#I wanted to take this in a more soft/somber/longing way but my mind guided me to this instead

[hair-dice]

Do you think the stars are visible? Being stuck in the belly of AM, it is not, but outside? Above?

Do you think that if you were to frantically crawl your way through shredded metal, slicing your skin through to the bone, pushing against the cables restraining you back, you might get a glimpse?

The machine fights against you, pushing plates into your body that roughly saw into you-- they were too dull to cut smoothly. It wasn't a trap this time. It was an oversight. You feel yourself begin to be constricted, a sheet of rusted metal quickly slamming itself into your shoulder, snapping the clavicle like a twig.

It hurts. It hurts, you cried internally. But your opposite hand that reached far above you, blood pooling down the mangled limb into your face, touches something of a different texture. And above it, you feel nothing more.

You grip and pull. Pull as hard as your atrophied muscles could, like you were born for nothing more. The plate wedged in your shoulder pushes back, slicing further down your side with great resistance. It hurts. You've felt it before. You pull harder and harder, suddenly finding the intensity of the force restraining you lessened. This was a trap, but you didn't care.

You pull, and pull debris into your eyes. You keep them open. You pull more, feeling the plate make its way down to meet your ribcage. You pull. You pull. You pull more into your face, digging and digging with digits that you knew would never be able to perform fine movements again after this stunt. You pull. There's a hole. It's about as wide as your fist.

Through it, you can see nothing but darkness.

[vashs-turtleneck]

Say my name.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: After your heartfelt reunion with your boyfriend, Vash realizes how much he's missed hearing you say his name. Pairing: Eriks!Vash x fem!reader Word count: 6.5k Content: smut, angst, established relationship, oral, p in v sex, reunion sex, very service top Vash A/N: bro this took me so long. I put more effort into this than anything else I have ever written. Anyway, this is my first ever smut fic so uh please enjoy (had to make it eriks because he does things to my brain chemistry)

NSFW below, 18+ only, minors do not interact!

Vash holds your hand through the rickety, quaint house, helping guide you as you walk, avoiding the floorboards he knows creak louder than the others. As much as Granny and Lina adore you, he didn't feel like explaining why he was sneaking you in so late at night. Not only that, he didn't want to explain your relationship to them just yet. After all, the two of you haven't even gotten the chance to properly talk yet, about what your reunion after his two year absence means for you both.

Vash finally guides you into his little bedroom, quietly shutting and locking the door behind you two. He cringes at the how the door hinges creak loudly into the hallway, hoping it wasn't enough to wake anyone.

"So 'Eriks', huh? Did you pick the name all by yourself?" You tease him as your eyes dart around the room, taking in the space your lover has been living in these passed two years. Or... he was your lover. Is he still your lover? For all you know he found someone else during his time here. No, wait, that can't be right. He just snuck you into his bedroom.

Vash chuckles quietly, his gaze never leaving you. "Yeah... guess I did."

You can feel his eyes burrowing into you. His gaze follows you as you curiously take in the room, as you pat the bed draped in old linens, as you look out the window, taking in the scenery, the stars and moons illuminating the sky above. You've always had a tendency to look up at the sky.

God, you're as beautiful as he remembers.

He's pulled out of his own thoughts when you speak again, realizing he's been staring at you the whole time.

"Nice little spot you have all to yourself. Sheryl and Lina are both so sweet. They really do love you, I can tell. They're like family now, hm?" You say as your eyes finally meet his, your voice remaining soft, yet a hint of somberness weaving its way in. "You... You have a good life here."

You feel your heart start to beat faster, your head filling with a million questions that you're almost too scared to know the answers to. What if there was no room for you in his life anymore? What if he wanted to leave everything about his old self in the past, including you? What if, what if, what if...

You start to absentmindedly pick at the skin around your nails and rubbing your palms, subconsciously trying to calm and ground yourself. You're starting to lose yourself to your own mind, horrible thoughts filling your head like a poison.

Vash immediately notices the change in your tone, the subtle, shaky uncertainty in your voice, the way you anxiously play with your hands... Old habits die hard, huh?

"I do. The people here have been very kind to me. It's mostly quiet, apart from when I get myself into trouble. I'm grateful every day for it."

He takes a step towards you, his arms outstretched slightly.

"But, my life here is... incomplete without you by my side, mayfly."

He wants to hold you, feel your body against his, remind himself that you're really here, but he hesitates. What if you despise him for abandoning you? For leaving you behind to think he was dead? Worse, what if you hate him for the sins he's committed? For destroying July and taking the lives of its people? Not that he could ever blame you if you did. He hates himself for it. It's the whole reason he left you behind in the first place. How could he ever face you again after he became the walking demon with the 60 billion double dollar bounty on his head? He deserves every bit of venom spat his way for the things he's done, every bit of the nickname 'The Humanoid Typhoon'.

Yet, despite how much he knows he doesn't deserve you, he wants you so bad. Every moment without you had been agony. He didn't know where you were, how you were doing, if you were even alive. Hell, he wondered if he killed you in July too. So when he finally saw your face again, he swears he felt his heart beat for the first time in two years.

"Mayfly, I... I don't deserve you. I don't. I'm a monster." He takes another step towards you, trying to bridge the gap between you both. "...but I can't live without you. I... I need you. Here. With me."

He's fighting back tears, trying desperately to keep himself together. His vision is blurring from the tears pooling in his eyes, and all he can see is your wide-eyed expression. You're so beautiful, even if you might be about to break his heart.

"If you don't feel the same, I understand. If you want to hit me and yell at me for all I've done, I won't put up a fight. If... If you hate me-" Vash's words are cut short when you rush towards him and plant your lips against his in a feverish kiss, throwing your arms around his shoulders and clinging to him desperately.

Vash stays motionless and rigid in a moment of shock before he's flooded with relief at the feeling of your lips, your body, just you. His prosthetic naturally encircles your waist, pulling you in closer as his flesh hand tenderly cups your cheek, tilting your head to meet his lips with a practiced touch that makes it feels like you were never apart.

You became a shell of a person the day you watched him fall from the sky, like an angel stripped of their wings. You spent the passed two years believing, convincing yourself he had to be alive, or else you would have been lost completely.

With his lips finally pressed to yours, you feel whole again.

Vash can feel your lower lip tremble against his own, your tears mingling with his against both your faces as you each pull the other closer, closer, until there's no space left between your bodies, his stubble scratching your chin.

Your lips meet again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, pants and sobs and the sounds of lips smacking filling the otherwise dead silent room.

"I missed you." You breathe against his lips, voice cracking from the overwhelming feelings of relief, love, and pain flooding you.

And Vash whines in turn, prosthetic tightening its grip around you.

"I missed you too. So much. Every day I thought about you." He whispers back, his voice strained, flesh hand pulling your face closer by the back of your neck. "I love you, I love you, I missed you."

"Love you too. Missed you so much..." Your voice comes out as a sob, trembling and broken. Your hands tangle into his soft locks. His hair is much longer now, the golden blonde mixing with dark raven.

You feel his tongue tease your lower lip, the warm muscle begging for entry, and you're happy to grant it. When your tongues entangle, he feels himself shudder with want, his body heating up as he gets reacquainted with the taste of your mouth. His hands move down your body, sliding down your waist, past your hips, and hooking themselves beneath the plush of your thighs. He lifts you up with ease, encircling your legs around his waist.

It's not close enough. He needs you closer.

He carries you to the edge of his bed, gently lowering you and as he towers over you, broad shoulders caging you in beneath him. He pulls himself from your lips and holds his weight on his hands, palms against the mattress beside your head. His face is flushed, lips wet with your kiss.

Vash is silent as he looks at your face, tears still staining his cheeks, his gaze reverent and adoring, yet filled with tragedy, like he almost doesn't believe you're real. His flesh hand cups your face again. His thumb traces your lips, your cheekbone, your jawline, his palm resting against your cheek. He takes in your features, committing the way your face has changed over the past two years to memory. You have new lines around your eyes, signs of how time kept passing for you, even without him around, signs of aging that he knows you won't see on his face. Fuck, he's lost this precious time with you, years he'll never be able to get back. Gone, just like that.

He'll be damned if he loses anymore time with you.

His hand trails down, thumb sliding along the side of your neck, down to the bit of your collarbone peeking from under your shirt. His breath hitches at the feeling of your soft skin beneath his hands, how your legs stay wrapped around his hips, your arms clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline. He can feel your body heating up at his touch, like it remembers him. He's missed you. He's missed your touch. So much.

"Please, I- I need to see you. Please." He begs, voice already breathless and needy.

"N-Need to see you too. I need you so much." Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine, but at this point you don't care. He's here. You have him again. You need him.

Vash wraps his prosthetic around your waist as he gently lifts your upper body up enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. With your shirt finally off, you can feel contrast of his arms on your body, the cool metal of one, and the warmth of the other.

"I missed you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you, mayfly. I'm so-"

You stifle his apologies with another hot kiss, your hands weaseling between your bodies and working quickly to take off his white button-up. Your fingers fumble with the buttons until his shirt is open, exposing the scarred muscles beneath. His hands leave you for just long enough to push the fabric off his shoulders. When his shirt is finally off, both his hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another heated kiss, making you both groan into each other's mouths.

Your hands trail along his chest and back, tracing over the myriad of rough, raised flesh. Your touch is gentle, as though you're trying to heal him. He wishes you could. He wishes your touch could take away his 150 years of anguish, only made worse in your absence, and heal this body he's so carelessly destroyed. Yet, he knows he deserves every bit of it for what he's done. If nothing else, at least your touch is a momentary reprieve from it all, a moment for him to just be.

His hips twitch when he feels your hands trail down his chest, over his abdomen, to the hem of his pants, fingers working to undo his belt and buttons, working them off his body.

"M-Mayfly..." Vash mutters, his breath hot against your face. He works the rest of your clothes, practiced hands swiftly unclasping your bra before moving to peel off your pants, tossing the garments somewhere in the room, leaving you both in just your underwear.

Vash gently pushes your shoulders, moving you slowly like you're made of glass and laying you flat against the bed. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at you, propping himself between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes practically glowing as he drinks you in.

You're suddenly filled with this overwhelming shyness as you're laid almost completely bare in front of him. It's been so long since you've been looked at like this, and you can feel the heated rising to your face. Your body has naturally changed since he's last seen you, and the thought that he'll be disappointed weasels its way into your head, flooding you with insecurity. Without thinking about it, your hands move up to cover yourself, draping your arms over your chest and stomach.

Vash's gaze break from your body before darting up, his eyes softening when he sees your blushing and flustered face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." he coos, bringing himself down to pepper your face with soft kisses, stubble grazing your face. "Come on now. Don't hide from me. Please? I want to look at you. I love looking at you." His large hands gently wrap around your wrists, trying to coax you to uncover yourself. "Please. Let me see you. I missed looking at you so much."

Oh, how silly you are to think he'd look at you with anything but pure adoration and worship. He's only ever shown you love and acceptance, just as you have shown him. Vash can't even fathom the idea that you'd see yourself as anything other than breathtakingly perfect. Your body is his place of worship, every sound you make a prayer.

So, with a quiet whine, you let him pull your arms from your body, his hands gently pinning your wrists next to your head flat against the mattress.

"There you are..." Vash whispers adoringly, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before leaning back again to look down at you.

He takes in the sight of you beneath him for the first time in two years, his hands letting go of your wrists and tracing up and down your curves slowly, savoring the feeling of your warm and soft flesh. The world hasn't been kind to you in his absence, your body baring new scars he knows weren't there before, and he hopes to God you didn't get all those looking for him, sacrificing yourself for his unworthy soul.

"So beautiful, mayfly." Vash purrs. His hands trail up your middle, up your sternum, before parting to grope your breasts, thumbs rolling over the perked buds. The act sends a wave of heat straight down between your legs, your hips involuntarily writhing against the bed. In turn, your reaction makes Vash suck in a breath, his hips gently grinding against the plush of your thigh, letting you feel his hardened cock.

You both need this. Badly.

"Mmph- you like that, huh, baby? That feel good?" Vash whispers, voice hoarse with desire as he circles his thumbs over your nipples again, this time rolling his hips right against your clothed sex.

You howl at the pleasure, hips bucking to meet his own. You bite your lower lip to muffle your cries, nodding your head up at your lover. "M-Mhmm!"

With a lewd grunt, Vash brings his head down, pressing his lips to your inviting body. He sucks on your neck, nibbling and licking slowly and sensually, finding the spots he remembers would make your breath hitch, your back arch, and your grip tighten around him. He lets out a deep groan against your neck when you react the way you used to, your voice pitching up to a needy, wanton moan when he sucks on your neck just right. You tangle your fingers in his hair as shivers dance up your spine, rolling your hips up against his.

He leaves a trail of kisses along your form, giving special attention to any scars he comes across along the way, just as you had done for him countless times before. His lips reach your chest, kissing along your sternum before moving his mouth to one of your breasts, his skillful lips enveloping your perked nipple, tongue circling the peak. His hand moves up to massage your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

And you can only do what your body tells you to, your voice quivering into what only comes so naturally to you when he's worshipping your body like this.

"Vash." His name leaves your lips as a broken moan, but they hit him like a typhoon, shattering him to pieces.

Vash's body tenses, all his actions pausing as his lips part from your nipple with a quiet smack, his hot, ragged breaths against the wet skin of your breast. He tilts his head up, bringing his face closer to yours, letting your noses brush and his forehead press intimately against yours. His beautiful baby blues drink you in, eyes upturned into a longing, pleading stare. His eyes captivate you, trapping you under his gaze. From this close, you feel like you could drown in them.

"Please... Say it again." His voice is raw, fragile, and begging.

You have to blink yourself out of your trance, completely ensnared by him. Even though he's the one begging you right now, with that look on his face, you'd do anything he asked. So, without hesitation, you say it again.

"Vash."

And he whimpers.

A name he hasn't heard in two years, lost to his new life. A name that, despite the heavy weight it carries now, was gifted to him by someone very important. A name that has always rolled of your tongue with a softness he never felt he deserved, that he used to hear you cry out over and over when your voice was pulled taut with pleasure. His name.

He didn't realize how much he missed hearing it, and especially how it sounds leaving your lovely lips.

"Again. Please."

"Vash."

"One more time. I beg you."

"Vash."

Vash groans again, his eyes fluttering before pressing his lips to yours again, catching your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away.

"Mmph... Fuck, mayfly. The things you do to me."

His lips capture yours in a hot, wet kiss, tongues tangling, his hips undulating against yours and seeking out that little bit of friction between your bodies. He can feel the heat coming off your core against his hard cock, and his mouth waters as he thinks about how wet you must be right now.

"Need to taste you, mayfly."

Vash pulls back before he stands up between your legs and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed, grinding himself against your thigh again. His fingers hook to the elastic of your panties, his eyes not missing the wet spot forming on them already before meeting your gaze again. "Let me take these off you, baby."

And fuck, you are absolutely reeling right now, barely able to form a thought as he continues to handle your body with so much care and deadly precision, like he know it better than you. And really, he does. Despite the time you two have spent apart, his confidence in his knowledge of your body and his desire to please you is naturally weaving its way back into his mind like it's pure instinct. You can't tear your eyes from him as he stares down at you with the darkened, hungry eyes of a man that looks like he's just found his first sip of water in days on No Man's Land.

He tilts his head as you stare at him silently, taking in your half-lidded, hazy eyes. His fingers unhook from your panties, palms resting against your thighs.

"Mayfly? Do you want me to? I won't do it unless you tell me to."

You whimper needily, shifting your hips back and forth, unintentionally teasing him as your body begs for more of him.

"Please. Please, Vash. I need you to touch me." You beg, your voice shaking. You need him right now, both body and mind begging him to do something, anything to ease the ache between your thighs.

With a smirk that flashes his sharp canines and sends another shivering wave of heat to your core, Vash swiftly pulls your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor.

With you completely exposed to him now, Vash hooks his hands under your thighs, pressing your legs up and opening you up to himself, spreading you out on the mattress before him and watching as your slick drips from your sex as he practically folds you in half.

"Breathtaking." He purrs, staring down at your sweet flesh. "And so wet already."

"It's... It's because of you." You say back, your voice a pathetic, high-pitched whimper, feeling yourself pulse with anticipation.

Vash chuckles breathily, his eyes never leaving your sopping cunt as he lowers himself to his knees, propping himself between your thighs.

"I know it is."

With a soft sigh, Vash presses his tongue against your cunt, taking his time as his licks his way from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit, gathering your sweet juices on the flat of his tongue with an audible eagerness. His mouth presses a fiery kiss to your clit, his lips wrapping around your little sensitive bud as his tongue flicks it with a skillful precision that is downright deadly, like it's all muscle memory coming back to him in this moment, as though his place in this world is right here between your thighs.

For Vash, you truly are an oasis on this desolate planet. In a life that's been so lonely and so filled with tragedy, you have been a solace that he never felt he deserved, yet he selfishly let himself indulge in. After being by his lonesome for so long, how could he ever turn away from your open arms? You unconditionally loved and accepted his broken mind and tattered body, and he was never able to deny your affections, no matter how much he told himself he didn't deserve them.

You are the only piece of heaven he's ever had.

"Mmmh... Taste so good, angel." He coos against your sex, licking his lips of your slick before tonguing another stripe up your cunt. "It's been too long. I'm absolutely parched for you, baby."

"Oh fuck, Vash!" You gasp out, your hands moving to tangle through his two-toned hair, holding it back and away from his face. You can feel his stubble grazing your plush folds as he eats you.

"Say it again, mayfly." He mutters against your cunt, the vibrations from his voice sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

Your mind is a pleasure-filled haze. You're barely able to think as your lover positively devours you, gorging himself on your dripping sex like it's more for his own pleasure than it is for yours.

"Ahh... w-wha-?" You manage to mumble, barely understandable.

His head pops up from between your thighs, hungry baby blues staring back up at you.

"My name. Say my name again for me, angel. Please."

"V-Vash..."

He growls as he dives back down to your cunt, his tongue teasing your entrance as his nose presses against your clit.

"Say it softer. Please."

"Vash..."

"Say it louder."

"Vash!"

His hips rut against the mattress as he pleasures you, pathetically rubbing his still-clothed cock against the old linen in tandem with his mouth. He can feel his boxer-briefs soaking up the pre-cum from his engorged tip. His body is aching for you, but he'll be damned if he doesn't make you come on his tongue at least once before he fucks you. He needs to taste you as you come.

His right hand slowly trails up the soft meat of your thigh, fingers dancing along your hot skin until they reach your pulsing flesh, swirling his fingers over your wet heat. Then, he gently presses his middle finger inside you, the long digit curling and pressing against your warm walls, gently stretching you as he takes you apart from the inside out.

You have to throw your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in white hot pleasure, hips undulating against his mouth and hand, seeking out more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"This okay, mayfly? Feeling good?" Vash whispers before circling his tongue over your clit again.

You don't trust yourself to speak right now, instead nodding your head frantically as you moan and wail silently against your hand.

Vash groans hoarsly when he sees just how well he's taking you apart, eyes fluttering closed as he focuses entirely on your pleasure. When he feels your body relax around his finger, he slips in a second digit, his dexterous middle and ring fingers meticulously and lovingly abusing that sweet spot inside you until he has you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

Your hand gently tugs at his hair, biting into your palm and clenching your eyes tight, your thighs trembling against his head. You pull your hand away from your lips just long enough to call out to him, your voice breaking, your body ready burst, "Vash! M' gonna c-come..."

He growls against you when he hears his name leave your sweet lips in a such desperate tone, tongue lapping away at you more eagerly, your juices dripping from his hand.

"Yes, baby. Come. Come all over my tongue. Wanna taste you..." he grunts, panting as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers and grinds himself against the mattress. Fuck, he's gonna come all over himself if he doesn't reel it back.

His mouth devours you, digits pumping faster into your fluttering cunt as he chases your high.

When Vash feels your body tighten and convulse against his fingers, your sweet whimpers filling his ears, he moans louder than you, as if your pleasure is his pleasure, and it takes every bit of willpower in him to not come along with you.

Vash has always denied himself the pleasures in life, deeming himself unworthy for the sins he believes he's committed. But when it comes to you, to your pleasure, he's always eager to let himself indulge, his tongue lapping away at your sex like your come is a reward for his efforts until his mouth is dripping with you.

When he feels your body relax, your muscles unflexing, he licks one last strip over your cunt before pulling his mouth and fingers away. He licks your sweet cream from his digits, his other hand removing the boxers that have grown unbearably tight from his lower half. Slowly, almost like he's reluctant to leave his place from between your thighs, he raises himself up and towers over you again.

"You're so perfect, angel." He whispers, voice hoarse with desire, and you can see his need from the way his cock twitches as he stares down at you, his big hands holding you by the softness of your thighs. He brings his pelvis forward, gliding the hard length of himself along your dripping pussy, coating himself with a mix of your come and his own saliva.

"Vaaash~" You call to him weakly, your head still fogged from your intense orgasm, but your body craving him. Your hips rise to meet his own, and he grinds against you more desperately.

"You want this, angel? Wanna feel me inside you?" His tone is breathy and light, almost teasing, but you know more than well enough that what he's seeking right now above all else is your consent. How you got so lucky as to find yourself such a caring and thoughtful man (plant) is beyond you.

"Want it more than anything, angel." You purr back, using the loving nickname he's given you back at him as your hands reach for his shoulders. Because let's be honest, if anyone is deserving of the nickname, it's him.

A soft smile crosses his face when he sees you reach for him and, like a moth to a flame, he leans down towards your touch. One of your hands clasp over his shoulder, gripping him and pulling him closer to you. The other traces your thumb over his cheekbone, your finger dancing over that adorable birthmark under his left eye.

"Don’t go stealing my words now, mayfly." He teases back before his lips cover yours. When he pulls away, you feel him pant against your face, his body shaking and his cock gliding over you folds. Despite how much he's been holding back, putting your pleasure far before his own, you can feel now just how badly he wants this. He's at his limit.

Still, a pang of concern crosses over his handsome features, always thinking of you despite the agony he's in right now.

"If... If it hurts, I want you to tell me. Tell me and I'll sto-" You shush him before he can keep going, your thumb quickly moving from his cheekbone to his lips.

"You won't hurt me, Vash." You whisper tenderly, trying to ease the worries undoubtedly forming in that pretty head of his.

Hìs face softens again, his expression changing from one of concern to one that can be described as nothing short of reverent. His eyes might as well be hearts from the amount of love you see in them. With a shaky sigh, he nods his head once, and you move your hand from his face to his other shoulder, holding him tightly against you.

"Alright." He places doting little kisses to your temple and cheek, his hands on your thighs gently parting your legs further. "Let me take care of you, mayfly."

One of his arms weaves its way between your bodies, grasping his cock and aligning himself with your inviting entrance, placing a gentle pressure against your core with the tip of his cock. Vash's gaze never breaks from yours as he slowly sinks himself into your tight heat, the head of his cock splitting you open as he sheaths himself inside you, his mouth falling agape with a mewling whimper as he feels every inch of your sweet warmth.

Your breath hitches as he presses himself inside you slowly, your body taking him inch by sweet inch until he gently bottoms out, your nails digging slightly into his broad shoulders. You can feel him stretching you out on his thick cock, a mixture of the sweet sting and pleasure filling your entire body. You take in deep breaths to calm and relax yourself, your eyes fluttering up at your lover.

You're everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed, everything his soul craves and begs for. He caresses your thigh and whispers between gasping breaths, a sweet smile on his face as your catch your breath, "You're okay, mayfly. Relax. Take your time. Tell me how you feel. I'm here with you, all the way." He coos, peppering your cheeks and neck with soft kisses as he whispers gentle words of praise and encouragement. His expression is one of pure love and adoration, seeing your body relax as you adjusts to his, your walls moulding to his cock, your breath slowly coming back to you.

"A-Ah... I need you to move, Vash. I think I'll explode if you don't move right now." You whine, hips bucking and writhing against his own, begging him to fuck you already.

His adoring smile never falters, chuckling breathily as you beg for him.

Fuck, he's missed feeling needed.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" He teases with a shit-eating grin that splits his perfect face. He places a tender kiss between your brows before gazing back down at you.

"Hold on tight now," he purrs against the shell of your ear, tightening his grip on your thigh, his prosthetic palm pressing against the mattress by your head. He's trying so hard to keep himself together, but you can feel his arm shaking from the sheer euphoria as he supports his weight.

Gently, he pistons his hips against yours, his cock gliding along your inner walls at a sweet and tender pace and giving you the chance to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you out. As fogged as his mind is right now in a haze of lust and need, he is still acutely aware of you, and it would break him more than anything if he hurt you.

Vash stares down at where you two connect so intimately, watching how your body engulfs his cock over and over and coats his shaft with your arousal.

"You feel so good, mayfly. Taking me so well, like your body remembers me," Vash praises you sweetly, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

"V-Vash..." you mewl, thighs gripping his waist tighter, cushioning his hips as he pumps you full of himself. "Feels so good. M-More, please. I need you more."

"Of course. I'll give you more," he whispers, his voice dripping with tender affection as his hands move to your thighs, lifting them up and hooking your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half again. You moan wantonly at how deeply he can reach in this position, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

Vash increases the pace, his thrusts gradually growing more deliberate and quick, pumping into you so deliciously that he wrings out every sweet sound you can make from your throat. He rocks his hips, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he pushes himself all the way in and pulls back out again, letting himself feel every inch of your velvety walls. Every pump of his hips has him pulling himself out to the hilt, leaving just his hot tip inside, giving you no time to breathe before he pushes himself back inside again, fucking you deeper and harder than before. Every time he pulls out, he sees your lips part slightly as you wait for him to ram back inside. And he does, over and over, making both of you moan louder as the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping.

"I love you, I love you! P-Please, please don't leave me behind again. Stay. I need you!" You cry out in rapture, tightening your grip around him and pulling him so his patchwork chest is against yours, your breasts squeezing and bouncing against his pecs.

"I'm here, mayfly. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I can't- I'd die without you. I love you too much." He grunts against the side of your face, the sound of his labored breaths filling your ears.

He thrusts into you faster and harder now, the withered bed creaking and groaning beneath you both along with the sounds of your pleasured cries.

"Mmm~ Vash... Feels too good. Gonna come. Gonna make me come."

Your words break the last bit of restraint in his lovedrunk mind, grunting loudly against your ear.

"Fuck, say it again. Say it- Say it like you missed me. Like you thought of me every day. The way I thought about you."

"Vash!"

You can feel your body quivering and pulsing around him, and it only makes Vash moan louder, your pussy practically sucking him back in every time he pulls away. He moves a hand from your thigh to thumb at your swollen clit, desperate to feel you come undone around him.

"That's it. That's it! Mmm fuck~ I can feel it. Say it as you come all over me, baby. Please. Please."

Your orgasm hits you like a sandsteamer, your back arching harshly off the bed before you even have the chance to cover your mouth, crying out his name with a melodic and broken moan.

"Va- Vash!"

He's quivering, his grunts and breaths shaky as he feels your pussy clench around his aching cock like your body is trying to milk him for all he's worth.

"Ahh- S' too good... M' gonna c-come, mayfly. Gonna come with you."

Vash bites his bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pure agonizing rapture, only for your name to leave his lips like a beautiful song to the heavens as he spills himself deep inside your heat. His hips stutter as he fills you with his hot come until you feel like you're bursting, hips slowing and gently rocking into you as you both ride out your highs until they gradually come to a stop. He feels his muscles go limp, pressing his weight down on you more than he means to as he collapses against your smaller frame. He covers your temple and cheeks with weak, tired kisses, whispering sweet words of affection until you've both gathered your minds a bit more.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." He chants over and over again with every breath like a prayer, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of euphoria filling his body.

He stays inside you well after you've both come down for your climaxes, cockwarming you on his thick shaft like he can't bare the thought of ever being separated from you again. But when he feels his cock softening, he carefully pulls out of you with an almost pained groan, disappointed at the loss of your warmth but his body completely satisfied and drained regardless. When he sits back on his knees and sees his seed spilling from your dripping hole, he groans, cursing under his breath. The sight is enough to get him hard all over again.

_________________________

After a night full of round after round of hot and passionate lovemaking, your exhausted bodies lay beside each other. The sheets are wet and tangled, your bodies slick with a mix of your arousals, but you're both far too content and tired to care about the mess right now, enveloped in each other's embrace.

"Mmh... bed's comfy. I see why you like it here," You coo against his head, his hair tickling your nose.

"Having a bed to sleep in has definitely been nice. Beats sleeping out in the desert," He mumbles and pulls you in closer to himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"But this bed might as well be a bed of sand if I can't sleep in it with you, mayfly."

"Always such a smooth talker," you chuckle at him. Then, your smile turns to a look of reluctance as you gently raise your head. "But I should probably go, huh? Don't wanna explain to Granny and Lina what I was doing here in the morning."

"Well, you were doing me." Vash snickers back at you, eyebrows wiggling teasingly.

"You're hilarious," you scoff with a deadpan stare, but you can't help the little amused smirk forming on your lips, "I'm glad to see your sense of humor hasn't gone anywhere."

He chuckles against the hollow of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin.

"I know, I know. It's just one of my many charms."

"You won't need to say anything to them. I'll do all the explaining for you." His grip tightens around your waist, any thoughts of leaving the bed vanishing from your mind. How could you leave after everything that's happened? After you've both finally found your ways back to each other?

"Besides, they might already know you're here. We weren't exactly... uh, quiet." He chuckles nervously, and you can feel his face heating up as he thinks about just how much noise the two of you were making. You feel your own face heat up too. Yeah, the morning's gonna be a bit awkward.

Vash grips you tighter, his warm body flush against yours, clinging to you.

"Stay, mayfly. I need you."

Your body settles back into the bed, cuddling yourself up against the man you love most, and the world feels a little brighter.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

[midearthwritings]

Heavenly Inferno

Nothing matters other than Tauriel.

Words Count : 1,054

Pairing : Tauriel x Reader

Warning : Making out

Author's Note : I’ve been wanting to write a Tauriel fic for so long now. I really hope it is as good as I imagined it would be, so please give feedback? I’m really anxious about this one bruh

I eryn e dûr = The forest is dark/gloomy

Meleth Nín = My love

A trail of fiery hair flies behind her, similar to a blazing shadow. It follows her, guiding you through the foggy woods. Tauriel’s steps are light, her toes barely caressing the shriveled ground, inaudible. You can only trust the faint sight of her mane and the wind’s whistles tickling your ears as she runs against it.

There is no light, and the moon safely keeps its silver rays to itself, above the shield of branches and leaves that separates it from you. But despite its selfishness, Tauriel’s skin shines like freshly fallen snow. When she looks back to shoot you the smallest smile, a simple twitch of her lips, you can only quicken your pace, encouraged by the need to be close to her. And she giggles at your childish behavior, causing your heart to swell and call for hers. 

The faster you run, and the more infected air you inhale, filling your lungs with a lethal dose of your love for her. The woods’ sickness tries to suffocate you, but all you can see is Tauriel and her light, as well as some shadows lurking in the darkness. 

Perhaps Tauriel saw them too, for all too soon, she stops, ripping the dream she has pulled you in into pieces. She stands there, unmoving, and you can see her eyes scanning the area. She looks like a miraculous bird of paradise blooming in an ocean of poison and desolation. 

“Meleth nin,” you whisper, walking up to her. Your fingers find their way into her hair. She must have washed them recently, for they feel like fine silk and smell of roses and honey. Tauriel leans into the touch with a content sigh, but her face remains somber. “Something is troubling you. What is it?”

She turns around to face you, her eyes clouded with the earth’s illness. Her grip tightens around the bow she brought along, ready to shoot at the first foreign movement. 

You smile in an attempt to appease her fears and take her hand in yours. She runs her thumb over your knuckles tenderly.

“I eryn e dûr…” she whispers, looking away. 

A crow screams at the top of its lungs in the distance, and you almost flinch. But you ignore it and, longing for Tauriel’s eyes on you again, you bring her hand close to your lips and press a soft kiss to her skin. 

“It has been for so long now. I can barely remember the time when leaves were green and the trees not dying.”

Tauriel shakes her head. “We have gone too far,” she insists. “We must go back before we encounter something eviler than the forest itself.”

Her words fly away, never reaching your ears despite the lack of space between the both of you. The feeling of her smooth skin under your lips is the only thing on your mind, and you kiss her hand again, lower this time. You repeat the action, peppering her skin with tiny butterflies until you reach the hem of her sleeve. 

Inside her chest, the sound of her heartbeat quickening is loud enough for you to hear. It pulses in the most melodious way, pumping blood and sending some to her cheeks, tinting them in light pink. 

Brown leaves that you had not noticed were falling land on top of her head delicately, tangling themselves in her mane. You pick them off, careful not to pull at her hair. 

As you do so, watching the leaves falling apart between your fingers, she cups your cheeks with her palms.

“We are not safe here,” she whispers. From the outside, it would look as if she was staring directly at you. But she is not. Tauriel is looking behind you, scrutinizing the darkness. 

She traces invisible lines on your skin, pulling an appreciative hum out of you. “Are you afraid?” you ask quietly, putting your hands on her hips. You feel the shivers that your touch causes, and she leans forward to give you a kiss.

It is chaste and lasts barely a second, a simple caress of her lips to yours. But it is not enough for you, and when she pulls back, you find yourself chasing her mouth. You draw her closer to your chest to kiss her again. 

Tauriel’s grip on your face tightens slightly, her fingertips somewhat digging into your flesh. You take your time, and so does she, exploring each other’s mouths as if it was the first time. Your tongue traces her bottom lips, brushes against the edge of her teeth before mingling with hers. 

Not too far from you, there is the sound of leaves cracking. But all you can hear is how she moans into your mouth, how it reverberates deliciously inside your throat. And all you can feel is her hands sliding from your cheeks to grab the back of your neck, her slender fingers scratching the nape gently. 

After what seems to be an eternity, she steps back, gasping for air. Her lips are wet with saliva, and her eyes are shimmering. You run the pad of your thumb over them, spreading the mix of your spits in an almost obscene way. 

“Are you not?” Tauriel questions, her hot breath wrapping around your thumb. 

“Am I what?” 

“Afraid.” 

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you shake your head. And maybe you are lying because your heartbeat quickens, and you know it has nothing to do with how your guts are burning with desire for her.

“I have no reason to be when you are with me,” you reply, burying your face into the crook of her neck. 

“I cannot protect you from everything,” she whispers. The wind blows angrily, making your hair fly around and sending shivers into every inch of your body. “I cannot protect you from the cold.” 

“Your love warms me up well enough.” 

Above you, she chuckles lightly, and it feels so good when she does it. Tauriel’s face is always so stern, so cold when you are around the others. Her smiles and soft waves of laughter are like a treasure that only you know about, which makes them even more precious. 

“We are not safe here,” she says again, caressing your hair. “I eryn e dûr, we must go back.”

This time, you nod.

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

All time tags : @imnotevenhere9 @shethereadinghobbit @elvish-sky @katbby16 @dark-angel-is-back @shalinizhara @miriel-estelwen @thewhiteladyofrohan @vee-vee-writes @cameronsails @kumqu4t

And because they asked to be tagged in this one : @claraofthepen and @messiambrandybuck

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom​ and @bbibbisan​ for doing a sensitivity read! 

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow​ @bwbatta​

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Reader) -- chapter seventeen

Another smut chapter babes, so it’s 18+ only! xx.

Listen to “False God” by Taylor Swift while reading this (if you want) <3

Warnings: SMUT lmao, choking, oral (fem receiving), Daddy kink, wall sex, multiple orgasms, I think that’s it?

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Seventeen: We might just get away with it, the altar is my hips

You go with Emily to the next evening’s group meeting. It’s entirely uneventful, partly because the meeting was sparse in numbers tonight. Lina said sometimes that happens in the evenings, too. It ebbs and flows.

Still, your somber mood has lingered. Everything feels different than before, and you hate it. You want to go back a few weeks, back to the basement of your childhood home. You want to ignore your head and let your heart guide you.

But you don’t have a time machine.

So, you choose -- for once in your life -- to live in the present.

Emily offers you a supportive smile as she disappears to her room, leaving you in the hotel hallway, right outside Hotch’s door.

All you need to do is knock.

Just a simple, small action, yet it takes you two minutes to find the courage to complete.

The knock echoes all throughout the hall, ringing in your ears, vibrating from your knuckles to your elbow.

Some shuffling is heard from the other side, the deadbolt sliding out of place, and then the door swings open.

Aaron isn’t in his suit anymore. He’s in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looks different. Normal. Cozy. Like someone you could spend your whole life with.

That’s what your heart wants. You know it. Even if it’s too early to know, you know.

“Can we talk?” You ask, but Aaron is already ushering you inside before you get the first word out of your mouth.

Once the door closes, it’s like the words won’t stop spilling from your lips.

“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just gonna say it, but...I want you. I know it’s wrong, and I know you’re my boss, and I don’t care. About any of it, I just know that I want you. But…” You pause, swallowing thickly. “I understand if that’s not what you want. It’s a two-way street, so I’m not trying to force anything that isn’t there. And I know I’m not exactly the...most ideal person, I guess, I mean, I was-- I come with a lot and I get it if that would just be too much on top of the whole being my boss and being older thing. I know I should’ve said all this last night, but I was scared. And I just can’t get you out of my head, Aaron, I’ve tried, and it’s not working, and I just wanted you to know that-- how I feel, in case it’s...just me.”

Aaron says nothing this time. His hands are gentle when he holds your face, and your eyes slip closed. Your heart sings, thank God.

His lips brush yours. Slow, soft, sweet. Everything at once. You feel it: an apology for all that’s happened, all he’s done, all he’s said. It’s asking for forgiveness in a kiss.

“I want you too,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to say that, but--”

“A year,” you answer, smiling shyly. “I’ve waited a year. The first case I went on.”

“Then I’ve waited longer,” he murmurs, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he smiles. “I knew there was something about you that first day you walked in my office.”

“Really?” He has too many clothes on right now. Way too many.

“Really,” he nods, kissing you again. “I want you, all of you. Right now.”

“Right now,” you echo, fingers already reaching for the hem of his shirt, your sentiments the exact same.

It’s a trade off from there. His shirt, then yours. His pants, then yours. His underwear, then yours.

You’re already wrapping your hand around his length, ready to feel him, but he pushes you away. You break the kiss to show him your confusion, but he’s smiling softly.

“Tonight is about you,” he whispers. “Go lay down.”

Still confused, you nod, turning to crawl onto the bed and lie down. You prop yourself up on your elbows, though, watching him as he kneels on the end of the bed. His hands wrap around your ankles, causing a surprised yelp to leave your lips when he pulls you closer to him.

“What are you doing?” You ask through a laugh, letting your legs go limp as he hooks your left over his shoulder. He places his hands on your ass, wrapping around your hips to pull you closer to him.

He doesn’t answer your question -- not verbally. Instead, he dips his head to pepper kisses along the innermost portion of your thighs, dangerously close to where you want him.

“Aaron,” you gasp, your arms giving out when he nips at the skin a little too close to your lips, causing you to collapse onto the bed.

He lifts his head, feigning innocence. “What?” His thumbs stroke circles on your hips. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You cry. “Don’t stop!”

“That’s not how good girls speak to their Daddy,” he replies seriously, raising an eyebrow at you.

Oh shit.

“Apologize,” he orders, fingers kneading the flesh of your ass. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you let the name tumble from your lips with ease, noticing the way his face darkens with pleasure. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“That’s a big promise to make, sweetheart,” he coos, leaning his head on your thigh. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep it?”

You nod vigorously.

“Use your words.”

Jesus Christ. “Yes, yes I promise.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, peppering kisses around your hips, stomach, thighs. “Lie back,” he whispers. “You can hold onto my hair, okay?”

You nod again, then remembering his previous instruction, you add, “Okay.”

“Now,” he breathes, hot air fanning over your pussy. “We are in a hotel,” he murmurs, lips brushing your clit as he speaks, and you try not to whimper. “So Daddy’s gonna need you to be quiet. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you hum, hands fisting the sheets, using all of your willpower not to buck your hips into his mouth. “Please.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he chuckles, finally lowering his head.

You’ve never done this before, and that thought did cross your mind, but you didn’t want to tell Aaron because you didn’t want him to get nervous. But now, when his tongue strokes you, you realize you probably should’ve said something.

The pleasure is pure electricity. His tongue is masterful and warm, opening you up for him instantly. Your hips raise off the bed on their own accord, chasing the pleasure only he can give you.

Your hands leave the sheets to twist in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans, pulling you closer, burying himself. Aaron would choose to stay here for hours if you would let him, and judging by the noises you’re making, he thinks you would.

“Aaron,” you gasp, feeling your stomach tightening already, but he only dives deeper. “Daddy,” you choke out, eyes rolling back as he pulls you closer.

He focuses on your clit, and within seconds, you’re cumming, crying out as the pleasure overtakes your body. He lets you push his head down, chasing the last few waves, before your body gives out, and you sink back into the mattress.

Aaron relishes in your aftershocks, stopping once your hands slide from his head, going limp by your sides.

Pressing one last kiss to your hip, he crawls up next to you, pressing a soothing kiss to your lips. “Hey,” he murmurs, pulling back, but your eyes are still closed. “Look at me.”

You obey instantly, opening your eyes as a dazed smile crosses your lips.

“There she is,” he smiles too, kissing your nose. “You okay?”

“More than,” you breathe, body warm and buzzing all over. “I need you.”

“You have me,” Aaron replies easily.

“No, I mean,” you pause, raising one leg to hook it over his back, pulling him back toward your core. “I need you. To fuck me. Right now.”

“To fuck you?” He teases. “You have been a good girl, haven’t you?”

You nod. “Please.”

“Well,” he shrugs, settling over your hips. “Since you’ve been so good for me.”

Before he can align himself, you’re stopping him. Aaron looks at you, eyebrows furrowed, wondering why you’re biting your lip and trying not to smile.

“Use your words,” he reminds you. “What do you want?”

“Against the wall,” you blurt, squeezing his biceps. “Fuck me against the wall.”

Nothing will ever come close to the way his lips split into a grin, and without a second thought, he stands, gathering you into his arms.

He carries you to the wall, pressing your back into the space where you stood just the night before. Only this time, you’re facing him, legs circling his hips, ankles hooked together.

Aaron lines his cockhead up with your core, watching your eyes as he slides inside of you, until his hips are pressed against yours.

He starts to move, but you grip his arms tightly, so he stops. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just...don’t move,” you groan, leaning your head forward onto his shoulder. “You feel good,” you murmur.

“What?”

“You feel so good,” you say again, a little louder this time. “Oh my God.” He fills you differently this way, and it’s addictive already.

Aaron chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You feel good, too, sweetheart,” he whispers. “You feel so good wrapped around me.”

That makes your walls flutter, and Aaron groans, fingers tightening their grip on your ass. So, naturally, you do it again. And again.

“Little girl,” he warns. “Don’t tease me.”

“Sorry, sir,” you grin into his neck, but the smile is wiped right off your lips as he begins thrusting.

He’s deeper than he was last night, and the thought only makes your walls flutter once more, drawing him in more. The action causes his hips to falter, and one hand leaves your ass to press into the wall for added support.

“Good girl,” he growls, moving his hand from the wall to grip the back of your neck.

You feel it when it happens, the wave of pleasure and wetness, your walls fluttering harsher than before. And you’re damn sure he felt it too, because he has to stop entirely, catching his breath.

“Look at me,” he orders, gently. And when you lift your head, meeting his eyes, he raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to choke you? Use your words.”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Yes, what?” He asks, fingers already wrapping around your throat, but not applying pressure.

“Yes, sir,” you break off into a moan as he begins rocking his hips, his fingers squeezing ever so slightly on the sides of your throat. Your eyes and head roll back as the pleasure begins to build.

“Are you going to cum already?” He sneers, chuckling darkly when you try to nod. “My dirty girl. You only needed my hand around your throat, hm?”

“Yeah,” you whine, gasping when he changes angles, fucking into you harder, hitting your sweet spot every time.

“Come on,” he growls, shifting his grip on your hips. “Cum for me. Let me feel it.”

He knows the perfect time to apply more pressure to your neck, and as soon as he does, you crash.

He’s closer than he was letting on, because all it takes is a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of you. A smaller orgasm blossoms when you feel the warmth spread through your core, a dazed smile settling over your lips at the feeling.

Taking his hand away from your neck, Aaron moves it to cup your jaw as he kisses you, coaxing you down from your high.

You lazily hook your arms around his neck, moaning into the kiss as you push your hips forward, effectively burying him even deeper inside of you.

“Two orgasms and you’re still not satisfied?” He inquires, moving to pepper kisses down your neck, nipping here and there, but not leaving any marks.

“Oh, I’m-- I’m very satisfied,” you murmur, your head rolling to one side. “So satisfied.”

You’re not drunk at all, yet you sound like it. Aaron chuckles, slipping out of you, and carefully setting you down on your feet. But, as usual, your knees are trembling, so he has to help you stand.

“Shower?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him through your lashes.

He nods. How could he ever say no to you? “Of course.” And on that note, he scoops you into his arms bridal style.

You’re a mess of giggles as he carries you to the bathroom, carefully setting you down on the toilet. As soon as the shower turns on, you begin peeing, and Aaron pays no mind.

It’s strange, you think. How the two of you act. Like you’ve always been this way. Like this is just how it is.

Once the shower is the right temperature, Aaron helps you inside, and last night is repeated.

Only this time, when you step out of the shower, and Aaron wraps you in a towel, you don’t run. Instead, you brush your hair in front of the mirror while Aaron goes to find a t-shirt for you to wear.

And when he returns with it, you drop your towel and lift your arms, allowing him to slide it over your head. He loves the fact that it swallows you whole, and you do too. (It’s kind of hot, really.)

“You’re not gonna make me sleep on the couch, are you?” You tease, crawling into the bed.

“Of course not,” he replies seriously, climbing in next to you. “You’re staying right here.” He pulls you closer by an arm around your waist, and you gladly fall into his chest.

In between kisses, you murmur, “I’m staying,” just so he hears it from you, in your voice. So he knows. You’re right here. You’re not leaving tonight. Or ever, if you can help it.

Before things can venture into heated territory again, Aaron stops, settling back into the pillows. You get comfortable in the curve of his arm, wrapping yourself around his middle while your head rests on his chest. The perfect pillow.

And just like last night, reality begins to creep in.

“Aaron,” you murmur. “We should talk.”

“I know,” he whispers. “Do you want to talk about it tonight?”

You think for a moment, and then you shake your head. “No. Can we just stay like this?”

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Of course.”

Content with that answer, you turn and bury your head into his chest, hugging him tighter, like if you don’t he’ll fade away.

“Hey Y/N,” he says quietly, lips brushing against your hair. “They weren’t just dinners.”

You smile into his skin, nodding. “I know.”

He leans over and turns off the lamp, the room falling into darkness. And the both of you sleep soundly for the first time in days.

Next chapter

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝕴'𝖉 𝕽𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕭𝖚𝖗𝖓 (𝕶𝖎𝖒 𝕳𝖔𝖓𝖌𝖏𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖌) 𝕽𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧! 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳)× 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐀𝐔, 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔.

𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: "𝐈'𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞, 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞... 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧.."- 𝐈'𝐝 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧- 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.2K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦/𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧! 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧),

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @hanatiny @galaxteez @deja-vux @brie02 @a-soft-hornytiny @daniblogs164 @multidreams-and-desires @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The crowd trailed behind the entourage that was passing through the streets, all of them dressed in black mourning clothes as the priest leading them recited solemn verses in the Latin language that hardly any of the villagers understood. The only other sound besides the collective steps of their feet was the heart wrenching wailing coming from the grief stricken mother who clutched tightly onto the casket that held her deceased daughter's body, the corpse pale as snow while the darkened black lips struck out in sharp contrast. The bystanders looked at the now childless parents with pity, some of the men taking off their caps and draping it across their chest to show respect, while some of the women clutched their own children closely to them, fearing that perhaps one of their own might become the next victim in the series of horrific and unnatural deaths that were suddenly spiking up out of nowhere. The skies had been a smokey gray for quite some time, sunshine hadn't hit them ever since these horrible misfortunes started happening. The town was swept by death, causing a somber and haunting atmosphere that sent chills down the spines of even the bravest of men.

Some distance away from the funeral mass, a gloomy looking nobleman watched from on top of his horse as they marched towards the cemetary, the loud ringing of the church bell behind him adding a more dark effect to the event. He took a deep breath at the scene, these types of things no longer affecting him, he had become quite numb to them after having seen and witnessed so many of them. Still, he felt bothered by the fact that they had yet to find a solution to the problem. Ever since he and other nobles from the area, and even some from neighboring towns, were tasked with the mission of finding the root of the evil sending doom upon the towns and villages, they had hardly gotten any rest from the endless crying demands for answers from the peasants, from the king and parliament putting pressure on them to get things fixed and their own minds starting to crumble from seeing death everywhere.

Hearing the rattling of chains being scraped across the stone pavement, he turned his head to see 4 armored knights dragging a poor young woman. The tiny and frail thing already had scrapes across her body, her tired and sore limbs could barely stand up as she was being led to her execution. Her pleading and cries stating her innocence fell upon deaf ears, just like her predecessors. No matter how much she begged to be spared or asked for help, she was only met with disdainful and hate filled stares from anyone that saw, some even going as far as cursing or spitting at her direction. That was another scene that had become weekly thing, but unlike the other which didn't faze him, this was the one that still affected him greatly:

The burnings at the stakes of the supposed witches.

The galloping of another horse signaled that someone else was approaching him. Tugging gently at his trusted steed, he shifted to the right so he could welcome the person coming up to him, their horse neighing loudly as it came to a stop.

"Any reports Hongjoong?" He recognized the male as one of the noblemen he was closer to, though he wouldn't necessarily call him a friend.

Shaking his head, the raven haired male drew out an exhausted sigh.

"Not since the last one I sent, Chan. There's nothing much to detail right now. We either have to wait until the next child dies or until the next person is captured and tried for witchcraft." He gulped as he feared that the latter would be the case.

"I take it you saw the one we just caught?" Chan asked.

Hongjoong merely nodded, his partner seeming satisfied.

"Hopefully that's the last of them bloody pagans. Causing nothing but trouble in the kingdom, I wish they all died."

He wasn't surprised to hear his comrades or otherwise talk so spitefully against so called witches. He was very well aware of their hatred for them, blaming them for all the bad things that occurred to them such as famines, bad weather, plagues and other misfortunes.

"Are we even certain that it truly is them to blame for all these things?"

Chan looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Oi mate, don't tell me you're actually softening up to them? Everyone knows witches are the devil's workers sent out to strike us with all sorts of evils. If we get rid of them, we'll finally have some peace around here."

Hongjoong resisted the urge to roll his eyes or say something else. He knew how dangerous it was to voice out anything that went against the population opinion, and his status as one of the elite ranked nobles wouldn't spare him either. So instead he just kept quiet, and tried to do his job as best he could without having to point fingers or arrest anyone in the process. He definitely didn't want anymore innocent people burned just to satisfy the sadistic and twisted desires of others.

"I best be going now. I'm going to take one last look around the outskirts of town and see if I find anything unusual."

Chan commended his partner and wished him good fortune, he himself turning the other direction to oversee the burning that was about to happen. Kicking his horse's abdomen gently, Hongjoong raced through the streets, passing all the houses and farmlands, carefully making his way into the dense and eerie forest that was a few miles away from the town. Not one pious person dared to enter there, for there were rumors that it was the dwelling place of evil spirits, the few people who had gone in swearing on their lives that supernatural events occurred there.

But Hongjoong believed no such things nor paid attention to any of the talk such simple minded folks spewed out. Though he could not outwardly say it, he was opposed to the witch trials, believing the so called pagans to be harmless people who simply had different religious views and beliefs from the holy catholic church that predominated across the country. He was thoroughly convinced that they used brute force and drastic measures to eradicate anyone who dared present a challenge to their authority and thus strike fear into people, forcing them to stay in their churches, ruling over them with a tight iron fist.

Of course there was a time where Hongjoong himself believed in them just as the others still did. He used to be a very religious and righteous person, making sure to follow through on the customs and traditions laid out by the church and which were taught to him since infancy. There was a time he too was fervent in his endeavor to rid the country of all the heretics and pagans and hated them with a burning passion......

That is until he met one, not only seeing them up close, but he actually was saved by them when he accidentally slipped by a riverbank and nearly drowned. But he was caught and rescued. When he regained consciousness, he found himself staring up into the most beautiful [insert color] eyes that he had ever seen in his life. The kind stranger had taken him back to what he assumed was her temporary home, given that witches hardly stayed at one place for a long time. She treated the gnashes on his body that were caused by the sharp rocks and fed him some strange but delicious soups that helped him regain energy and his strength. Seeing and receiving her kindness and generosity even when she knew very well who he was had him questioning everything he was ever taught. He found himself going back into the woods, his only goal was to see her again. He visited her every time he could, growing fond of the exotic woman and developing a deep affection for her, which was more than welcomed by her as she reciprocated his feelings.

Slowly guiding his horse through the vast trees, he let out a smile as he finally spotted a familiar head of [insert color] hair. She had her back turned to him, the woman busy as she played with raven that had perched itself on her arm after being offered berries and other nuts. She whistled at it softly, giggling when the bird finished up its last morsel of food before spreading its wings and soaring high up on the sky.

"Beautiful." She couldn't help but say as she admired the way it flew across the heavens.

"Yes you are."

She was startled by the voice that suddenly spoke up behind her, but when she saw who it belonged her, her face brightened up. Quickly getting off his horse, Hongjoong ran over towards his lover who was equally sprinting over to him, careful not to stumble on her long emerald green dress. They embraced each other tightly, having gone weeks without seeing or hearing from each other.

"Thank goodness you're ok." Hongjoong whispered, placing a strong kiss on her cheek.

"My lord, I missed you." She brushed a hand across his face as she often did to feel his aura and warmth, something he learned long ago not to question. He simply allowed her to finish before taking her hand and placing kisses all over each of her fingertips.

"And I you. I missed you terribly Y/N. I thought I was going to be driven mad if I didn't see you again."

Thumbs caressing her jaw, his eyes looked into hers, silently asking for permission like they always did whenever he wanted a certain thing. Nodding enthusiastically, she pulled his body against hers and allowed him to kiss her. His kiss was desperate and full of emotions, as expected from someone who had been kept away from his love for too long. Once he got his fill of stealing more than a few kisses from her, he pulled away but still kept her at an arm's length, refusing to be separated from her.

"Are you well my love? You seem pained and agitated." She pointed out.

Hongjoong never felt any qualms about sharing his problems or thoughts with her. She wasn't oblivious to what was going on back in the town, which is why she stayed hidden, far away from prying eyes.

"Another child died recently and with that.... another trial."

Y/N shuddered slightly at the mention of the trials, not because she feared for her own life. But because she knew very well most if not all of the people who had died were all innocent and did not participate let alone knew anything about the practices she indulged in.

"It's not stopping anytime soon is it?"

Hongjoong shook his head in a defeated stance.

"Unless we find a reason as to why there are countless mortalities in the infants, they won't stop until they eliminate half of the population."

Feeling frustrated, Hongjoong walked over to one of the trees and punched the trunk, not caring that his knuckles were now scraped and had blood on them. Wanting to comfort him, Y/N wrapped her arms behind him, pulling him tightly against her body as she began singing a soft and oriental style lullaby that she'd often sing to him. He did not understand the words nor got a hint as to what the language was and he didn't dare ask. But it was soothing and healing to hear. He closed his eyes and felt himself drift off into a lucid dream in which no one else but him and Y/N existed. He began to forget about reality and instead enjoyed that moment of being with the person he loved and cherished the most. He was so enchanted by her voice he didn't even realize she had turned him around and trapped him between the tree and her body until he felt his back hit against the trunk.

Awakening from his trance, he gazed down at his lovely enchantress, his eyes lowering down to take in her curves that stood out in that tight and fitted dress she was wearing. He began to have impure thoughts and imagined what would she look like without those garments, no doubt majestic and gorgeous. Her silhouette was very desirable and he'd often fantasise about having her nude body pressed against his own. As if reading his thoughts, Y/N pressed her chest against his, rubbing her breasts against his torso which had Hongjoong inhaling sharply as he stared down at her cleavage.

"I shouldn't feel like this.." He admitted rather embarrassed, having always prided himself in being able to restrain himself from such sinful and tempting desires.

Chuckling softly, the young witch pressed open mouth kisses across his jaw, making him fall deeper into her charms, unable to resist her touches. Another thing about Y/N: she awakened some very unwholesome and carnal feelings that had been buried deep down for years. He had never looked nor thought of a woman like he did with her. Never did he feel an intense want to own her, claim her body and fill her up with his seed so they could be connected as one. But he always shyed away from fully releasing his earthly desires, afraid of not being able to satisfy her given his lack of experience.

"Oh God-" Hongjoong muttered when her mouth nibbled across his neck, teeth raking against his soft skin.

"Do you really think it's wise to call out to him when we're doing something that's completely unholy?" She teased, lightly sucking on a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

Hongjoong tensed up when he felt her hand brush along his pants. Instinctively, he stopped her hand, effectively making her pull away from his neck to make sure she didn't cause him any harm or unpleasant feeling.

"Remember I'm- I'm a virgin..." He said that last part very quietly, cheeks turning a faint red tone.

Smiling kindly at him, she pressed a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I'm well aware my love and I promised I wouldn't force you to do anything you're not ready for. So trust me, I will wait until you're ready." She assured him.

Hongjoong felt blessed to have her, she was so caring and understanding with him, not to mention patient and reasonable. He felt safe when he was with her and he felt truly free to be who he really was and not someone society expected him to be.

"That being said..... I can't let my lord leave with a problem in his trousers. So just relax and trust me for a moment ok?"

Hongjoong watched carefully as she sank down on her knees, her eyes looking up at him with such lust and fiery passion. Although stiffening when she palmed at his tent, he relaxed and let himself enjoy the feeling. He didn't blink at all when he saw her take out his member from its confinement, her eyes graced at seeing his well endowed length for the very first time. Hongjoong couldn't do anything but gasp and moan when her wet and hot mouth was suddenly taking him in, his head hitting the very end of her mouth. He swallowed hard and threw his head against the tree behind him, getting addicted to this new and unholy sensation that was building up inside him. A seemingly wrong yet wondrous stirring began to form on the pit of his stomach, piling up and threatening to break loose very soon. Clasping the back of her head to steady his trembling legs, he shook harshly as he felt his release spurt out of him and run down her throat. Y/N hummed in approval and satisfaction as she tasted and gulped down the creamy and delectable flavor of her lover, making sure not to let one drip go to waste.

When she pulled back and dressed him back up, Hongjoong was still in shock, eyes wide as he tried to comprehend what had just taken place. Flashing him a mischievous smirk, Y/N kissed him one last time, slipping her tongue inside his mouth to let him get a taste of himself.

"It's getting late my lord. You best be getting back before the evil spirits come out and claim your soul."

They both bursted into laughter at her teasing words, embracing each other one last time as the sun set behind them.

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Returning back from a week's journey from the capital, Hongjoong got off his horse and handed the reins over to one of the lackeys that tended and watched over the horses while the masters tended to serious matters inside the castle. The guards paid their respects, welcoming Hongjoong back and opening the doors up for him. Stepping into the foyer, he acknowledged all the other men that wandered through the halls, bidding them greetings and overall studying the atmosphere. Everyone seemed to be in confusion and full of anxiety, which made him wonder what on earth had happen while he was away.

"Hongjoong!"

He turned to find none other than Chan striding over to him, his face illuminated with a brilliant and triumphant smile. Although Hongjoong extended his hand so it could be shaken, Chan went the extra mile and actually draped one of his abnormally long arms across his comrade.

"I think we finally did it mate."

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at him, letting Chan guide him down one of the staircases that led to the torture chambers and cells they used for criminals.

"Did what?"

Chan seemed eager to share his findings.

"We might actually be on the brink of solving this long time problem that has been plaguing us with sorrow and grief."

"You mean to tell me the doctor's have finally found a cure for this disease?" Perhaps he was hoping for too much, after all, this was Chan he was speaking to.

"No! Even better mate! We captured someone-"

Hongjoong immediately tuned him out, it was too early for him to start hearing another sermon on why pagans and witches were evil and deserved to die. Besides, Chan always swore anyone he captured was the one who caused all the distressing situations they had thus encountered, but of course, there were still children dying. So Hongjoong refused to hear him gloat about finding the 'leader' of the cult. It seemed as though Chan could read Hongjoong's expression.

"I know you think I'm crazy Joong, but trust me. This time....it's for real."

Ushering the guards to let them pass through the iron barred doors, Chan and Hongjoong stepped inside the dimly lit dungeon, the crackling noise of the fire torches hung across the stone walls and the faint sound of water dripping being their only companions.

"She herself didn't even deny the fact that she's a witch. She proudly identified herself as one."

"But has she admitted to causing this plague throughout the land?" Hongjoong interrogates him.

"She adamantly denies that, but it doesn't matter. She's a professed witch and thus must receive a proper execution just like the rest of her kind. It's actually scheduled for tomorrow."

"If that's the case and her fate is sealed, why are you bringing me down here? I'll witness her death in the morning anyhow." Hongjoong had a mind to turn around and go back home, irked at the fact he had been summoned for this foolishness without even getting a chance to rest at his home.

"Well no need to get upset mate. I just thought you'd want to see her that's all. I'll tell you this, she's one of the prettiest pagans I've ever met. Her darling face could be mistaken for an angel's actually."

Crossing a corner and finally standing in front of the cell that held their captive, Hongjoong froze when the prisoner lifted her face and he saw who it was.

"No....it can't be.." His worst fear had come true as it was none other than Y/N who was being kept locked away in the prison.

"Told you she was very pretty? Took your breath away did she?" Chan let out a hearty laugh, but Hongjoong wasn't amused in the slightest bit. He peered with sorrowful and apologetic eyes at his secret lover, who throughout all this remained calm and collected, not letting a single facial muscle give away anything.

"Such a pity to know she'll die though."

Hongjoong clenched his hand into a fist, determined to punch Chan but when he met Y/N's eyes, she silently warned him not to think about doing something so foolish.

"Well now that you saw her, we best be going back now."

"No...... let me talk to her for a moment." Hongjoong stated.

Although confused, Chan didn't think too much about it.

"Suit yourself, but be careful. Don't want her putting a curse on you or something."

Waiting until the clanking of the doors signaled that they were bolted and making sure no one was within earshot of them, Hongjoong pressed himself against the bars that held him back from embracing his lovely maiden.

"Are you all right?"

Y/N looked around at her surroundings, humming softly before standing up from the wooden chair.

"Not exactly the most comfortable of places, but I've slept in much worse conditions than this. At least they're decent enough to bring me a meal every few hours." Her light chuckle and unworried demeanor was startling Hongjoong.

"Y/N, I don't know how but I'll get you out of here. Just let me run back to my place and-"

"Hongjoong." She interrupted him and stepped right in front of him, her fingers touching his hand as much as she could despite having an obstacle between them.

"You won't be successful. We'll be captured in no time and not only will I still be burned, you will suffer an even worst fate than mine. I can't...I absolutely forbid you to do anything about my situation."

Hongjoong began breathing heavily, cursing the heavens for being powerless in tearing the iron bars down and taking her away from him.

"I can't just let you die. I can't..... I love you." He sobbed, nails desperately clawing at the metallic wall as if he could tear through them.

"And I love you my lord. I always will...... but I need you to trust me now more than ever. You do trust me right?"

"With my entire soul, heart, mind and existence." He replied with no hesitation.

She smiled fondly at his answer.

"Then I need you to do one final thing for me."

Sliding up the sleeve of her dress, she pulled off a flower from the makeshift bracelet she often had on her.

"See this flower? This is called a valerian officinalis. I'm sure you've seen many of them grow near my cottage."

Recognizing the small yet sweet smelling flower, Hongjoong immediately nodded.

"I'm going to need you to go back to my place and gather about 6 of them. Boil them in a pot of water and drink its contents."

Hongjoong listened to each of her instructions, engraving them on his mind.

"And then?"

With lips curled into a wicked smile, Y/N responded:

"And then just wait for me to return to you."

Hongjoong was about to say something, ask about how it would be possible, but Y/N hushed him.

"I told you to trust me my lord, so please trust me when I say that we will see each other again. I will make sure of it. You have nothing to fear."

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The young woman took careful and meticulous steps across the dirt road she was being left upon. Her bare feet were covered in dirt and grime, matching her hands which were outstretched in front of her, wrists bound with iron cuffs that had various chains attached to it, each being pulled by 4 different men who wore black robes with hoods covering their heads. She held her head up high, refusing to lose her dignity as she trailed through the marshland around her. Her eyes were fixed on the pole that stood near the end of the road, a crucifix nailed at the very top while a pile of hay and and wood was gathered at the base of it. Her guides themselves were bearing torches that were already blazing in flames, soon to be consuming her body.

Finally coming in front of the stake, she didn't hesitate to step up and press her back against the wooden pole, further confusing the men in charge of escorting her there. Still they just opted for finishing their task as they began to tie her body to the stake with ropes, the harsh material scratching against the exposed parts of her skin. She nearly rolled her eyes as one of them began reciting some holy repertoire that was probably said at every execution. One of the men stepped up in front of her, placing his torch near the base.

"Any last words?" He asked as they always did before lighting the victims on fire.

Closing her eyes, Y/N took a deep breath, gathering all her strength before uttering out her next words:

"Ex inferno, et incendent civitatem hanc oriri me cinere."

The 4 men looked at each other in confusion, wondering what she said, but ultimately failed to comprehend her words. Following as the man in charge was doing, they all lowered their torches onto the hay and wood, immediately setting it ablaze. Stepping back from the flames, they watched as the smoke began to cover the young woman's body, the last thing they saw through all the dense fumes was the young witch's haunting face, an evil grin staring back at them, sending shivers down their bodies as they wondered if they were hallucinating or did they in fact watched her eyes shift to a dark crimson color. Before they could even ask each other if they saw the same thing, they all began screaming in agony as their bodies suddenly began burning with great intensity, raging fires consuming their flesh and bones in mere minutes until nothing but a pile of ashes were scattered about.

At a distance, back in the quiet and unsuspecting town, the villagers went about their business, all of them happy at the news that the so called leader of the cult that had plagued and tortured them for so long was finally being put to death. They began to think that finally they would no longer live under the fear of having heathens roam around disrupting their lives. All of them had jolly and gleeful smiles on their faces, the town booming with laughter and celebration.....

Their laughter was soon replaced by their frantic and terrified shouting, smiles transforming into crying and fear stricken expressions as fire began to sprout out from the ground in all directions, starting with the holy church that was the center of their town. One by one, all of the houses, from the most humble to the most luxurious and extravagant ones of them burst into flames. The raging fire showed no mercy as it consumed man, woman, children and livestock with no discrimination. All of them soon fell victim to the excruciating fiery death that they had inflicted against countless innocent victims that deserved no such fate.....

Now they had to paid for their sins, pay them in full until their ashes laid scattered all around, leaving absolutely no soul spared.

All of them burned to the ground.

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

Violently sitting up, Hongjoong gasped sharply as he woke up from a very deep and dark sleep. Looking around, he realized he was still inside Y/N's quaint and exotic cottage. Seeing a sliver of light pour in, he realized he must have been knocked out for hours.

"Y/N!"

Remembering that she was to be executed that morning, he dashed out of her home, running as fast as he could through the forest in the direction of the village. He hoped he wasn't too late. He knew she told him to trust her, but he was only human and he was desperate to go investigate what had happened. Through clenched teeth, he pushed past his tired state and made it past the last monumental trees that stood near the end of the forest. He halted when he caught a glimpse of the town from where he stood:

The air was all gray, a dense cloud of smoke covered almost the entirety of the town. Through the blackened ruins he could still spot a few orange and red flames that refused to die out until it had completed its mission of destroying every last stone and brick in the area. He was completely awestruck at the scene, unable to say anything as the sun started to set behind him.

Realizing how dangerous it was to stay there, he turned back and ran inside the forest once more. He ran around as if he were a madman, with no clear direction in mind. He just went wherever his legs seemed to carry him. He finally stopped right in front of the creek that ran through the forest. He leaned against one of the sycamores that grew throughout the woodland. His panted deeply, trying to catch his breath. He was on the verge of combusting into tears when he suddenly distinguished a familiar tune echoing through the forest. He knew that eerie and haunting melody anywhere, and even blind he'd be able to follow that sweet voice right to its owner without a guide. Looking around, he searched in hopes of finding where the singer was hiding. Hongjoong began to wonder if perhaps his mind was just being delusional, but the rustling of leaves behind him let him know it wasn't the case.

"You're an awfully difficult person to find my lord."

He let out a sigh of relief at finally hearing Y/N's voice again. Turning around, he was about to hold her in his arms but he stopped himself when he saw the state she was in: there his lover stood, hair completely down while her body was completely bare to him. He swallowed hard as he found it difficult to look away as his eyes took in her perfectly sculpted breasts, slowly trailing down her body and fixing their gaze in between her legs, admiring her lady mound. His mouth was agape, his whole body stunned as he saw Y/N in her most vulnerable state for the first time. He could faintly distinguish a few gnashes on her wrists and ankles, no doubt brought upon due to the scraping of bounds that was she was subjected to. And although she cleaned most of it off, there was still some leftover soot staining parts of her body, mostly on her shoulders, knees and elbows. And yet she still looked as ethereal as ever, perhaps even more so now.

She couldn't hide her smirk as she was not oblivious about him gawking at her figure. She simply and calmly walked closer to him, taking in each reaction he made. She could feel him get aroused the closer their distance got.

"I hope the sight doesn't fall short from what you had imagined." She teased him, her hands wrapping around his neck.

"Oh trust me..... you're even more beautiful than I imagined."

Hongjoong lifted up one hand so it could caress her arm, though his movements were rather awkward and hesitant. She knew he kept questioning whether it was all right for him to touch you. Wanting to assure him it was not a crime, she pecked his lips before taking one of his hands and placing it on her chest right where her heart was.

"Do not be afraid my lord. I'm all yours and you're free to touch me as you please." She was actually longing for him to touch her, feel his hands on her most intimate parts.

Looking back into her eyes, Hongjoong pulled her against him, one arm around her waist while the other kept her chin tilted up so he may devour her mouth, using all the tongue movements he remembered her doing on him. His hand that was innocently holding her waist moved to a less chaste position as it cupped one of her tender breasts. He squeezed and pressed against her soft flesh, playing around and familiarizing himself with the outline of her erect nipples. His other hand followed suit and dropped to apply the same treatment on her other breasts, not wanting it to feel neglected from his gentle groping. Y/N gasped softly when Hongjoong pulled his mouth away from hers so he could kiss along her jaw and the top of her neck, catching her breath.

Meanwhile Hongjoong continued his exploration of her body. Slowly he inched a hand in between her legs, hesitating when it was inches away from her most intimate place, but eventually curiosity got the better of him and his fingers delved deep into her slit. He found it wet and warm, and it was fascinating to him. Dragging his fingers along her folds, he found that he could part them and touch an even softer and silky lining. Whenever he brushed or touched a certain tiny nub, he could feel her body becoming more responsive. Indeed, as he began to rub and press against that tiny organ, her lewd sounds were becoming more frequent and higher in pitch. The more he touched and probed around the forbidden parts of her body, the more his desire grew to become one with her, lust starting to take over his senses, slowly crumbling the last shred of self control he had.

"Take me." He finally said.

Being so dazed from having him touch her, Y/N fluttered her eyes open in confusion.

"I'm ready my love. Just take all of me and make me yours. I want you to defile me." His eyes burned with determination, not one shred of doubt in them.

Grinning at him, Y/N reached over to unclasp the cape that he was wearing and laid it flat on the earth beneath them. Starting with his silk shirt, she began to strip him out of his noble attire, refusing to let him help her out. She wanted to undress him as she wanted. More than satisfied with his bare body in front of her, Y/N guided him to lay down on the makeshift blanket, making sure to be as gentle and caring as possible. Hongjoong gasped when she climbed on top of him, her wet heat ever so slightly grazing upon his erect member. Taking one hand into her own, she made sure he was looking at her.

"I love you." She confessed.

"And I you." He replied in complete earnest.

Hongjoong groaned and threw his head back as his breathtaking enchantress sunk herself down onto him, effectively connecting their bodies together. It was the most intoxicating and thrilling experience he had ever felt. He didn't care if it was a mortal sin that would condemn him to an eternity in hell. He happily and gratefully allowed himself to be plunged deeper and deeper into damnation. He closed his eyes as on overwhelming wave of pleasure began to take over his body, numbing all other senses, the only thing he felt was how wonderful and bewildering Y/N's body felt on him. She too was enjoying herself, the look of amazement and passion on Hongjoong's face making her feel a sense of pride as she slowly stripped his last shred of purity from him. She loved him so dearly, she had never wanted someone as much as she wanted him. And now....she finally had him. He was all hers and only hers. He willingly and wholeheartedly gave all of himself to her with no regrets.

Feeling a fiery sensation form on the pit of his stomach, Hongjoong gasped violently as his body began convulsing and out from his member a load of semen poured out until it thoroughly coated his lover's velvet walls which had also began to tighten and constrict around him as a pool of heat rushed down Y/N's body when she felt the handsome man underneath her fill her up to the brim. Unable to resist any longer, she arched down and latched her mouth on his neck, suckling and nibbling against his petal like skin before sinking her teeth down, penetrating deep in his flesh. Hongjoong cried out softly at the stinging pain that felt so delicious at the same time.

"There now my sweet and darling lord..." Y/N lightly purred against his neck, her hot breath sending more shudders down his body.

Hongjoong felt like he was in a daze and he didn't want to come out of it. He did not feel frightened even as his gorgeous enchantress sat up once again and stared down at him intensely, her previously [insert color] eyes now a bright crimson color that burned like the depths of hell.

"You belong to me."

[yostresswritinggirl]

xingqiu reading to you? 💃

The shortest yet cutest prompt out of the bunch, honestly was debating on how I'm gonna write this so it looks a bit wacky. Here's compensation to the lil kids who can't read tonight's major fic awww-

Xingqiu Reading to You

I don't think there's nothing that can be more direct than this post. (masterlist)

Whether it be time, patience or length, somehow lately you've been having a hard time sitting down and reading through a book.

You're an avid reader back then, finishing multiple hard back covers on a daily basis, even in one sitting! You've prided yourself with that much stamina to stomach many stories and words, imagining the world of words within your hands so vividly.

This addiction and enjoyment was the main reason you became close to Xingqiu long ago, bonding over books in your two person book club.

Just like him you had trouble putting down a book seeing as the end of each chapter always leaves you hanging and wanting for more, to read more. But that vigor was lost along the way, and even if your shelf housed books that had interested you before (some even in their plastic wraps!) you just couldn't get yourself to reading anymore.

You were thankful, very, that even with this adversary Xingqiu still is faithful at staying by your side even if the interest that made you bond together had long dissipated.

Watching him get lost in his own world with eyes of gold stuck on pages had you sighing one day, envious of his on-going happiness that you wish you can-

"My liege, your face is somber, care to tell me what's on your mind?"

Being outted like that only forced out a deeper sigh as you leaned past his shoulder, dropping your head softly to his lap as you stared at the tree canopy that protects you two from the sun. Yet Xingqiu's smile as he closes his book can never be hidden by any thick foliage.

Your eyes follow the book before it disappears from your sight at this angle, making you shake your head as you look back up at him. Still angelic. "No, no, don't mind me, please continue reading."

Regarding him like that only piqued his interest more as he leans down, cupping your cheeks as he pouts, "Come now, there's no need to hide your thoughts from me." He ends his plead with a whine as he pulls at your cheeks softly, making you whine too.

Always so persistent, you regarded with a smile as the Liyuen frees you.

Shamelessly you wrapped your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face against his clothed stomach as you muffled a yawn. Your obscured vision had you miss the minute detail of crimson fanning over your companion's cheeks.

"I'm so annoyed, I want to go back to reading like I used to before. Pleasee," your drawled out in desperation, kicking at the air to express your frustration as Xingqiu laughed. You felt his soft pats at the back of your head for comfort and he moves under you, an action that only made you tighten your hold around him.

"Little steps, how about I read for you today?" You nodded eagerly at the proposal and he starts.

Xingqiu's voice was already as soothing as a flowing stream but it holds a different kind of gentleness when he reads aloud, especially to someone else, and that is limited to you. Its softness has the ability to lull you to sleep, but the edge and vigor behind them puts you back into the world and beyond.

What you cannot focus on he constructs carefully for you, and his interactions paired with hand gestures always makes you smile and pay attention. You nod as he pauses a second for a big reveal, the eagerness within you causing your lips to quirk up in a smile.

"It was Choi, all along!"

"Ah, I knew it!"

You threw your arms up in frustration before the both of you belted fits of laughter, taking him a few seconds longer before managing to finally finish the book with a soft thud. "The end." You realized that it was now past dusk and that you had been there listening to Xingqiu for more hours expected.

You expected to be half-asleep from 'reading' yet as you sat up, you were pleasantly surprised to realize you were pumped. Enjoying fiction like this once again produces blooms of hope within you, practically buzzing from the realization.

An arm around your waist pulled you out of your reverie as Xingqiu pulls you to stand, guiding you back to the harbour to retreat for the night, "You seem estatic, did you enjoy my storytelling?" Your vigorous nods had him chuckling. "Perhaps we can arrange a timetable to make this into a routine, if it helps with bringing your satisfaction back!"

"Yes, please!" That beaming smile had created an apparation of the past for him where he remembers the times when you two shared books you'll know each other would enjoy.

Slowly but surely, you'll get back to there. Even if he has to read a thousand books in millions of hours, anything to make you happy.

Wow my fingers went brrrt on this one!

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra

[shutupanddance]

Bones / Reader — Remember Me

Hey my fellow fan fiction people, I have MAJOR writer’s block, and I really want to get these requests done, so I’m hoping that this will snap me out of it.

Warning: this is angst!!

How would Bones react to your death?

Normal text is present time, and blocks of italic text are memories!

Enjoy ;)

Dr. Leonard McCoy is experiencing a “slow day” in medbay. Not that there isn’t the occasional ensign coming in with a scrape or broken bone, but it’s nothing like when the away missions come back.

Speaking of away missions, you were on one now. You weren’t scheduled to come back for a week, though. You were a microbiologist, so your missions were usually much longer, and consisted of more time going back and forth between your lab on the Enterprise and the planet you were stationed on. 

The personnel staff realized pretty quickly that very little got done when you and McCoy were on a mission together. The doctor was so worried for his fiancé that he spent more time making sure you were safe than doing his job. So, it was a rare thing nowadays that you’d be put on a mission together.

Spock is suddenly in medbay.

“What are you doing here?” Leonard grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

When Spock doesn’t respond immediately, he turns. Something is wrong, Leonard can tell. But whether Spock has a common cold or the ship is about to explode, he can’t tell.

“Captain Kirk requires your assistance on the bridge.” Spock states coolly. Odd.

“Are you sure? Can’t he just ask me through a holopad like everyone else-”

“Please come with me, doctor.”

Doctor McCoy follows, but he grumbles the whole way.

As soon as he’s in the elevator, another team rushes into medbay. They’re surrounding a gurney. And attached to that gurney is a heart monitor, which is beeping slow. Dangerously slow.

You’re not really sure why you got picked for the Enterprise. I mean, it’s Starfleet’s flagship, for crying out loud! But here you are, working away in one of the most advanced labs you’ve ever seen, floating many many miles from home.

You’re still processing all this when a beaker slips out of your hands, and shatters violently on the floor.

Luckily, no one else is in your lab right now. You stay calm, walking on careful feet, and retrieve a broom. As you’re sweeping, though, you realize blood is running down your fingers.

One of the shards of glass must have flown up and cut me, you realize.

You carefully wrap the small wound and apply pressure, then begin walking to medbay. 

The nurses don’t immediately notice you, probably because you’re just standing there looking like you’re out for an evening stroll, but soon enough one happens to glance directly at the gauze you have wrapped around your forearm.

“Oh, dear!” She says, guiding you to a bed. “Dr! Dr. McCoy!”

Out from a nearby office walks Dr. Leonard McCoy. He’s got dark hair, the most alert eyes you’ve ever seen, and damn he’s hot.

“What happened to you?” He grunts.

“Beaker broke. Shard of glass flew up and cut me. No other injuries, and there’s no glass in the wound. I was able to stop most of the bleeding, but I think I’ll need stitches.”

An eyebrow goes up.

“Alright, why don’t you sit down and I’ll take a look.”

You didn’t know it, but in that moment, Leonard McCoy nearly fell head over heels for you. And all he showed for it was a raised eyebrow.

The Captain will not stop insisting that he needs a plan for contagious diseases on the Enterprise.

“We already have one,” Leonard reminds him.

“But will it work? Do we have one for different situations? For instance, if we’re docked on a hostile planet-”

“Are you trying to keep me from my job!?” Leonard asks, more as a pointed jab, but when the room grows uncomfortably silent, he realizes he’s right on the money.

What else does he realize? That every face in the room looks forlorn. And a bit defeated.

“What’s got everyone so depressed?” He asks, swiveling to see the entire bridge crew. No one answers.

Finally, Spock clears his throat.

“We wanted to keep you away from medbay while the doctor’s worked on Y/N.”

There’s a moment, a brief moment, where Leonard’s brain stops working. And he’s paralyzed with fear. But, it doesn’t last for long.

“WHAT!?!”

Jim steps in.

“She was injured on the away mission. Some animal we’ve never seen before came out of nowhere and attacked.”

Bones is trying to get away.

“She saved everyone else’s lives by luring the beast away, doc,” one of the crew is saying, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get to you-

The door to the bridge rolls open. M’Benga is standing there.

And Leonard has never seen the man look so guilty, so distressed, so sad.

“Watch the Coreolis Anjankus!” You say, pulling a red shirt away from a very poisonous plant. You pass him to Dr. McCoy, who pushes him even farther away.

“I thought you were a microbiologist?” He chuckles.

“With a minor in botany!” You smile.

You were one of the few scientists Leonard found to be cool under pressure, and the only one with real common sense. Still, despite all you knew about the dangers of every planet, you were always completely relaxed. If he was being honest, the doctor envied you (just a little bit).

“Tell, me, how did you get stuck with this motley crew?” He asks, eyes trained on the Captain, watching for any dangers.

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. “They just sent me a message one day asking if I wanted to join.”

“And you said yes.”

“Of course I did! Have you seen the labs on the ship?!”

Leonard laughs.

“I’m a nerd, I know, but this assignment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dr. McCoy finds himself staring at you, suddenly. He doesn’t really remember how he got here. All he can think of is the fact that your heart’s not beating. That your body is mangled and bloody and despite M’Benga attempting to close the wounds, you look horrible.

It seems ironic, almost, in that instant. The woman who never worried about anything is lying mauled in a biobed. Dead.

The medical idea of death has settled in Leonard’s mind. No beating heart, no brain activity. But what he can’t wrap his head around is you being gone. You’ve  always been there. And, for a moment, he’s convinced that if he sniffles too loud, you’ll hand him a tissue. If he mentions he’s hungry, you’ll wake back up, dig through your duffel bag, and pull some food out.

But you’re not moving.

“Where’s her duffel bag?” He asks, voice as loud and cranky as ever.

Kirk hands your bag over.

Bones reaches in, and digs around until he feels something soft. A teddy bear. He places it on your chest, and lifts your arms to hug it. The soft fur stains with blood.

It’s a horrific scene, the one in front of them.

A village destroyed by a massive storm system. Houses leveled, fields of crops uprooted, and hundreds of people injured or dying or dead.

But you’re standing there, cool and calm as ever, handing out blankets. You smile gently at each villager who steps up, and ask them in one of their native languages what else they need. You direct them to different crew members who can help.

One kid walks up, so young you have to crouch to be eye-level with them. He’s alone. And he looks so terrified, so empty, that you immediately wrap him in a hug. He clings on for dear life.

When he finally let’s go, you begin to explain to him that he needs to see the doctor. He shakes his head so hard you’re afraid his neck will snap. You say some more words in his language, and reach into your duffel bag.

You pull out a teddy bear. The boy smiles, ever so slightly, and immediately gives it a tight hug.

You speak encouragement at him, something about bravery, and the little boy makes his way over to the medical tent with his head held high.

All this Leonard watches. You look at him. He looks at you. And for a while, an unspoken respect passes between the two of you.

He asks you later why you had the teddy bear.

“I always have one on me,” you smile sadly. “You never know when you might need one.”

The ship docks at Command, and the usual celebratory revelries aren’t being heard. The crew is somber.

Your body, encased in a beautiful casket, is loaded onto a small carrier vehicle. Jim, Leonard, and Spock follow it as it weaves its way through the halls.

Your parents are there, and the funeral is quick. No one can really find the strength to say what they want to. No one can choke through their tears long enough to tell your story.

Bones is the last to leave. He watches your casket for hours, almost as if he’s waiting for you to spring out and laugh and kiss him, promising it’ll never happen again, promising you’ll never leave him…

He smiles. A memory-

The town of traders on this new small planet offered the Enterprise crew a place to stay overnight, and Kirk had agreed.

Their houses stood on stilts overlooking an ocean, and there were beautiful torches that burnt blue everywhere to light the paths. Bird-like creatures swooped through the town, twittering and squeaking.

You’re watching them silently through a window, a soft smile on your face. Leonard is sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your shoulder.

Two of the bird things get into a fight, and screeching is heard. Feathers fly.

You laugh, loud and unapologetic, as they tussle. Leonard laughs too. He’s smiling at you as you watch them, so completely wrapped up in how beautiful you are.

You fall back onto the bed, hair flying everywhere. You’re still giggling.

You look at your fiancé, enjoying watching him watch you. You feel comfortable. The house is warm and the blue firelight traces his face. The face of your love.

Leonard is wondering how on earth he landed you. How he convinced you to love him. But he truly has no idea. You’re lying there, eyes locked with his, gazing with so much love he feels he’s going to burst.

You lying there like that, hair spread out on the bed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes sparkling with the reflection of torches… he locks that picture in his mind.

And Leonard thinks that he’ll always remember you this way.

[meat--grindr]

I can request a story of Yandere Brahms with his reader, where Brahms kidnaps the reader by taking her inside the walls of the Mansion to be loved and protected. How did you come to this situation, maybe you can have a little NFSW?

Ahh, Brahms. How I love him so. I just wanted to let you know before we get into anything too serious, that this might be a little different than you were expecting, and for that I’m going to apologize right off the bat. I’ll admit I’m a massive weeb, but I never really saw the appeal of yanderes. Cringe, I know. So, I’m going to do my best here and take yandere more as ‘possessive’ if that’s alright? Also, I took some liberties with ‘kidnapping’ as you’ll see, just because I don’t want to walk too far into non-consensual territory when there’s NSFW involved. I don’t want to write anything explicitly non-consensual here, so it was a fine line to walk, but I think I found an okay solution. If this isn’t at all what you’re looking for, maybe drop me a PM and we can try to work something out? Anyway have like 5000-ish words of Brahms smut :)

Possessive (Yandere [?] Brahms (Female Reader) – NSFW

·       Standing at the foot of the stairs, you are struck, though certainly not for the first time, by the beauty of the house in which you find yourself. The golden hue of the wood which panels the walls reflect and amplify the soft glow emanating from beneath frosted glass lampshades. The diffused amber glow is cast about the room, throwing elongated shadows against the walls and into the far corners. From your place at the very bottom of the stairwell, the ceiling, now several floors above you, is lost to the early darkness of a winter evening.

·       Through the window, you can see the first soft flakes of snow drifting through the air. But here, inside, with your back braced against the newel post, you are warm. Tipping your head back, you gaze up into the yawning void above and cast your mind into it, losing yourself in daydreams of the beautiful rooms it conceals; your bedroom with its fourposter bed, all draped in velvet and silk—the dark, lacquered wood of the study, which still smells of cigar smoke, though as far as you can tell one hasn’t been lit in there for years—and, of course, the library.

·       Dark shelves line the walls, so tall they stretch from the wooden floor to the moulded ceiling. They stand, filled nearly past capacity with volumes of every shape and size, from encyclopedias so large you can lift only one at a time, to pocket novellas no bigger than your palm. Pages and spines alike, embossed with gold and silver shimmer from both the shelves and the tables set beside each of the overstuffed armchairs. The plush rug which lies beneath those tables and chairs makes even the floor a comfortable place to stretch out and lose oneself in a book. And the smell. Old leather and paper, printing ink and glue, dust and the very passage of time itself. It’s like every crooked old bookstore you’ve ever entered tucked away in a cozy corner of your own home. Whether or not you remember having dreamt of owning a private library, you were quite sure you could never go back to life without one and find yourself contented.

·       Even now, you long to curl up in one of those plush chairs and sink into another world until bedtime. You knew a soft blanket and a half-finished novel waited for you there, begging you to come back and see to them. And why shouldn’t you? What else was there to do on a chilly night such as this? The day’s chores were completed—the rat traps were checked (empty as always), the laundry was done, wood for the fire was stacked in the shed, and the supper dishes had been washed and put away. There is very little else that requires your attention. So why not?

·       Your socked feet sink into the plush, green carpeting as you mount the stairs. The banister is pleasantly cool and smooth beneath your fingertips. As you ascend, the light from below begins to dim, unable to reach any further into the darkness above. The difference made by the two flights of stairs between the lighted foyer and the dark second floor leaves you light-blinded and blinking in the shadows.

·       When again you regain your sight enough to behold it, even in partial darkness, the hallway that stretches before you is beautiful—the wooden paneling on the lower half of the walls takes on a sleek shine, while the deep green wallpaper above it fades into a stately and sober black. The paintings and portraits that line the walls are somber; muted without the proper lighting to show their colours, but they are no less impressive or imposing. A ship, barely visible, save for the canvas sails, is tossed on a rapidly darkening sea, lighting flashing far in the distance—a bright brushstroke of pure white, clear even in deep shadow. An old woman, her name rendered illegible in the gloom, stares down her nose at you in deep disapproval. Her eyes, like the rest of her, are severe and grey, and they seem, through either a trick of the light or the mastery of the painter, to follow you down the hall.

·       It is very dark. A thin, watery light filters through a small window at the end of the hall, but it does little to help guide you. You suppose you could turn on one of the many lamps that line the long and ponderous hall, but you know you can find your way just find without one. You’d spent several adventurous afternoons and many restless nights exploring the house and grounds. Though in the beginning you could barely follow the straight hall from the front door to the kitchen without getting lost, these days, you rarely, if ever, found yourself wandering the halls with no idea where you were.

·       You reach out, brushing the wallpaper with the tips of your fingers as you walk, grounding yourself in the darkness. It’s almost rough to the touch, stiff with age, though it’s clearly been well taken care of. In the daylight, there is little sign of aging at all - no scuffs or faded sections. You knew the house itself was well over a hundred years old, but it showed its age in astonishingly few places. Sure, the phones were ancient and the lack of wi-fi was irritating but—

·       Thump.

·       You freeze in place. You’re sure the sound had come from within the wall, just to the left of where you stood. There is something in there. The blood roars in your ear as you press it up against the wallpaper, straining to hear even a hint of movement, be it the shifting of the wood as the house settles, or the pitter-patter of something living. The seconds stretch on into minutes, but no further sounds come. You scrunch up your nose, feeling rather silly. It’s probably just a mouse…or maybe a rat. It sounded big. Perhaps those traps were good for something after all.

·       Your gaze lingers on the spot for a moment longer, but still, there is nothing but silence. Maybe it had been the house creaking in the wind. Old houses were prone to groaning after all. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to move some of the traps further up into the house for a little bit, just to be on the safe side.

·       You turn and continue down the hall, mind once again turning to the blanket, the book, and the comfy glow of the library. You press your palm flat against the wall as you walk, the whisper of your skin sliding over the wallpaper barely audible, even in the quiet that envelops the house at night.

·       Then your fingers catch against something—an indentation in the wallpaper. It’s subtle, but definitely there. You stop to inspect it closer, worried that perhaps your assessment about the house not showing its age may have come a little hastily. Your fingers explore the seam with care, and you decide it’s not a crack—it’s too regular, too straight. It feels intentional in its design. And it’s practically invisible in the darkness—likely just as difficult to spot in daylight considering how frequently you find yourself in this hall and your failure to take notice of it before now.

·       You crouch down, following the seam with your fingers. It stretches all the way down to the floor. Why…it’s almost like…a little door…

·       Almost at the same moment this thought trickles into your mind, the little section of wall gives way beneath your touch, swinging inward on silent hinges.

·       From within the inky darkness beyond, a pair of long, thin arms surge forth, snaking around your waist. The grip in which they envelop you is bruising as you are pulled back into the darkness beyond the secret door.

·       It slams behind you hard enough to rattle the picture frames in the hall. You scream, long and hard, struggling against the arms that cage you. You flail your limbs, lashing out blindly with fists and feet and nails, hoping desperately to strike your attacker, or at least wriggle enough to squirm from their crushing grasp. But the grip around your midsection only tightens, squeezing the very air from your lungs.

·       You lurch into motion, the figure in the darkness half-carrying, half-dragging you along a narrow passageway. You try to scream again but find you can’t get enough air to do so. Instead, you lash out, legs kicking against the walls, knees and shins colliding painfully with rough, wooden support beams and sharp corners.

·       While rounding a particularly tight corner, you manage to kick the opposite wall hard enough to throw your attacker off balance. A hissing shower of dust and plaster rains down on the pair of you. The figure stumbles, grip relaxing for only a moment, but it’s enough. You wriggle from their crushing grasp and dart back the way you came.

·       The figure recovers quickly, and you can hear them bolting after you in the darkness. It doesn’t take long before they’re on you again, one large hand fisted deep in your hair, wrenching your head back. You cry out in pain, stumbling back against the intruder. The hand in your hair doesn’t relinquish it’s hold as their other arm wraps around your chest, locking in place like an iron bar. You struggle uselessly, hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you’re dragged back the way you’d come, seemingly with even less regard for your physical well-being.

·       Not far beyond the corner where you’d made your escape, you’re shoved to the ground unceremoniously. As you make to crawl away, the figure circles around you, blocking your path of escape. Even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can’t see much more than an outline. Even so, you can tell they’re much bigger than you. You feel a large hand sliding beneath your knees, and another on the small of your back and suddenly, the floor beneath you drops away. Instinctively, your arms shoot out, fumbling in the darkness for something solid to grab hold of. Your grasping hands find a fist-full of the intruder’s shirt. It’s soft and well-worn in your hands, and you clutch so tightly to it that you can feel your fingers beginning to cramp almost immediately. A soft rumble rolls through the figure, and after a moment, you realize they’re laughing at you. You want to let go, but the fear of tumbling backward into the darkness stills your hands.

·       With the way you’re being jostled about, you get the distinct impression that you’re ascending a flight of stairs. Secret tunnels and staircases in the walls? Under any other circumstance, you would be ecstatic, ready to drop everything and explore them. But caught as you were, in the arms of a stranger, there is nothing but panic within you. Taking advantage of your new position, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intention to scream, though you’re sure there’s no one around to hear you.

·       “Don’t.” So, it’s a man? His voice is soft, a half-whisper that thrums through your body where it’s pressed up against his chest. There is a distinctly British tilt to his voice, and it’s oddly muffled, as though something was covering his mouth. You’re reminded of those old cartoon bandits who wore bandanas across their mouths. He doesn’t want to be identified. The though sends a cold chill through you. This isn’t good. “Scream and I’ll drop you.”

·       The scream dies in your throat. While you certainly don’t like being caught in a strange man’s grip, the thought of lying broken at the bottom of a secret staircase no one else seems to know about hammers a worse kind of fear into your gut. You could die…or not and that might be the worse option: injured and completely at a stranger’s mercy. No. As it stands, if you follow his instructions, you remain unharmed, and the longer you remain unharmed, the better your chances of finding a way out.

·       At the top of the steps, you find yourself in front of a rough wooden door. Here he readjusts his grip on you, bracing your weight against his hips as he taps the door open with a gentle kick.

·       Suddenly, you’re bathed in a soft, golden light cast by the dozens of candles that lay scattered about the room. After so much time spent in the dark, the burst of light dazzles your eyes. In spite of your fear, you curl up against the strange man’s chest, turning away from the light that blinds and burns your eyes. It’s too much too soon.

·       The man laughs again, bouncing you gently in his arms, like one would a small child, “No hiding.”

·       His tone is light, but it is still a command. Sensing scant room for disobedience, you turn your face up towards his, cracking one eye open, then the other. You had been told not to, but in the flickering light, as you blink up at the face of your kidnapper, you can do nothing to stop the scream that builds in your throat.

·       His face is hidden, not behind a bandana, but a porcelain mask. The pale white surface is littered with a spider’s web of thin cracks and what looks to be dried blood. Your eyes sweep over the soft curve of the mouth, the delicate nose which turns up at the end, and the empty spaces behind which dark, human eyes burn into your own.

·       The moment the scream leaves you, ringing loud in the enclosed space, the man snarls, striding into the room with purpose. As he weaves through the maze of dusty old furniture, you beat your fists against his chest, squirming in his grip, trying with renewed desperation to escape his clutches. “Let me go! Let me go!!”

·       Ignoring your pleas, he stalks to the far corner of the room, where a low-slung cot waits, tucked close against a rough brick wall. He dumps you none too gently onto it, and you scrabble backward, knocking your head against the wall behind you. Your ears ring with the force of the blow, but your eyes remain trained on the masked man as he clambers onto the cot with you.

·       You jam yourself back into the corner, as far from the menacing figure as possible. He comes toward you slowly, laughing, as though this were all some silly game the pair of you were enjoying. You kick at him, and he swats your leg away, his shoulders shaking with laughter. His eyes, however, aren’t laughing. Where they peak out from beneath the mask, they blaze with only one thing: hunger.

·       You kick out at him again, catching him, this time, on the jaw, just beneath the edge of his mask. And just like that he’s not laughing anymore. He goes frighteningly still, and there’s a change in the air. You know he’s done playing.

·       He lunges for you, and you shriek, cowering back against the wall, the rough bricks digging into the flesh of your arms. His hands close around your ankles and he pulls you down toward him.

·       He slots himself between your legs, pinning your thighs down with boney knees. You squirm beneath him, but he’s too heavy for you to shake off. He looms above you in the candlelight, breathing hard, his eyes flashing behind the mask. With a jolt, you realize he’s going to hurt you. You’re so sure, you flinch, cringing away from him as much as is possible, bracing for the pain that’s sure to come.

·       But, when his knuckles brush against your cheek, it’s not in anger. It’s a gentle caress that jolts through you like an electric current. You turn to look at him, as he brushes the damp hair back from your forehead. He stares at you for a long moment, drinking in your shock, before leaning down to press cool porcelain lips against yours.

·       The kindness of his gestures surprises you almost more than any blow he could have delivered. When he promised to play rough, he usually meant it. With shaking hands, you reach up to touch his face. Your fingers slip beneath the mask, brushing the hair and skin beneath with feather-light touches. You want to see his face, want kisses from his real lips, want—

·       But the man’s fingers curl around your wrists, wrenching your hands from his face. “No.” There is force behind the word equal to the force with which he pins your wrists against the sheets, indenting the mattress beneath them. His voice, in that same soft whisper from before, rasps in your ear, “Not even when we’re playing, Love.”

·       You swallow hard, all the pretenses of your little experiment dropping away in an instant. You realize you came dangerously close to crossing a line. “Okay. Brahms. I-I’m sorry.”

·       You expect that he’ll want to stop now, and you wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he surprises you by nuzzling against your neck, “Not ‘Brahms.’”

·       So, he still wants to play. You smile up at him. “Oh, right! Sorry.”

·       He bends over your neck again, pressing porcelain kisses against your neck. You crane your head back, eager to make up for your misstep with the mask. There’s something about these kisses that makes your heart flutter—perhaps it’s simply the rush of a new sensation against sensitive flesh, or maybe it’s the knowledge that his real lips lay just beneath that hard surface, so close and yet completely out of reach.

·       When he lets go of your left wrist, you’re so caught up in these kisses, that you barely register it. That is until you feel the mask slide in an unnatural direction against your skin, and you feel Brahms’ real lips against your neck for the first time. Your whole body jerks forward, pressing against him with a soft sigh on your lips. His mouth is softer and warmer than you ever could have imagined. Even his beard feels good where it scratches against you.

·       His teeth scrape over your pulse, drawing another sound from you. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him down on top of you. His laugh rasps out against your throat, as he stamps warm kisses all across your collarbone.

·       You roll your hips against his and he groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest. He surges upward fixing his teeth into the meat of your neck as he grinds down against you, letting you feel just how badly he wants you. His name slips between your teeth as a hiss and you feel him smile against your neck. His tongue flickers over the mark he’s left, though it’s more to lay further claim than to soothe the ache his teeth pushed into your flesh.

·       When he pulls back, he’s already pushing the mask back into place, though you catch a quick flash of the smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth.

·       He looks down at you, eyes sliding slow down your body, head cocked to the side like he’s thinking. He has that hungry look about him again and it lights a white-hot bolt of desire in your gut. You lift your hips, rolling them against his, relishing both the spark of pleasure that shoots through your stomach, and the shiver that rolls down his spine. A little whine escapes his lips, and you feel your heart leap. God, you’d do anything to hear that sound again. He meets the roll of your body with a stuttering jolt of his own.

·       You can’t help but beam up at him. “What are you thinking about Brah—Mister?”

·       He sighs deeply, running his hands down your chest, his fingers tracing along your ribs. “About all the things I could do to you…”

·       A breathless puff of laughter escapes you, “Oh, yeah?” You guide his hands down to your hips, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Like what?”

·       “Hm…let’s see. I could, hold you down,” His hands, still resting beneath yours tighten against your hips, pushing you down against the mattress. You try to buck up against him, but he holds you fast, “I don’t think so, Love.” He grips you hard, dipping his head to whisper into your ear, “I could just hold you here, and you’d have to take whatever I decide to give you.” His thumbs trace the seams of your hips. Even through your jeans it makes you shudder.

·       “Or, I could give you very little at all,” He lets go of your hips in favour of ghosting a hand down your thigh. His other hand presses gently against your zipper. His fingers trail down the seam, until you feel the pressure against your clit and jerk against his hand. He pulls away, “Just enough to keep you interested, but not enough to satisfy you.”

·       You whine, feeling a damp patch growing in your underwear. You know he’d get such a charge from dragging this out, teasing you until your arousal had soaked through the denim of your jeans. You could hear him now, ‘A few kisses and some dirty words…it’s that easy?' While you’d usually be willing to indulge him, you weren’t willing to give him that satisfaction today. He was already so uppity as it was. “Or you could just toss my legs over your shoulders and take what you want.” You toss an arm over your forehead in an attempt at playing toward his flair for the dramatic, “Look at me, baby. I’m defenseless.” You roll your hips against him again, nice and slow. You can tell by the hitch in his breathing that you’ve almost got him convinced. You can barely keep the smirk from your face as you arch your back, and whimper for him, “Please?”

·       That one word is all it takes to break him. In a flash he’s slipped out of his cardigan and tossed it off into the darkness of the attic. His suspenders follow suit with a metallic clinking. It isn’t until he’s unbuttoning his trousers that you realize you have mere seconds to undo your own before Brahms falls upon you and tears them off himself. You’ve lost more than one good pair of jeans this way and you don’t intend to lose another if you can help it.

·       Your shaking hands fumble with the button, managing to pop it only after a few tries. Taking them off from your position underneath Brahms is no small feat, especially considering his reluctance to move, now that his trousers rest about his knees and he’s rolling his hips against your still clothed thigh, his cock already leaking against the denim.

·       “Want you now.” His voice is rough, breaking in time with the thrusting of his hips.

·       “I know, baby. But you’ve gotta wait.”

·       Brahms huffs in irritation. ‘Wait’ is not a word he likes to hear at the best of times, let alone when his dick is this hard.

·       You tap his hip gently. “C’mon, up.”

·       He drops his head against your shoulder with a petulant whimper, his hips stuttering against your thigh.

·       “Brahms…” You sigh, half-frustrated, half-amused. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find it incredibly sexy when Brahms acted like a brat, but your pleasure was at stake here as well. “You can’t fuck me properly with my jeans on.”

·       His hips slow for a moment, and he whines again.

·       “C’mon, be a good boy for me.” You feel his cock pulse against your thigh, and he relents. He scoots back just enough for you to push your jeans and underwear down your thighs. Brahms takes care of the rest, tearing the offending fabric from your legs and tossing it from the bed to join his cardigan on the floor.

·       His hands are on your shoulders in an instant, shoving you back against the mattress, all patience spent. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and barely have a time to take a breath before he’s pushing inside with a single, smooth stroke.

·       “F-Fuuuck…”

·       “Yeah, that’s the idea, baby.” Your hands are fisted tightly in the sheets, your voice tight as your body grows accustomed to the stretch once again. You’ve taken Brahms with little preparation before. You know you can handle it, but somehow the girth of him almost always comes as a surprise.

·       To his credit, he does his best to keep still until you give him the ‘okay,’ though you can feel his hips shaking with the effort. He’s mouthy while he waits though, any trace of the gentleman within him his gone, replaced by a cursing, dirty-talking stranger, “Gonna pound you into this mattress, gonna fuck you like—fuck you’re so wet—like your my whore…mine, mine, ah fuck! Mine.”

·       You roll your hips, testing the water, and he bites back a string of curses. His hips stutter forward unbidden, and you moan low in your throat.

·       Behind the mask, you see his eyes roll back. He starts to beg then, changing his tune entirely, “Please, Love, let me fuck you, please, please, please. I promise I’ll be good. I will, just please!”

·       You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair, “Show me what a good boy you are, make us feel good, baby.”

·       Without missing a beat, Brahms’ hips take up a frantic rhythm, tearing a litany of pretty sounds from your throat. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair as he drops his head to press doll’s mouth kisses against your throat.

·       Your hand slips between your bodies, spreading your lips to circle your clit. You buck against him, gasping his name as the pleasure courses through you two-fold.

·       A strong hand grasps your wrist again pulling it away from your clit. “We mustn’t touch what isn’t ours.” You nearly whine in frustration, but your displeasure is quickly forgotten when you feel the soft pads of Brahms’ fingers against your sensitive flesh.

·       “You,” he groans in pleasure, angling his hips to push deeper inside of you, “You belong to me.” He punctuates the sentiment with a sharp snap of his hips. “That means I am the only one who can make you feel good.” He presses his fingers hard against your clit, and your thighs begin to shake. “Tell me who you belong to.”

·       It takes you a second to find your voice. “Y-You, Brahms.”

·       “Yesss,” the rhythm of his thrusts is beginning to fall by the wayside as his hips buck and stutter. “Say it again.” His fingers circle your clit faster, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm.

·       “Fuck, Brahms! I’m yours! A-All yours! You’re gonna make me cum.”

·       “Mine.” You feel the mask slide to the side again and his lips are on your neck. You feel his teeth graze the bite mark he’d left. His teeth are in your throat, his fingers on your clit, his cock in your cunt, and you’re cumming. His name tumbles from your lips, the only coherent thought in your mind.

·       He groans against your neck, trying to fuck you through it, but you’re too tight around him, forcing him into an agitated stillness. His fingers work your clit feverishly until you push his hand away, too oversensitive to stand another second of it.

·       You’re still almost painfully tight around him when the rhythmic pulsing of your own orgasm begins to push him over the edge. He thrusts into you once, twice, thrice more, before pulling out and shaking apart, his cum painting your thighs and stomach. He whimpers and trembles, fisting his cock through the aftershocks of his orgasm, desperate to chase every last ounce of pleasure.

·       Only when he’s well and truly spent, nearly sobbing from the agony of the overstimulation does he flop down on the cot beside you, panting heavily, cock still twitching against his thighs.

·       He kicks off his trousers, and curls up by your side, throwing an arm around you. For the longest time, the only sound in the room is that of your breathing slowing in tandem as you each come down from your high.

·       Brahms’ voice is small when he speaks up at last, “Did I do okay?”

·       You turn to face him, laying on your side. You reach out a hand and readjust his mask, before pressing a soft kiss against the delicate bow of his lips. “You were perfect. Thank you, Brahms.”

·       He nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. There’s tension in his shoulders, and he won’t look you in the eyes.

·       “What’s wrong, honey?”

·       He shakes his head, burrowing against your side. “Nothing…”

·       “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. It’s okay to talk to me about things like this, you know.”

·       He’s silent for a little while longer, and you wonder if he needs a little more prodding to use his words. But then, he speaks, “I wasn’t…too rough? In the passages?”

·       “No, baby. No. It was exactly like we talked about.”

·       “Okay.” There’s a little touch of a frown in his voice, like he’s trying to puzzle something through in his mind. “I didn’t expect you to fight me so hard. It felt…real.”

·       “I wanted to make it seem real. Did I upset you?”

·       There’s a long pause, but when he speaks, he sounds genuine. “I don’t think so. It was a little…thrilling.”

·       You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, “It was, wasn’t it? Where did you get an idea like that? Pretending to kidnap me and all that?”

·       He’s quiet for a moment, as he remembers a time not so long ago, when the idea was meant to be more reality than fantasy. He was supposed to have that girl. He should have done better, should have fought for her harder, should have killed her and buried her in the yard with the others. He should have done a lot of things. The scar on his stomach burns with the memory of all the things he should have done. But they don’t matter now. She doesn’t matter now. He has you.

·       He presses another kiss against your neck and lies, “Recreation of a scene from 'Jane Eyre.' You know how I adore that novel. And you being such a pretty lady, simply had to fill the role of the damsel in distress.”

·       “If you say so.” You snuggle closer against his chest. He really was a very strange man. A yawn blossoms in the base of your jaw, but you do your best to fight it off. You know you’ll be sore later, but for now you’re happy and sated and perfectly content to doze in the arms of the man you love.

·       Then a thought hits you, “Hold on, Jane Eyre doesn’t get kidnapped, Brahms.”

·       He chuckles softly against your shoulder, “So you have been reading my books after all.”

[emerald-amidst-gold]

OC Interview: Fane Lavellan

Thank you for the tag @dungeons-and-dragon-age! I’ve been eyeing up this meme for a while actually, so this was perfect timing! X3

This takes place Post-Trespasser, about a month or two after, in fact. Solas brought the idea forward, and of course, Fane refused. But after some coaxing, some explanation as to why, and the promise of a whole cake, Fane agreed to humor the request. 

*THERE BE BIG THINGS REGARDING FANE HERE* 

I got carried awaaaaaay! XD

Introduction

Can you introduce yourself?

“I can, but it’s a lengthy list,” He sighs, “...Those who are close to me, who see as but an elf, call me Fane. Those who wish to meet cobble, call me Lavellan or Herald. Those who are blinded by reverence call me ‘He Who Flew Above’. Denizens of the Fade refer to me as, ‘Devotion’ or ‘Tenacity’. However, my true name is..” He sighs again, “...Aterian. I rarely go by it, but the truth won’t be ignored. It never can be.”

What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?

“Male. Elvhen. Dragon.” He huffs through his nose, shifting his gaze off to the side, “That’s all I’ll say on that. As for orientation, I’m...emotionally driven. If you asked me to look at another and tell you what’s attractive about them I would say, ‘Nothing.’ I don’t know them, so I feel nothing for them.“ He shrugs, turning his gaze back, but brandishes a glare, “There’s only one person who defies that response, and that’s because he knows me, without and within. More than that, is none of your business.”

Where and when were you born?

He lifts a hand, massaging a temple, “The ‘where’ is simple; Elvhenan. Specifics are lost to me, however, so you’ll have to be content with that response.” He shifts his gaze downwards, slowly crossing his arms, “As to when?” He sighs heavily, “...I have no answer for that other than: I’m roughly the same age, if not older, as Solas. Does it matter, honestly? Numbers fall through the cracks after a specific threshold is crossed.” What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?

He unravels a crossed arm and guides his hand downwards, tapping the pommel of a sword he has fastened to his waist, “Sword. I use either long swords, short swords, or great swords.” He raises an eyebrow as a question is forwarded, “Shields?” He sneers a bit. “I don’t use shields. They get in the way, and anyways,” He raises his hand once more, the expanse steadily beginning to glow blue and silver before a spectral coating of scales cover the entirety, “this is better than any shield. I prefer the front lines, the place I can make sure no one breaches, and the lingering memory of what I once was makes sure I can do just that.” He dispels the scales and shakes out his hand before returning it to his crossed counterpart, “It takes energy to maintain, but I’m getting better at holding it for longer.”  Lastly, are you happy?

He blinks before his entire expression softens, two toned eyes shining with primary gold as they shift downwards, “...If you had asked that of me over twelve years ago I would have spat in your face and said, ‘Happiness doesn’t exist in this world’. But now..” He trails off, casting a sidelong glance towards one of the fortress’s entryways; a familiar voice sounding, firm, but soft, as if reprimanding a child, “...I understand what happiness is, and it’s in every corner if you allow yourself to see it.” His eyes shift back, holding a far away look and voice coming forward in a murmur, “I only wish we all could be happy; together.”

Family and Friends

What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?

His face holds a conflicted look, as if the memory is painful before speaking, “Complicated,” he says before beginning to tap a finger against his bicep, “I had a mother. She died when I was fifteen from a wasting disease, but she was the picture of serenity. Calm, guiding, measured. Hair like moonlight. Eyes like a clear autumn day. She was--” Unbranded features twist with a look of grief, eyes going dark as his voice drops, “...I’d rather not speak of her. It still hurts to. It hurts to speak of any of them,” His eyes narrow, grief stricken expression turning somewhat bitter, “...Especially those who throw all you did for them back into your face because they refused to listen when you needed them to most. Even so, I still wish for her happiness. Cullen better be treating her right,” That bitter turns outright malicious, dark eyes going darker as another question is meekly asked, “Father? I have no father. I only had a monster that haunted my childhood, tore my token of devotion apart, and then stalked me in my dreams. So, no. I have nothing to say about that concept.”

Have you ever ran away from home?

He chuckles, “Many, many times,” He throws most of his weight into one side, tilting his head back as if thinking, counting, “I can’t even remember the amount of times I fled into the forests, to be honest. All I know is that it happened weekly, maybe even daily,” He brings his head back, snowy hair moving with the action to brush the tops of his cheekbones, “Why do you look so surprised?” he asks, snorting a bit at the meek response of, ‘Why so often?’, “Because I refused to endure being treated like a beast every hour of the day merely because I believed differently, or rather, not at all.” He sighs within the next moment, “...I wasn’t any better than the Dalish, though. I lashed out, I spat in their face, dragged their heritage through the dirt, inflicted harm from the smallest of things...” He squeezes his arms, eyes narrowing into a glare, but seeming to see through everything, “...The past repeats. An infernal spiral that will never slow.” Would you consider marriage or having children?

“Marriage? Children?” He blinks, pale visage suddenly going flush before he snarls, “Why do I need to answer those questions?!” The blush deepens and he responds despite his displeased expression, muttering and biting the inside of his cheek, “...Damned keen eyed elves. They know, don’t they? I swear if Abelas fucking ran that mouth of his, I’ll--” He sighs heavily, letting his head fall limp a bit in defeat, “...Yes. To both. The latter is already taken care of, as everyone situated in the Crossroads knows, but...” Pointed ears are now a deep shade of red, “...marriage is...on hold. War time isn’t an ideal summer wedding.” His voice drops, eyes shimmering as if he was before the person his heart yearned for, “...The sky deserves a venue better than a garden of death and deceit.” Do you secretly hate one of your friends?

“There were those in the Inquisition who I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with,” he started before shaking his head, “but I didn’t hate anyone. Everyone is entitled to their own views and what they find important.” He scowls a bit, tapping his bicep once again with a finger, “...Even if they didn’t extend the same kindness to me in the beginning. ‘Do you believe in the Maker?’ ‘Do you believe you’re chosen?’ ‘You need to use the people’s faith. It gives them hope.’” He mocks before snorting harshly, “No. No, I don’t. Oh, that suddenly makes me trash? Ohhh. How terrible.” He scoffs. “Disgusting.” Which friend knows everything about you?

“Solas,” He says within a heart beat before clearing his throat, shifting his gaze away sheepishly, “He knows me without and within.” Emerald and gold blaze as the orbs go wide, the blush of roses coming back in full force, “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t mean--! Fuck! You better wipe that shit eating grin off your face, elf, or I swear I’ll do it for you!” He growls in frustation, throwing his hands in the air, “Why did I agree to this? What fucking dragon entertains an interview!? This is worst than the courts in Arlathan used to be! And that’s saying something!”

Asked by Fans

Are you literate? Have you been to school?

”I am literate. Sometimes to a fault, in fact,” He smiles a bit, “Poetry is my niche; a lingering memory of my mother. So, I speak cryptically at times,” He snorts, amused, “Although, I guess that isn’t much of a surprise since the Elvhen language is riddled in verse rather than practical application. Still, even some of the ancients left have a hard time deciphering my words,” He shrugs, smile turning into a smirk, “They never expected a dragon to be able to talk, I guess. Well, ta-dah.”  The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?

A somber expression flits across his visage and eyes, “...That, eventually, I would hurt the one person I never wanted to.” The corner of his mouth twitches, holding both bitterness and grief; a painful duo, “...And retribution came just as swiftly, but it--” He sighs, shaking his head in defeat before muttering under his breath, “Observe and accept. Observe that what came to pass was uncontrollable, and accept that it had to happen for your path to continue, for your soul to be complete.” What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?

His face blanks, mouth going into a hard line before a sigh exits through his nose slowly, “...That I don’t have tail.” He snarls, blank expression twisting in warning, “Laugh, elf. Do it.” He nods in the next second when no sounds of amusement come forth, expression going stoic once more, “That’s what I thought. You try living centuries in one form and then transitioning. See what happens.” Do you have mental health or physical issues?

He nods, sighing tiredly. “Like my names, I have a lot.” A hand motions to his body lazily, “My entire body is littered in scars, inflicted through crude experiments by an abomination that sought power like so many others,” He expression sours, jaw working back a forth, “They’ve calmed over the years, but the memories are not so kind.” He sighs, trying to calm himself and lifts his left hand; the Anchor glowing faintly and his eyes watch it, “I have an illness, or rather, sensitivity to any Fade born essence. That, too, has calmed and I’m grateful for that. As for my mind..” He trails off, grimacing a bit as if suddenly in pain, “...Visualize the Void, and there’s your answer. Black walls with crimson torches, seats empty, but somehow wanting for memories to take their seats. However, those occupants never come, burnt to ash by fury’s flame. That’s my mind in a nutshell.” What is your current main goal?

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips, “Mm, as of right now, I’m busy helping Solas unlock the eluvians that he couldn’t while I was away,” He flexes his marked hand, watching it with a look of determination in his eyes, “That’ll take time, but after, my people, my kin will have their skies back. I won’t let this power be squandered, and I won’t let the key that I’ve been entrusted with fall into the wrong hands.” His face hardens further, “For if that key rusts, the locks break and the sky will blacken as surely as the earth will redden.”

Choices

Drink or food?

“Drinks.” He says with ease, shrugging, “Food is comforting, especially sweets, but a glass of rum or ale, or a cup of chamomile tea really pounds the word ‘relaxation’ into my head.” Cats or dogs?

He smiles, warmth caressing its edges, “You’ve seen Nislean wandering about the halls, laying on the window sills and curling up in front of the fire,” He hums suddenly, crossing his arms again, “Which reminds me, I need to go out of the Crossroads for milk. I’ll be getting more than five bottles this time.” Optimist or pessimist?

“Depends on who you ask,” He shrugs, seeming unbothered, “I’m neither from a personal standpoint. I try to see the bright spots, but shadows can be very persistent.”   Sassy or sarcastic?

He snorts, “Ask Fen’harel,” his voice is light upon the title, playfully mocking in its deepness, “He knows all about that side. Although, he would label it, ‘insufferable’. I would call myself dryly sarcastic, though.”

Have You Ever

Been caught sneaking out?

He purses his lips, “Hmm. Not that I can recall,” he says slowly before his brows jumped and his eyes lit up with memory, “Oh! Wait. There was that one time where I was with Solas and Mythal in a...courtyard, I think?” He shrugs before shrugging, “Doesn’t matter. But, I tried to slip away, tail and all, and I...may have shattered one or two or three eluvians trying to get to the balcony.” He somewhat wistfully, smirking, “Elgar’nan got fucking stuck in a far off settlement for a week, though. Completely worth getting my horn chewed off by a wolf.” Broken a bone?

“Surprisingly, no.” He huffs in amusement, “Wonder of wonders, truthfully.” Received flowers?

“I have,” He scowls, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disgust, “but I always throw them into the fire. Most are from suitors, those who don’t know what the fuck ‘taken’ means.” Ghosted someone?

His face tightens, completely deadpan, “...No?”, he says, voice raising in question a bit, “At least I don’t believe so. But, then again...oh.” He blanks further, “...Oh. I understand the term now. You mortals are forever twisting the languages, aren’t you? I can’t keep up, but the answer is still no.” Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get?

“Maybe once or twice, but I don’t ‘laugh’ per say.” He huffs through his nose deliberately, “I do that; a puff of air. Some habits are never truly able to be broken. No matter the form.”

Tagging: @oxygenforthewicked @blueheaded @little-lightning-lavellan @noire-pandora @the-dreadful-canine and anyone else that’d like to play! (no pressure, of course!)

[ggyuwwoo]

heaven's cloud : Paradise

- in the afterlife where we get to choose our own paradise, two souls unexpectedly meet.

genre: soulmates!au, but also involves idolverse, kinda fantasy whimsical, afterlife-paradise world; fem!reader x lee chan warnings: mentions of death, magical creatures, not really sure what else i guess word count: 2.4k + i generally am not good at making these infos, bear with me sorry! also not really fond of the fic picture, but i also suck and still is learning,,,,

next | masterlist

-

Lee Chan, for your exemplary journey in life, you are hereby bestowed a place in Paradise.

"I'll take the clouds if I may,"

Then to the clouds you shall ascend, Heaven's Cloud.

-

Eleven months of (not) living in paradise, Chan had adapted well into his afterlife. The Guides had placed him in his own haven of his choosing, the Clouds. Fluffy white and softer than cashmere, the touch is cooling and healing, peace and quiet were also a given. To Chan, it's his very definition of heaven.

Despite being the only soul - apparently, no one has chosen the Clouds for centuries - Chan has been never alone. He had the little fairies and spirits to keep him company while wandering around the forests. Stars often appear in his nights to cast a light show for the boy. Cancer loves to see Chan's awe-stricken face as the constellation shows him a few tricks.

The Clouds inhabitants and surrounding astronomical beings grew fond of the boy. Hence, Lee Chan never felt alone.

Though it was a blissful experience and a beautiful memory, there was only one month left. One month until the end of his livelihood above the world.

You will be given twelve months of afterlife until your next life begins.

Chan still doesn't understand why they must be sent back to Earth, living another full life that may or may not be 'great'. Though the thought of living on Earth, whatever their life might be, is already a disappointing thought. After having to exist in a paradise of your own, nothing else would come close.

But apparently, the universe believes differently.

The fairies and spirits told him once, 'Universe sought in a cycle, to them it's the perfect way as it does not end, leading to the continuation of life and its purposes.'

"But what exactly do those purposes serve if there is no end to it?"

'There is none silly, if there was to be an end to it, then life itself would cease to exist. It serves to preserve life as we know it, and well - the Universe.'

Chan pondered the thought for a while, "What if, just really hypothetically, someone happens to break the cycle, what happens then?"

The fairies' expression saddened, 'Hopefully it never happens.' Some of them flew to sit on Chan's shoulder, a calming place for them. 'But if it were to happen somehow, life wouldn't perish instantly, but the Universe and everything in it will meet its end, including the afterlife.'

The boy nodded before noticing the frowns on the beautiful faces of the winged creatures, the atmosphere had taken a drop turn. Choosing to lighten the somber mood, Chan raised another question. "Well then, um, what about aliens? Do they exist?”

-

Throughout the time he was there, Chan spent it listening to the stories of the creatures, exploring the cloud haven that seemingly doesn't end, and conversing every now and then with the astronomical beings -- when they so happened to be passing by.

It didn't get boring for the boy as the stories that the fairies had been plenty and new, never losing the interest of Chan, and the beings were more than happy to talk with him about almost anything.

Of course, all this was okay and fine, revealing the Universe's secrets and whatnot, Chan wouldn't remember this anyway when he enters his next life.

On the first day of his twelfth month, Chan woke up from his sleeping quarters in the usual well-rested sleep. Walking out to do his routine of visiting the forest and later on relaxing by the Serenity Sky Lake. But before he could reach the outlines of White Forest, he saw a figure walking through the field, he couldn't see clearly who it was, but what he registered in his mind was enough to make him gasp.

It was another soul. A human.

As quickly as his feet could take him, Chan sped through the flurry landscape of clouds, wanting to figure out this stranger.

"Hey you! Hey!"

The figure turned to the general direction of where Chan was coming from, revealing its appearance. Upon view, Chan stumbled over nothing, causing him to fall forward into a roll and tumbling on the ground until he laid flat on his back. Luckily, there were clouds under him.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?" He heard the figure shout before rustling and someone appeared by his side. Chan scrunched his eyes trying to block the light coming from above while identifying the person looming over him. The first thing he noticed was long brown hair, the strands were flowing almost magically. As if hypnotized by it, Chan could only stare. Until finally, he saw the stranger's face.

She’s ethereal.

~

You were quite confused as to why you were where you were. All you could see for miles were… white? Your body was standing on nothing, or at least that was how it looked. A sudden voice interrupted your wonders.

Welcome _____, you are in Paradise.

You turned back to find the source of the voice but all you found was a blinding light that caused you to squint your eyes.

“Wh-what? Where?”

Paradise dear, the afterlife.

Your mind went blank, the afterlife? No way. Your brain tried remembering the last thing before waking up in this weird place.

There’s no use child, your memories are long gone. But I can tell you this, you went in peace. You weren’t in pain.

Were the voices capable of reading minds? And who were they? You were a bit frightened.

To answer your question, yes we can read minds. We are the Guides, here to assist the souls in the afterlife. There’s no need to be afraid.

“Uh, okay, ...thank you?” You voiced out, still a little overwhelmed with whatever was going on.

Well then, perhaps we should take you to your choice. Please, follow the green path.

Just as the voices finished speaking, a sudden green line appeared in front of you. You couldn’t see what was ahead, just the green line until the end. You decided to follow through, whatever this was.

As you walked on the path, you were gradually transported to a different place. When you were finally able to understand your surroundings, there were screens that had different landscapes and writings in different colors under them. The scenes displayed were (what you could only describe as) heavenly. Each of them has its own set of vibe and warmth to it. Unconsciously your hand moved itself to touch one of the screens, but then the voices returned prompting you to pull it back.

What you see in front of you are the places in Paradise, according to how one lives their life on Earth, you have a series of options that you may choose from. I shall provide you a look-through.

The screens suddenly disappeared and now you were standing in what looked like those busy city streets, only not so busy.

First is the Silver City. Its appearance resembles the metropolitan areas down on Earth but without all the pollution, noises, and busy traffic. Many people who had used to live in these areas usually choose them, sensing a familiarity to it, they say.

As the Guides explained its landscapes, you were admiring the tall buildings and skyscrapers around you. The architectural designs were marvelous and even if you didn’t remember if you had studied such things, you can’t help but stare in admiration.

Aside from the buildings, the streets looked beautiful as well. The sidewalks were arranged perfectly as if it was placed with the most proper city planning. But one building stuck out to you most, it was majestic. A silver mansion, with tall gates and filled with all kinds of trees and plants. Before you could step towards it, the Guides were already finished explaining the Silver City and had transported you instead to another location.

Second, the Golden Countryside. As the name states, this place is best likely your ultimate countryside farm paradise. A quaint farmhouse with animal livestock to nurture and many forests to explore and spend time in. Families often choose this place for their resting, it’s quite homey.

True to their words, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was a vast field of grass with a simple two-story house that looked like it could fit six bedrooms. Beside it was a giant farmhouse and animals roaming around it. The view itself was doubled in beauty as the sun (or whatever source of light that existed here) sets from behind, casting a soft orange glow over it. Somehow the silver mansion from earlier was placed way aside in your head. Yet again, before you could ask any questions, you were immediately transported once more.

The third is Cosmic Space. Ever wondered how it is to live in Space child?

You heard the voice give out a sound that was similar to a laugh, but somehow not quite.

More people than you’d expect actually dream of this. It may not be as simple as the City or the Countryside, but it’s nonetheless paradise. To them.

Now you were most definitely floating, though despite floating in the middle of random space, you could breathe easily and see easily as well. You thought that space may be too wild for you but as you were looking around, you saw one of the most magical things you have ever seen.

“A comet shower…”

The Guides seemed to have heard you as they projected the shower closer, now holographic space comets were right above you, shining as they continued the rain of them. Mesmerized was all you could feel, the meteors were almost hypnotizing you.

“Whoa…”

Beautiful isn’t it?

Was the last thing you heard before you felt the sudden pull of transport again, at this point you were no longer fazed with the continuous changing of locations, though you did wish to have been able to watch the shower longer.

Number four, the Pearl Waters. For those who favor the deep sea and vast oceans. Of course, many souls who felt close to the waves chose this. The afterlife here is often intriguing, staying with the many creatures and traveling wherever paradise takes you.

You found yourself standing on a deck of a ship, it was modernized though some parts resemble that of an older version. Heading to the flanks you watched the blue ocean as the waves sloshed around the sides. As if welcoming you, dolphins suddenly jumped above the sea, whalebacks spurting water, and schools of fish could be seen from the clear water. You were most surely amazed. As the sea creatures displayed a water show, you felt something touching your arm on the railing. You looked to find a woman with green-blue hair, her cheeks had features similar to scales, and as you peered further you realized it wasn’t a woman at all.

“A...mermaid?”

Ah yes, indeed. Each paradise also has guardians that help care and maintain the afterlife. Mermaids are the Pearl Waters guardians. As for the Silver City, we have the Elves. Golden Countryside has the Shapeshifters while Cosmic Space has Angels.

“Wait what?” You were pretty much confused all together, mythical creatures? Well, then again, it is the afterlife, who knows what actually exists here. But still, you found yourself in confusion and quite the shock.

Not to worry dear, you’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted. Now for our last destination.

The mermaid who was staring at your side gave you a small smile before disappearing back into the ocean. You continued to stare at her general direction before your view changed into that of...clouds?

Last but not the least, Heaven’s Cloud. It’s truly magical here. Not many people find it appealing though, but of course it always depends on who’s choosing. Essentially, it's the skies. The guardians here are the fairies and spirits. Quite the peculiar and very friendly creatures.

As your eyes set on the landscape, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. It was breathtaking. It was as if you were standing right in front of the Sun but at the same time, you weren’t. You knew for one you’ve never been in a place like this yet all you could feel from the surroundings was home. You leaned down to touch the fluffy ground and it was the softest thing you’ve ever felt. As quickly as the previous location visits, the surroundings changed again back to their original place with screens.

Now _____, because of the well-lived life that you have gone through. You, _____, are given the choice of one of the five Paradises that you have just seen. Speak now for your choice.

You didn’t know if it was your own voice and mind that spoke, or your conscience, because the sound that erupted from your body sounded firm and almost unbreakable. You didn’t even realize that you had spoken your choice after it was said.

“Heaven’s Cloud if I may,”

The Guides paused for a moment as if they were thinking about something, before continuing.

Very well then, your heart has spoken. To Heaven’s Cloud, you shall go.

One last time, you were again transported to a field with white clouds, similar to the earlier landscape you visited. This time without the voices. Somehow you suddenly felt alone, scared, and unsure of what to do. Wandering aimlessly, you tried looking for the guardians - the fairies and spirits. Then you suddenly heard someone shout.

“Hey you! Hey!”

You turned back to see a man, brown fluffy hair swaying atop his head, running towards you. Well, was running, until he stumbled down and started rolling across the field.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” you shouted before heading towards the boy. As you reached his side, you saw he was unhurt and fine, just squinting his eyes. You sighed in relief, although it should make sense, after all, it was clouds underneath them. Before you could say anything to the stranger, you caught him staring right at you, and somehow you stared back as well.

The boy looked mesmerizing.

[the-wintershade]

the difficulty of your own soul 

pairing: loki x reader summary: a ball just happens to bring you two closer and the thought of really giving this a chance crosses your mind, but everything alters again when the past always inevitably catches up to you. wc: 4.0k+ genre: angsty, warmth, intensity, past trauma masterlist

for you anon, even though I couldn’t get it out sooner. thank you.

“What are the stakes?” 

Your father’s angry cries shredded through the pounding rain, easily cutting through the battalions of water droplets falling through the sky, imploding against your skin. 

“When will you learn that the life you have will always be at stake? Everytime you leave your house, everytime you walk away from a safehouse, get into the car, or walk down the street your life will always be in danger.” You could see the tightening of his lips, the frown of a snarl forming, the verbal insults ready to be unleashed in your direction.

Shivers coiled up and down your spine. Your hands were clenched tightly against your arms to try to huddle for warmth, staring up at your paternal figure like a coward.

That wasn’t completely the truth. You were an inferno coiled to spark, but pretending to be weaker than you really were always gave you an advantage. He taught you well, so well that he didn’t even notice his own daughter playing back the same hand he revealed just a few months ago.

The shaking was real. Your body temperature was dropping fast. Your clothes were nearly ice and your teeth almost cut your gums because of the clattering. 

The situation was bad; the side sweep your father just gave you, worse.

You saw the dagger before you felt it against your neck; it was right about then that you suspected something was wrong. Even if he believed that you were lying, he wouldn’t threaten you to this degree. 

This had to be preparation for something worse, whatever that could possibly be.

Metal slightly pierced your skin, a small tear opening for a small amount of blood to dribble out. You frowned, the cold tension in your body dissipating as adrenaline began to take over. “What are you doing?” The words were shaky, but you caught the bite at the back end. Still not ready to wave the white flag, not even close.

Then, he laughed. Laughed. 

No, this was wrong. This was a training exercise, five laps around the garden in the rain, dagger throwing, archery, and then sparing. This was the final sequence. 

You were still a teenager, he never pushed you this hard until you were well ahead, obviously capable of handling more advanced weaponry and techniques. 

You were still too uncoordinated to hit targets in the rain. You couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Too young, too young for the reality of death quite yet.

“Something I should have done a long time ago. You’ve failed me, made me believe that you had potential.” Pain flashed across his features, as if he was about to regret his next decision, regret what he would have to do. If the knife gave you any indication, you knew you wouldn’t want to figure out what that was going to look like. “I cared about you, (name), but you’re not enough. I was so foolish to bring you here.”

He never sounded like that. Never sounded that soft except for once in your life. Your blood ran cold and you froze where you laid against the ground. “Dad, stop. Think for a second.”

“Give my own advice back to me, huh?” That’s not his, it was hers, a woman you wouldn’t meet until two years from now. He gazed at you with somber eyes and a heavy soul, a soul you stared right into. “Sorry, kiddo.”

And then you were six years old, chained against your will to his leg, wobbling along at his beck and call. 

It was raining again, although when you remembered his hand in yours, walking you across the street, there were no chains involved. Lightning cracked but you stayed firm, assured that your dad would be there to protect you. 

When you’d crossed the street, he’d stopped your progress, bending down to help tie your shoe. As he looked up, you’d smiled at him, in awe of your superhero dad. He’d smiled right back, those dark orbs a vacuum you frequently felt lost in.

You tried to shrug your leg to get free of the chain and for a second, just a moment, his face morphed into a monster, a creature with dripping black skin and totally black eyes that had no beginning or end. 

He looked angry, so incredibly angry that you felt fear for the first time in being chained to this man, this foreigner.

And that’s when it all came together. 

The intelligence in your six year old mind reminded you to smile and suddenly your father’s face morphed back into view. You placed a small hand against his check, maintaining your loving grin in the process and then you’d reverted back into your sixteen-year-old self, staring at the same monster.

The chains appeared just as they had before.

You kept that one hand — now remembering how this story ended — placed on his cheek. The knife lowered and the world around you began to swim with darkness. It didn’t frighten you, this was how it normally ended, and you kept your eyes steady on your father who began to change into ashes.

The chain around your leg disappeared and instead a red brand formed where it left, flashing the same red of your father’s dissipating form. He looked confused and concerned, turnt around on a rare occasion, but you willed him to look at you even as his face disintegrated into dust.

Then you sat, no emotional response, just emptily staring at the pile of red ashes in front of you, feeling them call to you, knowing that no matter where you went those chains were still going to be pulling the strings, burning the brand on your skin until you submitted.

No matter how hard you tried, no matter how hard you would attempt to be free of his chains, no matter how much you struggled to get rid of them, you would still be that little child, soaked in the rain, staring the devil in the eyes.

The eyes of your darling father.

…

“...have you?” You shake yourself out of the events of last night, ignoring the way your dream father’s black eyes felt like nothing, how empty they were, how devoid of anything human.

You weren’t paying enough attention to know what Fury just asked you. “Can you repeat the question?” You gazed at him, expectant, and aren’t surprised when you see irritation mirrored back at you.

“Something else more pressing at the moment, agent?” Fury props himself against the wall and crosses his arms, his long trench coat scuffing against the ground. You fight to stay present. 

A smirk — similar to the ones a certain someone would pass off at you — captures your face and you look at the files again on the table, trying to play off how shaken up you are about the dream, the look of despair on your father’s face as he began to vanish, how guilty you felt that you couldn’t have done better. Been better. 

Clearing your throat, you take another look. “So, the fake isn’t going to be there tonight?”

“Oh no,” He says matter-of-factly, tilting his chin up. “It’s going to be there, but the version that Loki’s seeing is going to be the fake.” He walks closer, propping his arms against the table while you start memorizing exits, ventilation vents and access points, and various security systems the building has. “Which brings us back to the same question: do you have his trust?”

You fight down the shot of anxiety flaring in your core. You could give him a version of the truth. To be honest, it’s not likely that he trusts you fully, even if at all, but he does trust the idea of you going to the event and you would bet money on his attendance. 

There’s trust in the event and that’s where trust begins anyway, in the small things.

“I’m getting close.” You close your eyes as the rebuttal you were already expecting comes right at you.

Fury glares at you. “You’re telling me that we’re about to risk an asgardian superpower getting their hands on the tesseract and causing world destruction all on the fact that you’re ‘working on’ getting his trust? I don’t know about you, agent (last name), but that doesn’t give me full confidence.”

“He’s pretty fickle, hard to pin down.” You glance in Fury’s direction and meet his stare head-on, one of the first time’s you’ve done that this whole time. “But we have an understanding. I’d have no problem betting my entire savings on the fact that he's going to this event, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s no way he’s going to attempt a grab at the tesseract. You know why? I’ll be there and I’m his date. A SHIELD agent is his plus one for the evening. He knows that no matter what trust we have, it’s not strong enough for him to be able to get the tesseract and leave the building.

“I’m positive that this is just reconnaissance. He’s trying to figure out who has it, what their plans for it are, and how he might be able to acquire it. But it won’t be tonight.” You watch as Fury shifts, leaning back. You know you’re out of hot water when he looks down his nose at you. 

“Okay, agent. I’ll buy the story. But the moment you even suspect that he’ll make a pass for it, buss a cap in his narrow behind.”

You smirk. “As always, Director.”

…

There was no way you were ever going to consider the possibility of shooting Loki. Not ever. And that idea should have probably scared you more than it did.

Because that meant that your interests were divided and if your father ever reinforced anything, it was the dangers of your soul and your mind being split. The soul guided the mind in all decisions, it was it’s determining force, it’s guiding will. 

When your guiding-will laid anywhere outside of the parameters of your assignment, it was likely you would end up being killed.

And no matter how much that advice should have concerned you, it didn’t. Death didn’t really scare you. Not like before. Not like when you were just that little girl at sixteen.

Death tasted like freedom and the promise of freedom was enough.

…

You step out of your car, a slim heel glimmering against the lights of the party. Using the handlebar overhead for balance, you allow one slim heel to tap against the ground.

The anxiety within you pulses for a moment, but you keep the appearance of calm on your face, another half-truth. You were almost getting too good at those. Almost.

 A man appeared next to you, offering his hand to help. “Good evening, miss. Welcome to Mr. Williamshire’s estate.” 

You coyly smile and slip your hand into his, letting him steady you. “Thank you, sir.” You reply, kindness sweating your words. Your gaze lifts to the marble staircase you’ll need to walk up, anxiety churning again. It doesn’t look too daunting. 

Your eyes wander for a second, looking at balconies, escape routes, the hedges near the windows, the drapery hanging off the side of the building. Fury warned you to stay on your toes, but your father’s training had already taught you that. Plus, if things go south, you’ll need a quick get away.

Pretending to steady your nerves, which is less of an act than you make it seem, you shift your face from anxious to calm. The man who came to help you falls for it. “Don’t worry, miss. Plenty make it up the stairs just fine. If you’d like, I can provide an escort for you.”

Laughing softly, partially for keeping up the charade, partially because there’s no way in hell you need an escort, you flash him the game winning smile. “Thank you, but I think I’ll manage.” You place your keys in his hand and slip him a $40 dollar tip. “Take good care of her for me.”

The man nods along, a professional smile on his face, and slips into your vehicle.

You grasp the bottom of your ballgown, pulling the material away from your legs as you make the flight of stairs. Your thoughts shift to the evening, wondering where you’re going to sit, if Loki’s even going to show up, and when the tesseract is going to be unveiled. A churning activates in your stomach and the tightness in your face isn’t fake.

Finally, you make the landing and stride in head held high, a small smile plastered on your face. 

The landing is enormous and the building much more spacious than you gave it credit for. A double staircase would lead you down an open dance floor, a grand chandelier casts sparkles all over the room, and a band plays a melodious jazz tune. There’s entertainment rooms to your left and right, some containing cards, some billiards, and some assorted backroom deals shrouded in secrecy. 

It makes sense for money this old to have the luxury of hosting a ball, but it still doesn’t fail to blow your mind. Perks of the job you suppose. 

Deciding taking a seat would be best—it’s almost time for the ball to officially commence—you tread down the stairs, walking over to the tables set in the next room and search for your name. You find it, seated next to someone named Matthew Lexington, whoever the hell that is. Glad to be off your feet, you take a seat, letting yourself rest and reset, taking in the details of the room, the number of couples, the susceptibility of someone being another agent.

The time passes slowly for a few minutes and the nagging anxiety of Loki failing to show up keeps gnawing at your core. You try to let it go. 

Then, the chair next to you moves. 

You force yourself to keep your head still, letting the person sit down without an oogiling pair of eyes staring them down.

“Worried I’d stand you up?” A silky voice says right next to you. You roll your eyes almost immediately. 

“Matthew Lexington, really?” You spare a glance at him and realize you probably shouldn’t have, he looks dashing. His dark suit makes his eyes stand out more. 

He gets a better look at your dress at the same time you look at his suit. “I didn’t think you were the glitter type.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Hmm.” He nods his head, softly smiling. “It suits you.”

You nod and give a smirk, looking at him through your eyelashes. Are you still acting? “As does your suit, though I admit a pocket square would have tied the whole look together.”

“Oh-ho.” He laughs and puts his hands up in the air. “Do I hear critique, and right after I completed how you look in the dress?”

“We can’t all be perfect, Mr. Lexington.” You take a sip of the water in front of you and shoot your eyebrows up in a teasing smirk.

He glances away from you, chuckling to himself slightly. “I admit, I was starting to get nervous when you took a little while to show up.”

“Fashionably late a new phrase for you?”

“Absolutely not, but I assumed with your job that you’d be someone that values punctuality.”

“Before I had this job, I was a regular woman. I knew the tricks of the trade like the back of my hand. Being fashionably late is practically a rule.”

“Fair point.” He spares a glance around, watching as people come in to take their seats. 

“When’d you see me?”

“When you first came in.” His eyes are still moving for a second before they land on you again. “I was in a sideroom, trying my hand at blackjack when you made it up the staircase to the landing.”

“Hmm.” You nod, trying to search for another thing to talk about to keep you distracted from his eyes. “So, where’d Matthew Lexington come from?”

“Oh, just an alias from a few years ago.” He sips his water, putting his elbows on the table. How improper. “It comes in handy quite often.”

“Ah. I assumed you used it to help with the seating arrangement.”

“What?” He says in fake shock. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You think I’d actually believe that this was a coninsciendence.”

“How about a happy surprise?”

“Whatever.” You chuckle and notice a mass exodus from the dance floor to the banquet area you’re in right now. “Looks like the show’s about to start.”

“It would seem you’re right in that, miss (last name).” A tingle shoots down your spine involuntarily.

…

The opening remarks are...cute. That’s all you’d really give it. It was really one of the driest things you’ve heard in a while, but you tried to act interested. Really, you’re buzzing, swimming with electricity.

And it all, unfortunately, has something to do with the special someone sitting to your right.

You readjust for the second time. If you sit like this any longer your butt is going to fall asleep. Loki smirks in your direction, his eyes sparkle and darken. Uncomfortable, he mouths, an eyebrow shot up in the air.

You glare back in reply, sliding your eyes back to the speaker as they make their final remarks. Loki’s small chuckle colors the dark beside you. 

As the speaker closes, you both politely clap and you stifle a yawn.

The guests stand with stiff legs and bones pop and crack. Men offer their hands out to their ladies guiding them out to the dance floor. The couples that were seated with you at your table stand.

“Well, I think we’re going for drinks, care to join us?” The woman remarks turning to stare at you and L-Matthew. You press your lips together in a small smile. “I think I’ll stay here as a lookout,” you chuckle to yourself, a mere gesture of politeness, “but I appreciate the offer.”

She nods in acknowledgement and looks expectantly to Loki. “Oh, no, thank you. I’m with the lady.” You feel his gaze hover to your back for a second before looking at the woman in front of you. 

She smirks knowingly, as if aware of some inside joke or secret. “It was lovely meeting you two.”

“Same to you.” You sincerely reply. 

You nod good-bye to each other and watch as her and her husband walk away. Stifling this next yawn takes effort. 

“Not enough rest, huh? That nervous to see me?”

“Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Lexington.”

A small smile flutters across his face before his signature grin takes over. “So, Ms. (last name), what’s on the agenda tonight, yawning notwithstanding.”

“You know, Mr. Lexington, I think I’m going to have a chat with some old friends of mine.” You up your pitch and darken your tone, as if you were old royalty.

Loki’s stance changes a bit as if he were expecting something different. His eyes flutter to the dance floor for a second before looking directly at you. 

“If you would like to make your way to the dance floor, by all means, Mr. Lexington, don’t allow me to stop you.” 

“Oh no, I’m the abandoned lover, remember? My charm rests in my ability to play my part well. I’d be able to pick up a partner in no time.”

Lover, huh? The thought of you being his...significant other...flashes in your mind for a second, just one. You could almost see it, almost see the smiles, the banter, his pearly teeth smoothing into a grin, the way your eyes change when you look at him. 

No. You’re stronger than this. You’re stronger than your emotions.

You’re stronger than him. Are you?

“If I were to assume that I were your long lost lover in this situation, was my judgement wrong?”

Something shifted in him as if he’d just registered what you’d said. As if he could see the same thing you just saw a second ago. He looked at you coyly with less edge than you were used to. “That would be,” he swallowed for a second before the smile returned. “Correct, Ms. (last name).”

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed Mr. Lexington, we’ve been speaking all of this time.”

“Yes, that’s an accurate observation.”

“So, how would you describe your current predicament to future partners?”

“Easy. You’re cheating.”

“Ah,” You nod along. Always like him to make something out of nothing. “Of course. It only makes sense.”

“See,” he nudged you softly on your shoulder. “You’re catching up just fine.”

Your breath hitched for a second and the playful smile on your face drooped. His body heat began transferring through the thin sleeves of your dress and you’re very aware of how close you two are. It takes a strong amount of mental effort to stay calm and remember who you are.

“I try.” You utter but it lacks the confidence you had just a moment ago. 

The air around you two changes for a moment, much more serious and intimate than just a moment prior.

The both of you stand, together, shoulders pressed against each other, the closest you’ve been in days. You allow yourself two breaths, enough to savour the moment, enough to get a taste of what this could really be like, and then you step away, clearing your throat.

When you turn to Loki, his face holds a combination of deep regret that you’ve never seen before. “Well, I must attend to my friends. I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Mr. Lexington?”

“Ye-Yes.” He nods but he’s distracted. “Of course, my lady.” His smirk is dull, fleeting. You want to ask more, but he’s already moving away from you. You accept his departure as your cue to make your way over to Stark’s Investor.

…

Stark’s investor is nice enough, gladly extending the invitation to allow you to view the tesseract. This was already pre-arranged so their offer comes as no shock to you. What does come as a shock is the amount of times you and Loki have made eye-contact from across the room.

You knew he was watching you — you’d recognize the sense of those darkly beguiling eyes pressing into your back anywhere — but you didn’t expect to want to watch him. It was like your eyes were drawn to each other, listening to your own respective party for mere seconds before your eyes met like lightning, like magnets. 

It was exhausting for you, because manning a conversation while distracted is already hard enough, but staring at him and not getting lost was a whole different ordeal. Worrying about him was new too. 

Even worse, how was this all going to play out when you were supposed to be in the same room, viewing the tesseract at the same time. Would you even address the staring, would you just ignore it, would you try to establish something deeper out of this. The options were too diverse to understand now.

Your eyes meet again and a tingle rushes down your spine, a heat jolting through you. He stares more directly this time, refusing to look away. You turn for a second to look at the investor and then back to him whose eyes never moved. You see his lips curving into a smirk. What a dork. You’re just about to stick out your tongue — how unlady like — in return before you spot a figure just behind him.

A figure that you’d hoped you’d never see again.

Not in this lifetime or the next.

What gives her away is the red hair, always the red hair twisted into curls that runs down her back. 

And then it’s the way she walks, sauntering with a confident arrogance. 

Your blood hasn’t run this cold in a while. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Loki pivot to spot what you’re seeing. 

By the time he looks back, you’ve excused yourself from the Stark industries investor and are already making your way toward the door.

…

[maria-scribbles]

cocoa

sick of hearing his parents fight day after day, reggie goes to the one person who knows exactly what he's going through: the pretty violinist who lives next door.

fandom: julie and the phantoms

ship: alive!reggie x reader

word count: 1.5k+

featuring: swearing (as always), fighting, allusion to an abusive relationship, general sadness, mention of a family member’s death

a/n: day 2 of my holiday challenge: hot chocolate! this is kind of depressing and i'm sorry, sad!reggie was stuck in my head and he wouldn't leave until i wrote this but it has kind of a hopeful ending tho so i guess that counts for something? this is also my first time writing for this fandom so forgive me if it sucks. as usual, unbetaed so all mistakes are my b.

come join my holiday challenge!

December 1994

They were fighting again. It was the same old story: his dad being an ass on purpose, his mom taking the bait, wash, rinse, repeat. Their shouts rang harshly throughout the house, gloomy and miserable despite the cheerful decorations strung up in every room and the massive Christmas tree downstairs, dressed in its festive best and looking like it came straight out of a seasonal catalog.

Reggie had gone to them at the beginning of the month, begging them not to fight, please; his everyday life was already ruined by their screaming matches and the only thing he wanted for Christmas was some peace, quiet and civility to celebrate his favorite holiday. His father had pretended not to hear his son's pleas, ignoring him completely like he always did while his mother offered a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll try, honey." She'd said and he knew it was a lie. His mother always lied, his father always threw a plate at her head, Reggie always wished he had the courage to run away for good, like Luke did. But he wasn't Luke, he never would be, and he just didn't have it in him to leave them, even though he was the one who came out worse for wear after each fight.

The distant shatter of ceramic drifting up the stairs was his cue to go until things cooled down again -he never stuck around after the first dish got thrown, not anymore, the scar on his arm the perfect reminder why- and so he jimmied open the window of his room and climbed down the trellis into the salty air, the crashing waves of the Pacific covering his escape like a blanket.

(He could've stormed down the stairs and slammed the door behind him and his parents still wouldn't have noticed he left but something about sneaking out and risking a broken bone made him feel alive, the same rush he felt when he was on stage, bass humming in his hands, performing alongside his bandmates and knowing they felt it, too.)

Even outside, the echoes of his parents' angry voices still rang in his ears, haunting him all the way to the house next door, its sparkling lights shining brightly and guiding him through the darkening night like a beacon. The driveway sat empty, sans for one lone bicycle haphazardly lying on its side in front of the garage and he carefully propped it up on its kickstand before climbing the stairs to the front porch.

The faint sound of a slow, somber violin came to a stop as he knocked on the door, followed by a quiet, familiar voice Reggie knew like the back of his hand.

"It's open."

He found Y/N alone on the couch, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the strings of the violin on her lap and she glanced up at the tap of his boots on the hardwood floor, face brightening the slightest bit at the sight of her friend rounding the corner into the living room. 

The girl didn't speak as she gently placed the instrument aside and stood, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around his neck to draw him into a crushing hug. His own arms wrapped around her waist and held her just as tightly, his head resting on her shoulder, and the warm vanilla scent of her soft hair tickling his nose helped calm the storm in his heart.

"I'm sorry, Reg." Her voice was low and soothing in his ear and he didn't know how he could possibly hold her any tighter than he already was but he managed as he replied, "I'm sorry, too."

While his parents fought like wildfire, explosive and loud and raging with the wrong type of passion, hers were like a deep freeze, icy and cold and desolate in the worst possible way. Too many times Y/N was left to her own devices, all alone in an empty house with her thoughts and a violin her only company (at least they had given her that, the gift of music and a beautiful, expensive instrument to prove their love was real, albeit superficial).

It was some time later before she pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye and brushed a wayward strand of his dark hair back from his forehead with one calloused finger. "Okay, pity party's over. It's almost Christmas and we're not spending it being sad about shitty parents. Deal?"

She held out her pinky with one eyebrow raised expectantly and grinned when he nodded and hooked his pinky around hers. Reggie loved really liked that about her, the way she could just make all the heartache and pain and disappointment vanish from his mind like magic and replace them with thoughts of her and her sunny smile, her big heart, her touch that made the very blood in his veins spark like lightning. Y/N was his bright spot, his safe haven, and while Luke, Alex, and Bobby knew what he was going through, they just didn't understand like she did (they had their own problems to deal with, anyway, so he couldn't blame them).

"Good, now come on," She wrapped the rest of her fingers around his hand and started tugging him down the hall to the kitchen. "You're helping me make hot chocolate."

"Peppermint?" He asked, smiling when she glanced up at him with an offended look on her face.

"Duh. Only a heathen would make it without peppermint, Reginald."

Another thing he liked about her: she never did anything halfway; half-assing things, taking the easy way out, cutting corners just wasn't her style. It even applied to hot chocolate apparently, as he watched her flutter around the kitchen with practiced ease -heating milk and cream on the stove, measuring sugar and chocolate, slowly adding drops of peppermint oil- and despite her saying he was going to help, the only thing he got to do was crush some candy canes. Not that he minded, though, because while his hands could play bass like no one's business, they were a total disaster when it came to cooking and he knew Y/N was well aware of that fact, considering it took a week for the burnt popcorn smell to fade from her microwave the last time he tried. 

The violinist smiled and proudly handed him the finished drink, whipped cream piled high and candy cane bits almost overflowing from the edge of a red mug. "This is my grandma's recipe," She said, one hand holding a purple mug for herself and the other reaching to grab onto his wrist and pull him out the front door. "She'd always make it when she came to visit for the holidays and we'd sit out on the porch and watch the ocean, each and every year." 

"She was the best," Reggie said as the two sat together on the porch swing, his right side flush against her left. "I still have dreams about her cookies and wake up drooling."

The cool ocean breeze ruffled Y/N's hair and carried her laugh off down the beach. "She loved you, you know that? She was always talking about 'that nice boy next door.' Pretty sure she wanted us to get married."

"I loved her, too." He took a sip of his drink in an attempt to hide the blush that was taking over his entire face. "And we still have time for the whole marriage thing."

"I'm still waiting for my ring." She laughed again before looking down at the mug in her hands, voice becoming quiet as she replied, "I really miss her. She was the only person in my family who actually cared about me 'cause my parents sure as hell don't."

He wanted to tell her she was wrong but he knew it'd be a lie and he never did that, refusing to become a pathological liar like his mother, so instead he just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his side. "Hey, no more talk about shitty parents, remember?"

"Sorry, I know," She took a long sip of her cocoa, then rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "I just feel alone sometimes when you're not around. I mean, you have your band and I always had my grandma to talk to but now she's gone and I'm kind of...lost."

"You have the band, too, Y/N! Alex and Luke love you and Bobby, well, he's Bobby. No one really knows what goes on in that guy's head but I know he thinks you're cool. We all do, especially me, and you should know you're never alone 'cause you'll always have us."

The girl abruptly sat up and grabbed the mug from Reggie's hand before he could blink and placed it alongside her own on the floor, then threw her arms around his neck in another one of her fierce hugs.

"Has anyone told you how fucking amazing you are?" 

"You just did." He buried his blushing face in her shoulder as his arms wrapped around her waist once again. "I'm serious, Y/N. You'll always have me."

"And you'll always have me, Reg. No matter what."

And as they sat there on the porch swing, wrapped in each other's arms, Reggie knew as long as he had Y/N in his life, things were gonna be okay.

[gotnofucks]

Parts of Whole

(No images are mine, but I did edit them. If anyone knows the owners, do let me know so I can credit them)

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes, Sam x Steve (platonic)

Summary: Steve would see his OTP’s ship sail, even from across the grave.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death (nothing graphic and not very sad), language, angst + fluff

A/N: I saw the trailer for tfatws and I just had to write this. This is also my entry for the amazingly talented @sagechanoafterdark and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork challenge (pic prompts above). Thank you for hosting this and being wonderful. The beautiful dividers are made by @firefly-graphics . Huge thanks to @the-inquisitive-hobbit for beta reading and giving me her very valuable insight.

 It never felt right in his hands. It was his to wield, his to claim, and yet it never felt more foreign. The concentric red and white circles with the star embedded in the blue center glared back at him from the mirror. It had been months, but Sam had never taken this shield with him to any mission. He couldn’t.

It felt starkly cold in his hands, lifeless and materialistic. It was Steve’s symbol of strength and hope. It used to hang on his back, warmed by his body heat. Now, it seemed like the shield only existed to remind him of Steve’s absence. This shield was made for Steve. It belonged to him, it always would. How could he ever stand where he stood? How could Sam ever be the captain that Steve was, take this shield that held more power than a crown on a head?

He put it down again, covering it with a cloth before shutting the door on it, leaning heavily against it. He missed him, he missed him like a throbbing wound that refused to heal. If only he could see the sun shining on those golden locks again, have those baby blue eyes smile at him again. What wouldn’t he give for that.

He didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until a heavy hand was on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Sam didn’t open his eyes, just let the weight of it anchor him, let it bring him back from the chaos that was his mind. The cold metal hand felt like a relief against the overwhelming burden of grief that penetrated his being whenever he touched the circular shield.

“I miss him too.” Bucky said, and Sam opened his eyes. Bucky’s eyes were blue too, slightly grey where Steve’s were green. He could see himself reflected in them and he straightened, looking away, hiding his weakness.

This mantle of Steve Rogers that he was supposed to assume, this legacy he was supposed to take forward felt like cheating. His friend, his mentor, his brother was no more. How could people just expect him to move on? But they did. It didn’t matter he was emotionally compromised, it didn’t matter he wanted to drown, like Steve nearly had at the Potomac all those years ago. The world didn’t wait to create one disaster after another. They needed Captain America then, and they needed him now. Like Fury said, trouble always sticks around.

Sam cleared his throat, making sure he was collected before looking at Bucky again.

“Everything loaded in the Quinjet?” He asked and Bucky nodded. They’ll be leaving for another mission soon, and Sam was glad he’ll have the sounds of battle to drown the war in his heart.

“Sam.” Bucky said once Sam started leaving. “Take it.”

Sam looked at Bucky over his shoulder, his gaze equal parts pain and accusation. Of everyone, Bucky shouldn’t be the one telling him this.

“I’ll meet you in the jet.” He said firmly and quickly marched to his room, shutting the door behind him. He hated coming back to the compound, the lingering memories of their fallen warriors whispering in his ears every time he was here. He preferred his little house in the woods where it was only Bucky and nature with him.

He took out his tactical gear, laying it on the bed and getting out his wings when he heard it.

“You are punishing yourself Sam.” Came his voice.

It was this moment where Sam broke, sliding down the wall and letting a few tears escape. He was gone but he never left him.

“How could you have been so selfish Steve. Why?” He asked, looking up to glare at Steve. Even dead he looked so handsome, so put together with his hands on his hips. He didn’t look like the old man they had buried a month after the battle. No. He was their Steve, their young, beautiful Steve who left them behind.

Sam didn’t know why he saw him. He didn’t know if this was a ghost or a creation of his mind. To him, it was Steve. It was Steve and it was a beautiful suffering to see him again every time he reappeared.

“I am sorry.” Steve said and knelt before Sam, looking apologetic. Sam didn’t try touching him. Not when the first hundred times his hand just went through him.

“You are? What for?” Sam asked. “For leaving behind your shield and title, for leaving me behind, or for abandoning a best friend you promised to walk till the end of the line with? What are you really sorry for Captain?”

Steve didn’t answer, he never did. He let Sam take out his hurt and anger, and Sam cried. In the privacy of his walls, he cried. He was so tired of pretending to be strong, to be happy. He hid behind his jokes and smiles, fooled the world which was so ready to move on while Sam was buried somewhere with Steve in the cemetery, half dead, half alive.

“I am sorry Sam, for everything.” Steve insisted. “But you need to stop punishing yourself for mistakes you never made. You can’t live this way.”

Sam snorted a laugh for even in death Steve was a humanitarian bastard. He didn’t come back to haunt his enemies; oh no the centenarian came back to help his friends. Why didn’t people see that he could never be Steve? That Sam Wilson can never, won’t ever be the Captain that Steven Rogers was.

“I hate you so much Steve, I really do.” Sam whispered, wiping his nose and getting up. Steve watched him getting changed, no barriers of shame between them from that side of the grave.

“You always said that. I have never heard a ‘I love you’ more pronounced than I do in your hate.” Steve commented with a soft smile, it widened when Sam gave him a half-hearted glare. It was amazing how they could go from having a painful conversation to joking, but that was how it worked with Steve. He knew Sam, he knew everything that made him laugh and made him smile.

“What are you doing here anyway? Don’t you have a tea party with Gandhi or some other do-gooder like you in the afterlife?” Sam grumbled, tightening the belt in his suit and attaching his wings to it. Steve chuckled, sitting on the chair and watching Sam with a relaxed smile.

“They are too uptight for me. Mother Teresa tried to adopt me the other day” Steve said, and Sam laughed. His wings were the colours of American Flag, a new change. He grabbed his weapons and fixed Steve with a look, hating and loving him for being so him.

“I’ll see you after the mission?” He asked tentatively. He would never admit it, but he feared one day Steve would disappear again. It was crazy, it was not normal to see dead people, but Sam would rather have a shadow of Steve than just a memory.

“I’ll be here as long as you need me Sam. Always.” Steve said, a sad smile on his face when he saw Sam leaving without the shield.

Sharon greeted him in the jet, talking to Bucky and the other agents over the blueprint spread before them. Sam nodded his hello, snatching the half empty pack of Cheetos from Bucky’s hand and munching on it.

“So now you want to steal the show and my food. You’re such a dick Wilson.” Bucky said, poking Sam in his shoulder and Sam poked his tongue out at him, a gap-toothed smile on his face. Their previous somber interaction would not be mentioned, filed again like so many inside the neglected corner of their minds.

“Bitch, I paid for grocery this month. This is technically mine.” Sam replied, making Bucky scowl. Sam knew there was a 70-30 chance he’ll find his bed crawling with centipedes when they got back home.

“Charming, boys.” Sharon remarked rolling her eye. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? Must be nice to have a holiday.”

Bucky shrugged, sharing a look with Sam. It was their first Christmas without Steve, a 6 feet 2-inch void always between them.

“Nothing special. Stay home, watch movies, eat a lot.” Bucky said. A lot remained unsaid, but they rarely needed words to communicate anymore. Sam bumped his shoulder in his, offering him some Cheetos to munch while he silently grieved.

“Well, I’ll leave my address here for you to deliver your presents to me.” Sharon joked and Sam laughed softly, mentally making a note to get her something.

“Alright then, and I’ll just casually remark that my phone and laptop are both in serious need for an upgrade. Just saying.” Sam said. “Hey Buck, what are you going to gift me?”

Bucky crumpled the empty chips packet before sending Sam an amused glare, flipping him off.

“A ball gag, so that I can hear something other than your stupid voice.” He snarked.

“Damn dude, at least ask me out for dinner before getting kinky.” Sam winked and Bucky swelled with indignation, pointing an accusing metal finger at Sam.

“I cook dinner 3 times a week you bastard, and I don’t even burn it!” He protested making Sam laugh louder than ever. He loved making Bucky mad, teasing him into an incensed rage that usually ended in a pillow fight or sometimes with Sam’s head in a headlock.

They straightened as they saw the incredulous looks on the new agents’ faces, baby agents as Bucky liked to call them. It was times like these, when both the battle-hardened veterans missed their lost teammates, the inside jokes that were shot around with as much precision as bullets and arrows on the battlefield.

They got to work again, discussing the mission and its details with the other agents. Sam would run point on scaling the territory and fly down to the enemy base with two agents while Bucky would guide him from up here and take out potential threats. They just needed to secure a technological innovation and it didn’t seem too like much work. As Sam poured over the briefing, his eyes subconsciously went over to Bucky who was fiddling with the equipment, making sure everything was in working condition.

If someone had told him a few years ago that Bucky would become his anchor, his solace in his darkest hours, Sam would have punched them in the face. But as it happened, they came to lean on each other, the only unchanged part of their older lives, the only person who made each feel that were still real, still alive. They were still annoyed by each other, but the arguments were more of a routine than an actual expression of resentment.

He didn’t realize he was staring until someone deliberately coughed behind him.

“He is so pretty, isn’t he?” Steve asked, though it was a rhetorical question. Bucky Barnes was a beauty, from his blue grey eyes to the new golden streaks running through his new arm. Sam tried not to notice the way Bucky’s armor clung to his muscles, his face looking almost boyish as he forgot the world and focused on his task.

“I thought you said I’ll see you after the mission.” Sam muttered, taking care that no one noticed him talking to air. He hurriedly looked away from Bucky when their eyes met, a heat rising in his cheeks that made Steve chuckle.

“I said I’ll be there when you need me. And it seems like you do.” Steve commented. He took the seat next to Sam, so near that Sam swore he could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam snapped, the smug look on Steve’s face making him wish he could touch him if only to be able to punch him. Stupid blonde best friends with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles and an ass that looked just as round after being dead.

“Oh, I think you do.” Steve said, shifting his gaze to Bucky. “I liked his hair longer but the shorter is going well with the new arm. Don’t you think?”

Despite himself Sam found himself nodding, admiring Bucky as he’d done a thousand times before. He liked his longer hair too, but without them falling in his face, he could see him better. And the arm. The new arm that gave Sam tingles in the most delicious ways, it had him flustered for three whole weeks after Bucky first showed up with it on him.

He didn’t know when it started, but Bucky had somehow become the most beautiful person to Sam. From the way he would make him the perfect mug of coffee to their little kitchen garden they started to keep themselves busy, he loved everything about him. Those moments where he would sense the turmoil inside Sam and silently slip his hands in Sam’s to assure him that he was there, these little moments endeared him even more.

Sam had lost count of how many times Bucky and he had woken up on the couch, sharing a blanket, both silently afraid to sleep alone. He had forgotten how many times he had spent kneeling at Bucky’s bedside, coaxing him out from a nightmare. Every moment spent in each other’s company, laughing, joking, mourning together, it brought them together in a way Sam had never imagined before.

“Tell him” Steve said, a wistful look on his face as he looked at his best friend. “He feels the same. I know.”

Sam shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Bucky with reluctance. He’d already lost so much, he wouldn’t lose Bucky too. Not because he has a minor, very minor teensy tiny crush on him.

“Man, shut the hell up.” He snapped.

“Who’re you talking to?” Bucky called out from across the jet and Sam’s head snapped up, mouth parting a little before he mumbled out a ‘no one’ and focused on the papers in his hand. Sometimes he felt guilty for keeping Steve a secret, for keeping Bucky away from his best friend. He knew Bucky cried into his pillow at nights, he knew because he’d held him then, tried his best to fill the cracks that appeared in the walls of Bucky’s heart as well as his own.

But then, Steve chose to come to him. Chose to talk to Sam. And he was afraid that telling anyone would disturb this magic, whatever this was. That he would once again have to bury Steve. So, he kept quiet. He buried this secret in the deep recesses of his mind, the initial worry of insanity long forgotten in favor of seeing his friend again.

“Do you even have a plan?” Bucky questioned, watching him prepare for the jump. Sam had a job for every agent accompanying him, but the idiot had not outlined anything for himself.

“I do.” Sam said, and when Bucky looked unconvinced, he lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re my plan, my backup. I scream, jump down and get my ass back up.”

Saying this, Sam jumped, the exasperated look on Bucky’s face imprinted behind his eyelids as his wings flared out and he floated.

Everything that could have gone wrong on this mission did, and Bucky was hysterical even before Sam’s call for backup came. He was going to kick Nick Fury’s ass, but before that he was going to bring his friend back in one-piece and chew him out for giving him a heart attack.

Sam’s wings took most of the weight of the fall, so he came back with a sprained ankle and bruises. Bucky was getting increasingly irritated when they came back home, their little secluded spot in the woods welcoming them with the smell of pine and wild grass.

“It’s not my fault Fury gave us shitty intel.” Sam groaned, “You can stop being salty now.”

Bucky remained quiet, the silent treatment going for almost the third day in row and Sam was at his wits end. It was stupid and ridiculous because Bucky almost always pulled the stupidest moves in the field, like stopping a bomb with his hand or listening to the villain’s evil monologue.

Steve was grinning as he leaned against the edge of the table, and with every suggestive wink he gave Sam, the new Captain America resisted the urge to throw a vase at him.

“He cares so much that he’s speechless.” Steve commented and Sam flipped him off. Dickhead has been giving running commentary of the thick tension in the air since they came back, and Sam was on the verge of calling for an exorcism.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky asked suddenly and Sam was so glad to hear him talk again it took him a while to understand the question.

“What?”

“This thing, looking somewhere and talking to yourself, or – I don’t know, you keep being weird.”

“You’re the one with the cyborg brain and arm and I’m weird” Sam tried deflecting. Bucky frowned, coming closer to sit near Sam, leaving abandoned Christmas decorations scattered around them. Clint had delivered it for them but neither had the heart to put them up.

“Sam.” Bucky deadpanned, and Sam sighed, resting his head back and avoiding eye contact. He looked at Steve who was still smiling, his beautiful face like a slap on the face and caress on the head at the same time.

It was more difficult than one would assume to explain. Why did Sam see Steve, and why did only Sam see Steve? Was it a hallucination, or his spirit? Would Steve go away if Sam confided in Bucky? Would Bucky be mad he didn’t tell him? There were so many questions, so many doubts, and yet as Sam looked into Bucky’s eyes, shining like sapphires, he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Its…Its Steve.” He said, looking down and playing with the soft lint on his blanket. He didn’t hear Bucky say anything but moments later a metal hand gripped his, stopping its nervous movements.

“Steve?”

Sam gulped, the coolness of Bucky’s hand in his warming his heart, swelling it with hope and an emotion Sam was too afraid to acknowledge.

“Steve, he – he talks to me.” Sam confessed and tentatively looked at Bucky whose eyes were brimming with emotion. He expected him to call him crazy, or to get mad, but what he did not expect was Bucky to shift closer and take Sam’s other hand in his too.

“He talks to me as well.” Bucky said. Sam was breathless, both by the slight smell of cinnamon that came from Bucky and the way Bucky came even closer, close enough that he could count the flecks in his eyes.

“He does?” Sam asked and Bucky nodded.

“I don’t know how he does it with you, but whenever I need him, miss him, I feel him speak to me from here.” With this Bucky placed one of Sam’s hand on his chest, the beating heart under thumping strongly. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand caressed Bucky’s chest, mapped its muscles and the jagged scars that bulged under his left shoulder.

“I see him.” Sam admitted, unable to look away from Bucky. “I can see him”

Tears blurred his vision until they dropped on his cheeks, sliding down, and forging a river down, leaving a trail of hurt, betrayal, and loss in their wake. Bucky’s hand came up to wipe them away, staying on Sam’s cheek, playing with the soft hair on his chin.

“I see him too. In you.” Bucky said and they didn’t know who moved first, but their foreheads were touching and then their lips met in a chaste, hesitant kiss. Sam melted into his touch, molding himself to fall into Bucky’s larger frame, his arms circling his waist and pulling him closer. They kissed as if they had walked a hundred miles just to kiss each other, as if they had saved every last breath just to live this moment.

“I – I, Buck –” Sam began but Bucky shushed him, pulling him into another soul-searching kiss before pulling away.

“I know.” He murmured.

As Sam relaxed in Bucky’s warm embrace, lost himself in the blues of Bucky’s eyes, he noticed Steve from the corner of his eyes. There was sadness on his face, the pain of a goodbye in the creases around his eyes. But when he smiled, he smiled with genuine love and happiness. The two parts of his soul he’d left behind seemed to have found themselves, and with them Steve felt himself complete.

“Till the end of the line pals.” He whispered.

Sam never saw Steve again.

Their Christmas was not very festive in terms of decoration. There was still too much pain, too much suffering in their hearts. Steve and Nat’s pictures beamed at them from the walls, and Sam sent Pepper the confirmation that they’ll come over for New Years.

It was a beautiful thing about human nature, about how one rises from the ashes to become stronger. Sam and Bucky lost someone, but they found each other. In the shared grieve of their hearts, they discovered the love long buried in there, eagerly waiting to be spread and shared.

They stayed warm under the blanket, wearing oversized sweaters that they wouldn’t be caught dead wearing outside. The sweaters may or may not have been Steve's; the soldiers mutually decided to hold Steve close in this way. Sam’s heart was tripled in size, as his head rested in the crook of Bucky’s neck, the smell of chocolate and cinnamon melting together to make a little world of their own. Sam wondered if he would mind growing out his hair again.

“So, what did you get me?” Sam asked, knowing he wouldn’t mind if Bucky did get him that ball gag. Part of him almost hoping for it.

“How rude Wilson, here I’ve given you all of myself and you still thirst for more.” Bucky mocked and Sam tackled him into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face.

“Bitch, you’re lucky I lo-” Sam cut himself off, suddenly shy. The smirk on Bucky’s face melted into a smile, a hungry look in his eyes.

“Say it” Bucky ordered. And Sam did. The Captain obeyed his Sergeant without hesitation.

“I love you. I love you so freaking much! I got us the cheesiest gifts.” Sam said in excitement. He pulled away long enough to grab his gift from under the bed, giving it to Bucky to open. He watched with his bottom lip between his teeth as Bucky opened the box to pull out two chains, each dangling with a rectangular pendant.

Dog tags.

Their dog tags. Bucky raised his eyes to Sam’s, fisting his hand in Sam’s t-shirt to pull him closer into a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth and moans, hips grinding as passion merged with love and emotion.

“I love you!” Bucky growled and kissed Sam again. “And I got you chocolates that look like dicks. I didn’t know this would happen between us when I bought them, and I was going to give you a hint with them.”

Sam’s laughter echoed around their small house, the dopey smile on his face remaining intact as they ate candy and burnt sparklers into the night. In the colourful light that played on their faces, they held hands together, filling the void that was there with the warmth of each other.

“We can use the shield as a sleigh until you’re comfortable using it as a weapon.” Bucky mused and Sam smiled into his neck, thinking of a certain blond asshole who may have gone away, but will never be lost.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203 

CE & Steve : @littlegasps @bluemusickid @harrysthiccthighss @abeyyaaar @slytherinandoutasgard @empath-bunny 

SebStan & Bucky : @sebastiansthot @its-izzys @harrysthiccthighss @empath-bunny

For this fic : @barnesandco​

[beatleszeppelin]

If I asked you to stay, would you?

Summary: After a tough case, Reid stays home from work. You have to check on him. He looks sick, so you take him to the doctor, and it’s your job to take care of him.

Category: Sick Fic

Warnings/Includes: First couple paragraphs are sad criminal minds things, but feel free to skip that, and mention of puke

Word count: 4k

Written in (gender neutral) second person.

The piercing cold, and slight drizzle falling out of the dark sky around, adding insult to injury. Spirits were low, as rain washed a child's blood from the dirt. The case had not gone ideally; two lives lost, and the team just had to walk away.

 A somber walk back to the cars freezing water hitting, stinging his face. Reid’s nose was red, clothes and hair sopping wet, freezing. He got to the back seat of the car, he pulled his knees up, and let his head fall onto his hands. Morgan and JJ waited outside the car, giving the kid a minute alone. 

The drive back was quiet, JJ glanced back ever so often hoping Reid had fallen asleep, but every time she’d look back she would see his head pressed against the window, eyes darting with every opposing car. The street lights passed over, illuminating his face, and a shine lingering in his eyes. She’d put a comforting hand on Reid’s knee, like a mother would on a long car ride.

In damp clothes he finished his reports, and finally left the office at two. 

He entered the subway tunnels, light coming out as a path marker. The eerie feeling that comes with two a.m. is in the lingering, on the streets, in tiled subway tunnels, and definitely present in anything the moonlight touches. There is a surprising amount of people on the subway for being so early. A man in the corner, held a bag with paper towels in it. A little farther along was an old bag lady. Finding someone normal to sit near was going to be too much to ask for, until he saw a woman, sleeping and seemingly destitute, a baby squirming on her lap. He waved. And she returned it.

So he sat. He was talking to her, and playing with her. Doing magic has always gotten him far with kids, except when he was one. She squealed as he pulled a coin from behind her ear and he laughed along. She laughed at the look of him smiling, and when he leaned in to make funny faces at her, her giggle turned into a cough. He patted her back a little bit, to quiet her barking cough, trying to not wake the baby’s mother. If you’re tired enough to fall asleep on those plastic seats, then any sleep you could get must be a blessing.

His stop neared, and he pulled 20 dollars from his wallet and slipped it into the woman's purse. He also shook her shoulder to wake her up, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave the baby unattended.

“Sorry for waking you, I just thought…” He said nervously, and awkwardly smiled and waved goodbye to the baby.

“Thank you,” she whispered. And she started to pat the back of her daughter.

He got off the metro happy, and walked the rest of the way to his apartment, the yellow glowing street lights making the falling rain sparkle as it fell to the earth.

He got home and wanted to get some sleep before he had to get up and go to work at nine. He didn’t want to shower and change, he could do that in the morning. He threw a soft blanket across the couch. He sat down, and kicked his converses off of his heels. He laid down, wet hair hitting the pillow. 

***

You walked up the stairs to his apartment. You have twenty minutes until your lunch break is over, but when Garcia told you to check on Reid you knew you had to.  He has a tendency to shut everyone out; say he’s fine when he’s actually far from. He would say he’s fine until he literally exploded. 

You walked past apartment #19, #20, past an empty coffee cup on the floor, #21, then you ran back, picked up the coffee cup, and threw it away at the end of the hall. Apartment #23, you knocked. “Hey Reid, you there?” You tried knocking harder. “Hey kid let me in!” You were about to pound the door down like you were the cops, but you heard a click. Reid unlocked the door, and squinted at you.

“Why,” he cleared his throat a little, “Why are you here?” 

“Hi, it’s 1 in the afternoon, you didn’t show up to work today, and apparently you guys 

had a particularly bad case last night.”

“It’s one?” he said walking back into his apartment, to go find a clock.

You walked in, and straight to his kitchen, to wash your hands after touching that coffee cup. 

“You didn’t purposely not come in today?” 

“No, you’re insistent knocking woke me up.”

“So, you’re wearing your clothes from yesterday?”

“Yeah, I’d gotten home late last night, or actually early this morning, I guess.”

“Are you feeling okay?” You looked at his hair that was sweaty and stuck to his forehead.

“Kinda tired, I guess, but I’m fine.” He said staring off, trying to focus on how he actually felt.

“Here let me feel your forehead.” You reached up and pressed your hand to his face. You couldn’t tell, because you had just washed your hands rendering them cold. You ran your hand through his hair, and kissed his forehead. It was warm. His face turned red, and it came in splotches.

“I think you’re a bit warm. Would you like to try to get to the doctor before they close walk-ins?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then I’m going to go back to the library. I hope you find a good excuse for not going to work today,”  You said, but couldn’t make a move for the door.

“If I don’t go, will you leave?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You look really red, your face felt pretty warm, you slept in your wet clothes last night, and you may try to mask the fact that chills have been making you vibrate in front of me, but there is no way your not sick, no matter how many times you tell me you’re fine.”

“Okay, but I am fine.” He said, arms crossed, before heading to his bedroom to get dressed.

You waited in his apartment, absentmindedly flipped through some of his books. There were stacks of books everywhere; every spot you could fit a book, there was one. Two stacks of books were towered on his coffee table. On top of one was The Bell Jar by Silvia Plath, you hadn’t read it since high school, but you remember it being forward, and a bit unnerving.

Reid’s door opened, startling you. He walked out wearing a striped shirt and a sweater, with his signature mismatched socks and Converse. He looked comfortable, and very childlike.

“Are you ready?” You asked him.

“Yeah, I’ll grab my keys.”

“You drive?” You ask, never having seen him drive, you just assumed he didn’t or didn’t know how. How could you assume there was something that Dr. Spencer Reid didn’t know how to do.

You followed him down stairs to the parking garage, to a 65’ Volvo. “This is your car?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

“It’s so cool, I did not picture you driving something like this.” You didn’t picture him driving a cool older car, but you also didn’t picture him wearing mismatched socks, or dressing up for Halloween every year without fail. At this point nothing he did would surprise you.

“You didn’t picture me driving something cool? So, you don’t think I’m cool?”

“Well now I think you're cool, I mean after seeing this car.”

He pressed the volume button to turn on the radio, Tchaikovsky, the universe is restored. It was a ten minute-ish drive to the doctors. He signed in at the front desk, and you went to sit down. There were two seats under a window that you chose. The dark green vinyl was hot from the sun, but it was the only two isolated seats that you could see, other than the two girls that had the seats leaning on the wall. One of the girls had her hand under the other's skirt, and were kissing, very passionately. Hope one of them isn’t sick. You picked up one of the magazines next to you to avert your eyes. Home decorating, not the best option, but the bright colors and Pinterest mom’s will definitely keep you occupied.

Reid walked over to you and sat down, you could see him looking at the girls in the corner, and his face had bright red splotches on his cheeks. “Hey, are you into this?”

“What? No!” he said in a high pitched voice, like that of one of the chipmunks in Alvin and the Chipmunks. “Then why is your face bright red?”

“Maybe because the seats under the window are hot, and you shouldn’t be touching those magazines. They are one of the grossest things in here. Actually, the pen used at the front desk is, it has 46000 times more germs than the average toilet seat. That’s why I bring my own.”

You set the magazine down. “Hey is your face warm, you're still bright red?”

He looked over at you, shrugged at you and did his little awkward smile, and looked back down at the ground, head resting on his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“Spencer, Spencer Reid!” A woman yelled from the doorway. 

Reid smiled and waved as he stood up.

“Wait, do I come in with you, or should I stay out here and see if I can join a thruple with those two?” He grabbed your wrist, seeing as to not touch your contaminated magazine hand, and helped you up to follow him in.

You guys walked back and the NP asked him to take his shoes off to step on the scale, he stepped up, a lime green sock and one purple striped sock now showing. “153 pounds,” the nurse said.

“Now stand over here so we can get your height,” You picked up his shoes for him, as she guided you across the hall to mark his height. He stood, back against the wall, “Okay, stand up straight.” He rolled his shoulders back and tilted his chin up. “6 foot 1 and ¼ inches”.

You passed his shoes back to him, following the nurse to one of the rooms in the back. You got to sit in one of the chairs that mom’s would sit in and talk for their kids. He hopped up on the bench, with a crinkle of the paper.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said, right before the nurse left the room.

Reid scooted back against the wall, letting his head fall back. You looked over at him, his face still looking flush, and his eyes were closed as he sat there. 

A knock on the door interrupted your observation, but made Reid sit up, attention now focused on the man. “Hi, I’m Dr. Bradman. What brings you in today?”

“I don’t…” Reid said looking over to you.

“His face has been a bit flushed, and he may have a low fever,” You said for him. “Oh, and he was out in the rain and cold last night, I don’t know if that would do anything.”

Reid piped up to say “Actually, being in the rain and cold doesn’t affect whether you will get sick or not. Being exhausted, stressed, under emotional duress, and having allergies with symptoms pertaining to nose and throat are the main reasons people get sick. Other than catching if from someone who is contagious.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” The doctor said, sitting down on a chair with wheels. 

Reid awkwardly smiled, looking down at his hands.

The doctor took Reid’s temperature, asked him a couple questions, and left for a couple minutes. 

You and Spencer sat in the room for a couple moments in silence, he was looking sicker by the moment. And after a while of silence, his head resting on the wall, eyes shut, the doctor walked back in.

“It looks like you are sick, your temperature was raised a bit, and the redness on your nose and cheeks is a common symptom of sixth disease.”

“Wait, that’s roseola, right?” You asked.

“No, that’s only for children under the age of three.” Reid said, slightly perplexed.

“Well yes, but it can occasionally affect adults who’ve never contracted it as a child.”

Reid’s shoulders dropped, “How long will it last?”

“It should clear up in the next three to five days.”

“Okay.”

“You can take medicine to reduce the fever, and stay hydrated.”

You two left the office, but not without teasing him on the way out. “I once babysat a kid that had sixth disease. He was up all night crying, do you need me to babysit you?”

“No! Just because I have a baby disease doesn’t mean I’m a baby” He crossed his arms on the walk back to the car.

“Do you want me to drive, so you can get some rest?” You asked, holding a hand out for his keys.

“Is this another joke?” He pushed his eyebrows together, and cocked his head slightly.

“No; no it’s not.”

“Can you drive a stick?” 

“Uh yeah, actually. I had a truck that was manual in high school.”

He gave an impressed nod and passed his keys over.

On the way home he laid his head against the cool glass of the window. His breath, making water bead up and fall. You walked him up to his apartment, but before you left you wanted to make sure he’d be okay.

“Do you have a thermometer? I just want to see what your temperature is before I leave you.” 

He walked away to his bathroom and came back with a thermometer sticking out of the side of his mouth. He was pouting, you don’t know if it was because you made him check his temperature or if he just felt sick. You pulled the stick out of his mouth after hearing the beep.

“100.3” You put your hands on his face, burning. “Do you want me to stay here for a little bit?”

“You don’t have to…” He said and raised his shoulders to shrug. “I know I don’t have to, but do you want me to? It would be no trouble.” You said walking to his kitchen to wash the thermometer.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“I would like you to stay, please.”

“Okay, why don’t you go to bed and try to rest, and I’ll run to the store and get some food for dinner.”

He nodded, “How long will you be gone?” Reid’s voice broke.

“Not too long, I should be back before you wake up, but if you need me just call me.”

“M’kay.”

You walked out of his apartment, down the stairs, running your fingers across the banister. Should you grab some clothes in case you need to spend the night? Yeah, might as well run home and get the car before going to the grocery store.

At the store you pick up some soup, popcorn to eat while watching a movie, cough medicine, ibuprofen (for the fever), and you couldn’t find any Gatorade, so you bought Pedialyte (I mean it’s the same stuff, and this is a baby disease). You also got a few other things you weren’t sure he had, and headed back.

When you twisted the key into the lock is when you started to hear some slight coughing and some whines in between. So, you put the soup on the stove, and went in to check on him. His face was covered in little red spots that trailed down into his shirt; he was asleep and his hands were balled up into fists by his face. Sweat stuck his bangs to his face, and every cough made him subconsciously whimper. 

Reid was asleep in front of you, looking like a baby. If people didn’t think he was a baby before, if only they saw him now. It’s hard not being able to help him, other than just letting him sleep, but when he wakes up he’ll feel a whole lot worse, so why not prolong the contentment here. 

You decided to go tend to the food, while he slept. In a few minutes though, you heard him get up out of bed and a door slam. You walked over to his couch, leaning on the arm rest waiting for him to come out. A couple moments went by and you were still standing there. If he came out now, it would be like you were just standing there staring at his door waiting for him, which is exactly what you are doing. You went around the couch and sat down, moving the pillows from how he had slept on them that morning. You picked up a book from the top of one stack, and opened it, but his door swung open. Reid stood there, in the doorframe, the sleeves of his shirt pulled down over his hands, his head hung low, and tear streaks down his face. His voice wobbled when he said “I threw up.”

“Are you okay, what do you need?” You asked, looking toward the giant toddler.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Let me check your fever.”

He nodded. You walked over to the kitchen to where you had left the thermometer, and while you’re in there you turn the heat off of the soup. You don’t think he wants it right now.

He puts the thermometer in his mouth and stares at you with puppy dog eyes until it beeps. He takes it out and hands it to you without reading it. “102.4!” You rush over to get some medicine, and a mug to put water in. “Here take this, baby. You must be miserable.”

He closed his eyes and gave a labored smile. Taking the medicine made him wince as he swallowed.

“Why don’t I run you a cool bath, to see if we can get your fever down faster?”

“‘Kay,” he started walking back to his room, stopping to brace himself on the wall.

You wrapped your arm around him, guiding him to his bathroom. You two stood awkwardly for a couple seconds not knowing what the first move was gonna be, but you sat him down on the toilet to wait for the water to fill. You ran the bath with lukewarm water, not hot, but not uncomfortably cold. Reid sat on his toilet, knees hugged to his chest, and his face and body were sweaty. 

You turned off the tap and looked at him quizzically. Reid quickly stood up to usher you out, but got a head rush and had to lean against a wall. You walked to the doorway and waited for his next move. He tried taking his shirt off, but only got one arm out; on the second arm his wrist got stuck on the sleeve. He flailed his arm for a second, before giving up and frustratedly slumping against the wall. You walked over to him, pulled his shirt over his head, and helped pick him up. You put your arms around his waist and pulled him up with little to no help from him. You two stood there for a second, holding Spencer; all of his weight leaned into you as you held him. He was shaking.

You helped him sit on the edge of the tub, and asked “How do we do this?”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” He looked up at you with his big brown eyes.

“Absolutely.”

You helped wiggle him out of his pajama pants, and left him sitting in hot pink briefs. Then, turning around, you heard a little splash of him kicking his legs over, and then a slosh of water displacement.

“Okay, you’re good,” he whispered.

You turned back around and bent down next to the tub. He leaned his head on the edge of the bathtub and you folded up a hand towel and shoved it under for him to use as a pillow. You scooted back, and reached for a washcloth off of his counter. A small stack of them fell on top of you. You picked one up, that hadn’t touched the ground, and ran it under some cold water. After squeezing it out, you sat on the back of the tub, and dabbed it across Spencer’s forehead. He leaned his head against your thigh and looked up at you. You looked down at him, “If I knew I was staying here, I’d have run you a bubble bath.”

He smiled; you could tell his fever was going down a bit. Seeing him without clothes on, showed you just how much of his body was covered in little red splotches. They ran from his cheeks, down his chest, and stopped a little lower than his protruding hip bones. 

A few moments of you silently dabbing his face was interrupted by a coughing attack, leaving Spence shaking a bit. 

“Laying back may not be the best thing for a cough, why don’t we finish up in here so we can sit on the couch, maybe watch a movie or something?”

He nodded.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, it’s wet already from the washcloth,” you handed him the washcloth, and picked up the mug he drank water out of earlier.

“Yes please.” He placed the washcloth over his eyes and you dunked the mug in his bath water. You poured it over his head as he leaned back.

“Where’s your shampoo?”

He leaned forward and handed you the bottle. Johnson’s cotton touch 2 in 1 shampoo and body wash.

“You use 2 in 1 baby shampoo?” 

“It’s for sensitive skin.”

“It’s for babies.”

“If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.”

“Can we at least buy you some conditioner some time?” You asked, giving him a mohawk with baby soap.

“Sure,” He said, defeated.

You pour the cup over his head again, rinsing his hair clean of soap. You handed him his towel from behind the door, and walked out, leaving the door open a little and sitting on his bed in the next room in case he needed you. In a minute he walked out in pajama pants with little cowboys on them, and a robe. 

You got up, went to his bathroom and brought out a comb. “Sit,” You scolded.

He sat on the edge of his bed, you behind him brushing his hair.

Once you were satisfied with the style, you linked arms with him and went out to the living room. He started moving the books and things off of his coffee table, while you went to go make popcorn. 

You came back with a box of saltines, a bowl of popcorn, and a bottle of pedialyte with a straw in it.

“Is this another joke?” he asked reading the label.

“No, they were out of the other stuff.”

You sat down, handing him the box of crackers. His laptop was open on the coffee table, and he threw a blanket across the both of you to share. 

“What are we going to watch?”

“Star Trek” he said and pressed the spacebar to play it.

“You’ll like it,” he said and put his head on your shoulder. “Hey, thanks for staying with me today.” 

“It’s no problem, I like hanging out with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and eventually we will need to buy you some conditioner.”

“It’s a date,” he said and snuggled closer to you.

You played with his hair until he fell asleep on your lap, leaving you watching Star Trek all night, but you do like it now.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

I Know What You’re Going To Say - Chapter 3

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: A Beauty and the Beast style Vampire AU. Vampire!Virgil has picked up  Logan off the street and is holding him captive under the threat of killing his friends if he tries to escape.  

Word Count: 4275

Chapter Warning: Mentions of Parental Neglect/Control, Mind Control, Crying, Corruptions, Mentions of Police (Let me know if I missed anything!)

---

    Janus stirred the coffee in front of him quietly as he peered out the window of the decrepit all-night diner. He felt a tightness welling in his chest as he traced back the night's events that had somehow ended with him here. Rain pattered on the window. Each wet streak glowing with the reflections of the bright pink, neon signs that the owners had seen fit to hang on nearly every surface of this godawful place. His lips twitched with disgust as he glanced down at his watch, checking the time yet again as he stared down the near empty streets.

    The kid was late. Ten minutes. The simple thought made his stomach twist with anxiety. After leaving Virgil, finding his prisoner’s friend had been almost comically easy. Virgil had his home address. A quick flight had him peering through the man's windows in under half an hour, but the passing glance he'd gotten was enough for him to guess where man had gone.

    He was already half the way down the street when a message from Virgil confirmed that the man’s work address. Less than an hour after leaving Virgil, he was being served by the very man he for which he'd been searching. Janus smirked at the simplicity, humming to himself contentedly as yet another car swept by outside sending wave of dirty water onto the curb.

    Still, Janus could hardly complain. Virgil had certainly sent him on worse missions, and though the dingy, over-lit diner was an eyesore, the man serving him was putting on quite the show as he flitted between the glistening, chrome surface of the bar. The subtle eyeliner flared to a perfect point as winked at the cook through the serving window.

    Janus smiled, eyes lingering a bit too long on the handsome waiter as he distracted himself from the empty streets outside. Truly, he was grateful for the late night hours as the lack of customers meant minimal effort for him to keep prying eyes away from his all to recognizable face. Being a vampire had its perks, after all. On a mere whim, the other customer’s gazes slipped over him like he was a mere shadow. Only the charming waiter he was currently staring had been allowed to catch a glimpse of him sitting alone in the booth.

    The waited with the golden hair had immediately recognized him upon bouncing up to the table to take his order, but fortunately, the guy didn’t seem to be the squealing type. A note which Janus would very much be filing away for later as he watched the man melt under his control. It had only taken a few, short words to make the man forget he had recognized Janus and hand over his phone.

     Janus bit his lip at the memory. The sight of the flamboyant waiter suddenly soured in his mouth as he remembered why he was here. The texts he’d read on the man's phone had indicated the kid was supposed to be here at midnight. His eyes flicked up to the retro-looking clock as it read a quarter past the hour. From the texts he’d gleaned that the kid's parents had reluctantly agreed to drop the kid off with his starry-eyed server, Roman, but the mystery of the late-night hand-off had not been resolved by the golden boy's texts.

     Janus tapped his fingernails on the cheap plastic tabletop as the golden boy himself glanced up at clock above the bar nervously. He stared curiously as his façade of nonchalance broke for the first time, revealing the underlying anxiety brewing behind the sweet smile. Janus blinked as the man disappeared behind the bar, allowing his attention to drift back to the rain-soaked window once more. He stirred his coffee absently as watched the glowing headlights rush past.

    The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, barely obscuring the hazy view of the streets outside. He'd almost turned back to watch the golden boy when a slim black car caught Janus’ attention. The sleek, tinted windows of the strange car stood out among the tattered, worn down streets. Janus sat up straight as the car pulled up next to the curb and the back door popped open to reveal the reddish-brown hair of the kid he'd been waiting for.

  Not a moment was spared on goodbyes. The kid immediately bound to the door of the diner, slamming the car door behind him. Janus didn’t see that it mattered however, as the car was gone before the kid even made it to the door. He let out a soft breath, turning to watch as the golden boy gleefully rush to the door with a slightly manic look in his eyes.

    The interaction should have filled Janus with relief. Seeing the kid in the man’s arms meant the most difficult part of his job was done. All he had to do now is watch the kid for a few days, but something about the simple interaction he'd just watched set him on edge.

    Janus’ tension only seemed to ease as he watched the golden boy sweep the boy up into his arms, whispering to him in hushed tones. They stayed like that for a solid minute, before the bouncing waiter finally started to drag the kid to a booth. A few moments later, they were walking towards his booth and his former human instincts and he averted his gaze. Logically, he knew their gaze would pass over him, but the compulsion to be polite seemed to be far stronger in his brain.

    “Where’s your coat, Pat?” The man whispered as he guided the kid into the seat behind him.

    “He—uh, he didn't let me take it.”

    The kid’s mumble was almost incoherent as the man stopped abruptly next to the booth, staring as the kid slid onto the vinyl seat behind him.

     “What?”

     There was a long pause as the golden boy stared down at the kid. Janus could almost feel the heat in the kids cheeks as he squirmed behind him. “He said, if I thought I was an adult, I could act like it—and my stuff would be waiting when I came to my senses and went back.”

    “What a goddamn asshole, Pat.” The golden boy whispered in disbelief. Immediately, he seemed to backtrack until the kid interrupted him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t swear in front of y—"

    “They also said some nasty things about Lo before I left.” The kid's voice trembled as he tapped on the cheap plastic table

    “It wasn't true. Whatever they said, Logan has done nothing but care about you.” The golden boy's deep voice reassured him. “He has everything set up. You won't have to worry about a thing.”

    “I know. I just—”

    Janus' heart twisted with guilt at sadness in the kid’s voice.

    “Where is—"

    “Listen, I'm going to grab my jacket for you, Starlight. You’re absolutely shivering. I'll be—” The man stopped him abruptly. “I’ll be right back. Okay?”

    “Okay, Ro.”

     Ice seized Janus' heart at the confused tone of the kid's and he jerked his head around to watch the golden boy’s head disappear behind the bar.

    He doesn’t know his brother is missing.

    The realization hit Janus like a brick wall as he glanced over his shoulder at the back of the kid’s head. His shoulders were slumped as he leaned forward to fidget with the basket of sugar in front of him. Janus blinked as he turned around, barely able to process what was happening. As he slunk back into his seat, Janus slowly pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Virgil in his phone.

    J: Got eyes on the kid.

    V: he's safe?

    J: He's fine I think.

    V: what does that mean?

    J: Kid doesn’t know his brother’s missing, Vee.

    V: what

    V: wait how close are you?

    A sudden, sweeping motion in his periphery caught Janus’ attention and he turned his head to see the golden boy making his way back in their direction.

    V: Jan what's happening?

    J: Update later.

    Janus bit his lip guiltily as he typed the quick response, shoving his phone back in his pocket. His phone immediately buzzed a response. He turned his head, casually reaching into his pocket to silence his phone as he watched the pretty waiter make his way back to the table. The man was effortlessly balancing three plates on top of carrying the jacket he had swung over his arm. He moved quickly across the room and only stopping to gracefully slide the plate across the table to the kid and throw the jacket at him.

    “Eat up, Pat.”  The charismatic waiter’s voice almost seemed deflated now. His tension seemed to release now that the kid was here, replaced by a much more somber tone. “I'm taking off early tonight so we can get you to sleep at a decent time.”

   “Where’s—”

   “—I'll be back in a minute to grab you.” Janus’ stomach tightened as the golden boy tactfully brushed off the kid’s question. “Hopefully the rain will let up for the walk home not to be a miserable affair. I don’t want you to get sick.”

    “Okay.” The kid whispered, sounding a little deflated.

    “Hey, don't be like that.” The waiter's incredibly charming voice echoed in his ear from behind him. Janus could feel a scuffle in the booth behind him as the waiter ruffled the kid's hair. “It’s good to see you here, Starlight, but please just try to cut me a little slack tonight.”

    “Sorry. I promise to be patient.” The kid’s shy whisper shook slightly as if taken off guard by the waiter’s light reprimand. “Thanks again for letting us stay with you, Ro.”

    “You don't ever have to apologize to me, Starlight.” The golden boy seemed to tense slightly at the kid's change in demeanor. “Even if it weren’t for Logan, my door is always open to you. You’re family, kid.”

    Janus heart twisted at the bittersweet sentiment. This kid really had no idea what was going on and Janus wasn’t even sure the server planned on telling him. Stirring his coffee absently, images of the kid's brother tied tightly in Virgil’s binds flashed through the front of his mind. His eyes flicked to the side as the waiter backed away from the table, still talking with poor child.

    Soon, the server returned to his duties, leaving a heavy silence hanging over him. A bitter taste settled into the back of Janus' throat as his thoughts fell into a dark spiral. Virgil could be feeding on the guy now, as his brother innocently picked at his food. Even if he wasn’t, Janus could still see the red, irritated welts on the guy’s wrists perfectly in his mind. He—

    “Excuse me.”

    Janus nearly jumped out of his skin as the kid tapped on his shoulder from behind him, somehow breaking straight through his glamour. Fortunately, his instincts kicked in and he dropped his head, keeping his face hidden from the child leaning over the barrier and into his booth.

    “Can I borrow your ketchup?”

    “What?” Janus incredulous tone must have registered as odd to the kid, because he suddenly started to explain the simple question.

    “The bottle at this table is almost empty and I—”

    “Yes. Take it.” Janus snapped, cutting off the kid's explanation as he hastily shoved the red bottle into the kid's open hand.

     “Thanks.” The kid's voice sounded almost hurt and almost certainly taken aback at Janus’ abrupt cut into his attempt at a friendly inquiry. “I'm sorry to bother you, sir.”

     Janus' stomach twisted as the kid turned back around and slumped back into his seat. He cast a quick glance back at the kid, stilling as the kid’s  body language slouched. He knew for a fact, it wasn’t worth getting involved, but despite his wariness, Janus was getting the idea this kid was used to being shoved aside and he didn’t want to be the one to do that to this kid.

    Fuck. Virgil is going to flay me alive.

    “You didn’t bother me.” Janus whispered hesitantly, forcing himself to keep staring forward as the kid turned toward him.

    “What?

    “You surprised me is all.” Janus muttered. “No harm done, kid.”

    “Patton.”

    Now, it seemed it was Janus’ turn to turn back over his shoulder, dumbfounded, but the kid had already faced forward.

    “And I'm not a kid.”

    Janus smirked, turning forward to stare out the wall of windows. “Come now. You look like you can't be more than fourteen.”

    “I'm sixteen.”

    Sixteen.

    Janus blinked in disbelief at the kid's age and chewing his cheek at the kid’s slight defensive tone. “Still it’s a little late for someone as young as you to be out and about on this side if town .”

    “Legally, I'm adult.” Patton muttered. “I'm—I'm emancipated.”

    “Legal don't mean shit here, kid.” Janus stared down at his coffee, remembering the look of despair on the kid's brother's face as Virgil had loomed over him. “You’re going to have to learn that real quick, if you plan on staying here.”

    “I'm staying.”

    “No offense, kid, but I saw the car that brought you here.” Janus whispered, stirring his coffee absently. “The streets are going to eat you alive, if you aren’t—”

    “My brother knows what he's doing.” The kid snapped, though he seemed to be losing steam. “He's got a plan. I know he does.”

    “I sure hope he does, Patton,” Janus paused, chewing on his thoughts as the kid’s name passed his lips.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the boy’s new guardian making his way back to his table, so he quickly pulled out his wallet and tossed a twenty on the table for the coffee he had hardly touched. He tensed with resolution as he moved to leave the booth. “But even if he doesn’t have a plan, I think you’ll find he has allies in unexpected places.”

    “What?”

    Janus could hear the kid turn around as he stepped out of his booth, but he didn’t even pause. He straightened his hat on his head as flared up the collar of his long coat.

    “Don't give up, kid.”

    “Wait—What are you talking ab—”

    The kid's call died out as he strode out of the restaurant, pushing past the concerned waiter who was rushing back to the table to collect the kid. Janus sighed, frustrated as he pushed open the double doors of diner and swept down the street, taking a swift turn into the alleyway behind the restaurant.

    Janus’ breaths came in short gasps as he paced the alleyway with a fierce intention. Fury flared in his chest as his body filled with indignation on the kid's behalf. His pace had nearly peaked when he shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He snarled as he noticed the already lit screen, barely resisting the urge to smash the phone into the wall as he caught Virgil’s name on the screen. Janus' pacing stilled. His anger burned white-hot as he considered letting Virgil worry, but his sudden desire for a fight won out as he clicked the green button and snarled into the receiver .

    “What?”

    “What the hell, Janus?” Virgil growled into his ear. “You don’t get to just ghost me whenever you feel like it—”

     “I can’t do this.”

     The line went silent for a long minute as Janus breathed into his cell. He sighed, releasing a bit of his anger as he leaned into the wall.

      “This kid is already asking questions about his brother. It’s only a matter of time until he realizes he's not coming home.” Janus hissed. “Even this guy’s friend seems like a decent human. He's still planning on taking the kid in even knowing his friend’s gone—”

    “Janus—”

    “No. Tell me, Virgil. When did we start doing shit like this to good people?” Janus leaned off the dumpster behind him as his diatribe intensified. “I didn’t sign up for th—”

    “Maybe, if you gave me a chance to speak, I’d—”

    “Where’s my brother, Roman?!”

    The blood-curdling shriek sent Janus flying behind the dumpster. He'd barely managed to crouch out of sight he heard a scuffle at the entrance to the alleyway.

    “Quiet!”

    Janus hesitantly peeked around the corner to catch a glance of the golden boy dragging the kid into the alley. His fangs started to extend as the full-grown man pressing the kid into the wall of the other building, covering his mouth with his hand so he couldn't call for help. Adrenaline shot through Janus’ body as he prepared to lunge into action.

    “I need you to relax, Pat.” The waiter’s deep voice sent shivers down Janus’ spine, but his tone was kind and patient. “I'm going to tell you, but your father can’t hear about this. If he does, you’re going to end up right back at home.”

    Janus’ muscles eased as the golden boy's grip slackened, even though the kid seemed far from settling as he squirmed in the man’s arms. Feeling the tension drop, Janus edged further into the shadows as he glanced at his phone, grateful that Virgil seemed to have picked up that he needed to remain quiet.

    “Come on, Starlight. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” The man’s voice trembled, nearly fading to silence. “I'm lost, too.”

    The kid, Patton, seemed to go slack in the man's arms at the slight tremble in the man's voice. Janus’s heart ached as he stared at the kid. The wet streaks on his face glistened in the light of the streetlamp and he looked even younger than he had in the diner.

    Just a kid.

    “I don't know where Logan is, Pat. He disappeared last night.”

    Janis could feel the energy in the air shift as the kid started to shake his head violently. He threw his whole weight into the man holding him against the wall, knocking the man's hand free of his mouth.

    “No—no, no, nonono—”

    “Don’t panic. We're going to find—”

    “What happened, Roman?”  The kid's voice cracked as he backed away from the man, swaying unevenly on his feet.

    “I don’t know, Patton. We were walking home from the diner last night and—” Roman hovered close to the kid, desperate to comfort him but cautious about antagonizing him. “I don't know what happened after that. I woke up in my bed, and—and Lo never came home.”

    Janus leaned closer, staring as his fangs slowly retracted. Patton continued to sway dangerously until the man came up to steady him from behind.

    “What did the police say?”

    Janus watched curiously as the man's expression shifted and he suddenly gripped the kid tighter. “I couldn't call them, Pat.”

    “What?!”

    A shiver ran down Janus’ spine as the kid's shriek filled his ears and it a was a long moment after that before he even processed the man's words. He glanced down at his phone, knowing Virgil was probably listening as intently to this conversation as himself.

    The guy didn't call the cops.

    “Logan was very clear about what he wanted me to do if something happened to him. His priority was always making sure you were safe first—”

    “Not if he's missing, Roman.”

    “He told me exactly what he'd want me to do if he went missing, Patton” Roman whispered staring over at Patton. “and that means making sure the police don't find out he's gone.”

    “Why—”

    “Your father has the police under his thumb,” Roman stepped closer to Patton, wrapping his arm around him. “One of the conditions of your emancipation was having a place to live with your brother. If he’s gone, the judge could throw out the decision, especially with a district attorney whispering in his ear."

    “He knew?”

    “God, no. Pat, he wanted to be here waiting for you. He planned to be at the diner when you arrived,” Roman stepped forward, gripping the kid’s shoulders as he forced him to make eye contact. “but Lo spent hours planning for anything that could possibly go wrong. He wanted to know that you were taken care of, even if something happened to him.”

    Patton continued to stare at the ground, shaking. “Roman, he could be hurt—”

    Janus sucked in a breath through his teeth, glancing down at his phone.

    “I've already got Rem on it. We're going to find him.” Roman whispered. His voice dropped quiet enough that Janus could barely make out the words. “I'm not giving up on him. Okay?”

    The kid's face paled and Janus could only guess he was barely standing by the way he continued to sway. Silence hung over them for longer than Janus was comfortable with, but the man holding his shoulders waited patiently until the kid responded.

    “Okay.”

    “Good,” Roman turned the kid's shoulder to walk him out of the alley. “Now, let’s get you to bed."

    “Ro—” Patton slowed

    “Don't argue, Pat. You’re not going to do Lo any favors by depriving yourself of sleep.” Roman placed a hand on the Patton's back in gentle reassurance. “We'll meet up with Rem first thing in the morning and go from there.”

    “’Kay.”

    The kid's mumble faded as they left the alley and Janus rose out of the shadows as they turned the corner out of the alley. He bit his lip, staring after them as he unmuted his phone and lifted the receiver to his ear.

    “Do you feel like an asshole yet?”

    “You know,” Virgil’s voice growled in his ear. “Your biting sarcasm loses its charm very quickly.”

    Janus bristled as Virgil brushed him off. “I'm done, Virgil. Return the guy or I'm—"

    “No.”

    Janus snarled silently. “Fine, then I'm out. Best of luck with whatever bastard plan you’ve—”

    “Stop.” Virgil muttered, his voice full of reluctance. “Please, just hear me out.”

    Janus' thumb hovered over the button, but the subtle plea in Virgil’s voice gave him pause not to hang up. He sighed, raising the phone back to his ear. “You have exactly thirty seconds to change my mind, Virgil.”

   Virgil didn’t hesitate a second with his response. “Do you remember when I got into that fight a few years ago?”

    Janus paused, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. He slowed his pacing, staring curiously out the alley in the direction the kid had left as he replied hesitantly to Virgil. “Yes, I do.”

   Virgil's let out a long breath into the receiver. “This guy is the guy I fought, Janus.”

    Janus blinked, mouth hanging agape. “Oh.”

    “I know how this looks, Jan,” Virgil breathed quietly. “but this dude put me in the hospital because I said something he didn't like. However upset the kid is about his brother being missing, he’s safer without this monster.”

    Chewing his lip, Janus paced back and forth in the alley. His body tensed as he tried to process his friend’s words.

    “Janus?”

    Janus let out a long sigh, pressing his thumb into his temple. “I'm here, Virgil.”

     Static crackled in the phone's speaker as the silence hung over them. Janus glanced up at the amber street light tapping his fingers on his arm as a group of people passed the alley. Their laughter broke the fragile silence, grating against Janus’ ears.

    “I'm not the only bad guy.”

    “You’re not—” Janus repeated back without hesitation. “You’re not a bad guy.”

    He could hear Virgil’s breathy snort through the phone as he stifled a chuckle. “You seem awfully sure about changing your tune so quick.”

    “I am.” Janus muttered, stepping towards the street.

    “Janus,” Virgil’s sharp inhale stilled Janus pacing as he awaited Virgil’s response. “we're good?”

   “We're good, Virgil.” The corner of Janus' mouth twitched up at the relief in Virgil’s voice.

   “Good.” Virgil’s voice wavered with emotion and Janus smiled at the subtle show of vulnerability. “Now please, make sure that kid gets home safely.”

    “I will.” Janus smiled, leaning into the stone wall across the alley from the diner.

    “Thank you.”

    Janus paused for a moment, smile faltering as the situation that had just unfolded before him continued processing in his mind. "Vee?"

    "Yeah, Jan?"

    "He didn't call the cops."

    "I know. Something's up with these people," Virgil's voice dropped as he let out a long sigh. "We'll figure out what's going on, but for now, let's just be glad we don't have heat breathing down our necks. Okay?"

    "Okay." Janus nodded absently, trying to relax. "You're right."

    "It'll be fine."

    "Right. I know."

    "Jan, relax." Virgil whispered patiently. "You're safe. There ain't nothing bigger or badder on those streets than you."

    Janus cracked a smile, chuckling as he stood up from the wall. "Oh, I know."

    "Keep me updated."

    Janus grunted an affirmation, and a moment later, the line disconnected. He sighed, quickly dropping his phone from his ear into his pocket, feeling a familiar numbness settle into his limbs as stepped out onto the sidewalk. The scent of the golden boy’s cologne was easy enough to catch as he turned down the street towards his target. He swept around the next corner, thoughts wandering as the streets began to blur together. He bit his lip, shoulders curled forward even though he couldn’t feel the sharp bite of the cold. The amber lights illuminated him as he closed the distance between him and the kid, not that he noticed the buildings as they blurred past as he disappeared into the night.

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

I Know What You’re Going To Say Taglist:

@theoddkidnextdoor @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @im-actually-ok @justanoymous