#AND TOMORROW WHO WILL COME AND PUT THEIR HAND OVER MINE / MINE WITH THE BURNING SHAPE OF A GUN

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[echeveriia]

song of the day is the racing heart by katatonia

[drgnflyteabox]

mdni - the 141 find a cozy place to stay during an op (that's definitely all that happens). implied fat!reader

(dubcon, poly, gangbang, anal, price is in charge of everyone<3)

So blizzards can happen in the blink of an eye on high, isolated mountains, right?

And the 141 have done missions in rural places, snowy places, mountainous places, right?

And there are tons of tiny little isolated towns, all over the world, built around these mountains for one reason or another - coal mining, logging, etc.

Now imagine the 141 on a mission, somewhere cold, somewhere isolated, a place that feels like the edge of the world. Desolate.

Now imagine the 141 seeing, in the near distance, a winking pale orange light. It's a good enough place as any to approach - it isn't safe to be caught in this blizzard, anyhow. Even with their gear, the safehouse is still an hour away and the snowfall seems historic...

Now imagine you're sitting in your family home, all alone, going a little crazy with cabin fever. Your woodstove is burning hot, but you're still cuddled up in knits and a thermal underneath. You're making stew for dinner with root vegetables from the basement cellar, it's bubbling and softening for you while you crochet, trying to keep your mind off the monumental shoveling task you'll have to deal with tomorrow

Until there's a knock on the door.

"Hello ma'am, I'm just wondering if me and my friends here could rest until it's safe to continue our hike?" (I love the way gaz says ma'am)

Hike? Nobody hikes up here - you've only ever seen a couple tourists in your life, thrill seeking ice climbers who came and went.

And they certainly weren't dressed in snow camo, hiding guns behind their backs.

But you were raised right, and the man at the door has kind eyes - he's handsome, too, but you'd never say it out loud. Gaz pushes the door further in when you tentatively open it, and in comes barreling three more massive men, their boots stomping and leaving a mess.

Soap smells the stew on the stove and beelines for it, lifting his helmet to inhale deeply.

Ghost sweeps the room like it might be hiding an enemy somewhere- even though it's one room total, the stove in the middle, separating the kitchen and your bed.

Price approaches you all apologetic, apologizing for "these ruffians", holding his camo helmet to his gut like it's formalwear. "Apologies, sweetheart, we weren't expecting the weather to turn on us."

You aren't quite sure how you end up sitting on prices lap, naked except for your socks, while he squeezes your stomach and grunts in your ear not to be shy when putting your weight on him. His other hand is cupped over your pussy, murming thank yous for feeding his men.

They're eating your stew, stripped out of gear, cocks tented in their white cargos.

"We're a gaggle of lucky boys, eh?" Soap says. "Nice, cozy, soft girl. Warm cabin. A man could get used to this."

You wind up pressed down on your mattress, hands held behind you by one man while another fucks you hard, spurred on by price behind them. At first, it's johnny, whining high in his throat while price guides his hips and gaz holds your arms by your head. "Need to thank her proper, boy." The obvious authority in prices voice makes your pussy clench around him, and he shakes over you, trying hard not to come too early.

Gaz reaches down from where he's holding your arms, pinching your clit until you buck against Johnny and squirt around him.

Then it's gaz, who lifts your legs and squeezes your big thighs, locking eyes with ghost. He's steady, only breaking composure when Simon praises him. "Thats a lad. Good, just like that, Kyle." He's the first to ever make you come from penetration alone, hips moving in a way that makes your abdomen tighten and tighten and tighten until you reach the longest orgasm of your life, nearly crying with how intense it feels.

Price ends up flipping you over - nudging you up on your hands and knees, the bed creaking with the combined weight of he and his lieutenant taking their places in front and behind you.

Simon slips his cock in your mouth, staring down at you through the balaclava. You can barely make out a thick scar, one that looks like it might go through his whole face. You lose focus when price pushes his fingers in your ass, though, and you squeal.

There's no where to run except further down simons cock, though, where you gag, spit running all down your chest onto the bed.

"Shh, sh," Price rubs your flank like you're a spooked animal. He squeezes the ample flesh of your asscheek appreciatively. "Jus wanna give your poor pussy a break, aye? I reckon she's tired,"

He pushes into you impatiently and it burns a little, but he soothes it with a palm over your soft, sore cunt. Rubs a thumb over your clit slowly, jostling you back and forth over simons cock.

You come once more before the night is over, tears finally running down your cheeks, mixing with your saliva, with simons come. It's a painful orgasm, wrenched from you - but that makes it all the sweeter.

They wipe you down and spoon feed you more stew, after, to recover your energy :') price has the boys tidy their boot tracks and put away leftovers while he and Simon hold you from both sides. They can barely fit with you on your bed, but tucked in like this - on top of your furs, naked as the day you were born, praised for your soft body and "What a good girl you are, babydoll."

Sigh

I'm sure this idea has probably been written but I was listening to this and couldn't stop imagining it lmfao

[cxptain-capsicle]

Beyond the Sea | Luke Castellan | II

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Unclaimed Poseidon Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn flashbacks, established relationship present day, Gods being terrible parents

A/N: If you are new around here I love taking suggestions and incorporating your guy's ideas and headcannons in my series so feel free to leave thoughts in my inbox!

Series Masterlist Taglist

“So all of the major 12 gods have their own cabin where their children live. Children from one cabin can’t go into another god's cabin.” Luke explained as he walked you down the aisle of houses. “This one is ours.”

“Ours?” You raised your eyebrow questionably.

“All the new arrivals stay here, in the Hermes cabin.” Luke gestured towards a cabin that was much larger than all of the others. It wasn’t nearly as elegant as the ones around it but it felt warm and welcoming. It looked like a simple log cabin with a large front porch held by tall log columns. On the front of the house was a large green banner with a Greek symbol in the center. Over the door a semi-circle stained glass window that reminded you of the ones in the Big House. The cabin looked a little run down but that wasn’t shocking considering the amount of kids running around inside. Walking inside felt like entering a circus tent. There was yelling, laughing, singing, kids running around, hanging upside down from bunk beds. Even with the chaos it still felt cozy. The inside was dimly lantern lit, the walls were paneled with dark wood, in the center was a large fire pit that made the whole room feel like a warm hug. You followed Luke further into the cabin as several heads turned to look at the new arrival.  

“Here,” Luke said as he led you to a bed and dropped the few things that you had on the bed. “This one was mine, now it’s yours.” 

“You’re giving me your bed?” 

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged. “I’ll move to the top bunk, it’ll be nice to have a change.” He was humble. He was willing to give you one of the only things that was his and he didn’t want any praise for it.

“Thank you.” You meant it, and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Everyone!” Chiron announced as he trotted into the cabin doors. “Your attention, please. This is Percy Jackson. I trust you will see to whatever he needs.” Everyone stared at the sandy-haired boy awkwardly. Everyone in the Hermes cabin was used to this by now. New kid comes in, new kid gets claimed, new kid leaves, and the cycle continues. Within seconds everyone went back to their conversations although many of those conversations now included the word: Minotaur.

You and Luke glanced at each other unsure if you should say anything to the boy. 

“He shouldn’t be alone.” You whispered to him. “Grover said the Minotaur killed his mom.” 

You followed Luke as he made his way to the boy, who sat up quickly when we approached.

“Look, if you want to give me a hard time, just do it tomorrow.” He said before either Luke or you could get a word out. “I can't do any more today.” 

“Heard what happened to you on the hill.” Luke said slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “And I just... wanted to say I'm really sorry.” 

“I know what you're going through.” You chimed in. “Believe me, I really do.”

“I'm Luke.” He reached out to shake the boy's hand.

“Percy.” He hesitantly grabbed Luke’s hand.

“Y/n.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. He reminded you so much of yourself when you first came to camp so many years ago.

“Rise and shine!” Luke’s voice boomed above you. You groaned and turned away from him in an attempt at protest.

“Five more minutes.” Luke chuckled at your words but he didn’t take it for an answer.

“C’mon.” He ripped the blanket off of the bed. “First day at camp, gotta make it count.”

“Luke!” You shouted, the cold air shocking your body. “Do you make it a habit to torture the new campers?” You groaned as you rolled out of bed and began to put your shoes on. Luke was already geared up and ready to go, twitching with excitement.

“Only the ones who make it easy.” He smirked. 

“Screw you.” You reached to grab your pillow and threw it at his face. It caught him by surprise causing him to stumble back, making both of you laugh.

“Maybe you’re an Ares kid?” He faked injury dramatically. “We’ll find out today.”

“What?” That piqued your interest. Ever since you arrived at camp yesterday you couldn’t stop thinking about getting claimed.

“We’re gonna figure out what you’re good at. Maybe that’ll help us figure out who your parent is.” Luke explained.

“Where do we start?” You stood up with excitement.

“Breakfast.” 

The two of you made your way to the mess hall, it was much more crowded this morning than it was the previous day. Each of the tables were nearly full with kids chatting over breakfast. 

“So what’s your story?” You asked Luke as you sat down with your breakfast.

“What do you mean?” He chuckled slightly.

“Your story.” You repeated. “How’d you get here?”

“Well,” He sighed. “I’ve been here for 3 summers.” He pulled at the necklace around his neck with three colored beads strung on the brown cord. “I came here with Annabeth, an Athena kid.”

He gestured over to a girl a few years younger than you sitting at the Athena table. “And Thalia, she uh- she didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Your voice trailed off. “I’m sorry Luke.” 

“Thalia died getting us to camp safely.” He continued. “She died a hero.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. “Then I got here, got claimed by Hermes.” Even mentioning his father seemed to send chills down his back.

“What happens if I don’t get claimed?” The thought had crossed your mind more than a few times.

“Well,” Luke shifted in his seat. “It doesn’t happen too often but, you’d stay in the Hermes cabin. That’s where all the unclaimed kids stay.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll need to move beds because you snored above me all night.” You teased.

“Oh no way I’ll just follow you wherever you go.” He said as he took a big bite of his breakfast. “So who are we looking for, a mom or a dad?”

“I’m not sure.” You said through a bit of toast. “I was left at a firehouse as a baby so I have no idea who my mortal parent is either.”

“So where did you live?” Luke leaned onto his elbow on the table in interest.

“Foster families, group homes, things like that.” You explained. “Until monsters would trash them and I’d get blamed for it and get moved.”

“Well, we can’t rule out any god but we’ll start out with the olympians. We’ve got a lot of work to do,”

After breakfast Luke led you all around camp. He took you to Arts and Crafts and sat you down at an empty sheet of canvas and easel with a bowl of miscellaneous fruit in front of it. Luke went around to the front of  the easel and knocked the bowl onto the floor.

“I have a better subject for your painting.” He stood in front of you, placed his hands on his hips and looked to the side triumphantly. The pose of a hero. You laughed at him and did your best to capture him on the canvas. You tried to take your time but Luke quickly started complaining that his arms were hurting and urged you to hurry. The top half of the painting was pretty good, you could tell it was Luke, you even captured his smug smirk which made you smile. As you went down the painting got more rushed and sloppy but you blamed Luke for that.

“Tada.” You said enthusiastically as you took the canvas off the easel and turned it around to show him. He came up quickly to grab it.

“You didn’t fully capture my good looks, but other than that it’s pretty good.” He shrugged and you laughed and smacked his shoulder with a paintbrush. “So maybe an Apollo kid.” He took the canvas from you and rolled it up, saving it for later in his bag.

Luke continued to lead you around camp trying everything he could think of. He took you to the forge and quickly decided you were likely not a Hephaestus kid after you struggled to even make a dent in the hot metal. He took you to the archery range and despite never holding a bow before, you weren’t too bad. Artemis could be a maybe. He took you to a little training obstacle course by the arena designed to test speed and agility. You did your best but got hit by multiple bags of sand that were built to resemble flying harpies. So Hermes is a no. “Well, we’re definitely not siblings.” Luke laughed as you got hit by a sandbag that toppled you over. For whatever reason that felt very relieving to you. He took you to the strawberry fields where you propagated a few berries. Possibly Demeter. Finally Luke wanted to test your swordsmanship. You were excited for this. Only being here a day and a half you had already heard of Luke’s skills with a sword. Having been on the run from monsters basically your whole life you had gotten pretty good at fighting,

“We’ll get some swords and go to the woods to practice.” Luke told you on the way to the armory.

“Why are we going to the woods?” You questioned.

“So I don’t embarrass you in front of everyone when I beat you.” He smiled widely.

“I hate you-” You laughed but were cut off by someone yelling from up the hill.

“New girl!” Another girl shouted. As you kept walking closer she became easier to see. She was dressed in full greek armor and wore a helmet with a bright red crest. When she took off the helmet her dark curly hair slipped out and gave you a better look at her face.

“Her name is Y/n,” You swore Luke was scowling. “Play nice.”

“Am I not allowed to meet the girl we almost died trying to find?” She faked offense. 

“You were in the cave.” You remembered. “You thought I was dead.” 

“You looked dead.” She shrugged. “So what are you two doing out here?”“Y/n’s gonna try her hand at some combat.” Luke explained.

“Perfect.” Clarisse said menacingly. She grabbed a chestplate off the rack and held it out to you. “I’ll take the first round.”

“Clarisse, I don’t think-” Luke started but you cut him off.

“Let’s do it.” You eagerly took the chestplate and a sword off of the wall. Something about Clarisse invigorated you. Luke looked at you wearily but figured he was quick enough to stop Clarisse before she killed you. You and Clarisse were stationed about 6 feet away from each other, you armed with a sword and her with a spear. Before you even realized you’d begun she stormed forward, her spear pointed towards you. You took a step to the side to avoid being impaled and she quickly redirected the tip of her spear to follow you but you went under the head of the spear with your sword blade, sending the tip of her spear towards the sky. You took a swipe at her with your sword but she quickly deflected. While you were recovering from your failed attack she slashed the head of her spear down. You stepped back to avoid the spear hitting your face but the tip of the spearhead tore into your shoulder causing you to whine in pain.

“Y/n!” Luke cried out and he began to run to your side but you held out your hand telling him to stop. Your face flushed hot with anger. You weren’t mad at Clarisse, it was a fight and people get hurt. You had always been easy to set off especially in competition. 

“It’s just a cut,” You stared Clarisse down. “Let’s keep going.”

“I like this girl.” She laughed before rushing forward again with a giddy smile before taking a stab at you. You took one hand off of your sword and grabbed the shaft of the spear as tightly as you could. She pulled and pulled but couldn’t get the spear free from your grasp. You picked your foot up and landed a hard kick in her stomach sending both of you flying backwards. Despite your best efforts you lost grip on your sword but went down with the spear. You both stumbled to your feet and when you did were both met with a blade under your chins. You with her spear and her with your sword. A draw. She laughed and lowered the sword and you did the same.

“Good to know we didn’t risk our lives for someone completely useless.” You thought that was a compliment coming from Clarisse.

“Let me see your arm.” Luke panicked as he rushed over to you. He grabbed your arm and began examining the cut on your shoulder. The cloth of your Camp Half-Blood was torn and the gash was bleeding much more than you had realized. “Let’s get you to the big house.”

The entire walk to the big house Luke muttered under his breath how it was so stupid to fight Clarisse and it wasn’t until after a few of the Apollo kids treated your wound he admitted that he was impressed. Saying that of course you still couldn’t compare to his sword skills.

I would love to hear feedback! &lt;3

Taglist: @fudosl @lenasvoid

[auraisereigh]

"The general's son"

Chapter Four

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: Brennan and Star have spend some time together. All the while Star tries to cope with her losses. wc: 4.6k ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Grief and loss, All the emotional hearbreaking stuff. Let me know if i missed something. Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader

Star's masterlist main masterlist

The Healers that stayed here during the burning of Aretia found Brennan to be completely fine despite the arrow that was shot in his chest and the coming back from the dead.

He looked fine, alive. Physically he was fine too. Walking the same pace as me as I lead him to the room he's staying at. Floor three, left side, first door. It's spacious, hell every room in this Castle is spacious. It holds a two person bed with soft sheets and pillows, a desk with various supplies like pens and paper. A wardrobe and the beautiful sight from the window. Which looks out over the mountain part, not the city part that's been burned.

"I'll see if I can find you some clothes later." I say, my voice is still rough from all the crying.

My father is dead. Executed.

My eyes are most likely blood shot red. And by the way he looks at me he knows something is wrong.

"Kitchen is on the first floor, so is the library. The door there," I explain pointing at a door in the corner next to the bed. "Is a small bathroom. I'll bring soap and all of that later. You can come if you wanna choose the scents."

He looks overwhelmed. Extremely overwhelmed. "We can pick soaps tomorrow too if that's better." I propose, my voice is much quieter now. His hand traces over a notebook on the desk. "I'll leave you alone for a moment. If you need me I'm on the second floor, right side door two." I finished before walking out and heading towards my room.

☆

After about two hours of going through my dad's stuff in his office I hear a sharp knock not far from here. My dad's office is a large room but it's right next to mine and as I left the door of the office open the knock on my door is clear.

I walk out the door and almost immediately spot Brennan at my door. "Hey... sorry I was in my dad's office.... Cleaning up.' I say hoping it comes out more confident. It dawns on me that I really don't know him at all. He turns to me, a small smile on his face. "It's fine." He assures me. He looks like someone who has a caring nature. "I was just wondering if you could show me the soaps?" His question mirrors how awkward I feel.

"Sure... Follow me." I end up saying at last.

My aunt loved all different kinds of soaps, scents, colors, all of it she loved it. There was a market in Aretia where she bought all of the soaps, all handmade.

I make my way down to one of the many basements in this Castle, this basement specifically was only for family, all the extra stock was put here.

"Bottom shelf is hand soaps, second is body wash and the top are all kinds of extra you can find." My voice doesn't even sound like it belongs to me, that's how scratchy it sounds. "Pick whatever scents you like." I say walking to the basement stairs and sitting on them watching as he carefully picks the scents and looks through it all.

The headache that started hours ago is still there, still a reminder that my dad is truly gone.

After a while he walks back to me, soaps and all in his hands. They're all autumn scents. "You like autumn scents?" I ask, my voice still slightly scratchy. He shrugs. "They're comforting scents." He responds with his soft voice. We're In the middle of summer and he chooses autumn scents? "I've got candles in those scents too if you wanna." I say sarcastic but it doesn't come over like that. It's true though, autumn scents can be very comforting but not in summer, not with what just happened. I'm not even sure I can find comfort anymore. Even my dad's office felt cold.

He gives me a small smile, a dimple showing, only one, not one on each side. "Naolin like autumn scents too." My voice comes out more cold than I intended to. His smile falls and guilt seeps into me. It's not his fault naolin sacrificed himself for Brennan. "I'm sorry." It's almost a whisper. "Don't be." He starts putting the soaps on a nearby, empty shelf. He sits next to me on the stairs. "I know he meant a lot to you. Gods, sometimes he wouldn't stop talking about you. How funny you were, how smart, how thoughtful and reasonable." He chuckles a little at the list he's going off. "And something tells me that something else happened while I was in the infirmary. You don't have to tell me but the red, puffy eyes, the scratchy throat, the adorable little sniffs, They pretty much sell you." I knew it was obvious on my face but I didn't need the actual descriptions.

He looks at me with soft, amber eyes and I can barely hold my tears in as I sniff a little harder. He doesn't hesitate, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him, holding me close as his chin rests on my head, whispering soothing words about how it's all gonna be okay.

"My father has been executed." I say, almost not being able to say it through the lump in my throat. His arms tighten. "You're his daughter aren't you? Fen Riorson's daughter?" It's not an accusation, it's curiosity. I nod against him as tears stream down my face.

"and I don't know anything about my brother. Whether he's okay and taken care of or if he's..." I trail off as my breathing becomes more panicked.

"It's okay." He soothes comforting. "It's okay to cry." He holds me against him, my body collapsing in his embrace. It's the second time I've cried today. I've never felt so devastated.

After a while he lets go but his hand stays in my hair. I sniffle softly. He looks at me with a soft expression, a small comforting smile on his face. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" He asks softly, like I might break.

He takes a hold of my hand and with the other he collects his stuff. Slowly but steady we walk up the staircase and then up the marble staircase that leads up the floors. On the walk there I'm reminded of how empty this fortress is, how quiet. We stop by my room. I slowly open the door, everything is happening slowly.

The room is still untouched from the last time I came here. He leads me inside, his hand on my back. "Why don't you get some sleep? See if that helps." He proposes. I can't deny that sleeping does sound good. Like a deep winter sleep, that would be nice. I sit on my bed, the soft sheets feel nice. Especially compared to the ground I've slept on for two weeks.

"I'll be fine now. Thank you." I say. He stands before me, looking at me then giving me a small smile. "Let me know if you need anything okay?" He responds, sounding almost reluctant to leave.

"I will. Thank you." I give him a small smile. He turns and leaves, softly closing the door behind him.

I lost track of time, it's practically night now. It's dark outside with a few stars shining through.

One of them is my dad. One my aunt. One is Garrick's father. One is Naolin.

I count them until I fall asleep. It's dreamless. Pitful. But it's sleep. I just keep thinking about my father. The ones I've lost and how quickly.

☆

Over the following few days I spend most of my time with Brennan. Giving him a tour of Riorson house. What's left standing of Aretia.

He helps me a great deal with the hollow ache in my heart. Comforts me when I cry, cheers me up when I calm down. Distracts me with his charm. And I can't help but gravitate towards him, he's so caring.

Felix proposed an idea of making an assembly, to decide what we do next. And as we've been able to calm down from everything it seems now would be an okay time to see what were gonna do in regards of Aretia. Most people in the caves either stay here, in Riorson house or in the houses that didn't burn.

One morning while I'm still waking up with some tea in the mess hall Felix walks up to me, a scroll in his hand. I groan, not wanting to hear it so early. I didn't sleep well and the last thing I want is to go over more people who could fit in the assembly. "Go away." I mutter once he's seated beside me. "Good morning grumpy." He teases. "But no, you're gonna want to see this." He hands me the scroll. I recognize it as a dead roll.

The wax seal has already been broken. "I don't wish to see my family on a piece of paper that confirms their deaths." I say, my hand trembling around the rolled up paper. "No, those are the Calldyr executions. This is Basgiath. Open it." He urges me.

I unroll it and hold it open. My eyes going over the names, going over Naolin. And ending on Brennan.

Brennan Sorrengail.

He's the general's son.

The one who interrogated and tortured my father.

The one who executed my loved ones.

As if on cue, Brennan takes his place opposite me with his breakfast and my heart sinks to my stomach.

"You're a Sorrengail." I state, my voice completely void of all emotion as I stare at the paper.

"You're general Sorrengail's son." I look up to see his face frown. To see his face fall. "How do you-" he starts but I cut him of. My eyes as cold as my voice.

"Your mother is responsible for everything."

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd

[everlastingdreams]

Isaac Lahey x Reader : All The Things I love

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Story Summary: Isaac asks to borrow your notes for a Math assignment but learned more than he expected to learn from them.

Notes: Fluffy. This has been in my WIP's for way too long. I wasn't sure if it was good enough to finish writing it, but now I have.

Word count of this fic:  2900

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After getting home from school, you had put a pizza in the oven to eat for dinner.

And as you waited for it to be ready, you were busy writing down some things on the list you had been working on. It had started as just a way to put your thoughts into something else to clear your head from them, sadly that plan had not worked out so far. This particular list grew a little longer every day.

When your doorbell rang, you left the small notebook on your desk as you hurried to see who it was.

The second you opened the door you were met with Isaac’s blue eyes and wide smile.

“Hi, sorry for not calling before coming over.” He looked nervous, as if you would slam the door shut on him.

You shook your head at his shyness and gestured for him to come inside “Don’t worry about it. My friends are always welcome.”

He relaxed immediately, his smile grew wider. “I’m…. I’m glad to hear it.”

Usually Isaac always called or texted before coming over, something must have caused him to forget.

You could see that he looked a bit stressed about something, “You know you are always welcome here, Isaac. But is there a particular reason for this unexpected visit ?”

By his expression you could tell that there was a good reason.

“It’s about the math assignment for tomorrow… I uh… I lost my notes.” Isaac sheepishly confessed.

“Lost or forgot to take notes ?” You quirked a brow at him.

He looked guilty now, making it clear that it was the latter.

You decided not to torture him with it, “You can borrow mine.”

The sigh of relief coming from him made you laugh.

“Thanks, y/n. I owe you.” He smiled.

“Yes. You do, Lahey.” You teased, patting his arm with your hand.

You failed to notice how he drew a sharp breath when you touched his arm, and he leaned a little into the touch.

Then the smell of burned pizza reached your nostrils.

“Oh, crap!” You loudly exclaimed before running out of the room. You stopped and turned to him, quickly pointing at your desk. “The notes are over there. It’s the large notebook.”

He nodded quickly, finding it pretty funny to see your reaction to the burned pizza, “I kinda have to go, I gotta go to the store to get some stuff before it closes. I’ll text you later?”

“Okay!” You called back to him and he heard you curse in the kitchen.

He walked over to your desk and took the notebook from it before heading to the door. “Found them! Thanks for the notes!”

“See you tomorrow!” You shouted whilst trying to scrape the burned parts off of the crust of the pizza.

The door opened and closed, alerting you that he had left

After cleaning out the oven, and trying to salvage some of the pizza, you walked back into the living room and noticed the notes were still on your desk. Didn’t Isaac need them?

It was only then that you realized something was wrong.

You had been writing in your diary when Isaac had come to your house, and in your haste you had forgotten to put the diary back in it’s safe place, aka under your mattress.

You were quick to realize what had happened and panicked immediately. Not only did the diary contain your deepest secrets, thoughts and wishes. It also contained the truth about your feelings for him.

He had accidentally taken the little notebook instead of the large one.

“Dammit, Isaac.” You whined in frustration. Why had he taken the wrong one???

You quickly dialed his number, hoping you could reach him before he realized the mix up.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

Isaac had just begun to work on the assignment for math, well… he had taken a piece of paper to write on at least.

He took your notebook into his hand, while writing down his name on the paper, and opened it.

It wasn’t until he saw that by skimming through the pages and seeing no solved math problems, or many numbers for that matter, that he realized something was off.

He stopped on a random page and read just a couple of sentences that he thought were going to be one of those weird questions that came with a math problem.

This wasn’t a math problem, this was you describing an embarrassing situation you had been in weeks ago that he could vaguely recall.

He sat upright on his chair instantly when he figured out what the notebook in his hand really was.

“Oh… oh no…” Isaac panicked and the diary fell out of his hands by accident.

Clumsily he fished it up from he ground, it fell again when inches above the ground and this time he picked it up more carefully. He quickly tried to fold the pages back neatly again where they had crumpled from hitting the floor. His eyes fell on a page inside as he tried to fix it’s now messy state. It looked like two lists. It was not a grocery list or something. No.

The first list was titled ‘Bucket list’, where you had named all the things you still wanted to do in life. Some had been scratched off, it brought a smile to his face to see that you had already achieved some of these.

Then he took a quick look at the other list below it.

His mind went blank the second he read the title of the list.

~“All The Things I Love About Isaac”~

He knew he should have closed your diary and not invade your privacy. But his eyes were glued to the list naming everything you apparently loved about him. It even included things he felt insecure about. The last thing you mentioned was how he never gave up, even if things got hard. It looked like you had started to write something else down but stopped before finishing it, making it undecipherable to him.

Only when his phone rang did he snap your diary shut, as if he had just been caught.

When he looked at his phone, your name was lighting up on the screen.

He got ridiculously nervous as he answered the call.

“Y/n, hey, what’s up ?” He cleared his throat.

You sounded just as nervous when you answered, “Hey… uhm… about those notes you borrowed for class? Did you… uhm… did you work on the assignment yet?”

“No!” He answered a bit too quickly, realizing that he could pretend he never looked inside the diary in the first place. “No.. uh I didn’t.”

You let out a sigh of relief, believing that he had not even noticed yet that those were not notes. “Oh, great. Uhm… You took the wrong… notes. Don’t bother looking at them. Could you bring those back… I… I really need them.”

He sighed in relief as well. “Sure thing. No problem. I’ll be right there. Maybe we could work on the assignment together ?”

“That would be nice. See you in a couple of minutes then?” You asked.

“You bet.” Isaac quickly answered.

“Okay, be careful on your way here, alright? It’s dark outside.” You told him.

That was sweet of you to say…

“Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be right over.”

“Alright. See you soon. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The call disconnected and Isaac breathed out deeply.

Even though you seemed to believe that he had not looked at those ‘notes’ yet, he got incredibly nervous. Why would you write a list like that in your diary?

Maybe you knew another ‘Isaac’?

No…. no.

You would have told him if you knew someone else with the same name.

Did you write it because you had feelings for him?

He couldn’t just ask you about it, you would be so mad at him if you found out he did read your diary.

He swallowed hard, he would have to find another way to figure out the truth.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

As promised, your doorbell rang not much later and you found Isaac on your doorstep holding a pizza box in his hands. The smell of the warm pizza flowed inside the house the second you opened the door for him.

“I uh… Thought you might want some pizza that doesn’t taste like ashes.” He showed you the box.

“You’re so sweet.” You told him while taking the box from his hands. “I’ll put it on the table so we can share while working on the assignment.”

Isaac was quick to pull the small notebook from the inside of his jacket. “I brought this back, do you want me to put it on your desk?”

You hurried over after putting the pizza down on the table and took your diary from his hands. “I’ll take care of that. Thanks.”

The diary was placed under a big stack of books on your desk and you handed him the notebook that had the notes he had been after.

He didn’t open the notebook until you were both sat at the table, and eating a slice of pizza while working on the assignment together.

An hour had passed and he found it difficult to keep his attention on the assignment. He tried but his eyes always found their way back to you. He should be studying the notes in front of him, but instead he was studying your face. Your eyes, your nose, your lips…

Only when he heard you say the word ‘List’ did he snap out of his thoughts.

“What ?” He asked, panic in his voice.

You repeated what you’d just said, “I said we should make a list with all the stuff we have completed for this assignment so far. It will help us stay organized.”

He swallowed hard, his voice wavering a little when he said, “Sure. Yeah. Great idea. Good plan. Let’s do that.”

You looked back at him, picking up on the strange atmosphere.

“Do you know someone else who’s got my name?” Isaac suddenly asked.

“Huh?” That was a weird question. “No, why?”

“Just curious.” He mumbled a bit.

You blinked twice, narrowing your eyes a little at him, “Isaac, what’s going on with you? You’ve been acting distracted since you arrived here.”

He chuckled nervously and shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. Nothing’s going on with me. Let’s uh… let’s work on that… list.”

He tried.

He tried so damn hard to not make that word come out differently.

But it did, and in your head it finally clicked.

Now it was you that began to fumble nervously with your pen.

He saw. He saw. He saw…

The words repeated themselves in your head over and over again.

Isaac must have seen the list, he was acting… off.

And the way he had just struggled to say ‘list’ was what set off your alarm bells.

No wonder he was acting strange, he must have read the list in your diary about him.

But…

Surely if he had seen the list, he would have said something about it? Hell, it would have been the perfect opportunity for him to confess his own feelings to you… if he had feelings for you…

But he kept quiet and you swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

Deep down you knew he had seen, he was acting different and you knew him well enough to know he was lying just now.

You wished you had never made that stupid list.

All he could think about was to not let it show that he had read your diary. You would be so angry, maybe even hurt that he had invaded your privacy in such a way.

He couldn’t bring up that list, he didn’t have the guts to tell you that he knew that you liked him as more than just a friend.

There was an uncomfortable silence and he feared that when his voice had broken on the word ‘list’ that he was caught in the lie.

Isaac was fishing for words in his mind, anything to get a normal conversation going again. Anything but this cutting silence between you.

But you were the one that broke the silence.

“It’s getting late. We should stop for today.” You said without looking at him.

A frown graced his face at your words, “You sure ?”

You nodded as you started to gather your things to put them away in your backpack. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

He blinked a few times, feeling that the atmosphere between you had shifted to something… colder.

“Alright… maybe we could watch a movie together now?” His voice betrayed how the situation was making him nervous.

You shook your head and managed to send him a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Sorry, Isaac. I’m… I feel pretty tired.”

It was then that he knew that you just didn’t want him to be there any longer.

He gave a nod, the hopeful smile faded from his face, “Okay then. Are you alright ?”

You evaded his eyes as you nodded and tried to brush it off. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Really… just tired. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, right?”

He felt small relief at that, at least you still wanted to see him.

“You bet.” He said.

With that he silently gathered his stuff as well before leaving your place.

On his way home he kept thinking of solutions to make this right again.

Perhaps he should have just told the truth about reading some of your diary. Now you had figured it out yourself and he could sense that it had upset you.

He needed to think of a way to handle this situation before he would have to face you again tomorrow.

.•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•. °•. ✿ .•° .•° ✿ °•.

The next day, you didn’t see him until you had already taken a seat at your desk in math class. You opened your backpack only to realize your math notebook was missing.

Just then, Isaac walked into class and put the notebook down on your desk before taking seat at his own behind you.

“Thanks.” You whispered to him, even though there were a ton of loose papers now sticking out from between the notebook.

They were all filled with the stuff he had worked on the previous evening beside you.

You went through them for a moment to see if there was anything useful for you as well on them.

One of those sheets of paper caught your attention, at first you thought it was just a paper with some extra notes on it, but then you read what was written on it.

It was a list… about you.

You slowly looked over your shoulder, back to Isaac. If there had been any doubt in your mind that he had put the list there for you to find, it was banished when your eyes found his.

You saw him take a deep breath, saw him reading your expression and then finally he shyly smiled.

A smile that failed to truly hide how nervous and afraid he was.

But that feeling vanished when you send him a bright smile back.

You were practically beaming with joy as you quickly turned your eyes back to the front of the class.

Isaac watched as you carefully folded the list and put the folded paper in your pocket.

Neither of you were able to focus much on the lesson for the rest of the class.

When math class ended, you were out of that classroom fast and waited for him by the door.

He walked out, his own notebook in hand, in search of you.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He apologized. “I’m an idiot, I know. I should have said something but I was afraid you’d be upset that I looked inside your diary.”

“How much did you read of it?” You asked him.

Isaac decided to tell the truth. “Just the part about that time you slipped over the wet floor. And those two lists.”

Your face burned, he had truly read the list about him…

“Thank you for telling me the truth now.” You smiled shyly, “And for what you wrote on that list you made about me. No one has ever said such sweet things about me before.”

The list he had made about you was full of praise and compliments. And everything he loved so much about you.

“I forgot to add one more thing on that list.” Isaac quietly said.

You bit your lip in expectation, “What?”

“What I love about you, is you.” He confessed, feeling the nerves crash into him with full force.

Your gaze fell to the floor when feeling how your heart was trying to escape your rib cage.

“And I forgot to add something on my bucket list.” You quietly told him, “Something I want to scratch off of it too.”

“What?” He looked a little confused.

“A kiss from you.” You send him your most alluring smile.

His brow arched in surprise, his mouth fell a little agape. “Oh.”

You laced your fingers in that scarf he had decided to wear, even though it wasn’t cold, and pulled him to your lips.

Isaac’s soft lips caressed yours, you parted only to look him in the eyes, he closed the space between you again instantly.

You were right to write down his lips as one of the things you loved about him.

And so was he to write yours down on the list he had made about you.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Also again no pressure to write but you know I'm a sucker for a happy end and for Lorcan so his sister being mad at him kills me 😭💜😂

I knew you would fall victim to this😂

Part I here

The light we cannot see II

His ego was bigger than he was. Not an amazing asset to have at times. So Lorcan stuck to what he knew best. Beating the life out of a practice dummy as if there was no tomorrow. Letting his anger flow through him. Growling at himself each time the punch didn’t meet his standards. “You will harm yourself”, the voice made Lorcan jolt slightly. His nostrils flared as he looked at the man he least wanted to see. “If I was you I would go the fuck away”, he grunted, turning back to throw another punch.

“She’s back, safe and sound in her room. Thought you might want to know that”, Rowan tapped his hand on the doorway arch, before inching to step out of the training grounds. “Why?”, Lorcan called out into the night. His back was to Rowan but he could tell that the male stalled as well. “Why her? Even more so how and fucking when?”, turning in full force Lorcan glared at the male who was oozing calmness. “I can’t help my heart, I wanted her from the moment I saw her”, Rowan stated firmly. “Is it only your heart?”, it was a low dig. Out of them all Rowan was the last to sleep around. “I haven’t had sex with your sister if that’s your way of asking”, Rowan started, “I’ve been seeing her for a couple of months. She hasn’t even agreed to be mine, not until you approve”. Lrocan swallows thickly. Eyes burning into Rowan. He wanted to hate him. To find nothing but bitter frustration. “You know Maeve and you willingly put her in danger”, Lorcan points a finger at Rowan. “Don’t you think that it keeps me up at night? You think I’m not scared for her?”, now the tone picks up as he steps closer to Lorcan. “News flash, that thought alone kept me away from her for decades but I can’t…”, Rowan’s voice dies down, “I…”, his eyes burn into Lorcan and he knows exactly where this is going. Knows that if that word leaves his mouth then no power will be on his side.

“I think she’s my mate”, Rowan runs a hand through his hair. And Lorcan can see the tremor there. “She doesn’t know and I won’t just drop it on her but… I… Put yourself in my shoes, Lorcan”, Rowan shakes his head. Lorcan closes his eyes letting his head drop. The silence stretches between them. “She is the only good thing that came out of our fucked up family, Rowan”, the males stand there looking at each other, “She is too good for this world, and if you…”, “I would rather take my own life than watch her hurt”, Rowan cuts in, “I love your sister. I want to give her everything”. Lorcan simply nods. “I hate you, for now at least”, the dark wielder point out, dropping his gloves he slips out of the training room.

He stands outside your door for almost an hour. Losing the number of times he had lifted his fists to knock on your door and backed out. He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t take back the things he says. He’s never wrong. But it’s different when it comes to you. “For fuck sake, just come in”, the door swings open, your tiny frame barely filling the frame. “How did you…”, he trails off before his sibling instinct prickles as well. A gift your mother had left you on her dying bed.

“What do you want?”, you grunt, crossing your arms over your chest. “I talked with Rowan”, he hopes that would win him extra words to say before you’re kicking him out but your expression doesn’t change. “I’m sorry about what I said”, he sighs, “I… I shouldn’t have brought our mother’s fate into this. You’re not her and Rowan isn’t our father”, he states firmly. Your sadness crushed his soul as he watched your sad eyes. “I understand your fears but…”, you trail off shaking your head.

“I know and I am sorry”, he reaches out, pulling at your hand, “You know that I’m a bastard. I suck at communicating”. You huff, “Tell me about it”, “I just want you to be happy and if Rowan makes you happy then so be it”, Lorcan squeezes your hand. “I’m still pissed at you”, you point a warning finger at him before letting yourself be pulled into his arms. “I’m selfish, I don’t want to share my light with anyone else”, Lorcan kisses the top of your head. “Just because I found a partner doesn’t mean I’ll stop being your little sister”, you reach up flicking his nose. Lorcan rolls his eyes, “Maybe I should just ship you out to Rowan”, you let out a fake gasp, “Don’t threaten me with happiness”.

[josiesullysblog]

Please don’t Say You Love Me

~Aged up Neteyam x female reader

~angst, slow burn, eventually smut, toxic relationship???

~proofread?- yes

~Summary-As children, Neteyam and [Y/n] were the closest friends until they weren't

~Miss me😝?

Your mother and father weren't around. It was always you and your older sister, but it didn't bother you because your sister was everything you needed. Your parents were drunks who would leave for months at a time, which nobody ever noticed.

Your sister was busy most of the time trying to cover for your parents leaving you alone, but that's when you met Neteyam. “Hi!” you turned around to see a toothless smile from the boy. You stood up and looked at him, “Hi,” he giggled before trying to grab your tail, “i’m Neteyam, wannabe friends?”

You stopped the boy who was chasing your tail, “Sure, but i’m in charge!” he nodded, and from then you two have been nothing but best friends. You spent your days with him, doing whatever till your sister came and got you. “[Y/n], mom’s home!” your sister smiled ear to ear. “Coming!” you hugged Neteyam, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You walked hand in hand with your sister till you saw them, “Daddy!” you ran into his arms, “Wow look how big you’ve gotten!” you hugged your mother next, “I can do a lot now that I’m taller!” you beamed at them, “are you guys going to stay this time?” your sister wasted no time in asking.

“Yeah about that, we just wanted to grab a few things before we headed out,” your sister’s smile fell, “what,” you noticed the tension, “it's okay, you’ve been taking great care of [Y/n] and it's like nobody even noticed we were gone!”

Your mother patted your head while getting closer to your sister, “i’m twelve, Mom I can't take care of a five-year-old,” your father sighed, “Yes you can,” you felt tears in your eyes, “I can barely do the jobs your suppose to do what makes you think I'm capable of handling a child?”

“You're leaving again?” your father picked you up, “it won't be for long we just wanna travel, see the world,” he looked at your sister, “you get that right?” she started crying, “We didn't ask to be born, the world is always gonna be there, we should be the priority!”

“Don’t you talk to your father that way,” your father put you down, “maybe when you're older you’ll understand,” he grabbed his bag and your mother followed him, “No, when i’m older I'll be a decent person and not have children I don't want.” as if they didn't hear they still left.

“Why don't they want us?” you walked to your sister, “I don't know, but you it doesn't matter.” she hugged you, “We have each other and that's all we need.” you smiled into the hug, “I love you, sissy,” a tear fell from her eyes, “I love you.”

Your sister was your everything, if you didn't know what to do you went to her. Neteyam always asked questions like “Where's your mommy?” To which you always said, “She's right there!” it always confused him because how could someone so short be a mother? “That's not your mommy,” you frowned, “does your mommy cook for you?” he nodded, “does she play with you?” he nodded again, “So does mine which makes her a mommy.” you smiled big before getting up, “My mommy is just a little younger but she's mine so I don't mind.”

Most people noticed the absence of your parents and tried to help, your sister always knew if help was needed she could get it, especially from Neteyam’s family.

The older you got, the more closer you guys became and it was like nothing could ever separate you from him. You were now 12, you hadn't seen your parents in years but it wasn't like you were missing them. Neteyam started becoming busier and you didn't mind it in the beginning, but he started changing. Any time you wanted to hang out it was like he didn't want to be seen with you. “Teyem,” you waved at the boy.

He rolled his eyes, “hey, [Y/n],” he said as he kept walking, “I wanted to know if you wanted to come over later and we could have a sleepover!” you smiled but it seemed like Neteyam didn't care, “I don't think I can,” you nodded, “maybe tomorrow?” he sighed, “[Y/n], don’t you think people might think something?” you shrugged, “think what?”

“That were together? We aren't kids anymore, it’s weird for us to hang out alone,” you frowned, “oh, I see,” you looked at him, “So, we can’t hang out anymore?” he groaned, “i’m trying to be nice [Y/n],” you stopped walking, “I get it.”

You turned and ran straight home, you had never cried as hard as you did that night. You weren't going to beg for someone’s attention if he didn't want to be your friend, fine by you.

You grew up, it took you a while to get over the loss of your friendship but you did. At least you forced yourself to. You became a beauty, something everyone wanted but you were more interested in healing. You spent most of your time learning and if you weren't you were getting lost in the forest. Always finding things to make bracelets for your sister. You were 22, your sister was 29, and mated. You liked him he was nice, but you knew your sister wanted you to find your own mate. You couldn't care less as you walked deep into the trees, you hadn't noticed the eyes that followed you.

Neteyam watched as you walked, he wanted to talk to you but fear stopped him. He knew you didn't want to talk, and he knew it was his fault. He had let other boys' words into his head. Making him believe you two couldn't be friends. You were his first crush and at the time he didn't want people knowing but now it was like a curse that plagued him.

You hummed as you walked, and Neteyam kept staring. He regretted everything he said to you the minute you turned away. He wanted to say sorry but he felt like it was too late. Ever since that day, you have been waiting for an explanation, you thought at least he owed you that, but it seemed like he couldn't even muster that.

“His loss,” is what you said but you still waited for him. As you kept looking at the flowers, you heard a tree branch break, “who's there?” you turned looking for something. Neteyam wanted to run but he decided last minute to try and mend things, “hey,” he said showing you a small smile.

You let your guard down before scoffing and turning, he hasn't said anything to you in years, and now he follows you into the woods? This man is trying the wrong one, “[Y/n], please I wanna explain!”

You kept walking, “Explain that you are nothing but a piece of shit who deserves nothing?” you faked a smile, and gasped, “Wait we already know that, so what is there to talk about?” he sighed, “I understand your anger, I really do but please let me apologize.”

“Please, what daddy figured out what you did and is forcing you to do this?” you stopped walking finally facing him. “Listen I don't want your sorry, I am not trying to fix things, I don't care for you, and I refuse to hear you out,” Neteyam’s ears fell back, “leave me alone, teyem.”

You turn to keep walking, but Neteyams grabs you, “You're the only person who still calls me that.” you look at him, “It was a mistake,” you go to take your arm back and step back but trip and fall into one of the flowers that surround you.

It releases a juice before you sit up and start coughing. Neteyam soon hit with the pheromones and started coughing himself, “I know you don’t want to hear me out, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” you stood up before walking away, “whatever.”

This time he didn't follow you, but a fuzziness filled his chest. A calmness overtook him as he walked back, what the hell was that flower?

You rubbed your chest as you walked home, nobody was on your mind the way Neteyam was. You groaned annoyed why were you thinking of him, “[Y/n], good news Jake invited us over for a special dinner,” you groaned, “what?”

“Yeah, he said he had good news, maybe you and Neteyam could maybe rekindle,” you rubbed your eyes, getting hot thinking about Neteyam. “good,” is all your able to muster out, “really? Good I assumed you wouldn't want to go but I'm glad to hear you are!” you nodded as she spoke. You never told her how you and Neteyam fell out, you were to embarrassed, and didn't like thinking about it.

“Go get ready!” is all she says after pushing you towards your space, “wear something flattering,” you sighed as you rubbed your legs together, she knew something you didn't. You couldn't care less to think much about it though so you got ready and sat on the floor thinking about your day.

It dawns on you when you fell, you must've fallen on an aphrodisiac flower making you sigh. Tonight was going to be very interesting.

Meanwhile, Neteyam sat in utter silence his mind just waiting for you to appear. He couldn't wait to see you, he looked creepy staring at the opening and waiting for you to show. “Looking a little creepy there,” Lo’ak cracked a joke before sitting down himself, “huh,” was all he could say. His eyes were low and he spoke very calmly, “Bro you high?” Beteyam shook his head, “Dad kill me if he thought I did that shit,” Lo’ak laughed, “Well you sure as hell look like your high.”

“I’m not,” was all he could say as you and your sister finally walked in, “hello welcome!” Neytiri said as you both sat down. His eyes burned into your skull while everyone else spoke. You felt the slick between your thighs knowing he was watching you.

You scolded yourself as you adjusted yourself, “he isn't your friend, [Y/n],” you said to yourself as you felt Jake’s eyes, “I hear you are the best healer after Mo’at,” You nodded slowly, “I try,” is all you could say.

“Well if everything goes smoothly, Neteyam will have an amazing tsahik,” you blink hard then mutter some words, “Huh,” your sister hit your leg telling you to shut up, “you know we were hoping you and Neteyam could hopefully make the bond.” “Oh.”

Neteyam didn't tell his family you guys had fallen out, you nodded as everyone kept talking and the more you said down the more you started becoming uncomfortable and the more you wanted to fuck and hit Neteyam. The feeling started becoming too much, “I'm sorry can I use the bathroom,” was all you said before getting up.

Tears fell from your eyes as you walked, fuck Neteyam and the way he made you feel. The way you couldn't stop thinking about him, or the way you saw him come your way. “Neteyam, please,” was all you could say before you kissed him.

Your body connected to him perfectly, “why are you doing this to me,” was all you could say as you hugged him, “I hate you.”

“I know,” was all he said as he kissed you, “I don't deserve you,” you frowned before finally pushing off him, “You ruined my life and you didn't even tell your family.”

“I don't need you Neteyam, I have my sister that's all I need,” you felt tears fall from your eyes.

“but I still want you.”

***

Omgg hey guys!!! I know I've been inactive but I just kinda fell out of it but recently decided I wanted to write!! Let's hope I can keep up with it this time😍 thanks for reading!!!

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

A palace where glass met grass

Dorian havilliard x reader

Perhaps for all of the greater time you spent at Terrasen, following orders by the King consort Rowan Whitethorn, you were unable to stop thinking of what life would've been like if you had found Nehemia instead if Aelin, or Celaena as she once were.

The air smelt of daisies and fresh grass, springtime wind was blowing in quickly, and the coal shipments that meant to move fast to Perranth were now put on hold due to rougher Seas.

You met with the Queen and the King Consort a short time after your duties in the stables ended. As an emissary to the Kingdom of Adarlan, you were not unfamiliar with dirty work. You'd be sent to pit fights and to high mountains and to coal mines, all for the sake of your kingdoms safety.

Aelin loitered beside Rowan amongst the palace courtyard talking between themselves when you met them.

"There she is!" Rowan smiled widely.

Unusual it was that the king consort was so cheerful with the evening getting later. By now, he would be in the palace or out hunting deep in terrasen south forests. Beside him, Aelin stood in a green evening gown, a silver tiara upon her head of platinum braids.

"How are you enjoying your stay?" Aelin spoke.

"It's been swell. I appreciate you letting me stay in the palace" You smiled

Rowan nodded. "It's our pleasure. Have you heard anything from the king?"

The question reminded you that you hadn't infact heard from Dorian. For weeks now. You began to worry that something might have happened while you were away. And as you looked at the queen and king consort with hazy eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the wind.

"Have you?" You said cautiously.

They both shook their heads. Aelin's empathetic gaze watched you as your lips parted and your eyes glossed over.

"Oh my god," you breathed out, "you've heard from him, haven't you?"

The corners of your lips frowned. A horrified look washed over your face as the realisation finally set in. Something had infact happened at Adarlan, and the king and queen of all people were keeping it from you.

"Tell me what's going on." Your gaze hardened as you reached for the ivory dagger on your belt.

Aelin held her hands out to you as if to show sympathy or mercy. Rowan stood strong beside her, body hard, but eyes soft.

"We got a letter from Dorian a few days ago," Aelin said softly.

You scoffed. Stunned at how they betrayed your trust like this. Did they think you were some kind of fool? And if so, what made them think that their positions as royals gave them any superiority to you? Everyone is the same with or without a crown.

"You didn't tell me. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

Trying your hardest not to rattle the very ground beneath you, you tried to stand your ground against the queen, who stood strong toward you.

"Please. Let us explain before you make a decision you'll regret" Rowan spoke.

You eyed the two of them with a fire burning in your irises. "You have two minutes to explain"

Rowan stepped forward. "The king asked us not to tell you that he wrote to us. He said it specifically in the letter that he did not want his news to be shared with you"

Crossing his arms, Rowan's eyes softened. Aelin stood beside him as they both watched you turn the cogs in your head.

"Why would he do that?"

Aelin sighed. The chill in the air began to grow, and bright green shrubbery and trees were turning deeper emerald with each passing hour. Suddenly, the cheerful and dew dropped terrasen that you had come to love and adore felt like prison.

"He is to be wed" Aelin spoke softly.

Heartbreak spread as if you were wooden and it were white hot. Wed? Dorian? Dorian havilliard? The king of adarlan, who promised you that if you were to die tomorrow, he would paint his walls the colour of your eyes. Dorian havilliard who said that you reminded him of summer because he liked summer, and he liked you. Dorian, who used to take you on long walks because he hated the idea of going anywhere without you by his side.

And Dorian, who held your hand and closed his eyes the day you were sent off to the labour camp in melisande and couldn't fathom that when he opened them that you would be gone.

"Your liars," you shook "your both filthy liars!"

You spat venom at the ground beneath them before you turned and quickly started to run. You ran like your life depended on it, like if you were to stop, you would be shot immediately. Boots pounded the dirt, grass, and gravel beneath your feet as you ran for a carriage bound for adarlan.

Hair blowing behind you as you grabbed onto the carriage, placing yourself in amongst sacks of what smelt like mangoes and fresh ginger. With a deep sigh, you rested against the Hessian sacks that itched on your skin.

You only had one thought in mind as you lied down.

Does dorian even want to see you? If what they had said was true, and Dorian was getting wed, surely he would turn you away.

You couldn't.

You couldn't ruin it for him.

You couldn't ruin his happiness.

Pushing yourself up off the sacks, you stared down at the quickly moving dirt path below you. And jumped. Your body hit the ground with a loud thud, and as the carriage sped off, tears began to well in your eyes as you lie in the dirt.

Helpless, you wondered if dying in the middle of the road would be easier than existing in a world where dorian loves someone else. The slow thudding of horse hooves approached you from behind. When you looked up to see a pure white fur chest, you knew only Rowan could be with it.

"What exactly were you going to do, Emissary?" Rowan grumbled from above you as he hops off the horse.

Rowan leant you his hand to help you up.

You shook your head and shrugged, tears still welling in your eyes as you looked at the white-haired fae male, his hard gaze never leaving your face as he stood before you.

"What do I do?" You whispered.

Fat tears slid down your face as you lost control of your emotions and fell into the whitethorn male's chest. Holding you, Rowan tried his best to comfort you.

"How do I let him go?" You sobbed.

"Sometimes it is best to imagine they were never there." The fae speaks. "But there are people who can do that and people who can't, and something tells me you cant"

You pulled off of Rowan as you wiped your tears on your blue cloak.

"Your only saying that because im crying"

Rowan shook his head and crossed his arms.

"No, I say that because I feel it in your heart, I can sense that your love is not faulty, nor is it willing to let go"

You looked at the ground. Dust and dirt lie just as dead as you felt. Brown melted into green as you looked over at the forest, and suddenly, you wish you had died when you fell out of the carriage.

"I want to see him," you whispered, "but I can not force him to love me nor will I try to. Maybe I'm just meant to be away. Perhaps it is for the best"

Looking back at Rowan, he had a thinking face on him that felt almost mischievous.

"Come with me" he speaks.

-----

6 years later

-----

Terrasen was even more beautiful in the winter. The snow blanketed the foliage in the forests and the grass below your feet.

Aela, Rowan and Aelin's 2 year old daughter, played in the snow by the courtyard, decorating a small snowman with Elide and Lorcan's son, Aryan, and Fleetfoot, who tried his absolute best to not knock it over.

You were sat wrapped in your cloak laughing with the inner circle about an embarrassing thing aedion did a few days ago on Aelin and Rowan's anniversary when the mail came by.

Aelin stood up from her chair to collect it, her light green gown dragging on the snowy cobblestone. Thanking the courier with a smile, she slowly walked in the snow back to the yard before she stopped, and her brows furrowed.

"You have a note y/n" she held it up.

You stood up and walked to the platinum haired queen and took the letter from her hand.

Miss Y/N L/N Of Terrasen Court.

As you flipped it over, you immediately recognised the stamp in the blue wax seal. The Adarlan Crest. Your heart sunk as you opened it.

I hope six years wasn't too long.

D

Your brows furrowed as you read the message. Going to show the court, you were stunned to see they were all staring at you. Or rather behind you.

You turnt around.

And there he was. Standing in a black embellished suit with a cape still bright red like the day you met him, the crown of gold still sat tilted upon his messy raven curls, and his sapphire eyes still lit up with his smile.

Dorian.

[twyftwyt]

here’s a short Noah imagine i scrabbled in my notes app while rotting in bed, i’m wondering if i should write more.

…you have more pieces of me than the desert has sand

and i have less pieces of you than i can hold in my hand…

I knew we weren’t dating. I knew we were never gonna be together officially, so what was the point of fighting over it? What was the point of this whole thing, actually? I wasn’t his to claim and he, for sure, was not mine to call. He was gone almost 300 days of the year. He had gigs, festivals, signings, award shows, record meetings. And I had a 9 to 5 job. I went home, cooked, cleaned, went on vacation sometimes but my routine was way different from his.

So why were we sitting in his car, at 2 in the morning, fighting over “labels”?

“I’m not about to argue with a man who doesn’t even know what he wants.”

“Do you hear yourself? I don’t know what I want? Me? Is that how we’re turning the narrative now?”

“No, Noah. The narrative’s been the same this whole time. Just admit that you don’t want a relationship and we can call it a day and I can finally go home and sleep, cause I have work tomorrow.”

My eyes were burning and so were my cheeks. I was flushed with anger and I could already feel the tears coming.

“I never, NOT ONCE, said that I do not want a relationship. I am INCAPABLE of maintaining one. You wanna miss me for a month straight, see me for a weekend, travel the whole world to spend a day, maximum two with me in between shows? You want me calling you in the middle of the night, waking you up just because where I’m at it’s midday and it’s the only possible time for me to call you? You want to put us in a position where my trust will be questioned all the time? And you’ll be anxious if you see me with another woman just because I HAVE to work with her? You wanna go through all of this?”

“Seems like you don’t want to, so what’s the point of having this conversation? Please, just take me home.”

I couldn’t contain myself anymore and I felt the tears streaming down my face. I was starting to shake but I didn’t want to make a bigger scene than what this conversation had already turned to. I was spent. And hurt and tired. And he was just sitting in the driver seat, looking at me, not knowing what to do. He looked so pathetic, it was insane how much I allowed myself to fall in love with him. He was just. a. stupid. man. He never knew how to react properly and most of the time it was funny watching him struggle to pick the right words, but he was always big on physical contact, so he’d just pull me in his arms until I stop crying. He didn’t do that now though. He was just staring at me, blankly. I turned to face the window and put my legs up on the seat, curling into a little ball.

I heard the engine start and the radio came back to life with the most gut wrenching song Spotify could pick. God, I hate that shared playlist. And I hate myself for falling for him.

[corroded-hellfire]

Infestation, Oppression, Possession - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You warn Eddie about playing with a Ouija board, too bad he doesn’t listen.

Note: As a horror movie junkie, my personal favorites are the possession ones (esp The Conjuring, where the title of this comes from) so here’s a little Halloween horror starring Eddie

Warnings: playing with ouija board, possession, general spookiness because tis the season

Words: 2.7k

“Please promise me that you won’t play with it,” you beg your boyfriend. “They’re dangerous.”

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head. “Babe, it’s just a piece of wood with some paint on it. How could it be dangerous?”

You eye the Ouija board sitting on his bed, the planchette inconspicuously resting on top of it. There are no shortage of horror stories and cautionary tales warning people away from playing with such a dangerous game. You’ve spent the better part of the last hour relating these worries to Eddie, who seems to think nothing of them at all–or about the fact that he bought it to begin with. It doesn’t seem to matter how much the whole thing bothers you. 

“You never know who or what you’re communicating with,” you tell Eddie. “You could be opening a portal for something evil.” “So, you think a demon is going to decide to come here to little ol’ Hawkins? And will want to possess me? I’m flattered.” Eddie raises his eyebrows and lets out a small chuckle. A groan slips from your lips as you rub your hands over your face in aggravation. 

“Just…please,” you beg as you stand up from where you’re perched on Eddie’s amp. “For me? Just throw it out.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says as he takes a few steps over to you. He places his hands on your shoulders and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Relax, okay? I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you just–”

“Baby,” Eddie interrupts you. “Go to work, okay? I promise I’ll put it away.”

“You should throw it away,” you say sternly. “Or burn it. You’d have fun doing that, I know.”

Eddie chuckles and presses another kiss to your head. He slips his arms around you and tugs you against his chest. “Come on, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just go to work and try and forget all about it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, pulling out of his arms. “Serving greasy burgers to angry truckers is really going to take a load off my mind.”

Calloused fingers gently grip your chin and tilt your head up. Soft but chapped lips press against your own and you close your eyes as you lean into the kiss. 

“I love you,” Eddie whispers against your mouth.

“I love you, too.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” Eddie assures you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early with two coffees.”

“Make sure you don’t drink half of mine before you get to my house this time,” you say as you swipe one of your boyfriend’s hoodies from where it’s sprawled across his desk.

“No promises,” Eddie tells you as you slip the sweatshirt on over your head. 

You press one last kiss to his lips, avoiding looking at the devil board on his bed, before heading out to work.

Eddie huffs a laugh to himself once you’ve left. He’s surprised that you’re so worried about the Ouija board. Usually, you’re so cool and collected, always logical and tactful in your way of thinking. It’s not like you to believe in some silly superstition. Maybe it’s just getting too close to Halloween, Eddie thinks as he picks up the board and planchette. Corroded Coffin should be by in about twenty minutes for a songwriting session, but first, Eddie thinks, perhaps the guys will have some fun and try to scare one another. 

The next night, Eddie’s lounging on his bed, guitar perched on his lap as he strums a few new chords that the band came up with last night. His amp is on since Wayne isn’t home, turned down just enough so the neighbors won’t complain. Fingers glide over the strings as Eddie plays around with the sounds of a possible new song. A beautiful melody flows to meet Eddie’s ears, but the moment he lets his eyes slip closed to lose himself in the music, the amp cuts out. 

The sudden silence has Eddie sitting up and frowning at the amp in confusion. Gently setting his sweetheart down on the bed, he leans over to fiddle with the controls on the amp. It’s still turned on, all the dials are set just as they should be, so why did it go quiet? Eddie pushes himself off the bed to make sure the plug hasn’t come loose. A deeper frown etches on Eddie’s forehead as he sees the plug snugly in place in the outlet. 

“Stupid old trailer,” Eddie grumbles as he gets down on his knees. “God damn electric problems.”

The outlet above the one the amp is plugged into has Eddie’s lamp connected to it–the same lamp that’s currently on and shining brightly next to his bed. Yanking both cords from the wall, Eddie tries putting the lamp’s plug into the bottom outlet, just to make sure that’s what isn’t working. The moment the prongs snap into the wall though, the light illuminates his dark room again. 

“What the fuck,” Eddie mutters under his breath. He switches the lamp back to the top outlet and puts the amp back into the bottom one. “This amp is new, what the hell? Stupid piece of–”

Earsplitting feedback abruptly rings out through the amp, causing Eddie to fall back on his ass and cover his ears. Heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings, Eddie stares at the amp with wide eyes. The racket only lasts five seconds, but it’s enough to freak Eddie out. 

“O-Okay…” Eddie says as he pushes himself back to his feet. The room is quiet once again. The lamp is on, his guitar is still nestled against his pillow, and the amp sits there inconspicuously on the stained carpet. 

“Jesus, this place is a shithole,” Eddie says, trying to convince himself it’s just some faulty wiring in his old home. He sits back down on his bed and the moment he grips the neck of his sweetheart, the bleating sound of the phone ringing in the hallway has him jumping out of his skin. Once his mind registers what the new noise is, Eddie laughs at himself as he sets his guitar back down and heads toward the phone. “You’re a wuss, Munson. Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, keep your pants on. Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie,” your cheerful voice greets through the phone. 

“Hi, babe. Hmm, I take back what I just said then.”

“What?” you ask.

“I told whoever was on the phone to keep their pants on as I walked down the hall. I take that back now.” You can practically hear the smirk on your boyfriend’s face. 

“Who said I’m even wearing any?” you tease.

“I’m listening.”

The mystery of the faulty sound equipment quickly fades from Eddie’s head.

Eddie huffs as he uses a flashlight to look through the pantry. The damn lights in the trailer are flickering like crazy and it’s driving Eddie up the wall. At first, he’d thought it was just the lights in his room, but it seemed to follow him down the hall and into the living room as well. 

Searching for something to eat, the aggravation only hits a new high when the flashlight in Eddie’s hands also starts flickering.

“Okay, what the actual fuck?” Eddie demands. He bangs the flashlight against his palm and the beam becomes steady once more. “Thank you.” 

As if the lights heard his pleasure, they all turn off at once–even the flashlight. 

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie shouts. The darkness comes on so quickly that Eddie’s eyes take their sweet time adjusting. He bangs his head on a cabinet as he shuffles out of the kitchen. Like someone flipped a switch, the lights come on all at once–even ones that weren’t turned on before. The sudden brightness burns Eddie’s eyes, and he drops the flashlight to cover them. Slowly, the lights fade back to their usual strength and Eddie is able to open his eyes without pain. He blinks them a few times, still getting them to adjust to the brightness when the front door opens and Wayne steps inside.

The older man shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it on a hook near the door. He eyes Eddie where he stands, eyes watering from how sensitive they are right now.

“What’s with you, boy?” Wayne asks.

“Did you pay the electric bill?” Eddie asks in return, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“‘Course I did. Why?”

“Because these damn lights are going crazy,” Eddie says, flinging one hand in the direction of the nearest lamp. “Just wait, they’ve been flickering for an hour now.”

Wayne stands near the door with his hands on his hips, looking around the room at the different lights that are on. Eddie squares his jaw when not even one little flicker occurs. 

“Smoke a little too much tonight?” Wayne asks with a chuckle as he walks past his nephew and into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even…ugh, never mind.” 

“You want a grilled cheese?” Wayne asks, opening the fridge.

“Sure. Thanks.” Eddie plops down on the couch and stares at the ceiling. The lights had been going crazy–right?

“Did you sleep at all last night?” you ask Eddie at lunch.

Dull brown eyes slide over to you, dark bag eyes beneath them puffy and prevalent, and seem as if they look right through you.

“A little,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Dude, you look like shit,” Gareth says.

The Dungeon Master raises his hand to flip off his friend while he lowers his head down to the lunch table. He felt like shit too, but he wouldn’t give his friends the satisfaction of knowing that.

Over the next few days, Eddie only looks worse and worse. His face begins to look drawn, his skin a sickly shade of greenish gray. His clothes are more unkempt and wrinkled than normal, appearing as if he’d slept in them the night before. Every morning on the way to school you’d try to get out the knots that had accumulated in your boyfriend’s hair during the night. There hadn’t been a time when his hair had been this much of a pain before. Eventually, you just slip your red scrunchie from your wrist and tie his hair into a ponytail at the base of his neck. 

“Are we getting pizza tonight?” you ask as Eddie parks his van in the Hawkins High parking lot.

“Babe, I’m not even going to Hellfire tonight,” he tells you, all emotion zapped from his voice.

“You’re not going to Hellfire?” you ask in shock. 

“No,” Eddie grumbles as he pulls the keys from the ignition. 

“Why don’t you just go home, baby?” you suggest as you reach over and move a few loose strands of hair out of his face.

“Maybe.” Eddie gives a half-hearted shrug and shoves the van door open and slides out. Frown still pinched on your face, you follow him out and stick by his side as long as you can until you have to go to your separate first periods. 

Your phone rings as you’re buttoning your jeans the next morning, and you hop over to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” There’s no energy in Eddie’s voice, the sound raspy and gravelly. “I can’t take you to school today. Not getting out of bed.”

“Aww, baby,” you coo. “I’m going to come over and take care of you. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“No,” Eddie responds. “You’ve got a test today, go to school.”

“Can’t hear you. I’m coming over. Bye.” You hang up before he can protest again; because you know he will. Eddie’s hoodie from the other week is still hanging over the chair in your room so you toss it on before heading out the door to your car.

Eddie looks as shitty as he sounded when you get to his place. He’s sprawled out in bed, the covers tucked up under his chin and his eyes half-lidded as he tries to focus on you. You sigh as you sit down on the edge of his bed. When you reach up and move some hair off of his forehead you feel that his skin is surprisingly cool against your fingertips. You’d expected heat there–most likely a fever raging inside of his body. 

“Are you cold?” you ask. Eddie nods, seeming like he hardly has the energy for even that. “I’ll get you another blanket.”

The room feels chilly to you as well, but not enough to warrant two heavy blankets being piled atop of you. Something is definitely going on inside of his body. As you open Eddie’s closet to grab another blanket, your eyes land on the Ouija board sitting on top of a pile of dirty clothes. The room suddenly feels hot as your temper flares. Anger builds up in your chest and your nostrils flare as you snatch up a blanket. Spinning around to face Eddie again, you stomp over to him.

“What the hell, Eddie? Why is the Ouija board still here?” you demand.

Eddie groans and turns his head to bury it in his pillow.

“Talk quieter, please,” he begs.

“Answer. Me.” Despite your anger, you’re not heartless. You lower your volume as you shake out the blanket and lay it across your boyfriend’s body. “Did you play with it?”

The guilty look that crosses his face gives you his answer before he opens his mouth to croak out, “Yes.”

“Eddie,” you whine, running your hands over your hair. “What if that’s what’s wrong?” You gesture to him lying down on his bed, lethargic and exhausted. 

“Stop,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed. “M’just getting sick. Or worn down.”

“But you don’t know–”

“Babe, calm down,” Eddie begs, trying to inject as much fervor into his voice as he can. “It’s not from some dumb game. That’s ridiculous.”

The only reason you bite your tongue is because he looks so miserable bundled up in the middle of his bed. Deciding to let it go for now, you sit down next to his head and card your fingers through his curls.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask him softly.

“Just you,” Eddie answers, mustering up a small smile to give you. 

As you lean down to press another kiss to his forehead, you swear he feels even colder than he did a few minutes ago.

Eddie still isn’t back to himself the next week. In fact, he says he feels worse. You weren’t able to take the whole time off from school or work, but any moment that wasn’t spent somewhere you were obligated to be, you were at his side. He refused to go to the doctor and even Wayne couldn’t get him to go. It seems the shittier Eddie feels the more stubborn he is. 

On Thursday, you don’t have work, so you head to Eddie’s place straight from school. He hasn’t been able to answer the door since he’s been staying in bed most of the time, so you just let yourself inside as usual. 

“I’m here, Eddie,” you call out, not too loud though, in case he’s asleep. Your sneakers join the small pile of shoes near the front door, and you pad down the hallway to your boyfriend’s room. Confusion furrows your brow when you don’t see him in his bed. A glance behind you confirms that he’s not in the bathroom, so where else could he be? You take a few steps into his room and spot Eddie standing near the closet, his back to you. His back is straight as a rod and his stained Marlboro shirt and blue plaid pajama pants hang loose on his thin frame, even thinner from lack of food lately. 

Cautiously, you take a few steps in his direction. The hair on the back of your neck is raised but you’re not sure why. It’s just your boyfriend.

“Eddie?” you ask timidly. “Are you okay? What are you doing out of bed? Eddie?”

A few heavy silent moments hang in the air. Then with a sudden sickening cracking sound, Eddie’s head snaps towards you. With a gasp, you take a step back. His eyes are entirely black. No trace of the dark brown that you love so much or the white that should be there. Pure black, darker than night. A sinister, toothy smile slides onto the mouth you’ve kissed so many times before. Your body trembles from the inside out as you stare in horror at whatever you’re witnessing in front of you. Eddie’s mouth opens, but the growling voice that comes out does not belong to him.

“Eddie isn’t here anymore.”

[strangeshoepatrolbandit]

Damian Al-Ghul/Wayne x GN!Reader.

Warnings: mentions drowning, mentions killing, mentions the pit and its effects, Damian being madly in love.

I do not know how to summarize this.

~☆~

This is psychotic, Ludacris, insane, mad, absurd. That's what Damians brain tells him when he's around you. It's what it tells him after he's fallen into a lovesick pool.

The opposite of a goopy, sticky, smelly, pool of hate. This one smells like your shampoo, it's watery and captivating. Damian has never been much of a swimmer, but he feels that he could stay in this one forever, allowing himself to prune and bloat from how long he's been in it. He would let his head fall under the edge and drown in his irrevocable love for you, but he knows that there is no drowning in this pool. He is allowed to live in it, become one with it.

Damian has killed before, and even though his father's influence is becoming him, he would do it if you asked him to.

However, his mother is still a part of him, too, no matter if he tries to run from it, rip it out, burn it. She herself had fallen into hopeless love, Damian even knows that, but she had done the only thing she had known how to do, put a cup over it and watch the flame die down to smoke.

There is still his grandfather in him, the man he once looked up to, praised, loved. He's begun to question Ra's' ways, his mother's ways.

He is loyal to them, but you, you he is devoted to. It doesn't matter if the voices in his head tell him to push you away, to hurt you, to hurt himself. He just can't. He can't do what that voice that sounds. Oh, so familiar, wants him to do.

He's been in the pit. He knows the agonizing pain it brings when his body is getting molded back together. But the rush of life he got from it is so similar to what he feels with you. In your presence, he is alive, a lovestruck boy, all he needs to be, all he should be.

He was raised a warrior, but why does it feel like he was made for you? Why do you fit with him so well? Together, you are light and dark, summer and winter, fire and ice. You are each others missing halves.

He's heard of love from his father and brothers and the books that he once rolled his eyes upon. But nothing could describe this, not even he could. His words could never fully come out to describe how enchanting what you and him have is.

×

Damian blinked his eyes as an attempt to banish the shine that had grown in them, the tell tale sign of tears. His pupils were small, and he was frantically looking around his room. He knew he had gotten far to into his head again.

His chest quickly rose up and down as he felt sick with apprehension. Until a movement across his midsection made him look down, his pupils blowing wide as he saw you.

He forgot where he was, who he was with, that he was safe. He had forgotten about how you cuddled yourself up to him as he sat up in his bed, Titus as well. The dog himself had perked up after he sensed Damians distress, but he immediately rested back in his place as Damians nerves calmed.

Damians hand ran along the side of your face, trying to create a memory of how it feels. Your head subconsciously pushed further into his palms, causing the boy to let out a breath of air along with a smile.

He could never strain this relationship, and he would never let anyone else do that either.

~☆~

I did a poll to see if I should post this or another fic of mine first... I'll post the other one tomorrow.

[moonlightyong]

“his eyes break into me and i read the deepest envy of his soul on the tip of his tongue. it reads “you”.

– pairing: yuta nakamoto x fem!reader [self-insert reader, written from “I” pov]

– genre: light fluff, mostly suggestive

– wc: 2221 words [one shot]

– warnings: yuta and reader are ridiculously in love AND horny, there’s a lot of sexual tension in there, t e a s i n g, long ass make out session, switch undertones for the both of them (but ig you could say yuta is mostly the one in control), reader is a lil’ brat and our man sir nakamoto absolutely loves it, kinda possessive behavior at some point (?), yuta is a brat tamer who’s disgustingly and desperately enamored with the reader (lucky for him, she also is)

– author’s note: alright alright team, here’s this lil’ piece of writing i came up with not so long ago. i had just watched the bat mv and let’s just say mister nakamoto got me weak… next thing u know, i was writing this lil’ thingy and getting mentally consumed by the idea of [red-haired, biker, dressed in all black] yuta nakamoto. anyway, feedback is highly appreciated and without further ado; enjoy!!

– playlist:

the bat – nct u

blinding lights – the weeknd

into it – chase atlantic

half of my heart – josh makazo

crazy in love – sofia karlberg

I can still feel his hot breath there. It’s like tattooed on the bridge of my neck. He owns every pulse of my body, as small and discreet as they may be. He knows he’s the maestro of every sound I utter at unholy hours of the night. His eyes, dark and unpredictable, pierce through me, through the veil of my soul and read all of my secrets. The secrets I have for myself, for strangers and for the world. He knows my body like a handmade map, one he would’ve solely drawn in a dream of his; like the back of a hill, of a secluded meadow submerged by lilies and daffodils in the backyard of someone. Maybe I should’ve kissed him longer. Maybe I should’ve held him longer.

I’m accustomed to his taste, a cherry-like tint tattooed in the back of my brain. His handprints grew canyons in the anchor of my hips and I shiver every time my fingers graze against those haphazard souvenirs. His catchy lips burn crimson paint like candle wax on my skin and it’s so hard to feel regretful of them once the morning comes. The moonlight taints his body like a second skin and I feel even more enamored with him once his shadow is overcast with the glazing colors of the moon. His brown irises burn through me with hope and love and I glance back at him with empty promises of eternity. His name is engraved somewhere on my elbow and mine is forever mingled with the strings of his heart. I breathe in and he breathes out. We look at each other through heavy eyelids and find peacefulness in our embrace. I trace the pale skin of his left arm and imagine myself laying there for the rest of my days. He kisses the top of my head and puts a rebellious strand of hair behind my ear. And then, we both know we’ll do it all over again tomorrow.

[03:58 a.m]

Johnny’s House, Hongdae District

His rough hands find their way around my waist like the way back home. His lips instinctively pepper soft kisses down the stream of my neck; a way to greet me, a way to soften my mind. And, right as a familiar wind of warmth unravels in the deepest part of my lower body, he gives me the signal my whole being has been awaiting —and he secretly has been waiting for as well— : “Let’s go”. And just like that, we’d leave our friends behind at whatever party we were at and hop on his dark red Kawasaki. We ride into the night, the darkness of the city falling upon us like a cape and the blinding lights of high buildings and streetlights guiding us towards our sinful destination. And, just like every other night, I’d end up with my back pressed against his off-white wall as his hands would roam around my body, senselessly yet meaningfully. Then, his long fingers would take hold of my face and have me look up at him. A fire glances back at me from the depth of his gaze and, although I’m afraid I’d get burnt if I dared catch it, an irreproachable force in the seed of my soul pushes me to get closer and graze said fire. And I do. I get on my tippy-toes and press a kiss on the borders of his lips. Such an act, I suppose, is enough to light up the flame in his core. His hands hold my face tighter, closer, as if I was a dove and he was afraid I’d fly away if he were to loosen his grip for even a second. His soul bleeds in the grip of my touch and I paint his mouth with colors of my own. Each step we take brings us closer to the other, each grasp on each other’s body is a bit more powerful, leaving us with an unrivalled longing for the other’s touch. His eyes break into me and I read the deepest envy of his soul on the tip of his tongue. It reads “You”.

The epitome of desire rises in us like a treasured sunrise and all we’re thinking of is how to have all of each other at once. His fingers then trace along the lines of my body like a sacred poem, one he would recite to the stars every night right before heading to the land of faded dreams. I get lost in the overwhelming sensation of him, waiting, anticipating and craving for more. And, by the sole flutter of my eyelashes followed by a sound his soul cherishes, oh, so much, he gets the hint of what it is that I desire more than anything on this lonely night. The amber resting in the chambers of his onyx gaze then catches fire, like it was always meant to. A pleading sign of authorization flashes through his inky eyes and I, reading him like a book my past self wrote fifty-thousand years ago, start unbuttoning his dark shirt. The feeling of his rough skin melting upon my soft fingertips somewhat feels like an oxymoron, and yet, it’s like they’ve always belonged there. I patch up the torn areas of his skin with a stamp of my lips, so that he can remember me when I’m gone, so that I can find my way back there later on.

Slowly but surely, I make my way down the column of his torso, leaving purple-tinted evidence of my existence on the lands of his body. His wondrous whispers encourage me to keep going on my quest, to sow more seams of my eternal love for him on the road of ecstasy. And when I nibble a tempting patch of skin right under his symbolic butterfly tattoo at the extremity of his left side and then latch my tongue to underline the now bruised golden skin, I feel him shiver under my touch. Pride dances a waltz with the corners of my mouth right as an enchanting melody leaves the trenches of his throat. The simple consequences of what I’ve done to his body paired with the view of me kneeling right before him creates a dark tornado birthed in a cracked abyss of pleasure at the pit of his core.

A phantom aura of hopelessness and helplessness rejoicing in the definition of “skinny love” wavers above him, slowly lingering across his singular features. “The things you do to me…” A mumble just as loud as a whisper resonates in the house and in my inner walls, deep within. I look up at him, his enamored expression scratching my soul with melancholy and his gaze holding mine captive for the better. He looks disheveled in a metaphorical sense, a cry for surrender glistening in the catacombs of his eyes. I crack a smile at his state, the state I put him in. Suddenly, he grabs my forearms and puts me back up. We’re facing each other again, an electrifying tension, murderous to the touch, moving between our aching bodies. I look up at him with the word ‘challenge’ spelled out in my irises, reflecting the dilemma in his own. The daring glaze in my stare does not miss him and I’m standing there, anxiously and impatiently waiting for him to do something, anything. Yet, the ruined look flickering at the surface of the charcoal pool that are his eyes alert me of something; he still is bewitched by my touch, he still wants more of me. As a grin takes over my features, his are still soft with a newly found drop of harshness right in the middle. His silk-like hands wrap around my jawline like the clouds gently welcome the night sky after dusk and then, astonishingly, he pulls my face closer to his in a harsh tug. “You know you drive me crazy, don’t you, angel?” He no longer looks wrecked. The previously ruined look shining in his eyes had set and let a newly yet familiar assertive look rise in their premises. I swallow, hard. It is now his turn to grin.

Goosebumps cover my entire skin and my heartbeat is having a race against the million thoughts running through my mind. Yuta, on the opposite, looks pretty confident. Serene, even. And yet, as scared as I look, a wave of excitement is crashing against my chest and a flash of desire is coursing through my mellow eyes. Yuta’s own eyes catch with amusement, cling onto that hint delivered by my deepest self. And, in less than a second it takes to let out a breath, to think a thought, his lips crash into mine. It’s a kiss fueled by hunger, by lust, by mesmerism. Our bodies are trapped in an endless kind of colliding, yet, our souls feel like we’re barely touching. They need more. We need more. In a sudden rush, he takes off my tank top and I’m more than content by his action. His hands start roaming freely on my body, exploring a location he knows like the back of his hand. He lets the weight on his eyelids get the best of him as his mind, heart and soul get lost in the crevices of my essence. Yuta, as the cocky motherfucker that he is, is sure of many things. But one thing he is the most certain of is that nobody on this earth knows my body like he does. He is sure he could paint it; curves and bones, flesh and light, even the smallest details like that mole I have right under my left eye. And I don’t doubt him on that.

Once his eyes flutter back open, I’m greeted by an amorous glint in them. He looks at me like he held the whole world right there, in the palms of his hands, and whispers in a tone that could only be painted in honey: “I was made for you, love”. His hands caress the outlines of my face in the softest way known to mankind and the love he has in his eyes deepen, “And you…” His right hand lands a sharp slap on my behind, making me let out a shaky whine, not expecting the sudden change in his behavior yet not minding it a bit. I then jump up and he catches me in a steady hold, wrapping my legs around him as his hands ease the dazzling, scarlet-tinted stinging on my ass. His grip tightens and I can perfectly feel the flexing of his arms around me, a dizzying warmth taking over my whole being. This sudden act and incredulous proximity result in our foreheads ending up against each other. As his eyes bore into mine, he mutters in a hoarse voice: “You were made for me”. His slow breath rakes across the skin on my face like a cold yet welcoming breeze.

And as I’m getting accustomed to the growth of serenity and tenderness in the hollow of his eyes, I unexpectedly feel a demonic tingle in the soil of my bottom lip. Yuta had bitten it, leaving an iron taste behind and soothing it with delicate kisses. Said kisses slowly but surely grow into a more passionate, inflammable and straining one. I can feel my skin tingling and my five senses are tremendously alert. I rake my fingers through his long, red hair and tug at the ends. This single action takes him by surprise and has him dropping his head down, letting out a low growl against my neck. He then smirks —either in an attempt to hide the effect I have on him or because of the tiny whimper I just failed to hold captive behind my lips. I instinctively graze my nails against the lanes of his back the moment I feel him shift against me. My doing on his back must’ve been doing wonders because his eyes dive into mine with a darkness of their own; a warning one. A warning for what is about to come, a forethought of what I had gotten myself into. And this kind of threat makes my body shudder with contemplation. Therefore, I decide to push his buttons even more. I look back at him with a tint of innocence, of obliviousness, and flutter my eyelashes at him as my hand brushes a specific place down south where I know he needs me the most.

I never, ever knew his ebony eyes could get a shade darker until I’ve seen it right there, with my own two eyes. And, as I expected, my plan is a success. The purity swimming around in my irises sends him over the edge. And, without breaking eye-contact with me, Yuta pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue —a dear habit of his. However, during this moment, it feels more frightening —and a tiny bit more exciting— than usual. “You like torturing me baby, don’t you?” His low tone bears a glimpse of playfulness in it, yet, it’s a mischievous one. He definitely has something in mind. And if his arched eyebrow and the whimsical glint in his eyes weren’t indicative of it, his next words definitely are.

“Well, it’ll be my pleasure to teach you how to behave”.

hope u enjoyed reading this one shot! don’t hesitate to tell me ur thoughts about it, it’d be an honor to read them :]

★彡

[thewinter-eden]

psycho | han jisung (9/20)

9 : punished

Pairings: HAN JISUNG x OC | LEE MINHO x 2nd OC

Rating: mature

cross posted on AO3 under the_winter_eden and wattpad under alone-at-last.

Warnings: discussions of murder, torture, rape. Comment a request to be tagged!

psycho masterlist

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pov : anna

She sits in the dingy community room, peeling off chunks of her bread with dirty fingernails, and wears a sad smile as she watches Han kneel down to wrap Jo in a gentle hug. The newest member of their terrible little family cries into his embrace, unable to hold him in return without setting fire to the brand new burns on the backs of both hands.

Anna feels a pang of sympathy at the agony on the younger girl’s face, and she shares a saddened glance with Ruby. “Do you think she’s okay?”

The oldest girl sips at her broth. Her face scrunches and she puts the bowl back down on her tray with a look of distaste. After a second, she looks back at Jo. “She’s strong.” There’s a proud smile on her face. “And angry. That’s a good thing. The longer the anger lasts, the longer we do. I was one of the angry ones. So was Kim,” She nods over to the second oldest girl, who’s kneeling nearby and helping Jackie wrap up the two fingers on each hand that are now sans fingernails.

Hearing them, Kim looks over her shoulder and narrows her eyes. “We’re still angry.”

Ruby shrugs. “Better angry than dead.”

Anna isn’t sure she agrees, and when Ruby shoots a guilty glance at the thick bandages around the other girl’s wrists, she knows she only just realized the impact of her words. Ruby reaches over and lays a hand on Anna’s knee. “Sorry, Annie, I didn’t think.”

Shaking her head, Anna just sops up more broth with a piece of bread.

It’s just the six of them now, plus Han.

Ruby, Kim, Cass, Jackie, Jo, and Anna.

The room feels empty without the four they’ve lost.

Han maneuvers Jo so she can settle back against the wall she’s sitting by, and helps her put her tray in her lap so she can eat comfortably without reaching for anything. He places a comforting hand on the top of her head and then straightens.

When he turns, he catches Anna’s eye, and gives a little smile.

She smiles back.

“Here, let’s see.” Kim is done with Jackie now, and comes over to Anna and Ruby. Without waiting for permission, she pulls Anna’s nightgown aside and peeks under the bandages at the still raw gashes across her abdomen. “You don’t look too inflamed. You should have seen mine.” She shows her stomach, and the scars are bulbous against her bruised skin. “They almost got infected. Hannie had to clean them so often.”

He’s behind her, then, kneeling next to Ruby. With an upward glance at Kim, he frowns at the scars. “You needed antibiotics. I thought they were never going to heal.”

Kim touches his shoulder and sits, finally getting to her own dinner. “None of us would heal at all if you didn’t work so hard to keep us alive.”

He blushes a little, ducking his head to shrug off her gaze. “You seem happy today.”

Kim shrugs. “I’m incredibly well adjusted.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “You’re losing your mind, that’s what’s adjusting.” She chews slowly on a scrap of bread and helps Anna put her bandages back the way they were.

Next to the oldest, Han nudges her knee. “Is the broth not good? Is it cold?” He realizes it’s not that when he notices the steam still curling through the air above Ruby’s bowl.

She frowns down at it and scrunches her face again. “It’s just a little off. I’m good with just the bread though, sorry Hannie.”

He looks surprised, and shakes his head abruptly. “No, I’m sorry. It’s probably a day too old. I’ll make new tomorrow, don’t worry. I’m sorry, Ruby.” He looks so ashamed of himself for serving potentially expired beef broth that the three girls around him have to silently tell each other not to laugh at him.

Ruby ruffles his hair playfully. “Old soup is not even close to the worst thing that happens in this garbage resort. Don’t apologize, Hannie.”

He accepts her answer with a frown and then nods towards her leg where a large portion of her left thigh is freshly bandaged. “How’s your leg?”

She can’t hide the wince as he brings her attention back to the incomplete set of horizontal cuts that are now gashed along the outside of her thigh. “Just as painful as the rest of it.”

It’s a horrible mutilation, the obsession that Cain has. Slowly, over the course of their months and years in captivity, his girls are becoming morbid works of art at the edge of his knife. Matching cuts in matching patterns create deliberate scars over their bodies until they all look like some kind of terrible body modification project.

Han’s eyes skate past the two oldest girls and finally land on Anna. “Are you alright?”

Since you tried to kill yourself? He doesn’t say it out loud, but he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to tell the others that the matching bandages on her wrists that none of them have ever had are from shards of glass driven by her own hand. They all know.

They all heard.

Anna takes a second to sip at her broth, feeling the warmth of it seep into her body. She can’t meet his eyes, knowing that as soon as she does she’ll feel everything she felt that night all over again.

Ruby and Kim both look down at their dinners, feeling the hesitation rolling off of the younger girl in palpable waves.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Anna says, which sounds ridiculous as soon as she says it because who’s good, really, in a place like this? She feels like Jo, sitting over there with Jackie and Cass, bawling her eyes out.

Nobody’s ‘good.’

But Han just nods and gives her another tiny smile. He gets to his feet and adjusts his poorly fitting clothes. “I’ll leave you guys for about an hour, and then I’ll be back.” He pauses by Anna, and opens his hand to her.

Confused, she blinks at him, and finds him waiting expectantly. She puts her hand in his.

He gives it a squeeze. She feels her pulse jump between them.

In the next second, he’s released her hand and is tiptoeing back across the room, headed for the door. In his wake, both Ruby and Kim stare at her. The longer they stare, the hotter her face feels. She avoids their gaze and focuses on the rest of her dinner. “What?”

Kim clears her throat and shakes her head, a slight smile playing at her lips. “It’s like a tennis match of smiles between the two of you.”

Anna blushes.

“And that was some totally necessary physical contact there, very crucial to our collective wellbeing.” Ruby agrees.

“Are the two of you really playing matchmaker in the middle of the worst thing that’s ever happened to us?” Anna grumbles. “There’s nothing cute happening here, he’s just mothering me the way he mothers all of us.”

Kim scoffs out loud. “Mothering is not the word I would use.”

“And besides,” Ruby adds. “If the two of you can look at each other like that in the middle of the worst thing that’s ever happened to us, maybe there’s some kind of hope out there for all of us.”

Anna’s severely uncomfortable now, scowling at both of them. “You guys are delusional.”

“Probably.”

“Han is being sensitive to the fact that I wasn’t doing well two weeks ago. It’s what you do when someone cuts their own wrists. Besides, he found me like that. I’m pretty sure I traumatized him.”

They don’t push the matter any further.

When Han comes back to return them to their rooms, he spends time with each of them. He loops an arm around Ruby’s waist to take the weight off of her tender leg and helps her to her room, and it’s about ten minutes before he comes back out. It’s normal, a daily occurrence, that he gives them all special attention and offers himself as an ear to listen or a hand to hold when they need it.

“How are things with Minho?” Anna asks Cass softly, before Han returns. She’s noticed the emptiness in the other girl’s expressions lately, and the apparent disconnect between her mind and body. Cass has been a mess, tripping and miscalculating her steps, dropping her food trays and flinching away when the others try to touch her. And all the while, her face stays blank, like she doesn’t even see it.

Anna suspects she knows why, but she doesn’t want to ask.

Cass turns dim eyes to the blonde, her eyebrows lifting a little.

It’s the best way to get a reaction out of her, to bring up Minho. He’s the only topic that makes her awaken from whatever fog she keeps slipping into.

Coming back to herself, Cass glances down the hall to where Han is accompanying Kim to her room, and then she looks back to Anna. “He’s been trying to get the police to help us, but the FBI won’t let them.” She whispers. “They’re waiting for Cain to lead them to his friends.”

“Cain has friends?” Anna spits, utter disbelief dripping from her tone. “We’re down here, dying, what the hell are they waiting for?”

Cass just shrugs listlessly. “We’re not the only ones Cain is killing. We don’t take priority.”

The responding darkness that creeps into Anna’s soul drags her mood to the depths. “We don’t take priority?”

“I think I like him.” Cass whispers flatly, her eyes losing focus.

Anna forces herself back into the moment and tries to remember what they were talking about. “Sorry, what?”

“Minho.” She blinks, and her cheeks redden just slightly. It’s the first sign of life she’s displayed in a few days. “I think I like him.”

A sad kind of joy occurs to Anna, and she smiles. She doesn’t say that it’s not likely that her feelings will ever come to fruition, or that they’ll both probably face the wrath of Cain before they ever get to see Minho’s face, because what’s the point? Cass has found something to care about in the middle of one of the greatest miseries of the human experience, and Anna knows she has no right to take it from her. “That’s really great, Cass.”

A series of emotions suddenly flash across the brunette’s face. She sways where she sits, like it’s too much effort to think and keep her balance at the same time.

Anna watches her brow lower until her eyes are almost completely hooded, welling with tears.

“But I’m ruined,” Cass whispers. “I’m ruined, it’s all ruined.”

The words drag a sense of horror through Anna and she swallows it as well as she can. “Don’t say that. That’s not true.”

“You don’t know yet.” Cass closes her eyes and a tear squeezes through. In a breath, she abruptly seems to regain some of herself. “What am I doing? Forget I said anything about Minho. I don’t like him, really, I’m just lonely.” She shakes herself and forces a smile.

Han is emerging from Kim’s room, headed for Cass.

Anna stares at her, shocked by the complete switch in behavior. “It’s okay to like him,” She whispers. “You’re not ruined.”

“You don’t know.”

She does. “I do. And I know that it doesn’t make you ruined. Alright?”

“Cass, you okay?” Han is close enough to see the tears now, and he leans down to brush them away. “Let’s go back to your room now, okay? Come with me.” He shoots Anna a nod and then gestures for Cass to walk with him.

He doesn’t try to touch her, like he supports the others.

He knows better.

Cass follows him to her room, feet stumbling over themselves and shoulders brushing the walls as she moves discordantly.

When it’s Anna’s turn to be guided back to her room, Han doesn’t say anything about his conversations with the other seven girls. She doesn’t ask what they talk about or if he was able to help Cass feel better, but he doesn’t volunteer the information, either. It actually makes her feel better—if he doesn’t gossip about the things he talks to the other girls about, then he most likely doesn’t sit around and talk about her behind her back, either.

Not that there’s any more harm that he can do to her than has already been done. What are they going to do, laugh at her behind her back? For what, wishing she was dead?

It’s an almost definite certainty that every one of those girls had at least once preferred death to the enduring torture of existing in Cain’s captivity.

Han just reaches out a hand to her and holds her fingers loosely as they walk down the long hallway to her room at the end. “How are your wrists?”

They ache. They burn every time she moves her hands, the skin and scabs cracking to release fresh trickles of blood at every turn. It feels like they’ll never properly mend. Anna shrugs and watches him turn her arms over so he can see if the bandages have been bled through.

They haven’t.

For a moment, he holds both of her hands, a deep sigh wracking through his narrow frame. “You know,” He starts, and drops his eyes to their feet as though he can’t bear to look her in the eyes. “I understand why you did it.”

Her heart clenches. They all understand. She’s not unique in her feelings about their shared experience.

“I understand that there’s not really anything to hope in down here, especially when so many of them haven’t made it.” His eyes well with tears and he brusquely blinks them away. “But please promise me you won’t try again.”

Anna purses her lips and tries to focus of the warmth of his hands around hers.

When she doesn’t respond, and he feels her arms shake as she tries to back away, Han steps in closer and tightens his grip. “Please, Anna.” His thumb swipes gently over the back of her hand. “I can’t see you like that again.”

It would be him. If she decided to take her life again, and actually succeeded, it would be him who found her, like he had the first time. Only next time, she might be successful. Next time, he would find another dead girl in her bedroom floor. Next time, he would be dragging her cold body down the filthy hallway, dumping it wherever he had to dump them, and she would be another lifeless face trapped in his memory forever.

It’s a wonder he hasn’t succumbed to the misery of it all himself.

So she relaxes the tension in her arms and allows herself to step closer, to let their hands hang between them. “I promise.”

He looks up then, and bares a shaky grin. “You promise?”

Anna nods and tries to match his smile. “I promise.”

But Han’s smile is gone. His eyes have shifted to a spot beyond her shoulder, toward the doorway, and that’s when Anna notices the large shadow on the floor.

A man’s shadow.

“What the hell is this?” Cain’s powerful voice hisses.

She turns, heart in her throat, to see him glaring down at their joined hands. Cain steps into the room, each footfall heavy with rage. She sees his fists clenched at his sides and knows that he doesn’t like the closeness between his two captives.

Han drops her hands but doesn’t back away from her. Instead, he pushes himself between Anna and Cain, and raises his arms pleadingly. “Her wounds needed treatment,” He tries, and she sees his shoulders trembling.

Anna watches in horror as Cain sweeps both arms as a mighty scythe and crushes Han into the wall. She hears his head collide with the cement, hears his grunt of pain, sees him slide limply to the floor. She hears his name on her own lips, a terrible fear for someone other than herself for once completely overwhelming her senses.

“This is how you treat my girls?” Cain mutters, reaching down to yank up a fistful of Han’s long hair. He lifts him partly off the floor, closing his other hand around the boy’s throat. “Is this what you thought I meant when I told you to care for them? You think my pretty playthings are yours to have?”

Han can’t answer. His eyes are blinking hazily, disoriented by the collision with the wall. A confused groan scrapes up his throat, but no words follow.

As Cain’s hand clenches around Han’s throat, the one in his hair pulling back to bash him once more into the cement, Anna is suddenly spurred by nothing other than panicked adrenaline.

In the next second, she finds herself latched onto Cain’s back, her teeth sinking into the junction of his throat and shoulder. She feels the flesh part around her incisors, tastes the blood when it bursts into her mouth.

Cain gives a howl of anger and pain, and drops Han. His hands are on Anna next, seizing her by the arms and tossing her off like she weighs nothing. Her teeth rip a strip of skin from his shoulder as she is flung away from him, and she hits the floor with the taste of him on her tongue. He’s headed straight for her, his thick boots slamming against the floor, and he bends to snatch her up by the arms. “You just earned yourself a session, bitch.”

Anna lets him drag her from her room, craning her head over her shoulder to see Han still slumped against the wall. Her heart is still hammering against her ribs, her thoughts screaming with prayer that he’s alright.

The sight of him being thrown like he was would stay with her forever. The cognizance in his expression immediately falling like it had been ripped from his face would haunt her until she died.

He still hasn’t given any intelligent response since it had happened, and he disappears from her view before she could know if he was okay.

Anna’s only thoughts as Cain throws her into the old rusty chair and straps her down are of Han. As soon as Cain is done with her, he’ll surely return to Han and punish him for whatever it was he thinks he saw between the two prisoners.

That is, unless he can be satisfied with punishing her.

So when Cain turns to the workbench and returns with the same pipe wrench that he’d used to break her arm, Anna gives him all the fear she can manage to express. When he bends low and tells her how disappointed he is in her, telling her that he ought to take her hands for touching something that doesn’t belong to her, she screams and sobs until she sees his lips curl in a wicked smirk.

When he starts in with heavy handed swings, crushing her left ankle over and over again, as she knew he would, she lets it all out. She gives him every response that comes to her and thrashes wildly, replete with agonized misery until he’s panting, splattered with blood, and all but cackling with delight, her ankle completely obliterated.

Her foot hangs at the end of her leg, connected only by a squishy, mulched section of flesh and splintered bone, and he cranks her head down to look at it. She heaves and vomits into her own lap, overcome with nauseating pain.

Cain dances out of reach of the splattered contents of her stomach and only continues to laugh.

When she can breathe again, if only for a second, he leans in close and grips her knees. A howl bursts from her throat and he grins wolfishly. “Your pain is delicious, Anna.” Cain reaches down and wraps his whole hand around her destroyed ankle and squeezes, and she’s sick all over again.

Her captor scoots back, unbothered by the upheaval. From where he crouches, he watches her dangle on the brink of consciousness. “Remember this next time you decide to take something of mine for yourself. And furthermore,” He lurches forward once more and grasps her ripped wrists, allowing his nails to dig into the cuts.

Anna’s body convulses at the sensation.

She can’t even process the pain anymore. Her body is so consumed by the trauma of his actions, by the screaming pain receptors in her brain, that it’s no longer responding.

“If you ever try to kill something of mine again,” He pushes his lips against her ear. “I’ll kill that boy. I can always find another Han, Anna. He’s just as dispensable as you are.”

Cain returns her to her room, one arm wrapped around her hips and holding her so tightly against his side that neither of her feet touch the ground. He drops her unceremoniously to the floor and casts a loathing glance to Han, who still leans against the wall, head hanging low over his chest.

The boy seems to have come back to himself a little, as he’s now sitting hunched over himself, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. He looks up weakly as Cain and Anna enter, and she sees a rush of motion like he’s trying to get up.

“Don’t bother,” Cain snaps, already turning away. “I have work to do. And so do you. Set her leg.” He tosses one final dismissive look at the girl sprawled on the floor, and then takes his leave, slamming the door behind him.

Anna’s afraid to move, anticipating the spike of pain that she already knows will shoot all the way from her foot to the top of her head, but she has to see. She twists, trying to keep her foot still.

It doesn’t work, and she’s crying again.

Han’s movements are sluggish is he creeps towards her. He’s on his hands and knees, reaching, face wet with tears. “I’m sorry,” He chants. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His fingertips brush hers, and the warmth of their touch urges him closer. He’s dragging himself more than he’s crawling, and she can’t tell which sobs are hers and which are his.

Anna pulls herself up to sit against the closest wall, nausea reeling up her throat as her ankle protests. Her foot flops to the side and a whole new rush of fire explodes up her leg. “Are you okay?” She chokes, and she can taste the blood and sick in her mouth.

He manages to come to sit next to her, head drooping like he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up. “I’m sorry.” His hand comes out of the dark and closes around hers, and they’re both shaking. “I’m sorry.”

She moves her free hand to his face, but it feels like swimming to reach even that far. She brushes his fringe out of his eyes and sees them slide up to meet hers, glossy and distant. She hopes he’s only concussed, but she’s still terrified that he’s mortally wounded.

But he wouldn’t be conscious. That’s what she tells herself. If he couldn’t recover, he would be unconscious. Her eyes squeeze shut at the mental image of being brought back to her room to find him, bloody and unresponsive, in her floor. Like Lily. Like herself.

She’s glad she promised him before it all happened. It’s the first time she really imagines with empathy what it would be like to bear such witness, and it makes her stomach clench for what seems like the hundredth time.

“Are you okay?” She asks again, and feels his other hand come up to cover hers where it still rests against his temple.

He nods blearily, and then sways like the movement was too much. His head tilts against the cold wall beside them, and rests there listlessly. “I’m sorry, Annie. I’m sorry.”

Her hand falls before she realizes that she can’t hold it up anymore. “I’m sorry,” she returns emptily. “I shouldn’t have let you—”

His grip is stronger than hers, and he’s still resolutely holding onto her hands like its the only thing keeping him attached to consciousness. She thinks it’s the only thing holding her, too. “No.” His voice is a hollow rasp. “No, I don’t care. He doesn’t get to take any of you from me.” He tries to catch her faltering gaze again, craning his neck, but his head falls back against the wall, and she hears it thump heavily.

They’re both on the brink of darkness, holding tightly to each other, fighting the hand that pulls them under.

“He doesn’t get to take you from me.”

comment a request to be tagged!

Next chapter coming Friday :)

[ddagent]

FWB AU please and thank you!!

I am open for prompts (ficlets and full fics), from your ideas to mine. Prompt away!

The elevator stopped on five. Margo nodded at Sergei, and Doctor Alpert who had also joined them for this particular elevator ride. "Good night. I'll see you at the panel tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it!" Sergei called out, and Margo tried not to wince at his audible enthusiasm. But that was Sergei Nikulov: every IAC conference, the man was just so delighted at the prospect of making friends, connecting with his colleagues. It was endearing, really. But also a little disheartening when Margo wondered just who he had to connect with back in Moscow.

Out on her floor, Margo made quick work of the few paces to her hotel room. She unlocked the door, kicked off her shoes, and took off her jacket. Her watch told her she had a good nine minutes for Sergei to reach floor seven, say goodnight to Alpert, and come back down the empty flights of stairs towards her hotel room. Just enough time for her to tidy a few things away, roll down her pantyhose, and take a quick drink of the brandy from the mini bar. It wasn't nerves, like it had been that first year during the '85 IAC conference. A newly divorced Sergei, an incredibly stressed Margo with no piano in sight. An argument in an elevator and an offer nervously made. No, this was different.

This was clear anticipation.

Two short knocks on the door. A pause. Then two more. Sergei. Margo reached over, opened the door, and allowed him to enter. He closed the door softly behind him, the latch catching with an audible snick in the quiet of the room. Margo heard her own uneven breathing, the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. His slow, methodical walk towards her. Fuck. Sergei's gaze was burning: he took in the undone buttons of her blouse, the bare legs under her skirt. The missing heels and the turned down bed.

He finally closed the distance between them and cradled her face, pulling her up for a long, searing kiss. His tongue slid inside her mouth and all the stresses of her work began to melt away. No Jamestown reports; no Senate oversight committees. Just Sergei's tongue running along her own as he held the back of her neck, his other hand firm against the small of her back.

Pulling away, Sergei pressed his forehead against Margo's. He then left a kiss on the curve of her cheek, teeth nipping at the line of her throat. "I have thought of nothing else since leaving Moscow."

"Just since leaving Moscow?"

Sergei chuckled. "Perhaps longer. And you?"

Margo wasn't going to admit how often she thought about Sergei. Her attempts at stress relief often featured him, now, and the things he had done to her during the last two IAC conferences, that seminar in DC a few months back. That telephone call after Margo had got her new cell phone. But admitting that would put her at a disadvantage. So she didn't respond; just pushed his jacket from his shoulders and slid her hand along his jaw, drawing his mouth back down to hers. Margo felt Sergei smile against her lips as she deepened their kiss.

Mouths barely moving from each other, they made it to the bed. Margo hiked up her skirt; Sergei fiddled with the zipper of his pants. Like last year, they didn't worry about losing any more clothes. Margo enjoyed the feel of his mouth against her breast through the layers of fabric, the damp cotton cool against her skin. She relished how the material of his pants rubbed against her inner thigh as he rutted against her. The weight of Sergei's fingers pressing into her thigh as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him close.

Inside her, moving slowly, Sergei stared down at her in wonder. He opened his mouth; Margo pressed two fingers to his lips. "Whatever you're about to say, I don't need to hear it. I just need you."

Sergei blinked, nodded, and buried his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder. He would leave marks – teeth marks in the fabric; bruises upon her skin. Last year she had flushed with embarrassment, afraid that everyone would notice. But half the attendees were in bed with other engineers; it was also October in the UK, so high necklines were acceptable. It was a better use of Sergei's mouth, too.

Margo didn't need to be told she was beautiful. She just needed to feel a release.

[scarletwritesshit]

💭 Kotone Shiomi x Shinjiro Aragaki 💭 Dreams of a Dead Man

I hear that kid speakin’.

"Shinjiro...I…I didn’t mean...for things to end up like this!"

At least he’s still got his humanity left in him. Kid’s got it far too rough for someone his age. And I can’t blame him. I’d do the same thing if I was in his shoes.

Sounds like he’s cryin’ his eyes out. Not like I can do anything about it. Better if he burns it out of his system this way instead of grabbin’ a gun and releasin’ his tears in the form of a bullet shot through someone’s skull. Nothing worse than two me’s running around.

Kotone, I’m putting him in your hands. Keep this boy’s head on straight.

"Damn it Shinji! Why did you do that? Why did you do such a thing?"

All right, Aki. Don’t bang the damn table with your fists. That ain’t helpin’ either of us.

"If only I was stronger. Then I wouldn’t have had to lose yet another friend!"

Stronger for what? To punch the damn bullet outta the air? Sounds like you’re the madman here. And quit moping around like I’m dead. I can still hear you. Just can’t smack you upside the head like you need right now.

…Don’t blame yourself. I protected the kid out of my own volition. He’s not the one who deserved to die that night, no matter his intentions.

"It’s too dreary in here. I bought you some flowers to brighten the place up."

Thanks. Not like I’ve noticed. Or even can notice.

"They wouldn’t let me bring Koromaru along, otherwise, I would’ve bought him in to say hi."

Ah...the poor boy. I hope he’s doin’ well. He wouldn’t be able to survive Fuuka’s cooking.

"He’s been whining at his bowl every day, so I know you’ve been sneaking him a meal every evening…”

...Shut it.

"...but we’ve tried sparing him a few table scraps and he just looks up and whines. He doesn’t even lift his head off of the ground. Aigis can’t even get a word out of him."

You tryin’ to rip my already bloody heart out?

"I think he misses you, Shinji."

Girl, I know he misses me. But what the hell can I do about it? Thats right; jack shit. I can’t even go tell Koro-chan myself that I’m still kickin’.

"I don’t think he’ll believe me even if I tell him I’ve personally seen you alive, but I’ll make sure he knows that your battle isn’t over."

You know me too well.

"I should probably get going before one of the nurses drag me out for overstaying my welcome. Not like you can hear me, but I love you, Shinji."

I love you too. Dammit.

"Still slacking, are you? Now’s the time to wake up if you plan on it."

Seems like you only got more annoying as time went on. Guess that’s what happens when you don’t got someone to punch some sense into ya.

And I’m not the one slacking. This shitty body of mine is. Otherwise, I would’ve given you a nice helping of a well-deserved knuckle sandwich a long-ass time ago.

"In all seriousness, the opportunities that we get to come visit you are few and far between. Things have not been looking up out there."

Out of my control. And I am too tired for your shit. Good night.

"This could be the last time I ever see you, and I wish it could’ve been under better circumstances.”

Last time? What the hell do you mean last time?

"Tomorrow’s the Promised Day....”

What the fuck is the “Promised Day?”

“…where we aim to put an end to Nyx once and for all.”

Who the fuck is Nyx? Never mind, why the hell am I even bothering with wondering?

“If we were to fail, anything and everything living will be annihilated in an instant. Nobody will even know The Fall is happening."

Lucky for you, I’m about as good as a dead man.

"I want to stay with you just a little while longer. I really do. But I kinda snuck away from the team just to see you."

Well, get back out there. It’ll make me feel better knowing you’re out there kickin’ ass. They need ya. I don’t need you.

"It’s not fair Shinji! I wanted more time! Why did he have to take you away from me!?"

Life isn’t fair to any of us. If it were, then that kid would still have a mom and a bunch of junkies wouldn’t be on the loose shootin’ people. Hell, I want to lift my stupid hand to wipe those stupid tears off of your face, but I can’t do shit.

"I... I should go back before the others notice I’ve snuck out."

Damn straight. Give em’ hell girl.

"Ah...I meant to visit you sooner, but I’ve been tired. So very, very tired."

Huh. Guessing y’all won seeing how that wasn’t the last time you’ve spoken to me. Unless we’re in purgatory or some shit. But I doubt it. Still don’t got a body worth a damn.

That doesn’t mean you can go tumblin’ onto me. But, I suppose I’ll give you a break, since it’s you.

"Finishing out the year has been exhausting, but the seniors are graduating tomorrow. I’ve had to hang in there for their sake as I wouldn’t miss their ceremony for the life of me."

So Aki and Mitsuru are all grown up now, eh? Crazy how time flies when a man’s down in the dumps.

"I feel like I could sleep forever."

Me too girl.

"But I won’t. I refuse. As long as you don’t."

...

"…I should go before I fall asleep here with you."

Go rest. We’ll see each other again soon enough.

"Aragaki-senpai, I hope you don’t mind me visiting again."

Doesn’t matter if I did or didn’t. Can’t do anything about it regardless.

"Kotone...Kotone asked me to deliver this in her steed. She felt bad about giving back your watch only for it to be destroyed, so she got you a new one."

There ain’t nothing for her to feel bad about. I would have bled out 20 times over if it weren’t for having that thing back.

"I’m sorry. I’ll leave now."

Kid, there’s nothing for you to feel bad for either. You ain’t the one that pulled the trigger.

…Damn. Can’t believe he’s still cryin’ over that.

It’s a good thing in a way. He’s still young. Shows he hasn’t strayed from the right path just yet.

Kotone must’ve done a damn good job of keeping him on track. I’m going to have to thank her once I figure out how to use my damn body again.