#Crow would scream at Breeze when he finds out he's been going there

[bonefall]

Do you think Windclan would have their camp in said ruins? It would be an interesting place for them to set down, though I can imagine that they probably wouldn’t seeing as how they’re clearly a human place and the cats are very much traumatized by humans, so it might be seen as a bad omen to even go near them

I heavily considered it, but ultimately yeah, no, Clan cats would be waaay too traumatized by human structures to repurpose one.

Additionally, I'm positive that the area would get semi-frequent human visitors. Horseback riding and dog-walking is probably banned in that area (both to preserve the heathland and to protect the Clan cats later) but in their TNP exploration, WindClan would find a lot of stale human scent and consider the site "not totally abandoned."

Harepaw, Heatherpaw, and Breezepaw probably hang out there a lot in secret, though. It's the Scary Forbidden Place you can sneak off to when you don't want to be bothered by adults.

[nomizombie]

[You could be mine...] 🎸🎤🎶

fanboy!König x GN!rockstar!Reader || [Part 1] [Part 2]

[SFW/Wholesome] ; no usage of y/n, gender neutral pronouns, insane rocking out!!!, author has never been a rockstar or to a concert 😔, not proofread, written at 12 at night

[A/N] ; i was just really obsessed with the idea of König absolutely flooring it when he gets to meet his favourite rockstar!!! And then rockstar reader has to sign his forehead or smth

ALSO this is probably one of my first *longer* little drabbles so congratulations to msyelf for writing more than 3 sentences and not taking a nap!! 🎉

You stepped out onto the stage to a roar of fans. Hundreds were in the crowd screaming your name. Many scrambling to get to the edge of the stage and see you in full.

You greet the crowd enthusiastically, a gentle breeze flowing through the locks of your hair and tickling the ends of your shirt. With one strum of your guitar, the crowd goes wild, chanting and waving lights.

Not long after, your band begins playing. Drums, electric guitars, keyboard, and your smooth vocals, all come together to form song after song. Before long, the concert is almost over.

Sweat drips down your forehead as you pant, tired after jumping from end to end of the stage to interact with fans. You scan the crowd, at the front of the pack, barely hidden by spectators is a massive man, donning your band’s shirt and hat. You quickly snap your focus back to the blaring music behind you, more cheers erupting as you play the final song of the night.

You finally drop your mic. Singing a farewell to the horde of people as you leave the stage. Your shirt is soaked, hair damp and cheeks red. You high five your bandmates before disappearing into your area to change. The memory of the man still filling your memory as you wear a fresh shirt and pants, smooth your hair and dry your dewy skin.

Rushing out one final time, you find the long line of tables where your bandmates await you.

The obligatory autographing session after every concert. Tiresome, exhausting, but also something you look forward to.

Mindlessly scribbling your initials on albums and shirts, and thanking fans, you greet the next fan. But, when you look up, instead of seeing his face, your band’s logo crows your vision.

Your eyes trail further upwards before they land on a pair of crystal blue, anxiety-filled pupils staring back at you.

“Oh- Hello!” You croak out. It’s the man from earlier, and he’s so much more massive than you thought.

“Wow, big guy huh?” The words leave your mouth before you realise.

He stares at you silently, nodding frantically after a few seconds of awkwardness.

He’s not much of a talker, huh.

Desperate to ease the tension between you two, you flash your signature charming grin before speaking,

“Name?” You smile at him.

Once again, a few seconds of silence before another frenzied nod.

“König.” He says in a thick accent.

“Sorry? Repeat that would ya?” You turn your head to the side, leaning your ear into him.

His eyes widen before he comes a little closer and places his hand on the sides of his mouth. It was only then that you noticed how large his digits were. Each finger must’ve been at least one of yours and a half. Yet despite their size, he was trembling. Vibrating even.

He yells (or more accurately, speaks at a normal level) into your ear,

“König.”

You blink at him.

“Coonisch..?” You repeat at him confused. How do you even go about spelling that?

“It’s German.” He clarifies meekly.

Well that explains it.

He shakily places an album onto the cloth-covered table, then another, then another, then another, then one from your band’s first show and- holy shit, this dude must be a big fan. Physically and music-wise.

You reach your marker out to begin signing the stack before you freeze as he reaches into his bag and pulls out… guess what, another album! Then some faded polaroids that you faintly remember taking on stage before throwing them out into the crowd… then a small band facts book… exclusive posters, and some CDs still in the wrapping! When he finally stops digging around his bag, you finally notice the wide array of vibrant pins and badges stuck to his leather satchel. Unique pins from the early days of your music and badges that were never made again after the first drop. This man is beyond a fan.

He chuckles nervously as he noticed your wide eyes and slight gaping mouth. You were literally in the band but still you weren’t even sure you had some of the merch he did.

“All right… Coonisch… How do I… spell… that?”

“K-Ö-with the two dots above it-N-I-G.”

Oh.

“You want that on… everything..?” You gesture towards the stack of albums, posters, and pictures.

“Yes.” He responds. You can almost see his wide grin through the balaclava he wore.

You sighed, clicking your pen and getting to work. By the time you finished the last poster, he was practically vibrating.

“I take it you’re a big fan?”

He nods wildly again. Eagerly stuffing the pile of merch back into his bag. Once he’s all packed up, he doesn’t leave just yet. His eyes contemplate before he opens his mouth again.

“Can- Do you- Hand- Is it okay if you… shake my hand?!” The last part comes out a bit too loud. His eyes widen again, tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink as he lowers his head.

“Of course. Least I can do for a fan like you.” You beam at him. His eyes immediately return to their squinted eye-smile state as he holds out his jittery hand.

You slowly wrap your fingers around his (giant) ones and give him a firm, tight, shake.

“That good?”

He nods madly, eyes joyfully squinting. He looks like he just went to heaven.

A string of giggles leaves your throat. You can’t hold it back. He looks confused for a moment before chuckling himself, realising how much of a fanboy he must look like right now.

“Well, hope to see you around again, König.”

He thanks you profusely, bowing and nodding his head. He almost left before he froze, turned and quickly dropped something onto your table. You swear you could see him floating with stars in his eyes as he walked off.

You stare at the tiny red present box for a second before pocketing it and signing the next bunch of albums and posters. Before long, it was an hour and a half to midnight and you were tucked up in the back of your band’s van.

Squirming to your side, your brain replayed the interaction between you and König. Every timid word he spoke, his boyish mannerisms, even the look in his eyes as you shook his hand.

It was starting to get difficult not to think about him.

You felt your pocket for your phone before realising that the gift he left you was still unopened inside of it.

Quickly, you pulled it out, gently unwrapping the carefully lined paper and undoing the small ribbon.

Inside, the most precious necklace laid. Engraved with your initials and band’s logo. It was a locket in the shape of a sparrow, your favourite bird. You clutched the necklace, grinning from ear-to-ear as your cheeks burned.

Then, you noticed something scrawled at the bottom of the box.

A phone number.

You smiled so hard your face hurt.

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn

Tysm for reading!!! Please lmk if you’d like me to continue this silly idea of mine- i think im shaking at the thought of writing this aas a full fic witj multiple parts… 😭🙏

[rcksmith]

Mine — Kaz Brekker

(photo not mine)

Requests: “9 from the fluff prompts with Kaz brekker please? It could be where they're keeping it a secret and it slips out? Thanks”

“Could you possibly do a kaz brekker and reader imagine where they are both like in their mid twenties. Number 9 from the fluff prompts “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" "No, that girl is my wife”, I could just imagine him with the smuggest grin saying it. Your a very good writer and thank you if you decide to write this.”

“Could I get a kaz brekker x reader secret relationship with fluff prompts 5, 7, 12, and 14 please?”

Fluff prompts:

5. ”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

7. “I feel like i cant breathe when i’m around you.”

9. “So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?!" "No, that girl is my wife!”

12. “I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!”

14. “I don’t like to pretend we’re not together.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of fights, mention of post-traumatic stress, fluff too.

Word count: 2k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like. I changed some details a little, hope you don't mind

Normal Rules. Smut Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — —

Fissure. That's what mercenaries, thieves, assassins and his enemies were looking for. A fissure to drive Kaz Brekker to ruin. Burn his empire, wood for wood, until there is nothing left but funeral ashes swept away by the winter wind. Even the most infinitesimal fissure would ensure that his enemies infiltrate, like hungry parasites, into the heart of the dungeon of his deepest secrets. Swallowing, absorbing, any hint of what could do the infamous the Bastard of the Barrel down to his own knees.

And Kaz Brekker feared that if they looked into the most secluded corner of his dungeons, where it was reserved to hide the greatest truths of his soul, they would find the one only thing to beg on his knees for would be something he would do without hesitation.

You.

You were like the last summer solstice in a world ruled by darkness, cold and empty. Which he kept in a chest locked with seven chains.

If he had to describe you with the five senses, Brekker would remind that, when he was in the bitter cold of the ocean, clutching the stiffness of dead and putrefying flesh like a lifeboat, a ray of sunshine, warm as the summer, it opened up through the thunderclouds and came down to his face, warming that spot of skin like a kiss from the sun.

And it would be with that memory that he would describe you.

Kaz Brekker shouldn't have fallen in love with you. He was the person who most understood the disastrous consequences if he let himself get carried away by the way his heart sped up whenever he saw you. If he allowed herself to taste the way all of your heat radiated into his body and made him feel alive. But he fell in love.

Everything was all too much. The feeling of life every time you said his name, like a devotion, something religious, lyrical. The sweetness in your eyes, the warm voice. Everything had been too much.

And what should he do? Tell you he missed you every time you went on a mission? Saying that he were jealous and envy of Jesper because the man managed to make you laugh with a silly joke and hug you tight, something Kaz still hadn't been able to do? Tell you it was almost religious the way he venerated your smile? Of course not. Because all these things would have been sensible, and Kaz couldn't do anything sensible around you.

Because when he saw life offering him, with such joy, the one thing that had been denied him all his life, and that he swore never to crave, his first impulse was anger. Stupid, irrational anger.

So, for the first few moments, his entire reaction to you had been cold, distant, almost avoidant. Because the way his whole body shook in hot spasms when, in that summery tone, you called his name, it was too much for Kaz to handle.

“Kaz!” You call, one night.

He heard your voice from across the crow club, and had to close his eyes tightly at the way his heart leapt in his chest.

"Hey, hey." You appeared beside him, your cheeks chased away by coral red, the happy smile and the sparkle in your eyes as someone who have the path to true happiness. "Jessy said you were wanting to find a new way to invade that bank."

Oh perfect. In the same way his body exalted when he heard the sound of your name and your lips, hearing you call Jesper by that infernal nickname had a much more destabilizing effect. And fierce.

Kaz raised an eyebrow at you, in a nonchalant gesture but inviting you to keep talking.

“I happen to know of an underground path.” For an instant, the pride in your smile made Kaz want to smile too. “You and I can put together a map today and we'll be right tomorrow to go.”

That was one of the times Kaz should have made some dry, disinterested, trivial comment, something that made you not want to spend time with him, something that made you turn around and walk away. He should have turned around and left. He had done this over a thousand times with other people and knew it to be one of the best outings.

Still, the acid comment didn't come and he couldn't turn his back on you.

So, like the idiot he became whenever it came to you, Kaz couldn't help but spend an hour in your company. Even if it resulted in him lying in bed at the end of the day, alone and feeling the guilt gnawing at him more and more.

So, before he even knew it, Kaz was already in his office with you, listening to you chatter about things he knew he should have been paying attention to. But the way the crackling of the fire flames in the fireplace flashed across your face was a distraction of unimaginable proportions.

“Jessy and I…”

“You want to stop.” He found himself saying before he even realized it. “That nickname is already exasperating me.”

“Why? Jealousy?” You joked, oblivious to the truth.

Kaz looked at you like your comment was the most pathetic thing he'd ever heard. He wanted to screaming: ‘I’m not jealous! Its just...you’re mine!.’ But he didn't. Instead, the words that came out were:

“No. It's childish and immature, and it doesn't fit with...”

"What if I call you ‘Darling’?” You rested your chin on both palms of your hand, your elbows resting on his desk in his office.

Kaz's heart skipped a beat.

“That way you won't be jealous of Jessy's nickname and…”

“It's not jealousy!” He countered, and too late realized that he didn't disagree in the first instance about the nickname, but about the green color that emanated from his body.

And you didn't let that go either.

Your eyes took on a caustic gleam that you quickly hid, turning to the map on the table and going back to drawing the paths. “Okay, Darling.”

After that night, Kaz's self-control began to crumble.

He gave you death glares whenever you called him that nickname, but he never dared contradict or scold you. Much less deny it. The truth was, the core of his soul wanted this. He wanted every part of your caress warm as summer. He wanted to appreciate how perfect you looked when you called him that way. As if that nickname was born just to be used between you.

Something unique.

Over time, his body's physical reactions began to be stronger, coercive and overwhelming. Kaz felt dry, burning, and you soothed and inflamed him at the same time. You were the breath of peace, and also a glass of hot brandy.

And everything that he once felt dead, frozen or putrefying, slowly began to blossom, reborn and shine.

"Darling." You said, going behind the chair Kaz was sitting in, submerged in the Krisha security system sheets in front of he. “You've been there for hours.”

He ignored you, though his body was all too aware of yours behind him, the way your breath hit the top of his ear, how your heat hit his back like a high summer breeze. Kaz swallowed hard, ordering his eyes to stay on the pages.

“What are you reading?”

Your voice rang out from the top of his head, and Kaz felt his heart race into a cardiac arrhythmia the second your hands went to the back of the chair and your face tilted, chin hovering millimeters from his shoulder, your nose almost brushing his cheek.

Fucking Saints! You were hot! It was as if you had sun bathed, swam in the flames of fire, and been born into the summer.

Kaz lost his breath. His sanity. His soul.

“Do not do this.” His voice was no more than a whisper.

You looked at him, the furs not touching but breath hitting each other's cheeks. Kaz followed your gaze, and suddenly the world subtly turned hot. Pulsing and muffled.

“What?” You whispered, your heart so fast.

This was the time for Kaz to use the touche in a very valid argument. To make you move away as fast as you approached. To nip in the bud any path this interaction between you could take. He should have said about the touch. But he didn't remember. Kaz didn't remember his limitation, his traumas, his demons.

In that second, of insanity and magic, you couldn't do that just because…

"I feel like I cant breathe when I'm around you." He said.

After that day, Kaz realized that life no longer made sense without having you by his side to share it. Money didn't have the same value anymore if you weren't there, the robberies didn't make sense anymore if he couldn't tell you how it was at the end of the day, or have you by his side to fight.

Very quickly, Kaz Brekker realized that he had lost the battle against his own feelings. Loving you was inevitable. And having you close to him was made as essential as breathing. That's when things between the two of you developed faster, more solid, more right. The weeks turned to months, the months to years, and your relationship fortified as gloriously as the hilt of a sword.

Kaz still had very difficult moments with touching, days when a single brush of fur was unbearable and the mention of a kiss was impossible. But you stayed there. Firm and unshakable. Giving your summer smiles,your warm winks, and his nickname that had the power to soothe every nerve in Kaz's body.

However, the more Kaz understand that he was need you to he still live, the deeper he hid any trace of public affection for you. Any clue that could sparked the theory in someone that you were the reason, for Brekker, for the sun rose every morning. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Never.

Kaz Brekker became very aware that his soul was harnessed to yours. And there was nothing in the world that would take you away from he. Not while he lived, and even seven feet from land, Kaz would still find a way to fight for you.

It was a logical decision when he said you two should get married. Kaz was still trying to maintain his serene posture as his soul burned in a fire too eager and excited to make official anything that said you were his. That he had finally managed to have that ray of sunshine in the midst of the atrocious ocean. You, unlike him, exhaled your happiness in excited squeals, little jumps of joy and a passionate, quick kiss on the man in front of you.

And Kaz understood, as perfectly as the sky are blue, that he would do anything, for the rest of his life, to be worthy of that overwhelming happiness that sparkled in yours smiles.

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” He said, feeling himself smile because your happiness for the wedding was exorbitant.

And you, like the little tease you were who loved to make him piss off, smiled even more and hugged him. He love you. Unconditionally.

But, just like the ocean waves, Kaz and you have had your ups and downs. He wasn't a man who had a lot of patience, and you weren't the most obedient, calm woman in the world. You found him exasperating and he found you as stubborn as a door.

"I already said you can't do that!" And there he was, once again, lecturing you because you showed too much affection, in his mind, for him in a public situation.

And, as Kaz fucking Brekker liked to point out, ‘all walls have eyes and ears’.

"We've been together for six years, Kaz!" You tried to keep your blood calm, but you weren't a person to put up with sermons. “Is this going to be our life? Living as if we have the same connection as a boss and an employee?!”

“And what do you want, Y/n?!” He placed both hands on his office desk, looking at you from the other side “Want us to have a party and tell everyone?! Or do you prefer to hang a red target on your chest?!”

"I did not say that!" You were starting to get really angry. “I'm not asking for a billboard saying we're married and you know it! The only thing I'm saying is that you let me choose to sit next to you, take your hand, or tell you I love you when any of us go off on a dangerous mission!"

Kaz shook his head, impassable, his gaze flashing with anger. How did you not realize he was trying to save you?! Save everything you two built, your lives! And all this for what? Walking hand in hand on the street? It was ridiculous!

“This is indisputable!”

“Kaz…”

“I said no!” He slapped his hands on the table.

A less brave woman would have cringed. But not you.

“I don’t like to pretend we’re not together!”

“And I don't like a fucking girl who complains all the fucking time about something I do to save her! But it feels like I've been put up with it for six years, doesn't it?!”

The words hit you like a slap. Crackling, burning and electrifying. You felt yourself holding your breath and your shoulders instinctively tightening back. The room was silent. Loaded with tension, as if lightning had just hit the ground.

You looked at Kaz in amazement. And he pursed his lips when he realized what he'd said.

“Put up with? And you call me ‘fucking girl’ ?” You repeated, your voice low, serious and in a mixture of hurt and outrage. “Good to know.”

You turned your back, walking out of the office and slamming the door behind you hard, making the thud reverberate through the corridors of Kaz's soul.

"Y/n!" He called you, striding to the door "Y/n!"

But when Kaz pulled the doorknob and took a few steps down the hall, it wasn't you he bumped into. It was Nina, trying to hide, in a very terrible way, her curious and shocked expression. In female hands she carried a small stack of documents, probably something important that Kaz needed to check.

He had to check that out. But his eyes, restless and quick, wandered the great hall of the crow club below, watching your figure pass between the bodies, advancing towards the exit.

"Sooo…" Nina started, even though the attention wasn't on her. "Couple fights, right?"

But Kaz didn't think before nodding, trying to get past Nina to catch up with you. But of course the girl wasn't going to let Brekker get away with it that quickly. She was betting with Inej how long you two would pretend to have nothing. And now she was going to get the truth!

"So you're saying that girl is your girlfriend?" The smile of shock and excitement was wide open on her face.

Kaz muttered a curse, gently pushing the girl aside and moving towards the stairs, aiming to catch up with you. But not before answering:

"No, that girl is my wife!"

[elysianightsss]

When Dusk Begins

Part six

Warnings: fluff, little bit of neck kissing

SERIES MASTERLIST

After a crazy night, and a crazy party. Some time had passed. Larry had left the museum, a while ago leaving you to come in every night and check on everything, not that you minded. He’d been too busy lately to join you.

Ahkmen’s hands caressed yours gently, both of you sitting in the hall of ocean life, the big blue whale hanging from the ceiling flapped his tail bringing a nice breeze throughout the room. Ahk sat behind you, your head laid back on his shoulder as you sat in between his legs.

The beautiful exotic fish swam around in their tanks, it was such a good idea for a date. Ahkmen seemed so so proud of himself that he thought of the idea.

“This is so nice.” You sighed, your body aching from a long day at work. Your new job in New York was amazing, but it came with a lot of paperwork. That meant tension in your neck and back, which Ahk was more than happy to massage out for you earlier.

“Indeed it is.” His arms wrapped tighter around you. “Did you hear anything more from the board of the museum?” He asked.

“No, they barely listened to me when I tried to get them to change their minds. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to keep your family here.” You turned your head to look at your beloved. He smiled sadly at you.

“This isn’t your fault my love. People make decisions that affect others.” He cupped your face gently bringing his lips to yours in the most wonderful way. “There isn’t anything anyone can do. The suns coming up.” He whispered pressing one last kiss to your lips before getting up and heading toward his exhibit.

The next night you entered the museum to find Larry playing tug of rope with Rexy. The big bone dinosaur flung him halfway across the room, just as Larry landed all the boxes sprung open. Everyone began climbing out of said boxes.

“Lawrence! Good to see you, lad!” Teddy, on his horse as always, bellowed at Larry with a gleeful expression.

“Yeah, you too Teddy.” Larry shook hands with the president.

“The guardian of Brooklyn has returned.” Ahkmenrah rounded the corner with a smile and hope shimmering in his eyes. He immediately spotted you, his grin widening as you got closer. Ahk wrapped his arms round you with a peck to your forehead.

“Hey Ahk. Hey, look McPhee told me what’s going on around here. I had no idea.” Larry said.

“Indeed. A lot had transpired Lawrence since your last visit. One would say that-“ a phone beeping interrupted the man on the horse. “Oh, cricket.”

“Hey! Bocephus! Little help over here!” Jed’s voice came from a small box over in the corner. Jed and Octavius climbed up onto the ledge of the box.

“Well lookey here, if it ain’t Mr. Big-in-the-Britches himself come back just in time to see us off!” Jed scoffed.

“Yeah, Jed, I heard. I don’t even know how this happened.” Another beep from Larry’s phone, he fished it out and began looking at it.

“Yeah, Yeah real mystery how this happened.” Sarcasm dripped from Jed’s voice. “Maybe the answer’s on that magic buzzing box there in your hand. You weren’t here, Gigantor! That’s how it happened! Ain’t no mystery!” Jed shouted.

“Guys it’s okay, I’ll call the board in the morning I’ve got some pull now.” Larry said.

“I already talked to the board, they wouldn’t change their minds.” You spoke up scowling at the man. Ahk pulled you in tighter.

“I’ll handle it. We’re gonna be okay here.” Larry turned back to look at the miniatures.

“We? Do you hear that? Did you hear Daydream Johnny? There ain’t been a we ever since you put us on the pay no mind list. And that’s a cold place to be, boy.” Jed glared.

“Larry what’s done is done. Even the glory of Rome had to come to an end.” Octavius chirped.

“Come with me.” Ahk whispered pulling you away from the big group discussion.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I couldn’t keep listening to that.” He spoke solemnly. His family was leaving, there was nothing you could say or do to make him feel better.

“I’m so sorry Ahk.” He sighed bringing you into his arms just as Teddy and Sacajawea riding Little Texas rounded the corner leading everyone else.

“One last stroll together?” He offered. We nodded joining Atilla in the line and began walking around.

The sad goodbye had you crying for your friends and Ahkmenrah’s family. The next night you visited the museum and Ahk didn’t wake up, nor did Teddy or any of the remaining exhibits. The tablet had gone with the others, you had been going crazy. Was the other night the last night you’d see Ahkmenrah again? You weren’t told that. You never got to say goodbye. It wasn’t until the second night, very early in the morning, that you saw him again.

You helped him out of his coffin, he looked just as confused as you did. “I don’t understand the tablet’s gone.” You said causing him to frown.

“Gone?” He questioned, your attention was caught by the sound of Atilla and the cavemen. “They’re back?” His hand grabbed yours as he began running into the main section of the museum.

“Y/N!” Atilla screamed as you got to the bottom step of the staircase. You hugged the big man, Dexter jumping on Ahkmenrah.

“What happened?” The Pharaoh inquired, and Atilla began to explain. You of course only heard gibberish but you trusted Ahk to tell you later. Indeed he did.

“Your Brother? As in the man we saw back in Egypt?” You asked.

“Yes him. He’s gone now it seems.” Ahk answered.

“Are you okay?” You cupped his cheeks.

“Never better. My family’s home.” He smiled.

——————————

Larry had sold his company and payed the museum to keep it open. It was amazingly busy, so many people as you weaved your way through the crowed. You spotted your boyfriend talking to some family’s, Dexter holding the golden tablet next to him.

“My parents gave me this tablet over 3000 years ago entrusting me with one my people’s most prized possessions.” Ahk spoke with such pride.

“Does it do anything?” A little girl asked.

“Do anything?” Ahk questioned.

“Yeah. What’s the point if it doesn’t do anything?” An older girl said with a snotty attitude.

“Tell em.” Dexter whimpered.

“Actually, it has a magical power that brings all of the exhibits to life.” Ahk spoke with a glint in his eyes and excitement in his voice.

“No really, what’s it do?” The girl answered back in a bored tone.

“Nothing it’s just for decoration.” Ahk slumped causing you to bite your lip stifling the giggling threatening to slip out.

“I knew it.” The younger girl whispered to the elder.

The only downside to this was less one on one time with Ahk, you were allowed to sneak off into the night guard office now and then but you longed to see him more often. By the time the museum closed for everyone to have their own time, you were at home asleep for work the next morning.

Tonight was an example of your one on one time. Just before the grand reopening of the newly renovated Hayden Planetarium, Ahk had pulled you aside kissing you instantly. “Hello to you too.” You panted as his lips caressed your neck gently. Gasping his name out.

“Good evening Setepa-i.” He chuckled against your skin. Before you could giggle Ahk fell to his knees with a groan. In shock you put your arms around him watching as his moment of weakness passed.

“What happened?” You rushed out worried.

“I don’t know.” You looked around to ask for help when your eyes caught the tablet.

“Ahk.” You pointed out. Helping him to his feet he moved over to the Tablet only to see part of it a blacky, dark green moss.

“What the hell.”

“I’ll tell Larry.” He was running off before you could answer. You frowned at the golden device with uncertainty. What had happened to it?

Larry and Ahk’s footsteps sounded behind you. Larry clicked his flashlight on inspecting the tablet, “have you ever seen it like this before?”

“Never.” Ahk replied. “This corrosion, it’s never happened before. It’s always been exactly the same.”

“I wonder what’s up with it.” Larry frowned.

“I have no idea. And to be honest, my father knew the secrets of the tablet better than I did. Unfortunately, he swore he’d never reveal them. He never did.” Just as Ahk finished his sentence, the corrosion spread, the pharaoh falling backwards. Larry caught him in time bringing him back to his feet.

“Are you okay?” You asked inspecting him for any form of injuries.

“I’m fine beautiful.” He pecked your forehead.

“Just take it easy out there tonight. Fifteen minutes till show time.” Larry said walking out of the exhibit like a man on a mission. “We’re gunna figure this out tomorrow.”

“All right.” Ahk agreed glancing worriedly at the tablet before following.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

[introvertedwraith]

to fix you

Ketterdam is never quiet.

Neither is one Kaz Brekker’s mind, constantly analyzing and scheming and finding ways to create beneficial chaos.

It’s been a year since Pekka Rollins fled to the outer corners of Kerch for some unidentifiable reason in a hurry, and kruge has been pooling quite nicely for the Dregs. According to a certain source, Pekka has withdrawn all of his plans and funds concerning slavers on the sea, and Kaz’s mouth quirks at the news.

The certain source is sitting on his desk in the meantime, eyes bright as she mentions how she’d taken care of the slave ships anyway.

“You’ve been busy, Wraith,” Kaz comments as Inej lists all of the illegal slavers she’d taken down.

“That’s Captain Ghafa to you, Kaz,” Inej teases.

The window of his office is open, and a breeze rustles the papers on his desk. The Dregs are thriving, but that also means more work, hence the piles of unfinished paperwork and scraps of information from his sources.

He listens to her for a while before he takes his gloves off, pushing them into his pocket while she’s distracted. She never sees him take them off, but he knows she notices how his hands are bare now.

He’s trying; she’s trying. He reaches for her hand, and she gladly takes it. The warmth is comforting now, but hand-holding is about the only thing they’ve accomplished so far.

When Inej runs out of things to recount, they sit there in silence, admiring the sunset over the foggy sky of Ketterdam. Far from perfection, but home without a doubt.

After a while, he breaks the silence.

“Could I try to hold you?” He asks, and the words sound absurd in his mouth- that Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel, the cruelly apathetic leader of the Dregs, could convey such emotion- but Inej only nods, a sort of fragile half-smile present on her face. Kaz knows he would spill the blood of so-called saints and kings to catch a glimpse of a full smile.

The breath he draws in is quiet, calculated so that Inej does not hear proof of his nervousness.

Her eyes are darker than the smoke of the factories near Reaper’s Barge, her bronze complexion seeming to glow in the light of the setting sun. He sees her fingers absentmindedly dance over the tip of her braid.

Lying, thieving scum, the fearless call him. A demon reincarnated from the very bottom of hell, the foolish say. But as he takes slow, measured steps towards Inej, he doesn’t feel like any of those things. He feels like a flustered teenage boy, not quite yet a man, staring at something more beauteous than he had ever seen amidst the chaos of the Barrel he so willingly thrived in.

He’s close to her now; the toes of his boots and her leather slippers are just barely touching, and he can see the rise and fall of her chest as she inhales and exhales.

She looks up at him with something akin to tenderness in her expression before she gently strokes his wrist. Kaz shuts his eyes briefly before reaching to envelop her in a tentative embrace.

For a moment, the typical cacophony of noises of the Barrel drifting in through the window seems to fade. The scent of Inej’s hair- faint Suli spices and Ravkan summers and the sea breeze- surrounds him, and it’s warm, very warm. He inhales sharply, but not out of discomfort.

It all ends too soon when her forehead brushes his exposed neck and he’s sinking, flailing, falling deep into the terribly familiar territory of dark, murky waters. His hands are holding onto Jordie’s dead, rotting flesh, not the fabric of Inej’s simple clothes. The harbor waves slosh onto him, dowsing him, submerging him up to his chest, which is tight and not working because he can’t breathe for Ghezen’s sake. A small part of him knows he’s in the Slat and safe, but most of him is screaming because he’s back in the harbor, drowning, drowning, drowning.

He feels Inej pull away, hears her repeat his name over and over again until he can see the wooden boards of the attic floor instead of dark, churning waters. There's something heavy in his chest and it aches with indiscernible pain, and his eyes sting and water.

He squeezes his eyes shut and keeps them that way until he knows he won’t be seeing Jordie’s body under his desperate grip when he opens them.

His back is turned towards the open window and his shoulders are shaking because all he wanted to do was give her a hug but he can’t stand it, and he had vowed he was going to pull himself into some semblance of a man for her but flashes of bloated, peeling skin and the chill of water dragging him down haunts him like no ghost ever could.

And she’s holding her head in her hands because she knows he’s hurting for her.

Kaz’s grip is tight on the crow’s head of his cane, knuckles white and shaking. He itches to reach for the dark gloves in his pocket.

When he looks back at Inej, her dark eyes are brimming with emotion, a churning mixture of defense and apology and worry and exhaustion and something he can’t seem to decipher.

His throat is dry when he tries to speak, the rasp of his voice much more prominent. “I suppose it’s either carefulness on my part or pure luck that none of the other foolish gangs know of this. If van Eck or Rollins—“ he spits the name as if it were poison. “—knew, we’d be dead, wouldn’t we.”

Kaz knows that this is Dirtyhands speaking. Always the tactician, and proud of it.

But he also knows that Dirtyhands is just another part of him- Kaz Brekker, or Rietveld, or whoever he was, and that he should be able to get rid of this convoluted reaction to touch.

“Kaz…” Inej’s voice is soft and hesitant, and as he watches, she climbs onto the windowsill and into his line of sight.

His hands are still bare, and he clenches his jaw and takes her hand before she can say anything else.

He doesn’t want her to apologize, and she doesn’t.

What she does do is stay with him until he’s sitting on the worn mattress of his bed. She convinces him to get a good few hours of sleep, somehow. He knows not to argue.

And as his breaths slow and the bustle of the Barrel outside quiets down somewhat, he knows she’s there- too dark to see her lithe form well in the dark, but definitely there, and her presence is like a soothing balm because the chaos of his mind fades to a distant hum as his eyes slip shut of their own accord.

They may not be perfect, but they’re trying, and both of them know it. And Kaz thinks for a moment that perhaps that’s okay and that’s enough.

Ketterdam is never quiet, but it’s home.

———

So I’ve had that in my docs for quite a while now, so I thought I’d post it. Hope it was okay!

[justasimptm]

The Bride C3

“My children, thank you all for coming. Lady Dimitrescu, you have my thanks for agreeing to host me, visiting your home is always such a pleasure,” Mother Miranda starts, all attention snapping to her immediately. The praise makes Mother smile, she dips her read in reverence. Miranda sweeps her eyes around at all of us, pausing on each of our forms in acknowledgement, I can nearly feel Moroe shaking when she glances at him. How pathetic. “I’ve asked you all here so we can review our progress, and make changes as necessary. Monroe, why don’t you start for us. How have the Cadou been taking?”

And so it goes around, everyone trying to earn Miranda’s love by saying how well we’re doing, despite no real progress being made. When her gaze finally settles on me I feel uneasy, unsure what she’ll ask me. Mother had been very clear that I was not going to be doing any real work in terms of changing anyone.

“Y/N, my youngest, I have a very important question to ask you. An honor, really. Please come here,” she calls, extending her hand forward. After a glance at my mother and a near microscopic nod of her head in permission, I draw forwards slowly, bowing my head in respect as I stand before her. “Please, daughter, look at me.” Monroe gasps audibly, he’s not allowed to look at her, not this close. Most of us tend to divert our eyes, only looking at her briefly. None of us have ever been specifically instructed to hold our contact.

Shakily my eyes skim up to her face, where a soft but chilling smile rests. She dips down ever so slightly, pulling my hand into hers, sending another shockwave of surprise from our company. Mother Miranda typically prefers not to be touched, so the fact she is initiating this contact makes me uneasy. What could she want from me that she feels she needs to do all of these theatrics to get it? Why does she think I need to feel special?

“Y/N. You’ve grown so much. I remember seeing you, still human, near death. The metamycite allows me to see such things, and my oh my, how you’ve blossomed. Of all my children, how it changed you really is the most amazing.” I can feel the chilled stares, clearly off put by the favoritism. “You’ve all become so much more than you ever expected, but Y/N? She’s still able to retain her form, identical to how she was before, even her newer form is still beautiful. It doesn’t fight to escape her, it helps her shine. She isn’t in danger from things that the other girls are, the cold does nothing to her.” Now I’m starting to get more nervous, all these compliments are certainly leading up to something big, something I don’t know if I’ll be able to give. “And so, as the one I’ve seen bond so well with the change, I have a wonderful question for you.” And here it comes. “I would never wish to take you from your true mother, but with your permission I would like to use your DNA, try to combine it with my beloved Eva’s. I truly feel as though we will have some great success if we do so.”

This even tears a shocked sound from myself and I have to steel every nerve in my body to keep from jerking back and out of her hold. She wants to use me to bring her daughter back? I didn’t even want this. Behind me a loud clap startles me from my frozen state. I can hear my mother thanking Miranda for her generosity, Moroe and Donna chittering between themselves, but Heisenberg is surprisingly quiet.

“Silence!” The room mutes instantly at Miranda’s words. “This choice is for Y/N, and Y/N alone.” She tips my head back up, staring through her mask into my eyes. “What do you think, my child? May I try?”

‘NO NO NO’ I want to scream, ‘no you can’t use me to try to bring your daughter back from the dead. You should just let me die!’ Instead I force a smile, pushing as much faux excitement into it as possible and nodding my head so fast I swear I can feel my brain slamming around. “Yes of course you can, Mother Miranda! I would be so honored to help you! Please, let me do what I can for you!” A smile spreads across her face at my external eagerness. Her hand strokes my cheek, before stepping back.

“Thank you, Y/N.” With that she essentially shoves her hand into my stomach, causing me to gasp and stumble slightly. And then just as quick as she did it, she pulls back, a handful of something in her grasp. Something inside me feels slightly out of place, shifting until it rests back where it thinks it belongs. “I must go now, bring this to my laboratory so I can begin trials.” With that she’s gone in a flurry of crows, leaving the five of us in silence.

Silence which is broken with a crash, and lots of yelling. My mother sighs, growling out my sister's names.

“Daughter, would you mind going and telling your sisters to knock it off.” She says to me, turning to face our company, “It’s time for me to show them out.” I dip my head in acknowledgement, turning and allowing my form to change. Much like my sisters I can essentially hold my full body form, but also shift into insects to move quicker. However, unlike them where they’re flies, I actually can become moths. Much more elegant, if you ask me, which is the only reason I ever even allow myself to do it.

For the first month after my change I had no control, phasing in and out of each form sporadically. I’ve grown since then, now able to focus it into certain areas if I wanted. It takes less than a minute to find where the racket was coming from. The three of them had taken to terrorizing our newest servant, the poor girl was backed into a corner in the study, brandishing a candelabra as if it would protect her. Judging from the state of her clothes and the blood stains they had already gotten a bite of her.

“What on earth do the three of you think you’re doing?” I seethe, their collective attention snaps to me in an instant. The girl lets out a pathetic whimper as I reform and stalk forwards. Bela laughs, twirling her blade around her fingers as she eyes me up and down.

“We were hungry, sister, what do you think we were doing?” She snarks, turning her gaze back to the shaking child, who curls deeper into herself. Cassandra and Daniela let out small confirmations, unable to keep their eyes on me longer than a moment before turning back towards the girl, eyeing her up like a lion would a gazelle.

“I think you’re all acting like imbeciles.” I snap, crossing the room in an instant and throwing them against the wall before latching onto the girl's shoulder and shoving her from the room. “Go get that bandaged, report to my  Mother immediately.” I demand, slamming the door behind her as she stumbles into the hall before rounding back to my sisters. “You three know better. Mother Miranda had barely left before your little stunt. Can you imagine how displeased our mother would have been if you had embarrassed her?”

Daniela rolls her eyes at my dull threat, Cassandra has the decency to look slightly wounded, but Bela? Of course she isn’t done fighting me yet. She takes half a step forwards, cocking her head to the side and smiling at me. “What? Afraid we’ll ruin your chances at being Mother Miranda's special little guinea pig? As if you deserve that. She should have asked us. We’re far stronger than you anyways.” She states, motioning to herself and the other two.

“Yeah,” Daniela says, crossing her arms and stepping up beside her, “You aren’t as special as she thinks. Anything you do, you know that we do it better.” Cassandra joins them, creating a wall of envy.

“You didn’t even want this, remember? Mother should have just let you die. She could have had us, we’re all she needs.” She tells me. Part of me wants to laugh, another part to scream. I wanted to die, I want to tell them, I wish she had let me. But if they thought they could be so much better, then I might as well show them why they’re weak. In an instant I’ve flown across the room, throwing open the window I had once escaped from, letting a harsh breeze of cold air flush the room. They screech at me indignantly to close it as they scramble for the door. I just smile, moving to stand directly in front of the billowing curtains.

“Next time you three start thinking you’re better than me because you were so prepared for this, I want you to remember one thing. You may have asked for this, but you are not stronger than me. I take more than some wind to hurt. Be careful who you try to play with girls, because unlike the maids, I’m not an ant for you to burn with a magnifying glass. You are, and no matter how much my Mother loves you, I am her real daughter, and out of the four of us? Take a guess who she would save.” With that I allow myself to drop backwards out the window, vaguely noting that they managed to get the door open and get out to safety. A feeling of serenity rushes through my veins as I drop. Finally being able to snap at them felt so good, even if later I end up regretting it. After the day I’ve had, there isn’t an ounce of regret in my body. It felt so good to be so cold, to say what I had been craving to say since they came into my life. They had all but imposed upon a life I didn’t want, tried to shoved me into a corner, tried to take what was mine. I am sick of letting people take from me.

God had dictated to take my life. My mother took my death. They tried to take my mother. Miranda wants to take my body. Take, take, take. No more. If this is the life I have to live, then nobody is taking it from me. Never again.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 7)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter four Chapter five

Chapter Six

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Seven: The The Havoc Marauder “How did you get out of the brig?” Tech asks you the second you're out of earshot of the captain. He looks judgemental and curious, and you’re not sure you want to tell him just how you managed to escape the cell. You still do not trust them. “I got the door open.” You tell him looking around, from here the ship looks quite small, the deck isn't all too long nor is it wide, and from the captains quarters looking to the front of the vessel you can appreciate the sleeknes of the ship.

“How did you get the door open?” Tech suppresses an eye roll and you simply shrug. More interested in Crosshair in the crows nest and Wrecker hauling different sails up and down. “None of you look that much alike.” You think aloud, marveling at the first clones you’ve ever met. “We are enhanced clones.” Tech states, and you nod. That makes sense given it seems they all have vastly different personalities. You see Hunter emerge from his quarters with a frown, looking for a situation report as well as an estimated time to Alderaan. “And the captain?” You turn to Tech who is squinting through his goggles at Hunter. “He never used to be this…” Tech starts mid thought before prematurely ending his sentence to stomp over and chastise Wrecker for the sail ties. Leaving you without the promised tour of the ship and very little knowledge on what you should do with yourself in the meantime. You briefly think about exploring yourself but decide to not push your luck. “If you’re not going to help, the least you could do is stand out of our way.” A gruff voice says from behind you, making you jump, how the captain snuck behind you unnoticed is a mystery. “What would you like me to do?” You ask, hoping to be helpful and ease his wrath. His stare to you is unnerving like he is analyzing your abilities. “Go find Gonk, and see what you can make of her.” He says before stepping past you - or rather, barging by so that you leap yourself into the wall just to get out of his way. “Who’s Gonk?” You shout after him and as he turns to answer Wrecker steps in. “You’ll love her!” he exclaims, and you realize his eye patch for the first time, and the pink scarred skin that crawls into the left side of his face like a spider's web. “Follow me, little miss!” He says crossing the deck and watching your awe when you see how high up Crosshair really is in the crows nest and your smile as he wrestles with Tech who's trying to communicate with him on the ground. “What’s your name lil’ miss?” Wrecker asks, pulling you away from the marvel, much to the delight of your neck as it relaxes from the extreme angle. You give your full name and watch as he shakes his head. “I meant like your nickname, what do you like to be called?” He corrects pushing a small door open ever so slightly. You pause, you don’t really have a nickname or a short form you like. “I guess I do not have one…” you trail off, “Tech said Aaray earlier, but i have a feeling it isn’t exactly a compliment.” You press one hand into the other, a disgusting nervous habit that your father tried to rid you of. Claiming the popping sounds were unlady-like and barbaric. “I think it suits you.” Wrecker exclaims with a laugh, but quells it when he sees your distressed face. “In a good way I mean, it’s a funny nickname for you Little Miss.” “And accurate…” Crosshair comments as he goes by up the stairs you and Wrecker are currently under in order to get to the small door. “What does it mean?” you ask, thankful that the breeze has let up thanks to the alcove. And it is much less bright down here, you can actually look at Wrecker without squinting. “WRECKER!” Someone screams above you, and raises your eyebrows at the sound, which is followed immediately by a laugh from your tall companion, before he turns away and dashes up the stairs, making a thunderous sound above you. Marvelling at having been forgotten a second time, you realise that these clones- or rather men, are probably not used to company. But rather than waiting for someone to find you, you decide to push

the door open. The end of your dress is fraying, the sleeves pushed up to give you more mobility, and the sight of your hand against the oak makes you want to laugh. Your father would be mortified to see you in this state, and that thought alone allows contentment to settle in your stomach. “Gonk?” You ask, pushing the door open all the way. This room is small, the smallest you’ve seen on the ship, with no windows and the only door being the one you currently stand in. The far corner opposite that of you, sits a GNK droid, it’s legs torn apart and panels missing from what would've been its front facing port. And as you venture further in, you can hear that the droid is still humming away, still trying to generate power. Behind you the door swings shut. And in the time it takes you to turn and react to the swoosh noise, and then back to the droid a pair of eyes, mismatched in colour, appear in the darkness. You freeze staring into the little beads of colour, one Purple and one blue, they blink at you. Before disappearing again back into the droid. And through the rummaging and eating sounds, you can guess where it went. Tiptoeing back to the door, you open it again looking for something to brace it on before the creature gets away. Grumbling when you don't see anything, you unlace one of your boots and wedge it between the door and the wall, before awkwardly stepping your way back to the GNK droid. This time when the eyes appear you see the small creature's face. Mismatched white and black fur that covers its body in patches, leaving some areas bare to the world. With paws ending in claws makes you think it could be some sort of Loth cat. But as it scurries up the wall you see it’s side orientated legs, long tail, lack of ears, and most shocking of all wings. Your gasp must startle it because the next thing you know it’s leaping towards you as you let out an undignified shriek. You feel its feet on your face as it crawls up to nestle in your hair, further disturbing the fancy updo you once had. “Wrecker!” You call into the darkness, thinking about how you ended up in this predicament, one boot missing and an unknown creature in your hair. When no one answers your call, you decide to become a lot less lady-like. “WRECKER!” You shout, which disrupts the animal and causes it to crawl and sit on the small of your back. The door opens to reveal a surprised clone, probably not expecting your voice to reach such levels. And as one eyebrow raises at you when you spin to face him. “What is it, Little Miss?” He asks, and you gingerly turn around to show him your new companion. “Oh, uh… TECH.” He shouts, deciding fairly quickly that this was not within his abilities to deal with. You turn your head to give him the side eye of disapproval, before Tech, holopad in hand greets you at the doorway. “Oh.” He echoes his older brother, “this is an interesting development.” He comments on venturing into the room. “I would beg to differ.” you counter. Tensing again as it moves from you back and up into the wisps of hair at your neck. “It appears to enjoy your body heat.” He adds as it begins to nuzzle into the space where your neck and shoulder scrunch in panic. “It was in the droid.” you tell him putting emphasis on ‘in’ and how you do not want to join in with that. “Must be a relative of the Ordo Moon Dragon, except this species seems much smaller, and descends explicitly from its older feathered relatives.” “That doesn’t exactly solve my current predicament.” You murmur to yourself, turning your head further away from the speckled thing. And it makes a small noise in disapproval as it can no longer burrow into your neck. It’s a kind of ‘puurrrrl’ sound, with rolling ‘r’s and a curious emphasis on the end of the sound. And its tail brushes your cheek as it turns to face tech. Before leaping over to him and landing on his HUD portion of his goggles. You turn around freely now, watching as it begins gnawing on the HUD and licking at the glass with its translucent tongue. “As I suspected.” Tech declares unphased, “it feeds on

energy. Hence the fate of the GNK droid.” “Haha!” Wrecker chuckles, “that's why we call er’ Gonk.” “It’s not dangerous, scans say its an Alach moon dragon, similar to a Kashyyykian Gecko.” You look at him skeptically. “It’s got fur.” You comment, having poured over natural encyclopedias long enough to know that most reptiles are not, in fact, furred. “Small feathers to be exact.” Tech corrects, “perhaps a result of our run from Kamino to Geonosis…” Tech thinks aloud, reaching up to carefully remove the creature from his goggles and place it back into your hands. “What does that mean?” You enquire staring at the mini-dragon a little less scared now. “We did a supply run of genect-” “The lady doesn't need to know about that Wrecker.” Tech hisses, “have manners.”he says with a glare, you hear a muffled apology before deciding to cut in. “The lady is also tired of her own lack of knowledge.” You add, wanting to giggle at how improper you’re being, feeling like a little kid sneaking too many sweets before a meal. You smile wholeheartedly when Wrecker’s face lights up. “The Genosians have underground fighting rings that the kaminoans provide spliced animals for. Mismatched creatures to battle each other for entertainment.” Crosshair says, toeing his big brothers to the side as he catches the tail end of your conversation. He smirks when your face falls in sadness. And Tech stares at his brother, sufficanlty unimpressed with his incessant need to create chaos wherever he went. Absent-mindedly you scratch under the creature's chin in pity, feeling better when it coo’s out in enjoyment. “Shall I just work the ship myself then?” the captain's voice travels in, prompting the three clones to rush back outside and causing the dragon to startle and make its way back into your hair. Hunter leans on the frame and crosses his arms at you. “I, uh- found Gonk.” you offer him nervously. “You found a pest.” He says. “That ate our droid.” He adds looking at the remnants of the GNK. “Did you not know it was here?” You ask, wondering about what else might be lurking in the darkness. “Are you trying to undermine my position as captain?” He asks walking up to you, but with your new friend in your hair you do not want to move and disturb her. “N- no.” you answer quickly. “That's ‘no captain’ to you.” He seethes. “No captain.” you repeat firmly. Trying to steady yourself under his gaze, it’s so intense you feel like you’re swaying, but that could just be the motion of the ship. Hunter smells like a fireplace in a blizzard, something sharp, Smokey and warm. You blink at him, doing your best to stare eye to eye. He looks at you for just a second longer than what one would call normal, before plucking Gonk out of your hair and leaving the room with her in his grasp.

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[p4lparker]

A Touch Of Lips

Birds twittered outside the window, and sunlight leaked through the slits in your blind. You could feel the warm body underneath you. Head resting on a chest which rose and fell peacefully, you tilted your head up, hands coming to rest underneath your chin as you stared at the blonde. His face was so peaceful, still marred with painful looking bruises and cuts; his eyes covered from you in sleep, but his mouth was quirked slightly a smile painted on them even in unconsciousness, his lips looking so inviting that you couldn’t restrain yourself. You pushed up on your hands on his chest and placed a gentle kiss upon him. It was only supposed to be a peck, but when he began to respond it soon turned into a lazy series of smooches.

“Well that’s an amazing way to wake up..” JJ whispered against your lips, not wishing to part from you for too long, you both were smiling into the kisses. You shuffled off of him slightly, wrapping you arms around his middle and snuggling into him, as your arms rearranged around him you brushed against his lower body- feeling his hardness against you made you blush madly at the memory of last night. You could remember the way he felt in your hands and the desperate noises he whimpered out as you pushed him closer to his release. As the hay images flittered across your mind’s eye you felt a rush of heat flow through you and settle in between your legs. JJ stiffened at the brief contact, the slightest brush of hands or lips and it sent him in to a bubble of lust. His lips moving more furiously over your own- hands ventured along bodies- whispered moans filled the heady air surrounding you both. Until there was a knock on your bedroom door, you pulled away from JJ quickly, rolling to the side and off him before pushing him off the bed as the door opened to reveal your father.

“Morning sweetheart..” He smiled, his eyes caught on the black boots at the foot of your bed and cargo shorts. He rolled his eyes and wiped a hand over his face tiredly. “Morning JJ or John B.. “ Your Dad kind of growled out; it wasn’t that he disliked the boys, he just didn’t take kindly to the fact that she was either sharing a bed in with one of them in the chateau or one of them was crawling in to her bed here, and no father wants his little girl sharing a bed with horny teenage boys.

“Breakfast is in the kitchen, I have to go to the station and don’t know what time I’ll be back later so I’ll see you when I see you sweetheart..” Your dad smiled at you softly, which you returned meekly, as JJ’s head popped up from the floor and peered at your dad stood in the doorway. You dad shook his head as JJ tried to not look to embarrassed at being caught out.

“And you… Get clothes on and get outta my daughters bed… You better not have defiled her Maybank or I swear to god..” He pointed a finger at the blond who flinched at the threatening voice.

“DAD! Get out! Go to work!” You cut your father off, mortification racing through your system quickly. You covered your face in your hands, you couldn’t tell if the room was hot or if your embarrassment was burning you alive from the inside out. You could hear your Dad grumbled as he closed the door and slam around the house before leaving for the day. The engine of the cruiser coming to life outside and driving away- but the shame unfortunately didn’t follow. The bed bounced as JJ jumped up on it, pulling you so you could bury your face in his warm chest instead of your hands.

“Has the ground swallowed us up yet?” You whispered and JJ just chuckled dropping a kiss to the top of your head and letting his hands rub up and down your back soothingly.

“Hey, at least we’re both kinda dressed and he didn’t walk in like ten minutes later.. cause then I think we’d all need therapy..” He laughed, your head flying up to stare at him mouth open and cheeks aflame. Your hands left his waist and felt for the pillow behind you before flumping him in the face with it. He sat and stared at you shocked. Eyes wide, mouth dropped open before grinning madly at you and reaching for his own pillow. And thus began “..the pillow fight to end all pillow fights” as JJ had dubbed it, the two of you running around the room wafting pillows at each other, laughing wildly as you both made contact. You were both to enthralled with whacking each other with pillows you didn’t notice John B crawling through the open window, until you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and toss you onto the bed- a scream leaving your lips as JJ howled louder with laughter. You looked to your assailant and threw a pillow at him.

“You scared the shit outta me John B!” You crowed, before joining in laughing with your boys. The fight soon became an all out battle, unfair for you as you were being pummelled by the pair of them- your laughter was raucous and loud, and it continued until the two boys collapsed on the bed beside you worn out and breathing as heavily as you were. You all laid together, the boys entwined around you- trying to calm your hearts and guffaws of laughter to chortles, you swept your hair from your face with a huff before realising the contentedness that encapsulated you. You were happy here- buried between your boys, having ridiculous frivolous fun, them entwined around you happily, both just being there. You looked to JJ and waited for his merry blue eyes to find you, you stroked a hand over his face, you then looked to John B and grinned at his tan, freckled face and let your finger poke his cheek. The two leaned in and pecked each of your cheeks, causing you smile to widen into a grin that nearly split your face.

“I heard there is going to be a killer storm in the next couple of days so the swell is going to be immense.. So I was thinking we grab our boards and make the most of it before the tourons ruin our beach?” John B stated, as his fingers found your own and they began to wiggle play with the appendages. His calloused tips tracing over your own and around your palm and wrist- tickling the delicate skin there- you looked to JJ who just grinned, and so it was decided that was what the three of you would do. You patted John B’s stomach and moved to stand from the bed, JJ pinched your side playfully as you moved making you yelp. You collected the abandoned pillows from the floor and tossed them back onto the bed with the boys; they groaned at the impacts but laughed along regardless. You moved around the room; searching through drawers for a fresh bikini, you couldn’t decide between the yellow or pink one, holding part of both suits in your hand thoughtfully.

“Yellow..” JJ murmured from behind, you looked to him over your shoulder- watching as John B nodded emphatically. You smiled lightly and put the pink one back- then moved to your closet and collected some shorts and a t-shirt before turning back to the boys and gesturing for them to leave. They both just stared at you not understanding the issue, you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Dude, leave so I can change..” You stated exasperatedly, the boys fumbled to get up and leave you to do as you said. You got yourself ready and piled your hair into a messy bun on top of your head as you tugged on the bandeau bikini and other clothes, you slipped your feet into your sandals and ventured out to the boys- grabbing one of each of their hands and pulling them behind you to the kitchen. You shoved a cooler into John B’s arms and began whirling around the kitchen making sandwiches and collecting soda’s and beers before popping them into the cooler. JJ helped pass you things and close cupboards etc as you whizzed around. When you were closing the lid to the cooler, you pushed John B to the front door and JJ jogged to grab your board from the back porch, the three of you venturing out to the Twinkie- and the moment you stepped foot out the door, the sun began slamming its heat into you. You all settle into the van and set off for the beach; you had raced JJ to try and get shotgun, but the blonde had won, and now you sat in the back of the bus, head propped between the two as John B concentrated on the roads which were beginning to become busy with summer-fun-seekers and JJ concentrated on slipping a new juul cartridge into the pen before breathing it in. He held it to your lips, letting you take a hit and smiling as you took it like a champ.

The ride to the beach was filled with tunes and chatter- and before you knew it you were pulling to a stop in a parking space and the three of you sprung from the van, you tugged the cooler with you as you hopped out. JJ had already climbed up onto the roof of the Twinkie and was handing the boards down to John B, once JJ was back on the ground and not precariously leaning half off the roof; you all jogged down to the sandy beach. The air was warm, and the breeze was gentle- it was a glorious summer’s day, but the ominous black clouds pulling themselves from the horizon slowly told you the waves today would be sick. You all ran close to the shore line; spreading out a couple of towels and propping the cooler between them; you watched as the boys stripped off their shirts and shoes, you eyes watching their movements making your mouth go dry, as they stood before you in all of their tan gloriousness. You mind quickly reminding you how those taut muscles felt under your hands and the palms of them tingled.

“See something you like Y/N?” JJ asked teasingly, his face donning a grin fit for the devil himself, John B stood beside him- equally as taunting. You huffed as the flush ran through your body- you’d been caught ogling them, and you couldn’t even play it off. You ignored the comment with a sniff, and proceeded to tug of your shirt and shorts- feeling their eyes on you, you raised a brow before turning to your board- grabbing it and jogging off to the water. Wading your way into the cold waves you stood and let your body regulate to the temperature before sliding onto your board and paddling out to wait for a wave. The boys followed close behind, the three of you floating on your boards as you waited for the waves to begin roiling. The wind picked up as the sky began to darken; you turned your gaze to the once busy shoreline, and watched as the masses began to pack up their belongings and flee the sand as the first few drops of rain splattered onto them, you tilted your head to the sky and let the rain drizzle onto you. As the waves began to get more wild, you waited and began paddling back to shore- the crashing wave chasing you down, when it was upon you- you leaped up to your feet keeping low to keep your balance as you felt the wave take you. Arms out to the sides to keep your balance, you swayed your body with the waters movement below- cutting turns and twists into the wave. Letting out a whoop of joy as you rode the wave for as long as possible before the swell dumped your body in the water below. The boys followed your lead and began chasing and riding their own waves.

You stayed in the water for as long as you could- before your skin was beginning to turn blue from the pouring rain and the freezing ocean. The heavens had opened and the rain poured over you all, but it didn’t stop your laughter or joy. You let the waves push you further into the shore, sliding off your board and wading through the knee deep water until you were able to collapse on the soggy sand- waves lapping at your feet. John B followed you out, dumping his board next to yours before sitting behind you; his wet chest to your goose bump covered back, legs either side of your own, arms locking around your shoulders, face nuzzling into your neck- the both of you watching JJ surf more waves, he was the better surfer out of the three of you. John B brushed his hair back with on of his hands before reaching round and pulling your face towards him and kissing you gently. He smiled into the kiss, before swaying the two of you to an unheard song. He pulled away and pecked the tip of your nose making you giggle- the rain still poured over the pair of you, both watching and whooping as JJ showed off his skills. You sighed happily and leaned against John B’s chest, resting your hands around his forearms- both watching on as the waves became more and more wild, when JJ was dumped from a wave for the fifth time in a row he decided to make his way back to shore to you both. As soon as his foot stepped back on soggy sand, sinking in slightly- thunder cracked and lightening flashed over head. You felt your heart start at the surprising noise- your breathing gasping as you flinched further into John B’s chest. He laughed at your reaction and pressed a kiss to your wet crown before tugging you up- reaching for both of your boards as you collected the cooler and your soggy clothes. You all ran to the van- you diving inside the back of it and wrapping a blanket around your shivering frame, after hoisting the boards back into place on the roof, JJ joined you. Slithering into the blanket with you and wrapping himself around you, as you both shivered together. John B jumped into the cab, starting her up- shaking his long curly hair from his face like a dog before urging her out of the parking spot and down the much quieter roads.

The storm was becoming more violent outside, thunder crashing and lightening flashing more frequently, you could all feel the wind push against the sides of the Twinkie as John B steered her down the familiar path to JJ’s dwelling. As you neared the house you could feel JJ stiffen behind you, and it had nothing to do with him being cold- it wasn’t a home, it could never be called that. A home was filled with love, not terror. The chateau was home, with you and John B- and as he pulled into the dirt track drive you all breathed a sigh of relief as it was empty. Meaning the elder Maybank was working so JJ would have some peace and safety for the night. JJ kissed your cheek laughing as John B raised a brow and pointed to his own, before leaning forwards and dropping a kiss on the brunettes cheek also- he grabbed his gear and an to the door, waving wildly at the pair of you before disappearing behind the door. You slide yourself forwards and clambered into the passengers seat next to John B who began the drive back home. One hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh- covered with goose bumps, he turned up the heat and tried to get the radio to play, but the storm interfered with the signal. The music being drowned out by whitenoise and crackling- as the monster of a storm raged outside. You noticed visibility out the windshield was getting worse, and it made you wonder how John B was able to even see.

Thunder bellowed overhead, and John B swerved to the side of the road; a gasp and a yell leaving you both at the sudden movement. And then pained groans as the Twinkie dipped over the shoulder of the road- lurching you both forwards uncomfortably, you continued to roll forwards until John B remembered to slam the breaks on. The jarring impact of you stopping flung you back against your seat. John B lifted his hands from the wheel and looked over you with worried eyes. When he was sure you weren’t harmed in any way, he wrangled the bus into park and switched her off. You couldn’t see through the wind screen; the rain was coming down in thick sheets. The clashes of thunder were coming every other second and rumbling so loudly within your chest it felt as if your heart stopped beating regularly.

“I can’t drive in this! It’s not safe… looks like we’re camping out here for a while ‘till she passes…” John B called to you, trying to be heard over the cacophony just outside. You nodded and moved to the back of the Twinkie, he followed; the two of you piling all of the blankets and pillows back there in to some sort of comfort, it was like building a fort. Once you were content that it would be comfortable, you flopped yourself down into the blankets, making grabby hands at John B until he laid next to you. You giggled as he snuggled in wrapping himself around you like a blanket himself. He reached one hand from you to your phone- abandoned on the floor, scrolling through it until he found your music, he chose a playlist and let it play aloud. The then switched out of the app and opened up the camera one; holding the phone to face you both, he pushed his face against your own until his lips were pressing into your cheek. He snapped the pic, the tell-tale shutter sound shielding the music momentarily- before moving his lips to cover your own, in a gentle kiss. Again the shutter sound echoed, and you laughed at his cheesiness. But let him have his mini photoshoot all the same. Secretly enjoying every moment as your heart swelled and a warm, fuzzy feeling settled within your stomach. When he was happy he’d captured the moment well enough, he let the music play and let your phone rest near your heads. He let his eyes close and laid on his back before snuggling your head to rest on his chest, you laughed, leaning up and pecked at his cheek before settling back on him once more.

The wind howled around you, the rain pattering down quickly and never-ending upon the roof above, thunder booming making it feel like it was shaking your very being and lightening flickering, lighting up John B’s peaceful face in a darkly beautiful way. He had his eyes closed still, but his lips quirked.

“You’re staring…” He whispered, turning his face to you, before opening his dark eyes and staring back at you. You just smiled gently back at him and he let a huff of air pass through his nose- almost like a laugh. You could feel yourself relax and your breathing slow, and sleep was calling to you both, dragging you towards it peacefully. Until a particularly loud burst of thunder ripped through the sky, making a yelp leave you as you clung to John B.

“Hey, you’re okay.. I got you..” he murmured, one of his hands raising from your waist to tilt your face up towards him- he then leaned down and kissed you. Trying to let his lips calm you, but as his supple lips met yours, and his tongue swept along your bottom lip- they did the exact opposite. The gentle kiss became the spark that ignited flames within you, and his gentle hands smoothing over your skin only coaxed them into an inferno. You manoeuvred yourself to hover above his lips, legs straddling his waist- one of your arms supporting you, the other resting against the side of his face as his lips danced with your own, you pulled away slightly and his pouted lips followed you- making you giggle before meeting him again and kissing him with fervour. You opened your mouth and let your teeth nip into his plump bottom lip, making him groan as he opened his mouth and let your tongue in. You explored his mouth, tongue stroking against his. Hands began to wander, his large ones cupping around your bikini clad backside and squeezed- pulling you closer to him, moving you back and forth on him. You could feel him, and from what you could feel he was feeling the heat all the same- your bottoms becoming damp as your arousal settled there. Your ground yourself on him- languidly, this whole entanglement was leisurely and passionate. His fingers trailed up you back and tugged at the material covering your chest from him- you leaned away and pulled the bandeau top up and over your body and head. As more skin was revealed his eyes marvelled at you, focusing solely on you, taking a mental photograph- memorising the ethereal way your skin glowed in the striking lightening. His hands moved slowly ghosting over your soft skin and cupping your breasts, thumbs moving over your hardened nipples and toying with them gently, the moan slipping from you made his pupils blow and mouth drop open.

You lunged forward again and captured his mouth- kissing again, his lips always welcoming. You hands venturing down his body, tracing over his abs- feeling them contract under your palms- then lower to palm his growing hardness. He stiffened and whined at the contact; the storm outside almost drowning his noises out, you fingers fumbled with the waist band, tugging until he got the message. You pulled back and helped him push his shorts off his body, when he was free you scanned your eyes over him. He was different to JJ, not bigger, not smaller- just different but non-the-less pleasing. Your mouth went dry as you saw the blushing head leaking pre-cum. You let the pads of your fingers trace over it and spread it around, lifting it to your mouth and suckling the taste of him from the tips. You had to fight the urge to go back for more. And John B jut watched you eyebrows so high in his hairline you wondered off-handedly if they would ever return to their usual place. His mouth was wide in an O shape, but no sound escaped him, but he could’ve watched that image of you on a loop in his mind until the end of his days; as he was positive nothing would ever be that enticing. That sexy. You licked your hand thoroughly before letting it wander along his shaft- his head falling back against the floor of the Twinkie with a thump. You let your hand squeeze and run along him building up a smooth pace; not too fast or too slow, and he seemed to appreciate it, if the moans leaving his plush lips were anything to go off. You pressed kisses against any flesh your could; nibling and sucking your mark into his left pec. Smiling at the blossoming bruise that formed- you watched as he was lost in the throes of ecstasy.

You moved your lips down his body kissing and licking against the tan skin, soon enough your face was where your hand was working him. You don’t know what made you do it, but your mind couldn’t keep up with your body- as you surged forwards and let your lips meet the blush head of him. He was lost in the sensation, until he felt something new but not unwelcome- his head popping up and staring at you eyes wide- brows furrowed. You were looking at him for his reaction, and you weren’t disappointed, the look on his face spurred you on, as you wracked your brain for anything you could remember from watching porn. You tentatively opened your lips and left open kisses on the tip.

“F-f-f-uuuuck!” john B whispered, his hands pushing his hair from his face. His response pushed you on. Your mouth opened and took him inside, you bobbed your head down as far as you could before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking on him. You watched him from beneath you lashes, his hands were fisted in his curly locks and tugging at the ends of the strands and his face was screwed up beautifully in pleasure. You moved slowly, taking him in and out of your warmth- moving your wet hand over the parts of him you couldn’t fit into your mouth. His moans made you hum in appreciation- you picked up the pace slightly and pushed him further into the confines of pleasure. And he was so close, so, so close to that delicious release- he wasn’t lasting long, especially when you swiped your tongue over him teasingly as you gained confidence. As he could feel the familiar tightening in his stomach, he tried to let you know to pull away. When his frantic hands tapped at your shoulder you pulled back- he sighed out and took himself in his hand and pumped himself quickly.

“mm gonna cum..” He grunted out as he pumped his hand quicker until spurts of white coated his hand and some landed on your chest. His eyes couldn’t decide whether to screw shut tightly or stare at you wide eyed. He was wrong, this was the most beautiful and sexy thing he’d seen; you covered in him. Once he had ridden out the aftershocks of his release he lunged towards you and kissed you furiously, passionately- his lips slowing until it became more his more familiar languid style. His fingers found their way to your bottoms and began to stroke you over the material. Before slipping underneath- you moved your hips against his hand and tried to gain more friction; chasing your elusive high. John B began shifting his weight until he could roll you beneath him; his hand slipping from the front of your bottoms to the sides and began to tug them down. Once you were bare for him his fingers returned to our most sensitive area- and yours began their exploration of him once more you could feel him begin to harden again, as you both teased eachother. Lips fused in a never ending kiss. You lifted your legs, and began to wrap them around his hips, dragging him towards you. His fingers working you to your end swiftly- pads of his fingers circling and drawing figure eights on your clit, your peak came and you rose with it moaning out loudly at the sensation. He pulled his lips from you, your eyes focusing on his features he looked directly into your eyes, panting slightly.

“Wait!” You gasped out, as your mind began to clear- the look on John B’s face surprised you, you had expected disappointment, not the gentle smile he was sporting. He nodded, not needing an explanation- he pulled his hands from your core, licking your taste from them before rolling off of you. He pressed his lips against yours lazily and kissed you- the way you were beginning to love. He tugged you to rest against his chest once more, pulling blankets around you both as you snuggled toget

[bleuwrites]

Tomorrow is Hard to Find

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa Additional Tags: Past Rape/Non-con, graphic depictions of Dirtyhands doing Dirtyhands things, Angst, they may be able to touch each other but they're still disasters, the one where I chase them up a tree and throw rocks at them (figuratively), Kanej-related Rule of Wolves spoilers

Chapter 1

Since Jordie died Kaz does not stir into wakefulness languidly, he startles into it. His heart inevitably jouncing as his eyes reel around his rooms, looking for any sign of threat, always on alert. When he is not in the Slat it is even worse. It takes him bare moments to remember they are Shriftport, but in those moments between waking and recognition his hand reaches for the pistol left stuffed between the mattress and the bed frame.

There are gold rings stacked on the little table to his left, part of his and Inej’s disguise as a married couple on vacation in Novyi Zem. They left the glass-paneled doors to the terrace open to try to coax in a breeze, but the netting around the bed is still. He doesn’t know how it can be so hot before the sun has even risen, but at some point in the night he pulled his shirt off. Inej is still asleep, curled on her side to his right. He presses a kiss to her shoulder and slips out of bed, doing his best not to disturb her because even if he can’t sleep she should.

Kaz finds a chair out on the terrace and takes in the sweeping views the promontory their hotel is situated on affords, rolling the rings between his fingers like the trickster he is. The rising sun reveals the deep turquoise of the bay; the buildings painted in vibrant oranges and yellows like the jurda flowers Novyi Zem is known for. Mercifully, the dawn brings a breeze with it, rustling the green crowns of the date palms and kicking up little white caps on the ocean.

When he was a child in Lij, morning was his favorite time of day. Kaz thinks of the boy he was then, so mesmerized by the subtle changes that would reveal themselves to him each morning. The wheat stalks a little taller, then with leaves, then spiked heads of grain. It used to drive Jordie mad the way Kaz would demand his attention, pointing out each subtle change. That boy could not have foreseen the man he’d become, the things he’d have to do to survive, but little Kaspar Rietveld would have loved this morning in this strange new place, too.

For a long time, he thought that boy died in Fifth Harbor. But the truth was, Kaz had buried him somewhere deep inside himself. With every act of violence, act of cruelty and callousness, Dirtyhands had thrown another shovelful of dirt into the grave he put the boy he was in. It wasn’t until that terrible day on Vellgeluk that he realized Inej had slowly been digging Kaz Rietveld out, clearing the grave dirt from his mouth, letting him breathe again.

The first year was the hardest. He thought vengeance would finally silence Jordie’s ghost. It didn’t. That ghost had screamed and raged inside him. When Inej told him rage was just grief we’d held onto for too long, he screamed at her too. There were times - many times - he lashed out, used his cruelty like a whip to try and drive her away. He wanted her to leave, to turn her back on Ketterdam, to prove his worst instincts right. He wanted to put his armor back on, so, so desperately.

And always, inevitably, the question, asked with the kind of patience he found maddening, What are you afraid of, Kaz?

That you will leave me. Like Jordie. Like everyone I’ve ever loved. It took Kaz a long time to admit it to himself. He never admitted it to Inej.

The second year was harder. He took her to Lij and told her everything, wove together the whole rotten tapestry of his life for her. The wounds inside him opened up and wept so much fresh blood he thought he would drown in it. He would wake gasping from dreams of Jordie playing cards at the Crow Club, his skin mottled and bruised and sloughing onto the felt of the card table. Or his father leaving a bloody wake of entrails as he pursued Kaz through the Barrel. They died in his dreams every night, so he stopped sleeping. Kept himself going on coffee and jurda until he collapsed from exhaustion.

When Inej returned to port early she found him slumped over his desk after days of refusing to rest. Her face had been etched in sadness and worry when she roused him enough that he opened his eyes. “I was angry too. It took me a long time to realize I needed to grieve the life that was stolen from me,” she said, her voice quiet and her fingers gentle as they traced the too prominent hollows of his cheeks. “Did you never mourn, Kaz?”

He didn’t answer, just held her hand over his heart and asked her to stay once she had forced him up to his bed for some proper sleep. She did, for a while anyway.

The third year had been a nightmare for different reasons. That was the first time he asked her to be his wife. It didn’t help.

Her legend had grown by that point, big enough to put a target on her back. Per Haskell’s name on her indenture documents was enough to get the Slat, the Crow Club, and The Silver Six raided and turned inside out. They wanted Inej, but Kaz still had enough enemies in Ketterdam that they would have settled for throwing him in Hellgate for the trouble. They both knew what taking on slavers would cost them. His businesses had been clean and she had been free of them since he took over the Dregs, save for certain, select occasions.

When that didn’t work they put a price on her head. Inej’s wanted posters littered the city; no matter where he went her face was staring at him. She couldn’t set foot in Kerch or its colonies without risking arrest or assassination. Her partnership with Strumhond, and by extension the Crown, had granted her safety in Ravka. She had a home in Os Kervo (a house, she would chastise him, you are my home), and a life he felt only distantly a part of no matter what she said.

As he watched her dance and laugh so easily with Nikolai at Nina's wedding that year something had splintered inside of him. It wasn’t jealousy -- Nikolai’s love for Zoya was so obvious Kaz knew there was nothing to be jealous of --, but longing. The same longing that had him clutching at her hand on the deck of the Ferolind. The longing for impossible things.

What they wanted had been divergent after they kidnapped Kuwei; she wanted to turn her back on Ketterdam and never return; he wanted to bring it to its knees, rule it like a shadow king. After the auction Kaz got his power, Inej got her freedom and they found a way to forge a future together. Until it had been taken from them, at least.

Later, when they were alone in their quarters he’d asked her to marry him.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes searching for something she wasn’t going to find.

“Because the odds of us surviving will sink to zero at some point. Because if we’re going to die I want to go to the other side as your husband.”

“I will not marry you out of fear, Kaz.” She’d said it softly, tenderly, her voice heavy with regret.

He knew the words were coming before she even opened her mouth. The knowing did nothing to quell the pain in his heart as she said them. Kaz didn’t argue with her, but later, when they were in bed and the distance between them felt greater than the breadth of the True Sea, the thread that connected her to him felt perilously thin.

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[steampunkserpent27]

Ahoy, Potter

    - An AU where everyone is a pirate. (no magic) No matter the time of day the crows nest was always in the sun. There was never any shade to hide under when the mid-day heat became too much. Harry’s skin had tanned considerably ever since he’d taken up the position.  Yet he still felt the familiar sting of blistering skin on the back of his neck. Sweat was beading across his brow and his shirt was plastered to his skin. A subtle breeze swept through his hair. The unruly and untidy locks were currently being restrained by a red bandana. The fabric had darkened considerably as his perspiration soaked into it.  He scanned the never ending blue horizon. Blue sky meeting even deeper blue water for miles. Every small dip and sway of the ship was amplified in the crows nest. Any time Harry would change position he’d grip the tip of the mast for support as the world churned beneath him.  Resting his back against the stiff wood of the barrel he peered into the distance his eyes struggling as they made shapes and pictures out of nothing. He rubbed at his eyes and shut them briefly to give them a break from the unyielding blue.  He let out an annoyed huff as he felt someone clambering up the main mast towards the barrel. Two pale hands appeared around the rim of the barrel followed by Draco’s agitating face.  Harry watched with a scowl as Draco hoisted himself up and began to climb into the cramped space. He had half a mind to give him a good hard shove and watch him plummet to the deck below. But alas, he knew better.  “Ahoy, Potter.” Draco sneered, his face bright pink with sun burn,” Snoozing away up here while the rest of the crew does the real work, eh?”  “At least I’m doing my job. Unless... You haven’t already fumbled your new position, have you?” Harry feigned mock concern.  Draco’s lip curled back in anger,” Please, you weren’t even a scallywag until a few months ago. Stop acting like you’re so much better than me.”  Harry grit his teeth,” Stop calling me that. Have you ever considered that I am just naturally better than you? Hmm?”  “Better at what? Standing around all day doing nothing? Why don’t you take a turn at scrubbing the decks like the rest of us? Anybody can sit up here and stare into the distance, you’re not impressing anyone.”  “Well, anyone but you. Apparently.” Harry knew he was close to getting decked in the face but he really enjoyed the look on Draco’s face.  “You bring that up one more time and you’ll be spitting teeth, savvy?” His jawbone was clearly evident beneath his skin as he ground his teeth together, eyes glaring.  That look. That look right there is what he lived and breathed for.  Harry’s grin only widened as he nodded,” If you wanted to relieve me of my duty so badly all you had to do was ask.”  Before Draco could respond he swung his legs over the side of the barrel and began to shimmy down the mast.  He wasn’t allowed to leave the crows nest until someone came up to replace him. Normally he wouldn’t leave his replacement up in the hot sun for more than thirty minutes but he kind of wanted to see just how red Draco would get. Since he wouldn’t be able to come down until Harry came back up.  The captain wanted the barrel manned at all times.  Unlike Harry, Draco’s skin refused to tan and burned profusely. At least on the deck you could hide in the shade of the sails during the heat of the day.  He’d made it halfway down the mast before Draco had come to his senses and his face appeared over the rim of barrel,” Potter! Get back up here right now!”  He simply snorted and descended until his feet hit the wood of the deck. As he made his way into the cool protection of the shade he could hear Malfoy screaming at him,” You filthy fucking bilgesucker! You better watch your back! You hear me?!”  Harry can’t help but be overcome with laughter. He knew Malfoy probably meant what he was saying but the whole situation was kind of his own fault.  He also knew he should leave it alone and stop adding fuel to the fire but that wasn’t about to stop him from shouting back,” Guess you should’ve brought your hat! Oh, wait...”  Every six months they would make port to restock and Malfoy had bought himself a very expensive sleek black hat with an ostrich feather stuck in the left side. Once they had returned to the ship Harry had promptly ripped the hat from his head and flung it into the ocean. It had earned him a black eye but it was so worth it.  Besides, Malfoy had totally deserved it. His first month aboard the ship Malfoy had stolen his only pair of work clothes and dropped them into the sea. He’d been forced to run about in only his undergarments for six months.  Draco’s screaming increased in ferocity and volume.  Harry made a spectacle out of waving and spun around dramatically as he headed to the stern of the ship to get some water. His mouth was dry and scratchy and his throat burned every time he swallowed. He really did need a break from the sun this just gave him the perfect opportunity.  The water onboard was never cold. You’d be lucky if it was just warm. But still, it was water and when you’d gone all day in the blazing sun without any it was fucking delicious. The only problem was trying to get back into the crows nest without Malfoy killing him. He had the means to Harry just hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to actually do it. But then again, Harry also had a pistol tucked securely against his waistband.  Harry had a feeling that Malfoy wouldn’t retaliate yet though. He’d wait and bide his time. That way Harry would never know when or what he would do to get back at him.  It wasn’t much different than how Harry normally lived. Draco would always find a way to cause him misery. Even if he had to go out of his way to do it Malfoy would make sure he ruined Harry’s day.  Harry just didn’t know why. Ever since he’d joined their crew Malfoy had hated him. He didn’t treat any of the other crew this way. So why him?

[cornacopicimagines]

best of friends pt.2 │t.h

pairing: singledad!mob!tom holland x singlemom!reader

words: 5.7k

warnings:  SMUT, swearing, major violence, depictions of violence and blood, rough sex, oral (male receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, dom!tom & creampie.

summary: Everything was perfect. The two-and-a-half years since they first met have been nothing but love and respect. Until, y/n comes home one night, her husband gone for the time being. It all somehow crumbles in front of her, she can't help but question it. Though this thought is nothing to what he feels in that very moment. It's pure fear and terror, a pent-up storm of worry. Their comfort zone is nothing longer alive, it was buried and left to rot. 

a/n: so. it must be said, i went through three different plots before i settled on this one. that is why this goddamn fic has taken me so long to write. This is probably the last mob!tom holland fic i'll write because bitch has a lot of other AUs that i would honestly prefer to write. enjoy! 

part 1

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n waited for a moment. It wasn't long, but it was enough she had to check the clock on her wrist. 1:37am. Although she heard the snoring of Lottie, sound asleep in her bed, y/n knew otherwise. She knew that as soon as her feet hit the carpeted floor of her daughter's bedroom, the girl would shoot straight up and whine for y/n to come back. She loved Lottie with all of her heart, like all of her kids, however sometimes the precious little angels got on her nerves. Just last Tuesday is a prime example as y/n desperately fiddling with the buttons of Tom's shirt, wanting nothing more to take every inch of him while his whole operation continued below them. Just as she had popped the last latch, James called out for his father from across the house, most likely because one of the boys got hurt again from the play fighting they insisted they do. Sadly, y/n redid her husband's buttons and let him leave her widely aroused and dissatisfied.

As she watched Lottie take in her small breaths, y/n recounted the moments. She still remembers her wedding, clear as day. It was in their garden, with the trees dressed in beautiful pink silk and the flowers somehow in full bloom. No one was around, it's was secluded and perfect. It was just them, Theo and James stood side by side, their matching suits made her heart swell. Their perfectly rosy cheeks lit up as they saw y/n make her way down the grassy aisle. Though she never saw it, Tom admits that it was Theo who smacked him on the arm to turn around. To come face to face with his bride, a blushing bride that was 7 months pregnant. It was a rush of a events that y/n never quite saw occuring so early into her life. Yet, the day she told Tom they were going to be parents, he asked her to marry him. Of course, y/n organised a typical wedding after she had given birth but at that very second, every bad thing she had to live through suddenly became a single speck of sand on a vast beach. A prologue to her wonderful life ahead of her.

The door swung open slightly, though the light from outside Lottie's room was off, y/n could instantly tell who was stepping over countless dolls and plastic cars. Tom knelt at the side of his daughter's bed, just below his wife as she softly stroked Lottie's forehead. "You need some rest Sweetness," he told her quietly, watching over Lottie's snoring figure.

"I can't" y/n stifled through a yawn. Though she greatly needed to run to her bed and pass out, she refused to leave Lottie unless she knew her daughter was absolutely deep in sleep. Tom sighed, letting his forehead hit the soft linen of the bed cover.

"You need sleep, I can't look after the brady bunch by myself," Tom joked. His hand came to draw soft circles on y/n's thigh. It was nothing if not soothing to her. He could directly make out her face in the darkness, but Tom knew his wife was smiling, a low grin painted upon her fatigued face. "I'll take this shift."

y/n reached out for his face, finding it in seconds. Her thumb now matched the pattern on his cheek that Tom was drawing on her thigh. "We made a deal," it was his speciality, but he never wanted it to get this bad. "You would help Theo with his Valentine's Day gift if I could get this one to sleep."

y/n possessed many traits that Tom adored. She was empathetic, a woman of incredible wit and intelligence, had the stamina of a bull but her stubbornness seemed to be her crowing glory. Tom knew his wife as well as he knew how to count to ten. She wasn't leaving until absolute confirmation was handed to her. "Sweetness, I would prefer if you came to bed with me," he tried, the approach was simple and usually it worked.

"As much as I would adore that, I'm not going anywhere with you mister," y/n teased. Her attention focusing back on Lottie. Perhaps it was the way her eyelids seemed to betray her, closing every few seconds or if it was simply the way the mattress felt beneath her legs. Eventually though, the mixture of all of those and her husband's head laying flat on her thighs, she began to slowly creep off the bed. The pads of her feet pressed against the floor in such delicacy, y/n doubted that she even touching it. She reached out for Tom, grasping slightly at his bare bicep as she lifted herself up.

Tom caught on to his wife's movements and made sure that the path was completely clear of any of Lottie's toys. Calmly, the pair of them tip-toed out. Every move halted by their daughter's movements but eventually, the door closed and y/n was free from the little montress's grip. y/n wishes that she was more awake, more alert because even in her half sleep dazed she could make out the tight white singlet that clung to Tom's body. She reached out for him, it was the weakest of touchs. Yet, her hand fell on his shoulder and running up to the base of his neck. It wasn't sexual in any form, instead they stood in the dim light in complete silence. Watching each other feel the affected of forced insomnia.

"How am I going to get up this morning," y/n giggled as she accepted the sudden embrace from Tom. Her head finding it's way into the same shoulder she tenderly caressed seconds ago. Tom's fingers coiled around her forearm gently as the began to quietly walk to their bedroom. "Hopefully Meg will be around at that time," she sighed as the soft breeze of their room hit her face. Meg was their nanny, a woman who has been employed by Tom since James was a baby. She was a sweet old thing, a cliché of the lovely old lady in fairtales.

"She will, sadly I won't," Tom told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they both hid themselves under the sating covers. y/n wanted to continue the conversation, she knew that Tom wouldn't be back at home until tomorrow night and for the first time, she would be in charge of everyone but she couldn't. As soon as her head hit the lavender scented pillow, she was out like a light. Tom just chuckled in return, pulling her into a soft embrace.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n wasn't an idiotic woman. She has been with Tom for two and a half years; married to him for two years, she immediately knew when something didn't feel right. As her fingers gripped the steering wheel, she peered in her rear-view mirror. It was something Tom's bodyguards drive around in. The vehicle was large and bulky, looking like it a take down a building with minimum amount of speed. It was painted in the midnight black, even the widows seemed to be darkened. Like before, y/n recognised the model of the car to be a sister of the cars she would frequently have to ride in if she accompanied Tom anywhere, he thought posed even the slightest amount of danger. She knew that with every corner she took, the car would mimic her turns. y/n caught onto it in seconds, watching through Lottie's car seat and Theo's mop of hair. It didn't help that when she called Tom's head guard, he told her that he had followed her orders. To let her pick up her children to avoid the never-ending shock from the ensemble of 6'5 muscular men accompanying her wherever she went.

"Do you want us to do anything about it ma'am?" he asked through the car's speaker. y/n pondered for a few seconds. While her gut was screaming at her that this was something completely out of the ordinary, if there was any ordinary being married to a Mob boss. Her mind knew that if she did say something to him now it was no doubt find its way to Tom. He would instantly assume the worst and cancel any important deal in front of him to race home. The guard's voice pulled her out of her concentration.

"Get the house under lockdown," she ordered, for the first time she felt truly in control but as all things it was slipping. "Do not tell my husband."

"Ma'am, it is imperative that Mr. Holland know of this," the guard protested. y/n had been going through quite a rough day. She was tired, overworked and constantly around wailing children. She refused to be around another. Her jaw clenched as she pulled into their street, the car still hot on her tail.

"I don't care, Tom will not know of this," y/n snapped, peering up for a final time but to her initial surprise that car had vanished. She had no clue where the fucker had gone. "It's probably nothing," she spoke quietly. The sentence was more reassurance for herself than from him, yet he had heard her, accepted her terms and hung up.

As she pulled the car into the impressively large garage, she lets her bare forehead hit top of the steering wheel. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.

"Mum," Theo called out from the backseat, "are you alright?" The boy's question was laced with genuine concern. It released whatever anxiety riddled grip had got a hold of y/n. She gazed up, smiling as she let all her negative thoughts leave her before turning to her three children.

"I am just really tired honey," she replied as she exited the car and proceeded to undo Lottie's buckled. "Not to worry, I think it is Boy's Movie Night tonight!" Both boys cheered in unison. The afternoon went on as usual. Theo and James spent the entire time with their faces glued to the screen in front of them. Squealing every time the supposed bad guys landed flat on his ass, jumping at every occasion that they could. Even if they lived in a mansion, y/n was positive that everyone in this house could hear their playful laughter.

y/n sat next to Lottie; her curly brunette hair clipped back into two adorable pigtails. Lottie was a carbon copy of Tom. Even next to her half-brother James, Lottie seemed to possess ever physical trait of y/n's husband. The smooth somehow flawless skin, the bouncy chestnut curls that y/n just knows will be her daughter's statement piece when she grows up and finally the pair of chocolate eyes that gets her father weak every time, she babbles up at him. She wondered how all of her children would look like when they get old enough to make their own decisions. While James doesn't have Tom's colouring like Lottie does, he has this glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes. Something y/n has loves about her boys, they all share this odd ball of high-energy. Theo looks exactly like y/n, her colouring and her features. Theo's look alikeness to his mother is something y/n feels is divine intervention. To show that, this is her son. Her baby boy and no one else's unless she says so.

"Ma'am" Meg's heavy Irish accent perks up. She's standing at the windows, peering through the curtains slightly. "I think you should see this," she advises before stepping away from the scene and running to grab Lottie from her highchair. y/n hesitantly waltzes over, she presents a cool face to her children, but she can feel her stomach crawling into her throat as she gets closer. y/n pulls the fabric back slightly, she prays that is it now in the early hours of the night and the light is off. It's the same car, it's now parked across the road from her house. Just outside of their camera’s visibility, the vehicle is camouflaged almost to perfection, she can still spot it. Its headlights are off and the car makes not a single sound. At first, y/n faithfully believes she is now seeing things, that her brain is so unfathomably tired it has resorted to petty tricks. That is until one of the car doors open quickly. She waits for a moment as does this figure in the car before a pair of fit hit the ground. Though it makes no clamour, it startles her. y/n doesn’t wait to meet his eyes as his head ducks under the car roof to fully meet the air. She turns around to meet Meg’s eyes, the women wear matching looks.

“Take the children into the spare room, go now,” y/n speaks softly as not to alarm her sons. Meg nods quickly, instantly holstering Lottie on her hips and shooing the boys away from the glowing TV.

She pauses until she hears the door close. It’s deafening. She turns her attention back to the scene, it’s worse than before. There’s at least 7 of them huddled around this car, pulling unknown bags from the seats. As the mystery bags hit the ground, the unknown men begin opening it. It’s filled to the brim with metal, the holsters of guns peeking through with the aid of the dim light of the streetlight. y/n refused to observe anymore, silently she alerts the guards in the house. She doesn’t even process the next second, it’s like nothing is working anymore. y/n knows what the sound is, she knows what is happening, she knows that in a matter of seconds the men have begun firing at her front landing. Killing anyone standing outside, she can feel the bullets entering their bodies.

It’s with that, y/n goes from a fast pace to sprinting. She rushes down the long halls to meet with her children. It’s feels like an eternity that she is opening doors, calling out for any of them. All the while, gunshots ring out like a bell, constant and terrible. Her phone vibrates,it send her nerves over the edge. y/n stops for a second to stare at it, Tom’s name lights up the screen. Instead of answering, her fingers lose all their function. Her phone drops from her hand and hits the floor. She wants to pick it up but her feet work against her and begin to simply pace herself away from her phone as it continues to hum against the tiles.

Finally, she reaches the room. Meg holds Lottie close to her chest, rocking the toddler back and forth as Lottie cries into Meg’s shirt. Theo and James are standing in the middle of the room. Both look like they are on their verge of tears and to be completely truthfully, so was she. Closing the door, y/n immediately wraps her arms around her sons. She feels the wet tears staining her shoulders. She feels their chests rise and fall drop as best they can.

“You boys are so brave,” she sooths, her palms rubbing circles atop their heads. Slowly, she peers up. While the gunfire continues to ring out, y/n stares at the people in the room with her. Not a single bulb is turned on, the area is pitch black, but she can still see how this if affecting the boys. How Meg clutches onto Lottie’s wailing body. “It’ll be over soon.”

“You promise,” James chokes out, he wipes his face of her blouse. y/n pressed a tender kiss to his hair. She lets a single tear escape her eyes.

“I swear handsome,” y/n tells him, but she’s not convinced by the sound of her own voice. The boys pull away from her, one of her hands reaches for their salty cheeks. “Everything will be alright, Mumma swears.”

She doesn’t want to; she wants to scream. She wants to burn the entire house to the ground. She wants to leave with her children and never come back. y/n has never felt this in her entire life. This is not only pure terror for the lives of her children but it’s uncontrollable rage. She’s being held together by a tearing material of a rubber band. Her limbs are coiled, feeling as though she has rusted in the rain. Her mind doesn’t stop, it runs as if it has never felt this wrathful freedom in its life. A million different thoughts threaten to take power, as if they should decide her next move. She doesn’t let them of course, y/n’s had practice at this, and she will not crack now.

“Meg, give me Charlotte now,” y/n’s voice is hoarse and breaking with ever vowel that drops from her lips. The old lady rushes over to y/n and hands her Lottie. The toddler instinctively wraps her arms around y/n, refusing to let go. Another 20 minutes go by, it's torture. The air seems to wash around y/n as she clings onto her children for dear life. Quietly, she pans over to Meg. The old woman looks as if she has turned from the humble baker's wife down the street to death herself. Their eyes lock, passing silent messages to each other.

I'm sorry, y/n pleads. She thinks if she spoke it aloud, it would travel barely above a whisper.

It's okay, sweetheart, Meg responded. Though the woman only truly meant the first part, y/n wanted to believe that she would have used the nickname to calm her nerves. Somehow it did.

The moment lasted for only seconds. A fleeting feeling of safety was ruined by the doorknob rattling furiously. At the speed of sound, y/n had handed Lottie over to Meg and told her to hide in the bathroom with the children. y/n heard everything, the door lock behind Meg and the muffled yelling behind the door in front of y/n. She scrambled to her feet, driving her to the wide bedside table. She threw open the doors until she landed on the one thing she never believes she's use. A small handgun. y/n didn't quite have time to question her morals at this very second in time. y/n wrapped her fingers around the handle just as the door swung open. Tears spilled as she pointed the gun aimlessly.

"Thank god," his familiar voice rang out. y/n sunk to her knees, the gun falling right from her fingertips. Tom rushed to her side; he didn't know what to say to her. He knew exactly what she was feeling, he knew whatever attempt he made at explaining the horrid situation would break his poor wife even further.

y/n studied his features in the dim light of the room as he got closer to her. She had never seen him in such a state. His hair flopping all over his face, hiding whatever panic was clearly evident over his features. More specifically, y/n watched as it became clearer. A large splatter of blood across his right cheek. She fell right into his arms, finally allowing herself to stain his shirt with her burst of weeps.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n's body was on fire. The fire was nothing but pure pain. As if bugs were nesting right under skin, desperate for a gasp of air. Even the clock ticked loudly, ever noise of the hand pressed her brain against her skull. Every joint rigid in its own specific way, damaged and tight.

"Sweetness, talk to me," Tom soothed, using the towel to clean the final fragments of blood off his cheek. Her eyes squinted at him, waiting for him to do anything other than be his normal gentle self. y/n slid herself off the foot of their bed and walked to the closed door. Flashing images of the other room crossing her mind.

"I need to check on the kids," she huffed. While y/n knew Meg was laying wide away on the floor of Theo's room as all three children slept contently, she wanted to be away from him at a moment like this. She needed to not see his face. Alas, Tom's hand gripped her wrist tightly. The touch sizzled her skin, the tension elevated for a split second.

y/n whipped around to face him; Tom felt his patience slipping from him. "y/n, be an adult," he hissed.

Tom knew he shouldn't be talking to her like this, but he was at his wit's end. A candle burning to the final wax. He mentally fucked himself over when he got that stupid fucking call. Sir, your wife has informed us of an unidentified vehicle following her, it engraved itself into his mind. Tom remembers sitting at the desk, wondering if she was witnessing the same group, he had fucked over a few months ago. Deciding it could wait, Tom told them to keep his updated throughout the night. As if whatever god was up there decided to play a tortuous comedy routine with Tom, it did begin to progress. First, the car pulling up hours before his arrival. Then the major security breach and finally as they began shooting at his house, ready to slaughter anyone they found inside. Especially his family.

She watched his intently. Waiting for a further response and yet, nothing. Her anger was bubbling over. "I am an adult," she seethed at him, her fingers unwrapping themselves from the doorknob. "I make sure that my children are safe, I make it my life's mission to ensure that I am not the direct cause of those certain dangers I wish to keep them so far away from!"

She had ripped her hand from his grasp, this wasn't something she was backing away from. It was something she could fight and to which she intended to do until the very end.

The little monologue broke Tom's heart. How could she believe that he would do such a horrific thing? How could she blame him for the events that unfolded tonight? He wondered if she truly knew this was never his intention. That he never wanted his family to come under direct attack all because he made one dangerous decision.

“You don’t talk to me like that y/n,” He grumbled. The air seemed to thicken with every word, cause more distance between the spouses. It was never like this they fought like a normal couple but never with this much venom. “I don’t deserve such criticism, especially from you.”

“Why?” she pondered, she moved closer to him. Inching closer with every second. “Is it because you question my authority? Or maybe is it because I am some silly little schoolteacher who got trouble with the wrong kind of people," she moved closer with every word of the sentence, pushing her dangerously closer. It’s a risk she must take if she wants to feel any sort of release.

“Stop being so theatrical y/n, you endured something horrible, but that is what you signed up for when you married me,” the room climbed in temperature. Tom had half a mind to strip himself just to get closer to peace, but with y/n so close to his chest, he preferred to work on her. Tom can’t pinpoint what made his mind switch in directions. Maybe it was the ever-growing heat, or perhaps it was the indescribable feeling of almost losing your wife and mother of your children. Either way, Tom thoughts were growing darker. The need to bruise y/n’s skin seemed to be the only thing he could really think about. “You wanted this,” he grunted, closing in on her. “Sweetness, you agreed to this lifestyle as soon as you sunk your sweet cunt onto me.”

The vulgarity of his words caught her off guard. Her breath stopped halfway when her back almost slammed into the wall. She wasn’t giving in so easily, even if the heat from her body had swiftly travelled to the valley between her thighs. y/n turned her head away from him in any desperation to not look at him. Unfortunately, Tom caught her actions as if he knew her every move. His fingers pressed against her chin to bring her eyes back to him. Tom was worried for an instant that she would truly be too furious with him to play into his game. Luckily, her eyes betrayed her. The big doe eyes of her stared up at him, pleaded to be fucked like an animal. Slammed into until all of her rage had slipped from her conscious.

“Screw yourself Tom,” she coughed out. She was playing along, y/n knew exactly where this was heading. A tender kiss was placed upon her lips, while the action itself was soft, nothing about the kiss genuinely was. It was the ultimate puzzle piece for him.

"You want to speak to me like a bitch," Tom chuckled, "you'll get fucked like a bitch." He kicked the back of her knees harshly, causing her to meet with the floor. "On your knees and hands behind your back." She wanted to protest, she wanted to act out the little brat but like most things, her arms instinctively pulled themselves behind her. "Now, I sincerely hope I don't have to punish you further sweetness," Tom soothed as he swiftly undid the buckle of his jeans, discarding the items of clothing across the room. His throbbing cock hit the base of his stomach with a soft slap. y/n bit her lip in instinct, it had been a while, and did she wholly miss this glorious scene in front of her.

y/n leaned forward and dragged her tongue from the base of him until her lips met with the beads of pre-cum drenching him. Slowly but surely, she wrapped her lips around him. Letting him enjoy the wet cavern of her mouth for a short time. He threw his head back in unison with a beautifully quiet moan. Her eyes never left him, as she bobbed her head gradually. If she was on her knees unable to reach out and touch him, she would at least make it fun for her. y/n only quickened her pace if their line of focus connected. As soon as Tom stared directly into her eyes, she would start her movements but if he turned away to enjoy the moment, everything would stop. It went like this before Tom had quite enough of it all. Without uttering a single word, Tom wrangle his hands into her soft hair and thrusted right up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat roughly. She gagged loudly, making an awful sound as she attempted to regain her position. He pulled away from her, only to slam right back into her mouth. Unlike her plan beforehand, as he face fucked her, his pace begins to speed up.

y/n was now struggling to hold back her ragged gags as small tears slid out of her eyes. "Pretty girl, all worked out from my cock in your mouth huh?" Tom teased as he relished in the sounds of her cacophony of broken breaths. Just as quickly as he began, he pulled away from her complete. He dropped out of her mouth with a small pop and a trail of saliva that landed on the tops of her breasts. "Get up," to which she happily obliged. As soon as y/n had regained her footing, Tom's hands had completely destroyed her pants. The loose skirt was now in two pieces at her feet, along with her favourite pair of panties. Unfortunately, she didn't even get a second to scold him before he spun her around and slammed her chest against the wall. The pain excited her, it coursed through her torso and down into her legs, causing them to spasm slightly.

Tom looked at her, in the soft moonlight she was glowing. Ass facing him, tits pressed up against the wall. Complete ready for him. Tom gave her a small kiss on her shoulder, this time it truly was meant to be tender but in typical Tom fashion. As soon as his lips left her skin, Tom plunged right up into her. His hand covering her surprised squeal. God did he miss this. Filling her tight pussy right up to the brim. Even after everything they had been through, she still fit him like a glove. Hugged him so perfectly, Tom was worried he was shot his load right into her at this very moment. Sadly, he pushed the thought away and began rocking into her; his hand still covered over her mouth.

y/n could feel every inch of his like this. She could feel just how hard he was ramming into her cunt. Her nails gripped onto the wall in front of her as she whimpered into the palm of his hand. With every snap of his hips, her worries seemed to really melt away. All the tension built up in her body being oiled as he parted her legs to reach a nook in her that she thought impossible. “Tommy, f—fuck, oh my god,” it was incoherent garble. Nonsense talk as her eyes rolled back into her head for a few seconds. His head found the valley of her neck, peppering light kisses a major difference to the rough pace he had adopted.

“What is it sweetness,” Tom gasped right into her ear. The hot air tickling her skin. His other hand gripped callously at her hip, bruising the delicate skin under his fingers. “Come on tell me,” Tom was struggling to keep himself in check. The pure sound of skin against skin as he fucked her ass filled the air, pushing him closer to ecstasy. His hand pulled away from her lips, an immediately low moan tumbled from her lips. y/n waited for her body to response to anything, everything thrown out the window every time his dick hit her perfect spot inside of her.

“Har—harder,” she strained through strings of vulgarities and chants of his name. Tom smirked at her, she caught it before he pulled away from her. Tom started to slow his movements, observing how she swallowed him whole every time he thrusted into her tight hole.

“You really want it harder sweetness?” Tom asked, he was just as desperate for a release as she was. y/n nodded her head furiously, words seeming to fail her at this instance. “Turn around,” he ordered, she swivelled around to face him. Her once neat hair now a mess of pleasure tugged strains. Her lids fluttering shut and her cheeks flushed. She looked like a Greek statue. Tom bent and lifted her over his shoulders, earning a tiny giggle from his huffing wife above him. He frantically sprinted over to their bed and promptly chucked her on it. The force knocking a bit of wind out of her.

In a flash of actions, her face had been pressing into the mattress and her ass high up in air. Tom gave it a light smack before lining up and pounding right into her. Both of them let out a soft line of curses. It had never been this intense in their entire relationship.

The room was silent. Nothing could be heard outside but inside was a different idea. Tom brought her hips down roughly onto him, matching his tattered speed. y/n’s breaths were muffled by the cover of the blanks, her hands desperate for anything to latch onto for support as he fucks her relentlessly. It a beautiful mixture of sounds. Nothing like the soft breaths and gasps on a normal night. While those still as amazing as now, this was pure unfiltered animalistic need. No feelings, just a fantastic way to blow off incredible tense steam. Tom usually adored staring at her as her face scrunched up in pleasure but something about how every time his cock rammed up into her, everything moved with his thrusts. It was memorising, as if a painting had been brought to life. y/n had lost track of time during this, so focused on the way he was able to stretch her so wide that she had completely forgot how long she had been lying here. She didn’t dwell on it for too long before the divine familiar feeling presented itself to her, dwelling at the pit of her stomach.

“Go faster, I’m going t—to come,” she pleaded, lifting her head up for only a moment before diving right back into her muffled screams. Tom growled at this, picking up his already forceful speed. While he tried, his thrusts became sloppy and jagged.

“Come with me sweetness,” he whispered to her, his fingered rubbing cathartic circles on her sensitive clit. The sensation on her bud rupturing another last piece of sanity in her body.

With a final thrust, both y/n and Tom came. A relief as both almost shouted out in absolute ecstasy, their juices mixing together in a beautiful sense of the terms. y/n’s toes curled as she felt it all, every little piece of tension, anger and lust all combine and explode inside of her. Tom wasn’t even the slightest but worried as he had been before this had begun. His sweaty forehead lay against her spine, as his wife attempted to catch her breath. Slowly he pulled out of her, his cum leaking out of her. A sight he would love to have burned into his vision for the rest of his life.

“Feel better?” Tom asked her as he threw himself next to her. y/n turned to face him and for the first time that night an honest grin appeared on her face. A grin given to her by whatever relief she had received moments before.

“Much,” she replied.

━━★✼☆｡

[maybe-your-left]

Window Panes - Forever

We made it! 

Here is the Window Panes Masterlist and my Masterlist for all my other fics. 

Summary: A cool breeze nipped at your exposed legs, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin. You were curled into your comforter, comfy and safe, your cheek pressed against your pillow. Lips pursed and a small amount of drool seeping into the fabric. A creak came from the corner of your room, slightly rousing you from your slumber. You glanced around, your drooping eyelids barely taking in the scene. In your sleep riddled state, you didn't see him, his large figure stalking towards you. The whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight, it wasn't until you felt a palm slide up your side. Following the natural contours of your body, the warmth emanating from it lulling you to sleep once again. A dip in the mattress, the springs creaking under the weight. 

Hot breath fanned over your neck, soft lips pressing onto the back of your ear. A deep hum filling your senses, you sighed. Cuddling back into the figure, wanting to get closer to the warm entity. A low chuckle sounded behind you, and then... 

Nothing. 

TW/CW: This is dark shit, like explicitly horrible shit happens in this. However, I enjoy reading dark fics, and I super loved Stalker Clyde by @clumsycopy​ & was inspired by the oneshot EOS by @thetorturerwrites and I wanted to write something with the sameish tone for Halloween. NSFW, Violence, Murder, Non-con elements, Domestic Violence, Surgery, Explicit sex, oral sex, anal sex, sex toys, miscarriage, mental manipulation, stockholm syndrome, waterboarding, forced feeding, Animal abuse (just a brief mention, I do not go into any detail). 

“Is it-Are we rolling?” 

“Yeah, we’re rolling.” 

“Okay, great,” a sigh of relief. 

You shifted in your chair, smoothing back your hair and itching the microphone that was attached to your shirt collar. Crossing and recrossing your legs, you should’ve worn pants, a skirt was a stupid idea with these boots. You gave a weak smile to the woman across from you, her white teeth flashing the cameras all around the sound stage. 

“Okay,” she looked into the lens, “We are here tonight with one of the victims of the famous 2020 murder trial from New York. She went through over five years of repeated abuse at the hands of her kidnapper, all while he was out killing people around the city.” She turned to you, nodding her head as a show for you to react to the TV. “It’s so nice to have you here, Miss (Y/N).” 

You cleared your throat, shifting once more, “Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” 

“How are you doing?” 

You bit back a scoff, what a stupid thing to ask. After that introduction, what was she expecting you to say, ‘oh I’m fucking fantastic, I’ve been running since the day he was sent to prison and going through intense psycho-therapy to rid myself of Stockholm syndrome.’. 

“I’m great,” you faked a smile, “Always nice to visit New York again.” 

“I’m sure,” she smiled once more, all you could think about were the wrinkles on her face, the crows feet on the corner of her eyes. She must get botox for working at a news station, there’s no way her skin is on with just natural confidence. 

“When was the last time you visited?” 

You had to stop yourself from blurting out an answer, knowing that this would be on national television. Which you knew federal prisons watched, you wouldn’t want to give away any of your whereabouts since the incident. “Uh-it’s been a few years, I haven’t had much reason to be back. My life has shifted to another part of the world.” 

“That’s fantastic! So you’ve been doing well for yourself the past six years?” 

“Yeah,” you gave a genuine smile, “It’s been tough, no off days really. Trying to gain some normalcy from it all, but I’ve done well. I live relatively fearless, of everything.” 

“We have you here because of a break in your case, as I’m sure you know.” 

You gave a grim nod. 

It’s all anyone wanted to talk about since the story flashed on the news last week. Leaving your once quiet home filled with reporters. You weren’t even home when it happened, out getting groceries, gripping your sons’ hands firmly as you walked the aisles. Letting him pick out some snacks for his lunchbox, like any mother would, when your phone blew up. 

Dozens of messages, calls, articles, you name it. 

All with his face plastered on it. 

Convicted murderer and kidnapper, Kylo Ren, has requested the death penalty. After being found attempting to escape federal prison for the 6th time in the past five years. The convict claims that he ‘would rather die than live another day rotting in his cell’. Dropping all the appeals cases that his lawyers have been pushing since his initial sentencing. 

The former New York state governor was on trial for murderering and disemboweling 9 separate victims and kidnapping an 18-year-old girl. He kept her in his basement as his sex slave for close to 3 years before he married her, the young girl escaping into the streets when she was just 22 years old. Covered from head to toe in gashes, blood, and bruises. Claiming that her husband had beaten her within an inch of her life. 

The subsequent trial lasted three months after his arrest. Leading to him being convicted of first-degree murder, rape, and domestic assault. He was sentenced to life in prison, his then-wife was placed under medical care for an undetermined time. 

Mr. Ren has tried to get his charges appealed since the initial sentencing, claiming that his wife was mentally insane and an unfit witness. Along with other claims that include bribing members of the jury to change their verdicts. The whereabouts of Mr. Ren’s ex-wife is unknown, but he claims that he has kept tabs on her even from ‘the inside’. 

“Your kidnapper is being put on death row, which isn’t allowed in the state of New York. Which means he is being transferred over state lines to another prison. However, it hasn’t been revealed where he is being brought because of people interfering with the swap. How do you feel about that?” 

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment. There was no way he did this willingly, Ren was never someone to take the easy way out. The last time you heard from him was three years ago, on your son’s birthday. 

Receiving a call from the prison, the only one you had gotten since the sentencing. 

You remember picking up the phone, throat going dry as you whispered that you accepted the charges. Waiting for the operator to connect you to him, after three long years without his voice. 

“Hello, love.” 

“What,” you whispered, stepping away from the living room of screaming toddlers. Your boyfriend gave you a weird look when your face went white as a ghost. “What do you want, Ren?” 

“How are you? Doing well I hope?” 

You huffed, moving into your kitchen and ripping a bottle of wine out of the fridge. Taking a drink as you snarled, “Just tell me what shitty thing you have to say so I can go back to my family.” 

“Oh, yes. Your family.” he sighed, “And what a sweet family it is… little Luke is how old now? I would think he would be about… three.” 

“How do you know about my son?” 

“Hm.” 

“I don’t think he’s just yours.” 

“You shut your mouth, Luke is not your son. I’m going to hang up if you don’t get to the point.” 

“He’s growing up so well. Hairs getting longer, but I know you like to keep it short. But he complained about his ears last time-so big.” 

You took a deep breath, peaking into the living room. Just in time to see your baby boy, smiling and laughing with his friends. Sitting in your boyfriends’ lap, tearing into presents. His big eyes shone with tears of joy when he ripped through a gift that was his favorite color, red. A squeal so loud it could’ve shattered a window, pulling out a giant plush toy. It was like a penguin-mixed with a little dog, no nose, and some sharp fangs. From one of his favorite TV shows, along with a card and some other little toys. 

“Tell me, love,” he chuckled, “Does he like his present? He sounds over the moon about it through the speaker. What I wouldn’t give to be there to run my fingers through his dark hair, look him in the eyes and tell him how much his father loves him.” 

You made Luke sleep in bed with you that night, holding his small body flush with yours. Running your fingers through his curls as he snored into your chest, small tracks of drool seeping into your nightshirt. Trembling as you stared at the shadows, dancing across the bedroom from the window. Full moon shining, you could’ve sworn the floor was creaking downstairs, the sound of footsteps climbing towards your room rang in your ears. 

You didn’t sleep that night, staring into your son’s face as he woke. Blinking awake to smile as you, his grin reaching across his face. All the way to his ears, large ears, covered by his almost black waves. His long lashes fluttering as he greeted you, “Hi mama.” 

His eyes. 

Fuck. 

One of them your eye color, shining back at you. But the other, it was his. 

Deep auburn, shining in the sunlight. Daring you to challenge him, defy him, prove him wrong, anything that would allow him to unleash whatever hell lived under his skin. Flowed through his blood, tainting every corner of your psyche. His child, the one you hid from the world. Moving as far away as you could, claiming it was your boyfriends’ child. 

But he knew. 

And Luke was starting to notice. 

“I feel,” you looked at your hands, forcing them into fists to stop them from shaking, “Just fine, he’s not in my life anymore. Just a small chapter in the book of my story, I hope that he finds peace. Wherever he goes.” 

“Peace? For a man that almost killed you multiple times?” 

You nodded, “Yeah, I do. I can’t change who he is, or what he’s done. I can just try as hard as I can to move on. And if being on death row will help him find what he’s looking for then I wish him the best of luck.” 

She gave you a weird look, shifting in her seat, “Do you think it says anything about his guilt?” 

“Guilt?” 

“Yes, for the past six years he has never acknowledged that he was guilty. Claiming that the jury and witnesses were bought and that you were mentally unstable-making up half the accusations against him. Do you think that him asking for the death penalty is a way of admitting that he was guilty?” 

“Hell no,” you blurted out, eyes going wide at the camera, “Oh-can I swear? I’m so sorry.” 

She laughed you off, “You’re fine, we can blur it out. But you sound so confident? Do you think he believes that he’s done nothing wrong?” 

Now it was your turn to laugh, “Not to repeat myself but, hell no. That man knows, he’s very conscious of his decisions. Everything has a purpose, everything is done for a reason, Ren doesn’t waste his energy on doing something for no benefit.” 

“What would be the benefit of being put on death row?” 

You sighed, thinking about Ren, trying to get into his mindset to see how he could angle the sentencing changing. Letting out a sharp laugh as you rubbed your eyes, “Well-you said it earlier.” 

She looked at you confused. 

“New York doesn’t have the death penalty.” 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, looking around the room frantically. “Oh my god-oh my god-oh my GOD-New York doesn’t have the death penalty!” you screamed, shooting out of the chair. Grasping the reporter by her shoulders and shaking her violently, “He knew! He knew I was coming here! He’s gonna take him!” 

“Miss (Y/N),” the reporters and security officers yelled. Trying to calm you down, but no, she had said it. 

New York doesn’t have the death penalty. 

You ran from the TV station, hailing a cab on the packed streets. Frantically calling your boyfriend over and over, he was at home. Back in Nevada… where the death penalty is legal, with Luke. He wouldn’t pick up, the dial tone ringing three times before his voice sang through the speaker. 

You wailed in the back of the cab, calling everyone you knew back at home. Asking if they could go get Luke from school, if they had seen him that day. Anything to try prove false the sick feeling in your stomach you knew was true. 

Running through airport security as fast as you could, taking the first flight back home. You prayed on the way that your boyfriend had Luke, safe and sound, back at home. Hopefully, curled in his red blanket, snuggling the stuffed animal he got that faithful birthday. 

Even though no one knew where it came from. 

Luke wouldn’t let you get rid of it. 

Claiming his daddy gave it to him. 

You just let him have it, he was three there was no way he would let you take his toy away once he had held it to his chest. Kissing it with his full lips, dragging it around the house every fucking day. It was his best friend, from the moment he saw it. 

You cried on the plane, realizing too late that the gift was from him. 

His real father. 

Watching after his miracle child. 

When you touched down in Las Vegas, your phone blew up. Your stomach flipping as you read through the messages from your boyfriend, explaining that he let your friend pick Luke up from school. The same friend claimed that your boyfriend had picked him up, Luke’s teacher calling to let you know someone in a black Porsche picked him up. 

Whisking away his child from under your nose. 

You choked on your tears as you read the message from his teacher, telling you how happy Luke was when he left. How he ran into your new boyfriend's arms, like he had known him for his entire life. She told you that he had introduced himself, Ben was just the most amazing father figure she had ever met. Stowing away Luke, surrounded by toys and chocolate when she waved them off. 

After you gathered your luggage you walked towards the cabs out front. Stopping cold in your tracks when you saw a chauffeur holding a sign that said your old name. 

Mrs. Ren. 

You climbed in, body feeling numb. 

Your phone dinged, a picture being sent to you from an unknown number. 

A picture of Luke, held tightly against his real father’s chest. Drifting off to sleep in his strong arms that once choked you to death. 

See you at home love, we miss you. 

-----

I wanted baby luke to say something like ‘my daddy visits me at night’ but it was too on the nose. 

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @millenialcatlady @ohdamnadamm  @daydreamsofren @candycanes19 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @millenialcatlady @safarigirlsp  @caillea @roanniom @insufferablelust @mrs-zimmerman​ 

[heliosthegriffin]

Prison changes a man...

Ruby: I can’t believe it, Jaune’s coming back from prison today!

Nora: Yeah! Finally fearless will take his place as team JNPR’s leader.

Temp Leader: Um, actually he was expelled, so the team name is-

Nora puts a finger to the their mouth: Shhhh... You’re not our leader.

The temp leader bows their head in shame.

Weiss: How in my glorious amount of wealth did that dunce get re-accepted back into Beacon! He’s a criminal with a record! I swear the hunters institute standards get’s lower and lower every semester!

Blake, Yang, and Nora all glare at her, while also sweating at the mention of a criminal record.

A strong breeze then comes by and knocks Weiss flat on her back, breaking her aura, her combat heels then break as she gets back up giving her a sprained ankle.

Ren staring off into the distance: It will be nice to have our friend back, right Pyrrha?

Pyrrha smiles slightly: Yes, it will be. Provided their are no more rats in the walls like last time.

Ren smiles thinly: Yes, I’ve made sure to remove any complications.

Pyrrha: I imagine Nora was quite eager to help.

Ren: Heh, only so much. I find it easier at times to work alone, but I’ve learned the benefits of teamwork, one reason I am relieved that Jaune is to be returned to us.

Pyrrha: As it naturally should be. 

Ruby notices Blake's bow twitch.

Blake: Do any of you hear that?

Ruby: Hear what?

Blake’s focuses: It sounds like... music?

Yang: What kind of music?

Blake: Rap?...And pop? Wait, I can’t hear it anymore there’s to much noise.

Everyone then notices the sound in the distance, that of a bullhead cutting through the air.

Ruby is the first to see it as a black speck on the horizon that moves closer and closer. It was a eerie kind of bullhead, painted entirely black and dangling a something beneath it.

The group goes silent as suddenly they can hear something playing in the distance.

-Kn-ck kn- ope-

Blake: There it is again.

-So, c--l, me-

Ruby nods: Yeah, I see what you mean.

Weiss scowls: It sounds so crude.

Nora through up the horns: Fuck you prude!

Weiss gasps and falls over offended, breaking her other combat heel.

Ren shrugs: I could take it or leave it.

-First we gon-....-We gonna roll!-

-Mi-- yo-

The music kept coming in clipped.

-Do-t give -- you’re --- strong.-

-So, ---- -- maybe.-

Finally the Bullhead was flying above them, with the mysterious box hanging beneath it.

Several men in black spec op gear come down on ropes from the Bullhead.

They form a perimeter and search the area, sweeping it for something.

They then give the all clear sign to the bullhead, which slowly lowers the box to the ground.

The heavy metal box hits the ground hard, the earth sinking under it’s weight.

The spec ops: Go go go! Do it quickly!

Several of the Spec ops go up to the box with crow bars and keys, before unlocking the numerous locks and chains around the box, then wedging open the box.

One of them comes up to Pyrrha and Ruby: Are you The leader of Team Ruby and Pyrrha Nikos?

Temp Leader: Wait I feel I should be involved with this.

Ruby: Yes I am.

Pyrrha: May I help you?

Spec Op Guy: Yes, please sign here, yes and thank you. Ok, then. He’s your problem now. If you’ll excuse us. AAHHHAHAHAH!

Then the spec’s off ran off to the Bullhead screaming like little girls, and climbed up the ropes and flew off at mach speed.

Blake: That was unusally.

Yang: Yeah, those guys were a little off.

Ren’s ears twitch: Huh, the music’s stronger now.

-Knock knock, open up the door, it's real-

Though it was still muffled through the metal.

Then the Temp Leader went up to the metal door, putting their hand on the metal door, it was vibrating hard on their hand.

The metal door then was thrown over, knocking the temp leader off the cliffs, and opened to show the inside of the box.

-X gon' give it to ya (what)-

-So call me maybe!-

Nora and Ruby cheered.

Nora: Fearless leader!

Ruby: Other Bestie!

Jaune walks out of the box: Hey guys, what’s up?

Everyone goes silent.

As they all repeated the same phrase in their head. 

Jaune got swole!

As he stood a taller than ever, with ever the tallest of them there, Pyrrha, only coming up to his pecs, while he was now thicker than ever, his arms thicker than Nora’s thighs and his thighs thicker than Yang’s shoulders. All while covered in slabs of dense, angry muscles, and thick nets of pulsating veins and hot blood that moved under his skin.

His Goliath size form moved out of the box, shaking the ground and knocking dust up into the air, only stopping for second as he was caught by several chains attached him to the box, only for him to keep moving tearing apart reinforced steel chains like cobwebs.

The metal piece falling to ground with a series of plinks.

Jaune scratched his head awkwardly: Oh, uh, how’s it been. Oh, right I forgot to turn off the music.

He pulled out his scroll and the music stopped.

Jaune: Sorry, forgot to turn off my work out track.

Yang broke out of her daze first: Yeah, uh, you look like you’ve hitting the gym.

Jaune: Ah, thanks, I wasn’t sure If I’ve made any gains.

Yang went up to him and gave him a friendly tap on the arm: Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about that.

Ruby: What’s that thing on your neck?

Jaune puts his baby arm thick fingers around a metal collar on his neck.

Jaune: This? It’s an aura suppressor.

Blake: You need someone to unlock that, I can’t imagine it’s comfortable.

Jaune: Nah, It’s fine. It broke yesterday, but I got really used to it.

Blake: Whatever makes you happy.

Nora leaps on top of Jaune’s back that would give a gorilla envy: Fearless leader! I have so much news to tell you! Onward to the cafeteria, we’ll discuss it over pancakes.

Jaune: Ay-ay, my Queen.

Then Jaune quaked his way to the cafeteria, with Ren, Pyrrha, and Ruby following closely behind.

Yang and Blake carried Weiss in a stretcher, as she broke her legs when Jaune knocked her off her feet when he started moving.

Weiss moaned in pain: I don’t get it.

Yang: Get what?

Weiss: How he got so ripped in three days!

Blake’s eyes focus in on Jaune’s back, which listed a series of x’d out names where listed: I don’t think that’s only thing you should be focusing on.

[regicidal-defenestration]

Victoria Died (and then some other things happened and we all got a bit distracted sorry about that Victoria)

.

A Death by Dying / Lost Cat Podcast crossover fic, because I think the Lost Cat narrator and Obituary Writer deserve to meet each other

.

[Lost Cat Narrator]

They say you have to go far away to realise what you had close by all along. They never did say exactly how far though…

[LCN]

“You need a holiday,” said Bojana.

  “What.” I said, because it’s quite an odd topic to spring on a person like that.

  “You need a holiday,” she said again. “I’ve booked us the plane tickets already.”

  I didn’t say “what” again, because you can overdo these things. “I have work.”

  “Your podcast?” Bojana asked, and she sounded unfairly incredulous.

  “And make music,” I added. “And-”

  Bojana stopped me. “You can do all that in America.”

  America? I thought to myself. “America?” I asked out loud, with more emphasis. “I’m not going to America.”

  “Yes you are,” Bojana said, and like that, it was sorted. We were off to America.

    *

  [LCN]

    The sign cheerfully welcomed us to the small town of Crestfall, Idaho, and informed us that it had been 5 days since the last unexplained death.

“That isn’t very reassuring,” I said.

“It’ll be a local joke,” said Bojana, but she didn’t sound very sure. Unexplained deaths, it seems, are an international uniting factor. Fun!

We stayed staring at the sign for a few more moments, in case any more unexplained deaths happened whilst we were watching. And one did, technically, although we didn’t actually get to see anyone die, which was disappointing. A man pushed past us, felt tip in hand, and carefully crossed out the number 5 and replaced it with a 0.

      He turned to us and frowned. “You’re new.”

This felt accusatory.

      Bojana said: “Did you kill them?”, because Bojana is good at cutting to the point, whereas I am more used to using enough words to make a story seem long enough to be worth it.

The man didn’t answer, which was definitely worrying, because you would think it is easy to say whether or not you’re a murderer. He had a firm, steady gaze, the kind that seems to have an internal monologue behind it, just on the edge of hearing. An internal monologue that might have sounded something like:

*

[Obituary Writer]

Victoria was dead, to begin with.

She was dead afterwards too, but I think misquoting famous literature always helps set the mood.

Victoria was dead, to begin with, and when I went to update Crestfall’s Unexplained Deaths Board, there were two strangers there, staring at it. You can always tell who’s new here, because for some reason they all react to the Unexplained Deaths Board with the same concern.

        I turned to them after changing the number, and introduced myself.

“I am the modest and handsomely dressed Obituary Writer of this little town called Crestfall. You must be new here, I can show you around if you want?”

      I also took a moment to adjust my stance so that they could both hopefully see the enamel pin on my lapel, which is in the shape of a typewriter and coloured with the bisexual flag colours, because they both seemed friendly, and you never know.

      The woman looked at me suspiciously. “Did you kill them?” she asked. Her eyes bore into me like she was trying to read the truth of my very soul, like if she just looked hard enough all the secrets of Victoria’s death would be laid out before her. It was the kind of stare that you can hear the internal monologue behind. An internal monologue, that might sound something like…

(the sound of howling wind. In the distance, a crow caws)

    Only joking. It’s impossible to hear other people’s internal monologues, no matter what Dan the Fake Tarot Man who lives on the edge of town claims.

A crying shame.

      “You’re taking a long time to answer that,” the man pointed out.

      “I am merely investigating Victoria’s death,” I replied, sounding suitably serious about the whole matter. “If you would like, I can show you my current notes?”

    The man frowned. “Why is an obituary writer investigating a death?” he muttered, more like he was speaking to himself than to me. However-

    “Obituary Writer,” I corrected him.

  A slight pause.  “Yes? That’s what I said.”

  “You called me an obituary writer, but I am the Obituary Writer."  Ugh. Tourists.

        The man and I held each other’s gazes. He seemed to be having an internal discussion with himself, perhaps even an argument.

Again - it really is a shame we cannot hear the thoughts and motives of others, don’t you think?

The silence stretched out long and sharp. I shifted. His eyes flicked down to my enamel badge. I looked slightly past his left ear. He looked up to a spot between my eyebrows.

      "I’m Bojana,” said Bojana. “Can we see your notes?”

*

[LCN]

Currently, my life does not have a motto, but if it did, I might decide on “never follow someone back to their house when they have already talked, at length, about murder.”

      “We’re going to die,” I whispered to Bojana.

    “We might not be,“ she whispered back, unhelpfully. "Besides, we’re on holiday. Lighten up a bit.”

      “Whilst searching for my cat, I have found all manner of things,” I whispered, although it was louder this time, and so more like a murmur. “Some of those things have been death, and some have been worse still, although I won’t go into those, since we are on holiday. The point is - I have no wish to be killed again.”

      “You two aren’t very quiet whisperers,” the Obituary Writer called back, stopping in front of a door and rooting around in his pockets for a key.

“Besides, I’m not a murderer, and I find that accusation slightly offensive.”

      Beckoning us to follow, he pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

I must admit: the house fit his whole aesthetic exactly. The curtains were a deep red, the carpets thick and shaggy, and there was, naturally, a typewriter, rather than a computer, left out on the dark oak table. There was another little pride flag in a skull-shaped mug, and on one wall hung a cork board that was covered in notes and red string.

“The house at Land’s End” read one note, which connected to another that said “The end of Land’s House???”, with three question marks, which is far too many for any normal person to use. Clearly, this job had put the Obituary Writer under large amounts of stress.

  I went to read further when -

  (the meow of a man-eating cat)

  - my thoughts were interrupted.

  He has a cat?

“You have a cat?” Bojana asked before I could. Damn.

  *

  [Obituary Writer]

The One Who Hunts wound himself between the man’s legs, purring.

“Three, actually. The One Who Hunts, The One Who Glares, and The One Who Sulks. They don’t eat people.”

      My two guests didn’t take that last sentence quite how I thought they would. The man stopped his idle scratching between The One Who Hunts’ ears. Bojana took half a step towards the door.

  “Okay, usually,” she began, “you don’t need to reassure someone that your cats won’t eat them.”

  “But I like to reassure people.”

    Bojana frowned. “I don’t feel reassured.” She looked over at her friend. “Do you feel reassured?”

      “I got eaten by cats once, whilst searching for my own,” the man said, with a dramatic stare into the middle distance. “They ate my right hand and my left foot, then they ate my nose and my tongue. My ribs were gnawed and my heart-”

      “Dude,” interrupted Bojana. “We’re on holiday, remember?”

      The man held up his hands apologetically but I was keen to hear more. If he had truly been eaten alive by cats, then I, the Obituary Writer, wanted to write him a damn good obituary. And with all due respect to Victoria, who was a much loved member of the community and will be sorely missed by all - this was the most interesting thing to happen all week.

“No please,” I said, “go on. I might even write you an obituary.”

    The man smiled- no- grinned. 

“Well then. How about I tell you, over a glass of wine?”

  *

(the narrator begins his song. It’s bittersweet, about missing cats, lost friends, and returning home at last)

  *

  [LCN]

When I finished telling my story, the Obituary Writer thought for a long time.

A long, long time.

“I think,” he said, at last, “you should meet my friend.”

  *

  [LCN]

Bojana said: “Dude.”

  I said: “I know.”

  Bojana repeated again: “Dude.”, a little more firmly.

  I said: “I know.”

      She pinched her arm. “Am I dreaming? I don’t think my imagination is good enough to make this up.”

      “We’re going, on the insistence of someone who may well be a murderer, to see the Angel of Death, who is not, as it were, a metaphor, and who is, unlike her sibling, the Angel of Life, quite a nice person, apparently.”

      Bojana sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she said sadly.

       “If this all turns out not to be a metaphor,” I took a deep breath, “I’d just like to say-”

      “I’m not going to kill you,” someone interrupted with a voice like light refracted in glass.

      We screamed, Bojana grabbing my shoulder and me grabbing her arm. When we realised what we had done, we stayed like that anyway, because sometimes the comfort of having another person is worth more than pretending to be cool.

The woman was beautiful in the way that wildflowers growing up and out of a sheep’s skull are beautiful. She was pale and almost translucent, with a pair of great wings of bone folded against her back. Her eyes were old and sad, and her dress fluttered in the breeze like moth wings.

The Angel of Death.

      Bojana opened and shut her mouth a few times, trying and failing to find the words. “…dude,” she whispered at last, awe-struck. And then, slightly more worried - “Are you going to kill us?”

      The Angel cocked her head at us curiously. “I just said I wasn’t. Besides, I do not kill people. Only Life kills people.”

      I asked: “Can I use that line in my podcast?” and Bojana trod on my foot to get me to shut up.

      The Angel ignored both of us, which was probably for the best. “Why have you come to see me?” she asked instead.

        “Your friend is concerned about my friend,” Bojana said. “It was the bit about getting eaten by cats, I think.”

      In the trees, a raven cried out. “Woeful are the lost and woeful are the found! Caw!”

You know, I never realised American ravens were so eloquent.

      “They didn’t kill you though,” asked the Angel, in a way that wasn’t a question.

      “I got better.”

      “You bled out all over our nice carpet,” Bojana muttered.

      The Angel of Death didn’t say anything and that was an answer enough.

      “My cat is lost, and I miss it,” I began. “My search for it has lasted many years now, because I know that it isn’t dead. I have found people playing at being monsters and monsters playing at being people and I have found everyone else, who just sort of exist in the middle of those two states. I have been to strange places through strange portals and I have been to strange places like America, and, despite all, of this my cat is still lost.”

        The wind blew through the trees, a dog barked in the distance, the world turned on and on. My cat, wherever it is, meowed.

      The Angel looked at us with her sad eyes. “Why do you search for something forever out of reach, ignoring those around you? Your cat will return - all lost cats must show up somewhere.”

In a flurry of feathers, a raven settled on her shoulder. The light glinted off its eyes and I saw they were not eyes at all, but buttons. It cawed again as the Angel fed it a berry.

“Listen please: in life, death. In death, life. Enjoy it. Live a full, good life. It will make the wine taste better” She frowned for a moment. “Another person said those words before me, but I like them. Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone else tell you about what you already know.”

      And then she was gone, fading away like smoke spreading out into the night sky.

      Bojana let out a long, quiet whistle. “Do you think she’s single?”

[sleepylixie]

Cupid’s Arrow-1

Boxer! Lee Know x fem! Reader

2k words, Romance, College AU(Imperium Universe-4) 

Songs: Tiger Inside- Super M

A/N : Y’all heard right. Part-1. Tumblr deleted the draft i was working on here, leaving me only with the first half of the fic that I wrote on Docs. I'm so sorry for the delay @delicatewerewolfsoul I'll make sure to get that posted asap 🥺💕 This fic can be read individually, of course. :) Do let me know what y’all think about this story!! ONTO THE FIC. - Elliana

Imperium Universe: Jisung || Seungmin ||Lee Know || Chan

“Who the everloving heck are you?!�� You yell, hands banging roughly against the surface of the table. Assorted shushes and glares were instantly directed towards you, the closest being the admonishing stare of Mark Lee, your best friend.

“You do realize we are in a library?” He hissed, a mess of dark brown hair swinging over his brow as he shook his head at you. You rolled your eyes at him, only turning your attention back to the source of your annoyance- your laptop screen.

“This is the 13th ask I’ve received about the same M in this semester.” You retorted, albeit quieter than your initial outburst. Mark’s brows furrowed, lips pouting in a frown as he absentmindedly turned over a page of his book. “How do you even know it’s the same M? It could very well be one person sending the same ask 13 times.”

“You were the genius who put together the one-ask per account rule in the first place!” You threw your arms up in exasperation, the volume control still proving to be a bit of a struggle. “Besides, they’re all worded really differently, look-” You turned your laptop to face Mark, who leaned forward to scan the words on your screen.

A sleek red website sat open in an incognito tab, punctuated with assorted dove-grey boxes full of questions and curiosities, the sidebar flashing a pretty name- Lovelorn Secretkeeper(LLS). Your best friend chuckled as he read the questions on the site. “People have it bad for this dude.”

“I know! They even say the exact same thing, that he’s too out of their league to even try, but he’s too handsome and talented,” punctuating handsome and talented with exaggerated hand movements, “to not try- What do they expect me to tell them!?”

As cliche as it sounded, Lovelorn Secretkeeper was your university’s anonymous love-guru and wine aunt, meting out advice about crushes and heartbreak solutions like over-the-counter pills. People caught wind of it days after the website mysteriously popped up on the informal forums, impossible to trace altogether. Tens of questions poured in by the day, all questions from lovelorn souls asking for the help of the elusive apparition running the site.

If only Everlark University knew that LLS was run by not one, but two apparitions- both of whom were currently puzzling over the identity of a certain M who had turned up on their list of secrets once too often.

“How difficult do you think it would be to find out who M is?” Mark mused, pushing the laptop back towards you. “I mean, you know he’s a dancer and he’s handsome, so why don’t you, I don’t know,” a nonchalant shrug moving his shoulders, “ask the girls you know, I guess? I’m sure word gets around fast if he’s as hot as these questions scream he is.”

The cogs in your head began to turn, albeit rather unwillingly. You weren’t the most social person despite being aware of status quos your university’s student functioned on- was this Dora-the-explorer-esque expedition to find the elusive M absolutely necessary?

No, it wasn’t, you realized, but your own curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied until you found out who it was that had managed to enamour these many people all while looking evidently unavailable.

“Yeah, I’ll probably do that.”

//

“Hey! Y/N, Right?” A pretty girl sidled up to you on the other side of the bar, her fingers slightly awkward around the glass she was cleaning. New to the trade, you thought belatedly as you smiled politely and nodded at her.

Imperium Bar was just beginning to fill up with students and teacher’s assistants, ready to celebrate the end of yet another week with some cheap alcohol and good times. It was barely halfway through the semester but people inevitably ended up drowning in work- such was the life of a normal student in university, always busy and bustling with full checklists-

“You’re looking for Minho, I heard.” she grinned setting down one glass and picking up the other.

“Yes, I am.” You responded lightly, your eyes still grazing over the slowly filling booths and tables from the corner of the counter you were sitting at.

“He is pretty handsome, really good in the ring. You have a good eye.”

By ring, you could only assume that the new bartender of Imperium meant the stage. You’d spent the past week asking around for a possibly new admit to Everlark who happened to be a dancer and unattainably handsome. To your surprise, your search was cut short in the matter of days when Yeji, a junior in your class pointed you to Lee Felix from her class who knew a Lee Minho. Lee Minho, a transfer student from Everlark’s sister university on the other side of the city, with an express acceptance into the dance club Felix was a part of.

“You’ll find him in Imperium on Fridays,” Felix had the sweetest disposition, a warm smile on his face as he divulged information about his seemingly old friend with great ease. “You should drop by if you want to see him!”

Your better judgement yelled at you to forget the chase- you knew his full name, it was just the matter of a social media stalk before you found out what you needed to know for your 13( now 16) askers. However, you found yourself pulling on a dark hoodie and slipping into the bar on Friday evening, shivering slightly from the cool breeze. You were just curious, you were sure. Just curious.

“Felix! Over here!” The bartender raised an arm in greeting to somebody behind you and moments later, Felix’s dark mane of hair made its way into your line of sight. His eyes were slight crescents on his face as he smiled, the sunny amiability prompting a smile to creep over your face as well.

“Hello, Felix.”

“Sorry for making you wait!” Felix pulled you into a quick hug, before cocking his head towards the back of the bar. “Let’s go, he’s already down there.”

An eyebrow raised in curiosity, you dragged your eyes between Felix and the bartender as you hopped off the stool. “Down...where?”

Felix’s eyes widened, the bartender letting out a gasp of surprise. “Uh…” Your new friend’s voice trailed off in uncertainty, wide and beseeching eyes immediately darting towards the bartender for help. “Oops.”

“Your access should really be revoked, you troublemaking gremlin.” The bartender accused, tossing her dishcloth at him and reaching over to smack him across the head before turning to you.

“There’s been a misunderstanding, Y/N. Junior moron here-” waving indistinctly in Felix’s direction, “is talking about the cellars. Minho works part time here, so he’s usually getting into the stocks in the cellar downstairs. Felix forgot about the rule stating that patrons can’t-”

“At least try to lie convincingly.” You cut through her tirade, a choked laugh from Felix punctuating her surprised silence. Possibly not the most polite thing to say, in hindsight, but her attempts to cover up whatever was going on in the cellar was just getting difficult to hear. You smiled quietly, eyes dragging between Felix���s eyes, alive with mirth to the bartender’s, flat with suspicion.

“It’s not illegal, is it?” You let the question slip loud enough for the two of them to hear. The bartender nodded the exact moment Felix shook his head. A giggle bubbled up your throat at the instant glance of betrayal that passed between the two of them.

“I’ll keep silent about this if the two of you will.” You grinned, shrugging slightly as you pushed the strap of your bag further up your shoulder. Felix let another crow of laughter, twining his arm with yours as he steered you towards the dark back door of Imperium, waving off the bartender’s expasterated shouts to be careful, for fuck’s sake-

“You seem like such a cool person,” Felix giggled as you followed his lead, making your way past the tables and groups of people and back into the cool air outside. . “I was a little intimidated by you at first but you’re actually really cool.” You laughed aloud as Felix knocked thrice on a door next to the bar’s back door in a neat pattern.

“Good to know you think so, junior.”

Just then, the door swung open to a set of stairs and a wave of noise much louder than what you were used to.

“Welcome to the real Imperium.”grinned Felix.

//

You did not think this was where you’d be spending your Friday night- in the basement of a bar with higher ceilings than you thought was possible, the roar of voices settling you more firmly into reality than anything else you’re ever experienced.

The second you and Felix reached the bottom of the stairs, you could see the crowd gathered around the center of the space, the flood lights pointed towards whatever was going on in the middle. There were sparse groups of people scattered throughout, a makeshift bar and couches spread haphazardly around one side while the windows at the top of the walls were left open for some semblance of ventilation. Despite the number of people in the underground space, it didn’t feel… suffocating.

“Do you mind blood or gore?”

Your eyes narrowed; what even was this place? “No.”

Before you could question it, Felix was pulling you towards the crowd and into it, easily slipping between the spaces towards the attraction in the center. You allowed him to lead you, as you had the entire night, until the two of you re-emerged at the edge of the-

The ring.

It looked very much like a boxing ring, but on the same floor level as the audience. Inside were two guys circling each other, breath heaving in puffs of smoke against the chilled air through gritted teeth. They were both dressed in contrasting red and blue, their clenched fists enclosed in hand-wraps. The two guys slipped in and out of the stark shadows that the criss-cross of the floodlights created until one of them caught your eye-

Lee Minho. You didn’t need the yelled introduction Felix was giving you because there was no other way to describe that other than unattainably handsome. Suddenly, the 18 askers in LLS made sense- of course, of fucking course this face seemed impossible to match up to.

You watched in bated curiosity, your eyes scanning him and his opponent- and Minho made the first move. The crowd dissolved into roars of encouragement as he went in for a clean right hook, his movements smooth and feline-fluid. He was confident, you realized as you watched him dodge and block and strike with an almost bored, practiced ease. No, he was good at looking confident. The set of his jaw was nothing but confident, his teeth bared in a snarl of fake amusement as he lunged at his opponent, the fight dissolving into a tangle of arms and legs rolling against the concrete floor.

“He’s one of the best this season.” Felix yelled over the din of the crowd, but your eyes were still trained on the match. “You don’t say.” You shouted back, catching yet another glimmer of amusement light up your companion’s face before turning your attention back to the fight.

Yes, he truly seemed like the best- your breath caught in your throat at Minho’s unhesitant, almost instinctual manner of moving, already on the other side of his opponent before he could even throw a swing. His poor opponent was almost effortlessly pummeled to the ground soon after, a grin of triumph pulling up his lips and the nasty looking bruise high on his cheekbone as he was announced the winner.

His eyes scanned the exultant crowd, catching on yours for a split second before moving away-

You let out a long breath as he hopped out of the ring and into the dark of the surroundings. So it was him.

This was the M your askers were going on and on about-

For the first time, you were in agreement with them.

Lee Minho truly did seem unattainable.

//

Taglist/Interested Parties 🥴: @aliceu @decembermoonskz @rebecca-noona @skzctnightnight @fylithia @illicit-roses @cotccotc @straykidsownmysoul @soya-zz @stellarmonsterr @seraplantery @jl-micasea \\ @inkidz @starryktown @districtninewriters @stayhavens​  

Do let me know what you think! - Elliana