#I also have a shit memory so followers please prod me if I seem to have forgotten where the invisible button is supposed to be

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Sorry I am not treating your post as less important, I was reblogging it to get eyes on it and to try to get tumblr to crowd source a tutorial from someone who knows how and has the spoons.

I recognize your post was a simple request to do it, but all the posts about it I see are a request to do it and I cannot ever find instructions anywhere on how in a way that's confirmed to work, and I was hoping someone could confirm a process. So there is usually a button to submit alt text, and if not there's html code that can be inserted into the post directly, is what I am getting from this?

Sometimes i just add text to a post describing the image but I have no way of knowing if it is "tagged" correctly, etc for the screen reader to acknowledge it as the alt text for the image, like as proper official alt text as a proper descriptor to a program, like the name of a string it would retrieve and output, which is why I was putting it in quotes. That's what I mean by "formatting", do we just add html to the post and then what is html that someone knows actually works on tumblr, because a lot of inserted html doesn't [I have tried].

These questions are rhetorical and to the larger audience, not me trying to grill you personally for answers. I am asking this of anyone who wants to answer on tumblr at large.

I have looked for a button on tumblr or an option and have never seen it, does someone [not to be passive aggressive, but to literally ask for someone who might need to be able to visually describe tumblr and knows where it is] know where the button is and can they add it to this post? Or to any post they see asking for people to add alt text, because the only reason I don't do it more habitually is I literally can't figure out how to. I am not saying that argumentatively, I am trying to give the literal reason it isn't happening more from my personal experience of the site.

I'm saying if someone wanted to figure out how this actually works on tumblr and the actual process of how to do it, and add that to the posts asking for alt text, someone who has the time and energy to figure it out, it might get a lot done. Not "more than your post" but as a helpful addition to all of these posts so that the people who only aren't doing it because they don't know how to get their answer.

I would have made a separate post asking if anyone knew how, but generally if I make a post asking questions myself they sit there with 0 notes forever and don't help anything. It seemed like asking the question where people would see it and could respond much more publicly might get more done.

The reason I didn't look it up is because I had before multiple times and gotten nowhere and I didn't have the energy, I was busy going through boxes and totes and am suffering with some cognitive symptoms at the moment, but since I'm typing this anyway, now, I tried again and it says this:

"After adding an image to your post, tap the 3 dots in the lower right corner to add alt text. The alt text should be a brief description of your image, as if you were describing it to someone over the phone, to make your post accessible to folks using a screen reader."

Which I was never able to do before because I can't find the circles they are talking about.

So let's try to confirm if this is updates and works!

The option doesn't show for me except as a transparent -now grey- circle in the bottom right and it took actual work to click on at all because of how skinny the image is, but it is not three dots and I am not sure it has always loaded properly for me before because I could never find it. It is showing as a grey shadow behind the red x button to close the image and I am not sure if it always does that or if it's the image dimensions, but it would explain me not being able to find it.

it should read: "A badly drawn image of 9 dots coloured red, orange, yellow, bright green, cyan, royal blue, purple and magenta, the last one being split between black and white. They are sloppy attempted circles by someone with poor coordination using a mouse"

Did that work? [anyone who wants to answer]

Is that the preferable process compared to:

[image id: A badly drawn image of 9 dots coloured red, orange, yellow, bright green, cyan, royal blue, purple and magenta, the last one being split between black and white. They are sloppy attempted circles by someone with poor coordination using a mouse"]

?

Which is what I usually see done on posts. Should we use both? Are other people having trouble finding the option/button to add alt text?

My frustration isn't at you, and was never intended to sound that way, if I sounded frustrated, it has always been that no one seeing -who knows how to describe the process- has been piping up to actually explain how anyone is supposed to actually go about adding alt text. I see posts all the time asking for it to be done, and I always reblog them to boost the issue, but -as a tech savvy person who can program and is good with computers- could not find a button or get a straight answer about how to, until now, which no one was adding to any of the posts.

It has been my thinking that it shouldn't be up to the visually impaired to know the exact process, because I am assuming they are not the ones ever actually adding the description, and may not even be able to see the site at all. The "someone" isn't me passive aggressively saying "you", it's me putting out a general call to help.

I was fully expecting some other seeing person would know the answer and do the work of explaining it to the class, so that someone in your position doesn't have to, but no one ever has.

For anyone else curious, it is supposed to be 3 white dots at the bottom right of the photo that only comes up if you mouse over it, and for me is a circle that ranges from grey to invisible, and if the options load at all, one of them is "update image description", which gives you a box to type in with some instruction. I personally just put plain text in the box and someone is probably going to tell me whether or not it worked.

Maybe part of my problem has been parts of tumblr refusing to load properly or at all for me, but if other people are unable to see the option at all, maybe staff could check on that and do something to at least optimize the page or prioritize it loading properly?

There was, up until just now, to the best of my knowledge, nowhere to actually input a description on this site other than just literally adding a text description under the image, which I figured would have to be denoted or 'tagged' a specific way if screen readers were going to catch it and realize it was a proper description of the image.

Part of the problem is that most people who don't use them do not know how screen readers work or how they are coded to function with the site, and the people requesting descriptions largely maybe don't know how visually hidden or -absent- the option to add alt text is, and I was trying to get this disconnect solved, because I figured that was the fastest rout to way more people adding proper alt text.

I literally have not seen that grey circle until today, but also sometimes the site just loads up blank for me for a half hour at a time and I was shadow banned for something like 3 years, so it might mostly be me. I just keep going "okay I have a banger of a description to add but WHERE" and I figured a lot of people were in the same boat as me.

Please forgive how horrifically this was recorded (the screen reader mutes itself in recordings, which made it entirely useless for this post, which required a second camera) but I wanted to show people what alt text Actually Does for screen readers because I think a lot more people would take the time to add it if they knew why.

This is how the default screen reader function built into my phone "reads" an image, one without alt text and one with.

(I can't add alt text description to videos, it seems, which feels a little ironic given the post.)

When the first image, without alt text, is selected by a screen reader, it just reads out "photo".

When the second image, with alt text, is selected, it reads out the alt text - in this case, "A blurry picture of a gray tabby cat sitting on a white carpeted floor.".

Being able to use alt text is far easier on screen readers because the image is a larger object to select - descriptions in plain text below an image are still helpful, but require enough vision to accurately select, and enough vision to know they're an image description to begin with.

So please, when possible, add alt text to photos, art, and screenshots you're uploading! A lot of phones can copy text from images now, which is how I add image IDs to other people's text heavy posts - there's really no reason to post a bunch of text heavy screencaps and not at least copy and paste the text into the alt text, and it makes a huge difference for accessibility.

Thank you! ^w^

[sneezefiction]

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.” 

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive. 

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify. 

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat. 

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head. 

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good. 

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details. 

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library… 

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance. 

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold. 

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this. 

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space. 

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.” 

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials? 

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself. 

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him. 

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

[another-miracle]

Nobody actually told Obi what exactly happened to make Shirayuki leave Tanbarun (now on AO3)

Leave it to Sarah to know the exact “right to the good part” scenario I needed to scratch my writing itch. This one’s for you @claudeng80 :) Set before Eisetsu arc when Shirayuki, Obi and Ryuu are still travelling on the road together.

Dinner starts off as a simple affair. Miss cooks up half the dishes while Obi settles the other half in the in-built kitchen of a decidedly-not-small room they’ve found themselves in (wonders what accommodation one affords with all that sweet Wisteria cash; they are delegates after all). A trade-off that they’d agreed on so that they could cook and have dinner in the same space they would reside for the night - instead of going down to the common area. Ryuu sets the table as best he can.

Eventually, they settle down to eat. The conversation steers towards Miss’ early days in the pharmacy - Ryuu still a boy who hid under tables, a fact present-Ryuu did not appreciate being brought up - and Miss still desperately trying to find her footing in a foreign land. It’s new to Obi, to hear of their endeavours before his arrival to Clarines, and he finds himself enjoying the journey down memory lane. That is, until Miss drops a wayward comment that catches the both of them off guard.

So casual, she says, “It’s so funny. And to think I’d almost had to live my life as Raj’s concubine.”

Ryuu freezes and his eyes dart over to Obi. Similarly, Obi’s glass has paused over his lips. It feels like the air in the room has been abruptly sucked out. The word ‘concubine’ rings in his ears as Miss continues to laugh between bites.

“What do you mean concubine?” Obi asks carefully. He’d thought she’d been invited to the palace to be a princess, or perhaps a lady-in-waiting. To be seen, not...

“Oh yes,” Miss shares, something almost fond lining her lips. “Raj and Sakaki-san had pretty wild ideas back then. Sent me poisoned apples and everything.”

“Miss-what?”

Shirayuki looks up, only now noticing Obi’s tone. Next to him, Ryuu lowers his utensils down and places them on either side of his plate. Obi immediately fixates on Miss’ form. His eyes dart down to her arms, searching for any scars, mind desperately rifling through memories of when they first met, whether she had been constantly wearing long sleeves. She’d worn leggings all this while hasn’t she? Obi resists the urge to bend down to look under the table.

“Oh,” Miss starts again, startling Obi’s gaze back to hers. “Oh! He didn’t get to me- I mean, he did. It’s a funny story actually- Zen ended up being the one eating said apple and getting poisoned. I’d only followed to get the antidote, but thankfully-” she glances at Ryuu, “Zen has had quite a resistance against most poisons, and he was fine.”

The sentence is met with tense silence. Ryuu seems to be staring at his plate as if the peas could conjure up a response. A part of Obi wants to shake the boy and tell him not to worry, to crack a joke to diffuse the air. The other part is blinded by red hot anger. The urge to retrieve his knives and march right up to Tanbarun to commit regicide thrums wildly in his temples.

Friend of the Crown? What on earth was Master thinking - working with someone like that. What on earth was he thinking? He’d spent every afternoon for a month, watching, not knowing, as the two - kidnapper and concubine-to-be - traipsed through the gardens of Tanbarun castle, sat next to each other for hours in the libraries. He’d carried the man on his fucking shoulders.

A touch to his hands and his eyes fly open. Miss’s hand is placed on his, on both of their hands. A small smile plays at her lips. Obi turns to Ryuu. The boy looks frustrated enough to cry.

Miss gives a small laugh. “Hey, it’s over alright? I didn’t bring it up to see you guys upset. It was just in passing. And look, we’re all here now. Royal delegates, serving the Wisteria Crown for the greater good of her people!”

Miss glances up at him, then flicks her gaze at Ryuu. Obi suddenly remembers how distraught Ryuu was when they returned to Clarines after their visit to Tanbarun, having only received news that Miss had been kidnapped. He also remembers the fear in his eyes when both he and Shirayuki succumbed to the then-Lyrias disease.

Obi sighs.

His hand reaches out to ruffle Ryuu’s hair. “Yeah,” Obi says, “Miss wouldn’t let something like that get her down. She’s strong, isn’t she, Little Ryuu?”

Ryuu stares up at him, unshed tears, his gaze darting between the both of them. Obi gives him his best reassuring smile; he knows Miss does too, even if he doesn’t look at her.

The boy sniffs. “Yeah- she is. Yeah.”

--------

Later when the plates are cleared and Ryuu has fallen asleep, exhausted from the additional emotional tirade he had earlier, Obi finds Miss by the window. She sits with her feet propped on the sill, arms wrapped around her knees, gaze focused on the distant horizon. The moon is out, deciding to grace Miss in all the splendour and glow her countenance deserves. If Miss thinks he looks good by the firelight, then it should be of no consequence for him to say-

“You look good in the moonlight, Miss,” Obi tells her, holding out a cup of tea and sitting down by her. Miss accepts the drink with a smile before looking out again. She is quiet - more so than usual. Obi sips his tea and waits.

She thumbs at the rim of the cup, looks down, then up at him. With a sheepish smile, she says, “I wonder if that’s something I might have heard from...men...if…”

She trails off, bringing the cup to her lips, the picture of grace and relief. Obi, on the other hand, is struck frozen for the second time this evening. That’s not what he meant. That’s not what he meant.

“Miss-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Miss rushes out. “That wasn’t fair- it’s just- it’s my fault, I’d brought it up. I don’t mean to say that you’re like any of them- I don’t-”

Miss breathes, a shaky exhale. Obi watches as she struggles with something bigger than her, bigger than the both of them. It’s something more immense than even the distance between two countries, if he’s honest. His heart pulls toward her; the burden she has been carrying for almost two years - the shame, the fear - feelings he has no way of possibly understanding in this lifetime. He aches to reach out for her, but he’s not sure- in that moment, he rehashes every single touch between the two of them. Belatedly, he also finally understands why she’d run when Master kissed her.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, an assurance that falls flat in the space between them. Miss hums in response, forcing out a smile at him in apology. And- Obi doesn’t want that. How many smiles has she hidden behind? Sweet words that fall from her lips - not just to him, but to the very people who’d wanted to kidnap her, to turn her into an object of possession, to reduce her brilliant mind and her wonderful soul and the endlessly faith-bearing light in her eyes into a mere ornament to be gawked at, prodded until nothing is left. What has he been doing? What have they all been doing?

Obi places his mug down on the table before sidling up to the sill, back to the scenery, hands clasped in front of him. He notices Miss is looking at him curiously. Obi sets his gaze on the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the concrete. He doesn’t do this- doesn’t offer more than platitudes to soothe, doesn’t give others more than he should, more than he can spare another human being. But- he thinks of the broken smile on Miss’ face-

“I’d almost lost my life once,” Obi tells the ceiling. “Thought myself hot shit and went around accepting jobs that were clearly beyond my pay grade. Risked my life because I’d thought it a resource to be utilized when needed - as long as it puts bread on the table, money in my pocket.”

Obi turns down and gives Miss a wan smile. “And it’s funny, because that was me when I met you. You, with all your incredible courage, this red-haired girl who’d walked forward in face of an arrow shot at her. Who’d saved an entire colony in face of a disease no one knew. Who’d jumped off a tower. Who’d walked straight back into the place she’d been running from, head held high, into the den of the very person who’d deigned her an object.

Miss flinches at this. And Obi aches.

“And-” Obi pauses. Breathes. “So much of me just wants to ride down the South back to Tanbarun, go up to Raj’s door and wrangle his neck - him and Sakaki both. But beyond that, Miss-”

Obi stares at her, willing the words, “You are beyond what anyone says of you, beyond whatever value anyone places on you. You’re not some object that someone just picks up and calls their own. Because whatever that’s in there,” Obi jabs his thumb against his chest, “it’s not something that can be assigned by anyone else. You are your own person, Miss. You belong to you. And it’s this you who has toppled boundaries, created antidotes, you and your brilliant mind, and your wonderful soul and everything that is you.

“And-” Obi wrenches his gaze from her, hand coming up to push down on his shoulder. “I can’t imagine myself without you. I’ve changed, because of you. Myself and many other people you’ve met in Clarines - Little Ryuu, too. So please-

“Don’t think you are anything less than who you have made yourself to be. Don’t let anything cause that- not Raj, not Master, not Izana, not even me. You are yours, Miss.”

Obi says it quietly, a whisper taken by the wind into the meadows ahead of them. But he knows Miss hears it all the same. Obi lets the words take up the silence, let them take root. He hopes, desperately, that in between the awkward cadence and messy phrasing, Miss may find some comfort in them. An unspoken assurance that he is on her side - always have, and always will be.

Sneaking a glance at her, Obi is startled to find Miss’ head buried in her knees, shoulder shaking.

He jumps up and immediately frets. “M-miss, ahh- I didn’t mean to make you upset! I’m sorr-”

In an instant, Obi’s hand is enclosed between both of hers, warmth effusing through skin. A warbled laugh escapes her and she looks up from her knees up at him. Arrested by the tears in her eyes, Obi watches as she smiles that broken smile again - only this time, he knows it isn’t forced. She brings his hand close to her, and places the back of it against her forehead. Obi’s hand twitches, almost aching to cup her face and rub the tears trickling down - but clearly Miss is having a moment as she closes her eyes and breathes.

“Thank you, Obi,” Miss tells him, words entangling around his fingers. “It never gets easier- I don’t think it will, but-”

She takes his hand and cups it against her cheek anyway, collapsing all his walls. “You, being here. You remind me that I’m worth more.”

He can’t resist his fingers running across the apples of her cheekbones. He wipes away every tear that falls and bends down close, leaning his forehead against hers. There are no words to describe the monument of a woman before him now, and as he draws strength from this little form of comfort he’s offered, he only hopes she receives the same.

It will not be easy, probably never will, as Miss says.

But Obi will be damned if she ever faces it alone again.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Waking Up Confused in Both Hotel Rooms and Forests [Jay Merrick X F!Reader X Masky/Tim Wright]

[Jay Merrick X F!Reader X (kinda) Masky]

[Warnings: firearms, slight language, slight blood]

[AN: I originally had Masky in the spotlight but couldn't like, directly fit him in like that. Also big thanks to Entry 32 and slight Entry 76.]

You could hardly breathe as you ran further and further through the trees. Panic seeped through your veins. Your only guiding light was the light of the moon. You weren’t supposed to be here - why the hell did you agree to begin with? You had no time to regret your actions as you continued to run. Where was Jay? Was he okay? No time to think of that either, Alex was catching up. But you had to find him. You just had to.

A few weeks ago, you woke up in a hotel. You had no recollection of even leaving your apartment. Strange, very strange. Confused, and unsure of how you even got there, you attempted to leave and get back to your life only to find you were hopelessly lost with practically nothing to support yourself. All you could do was remain.

The first few days were awkward. You managed to find some food and stock up the minifridge but other than that, your days were a little lonely, and mostly confusing. The longer you stayed, the hazier your memories and thoughts became. What have you been doing for the past year? Huge chunks of time, gone in an instant. Where even were you? None of your questions were answered and the days began to blur together.

Things only grew more confusing when you were given a neighbor. You had woken up, decided to get some fresh air and passed by a man wielding a camera in the hallway. Your eyes had quickly scanned over his features - it almost felt alien to look at another person. The entire time you’d been at this odd hotel, you hadn’t seen a single soul here but yourself. And it went on like that for a few days, just passing by each other in the hallways, politely nodding, sometimes saying hello, but nothing further. It didn’t take long for you to realize your rooms were conjoined - the only conjoined rooms in the hotel. Strange, how strange.

Feeling bold, you plucked up your courage to speak with him, albeit awkwardly.

“What’s the camera for?” You asked, a small smile on your face to set him at ease.

The man shifted a little uncomfortably but smiled back. “A documentary on, uh, hotels. Y’know?” He said in a more than awkward tone. He shifted slightly after a painfully pregnant pause took place. “I’m Jay and you-”

“Oh! I’m Reader,” you answered back, more than caught off guard he asked you a question. “I’ll see you around?” You said in a slightly unsure tone.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

And the two of you parted ways.

That’s certainly not the last you’d ever seen of Jay though. If it had been, you wouldn’t be running from a maniac with a gun at this moment.

You and Jay continued to cross paths, awkwardly saying hi, sometimes commenting on the weather until you had finally reached a head. The previous day, you’d tried to prod him to see if he had any inkling as to what was going on when he sloughed it off as if your concerns meant nothing. Deep down, you knew he was going through the same mess as you. Frustrated, confused, you got up in the middle of the night to interrogate Jay. You lept out, slipped on your shoes, and knocked on his door. Immediately, you were greeted to his camera.

“Can I uh, ask you something?” You began, eyes dark and desolate due to the haze that swarmed in your mind.

“Sure?” Jay sounded confused. His eyes darted down to the camera and back up to you as you scratched at the back of your neck.

“Why… Why did you answer the door with a camera?” A slight frustration began to come to your tone.

“Well, I mean, I had it in my hand already-”

“Look, Jay,” you said in an increasingly exasperated tone. “I know you’re lying. First you tell me some stupid thing about a hotel documentary and then you tell me your house is being renovated, but then! But then you tell me your job was being relocated. What is going on?” You questioned, voice strained and harsh.

“It’s- It’s complicated I-”

“You’re not acting like a normal person-”

“W-What’s it matter to you? You’re just some stranger,” he tried to shake off. He looked at you like you were crazy, but his eyes conveyed something deeper.

“I think… I think something is going on,” you said, brows now furrowed together. “I know something is going on,” you took a pause and breathed in deeply. “I don’t know how I got here. You’re the only person I’ve seen in this hotel other than the staff and we have adjoining rooms. I don’t even know you. You said it yourself! I’m a stranger! Haven’t had any kind of memory loss at all?” You raise your hands and dragged your fingers across your scalp. “I-I think I’m going crazy,” you said with a small laugh, unsure of what could be considered real and what couldn’t. “Jay, I’m losing HUGE chunks of time. I’m having pounding headaches and coughing fits and I can’t even sleep, but when I do sleep, I feel like I’m still moving, like I’m sleepwalking.” You were pretty much shouting at this point and allowed all your anger, frustration and fear to bubble over.

“Reader-”

“And the worst part? I keep having these dreams back when I was a kid and I feel like something’s watching me-”

“Stop,” Jay sighed, his hand reaching out to hold your shoulder. “Let’s… Get your shit together. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, I just need to get some of my own things together.”

You nodded with shot nerves and let him go as you went off to your room, quickly getting everything together. From your room, you could what Jay rummaging around in a safe. What a mess everything had become. With a heavy heart still rife with confusion, you had begun to pack.

You never really completed packing, as the moment you touched the drawers, hands were wrapping around your face. A quick breath was all it took to black out.

Later, you woke up confused in the forest. Jay was by your side. Twilight had fallen over the land, you were unsure of how you got here, and all you knew is that you both had to get out. You were the one to wake up Jay, your hand nudging him.

“Where… Where are we?” He asked groggily, slowly sitting up before his hands pat at his chest. The camera was still attached.

“Was hoping you could tell me,” you mumbled, trying to make heads or tails of the place you were in. It looked like the two of you were laid in the middle of a burnt clearing.

“It’s a park, I think,” Jay said as he slowly began to stand up before helping you up as well. “We should make it back to the parking lot or something. Not safe to be here.”

“Not safe?”

Jay shook his head as he checked his pockets for his keys and nodded for you to follow him once he confirmed they were there. The two of you passed through the trees and greenery of all kinds before finally coming to an uneasy stretch of woods. Here, tunnels lined the sides of the paths, making your hair stand up. Every part of your body told you to run.

You did so and remained walking beside him in a tense silence before finally opening your mouth. “So, what were you gonna tell me back at the hotel?” You asked softly.

“I have some thoughts,” Jay began. “Like-”

Before he can say anything, a gun shot rang out, making you scream and jolt as Jay ducked, hand immediately gripping at your wrist.

“Don’t run, you coward!”

That voice sounded familiar, oh so familiar. When he stepped out from the dark recesses of the tunnel, you knew him. You felt it deep down inside, but you couldn’t but a name to his face - not even when the remaining sunlight stopped obscuring his eyes when the light glare subsided from his glasses. But how could you forget him? You knew him - you knew him.

“Let her go, Jay,” the man said as his eyes narrowed. The barrel of his gun was pointed directly at you two, barring you from running past him to get to the parking lot.

“Alex, please,” Jay said in a strained voice, refusing to let go of your wrist.

“No, you know what has to be done,” Alex growled as his steps got closer and closer to the two of you.

“Come on man, you know her,” Jay attempted to reason. “She was Amy’s roommate, you can’t hurt Amy like that.”

A pause.

“All the more reason to shoot you dead where you stand.”

“Alex please,” you whimpered, eyes looking at him with a light that pained him to even consider snuffing.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologized as his eyebrows furrowed. “It has to be done - there’s no other way. I have to stop it.” Alex sounded absolutely at war with himself as he continued closer and closer to the two of you. “I’m sorry, Reader. I’ve been sorry.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

The sun set; the park is bathed in darkness.

Before the trigger can get pulled, Jay momentarily let go of your wrist and punched Alex with all his might, sending the gun flying in one direction, and Alex careening to the floor.

“Stay down!” He shouted, moving to keep him on the floor.

Your eyes struggled to adjust to the dark, but you could hear something. Something growing closer and closer until it was practically on top of you. You let out a slight screech as a man in a tanned coat came zipping past you, shoving aside Jay (with an odd about of care) before pummeling Alex back into the earth.

“Stop staring and get the fuck out of here!” The man’s voice boomed as he continued to wrestle an invigorated Alex.

Jay reached for you again in the darkness, and you reached back. The two of you ran.

Somewhere in the confusion, you’d managed to get separated from Jay right around the time more gunshots rang out throughout the forest. You could almost hear Alex in the back of your head after they’d ripped through the silent night.

And that led to now. Running scared through the never ending, godsforsaken forest where static seemed to invade your head every other minute. You could feel Alex on your specific trail. Where had Jay gone? No idea. Who was that guy that tried to fight Alex? Possibly dead. There were a lot of gunshots.

You continued to run until your lungs burned, stumbling through the trees, praying he hadn’t caught up with you. Whenever the static grew louder in your head, so too did the feeling that Alex was close. Too close.

“Reader!” You heard Alex shout out into the night after a particularly rough patch of static that left your eyeballs feeling like barbells in your skull. He kept calling out for your name.

Your lungs and your legs burned. You couldn’t possibly go on for much longer like this - he’d find you. He’d kill you. You felt tears prick your eyes as the sound of crunching sticks and grass invaded your ears. He was closer still.

In your haste of running, you had slammed into what felt like a tree, knocking it off balance as well as yourself before recognizing, no, that was not a tree.

“What the fu-”

“Shh,” the voice said. You recognized it immediately as the man from earlier. “Come on, this way.”

Not even waiting for an answer, he took your hand into his and began to guide you through the trees, pulling you along at a speed you didn’t think was human.

You held your other arm out as you pushed away branches and brambles. “Who are you?” You ask as quietly as you could, the sound of Alex’s running steps growing faster.

“Unimportant,” the man replies, barely looking over his shoulder as he continued to pull you along. “You need to get out.”

“What about Jay?”

“He’s in the parking lot waiting for you.” The man sounded a little out of breath, or perhaps he was just restricted due to the mask he wore (you could make out its outline in the moonlight). “He’s okay.”

A relief floods your system as you attempt to match pace with him on your own accord. It’s gone when you hear more gunshots ring out through the trees followed by flashes of light from the muzzle when you turn your head around.

“Fucking reckless,” the man mumbled under his breath.

“Why is he doing this?” You asked in a panic.

The sound of Alex’s laughter echoes through the trees.

“He’s insane.”

You believe him.

Eventually, the two of you reach the same tunnel where it all began. How far had you run out? No time to ruminate on that thought, the masked man pauses, his hands resting on your shoulders.

“Keep running straight. You’ll hit the parking lot in no time.Jay is waiting for you.”

“But I-”

He hushes you as the sound of Alex grows closer and closer still. You can hear him taunting you as he realizes where you are.

“Go.” He pushes you in the direction you need to run before turning around and facing Alex, who’s finally caught up.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you run.

You’re almost certain you’re going to throw up or something to that effect when you finally make it back to the parking lot. Your lungs have expanded much too much, your muscles ache, and you feel light headed and dizzy. By the time you reach the asphalt, you don’t even recognize the sound of Jay rushing over to you. His words sound like a blur in your head as he grips your shoulders.

“Reader!” His grip tightens. “Are you okay?” He keeps asking but you feel so faint.

“Jay?”

“Hey, hey, stay up.: He holds you up as you sway. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, eyes looking at you with great concern.

You take in a deep breath as you nod along to his words, hardly able to even comprehend anything. You feel your body move on autopilot as he brings you to the car, and you act on autopilot as you buckle yourself up. The car begins to leave the parking lot, your eyes able to scan the tree line once more.

And there he is, the masked man, watching the two of you leave.

Red bloomed on his chest.

[blacksmokehorizons]

Something In Common

Summary: Spending decades under HYDRA’s control can fuck someone up in many ways. Somehow you managed to escape and live under the radar for a while. That is until your friend Sharon Carter has some old ‘friends’ show up. || 1,397 words

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture and traumatic memories

A/N: This is re-posted since I moved blogs! Again this is my first piece of writing so bear with me as I find a format I like to write in. I’ve read this 100 times and don’t wanna re-read it anymore so I apologize for any errors. || Please don’t copy/rewrite my work! I also don’t want anything reuploaded onto different cites, etc. || This gif isn’t mine, the reupload messed it up

Sharon said she wouldn’t be gone long, after all she had a party to throw. Well, clients to meet with, technically but that didn’t stop you from calling her ‘sorority sister Sharon’ and nicknaming your shared house ‘Sigma Kappa Madripoor’. You found your jokes hilarious, Sharon had grown to tolerate them after a while.

You had just changed into your outfit when your phone buzzed. It was a message from Sharon, ‘Bringing some early company.’ You chuckled to yourself as you responded, ‘You made some friends while you were out? Proud of you.’ It had taken you some time to finally get comfortable with people and be back in the real world. But Sharon didn’t seem to mind helping you, even after learning your past.

Finally you heard voices and footsteps, you were perched on the arm of the couch when she opened the door, followed by 3 men you’ve never met. She nodded at you as she spoke, moving racks of clothes towards them.

“So you gonna introduce me to your friends or is this a hookup of yours?” you asked snickering as she made a gagging noise while two of the men softly chuckled.

“God no. Y/N this is Sam, Bucky, and Zemo. Boys this is Y/N.” Sharon said motioning from you to them.

You and the man named Bucky had stared at each other for a moment before you distracted yourself with your phone. You tuned out the conversation for a bit, stealing glances at the visitors feeling a bit out of place.

“Why does your name sound familiar?” you asked, the question tumbling out of your mouth as you stared at Bucky.

“Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, Steve Rogers best friend, any of that ring a bell for you?” Sharon asked as you shifted to sink into the couch. “You guys should be able to get along the easiest, considering you share a nearly identical past.” she continued moving around the room.

“The hell does that mean?” Bucky asked looking from you to Sharon, while you stuck out your middle finger at her.

“You both got to play the role of HYDRA’s puppet for quite some time.” was all Sharon said, leaving you to continue. Suddenly you could feel all the eyes in the room burning through you, Zemo was the first to speak.

“Does she mean you were-”

“Given the special super soldier juice and forced to do some of the dirty work? Yes.” you replied flatly staring at Zemo before looking over at Sharon, “That didn’t really need to be brought up.”

“Hey, you asked why he sounded familiar.”

The room was silent for a bit, Bucky's eyes not leaving you for a second. You sighed and just shrugged your shoulders, “I can feel the game of 20 questions coming on so let’s get it going before the party.” cracking your neck as you spoke.

“So they used you as another super soldier?” Zemo asked, shifting to lean more towards you.

“Yes and no. I was used as a last resort. I was… more of a… test subject in most cases.” swallowing the knot that was trying to form in your throat. Hoping nobody else in the room noticed how you shifted, squirmed almost, as you spoke. You didn’t have a problem with talking about your past, it’s just some memories were more painful than others.

“I can fight the same way any super soldier can, but they always wanted to see how far the serum would go in terms of healing. So that’s what my role was,” you chuckled a bit before continuing, “The only thing they didn’t do to me was put a bullet in my skull.”

Once again the room became quiet, until Sharon spoke changing the subject for a moment as you got lost in thought. You were thankful people started arriving so you could be alone for a bit, it was easy for you to disappear into a crowd.

“If you somehow can’t blend in for shit tonight, stay near Y/N.” Sharon said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “What exactly will staying near her do?” Sam asked mumbling a ‘no offense’ quickly after causing you to laugh.

“I’m good at hiding in plain sight, so if you’re near me I’ll make sure you don’t get your ass kicked. Gotta remember this isn’t your homeland buddy.” you snickered as you adjusted your maroon turtleneck before you walked to the main room welcoming guests in and pointing a few in Sharon's direction as she entered. Relief flooded your veins as the crowd grew and you could finally slip into the background and breathe.

You didn’t mind being in a room full of people, but your mind has been replaying memories of your time under HYDRA’s control since you spoke earlier.

You cringed as you sipped your drink, your eyes scanned the room locating Zemo and Sam but not Bucky. You moved along the wall slipping past a few dancers, deciding to lean against a corner of the room. As you attempted to locate Bucky your mind began to wander.

You screamed and kicked at the person who had begun slicing your arm with a scalpel. Another attempted to get near you and this time you managed to kick their knee, hearing a crunch as they fell to the ground. Soon you had guns aimed at you and a man spoke, “We go through this all the time. You know your purpose here, so why do you continue to fight? I would hate to have you killed.’ his gravelly tone making you want to sink into the floor. As your legs were strapped to the chair he spoke again, “After she’s done here freeze her as normal.”

Again you screamed as your skin was peeled back and muscles were prodded, but you didn’t fight. You knew your purpose-

“You were right about hiding in plain sight, but you’ll have to try a little harder to hide from me.” Bucky spoke next to you, causing you to jump and your thoughts to come to a halt. Turning your head you chuckled and tried to mask what you just re-lived in your head.

“I have to say, you hide better than me. Found your friends but I couldn’t seem to find you.” your mouth cracking into a smile as you spoke. Neither of you spoke for a bit, just watched the room together making sure the others stayed out of trouble. The silence was oddly comfortable, with the occasional joke about someone's outfit. At one point you could feel Bucky's eyes on you for a while.

“Hydra didn’t give me mind reading powers so you’re gonna have to communicate with words.” turning your head to face Bucky as you spoke, chuckling as he scrambled for a comeback. He scratched the back of his neck trying to spit out his sentence, which you already had an idea as to what he was going to bring up. An amused smile on your face as you watched his metal hand shine in the flashing lights.

“What you said earlier… about Hydra-”

“You can ask questions if you want. You might understand what I say a little more anyway.” You said pressing your lips together in a thin line before adjusting your posture as you leaned more into the wall and looked to the crowd.

“I would ask… but I know what being under that control is like. As well as the memories that come with it,” you glanced over at Bucky as he stopped talking and he was watching his vibranium hand move. “I’m sorry you had to become a part of all that Y/N.” he said softly, but loud enough for you to catch.

When your eyes met you can’t help but feel they mirrored each other's pain… or maybe it was sadness? Not that it would make much of a difference.

“I’m sorry you had to become part of it as well Bucky.” a sad smile taking over your face.

You had unconsciously moved closer to him, not saying much more but not leaving each other's side. The signal from Sharon came and you sighed before nudging Bucky's arm.

“Guess we better go see what she wants huh?” stretching as you kicked off the wall.

“I guess so.” Bucky chuckled trailing behind you as you walked away.

[thran-duils]

Dubious Representation (P.2)

Title: Dubious Representation (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Hank Palmer. Reader’s husband is facing jail time and although Hank Palmer entered the counsel for pro bono, he is still going to get a form of payment. Recently single, he’s been lonely and he’s looking for some comfort. Even if it means obtaining it from less than savory means. Words: 2,401 Warnings (for entire fic): Eventual smut, sexual coercion, infidelity, mention of past domestic violence, verbal abuse Author’s Note: Decided on three parts!

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You walked into the office, alone, his secretary, Sarah, closing the door behind you. You stood by the door, not taking a seat or moving towards the desk.

“You’re early,” Hank commented, typing on his laptop, eyes focused there.

“I always give myself at least a fifteen-minute buffer,” you told him. “Seemed to not be a problem since you called me in anyway.”

He smirked briefly as he continued to type.

After a minute, he clicked a couple times before shooting you a look, “You gonna just stand there? Sit down, please.” You started moving to the chair and he tsked, “No, come here.”

You slowly placed your purse on the chair and moved around his desk. He scooted his chair back and leaned back in the chair, tapping his lap. Keeping a neutral face, you turned around and sat lightly, not putting all your weight on him.

“You doing a wall sit? Your legs are gonna be shaking in no time. Come on, make yourself comfortable.” You closed your eyes, taking a small breath. You had signed up for this. You scooted to do what he asked, and he breathed deeply as you settled on his lap. “Nice yoga pants by the way.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not. It seems to be your only tone.”

Hank chuckled, “Oh, I’m more than serious. You can’t feel that?”

You could and that is why you wanted to move. He was already poking you in the ass through his slacks.

“Couldn’t miss it.”

“You trying to flatter me? Well, it’s working.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, and he tapped. “Read that document on the computer. It’s what you both told me last about the incident and I wanna know if it’s complete.”

Leaning forward you focused on the screen and tried to not think of Hank admiring the curve of your ass as you leaned forward. You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not getting hot with what was happening.

You scanned the document as quickly as you could and nodded. “It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’. That’s not encouraging.”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“That’s better, sweetheart.”

His hands were running up and down your thighs, fingers gentle and tantalizing. You looked over your shoulder at him and he grinned in response.

“I think we can sway the jury to see it as self-defense, get that charge dropped. You’ll need to look like a little doe though sitting behind him, garner sympathy with that pretty face of yours. Protective husband just making sure his wife didn’t get hurt or worse. Emphasize the worst, put that in their head what could have happened. It would justify him putting a knife up to the guy’s neck.”

You stood quickly, the memory flooding back.

Hank followed your movement and he said gently, “Hey.” He turned you to face him and he rubbed your arms. “Sorry, we’ll stop talking about it. It’s good. We got it. Let’s talk about you. How ravishing you look. You’re stunning, doll.”

He followed your gaze until he provoked you to meet his and he came in for a slow kiss. You were stiff at first, still thinking of that man that had tried to assault you and how enraged Rich had become. He had almost killed the guy if people had not pulled him off.

Hank’s lips were soft, but his kiss grew in intensity. He had you pressed up against the desk and encouraged you to sit up on it. Your legs wrapped around his, one hand holding the back of his neck. You arched your back, pressing towards him when he captured your mouth again. You melted into his embrace, there was nothing overtly malicious about it. It was comforting even.

He groaned lightly, his lips trailing across your jawline, tucking into the nape of your neck. His grips were tight and desperate as he searched your body, his mouth devouring at your shoulder. He was relishing in just having you to touch.

Hank pulled away flushed, his lips darker and swollen. He came back for another deep kiss, and you met him in his fervor. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you swirled yours, much to his pleasure.

“God, you’re divine,” he breathed pulling away again.

“Flattering me?” you asked, turning his own quip back on him. “It’s working.”

He simpered going for your top. He freed you from it and dipped down nipping at the tops of your breast poking out from your bra. His hands worked at the clasp at your back, and he tore the bra off as well.

You took the opportunity to stop him, his lustful gaze confused at your hand on his chest, holding him suddenly.

“You’re clean, right?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. I came prepared.” He held up a condom he pulled out of his pocket.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“I’m clean. You?”

“Yes. I’m only sleeping with Rich.”

“That’s sweet of you,” Hank said curtly before he ordered, “Over the desk, legs spread. I wanna see you stretch around me.”

You felt heat in your core at his dominant behavior. Rich was only like that when he was drunk but he could also get violent when he was drunk. It was rarely worth the risk.

Slipping off the desk, you rubbed against him considering he barely gave you any room. Hooking your fingers into your waist band, you began to tug your pants down, but he said, “Ah, ah. I’ll do the honors. Just do what I told you.”

Your stomach met the desk and you spread your legs like he asked. His hands ran up your thighs and across your ass, admiring. He squeezed and prodded, one hand slipping between your legs to run up your pussy. You shivered, your hands clenching at the contact. He hummed in approval as he yanked your bottoms down past your knees, them falling the rest of the way to your ankles.

“Isn’t that a lovely sight?” He purred, squeezing at your ass. He let out a small growl, lying a light smack.

You heard him rip the condom open and you gripped at the desk, your breathing beginning to quicken with the anticipation.

“Nervous, doll?”

“No,” you breathed.

Hank praised, “Good girl.”

His cock pressed in, and you bit your lip, holding back a moan. His hand came to the back of your neck as he entered further, and you took him inch by inch.

Setting a steady pace, he started using you, muttering praise under his breath that you only caught snippets of. Your fingers dug into the desk as your hips began to rut as his speed increased. He groaned holding your hips tight, bruising thrusts against your ass as he pounded into you, the desk shaking. You feared Sarah would hear, even though she was further down the hall.

He brushed your core and you moaned sharply giving yourself away. He slowed, drawing himself out and in painfully slow, brushing your spot. You whimpered with each contact.

“There you are,” Hank said with a throaty chuckle.

He increased his thrusts again, making sure to pay special attention to you, panting as his cock drew in and out. You arched your back as you buried your head, pathetic moans falling from your lips. You were trying to bury them into his desk. One hand came to your back, pressing down as his breathing became erratic, forcing you flat again.

“Come on, doll. Come for me. Don’t worry about Sarah. She won’t bother us. Come all over my cock. Show your appreciation.”

You released with a sharp cry, your hands flat against the desk tautly. Hank groaned obscenely feeling your walls constrict and he increased his thrusts before he came in rasping breaths, shaking against you.

Hank pulled away, taking the condom off, and carelessly tossing it into the trash by his desk. He wiped at his face and said, “Shit. Made me work up a sweat. Can’t wait for the next round though.”

<><><>

Your phone buzzed beside you on the blanket, and you reached over blindly, grabbing it. Pushing your sunglasses up, you looked at the text. It was Hank.

Where are you?

Grant Park. Why?

Just a little bit hungry.

What was he getting at? Was he asking you out on a date…? You had not seen him since Friday; it was Wednesday now. Your stomach clenched at the thought. How would that look if anyone you knew happened to spot you? Still, you texted him back. Maybe he meant just a drive thru and not out in the open.

Do you want to get lunch?

I thought you’d never ask. Meet me at the south entrance. Grey Ferrari convertible.

He drove recklessly and the wind whipped around you. He stopped up against the curb at a sandwich place and ushered you inside to order a sandwich to go. Small blessings you would not have to sit at a table and wonder if someone you knew walked by and would tell Rich you were having lunch with another man, even if it was his attorney.

Hank took you to the marina and led you to a boat. His boat, he explained, and it was a sunny day so why not enjoy it on the deck? There was a table with a cushioned wrap around couch that you sat at.

You barely got two bites in before he was on you and you gasped quickly when he got to his knees, spreading your legs apart, shoving your dress up.

“Hank, what are you doing?” You hissed.

“I thought you offered me lunch,” he stated bluntly.

“We are in public—"

“Exciting isn’t it?”

“Can’t we go… inside? You said there was a bedroom downstairs—” you suddenly squeaked as he nipped at the inside of your thigh near your pussy.

His fingers slipped past your underwear, and you could not hide from him anymore. A wicked grin came across his face, his fingers sliding in your wetness.

“Looks like you are ready to serve,” he purred. His fingers left you and he brought them up to his lips, sucking on them. “Sweet. Just like I like it.”

You looked over your shoulder nervously trying to see if there were any people on the dock nearby or any of the boats. You did not spot anyone, but you did not have long to look because Hank drew you back by tugging roughly at your underwear, pulling them off and tossing them onto the table.

“Hook your leg over my shoulder,” he told you, his breath hot on your sex.

You obeyed and he was lecherous and starving in the way he dove in. Your hands braced against the cushions, gasping gently. He sucked and licked, devouring the taste of you.

“Good thing I’m not a huge fan of these slacks cause this deck hasn’t been cleaned in a week,” he joked, laying small kisses up and down your pussy before he was back at it, determined to make you come into his skilled mouth.

<><><>

Washing his hands at the sink, Hank saw Warren, the DA lawyer for Rich’s case, walk in. Warner actually smirked seeing Hank, stopping his stride to the urinal.

“Funny you took this case on…” Warner told him.

“Why’s that?” Hank asked, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

“I mean. I have never seen you take a case that can be so easily lost. You’re always just win… win… win.”

“Stop fucking around and just say what you wanna say,” Hank said impatiently, turning to face him.

Warner cocked his head and asked, “It is plain as day the way the jury is going to swing about this aggravated assault. Considering his past abuses against women.”

Hank did not let his face betray him, but he was tense at the information.

All he said was, “We will see about it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the bathroom, immediately whipping out his phone.

<><><>

“Get your ass over here!” Hank snarled at Rich, pulling him away from a startled Y/N. He pulled him into an empty room and shoved him up against the wall roughly.

“What the fuck is your—" Rich started to snap.

“You didn’t tell me you were a fucking abuser!” Hank snarled at him, getting in his face. “You’ve been booked for domestic violence not once but twice! Was it her? Y/N?”

Rich only looked caught off guard for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have anything to do with—" Rich tried to argue, ignoring his question.

And Hank almost lost it completely, the veins in his temples taut with his ferociousness.

“It has everything to do with this! My job is to cast doubt on the assault charges! Show it was self-defense! The DA is gonna have — actually I know they have this information about you slapping your wife around. How do you think that’s gonna bode on the jury’s opinion?”

He took a step back, running his hand over his hair, tugging. He swore under his breath, trying to calm himself down to no avail.

“You’re... you fucked me! Hung me out to dry!” Hank snarled. He got close again, hand on his hip, pointing a finger threateningly at Rich. “We are gonna lose this appeal! Because you weren’t honest! And you set us up for failure but being a raging piece of shit! You’re going to prison for a long time!” He scoffed. “You didn’t ‘wanna leave your wife’. Give me a fucking break! It sounds like that would be the best thing for her! And that’s what the jury is gonna think too!”

“It’s a litigation now and I would need to ask for permission to leave! And you know what? I actually like your wife. She’s not a dickhead like you. And I told her to her face I would do my best. So that’s what I’m gonna do.” He shook his head furiously again and snarled, “Rookie goddamn mistake on my part for trusting you were going to tell me everything straight up. Rookie mistake!”

He shot Rich a murderous look and said, “You better kiss your fucking wife goodbye, Richard. Because you are going to go away for probably at least a decade!”

~~~

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney

[jisungscaramel]

seven; changbin

❀ word count: 1k ❀ pairing: changbin x reader (female/self-insert)

[warning] swearing, explicit sexual content, power play, face sitting, make up sex (sort of), dom fem reader, sub changbin

“Wait, wait Chan, what are you-“

He throws you - figuratively and somewhat literally - into a room with Changbin, your soon to be ex boyfriend. You fold your arms. “What kind of sick joke is this, Chan?” you voice crescendos, becoming loud enough so he can hear you on the other side of the door. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else! You guys really need to talk this out. We’re not gonna let you guys break up over this shit.”

Fuck..

7… seconds but it feels like seven hours of Changbin staring at me with that sour face, creating tension that was so effortless to him but tedious for me. 6…  ticks on the clock and I’m annoyance at the current situation somewhat subdues, seeing as maybe it is for the best that I actually try to approach this like an adult even though I know for a fact he won’t. 5… taps on his thigh, like he’s waiting for something to magically happen. I sigh; of course he expects me to talk first this time because he’s always the one speaking up, blah blah blah. It doesn’t matter if he’s wrong. 4… breaths enter and exit my system. I wish I had the wisdom to navigate this situation better. There’s nothing productive about this stare off. 3… paces is all it takes for him to be face to face with me. I hold my ground looking deep in his soul for a answer, an explanation, some type of solace but I find none. 2… hands on my waist. 1… pair of lips on mine. 0… thoughts in my mind. The contact between you lasts and lingers in what would seem to be a sweet kiss shared by lovers, but it’s anything about that. Held back tension tries its very best to stay as such: held back. But to no avail. 

Changbin’s fingers sink deeper into your frame, tugging your body to his, while kneading his lips against yours as if he’s trying to erase all the pain he’s caused you in the past forty eight hours. As if you didn’t catch him kissing someone else not too long ago. 

No. He’s intent on replacing that memory with something more desirable, but perhaps his methods leave a bit to be desired. He peppers your neck, laying a blueprint for his next artistic endeavor on your sensitive skin, but you have a different agenda. 

“Lay down on the floor,” you command, and when he hesitates, you add, “did I stutter? Lay down on the fucking floor.” 

He gulps, ridding his face of whatever trace of his previous scowl there is. “Yes, ma’am.” He follows your orders, sitting down on the carpet, slowly unfolding until his body is at a full one-eighty.

You peel off the black leggings clinging to your skin, revealing the flimsy piece of ivory lace. “If you think this will miraculously solve our problems…” you wedge your fingers in your underwear, beginning to pull it down at a dangerously slow pace, tantalizing him in ways you could only imagine, “then we’re doing it my way.” 

You pace over him. “You’ve been so fucking bad, you know that?” You gingerly place your toes over the base of his throat, marginally cutting off his breath. 

He whimpers, “I know.” 

You release the pressure, squatting down until your knees hit the ground, until your pulsing core is only centimeters away from his lips. Your fingers press against the carpet fibers above his head for support. Your free hand combs gently through his hair, then you yank it, making him look you in the eye. “You’re gonna be a good boy for me now, right?” 

You slowly roll your hips on his lips. “Yes,” he whispers; his warm breath on your sex sends ripples of anticipation through your nerves.

“‘Yes’ what?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You chuckle almost maniacally, “good boy.” 

With no hesitation, he places an open mouthed kiss on your opening, prompting you to gyrate your hips on his face, your tempo increasing in an effort to keep up with his rhythm. 

He knows how to navigate you with ease, but he still prods his tongue around your every fold as if it was his first time with it. He wants to savor your taste, lapping your sin as if it would be last time with it. 

His arms wrap tightly around your thighs to hold them further apart, and his tongue makes its way to your clit, putting delicious pressure on it from any and every angle. 

A scream escapes your lips at the pleasure pulsing through you, fingers tightening into fists, your head throwing itself back involuntarily. You can’t even bring yourself to warn him when you feel your body tighten in the build up, but he doesn’t need you to. The subtle vibration of your thighs in his taut grip is warning enough. 

“Fuck, Changbin…” 

Your eyes roll back as you come undone, and he grunts, taking it in. All of it in.

1…      2…           3…                4…                     5…                           6…                                7…

When you regain your composure, you slide down his body and press your hands firmly into his shoulders, bending down to taste yourself on his lips. 

You drop your hips to the dome in his pants, making him groan at the sudden friction. 

Hooking a finger into his sweatpants and boxers, you say, “take this off. Now.” 

Immediately, you felt his completely hardened length pressed on your inner thigh. You delicately wrap your fingers around the base of his dick, teasing your folds with the head.

“Please…” he groans. 

You raise an eyebrow. “‘Please’ what?” 

“I need to be inside you so bad, please.” 

“You can if I let you.” 

                                              ><><><><><><><

A/N I need holy water now, god damn… also the gif is not mine. 

[jaskierswolf]

A Thirst Like Flames

Part 1/6 - Also on AO3

(Part 2, 3, 4)

Rated E - for smutty reasons. __________

There was an itch prickling over Dandelion’s skin, a constant ache in the pit of his stomach and his mind felt hazy at all hours of the day. He watched the sun creep behind the horizon, quill in hand, the long feather brushing against his cheek, willing for some kind of inspiration, anything to distract him from the never ending lust. He couldn’t help it, he was a young man in his prime and he’d spent the last few months in the wilderness with a rather gorgeous witcher.

 They’d barely had enough coin between them to stock up on supplies let alone stay at inns or whorehouses, and Dandelion was really starting to feel it. He hadn’t even had the privacy to have a good wank in days. As much as he adored his new witcher companion, he was ready to drive one of those beautifully made witcher swords through Geralt’s chest. There was only so much they could take of each other’s company and living in each other’s pockets for months on end was taking its toll on the poet.

 “Geralt,” he snapped as the witcher prodded the growing fire with a stick, sparks flying into the sky.

 The flames bathed Geralt in a soft warm orange glow, casting almost magical shadows over his features. The witcher looked ethereal in the forest, a real creature of the wilds. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and Dandelion couldn’t help but stare at the muscles of Geralt’s forearms, muscles he’d seen kill both man and monster like they were nothing but flowers underfoot.

 “What is it, Dandelion?” Geralt grumbled, not looking up from the flames.

 Dandelion scoffed, pulling his hat from his head and placing it carefully on the ground beside him, smoothing out the feather, relishing in the sensation of the soft bristles between his fingers. It tickled slightly against his sensitive skin, and his traitorous mind imagined what it would feel like for a lover, that definitely didn’t resemble Geralt, to stroke the feather across his naked skin. His cock started to harden in his trousers and he pulled his hat into his lap. “Can you go get some firewood or something, anything, please?” Dandelion hissed, feeling utterly pathetic but if he didn’t get his hand on his cock soon then he was going to go absolutely mad.

 Geralt frowned, finally looking up at Dandelion which was the sweetest torture. The witcher’s golden eyes glowed in the dim light of the fire. It was so bloody gorgeous and Dandelion wanted him, and he couldn’t tell whether it was just his frustration or an actual deeper rooted desire. “We have firewood.”

 “Yes, well,” Dandelion huffed with a flick of his wrist “wouldn’t hurt to get more, my dear witcher.” He swallowed, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t going to ruin the adventure of his life by flirting with Geralt and pushing him away.

 Geralt snorted, but, praise Melitele, stood up and left the camp. Dandelion watched him go with a tilt of his head, Geralt’s arse a finer view than any sunset, and as soon as Geralt was far enough away, Dandelion tore at the laces on his trousers. He barely had time to spit on his hand, too desperate for his relief, sighing as he finally gripped his cock in his hand.

 It didn’t take long to bring himself to completion, muffling his cries behind his hand, teeth sinking into the flesh of his palm. He cursed as he looked down at the mess of his hand and trouser, whining when he saw the state of his poor hat.

 “Oh bloody hell,” he grumbled, wiping his hand on the damp grass. Hopefully there was a river nearby and he could clean up properly in the morning.

 Geralt, contrary to Dandelion’s belief, had not been nearly far enough away from camp when the poet had lost all control. Witcher hearing was keener than Dandelion realised, and he’d barely left camp before he heard the soft sighs of the poet.

 Dandelion’s sweet scent of arousal had surrounded him for days, and it was testing his control. They hadn’t managed to visit a brothel since before meeting Gulet, before Posada and Filivandral and the Edge of the World. The last thing he’d needed was to be followed around by a horny poet who could barely contain his desires. Geralt’s back hit a tree when he heard Dandelion’s muffled moans ring through the forest. The poet was obviously touching himself, and he’d wanted privacy.

 Yet Geralt was listening in like a pervert.

 He groaned, his own cock starting to ache, begging to be released from the confines of his trousers, but he refused to touch it. He wouldn’t disrespect his friend like that.

 “Fuck,” the poet whined. “G- Geralt…”

 Geralt’s eyes went wide and his nostrils flared, taking in the heady scent of Dandelion’s arousal. His mind was filled with images of Dandelion’s pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock. He could finally pull Dandelion’s head back by his soft blond hair, kissing the long swan-like neck, biting into his pale skin, marking him as Geralt’s.

 “Shit,” he growled, stuffing his hand into his pants. It was rough, and desperate, driven by the cloud of lust that had taken over his mind. The cocky little shit that had run up to him in the tavern, in need of protection, thinking a witcher was his best bet, had completely changed the course of Geralt’s life.

 Before he’d enjoyed the quiet of the forest, being at one with the creatures around him, the only conversations he’d had on a daily basis were with his horse, and he’d been happy.

 Or so he’d thought.

 Dandelion, the beautiful golden poet, had brought music and warmth to his life. Dandelion, a friend he’d never really known he’d needed until he’d met him. Dandelion, the bastard who was fucking masturbating back at camp whilst Geralt hid beyond the trees.

 It was pathetic.

 Geralt grunted as he spilled over his hand, not enjoying the pleasure of his orgasm, the sensation soured by the knowledge he was doing this in secret, eavesdropping like a coward. Grimacing, Geralt tucked himself back into his trousers. He didn’t deserve Dandelion. He didn’t deserve his light. The poet would be better off without him.

 He stalked off into the woods to gather the firewood they didn’t need. At least it would give him time to think, time to process. This needed to stop before they both got hurt, because Geralt would inevitably hurt Dandelion. It was all witchers were good for. His life wasn’t made for one as beautiful and soft as Dandelion.

 Geralt was scowling up a storm by the time he came back to camp. It had taken him longer than Dandelion had expected to get the firewood, and the poet was starting to wonder whether his friend had heard him and decided to abandon him in the middle of the forest. It was only Roach’s presence that calmed his fears. The witcher would never leave his precious mare behind. Dandelion had seen Geralt go through hell for that horse, even if she was a stubborn arse that Geralt complained about on a daily basis, and yet he never exchanged her for a more amenable horse.

 Geralt was caring and sentimental in that way, not that he would ever admit it, and he’d probably have Dandelion’s neck if the bard ever said the thought aloud.

 A blush warmed his cheeks as Dandelion grinned widely at his friend, deciding to ignore the memories of his recent activities. “Geralt!” he greeted warmly “there you are, my friend.”

 The witcher growled at that, and Dandelion pouted, pulling at his hair. “It’s late, Dandelion. Go to bed.”

 Dandelion scoffed haughtily and put his hands on his hips. Geralt was ruining his good mood. He’d just about driven away that maddening itch of arousal and now Geralt was being all grouchy. It was unbearable. Perhaps Geralt should have taken advantage of Dandelion’s plea for privacy, clearly the witcher was as pent up as he had been.

 “I’m not tired,” Dandelion stated.

 “I am.”

 Dandelion tutted and glared at the witcher as he started to move the bedroll around the camp, making sure they were as far apart as possible. They’d never slept that far apart since the day they’d met. The nights were cold and Dandelion was a cold-blooded bastard, once the fire had cooled to embers he would start to shiver far too soon. Geralt, in contrast, seemed to radiate heat and Dandelion had found himself tangled up with the witcher on more than one occasion.

 He sniffed haughtily and mirrored Geralt’s movements, dragging his own bedroll as far away from the campfire as possible. He might freeze to death but it would be Geralt’s fault.

 “What are you doing?” Geralt asked.

 “Well, clearly you don’t want to be near me, which is quite frankly unfair, rude and completely unwarranted, but I will gracefully respect your wishes and move away.”

 Geralt grunted. “You’ll freeze. Don’t be stupid, Dandelion.”

 “Stupid?!” he shrieked. “Oh, that is rich coming from you. I’m not the one making a fuss about nothing, and you won’t even tell me what’s wrong. No, no, don’t look at me like that. I am quite aware. You heard me, but I won’t apologise. I have needs, Geralt.”

 “That’s not it.”

 Dandelion laughed and put his hand on his hips. “Care to elaborate, my dear?”

 “No.”

 “No of course not. So I’ll be sleeping over here whilst you sulk all the way over there, and you won’t change my mind!”

 It didn’t take Dandelion long to regret his decision. Only an hour after the sun had completely faded away behind the horizon, his teeth started chattering. He shivered in his bedroll, and fidgeted restlessly on the ground, trying to stay warm.

 Geralt let out a heavy sigh from across the camp. “Come here, Dandelion.”

 Dandelion pouted, wanting to stay true to his word but Geralt was offering him warmth and a body pressed against his. How could he say no? He whined and pulled his bedroll back until it was next to Geralt’s, scuffing his feet in protest. He wanted Geralt to know that he was still cross with him despite their new sleeping arrangement.

 “I’m sorry,” Geralt said softly “I didn’t mean to listen.”

 Dandelion’s mouth dropped, and he turned away from Geralt. The yellow eyes glowing softly in the moonlight could no doubt still see him and he felt exposed, especially as he himself was nearly blind in the darkness. “I thought you were far enough away.”

 “Witcher have heightened senses. I would have had to travel a long time before you were out of earshot, and… and I can smell it.” Geralt admitted quietly as Dandelion settled back down, pressing his chest against the witcher’s back. He buried his face between Geralt’s shoulder blades, forcing down the embarrassment.

 Of course Geralt could smell it.

 Foolish, idiotic, bard. He knew that witchers had tracking abilities beyond that of a normal man.

 “You, you can smell it?” He asked softly.

 “Yeah.”

 “Well shit.”

 An awkward silence fell between and Dandelion had to fight back the urge to start humming under his breath. They were trying to sleep now, despite the awkward confessions. Geralt hummed but didn’t respond so Dandelion decided to pretend he’d fallen asleep.

 Next time he’d wait until they could find an inn. He didn’t want to lose Geralt over something so stupid.

_____

Next

[professional-idiocy]

On Thin Ice - pt. 4

You see when I took the break. I got a lot of energy to work on this again so here we have it much earlier than normal. WOW productivity plus I stopped listening during English classes and in Finland, it's just learning words that I already know. Also, I'm trying the new post editor so I don't know how this will go.

Pt. 1 - Masterlist - Next

CW: Mentions of torture, Colby's thoughts, Ellie's cat threatening Rosa. Please tell me if I have to add more ^^

Taglist: @whoopsalittlewhumpy, @cupcakes-and-pain, @uncooly-supreme-whump, @thegreathowdini

Kevin sighed in relief when the doorbell finally rang. Ellie was here to help him. He was so lost with everything and finally, he’d have someone who knew what they were doing. He gently woke up Colby who’d curled up at the opposite end of the couch clinging to a blanket he’d given to him.

He smiled at the memory of how amazed and grateful Colby had looked when he’d been given the blanket. He’d treated it like a prized treasure that shouldn’t even be given to him. It broke his heart, but it also made him want to protect Colby more.

The doorbell rang again, and Kevin rushed to the door, glad to see it really was Ellie. He did have someone he didn’t recognize with him, but it didn’t matter. He smiled letting them both in.

“Thanks for coming. I’ve been completely lost this whole time” Kevin said as Ellie smiled warmly not judging him at all as the man behind her scoffed, but it was quickly quieted by Ellie nudging him with her elbow.

“You still did well, since he seems to be doing decently” Ellie said gesturing towards Colby who was watching them warily.

“I hope you don’t mind that Blake came too” Ellie asked pointing to the man behind him who just nodded at Kevin. He awkwardly nodded back, something made him uneasy around Blake.

“Do you mind if I go catch up with the kid while you talk?” Blake asked his face twisting with worry. “He looks more uncertain than normal”

“Wait you know him?” Kevin asked tensely when as Blake chuckled his appearance subtly changing into all too familiar villain that had disappeared years ago. He watched silently as Mimic just looked back at him clearly enjoying the surprise.

“Well, yes. I’m a retired villain after all” He said smugly as Ellie smiled fondly, before ruffling Blake’s hair as the retired villain turned all red and looked away. Kevin just watched in a mix of surprise and fear. It did explain why she was so willing to help Colby.

“You’re always such a dramatic cat but I’m sure Colby could use a familiar face” Ellie said, before turning to Kevin who just looked at him in slight confusion.

“I know Blake is a bit surprising, but I’ll teach you how to properly take care of injuries since copying from TV shows is honestly a terrible idea. They’re wildly inaccurate. Like seriously who forgets chest compressions! That’s like the most important part!”

“Yeah, sorry… Let’s go into the kitchen to talk” Kevin said awkwardly as Ellie just smiled.

“Don’t worry not everyone is a doctor but NEVER attempt to do anything without proper knowhow especially with medicine. Text me or google it before doing anything”

Kevin just nodded continuing on. He hadn’t expected that

Colby watched in surprise as the man who’d come along with Miss Doctor had been Mimic. He’d disappeared years back and never reappeared. He’d worked together with him a few times and he was always surprisingly nice for a hired killer. It was relieving to see Mimic doing well. At least he hadn’t been caught.

“Hey, kid” Mimic said sitting next to him, Colby beamed at the old nickname.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that” Mimic mumbled awkwardly scratching the back of his head as Colby watched smiling softly. It was reassuring to have someone you knew around. Mimic had taught him a lot back then, but he’d never been the best at showing how he felt. They sat there in silence for a long time before Mimic continued.

“I know you’ll have a hard time, but I promise you don’t have to worry about Ellie. She’s really nice and doesn’t judge. It’s the reason I married her actually” Mimic said softly being all awkward as Colby chuckled at it.

“It’s fine. I know I deserved it”

Mimic smiled sadly at that. “Yeah, we’ve done fucked up things but you’re a kid. You shouldn’t think like that”

“You do know I’m 23, right? You’re ancient if you think that”

“Hey, I’m only 30, that makes me young enough” Mimic said pouting as Ellie laughed at Colby’s comment walking from the kitchen. Mimic ruffled his hair before getting up and finding a wall to lean against as Ellie sat next to him.

Colby watched as Mimic zeroed in on Kevin and threw a hand around his shoulder, taking him into the kitchen. Ellie shook his head smiling fondly before turning to him.

“Nice to meet you, Colby. I’m Ellie Walker” She said with a smile as Colby watched meekly before nodding. Ellie seemed nice enough. Mimic trusted her so she should be nice.

“I know you’re a bit nervous so how about we make a deal” Colby tilted his head curiously. No one had really made deals with him before, so it felt strange.

“Blake told me you liked chocolate so I brought some with me” She said taking out so much chocolate that he couldn’t even believe it. “You can have it all if you promise to be honest with me. If something hurts or feels slightly off you tell me, alright?” Colby nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course, it was her! Kevin Mills and Rosa Mills. No wonder you got Colby out without getting killed. Your psychopathic sister did this to him. Fuck that bitch for torturing a child! Even I’ve never hurt a kid” Blake said storming out the kitchen as Colby tensed in fear.

“I’m going to stab her”

“No stabbing” Ellie said making him freeze, before turning to her.

“what about a non-lethal poke?”

“That’s the same thing but look at what you’ve done. Colby is terrified right now” Blake turned to look at her before flinching as soon as he saw Colby looking at him in fear.

“Sorry, I think I’m just gonna sit in the car for a while. To uh- calm down” Blake explained awkwardly as Ellie smiled softly before shaking her head.

“I know you’re worried about Colby but that’s not the greatest way to show it” Blake nodded as Ellie seemed so understanding and kind. Colby’s eyes widened. Alaric would’ve been mad, very mad but she just calmly explained it!

“How about you help Kevin understand Colby better? You’ve known him the longest” Blake nodded quietly turning to Kevin as he just shrugged walking into the kitchen.

Ellie smiled at Colby sitting back down. “Sorry about his outburst. He cares about you but as you probably know he’s bad at showing how he feels”

“I know.” Colby said softly “You’re really nice, you know that right?” He piped up as Ellie smiled warmly. This would help him get back to Alaric.

“You’re really nice too. So where does it hurt?” Ellie smiled warmly and Colby just could feel himself melting. She just- she just was so nice. He just watched as she waited and waited. Shit, he needed to tell her!

“Everywhere but mostly my right ankle. I can’t walk because it refuses to work with me” He said in a hurry hoping Ellie wasn’t mad. He’d wasted time and- he shuddered at the memory of how it led to- Don’t think it, don’t think it. Just focus on the current event.

“I see, can I take a look?” Colby nodded without hesitation closing his eyes hoping it would just be over. Ellie kept poking and prodding as he answered questions and she did doctor things. He didn’t know anything about medicine, and it didn’t bother him. Mimic trusted her so he could trust her too.

She moved to inspecting the injuries and taking care of them. He kept answering the questions she asked but they didn’t make much sense to him. He just answered truthfully since it probably would help him get to Alaric faster.

“There you go” She said finishing the last bandage Colby watched her curiously “And here as we agreed the chocolate is all yours” Ellie said as she pushed the chocolate to him. He smiled gathering it all up and hiding it underneath his blanket.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Kevin asked as he walked in with Blake in tow who immediately found a wall to lean against as Ellie turned to them with a smile.

“We’re all done here Colby seems fine, but you need to clean the wounds regularly, so they don’t get infected and watch out for the sprained ankle” She stated packing up her stuff before pausing and turning to Colby.

“Mostly I’m concerned how the welts on your soles didn’t bother you. It would explain why you couldn’t walk when combined with the ankle” Ellie said as Colby’s eyes widened as he flinched. Kevin bit his lip in worry. He should’ve noticed!

“Sorry. I didn’t think it was that serious. It was just that one time I tried to escape and I- I learned my lesson” He muttered softly as he fiddled with the hem of the shirt Kevin had lent to him.

“Please don’t take the chocolate. I really want to keep it” Colby said softly, sounding panicked, but Ellie just ruffled his hair with a smile.

“It’s fine you’ve earned it” She looked at the clock before smiling, quickly packing a bunch of stuff, handing Blake the stuff she’d packed.

“We sadly need to get going” She said getting up before wandering around for anything she might’ve forgotten before turning to Kevin.

“Kevin, memorize the stuff I wrote down for you. It’ll be better than constantly looking at the stuff” She said leaving as Blake smiled fondly at her antics, before following behind her.

Colby and Kevin just stayed there in silence before Kevin sat down next to him. Colby just carefully took two of the chocolate bars resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder nuzzling close. He handed Kevin one of the bars before beginning to eat his own.

He closed his eyes pulling the blanket up before melting in pure bliss. He liked these silent moments of comfort. Best of all Kevin had accepted the chocolate meaning he’d done well and didn’t have to worry about Kevin getting mad for a while.

[frostsinth]

Deals with Demons - Pt. 2

Prologue | Part 1 | MasterList

Hey! Just hit 200 followers. So have another part to the demon story as a thank you! CONTENT WARNING: This part is 18+, but not for smut. There is some graphic violence and pretty psychological nasty shit in here. I mean, he is a demon after all. So please read with that in mind. The worst is at the end, so please feel free to skip to the next part if you need to. Part 3 has another... ahem, “feeding”...

Your comments and love give me life! I read every single reblog/reply! Thank you to my regular followers! And a big “Welcome” to my new ones!

“A deal with a demon is not so easily broken by either party,” He assured me, “I cannot forge another until ours is complete. Until then,” He squeezed me against him, “I am yours to command.”

My breath caught in my throat, but I nodded curtly. I placed my palms on his chest and pushed myself back. “Fine. Then open the door.”

....

With a  flick of his hand, an interdimensional portal similar to the one I had first passed through split the air before us. My eyes widened at the effortlessness of his magic; it had taken nearly all the strength of our ten most senior members to open the one I had used the first time.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, but otherwise did not hesitate to step through. He followed hardly a breath behind, ducking his great horned head to fit through the doorway.

We emerged in the ceremony room, with its high arched stone ceilings and windowless walls. I looked about cautiously, but it was empty. And dark, save for the light from Abhilash’s flickering flames. The door closed behind us on the altar, and I slowly stepped down from the raised platform to the stone floor.

“Ahh,” The demon sighed heavily, stretching and flicking his tail. “It feels good to be back on this plane.” I checked over my shoulder and saw him licking his lips. “So much…. opportunity.”

I didn’t feel like he wanted any particular response, so I turned my attention back to the room we had entered. I felt hot anger stir inside me as I looked about the abandoned chambers. The Mothers had sent me to what they had assumed would be my death. Then they simply left. Without a second thought; without any remorse. No prayer group or wake in gratitude for my sacrifice. No vigil. No sermon. Simply abandoned the room and sealed it shut. Hiding away their shame. And they would return only in another ten years, with the next sacrificial lamb for slaughter. Their tender words of comfort seemed like hollow lies now.

But had I ever expected them to be anything more?

I started to walk forward, towards the doorway, my bare feet slapping softly on the cool stones. I stopped suddenly at the sound, looking down at my naked form.

“Shit.” I swore silently, looking about again. But the room was completely empty.

“What troubles you, lamb?” Came Abhilash’s purring, rasping voice from behind me.

I turned to consider the demon, and found his huge form hardly dwarfed by the large chambers. I felt a short wave of shyness at the sight of him. At the memory of his touch, I felt my cheeks flush. Another small part of me was tickled to see him standing there, at the foot of the altar that had once led to his prison. I was eager to see the holy Mothers’ faces when they saw him.

I wasn’t nearly as eager to be seen as I was presently, and I sighed, running one hand through my hair and crossing the other over my chest. Quite the impression I would leave on the Sisters dressed only in what the gods had given me on the day of my birth.

“I left my robes behind,” I told him, “And can hardly skirt around the halls naked, looking for something to wear. That’s not the image I want to start with.”

He chuckled, stepping closer and tucking his large fingers under my chin. “Then put something on.” He said simply.

I stiffened at his touch, but looked up at him, frowning a little. Wondering just how much the demon remembered about the mortal realm. 

“What exactly am I supposed to put on? There’s nothing here.”

His grin split his lips slightly, showing a flash of his pearly white teeth beneath. “There is you,” He pointed out, “And your new power.” His thumb traced the point of my chin. “Remember, little lamb; you are limited only by your own imagination.”

My eyes must have widened slightly in surprise, because he chuckled again. I pushed his hand away, turning and looking about to hide my irritation. Trying to figure out exactly what his words meant. Only limited by my imagination? I knew no spells, had never used magic before. How did one even begin to pull something out of thin air?

His words echoing in my mind, I closed my eyes. I pictured a dress; a simple white dress, that draped loosely from my shoulders down to my ankles. I imagined what it would feel like, how it would brush my skin, how it would move when I moved.

There was a slight tingling sensation, and I could hear the rush of my blood in my ears. Followed by a soft whoosh like air passing through a window. When I opened my eyes and looked down… the dress I had seen in my mind’s eye now covered my body.

My mouth dropped open, then morphed into a huge smile. I touched the fabric, pinching it between my fingers. It was soft, and silky, just as I had imagined it. Dropping the hem, I brought my hands up, turning them over, studying them. They tingled as I stared at them. I hesitated, then focused again, imagining sparks dancing between my fingertips. Without delay, little zaps of electricity passed between my digits. I yelped, shaking my hands in surprise. Then I laughed, grinning like a fool.

“You are a natural,” Mused Abhilash, and when I turned back to look at him, he had a knowing smirk on his face. “Now, what else will you do with your newfound power?”

I looked back at my hands, thinking. Turning it over in my head. What would I do? There were so many possibilities! So many things I wanted. So many things once denied to me. But what first? I could hardly decide. I almost danced on my toes in eagerness.

In the distance, I heard the soft toll of the midnight bell. It jerked me away from my thoughts, and surprised me. I had left in the morning, before dawn’s light had hit the steeples. Had it really been almost a full day since I had been sent through the portal? But the sound of the bells also twanged a deep rooted anger inside me. It bubbled and boiled in my gut, steaming into a hatred and rage that threatened to consume me. I took one menacing step back towards the door, feeling my blood rushing in my ears again.

The Mother Superior! And all the other Mothers. How they had preened and prodded at me all my life. How they had tried to take my spirit and mold it to their will. They had caged me, berated and belittled me. Tried to force me into their beliefs, and their rules. Played games with my mind and emotions. And when that failed, resorted to more physical methods of reinforcement and punishment. They had kept me chained to this place for no reason other than their own selfish purposes. And when I had become too unruly? When it seemed they could not break me? They had orchestrated my conscription into the role of sacrificial maiden.

My anger at my mistreatment burned hot inside me, and I let it simmer through my veins. I felt the magic tingle at my fingertips, and looked down at them. Wondering how satisfying it would be to crush my oppressors between them.

The weight of a huge hand slipped over my shoulder, surprising me. But before I could react, the demon spun me to face him and bent down, pressing his lips against mine. My eyebrows shot up, but I didn’t move. He ran his hand over my jaw, burying it in my hair as he pressed into a deeper kiss. His touch burned, though not with heat. It was an odd sensation, and it sent sparks zipping underneath my skin. I felt an alien eagerness tickling at the edge of my senses; felt it pressing against my own consciousness like a thin tendril of smoke. I couldn’t quite comprehend it, but I knew it was there. Knew that it was not a part of me.

My vision spun, darkness tinging the edges, and I felt the same weightlessness I had before back in the dimensional pocket. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I surrendered to his touch, his long tongue burrowing into my mouth, his lips working eagerly against mine.

It only lasted for what felt like a few moments, but when he finally drew back, I had to blink stars from my eyes. I swayed slightly before I settled back onto the balls of my feet once more. As if remembering how to stand again. I blinked a few more times, then frowned, looking up at him.

“Apologies, lamb,” He said with a wicked grin, “Your rage… it was just too tempting to pass up.”

I pushed his hand away again. “You fed on me?”

“As I am wont to do,” he replied, still grinning, “You are at my beck and call, no?”

I shook my still swirling head, spinning around to put him at my back again. “Keep your end of the deal, and I’ll keep mine,�� I muttered, and took a few purposeful steps towards the door to the chambers. His kiss had left me frazzled, and it took me a moment to regain my previous train of thought.  “...I have decided what I want first.”

“And what, praytell, is that?” He purred, following behind me.

I unlocked the door and shoved it open. “I want the Abbey.”

“The Abbey?” He echoed, still no more than a step behind me as I walked out into the hallway beyond the ceremonial chambers. “What do you want with it?”

The hallway was actually a long bridge, with stone railings on either side and a triangular roof overhead. It was worn, and in disrepair. After all, they only needed to access the chambers on the side of the peak once every ten years. I paused, looking down at the temple below. The Abbey was small, but grandiose, built from pale grey stones with dusty red clay shingles for its roofs. There was a main building, several stories high and rounded in the middle with a square base, and several smaller out buildings as well as pointed steeples for bell towers. There was more than the eye could see, as the temple was built into the cliff face, looking as if the mountain itself had begun to swallow it back up. A high stone wall was built around the outside of the small green courtyard, and there was only one narrow path that led to it from the outside world.

“I will make it my castle.” I told him, tapping one finger against the stone railing. “My personal home in the mountains, though-” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye “-There appears to be an infestation in my new house.”

He chuckled darkly, coming to stand directly behind me. There was barely enough space for air to pass between our bodies, and I felt myself quiver a little at the thought of his touch.

“My, that is unfortunate,” He hissed, and his tail flicked like a whip beside us. “Would you like me to take care of it, little lamb?”

“Don’t call me that.” I grumbled, tapping the railing again. Thinking. The bitterness in my chest gripped at my throat. “Bring me the Mothers. Especially the Mother Superior. The rest of the Sisters will be given a choice; worship and serve me, or meet their death.”

“Hmm. Sounds fun.” I could hear his grin in his rough voice. “And then what?”

I walked down the long hallway, lit solely by Abhilash’s fires, kicking aside loose stones with my bare feet. My anger bubbled in my chest again, and I gritted my teeth.

“Then I want to repaint this temple with their blood,” I breathed, “I want to hear their screams, I want them to beg me for mercy.”

“Will you grant it?” He purred eagerly into my ear, closer than I had thought he could possibly be.

I narrowed my eyes, glancing out over the railing again. “Did they ever grant it to me?”

His laughter echoed around us, peppering the otherwise still and silent night air with its wickedness.

“Your wish is my command.” The demon bowed low, his sharp teeth gnashing in excitement.

“I will be in the Inner Sanctum,” I told him, “Bring them there. Oh, and Abhilash?” I waited until he turned to look at me again. “...Make a show of it.”

I hadn’t thought it possible for his grin to grow wider, but it did. He licked his lips greedily and his beady black eyes seemed to glow. Once more, the demon bowed to me. Then turned, disappearing into a puff of black smoke.

As I was descending the stone walkway carved into the mountainside, I heard the screaming start. My own grin tasted positively wicked indeed.

...

I walked down the long center aisle of the Inner Sanctum, breathing deeply the familiar scent of incense burning on the large altar before the massive windows that took up the back wall. The screams from the rest of the Abbey were a distant echo here, but I could still enjoy them as I moved towards the altar. Moonlight filtered through the glass, settling the huge room into a silvery glow; the smoke from the incense making it seem almost mystical. Ethereal.

Lies. I thought to myself bitterly, glaring at the pews set up facing the raised, open faced pulpit. How many times had the Mother Superior stood atop there, preaching down to the huddled sisters? How many lives had she twisted with her words?

I came to stand at the foot of it, the golden altar behind and at its base glittering. I scowled, feeling a bubbling rage in my chest at the sight. My blood felt hot, and I raised up my hands before me. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I swore I could feel them pulsing in time with each beat of my heart. As if I could see my own blood moving beneath the skin. I suddenly recalled the flames Abhilash wore, and imagined such a fire from my own hands.

At first, it was just a flicker, but as I focused, it grew. And grew. Engulfing my hands and licking up my wrists. But it didn’t burn or sting. It felt nice, like a silk scarf skimming over my hands as a wind played through it. I grinned, watching it for a moment. Then I looked around.

The pew nearest me was the first victim, and it flew backwards a few feet from the force of the fireball, splintering and shattering into a million blazing pieces. I fired another at the pew on my other side, then swept my hands in a wave. Willing the rest of the wooden pews to be forced back from the center of the grand chamber with a loud, sickening crash. They snapped and burned at the edges, surrounding the stone passageways that lined the Sanctum. Throwing the huge stone pillars into a brilliant orange glow.

I considered that, then turned back to the golden altar and raised pulpit. I scowled deeper at it, and imagined an entirely different setting; a throne. A golden seat at the top of beautifully carved stairs of dark polished wood. I felt my blazing hands tingle, and flicked my wrist at the pulpit. The flames shot out, licking up and around the altar. Melting. Twisting. Deforming the images and idols there. Reforming it into the vision in my mind’s eye.

It wasn’t quite what I had imagined. Not quite so sleek, nor imposing as a grand throne for a King’s hall. But I found I liked the way the heat twisted and warped the wood and metals, creating instead a masterpiece out of jagged edges. I grinned at it, willing the flames to recede to its edges. They melted back obediently to my will, and I almost laughed out loud. My heart raced and my face was starting to hurt from how much I was smiling.

I decided I loved the way the new dais looked, raised slightly above the long center aisle. The gold seemed to melt off the edges like old candle wax, and the stairs were a little less polished and more charred. But I walked up them, considering the huge golden seat I had formed merely by the strength of my will. It seemed more like a bench, with almost no back to speak of, but still with grand arms formed from warped gold. Set before the huge windows behind it, bathed in the glow of the fires of the burning pews? Now that looked ethereal. Mighty. And frightening.

There was the sudden smell of sulfur amid the burning ash filling the room, and I turned to look down at the aisle behind me. Abhilash stood there, considering my handiwork, a wicked grin on his face.

He bowed deeply, his great horned head almost sweeping the floor. “I come bearing gifts.” He told me, and yanked a magical black iron chain that seemed to shed ash with each movement.

The women attached to the chains gasped, staggering forward. Some fell to their knees, others fell into each other. All were disheveled, mostly in sleeping gowns, with their hair in disarray and splatters of blood covering them. Their eyes were wide as they looked about, gasping and whispering prayers. A few even cried.

But my eyes fell on the center most woman, who’s long, tapered nose was wrinkled up to her brow. She too was in her nightgown, with soot and blood staining the white cloth. Her hair was clumped to one side, with wild strands shooting this way and that. Not her usually poised visage. When she saw me, her eyes widened in sudden recognition.

“YOU!” She snapped, then twisted in her chains. “How dare you! You wicked, wicked child!” She yanked at her chains again, and even took a step forward. “I should have thrown you out when I had the chance! Blasphemy! Sacrilege!”

I scowled, turning as gracefully as I could manage, and settled myself comfortably on the bench. I rolled my fingers on the cooling golden arm, letting my nails tap a quiet rhythm amid the crackling of the fires. Abhilash stood beside the gaggle, looking more than a little amused.

“Perhaps you should be nicer,” I began, crossing one knee over the top of the other, “to the person who decides your fate in this world.”

Her eyes went so wide I thought they might burst out of their sockets. She spun to the demon, pointing at me with one long finger. “Demon! I command you! Kill the girl! Take her as the sacrifice she was meant to be!”

Abhilash crossed his arms over his broad chest and gave her a wide, toothy grin. Her face went a little pale, and she spun back. Glaring at me with her brow knotted. Then she looked over her shoulder at the cowering Mothers.

“Take them!” She offered, turning back to the demon. “Take them as payment! Do what you wish with them, but honor your agreement with me, Demon!”

The Mothers screamed and wailed at the Superior’s words. Some cried out to her directly, some dropped to their knees in prayer. Some were simply dumbfounded to silence.

I traced the bumpy gold beneath my fingertips, smirking. “Unfortunately, Mother Superior,” I chimed in, my lips twitching as I resisted the urge to smile, “Your agreement was broken once the demon crossed over to this plane. Or should I say, your cage?”

She looked at me, then at him. His grin grew by a few more sharp teeth. Shaking her head, she stomped one foot angrily.

“No! You can not do this to me! I am a Prophet of the Gods! I am Their will on earth!”

I couldn’t help but laugh, so hard that I had to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “Perhaps you have been pretending for so long, Mother, that you have begun to believe your own lies.” I stood slowly, turning to address the rest of the women behind her. “Now you see!” I told them. “Now you see your Mother Superior for who she truly is. An impostor. A selfish old hag who plays with the same dark arts she preaches against. A hypocrite and a liar.”

“NO!” She shouted, and flung herself forward as if to strike me down. 

But Abhilash merely raised his hand and the chains tightened, jerking her back. She lost her balance and fell to her knees at the foot of the stairs. She glared up at me, teeth clenched.

“I have only done what I must! To save this world! To make it a better place for all within it!” She snarled. “You know naught what you do, child! Releasing this evil into the world!”

I looked down at her, my eyes narrowed. Anger was building in my chest again as she spit and spat her lies at me. Even at the very end, she sought to control me. Sought to force me beneath her heel like she had done so many others.

When she saw my face, saw the coldness icing my veins as I looked down at her, I saw her hesitate. She looked back over her shoulders at the Mothers. Then back up at me. Her jaw squared, and she straightened herself as best she could.

“What will you do with me, Theodosia?” She asked, her voice soft, “I, who took you in when no one else would. I, who fed and kept and dressed you? Who tried to instill faith in you so you would never be alone?”

“Who cast me as fodder for demons for daring to speak out against you.” I returned, tucking my hands together before me as if I were not a seething pit of hatred inside. But then I paused, cocking my head to the side. “I will do nothing to you.” I waited until her shoulder slumped a little in relief, then let a coy smile slip across my lips. “Nothing you have not done to me.”

Her eyes went wide again, and I saw her quivering slightly. Behind her, the other Mothers had fallen into a huddle. Clinging to each other. Whispering prayers and whimpering softly. I considered the Mother Superior, then turned to Abhilash.

“Are you hungry?” I asked him pointedly.

His sharp teeth split his face in two, and his long tongue lolled out. “I am always hungry.”

The Mothers squealed quietly, staggering backwards at his words. I had to admit, he looked quite intimidating. Towering over us all at nearly 8 feet tall, with his broad shoulders and head engulfed in flames. He tilted his great horned head to the side, blinking his four black eyes in succession. Sending the women into a twittering mess.

I turned back to the Mother Superior, looking down at her. “Then I shall bestow upon you the same honor you once gave me; you shall feed the demon who I have made my own deal with.”

Her face drained of blood, and she looked frantically around. She spun, reaching out towards the other Mothers.

“Help! Help me!” She begged, clasping her chained hands together.

They screamed and staggered backwards. Struggling to get as far away from the doomed woman as possible. I looked over to Abhilash, who glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I nodded to him, and with a growl, he quickly prowled over to the foot of the stairs. The Mother Superior tried to run, but he caught her by one leg and easily hoisted her into the air. The screams of the other women became deafening, drowning out the Mother Superiors own pleas as the demon’s jaw unhinged. His flames seemed to grow, spreading down his arms and over his back. Up his spine and legs from the tip of his tail. Blazing like a bonfire. Licking up towards the high steepled ceiling. Blinding the room to his might. Spewing thick, lung choking black smoke.

But I was unaffected by the light and smoke. I had a perfect vision of him as his form warped and twisted, as his pointed teeth gnashed and his jaw widened. He managed to fit her down in one huge bite. Well, most of her.

His jaw snapped shut with a huge, audible crack like thunder. Blood splattered across the room as a few errant body parts dropped from his maw. The remaining Women screamed even louder, their throats ripping for the force of their shrieks. What little strength they had left fled them, and they became a quivering heap of sobs and cries on the floor. 

I stared at the mess on the ground, unsure what I felt at that moment. My rage had subsided at the sight of the carnage. But it didn’t make me feel quite as ill as perhaps it should have. Instead, I felt a strange numbness settling over me as the demon’s flames subsided back to their normal flickering core and his jaw slowly rehinged. He licked his long tongue in a circle around his face, smacking his lips together in delight.

“Do you not see!” Screeched one of the Mothers. I glanced over at her, still lost in myself. “Do you not see what you have done, child!” 

I recognized her as one of the Mothers who had coached me on my impending encounter prior to the ritual. I felt a scowl forming on my lips as she stood shakily, pointing one quivering finger at me.

“You must never make deals with demons! Your soul is lost! Your own suffering shall come on swift wings!” She dropped to her knees, wailing and shaking her head. “You have let evil into your soul, poor child! And your torment will be endless!” Her quivering gaze turned to Abhilash, and she began to shake from head to toe. “You cannot trust a demon! They speak nothing but lies! They cannot be bound to any mortal! You should have listened to us, Theodosia Greystorm! You should have not let yourself be tempted by sin!”

I didn’t answer for a moment, considering what to do with the remainder of the Mothers. Certainly something had to be done with them. But I found I couldn’t quite find the same pleasure at the idea of another such display. For the moment at least. I didn’t look at the demon as I slowly moved down the steps.

“Put them in your old cage.” I told him, my voice flat. “We will deal with them later… if they are still alive when I decide to do so.”

“As you wish.” He purred, and I saw him bowing his head slightly out of the corner of my eye.

...

UPDATE: Part Three is HERE

[dweetwise]

Felix and Ace having met before. Ace won a grand prize at the table and got an executive suite. Though his next door neighbor was Felix who was here on a business meeting to design a similar casino. (I am sorry I love imagining people meeting people before the fog)

this isn’t exactly what you asked for buuuut i needed to write something for waiter ace and you blessed me with this ask uwu also if you didn’t want a ship i’m sorry but that’s what i assumed! warning for closeted felix and mentions of the s3x but nothing nsfw actually happens

word count: 1860

Felix X Ace: Strictly Business

Felix wasn’t exactly prepared for the fog to transport him into another dimension. He'd read some theories, sure, and he'd seen his father disappear into thin air all those years ago, but to experience it first-hand was another thing entirely.

He also didn't expect the world in question to be controlled by an eldritch being that forced its captured victims into a gruesome game of hide and seek, killing and resurrecting him and others at will.

But he sure as hell didn't expect to come face to face with the biggest mistake of his life.

It takes Felix a minute to recognize the man, the small camp having so many new faces and names to memorize and they’re all speaking over each other—it's a lot to take in. But then he spots a familiar face, and everything the ginger woman is trying to explain to him becomes white noise as the man he focuses on laughs at something a boy in a beanie says.

Felix’s thoughts drift back to what feels like a lifetime ago, when he was on a business trip in Austria, staying at a luxurious casino. 

Him and a couple of other junior architects were invited to design an expansion to the building, and the best idea would be hired. Felix hated competition, he hated having to work on the field, and he hated the lavish, over-the-top style of the casino. But he was only starting to get his name out there, and couldn't afford to turn down any opportunities—if he played his cards right, this could be his stepping stone into more high-profile projects. Maybe he'd get to design an entire casino next time, without the twenty fake fountains and fuck-awful gold trims.

They were waited on like VIP:s while attending meetings in lavish conference rooms and bullshit marketing presentations about the brand. It was basically an all-inclusive stay, but Felix still despised it. He would have given anything to skip the unnecessary pleasantries and stay at home to draw the designs in peace.

He hated it right up until one of the waiters serving their mid-presentation coffees caught him suppressing a yawn and gave him a cheeky wink and a smirk. Felix had blinked, thinking he imagined it, but the more he kept staring, the more the waiter's smile seemed to widen.

Felix wasn't gay, but being an architect, he could appreciate aesthetically pleasing things in life. Like the waiter's symmetrical face, high cheekbones and good hairline. And eyes that sparkled with mischief even while he was outwardly completely professional.

And the way his work pants clung to his perky ass.

The waiter was suddenly a hundred times more interesting to him than the entire project. The project was predictable, and Felix once again found himself drawn to the unknown.

It wasn't a challenge to get the man's attention. He only had to linger behind after a dinner, and soon enough, there was a gloved hand brushing fleetingly against his neck as the man collected his plate. With the rest of the group having moved on, and Felix having had more than a few drinks, he'd asked if there was any possibility for room service. He was rewarded a lopsided grin and warm eyes shimmering with promise.

He always was much smoother when drunk off his ass.

He doesn't even remember what he'd designed by the end of his five-day-stay in the casino. He only remembers fucking the cute waiter against the tacky gold-trimmed headboard of the king-sized bed in his suite. And in the hot tub. And in a supply closet. It was a long week, okay?

His companion was named Luca. He'd only been working in the casino for a few months and was thinking of moving back to Italy, not being a fan of gambling or the over-the-top establishment. He had a charming accent and only spoke a couple of words of German, forcing Felix to use his own shaky English.

It was a shallow thing. Felix tried to keep his personal life private, and he definitely left out the part where he had a girlfriend back home. He'd ended up exaggerating his professional success, but wasn’t that what people did? He was just trying to make a good impression, 

After the week, Felix never talked to the other man again. He got home, unpacked his bags, and freaked out. He didn't even want to think about how unprofessional he'd been and how risky it was.

And definitely not about how much he'd enjoyed it.

The more he tried suppressing the thoughts, the more insistent they got. His brain was periodically invaded by images of warm brown eyes, expressive lips twisting into a hundred different smiles, and a laugh resonating in his ear, rich like his favorite double-roast coffee. The memories had haunted him for close to a decade, and he thought he'd finally gotten past them, ready to be a good father that had his shit together.

But here he is, seeing the same brown eyes light up with the same carefree smile and the sound of the same damn laugh echoing through the air and all the memories come flooding back.

The woman next to him hollers something to the group, and the familiar face looks his way. Even with the now grey hair and added wrinkles, Felix still finds himself just as transfixed as he'd been ten years ago.

He's introduced to the group, but he only really remembers one name and the overwhelming sense of wrongness that follows it; Ace. The revelation isn’t made any easier when he notices there isn't even a flicker of recognition in the eyes he remembers so fondly.

In the following couple of trials, Felix is only disappointed further. “Ace” doesn’t have an Italian accent anymore, in fact Felix catches him instead saying something in Spanish to the woman in a blazer. He’s also very keen on gambling, and the shiny satin smoker jacket he wears in one trial could have been straight from the tacky casino they met in. Was anything he told Felix about himself true?

It takes him a while to confront the man, debating back and forth inside his head. All of his focus should be on finding his father, and he needs to keep these people at arm’s length. Ace not remembering him is the best possible outcome of their brief past together, he tries to rationalize.

But in the end, curiosity wins over rationality, and when the opportunity presents itself, Felix is unable to resist.

“You really don't remember me, do you?” Felix asks, alone in the camp until Ace returns from a trial. The man pauses, eyebrows pinching together in confusion “I didn't leave you to die on hook, did I?” Ace asks. “That happens sometimes.” “No, I mean back in the other world,” Felix explains. “We've… met?” Ace asks.

Well. If that's what you want to call it.

“Yes,” Felix simply says and immediately, Ace cringes. “I'm sorry?” he offers. “Excuse me?” “I can count on one hand the people I've encountered who remember me fondly. There's a 99% chance you hate my guts, so I figured I'd get it over with quickly," Ace explains, seeming a little wary. “I don't hate you, I just can't believe you'd forget and… lie.” “Oh, I… I do that. Did—whatever. Nothing personal,” Ace shrugs. “I really don’t remember you, sorry.” “Casino in Vienna. 2011. I stayed at the hotel for a week. You were a waiter. You said your name was Luca. We—” Felix hesitates. “…'met'.” 

Multiple times on multiple surfaces.

“Vienna, huh? Hmm... Oh!” Ace's face suddenly lights up. “You were one of the suits, right? Some kind of… lawyer?” "Architect,” Felix corrects, a little miffed. “Same deal,” Ace dismisses with a wave of his hand. “So, are you still neck-deep in the closet?” “What?” Felix recoils. “That's—I'm not gay. It was a one-time-thing.” “That would be a yes,” Ace muses, almost as to himself. “So you do remember? All of it?” Felix prods. “Guess so. What, you want a repeat performance?” Ace asks, raising an eyebrow. “No! I just…” Felix falters. 

‘Wanted to make sure you didn't forget me because I’ve been thinking about you for the past ten years’? No way he’s admitting to any of that, so he puts on his business face.

“Wanted to come clean. So we're on the same page. To avoid any awkwardness,” Felix says instead, and it’s definitely not as smooth as he would have liked. “Right…” Ace says, regarding him skeptically.

There's a few seconds of extremely awkward silence while Ace just stares at him and Felix looks into the fire, trying to keep his face neutral and not sweat bullets. Eventually Ace sighs.

“Look, can I give you some friendly advice?” he asks. “I… I guess so," Felix says, a little confused. “Drop the act,” Ace says, looking him dead in the eye. “The manly man, excited father, respectable lawyer—” “Architect,” Felix, again, corrects in annoyance. “—suit guy thing, whatever. It's not going to serve you any purpose in here. These people see right through any bullshit, trust me on that one,” Ace adds with a knowing smile that Felix has never seen before.

He doesn't have any time to think of a reply before they're interrupted, the girl with a beanie cussing up a storm while a young guy in a sailor uniform sits down in front of Ace expectantly and the man cracks a joke and immediately starts tending to the bloody gash in the kid's shoulder.

The wound is bleeding heavily but the duo keeps chatting without a care in the world. Felix remembers he got a gauze roll from the… blood web?—and he rifles through his meager belongings before approaching the two.

“You… um,” Felix stammers, holding out the item to Ace. “Would this help?” “Cool!" the teen chirps while Ace takes the offered item silently, regarding Felix with an unreadable expression. "Thanks—uhh, what was your name again?" the kid grins sheepishly. “Felix,” he says. “And… yours?” he asks, swallowing his pride and now hesitantly curious to learn more about his companions. “I'm Steve! This is Ace, and the moping bitch over there is Nea!” Steve exclaims with a bright smile that shows his bloodied teeth. “Dude, fuck off!" the girl, Nea, calls. “Hey Felix, anyone teach you how to use a flashlight yet?" “No, not really," Felix confesses, cautiously approaching the girl. “I understand the need for tools and medical supplies, but… what would you use a torch for?” ------------------ “So how's the new guy holding up?” Steve asks. Ace looks over to where Felix is sitting with Nea. “Allvarligt—förstår du mig inte?” Nea has apparently moved on from flashlight training to Swedish lessons. “For the last time, your Swedish sounds like gibberish to me," Felix explains. "Just because the languages are related—" “Sheiße,” Nea interrupts with a grin, moving to swear in German. “A multilingual genius, I see,” Felix deadpans. “He's learning,” Ace says, hiding his own hopeful smile behind the fluffy hair of the boy he's patching up.

(nea’s line: “seriously, you don’t understand me?”) i’m not 100% happy w this fic, esp since it’s about a new character but it’s a start at least! i also really wanted to throw in a “sure you’re hot but you were so boring i forgot all about you” line but it didn’t fit and now you just have to imagine that’s what ace was thinking

[enchantedbride]

A Flicker of Sable Feathers

Rating: SFW

Warning: Mentions of Attempted Physical Assault

Tagging: @curiousobsession101​​​, @juliannos​​​, as well as @goldenworldsabound​​​ and @foreveryours-mouse​​​

A/N: A Reincarnation AU Lucey Drabble, taking place around Lesson/Chapter 3-4 of the main plot of Obey Me! Joey briefly recalls a memory from a past life, unaware that it’s indeed one of her own memories. 

Joey sighed heavily with relief when she saw that Lucifer had come to her roommate’s rescue. A human who’d barely learned to use the borrowed magic she’d be given was definitely no match for someone as ancient and powerful as a demon like Leviathan, especially when fueled by an envious rage. Joey herself was no more experienced and could have done little to help, she realized, even if she’d been seconds away from throwing herself in front of Kat in an attempt to protect her. At the very least, she had hoped to give Kat enough time to run across the room to Mammon who was already on his way to her. 

But Lucifer had appeared in an instant to halt his younger brother’s attack. They locked eyes, Lucifer glaring at Leviathan and telling him he was out of control. Leviathan hesitated, backing down immediately. Lucifer then ordered him to go back to his room.  Leviathan was slow to make his way from the room, but with a little extra prodding from Diavolo he was soon gone. Everyone in the room started talking- both about what had just happened and what to do from here. 

They had all gathered because Kat had challenged Leviathan to a game of trivia about his favorite fictional series. But with him gone, there was a question of how a victor would be called. 

But Joey herself offered nothing to the conversation. In fact her mind wasn’t on the topic at hand at all once she saw that Kat was safe. Actually, once Lucifer had appeared, she could barely take her eyes off him. 

It was already bothersome enough to her that he seemed so familiar to her despite the fact they’d never met before she came to the Devildom. Well, that and the fact she strangely found him immediately alluring and attractive despite almost everything about him being things that she found repulsive in another. He was arrogant, impatient, and had an inclination towards cruelty. And she just didn’t become immediately and powerfully drawn to someone like that, ever. That’s not how her attraction worked. 

He was now in his true demonic form, having transformed in order to intimidate his brother into backing down.  His clothes had changed, horns jutted and curled out from above his ears, and a small black gem adorned his forehead. But what drew her eyes the most were his large, feathery black wings. There was something about those wings, something about the way he looked now that once again struck an unsettling cord of familiarity with Joey. 

There’s absolutely no way I should find this familiar, she thought. 

As the others continued to talk, they hardly noticed at first she hadn’t said anything. Her mind did well to block everything else out. But then suddenly she heard someone’s voice sharp and clear.

“Wait! Please don’t run away. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this…”

Huh? It was Lucifer’s voice. She looked around, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. But suddenly, she wasn’t in the same room as before, and everyone had vanished. 

Well, everyone except Lucifer. 

“I had no intention of keeping this from you. But I had yet to find the best way to explain,” he said. Joey squinted. His clothes had changed again. The room they were in was much smaller, and daylight was beginning to fall from the window to the floor. But there’s no sun in the Devildom… Where are we? “I am no longer the angel you once knew. I have been cast out of the Celestial Realm. As a result I’ve become… a demon.”

He was also holding something. A comb? Or it looked like a comb, from what she could tell. She also recognized furniture around the room. It looked like a bedroom. 

I feel like I know this room. But why?

“But even if I’ve changed, there is something in me that hasn’t,” he said, tilting his head and frowning. There was something in his eyes that was… soft. Gentle. Pleading. She’d never seen Lucifer with an expression like that.

He looked vulnerable. And yet it somehow didn’t seem out of place. In fact, it felt… right? Like this version of Lucifer was somehow more authentic, like somehow the way she’d seen him behave before felt off. But there’s no way I would be able to know that. She was shit at reading people and it wasn’t like they were all that close. They hardly knew each other.

“I love you. Truly.” His words and the desperation in his voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her cheeks flush slightly. What? Who? “Angel or devil, I will always love you with everything I am. But if I frighten you and you wish me gone, say the word and I will leave you be-”

She heard someone cut him off in reply. 

“Please don’t say that! Don’t say you’ll leave me … Please.” 

Joey felt like she could almost recognize the voice. She was on the cusp of realizing the answer, and yet for some reason she couldn’t figure it out. 

But wait. Should the voice even be recognizable to me? She questioned herself. What is going on here?

“Joey?” The room began to blur and both Lucifer’s voice and the person he was speaking with grew faint. But another voice became clear above them. “Hey Joey! What are you talking about? Snap out of it, will ya?”

She blinked and suddenly she was back. She was in the room she was in before, and everyone was there again. But now everyone was looking right at her. Also, Mammon was right next to her, shaking her shoulder.

“Wh-” She shook her head, rubbing her temples as she tried to get her bearings. “Did I… Did I fall asleep in the middle of the conversation?”

“Not so much asleep,” Satan answered with a frown, coming to her side. “More like you were in a trance of some sort. Are you feeling alright?”

“Not really. I’m a little freaked out to be honest.” Seriously. I mean what the hell was that? ...Should I tell them what I saw and heard? 

“Yeah, that goes for us too,” Mammon remarked, “You weren’t just out of it. You were also talking! But none of what you said made any sense. You were begging someone not to leave. Have any idea what that was about?”

What? I was begging someone not to leave? … Hold on. Wait a minute, if I was begging someone not to leave was I… saying some of what I was hearing in that vision?

“I don’t know. But for a moment it felt like I was in some sort of dream.” 

She was about to elaborate, when Lucifer suddenly swooped in front of Satan. The sudden close proximity to him, especially after the scene she just witnessed involving him, made her feel flustered. A light pink colored her cheeks for a moment and she quickly turned her head away from Lucifer so he wouldn’t see. Not that he would have any idea of what it meant, she argued with herself. And he obviously wasn’t talking to me in that vision, right? So why am I feeling flustered over this?

He spoke, his voice indicating concern. And yet the words were dismissive.

“It sounds like a traumatic reaction to seeing your fellow human about to be mauled by a demon. Nothing you should fret too much over. What would be best right now if for you to get some rest.” he said. Joey blinked in surprise when he offered out his hand. “Here, Let me escort you back to your room. You can take my hand if you feel unwell.”

“You’re offering to escort her back? Well that’s an interesting choice.” Satan smirked. “And here I thought you were going out of your way to foist care of your human charges on someone else as much as possible.”

“Enough, Satan,” Lucifer rebuked him. “As I said earlier, as the eldest it’s my duty to clean up my younger brother’s messes. I will not have anyone else making the mess here worse.” His eyes flitted away and back to Joey. “The sooner you rest, the better.”

“I…” she hesitated. “Are you sure? I mean... are you sure you want to escort me and not have Satan do it? You did appoint him as my guardian while here in the Devildom after all.”

Lucifer paused. His expression was unreadable to her. 

“Indulge me,” he answered finally after a moment of silence hung in the air. Satan visibly raised an eyebrow at those words, but said nothing as Lucifer continued. “Satan will have plenty of time to prove himself as your guardian. But I will take a more direct hand with you for this once.”

Joey sighed softly and rubbed her head once more. “Alright. Lead the way then.” She took his offered hand. She didn’t exactly feel unwell, but perhaps something physical would ground her. His hands had felt notably cold even though he wore gloves, both when he’d first presented her D.D.D. to her when they first met and when he’d returned the device to her after she’d left it in the student council room after that same fateful meeting. It was still true now, and yet something felt different now. 

It felt… 

“Joey,” he spoke her name firmly, his words breaking in before she could finish her thought. She realized that he’d already started walking and she’d gotten lost in her own head. She shook her head and followed along to keep pace, their hands interlocked. 

The two didn’t speak to each other until they were quite a distance from the others. But then, Lucifer was the first to speak up.

“There’s something I wish to speak to you about, but I didn’t want to talk about it in front of the others,” he said. “Right before I stepped in to stop Leviathan, I noticed you moving as though you intended to intervene yourself.”

“Mammon had tripped on his way to get Kat away from him. I was frightened that he wouldn’t make it in time! And I didn’t know if anyone else would step in. I had to do something to protect my roommate, I thought.”

Lucifer huffed.

“It was a very foolish impulse,” he scolded her, “Had you followed it, both of you would have potentially been killed.” Lucifer’s tone was sharp, barely restrained anger behind it. “Don’t be so quick to throw your life away.”

Joey sighed. “Because if anything happened to me and Kat it would hurt the exchange program?”

He seemed to pause longer than expected before he responded. “Well that, certainly. But as both you and Kat were entrusted to me by Diavolo, responsibility would fall on my shoulders, and my failure would reflect badly on Diavolo as well as myself.”

“I see.” Somehow I feel disappointed by that answer. But I didn’t really expect any different, so why is that? More questions. Always more questions when it came to him, and some of the others here. But especially him. 

“Listen, Joey, and listen well.” He dictated. “You promised to help your fellow human escape this place, did you not? That you both would see the human world again? You can’t keep that promise if you’re dead.” Joey blinked, surprised by what she heard. “If you wish to honor your word, then guard your life well here.”

“I…” she hesitated. “I suppose you have a point. Alright, I’ll be more careful.”

“Good.” He nodded, satisfied with her answer. “Alright, we’re almost to your room. Do you need anything from me before we arrive?”

“...No. No, I don’t think so,” she answered. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

She could have sworn he almost smiled at that. But the expression change was so brief she worried she mistook it from a simple twitch of the face. 

“Rest well, then. I will send Satan later to check on you.”

[crowleyellestair]

Honor- Jaskier

Check out my many Witcher fics

AN// Requests are open! Please send something to end my boredom

Summary: Feral bard shows himself once Y/n comes back from the city scathed and war worn

It was known that there was only one troublemaker of the group. While Y/n frequently pulled stunts and decided to tune Geralt out when he gave orders, she knew how to cover it up. Jaskier wasn’t one for picking his defiant moments well; often choosing to do so in the hands of thugs or in the belly of the beats lair. Geralt trusted the man more than he’d like to admit, but there are times when he felt the need to babysit. Somehow, the witcher had convinced him to help replenish potions with him instead of going with the woman into the city.

The trio had received a small lake house by their contract employer to use until the job was finished. Their lead had gone cold, until a new one emerged. Sadly, they’d need to wait till morning to pick up the new tracks left by the mark. Y/n had gone into town to do, whatever it was, and Geralt thought nothing of it. She stuck to the shadows per his request, and rarely stayed out for longer than an hour. She was also known to take long ways to make sure there were no tails, even if it wasn’t necessary.

Jaskier has been known to sing his current exploits loudly through the streets- despite the time.

Y/n had told the witcher once that she had found it endearing, and that anyone who hadn’t appreciated the serenade was mad. Geralt had argued that three in the morning was not the appropriate time for it, no matter the artist. There were a great many other things she had entrusted to her friend about their bard, and most had revolved around the unrequited love she felt for him. Again, the witcher had argued, but again, she tuned him out. And whenever he brought up his arguments from that night, she always said,

“Geralt, you know my memory is flexible.” Y/n would often laugh to punctuate the statement, but Geralt knew that it meant she happily changed the memory to fit her motive, not that she had forgotten what he had said. Which were recounts of everything Jaskier had said about her, but she would brush it off and point to whatever room the bard was occupying with at the moment.

So, when the two were sitting in the middle of the large, one room cottage, they were surprised when their companion burst through the door. Y/n was panting by the time she slammed the door closed and threw herself against it. Geralt perked up at the smell of blood and Jaskier at her split lip and red cheek. He took a couple of doubletakes, trying to focus on her, but not wanting to throw down the vial and upset Geralt. After a moment, he finally decided to simply shove it into the man’s hands and got up to inspect the woman. Wide eyes darted from blue to amber and her breath finally caught up with her.

“We’re going to have company.” Geralt’s features hardened and nodded while starting to prepare for battle. Jaskier’s hands flew from her shoulders to her face, tilting it to catch light on different angles. A hand then flew down to her hands where the skin of her knuckles is openly bleeding, and the skin of her palms were torn.

“I knew I should have gone with!” A brow flew upwards on her weathered forehead. Despite the situation, he could always pull her into a world away from theirs, where only the two of them existed.

“You’ve never come with. You’re not allowed.” He gave a stern look, but quickly lightened it before it fell back into worry.

“Yes, much to my dismay. And now, my dear, you’ve been hurt.” A small smile was brought to her before she grimaced at the sharp pain from the cut there. “How many are there?” The question had taken her off guard, along with his deep tone. She had only heard that tone twice before; once when he thought Geralt had passed and the other was after the mountains.

‘There could be three, there could be more. They seemed like the type to have friends.” Jaskier gave a curt nod before pushing away. He walked to his bag and grabbed the small dagger she had made for him. It was more for Geralt, to show Jaskier could have some protection while he was alone, and maybe let the bard travel with her whenever she wanted to go explore. “What are you doing?”

Jaskier straightened, pulling the blade from the sheath and looking between his two companions. The room was silent, and the two were staring back quizzically. He motioned to them as if it were obvious. He sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going out there with Geralt.” The subject had given a snort, but Y/n’s face gave way to a soft smile.

“You’re against violence unless you can’t help it.” Jaskier stopped looking to shed his doublet and roll up his sleeves. His finger jutted out and pointed to the window. His tone was once again darker than usual, and the way his head tilted forward gave a cast over his eyes that could be called scary.

“They’ve hurt you. I might not use it, but a promise should be given.” Geralt threw a brow up.

“A promise?” He had heard and seen many creatures try to fend of assailants to protect what’s theirs, but he’s never heard someone make a promise.

“Well, yes. I would never threaten, as those are empty. I will promise them, despite them being single celled delinquents, that no one touches Y/n.”  Just as his voice seemed to raise, the two saw the woman’s body practically bounce off of the door as two loud knocks came.

“Come on out dear, our conversation’s not yet done.” When none of the three answered, the voice called again. “We’ll give ya till the count of three. One!” The voice grew faint as it backed away from the door. The man on the other side never reached two as Geralt hurdled out of the door. “Ah, you went crawling to them. Predictable I say.”

Four men stood in the sand of the beach the cottage cozied up to. The leader was built, almost as large Geralt, but his blonde hair gave a hint to the wound on the back of his head. Another was scrawnier, but the witcher could see the madness in his gaze, seemingly unaffected by what had transpired earlier. The same seemed to be with the younger man next to him. But the fourth seemed to be facing at an angle away from the house. After a quick inspection, it was clear he couldn’t stop blinking and rubbing at his red eyes. After a moment, it seemed he picked out a small pebble and tossed it onto the ground. Geralt was utterly confused. While he knew who was involved, he couldn’t fully piece together what happened just by looking. Luckily, the leader stepped forward, giving the usual bandit monologue.

“Master mutant. It seems you’re traveling with quite the fighter. We wanted to have a little chat, but it seemed she’d rather fight than play.”

“You said that I was traveling with two flecks of shit, and you’d ‘teach me what it means to live the life of a real woman’.” Y/n’s voice rang from inside of the cabin. Jaskier had been sedated for a while, helping with grabbing medical supplies until she answered. He flew from the door to see who would have made a comment like that. He scoffed when he stood with Geralt.

“Look boys, the bard. We didn’t come to dirty our hands on said flecks of shit. That woman needs to pay a debt now. Look at Torbin’s eyes. My cut will heal, but we take specific payment.” Jaskier’s finger flew up once more, pointing at the man. His eyes were ablaze, as if a ship was burning in those oceans of blue. Geralt’s arm popped out, barely keeping the bard in his spot as he leaned towards the thug.

“You’ll never see that precious woman again, let alone receive ‘payment’. I’m letting you leave now, without harm and with the knowledge that if you ever touch her again, you will know what hell is.” The thug’s brows raised, and his jaw dropped. It quickly formed into a smile and a breathless laugh. That escalated into a fit, and his hands grasped his stomach.

“You hear that, boys? Like two peas in a pod. Well, lover boy, we always collect our debts. The cock’s come to roost, and you’re standing in our way.” The bard went to lunge at the man, but Geralt pushed him back, while tripping the man. Jaskier’s rear hit the sand while the witcher pirouetted. There were only a couple swings thrown by the witcher before the men were knocked cold onto the beach.

Time had passed. The guards were called, the sun was setting, and Y/n was finally getting her hands clean. Geralt had gone back to his task while Jaskier sat on the floor between her legs. His gaze was focused solely on tweezing out every rock, every speck of sand, stuck in her hand. Supplies were strewn out on the floor next to him, and Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off his form.

There was something between them that they both frequently teased. Flirts and giggles were had before, but something had shifted. Y/n was left feeling hot at the feral side of the bard, and Jaskier had realized just how far he would go for the woman in front of him.

Geralt apparently could also feel the tension in the room, so he spoke up.

“What happened?”

“Oh, I was walking, grabbing some things, and living life before two of them popped out of nowhere. I noticed them at the Kingfisher when we met our contact, and they must have followed me to the alley.” Jaskier’s clutch on her hand tightened, and her other hand, which had been tended to, rested on his tense shoulder. He looked up, before softening his demeanor, and tried to play it off with a smile. “They gave their motive, and I spit in the leader’s face. He threw me down, face first. That’s when ‘Terbin’ leaned down to prod. I grabbed a handful of dirt, and threw it at him. My leg was pulled by the leader, and my hands were dragged over the rocks. I knocked him down though. He hit his head, so when I got up to leave, I only had to throw a few punches at Terbin.” The witcher had got up to place a pot over the fire.

“This seems like a hassle for defending yourself.” Y/n looked away from both their prying eyes.

“Yes, well, they had also said some nasty things about you both as well.” Geralt had gone to protest- to inform her that she didn’t have to stick up for them, but the bard threw him a look. He brought the hand up, placing a soft kiss onto her fingertips.

“Then a thank you is in order.” Her eyes snapped back to meet his, a flush present as well.

“I brought them back here. I don’t think I’m the one who needs to be thanked-.” Jaskier brought a hand to cup her jaw, and his thumb prodded the skin just under her busted lip.

“They would have never come back here if you hadn’t stood up to them. That’s quite honorable. Such honors should be praised.” Y/n’s eyes bore only into his as they watched her lips.

“It seems you would have done the same. You were prepared enough to break a personal code of ‘no violence’ for me.” In that moment, his eyes flicked back up to meet hers.

“I would do anything for you, my dearest heart.” Y/n leaned forward, stopping just short of his lips. She grimaced before locking lips. A small smile placed itself on her, and Jaskier seemed to understand. He smiled, and tipped his head up slightly to align his nose with hers. He gently brushed it along hers, giving a soft eskimo kiss. “We can save that for when your lip is healed.”

“Promise?”

[whumpitup]

You Can Never Really Forget - a 9-1-1: Lonestar Fanfic

Summary:

TK couldn’t remember the night he was shot.

One night, everything comes back to him in his sleep, and Carlos is there to rescue him.

(AKA – you ever have a fanfic idea that actually physically hurts your heart to write? Lol)

Some Tags: #whump #shot #ptsd #panic attack #hurt/comfort

-------------------------------

It had been a few weeks since TK was shot responding to a call with the 126. While it had all seemed so big and heavy at the beginning, over time, TK found himself forgetting.

Once and a while TK would be too ambitious, making too fast a movement, or shifting positions and making his chest scream in protest. He would freeze, grimace, and take a deep breath, allowing the pain to subside. He would be reminded once again that he wasn’t there yet - he still had healing to do, as much as the waiting frustrated him.

He was spending a lot of time with Carlos, now. TK could tell something had shifted between the two of them recently. After they had teamed up to handle the solar flare incident, it was like something had just solidified. The shift was automatic, and maybe permanent. He was happy that was the case.

As much as TK pushed away at the beginning of their relationship, TK always hoped he and Carlos’ relationship would turn into something more. TK initially wanted to run away from the idea of a real relationship with Carlos, scared that he may get hurt like he did with his last boyfriend. But something about Carlos made him feel safe - like it was worth the risk.

Once TK finally opened up about his feelings, Carlos started to put a lot of effort into their time together. He was constantly taking TK to new places in the city, planning elaborate dates, and inviting him over as much as possible. TK originally thought this was due to TK finally giving him the “OK” to move forward, but after a week or so, he pondered if there was another motive behind his heightened effort of intiation.

Was Carlos trying to distract him?

TK noticed Carlos would get this look in his eyes every time TK forgot about the gunshot wound again and ended up hurting himself inadvertently. It was subtle. Carlos probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but his eyebrows would furrow slightly, his eyes would widen. He looked at TK like he was fragile and was immediately prepared to do whatever it took to protect him from breaking.

TK knew Carlos didn’t intend to show his worry on his face, but he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. TK didn’t like seeming weak in front of Carlos (or anyone) but he knew deep-down that Carlos’ concern didn’t come from a place of judgment. So, TK tried to ignore the way it made him feel.

TK wondered if the sudden busy approach to their time together was Carlos’ way to help TK get his mind off of things. The dates, the detailed plans… it was like Carlos was giving TK as many opportunities as possible to forget what happened. They were always doing something. Never sitting still long enough for memories to resurface. How would TK tell Carlos he didn’t need to forget something he never remembered in the first place?

Yes, the weight of what happened was intense. He knew he almost died. He knew he had been in a coma. But the rest of it? It was like there was a blank space in his mind that TK just couldn’t get past. That whole experience - the answered call, the kid with the gun, the aftermath - was wiped from his memory. His father had insisted this was a good thing, but TK couldn’t shake feeling like something had been taken from him. It was a bizarre feeling, knowing that everyone else remembered the night he was shot except for him.

One night, when Carlos had invited TK over for a movie date, he thought about talking to Carlos about everything. He wasn’t mad about the way Carlos was acting around him, but he wanted to address it. To explain that he didn’t need Carlos to be so worried about him.

More than anything, TK wanted to express to someone how off he felt.

TK wasn’t good at being vulnerable with his feelings, but it was something his therapist had tried to get him to be better at. Carlos probably wouldn’t be able to offer much advice, considering how weird and personal the situation was to TK, but getting the thoughts out in the open might be helpful. Maybe it would help him process through the uncomfortable feeling of being unable to retrieve the memory of one of the most life-altering events he’d ever experienced.

The lights were low, however, and TK was lying comfortably next to Carlos, under his arm. TK’s head was resting on Carlos’ shoulder, and he felt his eyelids growing heavy with each passing minute. He wanted to talk, but his body resisted. Maybe the conversation could wait until morning. He was exhausted. With a final deep breath, he let sleep overtake him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“One, two, three,”

TK slammed the battering ram into the door.

Crack!

The shot rang out.

TK stumbled back in surprise, gripping the doorframe.

“Was that a gunshot?”

TK looked at his father, wanting to say something, anything. But he couldn’t connect his thoughts to his mouth. He couldn’t even pull air into his lungs.

“TK?”

He started to fall.

“TK!” His father shouted.

He was on the ground. His father’s panicked face appeared over him.

“Dad—" TK started, being interrupted by a painful fit of coughs.

“Michelle!” Owen shouted, looking over his shoulder.

TK saw the blur of a few teammates rushing into the room in front of him to dissipate the situation they had arrived for.

He felt a warmth spreading across his chest and pooling underneath him. His back arched as pain ripped through his torso. Holy shit, he was shot.

TK heard himself crying out in pain, though he sounded far away from his own body.

“Hey, TK, stay with us! Please, son, look at me,” Owen pleaded, his hands grasping the sides of TK’s face. Michelle was putting pressure on his chest, saying things to him he couldn’t focus on enough to understand. There was commotion everywhere.

“... hear me?”

“... too much blood...”

“Get him .... now!”

TK gasped, desperate for air. He forced out a wet cough, choking on something in his throat. Was that blood?

“He can’t breathe!” Owen shouted, still holding TK’s head in his hands. There were tears falling rapidly down his face. “TK, please stay with us.”

Michelle was frantically rummaging through the equipment next to her to find something.

TK used every ounce of remaining effort to grab hold of his dad’s wrist. A pang of guilt gripped him. His dad was watching him die. Again.

I’m sorry, Dad, he thought to himself. I’m so sorry.

He tried to hold on to the faces in front of him - to the voices, the pain, anything - but blackness crept at the corners of his vision and pulled him under.

 TK woke again in the ambulance. There were paramedics around him, prodding him, moving him, strapping things to him. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, but it didn’t seem to do much. TK felt like he was drowning.

There was too much pressure building in his head. His lungs screamed for oxygen, but he couldn’t get them to cooperate. The heart monitor beeped erratically. TK was panicking. He caught sight of Owen to the left of him. The older man looked pale and terrified, his right hand combing nervously through his hair.

The ambulance hit a bump and TK took in a shuddering gasp, which caught his father’s  attention. Owen sat upright. TK’s head lolled to the side to face him. He no longer had the energy to keep it up.

TK reached his hand out weakly. Owen jumped up to take it in his.

“Are you with me, son?” He asked shakily.

The pain was all-consuming. TK wanted to assure his dad somehow that he would be okay, but apart from his inability to speak, he also felt an overwhelming fear that any assurance would be a lie. He was certainly dying.

“Captain Strand, I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up so we can work,” one paramedic urged his father.

TK pressed his eyes shut, wanting to stay awake for his dad’s sake, but wanting the pain and struggle to be over. He could no longer tell if Owen had let go of his hand, or if he could just no longer feel it.

The heart rate monitor grew increasingly loud and fast in his ears.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

“TK!”

Was that Carlos?

“TK you’re okay! You’re safe!”

That was definitely Carlos. What the hell was he doing there?

TK kept his eyes pressed shut. He felt strong arms grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

The pain was gone somehow, but TK still couldn’t breathe.

“TK! Look at me! Wake up, please!” Carlos pleaded.

TK obeyed, shooting his eyes open to see Carlos’ worry-stricken face in front of him. TK was hyperventilating. His clothes were drenched in sweat.

“Where am I?” He choked out.

“My house, TK, my house,” Carlos insisted. TK shook his head vigorously, unable to grab a hold of reality. If he was safe, why did it still feel like he was drowning?

“Look at me, Tyler,” Carlos implored in a stern, but consoling voice. TK listened.

“I’m right here. You’re okay, I promise. You need to breathe, alright?” Carlos’ voice broke on his last word. TK noticed he was shaking slightly.

“O-okay,” TK stammered between his short breaths. His head pounded painfully.

“Follow my breathing, okay?” Carlos said. He took in an exaggerated deep breath. TK did his best to replicate it. Carlos exhaled, not releasing eye contact. TK exhaled with him. They repeated this action a few times. TK reached a hand up to his chest, feeling a jolt of unease when his shirt felt damp. He looked down, expecting blood, but seeing sweat. He sighed in relief.

“I thought—” he said softly, unable to finish his sentence. He was starting to relax, but his breathing wasn’t back to normal yet.

“You went back there, didn’t you?” Carlos asked somberly. TK looked up, his eyes threatening to fill with tears.

“I haven’t... been able to remember anything... about that night,” TK said between breaths. “It was like it all flooded back to me, somehow. Like... I lived through it again.”

Carlos frowned, sympathy in his eyes.

“I am so, so sorry, TK. That must have been so terrifying.”

TK couldn’t help his chin from quivering. He looked down, embarrassed that he couldn’t keep it together. He let out a sob and dropped his head into his hands.

Carlos pulled him into a tight embrace and TK buried his face into his neck.

They sat like this for a few minutes. Carlos held TK in silence as he released all the feelings he had been holding on to for the past few weeks. Carlos gently stroked the back of TK’s head as his shoulders shook with his sobs.

After a few long minutes had passed, TK pulled away, sniffling and wiping the tears from his face. His eyes were red and puffy. Carlos grabbed one of TK’s hand. TK noticed Carlos had been crying, too. He hated that he caused the people around him so much pain sometimes.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t even know what happened.”

“Don’t apologize for anything, TK. Seriously,” Carlos said with such sincerity TK didn’t feel the need to argue. “Trauma is a bitch, whether or not it’s immediate.”

“I thought I would just always have this blankness in my mind surrounding that day. It was so frustrating to not be able to remember it. I didn’t think it would ever come back to me,” TK said. “Now I wish it hadn’t.”

“I totally get it. I wasn’t right there when it happened, but hearing that gunshot, knowing you guys were in there and then seeing them bring you out on a stretcher...” Carlos trailed off. “If it was that horrifying for me, I can’t even imagine what it was like for you.”

“It was so clear just now. I legitimately thought I was there. The pain, the blood, my Dad’s face when he realized what happened, it was so real.” There was a beat of silence. “But then you pulled me out of it,” TK continued. “Thank you.”

Carlos gave a small smile and squeezed TK’s hand.

“How are you feeling now? Any better?” he asked. TK nodded.

“Yeah. I feel like I’m back in reality again,” he answered.

Carlos stood up and walked around to sit back down on the couch next to TK. Carlos pulled him close.

“I am so sorry that happened. I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Carlos whispered. He gave TK a kiss on his forehead. “If you ever are alone and that happens again, you call me, okay? I don’t care where you are. I’ll be there.”

TK hoped it would never happen again, but he knew it didn’t always work that way. TK let himself relax into Carlos’ hold. He would deal with it when the time came.

In that moment, everything else seemed to fade away. The conversation TK had wanted to have before he fell asleep seemed incredibly inconsequential now. He was grateful for Carlos - every aspect of him. Maybe Carlos was being a little protective and insistent, but TK had a feeling a little extra distraction would be good for him, anyway. Maybe Carlos’ concern for him felt a little uncomfortable, but it was TK’s own insecurity that made him feel weak; Carlos only helped him feel strong again.

As Carlos lightly traced circles on TK’s arm, he began to drift again. This time, however, TK didn’t dream at all.

(Thanks for reading :) I don’t write very much, but I’ve read some great TK fanfics here recently and I’m so attached to the characters I got inspired)

ALSO I tried to edit this post and it dELETED the whole thing which was mega frustrating, but now it’s back. I had made some edits on the original post that are gone now, so that’s annoying, but hopefully it’s mostly the same. Ugh.

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 7.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

Words | 9.8k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Swearing. Masturbation. Mentions of underage drinking. Uhhhh pining? Lol

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • 7 • More Coming Soon

Note | WOW this update took forever, but I feel like this is a super special part of the fic and I hope you all enjoy. PLEASE let me know which of the boys you’re rooting for - I’m trying to make it difficult (can you tell) and I really want to see how you’re all feeling 😏😏 love you, peaches!

Wooseok plops onto Yuto’s couch, tucking his bowl of fresh-out-of-the-oven pizza rolls between his knees as he picks up his gaming controller.

“You know those things are terrible for you.” Yuto criticizes the snack choice as he resumes the video game, skillfully ducking around a corner to avoid being shot.

“Yeah but they’re fucking delicious, so suck my ass.” Wooseok patiently waits for the food to cool off, not ready for the inside of his mouth to get burnt to hell. “Stop stocking your fridge with pizza rolls if you don’t want me to eat them.”

Yuto shoots Wooseok’s avatar twice in the back and once in the head until he collapses. “I only do it because you’d complain about how I ‘never have anything good to eat.’”

“What the fuck, dude? Friendly fire!” 

“You literally stood right in front of me and blocked my sight. Make better decisions.”

Wooseok finally bites into his cheesy pepperoni pizza bite as he waits to respawn, and it’s lava on his tongue. With a hiss, he tries to cool his mouth. Eventually says, “Speaking of bad decisions…”

“What did you do this time?”

“Remember how you talked to me about _____…”

“Wooseok, you fucking idiot.” Yuto seethes. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“It was her idea! I literally apologized for, like, making out with her and fingering her and stuff. And she was just like, nah it’s cool, let’s be friends with benefits.” He pops another one in his mouth and it’s just as hot as the last one. “I wasn’t gonna say no to that, so we hooked up. Also I’m not supposed to tell you about it so keep your mouth shut.”

Yuto pauses the game again just so he can look Wooseok in the face and express his full disdain. “Friends with benefits? As in, no romantic feelings?”

“Right.”

“...So does she know that you like her?”

Wooseok frowns. Yeah, he thinks she’s hot as fuck and she’s super cool and fun to be around, but he’s not, like, in love with her or anything. “I’m not even in it that deep! It’s totally fine, and we’re just having fun. So what if I’ve got a little crush.”

“It’s not going to be just a crush if you keep sleeping with her.” 

“You know, at some point you need to stop parenting me and just let me do what I’m gonna do. Just trust my judgment for once and if I end up being wrong, that’s my problem to deal with.”

“If you’re wrong, then I have to listen to you whine and complain about your broken heart.” Yuto is unrelenting in his disapproval. “You know that she probably won’t reciprocate your feelings if she ever finds out.”

Against his better judgment, Wooseok accidentally holds out hope that she could. “We don’t even know that she won’t. It’s just a hunch that she might like Kino. I could be totally wrong about that.”

“And if she does like Kino?”

Wooseok chews his bottom lip, his brows pinching together. “Then it is what it is.”

“What is that?” Yuto points at Wooseok’s face. “What’s that look? Are you sad? Is this sadness?”

“Shut the fuck up, Yuto,” he grumbles. Yeah, he’d be fucking disappointed if she and Kino turned out to be a thing. But it’s not really up to him to decide who she likes.

Yuto eases up just a little, showing his soft spot for Wooseok. “I can’t let you walk into this mess. You have to stop this. Either quit it with the hook ups, or come clean about liking her.”

“But I-”

“No ‘buts.’ It has to stop. And what the fuck, Wooseok?” Yuto frowns. “You’re supposed to keep this all a secret, but you’re telling me anyway?”

“You know I can’t keep secrets. I just need you, my one and only confidante, to know about this shit. Although I don’t even know if I can call you that anymore,” Wooseok turns the blame to Yuto. “Now that I know you went and told _____ not to get involved with me because I might get hurt.”

Suddenly there’s a knock at Yuto’s door, and he groans, completely ignoring the issue Wooseok just brought up. “Do you think we can pretend I’m not home?”

Wooseok’s petty side comes out and he yells, “Who is it?”

Yuto elbows him. “What the fuck, dude?”

With a shrug, Wooseok defends himself. “You kind of deserved that.”

Through the door, a female speaks. “It’s Nailah, I just need to talk for a second.”

“Ooo, who’s Nailah?” Wooseok prods, a stupid grin on his face as he looks at Yuto.

Yuto tosses his head back, resigning himself to having to get up and socialize. “She lives across the hall with _____, coincidentally.” He makes his way to the door, and Wooseok follows him like a little puppy. 

“_____’s your neighbor? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Why would I when I know you’re just gonna try some dumb shit?” He throws open the door, bluntly addressing their visitor. “Yes?”

Nailah seems unbothered by his rude greeting. “Hey, Yuto. I just wanted to extend an invitation. I’m throwing _____ a birthday party at my friend’s place on Saturday, and I figured it’d be cool if you came.” She hands him a hand-written invite. 

“_____’s birthday?” Wooseok chimes, inserting himself into the conversation. “Wait I think I know you.”

Nailah nods casually. “Yeah, we ran into each other before, I think. _____ brought me to that party that got busted at your place.”

“Oh shit, yeah.” Wooseok chuckles. “Was a good night ‘til it wasn’t.”

“How much trouble did you get in?” 

“It wasn’t awful. I just couldn’t do clubs for a few weeks and I had to write a paper about how I’m going to make more responsible decisions.”

Yuto crosses his arms over his chest. “Clearly that made an impact on you.”

“Shut up.” Wooseok nudges him before changing the subject in a way that doesn’t really change the subject. “Is _____ home?”

“Yeah, but- hey!” Nailah steps back as Wooseok pushes past her, taking all of two strides to reach her apartment door.

“_____!” He knocks on the door, rapping a quick rhythm. “Open up!”

He turns back to Nailah. “Is the party a secret?”

“No, she-”

“_____! I wanna go to your birthday party!” Wooseok knocks again, and this time she opens the door.

She looks a little bewildered to see him, but she’s wearing a smile that’s just honest to God the cutest thing in the whole damn world. “Fine, you can come,” she laughs.

Wooseok tries not to be distracted by the memories of last night, but her messy hair is too much of a reminder. He pushes through the urge to come on to her, but only because he doesn’t wanna make a scene. “Were you not gonna invite me?”

“Of course I was. I was gonna bring your invitation to R&B Ensemble tomorrow.”

“Okay, good.” Wooseok leans against the doorframe, sliding a hand into his pocket in an attempt to look cool. “So your birthday’s Saturday?” 

“No, it’s Tuesday.”

“Cool, cool.” He keeps his face fixed in a relaxed expression and delivers a promise that he’s not quite sure how to fulfill. “Look forward to a bomb ass present.” 

“Dude, you don’t have to get me anyth-”

“Nope. We’re buds. You’re getting a present. Don’t you worry about that, short stuff.” He’s not at all subtle as he winks at her, and her eyes flash, a flirty grin on her face.

“Watch it,” she whispers, trying not to raise suspicion from Nailah and Yuto.

“It’s fine,” he speaks lowly, not concerned by their audience but still trying to keep a low profile for her sake. He knows he’s going to get a talking-to as soon as he returns to Yuto’s room, anyway. “You look hot today, by the way.”

Without missing a beat, she sasses, “When don’t I?”

“Good point.” He can’t hold back his laughter at her bold statement. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to doing whatever you were doing.”

“Okay,” she giggles. “See you tomorrow.”

He gives a two-finger salute as she closes the door, then turns back to Nailah. “Make sure I’m on the guest list. I’m RSVP-ing right the fuck now.”

“Great.” Nailah just stares at him with wide, questioning eyes. She’ll probably have some questions for _____ after this, but he’s trusting her to handle it however she wants.

Yuto’s got a flame of frustration in his gaze as he stares Wooseok down. “I’ll be there, too.”

And Nailah seems fully unsure of what to make of all of this. She looks between them both for a moment before heading back to her room. “Great. See you goons Saturday.”

Wooseok doesn’t fight the name-calling, and Yuto is far too focused on his idiot of a best friend to be bothered by the insult. He follows Wooseok back into the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

“Before you say anything,” Wooseok defends himself, “I just want to remind you how much I love parties. I heard there was a party and, like, my inner party monster just took over, and I had to make sure I was invited.”

“Quit the bullshit.” Yuto’s calm aura makes him even more intimidating. “What was all of that?”

Wooseok can’t help the sheepish grin that forms on his face as he tries to lighten the mood. “She seemed kind of into me, right?”

“Oh my God I’m going to beat some fucking sense into you.” Yuto threatens, but Wooseok knows it’s empty.

“Whatever.” Wooseok falls back onto the couch. “Are we playing or what?”

With a deep sigh, Yuto joins him. “Let’s do it.”

Hongseok’s favorite place to run is along the water. It’s so peaceful to watch the boats and hear the soft waves of the lake as it laps along the shore. Not to mention, the striking difference between the fluidity of the water next to the sharp, structured skyscrapers is a dichotomy that he finds profoundly intriguing.

Now that the temperatures are dropping, only the truly dedicated still run the lake trail. It’s windy and brisk, but Hongseok has always preferred running in cooler weather, anyway. Feels a little less like he could die of heat stroke.

The rock music coming through his headphones suddenly changes to his ringtone, and he slows to a gentle jog as he checks the phone strapped to his bicep. Hwitaek’s name appears on the screen, and he smiles as he swipes to answer.

“Hwitaek! Hey!” Hongseok falls into a walking pace to make it easier to talk. “Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I know! We’ve both been busy, I guess.” Hwitaek sounds glad that he answered.

“Right, how’s married life?” Now that he thinks about it, Hongseok’s not sure that he’s really talked to Hwitaek too much since the wedding. He headed back to the city before Hwitaek and Jiyoo returned from their honeymoon, so he had to say his goodbye at the reception. They’ve both kind of missed each other since.

“You know it’s really pretty weird, but in a good way. If that makes sense.” Hwitaek chuckles. “I feel like I know Jiyoo better than anybody, and it seemed like we were already so close that marriage wouldn’t really change much. But it really does make the whole relationship feel different. More official, you know.”

“A little slip of paper and a tax break can really do that much, huh.” 

“I know you’re skeptical, Hong, but love can be whatever you want it to be. Maybe for us it’s the ceremony, the certificate, the too-expensive dress, the whole nine yards. But you don’t have to avoid relationships just because that’s not the kind of love you want.”

“I’m not avoiding relationships,” Hongseok scoffs. “I’m just busy.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to be able to sleep at night,” Hwitaek concedes.

Hongseok hates to admit it, but there is a seed of truth to what Hwitaek’s saying. He’s never been a fan of traditional love - it just feels ingenuine. Like everyone is following a script, just doing and saying the things they’re supposed to. He wants it to actually mean something when he does a gesture like planning a day together or giving a gift. He’s not going to buy flowers just because that’s what guys do. That’s not how he is.

With a sigh, Hongseok says, “If something happens eventually and I fall deeply in love with whomever it is, then fine. It happens. But I’m in no rush. It was nice enough for me to watch you do the whole marriage thing.”

“So when it does happen, I think you know that I’m expecting to be the best man,” Hwitaek says indignantly. “It’s only fair.”

“Would Jiyoo be okay sending you off to my bachelor party?” Hongseok laughs just imagining the fit she would throw. He was much more of a partier during their college days than Hwitaek was, and he’s positive Jiyoo would prefer for her adult husband to behave himself.

Hwitaek’s voice is noticeably softer as he says, “I’ll do what I want. I don’t need her approval.”

“Is she nearby? Is that why you said that so quietly?”

“Yes and yes. But you’re my best friend so I’ll make it work.”

“A true brother.” Hongseok smiles warmly as he pauses to stretch his legs. Damn, he misses hanging out with Hwitaek.

“So, actually the reason why I called…” Hwitaek smoothly changes the subject. “Um, just out of curiosity - maybe this is none of my business - have you been talking with Minseo at all?”

“Minseo?” The name doesn’t immediately ring a bell.

“Yeah, Jiyoo’s cousin. Kind of tall. Loud. Really nice teeth, though.”

Hongseok struggles to come up with a face to match the name. “I don’t think I know her.”

“Wait, I’ll send a picture. She was just over last night.” A moment later, “Okay, check your phone.”

He pulls the phone out of the case strapped to his arm and opens the message to find a somewhat familiar face resting on Jiyoo’s shoulder.

The face of the girl that convinced him to dance with _____ at the wedding.

She’s the only one who actually knows what happened that night.

Christ.

“I do recognize her.” Hongseok tries to keep his voice steady so as not to give away that he’s hiding a secret. “Why are you asking about her?”

“I was just wondering if something might be going on. Or if she might be pestering you. I don’t know, like I said she’s just kind of a big personality and I just wanted to make sure she’s not, I don’t know, trying to get with you or something.”

“Why would you think that?” Surely that’s incredibly far from the truth, and it strikes him as odd that Hwitaek would have that impression. 

“She just keeps asking about you. She wants to know what you were like in college, what your relationship history is like, whether you cook. Just really random stuff and I don’t know why she’d care unless she were into you.”

What Hwitaek doesn’t know is that the only possible reason why she’d be asking all of those questions is because she’s trying to share the information with _____. That’s it. That’s why.

Does that mean _____ has been trying to find out more about him? Has she tasked Minseo with a spy mission?

Hongseok rubs his temple, gripping his phone tightly. He really should tell Hwitaek what’s up, even if he doesn’t want to own up to what happened. Walking towards the water, he finds himself a place in the grass to sit. “She’s not asking for herself. She’s asking for _____.”

Hwitaek, the poor ignorant bastard, asks, “Why would she do that?”

Here it comes. With a single deep breath, he finally sets the truth free. “I slept with her after the reception.”

“With _____?” Hwitaek is audibly shocked. “You slept with Jiyoo’s cousin? At our wedding?”

“After the wedding, okay? Jeez. It’s not like we fucked while you were at the altar.” Hongseok defends himself. “I even made a point to say goodbye to you beforehand to officially end the night, so really the whole situation is completely removed from the ceremony.”

There’s a lot of noise coming over the phone, because Jiyoo very obviously heard Hwitaek say the whole you slept with Jiyoo’s cousin? thing. Hongseok’s head falls back in dread. That’s a whole can of worms he was not prepared to open.

“Just put me on speaker phone and I’ll explain.”

Immediately, Jiyoo’s voice responds. “You slept with _____? My baby cousin?”

Hwitaek jumps to his defense. “Don’t sound so disgusted! Hongseok’s not a bad guy!”

She retorts, “He had a one night stand with my sweet little _____. She’s not that kind of girl.”

“She certainly was that night.” The words come out of Hongseok’s mouth before he can stop them.

“HONGSEOK!” Jiyoo screeches.

He just frowns as he hears Hwitaek frantically try to calm Jiyoo down. “Buckle up, you guys, because the story’s not over.”

“Don’t tell me it happened more than once. Please.” Jiyoo’s voice is lined with an unspoken threat.

“It hasn’t, I swear.” Another sigh as he gears up for the last bit. “We haven’t done anything but talk. But you two should know that she’s one of my students.”

Jiyoo doesn’t say a word, which somehow makes it worse. Hwitaek speaks up instead. “I didn’t even realize that she went to your school.”

“Neither did I.” Hongseok rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms before returning his gaze to the water, shimmering in the bright sunlight. “I wouldn’t have touched her if I knew. But she and I had a conversation, and we agreed that nothing can happen between us again. The class is strictly business. Neither one of us wants to risk getting in trouble with the school for misconduct.”

Sassily, Jiyoo’s voice returns. “So he has a brain after all.”

“Sweetie, come on. Cut him some slack,” Hwitaek pleads. “Yeah, it wasn’t a great idea to sleep with her, but it happened and it’s over. There’s no use getting so worked up about it.”

Even with Hwitaek defending him, Hongseok can’t just sit there and take this. “Stop acting like I’m the villain and she’s some innocent victim. She’s capable of making her own choices. I didn’t force her into anything. It was fully consensual, and now we’re both handling the situation like mature adults.”

That may be a bit of a stretch. He’s done nothing but ridicule her for acting like a child since the semester started. But he’ll stick up for her if it means getting Jiyoo off their case.

“My apologies.” Jiyoo comes off much softer. “I need to take a moment to let this all sink in.”

Hongseok hears her leave the room, and then Hwitaek’s voice is much clearer as he turns off the speakerphone. “Don’t worry about her. She’ll settle down.”

Hongseok lets himself take a deep breath, feeling much safer now that he can talk with only his friend. “I just needed to tell you that. I think Minseo might be digging for more information about me to share with _____, because she knows what happened between us. And she knows that I’m _____’s professor.”

“Are you handling all of this okay? It sounds like a really tricky situation to be in.”

“It’s… hard. It’s really difficult. I’ve been really cold to her just to prevent anyone from thinking I might be biased in any way, but that’s just caused so much tension. And then she just does stuff sometimes that’s so cute…” His memory flashes back to the time she sang Aerosmith in his office, and then the song played in class and she started laughing. It was just so endearing. “Do you think I can stop being attracted to her? That would make everything so much easier.”

“I don’t think there’s a real answer for that, Hong. In my experience, you’re usually just attracted to the people you’re attracted to, and that’s that.” Hwitaek attempts to reassure him, but it’s useless. Especially when he follows up with the most problematic question he could’ve asked: “Do you have feelings for her?”

Hongseok pulls his knees in towards his chest, tucking his head down and effectively curling into a ball. He’s been trying so hard to avoid all of this and now he has no choice but to just confront whatever it is that’s been going on in his head and his heart. He’s felt attracted to her ever since he first laid eyes on her, but could it be anything more than that?

The night they spent together was nothing short of incredible, and he fondly remembers the way she so warmly looked up at him in the moments before he kissed her, the soft touch of her lips overwhelming his senses and driving his desire for more. 

Even though the nature of their relationship is obviously very different now, he still sees flickers of that warmth in her. He sees the way she absentmindedly bites her lip when she’s thinking, and the small taste he’s gotten of her ridiculous sense of humor makes him wonder just how great they could be together.

If only she were older.

If only she weren’t his student.

Hongseok can’t even pretend that he wouldn’t be interested in her if the circumstances were different. He knows that under different circumstances he would certainly try to date her, because he already tried the night they were together.

He gave her his phone number with the boutonniere. He gave her the opportunity to reach out and establish something more than just that one night, but she didn’t do it. That’s part of the reason why he was so frustrated to see her in class - it’s one thing that they slept together, but it’s entirely different to know that he expressed an interest in seeing her again and she rejected him.

And now he has to watch her work admirably hard in class once a week and pretend like it doesn’t make his chest ache.

Forever reticent, he seeks a way to keep his thoughts to himself. “Do I have to answer that question?”

“That response says a lot.” Hwitaek sighs. “It might feel better to just get it off your chest and say it out loud.”

“Nope. Saying it just makes it harder to ignore.” Hongseok peeks up from the crook of his elbow, finally starting to feel chilly now that he’s been sitting for so long. He stands and briefly stretches his quads, getting ready to continue his run.

Hwitaek tries to encourage him. “Well the most important thing in this situation is that you just get through the rest of the semester without acting on it. And then she won’t be around anymore, and you’ll be able to move past it.”

“You’re right. I just have to make it to the end of the semester.”

“And that’s not so far away, right? You’re probably about halfway by now.”

“Midterms were about two weeks ago, so yeah, we’re nearly there.” 

“See? You’ve got this.” Hwitaek sounds cheery as he motivates his best friend. “I’m rooting for you. I think it’ll all turn out fine. It’ll continue to be difficult for a little bit, but it’ll pass.”

Hongseok lets out a deep sigh, feeling some sense of relief for the first time in months. “I should have told you about this a long time ago. Thanks for looking out for me.”

It seems like Hwitaek is also a bit relieved after this conversation. “I’m glad that we got to talk.”

Hongseok smiles, returning to the path he had been running. “Go take care of Jiyoo, okay? And if you want, it’s okay to tell Minseo that you two know. I’ll leave that up to you. But don’t tell anyone else.”

No matter how hard he tries, Kino simply cannot stop thinking about Saturday night. Something about holding her hand completely captured his whole consciousness and he could think of nothing except the feeling of their fingers intertwined and his lips on her forehead.

He had probably gone too far by kissing her like that, but it just felt right, even though they’re only friends. He just feels so comfortable with her, and it’s easy for him to get wrapped up in the moment. She hasn’t seemed interested in anything more than friendship, especially after that whole dirty voicemail incident, but she also didn’t seem to be bothered by the kiss. If anything, he distinctly remembers the cute way she looked up at him right after he did it, like she was surprised but definitely not opposed. 

There’s only one way to find out for sure what she thinks… but he’s not ready to have that conversation yet.

As he waits in the lobby of her dorm building to walk with her to R&B Ensemble, he tries to at least clear his head. He has something important to ask her, and he doesn’t want it to accidentally come out awkward.

He stands there, trying not to pace, and he notices how much lighter he feels the second he spots her coming off of the elevator. She waves cheerfully when she sees him waiting there.

“Hey!” She greets him as she approaches. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Was trying to wrap up that aural skills homework.”

“You know it’s not due until Wednesday, there’s no rush on it,” he chuckles. She’s such a go-getter.

“Well yeah, but tomorrow’s my birthday and I don’t want it to be full of homework. So I’m knocking it out now.”

Kino sucks in a breath and bites his knuckle, grimacing. “Ah, I completely forgot about your birthday, shoot…” It’s a total lie, but he just wants to get her worked up.

She deflates a little, but it’s hardly noticeable. “That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to remember or anything. I probably only brought it up once.”

“_____, I’m teasing! Of course I remember!” Kino nudges her playfully. “You’re like, my closest friend. How could I forget?”

With a shy smile, she loops her arm in his, and they head out into the cold. “That’s right.”

“Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?” 

“Just class, actually. Nailah’s organizing a party for Saturday, though, and you have to come! I have your official invitation in my backpack. I’ll give it to you when we get to rehearsal.”

“I can totally be there Saturday.” Kino immediately agrees.

“Good. It’ll be a shitty birthday party if you’re not there.” She tugs on his arm, and it makes his cheeks grow warm.

He takes a deep breath now that it’s his turn to extend an invitation. “Okay, so if you don’t have any plans for tomorrow night, you should be able to come to the birthday dinner reservation I have for you and me downtown. Right?” He hates that he can’t keep eye contact, but he just can’t get himself to look at her while it feels like he’s asking her on a date.

But it’s not a date, exactly. It’s just a nice dinner. Between friends. For a birthday.

Totally regular stuff.

She scoffs. “Well I guess I have to if you made a reservation and everything.”

Kino pulls his scarf closer around his chin and jaw, trying to block out some of the cold wind. “I mean you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. Don’t feel like you don’t have a choice…”

“Kino, stop. I’d love to go to dinner with you. It better be a nice place, though. I’m a woman of taste.”

“Says the girl who downed a whole family size bag of salt and vinegar chips in one sitting.” Kino cringes at the memory. Even the smell of the chips made him shrivel up in disgust.

“Okay you’re the one with a suffering palate. Salt and vinegar chips are the bomb.”

“Gross.”

They spend the whole walk to class bickering about food tastes, and it’s a completely pointless conversation, but he’s fully invested because it feels meaningful when it’s her. 

When they enter the rehearsal room, they’re both full of smiles and laughter, but his smile fades when he locks eyes with Wooseok. The tall drummer is standing next to Yuto, and he seems less than thrilled to see Kino with _____. He looks a little disappointed, actually.

Kino gets himself set up with the other singers while she heads over to the rhythm section, and Wooseok’s expression changes as he playfully greets her, pulling her into a headlock and messing up her hair. She squirms and laughs, and Kino tries desperately to pretend like their interaction doesn’t bother him.

He stops paying attention until she comes up to him with a little envelope in her hand.

“Here,” she hands it to him. “That’s for Saturday. Wooseok and Yuto are coming, and so is my friend Shinhye. You’ve met her before.”

“Yeah I remember her.” Kino nods.

“And some of Nailah’s friends will be there too, since they’re hosting the party. We all thought it would be a good idea to have the party off campus, since there’ll be booze.” She grins impishly. “It’s gonna be fun.”

Kino laughs. “I bet. I’ll be there for sure.” 

“Awesome.” She squeezes his arm. “And honestly, I’m seriously looking forward to dinner tomorrow. It’s super sweet of you to make dinner plans.”

“No problem.” He tells himself to smile confidently so she doesn’t see how flustered he is. “Just make sure you’re wearing something nice and I’ll come get you around 5:45.”

“Sounds great.” With one last squeeze, she heads back to her part of the room.

This time when Kino catches Wooseok’s gaze, he doesn’t stop smiling.

It’s just another class. Just another Tuesday morning. That’s what Hongseok tells himself, anyway. But when she shows up, he immediately realizes that this is actually a very special Tuesday.

Shinhye’s trying to convince her of something, as they walk through the door, but she refuses. And then Shinhye turns to Hongseok.

“Professor Yang! It’s _____’s birthday today,” Shinhye announces as she holds up a piece of silky fabric with ‘Birthday Girl’ embroidered on it. “Can you tell her that she has to wear this sash for class?”

The birthday girl averts her eyes, clearly unwilling to participate in whatever Shinhye’s trying. As flatly as possible, he comes to her rescue with an incredibly practical excuse. “No birthday sashes. It’s a hazard around the power tools.”

A perfect smile breaks across her lips as she finally looks up at him. She holds his gaze for a moment, and it’s really a beat too long before she finally turns back to Shinhye. “See? Now put it away.”

The girls walk off to their spot in the back of the room, and he forces himself to focus on his computer to keep himself from looking back at her. There’s something especially magnetic about her today, but maybe it’s just because he knows that it’s her birthday.

When he has today’s workshop playlist set, he looks around the room and realizes that the birthday sash would have been the least concerning part of her clothing choices. The olive colored v-neck sweater she wears draws his gaze directly to her chest, and he knows today is going to be more challenging than usual.

He wishes he could just avoid her during class, but he needs to make sure all of his students get the help they need. Most of them don’t know anything about sawing, sanding, or the appropriate way to use wood glue, and he needs every kid in this class to leave the room with all of their fingers intact.

Inevitably, he makes his way back to her after weaving through the room and helping other students with their projects along the way. A few pieces of wood that will eventually become the body of her instrument lay on the table in front of her. He helps her select the right grit of sandpaper to sand down the edges of the pieces she finished cutting for the top and bottom of her dulcimer. The last big piece of her project build is to bend the side pieces into the hourglass shape she wants her instrument to have.

He had to bring in his bending iron just for her, since literally every other student wanted to do simple instruments with straight sides. It’s not a difficult process, but it’s a little tedious.

Hongseok picks up one of the side pieces and walks her over to the bending iron. “So the shape that you want is going to require three bends in the wooden piece. Here, here, and here.” With a pencil, he marks the two spots where the wood should curve out towards the top and bottom, and the spot in the middle where it should curve in. “You don’t have to be perfect with this, but work on getting the general shape.”

She just nods attentively. He tries desperately not to look at her for fear that he might accidentally look down her sweater. Thankfully, it’s fairly easy to do as he demonstrates how to use the iron.

With a wide, clean paint brush, he brushes water onto the first spot they’ll bend. “First, you want to make sure that the wood is wet before you bend it. The water turns to steam from the heat of the iron, and that’s what bends the fibers in the wood. You’ll have to reapply water pretty regularly to keep it from getting dry. Then you just rock the wood over the iron like this.” He shows her how to slowly work the wood. “The iron does get really hot, so keep your hands at a safe distance, and just apply a bit of pressure. Not too much, though, or you might crack the wood.”

“Got it.” She nods again, observing.

He takes a moment to get a bit of a bend started, and then hands the wood to her. “It’s going to take some time, so you just need to be patient. Rushing the process will just damage the wood.”

“Okay. I’ll be careful.”

Hongseok’s not sure why, but it almost sounds like she’s reassuring him that she’ll be okay. He wasn’t trying to come across as being protective, because he gives all of his students the same warnings whenever he shows them a new tool. But he just nods. “Give it a try.”

She steps up to the iron, wets the wood, and starts mimicking his rocking movements.

“Keep the edge of the wood parallel with the back of the iron, otherwise the bend is going to be crooked.”

She follows his instructions. “Like this?”

“Exactly. You can even use just a touch more pressure. If you don’t use enough, the wood won’t bend.” He resists the urge to reach over and show her, reminding himself that he needs to keep his distance.

“Just gotta find that happy medium,” she chuckles, and the lighthearted sound makes him smile. 

“That’s it.”

She presses down on the wood a little harder, and her form looks good. “How soon should I re-wet it?”

“You can give it a few minutes. So just do that until you’ve got a nice curve going for the lower body, and then you can do the waist and the upper body, in that order. You might not get to all of it today because you want to give the wood some time to cool between each bend.”

He loves sharing his craft with his students, but there’s something different about sharing it with her. It just feels so intimate to share such an important piece of his life with her in this setting, and her genuine interest in the subject only makes him want to share it with her more.

At the end of the day, he knows that it’s only because he’s slept with her. Every little interaction feels sexually and emotionally charged. She’s just so attractive in both looks and personality, and he’s drawn to her over and over again.

But he can’t let himself give in to whatever it is that he’s feeling for her. Hwitaek’s advice rings in his head and he reminds himself that he only needs to get through a few more weeks before the semester is over.

He can avoid the temptation for at least that long.

“Seriously, Kino, this place is amazing,” _____ gushes, taking the last big bite of her steak, savoring each chew and talking with her mouth full. “Jesus, this steak is fucking delicious.”

Kino covers his mouth as he laughs, trying to maintain some semblance of maturity. They’re at an incredibly fancy restaurant, after all - one that he’s certainly spending way too much money at, but it’s worth it for her - and he doesn’t want to make a scene when it’s clear that they’re just two dumb college kids trying to have an experience. 

“Maybe you should swallow first before you talk,” he comments.

“That’s what he said.” She doesn’t miss a beat, making it even harder for Kino to keep his composure.

“No,” Kino nudges her leg under the table with his foot, softly lecturing her. “Bad.”

“Kino, are you trying to play footsie with me?” She nudges him back, playfully teasing.

She’s been in particularly high spirits all night, and he’s trying to convince himself that it’s only because of her birthday. Everything has been borderline flirtatious since he picked her up from the dorms. 

“Stop it,” Kino gives her a warning look, but he’s still smiling. “You’re just asking for trouble.”

She smiles and takes a sip of her water. “I’m just having fun. Thank you for taking me out tonight, Kino. I’m having a blast.”

“I am, too.” He feels his cheeks unintentionally grow warm.

“Good! I’m gonna use the bathroom. I bet they’ve got bathroom attendants and everything in a place like this.” She gets up from the table and heads off to the bathroom, the skirt of her dress clinging to every curve as she walks and making Kino way more flustered than he should be. When he had told her to dress up, he hadn’t quite expected her to wear something so… hot.

It’s not a big deal, he sees dancers clad in tight clothing every day. But it’s her, and that makes it different.

While she’s gone, he flags down their waiter. “Excuse me, it’s my friend’s birthday today. Could we get a dessert?”

“We have a chocolate lava cake that she’d likely enjoy. We can even write a Happy Birthday message on the plate for you.”

“That sounds perfect! Thank you.”

As the waiter heads off with his special order, Kino notices _____’s phone on the table, lighting up as multiple messages come in. He’s not a snooper by any means, but when his eye catches Wooseok’s name as the sender, he can’t help but feel curious. She hasn’t said anything more to Kino about Wooseok since the night she came over drunk, but he never pried. He always figured that she’d share whatever she felt comfortable sharing.

The previews of the messages give away everything he needs to know, though - the number of eggplant and winky emojis that comes across is enough to make him feel embarrassed. That has to mean something’s happening between them, right?

A sense of dread suddenly sets in. Maybe this was all too much, and it’s going to come across like he’s romancing her when she’s already involved with somebody else. He doesn’t want to be that guy, if that’s already the case. Ordering that dessert was definitely too much… ah, he definitely shouldn’t have done that…

No, it’s fine. It’s just a cake, and it’s her birthday! He’s just being a good friend. That’s all. He’s just a good friend.

_____ reappears right in the middle of his internal debate. “I was right! There was a lady in there, and she squirted soap into my hands and then dried ‘em off with a cloth towel after I washed up.”

“Wow,” he breathed, forcing out a small chuckle. “That’s fancy.”

“Right?” She takes her seat, and the cake comes out shortly after. There’s no song because this restaurant is clearly too classy to have the waiters sing. But the joy on _____’s face is absolutely precious, and he’s glad that he ordered the cake after all.

“Kino! Did you do this when I was in the bathroom?” She surveys her plate in awe, with the beautiful chocolate sauce message and the strawberry slices atop the chocolate-drizzled lava cake. 

“Yeah. We can’t have a real birthday dinner without cake, can we?”

“Kino… This is so sweet…” She looks like she’s getting a little choked up, but she manages a smile. “You’re the best friend I could’ve asked for. Thank you so much for doing all of this for me.”

“You’re welcome, _____. Happy Birthday.” He smiles wide, pretending like his whole chest hadn’t painfully tightened at the word friend.

It’s fine. This is what he wants. He’s just her friend.

After they wrap up their meal and he pays the astronomic check - still worth it for his best friend, he reminds himself - they hop on the bus and head back towards their dorms.

“I’m actually coming to your building,” she announces as the bus pulls up to their stop. “Wooseok said he has a birthday present for me, so I’m going to stop by.”

“Ah, okay.” Kino tries to seem cool about it, but he just has to say something. “He’s seemed pretty flirty with you recently, don’t you think?”

“Wooseok?” She lets out a laugh and they step out onto the sidewalk, heading for the dorm building. “Nah, he’s just like that. He’s playful, you know?”

Kino hums. “Yeah, I guess he is.” He holds the door open for her, and they pile into the elevator together, each pressing buttons for their respective floors.

“Thanks again for tonight, I seriously had so much fun.” She pulls Kino into a tight hug that lasts just a bit longer than it probably should. But he holds her, completely willing to keep her there as long as she wants. When the door opens and she finally pulls away, she parts with the cutest smile. “Next time, don’t wait for a special occasion to get dinner with me.”

He lets himself smile, even though he’s fully aware that he’s filling with false hope. “Okay.”

Wooseok crosses his arms over his chest as he surveys his handiwork. He didn’t mean to make her gift so romantic. When he had considered what to do for her birthday, he thought to himself, you know what’s cool? Fuckin pillow forts. It was supposed to be something fun but like, there’s no way that she’ll see what he’s done and say wow, thanks for this pal, you’re really just a true friend, let me just casually suck your dick now.

Not that a blow job is expected. He just likes to think about it sometimes.

Anyway, he knows nothing sexual is gonna happen between them tonight unless she doesn’t care that his roommate is home. Wooseok had tried to get him to go somewhere else, but Minho was adamant that he was staying in and going to bed early, since his Wednesday 8am class regularly kicks his butt.

Briefly, he considers tearing it all down, but she’s going to be here any moment and he doesn’t want to be empty handed after promising her a cool gift. 

Hopefully she’ll like it and it won’t be weird.

Right on cue, there’s a knock at his apartment door, signaling her arrival. Wooseok ducks into the bathroom for just a moment to check his hair before giving himself a weird look in the mirror. Why is he concerned with looking good? He’s not, like, trying to impress her or anything. It’s just casual.

He pushes his hand through his hair once before deciding it’s fine, and he heads for the door. She looks super cute in her dress, her jacket hanging open to reveal the tight fabric clinging to her curves. It immediately makes him think of the time she showed up and handed him her panties - which he safely stored in his underwear drawer, because that just makes sense - and it nearly gets him hard on the spot. 

“Hey,” she glows as she smiles up at him.

“Is that dress comfortable?”

She raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Why, you want me to take it off?”

“I’d definitely never say no to that, but… just a sec. Cover your eyes.”

“...Okay.” She gives him a quizzical look before holding her hands up to her eyes. He guides her into the apartment and directs her into the bathroom.

“Just a sec.” He flicks on the light and closes the door.

She laughs from the other side. “What are you doing?”

“Just hang on!” Wooseok shouts as he dips into the bedroom, where Minho is diligently reading his history textbook. 

“She here?” Minho doesn’t look up.

Wooseok digs through his drawers, pulling out a clean t-shirt and some sweatpants. “Yeah. She hasn’t seen it yet, though.”

“Girls love that shit. She’s gonna fall head over heels for you as soon as you show her.” 

Wooseok’s heart pounds with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He definitely likes the thought of her falling for him, but there’s also a good chance that this whole gift won’t go over well and she’ll feel like he’s trying to make a move on her, and then she’ll want to call the whole thing off. So he needs to make sure he frames it right. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Good luck, dude.”

“Thanks.”

He emerges from the room and opens the bathroom door just enough to hand the clothing in. “Put this on. You need to be comfy.”

She takes the clothes with a quiet giggle, and then opens the door a few minutes later. 

The way his heart jumps into his throat at the sight of her in his shirt is unreal.

His clothes are big on her, of course, since he’s basically a giant, and the way the fabric hangs on her frame is just the most adorable thing that he’s ever seen. He knows immediately that he made a mistake and she should’ve just kept the dress on.

Regardless, he swallows his heart and gives a thumbs-up. “Better?”

She nods with a cute smile. “Very comfy.”

“Good. Close your eyes again.”

“Whyyy?” 

“Because it’s a surprise, dipshit.”

As soon as she covers her eyes again, Wooseok pulls her into the living room and angles her to face his masterpiece. He doesn’t let his hands linger on her shoulders any longer than they have to.

“‘Kay. You can look now.”

He’s completely fixated on her as she drops her hands, anxious for her reaction. And when she sees what he’s done, she completely lights up.

“You made a blanket fort?” 

“It’s cool, right?” He tentatively asks.

“It’s awesome!” She laughs joyfully. “Can we go in?”

“Nah, we’re just gonna look at it from out here.”

She playfully smacks his chest before approaching the fort, lifting up the sheet to peek inside. “Wow, this is so much cooler than the ones my brother and I would make when we were kids.”

From the outside, it looks like just a couple of sheets draped over various pieces of furniture, but the inside is really where most of his effort went. The fort’s ceiling is lined with twinkling lights, and there are decorative pillows of all shapes and sizes lining the back and sides. Small fake candles are scattered throughout and a fresh bowl of popcorn sits next to his opened laptop.

“Wooseok…” She crawls inside, making herself at home. “This is seriously awesome. I can’t believe you did all of this.”

He follows her in, taking extra care not to bump any of the blankets or chairs out of place with his large frame. “I promised you a cool birthday gift, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did.” She looks up at him, and her sweet gaze is a little too much for him.

“So I thought maybe, like, a lowkey movie night would be fun? We can just relax and hang out and watch your favorite movie or something. Or we could pick something we haven’t seen. Your call, birthday girl.”

After a few minutes of browsing online, they eventually pick a movie to put on. It’s a crime thriller that he’s surprised she’s interested in, but she insisted that this is the one she wants. And then the movie starts, and they’re just sitting there side by side, and he’s internally debating whether he should put his arm around her. He knows the right choice is absolutely no, but it’s just so tempting to let her snuggle up next to him. 

Wooseok glances down at her to see where she’s at, and he notices that her little eyebrows are pushed together in concern.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Hm?” She looks up at him and throws on a smile. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I just…” She scoots a little closer, curling her legs in towards her body and leaning against him. “It’s nothing.”

Is that the signal? Should he go for it? She’s trying to cuddle with him, right?

Wooseok feels hopelessly lost. This would be so much easier if he didn’t actually have some kind of feelings for her. Even though they both agreed that they’d come clean if any feelings ever cropped up, he just can’t convince himself that it’s a good idea to confess. If he says something, then they’ll stop hooking up, and she’ll probably feel weird about being his tutor and hanging out with him. He can suck it up and pretend like he doesn’t have feelings.

“Woo.” She shortens his name to get his attention. They lock eyes. “You know, you haven’t actually wished me a happy birthday yet.”

“I haven’t?”

She shakes her head minutely, her gaze not moving a centimeter. There’s something deep in her eyes, and he’s probably just reading into it all too much, but it feels like it did the first time he kissed her - like they’re connected and grounded and alive in this moment.

This time, he doesn’t ask for permission.

Wooseok kisses her slowly, as if she might break if he’s not careful. His eyes close as his lips connect with hers, and she’s soft and sweet as always. He fights off the urge to hold her hand, to cup her face. He just wants to kiss her, and that’s what he does.

It’s a long moment before he pulls away from her. She looks happy and he feels like at least for tonight, he’s done a good job.

“Happy Birthday, short stuff.”

Hongseok finishes off his bourbon and looks around, not really sure why he thought it would be a good idea to come back to Andy’s jazz club. He had planned on going to the bar across the street, thinking he might be able to find someone there who could serve as a distraction for the night. He had plenty of hookups when he was at university so he knows how that scene works. 

But as soon as he got there, curiosity got the best of him. It’s the Friday after _____’s birthday, which means she’s probably looking for a way to celebrate, right? And she’s snuck into Andy’s before, so why couldn’t she do it again?

Honestly, even if he found her there, he’s not sure if he’d tell her to go home or just be glad to cross paths again.

When he arrived, she was nowhere to be seen. He knows that’s for the best, since she's still not legally old enough to be here, and he shouldn’t be going out of his way to try to interact with her anyway.

The best he can do now is just look for a distraction as he had originally planned. 

Hongseok leaves his empty glass at the bar and approaches an attractive woman in a deep red dress. He smooth talks her. He lays it on thick, because he notices right away that she’s eating it all up. He asks her to dance, and she agrees.

The band tonight is great, and they play plenty of music that’s perfect for dancing. The smooth jazz makes for perfect slow dance music, and he clasps her hand in his, his other hand resting on her back and keeping her close. He murmurs everything she wants to hear, his lips brushing the cusp of her ear as he flirts. She’s like putty in his hands.

And when the moment’s right, his lips find hers. 

He kisses her like it means something, like he’s not just trying to avoid his problems. And she kisses him back, a delightful breath of fresh air.

Perhaps he can actually break free of _____’s spell.

It’s not long before their kiss becomes more than what is socially acceptable in public, and he suggests that they go back to his place. But she declines, claiming that she’s not that kind of woman, but leaves him with her phone number and a request to meet up for dinner next week.

Not exactly what he had hoped for, but he can't let himself be bothered by the fact that they both want different things. Still, he decides to keep her number, because she is quite beautiful. Who knows if anything will ever happen between them.

The pianist on stage starts a solo, effectively catching Hongseok's attention and driving his gaze to the front of the room. The melody is tender, full of longing, and for just a brief moment he thinks it might be _____ at the piano.

Of course it's not.

That's all the reason Hongseok needs to get the hell out of there.

When did he get in so deep? When did he become so crazy for this girl that he's hoping for any chance just to see her? He has no excuse for acting this way, but he can't help the fact that he's been completely enamored by her from the moment he first spoke to her at the wedding reception.

Hongseok returns to his apartment to settle in for the night, realizing that the only distraction he could possibly get for the night is his music. He lounges on his bed, plucking at the strings of one of his many acoustic guitars, his cat stretched out next to his leg.

His fingers move freely as he tries not to think about her, but is there really much harm in just getting lost in his thoughts?

He remembers the first time he saw her in his classroom, and how differently it hit him than the first time he saw her at the wedding. He remembers how dreadful it felt to see her sitting in the back, yet how thrilling it was to invite her into his hotel room. 

He remembers her anger, her joy, her ecstasy. She’s beautiful and fun and sexy and charming, entirely intoxicating. 

The memories of their night together visit him once again. He thinks about it far more often than he should, but he’s always told himself that he can at least savor the memory if he can’t let himself be with her again. 

As Hongseok lets himself relive that night in his mind, he sets his guitar to the side, his hardening length capturing his attention. His hand slides down the front of his sweatpants, tentatively stroking himself in search of some relief. 

The mental image of her naked body very quickly drives him wild. God what he wouldn’t give to be inside of her again, his hands massaging her round ass as he peppers kisses along her throat. He wants to hear her sighs of pleasure, wants to watch the way her lips part as each wave of her orgasm washes over her, her walls pulsing around his cock.

And the feeling of her tongue as it swirled around the head of his cock… he’d never get over it. 

It’s like she knew every single one of his buttons. Like she already had full and total control over his pleasure.

Hongseok breaks out of his fantasy just long enough to push his sweatpants down and grab the lube from his nightstand. His hand alone isn’t enough, doesn’t do justice to the incredible wetness of her.

He lets out a groan as he resumes his stroking, his cock twitching delightfully in his hand.

And, completely swept up in the heat of it all, he allows himself to imagine what would happen if he caved.

What if he told her how badly he wanted her, and she said the same? What if he invited her over, and she agreed without hesitation? What if he gave himself just one more chance to taste her, explore her, ruin her…

Love her?

Hongseok lets himself moan as he pumps harder, imagining his cock plunging into her, her nails digging into his back. He can practically hear her voice as it wraps around his name in the most seductive tone he’s ever heard, and all he wants is to give her everything she could ever ask of him. 

He wants to bite her skin, squeeze her curves, bury himself so deeply in her that he completely loses himself.

Hot ropes shoot from his cock onto his v-neck shirt as he thinks of nothing but her, and once his breathing returns to normal he finally realizes just how fucked he is.

It feels harmless, but he knows that fantasizing about her will only continue to chip away at his already weakening willpower, and eventually he’s going to end up doing something incredibly dumb.

After pulling off his dirty shirt and cleaning himself up, he returns to his bed, picking up his guitar once more. Unfortunately, not even his release is enough to get his mind off of her, so really he’s just back to square one.

He remembers how he played in his office for her, how she watched him in awe. He wonders if she feels music just as deeply as he does, if she feels the same connection to the melodies she plays and hears. 

She had asked if he could drum while he played, and his attempt had been mostly unsuccessful. He was sorely out of practice at the time, but he's been working on it since then.

He fingers a tune, taps his fingers on the face of the guitar, bumps his palm against the wood. If only she could hear him now, she'd surely be impressed.

And then - he has an idea.

The rest of his night is spent in the makeshift recording studio he's created inside of his closet with his best guitar, his microphone, and the desire to create something just for her.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 8.

All Rights Reserved © gwentoryfics. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

[shera-dnd]

Remember Me

So this came from an interesting little conversation on the Glitra Discord and now I turned into a fic

I know the action itself isn’t very detailed, but I kinda just wanted to focus on the ANGST!!!

Also I’m considering what I should write next. Do I write the fluffier follow up to this or do I just write some good clitra? I’ll think about that later, for now enjoy this mess

They were tired of fighting, of arguing, of losing, of being alone, that is why they were being so nice to each other right now, that is why they were so open, why they were always touching, always so close, at least that is what Catra told herself. They were tired and alone and that was the only reason why. It didn’t matter how much she questioned herself every time she woke up clinging to Glimmer and feeling more well rested than she had felt in months.

It had started with a touch. They didn’t talk much for these first few days, all they did was cry in their own corners of the cell, until someone reached out to someone, until a hand reached for a shoulder. They still cried, but at least they didn’t cry alone.

Those first days had been difficult, but things had grown a little better by now. Glimmer may have lost her sparkly magic, but she still had Weaver’s spells. Catra may have lost...a lot, but she could still fight, they could escape this, they just needed a plan.

“New plan then” Glimmer offered for the nth time that day and Catra rolled her eyes, expecting another suicidal plan “What if we sabotage the engines and crash the ship into the planet”

“We would die” Catra sighed and shook her head, though she continue to lean against Glimmer’s side - she hardly left it these days - “Painfully” she added

“I can teleport us out” She remarked

“With what magic, Glimmer?” She asked, tired of having to be the voice of reason every time.

“Once I get in range of the Moonstone I should get my magic back and teleport us both out” She explained “I’m sure of it” Catra got up so she could look Glimmer in the eyes, but still refused to let go of her. As if she would disappear as soon as they stopped touching

“How?!” Catra asked, her voice louder this time and carrying more than a little worry “How do you know we won’t just get ourselves killed?” ‘get you killed’

“I just know it. Trust me on this okay?” She pleaded “We can make this work” She clung to Catra too and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Fine” Catra sighed,  unable to argue with her “But we still have an army of hordaks between us and the engine room” Catra reminded her. They had used a spell to scout around the ship and no matter where they looked, Prime’s armies awaited in number.

Glimmer pondered this for a moment

“We need a distraction” she declared “One of us starts trouble and gets Prime’s attention and the other uses the distraction to sabotage the engines. Even if one of us gets captured distracting them, as soon as we get close enough to the ground I can just get us out of here”

“Yeah, one small problem there” Catra started, still not completely sold on this “Prime can read minds, remember. If he captures one of us the other is doomed”

Glimmer groaned. Another plan scrapped. At this rate they would have better luck just waiting for Adora and the other princesses to show up and save their asses, it was not like either of them had much pride left to take a hit anyway, but Catra still hated the feeling of having to be saved. There had to be a way to make Glimmer’s plan work, even if Prime got them, maybe if they got him to send his troops somewhere else, but how could they trick-

“How much did Shadow Weaver teach you again?” Catra asked, her voice and body tense now. She didn’t like this plan, but it could be their best chance.

“I got a hang of most of her spells” Glimmer answered, a little confused by the sudden question

“What about memory magic?” The words felt heavy in her mouth

“I’m not gonna just rewrite your memories like that, Catra”

“You just make me remember a different plan and then when Prime catches me he’ll send his troops a completely different way” Catra explained, she knew Glimmer would hate this idea as much as she did, but it was the best chance they had, so she left very little room for argument “it’s either that or hope your friends show up soon and save the day, but I’m pretty sure they got their hands full on the surface”

Glimmer took a deep breath. This was not something to be done on a whim

“Are you sure about it?” Glimmer asked, her voice was firm and her eyes looked deep into Catra’s. Catra flinched under the intensity of her stare, she was pretty sure of her decision a second ago, but now her uncertainties had returned full force. Still she nodded “You know that if I do this you…” 

“I’ll believe you’ve betrayed me and left me to die” Catra completed,  too aware of that fact “We’ll just have to live with it until you set my memories back”

“Catra, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can and you have to!” Catra interrupted, this was their best chance out of this shithole. She couldn’t just leave Glimmer trapped here forever, she had to do something “Just get it over with so we can both get back home” So Glimmer could back home, Catra didn’t exactly have one to return to anymore.

Maybe she could ask Glimmer to rewrite that too. Give her a childhood, make her life happy, make her a good person. That idea sounded more tempting than it should be. She had to focus on the plan, foolish dreams could wait for now.

“Fine, I’ll do it” Glimmer answered, sounding dejected. Glimmer approached Catra and held her face in her hands, it was soft and tender touch, yet it brought no comfort “Ready?”

Catra nodded.

___

Catra wiped away the stream of tears from her face. That was odd, she didn’t remember crying. Well, that didn’t matter, what mattered now was preparing for their big escape. Just book it to the escape pods. They didn’t have to know how to pilot those, just jump in, hit a button and hope for the best. It was a simple plan, but so much could go wrong. Catra had been stuck with a feeling of sinking dread as she considered more and more ways this could fail. 

“Glimmer” Catra eventually called. This was a stupid decision, but not the worse she’d make today, she was sure.

“Y-yeah?” She asked, her voice weak and tired. Did Catra miss something?

“I…” Catra started, the words getting caught on her throat “If we don’t make it”

“We will make it, Catra” Glimmer assured her, holding her hands.

“But if we don’t” Catra began moving closer to Glimmer “I just want you to know that I-” Glimmer seemed to pale, visibly flinching back and letting go of Catra’s hands

“You can tell me when we’re out of here” She interrupted, too fast and too loud. Catra immediately regretted that stupid decision.

“Fine then” Catra sighed “Ready when you are, Sparkles”

In a few moments they were both running through the corridors of Prime’s ship, running away from all his clones, dodging lasers and doing a lot better than Catra expected. This plan could actually work. That was until Horde Prime showed up.

His presence seemed to make the clones more coordinated, her aim more precise, he issued no command and fired no weapon, but just by being there things had taken a turn for the worse. She dove around a corner to get some cover and landed on top of something very soft.

For a second it was if time had stopped. Laser bolts froze in the air as Catra’s brain processed how close she was to Glimmer just now. Sure, she had been close to Glimmer nearly every moment since they arrived here, but never like this, never with their faces this close to one another. It may have been the adrenaline or how fast her heart was beating or the risk of imminent death, but right now Glimmer looked almost mesmerizing.

“I’m so sorry” Glimmer said, holding back tears. Catra hadn’t noticed the hand against her chest and the glyph that had formed there. Next thing she knew she was sent flying right back into the clone army. A boot holding her to the floor as she watched Glimmer leave her behind.

No no no, please no. This can’t be happening, this can’t be real, not again, please! This has to be a dream, please let this be a dream.

She felt prime lifting her up, followed by the terribly familiar feeling of someone prodding through her mind. She didn’t care anymore, she was too stunned to fight back.

“Such a foolish little plan” Prime mocked “Take her back to her cell and send troops after the other one” He commanded.

Of course Glimmer had left her, Catra thought to herself, she just needed someone to use as bait for her plan, she just needed an emotional play thing so she could feel better about herself again. Catra was just a complete idiot for thinking Glimmer ever even gave a shit. Catra was just another fucking tool once again. Why did she ever believe otherwise?

Catra was flung back into her cell, making no effort to get off the floor. That was it, there was no way out anymore and no one would come back to save her, all she could to was lay there and cry, cry until there were no more tears, cry and scream until she forgot how to feel anything else but this misery and hate that filled her heart. 

A bright flash of pink surrounded her and she clawed at it frantically. Glimmer was sent flying against a back wall, with a cut on her arm. Before she could react, Catra was already on her, wildly clawing at her.

“Why!? Why!? Why!?” She screamed, punctuating each word with a swipe of her claws.

“Didn’t-’” Glimmer began, but a cut to the face shut her up. Catra didn’t care why. She just wanted her to pay.

“I trusted you!” cut “I cared for you!” cut “I thought you were my friend!” cut, cut, cut. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you!” Glimmer shouted and Catra stopped, memories came rushing back as the trigger phrase dispelled the magic in her mind. What had she done?

“Glimmer!” She called, jumping back at the sight of everything she had just done “I didn’t...I didn’t mean…”

“It’s okay” Glimmer assured her, even though she was shaking and her face and arms were now covered in bloody cuts “Nothing Adora can’t fix” She put a hand on Catra’s shoulder and in a flash they were back in the Whispering Woods.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” she kept muttering as she held onto Glimmer. Still in shock after all that had happened. She knew now that her betrayal wasn’t real, that it was all an act, but it still stung, she still felt the pain of being thrown away by another person she loved.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise” Glimmer repeated softly, with a shaky smile on her face and tears of pain in her eyes. Catra did this, the guilt adding to the turmoil of emotions inside her, she felt like she was about to vomit. Noticing the struggle on Catra’s face, Glimmer moved closer to hold her “Everything is gonna be fine. We’ll just go back to Brightmoon, Adora will heal me and everything is gonna be fine” She assured her.

“Please, never do this again, please” Catra pleaded, barely holding back her tears

“I promise” Glimmer said, holding Catra close. She flinched at the pain, but still held her as pink light enveloped them “I’ll never leave you again”

And with flash of sparkles, they were both finally home.