#Emma is anger with CW

[filmsmakkari]

your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases. 

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again. 

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the  Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini. 

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

-

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game. 

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll.  “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?” 

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

-

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare.  “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it. 

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’ 

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly. 

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable. 

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke. 

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my  mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

[webbluvrsugar]

BEGGING TO BE USED.

SPENCER REID - KINKTOBER 24 — OCT.7TH — M.LIST.

cw: chocking, unsub x spencer

Spencer was mad.

Mad in the sense that he’s just gotten out of jail and he’s already feeling like an unsub again after just a few fucking months.

Mad in the since that he wants to kill you for what you’ve done to him.

He knows you’re the unsub, he’s cracked your codes, he’s followed you, he knows it’s you. But the team doesn’t really believe their boy genius anymore because of all that happened, and also because they think it’s insane, he’s had a hyper fixation on you every since he got out and they think he’s just including you in every case they get, and well, he is but — he knows you’re behind it, he just doesn’t have enough evidence to prove it yet!

So he does the most sane thing he could do after all that time of torture in jail, he manages to find you, get on a date with you and pretend he doesn’t know, manages to get in the elevator to your apartment — what a fool — you’re probably thinking, he’ll show you the fool.

As soon as he walks in and the door is shut, both hands are on your throat, pushing you against the wall and making sure you’re out of breath.

He almost feels bad for you, god, he doesn’t even feel like himself, he’d never put a hand on a woman, he’s never done this, but it’s pleasing, it’s nice to punish you for making him look like a fool, because he knows it’s you, you’re tricking him, you and your skimpy black dress that basically forces him to watch your ass every step you take, you did it on purpose, probably.

“S — Spencer..” you beg, pathetically almost, he’s not fucking falling for it.

“Shut up! You know what you’ve done, you think I don’t know?” He squeezes, almost lifts you up a tiny bit, you whimper at the feeling, his calloused hands on your throat are bringing you way more pleasure than they should, specially in this context. “You think I don’t know you’re behind those killings?”

“What are you t..talking about?!” You try to mask it, hands moving to his so they can try and push them down, you have no success, he slightly slams you a little more against the wall.

“Who were they?! Your boyfriends?!” You don’t say anything, he leans closer, brows furrowing in anger. “Tell me.”

“You’ll never prove it.” You chuckle, laugh in his face almost, you can feel the lack of air and the way his fingers are positioned triggering that sweet feeling of pleasure, you have to swallow a moan almost.

Spencer notices it tho, he might be completely insane but he’s still a profiler, he can tell you like it, it’s almost obvious with the way your brows slightly scrunch up. So he releases a little bit of the pressure, teases that sensitive spot in your neck with his thumb.

“I will.” He reaffirms, his face so close you can smell him.

“Yeah?” A giggle. “How, pretty boy?” You tease him, the nickname feels foreign, it almost angers him, but this time, he tries to keep his cool.

“You’re gonna confess.” He says, no, threatens, and you could laugh in his face right now, you’re never confessing to some serial killings you’ve worked so hard to cover.

“You’re crazy, you think I’m going to walk in there and confess to be a serial killer —“ your words stop when one of his hands let go of your neck, it slowly goes down slightly before his fingertips are peering at the pad of your bra, you don’t make a move to push him, you almost freeze as he drags his hand further down.

His hand cups your breast, two fingers toy with your nipple, slightly squeeze.

“Yes. You. Will.” He tightens the hold in your neck.

A few days later, you turn yourself in.

taglist: @waltzthing @stayonmars @baileebear @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung @cheeziebeanz @emma-e-a

[devilfic]

❝hard-knock life❞

plot: even with the riddler locked away in arkham, his followers manage to haunt bruce to this day. thankfully, you’re more than willing to help your fiancé tie up all his loose ends... even if they are a bit ridiculous. or four times the riddler’s followers make a threat on bruce’s life and the one time alfred shoots them for it. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: humor, fluff, established relationship, you and bruce are engaged, I use “fiancé” gender-neutrally, generally silly but some angst, serious but cartoonishly awful attempts at violence, guns, excessive use of the word “goon”, based off this post by @emma-d-klutz​. words: 3.5k.

a/n: I just can’t stop thinking about this post

Bruce figures he could look a little more concerned right now.

One goon holds a phone up to his face—so that he can see himself on screen—while two more have his arms arrested in their grip. The comments on the live stream are moving too fast, but he imagines they’re not worth reading.

The goon holding the phone laughs through his mask, clearly amused by Bruce’s lack of emotion, “Look at the little Gotham prince trying to put on a brave face. Won’t be so brave in a minute now, will you?” 

Bruce assumes they’re referring to their comrade in arms a few feet away, readying a pistol, but he can’t look long; he feels a harsh kick to the backs of his knees and he kneels against the gravel. This close to the docks, they could dispose of his body in the river after his swift execution. Was it weird to be offended by their choice? He was kind of offended. Almost as offended as he was when he’d figured out their plan two days ago.

“I can offer you money,” Bruce recites, your idea, unenthusiastically, “anything. Anything you want.”

The goons laugh. The one holding the pistol steps forward and places the barrel against Bruce’s temple. “Anything we want, huh? Why don’t you tell our audience how you should’ve just died when the Riddler gave you a chance? What a glorious death you would have had.”

Bruce wants to tell them that it’s not exactly his fault Edward didn’t make sure he was home before trying to kill him. He imagined that would just anger them more. Bruce takes a deep breath.

The safety on the gun clicks off when a heavy fog starts crawling toward them from beneath a nearby dumpster. Some of the goons exclaim in confusion and the executioner points toward the smoke.

“What the fuck is that?” The cameraman yells, turning to film the steadily approaching fog. It’s thick and moving quickly, starting to crowd around the Riddler’s followers like a dramatic omen. It isn’t long before Bruce can’t see a foot in front of him. His arms flex, waiting for the telltale sound of his namesake.

A sudden chorus of chirping overhead has Bruce ducking, the trigger-happy goon shooting off into the sky as black wings speckle the fog. 

The two holding Bruce still are suddenly forced off of him. There’s the sound of violent fighting in the midst of the fog but Bruce is more focused on the shooter, his position given away only by the bullets he shoots off with reckless abandon. Mapping his position on the docks, Bruce takes a violent leap forward and feels himself collide into him, dragging his much smaller body forward and forward and forward until-

Splash!

Bruce can’t see it through the fog, but he hears the goon hit the railing and fall into the river below soon after.

“Shit, shit, shit! We’ve been ambushed!” The one filming is the last one standing. He scrambles nearby, trying to find an escape. Within the fog, a dark figure approaches him, and Bruce can just make out the sound of their opponent’s nose getting crushed by the weight of the attacker’s palm. The phone falls out of the goon’s hand when he collapses, unconscious. 

Shortly after, the wind carries away the remaining fog and Bruce walks into the clear night where he sees you perched behind the dumpster, giving him a thumbs up over the machine that sputters out white haze. “Did we do it?” You ask, giddy. 

Alfred walks out of the fog next. It was a miracle Alfred could even see in the Batsuit. It dwarfed him. “I believe we did. Are you alright, Master Bruce?”

“Alright” was a stretch for what tonight’s events had done to his mood, though he’s thankful he doesn’t have a bullet-sized hole where his oncoming migraine should be. Bruce is just happy to have pulled this off in the first place. “Peachy,” he grits through his teeth, “is the stream still going?”

Alfred hums, wiping some of the goon’s blood off his knuckles, “No, I think enough has been seen tonight. The GCPD will be on their way shortly.”

That was a relief. Their theatrics weren’t all for nothing. With luck, tonight’s failed execution would serve as a warning to the Riddler’s remaining followers: Bruce Wayne was untouchable, and any attempt on his life would result in the same fate. Maybe now they’d stop trying to kidnap him off the street.

They, in fact, did not stop.

Alfred had taken the necessary precautions to ensure Bruce did not die in the following days after the docks incident, and with the added threat of paparazzi flooding the tower, Bruce was confined inside until further notice. As far as anyone was concerned, Bruce Wayne was taking some vacation time after a “harrowing” threat on his life. It only made sense. No business engagements for two weeks, at least.

This vacation was, of course, not for the Batman.

Bruce had a wedding to be planning for God’s sake, and yet here he was, perched in the shadows, watching as five squirrelly idiots set up shop across from Wayne Tower... to snipe him, they’d said online.

This was the other downside of the Riddler’s fans gunning for revenge on the Batman: Bruce had to spend ungodly hours on their forums combing for new threats on his life. Most of them were half-baked plans too big to pull off, but the few that weren’t were constantly on his radar.

It wasn’t that Bruce was afraid for his own life, though. He was afraid for yours. The Batman could walk off a bullet wound and Bruce Wayne had fortified his body against most attacks. You, on the other hand, were painfully mortal. One well-aimed shot from a sniper rifle and he’d lose you.

“Looking awfully severe tonight, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce cracks a half-smile when your voice crackles to life in his ear, right on cue. You must’ve been getting into position. Bruce makes sure his voice is low enough that the goons can’t hear him from his perch. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

You really, really didn’t. He could easily wipe out these five on his own with only a few injuries sustained, but you had worried over the guns and convinced him he’d need all the help he could get. Even if it was just a measly distraction, “Don’t worry. Batman will protect me.” You sing.

Your shadow passes a window and one of the goons lines up a shot for you. He propels himself down onto the sniper’s back, knocking him out cold.

There’s considerably fewer goons tonight than there were upon his kidnapping, which Bruce finds amusing. Maybe he could get a few hours of patrol in after thwarting this second attempt on his life. Maybe you’d still be awake by the time he got home, and he could pull you away from poring over wedding plans to celebrate a job well done-

Away in his own mind, he isn’t prepared for the butt of a rifle cracking up against the cowl. In the time it had taken him to run away with his thoughts, he’d downed four of them already. He slowly turns. No hurry.

The goon flinches back, eyes wide behind the non-prescription frames slipping off his nose. If Bruce’s ears weren’t still ringing from the hit, he might have went for the temple and called it a night. But again, no hurry.

Bruce grapples the man by the front of his coat and dangles him over the ledge of the building. Softly, he hears you gasp over the comm line, “You’re not gonna drop him, are you?”

Instead of answering you, Bruce gives the goon a good shake, “This won’t end well for you.”

The goon is shivering in Bruce’s grasp, clutching onto his wrist for dear life, swatting at air to get leverage. Bruce extends his arm out further and two voices exclaim this time. “Y-You betrayed him! You betrayed the Riddler!” The voice that comes out of the man is squeaky, almost young. Bruce frowns. “The Waynes will pay for what they’ve done to Gotham!”

“Are those your words or his?”

He falters some, unsure, and obviously it isn’t Bruce’s job to play therapist. He doesn’t know what this kid is getting out of working for the Riddler, what lies he’s been fed. All he knows is that someone had pointed a gun at his fiancé and tonight could have gone very differently if he hadn’t been ready.

But this kid wasn’t the one holding the gun. “I’m giving you a warning: leave the Waynes alone,” Bruce drags him close enough for their eyes to meet, “there won’t be a second warning.”

The goon all but scrambles onto his feet the second Bruce drops him back onto solid ground, having only that second to gather his bearings before Bruce brings his fist down onto his head, knocking him out with the rest of his friends. Tying their wrists behind their backs is quick work, as is piling their worrying amount of weaponry far, far from reach. One quick request to Gordon for cleanup is the icing on the cake.

Bruce is scaling his way down the building when you chime in once more, “You alright, handsome? I hope these guys aren’t getting to you.”

Getting to him was an overstatement. They had to pose an actual threat to get to him, “I wasn’t going to drop him.”

“You were thinking about it, but you would’ve caught him right after. Are you heading out for patrol?”

His lip twitch is the only sign of argument against you because you unfortunately know him well. Bruce slips into the shadow of an alleyway, scanning the street for any other surprises. “Maybe... maybe later. I’m heading back to the tower.”

He hears you make a little noise on the other end, watches your figure outlined in the glass by the lamplight. It’s dark out and you’re high up, but somehow, he feels like you find him down there anyway, “You better take off that suit before you track gutter water through my house, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce can’t help it. He laughs, “I thought you liked it when the suit stays on.”

You had made it a priority, if you were to marry Bruce, that he make time for date night.

Obviously, with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Batman, you didn’t expect him to always have time to spare. That was the compromise you’d made long before he’d gotten down on one knee. However, for his sake (”-and the sake of Gotham!” you’d added, just to be safe), break time was a must. An hour at least, maybe two if you were lucky. He didn’t even have to spend it conscious. You’d spent plenty a night with his head on your chest and your fingers carding through his hair, reading a book or telling him about your day.

Tonight would have been the same had you not convinced him to come out in disguises. With a little prompting, you two had had a great night on the town. You’d all but forgotten the hectic past week.

And then you both had walked into the penthouse, giggling through the front door, only to find Alfred lugging a dead body across the living room floor. “He’s not dead.” Alfred assured. A body, then.

Bruce rushes in front of you, “Jesus, Alfred. What happened?”

The butler looks far too nonchalant for the scene, but you do notice the lack of a blood trail.

“I was making tea. Enjoying a quiet night to myself, I was, when I heard glass shatter from the other room. Lo and behold, I find one of these Riddler clowns climbing through the window.”

“Sixty floors off the ground? How’d he even make it?” Your voice is riddled with wonder. Climbing gear attached to the corpse- body shows a considerable effort. You notice as well, after a moment of disbelief, that there’s a barely concealed handgun sticking out of Alfred’s waistband. In all your time living here, you’d never seen a weapon like that in the Wayne household. Bruce’s hatred of guns had made sure of that. “Did you shoot him, Alfred?”

Bruce tenses up too, then bristles when he sees what you’re looking at. Alfred even looks a little sheepish and drops the body altogether to hide it. “You shot him?”

Alfred gulps, “Yes... with a rubber bullet, not a real one.”

“And you do that often? Shoot people?”

“Of course not, Bruce.”

“So you just happened to have a gun on you-”

“Someone was breaking in!”

“-while you were making tea-”

“And the gun is not real.”

“-I can’t imagine what else you’ve got hidden away in this house. What, am I going to find a grenade in the coffee grinder tomorrow morning?”

You inch yourself closer to the incapacitated man on the ground, the bridge of his clear frames caved in on themselves. You can see a worrisome bruise between his eyes. Just to be safe, you check the man’s pulse to confirm that Alfred really hadn’t killed him. Sure enough, he hadn’t lied, but brain damage wasn’t entirely off the table yet.

Alfred scoffs, folding his arms over his ruffled vest, “I don’t use bloody grenades. And I haven’t shot a real bullet in years! Most of the guns I own are entirely non-lethal.”

“Most? How many do you have?” Bruce accuses.

A moment passes. “You’ll never find them all.”

The bickering continues at an even louder volume after that. Bruce is furious that Alfred never told him about the guns and Alfred, the military-bred man that he is, was struggling hard not to just say that he was a grown man who could do what he wanted and be done with it.

As (oddly) endearing as it was to see the father and son bickering, you couldn’t let Alfred get in trouble on your watch.

“Um, Bruce,” you interject, catching both of the men’s attention, “to be fair to Alfred, this guy was carrying a real gun with real bullets. If Alfred didn’t have his weapon, this could’ve gone way worse. He saved the day.”

Alfred, as smug as an English gentleman could be, turned his attention back to Bruce.

The news had slowly but surely sobered Bruce up. One more look at the goon on the floor had dried up all the frustration, leaving him thoroughly exhausted, “...he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“The shattered window is unfortunate, but I can call the repairmen in the morning. I trust you two have nothing as exciting to report.” A shared look between yourself and Bruce has Alfred nodding, discussion supposedly ended. “Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Unless you’d like to raid my belongings for suspiciously sharp pencils... Master Bruce?”

All the fire in him had been extinguished. Bruce shakes his head and Alfred makes his leave, “What about the guy?” He yells after the retreating butler.

Alfred’s bedroom door shuts shortly after. It appeared date night had officially come to a close.

Bruce had been vehemently against a police detail for himself. It was you and Alfred that really needed it, he’d insisted, but Lieutenant Gordon had a brain that worked like anyone else’s and understood that the man with the hit on him needed it most. And so, much to his chagrin, he’d been hunkered down in Wayne Tower for the last few days, sneaking out as the Bat only when absolutely sure he wouldn’t get caught.

As his future spouse-to-be, you were the one who had to cover for him. But sometimes, no amount of lying could account for his missing presence in the penthouse, and so the Bat had to be put on the back burner until further notice... and it was driving him insane.

The police were in the kitchen, in his study, outside your shared bedroom, and on every floor of Wayne Tower. The media was still abuzz of the latest failed assassination attempt. There were too many eyes on him, it was making him itch.

That’s why, on the rare occasion that you could both pull it off, you helped him into the terminus elevator, helped hide his hair beneath his hat and hood, and sent him off on his bike before any one could question where you and Bruce had gotten off to. Pre-newlywed stuff. It was the honeymoon before the honeymoon, Alfred had joked once.

And of course, the one time you could get him out of the house successfully, he gets kidnapped.

It’s embarrassing standing next to Alfred as the police detail watches the news feed on the living room TV. Bruce was tied to a chair in the middle of the frame, three goons including the cameraman huddled around him and attempting to get a rise out of him. Threats that he’d heard a thousand times over had become stale at this point. Left out too long. If you weren’t so ashamed that you’d unwittingly helped him get kidnapped again, you’d be laughing at the unimpressed look he was giving the camera.

The bright side was that one, they seemed to not have found his suit and two, the goons had dwindled even more in number. Perhaps they were finally giving up?

“Citizens of Gotham, Bruce Wayne has been a hard man to get in touch with. But that doesn’t matter: the Riddler’s righteous justice will be delivered this day!” The cameraman declares, poking Bruce’s chest with a baton. Bruce barely moves. The cameraman sounds as put off by this as you feel, “Uh... any last words, Wayne?”

One of the officers is furiously working with a dispatcher to locate where the video is broadcasting from. Another in the corner is snickering behind her coffee cup. You’re not sure why you relate to them both.

Your future husband looks so done with the situation that you’re reassured he’s in no real danger, but you can’t fathom why he let himself get caught if that was the case. Surely, he would’ve taken them out just fine on his own. There were only three of them.

Another goon nudges his head with the barrel of his gun, yet Bruce does not flinch, “Speak up! The world is watching!”

Wordlessly, Bruce shifts in his seat once, twice, and brings his once bound hands to his front completely freed. You swore you heard a collective gasp across the nation.

The men in the room with Bruce look just as shocked as he reaches for the gun aiming (wobbling) at his head and gently covers the barrel of it with his palm, weaseling it out of the goon’s hand. The magazine falls to the floor shortly after and the gun is discarded across the room. When Bruce approaches the cameraman, the camera jerks back.

The phone is yanked away by Bruce. Before the live shuts off, you hear him speak for the first and only time since the broadcast started, “This is getting embarrassing.”

An uneasy quiet settles over the room after that. When Bruce comes home later that evening, escorted in a cop car, he looks absolutely pitiful. Your open arms are more than appreciated.

It’s been a long few weeks.

Wayne Enterprises was in a tizzy trying to get media under control. First the police, then the paparazzi, and now it felt like he’d gone from slipping from place to place unnoticed to being the talk of the town. It had made being Batman significantly harder, but it had also made him significantly more irritable.

Between you and... well, you, the only thing keeping him sane was currently asleep upstairs. After the last kidnapping debacle, it seemed that all the Riddler’s followers had been scared off, so at the very least, the police presence had dwindled down to a select few. He’d been given the go-ahead to take his own trash out, even. Promised he just needed some fresh air. A few hundred dollars thrown the night guard’s way and he was standing out in the cold at the back of Wayne Tower, in just a “I survived my trip to Gotham!” t-shirt and a pair of boxers, holding a trash bag.

The one Riddler clone standing across from him almost looks too afraid to stumble out of the shadows and recite their spiel. He’d be too tired to listen, anyway.

“Go home,” Bruce grumbles, tossing the bag into the dumpster, making no effort to try to appear like more of a threat than he really was. He didn’t even have mace on him, “I won’t even mention it.”

The stalker waits in the shadows for a few beats, practically shaking, unsure of himself. Bruce stares, unblinking. At the very least, if he took too long coming back up, they’d probably send someone down to check on him. This guy had a chance to get at least one shot off if he wanted. Bruce had survived three at one time, once.

After the world’s most unimpressive standoff, the goon turns around and starts walking home.

It’s been a long few weeks.

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ @alexxavicry​ @moonlightreader649​

[vrmxlho]

hi hi hi! can i request which nicknames/petnames the tokyo revengers characters use to refer to the reader?

if you're seeing this, this was the draft tumblr deleted cuz i had too many tags 😭 why doesn't command + shift + z redo stuff im gonna cry this is the 7098324th time i lose my work on tumblr +++ this could be completely out of character cuz i dropped tokyorev back when the bonten arc had just started but i really can't be asked to care

cw: written out of pure frustration and anger + i hate you tumblr go fuck yourself + cringe + not proofread

not the type to call their lover pet-names because they're quite shy about it. but if their partner really wants it they will call you LOVE or DARLING. it's simple, pure and poetic. it's just romantic enough without being overly cringe. they love how even if it's really chill but it also evokes warmth in the both of you, it's the perfect balance. they also like that it can be used in public settings without grossing people out by how mushy it is.

kakucho, smiley, shinchiro, naoto, south, takuya, wakasa

doesn't call you common or 'normal' pet-names. no no. instead they opt for a nickname incorporated into a pet-name that relates to your past and somehow reminds you of a deeply traumatic experience you were trying to forget. they do it on purpose to torment you. they think it's so fucking funny when you get all annoyed and flustered.

choji, mikey, rindo, senju, hanma

purposefully calls you very cringe pet-names like KITTEN or PUMPKIN in public. but when you're at home they always call you something sweet like MY BELOVED. they love the old-timey romantic feel you get when they call you that. reminds me of drive-in theatre screenings of vintage romances

chifuyu, kokonoi, sanzu, izana, yuzuha, draken, shion

calls you PRINCEX. they love seeing you melt every time they call you that. besides you really are like royalty to them. they'll be at your beck and call 24/7. honestly, the feel kinda bad for making you go through all that emotional turmoil with all the violence going on. so when you're at home they make up for it by treating you right.

kokonoi, atsushi, hakkai, angry, ran, inupi, taiju, mitsuya,

give you very soft pet names like ANGEL or LOVIE that make your skin crawl (in a good way?). they know how it makes you go crazy and they love that. they don't mind calling you that in public either because they don't think it's cringe at all. hate calling you by your full name it makes them gag honestly.

akane inui, emma sano, hinata, yamagishi, kazutora, baji, takemichi, takeomi

[booksteaandtoomuchtv]

Witchy Woman (2/10)

0.5 | 1 | AO3 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

art by @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tagging: @anmylica, @elfiola , @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

Author Note: This chapter has over 2400 words. It had about that many commas until the lovely, patient, and enduring @ultraluckycatnd worked her magic. Any remaining commas that are misplaced are late adds for which she is not responsible. This is coming to you early because it has BEEN A WEEK and it is only Tuesday. Here is a treat for us all because we deserve it.

“Coffee?”

Emma shot her sister an annoyed glare; she was far too chipper for the early hour. Ruby just grinned back at her, pulling out two coffee mugs and filling them. She added a sugar cube to one before sliding it over to Emma. Eying the mug with some suspicion, Emma accepted the warm cup, cradling it in her hands as if it held the most precious thing she’d ever encountered. She breathed in the strong nutty and flowery aroma of the steam rising from the mug. She could feel the drowsiness starting to retreat before she took her first sip. 

No sooner had the mug reached her lips when Ruby cleared her throat. Emma glanced up to find Ruby looking at her expectantly. She took a sip to steady herself before dealing with, well, with whatever it was that had Ruby all excitable this morning. 

“Soo..?” Ruby prompted.

Emma looked at the mug in her hands with a mixture of betrayal and sorrow. “You’re just a bribe,” she muttered somewhat mournfully. 

“What did Killian say to you last night?” 

“I ran into Neal on my way home after the wedding,” Emma answered suddenly. 

“What is he doing back?” Ruby demanded. Her playfulness dropped completely, anger flashing behind her eyes. 

“Gods only know,” Emma said.

“Emma, this can only be bad. I am getting Elsa, Anna, and Mary Margaret over here, right now,” Ruby was already reaching for her phone. The phone jumped from its position on the counter, grazing her fingers. Ruby scowled at Emma. “Seriously?”

“We don’t know that he is staying or why he was even here.”

“We don’t need to know anything more than he was here.” She cursed under her breath as her phone was pulled from her grasp once again. “Emma!” 

“I am only telling you because I need you to find out if he is staying,” Emma admitted, letting Ruby get the phone this time. “We don’t need to get anyone else involved until we know there is something to worry about.” 

“You only told me because you thought I’d forget about whatever happened between Killian and you last night,” Ruby said, pointedly. 

“I want to know before anyone else bumps into him. Please, Ruby?”

“Fine, I’ll help,” Ruby agreed. “But, the second I get back…” Ruby was already walking toward the door, her wolf-half eager to track down prey.

“I know, I know,” Emma murmured to the empty room.

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

Ruby returned before lunch without much success. She had lost his trail at the town line; magic tended to be a bit unpredictable at the extents of the town for reasons that had yet to be discovered. Her intuition told her that he hadn’t left town, but she hadn’t been able to pick up his scent again. 

Emma frowned as she tried to puzzle out what Neal was doing back in Storybrooke. Her own magic whispered warnings that filled her with a nervous energy she hadn’t felt in decades. The minutes she’d spent in his presence had taken her right back to that dreadful place she’d been when they’d separated all those years ago. She may have been a powerful witch, the most powerful witch in Storybrooke, but just seeing Neal had ripped away her self-confidence and left her feeling small, powerless - the way he’d made her feel as a teen. 

“We have to tell them.”

“I know.”

“Today?”

Emma nodded. “Key lime or pecan?” 

Ruby wrinkled her nose. “Apple.”

“Mary Margaret hates apples.”

“Blueberry, then.”

“Blueberry it is,” Emma agreed, jumping off the bar stool and crossing to the pantry to start baking. She couldn’t remember who had started the tradition but whenever a family meeting was called, the hostess provided a sweet treat. Emma had settled on perfecting pies, Ruby typically brought ice cream, Anna and Elsa always brought an elaborate chocolate creation, and Mary Margaret surprised them with something that likely came from that baking competition programme she adored. 

As she started on the pie, her mind quieted as her thoughts turned to the task at hand. The physical task centred her in the present after the unrest of the last day or so - which is likely why they’d continued this tradition. 

It felt like moments later when Elsa walked through the door, her greeting was interrupted when her twin rushed in after. “We’re the first ones here.” The triumphant look Anna threw Elsa had Emma fighting to suppress a smile. Elsa felt that being five minutes early somewhere was late. But Anna’s conduit abilities meant she was often distracted by the fluctuations of the ambient magic, losing track of time and days at times when the magical field was particularly dynamic. It was a common exchange between the two, and Emma felt oddly comforted by the familiarity of the disagreement. 

Elsa looked toward the ceiling, pleading with the gods for patience, before turning her attention back to Emma. “Is there tea?” 

Emma gestured toward the empty kettle, still firmly suppressing her smile, but her eyes danced mischievously. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here already.” 

“Oh, don’t you start,” Elsa warned.

“Ruby lives here and she isn’t even here,” Emma waved her hand to indicate the kitchen and living space around them. She couldn’t hide her smug smile when Elsa slammed the lid on the kettle harder than necessary before placing it on the flame. 

“You and Killian were awfully cosy last night,” Anna’s voice was all innocent interest. 

“You promised me,” Ruby added, her timing as impeccable as always. Between her wolf hearing and her telepathic magic, she rarely missed the moment a conversation became particularly interesting. 

“This can’t be the most pressing thing we need to discuss.”

“Well, Mary Margaret isn’t here to discuss more serious matters,” Ruby reasoned.

When all three pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly, Emma sighed. “Fine.” She took a moment to prepare herself. “He just said something ridiculous like ‘It’s time,’ or whatever. I think he wants us to try dating again.” Even though she’d tried to sound unaffected as she spoke, her cheeks burned as she recalled how exactly how he said Time’s up and the thick tension that had been in the air between them. 

As expected, they all spoke at once.

“About damn time.”

“What are you going to do?” 

“Get it!” 

Emma answered Elsa since she was the only one to actually ask a question. “I think,” she sighed, “I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you want?” Anna asked.

“Killian’s main mast,” Ruby answered with a wolfish grin. 

Mary Margaret tapped on the door before entering, saving Emma from addressing that particular innuendo. A crease formed between Mary Margaret’s brow as she read the energy and auroras in the room. “Oooh, what have I interrupted?” 

“Emma was just telling us what she is going to do about Killian,” Anna relayed. 

Emma caught Elsa’s eyes before they went wide and unfocused, indicating that a vision had taken her from the present into a possible future. No one else seemed to have notice, because they were catching Mary Margaret up on the short conversation she missed.

“So, the question remains,” Mary Margaret said, “are you going to give him the chance?”

Eyes cleared and voice dreamy, Elsa responded, “Oh, Emma, you just have to.” 

Emma studied Elsa, trying to determine what her sister had seen in that vision. Elsa shook her head; she apparently wasn’t going to get any of the answers she was desperate to know. 

“Well, that settles it,” Anna said, as though an actual decision had been reached. Elsa turned back to pouring tea for everyone. Anna jumped up to divide the pie for everyone, sliding plates in front of them and chatting away excitedly about blueberries and pies and a thousand other things. Emma stood a bit dumbfounded at how quickly the topic had been dropped, but her magic thrummed through her as though it agreed with her sisters. She may refuse to believe Elsa without the details of her vision, but going against her magic would be foolish on a level that Emma most decidedly wasn’t.

“Now, for the other situation?” Ruby prompted between bites of pie.

Emma slipped into business mode, her voice matter-of-fact as she relayed the exchange with Neal and Ruby’s tracking efforts from that morning. When she’d finished Mary Margaret frowned, that crease between her eyebrows returning. “Do you think he is back to challenge Killian for his position as vampire overlord?”

“It’s likely,” admitted Emma. It had been her first thought, once she’d been able to rationally think about him materialising beside her last night. Before anyone could suggest it, Emma added, “I don’t want to bring Killian into this until we know that Neal is staying.”

“Emma, you should tell him now,” said Anna. Mary Margaret nodded her agreement.

“He’ll lose his mind,” Emma countered. She had decided, with the not-so-subtle urging of their magic, to welcome Killian back into her heart. She wasn’t sure she was ready to bring Neal up in the same conversation. She deserved that conversation to be a happy one; they both did.

“With good reason,” Ruby said, her eyes heavy with meaning. “He remembers what happened last time.”

“And I’ve forgotten?” Emma snapped back. Her rising temper was suddenly dampened, Mary Margaret’s magic pulsing out to calm the rising emotions in the room. Emma cut her eyes at Mary Margaret, she wanted to be angry. Needed it, right now. Otherwise, she worried she’d give into the fear at the heart of the anger. 

“That isn’t what Ruby meant,” Mary Margaret smoothed. 

“Well, it happened to me. I haven’t forgotten. I am stronger, now. Much stronger,” Emma spit out, holding on tightly to whatever anger she could with the happy spell still pulsing in the air around them. 

“We just want you to be safe. Having the vampires in town watching your back isn’t a bad idea,” Elsa added. 

“I will tell him,” Emma said. As soon as I know Neal is still in town. 

“Good,” Anna nodded. As chatter turned toward Mary Margaret’s upcoming honeymoon, Emma’s thoughts churned with memories better buried. The fear she felt the night Neal had tried to bite her as she fought him off, her telekinesis too weak at seventeen to throw him,  rising to the surface. She couldn’t recall the words he’d threatened her with, but she remembered the whine in his voice as she resisted, scratching and clawing anywhere her hands made purchase. He’d wanted to drain her of her power, to absorb it as he fed from her unwillingly, so that he could overthrow the weakening vampire overlord. 

Fortunately, Ruby returned home early. Her wolf form, even at thirteen, was strong enough to damage a weak vampire. She’d torn him off Emma before returning to tend to Emma’s injuries. Not knowing what to do, Ruby rushed to August’s to see if he could help with the pain radiating from Emma's wrist and forearm. August had become a quasi-guardian of the sisters when their parents died the year before. 

That was the night Killian entered her life - it would be another seven or eight years before he’d become more than a friend of August; two more still before he’d become her Killian. He was at August’s, catching up with his old friend after sailing the world for a few years. When he saw the injuries peppering Emma’s body, he recognised she had fractured her wrist. Without hesitation, he’d extracted his toxin and mixed it into a tonic to help her heal. All the while, he complimented her on her strength and gently teased her to keep her from being swallowed by the helpless fear she’d experienced at the hands of someone who’d said he loved her. 

§§§§    §§§§    §§§§    §§§§

Killian had been many things in his long life; chimney sweep, thief, naval officer, pirate, gentleman, barkeep. While pirate was his most memorable, given that is when he gained the hook in place of a hand on his left side, his most enjoyable was definitely the position he currently held as Storybrooke’s Vampire Overlord. As Emma stormed into his office, sidestepping a flustered Tink’s attempts to block her entrance, he smiled to himself. This was absolutely his favourite occupation. 

“Good morning, Swan.” He flashed a brilliant smile, rising from behind his desk. When she did not take the proffered seat, he leaned against the desk and frowned with concern. His gaze swept over her, a habitual scan for any injuries she may have. He felt a bit of tension release when he found none. Her heart was fluttering wildly; he'd say she was nervous if she were any other woman. But Emma was always steady and collected. He cleared his throat and met her gaze, “How can I be of assistance, Love?”

As head of the Storybrooke Coven, Emma typically received updates on supernatural occurrences before he did - officially. However, Killian prided himself on the effectiveness of his own intelligence gathering. He was rarely uninformed when Emma approached him to help with a particularly tricky situation. As she stormed into his office this morning, he felt a moment of annoyance flash through him when he realised he had no idea what had brought her in this morning. He assumed she’d know about Neal by now. But she’d always been clear that he was not allowed to handle that prick properly, so he doubted that was what brought her before him.

“Fine, okay,” Emma said in a huff. When Killian’s eyes filled with confusion, she added, “I agree. We should, I mean, I am ready to…”

Killian’s eyes lit up as he began to understand what the distractingly beautiful witch standing in front of him was attempting to say. “Swan, would you allow me the honour of taking you for an evening out tomorrow?” 

“How about dinner around eight?” Emma replied with a smile. 

“I am counting down the minutes, Love.” If he didn’t know her better, he may not have caught the light flush in her cheeks or the nervous way she pushed her hair out of her face. If he didn’t know her better, he would not have seen the excitement flash in her eyes before she turned and walked out of his office. If he didn’t know her better, he wouldn’t have fully appreciated what it had taken and what it meant that she had come to his office, to him, this morning. His heart beat wildly in his chest and a broad, silly smile took over his features because he did know her. And she was letting him back into her heart - after a journey far too long, he was being welcomed back home. 

[quinloki]

A Light Touch

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

CW: language, assault, violence, sexual themes and situations, implications of non-con, loss of limbs, blood. 18+ Only.

Chapter 1 - Table of Consent -

Chapter 16: Benefactor

You stayed down in the basement for hours. You could hear the crew working upstairs to clean up the glass and start repairing the house. Your emotions were all over the place, and you weren't having an easy time trying to organize them, let alone process them.

Your heart hurt, it ached so deeply you almost wanted to rip it from your chest just to have a moment's relief. You couldn't heal it, there was no physical wound to mend to bring some sort of relief.

Eventually Emma came down with a tray of food. She didn't say anything until she was sure you had seen it.

"I'll come get it later, but I wanted you to know that you can go back to your room if you want. Or, well, anywhere in the house." There's sadness in Emma's voice and so you know the whole rest of the crew knows.

"Thanks." You respond, pulling the tray close as she leaves.

The food's warm, and it makes you feel a little better. You hadn't had a chance to eat before all hell had broke loose, and you hadn't realized how much it was making everything else sink into you.

You had no idea what you were going to do. The only thing you knew for sure was you needed to think really hard on it before you made any decisions, and sulking in the basement wasn't going to help. Not that you didn't have a right to be angry, but you didn't want to make any decisions because of your anger.

First thing, you wanted a shower, and clothes that were clean. Clothes that were actual clothes too, being in your pjs felt like a depression move and you didn't want that either.

You got up, tray in hand and head upstairs. You come out of the basement carefully, not because you're worried about another attack, but you don't know how much glass is still on the floors, or where Kid is. Right now, you're not sure if you want to see him.

He had left earlier without a word. You didn't know what expression was on his face since you couldn't bring yourself to look at anyone. You didn't know if it mattered right now, since you were still raw.

You see Killer in the kitchen, cleaning up and prepping for dinner. When you set the tray down, he turns in your direction.

"Thanks Em— er." Killer freezes in place. It's almost funny to see a guy as big and intimidating as him be so shook up by you.

"Thanks." You say, knowing he had made the food. "I'm going to my room. I... just need to think on stuff."

"Let me know when you're hungry again." He says evenly. There's a twitch in his body like he wants to reach out and say something more, but he doesn't.

"Where is he?" You ask with a sigh.

"Out. You won't run into him in the house." Killer assures you.

You nod, and head up to your room.

The stairs feel big. The open space in the middle of the staircase feels empty. The higher up you get the colder things feel. Like there's a series of walls closing between you and the entire crew with each step you take.

The window in your room is boarded up with thick planks and metal bars. Aside from the basement it might be the safest place in the whole house right now. Stepping into the bathroom, even the few small windows in here were reinforced.

You could feel your body relax.

A long shower and a longer soak in the tub were the beginning of what you needed. You used all the little creams and oils you could get your hands on and just let your mind wander. Water made it easier to think. Made it easier to be relaxed while you thought. Made it more comfortable to feel and cry, and you didn't know why it worked that way, but you were grateful for it.

When you came out of the bathroom and got dressed you realized you were far less angrier than you had been earlier, which meant you could start to sit down and think about what had happened.

And what you meant to do.

Before you could really let yourself dig in to your thoughts, your phone rings. It wasn't a number you had saved, and your stomach knotted immediately.

After a few rings it stopped, and a moment after that you got a text from the same number.

Unknown: I'm not Vander Decken, Miss (Y/N).

You look at the text in disbelief before picking up the phone and texting back.

You: Who are you?

Unknown: A benefactor. A friend of your father's.

You: I don't know who my father is, how can you? How could I even trust what you're saying?

Unknown: I have proof, but the validity of my relationship to your father is not why I'm reaching out to you. I wish to help with your stalker issue, Miss (Y/N).

You: Why now?

Unknown: I had promised your father I wouldn't directly interfere in your life. However, that brat Kid isn't handling this well enough, and I felt the need to intervene more directly.

Your brows knit. Only you were allowed to be angry at Kid right now, who did this asshole think he was bad-mouthing your "it's complicated" status update?

You: Kid's done a lot for me.

Unknown: I could do more.

You: who are you? And don't give some vague benefactor bullshit.

You: Wait, did you pay my hospital bills?

Unknown: I did.

Unknown: Go find that blonde cook of his, and then call this number. I won't divulge who I am over text, young lady.

Your blood nearly froze you in place. There was a level of knowledge coming from this unknown number that unsettled you deeply. You were also certain that it was best for Killer to know about it than for you to keep it secret, so you took your phone downstairs with you.

"Killer!" You called out, assuming he was in the kitchen. Sure enough he stepped out into the landing of the stairs as you came down to meet him. You scrolled your phone to the start of the texts and handed it to him. "Read this."

Killer's eyes were usually hidden by his hair, but you could see the light in those baby blues as the scowl on his face. He handed the phone back to you.

"Call it."

"Sure," you prompt the phone to call the number associated with the texts and after a couple rings a velvety voice fills the air between you and Killer.

"Miss (Y/N), and Killer, how nice to hear from you."

"Who are you?" You ask again, but when you look up to Killer you see his scowl deepen.

"He's a Warlord." Killer says, and you're impressed at how steady his voice is.

"I see my reputation is intact. I am Donquixote Doflamingo, young Miss (Y/N), and your father was my right-hand man."

"...What? Wait what? A Warlord?! You're a Warlord!" You nearly drop the phone, but Killer catches it as your legs buckle and you sit down on the floor with a thump.

"Indeed. Your father-."

"No. No." You put your hands up even though he can't see you. "Absolutely not. I don't want to know anything. I have enough on my plate right now, I refuse to hear one word about my father."

"... Very well. Then to the matter at hand," he says, emphasizing the last word in a way that made you flinch. "The day after tomorrow a limo will arrive at your apartment. You, young lady, will be there, and I will guarantee that it will be safe for you to be there. At that point you will do me the courtesy of making a decision."

"Eh?"

"Get into the limo and I will protect you, not only from your stalker, but from the weight of your heritage. You will want for nothing and have all that you could desire, but you will forfeit any alliance with brats like Kid and his generation. You will be a member of my family and your loyalty will not be split."

"If I don't get into the limo?"

"Then I will not intervene in any way with your life - personally or professionally." His voice isn't disappointed, and something about that unnerves you.

"What if I don't show up at all?"

"I would advise you to not snub a Warlord, young lady. You are family enough that I'm willing to give you an option, don't insult me for it." There's an edge in his voice that twists your stomach and makes your face go pale. You can almost feel the hand at your throat from the words alone.

"She'll be there." Killer says, the assurance more for you than Doflamingo.

"Indeed. Take today and tomorrow to think it over. You won't have to worry about any disturbances slipping through the cracks in the meantime. Go outside and enjoy a proper taste of freedom, Miss (Y/N)."

The line goes dead, and you just sit there for a few long minutes. After a moment, Killer sits on the floor with you, setting the phone between the two of you.

"Kid's going to blow a gasket." You say finally.

"Yup."

"Killer?"

"Hm?"

"I have questions."

"I will answer what I can."

"So you're not just a crew or gang. Y'all are the Kings of the South Blue, like how they call Luffy and his crew the Kings of East Blue."

"Yup."

"Hookay." You let out a breath and lay down on the floor. Kings were contenders from the world making their way through Grandline Metro to find the One Piece. It's why there were so many Devil Fruit users in the 600 sq km of the city. The city's underbelly was a gauntlet and took people years to get through.

Some Kings became Warlords - either because the World Government scouted them, or because they applied for the position by doing something meritorious in the eyes of the Government. Some Kings became Emperors, but that was a nearly impossible feat because the Emperors themselves were so entrenched.

Most Kings died or retired when they realized they had bashed against their dream to the point of defeat.

Kid didn't strike you as someone who quit. As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure you knew how he lost his arm. He was either going to find the One Piece, lose the race to it, or die in the attempt.

Suddenly, you were angry that Luffy and the others had educated you on all this when they were trying to recruit you.

If you became a part of Kid's crew, you'd face Luffy and the others eventually.

"Fuck." You stare up at the ceiling. "That explains a lot." You sigh. Eustass would need to fly under the radar in order to keep his foundations stable while he pushed into the city. Eventually the Marines would get mixed into things but the longer you could avoid them the better your chances.

If he had outed himself as a Devil Fruit user on the traffic cameras to save someone he didn't know, he would've sacrificed everything the crew had worked for to that point. It wasn't just a matter of having to register and pay some fines.

Even if it was just registering and paying fines, he didn't know you from the next faceless rube when the accident happened. He had no reason to risk his growing empire for you.

"Who's Doflamingo's right hand man?" You ask after a long silence.

"I don't know who is now," Killer replies. "But a year ago it was a man named Vergo."

"I'm guessing he didn't retire."

"I heard he had been posing as a Marine for a long time. Something blew his cover and he died." Killer explains.

"So then for a few months Doflamingo consolidates his losses, and eventually decides to - I guess - pay homage to his friend and tosses his daughter a bone in the shape of a really lucrative job offer." You grumble into the air. "Except a drunk guy rear ends her on the way there and utter chaos ensues."

"I don't think you're wrong." He agrees. "Doflamingo is fanatical about family, he probably wanted to do more."

Tears slip down the side of your face, but you're not sobbing. There's no pain in your heart, and you're not even sure you're truly sad, but a single thought sits in your heart as the errant tears dry on your face.

"Both my parents are dead." You say softly to no one in particular. "I never expected I'd meet my father, but... the finality of this feels heavier than I thought."

"Sorry, (Y/N)." Killer offers after a long silence.

You breathe in and let out a sigh. "It's okay. Mom did her best. I guess in a weird way, my dad did too. Sounds like he had the backing to do whatever he wanted, and that at least explains why mom was so paranoid. In the end though, he let her raise me like she wanted."

You stared at the ceiling for another long minute. "What in the hells am I going to do?" You were muttering to yourself more than anything as you sat up. "I hate to ask you this, but can you tell Kid about this? I still need to think on some stuff before I can, um... y'know."

"Sure." Killer stands up, dusting his jeans off. "Hey, uh, look I don't know that I have a right to say this, but um..."

"Fire away, Killer." You prompt, standing up as well.

"I've known Kid almost his whole life. He's gonna push you toward Doflamingo. I shouldn't say that, being who I am, but I feel like you have a right to know it won't be because he wants to."

"Being who you are?"

"... I'm his right-hand, (Y/N). It's not my place to sabotage what the Captain decides."

"Your secret's safe with me." You assure him, starting your long trek back up the steps to your room.

[whumpy-daydreams]

Empty Chair

Masterlist

Previous Next

CW: character death mention

Rowena had wanted to see Dani again as soon as she'd kissed her, and Dr Mason's experiment had meant she had to wait two days. So when guards turned up at lunch to escort her to the canteen, she was ecstatic.

Her excitement was cut off by the presence of only two people at the table.

Emma and Shaan barely acknowledged her as she sat down, waiting for the guards to shackle her to the table before asking:

"Where's Dani?"

Shaan looked up, eyes red and empty. "She's gone. They- they took her away and she didn't come back."

"When? Maybe she's in the med bay?" Rowena was hoping more than believing, even as Emma shook her head.

"Her bed's been cleared. They only do that when..." She looked away, tears staining her cheeks.

Rowena didn't know how to feel. She'd seen Dani only two days ago - Dani had kissed her and she never got to return it. She swallowed hard.

"I thought they wanted to keep us alive?"

"They don't care about everybody." Shaan took over again. "If you're high value then sure - but Dani wasn't rare. You don't live with us, you don't know how many people die in their experiments."

How many more were dead? How many had they killed? Rowena had done her fair share of killing, but she hadn't had much of a choice in it. This was different.

"Don't." It was as if Emma had seen what Rowena was thinking. "It's happened before and it will happen again. Starting a fight won't change that."

She was right of course. Emma usually was. So Rowena took a deep (but shaky) breath and tried to calm the anger boiling up inside. They would pay for this. They would all burn.

[terrania]

ONE SOUL BETWEEN US

A STORY ABOUT TRAUMA, QUEERNESS, AND EVERYTHING

WRITING SAMPLE:

Andrea first felt cold, half-smooth wood beneath her, in a curved set of planks. A low soft symphony of crickets stirred her, before she was jolted up the rest of the way by the deafening siren of a passing helicopter. Seeing the scene around her, she couldn’t help but find a slow chuckle escape her lips- waking up on a bench in the middle of the night, yet again.

5895 WORDS LONG

ABSURDLY FAST-PACED

CW: CHARACTER DEATH ALLUDED TO, EMOTIONALLY INTENSE SCENES

PLEASE CONSIDER READING

ONE SOUL BETWEEN US

A STORY BY JOAN

It felt like a thousand years ago, but it felt like just yesterday, too- doesn’t it always? Like that maxim- “changing the course of your life forever.” Everything she did from that point was because of it, in some way or another. In every action, she could still feel that pain, the echoes of the horror from that day, the guilt and anger in tandem.

It always shocks a community when that happens, but of course it wasn’t in a positive way. Not in that Town, after all- not in the town that, itself, killed him. People mourned for maybe a week, and by the time a month passed, nobody had even really changed from it- maybe they acted a bit more vindictive, or a bit kinder to her and the other couple people who knew him, but it never really added up- and soon enough, she was able to feel that same overbearing density in the Town’s air he did again, and she knew she couldn’t stay.

Maybe none of this would’ve happened if they didn’t find his body in those woods, or if the guy he met when he got into the City didn’t rat him out, or he didn’t slowly starve and become delirious when he came back. Maybe all of it would’ve happened anyway, and they’d be in the city with him now. What was certain was that she had no option but to escape when talk of him died down, and talk of her queerness returned in kind, when they started harassing her girlfriend again, when they started asking her to just “move on,” as if her life would ever be the same. Well, now it really wouldn’t. They’d do it right this time.

~~~

There it was, 1330 Edmund Blvd, a massive apartment building, dingy but with bright light shining through its windows. Emma texted her that address when Andrea was finally done crying behind that Waffle house after completely blowing up during her job interview, ending just shy of getting the cops called on her. While she was sad she couldn’t finish what she wanted to say, she could still be glad that she didn’t have to talk with the pigs- they’d identify her immediately, sending her and Emma back to the Town they were raised in. 

PART ONE

When she stopped sobbing, she saw that the golden hour light had turned red-orange, and the lot around her was empty, the heat from the pavement sticking only to her worn shoes. There was still heat from the road in her, heat that stayed in her chest and throat, all the way here. Now, the sky had made its way to the silver hour with only a trace of the afternoon at its edges, and as Andrea glanced at it, she realized that, for once, there were no stars within that sky, where they once were in the Town. The people rushed along the sidewalk around her, but she knew nothing of any of them. She knew nearly nothing of this City, even still.

1330 EDMND BLVD

As Andrea approached the building, she noticed Emma immediately, directly in front of the glass door, leaning next to the buzzer. In front of her shirt- still dirty from that fall on the road to the city- she had a black, worn fabric jacket, with a university label on it- one that Andrea didn’t recognize at all. The conviction on her face was as clear as the fear, but as she noticed Andrea, she immediately shone with relief.

Confused about the situation but happy to see her, Andrea simply asked “Emma?”

“Andrea! God, I was getting so worried.” Emma certainly seemed to be, but if she was, why did she leave Andrea in the lot in the first place?

“You know you don’t gotta worry about me, Emms.” Andrea attempted to say this with enthusiasm. “That said, are you okay? The hell’s up with these apartments?”

“...Right,” said Emma, adding a light, anxious chuckle. “Look, we... we should talk.”

“Yeah, looks like we oughta.” “Look, Andy. I know you want this to just be... us. I know we’re in this together. I know we’re better than where we’re from, and as good as where we’re going. I know we have to do it right.”

“...But?”

“But it’s killing you! I, I mean look at you, you haven’t eaten in two days, your shirt’s ripped through... you just spent two hours breaking down behind a waffle house?? Five days ago, you- you were promising to protect me! You were saving me from that Town, the way we always had to! Where the hell’s that Andy??

Andrea’s fists clenched. The hell did Emma think that the Andy protecting her was when she was working her ass off to get food and a job? “I am protecting you! That’s why you’ve been eating my last meals! That’s why I’m getting this job! I’m doing all of this for you!”

Somehow, Emma looked even more unhappy. Her eyes squinted and peered down, and she gripped the side of her sweatpants. “You’d... You’d die for me, wouldn’t you?” It didn’t come out as a genuine question, but more as a realization on her own part- and in a low, quiet tone of voice, yet still like there was disdain worthy for such a practice. “You’d die for me,” a grand accusation in an inexplicable sense, a declaration of guilt in an angle Andrea couldn’t even understand. In spite of it all, she still answered with her heart. “Yes. Yes, Emma, yes I would.”

“Of course you would. You’re so, so focused on creating this world for me, and forcing the rest of the world out. You keep refusing to stop- you’re letting yourself die, right now, just to make it a margin better for me. You’re trying to be a goddamn martyr!”

“Emma. The hell is wrong with that??”

Emma’s face was red now. “What’s it going to take for you to realize that my “ideal world” you’re dying for needs you in it???” It ended as a shout, piercing through Andrea’s forehead, dissipating in the saliva building in the back of her throat, settling in her stomach. She doesn’t cry. She wasn’t about to start.

Silence passed between the two of them. The sound of those crowds going by and by and by. A plane landing in the distance. The screech of a car horn.

Finally, Andrea found the words within her. “Emma,” she said- in a deep, gravelly voice so she didn’t start sobbing- “why are you in front of this building?”

“This can’t work!”

Emma pushed it through a choked sob, and hunched a little on the step. “We can’t do this alone. You can’t do this alone. So I got some help.”

That’s when it clicked for Andrea. The golden light coming from the doorway. The black jacket. That sense of conviction Emma came into this with. She did it, what they’d promised each other they’d never do, above all else. Here she was, in front of the house of a stranger she decided to trust, in the city, away from her. She’d chosen to stay here.

“Emma. Emma. Emma.” A look of guilt passed through Emma’s face. She knew exactly what this meant to Andrea.

“Emma. You know what happened to Spencer.” “Yes. Yes, I know what happened to Spencer.

“We saw him die, Emma. We saw him die. And now you wanna die the same way.” it was as cold as Andrea could muster, but the exact same way she was to everyone but Emma. “Andrea. In, in those days that Spencer was trying to get out again, to get back here, to where we are... you know how focused he was on escaping?” Andrea stayed silent.

“I saw him stop eating. I saw him do nothing- think of nothing- but getting out. I saw him care about nobody but us- not even himself.” Andrea’s heart beat faster. The light behind Emma was blinding. “Then, I saw him die.”

There was nothing Andrea could say, now, nothing left but to wait for what Emma was about to say. Of course, she knew exactly what was next. Emma would hold her hope close to her chest, take one more shaky step silhouetted by the light, and ask...

“No,” Andrea blurted out.

Tears finally burst out of Emma’s eyes. “Andrea, please!”

There was nothing else Andrea could think to say. There was nothing more important in the world than saying it. “I’m not going to go with you. I’m not going inside that house, and I’m not going to give up on making a name for ourselves.” Her face reddened. “And no, I’m not a martyr because I’m doing it all for you. No, I’m not starving, and no, I’m not fucking destroying myself!” 

Andrea’s gaze was blurry as the last shouts left her. Her head pounded against her eyes, the bursts of pain finding their way out of her, any way they could. The crowds outside were so, so loud. Emma, though, couldn’t say a word.

“You’ll get that soon. You’ll come back for me, and you’ll see how well I’m doing, and you’ll understand. Text me when that happens, and until then, don’t fucking talk to me.”

She turned around. She didn’t glance up to see Emma’s reaction. She didn’t let herself look back at that apartment building. She just kept going where her legs took her, not knowing where she’d end up. She had to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but with her.

PART ONE COMPLETE

Andrea shut the door of Emma’s room, immediately jumping and falling, full force, on her bed. She rolled over and let out a loud, excited wheeze, filling the room with pure electrical joy.

Emma giggled, which she knew to be an immensely comforting sound in Andrea’s ears, that got her heartbeat to pick up once again. “Oh my- hehe- GOD, what’s up with you?”

Andrea slid up on the bed to rest her back on the bed frame, trying to maintain a Coolguy pose despite her obvious earnestness. A fiery blush lit up her face- she was high enough on life to overdose. “Dude, I’m just realizing that the last thing my brother will ever hear from me is telling him to fuck off!”

Emma hopped right onto the bed as well, stretching out in the sunset’s fading sunbeams. “He’d better, after outing you to your parents!” She did a sort of scamper over to where Andrea was half-sitting, cozying up against her side and burying her face in her chest. This was the woman who’d protect her from the town. This was the woman who’d bring her to the city... Holy shit, tomorrow. This was their last day in this town!

“God, this still feels unreal.”

“Hmm?” Andrea glanced down from the window she was peering through. Despite the mundanity of her response, she looked at Emma with such warm reverence, with such hope...

“Like, this being our last day in this town. These people...” Her eyes widened. “they have no clue!”

Andrea let out a burst of laughter, sliding down a bit on the bed and turning on her side to Emma. Her expression, though, became a bit more anxious for a moment, and she took a deep breath, calming down the best she could.

“...Hey, we’re completely sure about this, right? If you ain’t, now’s the time.” She averted her gaze, putting on a cautious smile.

Emma expected this, honestly. This was probably the last moment before the two of them were fully committing to the plan, the last chance to drop out. Admittedly, Emma was a bit nervous about this, and there were still people from school worth talking to, people who’d probably miss them, an entire world they were leaving behind...

But Emma looked at Andrea, and saw every moment the two of them had had together, Andrea’s drive to protect her and her own drive to make Andrea feel loved, and the desire within her for this girl was too strong, too ecstatic for her to say anything other than...

“We’re in this, Andy.” The kiss that followed was a burst of bubbly electricity, a moment of pure, ecstatic togetherness.

~~~

Andrea turned to Spencer. “Dude. I’m saying that you’re getting somewhere with this, but that you can still goddamn do it without starving.”

Spencer raised his head from where he was lying on the bed. “Cmon Andrea, you know I’m fine.” “I can see you, man. You’re goddamn emaciated.” Andrea felt childish trying to be kind like this. They’d never had this kind of serious conversation before. Spencer finally sighed and got up. “Look, Drea, it’s hard to eat in this house, when I only get the chance around my family. You know that.” The bags under his eyes were all the more apparent.

PART TWO

Andrea slowly stepped to the bed from the window. She knew better than to get angry here, but this had to be said. “If you can handle being around your family for just the one week, we’re golden. We’ve got a place to stay, we’ve got fake documents, we’ve got goddamn everything.” She moved up to Spencer, intensifying her expression. “For the love of god, last that one week.”

“I’m gonna, Andrea,” Spencer said, defeated. “Just trust me.” Andrea wished she could.

NOWHERE, EVERYWHERE, THE ALLEYS

She walked and walked and walked. Her head hung low, and her movements grew shaky for moments, but she continued. Building after building passed, dark and imposing, the signage shadowed, hardly visible, and the roofs impossibly high. Andrea was a shrub on the side of the road to the passing cars, a pebble to the skyscrapers, a blur to the planes. The crowds had mostly dispersed, and she didn’t spare anyone who was still out a glance. Andrea was alone on the streets.

The shelter was about a quarter of a mile from here- the shelter, where she could rest, where she could make it to the next day, and make a recovery. The shelter, the one place her route could lead her, her only option, her savior. There was nothing more to it- nothing to think on, nothing to be done. She could keep going like this. She was about to keep going like this.

So she went, thinking nothing, feeling nothing, and watching those facades. Her head began to ache in spite of herself, and here she realized that she hadn’t had any water since Waffle house, three hours ago now. She could, she supposed, have gone in the apartment just to take some water and dip- she’d love to, honestly, but her future was this way, and the shelter had a water cooler, anyway. Still, without anything to drink, or anything to buy water with, her vision started to blur, and her steps became heavier, as her back hunched, and her mind went into a haze...

But she snapped out of it. The air and the lights were crisp  again, and her eyes were set on the path forward. 9 more crosswalks, now. Tomorrow was within grasp, and that tomorrow would be a better one- even without Emma, she could make that day’s interviews, and she could thrive soon, she could make it all better. It was all about to get so much better.

But it can’t get better for Emma.

What?

Not without you.

...Sure, but it could’ve gotten better for her if she did come back with Andrea. The choice to forsake her was ultimately made by Emma- she chose to stay where it’s safe, to not commit to the life that the two of them had so earnestly planned, and now she was facing the consequences. Andrea’s steps quickened. She began to breathe from her mouth, tasting the warm city air. Besides all that, Emma would inevitably see Andrea’s success, and return to her. Tomorrow would be better. Andrea would survive.

You act as though you are completely above her. Wasn't she who you were doing all this for? She could adapt. She could support herself, too. Her rubber soles scraped on the concrete. Surely, one wouldn’t suspect that Andrea had lost the drive to continue for her own sake at this point? She still had the motivation to live, to make it better for herself, and in all honesty, she was convinced enough of this goal to see it through, as she always did. She wasn’t just someone who gave up at the first sign of hardship. I mean, she was a better person than that. Better than...

Than those who failed before you?

Oh, god- no, she was-- Andrea blinked. Her surroundings were suddenly far quieter. Her eyes refocused, and she noted that the one source of light around her was from the windows of the surrounding buildings, and that the pain in her legs had vanished, with a fuzzy, null feeling replacing it. From one side of her, the alley seemed to stretch out, windows and trash bins and concrete, again and again with no roads or visible endpoint- and from the other side, the same. The air was heavier. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t fucking right at all. You aren’t doing this for yourself alone. 

No reaction? Just going to keep prattling?

You can’t outrun your shadow.

The sky above her was starless, but now even the moon was under cover of cloudless, indefinable shadow. A few wisps of clouds- orange from the glow of the streetlights- passed above. That... must’ve meant she was still in the city. That must’ve meant that she was just lost, and she could find someone, and get directions, right?

So Andrea moved one foot forward, continuing past gold windows and concrete floors, glancing left and right for someone behind a window or for any other sort of opening, somehow knowing for certain that the next window, the next step, would be the one that brought her out of this, back to the streets, back to the shelter. Her thoughts looped in this fashion like clockwork as her legs’ movements grew a tentative franticness, and soon the windows passed with such speed, the walls with such ferocity, that-

You can’t check for anyone inside. You’re paying attention to nothing more than your own struggle.

So? The way forward was more important. Yet you still wish for the presence of another.

As if on command, the windows glowed brighter- yet at an angle that brought the shining path of their light to the ground. Andrea’s steps quickened once more, glimpsing at each pane to see nobody silhouetted against the light, but feeling eyes on her anyway. Andrea would find someone, eventually. If Emma didn’t return- which she would- she could meet someone else.

But is there anyone you can really love?

In this City? There’s probably someone for her. This was a dead sprint now. Somehow, Andrea wasn’t tiring as she took each step. As her body bounced and bounded, she spotted something- another building, far taller than all those surrounding her- such that its roof was higher than she could make out- lit up with golden windows, right at the end of the alley. A goal. A hope. 

Though it felt impossible to quicken her pace, Andrea was moving faster despite herself, eyes trained on nothing but the points of light before her. Just a couple minutes now. It was time to get out of here.

Listen to me. There is not a single person in the city that you would accept.

Bounding and bounding. Each leap monumentous, each drop like a simple tap on the earth, like running on clouds. The past is within you. You remember every person in the Town deeply. Deep enough that everyone you meet will remind you of one of them. 

Her vision was a camera with the field of view at its minimum, a single static image of that tower. There was nothing around her but the end. The tower swallowed the space around it in her eyes, and her vision was soon concentrated on one single window within it, everything she could perceive, everything she knew, being within a wash of golden light. She was filled with hope like water fills a tall glass, joy spilling out the top of her.

You will never know someone you even *like* if you continue like this. You’ll always find something wrong with them. You’ll never let them really know you.

The gap between her and the building was infinitesimal. This was it. This was it.

If someone were to know you, they’d know that you’re destroying yourself, and if they really care about you, they’ll try to help you through this. You’ll never let yourself be helped, and you’ll always scorn those who aren’t close to you. Do you get what that means? Do you get what this is all *leading to?* You’ll never know anyone again. You’ll never get where you really want to be. If you continue like this, the time you have left will be measured in weeks. You can’t keep going.

On that last bound, just before the end, Andrea felt a horrible, inevitable presence on the toe of her right sneaker, and the unmistakable sandpaper texture of concrete scraping on rubber, and her left leg finding nothing to support it, as she moved through the air, head sailing infuriatingly closer to the building as she barreled to the ground. She anticipated another scrape of concrete, the pain of impact, to feel her skin torn from her forehead...

But she opened her eyes, and saw that there was nothing.

PART TWO COMPLETE

Listen to me. The mind’s modus operandi is absorbing data from the world, to grasp a fuller picture of everything there is. The mind stores memories where they can become information, information where it can become one’s beliefs, beliefs where they can become identity, identity where it can become one’s self, all the way to the deepest layer of the psyche. You are the culmination of everything you’ve experienced, from memory one onward. That’s not all, though.

Your mind hasn’t just picked up on memory or information. There’s more at play.

There is a strong, strong force in this world that wants you dead. There are a thousand thousand Towns like your own, oppressing a hundred million people like yourself. There are an insurmountable sum of lawmakers, a thousand million people who desperately want you gone, a vast majority who will never understand you or your people. The world, in large part, hates you. But there’s more at play.

There’s a weak force, but a large one, that wants you to succeed. There are another thousand million people in the world who love your queer kind, who wish to protect you, who will always remain sympathetic to your plight. There are so, so many ways that your people’s love, your pride, moves back to yourselves, through art and relations and policy. Within this great love, something can manifest- something intangible. Something undefinable. Something compassionate. Something the mind can pick up on. This force is within you. I am within you, and my will is that you feel the same love that so many people have for you. Be strong. I love you.

Andrea felt, within that void, a presence- an intangible gesture like a tight embrace, made all the more abstract by her seeming lack of a body. There was, for a moment, nothing- yet at the same time, there was everything.

~~~

Andrea blinked. She was on a sort of concrete block, facing a long, dark alley that stretched far into the distance- the walls, floor, and sky meeting at a single point. Closer, there were two structures, made of the same concrete, between the alley and her- dividers, like the sort you see on highways. Her knees had a dull throb to them, and she felt the effects of exhaustion viscously flowing within her bones, but she found the strength to get up, anyway.

PART THREE

Moving nearer to the divider, a second glance at the tower revealed that the lights behind the windows were now all off, a dull blue in place of their illumination, and cheap blackout shades blocking their rooms. The tower was monochrome and brutalist up close, like someone turned a parking garage into a skyscraper. There weren’t even support beams near the overhang housing the block on which she woke up, which was actually built into the wall- a bench, maybe? There was nothing more than that potential bench and a single door, miniscule around the swath of concrete on the wall they were attached to- and the door appeared especially small, being the sort of door that separated rooms within houses, complete without so much as a lock. Andrea took a deep breath, looked once more at the infinite alley, and reached toward the knob.

37 ALBATROSS RD

Treading across the carpet, Spencer tentatively turned the knob for Andrea’s room. In the short span of time before she noticed him, he could take her room in- smaller than average even for the town, walls painted off-white, containing a bed with a metal frame, a small bookshelf, a smaller desk, hardly better than the type you’d see in schools- and not much else. Clothing covered the gray carpet, and golden-hour light came in through the windows. The shelf was of a sort one would expect to see in a kid’s room- old tchotchkes Andrea must’ve taken from her mother, coins and similar trinkets, and a small collection of books- seemingly organized by reading level, that petered off around the fourth grade. There was a disparity of mugs and bowls around the desk, surrounding a single, ancient-looking laptop with around 20 tabs loaded, the City’s tourism website being the open page.

Gasping a bit as she noticed his presence, Andrea turned to Spencer, giving an immediate light sigh of relief when she saw him. “Spence. Good to see ya.” “...Sure, likewise.” Spencer felt something bitter settle in his throat immediately, despite the conversation only having just started. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting going into this, but he wasn’t expecting her to be this... casual, right out of the gate. It had been a while since the last time the two talked, after all. A very long while. “...Drea? Are you feeling okay?” This came out annoyingly curt, a habit he was trying to break out of- that sort of curtness, that professionalism, the overwhelming cold confidence of it all... those were his last impressions on Andrea and Emma. Despite everything, it was easy for Spencer to feel a bit angry at himself for maintaining that habit all the way to the grave.

Andrea’s voice instantly woke Spencer from this train of thought. “Never better.” Spencer could notice the obvious signs of having been better in Andrea, showing up in the same spots that they had for him- eye bags, low, gravelly voice, clearly not eating enough- and giving the impression that she’s almost drifting in and out of consciousness, like you’re part of her waking dream. Once again, Andrea piped up mid-thought: “So, you’re here because...?” The bitterness in his throat moved to his stomach, flowing dark and deep, like oil. She was just as curt here as he had been, just as confident. 

...Hm. Actually, that pattern made sense in Spencer's mind- same dictation, same goals, slowly dying the same way... Spencer knew what he did wrong the first time, so that would mean... “Alright, Drea, just so we’re on the same page... Two weeks ago, you tried to get someone to help you in the city, and that person ratted you out to the authorities.” Andrea’s previously glassy gaze shifted to a more attentive one. It was already clear that she wasn’t going to enjoy this conversation.

“...That’s right. Anything else?” Same curt tone of voice he was using, too. God, that was hard to talk to- pure dismissiveness, like shouting into the void. Spencer reminded himself the best he could that there was a part of Andrea that cared- there had to be, as long as part of him did.

“...And now you’re holed up in your room, not letting anyone else even be concerned about you.” If he was actually talking to his past, almost-dead self and not Andrea in his position, that’s when the past Spencer would tell the current Spencer simply to fuck off, but-

Andrea rose from her chair, making a point of looking Spencer directly in the eyes. She was still squinting, but with an expression conveying far more resignation- deeply unhappy that she was about to say this, but finding no other option, pushing her friends away to feed her work, again just like--

“Listen, Spencer.” Her tone was gravelly, again- a tone Spencer remembered her using on her parents when they were in a bad mood, or the cops on rare occasions, if only to deal with them all a little faster. “I’m tired of all these people trying to tell me that they know me, that they know what’s good for me.” She rolled her eyes a little. “I’m tired of everyone telling me I can trust them, that everything’s gonna be okay. I’m tired of goddamn pretending I can be helped, that there’s people... worth trusting.” Something flashed in her eye for a moment, and her expression became glassy again- “...Aren’t you?”

...No, he wouldn’t stand for this. Spencer shut his eyes tight, breathed in, breathed out, and swallowed hard. This was it. “You’re gonna call it coincidence when it kills you.” The room was instantly silent, a sudden lack of chirping birds or car engines outside the window. “I know I did.”

Andrea was visibly caught off guard. “...Excuse me?”

“When you see that you could’ve gotten help. You’ll say that since you got hurt once asking for help, and once not asking for help, it was random chance either way, that you couldn’t’ve prevented it.” 

“...Spencer, what the hell...” Andrea tensed up. Her pupils contracted, and her gaze started flitting around the room. The dread within Spencer finally lessened, the oil singeing on the edge of hot, hot hope. She was starting to get it. “...What... is this?” Somehow, she managed to say that with a slight chuckle, the sort you use to maintain your authority in tense situations that question it. She was beginning to look dizzy, instinctively moving to hold her chest, staring just below the middle distance of his eyes.

“Andrea, asking for help isn’t what killed me.” Spencer stepped forward, holding onto his hope, making his stand. “Being betrayed didn’t kill me. The Town didn’t kill me.” 

Tears were welling up in Andrea’s eyes, shock across her face. Spencer took one more breath.

“What killed me wasn’t choosing to get help. It was choosing not to get help. It was choosing not to let Emma force me to rest, not to let you help me scope out opportunities. It was choosing not to eat, choosing to bury myself in my work...” He shuddered. “Until there was nothing left, and that nothing walked out into the woods and died.” His eyes began welling up, too. In this moment, he remembered those two gay idiots he tried to save all that time ago in full- their struggles, their joys, their love for each other. For better or for worse, he died for them. He was going to make that death worth it. “Andrea, I could’ve asked for help again, and I would’ve survived. Please, no matter what- Emma needs you to survive. Whatever... set this up needs you to survive. I need you to survive.”

Andrea broke down crying, and at the same time something clicked behind her eyes, like she finally remembered. She ran to Spencer, practically tackling him as the two fell onto the fake ghost-memory of her childhood bedroom’s low-quality mattress. She held him for dear life, like he could slip away again at any moment, like he was that ending, that goal she was searching for.

“I fucking missed you, Spence,” she gasped through choking sobs.

She was back, that baby-gay butch he’d done it all for. Spencer knew, once again, that she’d do great things, that she’d finally bounce back. “I missed you, too.”

The two stayed like that for a long time, but a finite one. Slowly, light filled the room, and Andrea passively felt her perception start to fade, this dream of a body being forgotten, bit by bit, by her real one. Andrea knew they were leaving without saying goodbye again, but this was goodbye enough. They’d see each other again, anyway.

PART THREE COMPLETE

Andrea first felt cold, half-smooth wood beneath her, in a curved set of planks. A low soft symphony of crickets stirred her, before she was jolted up the rest of the way by the deafening siren of a passing helicopter. Seeing the scene around her, she couldn’t help but find a slow chuckle escape her lips- waking up on a bench in the middle of the night, yet again.

For the first time since... Since the night before that Waffle House Breakdown, which would be a great name for a band- Andrea was thinking straight. Checking her phone- and feeling a wave of pride for Emma, for not having tried to message her again, which would thereby enable her after that ages-ago argument- Andrea saw that this park was only 3 blocks away from that apartment, 1330 Edmnd Blvd. Feeling crisp, clear moonlight on her skin, seeing those city lights surrounding her, stretching out her sore, sore legs, Andrea took one more deep, deep breath, filling her lungs as much as she possibly could. This was a breath that meant: Thank you. I’m going back.

3 more blocks. Not everything would be okay, but it’d be survivable with Emma by her side. It wasn’t going to be that solution for everything she strived for, but it would be enough.

~~~

Warmth fluttered between the two embracing lovers somewhere on Edmnd street, yet somewhere far from it. Within deep primordial darkness, physical form ceased relevance, the energy of their spirits entwined shining bright through the dark. Spencer’s love, the love of those thousands of allies, the love of each other- everyone was within this moment. They were together again.

Made with love by Joan

Thank you so much for reading, I put so much of my heart into this... I hope I can spark even a little of the absolute joy that went into it within you. Remember how many people love you, just for existing!

Special thanks to:

Kayla

Sofia

Owen

Sam Charlie

My parents

The lovely people at my Art Of Writing class

The small, urethrally beautiful community we’ve cultivated on the Jumbo Josh discord server

My influences creating this, that being the great visual novels by NomNomNami and The Echo Project, as well as Disco Elysium

The oceanic bundle of love and energy that is the queer community

Anyone that I’ve missed! You all rule unequivocally 

And you! You the audience member! You’re the best and I love you!

If you enjoyed this, check my blog out. This is the first real piece of art I've made, but i'm down to make some more in the future. One more time, thank you for everything.

[talkativeanonymous]

Katskei pretty epic :)

Anyway, idk if anyone’s asked you this before but what do you think is Nikei’s backstory could be?

So true, Katskei supremacy!

CW for mention of child neglect under the cut

Thats a tough one for me because it's sort of hard to say? Nikei in the present seems to be one to want the attention and praise of others, and he sometimes seems a little bit emotionally unstable- usually it's shown in his anger. It makes me think he may have been neglected by his parents, as if they didn't care about him when they didn't have to (from that ONE picture we got, he seems pretty blank faced but still not expressing any semblance of a positive emotion) He seems pretty put together as a kid, no bruises, no roughness, but still not happy; probably not recieving the attention he would need to in order to grow up right. His love for journalism could stem from him desiring positive attention and praise from others. It seems like divine luck can't make someone love another person (See Utsuro & his parents for example, or how divine luck didn't make Emma's parents better people, but straight up put her in a happy, healthy home instead). but what it CAN do is give you what you desire in some other kind of way. Or uh, so it seems..

[thefairefolk-rp]

Kane Thorn | FC: Emma D’Arcy  | OPEN

Age: 400 Species: Faerie (Hob) Court: Seelie Occupation: Queen’s Bodyguard Gender: Non-binary Pronouns: They/Them

CW: Death, fire

Appearance

In the winter Kane allows their hair to grow out, pale blonde locks with the slightest curl skimming the top of their ears by the time the climate grows warm again. In the summer they shave their hair close to the scalp, leaving nothing but a blonde peach fuzz. For most days on duty they wear simple white robes of the magi, with a silver antler brooch pinned at the neck. However, on more ceremonial occasion, Kane does not decide what they wear, forced into something flashy and complimentary to the queen and her entourage. Kane despises this, feeling like a shiny trophy on display. In their free time they prefer simple and functional garb, but small details betray the high expense of them. Black is a regular color in Kane’s wardrobe, an uncommon thing a court filled with such vibrant color. Like most fae, Kane uses magic to sculpt their appearance to their desire. However, they never glamour the burn scars on their hands.

Kane is known by the public for their signature scowl, the faerie preferring to stand stoically over indulging a cheering crowd. Their guarded demeanor can unintentionally come off as aloof arrogance. But that air of mystery has, to their annoyance, earned Kane admirers. It is not uncommon for younger fae to view them as the fae version of a celebrity, with rockstar-like coolness. 

Personality

Many are not sure what to make of the Kane, or what they stand for. They have grown skilled at saying things in diplomatic ways, often talking more in flowery circles than anything of substance when not in the company of trusted people. They are a mystery many have interest in cracking.  Although Kane goes through the elaborate motions of socializing at court, they are nearly always just as cordial as necessary. Emotions are a thing often played with, or used as leverage in Queen Mab’s court, and Kane learned long ago not to give others ammo. In reality there are many times they are hypervigilant and nervous behind that mask. Kane has spent much of their life feeling like a captive amongst the enemy. Much of their major life choices have been dictated by Queen Mab and her advisors since they became a ward of the crown. It is difficult to know who at court is trustworthy.

In Kane’s rare moments of vulnerability, many are surprised to find they have a tender heart, and a sharp tongue. It also becomes clear there is a sadness in them, that is slowly curdling into anger. Dreams of revenge linger in Kane’s head, often serving as a source of calm in difficult moments. Kane has always gravitated to darker forms of magic, illegal blood magic serving as their secret hobby and potential means to an end of servitude.

Background

Kane, and their identical twin, Clove, lived with their parents in a small home in the Artisan’s Quarter. Using their knowledge of local plants and minerals the Thorns created beautiful hand-dyed cotton and silk that they sold at a stall near home. Although twins’s gifts for magic presented early and unusually powerfully, Kane’s budding magic revealed itself in ways far more volatile and unpredictable than Clove’s. For a time the mundaneness of their existence shielded the twins from those who may have wanted to use their power. But that shield cracked the day a passing Seelie Magi caught sight of the twins playing with magic in the marketplace. Kane’s parents were hand delivered a letter on the twin’s 49th birthday ( 9 years old in human years), imploring them to release their children to the Seelie Magi. They declined. Mere weeks later Kane’s parents died in a house fire while the twins were on an errand. It was Kane who first came upon it first. They badly burned their hands while trying to free their parents, leaving permanent scars. Kane has always believed deep in their heart that Queen Mab was responsible for the accident.

The twins, now alone in the world, had little choice but to accept the “generosity” of the crown. The next few hundred years were a whirlwind of combat training by the Magi, paired with harsh lessons in the ways of court life. Clove thrived among the upper-crust, while Kane withdrew. Over the years, this point of contention fractured their once unbreakable bond, pushing them each to different sides. Common ground between them is only found on the sparring field. The Thorns have always been trained as a unit, learning a wordless synchronization when they fought. Crowds of Magi students would gather to watch them. In the end it seemed that Queen Mab got her perfect little weapons, molded to her uses. 

When they ascended to full Magi, the twins were assigned as the Queen’s personal bodyguards, a high honor. While serving the Magi has always been framed as a choice, Kane feels certain if they ever tried to leave their post, the door would be bared. Kane finds something deeply unsettling and terrifying under the surface of Queen Mab’s kind smile. The twins have been heralded as some of the most powerful mages of their generation. But, Kane knows Queen Mab only sees them as expensive pawns.

Relationships

Identical Twin of Clove Thorn 

Idolizes Alekto Bone

Hates Naveen Byrd

[i-writes-things]

Ok about Supergirl finale I have to rant about season 6

SUPERGIRL SEASON 6 SPOILERS below

I CANT I CANT THEY SHOVED SO MUCH INTO THAT LAST EPISODE

AND MON-EL WAS LIKE HI OK BYE but they were friends and not lovers LIKE WHAT 😃and that makes me mad

but also if Brainy LITERALLY SAID NO to being with the big brain why does mon-el need to go back??? WHY DID THEY MAKE UP THAT EXCUSE FOR HIM

Kara and Mon-el literally are soulmates but they said no.

I was glad we got to see Cat Grant and I am happy for Kara and the fact that she got some peace with finally being able to not have to lie about who she is

OK OK OK wait ANDREA DOES NOT KNOW KARA IS SUPERGIRL right? RIGHT???

WHEN DID THEY TELL HER?? Because I don't remember that happening lol

AND THEY WORKED THE WHOLE SEASON for Lex to just defeat his own ass. It was a horrible fight like everyone was ready and then Nope Nope but if they fought them in that episode then they could have another The last one with domestic supergirl But its ok its ok

And the whoke season was just a step down, I mean THEY BROUGHT Lex back and he has been the villian for at least 2 seasons before

i know i know I am really dissing on Supergirl season 6

I mean They wrapped up everyone's stories great, really but there was just something about it

AND OMG OMG season 6 for William went from Him and Kara slow burn(heard that before the show was cancelled) to LITERALLY DYING

ok but ESME IS SO CUTE, and I am very very happy that Alex finally gets to be a mom!!

Back to Nxyly(idk how to spell it) SHE IS A HORRIBLE VILLIAN(she is just annoying) AND HER HANGING AROUND IN NIA'S DREAM WERE SO WEIRD

Also what was Lena's hair do's Like Every episode I would look to see what Lena's hair would look like never and I think we have a confirmation that she is goth.

I also feel like they rushed them adopting? Esme and getting married all into one season but they did a good job

Everything was just rushed which is what was always happening but WHEN THEY BROUGHT CAT GRANT BACKKKK

Bro I did not see her snorkeling to save the turtles but its Ms. Grant you never know

I AM SO HAPPY SHE BOUGHT CATCO BACK AND KARA I CANT BELIEVE SHE REALLY TOOK HER GLASSES OFF

omg omg

I just realized we are never, ever gonna see something new, not a new episode, no more new seasons

I mean since I was like 11 I would wait each year til it came out on Netflix to watch it, kinda that annual thing that forgot about until it was time to watch the next season

I remember I would watched Supergirl on repeat a few years back

Supergirl was my first favorite female hero

I am gonna miss her so much

I really wanna meet Melissa Benoist

Ok so I don't care you are able to get to see my top 5 I think maybe 6 female actress I wanna meet and why

1. Melissa Benoist-(Supergirl) Because she made me first wanna be an actress and two because she was there when not many people were(well just the show but I look put to her)

2. Emma Watson-(Hermione) We have the same name and Hermione showed me that even if you are born regular(muggle), extraordinary things can still happen to you, and the Harry Potter Books got me through my rough Middle School years

3. Daisy Ridley-(Rey Skywalker) She made me love Starwars and its weird because I can't remember what it was like before I watched it Also side note I went and saw The Rise of Skywalker first. That was my first Starwars movie. I know I know and then I went and watched 4 times total in the theater I loved it, and I remember before the first time seeing it I watched the last 15 minutes of the movie before to get a jist of what was happening and yeah

4. Elizabeth Olsen/Scarlett Johansson- (Wanda and Natasha) Funny enough I didn't really get into Marvel til the beginning of 2021, stupidly the first movie I watched was in 2019 Endgame, again, I know I know but I remember I was crying. I cried. I did, it happened and I only remember seeing it back then bc Oh well its the last one(i didn't know it totally wasn't) I might as well go see it. But then my friend beggged me to watch WandaVision and I got hooked, watched all the movies in a week sitting in my bed and then BOOM here we are. I was obsessed with Wanda at First and don't really remember when but Natasha just was my favorite I mean love them both but yeah.



[blueparadis]

❝Baby please, don't get mad!❞

+ft. Tokyo Revengers [ Wakasa, Benkei, Shinichiro, Inui, Koko, Takeomi, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, Mikey]

+cw : soft smut, fluff, use of pet names, usage of alcohol and cigerettes, indication of sub-dom dynamics & can be read as gn-reader.

+ LINKS SECTION.

They know you're angry, irritated, probably furious because they did wrong, something that they shouldn't have done. And somehow they think it's too cute that you're mad at such a tiny issue so they try to make it up to you.

Wakasa : The toffee glided from one side to the other of his mouth while his lilac orbs fixated on you as you kept talking. He closes the gap between two of you in a blink and shuts you up with a kiss. "Jesus LET - ME - TALK", you said as he breaks the kiss, hands still cupped around your burning cheeks; not sure if it's your anger or his sudden taste of strawberry scented lips. His eye brows furrowed as he stares at you. He licks his lips getting back to his usual self of savoring the taste of chocolate and pulls you into a hug. "Is it an apology?" , You ask as he rests his chin on your shoulders. "No", he whispers. You scoff at his minimal talk; but he lets out a sigh exclaiming, "can we talk about this later? I'm really tired." You pat his back saying, "I was actually done with talking" and he gasps out breaking the comfortable warm hug regretting his kiss, regretting that he wouldn't be able to pull off the same trick again to calm your nerves.

Benkei : Benkei is so patient when you talk; he's such an intent listener when you're angry. You've been trying to indulge him in a serious conversation but he's just , he's just so not into it. He's walking behind you as you're welling up with anger about the fact he's not walking beside you, side by side. "Are you even listening to me?", you asked turning around without noticing the approaching car behind you. He abruptly closes the gap between you two pulling you into his cover. The car crosses you two while his lips part : "Yes, all the time!" ,he answers taking two of his fingers to grab your nosetip. He pressed it gently and said, "Let's get you home and then you can yell at me however you like!"

Shinichiro : "Shhhh you're gonna wake up the kids" , shin whispers as your voice gains a little momentum. "Don't drag the kids into this", you protested trying to tone your voice as much as possible but Shin is actually busy in tugging Mikey and Emma. Who could ever get angry at such a gentle person? You dashed out the room in your thin attire. As the smell of smoke declared his presence you adjusted your mood back to being grumpy at him. All, you could hear was a low short chuckle. The silence in such wintry evening was too much to bear; even the whistle of winds felt distant. "Shin? ... Shinichiro?" ; he might be smoking in his other room, does he really not care how worried you're. "here, you're gonna catch cold', he states as he wraps his serape around you. "Oh! Shin" you whisper rolling your head against his shoulders. "Oh yeah! what happened to 'don't drag the kids into this' huh?", he coos while his hands slides around your belly squeezing your waistlines.

Inui : "Hop on", Inui grunts totally ignoring your fidgety gestures to strike up a conversation. It's not like he doesn't listen but he's always trying to be so bossy : ALL THE TIME. It's just makes ignites the urge to do the polar opposite to everything he says. "No", you tartly replied turning your gaze away from he. He lets out a sigh and exclaims, "either you're gonna come right up here or I'm going to carry you." You shifted your pupils onto him while your cheeks felt warm. "okay! on my shoulders it is!" he states and crowds you into a corner. You're not sure if you want to defy him, the way he's now. "Seishu ..." you mewl and he halts. "yes, princess !" , he replies taking a few more steps. You narrowed your eyes at him exclaiming, "catch me if you can" Rolling your whole body you swiftly averted his hold; his fingers just grazed your side chestline, mildly. "Talk to me, don't just run away", he said maintaining the distance letting you dance in this very mini victory. You ponder over his apologizing tone as you turn around to face him. He mouths with a low whisper," you look very sexy today", followed by a lower lip-bite. The door bell chimes declaring the presence of a customer. Inui runs his fingers through his hair exclaiming," Stay right there" and vanishes into the other room. "So, whos the angry one again?", you thought back cocking your head to a side.

Koko: Koko just came in from a meeting. He is so exhausted to get himself a changed. Throwing his body onto the soft mattress aligning his chest with it he lets out a groan. You sat at the edge of the bed along his waist. your face might be visible to him, if he's actually looking at you; you wonder that if he took a notice of your presence and you felt his soft, calloused hands nudging yours. "Why the pout baby?" , he asks rubbing his thumb on your palm. You simply look away trying your best to not to go soft on him, not so soon. Koko adjusts himself on his back, he calls out," Baabyy?" Still, no answer. He grabbed your arm pushing you down upon the bed, his body aligning with your chest; a hand scooping you along your waist. "Why the pout baby?" , he asked with a gentle whisper rubbing his thumb on your lower lip, softly. And the moment your lips part his crashes onto yours taking all the frowns away.

Takeomi : " Are you done?", he asks flicking up the packet of cigarette. It is rare that he would react in such a rude way but not impossible either. At times like this, when both of you're equally guilty one has to let their stubborn rage slide but hasn't it been always you? The cigarette burns in between in teeth as he beckons you with his index finger. Swallowing a gulp of self-respect as you proceeded , came in his range : he dragged you onto his lap. Before you could react properly, he whispers into your way," Sorry baby." "Woah i didn't expect that", you suppressed your thought as he chins up your face to his way." You took his cigarette in between your fingers, taunting ," Daddy being soft! Oh how tempting!" He hides his laughter nuzzling his face into your chest.

Sanzu : You squeal in surprise saying, "that was my fav— Sanzu is busy, engrossed in cleaning the floor, the pieces of broken glasses scattered all around your worksurface. He turns his gaze upon you as he tosses the scraps into dustbin. You think he actually feels bad breaking your favorite vase but his lips pucker in forming a pout. So it was deliberate ; "that's it! You're grounded!" , you stated and he immediately protests "What? No! No you can't ground ME!" You cock your eyebrow at his protest saying "Watch me!" and run away from his range. He might be an eyesore sometimes but he'll never leave you at your low spirits. He'll gladly join you in this endless playful façade until he gets what he wants; and right now he wants to apologize thoroughly for intentionally breaking your favorite vase.

Ran : "Nooo! NO ! do not come near me!" , you yell as he tries to crowd you in the middle of of the argument. He pauses , listens to you as you continue to speak, "if you cross this frame—ran smirks in amusement to see you furiously bubbling at him. It makes him very jovial that you've the audacity to scold him, The Ran Haitani. You think back for a while watching his steps as he slowly closes in. "I'll hide your gun!" ,you blurt out and he bursts into laughter so much that his hands curl around his stomach and the other aids his watery eyes. You turned around in disappointment and ofcourse he grabs you in his embrace. "I promise I'll behave dar'lin but don't stop pouting at me , i love it when you pout." And he kisses your cheeks as you melt in his arms. "Rann" — he hums while interlacing his slim fingers with yours , veiny arms running around your waist. And all you could do is chuckle at his soft, innocent act.

Rindou : You have been roaring a lot since he came home. His movements are sloppy, exhaustive as he throws himself into bed. Loos tie, unbuttoned lilac overcoat, untucked shirt. This is exactly that one habit, which just makes your mood worse. You dashed into his way and pulled him upright by grabbing his collar. He balances himself resting on his hand , heaving out his chest eyes barely keeping up. "And now its even harder to initiate a serious talk", you thought back. One of his travelled to your belly button , his eyes checking for your reaction and then he lifts his sweatshirt you're wearing and shoves his head under the warm garment. His slurred voice exclaims," 'm soryyyy; but its so cooled outside". You place your hands on his head, reacting to him to which he grabs your butt cheeks and places a soft kiss on your belly. "Rin, you're not getting away with this" you whisper to which he cackles , tickling you at the tender touch of his cold nose.

Mikey : The distance between two of you is growing like a gulf of silence. He was sitting on the bed, hands resting on his slim thighs while you were leaning against the doorframe hands tucked behind your waist. Taking his silence as a gesture to not to initiate a conversation you intended to leave the room. " Where are you going?', he asks as his palm twists the doorknob. He's standing right behind you, his arm inches away from your cold body and you know if you turn around you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back. To your surprise, he rests his forehead on your bare shoulder, his hair strands brushing your nape as he speaks "You don't have to talk to me but please don't leave my sight" and a loud exhaling sigh. Your body registers how cold he is, you're too. You turn around circling your arms around his shoulders and in a reflex his hand lifts you up wrapping you by your waist. "I'm never letting you go, again" he says kissing your temple as he carries you to the bed.

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General Taglist :: @solaceinarts @thewordfae @zoraedits @haruphilia @kazuwhora @p-antomime @wakasa-wifey @passionateuchiha @winterv-black @eriskaitto @sofiakujo @keisaint @ranilingus @d0wnlxad @ambrodias @purrienee @q-the-rockaholic @desiray562 @lianavine @s3hp @euphoricminsblog @cllaideh

Taglist

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© @blueparadis - plagiarism is a crime

[vampzzi]

can you pleaseee write emma mountebank x female reader, as a lesbian i never see my quarry girls get enough love 😭

REALIST RISK ﹒ ☆ Emma x Female reader.

cw; anon did not say if they wanted the story, to be smut,angst,fluff so by default story is an angsty story for jacob but suggestive and romantic for emma and reader, heated kissing and thats it, not beta-read I'm tired, reader is 19-21 (take your pick)

author's note ; As a lesbian I agree, there's not enough for these gals as I have a love / hate relationship with Emma but she's so hot it's just ughhh. So, I decided to write a fic about Emma leaving Jacob for reader because Lesbian Emma 4 the win!!

<3; 2.1K words

You were in the golf cart, the sun shined bright in the sky – headphones in your both ears as you rode through the rocky dirt path while your favorite song blasted in your ears, driving around the area lost in your thoughts. You had been a camp counselor for 2 years now and you were well found with Chris Hackett and Ryan and Jacob. You had nothing against Jacob, sweet guy..sweet…insecure guy. He was super possessive around Emma even around women, he felt as if anyone could take Emma away from him and all this insecurity and shit is what drove her off. Well not entirely, they’re still together and it angers you. 

You loved Emma first, you’d been friends with her in middle school for fucks sake! Her platform shoes clicked against the marble floor as her hair was down with a pretty hair clip, earthy colors and a pretty design attached to it. She had come over to you while you were sitting in the corner on your school chromebook playing some kind of game as she sat next to you and smiled “why are you sitting alone? She’d twirl in circles and do some pretty cool tricks but back to her question she’d ask you, the kids at this school were weirdos, like they made you uncomfy so you sat it out by being a loner.

You two talked from that point on as the school year went by, you sat at lunch together, walked to class together. Hung out after school, sneaking out of your house and running to her house in the cold rain as she laughed at you as you fell onto her floor with a wet plop “Aaaa! It’s a wet monster in my room” she’d fake yell out and chuckle as you’d grumble and laugh – she’d help you get up and get you a towel and wrap it around your body as you’d both exchange jokes about the situation. 

Her voice ringed through your head as her hands were on top of yours “You know.. We’ve been friends for a while and I want you to add this to your collection, to remember me when yk I’m worldstar famous streamer!” you chuckled at her and looked down at the same clip you’d seen her the first time you met her. You sighed out as you almost crashed, making a quick turn and thinking it’s best to go back to longue with the others. 

Jacob,jacob,jacob. You’d met him the first year of highschool posing as the cool kid with inhuman strength and funny humor, you’d crack at a few of his jokes as you saw him through the hall arm wrapped around Emma, this caused you two to be distant when he came into the picture they did a lot of things we use to do. It felt out of place almost like being played like a violin, my heart strings being played as it responded with awful tunes. You’d been supporting her from the start, helping her build her channel up the first video on her channel “emmanation” had 22K views and she couldn't thank you enough from that blast of a start. You loved Emma, you just wished things played out differently. It seems like she’d show no interest in women as everytime you mentioned her dating a girl, she’d respond no and giggle about it.

I can say my proper breakdown and I’m not afraid to share it is when you came to the prom before the summer as a third wheel and you had to the bathroom, to fix up your hair and give your mind some words of encouragement as you were drowning in your insecurity, anger and guilt. As you left to return to the booth you could scream, you should have. As Jacob’s lips were on Emma’s soft plump lips, their bodys shuffling back and forth, this was the beginning of their “summer fling” as you wanted to stomp off and cry. You didn't deserve this and you and everyone else knew it, as you fumed about it for days before she sent you a text “We should hang out at Summer camp, miss seeing your energy x” you smiled at the text as you put your phone down and started packing 2 weeks early before it was even time to go. 

But as time went on summer was over with, you’d waste all that time watching them being lovey dovey that you didnt even attempt to get with Emma, how stupid. Your bags were the first into the car as you were forgetful and didnt wanna go on a golf cart ride and forget them while riding, Mr.Hackett seemed pissed off as he slammed the hood of the car down and screamed “We can just stay here one more night until the morning.” 

Jacob suggested and Hackett growled “No!” grabbing his keys and grumbling a bunch of instructions to Ryan – Ryan responding with a quick “Yes sir” as Hackett smiled got into the car and said “be good, and keep the noise down for fuck sakes!” as he drove off until he couldn’t be seen. Jacob suggested a Party while everyone was in it but Ryan as he wanted to follow the rules and you wanted to understand the dude, Chris seemed shaken up and you guys could be in danger and they wanted to party? To hell with that.

Jacob gives Emma the instruction to sit still and be gorgeous and she rolls her eyes and laughs as your blood boils. He wants Emma to join him on his mission and she kindly declines as she says she needs the women's room and he dismisses her.

 You sneak off to see where she’s going as she goes to the doc and where the water moves back and forth, she sits on the dock and breaths slowly as you sit next to her and she looks up at you with a bright smile “Hey (name!!)” “Hey Emma, what’s up?” She tilts her head back and thinks “the usual, jacob. He won’t let me go, it was a summer fling. it's over now.” You listen to her rant about him as you let your feet dip into the cool water while she talks. “I just you know don’t want this energy on my shoulders, I wanna be able to carry my positive attitude around to everyone” “I understand you Emma.” 

She smiles and wraps her arms around you as you hug her back, she feels warm – nice to hug as you didn’t even notice you’d lay your head on your chest as you brought it up to her face and apologized “sorry, got in the moment’ she let out a small “it's alright” as you two looked at each other deep in the eyes, the moment felt way too serious, too into depth – too real.

Her lips laid on yours as you finally realized what was going on. You kissed her back as you two fought in the kiss as Emma slid her tongue into your mouth, swirling it around as you let her dominate your mouth holding onto her hips with a firm squeeze before pulling away. “I - I thought you weren’t into girls?” staying so quickly it’s slurred together as Emma runs her fingers over your lips. 

“That was in our Freshman year of Highschool Name, it’s different now.” You only nodded and planted another kiss to her lips as she accepted the kiss and kissed you back but loud footsteps interrupted the kiss as Jacob went down the stairs with a loud shout “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?! Are you serious?” The rest of your friends came to see about the loud noises and you looked back at them, puffy lips, struggling to breath as it was enough evidence to see what had happened. 

 “That’s my fucking girlfriend you’re tonguing (name.)” “Jacob, I’m not your girlfriend, I belong to nobody — it was a summer fling that you need to get over” emma snapped at him as he looked breathless, tears running down his cheeks as he ran up the stairs past Dylan, shoving Nicks shoulder in the process and pushing him into Abi and she almost falls and he catches her “Sorry about that”. 

“It’s fine Nick” Abi regains her footing and looks at the both of you guys “Sooo, whats going on here” Ryan cuts off Abi before she can speak. “Whatever your imagination can come up with is what happens” Emma says with a smile as she looks back at you as you’re incredibly embarrassed “i - it just kinda happened, y’know?”  “Guess I can understand” Ryan said with a sly sink, oh how you wanted to slap the smirk off his face but you’d rather not. From that point on Jacob started being different around you, he was meaner, snickering at you and saying sly stuff under his breath until the sun and moon decided to switch places.

The fire roared bright and warm as the cool air chilled your skin – taking small sips from your drink as the members asked each other simple truth or dare questions, watching Ryan and Dylan kiss as you clapped them on and Dylan’s face was bright and warm. The game pretty much went to shit when it was Kaityln’s turn and Kat chose Emma and asked the truth or dare question and she immediately answered dare as Kaityln straightened her posture “Kiss me or Kiss (Name)” She said bluntly as her eyes shifted between her and you “This one’s super easy, I chose (name).” 

Jacob looked widen eyed in shock and horror at what his ears deceived him, he watched in silence as Emma made her way over to you – towering over you as her lips took yours for the second time that day, the kiss was long and eager as your eyes were widen and Jacob yelled for Emma to stop as she pulled away and sat down, you placed a hand over your lips. As Jacob knew he couldn't swing at a woman it’s unprofessional, not manly. But was crying over a girl who said it was over multiple times manly? He ended up running off again into the woods as Dylan said he’d go look for him and cheer him up.

“I hope this doesn't make me a bitch” and everyone looks at you even Emma, Kaityln responds “it doesn’t make you bitch, Jacob just needs to let go and move on. Emma’s not interested anymore and that's final” Everyone could agree on that and the game felt dead and odd without Dylan or Jacob so everyone called it a night and went back to the lounge, everyone sat down and talked about plans for tomorrow, discussing food, showering and cell phone life and everyone had a job to be done. The small meeting was dismissed and You and Emma were on cell phone duty and figuring out how to charge the phones as Dylan was taken off the job because he was too distracted on his phone that he ran it dead.

You were fine with it and the meeting was dismissed as you and Emma got up and Dylan raised an eyebrow “Where are you two going? Sneaking off to start a forest fire?” “No Dylan, we’re gonna sleep somewhere else for the night because I snore weird and I don’t need anyone hearing that” that was a straight light everyone fell for except Ryan and Kaityln as Ryan added on “But you’ve slept in my room and you never snored.” “It’s been colder lately Ryan, you know how my allergies are.” Now, that one was true. “Ah, you’re right. Goodnight then.” He put his headphones in and laid down snuggling to the blankets as you and Emma waved and wished everyone goodnight. You both quietly made your way through the halls searching through the closets and drawers to find a blanket and two pillows making a nice comfortable place to sleep far from them.

As you laid the covers and comforter down and tossed the pillows down, Emma took off her shirt and you side eyed her before looking away “What are you doing?!” “Getting comfortable” Yeah. Comfortable. Emma’s and your lips on each other again except this time, you were alone and comfortable. Back against the comforter and head on the pillow as Emma was on top of you – using your hands to plant your hands on her hips and draw patterns on them while she kissed you, she was shirtless this time, everything was a lot more intimate but you two decided to not go as far today. Maybe tomorrow when everyone would be out doing things like getting firewood,getting their bags back out the car and ect.

 Then you two would take it up a few more levels, until then just kissing and small neck kisses which she planted some kisses to your collarbone and neck, running her finger down your neck as she whispered “I love you” into your ear. Yep, Emma Mountebank was the one. The one you absolutely needed.

[s-shinichirosgf]

Hungry (for your love)

ft. inui

cw. wolf hybrid!inui, f!reader, soft dom!reader for most of it, jealousy, possessiveness, nicknames (puppy, pretty, good boy, human), handjob, voyeurism and exhibitionism (kinda), unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), knotting, breeding, cervix fucking.

an. this is for @manjiroscum hybrid collab! I finally found the time to finish it! it’s my first time writing for inupi and for an hybrid au so i was a bit worried but i had a lot of fun with it, so i hope you all enjoy it!

tagged. @kazuwhora @s-nzu

minors do not interact (18+)

As you stared at Seishu’s retreating back, tail betraying his anger with sharp swishes, you could faintly hear your friends’ concerned tones as they called out to you. You turned to meet their worried gazes, heart a bit heavy when you made note of Emma’s ears tightly pulled back against her head. Promising yourself to make it up to them later, you hastily bowed, a quick apology leaving your lips, and rushed after your hybrid. You knew where he was going and you knew that he would be fine on his own, but you couldn’t let yourself let him get away after seeing him like that without knowing the reason why. You could tell he knew you were chasing after him, ears perking in recognition of your quick footsteps, and you allowed yourself just a bit of relief when you noticed he slowed down his pace to let you catch up.

Neither of you said anything on your walk back, the only sounds accompanying you two were those of the cool evening breeze that rustled the leaves and the soles of both of your platform shoes against the sidewalk. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag as you tried to pinpoint what had set him off. Seishu was not an aggressive hybrid; well, not unprompted.

You had met Seishu while you were volunteering at a hybrid center one of your friends worked at. He came across as quiet and weary, not really paying anyone any mind, whether it were a caretaker or another hybrid that tried to approach him. To everyone’s surprise, things started to change some time after you came in. You were the first person he opened up to after he had been rescued, with him actually giving you more than the curt and simple answers he tended to favor, asking questions of his own and even seeking you out when you were in other parts of the facility. At first ou hadn't been sure why, but later on he had confessed it had made him happy that you didn’t treat him like he was broken beyond repair; your eyes weren’t tinted with pity when you looked at the scar that “marred” his otherwise unblemished skin. In your eyes, he was no different than anyone else, and he himself had grown fond of the little stories you would share with him as you took care of the things in his room or in the garden.

It was easy to see how fond he grew of you over time; it was there in the way he let you into his space, in how he didn’t flinch when your hand brushed against his, in his smile, the small, barely there smile that he seemed to reserve only for you. And the more he opened up to you, the more your own fondness grew for the blond wolf — the more your heart sang and leaped each time you saw him. So really, taking him home with you was a no-brainer, the tedious paperwork was more than worth it after you had seen the stunned and hopeful stare he graced you with after you brought up the idea to him.

Which is why, as you watched him storm up the stairs, feet heavy and fists clenched, the frown between your eyebrows deepened. You followed behind, and after the door clicked in place, silence permeated the air, a stifling force that pressed down on both of you as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“What was that?” you broke first, the crease in your brow all the more present as your hand found its place in your hip.

“Nothing,” his voice was clipped, but you weren't stupid, you could see the agitation he tried and failed to hide in his tense shoulders, and in the twitch of his ears and tail. For that, you strode forward until you came to a stop in front of him, hand reaching up to grab his chin. Then, you repeated your words, “What was that?”

Your grip was firm but not bruising, and he could have easily shaken you off if he’d wanted to. But he didn’t.

“...the girl who jumped on you,” he finally answered in a low tone.

The confusion was clear in your face. “Emma? It just wanted a hug, Seishu.”

He averted his eyes, glare now boring a hole into the ground as he fought with himself to bring out the words stuck in the back in his throat. Your grip tightened ever so slightly and you felt him sag against your touch, eyes closing as he shook his head; the words finally spilled out “....she was all over you,” he started. “Even now, I can still smell her on your skin and it’s just-,” he stopped himself short, hands clenching and eyes still refusing to meet yours.

Unbeknown to him, your own eyes softened, even as your touch stayed, thumb now softly caressing his skin. "They're my friends, Seishu, if you had just let me-"

"But you're mine!" he growled out, green eyes snapping forward. Seeing his dilated pupils and his fluffy tail swishing sharply, it finally clicks in your head.

You had been incredibly busy that week, swamped with work and barely having time to think, but now you remembered that very crucial detail that explained everything that had just happened: Seishu's rut was approaching. It was still a week away, but his pre-rut always left your usually calm hybrid in a much more territorial and, for lack of a better word, needy state. However, this kind of response was still surprising—Seishu was pretty reserved, a habit he had kept even after he started living with you. Seeing him so upset towards a hybrid that had not been in any way aggressive towards you was something he would never do upfront. In a way, it warmed your heart; indirectly, this showed how much he had opened up to you, not afraid to let you know how he was really feeling. Your muddled brain and the excitement of seeing Hina and Emma again after so long had made you overlook this, not realizing how your actions would have affected him.

With a small sigh and a light shake of your head, you brought his head closer. His impassive stare shone when you did, pliant as you finally pressed a soft peck against his pink lips.

“Of course,” you whispered against his mouth, half-lidded eyes boring into his. “And you’re mine, too. Only you, my good little puppy, right?” you cooed with a teasing tilt to your tone.

His tail wagged excitedly in response as he chased down your own lips, desperate hands now grabbing at your waist the moment the affirmation he was seeking rang into the air. Your lips parted willingly, letting him get his fill of you, letting his tongue lap up the known territory of your mouth, low groans bubbling up as your other hand slid down to palm at the growing tent in his dark jeans.

And you would have loved to give in, to make him cum nice and sweet like he so clearly wanted, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not yet.

“Pretty boy,” you hummed, your smile obvious in each syllable as you locked eyes through the mirror.

Groans gave way to small whines as his hand continued to move up and down his length at a torturous pace, the wet sound of precum and lube loud in the small room. As you knelt behind him on the bed in front of your floor length mirror, your eyes took in the gorgeous sight in front of you.

“Eyes on the mirror, baby,” you chided him gently when you saw his gaze drifting up as the pleasure simmered hot in his core, heat building after being edged for god knows how long. His eyes snapped forward and your grin widened, hands still caressing the strong planes of his torso, fingers tracing each muscle and barely brushing against his pebbled nipples with a feather-like touch. “Good boy.” You pressed a small kiss where his neck met his shoulder. “So pretty, all for me.”

“Please,” the plea came up with a hushed whimper, crimson creeping up from his neck up to his cheeks in response to your unabashed stare.

“Wanna cum, pretty?” you cooed against his neck, eyes swimming with mirth as he nodded frantically, trying to restrain himself from speeding up his motions. “You’re gonna have to apologize to Hina and Emma next time we see them, okay?” you reminded him, your own hand joining his to now thumb at the pretty pink head that was shining with precum.

Seishu jolted at your touch, cock twitching in his grip. “Fuck, y-es, I will, ‘m sorry,” he babbled, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

Another kiss was pressed against his heated skin, this time to his jaw. “Such a good boy.” You smiled again, softer than before and effectively sending part of the heat that was threatening to consume him right to Seishu’s heart. “I should have been more careful, too, baby,” you conceded, nuzzling against the crook of his neck. “How d’you wanna cum?”

He whined, soft and mumbled as his hips snapped forward, and you tutted.

“That’s not an answer. C’mon, pup, use your big words.”

“Inside you,” he whimpers, words coming out in a rush as he leans more into you, back arching. “Wanna cum inside you, please please please.”

You smiled again, pretty eyes darkening and teeth gleaming in the low light, making Seishu momentarily wonder who really was the wolf hybrid between the two of you.

That train of thought didn’t last long, however, not when you finally moved, and the only thing he could think about were your plush thighs straddling his hips as you sunk down on his throbbing cock. His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging into the flesh in a bruising grip as you took a moment to adjust, small groans stumbling out of your lips. And then finally, finally, you moved, and Seishu’s eyes rolled back into his skull, red-bitten lips parted prettily in front of you. You always took him in so well, velvety walls welcoming him in a snug grip, always so wet and warm for him, and your moans ringing like a siren song each time your pussy tightened around him with each swivel of your hips. Every drag of his cock against your walls sent shivers running down his spine, mind growing foggier and body running hotter, until the sharp gasp you let out when you feel his knot swelling inside you finally snapped whatever it is that was holding him together.

Before you knew it, you were on your back, 64 kg of muscle on top of you as Seishu's hips rammed into you at an alarming speed. You can barely do more than grasp onto his shoulders as moans fall out of your mouth. Just one look at him painted a very clear and familiar picture—the twitching ears, the now unsheathed claws that dug into the plush skin of your hips and thighs, the sharpened canines that peeked through his lips, and his blown out pupils, a ring of bright green being swallowed by a dark haze. It seems like all your teasing had triggered his rut earlier than schedule. The realization made your gut clench, in turn ripping a snarl out of Seishu's mouth.

His brutal pace quickened, strong hands manoeuvring your legs to throw them over his shoulders, basically folding you in half as he put more and more of his weight on you.

"My human," he slurs, words heavy on his tongue and sweat matting long locks of hair against his face. "So pretty, so fucking pretty," he gasped, the headboard now rattling with the force of his thrusts. "Gonna fill you up, nice and f-fuck, nice and pretty. Gotta fill you with my cubs so everyone knows—so everyone knows you're mine."

And with the way the fat tip of his cock pounds against your cervix, knot engorged and pulsing against your walls as they struggle to accommodate him, you feel like he might do just that.

[thechangeling]

And maybe one day I'll get around to fixing myself too

Ok so I was actually planning on writing a Cristina centric fic for a while now, but I talked to @littlx-songbxrd recently about her realizing that she's actually a two (enneagram) and I think Cristina is as well. So now I'm dedicating this fic to Zia and all the other twos out there!

I hope you like it.

Also minor trivia, Cristina calling Mexico City DF comes from Distrito Federal which in 2016 was changed to Ciudad de México or CDMX.

Cw: Anxiety and panic attacks.

Cristina had gotten quite used to holding her breath.

Over the years, for as long as she could remember she was always forgetting to breathe. Or at least Cristina told herself it was forgetting. That was more comfortable then the alternatives. That she liked the feeling of her lungs burning?

No she was probably just used to it.

And Cristina knew deep down why she had so much stress. Why she couldn't breathe. She was always taking on everyone else's problems and making them hers. Not that she minded of course.

I just want to help. That's what she always said.

To Emma when she came to her with relationship troubles or anxiety about the future, or to her mother when she worried about money and running the institute. Or even to Mark and Kieran when they came to her with.. with their absolutely everything.

She certainly wasn't bitter. Not in the slightest. She loved caring for the people she loved. She believed in doing good and making the world a better place.

But for how long now had it come at this expense of her own feelings? Her own sanity?

Jaime had once said that she was too soft. She was too soft and she loved a problem she could fix and that made her prone to latching onto broken and damaged people.

She hadn't realized at the time that he was talking about himself.

And it had taken a long time to stop blaming herself. When she had walked into the garden that night and heard Jaime drunkenly telling Diego about how they should be the Rosales family in charge of the what she knew then as the DF institute (or Distrito Federal).

He was telling Diego about how he should marry her to gain control of the institute and Jaime would become her Parabatai.

But he would have the harder job.

Those were his exact words.

She had ran that day, too scared and overwhelmed to process what had happened. Cristina was unwilling to process any of her emotions surrounding that night so she buried it and moved on. Found new people to take care of.

But there was always that nagging question at the back of her mind that kept her awake at night.

Why wasn't I good enough? Why didn't he want me as his friend anymore? Or did he ever?

She found herself so unable to summon any anger towards either of them no matter how much she knew they probably deserved it. Not that she was even really trying to. Even if she was the slightest bit angry for what had happened, it didn't matter now.

What she felt didn't matter, it was over.

Cristina put her energy into helping Emma and The Blackthorns. Because they needed her. They needed a lot more then just what she could offer but Cristina was willing to try. She was willing to give her new best friend and her strange but wonderful family all she had. Because it was right and they deserved it.

They were all so kind and good, she could see it in they way they all loved each other fiercely and devotedly.

In a way that no one had ever really loved her.

But that didn't matter. It wasn't importent.

When Mark Blackthorn had first come into her life he was so scared, confused and overwhelmed. He barely even remembered who he was in the beginning. And then he had reached for her. And she had been sure to never let go.

Cristina adored him. Adored his kindness and his strength. She adored his strange little quirks that didn't really make sense to anyone, not even Kieran. But they didn't need to understand him to love him.

Kieran was different, in the sense that he didn't ask for her help. In fact he despised her in the beginning. And when she looked into that icy glare, so full of revulsion and contempt, she probably should have been afraid or at least cautious.

But she was curious. She was fascinated by this faerie who possessed so much passion and gentleness all at once, who looked at Mark with so much clear devotion in his gaze but also seemed so desperate. So broken.

She wanted to reach inside him and do all she could to meld the peices back together same as Mark.

Or was his heart ever whole? Kieran contained to be a mystery containing multitudes and there was still so much even now that she still didn't know. She wished she could tell him how badly she needed it. Needed to know everything so she could help him and be there for him.

All she wanted to do was heal his broken heart. To build him up until he was good as new.

Emma had pointed out that her affinity for tragic damaged heroes might have inevitably lead her to both him and Mark. And she may have been right.

But Cristina never viewed herself as any sort of savior. She didn't even need the credit or any gratitude. The smiles on her boys faces and that soft lightening of Kieran's hair to a sky blue was payment enough.

However, as happy as it made her to help, to give, the past few weeks had been incredibly taxing. She had volunteered to take on extra work for Alec while he and Magnus were in vacation and also told Helen and Haline that she would help start training their daughter while they searched for a more permanent tutor.

She was happy to do it of course. It was just that between her own work, her extra responsibilities, Kieran having been too busy to visit the cottage lately and her trying to help Mark deal with his grief and frustration over being separated from him for so long, as well as her own feelings....

Well, Cristina was possibly slightly overwhelmed.

But it was fine. It was what she told herself over and over again when she couldn't sleep or when she was forgetting to breathe. It was fine. She dug her fingernails into her palms and did her paperwork as her body shook and she tried to stop the pen from moving haphazardly all over the page.

She was fine. She checked the clock. It was three in the morning. She had three more hours before she had to be up to portal to LA for her training session with Ellie. Her lungs burned and she took in another shakey gasp.

Cristina was fine. She could feel tears beginning to prickle her eyes as her chest heaved. It had been months since she had seen Kieran or corresponded with him. She wasn't even sure if he was ok. It wasn't as though General Winter or any of the other fae in Kieran's court would care enough to tell either her or Mark if something had happened.

Cristina clasped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from sobbing out loud. Mark was still asleep in bed next to her desk and she didn't want to wake him. She slid carefully off of her chair and sat underneath the desk she and Mark shared in their room at the New York institute.

Being under something had always made her feel safer for some reason. And hiding away so that she could hide her tears was how she made sure no one felt obligated to take care of her.

Cristina gasped frantically, her breathing had become even more erratic. Her vision was blurring and she could hear a slight pounding in her ears. She tried to gasp for air again but she couldn't inhale.

"Cristina?" Mark murmered sleepily.

All she could do was whine frantically in response.

"Oh Tina," Mark dismayed. "Where are you? Are you under the desk?"

Before Cristina could respond, his concerned face appeared in front of her as he crouched down. "What is it my love?" He cooed, slowly reaching for her.

She instinctively flinched on impact without thinking. The feeling of someone touching her caused her already rapid wheezing to pick up. She whimpered, glutching at the front of her shirt. The entire thing was soaked in sweat.

Mark looked even more concerned. "Cristina, I think you might be having a panic attack. I need you to take some deep breaths for me ok? Slowly."

Cristina let out a frustrated grunt. That was what she had been trying to do the entire time! But still she listened to Mark and tried to slow her breathing.

"It's going to be alright Tina," he whispered to her.

But it wasn't. It was never going to be alright. Kieran had been unreachable for months, she had made all these promises to people and now she was failing them, the paperwork was piling up and she was failing everyone and she had woken Mark up because she was too weak to handle a bit of stress and she hadn't called her mother back like she was supposed to and she was a failure she was pathetic and by the angel she couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe couldn't breathe couldn't-

"-need you to focus," Mark was saying, squeezing her hand. "Deep slow breaths Cristina. Try inhaling for four, holding it for seven and exhaling for eight. Please Cristina."

She didn't want to, but Cristina listened to him. She focused on Mark's face and stared into his mismatched eyes as she followed the pattern he gave her. She had always thought his eyes were stunning. A clear example of everything faerie about him, what made him different.

She adored it all. Every single part of him right down to his fingernails. He was hers.

No, he was theirs.

Thoughts of Kieran reentered her mind. But now instead of feeling panicked, Cristina was just drained.

"What's wrong?" Mark asked tentatively.

Cristina couldn't answer. She couldn't explain exactly why she was so upset. She felt so ridiculous for causing such drama. But underneath it all, she was just sad.

Cristina wanted to weep, and for the first time in years or maybe longer, she wanted to weep for herself. But she didn't.

"I miss him," she admitted. "I miss him so much."

Mark looked crestfallen. "Oh Christina," he murmered. "I do as well. I wish you would have come to me with this."

Cristina shook her head. "It's not just that. It's-" she gestured around her frantically. "Everything!" She attempted to control her breathing. "I made all these promises, and I have all of these things to do."

Mark placed a hand on her arm. "Tina why didn't you just ask for help?" He asked gently. "Ask me for help?"

Cristina laughed out loud at the absurdity of the question. "Because I didn't want to make you take care of me. I don't want to be selfish."

Mark looked puzzled. "Is it selfish for me to like it when you look after me then?"

Cristina shook her head. "Of course not!"

Mark smiled softly. "Then why wouldn't the same be true for you?" He tenderly stroked her hair, tucking a peice behind her ear.

Cristina sighed. "I'm not sure. I just know it isn't." She knew how ridiculous it sounded, but she just couldn't help it. She had never been able to let herself be taken care of. She couldn't worry about her own wounds without feeling like a horrible person. So she would just give and give and give, slicing off peices of herself to give away to Mark and Kieran. To her friends and family and even people she barely knew.

And Cristina knew she would just cut until there was nothing left and she faded into nothing. Because death was preferable to having to say the dreaded words.

Help me.

Mark studied her for a moment. "Tina, you are always so generous and kind. You have such a good heart and I love you for wanting to take care of everyone, but you can't just forget about yourself." He gently cupped her cheek with his right hand.

"It doesn't make you a bad person to ask for help. Ok? Please tell me you'll try to ask for it when things get to be too much."

Cristina wanted to argue with him but she couldn't. Not when he was looking at her like that. She leaned into his hand, chasing the warmth.

"Ok," she resigned. "Ok I'll try."

Tag list: @lavender-scented-rat   @littlx-songbxrd @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan   @have-a-holly-jolly-angstmas @tired-vin @phoenix-and-dragon @amchara-fic @wagner-fell @sandersgrey @the-wckd-powers @spooky-drusilla @the-blackdale

[imaginethatneathuh]

A Stolen Heart and a Broken Soul

(Ladybird, Ladybird P2): Mills Family - OUAT (Request)

The Mills family, Captain Killian "Hook" Jones & Mills!Reader, platonic The Charming family & Mills!Reader, begrudging allies Peter Pan & Mills!Reader, enemies

After the events of Ladybird, Ladybird, you work alongside the others to get Henry's heart back. You use rather unsavoury methods to do so. Peter and you get into a bit of a verbal tiff.

TW/CW: Murder, descriptions of burned children, insults, swearing, torture, cruelty.

Wordcount: 2.6+K

Requested by @darkenwolfie

Not my best work but I tried.

•

Everyone was dead. Every single lost boy had burned to death. No matter the age, every last one had been killed. Their flesh seared off, bubbling. You could smell the stench of the burned flesh and hair no matter where you went on the Island.

With little interest, you kicked one of the bodies.

“How the Hell are we supposed to find that bastard and get Henry back now?” Regina asked as she set her hands on her hips.

Emma silently stared at the burnt corpse of a child. “He was a kid,” she whispered.

“What?” Regina asked.

Emma turned to look at Regina. “He was a kid, no older than 10 if that. He was just a little boy.” Her voice cracked, tears in her eyes.

The Charmings looked around at the corpses. David wrapped his arms around Snow as she turned away from them and into his chest. He glared at you.

“How could you?” Emma asked as she started toward you. Her sadness had quickly turned to anger. “How could you do this?”

Before she could reach you, Regina pulled her back and away. “Don’t,” Regina hissed. “If they could do this to Pan’s people, what do you think they’ll do to you? They didn’t give a lick about these boys and still burned them alive. Y/N doesn’t like you, I’d say maybe even hate.” Regina got in close. “For your sake, Swan, don’t.”

There was an earnest look in her eye as she spoke, begging Emma to not get into it with you.

Frankly, you found it kinda funny. It’s not like you’d ever hurt the Charmings. Not because you like them or anything, but because they’re fun. Sure, they’ll probably get you killed but still, you ain’t too far from that anyway.

“Don’t like it, hun,” you said calmly as ever. “Don’t look. Simple as.”

Killian frowned and looked at the small, curled-up bodies of a child. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think? I mean, they were just children. They could’ve been convinced to betray Pan.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t kill all of them. Besides, if Petey hadn’t mentioned my family, this wouldn’t have happened. Not my fault.”

“Not your fault!” Snow practically shouted at you. “How is this not your fault? You killed them in cold blood.”

You shrugged and let your eyes travel to the forest.

“Do you feel no remorse?” David asked.

Pausing, you looked at him but didn’t respond.

Regina took notice, her brow furrowing. “All magic comes with a price, Y/N. What’s yours?”

You looked at her and sighed. “I made peace with what I’m losing a long time ago, Reg.”

“And what are you losing?” She asked, slowly walking toward you.

“I suggest we focus on poor little Hen-Hen, and find Petey before it’s too late,” you said, looking around at the others. “Yeah?”

The Charmings sighed but nodded in agreement.

“Am I to assume no one has any ideas or that we’ll all ‘think of one’?” Killian asked.

You smiled, chuckling lightly. “I don’t just have an idea, Killian, I have a plan. Shocker, I know.”

Emma turned to you. “Oh, what is it then? Kill more innocents?”

“If it comes to that, sure,” you said causing her to scowl. “But, it won’t be necessary. Unless he pisses me off, then I will. Now, we just need to find that blond bitch with the ratty hair.”

“Felix?” Hook asked.

You nodded.

“Aye, he’ll know for certain. There’s no one closer to Pan than he,” Hook said as his eyes travel to the camp floor, the corpse of a little boy curled up in a fetal position catching his eye. He cringed and quickly looked away.

David sighed, exasperated. “And how, exactly, are we going to find him?” He gestured to the camp around him. “I doubt he’ll come back here.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, David,” Hook said as he met David's gaze. “He’ll come back. Felix will want the bodies to be taken care of. He may be one of the worst, but he always cared about the boys here in a way Pan never has. He’ll come back. We just need to wait a little while.”

Regina scoffed. “‘A little while’! And how little is that? Henry doesn’t have the time. He is dying as we speak.”

A barely-there rustle of leaves sounded off near the camp.

You heard it.

“Not long,” you said as they looked around. “I do believe Gold has been having his own fun.”

Felix roughly skidded across the ground, defenceless and battered. His back slammed against the base of a tree trunk and he whimpered.

Gold stepped into the clearing, a defeated and angry look plastered on his face. He scowled at the blond crumpled beneath the tree.

“No luck?” You asked.

Gold shook his head, choosing to stay silent lest he say something he may come to regret.

You nodded. “I’ll take a crack at it then.”

Gold raised an eyebrow as he met your gaze. He noticed the deadness of your eyes; it gave him an eerie feeling like he was looking into a black hole.

Turning to Felix, you smirked and flourished your arms out wide. “And the prodigal son returns to find his home destroyed and his god gone!” Your arms fell to your side. “How disappointing for him.”

Felix winced as he propped himself up to look at you. A dribble of bright red blood spilt out of his mouth. “Fuck you,” he growled, glaring with a hatred that could burn a thousand worlds and then some.

You chuckled slightly as you neared. With a sigh and tilt of your head, you squatted down near him, the dirt shifting as you stabilised yourself.

Felix glared at you, one hand holding him up, the other clutching his side.

Gold, you little imp, I’ve got to give you a present for this later, you thought. He looks so pathetic it’s almost funny.

Righting your head, you hooked a finger under Felix’s chin and got close to his face, a deadened smile on your own. “Where’s good ole Petey?”

“I’d rather die than tell you, you fucking bitch,” Felix spat.

You tilted your head back to the side and let your hand drop and rest on your knee.

Felix’s head dipped down as little dribbles of spit and blood dropped from his mouth. He wheezed likely from whatever Gold did to him.

Speaking of which, you were rather curious. “Hey, Gold?”

“Mhm?”

“What’d you do to him? I need to know so I’m not doing anything already done.”

Gold shrugged. “Some punching but mostly using magick to squeeze information out of him.”

You nodded, brows furrowing in thought. Silently, turning back to Felix, you smiled before standing and looking at your companions.

“I suggest the more squeamish here walk away,” you said then shrugged. “Or, alternatively, lose your lunch. I’m sure either will work!” Though you smiled, it didn’t reach your eyes.

•

Felix’s boot snapped a twig as his foot landed on the well-worn path to Peter Pan’s favoured tree. He stumbled a bit, exhausted from both your and Gold’s onslaught. More yours than his. You had been a bit, uh, creative.

Creative…

Yeah, let’s go with that.

The teenager gripped the white and dusty stump that had once connected to his left hand. Said hand was more or less dust on the forest floor. Actually, no, it was dust, thanks to the friendly neighbourhood psychopath aka you.

The Charmings, Gold, Regina, and Hook trailed behind. Gold, then Hook, then Regina, and finally, the Charming family.

You kept an iron grip on Felix’s upper arm, squeezing it every once in a while to keep him from passing out.

Felix faltered slightly, stumbling over his own feet and whimpering.

Yanking, you pulled him along. “There isn’t even any blood, ya big baby. I coulda done a lot worse and if you don’t quit it, I will,” you said. “Now, how much farther?”

“Not- not much,” Felix mumbled.

You hummed. “Good. I was starting to get bored.”

As you moved forward, you could feel the glares of the Charmings.

If Emma had laser eyes, you concluded to yourself, I would have died a while back.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and sigh at her death glares.

Did you go a little overboard? Yeah, probably. But her method of talking wouldn’t have gotten anyone anywhere and Henry would have died before Emma would have even started to soften Felix. He was a loyal dog, that one. But there is a limit to even what the most loyal can withstand.

In front of you, you spied an old, dead tree. The thick, sturdy trunk lay in a relatively clear area free of most other plant life save for a bush or two and some grass.

Letting go of Felix, you forced him forward toward the tree. “Someone watch him.”

Felix slammed up against a tree, catching the bark with his remaining hand.

David and Hook fell behind. Hook to watch Felix and David to watch Hook.

The rest followed you.

You strayed from the tree and checked the surrounding forest along with Regina. Snow and Emma checked up the tree but found nothing. Gold shifted where he stood in front of the tree. His gaze lingered on the patchy ground as if remembering something. His jaw tensed and his eyes watered.

You titled your head slightly to look over your shoulder. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gold’s obvious discomfort at the tree. Knowing your other pieces wouldn’t look too highly on what’s left of you torturing him like this, you decided to do something about it if only to save yourself from an earful next time you lost a piece of your soul.

“Alright, we need a plan,” you said catching everyone’s attention. “Pick a direction and start heading that way. I’ll look after Felix and wait here for Pan.” As Snow began to say something, you quickly cut her off. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I won’t kill him. Unless he pisses me off that is.”

She shut her mouth and scowled at you. You simply gave her a tight smile.

Regina nodded. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Emma asked.

“What?”

“About leaving Felix here with that maniac!” Emma pointed at you.

Regina looked at you then back at Emma. “The only thing I care about, Miss Swan, is getting Henry’s heart back. I, honestly, don’t care what happens to that other boy.”

“Yay! Babysitting duty,” you said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

•

Between the branches of the dead tree you rested against, you watched the stars.

Years ago, you probably would have enjoyed it. Now, all you were was bored. And tired. Very, very tired.

When is he gonna get here already? You thought, rubbing your strained and dry eyes. I wanna take a nap.

Felix winced beside you as he wrapped his stump with some cloth.

Sparing him a glance, you snort. “Suck it up, honey. Like I said before: I coulda done a lot worse.”

The way he was glaring at you…

Well, let’s just say, if looks could kill, you’d be dead ten times over.

That had been happening a lot lately.

Your elbows rested against your bent knees as you stared upward. “Coulda turned you into a frog and fed you to a, I dunno, a pig or something. Pigs’ll eat, like, anything. It’s crazy.” There was a pause before you said anything. The silence was starting to get to you. “Saw a pig eat a dead guy once. Now, that, that was fuckin’ nuts.”

Felix winced as he finished with his new stump. “You talk too much,” he said.

You shrugged.

Off in the distance, beyond the shaking trees, you could have sworn you’d heard some shouting.

“You are utterly ruthless,” a voice came.

You got up and turned to face it.

“I mean, honestly,” Pan said as he inched closer. “And they say I have a black heart. If it weren’t for the fact that it was my boys you killed, I’d applaud you.”

His smile was sickly as he spoke. In any other person, particularly one who could give a fuck, it’d make their skin crawl.

“Pan,” Felix whispered reverently as if he were looking to his god.

The green and brown-clad immortal spared him a fraction of a second before turning his attention back to you.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I should care.”

Pan shrugged. “Care, don’t care. Either way, it ends with you dead and with some sweet, sweet revenge,” he said, smiling wistfully by the end.

“Me? Dead?” You asked. “I think you’re mixing up your pronouns, hun.”

The smile on Pan’s face turned into a sneer, once you couldn’t mistake for holding anything besides contempt.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Saying nothing, you shrug as he inched closer. “Compared to you, a rock would be clever. So, ya know, not much of a jump.” A certain amount of snideness echoed in your tone.

Felix, sensing this would only get worse, backed away from you both. He still held his stump close to him as he scooted away. Soil road up and further dirtied his free hand. Wet grass and other leafage cleaned little strips of it in retaliation, though it did little.

Pan’s jaw went taut as his tongue traced a few of his top row of teeth. The man-boy squared his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back as he got closer. 

Staying still, you watched him and crossed your arms over your chest.

You wondered how hard it would be to rile him up enough to get him close enough.

Pan stopped a fair way away and looked you in the eye. “Does it get you off?” He asked. “Hurting and killing others, I mean. It never did that for me. But, fear… Oh, she’s a powerful tool.”

You snorted. “I’m no sadist, hun. Though, with the way you smile at people’s pain, I’d thought for sure you were. Or, maybe, you’re more of a masochist? Would explain a lot…”

Pan paused.

You could see his anger growing as his face began to turn a furious red.

With his tensed jaw and gritted teeth, Pan asked, “What, did you just say?”

A smirk ghosted over your face. “You heard me. Or, are you deaf as well as dumb?”

The man-child stalked closer to you, his fists clenched. He glared at you. “The only dumb one here is you, you petulant brat,” he spat out with a fury.

The fury behind his green eyes may have made anyone lesser shrink and apologize, beg for mercy even, but you weren’t any lesser.

“Petulant child?” You asked. “Really, dear, talking in the third person?” You got a little closer, hand near his chest but not quite touching it. “Now, that’s childish.”

You didn’t even allow him time to say anything more. With one swift motion, you plunged your hand into his chest, fingers gripping around the beating and pure heart of Henry, and you ripped it out.

As soon as Pan realized what had just happened his eyes went wide and he gasped.

The poor man had likely forgotten why they were here, too enraged to think.

He really was a dumb little boy. Guess he got what he wanted in that regard.

Kicking him back, you grinned, eyes still lifeless as ever. “Guess Peter Pan does fail, now doesn’t he?” You asked.

“Pan!” Felix shouted as Pan fell backwards. “Oh, god…”

The foliage nearby rustled as people came back to the tree.

Regina showed first.

Without much care, you tossed her Henry’s heart, startling her.

“Be careful!” She hissed at you.

You shrugged as more came from the thick of the forest. “I’m heading back to the ship. Later.”

And that was all they wrote.