#OOF sorry this look so long!! i didn't want to burn myself out like i did last year ;;

[aquilaofarkham]

wolfsbane bloom

Trevor is bitten by a werewolf; Alucard and Sypha offer their support while the night of his first full moon creeps up. Eventually, he discovers that vampires do in fact get along far better with lycans than he expected. For bitchardarmitage.

rating: teen and up (canon-typical violence, blood, coarse language, brief mentions of death/suicide)

word count: 4,406

This will be easy, this will be quick. He’s done this sort of deed before. With every trudge forward, the heavy snow crutches beneath Trevor’s boots. He looks up through the trees; the creeping darkness of dusk turning into night makes them look more like the iron bars of a cage. The whip and sword hanging off either sides of his waist along with the crossbow across his back weigh him down. But he keeps moving - better to finish this now before the dead bodies start piling up.

Trevor blows into his hands, trying to warm them while taking a moment to exam his surroundings. Snowflakes descending from above gently blow onto his face and get caught on his eyelashes. Apart from the sound of his footsteps, the woods are silent. Dead, uncomfortable silence. He keeps an ear out for anything that might break it; a twig snapping under the weight of claws, the rustling of leaves against coarse fur, or the low growl of a creature that’s somewhere between human and animal.

Eyes glance towards the murky skies, settling on the bright full moon, before turning back down at the series of paw prints leading deeper into the forest. Far too big to belong to any normal wolf. It’s been a while since Trevor found himself on the trail of a lycanthrope. “Out of practice” is an apt descriptor regarding this recent endeavour. He’s not worried, though. His arrows are made from silver, his blade purified in wolfsbane, and the Morningstar still sings when he wields it. This should go easily. This should go quickly.

It’s not long before Trevor hears the very noise he’s been searching for. Readying the crossbow, he carefully spins around to face whatever is lurking in the bushes behind him. He takes aim and lets out a deep breath. The frigid air transforms it into a long huff of smoke. Trevor keeps both arms steady, his patience steadfast yet quickly running out. Until the foreign sound moves. First, he hears footsteps off to his side, then back behind, then to his other side. Circling him, over and over again. Stalking its prey.

The hunter keeps his feet planted to the ground, moving them only slightly, preparing himself for the right moment. The same noise continues, followed by that growl he needed to hear. Another breath and the footsteps stop. Trevor is granted a few short seconds before his own prey lunges forward. He rolls out of the way, kicking up clumps of snow. Raising his head, he looks directly into sickly yellow eyes belonging to a mass of dark fur, elongated limbs, and a snout full of teeth blackened with blood. It snarls, keeping its distance, biding its time, before making its second attack.

Trevor is much quicker. With the crossbow loaded, he takes his first shot. The short arrow drives itself into the beasts’ shoulder, barely an inconvenience. Then comes a second and third. Trevor reloads the weapon and takes aim just as fast as he dodges each vicious assault. Streams of blood and saliva drip from the lycan’s fangs. Those bits of silver have only made it angrier.

It doesn’t give Trevor a chance to reach for the Morningstar. It seizes the opportunity, wrenching the crossbow out of his hands and pins him against the deep snow, its jaws snapping at his face. Trevor tries holding it back, but only manages to slice open both palms. Teeth dig into his shoulder and neck. Trevor is thankful for the pain despite how much it burns. Instead of wearing him down, it motivates (or rather forces) him to grab his sword and burrow its tip between the creature’s ribs.

An agonized howl mixed with a whine echoes throughout the forest. Awkwardly yet with enough strength, Trevor’s blade pierces its neck, nearly getting caught amongst all the fur and flesh. Blood gurgles in the lycan’s throat, hacking it up in large globs. Last breaths before its heavy body collapses.

Trevor lies in the snow, blinded by snowflakes. Quick, yes, but far from easy. He sits up with a long groan and turns to his handiwork. The crossbow is in pieces, blood drenches the ground, and the beast is nowhere to be seen. In its place is a human body; naked, thin flaxen hair, and pale skin stretched to its limit over bones. They lay motionless, their life spilling out through their chest and neck.

The hunter doesn’t move, nor can he look away. It’s so rare for him to see a sight like this. There’s no sense of victory, but what should be felt then? Guilt? It had to be done. They were trapped. Whoever they were, he set them free. But what point is there in telling himself this? All Trevor can think of is a different reminder. The monsters he hunts, that his family hunted, must have been human. Even vampires were human before.

“Poor bastard.” He could give them a burial - not a proper one. Still, they deserve that much. But another sting crawls down Trevor’s arm. He places a hand against his torn-up shoulder; tender, wet, and burning. Tearing away the ripped fabric, his eyes widen at the wound left behind by the lycan’s teeth. All he can say is an exasperated, breathless “fuck...”

He’ll live. That’s what he’s terrified of.

--

Trevor walks back home, the pain in his shoulder reduced to a dull throb numbed by the cold air. He placed the body in a deep snowbank before retracing his steps. There it will freeze for the rest of the winter then thaw and decompose when spring comes. Or perhaps the wolves, foxes, and bears will find it; whichever happens first.

The only light guiding him is that of the full moon. Trevor sneers up at it. He knows the next one won’t be as beautiful or kind - unless he does something. He read his family’s bestiary as though it were a children’s bedtime story. He’s well aware of all the legends even those that contradict each other. The lycan travels on its hind legs, they are agents of the Devil, so on and so forth. 

One thing remains constant: kill the beast before it leaves its bite, and the curse will be broken. A harsh realization just as Trevor approaches home. He marches up to the front door of the Belmont manor, still half rebuilt and looking more akin to a large cottage than the grand building it once was. Strangely enough, he prefers this home to the one he was born an raised in. A warm hue of candlelight shines through the windows while smoke gently rises out of a short chimney. The other occupants are awake and waiting for him.

This is what Trevor was dreading. They’ll ask questions the moment they see him. They’ll look at his torn shirt with dark red stains, the teeth marks upon his skin, and the panicked expression on his blood-drained face. They care so much and worry for him even more, which is why Trevor will try avoiding them. He walks into the warm house, shaking off the snow that clings to his hair and clothes.

As he takes his first steps down the hall, Trevor stops. He notices a set of two faint voices coming from the reading room. Shit. Almost forgot; he needs to go through there in order to reach his bedchamber. His hand covers the wound. Be quick, keep your eyes down, and don’t draw attention to yourself. Three pieces of advice he remembers from the years spent as a wanderer. He should never have to act this way around his friends, his family, but it is necessary.

Trevor darts into the room, keeping to the walls lined with shelves. The glances he makes at his companions, who sit comfortably with books in their hands, are brief. “There you are,” greets Sypha. Her light jovial attitude lessens when she receives no reply. “So... everything went well, then.”

“Fine.” Trevor should know by now that a single, dismissive word has never been enough to convince either of them.

“That’s it?” Alucard lowers his book. “No boasting, no trophies of your victory? It’s not like you at all.”

“I’m tired.”

“Trevor, your shoulder...”

“It’s nothing.”

“It should be tended to. Come on...”

Trevor gently shrugs off Sypha. “Really, it’s not worth the trouble.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” Alucard may jest like he always does, but his tone sounds just as concerned as Sypha’s. Trevor’s face begins to sweat, he feels suffocated. He needs his room. It’s the only way he’ll be able to think clearly.

“I’m going to bed.”

“At least bandage that wound.”

“I’ll do it eventually.”

Sypha scoffs. “Always so stubborn-”

“Stop.” The response is far louder than Trevor wanted. Sypha and Alucard stare. His empty stomach heaves while the pit of his chest grows tighter, hurting him. “I appreciate the concern... but I really am tired.” He can’t even muster up a simple “goodnight” before rushing towards his room. Trevor shuts the door, his hand a death grip on the knob and sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t bother lighting a candle. Maybe the darkness will help focus his mind.

All options are weighed; none good, all bad, some even worse. Trevor returns to what he’s already accepted. Withdrawing a dagger he always keeps tucked in his boot, he checks the sharpness with his thumb. This is the only way. If he wants to spare others from the curse - if he wants Sypha and Alucard safe - it has to be. 

The door creaks open, Sypha comes into view, and Trevor quickly hides the weapon. Even in the shadows, he can tell that her anxious expression has worsened. “You were bitten,” she says. There’s nothing for him to deny.

“Show me what’s behind your back.” Her tone is bold, direct, yet gentle and Trevor cannot ignore it (he never could to begin with). He reveals the dagger slowly, almost shamefully. The first emotion Sypha feels is anger; how could he do this? How could he come to such an abrupt conclusion concerning his life without first talking it through with either herself or Alucard? She hoped Trevor had grown past this sort of reckless thinking. Evidently, he may never.

Sypha feels Alucard’s presence close behind her. Anger subsides into empathy as they walk into the room. Perhaps there is reason as to why Trevor came to a hasty decision. He’s a Belmont after all, born and bred as a hunter, knowing exactly what a lycan’s bite will do to a man. Still, it’s a decision they refuse to accept.

“Trevor...”

“Sorry. I... I didn’t want you to worry. But I have to do this.”

“No, you do not.” Sypha sits beside Trevor while Alucard carefully checks his shoulder, wincing as delicate fingers prod at the wound.

“It’s not infected yet, but it is very swollen and still bleeding a little. Put some pressure on his shoulder, I won’t take long.” He says to Sypha. Before Alucard can leave to continue playing the role of doctor just as his mother did, Trevor speaks up.

“There’s no point. Stop troubling yourself.”

“Not another word out of you. I’ll be right back.” There’s that blunt, aggressive tone Trevor has heard many times before, especially when directed at himself. It’s only because Alucard cares; he’s grown to care deeper and harder than ever. The dhampir then snatches away the dagger at an unusually quick speed. “And I’m taking this with me.” Only because he cares.

Alucard leaves Trevor with Sypha. Every uneasy breath causes his body to tremble. Hands curl into fists, nails digging into palms, as he tries forming his anxious thoughts into words. He holds himself back from grabbing tuffs of hair and bashing his head against a nearby wall. For being so careless, so stupid. “You really don’t understand...”

“We do understand. That’s why we’re both going to help.”

“Sypha, listen.” Trevor finds the strength to look her in the eyes. “When I turn, I won’t be able to stop myself and people will die. You and Alucard, you’ll...”

Sypha can’t bear to hear him talk of death and dying any longer. Enough, she thinks. “No one is going to die. Not your or anyone else. All three of us have seen enough death to last us lifetimes. We will help you through this.”

Trevor’s energy is spent. There’s not much he can do except trust her words - weakly. Alucard returns with his arms full of medicinal supplies: a basin of water, a cup of ointment made from honey and frankincense, gauze strips, and a needle with some thread. He works swiftly, diligently. Cleaning the wound, smothering it then sewing everything up. Trevor winces until the last bandage is tied. All he can think about is pain, that of tonight and that which will follow in the near future. Sypha squeezes his hand as Alucard rubs his hunched back.

Their simple actions ease the pain. Trevor hopes it will last for as long as it can.

--

There is much that can be done in a month’s time, yet not enough. Sypha immerses herself within books of the lycan mythos, some of which are older than the Belmont lineage itself. She reads of Dacian wolf cults, the cursed wolf king Vereticus, and poor children, seventh of their family, doomed to become beasts. How to track and kill, not help. Not save. But Sypha has many other books to tear through. If there are any alternatives, anything to suggest that Trevor might be spared his fate, she will find it. Alucard does the same and uses the notebooks left behind by Lisa, searching for a way to ease the eventual transition. Better yet, a way to stop it entirely.

It gets harder for Trevor with each passing hour. He tries, god knows he does. Carrying on with his hunts and errands, treating the days as though they were ordinary, postponing the inevitable. Distractions to keep himself at least half sane. But then there are the nightmares, common occurrences for a Belmont. Not these, however. Not the ones where Trevor chokes on blood and flesh or when his skin tears as easily as the thinnest parchment. He wakes up every morning, his stomach clenched and the taste of bile in his mouth. The closer the full moon approaches, the worse they become. Trevor can’t go about the days as normal.

Just as the last rays of sunlight shine through the stained-glass windows of the manor, Alucard finds Trevor in his bedroom. He sees him lying on his side, back turned, and the dhampir wonders how long he’s been like this. “No luck again?” The hunter asks before Alucard can announce himself.

“... Sypha and I made a tonic that will help with the pain when you transform.”

“But won’t stop it.” One pause is the only answer Trevor needs. “You shouldn’t put yourself through this much work for me.”

“Yet we do.” Alucard joins him on the bed. “And despite what you might think, we do it willingly.”

Trevor remains in his half fetal position, eyelids heavy. If that statement was meant to brighten his mood, it hasn’t. Alucard and Sypha have done so much for him. Enough that he feels he will never be able to repay them in full. Despite his honest attempts, he’s become a burden this past month and it will only get worse.

He finally sits up, his hair a bedridden mess. Alucard receives the first real glimpse at his bloodshot eyes, unchecked stubble, and cheeks devoid of blush and colour. Trevor turns to him, saying without words, “I know I look like shit”.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“It comes and goes.”

“For how long?”

“... an hour. If I’m lucky.”

“Are you afraid to sleep?”

“Does it seem like I’m afraid?” But Trevor already has the answer. “You’re right... you’re absolutely right as always. I’m so fucking scared. I can’t sleep because I’m scared of what I’ll see, scared of what I’ll feel, I’m scared of what’s going to happen in the next few days... I’ve never felt this much fear in my entire life. I feel sick and weak and...”

Alucard pulls the hunter in close, wrapping his arms around his broad back. “You know...” Trevor pushes his cheek against the dhampir’s shoulder. His sobs are quiet, repressed, which is just like him. “Contrary to what most people believe, vampires and lycans gets along very well.”

“... is it because you both turn into wolves?” Trevor asks, his voice muffled.

“The similarities certainly help. But it’s more a matter of solidarity between creatures of the night.”

“So what you’re saying is things would have gone a lot smoother between us at the very beginning if I happened to be a bloody werewolf.”

Alucard laughs and gives him a light hug. “A joke... and a bad one at that. Haven’t heard one of those from you in a while,” he hums. “Does this mean you’re feeling a little better?”

“I’ll feel better when all this is done and I can actually sleep.”

Without putting up much resistance, the dhampir guides Trevor’s heavy head onto one of the pillows. His tearful eyes shine like glass. “Then sleep.”

“I can’t, I’ll just see more of those... fucking awful things.”

Alucard ponders for a moment. Trevor will think of his next action as over sentimental. He might even poke fun at him, claim he’ll use it as blackmail, but he does it out of genuine affection for the idiot. Lying beside him, Alucard drapes the fur blanket over their bodies. “I’ll stay here until morning. I’ll help you sleep.”

Trevor lets out a defeated sigh. He places his head upon the dhampir’s chest, pleasantly surprised at how soft and warm it feels. The slow rhythmic breathing also helps put him at ease. Alucard’s fingers stroke his hair as lips ghost over the hunter’s forehead. “You’re not weak for being scared. We’re all scared. But we’ve made preparations and we’ll take all precautions. You’ll still be you, even after everything. The same foulmouthed, smelly... brave Belmont you always have been.”

He could go on, but Trevor’s eyes are already closed.

--

Near the manor, nestled under the hard winter earth, lies a cellar. Dark, chilled, and large enough to house over a dozen adult bodies. It was made for storage, but Trevor has found another use. One that will help save lives when the full moon rises this night. He can only hope.

Standing in the middle of the stone bound room, refusing a lantern or torch, he faces Sypha and Alucard. They seem apprehensive, uneasy, every quiet negative emotion. Even Alucard walks with an uncertain foot as he hands Trevor a small bottle. If the library books and their contents aren’t going to help him, perhaps this will. He uncorks it and pours a bitter tasting liquid down his throat, emptying the container. He’s drunk far stronger things in the past, but nerves almost cause him to retch everything back up.

“We should stay with you,” Sypha suggests. Trevor shakes his head, still reeling from the tonic.

“No. Just make sure the door is locked and bolted shut.”

“How will we know if you’re alright?”

“Won’t know for certain until tomorrow morning.”

“We can’t wait all night!” She glances at Alucard who doesn’t say it out loud, but agrees nonetheless.

“Then you’ll know everything happened like it’s supposed to when the screaming stops and the growling starts. It’s not gonna be a pretty thing to hear, I’ll tell you that much.” No one is in the mood for Trevor’s joke - if one could call it that. Not even Alucard has the energy to scold him. “But you can’t come in no matter what. Nothing goes into that room and sure as hell nothing comes out. Understand?”

Sypha and Alucard reluctantly understand. They look towards the stairs leading to the outside world. It’s late evening and the moon still be rising soon. A quick yet tight embrace is the best - or at least the easiest - goodbye they can give Trevor before exiting the cellar. Alucard closes the door, bolting it with a heavy clank. He and Sypha sit at the bottom of the steps; they’ve always hated waiting. In their shared experience, it never seems to be for anything good.

They pass the time in silence. Night arrives slower than expected. Sypha holds her knees to her chest, a shivering ball of stress while Alucard keeps his back against the wood and iron door. Small flakes of snow drift down followed by the cold light of the full moon. 

Before Sypha can ask if it’s started yet, they hear something coming from behind the door. Pained, restricted moans as though Trevor were holding them back. A series of “fucks” hissed through teeth grinding together. Longer it goes on until they turn into screams. Vocal chords strain and tear, becoming inhuman. Sypha’s hands cover her ears but she’s seconds too late. It’s in her head now. The banging, ripping, clawing, and crying have forced their way inside. Against her own wishes, Sypha’s mind pieces together a grotesque puzzle of what might be happening within the cellar.

Some of the wood on the door suddenly cracks, not enough to break it open but a few more and it just might. Alucard’s eyes go wide. He immediately uses his body in an effort to keep it shut. Although having faith in his immense strength, Sypha offers her help. They share the same prayer: let this end.

The violent banging stops and the piercing screams quiet down. All that’s left is the same silence as before - Sypha and Alucard feel no comfort. They bring their ears close to the door and hear it. A guttural snarl belonging to a very, very big animal.

“Alucard...” Sypha whispers. “Do you remember what one of those manuscripts we looked at said?”

“Which one?”

“The one about northern lycan myths. It said something about calling out the creature’s name...”

There’s a tense pause before he remembers the passage. “If one should love the beast dearly, speak its true name and its humanity shall be restored.” The same text also suggested tossing the lycan’s human clothes in their direction. Alucard doubted its validity even when they first found it. “I don’t think...”

“We should at least try it. Please.”

Alucard’s furrowed brow softens. Of course it’s a risk, but he loathes the alternative of waiting until morning while Trevor stays locked in a dangerous body he can’t control. And listening to Sypha’s gut instinct has never led any of them astray before. If it doesn’t work, there’s always the clothes option. Cautiously, Alucard unbolts the door.

Sypha walks in before him, a small flame emanating from her fingertips. The steps they take are short and careful until a low drawn out growl stops them. Light reflects off ice blue eyes shining in the surrounding blackness. Backed into the farthest corner is a beast with thick fur, its posture cowered yet threatening, ready to strike if tested. Clearly a wolf, yet unlike any wolf the two have seen. Everything is too large; its head, limbs, teeth. From where Sypha and Alucard stand, they instead see a mouth full of daggers.

“Trevor Belmont.” Reaching out his hand, the dhampir is the first to say his name. The creature snaps its jaws, its barks deafening.

“Trevor, it’s us. You remember, I know you do.” Sypha stays close to Alucard, keeping the flame lit while her other hand prepares a different spell should they need it. The lycan lowers its head and crawls towards them on all fours, the hairs of its belly scraping along the floor. “Trevor...” Alucard repeats, stunned at how close they’ve gotten. Scared that one mistake could ruin all their chances. It sniffs his hand and blinks. No longer does it growl. Alucard and Sypha are tired of waiting but they must do it one last time.

Their hopes are rewarded when Trevor softly bumps the top of his head into the dhampir’s palm.

--

He doesn’t come out. Not into the forest nor the house. Trevor holds full awareness of what his body has become, but the fear of losing command haunts him. He cannot risk going outside. He won’t wander amongst the dense forests only to come across a village and succumb to any violent urges that might be screaming for release. So, he stays in the cellar curled up in his corner of stone and hay, alone.

A soft whimper escapes as one of Trevor’s oversizes paws covers his eyes. It was difficult convincing Sypha and Alucard to leave him alone without the use of words. All he could manage was a few persistent whines while he pushed the outside. They’ve been gone for a while.

Suddenly, out of the quiet, Trevor hears the door creak open. He raises his head, ears perking up and expects to see either a blue clad Speaker or a golden haired dhampir. Perhaps they’ve come to keep him company or bring him food. Yet in their place, Trevor is greeted by a wolf like himself. This one however is much smaller with yellow eyes and fur whiter than the snowy hills surrounding his home. He sits up, recognizing this creature.

Alucard enters the cellar, his nails tapping against the floor with every graceful step. The two take their time in familiarizing themselves with each other’s new forms. While the white wolf circles around him, the lycan remains hesitant. Until Alucard gives the side of his head a couple gentle licks and Trevor feels his muscles relax. You’re still you. Even after everything. Trevor doesn’t know if that’s what Alucard is truly thinking, but his actions seem clear enough.

They nuzzle their snouts together; maybe this is what was meant when he said vampires and lycans get along better than most humans believe. Trevor would be content to stay here all night, as long as Alucard stayed as well, but the white wolf has other plans. He trots over to the door and waits. Tentatively, the lycan trails behind him up the stairs. A passing breeze ruffles his fur. They stare at each other before Alucard bounds off through the trees. Trevor follows.

Running will do both of them some good.

[helloalycia]

just a kid [two] // wanda maximoff

summary: you decide to get to the bottom of things, suspecting Wanda has something to do with your troubled memories.

warning/s: mentions of death and explicit/descriptive violence.

author's note: here’s the second and final part! bit of an angsty one oof

part one | masterlist | wattpad

In all of the time Wanda and I spent together, we'd never lied to one another. We always told each other everything, even if we thought it would make the others person upset. So, I couldn't for the life of me understand what she was doing behind my back now.

After a while of trying to collect my thoughts and reigning in my agitation, I returned to Doctor Maya's office to see she was alone. When I entered without knocking, she looked up with surprise, but now that I knew that she was hiding something, I saw a hint of guilt.

"Y/N, what can I do for you?" she asked without so much as a shake in her voice. She'd practiced well. "Did we have an appointment?"

I closed the door behind me, stepping forward but not quite committing to taking a seat.

"I still feel nauseous," I said with stern eyes. "I still get nightmares. My thoughts don't feel like my own. My head hurts every time I try to remember my accident."

"Y/N, I've told you, it'll take time to–"

"Stop! Stop lying!" I exclaimed, gripping the back of the chair tightly. "I heard you and Wanda talking earlier. I know you're hiding something. Something to do with Wanda. So, tell me. What is it?"

Other than jumping at my sudden outburst, she showed no expression on her face, nor acknowledgement to my words. I tried a different approach, shoulders sagging with defeat and expression softening.

With a normal volume, I pleaded, "Please. I have a right to know if it concerns me."

Still, she said nothing. Only avoided my eyes and played with her fingers nervously on her desk. I clenched my jaw, trying not to snap.

"Fine," I gave in. "Can you at least tell me if Wanda was there when my accident happened?"

Finally, she spoke, nodding. "Obviously she was. She was the one who got you to the quinjet after you were knocked unconscious."

I chewed the inside of my mouth, trying to piece together the incident. Things still didn't make sense...

"The agent that I was trying to help," I said, remembering that was the reason I was out in the field in the first place, "what happened to them? Where are they now?"

She straightened up in her seat. "As I told you before, he made it out okay. But I cannot tell you where he is."

"And why not?"

"It's not relevant."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Well, now I know you're hiding something."

She pressed her lips together, unsure whether to respond or not. After opening and closing her mouth like a fish in water, she opted to stay silent.

"I guess I'll keep taking my medication like a good girl," I said with sarcastic smile. "Thanks for nothing, doc."

With an eye roll, I left the room and decided to take matters into my own hands. If neither her nor Wanda would tell me the truth, I'd make a start to finding out myself.

First thing's first – Wanda had some sort of connection to this whole thing, excluding the fact that she was hiding it. I recalled hearing her say something about 'working out the kinks'... what was she trying to work out?

I knew she had powers and was capable of many things; was it linked to that? I was having trouble remembering and the only two people who seemed to know were my doctor and Wanda, the girl who had the abilities to manipulate thoughts to her own will. But she wouldn't, would she? That was an invasion of privacy, morally wrong. She was a good person. The only time she'd done that was when she was trying to defeat the Avengers, but she wasn't that person anymore... she wouldn't do that to me, right?

It was getting late and I still had so many pieces of the puzzle to put together. All I had were theories and nothing to back them up. So, as I headed to Wanda's room with tired eyes and a curious brain, I tried to push it away for the evening and focus on getting some sleep, if any.

Wanda was tying her hair up in the mirror, already dressed for bed, when I stepped in. Her eyes caught mine in the mirror and she spun around, expression softening.

"Hey," she said gently, probably taking caution after how our last interaction went. "D'you have a nice walk?"

I pursed my lips, studying her carefully. How could she act like this? So concerned for my well-being as she watched me suffer, when she knew something that might help me?

"Yeah, I guess," I spoke, before taking my shoes off and going to the ensuite to get changed.

It was quiet as I got ready for bed and brushed my teeth. Wanda, thankfully, didn't push me to speak, but I was still confused. I wanted her to tell me what she knew, but she was playing it safe. Maybe I could test the waters a little...?

As I clambered into bed beside her, I saw she was sat up and reading a book in the light of her bedside lamp. I began to take my watch off and glanced at her subtly, deciding to say something.

"I think something is wrong," I said, earning her attention. "I think I might be remembering my accident incorrectly."

She lowered her book, giving me her full attention. But unlike before, I now saw the doubt swimming in her eyes.

"What? Why do you think that?" she asked with confusion.

I put my watch to the side and paused, deciding whether I was in the mood to get into it.

"How do you know it was a mine?" I asked her, quirking a brow.

She pulled a face, as if suggesting my question was silly. "I was there, Y/N. I saw it."

I wanted to believe her, I did.

"Did anyone else see it?" I asked, unable to stop myself.

Closing her book, she shook her head, distracting from the panic settling into her expression. "What's with all of the questions?"

I ignored her. "You can manipulate people's thoughts, can't you? Get into their head. Read their mind."

"Yes...," she answered, nodding with a puzzled frown. "So?"

I'd known Wanda long enough to know she was hiding something. I should have detected the signs sooner. The constant avoidance of my eyes, the fiddling thumbs, the way her accent grew a little stronger. I was right. She was keeping something from me.

"You've never got into my head before, right?" I asked curiously, wondering if she was reading my thoughts right now. Did she know I was on to her? Did she know I knew she was hiding something?

Resting a reassuring hand on mine, she shook her head. "I would never."

I glanced at her hand that squeezed mine, then to her dark green eyes swimming with certainty. Was she lying now? Or was she just getting better at it?

No, I still had my doubts. She must have done something to my thoughts. And I would never know unless she told me, which she clearly wasn't going to.

"You're mad at me," she realised, letting go of my hand.

I shook my head and looked away, frowning. "I'm not. I'm just tired."

Without another word, I got under the covers and turned my back to her. I wasn't sure what else to do. She was blatantly lying to my face when I thought I could trust her. How could she?

Sleep came to me quickly that night, thankfully not bombarded by painful dreams. But when I woke up and had a shower, I realised how angry I still was. Wanda was lying to me and I didn't understand why.

"I'm gonna go back to my flat," I told her out of the blue after drying my hair.

She walked out of the ensuite and leaned against the doorframe, seeming taken aback. "You're going back?"

I nodded, maintaining eye contact. "Yeah. I can't stay here."

Wanda frowned. "This is about last night."

She looked so hurt by my words that I almost took them back, but I didn't. She was a liar.

"Yeah, it is," I said, crossing my arms with certainty, a hostile expression taking over my face. "I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, Wanda, but you're lying to me."

She straightened up, eyebrows furrowing together. "What are you talking about?"

I squeezed my hands as I continued to cross my arms, hiding my frustration. "I know you're in my head."

She hesitated – a split second, but I saw it – and it was enough to confirm my thoughts.

"I would never do that," she said with a shake of her head, making me clench my fists.

"Stop lying to me, Wanda!" I shouted, finally bursting. "I know it's you! You're in there, I can feel you!"

"Y/N–"

"No!" I cut her off, tears brimming my eyes. "You're mixing my thoughts up and spitting out something that isn't real. You have to be! Because if you're not then– then– then I'm going insane."

I swallowed hard, wiping my eyes and looking away momentarily, trying to collect myself. Crying wasn't my intention, but God, the discomfort in the pit of my stomach and the constant restlessness I felt was eating me alive. I needed to know the truth and the one person I thought I could rely on wasn't helping me.

"I'm sorry," she said, and I looked at her to see she was watching me apologetically. "I don't want to. But I have to."

I licked my lips, partially fed up. I was hoping I was mistaken, that the most that would happen is I accused my girlfriend of something immoral. This was way worse. I was right.

"Why do you have to?" I questioned with burning eyes. "What happened that I can't know?"

She stepped forward, but I stepped back. Frowning, hurt, she ran a hand through her hair.

"I can't tell you," she said regretfully, making me groan loudly. "Look, it's not as easy as you think. This is for your own good, Y/N."

"No, no, it's not," I disagreed, before pointing an accusing finger her way. "You don't get to decide that for me! You have no right!"

Glassy green eyes met mine. "This is all to protect you. The truth hurts."

"Fuck yeah, it does," I said bitterly. "Discovering my girlfriend is mind-controlling me is never a nice thing to learn."

"Don't say that!" she snapped, clenching her fists. "It's not like that."

"It's exactly like that," I said lowly, scowling at her. "You're treating me like your enemy. You don't just get to prance around in my head because we're a couple. That's not how this works."

"That's not what I'm doing!" she shouted, eyes beginning to glow red with frustration.

"Then tell me what the hell is going on!" I said, not backing down.

She clenched her jaw, red eyes and anger dispersing as her expression softened. "I can't."

Through blurry vision, I glared her way. "Then fuck you, Wanda! I'll figure it out myself!"

I was sick of her feeling like she could control me, like I was some sort of helpless being who needed her protection. It was my head and I deserved to know what the fuck was in it!

In the two years we'd been together, we'd never argued this bad. And I'd never imagined it would be because she was manipulating me like she was.

With determination, I stormed down to the medical floor of the Tower and straight to Doctor Maya's office.

When she saw me, she looked up with surprise. "Y/N, what are you–"

"Cut the act, I know the truth," I interrupted her. "About Wanda mind-controlling me. How you were both in cahoots. I know it all."

She seemed shocked. "I– I don't know what to say."

"You can tell me where the agent I tried to help is," I got straight to the point.

"I'm not sure if I should–"

"One way or another, I'm going to find out," I deadpanned, not in the mood to be played. "Just tell me."

It didn't take much convincing, as I soon found myself on the way to a hospital at a nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. facility where the agent was recovering in. With my clearance, it wasn't difficult to get inside, and after explaining who I was, the agent – Agent Montgomery – was happy to have me visit him.

When I walked into his room, I saw he was sitting up in his bed, watching the TV hung on the wall ahead. When he saw me however, he muted it and smiled brightly at me. I noticed the bruises littering his body and though he was wearing a hospital gown, I suspected his injuries were bandaged beneath it.

"Doctor Y/L/N," he addressed me. "It's such a pleasure. I've been wanting to thank you ever since you helped me out a week ago."

I offered a small smile, stopping by his bedside. "There's no need. I was just–" I hesitated, feeling like an idiot as I couldn't even remember what I'd helped him with. "I was just doing my job."

He chuckled. "So modest. It's just nice to know you're doing okay. If it weren't for you swooping in on the scene, I'm sure I would've bled out. I wanted to thank you, but the doctors here told me that you were pretty shaken up after what happened and needed some time."

My eyes fell to the monitors beside his bed, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah... what exactly happened that day?"

He seemed surprised. "You don't remember? It wasn't... it wasn't good. I thought that's why you were taking the time for yourself."

I looked up, catching the way his smile faded into a frown and he looked down to his hands sadly.

"Can you refresh my memory?" I asked gently, unsure whether I was ready to hear the truth or not. But it was now or never.

"Well, from my perspective, I was laying on the ground, thinking I was gonna die from blood loss..."

This part of the city was desolate and destroyed, remnants of broken buildings as a result of the Avengers' fight surrounding me. When I was rushed into the field with my team, with plans of finding the handful of casualties to be extracted, I followed usual protocol.

It was supposed to be empty of enemy combatants. We were just supposed to be prepping the casualties for evacuation, as usual. This time was different though.

I came across Agent Montgomery's body by myself, separated from my team as they spread out amongst the rubble to find the rest of the bodies.  He was laying there, body unmoving as his hand was pressed to a point above his stomach.

Instinctively, I rushed over to him and began to unload my medical equipment on the ground beside him. I squinted in the hot sun – why was it so bright out? – as I tried to pull the agent's helmet off.

"Hey, I'm here to help," I told him reassuringly, giving him a smile that I hoped would put him at ease. "Can you hear me?"

"You helped me, patched me up," Agent Montgomery was explaining vividly, and I found myself hanging onto his every word.

For the first time in a week, my memories were making sense. They flowed as one rather than in mashed scenes of a broken film.

He nodded, to my relief, and let me move his hand to the side so I could see what I was working with. A bullet wound and from the looks of it, the bullet was still lodged in there.

I spent the next five minutes patching him up well enough so I could eventually take him back to the quinjet, whilst making conversation with him so he would feel better about everything. When I was done, I radioed my team to help collect him and planned to wait by his side until they arrived. But I heard someone calling for help and looked up with confusion, hand resting on my own pistol.

"There was this kid," he recalled, wincing at the mention of her, which made me wonder what went wrong. "I was a little out of it, I'm not gonna lie. But I could never forget it. Forget that poor girl."

The voice belonged to a little girl. It was as if she'd appeared out of nowhere. Her clothes were tattered and she was covered in dirt, like she'd climbed out from one of the collapsed buildings. I wouldn't have put it past her. People did live here after all. Or, at least, they did.

"Hey," I said quietly, letting go of my pistol. "Are you okay, love? Are you hurt?"

She frowned, lip quivering. "I don't know where my family is."

My heart sank at her words, watching the look of horror cross her expression. I couldn't imagine what she must have witnessed as the battles raged on earlier. She stepped closer to me, eyes blinking innocently, before finding the state of the agent on the floor.

"He'll be okay," I reassured her, earning her attention. "And so will you. I'll help you find your family, yeah?"

She nodded, wiping away fresh tears.

"She was just a kid," Agent Montgomery said, his own eyes glassy from pent up emotions. "She didn't deserve what happened."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. He didn't need to finish. I remembered it so vividly.

"Do you have a name?" I asked her, removing my medical gloves and throwing them to the side so I could give the girl all of my attention.

I outstretched my hand, offering it up. She rested hers in mine, making me smile.

"Selena," she mumbled.

"Well, Selena," I began, hopefully, "that's a pretty name. And I'm sure we can find your parents in no time."

We just had to wait until my team came and then I could try to look for her parents. It wouldn't be hard and I refused to accept they were dead, despite the likelihood of them being alive being quite low.

Selena nodded, her tiny hand squeezing mine, searching for comfort. I squeezed it back, kneeling before her and giving her a quick nod.

Before either of us could say anything more, the unexpected happened. It was as if there was a bomb set in the middle of that tiny girl's body because one second I was staring at her, and the next, she exploded all over, coating me in tiny, fleshy pieces.

My jaw dropped with disbelief, ears ringing from the explosion and heart dropping at the suddenness of it all. I risked looking down, only to see the girl's hand still intact and resting in mine. But where her body should have connected, there was nothing there.

I couldn't help but think how strange it all looked, like a prop from a film set, or a mannequin hand from a clothing shop. I dropped it without thinking, watching it bounce onto the blood-stained ground.

Smoke and blood infiltrated my nose. I looked down and my hands were shaking so much, covered in what looked like minced meat. Meat. Blood. Smoke.

My stomach curled, but I couldn't move. Eyes were permanently widened. Hands were still shaking. The girl's voice played in my ears amidst the ringing. One second she was there and the next she wasn't.

"It came out of nowhere," Agent Montgomery muttered. "Some weapon HYDRA were testing. Had the ability to make its target explode within seconds. She was just another victim of the senseless violence that day."

I swallowed hard, my stomach curling. So much nausea. So much aching. I pocketed my sweaty, shaking hands. Looked to Agent Montgomery.

"That avenger, the witch?" he continued, looking up to me. "She got us out of there. Killed the HYDRA agent. You must've passed out from shock. But she saved us both."

Wanda. She was there. She'd seen it all happen. She'd saved me.

She'd lied to me.

My mouth was dry like sandpaper. My head hurt. I felt sick. The memories were connecting as they flashed through my mind.

It came out of nowhere.

She was just a kid.

"Thanks for telling me," I managed to get out, already backing up. "Good luck with your recovery."

He may have responded, but I wouldn't know. I left the room, ears ringing like I was still there. I looked down, half expecting my clothes to be covered in flesh. Selena's flesh. That poor girl...

She was just a kid.

My vision blurred and I had to pause, hanging in the empty hallway of the medical wing. I raised my hand, covering my mouth as I struggled to breathe without shaking. But it was impossible.

It came out of nowhere.

I don't know where my family is.

"There you are."

I looked up, blinking away tears, making out Wanda standing before me. She seemed reluctant to come closer and for a moment, I wasn't sure what I was feeling.

"Doctor Maya told me where you were," she explained quietly.

Do you have a name?

"I don't have t-time for this," I got out, pushing myself away from the wall and moving forward, walking past her.

"Y/N, please wait," she pleaded, grabbing my arm, and I shook her off so quickly. The thought of being touched right now, when I was covered in–

I looked down. I was clean.

Selena.

"I shouldn't have controlled your mind," Wanda continued from behind me, sincerity in her words. "It wasn't right. It wasn't my place."

I turned around, breath catching in my throat. My ears were still ringing. Hands still sweaty. I pocketed them, though they shook so much my jacket was moving.

Well, Selena, that's a pretty name. And I'm sure we can find your parents in no time.

"She was just a kid," I said, expecting such ferocity in my words, but they barely came out above a whisper. "She wasn't supposed to be there."

Wanda swallowed hard, taking a small step forward. I didn't move back.

"It wasn't your fault."

"She just wanted her family." I clenched my jaw, squeezing my sweaty, shaky hands into fists. "She shouldn't have been there."

"Y/N..."

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears flowing out, before shouting, "You had no right! You– you– you had no fuckin' right!"

Wanda watched me with glossy eyes. "I know. You're right."

Just a kid.

The ringing stopped. I clutched my stomach, wishing the stabbing nausea would disappear. Now that my thoughts were whole again, I felt like I was experiencing the whole thing once more. It was catching up to me quicker than I could adjust to.

She opened her mouth to speak and I shook my head, signalling for her to stop. I couldn't take it. I was so angry and hurt and shocked and I– I–

"I hate you," I breathed out.

She frowned, eyes screaming with guilt. "Y/N..."

My jaw ached from the pressure I was putting on it. Marks were forming in my palm from how hard I was squeezing my fists. She had no right.

"It wasn't your fucking place," I repeated, moving forward and bundling her shirt in my fist. Glaring at her through my tears, I saw the way she put up no fight, expressions softening and etched with guilt. "You– you– you–"

My hands began to shake again. The ringing returned. I couldn't take it. I let go and shoved her back, needing a moment. But I didn't know what to do.

I wanted to hate her. She had messed with my head. Made this so much worse than it could have been if she'd just let me suffer in the first place. But at the same time, a small part of me wished it would have worked. That her mind manipulation would have done it's job and I wasn't remembering. Because fuck, remembering hurt like a bitch.

More tears came and I squeezed my eyes shut, squeezing my stomach to ease the never-ending pain. I opened my mouth to speak, but a sob came out instead, and before I knew it, Wanda was wrapping her arms around me, letting me fall into her.

"It's okay," she said with certainty, squeezing me. "You'll be okay."

I shook my head because I knew that wasn't true. Nothing was okay. I couldn't imagine it ever being okay.

She was just a kid.

[valberryy]

good god, let me give you my life. — kaeya

another converted oc fic!!!! yes i have many kaeya thoughts....... and i missed this oc in particular QAQ anyways please accept this word vomit its like 2k words im sorry idk what possessed me

pairing: kaeya x fem!reader

content warnings: mentions of blood/injuries + alcohol, light swearing (like, three instances max)

Kaeya had seen that doe-eyed look countless times before, but there was still something about the way your gaze burned almost incredulously into his own that made his smirk grow wider.

"Kaeya, you asshole!" you exclaimed, but your half-exasperated anger just made him laugh—by the Seven, you were even more fun to tease than Diluc! 

"What's the rush?" he laughed, ignoring your hand on his chest to balance herself as you tiptoed to where he was holding your Vision right out of your reach. "Is widdle [Name] so scared of—"

You elbowed him in the gut at that, and his grip on your Vision wavered as he let out a pained oof. You pinned it back to where it normally hung, and a glance at your clothes—the buttoned up coat, the bags placed haphazardly on the ground next to your boots—was all it took for the lucidity to return to Kaeya's eyes.

"The others are waiting," you muttered, gaze downcast and cheeks flushed from the cold. Kaeya nodded. Wordlessly, you grabbed his hands and squeezed, ever so gently.

"I promise we'll come back to visit," you said. "And I'll write a lot."

Kaeya nodded again, a devious grin pulling at his lips but faltering at the edges. "When you do come back I'll ask Master Crepus to throw a party and I'll read out your letters for everyone to hear—"

"You—!"

"...So come back safe, okay?"

A sigh, then, and another light squeeze of his hands. 

"I promise."

With that, Kaeya finally let you go—and already missing the warmth of your palms and the fleetingness of your touch, he watched as your back disappeared off into the horizon.

Kaeya often found himself waiting, those days, to the point that he might have called himself distracted if he hadn't known any better. The smile that graced his lips at each letter—which always started with your and your brother's neat handwriting, with little comments from your sister sprinkled all throughout, and sealed with some local flower or other—never failed to go unnoticed, to the point that even Diluc found himself sighing at the sight.

"You're an idiot," he had said, and nothing else.

Each year your visits had become a staple of summer, and for days on end Master Crepus' manor was filled with foreign music and dance. Kaeya never read out your letters like he said he would, but you two would always sneak out of the party with a bottle of champagne, and you would whisper gossip to each other like you always used to, conspiratory and scheming.

(Once, just as a laugh was about to spill from his lips, you placed your palm over the lower half of his face and kissed the back of your hand. "I thought you were bolder than that," he teased, and with a scoff you plucked the bottle from his hands.

"Oh? I'd like to see you do better, lover boy.")

One year the letters stopped, and you never came to visit. Winter came all too soon. The calla lilies in your last letter had begun to wilt.

The next year, he and Diluc parted ways. As their swords clashed for the last time, he wished it was your flames that had scorched him instead.

Two years hence, the Knights of Favonius found a young woman, half-conscious and all but bleeding out, under the tree at Windrise.

Kaeya had stopped in his tracks when he heard, his silver tongue going dry behind the calm smile he put on. "Thanks for the news," he told his subordinate. "I'll check it out."

As soon as he was alone, he let the panic sink in.

His walk to the cathedral was exceedingly brief, and Kaeya wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing. As he walked towards the infirmary he heard Barbara's voice—

"...but do you remember anything else?"

A pause, then a blunt, "No."

—And as he walked inside he saw the deaconess with her tome, and a little ways behind her was...you. You seemed a little pale and worse for wear, but when you looked at him with the same doe-eyed look as before, Kaeya couldn't help but feel the slightest bit relieved.

"You really worried me back there, love," he said smoothly. "How are you feeling now?"

You glanced almost unnoticeably at Barbara, who seemed to mouth something along the lines of, "Later."

"Alive, I guess," you responded, then paused for a good moment as you glanced at him fully. Kaeya raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry…" you said, "It's just that I've heard so much about you, but—"

But what? he thought, and felt his blood run cold again.

"—I have no idea who you are."

—

Kaeya thought it the worst of cruelties for you to be so similar to your old self, yet so wholly, horribly different. You walked with the same languid grace, spoke with the same haughtiness and pride, still tapped your teaspoon against the rim of your teacup—three times, every single time, with a resounding chime.

But you no longer looked at him the same, no longer laughed at his old jokes, no longer called him by his name. It was always captain or sir, and never what he so desperately longed to hear.

"You Knights are always so ineffective," Diluc sighed, and for the first time in years the Ragnvindr brothers finally found themselves in agreement.

Kaeya laughed self-pityingly, running one hand through his hair and using the other to swirl the contents of his half-empty glass. Another sigh, and just as he was about to speak again, the door to Angel's Share opened to the sound of laughter.

"Venti, I said no—"

"Oh, come on! All you've been doing is reading that journal of yours! I thought you—"

There was an indignant, ungraceful sounding yell, and the rest of Venti's words were muffled by what Kaeya assumed was your hand. You two whispered together some more—he even thought he heard you threaten him, if he wasn't mistaken—and with your defeated sigh, Venti began to tune his lyre.

Ah, you was going to dance, then. 

Kaeya turned in his seat to the point where he could watch them from the corner of his vision, taking another drink from his steadily-emptying glass. With gentle hands, the bard began to pluck at his lyre strings, and with the same practiced, precise movements he committed so dearly to memory, your body began to sway.

He knew this one—it started off slowly, gently, only to speed up as the music did as well. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four, went your heels against the wooden floor, and as the song ended and you bowed with a haughty flourish, Kaeya had abruptly stood up and left the tavern.

Your steps were light against the cobblestone when you caught up with him, that same night.

"Captain," you said, "you've been avoiding me."

He turned around to face you, a practiced smile on his lips. He couldn't look you in the eyes, though, no matter how intensely your gaze burned into him. "Oh? What might you be doing out so late, Miss [Surname]?" 

You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. "You knew me before, right? That's why you keep running away?"

Kaeya's tongue went dry as he heard you speak. Ah, what does he say to this? He watched you sigh again, but this time you brought out the musty old journal that he knew hung from your waist.

You held it out to him expectantly, but he didn't take it.

"...We knew each other," he eventually replied, soft and without any of his normal bravado. "We were…close."

Your face remained impassive, but there was a glint in your eyes that gave your suspicion away. "...I see," you said. "Then…I want to start again. I can't be the person you knew before, but…"

It was Kaeya who sighed this time, endearingly. "You really haven't changed," he said, before holding out a hand for you to shake. "Allow me to reintroduce myself, then. Kaeya Alberich, at your service."

You smiled, and he felt his heart flutter and ache alike at the sight. Taking his hand, you said, "[Name] [Surname]…a pleasure it is to finally know you, Kaeya."

—

Whenever dusk fell, Kaeya would often find you at one of the many taverns littered throughout the city, but your favourite seemed to be the Angel's Share, of all places. If you weren't dancing along to whatever tune the bard was singing, you were often talking with Diluc from the opposite end of the bar, sipping from your glass of wine. 

And whenever Kaeya would walk in you would turn to him and raise your glass in greeting, crowing something or other about coincidence, and he would say something or other about fate; and then you would drink together as his brother grew increasingly exasperated at the volume. 

One evening, he had lost track of how many rounds he had when his head began to grow fuzzy. He was only half-conscious of Charles' sigh, and you saying something along the lines of, "I'll bring him home."

With practiced ease—likely from your time hanging around with that drunkard bard—you lifted him up and slung his arm around your shoulders, struggling a bit from his height. "C'mon, captain, let's get you home," you said, to which he merely nodded and buried his face in the warmth of the crook of your neck.

"Y'know, it was always you getting wasted like this," he drawled. "Master Crepus used to—! He used to always scold us for stealing wine, but you were always half passed out so you never heard any of it."

You looked down, seemingly deep in thought. "It sounds like we were very close," you said, and he chuckled and hummed in the affirmative. 

He began rambling again as you made the short walk to his house, continuing even as you dug through his pockets for his keys. How he still reads your letters, how you made fun of his eyepatch the very first time he wore it, how you two used to climb the tree at Windrise, hoping always, in vain, to somehow reach the highest bough. If he were less shitfaced and more sober perhaps he would have found it in himself to stem the waterfall of words spilling from his lips—honest and raw in a way neither of you were used to—but as it stood, all he could have done was bare his heart to you like this.

You were silent as you laid him down on his bed, mumbling more to yourself than to anyone else, "You need to drink water, Kaeya."

The silence between you hung heavy like a body on the gallows. 

"I really loved you, you know."

Another pause, then, and then the soft caress of your palm against his cheek, and the lightest brush of your lips against his forehead.

"...Good night, Kaeya."

The next day, Kaeya woke up with the worst bitch of a migraine he's ever had in his life. As he rose to get a glass of water, he suddenly became aware of several things: firstly, the fact that he was a fucking idiot; second, the fact that he needs to get black-out drunk less often; and third, the fact that you were lying asleep on his couch, your journal in one hand and your other arm hanging off the side.

He sighed, placing down the empty glass, and walked over to you—and with your same gentleness from the night before, Kaeya brushed aside your bangs to press a kiss to your forehead.

—

"Snrk—you what?"

"Oh, yes, and then after that Jean said—"

You cut off the rest of his story by shoving a piece of meat in his mouth, and when Kaeya managed to swallow it he was met with the sight of your smug smile and your eyes still bleary from laughing. 

"There's no way all of that happened because of a rabbit," you said, to which he laughed good-naturedly, followed by a sip from his glass of wine.

"You'd be surprised what kinds of things Klee can get herself into."

You laughed again, and he took another drink of wine. Ah, he missed this, he thought. Missed the way the breeze here at Windrise smelled of asters, missed the way the moonlight trickled down through the leaves of the giant tree. 

(Most of all, he missed the little way your nose would crinkle when you laughed, but he'd prefer not to say that aloud, lest he be hit over the head with the wine bottle he brought along today—amnesia or not, he knew very well it was still within your strength to do so.)

Kaeya watched as you closed your eyes to enjoy the evening breeze, your hair like a wildfire in the breeze. You looked at him then, your eyes heavy with a certain lucidity that he couldn't name, but still managed to shake him somehow.

"...I'm in love with you, Kaeya."

When he smirked and said, "So I get to brag that I made you fall for me twice?" he was met with the same indignant, doe-eyed glare from all those years ago.

"I'm being serious!" you exclaimed, but he only laughed again, and covered your mouth with the palm of his hand. Before you could protest again, he kissed the back of his own hand and pulled away, a cheeky grin on his lips.

"Where'd all that bravado go, Mr. Casanova?"

Kaeya was hit with a pang of nostalgia, then. He looked at you, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold breeze and embarrassment alike, and his smile only widened further.

"Hmm? Think you can do any better, dearest?"

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

~

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

.

.

.

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

[megablade]

So uh, a possibilty that looks real, and we will have to see how probable it is as time goes on, is the way in which Quackity dies. We know that he has made himself so many enemies that the destruction of Las Nevadas is highly likely (I mean I don't want the country gone but the cc like blowing shit up).

And you know how Quackity has said he will die for his country? That's all he has left? How he didn't want it to be this way but rather had to build Las Nevadas for his own sake? Yeah..

Even worse if his resentment for his fiances leads them in opposites site. In the side against Las Nevadas.

And he watches, on top of the Needle down to his country, to all his hard work- being destroyed. To all he had left in his life, to the place he gave it all in for, be yet another failure like most of his experiences in this server thus far. He watches as enemies and people who he saught as friends, who he in a foolish decision thought to leave alone, team up to destroy his home - his and the rest of his crew. But ah, not all are fighting for it, in fact, most are in the sidelines watching the destruction unfold infront of them. He can't blame them, he dragged them un here with lies and a false sense of free choice. Yeah, the somewhat bonded, but the resentment never left. Fair enough, after all, this place wasn't build for them, it was build for his most loved ones- the ones that participate in the chaos. It's a surprise George showed up, and it hurts he showed up to the destruction of his work instead of showing up to what could have lead to a happier path in his life. The elections. He is never going to let that down. But what it hurts the most is watching his lovers happily burning buildings, or well, rather ex-lovers, ex-fiances who are happily burning down the wedding area. He still remembers building it with the idea in mind of proposing to officiate the whole thing here, to host a wedding and take the next step forward. But Sapnap and Karl were always closer to each other than to him, right? After all he was the latest addition to the relationship. It still hurt to see so many loved ones get rid of his home.

Taking out a sign he wrote the following: "Take care of Ossium, he is the only emotional attachment I have left-that is if he survived the explosion. - Quackity"

At least someone will take pity of his pet and most loyal companion, or that is what he hopes. He wishes they would show that mercy for him but he knows it's wishful thinking, his time has come after all. But he will be damned if he lets someone else takes his life. He said it before, is his country goes down, he will go down with it.

He took the step forward that will lead to his demise. 'I'm sorry Slime, seem like I will be turning to dust. No longer Quackity from Las Nevadas, only Quackity.'

As the ground comes closer to view and as he hears the faint shout of someone yelling, he think one last thing. 'Here lies Quackity, an idealist guy who was nothing but failure, a joke of a leader to a doomed country.'

-Quackity fell from a high place.

Maybe not as angsty as this (I let myself loose sorry^^;), but I think he will oof himself from jumping from the Needle. He is way too weary with it and the irony if he does from it.

Poetic cinema. Sorry for the long ask!

OH...... okay yeah that is possibly The Most Angsty theory i have seen yet

i can't help but wonder, as your theory briefly mentions, if las nevadas will face an equally devastating outcome that l'manberg had? doomsday had been one of the last truly server-unifying events recently and considering how nearly all of the characters' arcs are tying together with quackity (including dream), i feel like it's something that might happen?

so many people are becoming involved with las nevadas that i can't imagine it not culminating into something as big as nov.16 or doomsday, not to mention that everything quackity's been doing WILL blow up (literally or figuratively) in his face at some point, so that's how i'm currently looking at things

BUT narratively speaking, i'm really in love with the idea of this... the concept of Healing... i'm not looking for neat or tidy, considering how quackity will most definitely crash and fall further (yeah he IS going to lose a life this arc. the firework death retcon makes that pretty clear in a meta sense) before he has the Realization, but my hopes lie there

[my-darling-has-forgotten-me]

Oof... I'd feel for anyone in that situation. Thanks for the ask, and thank you for the compliment! I appreciate the support ❤️

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕟𝕠 𝕗𝕦𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 ~

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 = 𝐾𝑜𝑢 𝑀𝑢𝑘𝑎𝑚𝑖 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 ~

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I got inspiration for this off 'Say I Love You'

"Kou! I heard your new song! It's so good!"

"Aw really?! Thanks for the support!"

"Yeah! We heard it too! You're as awesome as always!", Gushed a group of his fangirls.

"Oh! Y/N, you can go on ahea-"

But as always, I going to class before him. Automatically walking ahead of him. It's like this everyday, he gets crowded and I'm told to go. It's so annoying....

I walk ahead and saw Ruki, he looked at me and approached me. "Where's Kou? You've been going to class on your own a lot lately", he asked as stern as ever. "He's... Busy", I said, looking behind me seeing Kou laughing and smiling at his little harem.

"So it's like that? I don't like his neglect to you much either but I suppose it's his duty as an idol to entertain his fans", deadpanned Ruki, looking at the scene also. "N-no... I find his actions reasonable, besides it's not like I'm jealous or anything..."

Ruki softened his normally stoic face. "Would you like me to talk to him later? He's your Adam, he shouldn't treat you like this", he said

"No need...", I muttered and walked away. I heard fangirls muttering and whispering about me.

"Ugh... Look at that stuck-up bitch..."

"I know, she's such a whore"

I'm not...

"She only talks to Kou whenever she wants something... She's a slutty gold digger"

Stop it...

"She completely neglects him at school, seriously I bet she forces him to sleep with her"

I don't...

"Kou could do way better than Y/N..."

I know...

I put my earphones and I keep walking to class, once I get there, I see more fangirls. Stupid bitches...

I pull out my phone and I feel a pull on my right ear.

"Hey Masokitty! Wassup?", He said cheerfully. I say nothing, I feel Kou's fangirls glaring daggers at me. "Ehhh? You changed your screensaver?! Whhhyyyy? We looked so cute together in that photo!" He whined.

"So? Am I not allowed to change my background photo? And must you be so... Over the top?", I deadpanned, I only get into trouble when Kou gives me attention in public.

"Take it easy, I was just asking... Anyway, what're you listening to?", Kou said placing the earphone into his ear.

"Hey!"

"Huh...? Everybody Wants To Rule The World again?", He asked.

"Loser...", One of the girls uttered.

"You seem off today? You doin alright?", He asked in a worried voice.

"Nothing, I just didn't get much sleep last night!"

"Maybe because I didn't let you sleep last night?~ I'm sorry! You know how I get when I'm needy~", he said putting his arm around my waist.

Jesus Christ! No need to bring it up infront if people you dumbass! I felt more glares of horror and burning hatred being stabbed into me.

"Y/N, you listen to a song on loop when you're upset, are you sure it's okay?"

"Geez, I'm on my period okay!", I hissed... God, why can't he just leave me alone in school?

"it actually ended last-"

"Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?!"

Everyone looked at me... Kou just glared at me, well, I'm in for it tonight.

I walked into class and I just tried to forget... everything. Why did I have to say that?!

I quickly leave the class after the bell rang and I headed straight for the girls bathroom hastily. I lock myself in a stall and went on my phone, again.

"Kou would look sooo good with Megumi right?", A feminine voice sighed.

"Doesn't he already have a girlfriend? It's that Y/N girl right?"

"I hate that bitch, she told him to shut the fuck up today, the audacity"

"Seriously?- Oh hey Megumi!"

Who's Megumi? I heard she's some really famous model/idol. I listen in on their conversation.

"Hey guys! What's up?", She said enthusiastically.

"Did you hear what Y/N said to Kou today?"

"Hm? Yeah I heard about it... Poor Kou, he must feel so abused by her. Also I asked him if he wanted to do a photoshoot with me and he said yes!"

My heart sank at her words... He really said that he'd do it with her? I get an Instagram notification that Kou updated his story, I went on and it read: Doing a photoshoot with Megumi! I'm so excited! I'll put pictures on later!

I turned my phone off in defeat. I'll stay with him for the plan... Not because I'm in love with him. I'm sick of the shit he does at this point. I wait for the girls to leave, which didn't take long so I left the stall and went to wash my hands. "Hey you stupid bitch!", A voice screamed at me. I ignored it. "DONT FUCKING ANNOY ME BITCH!".

I looked at her and I felt a strong impact on my face and I felt something run down my face. I looked in the mirror and blood was spilling down. The girl and her friends took turns hitting me and they left after 5 painful minutes.

I hate this...

I walk out to the nurse's office and grabbed a large plaster for my face and walked out. Why can't this day just end? I wanna go back and go to bed.

"Masokitty...?"

"Yeah... What's up?"

"What happened to your face?"

"I..."

I saw the group of girls snickering at me.

"I fell..."

"Is that right?", He said getting serious. The way he was looking at me made me wanna crawl under a rock and die. School was over before I knew it and the car ride was silent, a very awkward silence.

"I wanna talk when we get back Masokitty... I'm not very happy on how you were acting today, it was sooo embarrassing"

Yuma pursed his lips and widened his eyes, knowing that some major tea is going to go down.

"I'm sorry for being such an embarrassment...", I said shyly, not looking him in the eyes.

Does he honestly think that he'd be the one suffering...?

"I don't think you're an embarrassment Livestock... Kou, you need to think about Eve, her happiness should be your top priority. The plan is almost finished"

"I-it's really fine, it's not like it matters to me whether I'm happy or not...", I deadpan looking out the window.

"Jesus Christ! What the hell is your problem today?! You're starting to piss me off!", Yelled Kou.

"It doesn't matter, I'll just...deal with it myself or whatever", I sighed listlessly.

"Eve... isn't...acting...like...her...normal...self...at school... you...tend...to...be....much...happier...at... home....are...you...sure...that... you're... fine....at....school?", Said Azusa, clearly worried.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me. Nothing that bad has happened", I said smiling.

"Oh, also I gotta go out later today", said Kou.

"Be back before dinner, what time are you going at?", Asked Ruki. He's such a mom sometimes.

"Uhhh... 12:00 to 15:00. Shouldn't you of all people be curious as to where I'm going Masokitty?", Hissed Kou.

"Not really no, just don't do anything dumb"

Kou ignored you for the rest of the car ride and avoided you for the rest of the night.

It was time for you to go to bed, you just went to your own room because you thought he didn't want you to sleep next to him.

It was 16:00... He should've been home by now... I checked his Instagram and...

He and Megumi made such a good couple... Comments on the post said that they should start dating, they'd make such a great couple.

What is this... Inferiority?

This crushing feeling like I'll never be good enough for Kou...

Do I only love Kou because... He's someone no one else can have? Do I see him as a trophy...?

Does he only see me as a blood bag? Something he can use for his amusement?

I turn off my phone and flop onto my bed, Jesus Christ, I wanted to cry until I eventually drown into my tears.

It feels like Kou's moving away from me... And I hate it.

Ruki POV-

"Explain this Kou", I ordered showing him an image on my phone of his going into some girls apartment. I was beyond annoyed with him for what he did.

Kou was looking at the photo in shock. "You slept with that girl didn't you?! Incase you haven't noticed, you have a girlfriend, who has seen this and questioning her worth to you"

"Ruki! I didn't sleep with her and most importantly, Y/N saw?!", He yelled. "She even said that you and Megumi made a good couple today at lunch"

Kou looked like he was about to cry.

"I knew it was weird, how she was always trying to avoid me at school. I ruined her..."

About time he came to his senses...

"She even told me that she'll stay to fulfill the plan, not for you. The stress of choosing an Adam was hard enough, but the stress of her Adam not loving her is worse"

Kou rushed off finally. Besides, I knew he'd never cheat on her. He loves her too much...

Y/N P.O.V.

I was looking outside my window and I heard running down the hall, Kou burst in with no context and rushed over to me.

I tensed up and closed my eyes, thinking that he'd yell at me but instead, he just stood infront of me helplessly crying like a child. He leant down and embraced me like I was going to disappear in seconds.

"I'm...I'm s-sorry! I was o-only thinking about m-myself!", He cried, I could barely decipher what he was saying yet I had an idea why he was being so apologetic.

Because I saw the picture of him going into Megumi's home and he wants me to keep being in his little harem.

I out one arm around him and keep a listless face, knowing him he's just trying to manipulate me into feeling sorry for him.

"Grow the fuck up, you're just sad because you got exposed and I'm just the most convenient to go and cry to"

He looked at me and started crying even more. "SHUT UP! I LOVE YOU AND I'D CHOOSE YOU OVER MEGUMI- NO ANY MAN OR WOMAN OUT THERE!", he yelled.

"R-Ruki told me that... You think that I no longer care about you or love you... I don't want to be around those girls, they only like me because I'm attractive and famous but you- you've seen me at my worst and most violent, yet you've still stayed with me... Thank you... Thank you so much Y/N, my precious Eve"

I hug him back and I felt like crying, however, there was still a little demon on my shoulder telling me that he was faking it.

"Kou...there's no way that I'd be good enough for someone like you"

His mood swing came and he aggressively grabbed my shoulders. "How the hell can you say that?! Jesus Christ, you're the most precious thing to me! I'd sacrifice my career for you in a heartbeat!"

I'm getting mixed feelings here, he says he loves me but he sounds like he's gonna strangle me any second. Why couldn't Yui be an option? She can be my Lilith but that's not the point.

"Stop lying to me...", I whisper, holding onto him tighter.

"I'm not... You know how much I hate lies"

"Stop lying..."

"I'm not", he said softly holding onto me.

I start crying quietly, feeling a lot better that Kou gave me the verification that I so desperately wanted to hear, yet there was still some lingering doubt.

We skipped school to hangout and to do other stuff.

Timeskip~ Monday

"Kou! You looked so handsome in that photoshoot!"

"Thanks! But I don't have time to talk today because I need to focus on my special lady", he said politely.

"It's been awhile since we both went to class together", I said. I was in much better spirits because he was with me.

I guess being around with Kou in public isn't that bad.

IDGAF if I made mistakes, just deal with it because I'm too lazy...

[heeseongism]

OKAY SO MAYBE IT WAS A MISTAKE GOING ON HIATUS BCS I COMPLETELY FORGOT U WERE PLANNING ON RELEASING THIS BUT FIRSTLY CAN I JUST SAY I FUCKING LOVE YOU FOR THIS AND THIS IS COMING FROM THE HEART 😭💞 ive been looking for a good church boy fic and YOU NAILED IT IDK THE WAY YN SPOKE WHEN SHE WAS CONFESSING WAS ALMOST EERIE??? LIKE IT CREATED A HORROR NUN MOVIE VIBE 💀 AND THIS IS WHAT IVE BEEN WANTING all these other fics r just pure smut and whilst i do appreciate them U ADDED A GOOD AND INTERESTING PLOT AND THAT JUST MAKES IT 1000X BETTER TO READ

okay so as i said before, the part where y/n was confessing is definitely my fav part like omg

As you sat down, your hand immediately made its way to your forehead, giving it a gentle touch as your hand does the same to your lower chest, moving to your left shoulder and then your right.

LIKE HOW DO U MAKE SOMEONE CROSSING THEIR HEART SOUND SO SENSUAL ISTG?!?!?!?

His voice sounded.. different. He didn't sound like the priest you saw every Sunday, but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice.

THE FORESHADOWING OOF 👀

You exhaled deeply. "I kneel before him as I would before God. I feel him on my skin and even taste him on my tongue. I ache when I think of him and feel so full when I dream of him. It's almost as if he's taken over me."

AGSJAHAKDAJ IM GONNA CREAM THIS WAS SO HOT OF U RAVEN I KNEEL BEFORE HIM AS I WOULD BEFORE GOD?!?!?! HELLAUR?!?!?! PUT UR BRAIN ON THE TABLE RN U NEED TO BE CHAINED UP FOR THIS

feeling shame for saying such things to a man of God.

it weird ik but idk why i love this part sm?? its like u didnt need to include this line but it actually had such an impact bcs like we all know that shes abt to get fucked dumb by him 😍

"I dream of turning him from a holy and pure soul into one with the sole purpose of filling me when I wake up empty from my dreams. I even try reenacting his touches in my thoughts to please myself, only to fail and leave me in more shame."

AT THIS POINT IM GONNA BE INCLUDING EVERY SENTENCE U WROTE BCS WTFFF ITS LIKE UR ASKING TO BE FRENCH KISSED RN <333 idk the technical term for this but the way u used filled and empty as like a contrast thingy 😋 forgive me im not a literature god like urself

"How does he touch you in your dreams?"

and this ladies and hoes is when we knew the priest was rlly jaeyun sim preparing to get his dick wet 😔💔 PLEASE I CAN IMAGINE JAKE SAYING THIS WITH THE BIGGEST SHIT EATING SMIRK ON HIS FACE TOO LIKE WHEN HE STICKS HIS TONGUE OUT FROM THE CORNER OF HIS LIPS AGSAJHSJ

"Really?" He asked as he scooted closer. "Dreaming of turning this 'holy and pure' soul into something that'll fill you up whenever you want sounds a bit.. how do I say it?" He pretended to think. "Maybe.. indecent? Dirty? Slutty even?"

HELP WHEN HE SAID SLUTTY I WAS LIKE 👀 THIS WHOLE TIME I HAD AN IMAGE THAT THIS WAS IN LIKE MEDIEVAL TIMES BCS ONCE AGAIN U CREATED THIS EERIE ATMOSPHERE SO LIKE I WAS IMAGINING WITCH BURNING HORSE RIDING PPL 🤷‍♀️ BUT THIS IS JUST AS GOOD

"Princess, there's no one here." It was as if a mountain of butterflies escaped inside your stomach from the pet name. "It's just me and you here."

You nodded slowly as you clutched onto his hand. "Congratulations, you're straying further from the shepherd, little lamb," he snickered.

"Can you kiss me?" It came out as a breathy whisper. "Please?"

"Well since you asked so nicely," he said as he brought his hand to your nape, pulling you gently towards him as he closed the gap between you two.

STOP THESE ARE SO SEXY YOU HAVE SUCH A WAY WITH WORDS I CANNOT

I WAS IN SUCH A TOPPY MOOD RN AND U LITERALLY TURNED ME INTO SUCH A PICK ME FOR PRIEST JAKE LIKE THE WAY HE WAS SLOWLY CORRUPTING HER 😳

anyways i fucking love this and i hate that i didnt see this earlier ALSO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I WAS WRITING THIS ON ANOTHER TAB AS I WAS READING 😭 long story short u deserve to get ur ass ate asap for this

❣︎ ⎯⎯ temptation incarnate

Idol pairing: Jake x fem!reader

Genre: smut, church boy/girl au

Warnings: usage of maybe 4 pet names, fingering, sacrilege, inexperienced!reader, lots of kissing, semi-public sex (it's in a confessional), mild profanity, corruption kink.

Synopsis: what you thought was confessing your sinful thoughts of corrupting an innocent church boy to a priest turned out to be telling the boy himself you wanted him and him giving you what you want.

A/N: so hi ho! This just so happens to be my first (and probably last) smut I've written on here, so if it's shit I'm so sorry. Since this is my first, feedback is most definitely appreciated in any form, specifically rbs and comments!

Enjoy I guess!

You stood outside the confessional, wiping your hands down on your dress before finally entering. As you sat down, your hand immediately made its way to your forehead, giving it a gentle touch as your hand does the same to your lower chest, moving to your left shoulder and then your right.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

You said, keeping your eyes on your lap. "I don't remember exactly how long it's been since my last confession." You closed your mouth, parting it so slightly. "My sins are," your voice was soft. "Shameful."

The mere thought of speaking them aloud made you afraid, fearing it would make it more real. A few weeks ago, you would never have thought such things but now they're all you could think about. Impure, disgusting thoughts that you can't find the words to confess.

But the man on the other side is patient. You know that the priest is there as he said only two words since you'd entered.

"Tell me."

His voice sounded.. different. He didn't sound like the priest you saw every Sunday, but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice. You two sat in silence as you finally found the courage to speak, knowing you needed to if you had any chance of forgiveness.

"For the past few weeks, I've had thoughts and dreams. Dreams so vivid they almost feel real. Repetitive thoughts all filled with nothing but impurity. Filled with nothing but one person."

You exhaled deeply. "I kneel before him as I would before God. I feel him on my skin and even taste him on my tongue. I ache when I think of him and feel so full when I dream of him. It's almost as if he's taken over me."

Your fingers clutched onto the hem of your dress as you continued to speak, feeling shame for saying such things to a man of God.

"I dream of turning him from a holy and pure soul into one with the sole purpose of filling me when I wake up empty from my dreams. I even try reenacting his touches in my thoughts to please myself, only to fail and leave me in more shame."

You stopped talking, holding onto your dress before you hear the priest speak, slightly surprised that you hadn't noticed the unfamiliar voice sooner.

"How does he touch you in your dreams?"

You blinked, not expecting to be asked that but you were told that priests asked all kinds of questions if they needed clarification on certain things.

"He touches me all over," you said, sounding smaller than when you entered. "He leaves a burning trail on my skin, touching wherever he can get his hands on. But I dream a lot of him.. uhm," you gulped.

"Of him?" The voice on the other side asked, beginning to sound distant, even a hint of a smirk in his tone.

"I dream of him touching me in the most intimate of ways, in the most intimate of places." You said softly, tensing up as you spoke. "And when I try doing it, it doesn't feel the same. If anything, it makes me think of him more."

It's at this point, your thighs are clenched together as you try to calm the ache coming from in between them. The fact that merely talking about it was causing this felt even more shameful.

"Every other offense is just as the other, they're never ending," you said to finish off. "I'm sorry for all of these, and all my sins."

The air was filled with silence when you finished. You couldn't even hear his breath or your own. You must've shamed him, you thought. Moments have gone by and he hasn't given guidance or even a prayer.

"Will you not absolve me, Father?" You sounded timid as you looked in the direction of the priest, who sounded as though he were shifting around.

Suddenly you heard the sliding door on the other side open and close. You blinked in confusion, wasn't he supposed to say something?

Your eyes stay glued to your lap as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.

"Do you think you deserve absolution?"

The voice caught your attention, eyes widening when you met eyes with its owner. Your lips were parted but you were too stunned to even think of anything to say.

There he stood, the very man of your dreams, leaning against the door frame of the booth. The one plaguing your thoughts since the day he first arrived.

His dark brown hair was neatly styled, dressed in his Sunday best. The soft candle light coming from behind him gave off a heavenly glow, as if an angel were standing before you. The embodiment of innocence and purity.

Yet the small smirk on his face should've been the first sign that the innocent little church boy you met a few weeks back was nothing more than a facade.

"From what you told me," he began as he took a seat next to you, closing the door behind him. "You're already on the road to not being worth saving."

Your thighs couldn't hold themselves together any tighter, his presence only made the ache worsen. The air around you was filled with his scent, your ears filled with the sound of his voice, your eyes focused on nothing but him. He was everywhere, there was no escaping your desire.

"I'm not," you managed to say softly. You were convinced that you could still be saved.

"Really?" He asked as he scooted closer. "Dreaming of turning this 'holy and pure' soul into something that'll fill you up whenever you want sounds a bit.. how do I say it?" He pretended to think. "Maybe.. indecent? Dirty? Slutty even?"

With every one of his words, your hands fought the urge to quiet him down. Until his last word when you practically leapt forward to hold your hand over his mouth.

"Shh, someone's gonna hear you!" You whisper-yelled, clutching his mouth shut to silence him, afraid of someone finding you together but mostly to stop his voice from affecting you even more.

You could feel him chuckling underneath your hand. You're sat with a confused expression as he slowly moved your hand away from his mouth.

"Princess, there's no one here." It was as if a mountain of butterflies escaped inside your stomach from the pet name. "It's just me and you here."

You couldn't help but wonder if you should be thankful as Jake moved even closer.

"You probably haven't even held hands with a boy let alone kissed one, have you?" His voice grew softer as he spoke with a gentle smile.

You shook your head. In all honesty, you were never allowed near the opposite sex so Jake’s proximity was already new to you.

"Can I?" He stuck his hand out.

You nodded slowly as you clutched onto his hand. "Congratulations, you're straying further from the shepherd, little lamb," he snickered.

This time, you moved closer to him. It was all so slow but so fast at the same time. You couldn't control your body anymore as it drew itself towards him.

"Can you kiss me?" It came out as a breathy whisper. "Please?"

"Well since you asked so nicely," he said as he brought his hand to your nape, pulling you gently towards him as he closed the gap between you two. The second his lips touched yours, it ignited the most satisfying of fires within you. He let go of your hand to place it on your waist, spreading the fires to wherever his hand moved.

He was patient with you, knowing you had no experience in kissing. It was almost cute to him how you sat completely still as he did all the work. But the small whine you let out when he pulled away was nothing short of adorable.

"Since it's obvious you don't know what you're doing," Jake smiled, trying to hide a snicker. "Just relax and follow my lead, okay?"

You nodded as you closed your eyes. You grasped onto his blazer as he dove back in, keeping his kiss slow and gentle. It all felt like a sin but his soft lips tasted like a dream.

He didn't bother hiding his hunger as he deepened the kiss, feeding on your innocent whimpers. You could feel his shit eating grin against your lips as your grip on his sleeves tightened to try holding back your moans of newfound pleasure.

He somehow deepened the kiss further, leaving you unable to breathe through the miniscule breaks he gave you. Your one hand stayed on his arm while the other shot up to his hair, softly gripping a handful.

The air grew thick and hot when he pulled away. He must've noticed your slightly louder protests as he let out a chuckle. You would much rather be suffocated by his sinfully sweet kiss than breathe the tense-filled air.

His hands made their way to your waist, giving it a little squeeze. One of his hands moves ever so slowly down your hip, stopping to rub small circles on it with his thumb.

Could he feel himself setting your body on fire? Was he waiting for you to say something? Did he want to keep listening to your laboured breaths knowing he caused it?

"Jake," you finally breathed out, grasping the hand on your hip.

"Yes, y/n?"

The way your name rolled off his tongue was too satisfying. You were too stuck in the moment, too stuck on him.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Hm," he smiled. "For a virgin, you're an eager little slut, huh?"

Your heart skipped a beat and you weren't sure if it was the name calling or his sickeningly sweet tone but all you knew was that you wanted to feel more, and you wanted him to do it.

"Please do something," you whined softly, parting your legs just a bit to try signalling him closer. "Please."

His eyes darted towards your shifting legs, looking back into your eyes. "You want me to touch you?"

You nodded, shifting a bit more in your seat.

"Just like in your dreams?" He asked, removing his hands from you. You give him a nod more frantic than the last. "Tell me, how exactly do I touch you?"

Jake’s eyes were focused on your hands, waiting for your demonstrations. You felt small under his intense gaze, not sure where to start.

"Uhm, well, you," you mumbled, holding your hands up, too shy to open your legs any further as you know you'd soak your already damp underwear, fearing it may even stain your safety shorts. You weren't sure how much came out of someone when they had temptation staring them down as if they were prey.

He tilted his head slightly, while amused by your shy behaviour, he couldn't help but feel impatient. "Come here," he patted his lap to which you immediately obey, snuggling your back against his chest.

"Take my hands, and show me how you dream of me," his tone grew strict with authority as he laid his hands palms down on your thighs. You hesitantly place your hands on his, slowly guiding them.

"One time, it was here," you push his hands towards your breasts. He pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder. His hands stay where you placed them, giving your breasts a soft squeeze to which he receives a soft squeak in response.

"Like that?" He whispered in your ear, just adding to the shivers he sent through your body with every passing moment.

"Something like that, yeah," you breathed out before moving his hands lower down. He knew exactly where you were taking him, he just liked you telling him exactly what you wanted.

You'd led his hands back onto your thighs, shyness setting in once more before you courageously moved them towards the hem of your pretty white dress. "And here."

He placed a kiss on your shoulder as he moved his hands slowly up your dress himself. "Like this?"

You nodded quickly as you slowly sank into his chest, not able to feel his raging boner underneath you.

Once his hands reached the hem of your shorts, he stopped. "Take it off for me," he said. Your face burned from diffidence as you grew slightly insecure at the thought of him really touching you in the most intimate of places.

Regardless, you did as he said, lifting your hips slightly off his lap to tug your shorts down, shimmying them onto the floor. Your heart pounded as your bare thighs touched each other. It was really happening.

Jake pushed your knees apart, holding them in place with his own so you wouldn't shut your legs. He worked silently, moving his hand further up as the other stayed on your inner thigh with his thumb rubbing gentle circles on it.

You didn't know where to put your hands, keeping them close to your chest to stay out of his way. Small whimpers escaped your lips as his feather light touches made its way to the waistband of your underwear.

"You okay?" He asked, moving you into a new position, in his arms as if he were carrying you bridal style. He figured he'd better get a good angle of the pretty expressions you'd make when you came.

His hand slid back under your dress, his other arm holding you. His finger gently grazed over the damp spot of your underwear, gaining little whimpers from you as his leg managed to trap one of your legs, preventing you from closing them.

"Fuck," he breathed out. "So wet, and all because of me?"

You nodded, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck.

His hand slides into your panties, with his index finger sliding through your folds. Your louder whimpers were luckily muffled as you kept your head buried in his neck, clutching onto his shirt as his finger slid up and down.

His finger was coated in your arousal within seconds, taking his hand out to discard your underwear entirely. You felt yourself clenching on nothing as cold air brushed against your core from him lifting up your dress.

"Ready?" He looked at you, waiting for your answer. You nodded. "Yes," you whimpered as his finger hovered just above your entrance.

He continued moving lazily up and down, enjoying the light twitching of your thighs when he grazed your clit.

Everything about this was new to you. It never felt like anything when you tried it but the bare minimum already felt so good when he did it. But you grew impatient, wanting to urge him to do more.

"More, Jake, please," you mumbled as you tugged at his tie.

"Okay, my darling," he plopped a kiss on your cheek as he picked up his pace, pushing his finger down onto your clit as he rubbed circles on it. He wore a shit eating grin when you squirmed, grabbing onto his sleeve and letting out small uncontrollable moans into the crook of his neck. You were basically at his mercy, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

You were confused when he suddenly stopped, moving your head away from his neck to see if something was wrong, but he just held his finger up.

"Wanna taste yourself?" Jake asked, bringing his finger to your lips. You looked at him with uncertainty before opening your mouth, him pushing the digit inside and being sure to slide against your tongue.

It was an interesting taste to say the least, one you weren't sure you wanted to taste again. But he kept his finger in your mouth, thrusting it in and out to ensure you cleaned it. You parted your lips as he dragged his finger out with a noticeable string of saliva attached.

"And?" He asked as he moved his hand back to its rightful spot between your legs.

"It's okay," you muttered, licking your lips.

"Hm, lemme try," he said, using his other hand to push your head down, encapsulating your lips in another sweet kiss.

Yet it's short-lived once he switches to his middle finger, collecting more of your arousal as he deepened the kiss. But once he saw his opportunity, he slowly slid his finger inside your aching pussy, sliding his tongue into your mouth once you parted your lips to let out a groan.

You clutched onto his shoulders for what felt like dear life as his finger seemed to stutter. "You're so fucking tight," he hissed as he pulled away. You tried your best to relax, melting into his hold, keeping a slow and steady pace.

"Ahh!" You moaned into his neck once he curled his digit. Never before would you have thought a man's mere finger could bring you so much pleasure.

His pace quickened, giving you barely any time to adjust the new speed as he randomly curled his finger once more. He kept you squirming and whining, knuckles white from how harshly you clutched onto his sleeve.

"Hmmph!-" You crept further into his neck, trying to keep your sounds as soft as possible despite the squelching noises caused by his near mercilessly thrusting and the sound of his palm sma king against your core echoing against the walls of the confessional.

Not long after, he slowed down, giving your body enough to cool down before he gently pushed a second finger in.

"Fuck!" You cried into his shoulder, moving your hips slightly to keep the pace going, trying to ease the sting of the stretch. "Oh, God~"

"God's not here, angel," he muttered into your ear as he kept his fingers moving. "It's just you and me." But he gave you even less time to adjust, moving at his quickened pace again. "Touch yourself like I did," he commanded. You moved your head away from his neck, keeping your mouth shut to avoid any chance of someone hearing your erotic sounds, releasing his sleeve to try fulfilling his command.

You brought your index finger up to his mouth, with your other hand holding yours closed. He stuck his tongue out for you to collect his saliva, to which you slide your finger across it before bringing it down to your swollen clit, rubbing harsh circles on it.

It was all overwhelming: the pace of his fingers, the pace of yours, the thought of getting caught. Most importantly, that you were too far gone for any shred of forgiveness that there was no use asking for any.

You were no longer a child of God, but in all honesty you never were. The second you laid eyes on Jake those weeks ago, you were his.

Your climax began to build up faster than you'd anticipated, your body readying itself for the strong release even though you knew you weren't ready. "I'm, hmmph, I-" You tried to announce, just to give Jake the heads-up to slow down a bit but he only moves faster.

You didn't have enough time to move your head into his shoulder again, forced to throw your head back as silently as you could. Your mouth swung open as your climax finally hit, body convulsing in the most satisfying way.

It was hard to catch your breath, coming out as hoarse noises as Jake’s fingers began to slow down before halting. Your body felt weak in his hold. He'd pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching on air, almost saddened to be emptied and wanting nothing more than for him to fill you again.

He brought his hand up to his face, licking off your juices, wiping his hand off on his blazer. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, softly pushing you back onto the seat. You struggled to catch your breath as you watched him pat your legs dry with a handkerchief from his inside pocket.

He brought it up to your forehead, patting the sweat away. "What about you?" You mumbled.

"What about me?" He smiled as he fixed your hair.

"Don't you need to get off too?"

He snickered. "So fucked out and still worried about me, how cute." He helped put your underwear and shorts back on, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't worry about that now, let's just get you looking less like you were hit by a truck."

You let out a breathy laugh as he opened the door, picking you up and carrying you out of the booth. As nice as the fresh air of the chapel was, you'd rather bury your face in the crook of Jake's neck, breathing him in.

"So," he leaned in close to whisper.

"When are we doing this again?"