisfying than you remembered it to be. The emptiness of your world, the loneliness that came when your wardens left for the night left a bitter taste in your mouth. The time spent alone did not entertain you as it once had. The fantasies you chose to immerse yourself in no longer satisfied you. A weird craving began to form. A desire, a yearning to not only see Neuvillette but to bring him back into your routine. 

In the beginning, you tried to suppress it. You refused to acknowledge that you wanted him in your life. In the war that the two of you had fought against each other, this was the proverbial final battle. Your acceptance of his place in your life would give him all the permission he needed to continue to hold you here. It was the one thing you had sworn never to give. You refused to justify his perverted idea of love by falling for him. You decided your return to the rules and formality was a much needed reminder of why you couldn’t wait to be free. Of why you loathed him so. That was the excuse you told yourself while you dressed for dinner. It was the same one you played through your mind on repeat as you inched ever closer to his office door. He was a beast. A horrible awful man, who had done you wrong. A thief who had stolen you from the world. You tried to remember that as you stopped out his door. You despised him. You hated him. Your general dislike of his need to infantilize you with his rules and restrictions served as the fuel you needed to push against the door of his office. Normally, it was closed or locked. To your surprise, you found it slightly ajar.

“Monsieur?” You pressed further into his gloomy office, finding him hunched over his desk, eyes glued to a stack of papers resting on top of it. You took him in, your previous mantra easily forgotten as your heart sank. The always poised, always perfect, always elegant Chief Justice had been reduced to a haggard shell of his former self. His robes, cravat, and his waist coat had long been abandoned on the sofa. Half laying, half hanging off the furniture’s delicate frame. For the parts that you could see, the only recognizable piece of clothing was the wrinkled dress shirt that served as the base of his ornate attire. It too had been changed. The sleeves of the normally crisp shirt had been rolled up past his elbows, exposing you to something so scandalous as his bare forearms. You stared at the exposed skin of his arms, fixating on it for far too long before you forced your eyes higher. They followed the line of his shirt, coming to a startling halt when they found where the closed portion met the open portion. Without the cravat to hold it in place, the collar of his shirt hung loosely over his collarbones, giving you an ample view of both his exposed neck and upper chest. You couldn’t help but roughly swallow as you blatantly stared. Foolishly, you had never thought of Neuvillette as a man before. For all the time that you had spent as his captive, you had never changed your opinion of him. Like the rest of the population, you considered him more of a thing than a person. The good chief justice. The reliable Iudex. A mainstay, an institution. A long series of titles and responsibilities that helped to support the archon and keep the nation together. Nothing more than that. Things weren’t human. Things didn’t have feelings. Things were inanimate, useful, and disposable. They could be forgotten as quickly as they could be discovered. For many, Neuvillette was easy to forget. He rarely showed himself in public, outside of necessary events and court. He held no close acquaintances or deep personal friendships. He had long remained a mystery to the people he served. So it was perfectly sensible to not relate to him as a person. If nothing else than for your own sanity.

Now as you stood before him, as you realized that he was less a thing and more a person, you felt your sanity rapidly slipping away. Rather blatantly, you allowed yourself the indulgence of tracing your eyes over him, of appreciating his more beautiful features. You admired the way his neck met his shoulders. He had a rather long neck for a man. On anyone else, it would have been a gangly thing. On Neuvillette, it was noble, graceful. Oddly, you wondered what it would feel like to kiss it. To press your lips against the sides, into the hollow of it. He was so pale. Would he flush just from the contact of your lips, or would you have to nip at him to give him a little color?

“Petit” His voice, ever soft, ever gentle, snapped you back to reality. Fuck. You stood there for a moment, wide eyed and blinking as you let your previous thoughts drift away. Based on his curious expression, you had to wonder if you had been caught. Your cheeks flushed at the thought. “Are you alright?” He let out a small laugh. “For a moment, you seemed like you were quite lost in your own thoughts.” Your face only got hotter. How utterly embarrassing. You had half a mind to dash out of his office and never return. “It’s nothing.” He nodded, thankfully letting your gaff go. “I see.” The worn quality of his voice didn’t go unnoticed by you. It lacked the normal polish it tended to possess, hints of fatigue lacing their way into it. Based on the way he sounded, it seemed like Neuvillette could benefit from a good rest. You thought to suggest it, but the work stacked up all around him gave you pause. Neuvillette was nothing if not consistent in his duty. It was why he was so revered by the nation. So long as he was needed, he would continue to serve. The piles upon piles of paper that were neatly laid across his desk were enough to render any idea of an extended rest a futile one. They would weigh as heavily on his mind as they did his desk, easily preventing him from getting the rest he so desperately needed. “I am so pleased you decided to come by.” His gaze softened as he pulled his lips into a tired smile. You imagined it was the first time he had smiled in months. With him facing you, the worry and the woe that had etched its way across his features was all too clear. Dark bags hung beneath his jewel like eyes, dimming down some of their brilliance. It was a hard sight to swallow. While loathsome, Neuvillette was undeniably magnificent when he wanted to be. To see some of that brilliance sacrificed for the sake of his duty was almost too much to bear. “It is good to see you.” The relief in his soft voice made your heart ache. “I-” He swallowed roughly, gently clearing his throat. Water. He needed water. The cracks in his normally smooth voice told you his throat was unusually dry. Your eyes went to the crystal pitcher which sat opposite his desk. You could tell it was dry and empty. An unusual error on his part. It spoke to how distracted he really was. “I have missed you. I do try to remember to say goodnight to you, but you are often asleep once I am able to do so. What a pleasure it is to see you awake.” Slowly one of Neuvillette’s eyebrows crept upwards towards his brow. “You are doing well, I hope.” That hope found its way into his eyes, reflecting in the facets of them.  

You didn’t want to tell him you missed him. The capacity to do so died the second the thought had entered your mind. Still, you had. You did. As insane as it sounded, you missed his presence in your life. After all this time with him, you had gotten used to him being nearby. Never in arms reach, but always in ear shot. If the mood suited you, he was all too easy to pull into a conversation. You could ask him about the weather or the latest water samples and his voice would fill your world for hours. You could read while listening to him excitedly telling you about the difference in mineral composition between Liyue and Inazuma without ever having to say a word. Other days, you craved music. A perk of Neuvillette’s position was that singers, orchestras, and all kinds of theatrical troupes would send sample recordings as a way of enticing him into allowing them to perform at the opera. He played no part in the booking or the final decision. The Palais Mermonia merely handled the applications, but the theater manager would never turn down a favorite of the Chief Justice. Not when Neuvillette was positively enthralled with the idea of bringing a Liyuean opera star to entertain the masses. You benefited from this perk by way of Neuvillette bringing the records home for you. He would play them in the afternoons or even in the evenings after dinner as a suitable substitute to the two of you trying to hold an actual conversation. To suddenly not have him there, to have silence when you wanted conversation or music, was devastating. Playing the records alone didn’t hold the same appeal as it did when you were with him. “I-” You stared at him for another moment, trying to decide what best to do. You had missed him, but you couldn’t say so. You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to listen to your favorite Snezhnayan ballet with him again. The words to tell him so, failed you. A small voice in the back of your mind reminded you that to verbally admit you missed him, that you wanted him was to admit that he had finally won you over. The final victory in a series of smaller ones, where he could finally claim you as his. Even if it had sizable cracks in it, the wall you had held between you had to remain. You couldn’t allow it to fall.  To do so was to allow him the excuse to keep you here forever. “Dinner.” You grimaced slightly when you bit the word out as soon as it entered your mind. The quickness of it made you both take a pause before you tried to recover. “It’s time for dinner, Monsieur.” You looked away from him, your eyes sinking to the floor in embarrassment. “We-” You. “Though you might like a change of pace. Eating in your office everyday must be tiring.” You tried to make that last statement sound as gentle as possible, but it was hard to hide the mortification in your voice.

A gentle laugh filled the room, causing you to look up at him. Some of the luster had returned to his eyes. Slowly they drifted away from you and over to a clock that was resting on the mantle. They took in the time, his chin coming to idly rest against the palm of his hand. He had needed a break. You could see it in the way his entire body relaxed at even the most basic of conversations. His mind had been long occupied with work. It needed a breather as much as the rest of him did. “It is, isn’t it?” He sounded almost wistful. As if the concept of dinner with you was more a dream than the reality you had proposed. “You’re all dressed for it too.” You had noticed that he had turned his eyes back to you. That he was drinking your appearance in. You had selected something you could both enjoy; he for its aesthetics and you for its comfort. A suitable compromise in a series of compromises that had happened between you. “How wonderful you look this evening. I have truly missed basking in your radiance.” He tried to sound sincere in his compliment. Despite being exhausted, he tried. You could see he meant it. You could tell he wanted to sound pleased. But given his current condition, the best he could do was mild interest. “I have been neglectful of you, haven’t I? I seem to always be caught up in things lately. You have my most sincere apologies, petit.” The smile fell in favor of a mournful frown. You watched some of the lost tension in his shoulders return, hating it more than you hated the worn quality of his voice. “If we were still on our regular schedule I suppose I would be late, wouldn’t I?” His eyes came back to you for a final time, glistening with despair. “How clumsy of me.” There was a bitterness in his voice. It echoed in your own heart, causing the ache in it to become worse. You had never seen him like this. It went beyond the normal fits of depression and melancholy that he seemed to suffer. The distance between you felt wider than the chasm, despite you only being a few feet from each other. Why was it like this, what was happening? Why was it happening? What could be so great that it could reduce Neuvillette to this?

A cold sensation shot its way up your back as a dark thought crept into your mind. Had you caused this?

Once more, your eyes dropped to the floor while you raced to remember every interaction you’d had with him prior to his withdrawal from your world. Things had been amicable between you. The garden he had given you, along with slightly more autonomy, had gone a long way in improving your relationship. Outside of his less than desirable behavior, you were more prone to tolerating his presence when you weren’t hiding in your sanctuary. The only thing that came to mind was right before he had pulled away, he had gotten a little rough with you. When he came to you at night, Neuvillette was never forceful. The most he had ever done was hold you in place with a firm grip if you tried to roll away. There had been bruising afterwards, but they generally faded after a day or two. The night in question, coincidentally his last night with you, he had been uncharacteristically insistent. His grip on you had been unrelenting from the onset. Neuvillette had wrapped his legs around your lower body, using his strength to hold you in place so he was free to use his hands. It hadn’t taken much to wake you. Living in his house had taught you to be a light sleeper. The way he had pulled you against him, his nails puncturing the delicate flesh of your hips had instantly pulled you back to reality. On instinct, you had retaliated. But that wasn’t it, was it? You looked back up at him, his eyes still firmly fixed on you, full of all the love and affection you thought he could muster. Surely that wasn’t it. After all you had done, after all you had said, one kick couldn’t be the proverbial straw that broke him. That couldn’t be the reason why he had abandoned you. “My apologies mon trésor.” That came as little more than a whisper. “I am bereft to do so, but I must decline spending the evening with you.” He hesitated, his eyes falling back to the desk. “Duty calls.” There was an ebbing silence that passed between you, one that not even the fire in the fireplace could fill. At that moment, the world fell completely silent. All you swore you could hear was the sound of your own heart breaking. 

It showed on your face. It must have. The crack of thunder and the rustle of the trees matched the distress Neuvillette showed when he looked back at you. Outside, rain began to pelt against the panes of glass, hiding the weak sob that had managed to slip past your lips. The tears that fell onto your cheeks burned. The news that he couldn’t join you should have been a joyous thing to you. A confirmation that his lack of interest could be the first indication that his mania for you was passing. If he no longer believed he loved you, if there was no need to protect you, then surely that meant you could go home, didn’t it? You could return to your life. You could begin again. You should be overjoyed at the very possibility of it. No more restrictions or special diets. No more eyes following you everywhere. No more lack of privacy. You could control who or what entered your space simply by telling them to stay or go. You would never have to fear the roving hands that had haunted you in the night again. You could lock them out of your life as easily as you could the melusines. Everything you could want, everything you had wanted was all pinned on the concept of finally ridding yourself of your captor. Yet instead of being thrilled, instead of asking to the point of begging to be released, you could only begin to cry. Not out of happiness, but at the horrific realization that perhaps freedom wasn’t what you wanted anymore. Your life here, your life with him was a comfortable one. Aside from him and the ebbing loneliness without him, Neuvillette made your captivity an easy thing to bear. If you left the safety of Neuvillette’s arms or if you were forced to leave it, then you would have nowhere to go. Your apartment, along with your job and any mora you might have possessed were long gone. They had been lost the day you had disappeared. There was no promise that Neuvillette had saved them for you, nor was there any promise he would compensate you once you left. Everything you had, from your clothes to the roof over your head came because of Neuvillette’s love for you. Part of his need to keep you was so that he might protect and provide for you. To lose that affection meant the loss of his generosity. He could abandon you to the mercy of the streets and not think twice about it. You didn’t realize it, but you nearly collapsed just at the thought of it.

Neuvillette was at your side before your knees could fully give out. Strong arms wound their way around you, supporting your weight with ease. You made no effort to fight him. You had no more fight in you to give. All you had left were your tears and the very real possibility of begging for your next meal. “Forgive me, I beg it of you.” Neuvillette guided your head so he could gently press his lips against your damp cheek, causing you to cry even harder. “I wish I did not have to refuse you.” His arms came around your shoulders pulling you into a more tender embrace than before. “I have missed our time together. I loathe that it has been taken from us.” A beat passed before he continued. “I wish I could delay this for all of eternity, so that I might spend all my time with you.” You sucked in a deep breath, the terror of being abandoned easing just long enough to allow you to hear what he was saying. He still loved you. He still wanted you. Your actions hadn’t driven him away, at least not yet. That knowledge helped to calm you slightly, but it didn’t solve the overarching mystery. It didn’t explain Neuvillette’s current state nor the need for his extended absence. “Wh-” You hiccuped, trying to control your tears. “What is it?” You swallowed roughly, bring your hand up to weakly rest it against his arm. The warmth of your hand against his cool skin caused him to shiver. He responded to the consensual contact by pulling you even closer, fingers twisting their way into your hair so he might cradle the back of your head with his hand. 

“I am afraid mon coeur, it is the end.”

There was no elaboration that followed that statement. Just his arms growing tighter as you continued to spill your tears into the soft fabric of his shirt. You never did make it to dinner that night. Instead, you were content to let Neuvillette hold you until you were well past the point of exhaustion. You barely remembered the clock striking three before Neuvillette scooped you up in his arms and carried you to bed. Through the haze of your mental fatigue, you remembered him helping you undress. You had gently protested, but he had merely cooed at you, silencing your weak pleas as he undid the clasps and ribbons of your outfit. He was only satisfied when you were in a shift and little else. You stood before him, waiting for him to do more. You vaguely recalled your expectation for him to put his hands back on you. For him to pull you back in and take advantage of both your tired state and your state of undress; but to your shock, he did not. Instead, Neuvillette pulled back the covers of your bed, gently ushering you under them. Only once you were settled did he touch you again. You faintly recalled his soft lips pressing against your forehead before sleep claimed you. It was the last time you saw him. The next day, the melusines took you away.

Two melusines collected you from Neuvillette’s apartment in the morning. They escorted you across the strait and into the mountains above the Opera Epliclese that afternoon. Had you been in a better mood, you would have enjoyed it. The excursion was the first time you had been allowed outside the confines of Neuvillette’s residence in nearly a year. The fresh air and the exercise should have been a welcome change to the sedentary lifestyle you had been living. Instead, your mind had focused on the night before. On the fact that Neuvillette hadn’t come to bid you adieu as you had left. When questioned, your escorts informed you that he was busy with other matters. There was a major trial set to happen over the course of the next few days. They refused to tell you the details of it, you doubted you would have really cared anyway. The only thing that really mattered was that Neuvillette’s preparation for it outweighed his need to see you off. But you supposed that’s what the night before had been for. He had abandoned his work in favor of spending one last evening with you. Despite your despair, you supposed that was something.

Early in the afternoon, you had arrived at the little cabin you now occupied. It was a far cry from the grandeur of Neuvillette’s home in the Court, but it beat being left in the wilderness to die. The sweeping corridors and vast rooms had been replaced with a house barely large enough for one, let alone three. The words the end echoed continuously through your mind as you took it in. You briefly wondered if he had meant it was the end of you and him. Even with his reassurance that he loved you, it would be fitting that after all this time that even Neuvillette’s patience would run dry. The amiability that you had recently shared didn’t erase the fact that you had still been a nightmare for him prior. Perhaps the wounds you had inflicted had finally festered to the point of being intolerable. Your recent forbearance wasn’t enough to ease the pain they caused him and at long last he had chosen to simplify the arrangement you and he shared. He loved you enough to continue to protect and provide for you, but he would see you no more. In the span of a night, you had been transformed into a number on a balance sheet. Another piece of paper on his desk, that only received his attention when the bill was due. Beyond that, you were something he could set aside and ignore. You could almost understand it. After all, this was what you had fought so hard for. The mission had always been to make Neuvillette tire of you. That’s why you had done nothing but fight him at every turn. It had been your hope that if he realized you weren’t worth the trouble, that he would simply let you go. In retrospect, what a silly notion that had been. Freedom, at least complete freedom, would never be in your grasp again. You learned that when you found a third melusine, Sedene you thought she was called, waiting for you in the house. She informed you that per Neuvillette’s wishes, you were to remain here for the foreseeable future. There had been a spiel about your safety and how you needed to stay close to both the house and your new keepers at all times. That it would be beneficial for you to avoid the shore. She implored that you heed Neuvillette’s wishes this one time. If you didn’t, then there was no guarantee that anyone would be able to help you.

You had found that odd. It joined the near constant playback in your mind as you laid awake on the lumpy mattress at night. He loved you. The end. Stay close or else. Avoid the shore and the water. It hadn’t made sense to you a few days ago. None of it had. Your watchers had tried to assure you everything was fine. Even when you directly questioned them about Neuvillette’s motive for sending you here, they promised you it wasn’t what you were thinking. In their words, the honorable Iudex was doing all he could to keep you safe. When you pressed further, one of them let it slip that the lower areas along the shore, specifically the city and the area around the Opera were not safe. Once the proverbial cat was out of the bag, you were told that Neuvillette had been spending all of his time on a plan to stop a catastrophe that was ready to strike at any moment. Part of that plan included protecting you. Despite his own reservations on the matter, sending you to one of the highest points in Fontaine was one of the only ways Neuvillette could alleviate the constant worry he had for you. Up until he had sent you away, he had held that option as a last resort. His preference had always been and would always be to keep you close. According to your new friends, once the crisis had passed, he would send for you. 

Now, as the world was swallowed whole by the murky depths, you saw the full picture in its full horrifying detail. The End was exactly that. It was the prophecy, the end of Fontaine as a people and as a nation. The insolvable crisis that had drawn Neuvillette’s attention for these last few months was the destruction of all and how to stop it; or at this stage minimize it. As your eyes passed over the rising waters, you were all too aware that there was no stopping this. You could only wonder how much higher the water could truly climb before it finally yielded. It was getting close now. The hands that had held you back, yielded so that you might climb higher. After doing so, your eyes focused back on the horizon. They continued to search for any sign that Neuvillette may still come. You waited and waited and waited. Silently pleading with Neuvillette to appear. Yet all you continued to see were the calamitous skies that covered the land and the waters below. No lights, no signs, no miracles; all that remained were catastrophe and death.

Death. Gods what if he hadn’t made it? What if part of the plan to save Fontaine was that Neuvillette would have to sacrifice himself for the greater good? What if the last time you saw him was truly the last time? What if your current circumstances were his final gift to you? Your felt as if your very soul splintered at the thought. With all he had to worry over, with the weight of the nation resting on his shoulders, the one thing he had been sure to save was you. Not the city or the people or the papers that plagued him or even himself; just you. Your knees gave out as you openly sobbed. Your keepers were quick to help you. They released your hands, rushing under you so they could catch you as you fell. Gently, they lowered you to the ground, urging you to come back to the small house you were all sharing. In their minds, the storm had proven to be too much for you. They worried after how cold you were, how drenched you were. One was concerned over the fever she swore you were developing, while the other mentioned something about your present state being the furthest thing from what Monsieur Neuvillette wanted. The mere mention of him only made you cry harder. Their focus was back on you in an instant, trying their best to calm you. Platitudes of everything will be fine and you’re safe did little to help ease the suffering that was ebbing up from your very soul. How were they to know that your actual burden wasn’t the storm at all, but the fact that thanks to Neuvillette, if the rest of Fontaine was lost, you would survive?

It was some time before your companions could coax you back inside. The realization that the three of you may be the only survivors zapped away any strength you had left. After your emotional distress had drained you to the point of exhaustion, the cold nearly finished you. You knelt there on the frozen ground, the wind freezing what few tears you had left to your face. The cold air cut through you with each blast. Everything from your neck to your toes was stiff. Your body could do little more than shiver as each moment passed. In the end, your keepers had to help you back to both the house and to your bed. They were in a panic once you were safely inside. You could do little more than watch as they frantically scurried about, fretting over the task of getting you warm and dry before there were any worse consequences than shivering. Getting you warm wasn’t too difficult to do. Dry clothes and blankets went a long way to stop your shivering. Your hair was a different matter altogether. The duo end up seating you near the small stove that sat in the corner of the kitchen. It was their hope that the heat would dry your hair faster. The activity, along with the exhaustion were a nice distraction. Your companions' efforts forced you to miss both the cessation of the storm and the flood alike. By the time they had you tucked into bed, the crisis was nearly at an end. A fact that you were woefully unaware of. Without the news that the storm had passed, your mind churned over the idea that both Fontaine and Neuvillette might be gone. You tried to come to grips with those facts, but your tired mind had neither the desire nor the inclination to try. Sleep kept calling to it. Numbing your senses to everything around you, including the sound of heels striking against the stone walk that led to the house. 

Later, you often wondered if it was all a dream. If like your imaginary suitors and your fictional adventures, you had made the situation with Neuvillette up. Your captivity was in fact a reality. There was no denying that the Iudex of Fontaine held you firmly in his grasp. The months spent apart though. Your pseudo freedom while he toiled away. Even the climax of all of Fontaine being in peril due to the realization of the prophecy. The sky, the water, the ebbing cold followed by a scorching heat. Had they all been real or were they little more than delusions conjured by the fever that had taken hold after your exposure to the elements? It was hard for you to say. What was real though, was waking up in the safety of Neuvillette’s home. That prayer was answered. You knew it was his home, because you could hear the pitter patter of melusine feet scuffing against the parquet floors. The sheer number of them indicated that the only place you could be was Neuvillette’s home. Melusines liked to congregate near him. He allowed them to do so wherever they wished, but especially so within the confines of either the Palais Mermonia or his own personal residence. The room though, was not your own. The heavy brocades that lined the walls were unfamiliar to you. The bed with its ornate carvings, gilded ceiling, and velvet drapes that hung from the four corners of the canopy was entirely foreign to your world. It, like the rest of the furniture in this room, possessed an age and a weight that the rest of the furnishings in the house did not. As your own mental fog began to lift, you realized you had never been in this room before. Strangely though, you still felt you knew it. Maybe it was the rich teals and blues of the decor, or maybe it was the lingering scent of the sea breeze that wafted throughout the room. There was something entirely familiar about it that put you at ease. “Ma moitié” Neuvillette. You sucked in a sharp breath, your head weakly turning from side to side as you sought him out using the dim light of the space. Neuvillette was here. He was with you. Celestia above he was with you. The prophecy hadn’t claimed him as you had feared. He, like you, was safe. 

Obligingly, Neuvillette briefly came into your field of view before he disappeared to press kiss after kiss into your hair, cheeks and sternum. “My darling one, you’ve returned to me at long last.” The relief in his soft voice was evident. It was too great to reflect the breaking of a fever or even the passing of an illness. You would have had to have been on death’s door to justify his reaction to you waking up. You couldn’t stop your mind as it briefly wandered back to your dream; to the icy winds and rising waters. Placing you on the side of a mountain while the nation flooded wasn’t exactly an elegant solution. You could, even in your muddled state, imagine the stress that fact had put on him. To find you safe, but far from well, had almost assuredly not helped him in the least. His body shifting distracted you from your thoughts. Though you couldn’t see him do it, you felt Neuvillette as he pulled himself even closer to you. A heavy arm came across your hips, his weight dipping into the mattress so he might press your body into his. The feeling of him, the warmth ebbing off of him was a welcomed thing. All you remembered was being cold. For weeks, maybe even months, all you had felt was the chill of Neuvillette’s absence. He paused above you, long enough to give you a tender smile. Though fuzzy, he was as you remembered him. His appearance was as tidy as it had ever been. There were no signs of fatigue anywhere on his person. He was, much to your own concern, perfect. It made you doubt that the crisis wasn’t a fever dream. Maybe you really had imagined it after all.  “Mon-” You grimaced, your throat exploding in pain from just the attempt of speaking. Your vocal chords refused to respond as a burning sensation shot its way from the top of your throat all the way to the base. It felt as if your throat was being split in two with a hot blade. Gods it was terrible. The sensation was only made worse due to how dry your throat and your mouth both felt. Your tongue felt like sandpaper against your rough lips as it tried to add moisture to them. Neuvillette, seemed unconcerned. You felt him nudge your cheek with his nose, pulling a small whimper from you. “Shhh darling.” He kissed your nose, finally pausing long enough to rest his forehead against yours. “Do not push yourself.” He lifted his face so that he might look into your eyes again. “The fever has been taxing for you.” His other hand came up to rest against the crown of your head. “It has broken now. I have been told you have come through the worst of it.” Another gentle smile spread across his lips. “All you need do now is rest.” You felt his hand come to rest against the top of your head. Faintly, you detected the sensation of his fingers working their way into your hair, looping and stroking the individual strands, before settling on rubbing your scalp. The feeling you got from it was a nice one. It allowed the haze that had held your mind the chance to slowly take hold once again.

The remainder of your reunion with him was a quiet one. There were no parties or streamers. No shouts of joy. Just the occasional interruption of the melusines. In between food being brought and the bedding being changed, Neuvillette persisted in his soft words as he whispered endless promises to you between kisses. Words of adoration, promises of contentment. In your present state none of them really mattered. They were washed away by your own relief. Fontaine had not been lost to the black waters of the prophecy. Neuvillette had not perished. He was as safe as he had ever been. The hands that you had hated so could still be enticed to hold you close. It was just as the melusines had said. They nor he had not abandoned you. You were loved. You were cherished. The peace that came with that knowledge was overwhelming. You could do little more than lay back against the pillows as the stress drained away. You tried to focus on him, on his words, but after everything you were too tired. The softness of his voice, along with his continued rubbing of your scalp with his fingers worked better than any lullaby could. Gradually his words became indiscernible. They blended into a beautiful symphony of sounds that pulled you closer and closer to the sweet oblivion that was sleep. Before you fell, one last promise came from his lips, cutting straight through the fog that had all but enveloped your mind. A solemn vow from Neuvillette to you; on his life, you and he would never be separated like that again. He would be as he wished to be, by your side for all eternity.

To your own contentment, you certainly hoped so.

[thornybubbles]

JJBA Yandere Scenario: Jealousy (Yandere Kars x Pillar Man reader part 2)

**NOTE: This is a sequel to a story I wrote previously. You may want to read that first if you haven’t already: https://thornybubbles.tumblr.com/post/707318411613569024/jjba-yandere-scenario-jealousy-kars-x-pillarman

Sorry this took so long to get out. I was dealing with a lot of distractions while trying to work on this. There were a few times there where I just straight up forgot that I was even working on anything. I was just going about my life when one day I suddenly remembered: “Holy shit! I have a Tumblr, don’t I?” Well hopefully this was worth the wait. Thank you for your patience.**

In the past, whenever Kars asked you to be his, you would always brush him off and give him no definite answer. You would always say that you didn’t know how you felt about him and you would need more time before you could give him a proper answer. 

But now…

As Kars slightly lessened the grip he held on your throat…

You did not hesitate to give him an answer. 

“No!!” you rasped. “My answer will forever more be no! I hate you Kars! I hate the monster you’ve become! I hate what you did to our people! I hate what you did to Whammu and Santana! And I hate what you did to me! I will die before I give you my love!” 

Kars’ response was to squeeze your throat so hard you thought he was trying to break your neck rather than strangle you. After a moment, the anger in his eyes gave way to a cold stare. You feared the emptiness in his eyes far more than his anger. It was an unfamiliar look on him and you didn’t know what it meant, though you were certain it didn’t mean anything good. 

Kars tossed you to the ground as if you were so much trash. He stood over you and looked down at you with contempt. 

“Your stubborn pride was one of the many things that drew me to you, my little prize, but after being forced to deal with it for centuries, I’m beginning to think it is the thing I like about you the least.” he said. 

You looked up at him, unable to tell what was going through his mind. A tiny spark of hope lit up inside of you as you thought that he may finally be willing to give up his pursuit of you. Though you had to wonder about what that would mean for you, JoJo, and the other humans. 

“It seems that my only choice is to remove that stubborn streak of yours, one way or another.” Kars said, extinguishing that spark of hope completely. 

“I suppose the fault is my own. I’ve been far too lenient with you. No longer will I ignore your hateful glances and rebellious behavior.” 

At this point, a sinister smirk stretched Kars’ lips. He gave Speedwagon a knowing look that confused both you and the old man. 

“You thought you could turn against me because both Santana and Whammu were dead.” he mocked. “But as I approached these old ruins, I overheard a very interesting conversation.” 

Your eyes widened and Speedwagon gasped. He knew! He knew that Santana was still alive!

Kars suddenly seized you by the hair, forcing you to look up at him. 

“Do not worry, dearest,” he taunted you. “I will find your little Santana, wherever these worthless humans are hiding him, and bring him home to you.” 

His mocking smile became a vicious sneer. 

“And then your rebellion against me will come to an end! Because if it does not, then Santana will pay for it! I will refrain from killing him, but for every time you forget to adore me as I should be adored, Santana will be the one I punish! You will love me, or Santana will suffer!” 

Your eyes glistened with tears. Any other time, you would hold them back, refusing to let Kars see your weakness. Not now. While you were overjoyed at hearing that Santana was still alive, you realized that you were right back to being under Kars’ thumb. It seemed that you would never be rid of him. Kars would never leave you alone and now he threatened to punish Santana whenever you displeased him. Your tears flowed freely and Kars gave you a satisfied smile. Everything was finally going his way. He had finally conquered you. It was not quite the victory he hoped for, he never wanted to win your affections by force, but at least now you would never try to leave him again. Not if you wanted your adopted son to remain unharmed. 

It seemed Santana was not as useless as he first thought. 

“You will remain here until I come to fetch you. Then we will go find where they are keeping your precious Santana.” he ordered, adding the last part with a cruel smile. 

He turned away from you, where you were crumpled onto your knees, and left the ruins. Without his hulking form blocking the sunlight, the golden rays flooded into the ruins. Speedwagon almost cried out to beg you to move before the sunlight hit you, but he could see that you had already turned yourself into stone. He limped over to you, examining your stone expression. You looked like the work of some great sculptor, but one who decided to carve your near perfect features into a permanent expression of sorrow.  

The old man crouched next to you, placing a hand on your stony shoulder. He didn’t know the full story between you and Kars, but after witnessing the way the villain treated you and spoke to you, he could guess just what kind of terrible relationship you had. And to think that you had been enduring Kars’ cruelty for longer than human civilization had existed. It was unfathomable. Unthinkable! Speedwagon found himself getting emotional. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me when you’re like this,” he said, tears forming in his eyes. “But I want you to know that JoJo is still out there and willing to fight. I can’t say if he can actually beat a monster like Kars, especially now that he’s outwitted the sun, but I know that JoJo is a clever one. If he can’t beat Kars in hand to hand combat, then he will find another way to do it. I know it feels hopeless, but I’m asking that you please not give up just yet. Just do like I always do and hold out until JoJo sets things straight.” 

You emerged from your statue form sometime later to find yourself in a completely different place. Instead of broken stone and rubble, you were surrounded by stark white walls and strange machinery. The room was lit from above with lights nearly as bright as the sun, but they did not cause your skin to burn. You were so stunned at your surroundings that you didn’t notice that you weren’t alone. 

A gray haired human wearing a long white coat stood holding some kind of tablet with parchment on it in the far corner of the room. He seemed nervous and took a few steps back from you when you rose to your feet. 

“Ah! Y-you’re awake! I’ll tell Mr. Speedwagon!” he stammered and hurried from the room, leaving you stunned and confused. 

A moment later, the one called Speedwagon entered the room. His face broke out into a joyous grin when he saw you. 

“And there you are, hail and healthy!” he said with a chuckle. “They told me that your stoney shell was crumbling and I had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long until you were on your feet again.” 

You responded by bombarding him with questions. 

“What happened to Kars? Did JoJo win? And Santana? Where is my son?!” 

Speedwagon held up a hand in an effort to calm you. 

“You’ll be happy to know that Kars will no longer be a problem for anyone. He’s long gone from here.” he said. 

“Gone? What do you mean? Is he still alive?” you asked. 

“Well… let’s just say that he’s in a position where he can no longer reach you… or anyone else for that matter.” 

Here the smile dropped from his face. You felt your body tense up. 

“JoJo… he didn’t make it.” Speedwagon said, his eyes watering up.

The old man’s body trembled with emotion. You didn’t know the exact situation, but you knew that JoJo had been important to Speedwagon in some way. The old man seemed to have a very grandfatherly affection for the young one, in spite of not actually being related to him, so his loss was surely an awful blow. And strangely, your heart stung at the news. You had only a few brief encounters with JoJo, one of which had you as his enemy. Yet, in the short time that you knew him, you felt an odd fondness for him. 

“He risked his life to end Kars’ cruelty.” You said. “I knew what Kars had planned for this world and for humanity… It may sound like an exaggeration, but JoJo may very well have…” 

“... saved the world…” Speedwagon said, finishing your sentence. 

You looked up at him and he had a strange, faraway look in his eyes. 

You stood looking at him for a moment before breaking the silence. 

“I am sorry for your loss, Speedwagon.” you stated plainly, but sincerely. 

Speedwagon looked as if he wanted to say something, but loud shouting and the sound of something crashing against a wall could be heard from somewhere else in the building. 

“Blast it all!” Speedwagon growled. “I told those fools to wait!” 

He motioned for you to follow him. 

“Come! Quickly! They must’ve taken the lights off of him! You said you could make him behave?” 

Did he mean? 

Your heart soared. 

“Yes! Take me to him!” you said, almost barreling the old man over in your excitement. 

Speedwagon lead you through the strange facility to a heavily reinforced door. He entered the room and you followed after him. 

There he was. Your little boy. Though he wasn’t so little anymore. He was almost as tall and as muscular as Whammu and his fiery red hair was much longer. It cascaded down his back like a cape. 

It has only been a few centuries since I last saw him, you thought. They grow up so fast.

Santana towered over a group of terrified humans in white coats. Broken bits of what was once some kind of machine lay scattered in a far corner of the room. The humans looked relieved when they saw Speedwagon come in, but the old man looked like he wanted to punch them all. 

“Mr. Speedwagon!” cried one of them, “Sanviento broke the UV light machine! We can’t put him back into stasis!” 

“What on Earth made you turn it off to begin with!?” Speedwagon shouted back. “I told you not to turn it off until I came back! Why didn’t you wait? What were you thinking?!” 

Santana silenced them both with a rumbling snarl. 

“Sanviento?” he hissed, turning his attention to the human who referred to him by that. “Why do you humans call me that? That is not my name!” 

His voice was furious in spite of how calm he sounded, but underneath it you could hear the strain in his tone. He was lashing out at these poor humans. He was hurting, and you had a very good idea of what was the cause. 

Santana grabbed the human and lifted him over his head, preparing to smash him against the wall as he’d done to the machine. 

“I am sick of being locked away! I will stay here no longer! And for the very last time, my name is--!” 

“SANTANA!!” you shouted, your voice clear, loud, and firm. 

Santana looked back over his shoulder, not believing that it was your voice that he heard. Upon seeing you, his eyes went wide. 

“Put the human down Santana.” you said, voice wavering with the flood of emotions that threatened to burst forth. 

Santana did as you told him, dropping the frightened human to the ground. The human crawled away as Santana crossed the room in a matter of seconds and all but threw himself at you. You braced yourself but still found yourself being pushed a few feet back as Santana grabbed you up in a bear hug. After a moment of holding you like that, Santana’s knees seemed to buckle and the two of you fell over in a heap of tangled limbs and Santana’s crimson locks. He held onto you so tightly that it almost hurt. 

After a moment of clinging to you, he looked down at you. Tears were streaming down his otherwise blank face. The slight tightness to his jaw also betrayed his feelings. He was angry, hurt, and scared. And he blamed you. 

“Why?” he asked, reverting back to his habit of clipped speech and single word sentences. 

He only did that when he was extremely uncomfortable or unsure of himself. You knew what he was asking, though. 

“Santana… please understand…” you began. 

“NO!” he shouted. “You said you would return. I waited. You never came back! I woke up surrounded by humans in a place I did not know. I was alone! You were not there!” 

His words were like ice and they did not hide his resentment. The guilt you felt was immeasurable.

When Kars planned to go to Rome in search of the Red Stone of Aja, he told you he was leaving Santana to guard his masks. You should have known then that Kars planned to abandon the boy. In hindsight there wasn’t much you could have done. If you stood up to him, that would have ended badly for both Whammu and Santana. 

“If I had known that Kars would have us go into hibernation, I would have insisted that we take you with us.” You tried to explain. 

Santana stiffened at the mention of his brutal master, but said nothing, letting you continue. 

“Please forgive me, Santana.” you begged. “I did not abandon you! No matter how it seemed, I had every intention of coming back to you!” 

“He would not let you.” he stated, bitterness in his tone. 

You closed your eyes tightly and held on to him, running your hands through his tangled hair. 

“He cannot hurt us anymore, Santana.” you told him. “Kars has been sent far away from here, so far that he cannot return.” 

Santana looked down at you with a skeptical expression. 

“Who told you that? One of the humans?” he asked, glaring back at the cowering group that huddled around Speedwagon. 

“M-Mr. Speedwagon,” said the one that Santana nearly splattered against the wall. “Are you sure this is alright? Having them both awake and free…” 

“No need to worry.” Speedwagon said. “The older one isn’t hostile to humans. And Sanvie--- I mean, Santana should calm down now.” 

There was a very slight hint of doubt in the old man’s voice, but the fact that he put even the slightest amount of trust in you, even after all your kind had put him and his allies through, was touching. 

“These humans aren’t our enemies, Santana.” you said. “If not for them, you and I would not have reunited.” 

At that, Santana’s hostility faded significantly. 

“The humans… brought you here?” he asked, having a hard time accepting the idea. 

You nodded, giving him a slight smile. 

“Why?” he asked, some of the skepticism still clinging to his voice. 

“It’s as your caretaker said,” Speedwagon said, taking the time to step in. “We aren’t your enemies, Santana. As long as you don’t attack any of us, the two of you are welcome to stay here as long as you like.” 

“As your prisoners?” Santana suggested cynically. 

Speedwagon scoffed at the idea. 

“Not at all.” he said. 

Santana glared back at the white clad humans. The other humans that dressed that way, the ones that had him trapped in that room when he first woke up, weren't nice at all. They talked about him like he was some kind of animal. 

“Test subjects?” he said. 

“Guests.” Speedwagon corrected. “You will be our guests here. Nothing more.” 

Santana scowled at the old man, not sure if he believed him. He looked down at you for your response. 

“I trust them, Santana.” you said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

HIs eyebrows furrowed and his lip twitched as if he wasn’t fully on board with the idea. Eventually he let out a long sigh and you took that as him relenting. 

-----

Some weeks later you walked up to the little memorial you set up at the highest point of the cave that served as your new home. The Speedwagon Foundation had been kind enough to build a living quarters for you and Santana within a cave system near the Foundation headquarters. It was fitted with many things to make your daily lives easier. While neither of you had much need for human technology or “modern conveniences”, you still appreciated it. Sunlight was allowed to shine into your home through windows made of specialized glass that filtered out the parts of the light that were harmful to your kind. You were allowed to see what the world looked like during the daylight hours for the very first time. 

Indoor plumbing was also nice. 

Santana was fascinated by many of the things that the humans made. It seemed that the human that Santana nearly killed on the day that you reunited with him started visiting him at regular intervals. At first Santana wasn’t too pleased about it, until the human started bringing him gadgets to play with: cameras, desk lamps, telephones, toasters, etc. His favorite were the radios. Santana loved to listen to the strange music and voices that came from miles and miles away. He had learned at least ten new languages already. 

You were just happy that he had made a friend. 

Santana and you had reconciled over your supposed abandonment of him. He didn’t resent you anymore. More than anything he was just glad to have you back. When he wasn’t taking apart and reassembling things with his new human friend, he was by your side, quiet and content to just be in your presence (without Kars or the others looming over him). 

He left you alone when you visited the memorial though. He didn’t like going up there. You didn’t really blame him. The memorial consisted of one large stone monument surrounded by smaller monuments. The large one was in honor of your lost tribe (a painful reminder that you and Santana were the last of your kind), the smaller ones were for Whammu, Esidesi, and Kars. Yes. You honored the memories of both Esidesi and Kars, but not the memory of them when you were forced to act as Kars consort. No. You honored the memory of them before they became the men you feared and despised. You missed the playful little boys that you grew up with. You missed the older brother figure you saw in Esidesi before he became little more than a bully and a brute under Kars’ Influence. You mourned for Kars and the friendship that you had before he became consumed by hatred, powerlust, and obsession. He, too, you saw as an older brother. 

It had been Kars that sat with you through the process of becoming the Tribe’s executioner. He would sit and watch as your mother or grandmother fed you lightly poisoned prey, during a time when you were too young to understand just why some of your meals tasted so bitter. Kars would hold your hand as he dragged you off to show you something he found or grumble and pout as you helped him pick weeds and branches out of his wild locks after the two of you got into some misadventure. His crush on you was present even then. 

How you wished things had turned out differently. 

You let those bittersweet memories fade as you placed offerings on the last two memorials. One for Whammu and one for JoJo, too. 

Whammu… Whammu’s loss had been the most painful. Whammu’s pride had been his downfall. Pride that had been enforced on him due to Kars influence. When you found out that JoJo hadn’t killed Santana after all, you tried to convince Whammu to call off the arena fight with him, but he merely gave you a sideways look of disgust at even suggesting such a thing. 

“A challenge is a challenge. Santana being alive or dead is of no importance.” 

Your heart shattered completely hearing him say such a callous thing. 

That was exactly like something Kars would say. You had known for a while that Whammu idolized Kars in the way a child would idolize their father, but you never knew it was to such a degree. 

Watching him die just to fulfill Kars’ wishes was the most awful thing you’d ever witnessed. 

A tiny part of you wanted to be resentful to JoJo for taking your other son’s life, but you knew that the fault didn’t fall on him. As long as Whammu followed after Kars, always seeking his approval, an outcome such as that was inevitable. Whammu had proven time and time again that he was willing to die to please his master. 

Whammu had been taken from you long before any of you met JoJo. By the time he reached maturity, he no longer even viewed you as a parent. It was something Kars delighted in, always pitting himself against you to flaunt Whammu’s favoritism of him. If you asked Whammu to do something he would give you a non-committal response that basically translated to, “I’ll do it when I get around to it.”, but Kars would do little more than glance in Whammu’s direction and he was up and on his way to complete the task. Then Kars would give you a smug grin and mock you. 

“You must be firm with younglings, my dear.” he would say. “I don’t mince my words when I give commands. Keep coddling Santana the way you do and he’ll lose respect for you, too.” 

The memory made your chest tighten and your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

You turned your gaze to JoJo’s memorial. 

JoJo had been so kind to Whammu during his last moments. You wanted to thank him for that, though it looked like you would never get a chance. 

You placed the offering on JoJo’s memorial, then turned to address the presence that you sensed behind you for the last few minutes. You expected to see one of the Foundation scientists, Speedwagon himself, or maybe even Santana in spite of his dislike for being around the memorials, but what you didn’t expect was to see JoJo standing there looking sheepish. 

“JOJO!” you cried. 

“Hello again!” JoJo said pleasantly. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to…” he glanced at the memorials. “I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

You stared at him, not really focusing on what he was saying. 

“But you… Speedwagon told me…” you sputtered. 

“That I died, I know. Well you can see I’m not dead. Suzie Q’s been taking care of me while I recuperated. She forgot to send the letter to let everyone know that I was still alive though.” 

“Suzie Q?” you questioned.

You had no idea who that was. 

“My fiance,” he clarified. “She was Lisa Lisa's maid, but that’s not what I came here to talk to you about.” 

“Is something wrong?” you asked, anxiety peaking. “Is this about Kars?” 

JoJo scoffed. 

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” he said, smiling cheekily. “I launched that old fossil into space! He can’t hurt you or anybody else anymore!” 

“You… launched him… into space?” you repeated, unsure if you heard JoJo correctly. 

When Speedwagon told you that Kars had been sent far away, you hadn’t expected it to be quite that far. 

JoJo chuckled. 

“Yep. You heard that right. Kars is too busy being a frozen asteroid to terrorize anyone anymore.” 

You grasped his gloved hands (Why was he wearing gloves indoors?), filled with the hope that what he was saying was true. 

“Then what Speedwagon said was true? You really did defeat him? Is he truly gone? You… JoJo…???” 

One of his hands felt strange. 

“Your hand…” you said, the question left unasked but hanging in the air. 

JoJo huffed and pulled his hands out of your own. He pulled the glove off of one of them to reveal a mechanical prosthetic. He wiggled the metal fingers. 

“Kars did it.” he said. “I was lucky to get away with only the loss of my hand.” 

He looked up at you, glanced over at the memorials, then looked back at you. 

“Can we talk somewhere else? I want to tell you what happened in the fight with Kars and I’ve got something that I need to say to you but…” 

He sent another uncomfortable glance toward the memorials. 

“I don’t feel right about saying it here.” 

You followed his gaze to Whammu’s memorial and nodded in understanding. You got to your feet. 

“Follow me.” you said. 

You lead JoJo to a sitting room where you and Santana would often go to watch the sunrise through the special sunlight filtering windows. JoJo plopped cross legged on the floor cushions while you said across from him. He told you of the final fight with Kars and how he launched the “old fossil” into space by infusing Hamon into a volcano, causing it to erupt so violently that the force of it sent Kars into orbit. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. To think that the tyrant that terrorized you your entire life was defeated in such a way. It was so utterly ridiculous, but you had to admit that there wouldn’t have been many other fighters that would have thought to use the volcano in such a way. 

“You are a strange, yet creative warrior, JoJo.” you said with a demure smile. 

The smile faded from your lips and was replaced with a serious, apologetic expression. 

“I’ve been meaning to apologize to you.” You said. “Kars told me that he heard that you killed Santana. I should have known that he was lying, but I believed him. That was why I suggested Whammu use the ‘wedding ring’ on you. I could think of nothing else but avenging Santana at that time. I regret allowing myself to be influenced by Kars that way.” 

You bowed your head lowly to show your shame at your past actions. 

JoJo scratched the back of his neck, not knowing how to react. 

“Well, that explains why you kept scowling at me,” he said. “You don’t have to apologize for that, though. But since we’re on the topic of apologizing… I just want to say that I’m sorry about Whammu. I understand that he was supposed to be like a son to you… to be fair, I didn’t really want to kill him…” 

You gave JoJo a solemn look. 

“I know, JoJo.You were forced into a situation where you had no choice but to fight. You were only trying to survive.” you said in a soft tone. “I want you to know that I am thankful for your kindness towards Whammu after you defeated him. He was suffering and you eased his pain with your own blood. Not many others would have been so courteous.” 

You reigned in your emotions as best as you could, not wanting to break down in front of your guest. 

JoJo was quiet for a while, not expecting to have been forgiven so easily. 

You don’t know why you decided to do so, but you found yourself opening up to JoJo. You told him your story, of how Kars became so obsessive and possessive over you, how he killed nearly every member of your tribe, only sparing Whammu and Santana so he could hold their lives over your head. You told him about how Kars had manipulated Whammu away from you and belittled Santana for being weaker than the rest of you. You told him about everything that led up to your first meeting with him. When you were done, you looked over at JoJo. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was twisted into a snarl. His whole body shook with rage. 

“As if I needed any more reasons to hate that bastard…” he hissed under his breath. 

You smiled at him. 

“Thank you, JoJo.” you said. 

JoJo looked up at you. 

“For what?” 

“For freeing me from Kars.” you said. “I know you weren’t really fighting Kars on my behalf, but…” 

“No, I was,” he said. 

You gave him a questioning look. 

“I mean, I was going to fight him anyway, but when Speedwagon told me about the way he treated you in the ruins…I guess I just lost my cool.” 

You chuckled at him and he smiled sheepishly. 

“You really are a strange one, JoJo.” you said. 

“What is he doing here?” 

The angry voice brought your conversation with JoJo to a halt. You looked up to see a very annoyed Santana standing there, glaring at JoJo. 

Upon seeing Santana’s hostile stance, JoJo got to his feet and stood in a battle pose. Santana just glared at him. 

Seeing that things were getting tense you raised your hand at JoJo to show him that you had things under control. JoJo dropped his hands, but not his guard. He trusted you, but he didn’t trust Santana at all. 

“Santana, JoJo is just paying us a visit. He doesn’t mean any harm.” you explained, trying to soothe your adopted son’s temper. 

Santana snorted derisively, never taking his glare away from JoJo. 

“There is a radio program coming on in a few minutes that I like. I wanted to ask you to join me while I listen to it.” 

JoJo looked like he was thinking for a moment when a look of realization came over him. 

“Do you mean ‘Slaughter Theater’?!” he asked. “That’s the one with the host who’s a vampire, right? Don’t tell me you actually like that show!” 

“Not a fan?” you asked with a wry smile. 

“Well it’s okay, but I prefer something a little more action packed, like superhero shows. Besides, the sound effects they use in that show are disgusting!” JoJo said. 

Santana turned to walk away. Sensing his impatience, you said, 

“I’ll join you in a moment, Santana.” 

Santana stopped walking for a moment to look back over his shoulder at you. 

“Don’t take too long or you’ll miss the first half.” he warned. 

When Santana was out of earshot, you turned back to JoJo. 

“Since you are in an apologetic mood, I want you to apologize to Santana.” you said. 

JoJo gave you an insulted look. 

“What?! What for?” he demanded. “I only fought with him because he attacked Speedwagon!” 

You raised your hands in a placating gesture. 

“I know, JoJo. Will you please hear me out?” you said. 

JoJo huffed but didn’t protest anymore. 

“Santana has a problem with holding grudges against people.” you explained. “He told me that you were teasing him when you first met him. If you apologize for it, he may agree to let go of his grudge against you.” 

“Was he referring to me tapping him on the nose?” JoJo cried. “I was just joking around! Surely he knows that?” 

You shook your head. 

“Santana can’t tell the difference between good natured teasing and cruel mockery.” you said. 

JoJo looked confused. 

“Why’s that?” he asked. 

“Because of Esidesi.” you said. “He was in charge of much of Whammu and Santana’s training during their childhood. As I told you before, Santana had difficulty keeping up with Whammu and he was treated poorly for it. Esidesi developed a habit of teasing him in a friendly way just before he beat him for his poor performance. I wasn’t always able to shield him from such treatment, but when I did Esidesi would berate me for coddling him. If you explain to Santana that you never meant him any harm, he will hopefully stop seeing you as an enemy.” 

JoJo sighed. 

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll go talk to him.” 

------

1988

Joseph Joestar and his group stood nearly melting in the heat of the desert as a Speedwagon Foundation helicopter found a place to land. They were all awaiting a new ally. 

“Are you saying that this guy may actually harm us?” Kakyoin asked. 

“Correct.” Avdol said with a nod, not really liking the fact that things were getting so desperate that they were having to rely on someone like Iggy. Still, with near constant attacks from enemy Stands, they would need all the help they could get. 

His eyes slid over to Joseph who seemed worried. Considering that the whole reason for this bizarre adventure in the first place was to save his daughter’s life, Joseph had plenty of reason to be worried. However, it seemed that something else was bothering him. 

“Are you alright, Mr. Joestar?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Joseph said. “I guess I should mention that aside from asking for an additional Stand user, I also asked that the Speedwagon Foundation bring along someone that could offer some insight on taking down someone like DIO.” 

“Insight on someone like DIO?” Polnareff repeated. “Who do you know that knows anything about DIO that we don’t already know?” 

“Wait! Do you mean…?” Avdol trailed off.

The helicopter landed before Joseph could explain anything. The doors opened and everyone seemed on edge… except for Polnareff who, as usual, was unable to sense the tension in the air. 

Jotaro felt as though his hair was standing on end. Through Star Platinum he could sense more than just the Stand user in the back of the helicopter. Someone else was back there and the power he could feel from them was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Whoever they were, there was no way in Hell they were human. 

You tried to warn the loud man with the tall hair not to get too close, but Iggy had already latched onto him and was happily tearing his hair out. You could sense that the silver haired human also had used the invisible force known as a Stand. A fight broke out between them. You took that moment to climb out of the helicopter and place yourself between the two of them. Aside from the wind blowing grains of sand around and billowing the cloak that covered you from head to toe, everything seemed to freeze.. 

“Iggy, I think you made your point. Leave the human alone.” you said. 

You were promptly answered with a series of barks and growls that you were sure roughly translated to, “Don’t be such a killjoy! The human had it coming!” 

The human you knew to be called Avdol presented a pack of gum and Iggy forgot all about what just transpired. The last time you met Avdol he seemed very nervous around you. Even now, you could sense his discomfort in your presence. The other humans seemed just as nervous, even the helicopter pilots, something that made no sense to you. One would think with all the time that you spent working alongside them at the Foundation, the humans there would have learned that you weren’t a threat to them by now. You bent down to help up the human that Iggy attacked. 

“I apologize for Iggy.” you said as you pulled him to his feet. “The other humans did try to warn you though.” 

Yelping, he wrenched his arm from your grasp. 

“Oh! Did I hurt you? Forgive me, I was trying to be gentle.” you said guiltily. 

“N-no, it’s f-fine!” Polnareff stammered, rubbing his wrist and moving away from you. All of his anger and bravado from before seemed to have vanished.

 “Who the hell are you anyway?!” he demanded. 

“A friend.” you said simply. 

You surveyed the faces of the group before you, until your eyes landed on a face you recognized. Joseph waved at you, grinning that same old cheeky grin that you remembered. You ran to him, scooping him up like a child. 

“JoJo!!” you cried, spinning him around a few times. 

He wiggled in your grasp, turning a little red when he saw the others staring at the two of you. It surely looked odd for someone like you to be holding and snuggling an old man like him as if he were a little kid. It would come as quite a shock when they found out that you were several centuries his senior. You placed him on the ground and reached up to fluff his bearded cheeks. 

“You’ve gotten all scruffy!” you said, with a playful smile. 

Joseph lightly swatted your hands away and ran his hands down his face to “unfluff” his beard. 

“Human women find this look very attractive, I’ll have you know!” he protested. 

You pressed a finger to your lips as if you were contemplating something. 

“Is that so? Or did you grow hair on your face to hide your wrinkles?” 

Joseph nearly fell over at the accusation. He couldn’t always tell if you were serious or just messing with him. Over the years, you had become something of a weird older relative to him and you had a habit of teasing him in ways that always caught him off guard. You were probably the only person that managed to do that to him. 

“Pfft!” someone, who may or may not have been Avdol, tried to hold back a laugh. 

Joseph sent a slight glare over your shoulder before offering you another smile; hoping you would stop picking on him and his poor beard. 

“My abused beard notwithstanding, I’m glad you’re here.” he said. “I take that you deciding to come here means that the experiment you’ve been helping the Foundation with was successful.” 

You nodded and threw back your hood, revealing to the others possibly the most beautiful person any of them had ever seen. Your beauty, however, did nothing to negate the dangerous edge your aura gave off. Even Polnareff kept his distance, as much as he didn’t want to. After having you nearly yank his arm out of its socket when you were trying to be “gentle” he felt that flirting with you may not be the best of ideas. Danger prone or not, even he had his limits. 

The sun shined down on your uncovered skin and you smiled. After a moment, you covered yourself back up, squinting as the sun’s brightness became too much. 

“Santana’s friend at the Foundation managed to replicate not only the stone masks but also the Red Stone of Aja. I volunteered for the first test. You can see the results for yourself. Though I wasn’t granted godhood like Kars, I can stand in the sun unharmed. Although, for someone who’s been living in darkness for as long as I have, it may take a while for my eyes to adjust to this brightness. And don’t worry, the masks, stones and the experiment notes have all been destroyed. No one else will be able to replicate them and abuse their power.”  

Joseph nodded in approval, letting out a sigh. 

“Listen,” he said. “While I’m happy you decided to come, I just want to say that I’m sorry for roping you into my affairs. But we’ve found ourselves under near constant attack from day one and the closer we get to Cairo, the worse the attacks get.” 

You ruffled his hair, earning a disgruntled groan at how rough the action was. You were so damn heavy handed. 

“JoJo, after all that you’ve done for me I feel that this is the perfect opportunity to repay you.” you said. 

Meanwhile Jotaro was trying to figure out just who and what you were. You had an aura that said “bad guy” but you didn’t act like you had a violent bone in your body. You picked up his grandpa like he was no heavier than a pillow. Not only that, but you talked to his grandpa like you were one of those elderly, cheek pinching aunts that showed up at every family reunion. Just who the hell were you and why did you act so familiar with his grandpa? 

Jotaro was suddenly engulfed in an immense shadow just as he felt a presence behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and nearly lost his “cool guy” composure. Standing there was the biggest person he’d ever seen. Even beneath his cloak, the man’s muscles stood out. Long hair, almost as bright red as Kakyoin’s, cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. What appeared to be two small horns jutted out from the man’s crimson mane. The man towered over Jotaro, a feat not many others could pull off. 

The man seemed to glare down at Jotaro. Jotaro glared back up at him. Neither of them spoke. They just stood there, sizing each other up. Jotaro couldn’t tell if the guy was a Stand user or not, and frankly, he wasn’t anxious to find out. That dark aura he felt coming from you was nothing compared to the aura he felt from the man standing over him. Whoever this guy was, he practically exuded danger. Jotaro could tell that while he seemed relaxed at the moment, any wrong move would set this guy into attack mode in seconds. So Jotaro just stood there while the strange man examined him. 

Santana circled the oddly garbed youth, studying the human’s clothing, face, and especially his unusual headgear. It was just a soft cloth hat, so it served no purpose as armor. It was decorated with golden adornments, though whether or not they had any significance or meaning he couldn’t tell. The strangest thing about the hat was that the back of it seemed to have been ripped off. It confused him as to how the hat stayed on the human’s head with no back to it. It confused him even further how the hat’s fabric seemed to be the exact same color and texture as the human’s hair. It was almost impossible to tell where the hat ended and the hair began. 

After circling the human for a moment he bent down and looked the human directly in his eyes. Jotaro leaned back a bit, uncomfortable at Santana’s closeness. 

“Human,” Santana said. “Your headgear makes no sense.” 

Jotaro was taken aback by the stranger’s bluntness and felt a little insulted. 

“It’s fashion,” he said, sounding a bit miffed at the comment towards his beloved hat. “It doesn’t have to make sense.” 

“Pfft!” came a laugh off to his left. 

Jotaro aimed a glare in the direction the laugh came from, seeing only Polnareff who was staring wistfully at you while you talked to his grandpa, and Kakyoin who was doing a poor job of hiding his amusement. 

Traitor. 

It was then that you happened to look over at your son. Joseph’s gaze followed yours and his eyes widened. 

“You brought Santana?!” he cried. 

You huffed. 

“I’m sorry, JoJo.” you said. “I hardly had a choice. He still struggles with his fears of abandonment and when he heard that I was going to be going away for a while, he refused to stay behind.” 

“Well he’s annoying my grandson.” Joseph said, worried that a fight was about to break out. Jotaro’s Star Platinum could demolish most adversaries, but up against a non-human like Santana? He wasn’t sure how that would play out. 

You watched as your adopted son kept inching closer to the human youth, who kept inching further away from him and appeared to be getting angrier by the second. You shook your head. You knew Santana was just lashing out because the people at the Foundation told him he wasn’t allowed to pilot the helicopter. 

“Santana!” you called out to him. 

He turned to look at you and you moved your hands as if to imitate two things moving away from each other while mouthing the words, “personal space”. 

Santana stepped away from Jotaro. He was about to join you and Joseph before he stopped as if he suddenly remembered something. He stood in front of Jotaro for a moment before giving a half-hearted bow. 

“I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” he said before walking away. 

Jotaro raised an eyebrow at how practiced and unenthused the apology was. It seemed like he was saying it more out of necessity than anything. 

“Freakin’ weirdo…” Jotaro grumbled under his breath. 

Kakyoin sidled up to him. 

“So what do you think of our new companions, Jotaro?” he asked. 

Jotaro stared at you and Santana, who had his hands all over his grandpa’s beard while you laughed demurely at his annoyance. 

“Don’t know what to think,” he admitted. “The old man seems to know them, but I don’t remember him ever mentioning anyone like them before. I can’t tell if they’re Stand users or not. Not only that, but they talk and act as if they aren’t even human.” 

Kakyoin nodded; signature hair curl wiggling as he did so. 

“I’ll have to agree with you there… little guy.” 

Jotaro’s usual glare gave way to a look of shock when he realized what Kakyoin just said to him. He turned to give Kakyoin a much deserved sneer. Did Kakyoin of all people just make a joke about him being short? Sure, Jotaro’s height was nothing when he was standing next to a behemoth like that Santana guy, but Kakyoin was the shortest one in the group! Jotaro pointed his finger in Kakyoin’s face, giving him his signature gesture that usually warned of impending pain. Though, this time, it didn’t carry its usual violent vibe. 

“You better watch it, noodle head.” Jotaro warned. 

Kakyoin merely grinned. 

**NOTE 2: And there’s your happy ending guys! I hope it was up to your expectations. You have no idea how hard it was for me to leave it there and not add something hinting that Kars somehow got sent back to Earth. The whole time I was writing that end sequence I kept having to remind myself, “No, they asked for a happy ending!” and was all but slapping my own hands to keep them from typing out yet another dark route ending. It’s not that I have anything against happy endings (I prefer them, actually), but when writing yandere stories I can’t always help myself. And sorry if Jotaro comes off as a little out of character at the end there. I was trying to imagine what a scenario of Jotaro and Santana meeting each other would be like and this silliness seemed the most logical outcome. And yeah, you can bet that this version of Stardust Crusaders will absolutely be a “no death” version. I see it playing out mostly the same as the original story but with the added bonus of you and Santana being there to prevent Avdol, Iggy, and Kakyoin from getting killed. I can imagine DIO being not too pleased that there’s not only one, but two beings out there that are stronger than him. That’s not to say that I think that Reader and Santana wouldn’t have any trouble fighting him. The inability to see Stands coupled with DIO’s time stopping ability would still make fighting him a nightmare. Well, I’m very tired now, and I’m going to bed.**

[quitealotofsodapop]

Hey Mac, we thought you were dead;

Sequel to this post on Macaque being back in the "Century Stone Egg Au".

After the pregnant Monkey King breaks his shock, he'd run to embrace Macaque, even if he'd just been super close to clawing his eye out (again) and that they're last meeting was a huge fight. He only holds back because he's honestly a little scared/worried how and why Macaque is there. Wukong is immediately trying to apolgise for his violent reaction, but Macaque just laughes out; "Nah, it's my fault. Should've asked first." It's only with the shadow monkeys' breathy, almost *fond* laughter that Wukong realises that Mac is truly there for peace. Mac's interaction with PIF further confirms this.

The reincarnation gang + the dragon couple are super sketched out though. Pigsy is the one to loudly ask "How do you know it's him and not some weird copycat?", mostly cus he's legit worried for Wukong in this moment. Somebody's dead partner don't just show up one day!

Wukong responds with his Gold Vision + its hard to fake the way Mac smells. The gang still refuse to leave the two alone together until they recieve a decent explaination.

The fact that Macaque literally looks like he crawled out of the grave quickly gives everybody a bad feeling, and they def force Mac to sit down and explain how tf he came back to life before he's even allowed smell Wukong.

Macaque: "I may have agreed to do something... kinda stupid in hindsight." Wukong, : "Mac... look at me. What did you do?" Macaque: "...ok don't be mad." Wukong: "I'm preemptively seething." Macaque: "I accepted a deal from the White Bone Spirit." Wukong: "I'M FURIOUS!!!" *starts throwing whatever's closest at Mac* Macaque, dodges a pillow: "Pfff! Calm down, it's not like I'm actually gonna do it! She brought me back to life to release her from a tomb or something and I chucked the key away the second I got back." The whole Room: "..." Wukong: "Mihou... thats the stupidiest thing you could have done!" *summons hair clones to throw stuff at Mac* Macaque, now failing to dodge fruit: "OW! Why are you upset!? We both know nothing good will come of letting that demon free!" PIF: "Mihou, if this Bone Demon was able to bring you back from the dead, then she has the power to track you down and recind her offer." Macaque: "...so you're saying that I have to fufill her deal, or I might get dragged back to Diyu?" Wukong and PIF, at the same time: "YES!!!" Macaque: "Shit." The Whole Room: *covering Red and Mei's ears* "LANGUAGE!!" Tang: "You should work on that before the baby gets here.

Oh you better believe Mac's in the doghouse until they can figure out how to resolve the LBD business deal. PIF calls up her lawyer to go over the exact terms and conditions.

Fire Star: "Ok, I've got good news and bad news." Macaque: "Bad news first." Fire Star: "The Lady Bone Demon's geas is airtight. You will have to open her tomb *slash* free her spirit in order to keep your place in this mortal realm - less you be recalled at a later date for a task of similar value or until she makes you redundant." Pigsy: "Translate for the non-lawyers please." Fire Star: "Either he does it, or she makes him do it, or she just takes his soul." Macaque: "Shit." Wukong & PIF: *glaring daggers at Mac* Macaque: "So what's the good news?" Fire Star, slyly: "Those are the only conditions to the geas. There's a reason you need lawyers for these kind of things nowadays. She didn't stipulate say... where to release her. Or whom would be present to greet her when her tomb opens." Everyone: *shares similar delighted/scheming looks* (*a few hours + a few calls to a worried Nezha later*) Macaque: *unlocks LBD's tomb* LBD: "Freedom! Freedom! Fr-" All of Wukong's allies in the Heavenly Army + Diyu officials:

LBD: "Oh bother."

As the Bone Demon gets carted away for conspiracy to destroy the world, she gets yelled at by all of the Underworld/Diyu officials that now have to deal with the fallout of her actions.

King Yama: "Do you understand how much paperwork I have to do to mark this monkey as alive!? He doesn't have a death date! It's been blotted out! I'll be correcting his files for months!!" Macaque: *high fives Fire Star for the solid lawyer-ing*

As far as Hell/Diyu is concerned, Macaque performed a service and was paid upfront. They don't want the headache of trying to take him back if his mate (someone who's trashed Hell before) wants to keep him.

Wukong is still super-mad at Mac for a variety of reasons, don't get hom wrong. But he's atleast glad in the moment to have his mate back. And glad that LBD is gone for the forseeable future.

[unreadpoppy]

song as old as rhyme - Beauty and the Beast!AU - BONUS CHAPTER

Raphael x Elize

A/N: I am in a generous mood today and so i wrote this one shot. This for all of y'all who asked for a sequel to song as hold as rhyme (@lemonandhoneytea and @lapinetroses looking at you). And also tagging @shyminnie07 cause you were on the OG taglist so it feels only fair.

Elize and Raphael had welcomed their first child two years after tying the knot. He was a tiefling and looked just like Raphael, except for his green eyes. The boy, Michael, was still a couple of months old, and he made his father feel completely helpless.

“I don’t think that is how you’re supposed to hold him.” Haarlep said. Elize had gone out with Korilla to buy some things, leaving Raphael in complete care over the baby. He had asked the incubus for help but they were just as bad as him.

Indeed, Raphael felt as if he was doing something wrong, but he refused to admit to Haarlep. Instead, he said. “Why don’t you try holding him, since you are so knowledgeable in the subject?” 

Before they could protest, Raphael had given the baby to Haarlep, who held him in an even more uncomfortable position. Soon, Michael began to cry. “Take this thing off of me!” Haarlep shouted, only aggravating the situation. 

“Careful what you call my son.” Raphael said, retrieving the child. The incubus huffed and left the room, leaving father and crying son alone. He tried shushing the boy, as he rocked him, but nothing seemed to work. 

The devil stopped, thinking about what could be the cause of this and then snapped his fingers. A glass baby bottle, filled with milk, materialized in his hands. Raphael sat on a rocking chair, holding Michael close to his warm chest, and fed him the bottle. 

In that moment of peacefulness, Raphael relaxed. He looked down at his son and smiled. He never thought he would be capable of caring for something so small and precious, but here he was, a changed man. 

Time passed and soon, the bottle was empty, and Michael eyelids were droopy. At the same time, Elize finally came back. 

She smiled, looking at the scene in front of her. “How is he?” 

“He just finished drinking.” Raphael replied. Elize walked towards him and took Michael, putting him next to her shoulder and started the process of getting him to burp. 

“How was your trip?” He asked. 

“Oh, it was good. It was nice to have some time for myself.” Elize said. “Although, what I really wanted was to spend some time with you.” She looked at her husband. Ever since Michael had been born, they hadn’t had much time alone. Before Raphael could reply, the baby let out a burp. 

“Good boy!” Elize exclaimed. Then, noticing how tired he looked, she put him down on the crib. Soon, Michael fell asleep. His mother sighed and bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. 

Raphael placed a hand on Elize’s waist. “I’ll tell Korilla to keep an eye on him.” He whispered in her ear. “Let us enjoy dinner.” 

Elize nodded and Raphael snapped both of them away. 

…

After they had eaten, Raphael snapped his finger, and the sound of a violin and a piano playing entered the room. He stood up, walking towards Elize and offered his hand. She raised an eyebrow before taking it. 

“What are you doing?” She asked him. 

“We haven’t danced in a long time.” He replied, putting a hand on her waist and holding her other hand. 

Elize smiled and placed her free hand and face to his chest . As they swayed along to the music, Raphael began to hum along to the music. 

“I missed this.” Elize said. “Just the two of us. But I also wouldn’t trade Michael for anything.”

“Yes. The boy is precious.” He agreed. 

Eliza had closed her eyes and hummed in agreement. “I think…I think I need to sleep.” 

Raphael chuckled, and took her in his arms. He walked towards their shared bed and gently laid Elize there. She quickly took off her shoes and slid under the covers, Raphael following after, embracing her from behind. 

Elize turned around in his grasp and kissed his cheek. “Sweet dreams, my love.” She whispered and closed her eyes. 

Raphael smiled, kissing her forehead, soon falling asleep as well. 

[darklinaforever]

personally (take note I have never seen the star wars sequel trilogy) I think I could love reylo if I did not love Han Solo so much and want the original trio to have a happy ending and got to grow old together. From what I heard of the sequel trilogy, I won't watch it because of said reasons(also because of how Han Solo was killed off!). Bits and pieces of the trilogy had good points, I just think it could and been written better. And like instead of having the original trio in the series. Leave them alone and make the people who help Rey and friends be descendants from the orginal trio. Like make all the bad things like many years after the trio has died. They won their war. Let them have their happy ending. Also I am totally fine with who Reys related to. It's just how they did it and ended Reys storyline(and kylos) from what I've heard I think is messed up. I feel like this sequel trilogy over all could have been written better if three things: they left the orginal trio out of it. They give better storylines and endings to Rey, Finn and Kylo. Kylo too om find with being related to the skywalkers some how. I just don't like how directly he's related affects the orginal trios happy ending.

In fact, I think it's very good to have shown that those we thought were the perfect and model heroes messed up the education of their only heir. It was a good reflection, I think. The problem is therefore not that the original trio has been tampered with, but quite simply that people are refusing that they could have made mistakes in the future and not been perfectly happy. For example, people were horrified by Luke's current life, but if George Lucas had taken care of it himself, well... he would have had a very similar life too. Same for Han Solo... The actor wanted his character to die, and that was how it was planned in the original trilogy. In fact, it is worth noting that each former member of the trio dies in an attempt to bring Kylo Ben back to the light side of the force, so obviously, by killing Kylo, ​​beyond messing up the latter's entire redemption arc and the Rey's natural arc, where the two had to come together to establish a real form of balance that there was not in the force before, well that also messed up the arcs of the members of the trio for the dosage. They all sacrifice themselves so that Kylo can come back to the good side and potentially be happy, all so that he also dies in the end. The problem with the sequel trilogy was quite simply the last film which did not take on anything from what the first 2 films had brought for fear of public reactions ! (Because a vocal minority of haters hated Kylo) Which is completely stupid... Anyway, all the arcs were messed up in the last film. Kylo, ​​Rey, members of the original trio. Finn who ultimately doesn't bring any revolution to the Stormtroopers... Poe who behaves like a child again instead of the leader in the making that he learned to be in the 8th film... In short. Star Wars 9 was a disaster. It ruined the entire sequel story-wise. But I would still recommend watching it, just to see the wonder that is Star Wars 8. I maintain it, this film is excellent and in my eyes the best Star Wars after The Empire Strikes Back ! If Star Wars 9 had been done well, it would have been the second best trilogy after the original. Because yes... Star Wars 7 and 8 are better in my eyes than the entire prelogy on Anakin / Dark Vador.

Me when I think of the Star Wars 9 massacre :

But if you are interested in seeing a couple like Reylo, I recommend the chinese drama Love Between Fairy and Devil. He really is the Chinese Reylo !

[aaronpaceluvbot]

you belong with me (aaron pace x reader)

summary : aaron is sick and tired of hearing you complain about your relationship problems. he might as well fix them then, right? (i was listening to you belong with me while writing this, hence the title)

before you read: not proofread, reader is gender-neutral, they/them pronouns are used, reader is NOT cadence, reader is sensitive and scared of being alone (me. i am so sensitive). this takes place in a universe where none of the drama happens. just good old happy band camp! is supposed to be a sequel to language exchange but can be read alone, very cheesy? Possibly ooc aaron (i got excited)

wc: 1.1k

part one if you want to read

The two of you developed a routine of meeting up in his room before evening practice and sometimes after - talking about anything that came to mind. Whether that be how infuriating particular people were throughout the day or whether or not the cafeteria food was actually good that day. But today was different, Aaron could tell by the look on your face. It was a look of sadness? But nothing happened to you, at least that’s what he thought. When the two of you finally settle down and start talking, he decides to ask about the elephant in the room. “What’s up with you? You don’t look too well,” he asks, expression contorting into one of concern. You had never seen that expression from him before. You’d seen disdain, happiness, disgust, and other emotions - but never concern. 

“I’m fine,” you say, biting the corner of your cheek to keep from cracking. “I don’t know - I guess I just feel a little bit jealous of my friends or well left out even. They’re all in relationships, or at least getting to that point and they’re all so happy and I just- I want that too, you know?” You try to blink back tears, but fail, so you resort to roughly brushing them away.

“Well you don’t need a relationship to be happy,” he says, taking your hands into his. “We’ve only really talked for a little bit, but I can tell that you’re amazing and-”

“That’s not what I care about though,” you mutter. “I’m just scared of being lonely.” At this, he holds your hands tighter. You look up at him, confused at his actions. 

“You’re not going to be lonely. You have me and well, the rest of the band.”

“But that’s different! I know I’m not lonely platonically, Aaron! That’s not what I’m scared of!” You exclaim, dropping his hands and wrapping your arms around yourself. The tears that finally stopped decided to just keep pouring and become hotter, as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. 

“Hey, hey. Relax, you’re ok. You’re fine,” he murmurs, clearly not wanting to stress you out any longer. 

“No I’m not,” you mumble. “And there’s not even anything I can do about it! I can’t just make someone like me that way!” 

“Well what if I told you I know what you could do about it-”

“What would you even do? Get someone to act like they like me just to appease me? It doesn’t work that way Aaron-” 

“I like you! That’s what I could do about it! That is, if you like me back,” he snaps, instantly regretting it and refusing to look you in the eye. 

“Oh my god. Aaron-” you say, your eyes widening in realization. Your hands immediately go to cover up the fact that your jaw dropped. 

“If you want to leave, leave- I understand,” he says, finally looking you in the eye again. 

“No, no. I’m staying, we need to talk through this-” you say, frazzled and gesturing with your hands wildly. 

“Why? So you can just tell me that you hate me for ruining our friendship now instead of doing it later?” He asks bitterly. 

“No! Aaron, that’s not it at all. If you’re actually serious about this, then you should know something-” You say, struggling to get the words out. 

“What is it?” He asks, eyes shining. You couldn’t tell if it was from hope or if they were going to become teary. You’d feel forever guilty if you were the cause of his tears. 

“I like you too. I was scared of you rejecting me and being lonely forever, no matter how stupid that sounds,” you say, looking away from him. What would he think? Would he shun you for how you felt? Would he kick you out of his room? Would you two never talk again and only treat these moments as fleeting memories? He wouldn’t do that, right?

“We are both so stupid,” he says, breaking the awkward silence and wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours, but was truly only minutes. “So what do we do now?” He asks, pulling away with a confused expression. 

“Great question! I know Susie said that if this ever happened to immediately ask what are we and figure that out-” 

“You talked about this to Susie?” He asks, eyebrows raised. You gave him a confused look. 

“Yeah, why?” You question, watching him intently as he tried to think of a clever response. 

“So you’ve had a thing for me?” He asks, smirking at your look of shock at his realization. You don’t even grace him with an answer as you bury your head in your hands. This feels awfully familiar. “There, there,” he says, patting your back as you wallow in embarrassment. “How long was it?” You resisted the urge to make a that’s what she said joke out of what was meant to be a sweet moment. 

“I think since we first met? The girls would tease me for it, but I don’t think I realized until recently,” you murmur, counting the days on your fingers. You did not have enough fingers for this. “But enough about this, we can talk about it all we want later. What are we?”

Once again, a look of confusion returns to his face. “Great question.” Again, he chooses to look at everything but you. You sigh.

“I mean, I’m down if you’re down-”

“Wonderful!”

“Great!”

“Absolutely splendid!” Awkward silence quickly ensues. Though you both laugh, and he wraps his arms around you once more, quickly enveloping you into a kiss that quickly deepens. A knock on the door ruins the moment as he pulls away to get up and answer it. “What the hell,” he murmurs as he separates himself from your embrace. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU’RE LATE FOR EVENING PRACTICE,” a familiar voice says. Aaron turns his head to give you a look and you immediately know who’s at the door. Goddamn it Clark. While you get up to see what all the fuss is about and finally make your way to practice, Aaron says something to Clark that you don’t quite catch. Clark goes red and excuses himself, before muttering about how the two of you should just get to practice. 

“What’d you tell him?” You ask, a concerned expression appearing on your face as you face him.

“Nothing you should worry about,” he says, taking one of your hands into his as the two of you make your way there. The two of you walk to evening practice late with swollen lips and intertwined hands, which got a lot of questions from the others, but neither of you cared. You were both happy. 

a/n: erm… ALL THEY DID WAS KISS I PROMISE!! I JUST DON’T KNOW HOW TO WRITE KISS SCENES WITHOUT IT BEING CRINGY. that’s why it got a singular sentence. again it’s lowkey rushed and may need to be rewritten, but that’s a problem for tomorrow me. 

[moonspirit]

Embarrassing TFLM Brainrot here

So this is a brainrot post meant mainly for myself - I spent too much time on this story and I want to get my thoughts on it out of my system so I can move on to other ideas. Also so I can come back to this post later. Contains stuff that inspired certain moments/scenes and intentions behind other details.

Story is here btw.

Mentions and links here are because your post/fanfic/artwork inspired some scene or dialogue etc xD You absolutely don't have to read this, it's VERY long and messy lmao.

1 - Rope Pulling

This scene served three purposes:

to drive home the point that there is no longer any room for racial bias and hate, which is especially problematic given that even though all six Alliance members (except Mikasa, since she's no longer there) stopped the Rumbling together, only three (Armin, Jean & Connie) are from Paradis and therefore, face more prejudice on Fort Salta than the Warriors - both from the Marleyan inhabitants and also the Eldian refugees of Liberio.

to show that the others will have Armin's back when he makes decisions and hesitates to put forth his ideas because of his low self-esteem. Imo Armin's decision to stay on ground with the people is very much in consonance with his style of leadership, which is more gentle and less commandeering. It is implied that Muller's charged speech is written by Armin (boy is eloquent af, okay, and manipulative, hence using the children to spark motivation) but the reason he gets Muller to deliver it is not only because he lacks Erwin's charisma, but also, had he himself delivered it, the ppl on Fort Salta would be like "Oh, so now a devil from Paradis commands us? heck no". They would've listened to him ofc, but he wouldn't have achieved what he wanted to achieve with standing along with everyone else. It's a plea for "See us as humans too. Just like yourselves."

A plot point to get a celebratory mood going on the Fort.

2 - Breakfast

Really nothing much to say here except to lay down the foundation for the setting of the fictional country of Kald. Felipe (OC) was just an accessory to explain this. I'll flesh it out in the sequels, but my intention to feature Kald as an extremely friendly and accepting country, along with the bountiful nature it possesses is a symbolism I've always wanted to write about - that after decades of hate and bloodshed, here is a country that simply wants to celebrate the miracle of life, the miracle of living. Kald is also a projection of everything Armin has dreamed of. It's also an excuse to get our six tortured characters to finally live normal lives, doing ordinary, mundane things haha xD Also I suck at politics, so giving them a peaceful country to go to is convenient for me lmao.

Also since Muller dissolved the Marleyan military, there is no longer any authority (with the exception of Armin who still carries a title) and so the young boys finding the crates of rum was to show that there is unrestricted and free access to basically everywhere and everything. Just a silly lil detail lol.

3 - Children

This scene was just designed for plain humour - another opportunity to get Armin teased and flustered - but it became more than that. The children are a symbolism of their own childhoods which they were very quickly robbed of. Hence, the kids don't have names (it was annoying to write 'boy' so many times but welp) and the blond kid is basically Armin as a child himself. Armin lost his parents to curiosity, his grandfather to the titans and was bullied severely. He was shielded over and over again by his fiercely loyal friends (EM) - and so when the kids refuse to leave the injured blond boy alone, that too is a parallel (tho this is very obvious in the writing itself).

@ master-of-insects made a post here where they pointed out how manga Armin has brown/hazel eyes and so I thought - amazing! Let's give the blond kid brown eyes, so then he's different, but also very much a young Armin.

The children are way too innocent, have not yet realized they are now orphans and so that one line where one of them says "like my mother gives my father a big kiss" is funny, but also really sad.

It also allowed for these children to be treated exactly like children and with plenty of kindness (Armin offering to race them down is an extension of the kindness he has always shown everyone) so that despite having lost their parents, they are still going to have some good memories in a free-er world outside Liberio, teaching them that everybody in the world is equal and worthy of love.

Acts as a plot point to be invited to the dance later.

This scene was also meant to let our four big boys do silly things like race each other down a hill and bet on potatoes - something they probably would have done as kids, but never could.

Gave me an excuse to make Armin a dad for a brief period of time lmao.

The Annie references here were to show that Annie's always thinking of him and her quiet displays of tenderness to even children, by way of tending to one when he's hurt - and Armin finding out indirectly and accidentally that she sees him as more than anything she actually says in words, making him fall in love with her even more. He already knows that she's kind and caring and so pushes the blond kid to thank her later, knowing it'll give her great relief.

4 - Sunset

Ahhhhhh now this scene. JeanConArmin has a very special place in my heart. With Mikasa gone, they are the only ones left from Paradis - and they cannot go back to Paradis for now. These three share so much right from their (non-existent) childhood - the same country, the same culture, the same people, the same folklore(?), the same kid's games(?) etc. Throughout the manga there have been so many instances where the three of them have interacted and relied on each other beautifully so I wanted to expand on them post-rumbling. In 139, when they go back to Paradis, it really is only the three of them who are truly "going home".

The equipment cleaning idea came from Season 1, when Armin recalls repairing/fixing gears together with Marco. I've always thought it was something they probably did very often - performing maintenance and so it seemed fitting that they would perform their very last maintenance after the Rumbling. After all, the 3DMG, the blades, the wires, the thunder spears were all designed to combat titans, which no longer exist. It is the end of an era.

The little moment where Armin remembers Hange while looking at the clouds was inspired by this fanart by @ annawayne It was a last minute addition really, but I had to get Hange in somehow and in this artwork, Hange is looking empathetically at Armin, which gave me the inspiration for that whole moment.

JeanKasa comes to an end so that I can neatly add references to JeanPiku in future sequels (tho I prolly won't ever write proper JeanPiku cuz Pieck is too smart for me and I will suck at it.)

The whole Fondue thing is homage to Sasha. I've never eaten Fondue myself so I'm now kinda scared cuz I'm prolly going to butcher this whole plot point when I get around to it in sequels.

5 - Bonfire

oh welp, okay, so after a LONG time we get to Annie here and we see what she's struggling with. A whole avalanche of messy emotions and thoughts, garnished with a generous sprinkle of inner-conflict and extreme guilt. I wondered often while writing if this made Annie very OOC but then thought, oh why not, it's realistic because all she ever wanted to do was go back to her dad before she died from Ymir's curse. Death was always a certainty and now it's not and she's reeling from the possibilities that gives her and refuses to believe she's worthy of any of it. Annie's always been kind, she just never got to live a life where she could afford to show much kindness. She's also severely touch-starved and dying for more physical contact but Armin's too busy. I mean, if I were Annie, I would've like, exploded in anger on the spot lmao.

For Annie, Armin has become so important that even the smallest of disappointments sets her off - like not knowing about the time he got drunk, or his dismay at being left out of the festivities. Also, she's been pessimistic for as long as she's lived, so when the four kids (because they were shown some love and played with, they now return the kindness (good karma!) by getting the dancers to invite our characters to the celebrations) come to call them, it's a shock - she never that was ever a possibility. So a new door has opened for her in this instance and she sees how Armin's got what he wanted, exactly how he wanted. This is the point where she begins to understand how Armin works, what drives him to be how he's always been and the rewards of his humane/gentle approach.

6 - Dancing

We see this also from Annie's POV because she's new to all this, and it also has to feel new to all of us. Someone like Annie who was always driven to finish what she had to do, as fast as possible, so that she could return home and die - cannot comprehend the celebrations. It feels alien to her. So everything that happens in this scene is messy, frightening, and confusing. And yet she is GOOD at it lmao, ofc Annie's good at dancing, she's a graceful fighter, why wouldn't she be good at it? Very slowly she begins to let her guard down and enjoy it but enjoyment doesn't come easily when you're also feeling extremely guilty of enjoying it (a vicious cycle). So the blond kid dances with her, tells her a thank you, and effectively, puts a small band-aid on her aching heart. She then dances with Armin and it is at this moment that the dance, which was confusing, scary and messy until now, becomes magical, beautiful, a lovely thing to behold.

the whole lanterns thing was inspired by this YouTube comment I took screenshot of in a separate post here

So I really really agree with what this person says, Armin's always seen the beauty in things. Freedom to Armin is being able to see beauty, being able to enjoy the simple moments of life, so when for him, embers look like floating lanterns, Annie is SHOOK lmao. And so she begins to wonder if someday she too can see the world like him. It serves to open another door for her - where living, with Armin, could be a beautiful experience, not something to fear. Which is why, when she in turn tells Pieck that they are not embers, but lanterns, it is her willingness to accept the wondrous prospects of a long, long life.

many of the lines Pieck says during this dancing scene, eg, "that's all I am now" referring to being human, and "soak in the bliss, there's nothing quite like it" referring to being loved by someone else, and "we are alive, might as well enjoy living" are realizations Annie makes throughout this scene, just that we need Pieck to be the one to say it out loud. Also, Pieck smart okay. Best girl.

7 - The Kiss

inspired by this fanart by @NaityNain on twitter.

everyone is always consoling Armin but now it's his turn to give someone solid courage and that someone happens to be our ice-cold kitten Annie. I don't really have many thoughts about this scene tbh.

ah but yes, Idk man, it was supposed to be sweet but became too heated with tongue and all and welp.

I think most AruAni shippers agree that Annie isn't very vocal with words of affection and love, at least, at the beginning, so it just made sense that Armin would be able to see the emotions swimming in her eyes. And he remembers how he wasn't able to get a single answer from her for four years (S4) when inside the crystal and now she's right there, eyes open, and he just has all the answers he needs. So she doesn't really need to say it out loud, he gets it, but he tells it in proper words back to her because she needs to hear it, and also Armin won't ever hesitate to tell her what he feels.

8 - Conversations, etc

building hope in this scene. The Neptune thing is a reference to the prequel in this series and also, a symbolism for hope. It gives Annie a new dream to hold onto, and Armin a new book to look forward to reading since he no longer has his old book with him.

Annie also finds out things like his birthday because she wants to know everything there is to know about Armin and her heart is starting to open up to the wonders of living and loving.

also building sexual tension hahaha

yeah sorry for the really bad jokes here, couldn't help it lmao

when that whole drinking fiasco takes place with Annie, well ofc the reason it happens in the first place is bec she's mortified that everyone knows the stuff she told that blond boi - dumb of him to babble huh? But I didn't want her to resort to violence like kicking Reiner or punching Jean because ever since that dance with Armin where she "playfully" kicked him and then felt guilty about it, imo she's thinking - "violence has been always a means to an end, but these five people are my close friends now, and they do not deserve to be treated with violence anymore." And so she does something silly and stupid instead and stalks off. Armin figures out why she did it and here we see his low self-esteem again, this is a problem that will take a very long time to get over and when drunk Annie reveals her feelings and boosts his self confidence, he's beyond touched.

gave me a chance to write more tooth-rot and contract diabetes.

9 - Mr.Leonhardt

honestly Mr.Leonhardt wasn't going to play any part in this story. My entire portrayal of Mr.Leonhardt in this fic is heavily inspired by @ distortedclouds 's excellent takes over here on Annie's relationship with her father and vice versa, and her character analysis of Mr.Leonhardt here is just fantastic. I agree with all of this. However, because Mr.Leonhardt isn't going to really feature in the story anymore, this scene was really just to contrast the two men in Annie's life - one who treated her with cruelty since day1 and one who treats her with nothing but love.

also a chance to show how much Armin thinks of her and everything he wants to show her and do with her (i.e that embarrassing ice cream part haha xD)

also enables Armin to come back to his tent and go through several memories in his head, of the current day's events and of things from his past, finally ending with thoughts and memories of Annie. That's why we have that little portion that goes "... Green eyes. Annie's eyes." Because thinking of Eren gives him pain, thinking of Annie gives him happiness.

10 - Morning

I really, really enjoyed writing that portion where Annie wakes up to a sweet and affectionate Armin, it gave me all the butterflies myself lmao. Why doesn't Armin exist irl ffs.

the scene that was especially cinematic in my head was the one where the six of them are the last to board the train. With the bundles of gear swinging over their shoulders, and with Armin being the only one wearing the cape with the Wings of Freedom - and Annie watching his back - was inspired by a fanart (for which I can't find an artist, so I can't link it).

A small significance of that moment where Armin's blades reflect the morning light and throw an iridescent halo (let's just fuck the physics here ok?) over the train and speckle some children's faces with shards of rainbow light - this had an intention behind it. Armin never used his swords much to kill. He never took (m)any lives with it, Titan or human. So when his blades instead reflect rainbow light, coating some young children's faces with several beautiful colours - that was to show that Armin's blades were never meant for death, they were meant for something beautiful, meant for life.

11 - Final Scene

okay so Pieck and Annie, I really think there's so much potential here because Pieck is the perfect balance of easy-going to Annie's tightly controlled emotions. There are things Annie can talk with Armin about, but not everything perhaps (or atleast, not at once) and with the whole muddle of how to get by with these feelings of love, Pieck is sort of like her sister figure. Especially since Hitch isn't there atm. For Pieck too, Annie can be someone she can talk to about her relationship with Porco. Now, honestly I ship PokkoPiku because they seemed to have a great vibe going on, ofc before Porco, well, died like that, and because Pieck has this carefree personality on the outside that could result in her being very quiet and guarded inside about deeply held emotions - Annie can be her pillar of support to grieve and move on from that. Or so I hope to write such a thing.

that letter, yeahhh…. Isn't Armin so good with words? T_T Anyway, some little details I managed to put in here is that throughout the story, Armin hasn't once (directly) mentioned Eren's name until in the letter. Also during that portion where he honours all the people - it goes in order of dead to alive with Annie being the last, because she's an integral part of his entire future, of his life, of him. The letter is also basically Armin making a promise to himself, giving Annie something to look forward to and also, by asking her to keep the letter for him, showing her she's that precious to him.

OH FUCK I FORGOT FALCO AND GABI IN THE LETTER???!!!!!

Last few words at the ending "By the light of a new Sun" were taken directly from the ending of Interstellar hahahhahaa xD (I love that movie)

This is a MESS, but now I'm done. Boi, I feel free.

[deergirlslut]

But I wanna know what kinda Situations you be putting your friends into :(

Okay okay okay soooooo. I listened to this fantastic ASMR tale called The Castle of Blue Roses years ago and it instantly became a favorite and I thought, "Hey, this would make a pretty good basis for a VTM campaign." So years ago with my old polycule I ran a campaign that had some minor references to it like a sequel. It went alright but I learned some important lessons.

So a couple years later I had the chance to run another campaign with some new friends, who we'll call Goblin and Calc, and set it closer to the asmr tale's original setting, in the first inquisition. Goblin got turned into a Tremere with a longer leash than normal but Calc? Calc's my Brujah brother who is the sheriff's much-unwanted childe, sired on orders. I'm trying really hard not to just recite the whole campaign's plot but Calc's a rebel. He was a thief in life and isn't happy about having to leave his life(and wife) behind. His sire likes him but neither wanted this, so they have a bit of a strained relationship. Gobbo on the other hand came the the castle for some herbs needed to save his sister's life. So he has a much more defined role in mind. Some of the early sessions are pretty standard. They meet a Malkavian and a Setite who pass their trial and join them at the castle and they run around, making sure the inquisition isn't in town, keeping an eye out for human cults and trying to find their place as the threat of the anarch revolt ramps up. Calc, however had a neat little side adventure I guess we could say. He';s being used as a messenger to pass on coded messages, that way he doesn't know anything, and can't rat anyone out. And the poor little rebel get's played like a fiddle by the prince. She gets every ounce of important information she can out of him at a dance dinner that his sire does not attend, ramps up her defenses and learns something that the player's weren't supposed to know until the final session. The sheriff is planning on overthrowing her.

And so we keep on playing, my players not knowing that they've completely sabatoged the chances of her getting overthrown and keep playing up until the final session. Where they should have been given a choice on which of many sides to help. Calc, being true to his clan joins his sire, decides to help in the attack to overthrow the countess, and slinks off with his sire to attempt to assassinate her. Gobbo, however, will do no such thing as it could endanger his sister. And so he gets the Herb he needs, and simply waits to see how it all ends. And it all ends horribly. Calc, the Setite, the sheriff, and a few others try to assassinate the countess and are betrayed. One of their own was bloodbound and the sheriff, knowing they'll lose tells the others to run while he buys them time. Calc, refuses. The setite does not. And so in a pitched battle on the roof of the castle The Prince reveals that she has not only sired Calc's wife, his main touchstone, but that she has wrapped her around her finger and kept her bloodhound. Calc continues to fight, fails a frenzy check and attacks the prince. His sire, however leaves him. And so alone and frensying the most rebellious character at my table is dominated, bloodbound, and memory wiped to think he was always loyal. Always on her side. Always spying for her. Gobbo makes it out and saves his sister, but feels overwhelming guilt for selling out his friend. And now we're playing at the convention of thorns and the Trmemre is becoming a rebel who wants to see the prince dead, and the Brujah is bloodbound and dominated to be her most loyal servant by far. And by golly does he hate me for it. Probably some of the best rping of my life.

Damn. This was long and I was trying to cut it down as much as possible but tl;dr I got too bloodbind and dominate my favorite Brujah and he's so pissed but also could not be loving the story more.

[symbioticsimplicity]

So I made a sequel to this post, and it looks like there will be another part after this! These boys are too much fun to leave alone, thanks once again to @thediktatortot

Part 3! Part 4! AO3 link!

                                                             *

Steve dearly wished that whatever God he pissed off in his life time didn’t have such a fucked up sense of humor. 

Their plan worked flawlessly, with a roar Billy punched his way through the head of the first demodog at their door. The next one was deflected by Tommy and the baking sheet he’d found in the teacher’s lounge, making it easy prey for Steve and his nailbat to pick off. Eddie and his spear shredded through the demodog that leapt at him, and Billy crushed it’s head with his foot for good measure.

They were out, and they were moving, tossing or killing anything that came their way. There were dozens of the damn things, but they were making progress.

Until Tommy tripped.

Steve saw it in slow motion, his heart seizing up in his chest as he heard the yelp, saw the creature with it’s teeth around Tommy’s ankle. He was struggling against his own demodog, the thing was bigger than the rest had been and even with Billy’s help it refused to die easy. 

There was no way he’d be able to reach him before they did.

“Tommy!” He screamed through gritted teeth.

Tommy’s wide eyes found his and Steve heart tore itself in half as he smiled at him. Tommy wasn’t the brave in the face of danger type, he wasn’t trying to reassure Steve. He smiled like that when he was scared and nervous and didn’t know what else to do. He’d done it on the first day of kindergarten and the first day of highschool and Steve wanted to throw up at the sight of it now.

But then a leg was blocking his view, a black jean clad leg.

“Get the fuck up, Hoops, if you die like this they’re gonna think I killed you and I’ve outgrown my whole ‘wanted for a murder I didn’t commit’ phase.” Eddie drove his spear into the the demodog on Tommy’s leg, holding his shield up to keep the next one back.

Tommy looked up at Eddie like he’d seen an angel, almost immediately scrambling to his feet, only to fall back down with a curse.

“Can’t!” He hissed.

Steve slammed his bat into the demodog he and Billy were fighting, half paying attention to it, half to Eddie and Tommy. He knew better, he really did, but his instinct to protect overrode his common sense as it so often did.

“Duck!” Billy shouted, catching Steve’e ear but not his attention.

Steve did not in fact duck, catching the overgrown demodog’s back leg straight to the dome. He briefly had the thought that it wasn’t really a true Hawkins Adventure until he’d gotten some sort of head injury.

The thought immediately rolled into getting the hell out of the way as Billy snagged his nailbat from him and swung for the fences. 

The smart move would have been giving it to him in the first place, as the creature’s head went sailing down the hall as if it hadn’t just been attached to a living creature. 

“Head in the game pretty boy.” Billy pulled Steve to his feet, “Nobody dies today means you too.”

If he’d known Billy any better he would have sworn the tightness around the edges of his eyes was concern. But to the best of his knowledge, Billy tolerated him out of necessity the same way he tolerated most things. 

“Can’t have me bringing down the mood.” Steve agreed, noticing that Billy’s hand was still lingering on his forearm where he’d picked him up.

Billy noticed at the same time he did, pulling away almost as though burned.

“I’m not explaining to any of those kids that you bit it.” Billy shook his head, “Easier just to keep you alive.”

While not the warmest declaration of care Steve had ever heard, it was something at least to show that Billy Hargrove had a heart in there after all. He would probably have given him more shit, if they hadn’t been needed elsewhere.

So instead he nodded and turned back to where Eddie was keeping a smaller and smaller perimeter around he and Tommy.

“Them too.” Steve rushed towards them.

“Them too.” Billy agreed.

                                                        *

“You know, if you wanted me to carry you, you could have just asked.” Billy teased as he carried Tommy down the broken rib cage of Hawkins’ main road.

Tommy had his arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Billy bridal carried him as though he weighed nothing. His ankle was in pretty bad shape, would need stitches at the very least, but they’d wrapped it as best they could using the flannel Eddie had been wearing. It wouldn’t solve much, but it would hold until they got somewhere safe and that was all they needed.

“I’m not a chick, Hargrove, I’m not looking for some big strong man to save me.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, you telling me this beefcake doesn’t have you swooning at all?” Eddie chimed in, grinning like a loon, “All the work of saving our asses, and not even a flutter?”

Tommy rolled his eyes so hard Steve’s own did the same instinctively. 

“You saved me.” Tommy asserted. “Shouldn’t you be pimping yourself out here?

“You’re right! I was the daring knight in shinning armour for this rescue, I should get the damsel! How about it Hagan, you free tonight?” 

“Do you ever stop yapping, Munson?” Billy’s slow, heavy glare rested on him.

Eddie kept smiling like he couldn’t feel it at all, “Nope!” 

“Steve, put a muzzle on your pet freak, would ya?” Tommy groaned, the pain making him more irritable than was already native to him.

Steve hardly heard the conversation, his focus moored on the walkie talkie he’d just barely managed to scoop up on their way out of the school. He’d dropped it on the way in, and it looked like it had been stepped on, but the damage was mostly cosmetic. It was still receiving a signal, he just had to hold it in just the right position.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m nobody’s pet.” Eddie pouted, “Pets take a certain amount of love and patience and feeding and no one has shown me any of that, so I’m staying feral thank you very much.”

“I’m showing you patience, I’m showing you a lot of patience.” Billy grumbled.

Eddie’s grin was back just like that, “You gonna love me and feed me too, cause I’m not really opposed--”

“Guys, shut up.” Steve hissed, the walkie cutting in on the corner of a conversation.

“--eam. Repeat Team Macho Man, do you read?”

“Yes!” Steve almost shouted into the receiver, “We read, we’re here!”

It sounded like Dustin on the other end, which immediately waylaid one of Steve’s biggest fears.

“Oh thank-- okay guys so the plan changed. Find somewhere to hole up for the night and we’ll regroup in the morning.”

It was as good a plan as any, and honestly at this point with how far South their original plan had gone, he was sure they needed the time to work on a new attack plan. 

“Rodger that, any injuries on your side?” Steve asked, knowing Dustin would hear the underlying question that he couldn’t bare to ask.

“A couple, but nothing life threatening. You?”

“One,” Steve said until Eddie nudged him and he remembered his own bloody head wound, “Er, two, but nothing life threatening here either.”

“Good.” Dustin sounded as relieved as Steve felt, “Then get your asses somewhere safe. See you in the morning.”

“Yeah, see you in the morning.”

Steve took a deep breath and let the knowledge that his friends were alright soothe the remnants of anxiety clustered in his chest. They were alright, they were all alright. 

“Okay, now that Mama Bear is soothed, where are we going?” Billy caved in the moment of peace, “I’m not carrying Hagan all over the town so it better be near by.”

“Thought you were enjoying carrying me, Hargrove.” Tommy smirked.

“Never said that.”

“Didn’t have to.” Tommy grinned salaciously.

Steve watched Billy visibly think about dropping him and decide against it. 

“Keep talking shit and I give you to Munson.” 

Tommy narrowed his eyes, “You wouldn’t.” 

“I wouldn’t carry you either.” Eddie made a face, “Pretty sure you’d end up in the creek. You could swim next to us, like our own personal Hasselhoff. Hey, you guys think demofish are a thing yet?”

Steve winced, picturing all manner of deep sea fish he’d learned about in high school. Along with his already tumultuous relationship with water, the visual had his hands going clammy.

“No one is tossing anyone into anything cause Hagan is gonna be a gentleman, isn’t that right?” Billy asked with that menacing edge he seemed to be able to produce on the fly. Coming out of Steve that same sentence would have sounded like a nagging mother. 

Sometimes he envied Billy his role in their group. Just a little.

“I can’t promise anything.” Tommy muttered, “But I’m trying.”

That seemed to soften Billy a little, though only by fractions. He wasn’t the type to drop his guard all the way for pretty much anything. But in the middle of the multidimensional warzone Hawkins had become, one would be more likely to draw blood from a stone.

“‘Preciated.” Billy murmured in response, catching Tommy’s attention, “Now where in the fuck are we going?”

“How about Mel’s?” Steve suggested.

“The convenience store off main?” Eddie asked, poking his head around Tommy and Billy so he could see Steve.

“Yeah. It’s got bars on the windows, a security door, food, drinks--”

“Cigarettes.” Billy added, nodding along as thought his alone made the place viable.

“And booze.” Tommy pointed out, “I could use a shot. And so could this fucking bite, it itches.” 

“Might have to cut it off.” Billy said stoically, his poker face cracking at the look of sheer offense Tommy shot at him.

“No the fuck we will not.” 

“Seems like a good place to set up shop.” Eddie drummed the tip of his spear on his chin, full body wincing as he realized what he’d just done.

“Never been so happy about the idea of a wetnap bath.” Steve winced in sympathy for Eddie as he wretched.

Billy laughed so hard he almost dropped Tommy.

                                                            *

They made it to the convenience store with relative ease. Sure they had to fight a creature they had no name for to get inside, sure Tommy had puked when they realized the piece of meat Billy threw to distract it had been someone’s leg, but all told, it went better than Steve had thought it would.

Now they were barricaded inside, with Steve and Eddie rounding up ‘dinner’ while Billy tended Tommy’s wound.

“Never would have clocked you for a nurse, Hargrove.” Tommy said through his teeth as Billy dabbed blood away from the bite on his ankle with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“You’ve never talked to me before today for more than five minutes.” Billy muttered, pressing the whiskey and water soaked rag delicately against the outer edges of the wound.

Tommy groaned, his head tilting back as he tried to breathe past the sting of it. Billy handed him the bottle of liquor without looking. 

“Fuck, thanks.” Tommy spun the top off with one move, a practiced flourish that he’d done a hundred times as a party trick.

“Mmmhmm. It’s gonna need stitches, but you’re lucky.” Billy pinched the side of Tommy’s foot, all but ignoring the indignant ‘OW!’ the action produced, “Doesn’t look like it fucked up any nerves or tendons or shit. Hit the bone though, that’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”

Steve had seen Billy drop into this a couple times before. But the vertigo that had hit him the first time Billy helped him close up his wounds rather than causing them was still unmatched. Out of all of them, Billy was undoubtedly the closest thing they had to a field medic. 

“Thank you, doctor Hargrove.” Steve smiled a little at Billy, not entirely surprised when the ghost of a smile met him back.

He crouched down and let his bounty sprawl out in the space beside them. He’d grabbed as many things that were as close to actual foods as he could find. Canned chili, Vienna sausages, spam, even canned veggies. Eddie, of course, had gone the opposite route and rounded up as much junk food as his arms could carry.

“There was a generator when I poked my head in the back,” Eddie popped back up as soon as he set down his haul, “It’s getting dark and as much as I’d love to have a romantic candle lit dinner with you guys, that’s more of a third date kind of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure this counts as a third date,” Steve glanced over at Eddie, “If we’re going by Upside Down related bullshit.”

“We’re on our third, Sunshine and Flash Thomson are still new. Ish.” 

“Why does he get a comic book character and I get ‘Sunshine’?” Billy groused, “And this isn’t a date, Munson.”

Eddie sauntered on towards the back, “Why not? The adrenaline, the bonding, the fear of fucking it all up, it’s got the right vibes.”

“You haven’t been on a single date have you?” Tommy asked at the same time Billy said, “Because I have higher fucking standards for my dates.”

Eddie just shrugged his shoulders vaguely and disappeared around the corner into the back.

“God he’s fucking weird.” Tommy muttered.

“He grows on you.” Steve shrugged.

“Like mold.” Billy agreed.

                                                          *

Ultimately, Eddie did get the generator running, and they managed to heat up their food on the little radiator Billy found tucked behind the counter. Steve never would have thought of that, even presented with the same options, wouldn’t have managed to heat the food as evenly as Eddie and Billy had even if he did.

Now their bellies were full, and they were passing around a bottle of raspberry vodka that Billy had deemed ‘too sugary’ to clean Tommy’s wound with.

“So,” Tommy interrupted the mostly companionable silence they’d been sharing for the last few minutes, “You guys have been stuck hiding out from monsters before, what’s traditional to pass the time?”

Steve breathed out a laugh, rolling his eyes while Billy took the bottle from Tommy to down another swig.

“Usually we take watches, but nothing followed us in here. Probably still should.” Steve answered.

“Okay, should have been more specific, what do you do that isn’t boring as all fuck?”

“In my experience, usually the paralyzing bone deep fear keeps it from being too boring.” Eddie shrugged, “But this is a pretty nice set up we’ve got going, spoiled punk like you could call it boring.”

Tommy threw an M&M at him, which Eddie caught in his mouth. Billy applauded and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer offense on Tommy’s face yet again.

“I was going to ask if anyone wanted to play a drinking game like a normal bunch of dudes but I should have fucking known better.” 

“Hey you’re not normal anymore either.” Eddie argued from around his misbegotten treat, “When that bite scars, you’re not gonna be able to just explain it. That puts you right at the weirdo table with the rest of us.”

A look passed over Tommy’s face a little too fast for Steve to catch, “You… all have scars?”

Billy grunted but Tommy’s eyes were on Steve. 

“Yeah.” Steve nodded, “Plenty.”

Eddie lifted up the bottom of his shirt to show off the scars the demobats had left him. They hadn’t healed smoothly, the skin there largely being grafted from his back, which while also having suffered damage, wasn’t as gnarly to look at as his sides were. Eddie didn’t seem too put out, though Steve knew him well enough to know how well he could lock down his insecurities. 

“Stevie’s got matching ones, but these are from like six months ago.” Eddie let his shirt back down, “Bats.”

Tommy looked a little queasy, still hadn’t blinked since Eddie had lifted up his shirt.

“Didn’t get bats. Liquid people monster.” Billy’s voice was tight with emotion he would sooner die than show in front anyone else, “Fucked me up pretty bad.”

That was an understatement if Steve had ever heard one. Billy had been in critical condition for three weeks, and then spent the next eight months recovering. They still didn’t know everything going on with him, other than that in addition to super strength, his blood was now basically battery acid. 

“No scars?” Tommy asked, though his voice was much softer than Steve was accustomed to hearing it.

Billy sighed, sitting up to strip off his top. He only hesitated a moment before he was pulling it up and off of himself.

In the center of his chest was a dent with tightly stretched pink skin across it. The skin was almost shiny and so thin when he breathed Steve could easily see the bones through it. On either of his sides, the skin was similar to Eddie’s though the wounds were single points rather than jagged collectives. Some of the musculature on his left side was also concave, missing where it hadn’t been able to heal properly. 

Steve heard Tommy’s intake of breath, knew he was comparing what he saw with what he knew Billy had looked like before. To Steve surprise he wasn’t recoiling in horror, wasn’t spewing venom to cover for the fear it must have seeded in him.

“Well shit.” He whispered, “Should I ask what the other guy looks like?”

Billy laughed, softly at first before it seemed to take root and he couldn’t stop. He tilted over, laughing so hard tears formed at the corners of his eyes. 

“What?” Tommy asked, when it was clear Billy wouldn’t be able to answer him, “I know I’m a riot but I’m pretty sure I’m not that funny.”

“The other guy was a four-story tall melted people monster that got taken out by a little girl and an assload of fireworks.” Steve explained, “Billy looks way better than it did.”

“Hey Munson, you want to pass me back that bottle?” Tommy shuddered.

“Yeah, take a double man.”

[astheskycries]

Her

Andy reflects on the night he can't get out of his head. Sequel to Him.

Masterlist Buy Me a Coffee

Andy sighs as he loosens his tie, needing relief from from seeing her so fired up, eyes burning into his soul as she stormed out of his office.

Her.

Never once did he suspect her to be his new assistant, and somehow that knowledge infuriates him even more. He could handle many things: a particularly rowdy client, a one night stand refusing to leave, even the betrayal of a close client- but she was something he couldn’t quite claim or put his finger on. Something welcoming, refreshing- something he desperately needed in his world.

He certainly hadn’t intended to be at the club so late either; maybe it was the burn of the alcohol allowing him to finally relax for the first time in weeks, maybe it was the stress of constantly taking everyone’s problems on his shoulders, but whatever kept him so late only allowed him to be distracted by her the moment he laid eyes on her. Sitting alone off to the side, clearly happy to be there but also not wanting to be in the spotlight- something he found refreshing after years of women trying to weasel their way to his arms for the benefits of being seen with the biggest name in Boston.

It was so innocent and obvious when those innocent eyes met his that someone finally saw him, not the man on magazines and headlines for being some “eligible bachelor”, whatever that meant. It drew him in, and before he knew it they were tangled in his sheets, her moans fueling his lust until there was nothing but feral desire, making him near animalistic as they clung to each other.

Shaking his head, Andy pulls himself from thought and looks again at her notes, unable to find a single flaw for him to correct.

Of course not.

Releasing a breathless chuckle, he sets it to a different stack and starts cleaning up, paging his receptionist to call you back in as he finally releases a breath, fighting back the smirk when he sees you still riled up. “I assume that client called back?”

She rolls her eyes, dropping into the seat across his desk while managing to maintain the the professional air her blazer gave her. “He did, and he is still incompetent, but nothing I can’t handle. What was wrong with the report I sent you earlier? If you give me time I can fix it and-“

“The report was flawless,” He sets it between them, watching her brows furrow cutely as she studies it. “Which is practically unheard of in this company.” He nods to the paper, still watching her confusion. “Keep that up and you’ll make it very far.”

He watches her embarrassment, how she dips her head and shyly brushes hair away from her face. “Thank you…” She swallows and meets his eyes, the intensity making him freeze in his seat. “Are you going to talk about what happened?”

He purses his lips, sighing through his nose as he tries to maintain the indifferent act he started weeks ago as he leans back in his chair. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).”

“Bullshit,” Her jaw clenches, eyes burning in anger as she watches his every move. “You say nothing happened and dismiss me and my work, but then you look at me like you want to fuck me into next week. You can’t have both.”

He dips his head, closing his eyes briefly and licking his lips. Of course she wouldn’t understand; she doesn’t have to live her life pushing people away and guarding herself from everyone in order to protect her heart. “You need to understand-“

“Understand?” She snaps, rising to her feet in frustration. “If you want me to go, just say so!”

Andy stills, slowly rising and eyes locked on her as he stalks closer, not hesitating when she backs closer to the wall until she’s trapped, his face inches from hers as he traps her without even needing to block her with his arms. “If I wanted you gone, little one, you would know.” He tilts his head as he watches her fumble for an excuse, finally losing that poised and practiced air and becoming more of the woman he couldn’t keep off his mind. “Why don’t you try telling me the truth?”

She practically growls, glaring up at him as he meets her eyes calmly. “You known damn well you’re the one pushing me away.”

“I am,” He says calmly, studying her newly guarded expression. “But there are certain things you don’t understand. They go far beyond what happened between us.” Things I don’t want to ruin you.

She shakes her head, jaw clenching. “I’m not interested in your <I>situations</I>, Barber.” She pushes him back firmly, only making him sway back a bit but enough for her to move away. “You’re pathetic, you know that? You’ve sat there watching me like a hawk only to treat me like a piece of meat.”

His jaw clenches, feeling an angry muscle tick in his jaw. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

“Do I?” She shakes her head, snatching her report from his desk. “I have work to do.” She storms away without a word, and he closes the door before dropping into the nearest chair and holding his face in his hands, images and thoughts making him feel restless.

She didn’t know she filled his thoughts every moment of the day. She didn’t know that it crushed him to wake up to an empty bed. She didn’t know that he had started trying to find out who she was to try something, anything to let him get close to her again. Her moans, her skin against his, even the way their bodies molded together they they belonged- every second of meeting her plagues his thoughts and reminds him how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is. He needs a partner, someone to love and who loves more than just the CEO of Barber Law. Andy wants a partner, sure, but he needs someone who sees beyond the mask he’s had on for years.

All he wants is her.

Tags:  @janeyboo  @mylittlefandomfanfictions  @palaiasaurus64  @averyrogers83  @guera31  @soulmates8  @coffeebooksandfandom  @sweater-daddiesdumbdork  @pegasusdragontiger  @mizzzpink  @onetwo3000  @see-you-again-my-sun-and-stars  @sleepylunarwolf  @wheresmyplums  @smoothdogsgirl  @marvelouslyme96  @esoltis280  @jtargaryen18  @k-evans-writes  @rainbowkisses31  @buchanansebba @katiew1973  @patzammit  @time-for-a-lullaby

[yougottalovebuckybarnes]

A pt. 2 to forgive me would be great!!!

Forgive Me, Pt. 2 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

A/N: Hello, my loves! I apologize for nearly taking two months to get a sequel out, but there is a reason for that. I will talk more about that in a second author's note at the end. :) Thank you all for such wonderful feedback! I was absolutely blown away by the love and all of your comments! Makes me so happy to know you all have enjoyed my work!

I ended this part with an open ending. I could just finish it here and leave it up to your imagination. Or, I could turn this into a (mini) series. (I'm honestly up for the challenge, but I'm wondering if any of you are interested in more). Let me know what you all think! Also, I tagged everyone who commented asking for a second part, just so you all see it! Hope you enjoy! :)

-M <3

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Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, Topics of Suicide/Dark Themes

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It took  just over an hour for her to drift to sleep, but I remained next to her for as long as I could. I did not dare to take my eyes off of her, not even for a moment. It felt as if she would slip through my fingers the moment I looked away, becoming nothing more than a warm memory and a devastating loss. Her mortality was always something that I worried about, especially when she went on missions.  I did not think that I could ever survive losing her. And after what almost happened today, I knew that I most certainly wouldn’t have.

My fingers gently pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, moving to linger against her cheek, still damp with tears. Even as she slept, Y/N did not look like she found peace. Dark shadows lingered under her eyes,  and bruises dotted the skin of her jaw from the mission. Her body, although settled into the mattress and against my chest, felt tense as if she could not let herself rest.

The buzz of my phone interrupted my thoughts, and my hand reached out to grab it off of the nightstand.  Steve’s name flashed across the screen, and not long after, Natasha’s and Wanda’s did as well.  I could not even bear the thought of looking at any of them so I had only asked FRIDAY to update them on what happened and asked to be left alone.  The incoming text notifications rotated between the three of them, yet I refused to answer any of them. 

I had a hard time identifying exactly how I was feeling, but I knew that anger was certainly there.  How could it not? Perhaps I had been ignorant to how bad things had become, but I trusted all of them to at least treat Y/N with some sort of dignity.  Instead, they had treated her like she meant nothing, and she accepted it without second thought. That hurt infinitely more than the wound in my shoulder. 

I placed the phone back on the nightstand, sinking deeper into the covers and gently pulling Y/N closer, if that was even possible. I let my lips brush against her forehead, my eyes finally falling shut for a moment of peace. Not even a minute later, the buzzing of my phone resumed and I couldn’t help my small groan of irritation when it did not stop. 

“Is it Steve?” I glanced down to find my bride looking up at me, her gaze still heavy with sleep. 

“Doesn’t matter. Go back to sleep, doll. I’m sorry I woke you.” 

“You need to go talk to him.” Y/N shook her head gently, reaching up to place her hand on my cheek.  “I’m sure he’s worried about you.” 

“Let him worry, then.” I sighed, my left hand moving to cover the one she placed on my cheek.  “I won’t leave you again.” 

“I will be just fine, baby. “ She promised gently, giving me a small smile. “It’s not like you’ll be gone forever.” 

“No… but you almost were.” My voice felt weak, the image of finding her on the floor with the medicine bottle popped open flashing in my mind. I had never been more afraid in my life, and the thought of leaving her now seemed nearly impossible to even consider. 

Y/N’s smile faltered at my words, and I looked away, my chest aching as I tried my hardest to force my tears away. 

“Bucky, look at me.” 

I felt myself shake my head, my bottom lip trapped between my teeth as I sat upright in bed. Flashes of what could have been flooded my mind. The lowering of her casket at her funeral, the never-ending grief that would follow it, everything.  It felt so real, yet it fortunately would not be reality, at least not for years to come. 

“Baby…”  I felt her hand against my back and I hesitantly turned to look at her as she moved to sit up beside me. “I am not going anywhere. I promise you.” 

“I was almost too late.”  The words felt so bitter as they left my lips and the lump in my throat only grew larger. “If I had come in even a moment later than I had- “ 

“Stop.” A soft hand grasped my chin, and my eyes focused on hers. Tears were beginning to pool in hers, and I felt immediate guilt for being the reason behind them. “Don’t blame yourself for something that was out of your control. “ 

“It should have been, doll.” I shook my head sadly, my heart aching in my chest. “I should’ve realized how bad things had gotten before we were sent on that mission. And I certainly should’ve knocked some sense into Steve too.” 

“He’s a smart man. Maybe one day he’ll figure it out.” She gave a small smile, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes playfully at her attempts to lighten the conversation. 

“Maybe he just needs a solid punch to the face. I will literally knock some sense into him.” 

“Beating up your best friend does not seem like the way to resolve this, Bucky.” 

“Maybe not.” A sigh slipped through my lips, and I smiled as Y/N gently ran her hand through my shortened hair. “But it feels like the easiest way. And perhaps the most satisfying after all that’s happened.” 

“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, baby.�� She shook her head, and removed her hand from my hair to place it in my vibranium one. “You’re just going to have to talk it out.” 

“Talk it out? You make it seem like we are fighting over who ate the last piece of pizza in the fridge, not over something as serious as this.” 

“You’ll have to forgive him, Bucky.” Y/N sighed softly, looking down at our conjoined hands as our fingers interlocked. “I’m already trying to. It’s hard, but I love him like he is family. We can’t lose them. And I know you certainly can’t lose Steve again… not after all that has happened.” 

It was silent for a few moments, before I leaned in and kissed her forehead softly 

“It amazes me how much grace and forgiveness you have in your heart. And it makes me love you all the more.” I smiled before pulling away. “But honestly, killing Steve sounded like the most rational idea in my mind.” 

“Oh, stop. You would not kill him.” 

“Eh, maybe not. I think knocking his lights out would suffice. But you get the point.” 

“I know you’re joking around here, but I’m serious… please do not kill Steve.” She shot me a stern look as I rose from the bed, grabbing my shirt from the floor and pulling it over my head. “I really do want to make things right here.” 

“I know…” I leaned down and kissed her softly. “I promise that I will try to be as civil as I can.” 

“Good.” Y/N smiled before tilting her head towards the door. “You better get going, then. Don’t need anyone knocking down the door.” 

=====

I walked quietly down the hall, feeling tense as I approached the living room. I quite honestly did not know how this was going to go.  Part of me hoped that Steve had gone to bed, finally giving up on waiting for me.   But as I grew closer, sounds of a movie playing and the familiar voices of all three of my teammates smashed that hope to pieces. 

Realizing that they were too engrossed in conversation to notice my entrance, I cleared my throat quietly, watching as all three heads whipped around in my direction. 

“Bucky…” Steve stood up from the couch, but did not make any further movement in my direction.  Instead, I continued to move towards him. 

My fist connected with his nose with a sickening crunch, and I heard the two women gasp as Steve fell backwards onto the ground with a grunt. He raised his hand up to his nose, wincing as he pulled it back to find a small splatter of blood coating his fingers. “I guess I deserved that.” 

“Oh, you deserve a lot more than that.” I shook my head as I cracked my knuckles, watching him slowly rise to his feet again. “But I promised Y/N I wouldn’t kill you.” 

“Bucky…” Wanda’s hand gently touched my shoulder, but I pulled away, taking a few steps back to look at all three of them. 

“Y/N’s going to be fine.” My voice grew hard as I watched each of their faces light up with relief. “No thanks to any of you…”

“Barnes-“ 

“No, I don’t want to hear it.” I snapped, my eyes fixed on Natasha as I cut her off. “I do not want to hear any of your goddamn excuses that you think will justify what happened today, or any of the weeks before, quite frankly. I don’t give a shit that you felt ‘betrayed’ by her. You absolutely destroyed her.” 

“We’re sorry….” 

“You’re sorry…” I muttered, echoing Wanda’s words as I processed them quietly. “But you weren’t sorry until you drove her to swallow a bottle of medication in her room. You weren’t sorry until I woke up, and you had to own up to what happened.” 

The room fell silent, and I watched as each of their faces fell at the revelation of what Y/N had tried to do. Wanda’s tears began to fall and Natasha’s head fell into her hands. Steve looked absolutely devastated, but I could not tell if anything about him was genuine anymore.  

“I can’t believe how willing she is to try to make amends with all of you.” My voice cracked, but I refused to let my tears fall free in front of them. “She loves you like family, yet you so easily trusted the word of a fucking journalist over hers. How could you treat her like this?” 

The room fell silent again, and I was growing irritated of the pity party that the three of them seemed to be having.  I walked up to Steve again and shoved him forcefully in the chest. 

“Answer me, Rogers. How could you fucking do this? You are like a brother to me. I trust you with my life, and despite all that has happened, I trusted you with hers.  How could you treat the woman that I love like she meant nothing?” 

Steve’s eyes were watery with tears, but they did not do anything to smother my rage. Fuck his tears, I was angry. 

 Furious that the man that I had grown up with would treat my bride in a manner as vicious as this.  Furious that I had not intervened sooner than I had. Furious that I had not protected her like I promised in my vows, for better or for worse.

The silence was deafening, and I knew that Steve did not have an answer that would ever be good enough. My eyes flickered to the other two women who remained somber and silent. 

“Y/N can forgive you all she wants. Until all of you can answer for what you have done, I will have nothing to do with any of you. Even you, Steve.” 

The three of them looked at me silently, sadness in their expressions and tears in their eyes as I slowly turned and walked back towards Y/N's room. Despite not having harmed her physically, Y/N's life had almost been lost. It felt impossible to even imagine forgiveness, but I sure wish that I could. I loved Steve like a brother, and I had grown close with Wanda and Nat too. But no love would ever be stronger than the love I had for Y/N. And because of the lies of a stranger, her life was nearly lost in the process.  

I could hardly recognize the three of them as people I cared about, let alone find it in me to forgive them. Maybe one day, after time had passed and Y/N had healed, I would find it in me to do so.

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TAGLIST:

@missvelvetsstuff

@erinallene

@ladyalexandranna

@angelwatson

@buckyalpine

@ada728

@bwhitewolfbarnes

@kjah97

@ineverybreathofyou

@sarbear94

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A/N 2:

Hello again, my lovely readers! Here is a little explanation of what has been going on. For the past couple of weeks, I have had a really hard time with school and managing my depression. I decided this past week to take a break from college for a semester and focus on healing and finding what makes me happy again. While I am disappointed that I won't graduate when I expected to, I am excited not only to get some rest but to write more. I absolutely love writing for this blog, and my other fandom blogs as well. I hope that I can post more often, and write a lot more in general. My requests are open, so if you have any ideas you'd like me to try to write, I am more than willing to do so! Thank you all so much for the support and I will see you next time!

-M <3