#I tried to give the lower cloth a sense of transparency and felt look but it didn't come out right

[tojikai]

Sundered 8: BRAKES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |  Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments

word count: 6.7k

But sometimes, the best isn’t what our heart wants; the perfect isn’t what our heart seeks.

“Did you find it?” Before Satoru could even answer, you came jogging in. Your gaze shifted between him and Toji, curious as you noticed the awkward silence that took over when you approached. Or…has it been there before you came? “What is it?” You asked, puzzled. Walking inside, your eyes met Satoru’s. He shook his head, giving a small smile before answering.

“Nothing. Toji was just saying that we should check Yui’s things to make sure we didn’t forget anything else.” You could see his Adam's apple bob up and down, eyes half blinking. “Well yeah, I did. Her extra shirt was still on the hanger. I ironed it earlier.” You walked past him, smiling at Toji before you jogged upstairs, making the two men relax.

“Y-yeah, of course. I could free my schedule, just tell me the details.” Satoru’s voice was much lower; quieter when he was sure that you were out of earshot. Toji nodded, blinking as he took a deep breath. “I’m glad you didn’t tell her.” Satoru doesn’t know why he hid it from you, but he felt like it would only worry you. 

But could he really not tell you about it? He doesn’t want to lie to you.

“You know, it could only worry her; she probably doesn’t even trust us in the same room together.” He added as if sensing Satoru’s doubts. He’s got a point, but still, Satoru wants your relationship to be transparent. Yes, he still hasn’t told you about what happened with Naomi and his mother but that’s a different case.

“Just send me when and where.” Satoru took a deep breath, pulling out a calling card before quickly handing it to Toji as he kept an eye on the hallway to make sure you didn’t see any of it. “Though, she probably won’t be happy about not being informed of this-” Footsteps can be heard as you appear with the clothing item in your hand.

“Why didn’t you go to Yui? Let’s go.” You gave Toji a quick kiss and goodbye before walking out the door, looking back at him just to make sure that he was already after you. And he is, but not without glancing at Toji who only nodded at him. “I was waiting for you, I could see the car from there.” He explained, opening the car door for you.

“Yaaaay Mama! Dada!” The little girl put her hands up, opening and closing her chubby fingers, “Nummy!” She squealed louder as Satoru wiggled the pacifier in his hands, legs kicking as she desperately tried to grab it. “What’s my name?” He tried to keep the object away from her.

“Toru! Dada Toru!” She pushed on her chair, trying to move closer to her dad. Satoru laughed, letting her take the pacifier in her small hands. “Here’s your Nummy.” He cooed before putting on his seatbelt, ready to drive. You looked at him through the rearview mirror, meeting his gaze for a split second before you looked away.

“What is it?” He asked you, raising his brows as he drove. You shook your head, “Nothing, I was just…I was wondering if you and Toji get along well now.” You didn’t really want to ask this to Toji because he still gets grumpy at the mere mention of Satoru’s name in your conversations, which can’t be helped since they’re almost always about Yui.

“I think…” He let out a small laugh at the end of his short answer.  For a second, he thought about telling you of his conversation with Toji but— ‘It could only worry her.’ His words reverberated in his head, making him bite his lip, waiting for your reaction. “Okay. It’ll get better, I guess.” You let out a large breath, lightly slapping your thighs with your hands.

“I’ll… I’m really trying to be less annoying to him. I know that it’s uncomfortable for the both of you.” He was trying to find the right words to assure you. He doesn’t want you to think that he’s threatening your new relationship. Your new happiness.

“And that he probably doesn’t even want you around me even for a minute and that’s why I was saying that we should lessen—” You turned to look at him, making him pause as he quickly glanced at you. He was worried that he may have said something wrong or hurtful to you. That’s the last thing he wants.

“Satoru.” You licked your lips, feeling bad that he was probably feeling the same way you did when he was still with Naomi. Probably much worse because he’s also regretting so many things at the same time. “We don’t have to do that. We do it for Yui, I could talk about it with Toji. I will.” You start to look back on how your ‘talks’ with him went.

But if it’s for Yui, you’re determined to make him understand and make all of this work.

“We can’t give Yui the family she deserves.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue as you leaned your elbow on the car window, massaging your temple. “But I don’t want her to feel that.” Thinking about the time scares you; how fast it goes, how quickly it changes. You fear that you’ll wake up one day and you won’t have answers to her questions.

“Hey…” You felt a hand on yours, noticing the car stop. You turned your head at Satoru, only noticing how blurry your vision has gotten. “You’re already doing so many things for her. She won’t feel that. That’s why I’m still here. You don’t have to shoulder this alone even if we’re not with each other.”

In Satoru’s head, he doesn’t like that you’re not with each other. But if that’s what heals you from everything he’s put you through, then so be it. But that doesn’t mean that he won’t be there for you; only heaven knows how much he wants to give you everything if only you allow it. 

But he’s not that lucky anymore.

It took you a minute to snatch your hand away, probably just needing the warmth that it provided you in that vulnerable time, but you still did. “Sorry,” He murmured as you turned away, wiping under your eyes quickly. “Did you have breakfast? I’ll get us something.” He cleared his throat, thinking about how Toji probably cooked breakfast for you.

“I’ll just have coffee–“ You sat up straight, getting cut off by your baby as she struggled to get out of her seat. “Mama! Ma!” She whined, kicking her feet as she reached up to you and pointing outside. “Do you want something, Miss?” Turning her attention to Satoru. “She wants to go inside.” You spoke, removing your seatbelt.

“Alright, come on.” You stepped out of the car to get her, letting Satoru take her small bag. She squealed at the drawing of the cartoon on the wall, making you kiss her cheek. “That’s why she wanted to go inside.” Satoru laughed, letting you walk in first. Greeted by the employee as you scanned their menu, your daughter started pointing.

“Such a cute baby,” An old woman beside you said, “Looks very much like the Dad.” She laughed, making Satoru pat the little girl’s head, proud. “Thank you, Ma’am. She’s a mini of him.” You joked, allowing the old lady to play with your child as you conversed with the employee.

For some reason, the interaction made you feel warm. It’s been a while since you felt like this when going out with them. You used to avoid these situations with him due to how things were, but lately, your guard’s been down around him. Maybe it’s because you can see with your own eyes how much he changed. 

If only he was like this before, would things have been better?

“How old is she?” The old woman’s voice sounded far, drowned by your thoughts. “She’s 2, ma’am.” You could feel Satoru’s hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your trance. Your eyes met his, overflowing with concern as he tried to keep a conversation with the woman until she left.

“You ok?” He spoke, adjusting Yui on the baby seat. “You zoned out earlier.” He made sure to pull the chair for you before going to his. Shaking your head, you gave a small smile, “It’s nothing, just trying to recall if I packed everything she needs.” It wasn’t convincing, but Satoru felt like he’d be meddling too much if he asked further.

Maybe he really should not add up to the things you’re worrying about.

———————————————————

“What is it about?” Satoru’s fingers tapped on his jeans, nervous as to what his baby mama's boyfriend was about to ask him. He was worried that it’d have something to do with the time he spent around you. Satoru isn’t sure if it’s possible to reduce that since you have a daughter.

“You know, to be honest, I just want to know how you see things.” Toji started, putting down his mug. “I know what happened between you and Y/N before I came along but I want to know what you were planning to do if I didn’t appear.” Satoru was confused as to why he was asking all of it but his brain started to think back to it, nonetheless.

At that time, he was thinking about marrying Naomi. He saw it as an assurance that he was doing so much better; convinced that she was truly the one for him. Spending a year with her, he was sure that she was the better person for him. What with his daughter calling her mom, he thought that maybe it could put an end to most of his problems with you.

Recalling all of this just made him realize how much worse things could’ve been.

Seeing the pain in your eyes the moment those hurtful words came out of his mouth set all of these plans on fire. You looked shattered; like the tiniest glimmer of hope in your eyes died along with your aching heart, hearing that the man you love regrets everything he had with you. 

It almost felt like stepping so abruptly on the brakes that he hit his head from the impact. When you crumbled in front of him that day, you were bare to Satoru. All the feelings, all the pain that you held in your heart were presented before him.

Satoru remembered thinking about why you were like that with him, why you acted indifferent. 'She has always loved me this much. She was just hurt.' And it broke him too. A couple of days after that, he tried. He tried to tell himself that it was just the emotions, that it was just the guilt eating him up and that’s why he couldn’t see anything but you. 

But he caught himself thinking about how he’d like to put you back together again piece by piece if he was given a chance.

He didn’t think too much of it; just a poor interpretation of his feelings towards your pain. He thought about his loving girlfriend, he reminded himself that there was someone who willingly put up with him when he was a mess. That’s how it always went. That’s how he pushed the thoughts of you away. With her, her words, her touch, her body.

But it’s never enough when he thinks about how you probably cry yourself to sleep at night, thinking about why you weren’t enough to get the same treatment that he was giving her. That’s when his plans started to falter; like a building threatening to crumble, dust began to shower down on them.

The day he went to your house, he found himself fixing his collar, and his hair, thinking about the words to say to you. And if you’re not there, he thought of ways to get to you. But there Toji stood. With a smug look on his face and marks all over his neck that scream “I just fucked the girl you dreamt about last night.” 

That day he wanted to ask him directly what the fuck he think he’s doing, but that wouldn’t seem right, knowing that Satoru’s nothing but a baby daddy to you. That day was a deja vu. All the events that happened between the two of you are being shown to him, and it seems like he’s feeling the pain threefold.

After that, Satoru tried. He tried to tell himself that he just got upset because of how disrespectful Toji was acting. He just couldn’t stand that he acted as if he owned everything in that place, even flexing the hickeys you gave him the other night.

He thought that was the worst he could see that day but for some reason, seeing you in that shirt with marks on your collarbones triggered something in him. A question he didn’t see coming popped up in his brain and along with it was the guilt that he felt for his girlfriend: 

Am I too late?

The next thing he knew he was getting up and getting ready for when you pick Yui up from his place. He caught himself pulling at his clothes and pushing his hair back as he waited for you to open your door; like a teenage boy waiting for his crush. He denied himself that he wanted to look good; to look better for you.

Until it all sank in; until he couldn’t handle it any longer. Each time he sees you with Toji, doing things that you should be doing with him, he gets pushed a bit more. He was already getting pulled back towards you again even before he came along but now that he’s beside you, it felt like Satoru’s spiraling back to you at the speed of light.

Then, that night happened. When all the bands that he used to stop himself snapped.

“I would appreciate it if we could be honest with each other. This could greatly affect the decisions I’m about to make.” Toji’s serious voice interrupted Satoru’s memories. He blinked, clearing his vision of him. He stared at the cup with a grim expression, which made Satoru realize the weight of the conversation.

This is not just a conversation, Satoru thought, licking his lips before speaking again.

“I’d…Back then, I was denying what I wanted. I…I was trying to get her back. Not just to make up for all that I said and done.” He rubbed his palms on his pants, seeing Toji lean back on his office chair. “I had a girlfriend, then. Naomi. I didn’t really want to admit to myself that my heart wants to get back with Y/N when I’m with someone so good to me.” He shook his head.

Satoru’s disappointment and anger about what happened between him and Naomi felt like a ton on his chest. She was a good woman to him and it’s true, but thinking about how everything aged; he can’t even bear the thought of her and his memories with her. It’s just sad that it had to end that way.

He can’t help but to blame himself for the actions that she took. He could’ve written a better ending for them.

Satoru heard Toji sigh as he straightened his legs under his table, crossing his arms as he nodded for Satoru to continue. “Then, you appeared. And I don’t know. I don’t even know how it happened but everything that I was feeling about her was rushing into me faster than it used to and maybe…” Satoru panted, shrugging as he gestured with his hands.

He couldn’t believe that he was really talking about this to his baby momma's boyfriend. “It just got me desperate. I told myself I was too slow and I lost my chance and I really did but…” He looked at Toji, wanting to convey his sincerity. “I just want her to be happy. I feel like all I did was ruin things for her. I don’t want to ruin what she has with you.”

It was a tough thing to say for Satoru. The words felt like shards of glass in his heart. It’s not what he wants but if it’s what he must do then he’ll do it. Toji’s silence got him wondering if he was pissed or relieved that Satoru was aware that he was not getting you back as long as he was there. But in Toji’s mind, that’s not the case.

“So you’re saying that you wanted to get her back even before she got with me?” He blinked slowly, trying to comprehend Satoru’s words. “I thought you only started to want her back because you don’t want to see her with someone else.” He didn’t bother filtering the words. He can’t think of a better way to put this.

“It’s always her. Even if I end up with someone else, I need her to know that I had always wanted it to be her.” 

Toji didn’t think that Satoru would be this transparent to him about his feelings towards you. There was an eerie look in his eyes as he stared at the open window, a defeated look plastered on his face. 

“If I didn’t enter the story, would you still be doing all of this for her now?” Satoru’s eyes were back at him, nodding as he sat straight. “Yes. It would probably take longer than it did but I’m sure that I was bound to fall back into her at some point.” Toji’s brows furrowed, trying to think of what the situation would be like if it were like that.

“Weren’t you planning to marry Naomi?” Satoru chuckled bitterly, considering it another poor and rash decision that he made. “I was. Before I fought with Y/N.” Before he found that small light of hope in your eyes. Before he realized that not all of it was lost.

Toji laughed, rubbing his face with his palm as everything that had been going on sank in. He’s talking with his girlfriend’s ex. And he’s telling him all of this. Like it’s the most natural thing to do. He sighed, swallowing as he bit his lip, feeling himself getting agitated by the second. 

“I know I said I’d appreciate honesty, but I didn’t think you’d actually say all that to my face.” He chuckled bitterly, recalling every sentiment he just said about you. “I’m her boyfriend. Her new man.” His chest heaved, blinking to allow himself to calm down. He’s the one who asked for this to happen, so why’s he the one getting pissed now?

“What do you want me to say?” Satoru’s voice was calm, looking away from Toji’s piercing glare. “You should’ve just told me to fuck off and stay away, though the latter one’s not possible because Y/N and I have a child.” Satoru sat up straight, as if getting ready to be kicked out. Toji’s jaw tightened visibly at the words.

Not because they’re insulting but because they’re right.

That’s what he wanted to do. He thought that if he couldn’t get you away from Satoru then maybe Satoru could just stay away from you. But obviously, it isn’t just some responsibility for him. Satoru isn’t the type of guy to just send money for his child. He’s not the type of guy to be just happy that his child knows he exists somewhere.

He wants to be present; to be there for Yui and watch her grow. He wants to be with her but of course, your circumstances wouldn’t allow that. Maybe this isn’t as easy as Toji thought it’d be and that’s what makes him mad. 

“Toji, I know we’re not on the best of terms with each other, but what are you trying to get with this?” Toji didn’t like how he asked it. It made him sound like a villain and that’s the last thing he wants. 

Is he getting so desperate that he allows himself to seem like one? “I agreed to this without knowing what you’re planning to do, I’m just here to be honest to you. Really.” Satoru wanted to ease the tension between the two of them for your sake. 

He knows that you’re still very uncomfortable with the two of them being around each other and that you’re also thinking about how to make it better. He thought that this “conversation” would help.

“Do you really love her? Or did you just learn to love her for your child?” Toji gave his all to sound composed, scratching the edges of his thumb with his index finger. “I don’t remember telling myself that I have to love her. I just know that I love her.” Toji could hear his teeth grind against one another; his frustration starting to surface.

“Look, if you want to hear from me that I am not trying to take Y/N away from you then, I’ll just say that.” Toji remained silent, forgetting what this meeting is supposed to be and how it’s supposed to go. He’s bothered by this ever since he fought with you, but he cannot let that cloud his mind of what he would deem to be right. 

And obviously, that’s not what’s happening right now.

“But you can’t tell me not to love her when even I myself can’t control that.” You weren’t lying when you said that this man changed a lot. It felt like this is the most mature Toji’s ever heard him talk.

 “To feel that is one thing but to act upon it is another and I don’t plan on doing that.” Satoru wondered if you’ve been arguing about this with him, probably why he’s like this. He remembered your problem with him constantly mentioning his wife in whatever you do but after that, you never really told him anything about it anymore.

He didn’t try to pry even when it felt like your mind was always somewhere else because he didn't want to seem like he’s taking advantage of the situation.

“Well, it’s good that I don’t have to remind you.” Toji murmured, tilting his head as he furrowed his brows. Looking away, he pulled at his collar with his finger. The man in front of him looks nothing like a threat. Yet, he can’t find it in him to let it go.

Probably because deep down, he knows that this is not a one sided problem.

“I won’t ask you to stay away from Yui. I’m a father too. I just needed to hear this all from you, Satoru.” He opened a drawer, taking out a packet of cigarettes before putting one between his lips. The fire from the lighter lit up a portion of his face, inhaling only to let out smoke from one side of his mouth. “Why?” Satoru asked, leaning back.

“I don’t know. So, I could do better I guess?” Toji chuckled, making the other man’s brow bump with each other; not with anger but with an irritating confusion.Just as he was about to ask, Toji answered his question. “We didn’t fight. There’s just nothing left to do about it. Guess we gotta put extra effort.” 

With that he stood up, signaling that he’s already over this conversation. And Satoru sat there, still in the dark with his intention. Does he have some kind of mic here that recorded what he just said? Satoru doesn’t care. 

What he said was the truth, and it would be too funny to suspect Toji of some kind of evil plan when he’s literally the one who got heated up.

“I hope to work with you better, Satoru. After all, we love the same woman.” With that, he walked to the door to leave but not before Satoru could say a word. “Just take care of her for me. I’m sure she wants it from you.” It came out softer than he intended to. He looked down at his hands as they played with one another; defeated.

He didn’t hear a sigh from Toji. The sound of the door closing was the only signal that he already left. Clicking his tongue, Satoru stood up before running his fingers through his hair. He wonders if it’d be right to ask you about your situation with Toji. He wonders if you also want him to adjust. 

He wonders if he’s just a nuisance in your life right now. Like how he made you feel before. 

————————————————

“She should start when she’s like four. Or five.” Toji put Yui’s bag down on the couch as they ran around him. The kids were still not tired enough to calm down after a whole day of swimming. Their cheeks are all red from the sun and you mentally noted to put aloe gel on her face before bed.

“Megumi will start next year?” You asked him, hearing a hum as his gaze followed the two kids who ran to your daughter’s room. “‘Gumi we’ll be going in a few, don’t fall asleep!” Toji called to the little boy who only stared at him from a distance before turning away. You felt a pair of hands pull you as Toji sat you on his lap.

“Did you have your own fun too?” He teased, squeezing your thigh as he kissed your cheek. Your mind went back to the other day. It has been a while since the two of you did it due to busy schedules. You admit that you felt like you and Toji are still being extra careful with a few topics but this past few days was a breather. 

“Mhm, definitely did.” You whispered to his lips, feeling his teeth bite your bottom one as he kissed you. You don’t know when it started but things started to feel a bit different between you and Toji and you don’t know if it’s because he’s starting to drop his worries for you and Satoru or if it’s because he’s just tired of thinking about it.

You were gonna talk to him regarding that but this weekend kind of assured you that it’s all going fine. As for you, you’re trying your best to adjust. You told yourself a thousand times that you had to think about Toji too and not just yourself but for some reason, you still find yourself questioning how you should do some things. 

That’s not a good sign but you thought that maybe you could just take one step at a time. Toji’s making adjustments for you and you can’t just let him do all that work. The only thing you’re fearing is if it’s gonna burn out the two of you sooner or later.

It’s not that your relationship with him is not sturdy, but it’s still young. There are still so many things that the two of you might go through. You’re afraid that all of these are just taking a toll on both of you and one blow from a different direction might just take you down immediately if it ever lands.

Toji stayed for about half an hour before calling Megumi who definitely fell asleep on Yui’s bed. Meanwhile, your little girl was sitting beside her big bear, whining about the burns on her face, begging you to call her Dada. 

“We’ll just put medicine on it, okay?” She stomped her little legs, pulling at your shirt to pick her up. “It’s because you won’t let me put sunscreen on your face properly earlier.” You clicked your tongue, letting her sob on your shoulder. “Dada…” She wiggled in your arms, a small hand holding her cheek.

“Just give Satoru a call. Or get him to come over. She probably misses him.” Toji picked his son up. The latter option shocked you a bit because you didn’t expect him to actually suggest the man he’s so uncomfortable with to come over and be around you. Even if it’s not for you, you still didn’t see it coming out of his mouth, especially after all the fights you had.

“They’ll meet in a day, anyway so it’s—” You started but he cut you off by talking to Yui. “Dada will come over, it’s okay. Stop crying.” The toddler’s cries softened to sniffles as she looked up at him. His hand patted her head, before turning to you to give you a kiss on the forehead. “She needs him right now. You know how kids are.” 

The gesture made you feel a bit sad. You’re aware that this is not about the two of you but still, you know how he is when it comes to Satoru being with you. “You shouldn’t hold back if that’s what Yui needs.” You shouldn’t hold back if that’s what you need. He wanted to tell you that as well.

He remembered asking you casually about how you were with Satoru. Of course, you found it weird and got worried. You kept saying things to comfort him to which he quickly reassured you that it wasn’t like that. 

“Of course, I did.” You told him, swirling the liquid inside the sippy cup. You wouldn’t look up at him the whole time. You placed it beside the other cup before moving to sit beside him. “We had a rough time, but it wasn’t always like that.” There was a hint of nostalgia in your voice; a mix of melancholia and fondness for the lost time.

“Why did it become like that?” He leaned on his elbow, fixing the ornaments in front of him. “Because of the rush, I guess. Bad timing.” You shrugged, drumming your fingers on the marble counter. “We just became parents. We didn’t have time to become lovers.” You chuckled half-heartedly.

“But I know I did.” So, Satoru wasn’t lying when he said you were in love. “Have you ever wondered if… if it’s just because of the responsibility that you share?” He prodded further, feeling like he was having the watered-down version of the conversation that he had with Satoru. Something he apologized to him for 2 weeks later.

“Probably at first. All of it is just for Yui. But at some point, I just found myself looking forward to days with him.” You sighed, staring blankly as you probably tried to recall more memories. You quickly looked at Toji, realizing the words that came out of your mouth. It’s not supposed to be like that. You’re not supposed to speak like that.

“Did you ever—” He began but you’re quick to cut him off, getting more and more worried about his behavior. You’ve been having open talks with each other, deciding that it might help with the crack in your relationship with him but this still makes you feel anxious. Because what if you hurt him again? What if something you say makes it worse?

“Are you alright? You keep asking unusual things.” You jokingly put your hand on his forehead, making him grab your wrist as he pulled you to him. “Hey, I was just curious. I want to do better.” He kissed the back of your neck. It’s true that he wants to do better for you. Hell, he wants to be the best for you.

But sometimes, the best isn’t what our heart wants; the perfect isn’t what our heart seeks.

“Alright, I’ll try to contact him. I doubt he’d be here, though. It’s a work day, I don’t really want to bother him.” You squeezed his hand reassuringly before walking with him to the door. Megumi’s small arms were wrapped around his neck as he bid you goodbye for the day. 

You wanted to ask him if it’s really okay with him but you reminded yourself that if it’s for Yui, it doesn’t matter if it’s not okay with anyone. “Text me when you get home.” You told him after he put Megumi in his seat. “Yeah, love you.” He kissed your lips once more before getting in his car and driving away.

You watched his car disappear, rubbing your baby’s back as she started to whine again. “Alright, we’ll call him.” You walked back inside, spotting your phone on the coffee table. You kissed Yui’s cheek as you dialed Satoru’s number. It rang twice before you heard his voice from the other line.

“Hey, everything okay?” You ignored the way your heart swelled at how alert he was to your calls. You figured that he’s probably working, "Dada!" Yui called to him, kicking her little feet and making you grab them. You put the phone on speaker "What's wrong, love?" Satoru's voice was full of worry because of how his daughter cried.

"She got sunburnt. She was swimming with Megumi earlier and now it's starting to sting." You pushed her hair back as she tried to take the phone from you. "Are you busy? She keeps asking for you. I didn't want to bother you but—" Without letting you finish your sentence, you could hear the chair scrape the floor. "Don't think like that. I'm never too busy for Yui." 

"Would it be… Is it ok if I come over? I'll get ointment on the way." You could already hear the car keys and you pictured him walking out of his door and to his car. "Yeah, it's fine. Toji actually suggested that because Yui won't stop crying. Thank you." A small silence can be heard from the other end.

"I'll be there in a few, text me if you need anything else." After that, he lets you hang up the phone, waiting patiently for you say something. "Dada will be there. Stop crying now, you weren't crying earlier." You checked her face, feeling bad that she has to pay for having fun. But you think the blush that it left on her cheeks are cute.

After a little while, a knock on the door pulled you away from your phone. Even though, you already know that it's Satoru, you still peeped through the hole just to make sure. The night his mom stormed in your house and threatened fo take your child away was still vivid. You don't want Yui to see something like that again. 

"Da!" She immediately cried when she saw him, reaching for her father to take her. "Hey, why? Where's your ouchie?" You saw a couple of bags in his hand as he took the crying child. "I brought you guys something, I thought you might not have had your dinner yet." He sounded shy, taking the smallest bag.

“Oh, thank you. You should eat with us, sorry for calling so abruptly. She’s being fussy.” You smiled at him, not missing the fond sigh that escaped his lips. “It’s nothing, it’s a win-win situation.” He jokes, tickling the little girl’s belly which caused her to erupt into laughter. 

“Let’s put this cream on your face so it doesn’t hurt, alright?” You watched the two of them sit on your couch and all of a sudden, it became the highlight of your day. How he removed his shoes when she asked him to lay down, how he listens to her almost incomprehensible rants, how he gently applied the ointment on her cheeks, producing the most beautiful giggles.

It almost felt like a normal family, resting after a long day of staying out. With her favorite show playing, you watched her look up at her father just to make sure he’s watching the same thing. And he’d go and nod, talking to her like it’s the most serious thing in the world.

“You should eat with us.” You found yourself saying as you wiped your hand. You reminded yourself to text your boyfriend as you turned away, feeling wrong for how you feel but how can you not feel that way when the scene you used to dream of just came alive in front of you? 

Maybe you’re just tired. Maybe you just wanted the comfort of your bed. Maybe you just want to not think about it, maybe it’s better to ignore these feelings because there are other things you should be feeling right now. Like wanting to see Toji and be with him. You shook your head, setting up Yui’s table. 

And there he comes, with your daughter in his arms, wearing one of the house slippers you left under the couch. “Can I borrow these?” He chuckled and you could feel the stretch on your cheeks from how small they look on him and suddenly, it’s just the three of you again. Eating under the warm kitchen light, talking about your daughter.

Like how you always wanted it to be.

——————————————————

“Just take care of her for me. I’m sure she wants it from you.”

Toji pursed his lips as Satoru's words reverberated in his head. He knows nothing, he thought, glancing at you from the mirror. You were busy checking Yui's bag, completely unaware of the thoughts of the man in front of you. Toji has been selfish before. But his head was clear enough to finally judge things with deep consideration to the external factors.

Any man or woman wants nothing but to work things out for their family. But sometimes it just gets too much for them. But for some, they just need time. And he doesn't know how to feel when he thinks about how you and Satoru probably just needed time to fix yourselves as individuals for the relationship to work.

Even though Megumi already understands that his mom will never be home. There are still instances where he would ask Toji about her and by that, he could tell that his son's wishing for her. Whenever you'd do something for him, he would say "Like mom?" and he don't want you to know that not even the smile on your face could ease the searing ache in his chest.

“What do you think about getting back together with Satoru?” The question already escaped his lips before he could even think. Your eyes snapped at Toji, looking at him like he just said the most obnoxious thing. You walked to him, stopping his hands to do his tie yourself. 

“Why are you suddenly asking about that now?” You counted back to the first time he was talking about you and Satoru.“Nothing. I mean, he mentioned that his mother’s never around him anymore. Isn’t she like the bane of your relationship with Satoru?” He peered down at you, curious as to how you’d react.

Toji didn’t mean to ask it so abruptly, but he knows that he has to talk about it sooner or later. He knows that the both of you are trying and your relationship shouldn’t be this hard if only adjusting comes so naturally. 

He knows that you put in a lot of effort just so he wouldn’t feel insecure and overthink. He also knows that sometimes it just shows, you’re probably just denying that to yourself. He’s also too aware of how the both of you would tread carefully around the topic of his wife. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t miss her or talk about the things she does.” You told him that once but still, Toji can’t help but feel bad when those days come and he knows that he’s not giving his full attention and mind to you.

“I’m literally in a relationship with you, stop asking if I—” You tried to chuckled it off, brushing the palm of your hands on his chest to straighten the fabric but Toji caught them. “What if this isn’t working?” He sighed, squeezing your hand as if it will lessen the weight of his words.

You don’t know if you’re hurt that he probably wants to end it or if you’re hurt that there’s a hint of truth behind his words. “What are you saying?” As if suddenly coming back down to reality, Toji shook his head and pulled you close. “I think I woke up too early, come here. Sorry about that.”  He kissed your forehead but that didn’t take away your worried face.

“Toji you can’t just say that and expect me not to overthink.” You don’t know if you’ve prepared yourself enough for this possibility. It would hurt you if you’ll lose such a good man in your life. “I’m…I don’t know if I still feel comfortable, or if I’m just getting used to it Y/N. I know you try, you do it so well, baby but,” He took a deep breath, pausing.

“I don’t think I can continue like this. I don’t think we should continue like this.” 

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[themadhound2]

I finished an ozymandias watercolor swimsuit and added him to the sun trio.

though it appears he is having some wardrobe issues ;3

hope you all like them!

Hey guys! Once again I have done some paintings of the golden king but in swimsuits! I say the official video of I'm good by David Quetta and Bebe Rexha and thought two of the swimsuits would look fabulous for the kings!

Thought I would post something since i am currently sick and my throat hurts to even breath :')

hope you guys like them and ignore the shoes of archer's I messed up. Which ones your favorite wear?

[foxychaosstarlight]

Beauty and the Beast

Vampire!Silco x Fem!Original character - NSFW! | MDN

Warnings: relationship development, age gap, attempted rape, virginity loss, peeping, gentle sex, blow job, hand job, bloodplay, bites kink, daddy kink, loud sex, unprotected sex, sex with a pregnant woman, alcohol, smoking, death of animals.

This is my first fic, please don’t judge strictly :) I don’t yet know how to do this correctly, but I have indicated here all the warnings in advance also for chapter 2 (in which everything will be the hottest😉) Chapter 1 has 9 sub-chapters. I dedicate this fic to @sweatandwoe, who pushed me to create it. Thank you, I probably would never have decided on my own! Enjoy reading, my friends!

Chapter 1: Their fates

1.

Silco was ancient. So ancient than empires and states were born and died before his eyes, cities were seething with life and crumbled to dust. He didn’t remember how he came into this world, didn’t know his parents or creators - he only remembered that when he opened his eyes, he saw the white–hot sun beating unusually into his eyes, felt the heat of the sand sparkling with restrained gold on his icy skin - and thirst. But he didn't felt the thirst of a desert traveler dreaming of a sip of life-giving transparent moisture. No, his thirst couldn't be quenched with water. He wanted blood.

Silco drank the first human who came to get water in a small shed, standing far from the building site of a huge pyramid. Judging by his appearance and clothes, the man was a worker – young, but exhausted by the bright scorching sun and hard work. Silco didn’t understand where such an idea came from, especially now, when all his senses were sharpened to the limit in the desire to quench the burning thirst for human blood, and nevertheless, he plunged sharp white fangs into the neck of the unfortunate, tried to give him as little pain as possible. It all lasted for a few seconds – the young man went limp and quiet, in an instant losing almost all the blood that nature had given him.

Silco breathed a shuddering sigh of relief and gently lowered the lifeless body to the sandy floor. Now that his gnawing hunger was satisfied, he could look around and devote time to himself, and not to indulging an insane thirst that had come from nowhere. There were no people nearby – the young man didn’t make a sound when Silco grabbed him and sank his fangs – only somewhere in the distance, many other workers were pulling heavy blocks of limestone under the loud commands of the master. Silco picked up a small copper mirror covered with white dust lying on an unsightly chest, casually smeared it with his palm, erasing a dust, and stared intently at the reflection. From the sparkling golden-red depths, a young, thin guy looked at him – hardly older than the worker lying breathless on the floor now. Very dark, almost black thick hair lying in ragged strands on the forehead and cheekbones, descending from behind to the neck. The high forehead, the beautiful curve of black eyebrows. The long thin nose with narrow nostrils still fluttering excitedly. The clear shape of beautiful thin dark lips, now coloured with blood. A thin scarlet trickle flowed to his small chin, and Silco quickly licked it off. The high sharp cheekbones, the sunken cheeks. And two almond-shaped blue eyes, sparkling with cold even through the warm pinkish-golden shimmer of copper, with still slightly dilated black pupils, which gradually calmed down and returned to normal. The bright, almost luminous coldness of the eyes and the scarlet shimmer of blood on the lips, enhanced by the gold of the mirror, were the two brightest spots in the reflection. Silco wiped a blood from his lips with his thumb, thoughtfully licked it and... what's his name? Do I have a name? The young man looked into the mirror again, peering into the depths. "Silco" - flashed in the subconscious. "My name is Silco."

2.

The man abruptly opened his eyes. "Silco. My name is Silco." - it was beating in the awakened consciousness like a red pulsating dot. Instantly flashing mismatched eyes couldn't distinguish a single iota in the pitch darkness surrounding him so tightly that it became difficult to breathe. Breathe?...Yes, that's right, I need to open the lid, he thought. In the darkness, he groped for a pair of handles and pushed back the heavy lid of the black marble coffin.

Silсo closed his eyes, tilted his head slightly back and took a deep breath, allowing the damp, dank air of the basement to fill his lungs, which had stuck together for a long time. Feeling the gaze on him, the vampire opened his eyelids and met the look of the black intelligent beady bird eyes.

- Hello, old friend. Have you been waiting for me? You knew when the moment would come, right? - Silco asked softly, looking at the big coal-black raven sitting at the head of the coffin.

The bird spread its huge blue-black wings and croaked quietly.

- Of course you waited. And I'm glad to see you. – the man replied to the bird greeting.

Silco slowly got up from his stone bed and only now felt how much his body temperature contrasted even with the noticeably cool air of the damp basement. He touched his hand – it was icy, like the marble in which he had spent a hundred years of hibernation - for someone an eternity, but for him it was comparable to a night's sleep after a long day. The raven flew up on his shoulder and lightly patted a black strand that had fallen out of the perfectly coiffed hairstyle.

- Yes, you're right. I need to clean myself up. - Silco smirked and headed for the exit to the surface.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

let me be your ruler.3

Warnings: guns, dubcon, noncon, oral.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (dark!mob!) Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You grow desperate.

Note: So... yeah, another long ass part and yet this story is gonna keep going forever. 🤡

Anyways, I’m excited for this and hope you are too.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You wiped your hand with the cloth, the cum cooling in a sickly layer across your palm. The same daze washed over you as that morning after the party. Your ears pricked as you listened to Peter in the next room; a faucet turned on and off and you heard a drawer snap closed. He sighed as he strode back through to the bedroom, fixing his belt as he smirked at you.

“Princess,” he came closer and pointed to the corner where a tall hamper stood hidden beside a sleek black dresser. “You haven’t even given me a chance to give you the grand tour.”

You backed away from him and went to dump the cloth in the tall basket. Like everything else in the room, it was ornate and ridiculously fancy. You wondered if his toilet paper was even embossed with his initials. The man, as you were realising, never did anything half-assed.

“Come on,” he waved you to him and held his arm out. “It’s a big place and I want you to feel… at home.”

You stopped short and stared at him. “I don’t… Can I just go--”

“We’re not done,” he snapped his fingers and tapped his toe, “Be good, Princess, and I might just send you off before dark.”

You inhaled and held your breath as you crossed to him. He wrapped his arm around you, his hand on your lower back, and ushered you to the door. He pulled it open and you stepped out into the hallway. He patted your ass as he pointed you onward with his other hand.

“Guest rooms,” he pointed to three doors along the airy hall, “A reading room at the end.” He led you along, “Just around the corner, my office, I guess you’d call it.” He spoke casually as if having a dozen room was hardly extravagant. “At the front of the house, the sunroom. there’s a nice balcony overlooking the yard. You can spend the whole day out in the sun.”

He squeezed your ass as you hesitated and he pointed out several more bedrooms and rooms meant for little more than sitting and admiring the fine furnishing. As you reached the top of the stairs, he urged you down, and followed as he hummed in approval of each step you took.

“I like those jeans, princess,” he said as he caught up to you at the bottom, “But I’m not looking for a jeans girl.”

You faced him and your nostrils flared. You rubbed your palm against the denim. What happened in the bedroom flashed through your head and your breath caught in your throat. You cleared it away as anger flowed through your veins.

“Well, I wear jeans so that’s too bad,” you said rigidly. “Isn’t it?”

He chuckled and brought his fingertips to your cheek. He caressed your skin and gazed into your eyes.

“You’ll wear what I say or nothing at all,” he purred dangerously, “My guests wouldn’t mind either way.”

Your lips parted and you recoiled from his touch. You crossed your arms and glanced around the foyer. You heard muffled voices, a low rumble from another room. You bit back your resent and raised your head. “Fine.” You uttered.

“You’ll love the pool, princess,” he pointed you to the left, “Just through here.” 

He took you through the front room with its expensive sofas and armchairs, an artificial fireplace that took up half the wall, the front windows that looked out into the finely curated garden, and the bar curled against the back just before the archway into the next. 

A long kitchen of pristine whites and pale silvers. The rear wall was almost entirely transparent and a pair of sliding doors opened up into the backyard. Peter showed you out onto the mosaic plateau that coiled out around the vast pool, a hot tub swirling in the corner opposite a rocky grotto. It was like watching some indulgent special on the entertainment channel yet completely unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life.

“There’s a sauna in the basement as well,” he tickled your spine, “And anything you need, I can get.”

You looked at him. He winked and ran his tongue between his lips. You felt out of place in your jersey tee and jeans, the sneakers you wore for errands worn out and scuffed. And you were disjointed; as much as you didn’t belong, you didn’t want to be there.

“Come on, let’s go check on the boys,” he grabbed your hand and you slowly acquiesced.

Back through the sliding doors, your soft soles squeaked on the marble and you went to the right. You head an odd clack as you passed through the dining room with seating for at least a dozen, and through to the second room at the front of the house. The noise was louder as you entered as Steve leaned over the felt and squinted.

Bucky turned as he held a cue and his cheek twitched as he sighted you beside Peter. You fidgeted and the man beside you held you tighter as his hand rested on your hip.

“You two look busy,” he scoffed.

Steve sank his shot and stood. “You told us to stick around,” he raised his brows, “You’re not exactly a great host, Parker.”

“No? You’re playing on my table, sitting around on my couch, eating my food,” Peter’s fingers tapped your hip. “Which isn’t cheap given your pal has a bottomless pit in him.”

Bucky chuckled and turned his cue. His eyes lingered on you before they met Peter’s.

“Well, we’ve been running around cleaning up your messes.” Bucky intoned.

“You been paying your debt.” Peter rebuffed. “And you know that you need me as much as I need you.”

Steve cleared his throat and nodded at you. His jaw clenched and Peter glanced in your direction. He turned to you and brought his hands up to cradled your face. 

“Do me a favour, princess,” he placed a peck on your lips, “Go find something to do.”

You stared at him dumbly. Do what? You peered at the far doorway and thought of just walking out the front door. He chuckled and his hands slid down to your shoulders. 

“You won’t make it past the gate.” He warned, “Now go on.”

He tugged on your tee and released you. He turned to the other men as Steve lined up a second shot. You huffed and strode past the table into the foyer. You neared the bottom of the stairs, trying to remember where everything was. The men’s voices carried through as you stepped up on the first stair.

“You help us with Tony, we’re even,” Bucky said. “But you keep stringing us along and you’re going down with him.”

“You won’t get to him without me,” Peter growled, “We both know that.”

You shivered and climbed up the stairs. You shouldn’t listen, you were in deep enough. You had no idea what the men were up to or why they were after Tony, but you really didn’t want to find out the details. You only had to bide your time until Peter let you go. 

He was going to let you go, right?

✨

Peter found you in what he called the reading room. It was more a small library. It smelled of paper and leather bindings. You were restless at first, skimming the spine of the books, and finally picked out a classic you once read in high school. You opened it but didn’t read, instead staring at the font and trying to think of how exactly you’d ended up there.

As Peter came in, you closed the book and sat up. He seemed amused and stayed in the doorway, hands in his pocket as he admired you. 

“Keep reading,” he said, “Don’t mind me at all, princess.”

“It’s…” You started but smothered your voice. Arguing had gotten you nowhere and if you could keep him placid, he might just let you sit in peace a little longer. “Okay.”

You opened the book again. This time, you focused and read each line slowly. You remembered why you hadn’t liked the book in your teenage years. It was dry and the protagonist was so wrapped up in his own voice, he seemed ridiculously tone deaf and detached from any genuine thought.

You sensed Peter moving in your peripheral. He went to the window and then paced along a shelf of books. As he neared, you pretended not to notice. You shifted as you felt his warmth and turned the page. You did your best not to notice as he knelt on the floor but lowered the book to your lap as he pushed your legs apart.

“What the hell--”

“Shhh,” he rubbed your thighs, “Keep reading, princess.”

You gaped at him as he pushed his fingers under the book and nudged it up. “What are you--”

“Just relax,” he slithered as he lifted the book and your hands followed to keep hold of it. “Keep reading.”

You squirmed and found it hard to keep your arms up. He picked at your fly and you tried to close your legs but they met his sides. He tutted as he unbuttoned your jeans and pushed the zipper down. He pushed up the hem of your tee and kissed your stomach as his fingers curled under the waist of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Peter,” you gasped and lowered the book so that it collided with his head. “Stop!”

He reached up blindly and moved the book back into place before your eyes. His fingers slid around to the side of your jeans and he grazed his teeth against your skin. He bit down and you yelped.

He tugged on your jeans and jerked you roughly. “Come on, princess,” he pulled your pants again, as if to lift you from the seat. “Don’t you want yours?”

You trembled and planted your feet. You raised your pelvis uncomfortably as he kept yanking on your jeans. He slid them down your thighs with your panties and you dropped down heavily. You snaked your hand down to cover yourself and he swept it aside. He leaned back on his heels and gazed up at you.

He rubbed your thighs and pinched. “Princess…” his voice sank deep into your chest. “We both know you want it.”

“Peter, please, I want to go--”

“I like that one,” he looked at the spine of the book, “Read to me.”

“I…” You hissed as he pulled your jeans further down your legs. You repositioned the books and sniffed as he rolled the denim to your ankles and tore off your sneakers in a single swipe. He moved you in the chair and you whimpered. “Peter--”

“Read!” He demanded as he framed your pelvis with his hands. “I wanna hear your voice.”

Your thighs tensed as he bent over your lap and his hot breath tickled your skin. You gulped and blinked at the page. You forced your voice out as the words passed from your lips without understanding. You didn’t follow the story as Peter pressed his mouth to your vee and felt along your folds with his fingertips.

You gasped as he slipped his tongue down over your clit and hummed. Your breath caught and he squeezed your thigh. You reread the same sentence and spoke through gritted teeth. His fingers teased your entrance as he flicked his tongue around your bud. Your words were punctuated by your sharp breaths.

He suckled on your clit and slowly pushed his finger into you. You nearly tore the page as you turned it. Your nails sank into the cover and your feet arched as you pushed against him hungrily. His mouth sent a ripple through you and you hiccuped in surprise as he added another finger.

You lost track of your place and dropped the book against your chest. You threw your head back and moaned. You closed your eyes and gripped the book tightly as Peter urged you to the edge of the seat. He kept his head buried between your legs and curled his fingers. You could hear your arousal as your walls clung to him.

“Oh, god,” you moaned and rocked your hips against him.

He kept on, encouraged by your surrender and you let the book slip down between your side and the chair. You gripped the upholstered arm as your head lolled back and forth in ecstasy. Your nerves stormed and bounced off each other until finally the coil snapped and searing heat exploded in your veins. 

You whined through your climax and panted at the ceiling as Peter urged you on. Your eyes slowly opened as his fingers slowed and he pulled away from your cunt reluctantly. Your heart beat wildly and you lifted your head as he kneaded your thighs.

You swore as a figure stood in the open doorway. Peter hadn’t shut the door and you’d been too distracted by him to notice. You grabbed the book and covered your lap with it as Peter looked over his shoulder. Bucky grinned as he leaned against the frame.

“Just came to tell you we’re off.” He said, “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Jesus Christ,” you pushed Peter away and bent to pull your jeans over you. You crossed your legs as he turned to face the other man.

“Well, then go,” Peter snipped.

Bucky chuckled and pushed himself straight. “See ya, Pete.” His eyes flitted over to you. “Sweetheart.”

“Go!” Peter hissed and Bucky waved him off as he turned back down the hall.

You watched him go, embarrassed but tingly in the afterglow of your orgasm. Peter smoothed back the strands of hair that had fallen down his forehead. He grinned as he looked down at you and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and dropped it beside him.

“We didn’t even finish chapter one,” he drew the jeans away from you and turned the book over. “I’m hooked already.”

✨

You were in shock as you stood in the elevator of your building. Time fractured as the hours passed. You didn’t think Peter would ever let you go but when he did, you barely understood what was happening. He helped you back into your jeans, though your panties had disappeared. Then, as you walked gingerly, he led you back down through the foyer and to his car.

You didn’t remember his search but he dropped your phone into your lap and pushed your purse against your thigh. You stared at the windshield and braced yourself as he drove through the gates. The ride was short, or lost to your frazzled mind. He kissed you goodbye, you remembered that; deeply, longingly. Then, a final warning. 

“Wear a skirt tomorrow,” he cooed, “Six o’clock, princess.”

You nodded to appease him. And then it all blurred again and the metal door slid open and you stepped out onto your floor. You fished out your keys, your phone still clutched in your other hand. It was late, Halle would be home soon, if not already.

The apartment was dark and you felt invisible as you blended in with the shadows and went to your room. You undressed, the denim rough against your flesh. You groaned as your core pulsed and your sensitive clit thrummed. 

You crawled into bed, naked. Even the blankets made you squirm. You were on edge yet exhausted. You stared at the ceiling and let the toll of the day set in. You were dragged down into the dark, your eyelids sagged, and your limbs were heavy. You heard yourself snoring as you succumbed to the night.

When you woke, it was light again. The day before felt like a dream. You peeked out into the hall. The apartment was quiet. You grabbed a towel and covered yourself to sneak into the bathroom. The whine of the faucet awoke you fully and the hot water stripped away the remnants of yesterday.

You inhaled the hot steam as you dried yourself and once more swept the towel around your body. You went out to the kitchen and loaded the coffee machine. Somehow you had to get your head together and do some work. It was Monday. That meant you couldn’t get distracted by the chaos that had erupted in your personal life.

You winced as you heard Halle’s door. She yawned as she entered the kitchen.

“Hey,” she said. “Man, I was so late last night, you were asleep when I got home.”

“Oh yeah? That bad?” The scent of coffee filled your head and chest.

“Yeah, fucking asshole had me auditing my own reports all night,” she grumbled. “Well, how was your day?”

You stared at her. You turned and got a mug from the cupboard. “Lazy.” You lied.

“So… what happened with Peter?” She asked coyly.

You sniffed as you spun back and watched the drip of the machine. You shrugged. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? You went on one date?” She snorted, “You really do make the most of things.”

You glanced at her darkly and grabbed the carafe. You poured yourself a coffee. “Tell me again, was it worth it fucking your boss?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, are you seeing him again?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Ugh, but he’s so cute and so rich!”

“Rich? And how do you know that?”

“Oh, I saw that watch he was wearing.” She said, “It wasn’t cheap.”

“I see, so I should like him because he’s got good taste or because he’s loaded?”

“Jeez, what’s wrong with you?” She scowled. “I’m just tryna have fun.”

You sighed in exasperation. “There’s nothing wrong, Hal, I just don’t need you poking around in my personal life. You’ve done enough already.”

“I was trying to help you. I mean maybe a ‘hey, thanks Halle for getting me a date.’”

“I don’t have time for this. Or you. I have work--”

“Work, work, work,” she sneered, “That’s always your excuse.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell her everything about Peter; how pushy he was; how shady he was; how you were terrified of him and whatever it was he did. About the men he surrounded himself with and the gun under his jacket. But you didn’t.

“No, it’s called responsibility, Hal,” you snapped and snatched up your mug.

You left her in the kitchen and as you got closer to your bedroom, your heart sank lower and lower. What was happening to your life? Everything had been in order and suddenly, it was all fucked up.

You shut your door harshly and set your coffee on your desk. Your phone sat on the corner and lit up. It was a text from Peter reminding you of his last words; ‘pick you up at 6’. You sat and stared at the message. Six. You had until six to figure this all out.

✨

The subway ride to the station was the longest of your life. Each stop made your heart leap and as you got closer to your destination, you felt sick. It was your last resort. You didn’t think it would get to this but you couldn’t think of any other way out.

You almost felt guilty as you climbed the steps to the station doors. The memory of Peter’s touch sent chills through you. He was gentle and intoxicating but it didn’t change who he was. You pushed through the doors and looked around. A flurry of activity rushed around you; officers escorted criminals and stopped to chat with each other as others waited in the crowded chairs for their turn at the counter.

You sat, uneasy and anxious. You watched others approach the desk and speak to one of the officers. Most left looking disappointed and you felt less certain as your turn grew closer. When you got up and greeted the round faced officer, he smiled and asked your purpose.

“Um, well, I…” You looked at him badge; Officer Leeds. “I don’t really know what exactly I need to do but… I have someone who won’t leave me alone.”

“Oh? Like a stalker? An ex?” He asked.

“No, not exactly but I, uh, keep telling him to go away and he… won’t.” You frowned. “I just don’t want him around.”

“Okay, well, we can file a report and go from there.” He searched around and pulled out a set of papers. “Come with me.” He led you away from the counter and to a smaller desk. He sat and waved you down across from him. “We’ll start with your details.”

He went over each space; name, address, phone number… By the time you were done all that, you were nervous and twitchy.

“And you know this person who is bothering you?” He asked.

“Yes, kind of,” you uttered. “His name is Peter.” You gulped. “Parker.”

He nodded and wrote down the name. “And what actions has he taken that have made it necessary for you to file a report against him?”

“We… I went on one date with him. And after, I told him I didn’t want to see him again. I stopped messaging, I blocked him, and I thought he got the point but then he shows up at my apartment and…” You took a breath, “ He had a gun. He took it out, he pointed it at me, and then he made me go with him and…” Your eyes were glossy as you thought of what happened next; of what Peter had done. “He wouldn’t let me go until…” You shuddered. You couldn’t say it. “He just kept me there for hours.”

“But he did end up letting you go?”

“Yeah but… not right away. I didn’t even wanna go with him. And… he had a gun.” You repeated. “Don’t you understand?”

“So, you went on a date with a guy and you're having second thoughts?” He asked.

“No, he won’t leave me alone,” you insisted.

“Alright, well, I got all this down. We’ll process the report and if he comes around again you let us know and we can add an addendum.”

“A report? What am I gonna do with a piece of paper?”

“These things are complicated, ma’am. You see, we need to document a pattern of predatory and harassing behaviour before we can apply for any sort of order against him.” He held out his hands. “All you can do is keep a log of everything he does here on out.”

“So what, I walk out of here and… he shows up again and…” You rubbed your chin. “There’s nothing else?”

He shook his head. He looked away and you felt like breaking something. 

“Is there someone else I can talk to? Someone higher up?” You hated how the question made you sound but you checked your phone and it was already close to four.

“Ma’am, we really don’t have the time to be--”

“So is that a no?” You interrupted.

He stopped and took a breath. He stood and smoothed out his shirt across his stomach. He was short and chubby and at a glance, you would say he looked friendly. He was anything but as his face fell and he stomped away with a grumble.

He returned shortly after and crossed his arms. “Come on. Captain says he’ll give you two minutes.”

You stood and followed him around the pen. He took you to an office separate from the rest and pointed you inside. You entered with a knock on the frame and a man with thinning dark curls looked up from the file on his desk. He stood as he welcomed you in with a gesture and waited until you sat to do the same.

The plate on his desk read Cpt. Hogan and the badge on his chest marked his rank.

“So,” he leaned back in his chair and took the stapled papers. “You have an admirer.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes. They weren’t taking you seriously. You clutched the wooden arms of the chair. “I have told this man to stay away from me and all he has done is threaten me with a gun and dragged me out of my home.”

“Physically?” He asked. “Like he physically forced you out?” He looked over the report.

“He had a gun, what was I supposed to do?”

“And you didn’t call us sooner…”

You shook your head. You stood and pulled your purse higher up on your shoulder. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Wait,” he said as you made to turn away. “Look, there isn’t much I can do beyond this report. It’s just the way it is. A lot of paperwork, not much action. But,” he stood and opened a drawer. “These are my details.” He grabbed a pen and scribbled on the back of the card. “That’s my personal number. You take that and you give me a call if you need me. I’ll look over this case myself.”

You took the card and stared at it. ‘Captain Harold Joseph Hogan’. You turned it in your hand and looked at him. “Thank you.” You said quietly.

“Hey, look, I know the city. It’s scary. There’s a lot of men you can’t trust. Shady characters.” He neared and followed you to the door. “Now, you take care of yourself and remember, you can call me.”

“Thank you, again.” You tucked the card in your pocket.

“Here, I’ll show you out,” he waited for you to walk through the door and tailed you. 

You passed Ned at the front counter dealing with a new citizen. Happy stepped around you and opened the front door for you. You stepped out with a smile and as you were about to thank the captain again, you tripped and caught yourself on the long door handle. Down by the curb was a familiar car and leaning against it, a familiar figure.

You looked at Captain Hogan. “That’s him.” You murmured.

“Happy,” Peter stood and took long strides towards the steps, “How are you, Captain?”

“Parker,” Hogan shook Peter’s hand and you bit your lip to keep it from trembling. “You know how it is. Not easy cleaning up the city.”

“No,” you sputtered, “This can’t--” You tried to sidestep Peter and Hogan latched onto your arm.

“Honey,” he lowered his voice, “I got you a ride home. Safer than the train.”

“Please,” you begged, “Please. How--”

“Now go on,” he let you go as Peter grabbed your other hand, “You got my number.”

Peter tugged on you until you stumbled down the steps. You looked back as Hogan stood by the precinct doors and watched with a smile. You were dragged to the car and the door opened, nearly hitting you. You flinched and look at the leather interior.

“Peter…” You breathed.

“Get in, princess,” he said firmly as he let go of your hand and jabbed your arm painfully. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked.

“Because this is my city and I own everyone and everything in it.” He growled. “Now you get in the car so we can talk.”

Your eyes burned and your throat constricted. You sat and he slammed the door. He got in on the other side as you stared at the dashboard. He startled you as he snatched your phone and you tried to take it back. He slapped your hand away and tucked your cell into his jacket.

He reached over gruffly and buckled your seat belt. You reeled as he started the car and pulled out into traffic. You were shaking badly and could barely breath as your heartbeat thumped in your ears. You didn’t know where he was taking you; you’d never gone this way before.

He stopped in an alley. You could smell piss and old cigarettes. The seat belt snapped back as he hit the button and grabbed your arm. He turned you to him and you felt cold metal under your chin. The barrel of the gun prodded above your throat.

“I told you, princess, I don’t play games.” He snarled. “And I don’t give second chances. I rarely give warnings.”

“I’m...sorry,” you were frantic and your breath came so shallow you could barely speak. “Please.”

“I’ve been good to you. I only want to be good to you.” He bit out. “But you keep pushing and pushing and pushing.”

“It was a mistake.” You quivered. “I didn’t-- I’m afraid.”

“Mistake?” He repeated. “A mistake?”

He pressed the gun harder under your chin. You grasped his wrist as you stared into his dark eyes; dilated and dangerous. He shook his head and his jaw squared.

“Princess…” He muttered and squeezed.

You closed your eyes, ready for the end, but all that came was a click. He drew the gun away from your throat and sat back. He snickered and you fell against your seat. Your lashes fluttered and you watched him as he checked the chamber of his pistol. He tutted and felt around in his jacket. He loaded it and tucked it away.

“Looks like I make mistakes too,” he drawled, “But I don’t make them twice.” 

He smacked the steering wheel and his knuckles turned white as he curled his fingers. He started the car as you hugged yourself and withheld a sob.

“Do you get me now, princess?”

You nodded. Your eyes blurred with tears and you quickly swiped them away as he reversed out of the alleyway. “I get it.” You sniffed. “I get it.”

[earthfire-75]

You Send Me Flying

Chapter Six

Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta’d by @lady-jane-revisited. Based on The Dirt movie, as I don’t have the book yet. Warning: language.

I offered to go without hesitation, so long as I could be as far away from Tommy as possible. As I made my way down the stairs, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t shake the image of her from my dream last night, in that lingerie and how she made me hers. I tried to stifle these stupid feelings, especially the sensation of my blood rushing, and reminded myself that I would get in, get out, and go back upstairs. After knocking on the door, I heard the locks unlatching, and she opened up the door until the chain stopped her.

“Oh Mick, good morning!” she proclaimed with surprise and excitement in her voice.

The words were there, but they were trapped in my voice box. Even though I could see a little bit inside, I could see that she was wearing nothing but a towel tightly wrapped around her body. Her hair drenched and clinging to her face.

“Here, I’ll unlock the door. You can come in, just let me just get something on,” she quickly shut to unlatch the chain and then reopened it, welcoming me into her domain.

She mentioned that a fresh pot of coffee was ready and that I could help myself to the fruit bowl on the table. I gave her a quiet thank you as she headed back to her room. I caught a glimpse of her legs, still wet and so soft looking. I shook my head and distracted myself by looking over at the fabrics that were scattered about in the living room. There was an interesting mixture of her work being both organized and disorderly as I took in what I saw. I checked out the sketches on the couch and slid my fingers across the fabrics for my stage clothes; she was really talented.

She returned, “Sorry, did you need something?”

When I turned back to her, my heart rate increased. She stood there wearing an Aerosmith shirt and red dolphin shorts. Her wet hair was dripping onto her shirt, causing parts of her covered chest to become slightly transparent. She glanced down at herself, she felt self conscious as she pulled down on her shirt even though she was clothed.

She chuckled slightly in embarrassment, “Um… I haven’t done laundry in a couple days. This is all I have that’s clean right now. So what did you need?”

I stepped closer to her, she hardly moved a muscle, save for her eyes as they widened. I started deeply into her eyes and she did the same with me. I felt her hands on my waist, sliding up my torso and resting on my shoulders even as uncertainty shone in her wide eyes. My own hands wrapped around her middle, bringing her closer to my body. Our lips were just inches away from touching, all we could feel was the heat of our breaths. Our faces leaned in as we shared a soft kiss. Her arms slithered around my neck, her fingers burying themselves into my hair.

My grip around her tightened as I felt myself becoming hard, though she didn’t seem to back away. Our lips parted for a moment to allow us to take in a little bit of air, only for them to collide once more. One of my hands reached down to caress her supple thigh, my fingers centimeters away from touching her rear. I could feel her mouth opening up tentatively, silently giving me permission to lather her tongue and so I did. The vibrations of our moans rippled throughout our bodies and I grunted when her teeth bit down on my lower lip, pulling away from me as I moaned. I gave her thigh a slap and she quietly mewled, burying her face into my neck.

“Holy shit!”

We released each other and backed away as though nothing had happened. We turned to see, to our horror, Tommy standing in the open doorway completely awestruck with his jaw hanging low and his eyes wide open. He looked as if he saw the most terrifying sight in his young life. Well one thing’s for sure, his life was about to end indefinitely as I quickly ran after him back up the stairs, leaving poor Y/N/ behind. Tommy’s scream practically woke up the entire apartment complex as I chased after him. Nikki simply stood there and enjoyed watching the chase, casually following us to the shared bedroom. I was quick to grab the drummer by the wrist, but not quick enough to get the rest of him since he threw his towel in my face and swiftly locked himself in the bathroom.

“Open up this door Tommy! Open it you motherfucker!” I shouted, violently banging.

He was panic-striken, “No fucking way man! Not a chance!”

“You open this goddamn door right now!”

Vince was well awake, “What the fuck is happening right now? Mick what are you-”

I was too busy to acknowledge him, especially as he walked over.

Vince looked at me, “What is happening?”

Tommy was about to say something, but that only caused me to hit the door even harder, hoping to drown out the description of what he saw. There was no way I was going to let this come out, and from Tommy of all people! I was suddenly held back by my other bandmates. They told me to knock it and to chill out, that it was too early for this and that I’d end up waking the neighbors. As if they really cared what a bunch of denizens would say.

Tommy finally got his chance, “Mick made out with her! I saw them!”

Vince and Nikki held on tighter, refusing to let me go until I calmed down. I was like a bull ready to charge, but they refused to let me go, so I just yelled: “You fucker! I’m going to kill you!”

“Mick! Tommy! That’s enough!” We heard the familiar voice yell from the living room. “Mick stop!”

Like a trained animal, I heard her call and I stopped dead in my tracks. I could feel the strain of my muscles as a result of being held, my throat felt sore and dry, and my anger slowly started to dissipate. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I slowly turned my neck to see her. Nikki and Vince backed away from me and I heard the bathroom door open, however she hurried to move my line of sight away from Tommy, holding my face in her hands. Her expression was a blend of anger, shame, and discomfort

“Mick, calm down. It’s okay.” she pleaded, her thumbs brushing my cheeks.

I could feel a sense of stillness when she spoke to me like that. I lost control of myself and she was here to bring me back to a more stable state, “I… uh, I...”

She held onto me, “Mick, just don’t do that again. The first show is coming up and you all need to work with each other.” She released me and marched over to Tommy, pointing a finger at him, “And you, enough with your jokes!”

Tommy nodded like a frightened child, gulping down his fear, hoping that this would all end soon and he could get himself dressed. She never took her eyes off mine as she addressed Tommy and Vince to get dressed. I could hear the singer complain about not getting his shower yet, but they both went back to their rooms. Nikki stood there smirking like an idiot.

“What are you looking at, bass player?” I snapped, though not as heated as I looked over at him.

He shook his head, still with that stupid smirk plastered on his face. “Nothin’, man.” And went back into the kitchen.

She leaned in and kissed me softly when everyone had gone, pulling back before it could turn heated and took my hand in hers, leading me to the couch. I moved slower than usual and winced slightly in pain, hiding it when she looked back at me with concern. We reached the couch and she instructed me to turn around with my back facing her. I opened my mouth to argue, but she gave me the same look I usually give the guys when they annoy the hell out of me. I closed my mouth and turned around for her.

She reached under my jacket and shirt, carefully pressing her palms against my back as she began to massage the muscles. I bit my lip to keep from making any sounds, but as she worked out the tension and aches, I let out a long deep moan I hadn’t meant to. Her hands were still, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn back around to see her expression, but I could hear her lightly shaking breath.

“Mick...”It was a breathless whisper of my name from her lips.

“Ok, I love you both and I’m happy for you. But, please, no sex on my couch, man!” Nikki laughed as he barged into the moment.

She slid her hands down my back, sending shivers down my spine as she stood up, just in time for the other two to come out of their rooms.

“Alright guys, let’s go get your boots!”

@nature-and-music @lady-jane-revisited @mickmarstookmyheart @sophiazeppelinchick @macy0

[drarryruinedme7]

kinktober, day 22. pogonophilia

to my darling @dragontamerdame this isn’t too far into the kink but I hope you’ll like it all the same! I know I share Draco’s passion for a bearded man 😏 😂 thanks to sweet @chuckalart for the beta💖.

Draco didn’t love Ministry functions.

He despised the level of falsity and grandeur they tried to emanate. Fake smiles, unfriendly handshakes, fake compliments… golden colours everywhere, fancy ballroom parties, expensive charity events.

Yet, he had to attend every single one of them. He knew as much; he had to regain at least a bit of credibility if he wanted anyone to consider giving him a job in the wizarding world.

“Morgana, when do you reckon they’ll stop labelling our clothes with our names at these parties? It’s embarrassing,” Pansy whispered to Draco, scrunching her nose up.

She was right, of course. It was, embarrassing, but they had to. For their future. 

Then, the absolute worst person of them all walked up to the stage, smiling brilliantly, eyes green and vivid and intense.

Draco fumed. Pansy chuckled. “You’re all red in the face, Draco.”

“Shut up,” he hissed as he felt his face burn up even more. 

“Oh, don’t worry I won’t tell anyone your dirty secret.”

People around them started clapping their hands; Draco hadn’t heard a single word Potter had said but joined the clapping.

“What are you talking about?” 

“That you can’t resist a man with a beard,” Pansy whispered back. 

“I hate to repeat myself but, what the hell are you talking about?!” Draco’s voice had risen enough that a couple of people next to them turned to scowl. One even shushed them. 

“It’s Harry Potter’s turn!” they hushed. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake, who cares! But Draco knew better than to voice his thoughts. He mumbled an apology as Pansy giggled.

Actually, the girl had a point. Draco sighed loudly as he returned his gaze to Potter. Ever since Draco knew he was gay, he could see a pattern in his partners’ choice: they were all tanned, contrasting light eyes and dark hair, and… yes, bearded.

Fuck, but Draco’s knees went absurdly weak for a man with a tidy and cured beard. Which, for the record, Potter sported.

He had the tidiest, most alluring-looking beard and Draco was weak for him. Had wanked on thoughts of Potter nudging his face into Draco’s neck, scratching him with his beard, tickling his way down Draco’s chest, finally reddening Draco’s arsecheek with the scratches of his beard around Draco’s rim.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was getting steadily harder and what was worse, he couldn’t stop staring at Potter who had finished his speech and was now worryingly approaching Draco.

“Right, I’ll go fetch some hot meat,” Pansy said, pinching Draco’s side. “And by hot meat, I mean a hot guy who will fuck my senses out tonight.”

Draco shook his head— his best friend could hardly surprise him anymore. He did feel that bit betrayed when he realised he was left alone in the company of said Harry Potter. Damn perceptive women.  

“So, Malfoy, two years later and still all you can do is glare at me all through my speech. I’m flattered,” Potter purred, batting his eyelashes.

Draco could feel his cheeks getting hotter and hotter and he damned his milky, transparent-to-feelings skin. 

“I don’t glare at you,” Draco replied, scoffing. Potter chuckled and Draco allowed himself to smirk in response. “I merely… ogle you.”

“Ogle me, do you?” Potter asked, amused and was that a hint of… curiosity? In his eyes.

Someone came up from behind Potter, tapped his finger on his shoulder, and started waxing poetic to him. Draco rolled his eyes —trying to be subtle— and excused himself. 

Potter found him not even five minutes later. Draco was leaning on a wall in a secluded corner, a flute of champagne in hand. 

“I’m sorry for the interruption,” Potter said, flashing his white teeth at Draco. “But I was rather interested in you ogling me.”

“You’re an attention whore, Potter,” Draco said, raising his chin. “Everyone looks at you, but it’s never enough, is it? Came to gloat to the former Death Eater.”

Potter’s eyes hardened before they cleared again and he smiled, leaving Draco breathless. “You’re not only a former Death Eater, Draco. I hope you know that’s not how I think of you.”

“No? How is that you think of me, then?” Draco asked, feeling rather bold. His gaze dropped to Potter’s beard. This close up, Draco could see flecks of red sprinkled in between the black, a couple of hairs were even white. It made him look even hotter.

“Usually—” Potter started, lowering his voice. It made Draco’s gaze flick up. “I picture you naked, sprawled underneath me, begging.”

Draco’s heart lept somewhere around his stomach as his cock jumped valiantly. Had he heard correctly? Potter snorted and Draco became painfully aware of the stupid look he must be sporting right then, mouth gaping. 

“Right,” Draco said, trying to regain composure. If Potter wanted to play, Draco was in. “Then why not Disapparate me to your house? There are just a couple of things I can already think we could do together.” Potter’s eyes lit with desire and Draco felt emboldened: he raised a hand to touch his beard, trailing his fingers on Potter’s jaw, marvelling in how surprisingly soft it felt.

“It’s so… soft. And tidy. How is it that your hair is a bird’s nest, instead, Potter?” Draco hadn’t meant to ask it but the words escaped him before he could think twice.

Potter smirked, the bastard, and he leaned in, breath ghosting over Draco’s lips. After a second, he grazed his chin along Draco’s jaw, reaching his earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. Goosebumps erupted in every part of Draco’s body at the sharp contact— it felt like fire had just touched him. 

“Oh, Merlin,” he mumbled as Potter’s lips travelled down his neck and his beard grazed Draco’s collarbones. He’d be embarrassed about the way his knees buckled if it weren’t for the way Potter caught him, pressing him against the wall. 

“Already so far gone?” Potter asked against Draco’s neck. The feeling of both his beard and his breath on Draco’s skin was maddening enough that Draco found himself mewling and begging, “Yes, oh, P-Potter, I—”

“Yes?” 

“I really like your beard.”

Good lord, Draco was so pathetic. He was ready to flee and blame it all on Firewhiskey when Potter grabbed Draco’s waist. 

“Let’s see how much you’ll like it against your arse, you brat.” 

Draco almost came in his pants. 

[mae-gi-writes]

Love Letter | Hyunjae (The Boyz Imagine)

Hyunjae Royal! Au x Baker Reader

A/n: Requested by anon! So sorry it took so long but I hope you like it!

--------

You opened the door to your room to come face to face with none other than Lee Jaehyun's smirk.

You scowled, "what?"

"Don't be so rude Y/N," Hyunjae said good-naturedly as you all but stormed into your room. Granted, you were just a mere pastry girl working for the Royal Family at Tiseling and clearly had no right to raise your voice at the prince, but Jaehyun was no prince. He was like a wolf disguised in sheep's clothing: in public he was the perfect portrait of ideal man who knew how to charm, knew how to talk and knew how to twist his words to catch the hearts of his people. In private though, he was just a boy with a voice louder than words and a countenance that was so transparent it was impossible for you to see him as something other than just a guy your age who enjoyed your company.

And maybe a little bit more.

You had been hiding your feelings for so long that it felt like second nature to feel your heart beat slightly faster, to feel heat burn through your cheeks whenever he was close. It was, of course, a secret you planned to carry to your grave, did not give in no matter how much the rest of the girls in the kitchen urged you to deploy your own feelings as though you were part of their fanbase and Jaehyun was a god that they worshipped.

You couldn't. Because as much as you hated to admit it, there was something -- an undeniable little spark -- whenever you hung out. Jaehyun knew how to flirt, and knew how to flirt well.

You felt it. You felt the way his stare implored yours with silent questions you couldn't answer, just because he was royalty and you were nothing in comparison.

"So? What do you want?" You went to sit down on your bed while Jaehyun straightened up from previously leaning onto your desk.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

"And you had to slither into my room to do so?"

"If maids found me outside your door, there'd be lots of questions to be answered," he shot you a reproachful look, "and we don't want that."

Again, a pang of hurt resonated through your ribcage. Of course, your bloodlines weren't meant to interact after all. He was totally out of your league.

It wasn't fair.

You cleared your throat and crossed your arms, aa if protecting yourself from any further painful statements that might be thrown your way, "okay so? I need to start on the cakes for today's banquet so I don't have much time."

"I found this by accident," as he spoke, he pulled out a piece of folded paper from his pant pocket, "I think it might be yours."

Frowning, you grabbed it from him and tried not to linger on how big his hand was in comparison to yours. Beautiful hands. Man's hands.

Those thoughts instantly flew out of your mind the moment your eyes registered the words scribbled inside.

Your mouth went dry. It felt suddenly hard to breathe.

This wasn't just any scribble. This was a love letter.

Your love letter, addressed to the prince.

"Where--" you choked on your own words, "where did you find this?"

"Two maids found it lying in the corridor. I caught them just in time before they could give it to my father."

"What about--"

"They won't talk," his gaze hardened, "I promise you that."

Eyes lowering towards the said love letter, you read through them once more and realized that you had indeed misplaced it a few weeks back, when your heart couldn't take the emotional pain and so you decided to pour it out on this page.

And now, it was poured out to Hyunjae as well.

"So you're going to tell me what was that," he jerked his chin towards the paper you now crumpled in your hands, "about?"

You bit your lip, took a moment to answer, "does it make a difference?"

Hurt flashed across his face, "don't say that."

"It'a true though," you shot back, "what I feel doesn't mean shit to you either way. You're the Prince of Tiseling and you're bound to be betrothed any day. What difference does it make if a mere pastry girl has a crush on you?"

"Because it's you Y/N," Jaehyun lips pressed into a thin line, "it matters because it's you."

The force of his words rendered you silent, though you weren't quite clear as to what he was implying. It didn't make sense that he'd care so much, except...maybe all your imaginary ponderings did mean something.

"Look," Jaehyun advanced forward, closing the gap between your bodies with each step and though your brain screamed at you to get away, your feet were roots attached firmly to the ground, "the truth is that I like you, Y/N. And don't say that I'm speaking nonsense," he raised his voice upon noticing the rising protest on your face, "when I'm around you it's like, you're a friend to me. Not my servant, nor a baker. You treat me like I'm just like you and honestly that's one of the best things that's happened to me."

It was hard to process the weight of his speech, words like 'like' and 'friend' and 'best' bouncing around in your brain like ping pong balls as you struggled to make sense of what he was trying to tell you.

"You--" you bit down onto your lower lip, "can you say that again?"

"What?" Jaehyun stepped even closer, so close his chest merely brushed yours, "that I like you?"

And before you could do anything else, he'd backed you right against the door of your room while his lips pressed down yours, a parched man in search of water, kissing you until your legs turned to jelly and your heart ricocheted through your chest.

You wound your arms around him on instinct, pressing closer and elicting a small gasp when his hands traced the small of your back in a surprisingly gentle manner. Tilting his head to capture your lips at a better angle, he kissed you with passion, with a force that mustered all of the restrained emotion he'd kept locked away in the depths of his chest and that he was finally able to let out in the open, a pandora's box of illegal desires that swirled between your bodies.

You moved together, so comfortably, so naturally that it was hard to imagine how you hadn't done this before. The prince allowed you to come up for air by unlatching his mouth from yours, before settling at your jaw and starting a slow trail of heated butterfly kisses along your cheek while your hands found his hair and twisted through his locks, gaze unfocused towards the ceiling.

"You are going to regret this," you mumbled out, hating how wanton your voice sounded.

"I don't think so," Hyunjae murmured in response. Eyes lifting to yours, you almost teared up from the softness in his gaze. He was looking at you as though you carried the moon in his sky and that made your heart quiver with emotion.

"I don't promise that it's going to be easy," he continues softly aa his hands strokes your cheek, "but it might be worth the risk."

"I don't--I don't know Jaehyun. It's...it's a lot of secrets. A lot of hiding. I don't like hiding."

"I know but I'll tell my parents, okay?" He searched your gaze, "and whether they agree or not, I'm sticking with you, even if that means getting rid of that stupid prince title."

You couldn't help a small bubble of laughter, "it's not stupid."

" 'Tis to me."

There was a moment of silence in which he allowed you to ponder over his words. Jaehyun was right on many counts and to say that you didn't believe him when he said he'd givr up everything was a lie. Jaehyun was impulsive by nature, and what he wanted, he got.

And right now, what he wanted was you.

"Okay," your words were barely a hint of a whisper, "we could try it out."

The most beautiful smike broke across his face then, like a little boy that received his birthday present early, "really?" He perked up, "you mean that?"

"On the condition that you try and talk to your family about it first," you shot him a look, "I don't want to stand between you and your parents. They're family, Jae. You can't throw that away so easily."

"Sure I can."

You scowled and he relented.

"Fine fine, I'll talk to them. I promise," he snuggled into the crook of your neck, whispering, "it won't be easy, though."

"I know."

"But it doesn't matter right? 'Cause you actually like me back."

"Did anyone ever tell you how obnoxious you were?"

"But you like me that way."

"Sure."

A comfortable silence emerged as you enjoyed each other's company. That was before the said prince decided to bring back a topic of the paat that had really piqued his interest in the first place.

"So about that love letter..."

[haravath0t]

A Christmas Heist Pt. IV - A Plan Unfolds

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: big word count, implied smut, fluff, worrying reader, inaccurate depictions of computer tech and hard drives

Hello, my lovely readers and lovely followers! I am so so sorry to have taken long on this new installment of “A Christmas Heist!” I am so so glad to have found more mojo on writing out this plot! This will be the second to last part of the mini-series, and we are starting to see a bit more clarity! I hope you all enjoy it, as research has been put into making depictions of this heist as accurate as possible! Buckle up, peeps, the beginning of the end is here! As always, feedback, comments, and any type of interaction is more than welcome! Enjoy reading, my lovelies! ❤️

A Christmas Heist Masterlist 

Main Masterlist

Heavy pants were the only noises that filled the room. The clothes that were scattered everywhere as well as the now fogged up windows of the apartment, however, were a major indication of what had just happened between you and Bucky. Your eyes looked up at his light blue ones, still in your ecstatic state from what you and Bucky both just finished. Bucky could only return the gaze, smiling softly as your fingers gently ran through his hair. He couldn’t help but lean down and press his lips to yours gently, hands gently cupping your cheeks as if you’re glass, a contrast to the ones you both shared earlier. You both relax and let out a content sigh as you both embrace each other underneath the covers, your other hand slowly tracing your boyfriend’s back for comfort.  “Goodness, sweetheart. So amazin’ as always.” he mutters with a smile. A soft giggle leaves your lips. “And you’re so perfect.” You mutter breathily, pulling away gently to catch your breath, looking up at his eyes in awe and wonder. He couldn’t help the big smile that appeared on his face, his thumb continuing to caress your cheek, causing you to relax. 

“I love you, James… I hope you know that I really do.” 

“Of course, Y/N… and I love you more than you’ll ever know.” 

Bucky noticed your gaze started to become one of worry. You were up in your head again.  He gently pressed his lips to your forehead, combing your hair. 

“Doll… you’re up in your head again. What’s wrong?” 

“H-Huh? Nothing,” you try reassuring him, but of course it doesn’t work. A slight smile is felt on your forehead. “Oh, doll… if you are dwelling about what happened earlier, it’s alright to move on. We sorted that out. Nothin’ new. It’s part of the job.” 

“Yeah, I know. But, I always hate it when I gotta resort to that tactic. I really do. I’m sorry Buck. Just worrying about you that’s all.” Bucky pulls back a bit to look at you, giving you a small smile as he plays with the ends of your hair. “Ya know… unlike Brock, I’m the one here with you on this bed, lookin’ at my gorgeous gal after a nice time in bed. Don’t gotta worry about me because I’m with you aren’t I?” He tries to say jokingly, but his smile falls a bit when he sees you’re still in your daze. He realizes. “Oh, Y/N… you aren’t thinking about our safety are you?” He questions softly, making you look up at him again.

“Sorry, Buck I… I can’t help it. It’s just. We’re doing it all in public, and if we get outnumbered without knowing, I can’t afford seeing you hurt. Oh lord..” 

Bucky looks at you sympathetically, adjusting you both so you’re hugging each other while laying down on the bed. You hugged him tightly, inhaling the familiar scent of Bucky to calm yourself down as he continued to comb your hair. “Oh, sweetheart. C’mon… we have not been compromised. We are gonna find that hard drive and install that software ASAP and we’ll be done. I promise we can do this. If we can raid a full hydra base we can do this one. Okay?” You nod and take deep breaths and nuzzle into his neck, pressing soft and grateful kissing along it. “You’re right.. You’re right.. Thanks Buck, I’m sorry,” you whisper softly into it, making Bucky hug you tighter. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me and we’ve got Steve and Steve’s got us… we’ve got it, sweetheart. Let’s just relax, yeah? Let’s try to.” He whispers, with you nodding in response, closing your eyes as you try to let sleep consume you.

You opened your eyes again for the 5th time that night. You looked at the clock, rolling your eyes as you saw that you only closed your eyes for a good 30 minutes. Just the thought of the next steps were enough to keep you awake. It was getting more risky by the minute. Unlike the other missions you have had, instead of an outright obvious Hydra base, or a known worldwide threat, you were completing a mission not only under Hydra’s nose, but also many civilian’ noses. The thought of someone innocent getting hurt was never something you handled well. The thought of someone getting hurt knowing someone loved them back at home was pressure already for you. You were up in your head again. So, you got up to use the restroom with the hopes you’ll sleep after a little stargazing at the window.. As you look at yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, you start to realize: 

It’s only a matter of time till Brock finds out that he’s missing the keys.

You groaned softly. This was not going to leave your mind anytime soon. Shame on you, you’re an avenger. You’ve done things worse than this right off the bat from recruitment. They trusted you, you should be trusting yourself. But, what if you harm a civilian and do the opposite of what you’re supposed to do? You could easily mess things up and-

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend sleepily calls out, forcing you to get out of your thoughts. You leave the bathroom and carefully close the door to see your boyfriend now sitting up, his bare chest now exposed with the blanket nicely splayed across his lower body. The moonlight from the outside shining wonderfully on his metal arm and body. You couldn’t help but keep looking, even a small smile was beginning to form on your face. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at you, his cheeks even heated up by your stare. He would do more if it weren’t for the fact that he had felt you twisting and turning throughout the evening.

“Sweetheart.” he says softly with a hint of a smile, getting up to cover his naked form with a robe before going to you with your robe. You looked up at him, clearly still in a daze as he covers your form with your own robe, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Sweetheart, come back to me,” he mutters softly into your forehead, gently rubbing your arms for comfort. The act alone brought you back to your senses, ending up with you relaxing to his touch. “Sorry, Buck…” you mutter, nuzzling your nose into his neck. He smiled, happy with how you are relaxing to his touch, embracing you with his arms. “Nothin’ to worry about sweetheart… you’re just a million miles away again.” 

He was worrying about you. And you knew it. He was waiting for you to spill whatever was on your mind. But you loved how he did it. Telling you that made you know that he knew, but also indicated that he would wait for you on your own time. With time, you began to be more comfortable with telling Bucky sooner than you had done before.  “Just… just worried about the mission, Buck… that’s all. What if… what if we hurt someone?”  

“You’re not sweetheart. We are gonna make sure there’s no civilian casualties okay? We can even have them get evacuated. Alright?” 

The lack of response from your end had made Bucky more worried and even a bit hopeless. He really wished he was able to help you more. There were just times where he just couldn’t get you out of your own thoughts. As frustrating as it is, he could understand you, for he was once in your position. 

“What can I do to help you?” He would hear you say to him in his head. It was always something that you would suggest when he was in his head. It always worked, heck it even allowed him to be more vulnerable and transparent about his feelings to you. 

“Alright, sweetheart. What can I do to help you? What do you want me to do?” Bucky whispers to you, cupping your cheeks so that you can look at him, desperately hoping that this helped you as much as it helped him. “W-well… I just got worried because I didn’t leave a substitute of keys when I took Brock’s keys. I am thinking our mission would have to be done much faster, in order to get that hard drive and send its information over to headquarters.” You admit softly, a weight starting to feel lifted after you say the words out loud. This made Bucky nod in understanding. “Mmm.. here, it’s been a few days, so why don’t we go to Steve and we can have a little talk about it, and we can exchange information? It’s due.” He suggests, combing your hair, having you nod with a hint of a smile. “Yes, I’d like that. I’ll go text him,” you whisper softly, kissing your lover’s palms before you go ahead and text Steve about your arrival. “Alright, I’ll get us dressed.” Bucky says, getting yours and his clothes. 

“So what we have so far is this: we have Brock’s keys, the hard drive is in the Apple Store, but it is not in the back where all the products are.” Steve asks for confirmation, looking at you and Bucky next to him on the table. Bucky nods, sighing in frustration. “Yeah unfortunately. Most of these don’t even seem to give it away. Brock’s locker? Maybe. But I don’t know if this will get us anywhere.” He says, running his hands through his hair. “But…” you ponder out loud, making the two super soldiers look at you. “But maybe… it can be hidden in the front of the store too.” 

“You mean in plain sight?” Steve questions, earning a nod from you. “It’s totally possible.”  “Okay, but there’s so much gadgets in that store. How can we figure out which is a false product? How can we be sure it is not suspicious?” Bucky asks, looking at you as your eyebrows furrow in deep thought. “Well… Hmmm.. you think if we went into the locker room in the toy store, we may get a lead in Brock’s locker? Tomorrow’s our day off.” You suggest as you manage to find the key to his locker. However, you had to take a second look, seeing an odd looking object hanging off of it: another flash drive. “No way!” You exclaim. Looking at it and immediately scrambling for your laptop. The super soldiers were confused, watching you opening your laptop and plugging the hard drive in, tapping away at the keyboard.  “Ummm. Doll? What are you doing?” Steve questions, standing up to stand behind your chair, watching a jumble of numbers, symbols, and letters pop up on the screen at a fast rate. Bucky followed suit, watching in you with his mouth agape in fascination. An excited smile starts to form on your lips. “Oh, I’m just trying to see if this may be a backup of this exact hard drive that we are looking for.” “Oh, that’s amazin’ doll!” Steve exclaims as he nods. “But sweetheart, the information on that thing can be outdated wouldn’t it?” You nod. “Yeah, but, if I can somehow locate a driver, maybe we can have information about the device this was last attached to, to help give us a rough area of where this COULD be. I suppose if it is in the front of the store, this device must somehow be accessible. Hell, maybe we can track a sample MacBook and it could be on the shelf behind it.” You giggle as you watched Steve raise his eyebrows, attempting to process it. “I… I trust you. So what I’m getting at is we can see information about the device the drive was inserted in, and we can look at a specific place.” 

“Exactly.” 

“God you’re smart, sweetheart.” 

Heat fills your cheeks, tinting them with a slight pink hue as you quickly look at Bucky before returning to your work. “Well, I’m working tomorrow, but off on Monday. I think that can help. I can pretend to show you and Buck around like you two are interested customers after you check Brock’s locker, and then we can check if the location is found, and then on Monday, we can extract that hard drive on Monday,” Steve asks, nodding when you and Bucky nod. “Alright, then that’s what we will do. You two, don’t forget to keep your eyes sharp. I know you two are off and so is Brock, but we cannot be too sure-”  “I FOUND IT!” You exclaim excitedly, making Steve revert his attention back to your screen. “What have we found?” “Well, it definitely looks like it's a MacBook that is being used. I have to check the serial numbers of the laptops tomorrow, but it’s definitely in the front.” You reply. “Okay, but is there anything else we can look out for?” Steve further questions. “Well, we could also keep in mind this USB can be in fake packaging. We can also assume that if that is the case, it will be the farthest back in the shelf of that said product, since everyone mainly picks from the front of the shelf,” Bucky responds, earning a nod from you both. You smiled more as you were getting more and more information you needed, writing down the device’s serial number as well as the manufacturing code for good measure, scrolling as you read what you could. You then opened the files that popped up, skimming through all of them till you got what you wanted. 

“Well, I can now see what this Barracuda Project was about. Safe to say that Fury was right, but gee, are they not original.” You groan, rolling your eyes. “What is it about?” Steve asks leaning closer to the screen. “Well, let’s just say that it’s practically like Project Insight. From what we have retrieved from this version of the USB, it seems as if they are trying to find another way to eradicate any threat to HYDRA. Again. If they thought helicarriers were the best way to go through with this before, I cannot imagine what it would be like to carry this out again today.” You remark, shaking your head as you continue to write notes. 

You see that Steve is shaking his head, resulting in you and Bucky to wait for the next tasks. “Alright. I’ll clock in early to get a head start. If you hand me the serial number, maybe I can peek as I wipe down counters and devices. You and Bucky can look into the locker in the meantime, but make sure that you leaving the keys in his locker is not suspicious.” He orders, making you nod in a more sure manner than earlier tonight. 

Your heart was pumping the next day, you and Bucky were disguised as you went into the locker room, leaving Brock’s keys in a reasonable place before you two quietly and swiftly made your way out. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you leave the toy store, walking towards the apple store as you hold Bucky’s gloved hand. “I wasn’t expecting any lead in that locker to be honest,” Bucky whispers to you. “Neither was I, honestly. The copy of the USB was already more than enough information. I also doubt Brock is that shallow of a thinker. Although, I’ll admit keys can be quite an obvious place.” You whisper, looking around to find Steve. “Hi, welcome! How may I help you?” A worker asks you both in a welcoming tone and a welcoming smile. “Oh! I was wondering if I can look at what MacBooks you offer!” You say, feigning enthusiasm. “Oh, alright, I’ll hand you two over to Andy over there,” the worker says, motioning to Steve. 

Perfect. 

You thank the employee before you head your way to Steve, more than ready for the search to commence. However, what you three did not know was that today was Brock’s day to come and patrol the Apple Store alongside his colleagues.

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[toartemis]

Come on Love, Draw Your Swords - Part 5

Read on Ao3. Check the notes there for more details.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 & 4.

Summary: 

Sing to me, Moonlight For you, dear, are honey-tongued I dream just for you.

Or: The one where Jude finds out she's pregnant, and Cardan begins collecting a thousand plants.

Word Count: 4,039

Warnings: Non-penetrative sex while pregnant. That’s all I’m gonna say. If you don’t feel comfortable reading this, please don’t! I’ve gone into detail about the potential dangers of sexual activities while pregnant on Ao3. 

Preview: 

He looks so eager as he kneels before her, like she’s an altar and he’s preparing to worship.

-------

The next week, Jude receives a message from one of her guards that Madoc is requesting to see her. In person. In the Tower of Forgetting.

She debates it the entire day. Cardan says he can accompany her, but in the end, she’s alone in a carriage with two of her most trusted knights. His calm facade is transparent to her when she leaves. She knows he's concerned. So is she.

Jude knows why Madoc wants an audience with her. He’s had to have heard by now, somehow, has probably known since the beginning when it was announced. It fits his ego that he would only summon her when she is nearing her final month of pregnancy.

They arrive promptly, the journey feeling like nothing at all, as if time had skipped just to screw with her. One of the knights, Mivian, a tall, thickly built fey with glittery green eyes and one of her closest friends, takes her hand to help her out of the carriage. Jude wears a billowy, plain, yet luxurious dress with a short train that cinches above her stomach and ties together in the front. The sleeves stop just beneath her elbows. It’s the color of red wine, and her most comfortable formal attire. Her crown sits daintily atop her brow, her hair falls in waves down her back.

When she looks up at the tower before her, she tries to remember the last time she was here. Two years ago, maybe three. She avoids visiting often. It reminds her of nightmares.

More royal guards line the entrance and stairway, each and every one she knows by name and trusts. She passes cells as she ascends the stairs, bars separating her from the creatures they hold inside. Jude gives no mind to the whispers that carry after her, trying to put herself together and prepare herself for what's about to come. It doesn't help much at all; she's scatter-brained and restless, thoughts like elusive cats that refuse to be herded. The only thing she can manage is steeling her features into her perfected mask of a queen. Her shoulders roll back, chin held high.

Madoc’s low chuckle reaches her before she steps in front of him. It's chilling to hear after so long.

“Daughter,” he says, malicious and hollow. “You came.”

Jude says nothing, hoping she comes across as unbothered as possible, and just stares at him. He looks older, somehow. His skin sags around his mouth, hair grown out. He looks pitiful, the shell of the general he once was.

He deserves this, Jude reminds herself.

Madoc’s eyes rake her form, unforgiving, lingering on her belly. “Years ago, when you were small, I would think about how alike you were to your mother. You always had her fire. Wild and untamed. Now look at you,” he grits out, meeting her gaze. He looks as if he wants to carve her heart out. He probably does. “You look just like she did when she ran.”

Jude’s stomach drops, but she keeps her face neutral. He openly scowls at her.

Madoc says nothing more to her. They hold each other’s eyes for long enough that Jude loses track of the minutes. Separated by bars and years of spite, a battle rages silently between them. In the end, Jude never says a thing. She feels like if she speaks, he will know just how his few words have unsettled her. She rests a hand on her belly, trying with all her might not to project what she’s thinking.

I hate what you did, but no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to hate you.  

She steps away from him and feels herself truly breathe since the guard first told her of his request.

When she leaves, it feels like letting go.

--------

As she waddles back through the palace, Folk skirting out of her and the swarm of guards' way, she’s still bothered. The feeling lingers even when she’s back in her chambers, loosening the strings of her gown after sending her attendants away. She pulls on a thin, flowing dress that she wraps around herself, one side tucking into the other, and she begins to pace—to the best of her ability—with her hands pressed to her lower back. Lately, she’s had nothing much else to do but pace.

Jude barely sits next to Cardan while he’s on his throne, anymore, finding herself too uncomfortable in her own. She attends certain meetings, but mostly, if she needs to hear something, someone will visit her in the parlor of their apartments and inform her right then. Thus, she’s usually in the her and Cardan’s private library, or in her garden, or in bed. It’s starting to annoy her, not having much of anything to do, being banned from certain activities by the midwives. Having the sense of being helpless and restless at the same time is not on Jude’s list of acceptable feelings.  

She begins to feel dirty thinking back over her visit with Madoc, so she goes to one of the bowls in their room filled with fresh, warm water. It has sweet-smelling flower petals floating on the surface, and she dips a cloth in to wash herself after slipping her dress off. When she wipes the fabric over her stomach, she makes sure to take extra care, smoothing it over with swooping motions. She hums a random tune to her baby without thinking, and feels a flutter near her ribs. Jude smiles. She imagines It’s like her baby is telling her to keep going. For a minute, the thought helps calm her spiking emotions.

Cardan finds her soon after, dress back on, pacing once more. He looks as alarmingly pretty as always, and for a reason she can’t hope to fathom, it annoys her the moment she sees him. Pregnancy hormones, Vivi would say. Jude can clearly hear what tone she would use.

He’s wearing red, much like she was earlier, and gold hangs from his ears. As she looks him over, she sees there’s nothing especially extravagant about the clothes, it’s just... him that has her heart racing in her chest. Still, it’s annoying.

Cardan only glances knowingly at her before walking to a tall vanity set against a wall and begins removing various pieces of jewelry. And, with his back turned, he asks, "Are you alright? What did Madoc want?" Jude knows he's approaching it gently, purposefully giving her a wide space, completely nonthreatening, but she wants to scowl anyway.

"I'm fine, he just wanted to taunt me. I was prepared." She wasn't, really.

Jude catches his eyes in the vanity mirror for a moment before he looks away. She continues to pace.

"I thought as much," he says cautiously.

“You have look perfect every single second, don’t you?” Jude blurts. She's momentarily embarrassed before she remembers how annoyed she is. Cardan pauses in the middle of removing a fine gold chain from around his neck, turning to face her, small traces of amusement in his eyes.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” He tries smirking, taking the necklace off, then his many rings, placing them at the table in front of him.

“No,” she says curtly, still pacing. Cardan looks perplexed, then understanding crosses his features. He approaches her slowly.

"Are you truly alright?” He stands before her, watching her strut back and forth.

“I’m fine,” she says. Then, with some effort, “I’m just... anxious.”

His hand closes gently around her elbow the next time she crosses in front of him.

“We have discussed this,” he says, thumb brushing over the crook of her arm. “We will be together through it all.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jude snaps halfheartedly. There’s no real bite behind it. Cardan raises a brow, gaze searching her face. Her pulse thrums where he touches her. She runs one hand over her belly absentmindedly. “I know… I know we’ll get through… this, and we’ll do it with each other.”

For a second, she almost laughs as she thinks of how ridiculous this would all seem to her teenage self, before the great game of kings and princes, of queens and crowns even began for her. Jude cannot imagine what her younger self’s reaction would be if she found about what her life would be when she got to be twenty-five-years-old.

“But that doesn’t erase the doubt I have about myself,” she continues. Cardan sighs. Jude glares at him, but lets the look fall almost immediately after. Before she can swallow it down, she forces herself to say, “I have never felt more vulnerable in my entire life. Madoc said so little to me earlier, yet managed to make me feel small from inside a cell, and I just…” She gestures to the air in front of her.

Cardan folds her into his arms and Jude lets him do it, not even trying to pretend that it doesn’t instantly affect her, limbs shivering at his touch. She places her hands on his chest and rests her cheek above them. He murmurs to her, hands stroking against her spine and shoulders. Though she’s not paying much attention to his words, what he’s doing is just what she needs.

Jude realizes that she really only wants to be held. She doesn’t need his perspective on the matter, or his anger at Madoc, or anything of the sort. She just needs him to hold her, because there’s nothing he or anyone else can say. It’s a comfort to her simply that he knows. They stand there for some time, barely swaying.  

“Jude,” he says, pulling away to look at her. “When was the last time you felt relaxed?”

She snorts and doesn’t answer, closing her eyes instead. The press of his lips against the corner of her mouth causes here to jolt. She couldn’t sense it coming. He places small, feather-like kisses against her cheek, then her nose. Jude feels a blush spread across her face. Cardan smells like the forest on a fresh day, like soft spice and the first breeze of Spring. If she let it, being this close to him could make her dizzy. Usually, she does not allow that. Usually.

Cardan steps around her, then, and Jude would deny instinctively leaning after him if she were younger. His chest presses against her back, solid and present.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, fingers dancing lightly over her arms. He places more kisses against the crook of her neck, then against her jaw. Jude tilts her head to the side, baring her throat for him. Every part of her sings yes to him, but Jude can’t help but glance down at herself, belly blocking her view of the floor. She frowns, and Cardan follows her line of sight closely.

“Do you know what I see?” he says, nose brushing her temple. “Each time you enter a room, every eye is drawn to you. All of Elfhame succumbs to lust at the mere sight of you.” He smiles against her skin, fingers nudging at her chin, guiding her face towards his. A flush takes over her at his words.

That can’t be true, but it must be if he’s saying it.

“I want to ravish you, Jude. You’re so beautiful that I ache, and I am not the only one that feels so. But you are mine. This—" he splays his hand on her stomach, “I did this.”

Jude’s heartbeat pounds so loud in her ears that Cardan must be able to hear it too. Part of her is self-conscious at his words, but another, deeper part preens. She can’t meet his eyes anymore, so she looks over his shoulder at the wall instead, feeling the tips of his fingers at her throat when she swallows.

“You carry my child,” he says, voice low, releasing his hold on her and leaning in to her neck again from behind. “The thought fogs my mind every moment.” He nips at her shoulder, places a hand on her hip, and Jude’s thoughts turn to puddles.

“I can’t think of anything else but you. Your skin—” he presses his lips to her cheek. “Your hair—” he begins unraveling strands from the braid she has it in, and she just has to look at him, nerves forgotten. “The flush of your cheeks when I—”

Jude turns around, then, and sees him smiling in a way she can only describe as… goofy. Childish. It’s entirely endearing and arousing at the same time and she struggles against the laughter bubbling up in her throat. Part of her wants to smack him on the arm like a teenager. It’s so rare that he acts this way, and Jude is so, so gone, like putty in his hands.

“I’m afraid I might be losing my sanity,” Cardan laughs, eyes bright. “I want to—” he runs his fingers along the junction of her thigh, his other hand cradling her face. Jude trembles. Her skin has never felt this sensitive before, and he’s mostly touching her through clothes. “Let me take care of you, Jude,” and he kisses her, hot and open. It sears through Jude like sweet acid, burning her throat, coaxing a sound from her that she barely manages to choke back. He pulls away too soon.

“Please, I want to make you feel good,” he sighs into her mouth, and Jude’s doesn’t even feel herself nodding her head.

Then she’s saying, “Okay, yes, yes—”

Cardan’s hands grip her arms while her fingers fist in his crimson shirt and he’s walking her backwards. She would normally be afraid of falling with all of the extra weight of her stomach throwing her off, but she knows she doesn’t have to worry when he’s so near. He’ll catch her if she falls. He always will.

His hands unwrap her loose dress from her body and she shivers from exposure to the cool air. The intent set deep in his eyes is overpowering; she can't look away, torn between wanting to kiss him again and wanting to be lost under his stare forever. The backs of her legs touch the side of their bed and he lifts her onto it, the thing too tediously tall for her to hop onto with the position she’s in. She sits at the edge, wondering for a moment what’s going to happen, then he’s reaching for the pillows at the head of the mattress, snatching a plush one and sliding it behind her at her lower back.

“Lean back on your hands,” he says, sounding breathless, eyes not leaving her body. She does as she’s told, finding the normal pressure she would feel in her back lightened immensely thanks to the pillow. Then his hands are on her, spreading over her chest, on her waist, caressing her thighs, and he sinks to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his heels. He’s slack-jawed, eyes hooded as he presses a kiss to her knees.

Cardan is turned on by this, she realizes. The thought makes her want to scream. He looks so eager as he kneels before her, like she’s an altar and he’s preparing to worship. Another open-mouthed kiss is pressed to her leg, his tongue gliding over the sensitive area at the crook of her knee, and he bites, the shock of it sparking through her.

Again, she has to hold back a moan. The sensitivity of her body is like nothing she’s ever experienced, every touch she feels like strikes of lightning.

When Cardan slings her legs over his shoulders, her arms begin to shake from anticipation. He presses more kisses to her inner thighs, scooting himself forward, and Jude lets her head fall back, waiting, waiting, wanting. She feels him suck a bruise into her skin, then another, and another. He switches to the other side before Jude can process it, and she gasps.

The room feels dense, a cloud swirls in Jude’s mind, blocking out anything but the sensation of what he’s doing. A well-placed nip over her bruised skin has Jude jolting, breath coming out heavier and quicker. She throbs when she feels him hover over her, and he’s so close to where she wants, so close, so close—

Then his mouth is back at her thighs and Jude sighs shakily. It most definitely does not sound like a whine.

A sheen of sweat covers her and she subconsciously tries spreading her legs, but Cardan’s hands wrapped on the outside of her thighs keep them in place. His palms slide underneath, and her legs shift wider just barely, then his thumbs knead into the soft flesh near her center and Jude bites her lip so hard she almost breaks the skin. His tongue presses into the marks he leaves, and everything feels so good that for a moment Jude thinks she’s going to fall apart just from this, without him needing to touch her where she needs him to most.

Her hips twitch forward, trying to catch his mouth, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of her thigh in response.

Jude can’t hold her moan back, now. She feels so incredible. Somehow, her back doesn’t hurt, and the swell of her stomach makes her feel sensual. The way Cardan is being so attentive makes her feel precious and wanted, if only he would just—

His hands shift in more, thumbs spreading her folds, and he licks one long stripe up her middle. Jude feels it in her entire body. Her thighs tremble, one sliding off of him before he catches it, and she locks her ankles together, leaning further back onto her arms, stretching her torso. She’s so, so close already, right on the edge, toes curling where her feet hang behind his back.

He places his mouth against her in an open kiss, tongue rolling over her clit, and has tears springing to her eyes. Pleasure scorches through her, and he does it again, kissing her and sucking lightly when he pulls back. His mouth feels so warm and wet and she can feel his hair grazing the soft, tingling bruises of her inner thighs. Then his thumb presses at her entrance, adding just the right pressure as his mouth moves over her again and that’s all it takes for her thighs to squeeze around him, muscles tightening, face screwing up, a stream of curses leaving her mouth.

Cardan groans against her, working her through it.

She comes back to herself slowly, fingers unclenching from the coverlets, legs falling from her husband’s shoulders. She feels Cardan rest his cheek against the top of her thigh, and when she opens her eyes, his gaze pierces hers, mischief twinkling in his midnight eyes. One hand brushes against the swell of her hip, the other grazes over her dripping, sensitive middle, causing her to jerk.

Jude sits up straight, flexing her wrists, hands going to Cardan’s hair and yanking his head up to hers. Even as he stumbles to his feet, he still manages an ethereal grace. His mouth crashes to hers, wild and hot. She can taste herself on his lips and it sends a thrill through her. Jude slides her tongue against Cardan’s eagerly, gasping when he tilts his head and leans her back just so, exactly the way she likes.

They break apart, foreheads resting together. Jude makes to pull away, but Cardan moves with her, his lips attaching to her jaw and moving down her neck. It steals whatever air she had left in her lungs from her. He slides a knee onto the bed with her, the mattress dipping underneath him. His arm wraps around her back, hand sliding into her hair at the nape of her neck, and with the other, he pulls her sideways, up and into his lap.

Jude still can’t catch her breath from just a minute ago. Cardan pants over her skin, his nose brushes against hers, fingers sliding over her waist.

“I love you,” he says, that and nothing more, and it strikes Jude fiercely. Years spent together and he still doesn’t say it often. He spells it for her through actions, sings it to her with his eyes, but he knows she secretly craves to hear the words. They’re saved for moments like this.

Jude relaxes into the hold he has across her back, keeping her propped up. She traces the point of his ear and fiddles with the jewelry there until he kisses her again. She feels a bit like a child with the way she’s in his lap, legs on the other side of him, but the thought leaves her quickly when his fingers dip between her legs.

When he runs them over her clit, she shakes against him, mouth hovering over his, much too sensitive from her orgasm, but pleasure spreads through her nonetheless. Cardan watches her face closely as he moves a bit lower, pressing just right, two long fingers slipping into her. Jude shudders, eyes slipping shut because it feels so damn perfect.

Her legs shift open of their own accord, making room for him, and she reaches to twist her hand in the shirt at his chest.

Cardan kisses her again, sweet and slow, and he curves his fingers inside of her, wrenching a gasp from her. Jude accidentally bites his lip.

He just kisses her harder, and it’s like the sun dripping onto her mouth, heating her from the outside in. His fingers start a push and pull within her, curling and slipping in and out, and it’s heaven to Jude. She's so wet from earlier and her walls feel so good clenching around him. Her hips shift over his lap, grinding onto his hand, and it’s his turn to gasp, now. The line of his cock is hard and hot beneath her.  

Sweat drips along the indent of her spine as he slowly takes her apart, massaging into the spot that feels so right inside her, coaxing a warm, overwhelming tension into her belly. When his thumb presses against her clit, Jude’s sanity goes out the window. She writhes in his arms, hand sliding from his chest, around her stomach, to grip his wrist beneath her, trying to anchor herself.

“Look at me,” Cardan says. And she does, finding his face flushed just like it is after too many glasses of wine, his eyes like pools of ink she wants to bathe in forever. Jude can feel the muscles of his forearm flexing as he moves, and she struggles to keep her eyes open. Heat coils in her, building and building, and she loses herself in the rhythm he sets.

Cardan lets out a shaky breath when she squeezes his wrist, pulling his hand harder towards her. He gets the message, pumping his fingers faster, thumb circling tighter, and Jude’s back arches, thighs clamping around his arm. Her sensitive bruises twinge in pain at the pressure, but she can’t help it. It only makes it all more intense.

Jude feels her second orgasm rise in her, cracking like a whip, and she shatters with it, moaning brokenly, vision blurring as she tries to hold Cardan’s gaze, inevitably failing.

It’s one of the fiercest things she’s ever felt, her whole body tightening. She doesn’t feel Cardan stop or hear him say anything, but the next thing she knows she’s lying on her usual side of their bed, Cardan’s weight pressed behind her.

A pillow is tucked in her arms and between her legs. Something soft brushes her outer thigh and she registers that it’s his tail. He must have changed clothes. She doesn’t remember him moving her, but she doesn’t really care, too exhausted to think much about it.

His knuckles drag over her waist and on her belly, and, to Jude’s delight, Cardan is humming in her ear, deep and pretty. A sleepy grin splits her face. She’s so comfortable like this; positively content.

“I love you,” she whispers. “So much that it hurts.”

He buries his face into her hair and continues to hum. She can hear the smile in his voice.

-------

Okay, it took me years to post this on here, but what matters is that I’ve finally posted it. Thank you so much for reading, didn’t think this fic was gonna lead to this scene though ahhh. 

[ladywinterwitch]

Run Away (Four - How fast the night changes)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You and Steve complete each other. Your love is that strong and devoted kind of love that pushes people to things like marriage, making a family. You couldn’t imagine that a baby would be something you really wished, until the possibility wasn’t your choice anymore.

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of death, descriptions of violence, mention of blood, sadness, feels, fluff, the pov switches a bit in this one.

Word Count: 4211

A/n: Part three of Run Away. I’m already sorry for this chapter, but I’m also not :D Enjoy. Previous part and series masterlist. Is the title a tribute to One Direction? Damn right it is.

After talking to Steve, you decided that it was better that the whole team knew about it too. First, because you considered them family, second, to avoid baby jokes, that had already happened. And even if you were okay, it was still a sensitive topic for you.

You two had actually talked again about it, considering that now it was very much clear that you did want to have a family. So you started to consider the options, like adoption or a surrogate mother. Even if you were more inclined to an adoption, because as an orphan yourself, like Nat, you knew that unfortunately there were many kids that needed a family. But you were still thinking about it, considering. You weren’t in any rush after all.

But right now, two months later, it was probably the last thing on your mind. The team had been able to track down the same men that had committed that slaughter in Budapest, and found out that they had another base in Ukraine, where they were right now. Another facility, similiar to the other one. This time they were prepared though. And there were many of them. More that you expected. 

You found yourself surrounded by weapons and guns. You were teamed up with Wanda, Natasha, Thor and Bucky. Steve, Tony, Sam, Clint, Vision and Bruce, well, Hulk, were in a different positions. You were doing quite well, the men were decreasing quickly and the bruises were few and not severe.

At some point you four men surrounded you, you passed your gaze to each of them and around you, quickly thinking about a solution.

-Y/n!- Wanda called you, and before you knew it you were raised of a few feet above the ground, a magenta colored aura all around you. 

You stretched both arms and shot the men one right after the other, as soon as you were finished Wanda brought you back down on your feet carefully. You gave her a quick smirk and then returned back to work. A few shots and kicks after all men seemed to be dead or at least uncoscious. 

-We are finished here, what are your positions?- the norse God asked next to you. 

-We found some prisoners and their little plaything too. It seems they were playing the little chemist. We’ll analyze it at the lab.- You heard Tony say. 

-Basically, we can go home. I’ll call Maria to send some SHIELD agents to clean up. Meet at the quinjet in five.- Clint added. 

You and the others went outside the building as you were told, while Steve, Bucky and Bruce stayed inside . You saw Tony flying down carrying two people, same with Vision, while Sam was holding a woman. They all placed them down and Wanda and Clint went to check if they were okay. Suddenly you heard shots from the com.

-Steve? What are those shots? What’s happening?- you shared a look with the others, who looked panicked and without thinking twice you ran back inside.

You climbed the first two stairs levels and entered in a room. And then you felt it. A sharp and quick hit that took your breath away. Your mouthe went agape and your hands covered your stomach, you looked down and saw your hands soaked in blood. Then you looked up to your right, a man smirking wickedly at you with a shotgun in his hand. You tried to reach for him, but he escaped and you fell on the floor. 

You weakly touched yourself and you felt your suit soaked with blood, and felt three bullet holes. One on your right side, one on your stomach are and another one a little lower in your belly. Before you could try to talk, your eyes became too heavy and closed.

-

Hulk broke a wall, jumping down to the ground, Steve and Bucky on his shoulders jumped down afterwards.

-All okay cap?- Sam asked and Steve nodded.

-Maria said that the agents are on their way, so we can go home. Eveyone’s ready?- he asked while attaching his shield to the back of his shoulders. Natasha had just finished to do a quick bendage to one of the prisoner’s leg, when she came back to join the others that had just finished working too.

-Where’s Y/n?- she asks, her senses suddenly on alert. The captain shares a look with Bucky.

-What do you mean? She was down here with you. She should be.- he says, his heart starting to beat faster. They all looked around but she wasn’t there.

-Where the fuck is she?- he growled at Thor, the first poor victim that he found on his way.

-I don’t know, she went down with us but…-he stopped and Wanda talked.

-She heard the shots. She must’ve came back inside.- Steve and Bucky ran inside, while Sam and Tony flew up to check the now roof-less the higher floors.

As soon as the two men stepped into the first floor’s room they found a man, calmly sitting on a chair, a shotgun in hand. Both pointed their guns at him istinctively.

-What are you doing? Your companions are dead, don’t you have the good nerve to try and run?- Steve hissed. Bucky checked the room with his gaze, and he froze when he saw what was in the corner of the room, a few feet away from them.

-Steve..- he muttered.

-Answer, you bastard!- he screamed, not really hearing Bucky that didn’t lose any more time and shot the man in the head. His smug grin now an horrific mess on his mutilated face. At that point Steve turns to him and sees what he saw. His wife, on the ground in a pool of blood. They stumble and run to her, falling to their knees.

-No, no, no, what have they done to you?- Steve panicks while Bucky calls for backup, saying that they need a doctor immediately.

-Y/n? Baby, love? C'mon please don’t do this to me.- he cries and Bucky feels the need to vomit, but doesen’t leave his side.

The rest of the team arrives quickly saying that the helicarriers are landing right now. Everyone remains shocked at the sight. Natasha actually almost faints and Clint has to take her. Wanda starts sobbing while Vision tries to calm her down.

Steve takes her into his arms, picking her up but Tony stops him and takes her, flying out quickly. Everyone follows suit. When the iron man lands he founds Bruce, now turned human and a little lost. In the moment he sees Tony with the girl in his arms he orders him to put her down.

He does and Bruce immediatly zips down her catsuit, exposing her bra covered breasts. He places two fingers to her neck and feels pulse, weak, but it’s there.

-Tony go and take here the quinjet, right now.- he flies off. Bruce takes off his shirt and rips it into bands. The rest of the team arrives running.

-Steve, try to talk to her. Bucky, press here, Thor here and Nat here.- he indicates the three bloody bullet holes. They comply quickly, pressing down firmly. 

-Love, please don’t do this to me. Wake up, wake up, wake up.- he cries desperately and Bucky tries to calm him down, but he nearly growls at him like an angry wolf.

-Don’t fucking try to tell me to stay calm when my wife is dying.- he hisses with gritted teeth.

In that same moment Tony comes back with the quinjet and they take her on the veichle. They put her on a medical bed, then take off completely the top half of her suit.

-Okay, she’s losing too much blood and I have to take out the bullets. So, you two-  Bruce he points at Steve and Bucky, -Take off your shirts and put those into your arms. Nat, Clint, help them.- he orders.

They do as they are told meanwhile Wanda, Thor and Sam keep pressing her wounds.

-But how do we know if her type of blood matches?- Bucky asks franatically. He doesen’t even flinch when Nat punctures his forearm vein. Clint does the same to Steve and their blood start to drip in the transparent sacks.

-Because the super soldier blood is basically perfect, it adapts to everything. Now let me work. Tony, bring us home as fast as you can.- no one talks after that. Nat takes Wanda’s place. Bruce punctures both Y/n’s wrists and the two supersoldiers blood start to get to her.

Bruce first removes the first bullet, cleaning the wound, and leaving to Nat the stitching work while he starts to work on the second, and then the third. Now the only ones left are the two men, which didn’t say a word, especially Steve that was almost under shock, and Bruce that now was stitching the last wound more calmly.

He checked her pulse and sighed in relief. She had lost a lot of blood, but she was doing okay now that Bucky and Steve were giving her theirs. She was asleep, but her pulse was there, even if a little slower than normal. At least she was alive.

-She’s stable now. You two just have to stay here until we get home, I fear.- he says, tired.

-It’s not a problem.- Bucky answers. They were seated on each of her sides. Nat had taken off her ruined and dirty suit to clean her a bit with a wet cloth while Bruce was working on her wounds. Now she had only her panties on, the bra was taken off too because it empeded a complete blood flooding, which was the last thing she needed. Both Bucky and Steve looked away respectfully, even if the second was her husband and had seen here naked a ton of times. The only thing covering her was a thermal blanket. 

Bruce went out to have a break, he had worked for two hours and a half non-stop and in any case now he had done all he could.

-She’s gonna be okay, Steve. She’s strong.- the brunette says. But the blonde one looks in front of him with an empty gaze.

-I don’t understand. Why was she alone? Why wasn’t I there to protect her?- he said, guilt dripping from his words. Bucky’s heart shrinked. Between seeing his best friend like that, and his other best friend with three holes in her chest on a medical bed, he really was on the edge of a mental breakdown.

-It wasn’t your fault. Period. Just focus on her. She’s safe now.- and with that he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

-

Both Steve and Bucky were quite tired when they arrived home. Both from the travel and the fight and the fact that they had been giving away blood for nearly five hours, the quinjet’s speed reducing the flight from twelve to eight hours. Even for their superstrenght that was a bit much, so they couldn’t wait to rest, but Steve refused to leave Y/n’s side and Tony insisted that and immediate briefing happened, so exactly ten minutes after their arrival they all gathered in the meeting’s room. 

Tony had immediately called Pepper when they got on the quinjet and made arrangements for a medical room in the infirmary. So, ss soon as they landed Y/n was brought there. Bruce checked all the vitals, and demanded that she was left alone to rest after Nat and Wanda changed her in an hospital gown. Steve was very hesitant, but Bucky reassured him it was the best thing right now.

The team met, still in their suits. Bruce listed all the substances and the experimental files that they could find, then said two words about the identities of the men, especially the one that shot Y/n. Apparently he was one of the bosses. The reason why he decided to shot y/n and not run were unknown, but Tony guessed that he already knew tht he wouldn’t get out alive.

-So he said ‘well, let’s just shot one of theirs before going’.- Sam spat angrily. At that Natasha looked away, Bucky’s jaw clenched and Steve was fuming, but didn’t say nothing: he didn’t have the strenght.

-Bruce, how is she?- Thor asked. Banner sighed.

-It’s a miracle that she’s alive, honestly. Three bullets in her chest, abdomen and right side. She lost half of her blood. It was dangerously quick, but thanks to them- he nudged his head to the pair of super soldiers, -Her blood is almost  completely recovered. There aren’t internal bleedings, the medications are fine and she’s not as pale as before. I can’t say for sure when or if she’ll wake up.- he explained, almost breaking to the last phrase.

There was a moment of silence before Steve stood up, his chair schreeching, and went out of the room, the door slamming loudly.

-The meeting’s over. Get some rest, we’re taking a few days off.- Tony says lowly.

-

Steve went straight to the gym, punching the box sack. He had to cool off in some way. He was hitting, kicking and pushing again and again until he felt two arms closing around his middle. He was breathing harshly and that embrace almost seemed to break his rage, making him break down.

He turned around and saw Natasha trying not to cry. He hugged her tightly, and like that they were calming each other down.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, then the redhead noticed that his hands were a bad shade of scarlet, full of little cuts and were bleeding a bit.

-You idiot.- she huffed out leding him near the emergency box near the locker room. She sat him down on a bench and started to disinfect his cuts. He didn’t even flinch.

-I should’ve been with her.- he mutters suddenly. She shook her head, not looking up.

-It’s not your fault. She wasn’t on your squad. She should’ve been with us, outside. I didn’t even realized that she wasn’t there. I should’ve checked, anyone else could have.-

-I think that we’re almost too used to each other being able to take care of ourselves. It’s a little her fault, a little mine, a little of the team. But you fucking know who really has the fault here? That damned piece of shit.- she used a little too much force and made him hiss. She stopped, surprised by her lack of concentration.

-I’m-I’m sorry Steve.- she said softly. He shook his head.

-It’s okay. It’s over now. All that matters is that we’re here for her.- he breathed out. Natasha threw the cotton in the trash and washed her hands.

-

A week passed, and she still hadn’t wake up. Bucky went to her almost every day, talking a bit, telling what was happening. Natasha went every now and then, mostly to freshen her up. The others went two or three times, just to see how she was doing. Steve, after a week, didn’t see her at all.

He didn’t knew why he found it so hard to go see her. Nat and Bucky would encourage him every now and then, but he always declined. But today, he decided to go. It had been probably the worst week of his life, and he didn’t know if she would come back to him. He didn’t knew how he would go on at that point. Ha had lost so much, so many times. But he couldn’t bare the idea of losing you.

The captain opened the infirmary room door, and almost changed his mind when he saw her on that bed, all machines attached, still uncoscious. He swallowed and closed the door behind him, gowing slowly towards her, putting the bouquet of flowers that he had brought for her on a vase near the window. Then he sat next to her, on a chair.

He looked at her and actually felt relieved that she didn’t look that bad: her incarnate was healthy, her cheeks of a dusty pink as her plump and soft lips were. He noticed that her long hair were clean and soft, her eyes had a bit of mascara on, and he knew that probably Nat had done that knowing how much she hated to be completely without make up in public. Never the less Steve tought that she was the most beautiful creature in the world.

He took her hand in his and his heart swelled a bit when he felt her quite warm. Not a fever warm, just a…human warmth. Very different from when he held her the last time, bloody and white as snow.

-Hey doll.- he croaked smiling a little. -I’m sorry that I didn’t came before. I couldn’t do it you know? I almost lost you…and actually I don’t really know if I’ll ever have you back.- his words made his chest clench, but he refused to break down right now.

-But I couldn’t live without seeing my best girl.- he caressed her hand softly, making abstract patterns on the back.

-Life is quite boring now, you know? Everyone’s really concerned about you, baby. Bruce says you’re doing great  but…- he shook his head.

-I don’t know how much to believe it, honestly. I mean you’re still here and not in bed with me, you know what I mean.- he chuckled lowly. He cleared his throath.

-Uhm, I actually wanted to bring your Ipod, I’m sure you’re missing your loved music.- he smiled, -But I can’t find it. You’ve always been good at hiding things, not emotions though. But things…-he grinned laughing a bit.

-We should call Sherlock Holmes to find ‘em.- he shook his head amused.

-But, I promise that I will buy you a new one. I will actually buy you an entire planet, if you’ll wake up.- he brought a hand to his face, sniffing slightly to make the tears go away. He stayed silent for some moments, before picking up his album and pencil.

-In the last period I had in me a wired desire to draw again, you know? It’s been a while since I had the time. I remeber that you loved my sketches. You always praised them like they were the most beautiful art, when in reality it was probably just a flower vase or a fruit bowl.- he laughed again lovingly. -So yeah, I decided to give you some company, and maybe something good may came out of it, uh?- he said taking one last look at you. Then he made himself comfortable and started to let out his thoughts through the pencil.

He kept drawing for a couple of hours, the time passing like a flash. He looked at the clock and saw that it was dinner time and the team would be probably be waiting for him. So he closed the album, and took the pencil, shoving them both under his arm. Then he stood up from the chair, the wish of staying with her strong.

But in the end he just leaned in, kissed her lips softly, whispered an ’I love you’ and got out of the room.

-

He went to his room to drop off the album, then went down to the dining room. Everyone was seated and went quiet when he arrived.

-Wow, well good evening.- he spoke ironically. A wave of guilt washed over the team and everyone started to act normally again. Bucky leaned his head to his right side, with an empty seat. Nat at his side looking at him with a little smile. Steve went to sit next o him and served himself some food.

-I went to see her.- he said with a low tone. The couple stopped to look at him.

-That’s good, Stevie.- Bucky said squeezing his shoulder lightly.

-She looked good.- he said biting his lip nervously. Natasha nodded with a smile.

-She does, Steve. Trust me, I have seen people on a coma before, she does really look good.- she reassured him and he just nodded distractly before starting to eat.

The dinner went smoothly and he even did a little small talk with a couple of the guys. Then they proposed for a movie, but he politely declined and went to bed. He fell asleep almost right away.

-

Your eyelids fluttered slowly and it took you a few seconds to understand where you were. You sat on the bed and looked down at your wrist and and body, taking out the thick needle from her vein, hissing a bit. Blood started dripping from the little hole, but you didn’t care. You had an hospital gown on, but you understood that you wasn’t in a real hospital. You recognized the breath taking sight of New York from the window and the Stark Industries labeled machines.

You didn’t have any problem walking, you may have dared to say that you were feeling better than ever. The air was fresh and her lungs felt really light, she could see much more in the dark than it was normally possible and she felt really hungry, but good. She felt strong.

You found the interructor and turned it on, then took off the gown to look at you wounds, but remained shocked when you saw that instead of three holes, there were just three little lines, the scars already thin and almost invisible.

You wondered how much sleep you got to be fully recovered like that. Then You put on the robe again, but this time in reverse, so her back was fully covered. You latched it like a bath robe and didn’t care for the quite deep neckline that was shown, as long as everything elese was covered. As soon as you took the doorknob and bend it to open the door, a loud alarm made you step back for a moment, covering your ears with your hands, hissing at the loud noise but went out anyway.

-

Steve was harshly woken up by an alarm and cursed while getting dressed with a pair of sweatpants, still shirtless, but he didn’t give a damn. He looked at the time on his phone and saw that it was four AM.

He went out of the room and saw that the others were going up too, the alarm going off a few minutes later, making everyone let out huffs and words of relief. They stepped out of the elevator and Steve’s knees almost gave out when he saw what was in front of him.

Y/n was sitting on one of the couches, Tony stood in front of her, Bruce sat next to her with a hand on her back. She had the hospital gown in reverse on and a blanket on her shoulders. When she looked up from her glass of water, she saw him. She placed the glass on the table and stood up, making the blanket fall off. She walked quickly to him and then basically threw herself in his arms. He embraced her, with a couple silent tears of shock rolling down his cheeks.

-Steve- she said sweetly, and he could feel the emotion in her voice. He breathed deeply into her soft hair.

-You came back to me..- he murmured. She separated a bit and smiled at him, he cupped one of her cheeks with his hand. She leaned in his touch.

-You had doubts, captain?- he chuckled and suddenly a sob grabbed the attention of the room, until then focused of the two. It was Wanda, who was covering her mouth with a hand to not make noise. Y/n laughed lightly and went to hug her, comforting her. Then everyone took a turn, she asked if she could go to bed, but Bruce told her that he preferred to do some tests to see if everything was okay.

-Better safe than sorry.- he shrugged.

-Alright. But first, can I change? I’m feeling a little exposed over here.-  the gown reaching under her butt miraculusly, her breasts were barely covered, and Steve was getting quite protective, covering her with the blaket at every move.

Natasha went to grab underwear, a shirt and some yoga pants for her and brought them to Bruce’s lab. She and Bucky wento to sleep again, and Steve remained inside with you.

Banner did a few blood tests, sight tests, asked if you had any pain or headaches, then he put a band aid on the hole that was left from the IV.

-The results are gonna be ready tomorrow, now go rest you two. You both deserve it.- he smiled.

-Goodnight Bruce.- you responded sweetly.

You went back to their room not able to keep you hands off each other.

-I love you so much.- you said in between kisses. Now they were in bed, under the sheets and cuddling.

-I love you too. You don’t know how much I missed you.- kiss. -I almost lost you. Why did you went back on your own?- he asked.

-You were still inside and I heard gunshots. You weren’t responding and I kind of panicked. Then that man took me unprepared at my back and…- you paused, closing you eyes for a few seconds. -It was all so fast. I was so scared, I barely had the time to process what was happening.- you whispered. He had his brows knitted in sadness.

He hugged you closer to him and kissed your head. -It’s over now. I kinda want to kill you for how irresponsibile it was, but I understand. I won’t lie, I would do the same.- he confessed. There wasn’t a point in being tough and reprimanding you when he very well knew that he would’ve done the same. Now he just wanted to hold you and finally have a moment of peace.

Plot Twist :O  What do you think about what happened? Why did y/n become how she is? Find out in the next part. Hope you enjoyed it, and if you did maybe leave a feedback? <3

Taglist : @polarcrystall​  @a--1--1--3​   @silver-winter-wolf​

[pendragyn]

Setting Things To Rights

(inspired by @flashfictionfridayofficial​ ‘s #53 prompt “Come Back”. Went well over the limit lol but thank you for the inspiration after a very long dry spell.)

“Setting Things To Rights” by Pendragyn

2666 words,  posted June 22, 2020 on AO3

Good Omens (TV & Book); Adam Young, Deirdre Young, Agnes Nutter, Dog;

The night after the almost apocalypse, Adam Young gets a visit from the ghost of Agnes Nutter, and she helps him sort out a few worrisome loose ends left over from the world not ending.

“Come back. Please.”

Adam stared down at his best friends in the whole universe, sure his heart was breaking as they turned and ran away. He knew then he’d messed up bad, maybe beyond fixing. He tried to call them back, to beg even, but no sound would come and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears. Come back! Please! he wanted to say, pressing his hands to his tear-dampened face. I’m sorry!

You don’t need them. You can have new friends. Better friends. All you have to do is show us the way.

A low growl and a familiar waft of doggy breath as a wet tongue lapped at his cheek had Adam opening his eyes, and he hugged Dog tightly in relief. “Oh Dog! I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, smiling when Dog licked him again. “I am sorry, you know that, don’t you?”

Dog whined and licked him again in answer.

“Thanks boy.” Adam let out a much heavier sigh and rubbed at his eyes when tears threatened again. The dream had been so real, too real, more memory than dream, and frightening in ways he didn’t want to think about. It hurt, knowing he’d hurt his friends so bad they’d stopped being his friends. And even though they’d forgiven him in the end, would they ever really trust him again? Especially when he could still do what he’d done? Would he trust someone who had done that to him?

In the silence there were two faint but distinct knocks that Adam heard clear as a bell. Dog’s ears perked up and Adam blinked and they both looked around the room for a source of the noise. There wasn’t much light but it was more than enough to show that nothing was out of place.

Still, Adam found himself saying, “Who’s there?”

A faint glimmering form stepped through the door. It was an old woman, dressed in really old clothes. “I’ve awaited a long while for this meeting, Adam Young.” She bowed at him a faint smile on her lips. “I be Agnes Nutter, witch. And ghost.”

Adam stared at her with wide eyes. Dog was staring just as intently but seemed disinclined to bark or growl, which put Adam at ease. “You’re a ghost witch? A real one? Not… not something I made up?”

“Real as rain. Anathema be my many times over great granddaughter. I wrote the book she told ye about.”

They watched one another for a moment before Adam asked, “Why are you here?”

“Same reason I’ve done most things in me life and afterlife; to ensure the world isn’t destroyed by the whims of beings who care naught for it.” Agnes glided to the bed and sat. “That’s why I’ve come to ye, young Adam. The story be not ended yet, and ye still have time to set things to rights.” She folded her hands in her lap and said bluntly, “I wrote that book to ensure all would be where they needed to be, to stop the world ending, young Adam, because I saw what would become of ye and the world otherwise.”

Adam shivered and Dog whined, pressing close to offer him comfort. “There were… whispers,” he admitted, his arm curled around Dog to give himself comfort. “Telling me to do things, bad things.” He thought of the nightmare that had just awoken him. “I think they’re still here.”

“Aye. They will never leave ye be, not as long as ye remain a vessel for the devil’s power.”

Adam rubbed at his damp face with a corner of his blanket and frowned at her. “What do you mean? I did like the angels said and it worked. It changed things, didn’t it?”

“Aye, true enough, ye are no longer bound to the one who bid himself thy ‘father’. But ye still have the power given to ye, to change the whole world. It rests in ye, waiting to be called on, wanting to be called on, and as long as it be there, ye are naught but a plump juicy apple, ripe for the picking. Ye must use the power afore our foes regroup enough to try to bend ye to their will.” She waited a beat while he just gaped at her and asked, “What wish thee, young Adam?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m just a kid! I don’t want to be picked on, and I don’t want to be in charge of changing the world!”

“Aye, ‘tis most unfair to put the weight of the world upon the shoulders of just one person,” said Agnes, looking down sadly at her partially transparent hands. “I often wished that there had been another way, but try as I might I could find no way to spare Anathema. I can do naught now but do my best to make it up to her.” She sighed and looked back up at him. “But ye, young Adam, ye don’t have to bear this burden alone. Ye can ask for help.”

“I can?” he said, thinking of Anathema and all the things she wanted to make better, but some inner voice pulled him up short before he could do something rash, for probably the first time in his life. “But how will I know if they’re telling me the right things? That they’re telling me the truth?”

“‘Tis a hard question to answer. There be many who would use such power for greedy or hateful reasons, those be easy to weed out. But the ones who mean well, but be wrongheaded, well… Anathema believes much of what she told ye, so to her, it was the truth.”

“Oh.” He rubbed at his head, his mind feeling a little too full with all the things he was having to think about, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as how it had felt at the airbase. He never again wanted to feel that… awake was the only word he could think of to describe the feeling. He’d be able to see and feel and sense so much and he shuddered and put the memory out of his thoughts. “So how will I know who to trust?”

“That answer will have to come from within ye. Who do ye trust now? Some people unthinkingly break trust all the time, do they not? Do wrong though they know it be wrong. Leave messes for others to make right. Ye know that well enough, Adam Young,” Agnes said pointedly.

Adam sank lower and lower as she spoke. “But nobody gets hurt… usually.” She just gave a disbelieving hum. He couldn’t help but think of how he’d treated Pepper and Brian and Wensley and Dog. How willing he’d been to leave his friends and family behind while under the influence of the voices.

But his friends had done the right things even when he hadn’t. He knew without a shadow of a doubt he could trust them no matter what. “Does… does it need to be just one person?” he asked.

“It can be as many or as few as ye wish,” Agnes answered. “So long as they be willing, of course. Ye must ask, not demand.”

He considered her words, and who else he trusted to do the right thing, petting Dog as he did so. A thought struck him and he asked, “Can I give the power to someone else? Will the voices start bothering them? Will it make them into a target?”

“If ye give them enough to be seen as a threat or a prize, yes,” she warned. “Especially if they can not fend for themselves against those who would seek to do them harm.”

Adam flopped back onto his pillow with a grunt. “Ugh! Why’s it got to be so complicated? Why can’t I just keep the magic and have fun and stuff?”

“Fun?” she echoed in an eldritch sepulchral tone that seemed to come from the bottom of a well. “Fun, was it, knowing all the people in your town and the world would soon be dead? And making slaves of your friends, fun was that?” Adam shot up, a denial on his lips, but the knowing look in her glowing eyes had him flinching away. “This power was bestowed upon ye to rend the world in twain, to bring it asunder, to destroy all hope and joy. Is that, as ye call it, ‘fun’?”

“No! I don’t want that!”

“No?” The eldritch glow and tone vanished. “Pleased be to hear it. But sorry does naught for that which was broken beyond repair nor does it console the families of those missing and dead.”

“Dead?!” Adam’s stomach clenched at the word. “But—” I didn’t mean to, seemed beyond inadequate. And it was a lie, because he had meant to at the time, under the influence of the voices.

“Aye, as dead as I be. Did ye think those eaten by the kraken were not real people? With lives and hopes and families to feed? And those pulled into your fantasies of Atlantis, and aliens, and listeners in tunnels? How art they to return home, if they even can?”

“B-but Anathema was the one who gave me those magazines—” He knew it was the wrong thing to say even as he said it and Agnes just canted her head and stared at him, a little bit of the eldritch glow returning to her eyes. “I-I knew some of them probably weren’t really real. Pepper an’ Wensley an’ Brian said as much but… I wanted them to be.”

“So ye wished them into being.” He nodded. “There were worse things ye could have wished for. That they wanted ye to wish for.”

He shuddered and nodded again, thinking of the visions he’d had when it was at its worst. “Yeah. Oh, is that, that’s why— you wanted to give me other things to wish for. Better things.”

She gave him a proud smile. “Clever boy. Aye. If ye had truly gone down that path, ye would have used up all the power in the wishing. Instead ye have a chance to put things right.” She held open her hand when Dog crept close enough to sniff at her and scritched behind his ear when he crept a little closer yet. “Ye spoke of angels, telling ye what to do. What did they say?”

The memories of what had happened in that odd bit of time where still vividly sharp in Adam’s mind. He could almost smell the thunderstorm and bonfire scent of the sand again, and hear the susurrous of their feathers as they’d flexed their wings. “They said it was good I was human, and a kid. And that reality would do what I wanted it to. And that they’d help me, no matter what.”

“They wanted to kill ye,” she said matter-of-factly and Adam gave her a sharp look which she answered with another small smile. “But ye trusted them anyway. Why?”

Unlike the odd time in the desert, all the things leading up to that and after were already becoming a little hazy and dreamlike. Somehow he’d been able to see the two people inside the one body, and had certainly heard them yelling about killing him. But had also seen the fear and grief beneath the surface, and far more than they’d probably wanted anyone to see. “They… they were just trying to save the world. From me and everything else. Even though they knew it would probably… get them in a lot of trouble.” He didn’t want to say what he really meant; that it would get them killed.

“It has,” she murmured. “They shall be tried and executed in the morning.”

“What? No!” Adam protested. “That’s not fair! They were trying to save the world! They were doing the right thing and they shouldn’t die because of it!”

“They disobeyed, broke the oaths they made to Heaven and Hell—”

“No!” Adam wiped furiously at the tears running down his face. “No, I don’t care, they’re angels, and angels can’t die. It’s Heaven and Hell who should be in trouble, not them!” He sniffled hard as a glimmer of an idea formed in his mind. He stared hard at Agnes. “They said reality would do what I wanted, and it did. You said I have a chance to fix things.”

She nodded solemnly. “Aye, I did.”

“So do I how fix it? How do I fix everything that got messed up because of me?” He put his arm around Dog when he whimpered anxiously. “Help me, please?”

Agnes gave him a broad beaming smile. “I thought ye’d never ask.”

∞

“Wait! Don’t go!”

Warm soft arms and the comforting scent of his mother curled around Adam and he felt her brush the hair from his face and press a kiss to his forehead. “Shh, Adam, shh, I haven’t gone anywhere. It was just a bad dream.”

“Mum?” Adam mumbled, opening his eyes. It was a surprise to see his room bathed in sunlight and his mum smiling down on him. Last he remembered was Agnes saying she had to go and that she was proud of him. Was it just a dream? Had it all been a dream? he wondered, relieved to think he hadn’t hurt his friends but disappointed that magic wasn’t real.

“Morning, sleepy head,” she smiled.

He smiled back and shifted, happy to feel Dog curled up beside him, but the happiness vanished when he remembered that Dog wasn’t supposed to be inside. “Uh… naughty Dog, how’d you get in—“

“That will be enough of that, mister,” Deirdre said, running her hand over Adam’s hair again, trying to not let out the smile his antics almost always inspired. “I know full well you’ve been sneaking him in here since that first night. His hair was all over everything and I could see his tail wagging from under the bed, but I didn’t want to spoil your fun.”

The little thrill he’d been nurturing, at getting away with something illicit, fizzled with the realization that he hadn’t actually gotten away with anything. “Oh.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Your father and I considered taking Dog away after the worry you caused us yesterday. What in the world made you go to the airbase?”

Not a dream, he realized, the disappointed relief morphing into a tumble of confused emotions he couldn’t sort out. “I dunno.”

She let out a sigh, as though she’d expected that answer. “Alright. Well, it’s time for you to get up. You’ve got a long day of tidying ahead of you.” She chuckled and leaned over to gave him a hug when he sighed. “Terrible I know, but you need to think about the consequences of your actions Adam. You could’ve been hurt, or gotten Wensley or the others hurt.”

“Sorry.” He’d sighed out of habit at the reminder of his punishment but snaked his arms around her neck and hugged her tightly. “I love you.”

Deirdre smiled. “I love you too, but that won’t get you out of being grounded, mister. Now up you get, breakfast’s almost ready.” She playfully tweaked his nose and scritched Dog behind his ear just where he liked it before leaving him to get dressed.

Adam flopped back onto his pillow and started petting Dog as he stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts whirling around. Magic’s really real! And so are witches and wizards and ghosts and, and maybe aliens? Agnes didn’t actually say. And demons and angels… He rolled over and looked out at the garden. I hope what I did was enough to fix things. I feel different anyway.

He was going to get to be just a kid, at least for a little while according to Agnes. Then he and Pepper and Brian and Wensley were going to get to learn magic with their new friends! And he was perfectly happy with that.

[lexdrabbles]

Everything We Are

Here it is. The thing I’ve been writing for way too long. This was a gift fic for my lovely friend @ayame1212​, who got me into the angst hole that is Noragami. Enjoy your fresh, fresh pain. This features two OCs. They’re both assholes. Hope y’all like them.

Word count: 3711 Fandom: Noragami Warnings:  Non-graphic violence, armed robbery, background character death (non-graphic), nihilism, thoughts of revenge (briefly), blood mention, death mention. (Yeah... it’s basically One Big Angsty Fight Scene) Read on AO3

It was a patrol like any other. Yato and Yukine regularly went out looking for ayakashi during the night, following their pledge to rid the world of their influence (as much as they could, at least).

The streets were almost always deserted at this time of the night. Most night-time deities had no business being out and about so, other than the occasional human, only the ayakashi roamed around; hence, perfect patrol time.

They never expected to run into another god; much less one whose sword was hilt-deep in a human’s chest.

Yato had to physically restrict Yukine before he could jump at the scene without any forethought. “What the hell, man?” said Yukine. “We have to stop them!” Yato simply shoved the blond backward and stopped him with an outstretched arm. “Might want to analyze what’s going on before gettin’ yourself killed.”

Yukine huffed, “Whatever.”

They looked at the distant developments with more attention and noticed a third person. At that point, the picture came together: The man with the sword in his chest was holding a gun against the other person’s head, yelling at them to hand over all their valuables.

Normally, when you saw a god intervene in mortal affairs, it was something serious. Late night muggings would usually not be encompassed in “emergencies requiring divine intervention”, but Yato was not one to judge. After all, if anyone knew what small prayers like these did for minor gods, it was him. However, something was still strange. It took him too long to pin down why something still did not make sense, too long to notice the slight squinting of the attacked.

It took Yukine yelling at him to realize there were no ayakashi around, and this god’s blade was not leaving the man’s chest until he had succeeded; reflecting some sort of light into the victim’s eyes and effectively blinding them.

They were not trying to stop him; they were making him do this.

Yato knew exactly what kind of god this was.

And she had heard Yukine’s yell too.

She had flinched and looked in their direction, visibly disrupting her shinki’s concentration, as the beam of light faltered enough for the victim to fight back. She yanked the sword away without hesitation, finishing the man off and leaving the other shocked at the sudden death of their attacker. The god fled, leaping away; but Yato was not about to let her get away without facing consequences for her actions. He and Yukine shared a look. “Come, Sekki!” As soon as the blades were in his hands, he went after the rogue god.

They jumped on roof after roof, ran through the streets and leapt unearthly heights. He chased her with a grudge he had not felt in a long time, with a burning desire to make justice by himself; to take her apart piece by piece, to break her shinki until it knew the pain it had caused, to—

“Yato?” Yukine’s voice dragged him out of his own head. “Are you okay? You’re kind of gripping really hard…” He looked down at his paled knuckles and loosened his grip on the swords. “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Putting up with your sweaty ass hands is one thing, but you better have a good reason for squeezing me.”

“I’m the one doing all the running, so shut up before I drop you right here. You’re going to make me lose track of her”

As if she had been reading their minds the whole time, the god suddenly stopped in the middle of a crossroads. Yato landed a few meters away from her. Watching, waiting.

She stared at him, too; her brown eyes calculating, dark hair settling down after the chase. After a beat of analysis, she simply uttered “Revert, Hikari”.

A flash of light later, a tall figure stood beside their master. They both donned similar clothing; skirts and dress shirts in black and white, like negative images of each other.

“What, does everyone need to have a uniform?” Yukine piped up.

“You gonna attack an unarmed god?” She finally addressed him. “Come on, put that away. Where are your manners?”

“Who are you?” Yato deadpanned, flipping Sekki around in his hand.

“The name’s Aya,” she curtsied mockingly. “This is my guidepost, Hitsuki. Who are you? That’s a very nice blade you got there.”

Yato almost felt too uncomfortable to keep Yukine in his weapon form any longer. “Revert, Yuki”. The teen stood next to him with an annoyed look on his face as Aya shamelessly eyed him up.

“Yato. He’s Yukine. What were you doing back there?”

“Yato… Yeah, I’ve definitely heard that name somewhere…” She looked thoughtful as she ignored Yato’s question. “Of course!” She finally exclaimed. “You defied heaven itself, didn’t you? Faced off against Takemikazuchi in person, right?” Her eyes glinted with mischief and her tone lowered. “That your hafuri?” A smirk settled on her face. “He looks cute, but I didn’t think he would be so young.”

“Well that’s none of your business, now is it?” Yukine snapped back, blushing.

Aya merely chuckled. “And he comes with an attitude, too! How charming…” She gestured to her own shinki, who had been quietly laughing along the whole time. “Hi-chan is a snarky one, too. Quick wit might just be something all hafuri share…” She looked Yato in the eyes as she referred to her vessel as a hafuri. His expression was transparent as the other god’s statement took him aback completely.

“Hard to come by shinki this loyal as a god of calamity, isn’t it?” Her statement felt like a punch in the gut. Yato’s expression hardened and he instinctively stepped forward and slightly in front of Yukine, as if trying to protect him. “What were you doing back there?” he pressed.

“Oh, you know, just business. Muggers are kind of my target audience, you could say. Say a little prayer and leave a tip and defenseless people with full pockets start crossing your path left and right…” She winked and gestured to the shinki beside her. “Sometimes they need a little help, a pick me up, if you will. Some are way too nervous; some can’t deal with feisty prey. That’s where this one comes in. They’re quite the charmer, really. You see, they have an edge to them that gives most ill intents a boost.” She chuckled at her own pun. “And after changing, well… Mind if I show off? Come, Kouki!”

As the tall figure dissipated into white light, Yato immediately summoned his own weapon —and Yukine was happy to oblige—. Both gods were left standing under the street light again, blades glistening.

“Calm down, man! I’m just showing you!” She seemed truly unbothered and sly. What had materialized, rather than a sword, was a black and green scabbard at the god’s waist. In an instant, Aya unsheathed a tachi with a long, polished blade. It looked sharp and made visions flash in Yato’s mind that he would rather not recall.

“Check this out,” Aya angled the weapon just so, and a spot of bright, white light shone on the pavement. It moved with the blade in a smooth, almost mesmerizing dance; running across the floor and up buildings, roaming along street signs and traffic lights, until it went back to its starting point on the pavement between the two gods. With a flick of the green handle in Aya’s hand, the dot disappeared.

“Pretty cool, right?” she bragged. “Concentrated moonlight. They could barely keep their edge consistent before changing, but now? Most precise weapon you could ask for.” She angled the blade so it reflected the streetlight, no magic required.

Yato observed her and his blood slowly boiled. The way she moved her sword and the way she had used it on the humans before made his skin crawl. He watched every turn of her wrist and every sway of the green handle in her hand.

“Why use it like that?” He finally replied. “Why influence humans’ hearts in such a profane manner?”

Aya laughed.

“Oh, look at him with the big words! Profane, ooh, that hurt!” she mocked. “A prayer is a prayer, Yato. People want me to help them make a living, get out of financial pinches… after all, that’s what us little gods’re here for, isn’t it? Answering mortals’ prayers… Surely you understand,” something glinted in her eyes, as if she knew she was pushing exactly the wrong buttons.

Yato’s face hardened. “As a matter of fact, I very specifically do not.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked Yato in the eyes, her expression darkening. He shifted Sekki’s blades in his hands. “Don’t be confused; I am no god of calamity.

Aya stepped toward him, resting the long, curved blade of the tachi on her shoulder, and scowled at him. “What’s with the swords, then? What are you god of, low-stakes fencing? Have I perchance run into the powerful god of war, Bishamonten?” she inspected him as she came closer. Yato did his best to stand his ground, deadpan as he tried not to grit his teeth. "Want me to give her a call so we can settle this quicker?" He threatened.

"Oh, she's your friend, right?" Aya stopped barely a meter in front of him. "Figures traitors would stick together".

Yato closed the distance between them and crossed Sekki's blades at the other god's throat.

"You sure talk a lot of shit for a creeper who takes money from predators".

Aya simply eyed Sekki up, looked Yato in the eyes and smirked. "And you talk a lot of shit for a killer".

His blood froze. His entire body was paralyzed. His pupils shrunk into specks. The single word echoed and bounced in his head.

“Yato? Yato! Snap out of it!” Yukine’s voice rang louder. He quickly withdrew his swords and leapt away onto the closest rooftop. “We need to get out of here.”

A high-pitched voice reached them from the street below, “Come on! Things were just getting fun!” They could hear she was not giving up; Yato jumped from roof to roof hoping to get away from the unrelenting footsteps of his new pursuer.

“Yato, what the hell are you doing? I thought we were the ones chasing her!” his shinki’s voice resonated in his head. A speck of moonlight ran on the floor in front of him and suddenly glared into his eyes. Blinded, he maneuvered into a flip and landed wrong on the next roof; he stumbled and fell off the side, losing Kouki’s light in the process. Sekki managed to ram into the nearest wall just before they hit the ground, and Yato used the momentum to thrust him forward.

“Stop running from yourself, Yato! You can’t escape your nature!”

He landed on the floor and got set to start running again before Yukine pleaded once again. “Yato! Stop running and confront him!” Or had he said her? Yato did not know. He was thinking too much. All of their words bounced around his head and he did not know what to do with them, or himself, or his feet that suddenly had him turning around toward the building he had just fallen from. Aya dropped to the ground to face him once again. Blades at the ready. “Ready to face our sins, are we?” She said with a smirk.

Yato looked her in the eyes; something that was not quite rage burned in his. His head was as clear as his thoughts would allow, and a single thing stood out among them.

“Do you not know?” His tone was measured and cold. He turned Sekki in his hands and swiftly readied the blades at his sides. “A god can do no wrong.”

He charged.

As their blades collided, both gods were reckoned with each other’s strength. The raw power that emanated from them ricocheted on the buildings along the street. A blaze of white light flashed between both weapons and Yato staggered backward, covering himself as Sekki bore another strike from Aya’s tachi. The swords clashed and glared and clanged against each other, bursts of light exploding between them as Yato kept dodging toward higher ground to avoid Kouki’s blinding attacks.

Aya was fast; faster than Yato was comfortable with. She wielded her sword and its abilities seamlessly, with the ease of flowing water. They coordinated, assembled and moved as one, making spare use of words to communicate; as if sharing a mind.

“I thought your kid was a hafuri, god of calamity” Aya mocked behind another flash. “Where’s your sync? What’s all that eternal loyalty good for if he ain’t protecting his master?” Another blinding light shone into Yato’s eyes. Anyone could have smelled the storms slowly but surely inching closer to them, reeking of ayakashi and bad omens. He crouched behind a roof, panting; Sekki nearly slipping from his grasp. He could feel Yukine's distress coursing through his system. “You okay, kid?” He took a moment to wipe the blades and handles on his sleeves. “What are you doing?” The shinki’s urgent voice popped into his head, “get back out there! Stop hiding, you coward, we need to kick their—” “Okay, okay, calm down. You have to focus. We don’t stand a chance here if we don’t work together.” “That must be so easy to say when you’re not the one taking all the hits. I have been holding back, you know? You always go on about how every soul has a purpose or whatever, but it’s so hard, Yato! Your life is in danger and I’m just being swung around helplessly and dulling myself because you said it’s the right thing to do! You’re way out on a limb here; they are overpowering us and we’re just taking it!.”

Yato sighed as if he had the time to ponder. He looked at Sekki’s blades, as if looking him in the eye. “Yukine—” A single beam of pure moonlight reflected off the edge, bouncing up into the sky like a beacon.

“Found you!” The yell was closer than Yato had expected; soon he found himself dodging yet another sharp swing in his direction, covering his eyes with one arm. Aya did not use her shinki’s ability sparingly, and it was a powerful move.

“I nearly thought you’d left me here all on my own!” she laughed between attacks “Can’t deny you’re having fun, can you?” She took a moment to block a strike from him and look him dead in the eye “Can’t reject your nature; you were made to fight, after all.” Another flash. Yato grew more and more aware of Kouki’s use of their light manipulation. Sure, they were powerful bursts, but they were not very directed. It seemed as if quick attacks were not their forte. “Of course,” he thought, “they don’t usually need to use it in combat. It’s a diversion tactic, not an attack.” He dodged the light, jumping up to try getting to his adversary from above. Aya leapt away, the gleam of her shinki trailing behind her. Her shots’ inaccuracy was increasingly obvious to Yato, even while still struggling to keep up with their rapid-fire nature. He saw an opening and drove in, crossed swords first. Aya harshly blocked his blades, giving him a good look at her and her own weapon: unscathed and glinting almost mockingly.

“Isn’t it so fun to cut things up?” she said, an intense look in her eyes. Yato looked away and caught a glimpse of his own reflection on Sekki’s surface: his eyes a cold blue, his hair tied back. He staggered. Before he could help it, Aya took the upper hand; swinging at him until he was against a wall, barely parrying her attacks. Panting and struggling to keep his eyes open, he was confronted with his opponent again: sharp edges, disheveled hair and clothes from the fight, her white shirt stained red and ripped in several places. Her eyes, however, were mocking as ever; they radiated a sort of feral enjoyment that made Yato’s stomach churn. He glanced at Sekki again and saw its battered, dull edges taking slash after slash from his adversary, the blight beginning to rust at the tip of one of the swords. He could feel Yukine’s frustration and anger rushing through his veins, feeding into the fire that had been burning at his core since the moment Aya opened her mouth.

“Yukine,” he started, his voice a strange mix of serene and tired “you can do it.” It was a simple statement. Not encouraging at all. It was too late for pep talks. “At least say it with some feeling next time! What the hell does that mean?” “It means some purposes aren’t worth fulfilling.”

Aya rammed her sword into the wall a centimeter away from Yato’s head, white light entirely dazzling him. “What’s that you’re going on about? Purpose? Please. Purpose is a fairy tale made up by humans to fill the void of their existence. They don’t have a purpose, and neither do we. We’re just here for the ride, and some of us choose to take full advantage of it.” Her voice was exasperated “You used to be cool, man! I used to hear tales of the fearsome Yato god, cutting down humans because it was fun! And now you want to help them? What, you think you can suddenly be a benevolent god of fortune? You wanna fart rainbows and happiness or some shit? Don’t make me laugh.” But she was not laughing. The amusement in her eyes had morphed into something bitter and resentful as she removed the blade of her shinki from the wall and angled it against Yato’s neck. “You don’t get to choose.”

“Stop holding back.” He stated plainly, readying his swords. Aya looked taken aback for the first time. “I’m flattered, really, but don’t think you—” “I wasn’t talking to you.” His cold eyes lit up in fury as Sekki glowed a blue glare that purged the blight covering it, leaving the swords looking sharper and deadlier than they had looked in a long time. Relief flooded him as he charged against her with little reserve, swinging once and again and again, through flashing attacks and counterstrikes. His opponent parried and dodged and fought back, but she was tired and thrown off. Kouki seemed not to know what to do with themself, launching random glare attacks that seemed increasingly uncoordinated with the goddess’ charges. Yato’s movements and Sekki’s edge were precise and unwavering.

“It’s freeing, right? The feeling of having someone’s life at your fingertips.” Aya prodded, laughing nervously as she barely kept the other’s swords off her. Yato’s expression didn’t budge. “This is what I’ve been saying!” she panted, tone desperate, “You can deny it all you want, but your true calling is really just cutting. Shit. Up.” She tried to use her words as a diversion and charged at Yato one more frantic time; her opponent didn’t falter. With a maneuver of both swords, Yato jerked the tachi from Aya’s hand, sending it clanging through the pavement a couple meters away. The goddess’ back hit the hard surface of a wall and one of Sekki’s blades was at her throat; the other swiftly drove into the wall, centimeters away from her face. “You’re right, in a way” Yato said flatly. His eyes still burned a bright blue and his hair stuck to the sweat on his face. “I am fulfilling my purpose with a blade, after all”. Aya’s face was unreadable; all kinds of emotions muddled on it, but she forced out a smile that was nervous and desperate and wrong. “Right! That’s all I meant, really. Now we can leave it here and call it a day, and—” Yato’s sword inched closer to her neck, grazing the skin just enough to keep her from moving. “You’re also wrong,” he continued. “The only “shit” I cut up is scum like you. Sekki didn’t draw back, and little by little cut away at the goddess’ skin. “Alright. Well, I think now she’ll understand that— Yato?” Yukine’s voice got lost somewhere in the echo chamber of his thoughts. His enemy’s whimpers filled his ears. “What are your thoughts on reincarnation, Aya-gami?” He stated more than asked, voice cold. “Yato! That’s enough!” Yukine demanded to no avail. A thick trail of blood ran down Aya’s neck. “Yato! Cut it out! You’ll kill her for real!” Yato’s sight was fixed on the blade.

“Yato, stop!” He screamed with a strength that resounded over the cries and the fog in Yato’s brain. “Line!”

The god fell forward, Sekki’s blade slicing clean through the building wall. Aya’s body slid down until she hit the floor, holding onto her head as if to confirm that it was still attached. “Hitsuki! Holy shit. Holy shit, Hi-chan, get over here”. The tachi glowed and morphed back to their human form, and the shinki ran to their goddess’ side. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I couldn’t move. I’m so sorry—” they cried. Yato just stared at the scene, still detached. “Yukine”. He managed to call. A moment later the blond teen was slapping him across the face. “Just what the hell were you thinking?” he yelled. “You almost killed her! What’s all that edgy ‘some purposes aren’t worth fulfilling’ bullshit? I thought you were kidding!” Aya stood up with her shinki’s help, ready to make a run for it, but Yato’s stare froze both of them in place. “I hope this will serve as a warning:” he admonished. “If I ever see you hurting a human again, you won’t be so lucky.” He laid his hand on Yukine’s shoulder. “I’m sure you of all gods understand hafuri can be very protective of their masters and our wishes.” He looked Hitsuki in the eyes, as if addressing them directly. “He won’t go so easy on you next time.”

Four cold expressions collided before Aya and her shinki turned their backs.

“We’ll be sure not to get in your way, o merciful one.” Her tone was bitter and sarcastic.

“Off you go, then!” Yukine pressed.

And the two figures simply walked away until they disappeared into the shadows.

[randomoranges]

Perfect Cities Painting

 Edward kicked the doormat back into place after he retrieved the keys and let himself in. He had tried knocking several times, but he supposed the loud jazz music coming from the open living room windows had camouflaged his knocks. He didn’t know what he expected to find on the other side of the door, but what he found surprised him.

 Étienne was in the middle of his living room, in front of what looked like an easel and a rather large canvas. Both were placed on top of a stained drop cloth and Étienne stood in front of this, wearing a sleeveless shirt and a pair of sweatpants that were equally stained.

Edward stopped, his breath momentarily taken away by the sight before him. For starters, he had no idea that Étienne painted. His friend had never mentioned it and he had never even seen a painting in the apartment.

 But it wasn’t just his friend’s unknown hobby. It was the way he looked. Étienne, bathed in golden sunlight, his mass of curls tied up in a lose ponytail, the light bringing out the natural highlights of his hair. He watched, mesmerised, as Étienne made broad strokes on the canvas, a look of complete peace and concentration on his face.

 From his angle, Edward could see only one side of Étienne and he observed the muscles of his friend’s left arm at work, the Stanley Cup tattoo that covered most of his upper arm seeming lighter in the afternoon sun.

 If he needed a word to describe the scene, it would have been beautiful.

 Étienne stepped away from his easel to mix more paint and finally noticed his guest. He smiled at Edward and walked over to his radio to lower the volume.

 “Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in! How are you?” Étienne hugged him tightly and kissed him on both cheeks, as he would have an old friend. “Were you supposed to be in town and I forgot, or?” A flash of worry appeared on his face and Edward was quick to dismiss it, reassuring him that this was a rather impulsive and unplanned visit, courtesy of work.

 “You paint.” Edward blurted out as a way of greeting.

 “Yeah, I do. Come in, make yourself comfortable.”

 Étienne took his hand and dragged him to his painting. Edward felt his heart beat a little faster. He looked down at where Étienne’s stained fingers closed around his own and tried to figure out what it was that felt different about his friend.

 “I didn’t know. I’ve never seen you paint before. You never mentioned it.”

 Maybe this was a recent hobby, he figured, but judging by the amounts of tools and material that were set up around the easel, he wasn’t so sure.

 “Oh, yeah. I used to paint a lot more before. Well – I’ve always dabbled, but I picked it up a few decades ago.” Étienne picked up his paintbrush and resumed his piece as if this wasn’t a bombshell and as if Edward didn’t know any better when Étienne said he “dabbled” in something.

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. I was part of this community and we used to paint.”

 “But what about your pieces? I’ve never seen them.”

 Étienne paused and then shrugged. “Oh, we had our own space. I left my stuff there. Then, I either reused the canvases, gave them away, I think I may have sold a few – don’t ask me why, and I might have some in a box in my closet, or something.” He stepped back from his painting, frowned, and then changed paintbrush. “It’s a hobby really. Nothing more. I find it relaxing. I’m not doing this to sell paintings.”

 “You – you have some here?” Edward asked, curious to see some.

 “Yeah, you can look at them if you want.”He sounded so casual and nonchalant that Edward was having difficulty wrapping his head around any of this.

 “Yeah?” Edward would have thought for sure that they were some secret thing, and instead was pleasantly surprised that Étienne wanted to share, even if it seemed rather – sudden and far too easy.

 “Go ahead.”

 Étienne pointed to the entrance closet with the end of his paintbrush and Edward moved towards it. He rummaged through it, knowing Étienne kept odd things in the back of it and he was surprised when he found the box of canvases. He thought the box would have been harder to find and retrospectively, he wondered why he had never stumbled upon it earlier. He pulled it out from the depths of the closet, through the coats, shoes, and other boxes, and then went to the couch to look through it attentively.

 Étienne spared him a glance over his painting and smiled encouragingly.

 Edward was stunned to see the various different sizes of paintings, ranging from tiny to big. There were also sheets of paper with sketches hastily stacked in and a multitude of sketchbooks, piled at the bottom of the box. It didn’t seem as though Étienne cared about preserving his work and Edward wondered why. Edward took out one of the smaller paintings and studied it. It was... he wasn’t sure what was going on in the painting, to be honest, but it was captivating.

 There was an eclectic mix of bold colours placed in such a way that nothing was recognisable. No figures or shapes were distinctive. Yet, the lines were vivid and strong shapes danced before his eyes, giving him the energy of the piece.

 He put it aside and looked at the next piece. It also seemed to be abstract, with bold blue lines juxtaposed with semi-transparent red ones, which went in many directions.

 The same was true for the next several pieces and the sketchbooks held various human like figures that were grotesque in appearance. Yet, despite that, Edward was amazed. Each piece had a strong sense of vibrant energy, from the angry, thick brush strokes, to the juxtaposition of colours and shapes. He didn’t know what they meant, but he could tell that there had been thought placed in the way the colours had been applied to the white canvas.

 “These are great.” He finally said; quiet, as if coming out from a trance. He felt a connection to the pieces, as if part of Étienne was hidden in them, left there for him to find and understand, but the moment his mind started to wrap itself around the message, it was gone, teasing him to look in the next one.

 Étienne laughed. “You don’t have to sugar coat it. I know it’s not everyone’s style.”

 “No, really, I like them. They’re bold.”

 “Well, thanks.” Étienne hid back behind his canvas, focusing on his painting and Edward couldn’t see the emotion hiding on Étienne’s face.

 Edward frowned and changed places so that he could look at Étienne to get a better read on him. He tried to figure out what it was that was different about him on this particular visit.

 Étienne continued to paint, moving about his work, while the jazz music continued playing in the background. Edward felt drawn towards Étienne and the calm energy he seemed to be giving off. He could sit there and watch the other man paint for hours.

 He watched as Étienne knit his brow in concentration and stuck out his tongue. All he wanted to do was get up and kiss him, let Étienne explore his body with those stained hands and wild eyes. He looked back to his face, to his wide green eyes and finally knew what it was that was different about him.

 “You’re happy.” He murmured voice thick with awe and want. He rose from his seat and went to stand next to Étienne, arms itching to wrap around him, hold him close and feel him pressed to his chest.

 His friend looked away from the smeared canvas and gave him a quizzical look. “I guess? I mean, painting makes me happy.”

 “It looks good on you.” He admitted. The openness in his eyes, the carefree attitude with which he moved; it was as if Étienne’s guard was down and Edward could glimpse a part of him that was often hidden and closed off to all. He needed to taste and see this side of him that he seldom saw. Needed to feel it to make sure it was real and that he hadn’t dreamt any of it.

 Edward stepped behind Étienne and leaned his chin on the other’s shoulder, feeling him move as he continued to work. His friend laughed and leant back into him, letting himself be held.

 “I could paint you next, if you want.” Étienne suggested, a smirk playing on his lips, and how Edward wanted nothing more but to turn him around and let him do that and more.

 “Are you implying something by that?” He asked, his voice low, breath ghosting on Étienne’s neck. He was no stranger to Étienne’s games and he knew that the best thing to do was to follow along – he could always get something out of it as well.

 “Only if you want me to.”

 “Good. Then why don’t you finish up over there and then you can redirect your attention to me. ”

 He nipped at Étienne’s neck, passing his hands under his shirt, feeling warm skin. Étienne stilled and then relaxed under the familiar touch, shivering slightly at the contact, but he couldn’t say he minded. Edward gave a content sigh, feeling at ease with Étienne there in his arms, the way he sometimes wished it could always be.

 “Give me a moment and I’m all yours.”

 --

 Edward rolled over on the drop cloth and pulled Étienne’s body to him. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Étienne’s neck, his hand caressing down the length of the rose and lily ivy tattoo on his body, before resting on his hip. Étienne turned to face him and he was blown away by the strong look of joy on his face. For a moment, Edward thought he read something else in those green eyes he had come to like – more than he could have ever thought he would – but then Étienne drew him close and kissed him, his eyes fluttering shut. Edward forgot about it and instead focused on Étienne, here in his arms, his body warm and welcoming.

 FIN 27

 Started writing: February 19th 2017, 11:23pm

Finished writing: February 20th 2017, 5:50pm

Started typing: April 16th 2017, 1:05pm

Finished typing: April 16th 2017, 2:04pm

[tywriteskpop]

Transparent (Park Jinyoung)-Chapter 4

Cover made by my friend Milky!

The flashing of cameras and idle babble of reporters were the only thing you could hear as police tried to question you. It sounded like white noise, their voices muddling together in a mashed cluster in your head. Even your best friend couldn’t get much of a valid response out of you. Your eyes were trained on the door, watching as investigators filed in and out, carrying evidence and shouting at each other to looks for any clue that would lead to the culprit.

“This isn’t going to work,” BamBam said, waving his hand for the officer to cease his questioning. “She’s in a state of shock. We’ll have to try again later.”

The officer sighed, tapping his pen against his notepad thoughtfully. “Very well. We’ll keep searching for any clues to who might have done this.” He walked away to go speak with his colleague, making your shoulders slump in relief.

BamBam sighed and turned to you, his eyes showing hesitation as he carefully wondered how to ask his next question. “Will you be alright?” he asked you.

You nodded. “I just don’t understand,” you muttered. “What kind of warning?” You shook your head. “From who? For what?”

BamBam held your shoulders, steadying you before you spiraled into a panic. “Hey. The police will catch whoever did it. We can fix this.”

The voices of the reporters suddenly got louder, shouting excitedly behind you. You turned out of curiosity, seeing a sleek black limo slow to a halt before the line of the televised gossipers. The windows were tinted black, making it impossible to see who was inside. But you had a good guess.

“What the hell are they doing here?” BamBam asked.

The chauffeur exited the vehicle and quickly ran around to the other side, waving for the crowd to back up. After getting some space, he opened the back door and two bodies stepped out gracefully. Decked in sharp tailored black suits, Mark and Jaebum gradually made their way through the crowd. They were silent, ignoring the questions being shouted at them. The police realized who had arrived and immediately hurried over to help clear the path for the two pristine boys.

They finally crossed the tape line, making a beeline for you and BamBam. Mark’s eyes were full of concern. “Y/N, are you alright?” the eldest asked. He looked you up and down, searching for any possible injuries you might have endured. He sighed in relief when he found none. “What happened?”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond. Were you okay? “A break in, I guess. I don’t know.” Your voice wavered with pain as the reality sunk in that your home away from home, your grandmother’s legacy, had been destroyed. You cleared your throat and folded your arms. “What are you guys doing here?” you asked.

Jaebum, who had been observing the surroundings quietly, turned his attention back to you. His eyes briefly flickered over to BamBam suspiciously but held his tongue on it. “You hung up abruptly,” he instead answered. “He got worried and wanted us to check on you. Said he tried calling you but no answer.”

“Oh.” You had been so busy with the investigators and such that you hadn’t realized your phone was buzzing earlier.

“He couldn’t come himself?” BamBam’s voice was full of distrust. He still had no idea about the secret you held, who you worked for. And everyday he was growing more upset at the fact that you couldn’t tell him. “Who is this guy?”

“None of your concern,” Jaebum snapped. He stepped forward almost protectively, making your best friend stiffen in his place, preparing to fight back.

Mark stopped his friend before he got out of control, pushing his hand against the younger’s chest. “Cool it,” the elder told him, his voice hard. He sent Jaebum a hard stare as he dusted his already clean suit jacket. Mark looked towards the entrance thoughtfully. “I’m gonna make a call.”

“To who?” you asked.

He sent you a small smirk. “Who do you think?” Jinyoung. “You have him pretty worried, princess.”

His ironic choice of nickname made you snort, and you stuck your tongue out at him as he walked away. It made you feel slightly better, but the overall feeling that sunk your stomach was still there. The tension between Jaebum and BamBam didn’t help, as you felt you were caught in a sudden crossfire of a pointless battle. A frustrated sigh left your lips as you walked away to sit in the shade, wondering what to do next.

~~~

Mark slowly walked around the building, surveying the damages in each of the rooms. Your office was the worst, completely turned over and trashed. Documents scattered and torn, your desk and chair upside down and across the room, file cabinets knocked over and wide open as papers fell out haphazardly. It was an absolute mess, and it was clear that whoever ransacked the center was violent.

“Completely trashed,” he said into his phone. “Scary to say, but if Y/N was here when it happened, then she would have gotten hurt.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean whoever did this is angry, and she might be the one they’re after. Her office is destroyed, for lack of a better term.” Mark glanced around warily and lowered his voice. “Jinyoung, this place isn’t safe anymore. They left a note for her.”

Back at the manor, the prince paced around his study, his phone clutched in his hand against his ear. “A note?” He froze in his step. “What did it say?”

“First warning.”

Jinyoung cursed under his breath. Kenai’s ears perked up, as if he sensed his master’s distress. Mark felt his friend’s anxiety the same way despite the distance, but he knew why.

“Do you think it’s them?”

The prince was silent for a moment, mulling over the possibilities of who the culprit could be. “Maybe,” he answered. “There’s no way to tell right now. They’ve been silent since that day.”

“If it is them, and they’re targeting Y/N, then that means they know who you are. Face and name.”

Jinyoung knew this. Of course he knew this. His identity was hidden from the world, but now his enemies have found him. And they had no problem using you to get to him. “How is she?” he asked, ignoring the obvious problem.

Mark sighed. “Shaken up. She looked pale. This was her haven, you know?” Both men remained silent for a moment, letting the situation sink in further. “What do we do?”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered around the room, landing on the small book that sat on the corner of his desk. He walked over to the wooden masterpiece, gently picking up the leather-bound journal, and hummed in thought. “I have a favor to ask you, my friend.”

~~~

The three of you were relatively silent, opting to let the investigators do their job without interference and ignoring the incessant shouts from the reporters. You were ready to go home, but BamBam was hesitant to leave. And neither of them agreed with letting you go home by yourself. So you were forced to wait for Mark.

“What is he doing?” you asked.

Jaebum spared you a look of sympathy. “Giving him an update, most likely. We’ll bring you home soon.”

BamBam looked unhappy, his skepticism about the prestigious boys growing by the minute, fueled by his ignorance of who you three really worked for. But now he was worried for your safety, and his suspicions of Mark and Jaebum only heightened. He could only assume that whatever happened here the night before was because of your anonymous employer. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

The distrust in your best friend’s tone did not go unnoticed. Jaebum sent him a glare, scoffing slightly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

You ignored the older boy and gave your friend a reassuring nod. “It’s fine, Bams. It’s better that I go home with them than go back to my apartment by myself, right?” In all honesty, you’d rather be alone. Your apartment was tempting, but you needed to appease both sides.

And it worked. BamBam agreed reluctantly, dreading the idea of leaving you by yourself. No sooner had Mark reappeared, tucking his phone into his back pocket. His steps were light, and he had a tiny smile gracing his lips. “Ready to go?” he asked.

“What’s got you worked up?” Jaebum asked. “What did he say?”

Instead of answering him directly, Mark turned his attention to you. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re going to fix this.” He patted BamBam on the shoulder saying, “We’ll be in touch.” The eldest motioned for you and Jaebum to follow him back to the car that was still surrounded by reporters.

You stood up from your seat on the ground and waved goodbye to your friend, ignoring the way he uncomfortably chewed on his bottom lip. Trying to become as small as possible in between the two boys, you made your way to the car and dived in as soon as Mark disappeared inside. You sat between them, the muffled shouts and questions from outside sounding loud in your head.

“Let’s get back,” Mark ordered. And the chauffer started the car.

~~~

“A trip?” you repeated.

You aimlessly picked at the sandwich that sat on the plate in front of you. The cocky prince stood against the island counter set center in the kitchen, biting into an apple slice. He gave you a small smirk. “A trip,” he said. “We’re going to get you away from this mess for a while. Give you some time to relax. Just you and me.”

You scrunched your nose up in distaste, sending him a suspicious look. Jinyoung rolled his eyes. “Head out of the gutter, Y/N. It’s a getaway place. No chaos, no reporters, no police. Just silence and peace.”

You had to admit, the idea of a mini vacation away from the turmoil sounded heavenly. “I guess you’re not the worst company,” you joked.

“Ha ha.” Despite his sarcasm, he couldn’t help but grin in amusement, enjoying your snappy remark. He had been worried that the damage done to the volunteer center would have been too much for you. Now he could put his plan into action without worry. “We’ll be gone for about a week. So make sure you pack enough clothes.”

You nearly dropped your light meal back onto the plate. “Wait, we’re leaving now?” you asked, half chewed food filling one side of your cheeks.

“Soon, madam squirrel,” he chuckled, earning himself a sharp glare. “We leave tomorrow morning. Early.”

~~~

Early was too early. This place he spoke to you about must have been far away, because you were unexpectedly woken up by loud banging on your door at nearly four in the morning. Muttering curses over curses, you quickly showered and gathered your things. Jackson, being the gracious help that he is, assisted in bringing your bags downstairs to put into the car. Jinyoung met you downstairs soon, Kenai following behind him excitedly.

“I know I said it would be just us, but it would be a shame to leave him behind,” Jinyoung said.

You couldn’t say you minded, as you loved playing with the giant fluffy canine. So the two of you piled into the back of the limo with your plus one. The driver would simply bring you to your destination and come back for you when it was time to come home. Or that’s what Jinyoung explained to you, anyway. Kenai took up a spot in the center of the car floor when he wasn’t standing halfway on the seat to gaze out the window.

The early wake up call had left you unsatisfied with the amount of sleep you lost. It didn’t take long for you to start drifting off. Jinyoung noticed of course, advising you to go back to sleep, that he would wake you when you arrived. You tried to get comfortable, shifting every few seconds in attempt to do so. Without question or warning, Jinyoung scooted all the way to the end near the window, pulling you down so you were laying across the long seat.

You looked up at him in surprise, but his eyes were glued to the book in his hand, flitting over the words calmly. You swallowed, moving slightly to comfortably lay across the seat. You nearly jumped when a small pillow was placed under your head, leaning against the prince’s leg. The whole scenario had you flustered, imagining this be somewhat of an intimate moment. This sort of thing only ever happened in the dramas you watched, the ideal couple being cute and endearing to each other.

So why was Jinyoung being so careful with you? You couldn’t answer this. If it were BamBam instead, you would have pushed him away like a game and made some kind of snappy comment. But you were tongue tied at this moment, unable to come up with anyway to say except, “Thank you.” And before you realized it, you were fast asleep.

The prince continued reading his book, the leather feeling heavy in his hand. The hand-written words on the old pages gave him comfort, his memories filling his mind. As if nothing had ever changed. He was brought out of his reverie with the soft snores coming from his lap. He looked down at your sleeping form, your face peaceful and careless. Your snoring wasn’t obnoxious, he realized, but rather soft and cute in a way. He chuckled slightly, his hand naturally falling to your shoulder.

His small action seemed to make you curl further into yourself, seeking the warmth of his hand. Jinyoung looked around and spotted his bag on the car floor next to him. He set down the journal and reached into his bag, taking out a small blanket. He spread it over you, covering your body and allowing you to sleep peacefully. Part of Jinyoung felt happy in that moment, knowing that despite what happened at the volunteer center, you still felt safe with him.

~~~

“Where are we?” you asked, looking up at the large cabin. “Looks like a vacation house.”

Jinyoung shrugged, taking the rest of the bags out of the car. “Something like that. Kenai!” The dog jumped out of the car, barking and running around the spacious lawn. Once everything was taken out, Jinyoung bid the chauffer goodbye and waved him off. The sound of gravel underneath the tires sounded somehow normal and comforting against the peaceful silence. The prince stepped up to stand beside you. “It was my parents’ vacation home.”

You looked up in surprise. “Are we trespassing?”

The boy beside you shook his head. “Not at all. My mother hasn’t come here since the incident.” A sad smile graced his lips, and you felt bad for asking so many questions. But he continued speaking before you could apologize. “She couldn’t find it in herself to get rid of it. So she gave me the key.” He shrugged. “Being cooped up in the same house all your life can be a little suffocating. Coming here relaxes me.”

It was silent for a moment. It wasn’t so much awkward, but rather thoughtful. He was delving into his memories, and you respectfully kept quiet to allow him this moment of peace. Then he smacked his lips and gave you a wide grin. “Well? Shall we?” He gestured for you to walk ahead as he grabbed some of the bags. You took the remaining bags and walked with him up the steps to the front door.

The cabin was polished wood, giving off a cozy and warm vibe. Two stories, clean glass windows, and a nice long porch with a swing hanging from the overhang. An outline of flower bushes circled the cabin, a clean-cut lawn carpeted around the property. A forest surrounded the area, opening in the back around something you couldn’t see from your current position. Overall, it was beautiful. You could only imagine what the inside looked like.

Jinyoung unlocked the front door and allowed you to step inside first. What a gentleman. But you were awestruck. The cabin had a completely different feeling than the manor. Both were magnificent in every way. But while the mansion was fancy and pristine, the cabin was cozy and rustic.

Simple furniture sat in the living room, two brown sofas and a smaller loveseat. Lantern styled lights hung from the walls, giving the rooms a more homey feeling. A traditional fireplace filled a space in the wall, a nice pile of firewood stacked in the rack beside it. The kitchen was located across, open to the entire room but large enough for several people to work in. A small wooden island sat in the center, much different from the marble counter in the manor. And you hadn’t even seen the bedrooms yet.

“This is beautiful,” you said, walking around slowly.

“Glad you think so,” the prince sighed. “I try my best to keep it up.”

He showed you around the cabin. More specifically upstairs, for the living room and kitchen took up majority of the downstairs area. There were four bedrooms, two smaller than the others. Each of you took one of the bigger rooms, as they came equipped with their own bathrooms. There was a large closet at the end of the hall for storage, and a third bathroom in between the two smaller bedrooms. You set your bags down on the floor in your room, opting to unpack later.

“Come. I’ll show you my favorite part about this place.” Jinyoung led you back downstairs, heading towards the back door. He opened it, and you followed him out. The first thing you noticed was the Kenai made his way to the back, chasing butterflies. You laughed, but then saw what Jinyoung wanted you to see.

A large willow tree took residence in the middle of the clearing, it’s age obvious by its size and the roots that grew beneath it, protruding from the ground in waves. Under the cover of the willow’s branches was a bench. It was simple, painted white with a floral design carved into the back of it. To complete the scenery, a large pond lay in the center. The pond was shaped like a crescent moon, the edges lined with wild flowers. Water lilies littered the surface, and you could just see small bubbles rising to the surface of the water. There must be fish inside.

“Speechless?” Jinyoung was amused by your reaction, but he couldn’t blame you. The image was breathtaking, like something out of a fairy tale. “This is why I come here. An escape from reality. No one can bother me here. Not even Youngjae comes here.”

You spared him a look of sympathy. “You come here alone? That sounds…sad, really.”

The prince hummed in agreement. “Yes, well, now I have someone to share it with.” He met your eyes, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t understand what was happening between you two, but you found yourself wanting more.

[stedes-black-bonnet]

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 17

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: ongoing fic; we try to update twice a week, more depending. Tag list? We have one. Hi friends! Requests?

Warnings: Lots of Roger-esque swearing

Abstract: Roger wants to make the speed of light out of this place; Deacy and reader share a hot space.

Roger Taylor knew what was going on here. During his thirty-some years, he had discovered the hard way just how easy it was to underestimate a man with an insanely high emotional intelligence; underestimating him tended to occur more often than he’d like to admit. He frequently wondered if it was his appearance, his high-pitched voice, or his talent that made people think he was just another pretty face, some blond model with no brain. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, and he had fought his entire life so far against that ill-assuming tide. He was shrewd. A multi-instrumental musician, songwriter, fashion icon (he’d like to think, anyway) should be well-respected among his peers. Maybe it was his temper? He was in touch with his emotions more than anyone else he knew; Freddie frequently said he was the emotional equivalent of a night at the opera. Roger couldn’t dispute this. He was proud of his emotional range and stubbornly believed his emotional prowess linked strongly to his emotional empowerment and vulnerability. For his emotional transparency was vulnerability of a very specific sort: even if he wasn’t sharing it with anyone in particular or sharing it with everyone in particular, it was still targeted, specific, and intentional openness.

For a man so deeply in tune with the emotions of the people around him and his own emotions, it was a new experience for him to find himself not united with his own current desires and his self-imposed limitations. This was causing him serious problems. Everything related to an emotional state for him. It was his core. Emotions were the road map he used to understand his own existence. Right now, he had either lost the map or torn it up in a fit of anger. His carefully created veneer of denial was crumbling. And try as he might to glue the delicate pieces back together, he was failing at every turn. Denial, an emotion like any other, was his shield. Denial protected him from what he was not ready to feel, confront, and process. As anyone who knows what it’s like to live a predominantly emotional life, it is exhausting, and safety measures, escape routes, and panic rooms must be utilized to keep the peace.

The ability to hide emotions until the appropriate time to deal with them was part of having a high emotional intelligence. Some people couldn’t read other people’s emotions to save their lives; you put a gun to Roger’s head, and he’d be able to identify the emotional ranges and feelings of anyone around him; he’d make a great foreign agent, he thought. The FBI, maybe; he could profile a bitch faster than most people took to tie their shoes; this was because of his perceptions and emotional intelligence; sure, Brain was just brilliant, but could he read a room’s emotions and play everyone in it? Probably not, Rog figured. The ability to recognize when certain emotions were right for certain situations was his wheelhouse. This didn’t mean he paid any attention to what he knew was appropriate, however. Having knowledge and using it were two vastly different things. Half of the fun was to be found in reading a room full of people, knowing what they wanted or expected, and giving them the exact opposite, giving them what they didn’t even know they wanted, and changing their minds with the swagger of his emotional charm: this was power. And it was better than any drug, and almost better than sex.

Right now, however, Roger had little control over himself and his own emotions. Reading the interior of his mind and heart, every alarm was going off in unison: FLY AWAY RUN AWAY.

This was Lydia’s fault, he angrily thought. Sure, being in touch with his emotions didn’t mean he was always honest about what he was feeling. Especially regarding love, falling in love, being in love…. No—

That’s not what’s happening here. Fuck that, he thought very loudly, trying to convince himself. Focus. But not on her—not on Lydia. Fuck. Bloody fucking fuck. Focus on Deacy and Y/N.

He placed his hands on either side of the door frame. One up higher, one down lower. He wore his too-fancy-for-the-occasion black tuxedo stripe pants, his too-dressed-down-for-the-occasion white classic tee shirt, a pair of over-worn high-tops, and what could only be a black fur coat of Lydia’s. It smelled like her, and he savored--NO NO savoring fucking nothing here. He peered at you and Deacy from behind his sepia circular prescription sunglasses. He was, essentially, too cool to be allowed. Roger Meddows Taylor was synonymous with illegal behavior. His blue eyes popped out from his tinted glasses as he surveyed the scene before him.

He effortlessly read the emotions on both of your faces. Every glance you and Deacy sent each other, every hesitant touch, every “accidentally” intentional touch, every unspoken word was a clue for Roger, and he was a bloodhound. There was a dreamy quality to your olive eyes that smacked of infatuation and confusion—no not confusion, Roger thought. It was more of an ignorance is bliss kind of emotional vacuousness he associated with early, blind love. He tried to not roll his eyes and tried desperately to not think of Lydia, with whom he was having his own blind feelings—STOP that bloody well right now. Deacy has this hopeful dewy glow that had nothing to do with sex and sweat. Pure joy, Roger thought. Pure fucking undivided, maybe even not fully registered, joy. Ah, to be young and in love—Roger banged a fist on the door frame, suddenly. His smile still stays on, whatever happens pain and fury would fuel his waning denial.

Roger saw your flushed face spark a look of concern at the quick eruption of his fist speaking what he would not give voice to yet. He continued to take in your haphazard dress and twisted tights, and Deacy’s barely zipped pants, and felt a keen sense of deja vu. We’ve already been here tonight. Get a room, he thought, he’d like to get a room with Lydia. Maybe every room. WHAT the fuck is wrong with me? He hated himself more than he hated the idea of Deacy’s new Queen record. He smashed his fist into the door frame again. Fuck. Focus. Fuck.

These details, NOT HIS EMOTIONAL DETAILS, he reminded himself, your clothing and glancing details, HOWEVER, told him a lot about you and your night. He hadn’t even had to witness it first hand, and he knew the landscape of your night like he knew every wink, every breath and beat of every time signature.

It was clear to Roger you both hadn’t actually had full on sex yet. Sure, you had experimented, licked and touched, kissed and felt, but he’d put serious money on the fact you hadn’t been penetrated and Deacy hadn’t cum. Fascinating and boring simultaneously. That’s got Deacy all over it.

He and Deacy liked games, similar flavors but completely different goals and power structures. Deacy’s was inherently equal with delaying of certain actions, while Roger favored a flat out war of equals where everyone got precisely what they wanted assuming, of course, they could negotiate it. Both had a hard time finding compatible partners because of this. It was easy to settle, especially for Roger, for a night of climaxing fun with a beauty just to feel close to somebody. Yet, it was never as fulfilling as sex with someone who wanted what you wanted too.

Lydia could negotiate her way around a room full of cats, or room full of blind people without breaking a sweat or running into anyone or setting anyone or any cat off course. She was good. Fantastic. Challenging. Formidable. Roger was a sauntering sapient, a fucking loudmouthed, dirty disaster. The denial kept slipping away from his talented grasp. God, I know we don’t talk, you tend to mess things up, but fucking help me, he thought. FOCUS.

If you and Deacy had actually had sex, he figured, you two wouldn’t be pawing at each other whenever anyone turned around or left you alone for more than a few minutes. Your and Deacy’s emotions were spilling out of your hands; he had seen it before. Fuck, he was going through it himself. Right now. In front of you and Deacy. Fuck, he thought.

“What—No self-control, mates?” He said, shaking his head at the two of you, while his own voice slightly shook, higher than normal.

“Coming from you that’s a laugh.” Deacy retorted.

Roger grinned, walking up to you. He sweetly and shamelessly planted a chaste kiss on your cheek. He turned to Deacy and mock-begrudgingly placed a kiss on his cheek. “Do try to get some sleep, children.” Leaving between to you both, he flashed a peace sign (best case scenario, worst case he was telling himself to fuck off) behind him as he walked down the stairs. Instead of his rainbow-sequin blazer, he had acquisitioned a fur coat, you recognized as Lydia’s; it was high summer, yet here he was, fur coat and all. Roger Taylor was the anomaly of a sudden blizzard smack dab in the middle of June.

The Blond God would try to control even the seasons, you thought. Maybe he already did. You couldn’t tell if his behavior had been erratic or normal, so you weren’t particularly concerned, and Deacy didn’t look worried, so you decided to let it slide and ignore it.

“I live with Lydia.” You explained to Deacy, satisfying the floating, unspoken question in the air. “And if I thought when I woke up this morning Roger Taylor and John Deacon would be in our apartment, I definitely would have done the dishes.”

Deacon laughed, kissing your cheek, “dishes are overrated.”

“Did you just claim my cheek back from Roger?”

“I did, yes.”

“Jealous?”

“I prefer possessively keen.”

“Is it okay if we do a tour later?” You asked, entering your apartment with a laugh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’m more interested in your bedroom.” Deacy confided. “I can't stop now that we’ve started the whole thinking out loud confiding in each other thing.”

“It’s like I’m living in my own sitcom.” You said, swerving Deacy past several room towards the very back of the apartment.

You paused at the door to your bedroom, your sanctuary. Sharing this space had always been excessively private for you. You were about to let a man into the most secret areas of your life. He’d be free to explore and witness all the hidden dreams and trinkets to which your entire existence amounted. It would make you an open book, in a sense. This was a big step. And it was happening the same night you met.

Deacy, sensing some of this on your face, said “Before I owned my own home, my bedroom was all I had. Letting someone into that space took time for me. We don’t have to go in there if you’re not ready. The sofa would be accommodating, I’m sure.”

“I’m ready. It means a lot to me, this space. Sharing it with you will be my honor. I'm just trying to remember if I tidied up before leaving for the party…”

“Well, m’lady, when you see my home I’m sure you’ll understand just how little I care about neatness.” Deacy had affected a bow and brandished the door open for you.

Turning on the light, the first noticeable piece of furniture was your upright piano. Tried and true it had been your friend through many sleepless nights, more than you could count. There for you when no could understand you, when words failed you, there was always this: you could return to the music, and it would save you. You had a makeshift desk, a rather large dining room table in a corner. It was strewn with sheet music, text books, and a rotary phone. You had an enormous blackboard hanging on the wall behind your large bed. Musical notations were scribbled on it in half-asleep hurried handwriting. To the right of it on the wall was an even larger bulletin board with more stable notations pinned to it. You had a deep plum-colored armchair next to a window with a high stool next to it serving as an end table. A old cup of tea was resting on it from earlier in the day; several tabloid magazine rested under the cup. A record player was in the corner by the door, several albums rested in a very wide floor-to-ceiling shelf next to it. It was the tallest, largest piece in the room. A collection built over careful years of curating your tastes and passions. A bench in front of the bed had a rustic conifer-colored throw on it. The bedding was deep maroons and rusty oranges. Several dresses were layered on the bed, some inside out some discarded. The window was open, and slight breeze made the gauzy curtains twirl in the very late night, or exceptionally early morning. The floors were a dark-colored hardwood, with a simple beige area rug to finish it off. The closet was insignificant compared to the colorful and varied clothes covering the floor of it, obscuring several pairs of shoes while doing so. It was your favorite room in the apartment, besides the kitchen, and the bathroom’s fantastic antique claw-foot tub.

Deacy hadn’t said anything yet. “I know it’s not much,” you said, “but it’s mine and—“

“I love everything about it. It’s everything you love and are perfectly condensed into one space. I’m not sure what I expected, but this is you; it’s flawless. If you find me in the middle of the night looking at your record collection, you can’t blame me; it’s better than my own.”

“I get that a lot.” You laughed. Deacy gave you a look, one eyebrow raised, all innocent curiosity. “Oh, not from men I’m sleeping with, just people who know my interests and have heard of my collection.”

“Your collection is quite prodigious…” His hands fluttered past a row of plastic sleeve covers, making that all too specific soft clicking sound.

“You were gonna add for someone my age, weren’t you?” You asked playfully.

“I was and thought better of it; ten years isn’t too much.” He added, softly touching a few keys on your piano.

“Not to obsess over, no; and, I’ve decided it doesn’t matter to me.” You smiled at him, putting an end to that topic hopefully for the duration. “I don’t really have any pajamas for you to wear. Turn around while I change into mine?”

Deacy looked at you like maybe you were joking; his eyes squinted and his face angled as if trying to detect your humor through his chin. He put his hands over his eyes, then peeped through them slyly yet obviously.

“Really! Deacy! We haven’t seen each other naked. Close your eyes!” You were laughing as you said it, though you were quite serious. There was something sacred to preserve here, you thought. Some innocence to be stolen away if he saw you naked now and not during intercourse. It would be so anticlimactic for the first time you see someone naked was when they were struggling to put on their flannel bottoms, and not during some all out sexual to-do. He obeyed this time, to the letter, and kept his eyes shut until you had finished changing. “Okay, you can look now.”

He opened his eyes and smiled at you in the same way he had been smiling at you the first time he saw you: he was captivated. You were wearing a matching flannel set. Nondescript and routine. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Was that love, he thought?

He began undoing his necktie, making sultry eye contact the entire time. He placed it on the armchair. He methodically unbuttoned each button of his blue shirt, removed it, and placed it on the armchair. He had a white tank top on under it, and that he kept on. He removed his black oxfords and red jeans next. His polka-dot boxers where sufficient pjs, you thought. Decorum was satisfied this night, though for how much longer, you weren’t sure. It would be hard enough to sleep in a bed next to Deacy without trying something. You had little hope you’d make it through the night.

You began removing the clothes from the bed, tossing them in your closet. You turned down the bed together and climbed in together.

Deacy reached out and took one of your hands in his, and happily held it, waiting to see if you had anything else to say besides your sleepy good-nights. You turned to him, moving in close, draping a leg across his, and laying your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around your waist, breathing in the scent of your hair, and twirling a strand in his nimble fingers. Your soft snores were the only music he needed.

Tag List: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @triggeredpossum @groupiie-love @richiethotzierz @phantom-fangirl-stuff @partydulce @sophierobisonartfoundationblr @psychostarkid @teathymewithben @smittyjaws @just-ladyme @botinstqueen @mydogisthebest @little-welsh-wonder @maxjesty @deakysdiscos @yourealegendroger @marvellouspengwing @molethemollie @deakysgirl @arrowswithwifi

[veinereastath]

FC5 Birthday Bash

Here we go! Today, on 27th March Far Cry 5 celebrates it’s first birthday! I still love this game and try to make new content for it, just like many other people. This one-shot is a present for @unclefungusthegoat <3 Big thanks to @edensgay for having this amazing idea to make gifts for other people in the fandom! I hope that my giftee will like it. As you prefered, here is John Seed x Holly pairing, with drama, angst and more sad and disturbing stuff, as you (and me as well) like ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I love everyone in this fandom – it’s the best one I’ve ever been in!

Word count: 2075

Pairing: John Seed x Holly (well, kind of). Warnings: Angst, drama, disturbing stuff.

She waited for him where at the same place as always - in the southwest of the ranch, by the river bank. So far away that they would not risk being noticed, yet close enough that they would be able to return or call for support if they encountered a wild, furious animal. John may have been bold and brave, but he was not his big bad brother. Jacob would be able to fight off a cougar or a bear. The Baptist – not really.

He never told his people why he was going there, and they, obedient and believing in his every action, didn’t ask any questions. They could be extremely sensitive to the safety of their herald, but they also believed that the Seed family was surrounded by God's protection and no one could touch them. No one could harm them. No one could kill them.

Maybe they were right.

She heard the soft crackling of small branches and leaves as he approached her. He was careful not to hook his valuable clothes on shrubs; he always took care of his appearance, no matter what the situation was. Holly sat on a large boulder, watching him with curious eyes. The man approached her slowly, with natural and delicate elegance. The right corner of his mouth rose slightly in a charming smile, and blue eyes glittered. The night was extremely bright - no clouds obscured the stars and the moon. Everything was transparent, beautiful, mysterious.

“You didn’t have to wait too long, I hope?”

His voice was velvety, extremely pleasant to the ear. It mixed gentleness and charisma, but all this seemed to be just a cover for the truth - and the truth took the form of a barely audible, though certainly present note of the threat that passed through his tongue like a snake wrapping around a flower twig. She melted whenever he spoke, although it was impossible to say that she actually loved him. Their secret meetings served rather to kill loneliness. Somewhere deep down, Holly was still devoted to her ex-husband, even if at the end he became a monster and she was forced to take his life away in order to save herself. In the beginning, however, it was a relationship formed out of pure love and the woman still clung to this early memory. John was just a sort of escape and relief for her, but nothing more. At least she was telling herself so.

“I didn’t even feel the passage of time, honestly.” She admitted, smiling gently, looking at the calmly flowing river reflecting the light of the stars. This night seemed to be taken out straight from the poetic world, but somewhere deep inside it still carried something disturbing. Holly felt it, but she tried to ignore the strange feeling. “I like this place. It seems to be far away from all the problems.”

John chuckled melodiously and came closer, looking at the river, more focused on the water surface than the woman sitting next to him. He leaned his fingertips against the cold stone, tapping on a specific rhythm, which Holly could not recognize in any way.

“Did anything interesting happened lately?”

The woman shook her head after a brief moment of consideration. "No. My life is usually calm, you know that. I'm..." She hesitated for a moment, her head lowered. "I am far from the chaos that is currently around.”

It would seem that Holly was afraid to mention the situation in the county, especially when John was nearby. And although there was a note of something dangerous in his eyes, as though some negative memory had passed through his head - maybe one, maybe a few - he just nodded his head in understanding. She heard how dangerous his mood swings were, but he seemed to be careful around her. She hadn’t yet had the opportunity to be an actual witness to his anger and sincerely hoped that it would remain so.

"Surprising how just one person can turn our peaceful garden into a war zone, isn’t it?"  The question was rhetorical, so Holly didn’tt answer. She knew exactly what circled John's mind in this moment, and she didn’t want to drill it down. It was pure caution. No matter how well he might look, how charming his smile could be, she knew that he was something more. She just didn’t say it out loud for obvious reasons. Most of the people in Eden’s Gate knew the truth as well – but they were either too fanatical or too scared to do anything with it.

“You okay?” She asked cautiously, looking at him searchingly, but not keenly. John lowered his head and looked at her too. And as usual, all his thoughts and worries were covered by his characteristic, enigmatic smile, combining warmth with something disturbing.

"Just thoughts. They haunt us all at any time. There's nothing to worry about. They're a natural part of our existence." He responded with his typical eloquence, grabbing her gently by the palm of her hand, brushing her skin with his fingertips. She returned the touch with due care, letting out air from her lungs. John gave her a sense of security, letting her forget about everything for a moment - but she never forget who he was and what was he doing. She still heard all those screams of people kept in his bunker, begging for mercy, trying to understand what is happening and where are their families. Holly wanted to ask him multiple times – was it truly necessary? Why did they have to act with such brutality towards other people?

“Something is bothering you.” John noticed, watching her closely, investigating her every reaction. Seeing every flash in her eyes, muscle twitching, unevenness in her breath. He took a step backward, still holding the woman's hand, ordering her to get up. "Is there something you want to talk about? Something to confess, my dear?"

Holly shivered slightly, then looked into his eyes. They almost seemed to shine. A bright blue light that blends in perfectly with the man's characteristic blue shirt. His eyes seemed to flawlessly pierce her through. One look was enough for John to know what the person was thinking about. No one could hide the truth from him.

Well, almost no one.

“You can think about it for a while. Come with me.” His attitude, until now quite tense, seemed to change rapidly. He relaxed, leading the woman to the bank of the river. She felt the cool water on her legs and sighed quietly. John's grip on her hand gained some strength. "This time I want to confess something to you. And to God. Because something is bothering me.” He paused and looked at her. She could swore that for a brief moment she saw something change in him. He seemed nervous. “Will you listen?”

Holly was surprised by this turn of events and needed a moment to speak and whisper a delicate, barely audible "Yes". John smiled subtly at the corner of his mouth - this smile, although gentle and beautiful as ever, carried a note of something unsettling.

"Come."

She followed him into the deeper part of the river, feeling the water wrap her waist. She took a moment to observe the droplets of water, sparkling gently in the moonlight, running down her hand. They stood side by side in silence, until he spoke again. “I wanted to confess this for a long time. It took me a while to realize what is happening with me and what I’m feeling. I had to find a courage to say it out loud. To show it. Because no matter how hard we try to fight our sins, they always come back. It is to be seen either we can fight them off, or are we going to lose.” She listened to him, curious, fascinated by his voice. So silky. Like honey. Sweet, sweet…

Venom.

“Can I trust you?” John finally asked, looking at her cautiously. Waiting for the word he loved so much, the word that was his private bliss. And he heard it.

“Yes.” She whispered, and he ran his tattooed hand over her hair.

“I always loved my family. My brothers.” He started, sighing slightly. He looked dreamy. Peaceful. “Even when I was separated from them, I still loved them, because I felt them somewhere deep inside of me. Yes. I loved them more than anything else; or perhaps I actually never loved anything apart from them. I met many people. I gave them my body, and they were giving me theirs. But it was never out of any feelings. It was just a need. Lust.”

He paused for a moment, running his fingers over the water's surface, painting patterns that lasted no more than a second. “Joseph teached me how to fight it. I confessed all my sins and I atoned for them. Felt the pain that I deserved. It felt so wonderful. I was free. And then...” His eyes glittered and he took a long breath. “And then I realized that I love someone. It took some time. Few years. Everything changed. I love someone who isn’t part of my family. I opened my heart to an intruder, but the price for it is truly horrific. Because my love is unreciprocated love. And I tried to fight it for some time. But I failed. I admit it, and you know what?” John looked at her, and there was nothing mild in his gaze anymore, even though he was speaking calmly, in tthat beautiful manner of his. “I surrender.”

Holly swallowed hard, thinking about what to say. Or should she say anything? Would it be wise? It seemed like John was on the edge of patience, that he might lose the fight with his own anger and frustration. But she found the courage and finally spoke.

“Loving someone is not a sin.” She murmured, trembling slightly. “It’s the most pure thing in the world.”

“My love is not pure, though.” John countered. “It is love born out of hate. It’s not pure, it’s not good. It is the child of wrath and lust. Deep love, but it doesn’t change the fact that it is toxic. Jealous love.”

“And you want to atone for it?”

She was sure what the answer will be. She knew how much he loved this word, he loved how it danced on his tongue, like a ballet dancer on stage.

“No.”

Holly blinked and felt a chill run down her spine. “Then what do you want to do?”

“What is necessary.” He explained, then put his hand on her chest, tracing the line of her collarbone with his fingers. “I need to get rid of everything that makes me feel insecure. I need to focus on the person that is responsible for my torment. You, my dear Holly, know too much about me, and in order of everything to work out perfectly, I need to get you out of my mind.” Her eyes widened as she understood what he was aiming at. Her heart beat harder when fear pierced her body.

“I am sorry. But know that I’m doing it because of love.” John took a deep breath, an then his hand clutched around woman’s throat. “Love for the devil, caged in a body of a mortal woman, that is currently destroying everything my family worked for.”

Oh, sweet Deputy, you broke the first seal, and I’m breaking the second one.

His hand ached painfully on her throat, while the other with a violent force pushed the woman underwater. Holly only managed to moan, then the cold water began to pour into her mouth, depriving her of the possibility of breathing. She grabbed the man by the arm, desperately trying to push him away, or at least dissuade him from the current decision. But John remained adamant and still held her under the surface, ignoring the pain that her nails left, digging into his skin painfully.

Struggle. Splashing water. Silent chaos, fight for survival.

And then silence. Release.

He let her body flow down along the river, watching it for some time, and then left.

When John was standing by the door to his ranch, he heard a loud explosion in the distance. A cloud of smoke was painted on the morning sky. Another silo.

There was only one person brave and stupid enough to do it.