#Us that why she made the comment during The Power of The Dog about being 'frightened of Benedict?'

[msclaritea]

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

1.- Part one.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. dry humping. dirty talking. power struggle. both you and kuroo are kinda feral. lemme know if i missed anything ;3 wc. 5.6k an. i blame this on sir mix-a-lot and my instagram fyp. enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

And when I catch a little kitty lookin', oh, so tough Bring hot water 'cause I might get stuck!

Nekoma wasn't huge, but it wasn't some tiny rundown school either. It wasn't a prestigious rich-kid academy like Fukurodani, but it wasn't a dump. You'd call it perfectly average—just balanced enough to create a decent social jungle. The school had its fair share of quiet nerds, top-ranking students, sports freaks, and, of course, the so-called delinquents, as adults liked to whisper whenever they saw kids with piercings, dyed hair, or a cigarette hanging from their lips.

You? You belonged in the latter category.

Which is why, during lunch break, you and your bestfriend Emi had a cigarette and a canned coffee for lunch, tucked into a secluded corner she'd found and claimed after a teacher caught you smoking behind the gym a week before and threw a fit about it, forcing you to find a better place.

You leaned against the sun-warmed brick, one boot crossed over the other as the late morning light sliced through the cracks between the buildings. The sky was too blue for how shitty the day had started.

"Inukai-sensei scolded you again? What a drag." Emi's voice broke through the idle silence, syrupy with a mix of concern and genuine amusement. She had her eyes closed and face looking up into the sky, bathing in the sun like a happy cat.

You nodded in response.

"Another lecture about skipping class and how I could amount to more and to 'please think of my future' and yeah... The usual." You waved a hand in the air as if you could swat away his voice. Just retelling it made your skin itch with anxiety. You patted your blazer for your cigarettes.

Emi let out a thoughtful hum. And opened her eyes to study you with a tilt of her head.

"Well, he's right. You used to get really good grades in first year..."

You shot her a disgusted look, scrunching your nose.

She laughed, brushing you off. "Hey, I'm just saying. Why waste your time with us anyway? Why don't you listen to Inukai-sensei and get your grades back up?"

"I just don't get the point of chasing 'academic success' All that effort just to end up working in some office that'll suck me dry and bury me under unpaid overtime like the rest of this country?" You scoffed, still patting your pockets. "Bullshit... Where are the fucking things?"

Emi rolled her eyes and reached into your bag, retrieving the familiar box with a practiced flick of her wrist. She stole one for herself, already slipping it between her glossy lips.

Emi was loud, pouty, and wore trouble like lip gloss. Shiny, sweet, and impossible to ignore, she floated through the chaos of Nekoma High with a glossy grin, a one too many questionable friends (one of them being you). The perfect image of a bleach-blonde puppy pretending to run with the big dogs.

But underneath the fake lashes and the too-short skirts, she was pure heart: loyal, messy, a little reckless, and your best friend.

She loved too fast, forgave too easily, and stuck to your side like her life depended on it. In a city full of knives disguised as smiles, Emi was an open wound— raw, real, and stupidly brave. A rare trait in Nekoma. You'd landed more than a few punches to protect her, and you were willing to land many more if it meant she was out of harm.

"You sound like such a snob, Y/N."

You snorted as she handed over the box.

"Thanks, babes," you whispered as you took it form her hands, pulling a cigarette out of the box. "Call me whatever you want. As long as I pass and graduate, the rest is useless." You bit down on the filter of your cigarette, patting your pockets again, this time in search of your lighter.

"Sure, sure. You've gotten enough lectures today. I've got my own problems anyway." Emi sighed, reaching into your left pocket and fishing out the lighter. She lit her own cigarette before handing it to you. You gave her a grateful nod. "Yasuo broke up with me. What's up with that?"

You didn't really hear her. Your lips parted just a little, cigarette hanging forgotten between your lips. Your gaze was already drifting toward something—someone—far more interesting.

Kuroo Tetsurou, striding across the schoolyard.

Broad shoulders, long legs, the kind of posture that said I know exactly who I am. His hair was a wild mess—bedhead in the most deliberate, devastating way, like he'd rolled out of someone else's bed and still looked hotter than anyone had a right to. It was all jagged spikes and volume, practically defying gravity, but somehow it worked for him.

Too well.

Next to him walked a shorter guy with a slouched posture and his eyes glued to his phone. But your eyes? Locked on Kuroo like a heat-seeking missile.

He turned his head slightly, talking to his friend with a lazy grin. You caught a glimpse of sharp, narrow eyes and a grin that looked like trouble. The kind of cocky smile that said he knew exactly what you were thinking and was daring you to think it louder.

Your heartbeat stuttered, then picked up like it was trying to break free from your chest.

Fuck, he was hot.

The kind of hot that made you want to do something reckless. Like ruin your academic record. Or make it better. Or crawl into his lap and ask him to tutor you in anything but math.

Eureka.

"Very cute," you muttered under your breath and lit up the smoke, eyes raking over him like he was your next bad decision wrapped in a school uniform.

(He was.)

Emi's voice rose in protest beside you. "Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

You crushed the flavor capsule between your teeth, a little too hard.

"Who's the hottie? Never seen him before..." you murmured, half to yourself, half to Emi—afraid that if you took your eyes from him, he'd vanish.

Emi's annoyed pout was immediately replaced by a curious squint. "Eh?"

"The tall one, next to the blondie," you pressed with a jerk of your chin in his direction, your body practically leaning forward like gravity itself was pulling you toward him. "You know him?"

Of course she did. Emi knew everyone.

She followed your line of sight—and her face lit up with recognition. "Oh! I do, he's the captain of the volleyball team... Tetsurou! Kuroo Tetsurou. He's in Class 5, I think."

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun, huh?" You rolled the name over your tongue like candy, savoring every syllable. "Class 5... so hot and smart. I like."

You needed him.

Biblically.

You didn't notice Emi's wide-eyed stare as she put two and two together, looking between you and Kuroo with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Wait—seriously? Him?" she spluttered.

You shot her a glare, brows raised.

"Don't get me wrong," she rushed, "he is hot. And he does sports. And he's like, top of his class, I'm pretty sure. Pretty good catch... for a good girl."

You scoffed. "Pfff. Who's the snob now?"

"I'm just saying. I don't think he'd mingle with the likes of us. You could have any of the guys if you wanted."

You made a face like you'd tasted something sour. "The guys have no brains. And even less charm. Brain-eating bacteria would starve up there."

She blinked. "Brain-eating... what?"

You shrugged, lighting your cigarette with a smirk. "Besides, it's the chase that's exciting. He looks like a tough cookie. I like that."

Emi snorted. "Girl, if he's a cookie, you're a box of cheap cigs. You two don't mix."

But you weren't listening anymore.

Your sights were set, your interest fully piqued. Your mind was already spinning a thousand possibilities.

And right now? You wanted Kuroo Tetsurou under you.

Or on top of you.

Or really anywhere he wanted to be. But that was beside the point.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing on him like a predator sizing up prey.

"Magnetism, honey. Polar opposites attract... sometimes."

You took another drag, eyes back on Emi. "But no pain, no gain. Whaddaya think?"

"I think you're insane," Emi said, laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I love it when you get that crazy look in your eyes. It means a shitshow's about to happen."

"Thank you, babes."

"You know it. Always got your back."

"If you need someone dead, you know who to call." You winked, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No new info there." She took her final drag, then ground the cigarette out under her shoe.

She turned back toward Kuroo and his friend. "Okay, but real talk—how're you gonna pull this off? You need a plan."

You mirrored her movement, flicking away your cigarette and pulling a tissue from your blazer pocket to pick it up.

"I'm working on one. Step zero is in motion." You handed her the crumpled tissue. "Pick up your butt or the teachers will know we smoke here now."

"Oh shit, you're right." She bent to grab the butt, mumbling as she moved. "You see? You're smart—Eh? Where are you—"

When she looked up, you were already walking.

Purpose in every step.

The distance between you and him closed with every beat of your heart, Emi's voice fading behind you as she scrambled to catch up. The sun hit your back. The breeze lifted your hair. And in your head?

You were already imagining his hands on your waist, his voice in your ear, the way that smirk might look beneath you.

He looked even taller up close.

Even hotter.

And you needed him like your lungs needed that next hit of nicotine.

The two boys stopped talking, eyes flicking up as you approached.

Kenma scrunched his nose immediately, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke before he could.

You looked up at Kuroo with a tilted head and a smirk.

"What's your name?" you asked, even though you already knew.

Conversation had to start somewhere.

You caught it—a flicker. His pupils dilated. A split-second widening of the eyes before suspicion slammed into place.

Cute.

Kuroo was already analyzing you. Running the odds. He couldn't quite place what your intentions were, but something about the way you looked at him told him it couldn't be anything good. His eyes narrowed, as though trying to peel back the layers of your carefully crafted nonchalance. He didn't trust easily, and people like you... well, you had a way of being unpredictable.

Kuroo knew you, or at least he had heard of you. You were infamous in ways that made most people wary, always getting into fights with girls and boys alike, to the point that more than one person he knew was outright afraid of you. Still, for some reason, the teachers—despite the rebellious streak you wore like armor—seemed to favor you. They kept trying to pull you out of whatever bumpy road you'd decided to drive down, but he couldn't see why.

You were... trouble. Big trouble.

But despite that, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. And damn it, he couldn't help but wonder if it was curiosity or something deeper that had him paying more attention to you than he probably should.

You were also lowkey hot to him—highkey, super pretty. But way too much trouble to pursue.

So, what the hell were you doing right in front of him?

"Kuroo Tetsurou," he answered, tone neutral.

"Nice. I'm—"

"Y/N," he interrupted. "Most people know you."

"Most people know about me." You caught the way Kenma cringed at your words. It made you smile.

There was a moment of silence between you, where you took your sweet time examining his features. His eyes flickered, maybe to keep his cool, maybe to hide the fact that he was intrigued—his eyebrows raised, like saying 'So... what do you want?'

But he was fronting. Freaking out on the inside. Still trying to make sense of you. He wasn't sure if you were about to punch him, kiss him, or just walk away. The worst part? He couldn't figure out which one he hated less.

Your unassuming smile made it hard to read you, but there was something in the way you looked at him he liked. Your eyes looked curious. Like a dog sniffing a possible friend.

Or a prey.

"Would you tutor me?" You saw Kuroo's eyes snap to Emi, whose jaw hit the floor the moment the words left your lips.

He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, tutor me. My homeroom teacher has been giving me shit about grades, and I'd like to graduate."

He shrugged. "Naturally."

Oh, so he was a smartass.

"Would you?"

"Why me?"

"Aren't you in class 5? That means you're smart."

He wasn't budging. His expression remained unconvinced, the flicker of suspicion in his eyes never fully disappeared. And then there was the look on Emi's face, like she was questioning your sanity. Yeah, that confirmed it—he was right.

This was bullshit. There had to be more to it than just grades.

"I'll pay you."

Both Kenma and Emi looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Kuroo's lips curled into a sly smirk. 

Now he was really curious. 

He leaned in just a little, intrigued. "How much?"

"1000 yen." Emi's eyes almost popped out of her head. Why were you willing to pay him?

"3000 yen." Kenma's face shot to Kuroo, equally shocked. Why was he raising the price?

Your smile grew. Why was this kinda hot?

"Are you trying to scam me, smart boy?"

"Pfft, that's a miscalculation, considering you'll be taking away my study time to help you out."

You raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at you like he didn't regret this conversation anymore.

And you looked up at him like you were about to set his entire world on fire.

"2500." You offered your final bid. His smirk widened.

"Y/N!" Emi whispered in urgency.

"Done."

Your smile grew. "Okay. Thursdays after class."

"After practice," he corrected, voice smooth.

You shrugged. That worked for you.

"Can I go watch?" you teased, flashing a cheeky grin.

"I'd rather not." His smirk deepened as a pout tugged at your lips. That look suited you.

"Fair. See you Thursday, smart boy~" You waved a hand at both of them as you turned to walk away.

Kuroo watched you go, still wearing that crooked grin—but now, there was something else behind it. Interest. Amusement. A flicker of intrigue he hadn't expected to feel on a Monday. You'd crashed into his day like a storm in lip gloss and leather, and now he couldn't stop wondering what the hell you really wanted from him.

Kenma nudged his elbow. "You're actually gonna tutor her?"

"She's paying," he replied, though his gaze was still on your retreating figure. "And she's... interesting."

"Interesting's one word for it," Kenma muttered, unamused.

Meanwhile, Emi was dragging you down the school grounds back to your little corner like you were a possessed doll, whisper-screaming at you in complete disbelief.

"What the actual hell was that?!"

"What?" you said, feigning innocence as you pulled out another cigarette, mostly for effect. "I got a tutor. Aren't you proud of me?"

"You just offered to pay the guy to spend time with you—and called him smart boy, by the way. That was a little cringe."

You exhaled with a grin, smoke curling past your lips. "And he didn't say no."

Emi looked like she wanted to peel her own face off, but she wore a shocked smile.

"You're insane," she whispered, like she couldn't believe you.

But you? You felt electric. Buzzing with adrenaline and reckless possibility.

Being honest, even you couldn't explain what had you this hooked in the first place. It wasn't like you to flirt, let alone sleep around—especially not with some guy you'd just met. You weren't even that experienced, really. Just good at faking it when you had to. You knew how to make guys back off, not draw them in. And you liked it that way—especially with a friend as stupidly pretty as Emi. 

Someone had to be the one with teeth.

But the second you laid eyes on Kuroo, something unfamiliar ignited in your chest. Hot. Sharp. Wild. It didn't feel like danger, not exactly—but it burned just the same. And without thinking twice, without looking back, you lunged toward it like instinct. Like hunger.

You weren't chasing chaos for the thrill this time.

You were chasing him.

And there wasn't a single part of you planning to stop.

When Thursday rolled around—and after confirming to Emi three separate times that yes, you were going to pay him, and yes, you were trying to fuck him—you actually paid attention in class. Took notes, too, so you didn't show up to tutoring empty-handed. Half-assed, sure, but it was something. You even waited for him outside school like you said you would.

The spring wind clawed at your jacket as you leaned against the weather-worn "Nekoma Metropolitan High School" sign, flicking ash from your cigarette like you weren't freezing your ass off. Rust crept along the metal edges, and the chain-link fence behind you rattled every time the breeze picked up. You looked every bit the part of a stray dog waiting to be fed—eyes sharp, restless, scanning for the only person you'd follow home.

You caught sight of him leaving the gym, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and a little more tousled than usual from practice. Of course he wasn't alone—Kenma trailed behind, glued to his phone, already scowling once he noticed you.

Kuroo slowed when he saw you, surprise flickering across his face. He clearly hadn't expected you to follow through on your offer, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he couldn't decide whether to be impressed or concerned. But once it was clear you were serious—and once you confirmed the study session was happening at your place—he tossed a quick goodbye over his shoulder and followed you through the alley-strewn veins of Tokyo.

Your apartment complex looked like it had seen better decades. Rusty stairwells, cracked concrete, the faint smell of piss, mildew, and something metallic hanging in the air like a permanent tenant. Neon light from a busted sign across the street flickered through your broken blinds. The building groaned when the wind pushed through its joints, and the elevator had been broken since forever. Kuroo took it all in with that quiet, unreadable look you'd noticed he got sometimes—eyes narrowed, thoughtful.

He didn't say anything. That was somehow worse.

Inside, the place wasn't much better. Cigarette smoke clung to the yellowing walls. A stained countertop, three empty ramen cups, a crumpled paper bag, and a scrawled note waited:

For your tutoring and anything else. I have a fight today. Grandma's at the pachinko. Behave.

It was scrawled in your dad's sloppy, half-illegible handwriting. Kuroo read it, then blinked slowly like he wasn't sure if he was impressed or deeply concerned.

You grabbed the bag, tossing the note into the dented trash bin with a smirk.

"A fight." he muttered, still processing as he followed you down the hall. His gaze drifted around your room like it was offering up pieces of you without permission—band posters, a half-broken fan, a low table in front of a dusty floor TV.

"My dad's a boxer," you explained, toeing off your slippers and throwing your bag onto the bed.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "And your grandma's a—"

"Pachinko enthusiast," you finished, grin crooked. "So we've got the place to ourselves until at least nine."

You thought he'd get the hint. His Adam's apple bobbed—nervous? Excited? You couldn't tell. But when he sat down cross-legged at your low table and pulled out his books like he was actually here to tutor you, you almost groaned aloud.

"So," he said, pulling a blue folder from his bag, "let's see what you're failing."

"You actually got my report card? That's commitment." you said, raising a brow.

He ignored your teasing as he flipped through the papers. "You're not failing anything, surprisingly. But your chem grades are garbage."

You flopped dramatically onto your bed. "I'm struggling."

"I see that," he muttered, pulling out a notebook. "Come on."

You sat up with a groan and dragged yourself to the table, grabbing a pen. He didn't look at you when you settled beside him, but you caught the slight shift in his posture when your knee bumped his. He cleared his throat and started explaining covalent bonds.

You half-listened. You watched his mouth move instead. His voice was smooth, confident. He was focused, leaning over your textbook, one hand pointing at a diagram, the other scribbling notes with clean, sharp handwriting. He smelled like cheap body spray, shampoo and faint sweat from practice.

Your hand slipped onto his thigh.

"Tetsurou-kun," you said, all syrup and heat, "you can't seriously think you're here to actually study, right?"

He froze. Swallowed. Then, to your shock, lifted his gaze with forced calm. "What am I?" he asked. "Some common whore you're gonna pay to fuck?"

The words cut sharper than you expected. Your smile faltered. You hadn't meant it like that. You weren't sure what you'd meant, actually. Suddently this whole thing felt a little shittier.

Your fingers twitched where they rested against his thigh, but you didn't pull them back.

"N-no," you muttered. "I just—" You exhaled, frustrated. "I didn't think this far ahead, okay?"

He watched you. Read through you. His expression softened a little, the edge in his voice gone. But he still didn't touch you.

You were about to say something else—maybe change the subject, maybe apologize—when he talked again, teasing.

"You actually want to learn this or not?"

You blinked, thrown off. "Huh?"

He held up the notebook. "Chemistry."

You stared at him. Then, grudgingly, nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

You leaned in, this time actually paying attention. Took notes. Bit your lip when he smirked at your compliments and felt your stomach tighten every time he laughed when you cursed at the confusing parts.

"Not gonna lie, you make this sound way easier than the teacher. What the fuck," you grumbled.

He seemed to like the praise, smiling beside you while he continued to explain. His voice settled into your ears like warm honey. When you answered his questions right, he smirked. When you got one wrong, he nudged you with his knee and explained it again, slower this time. You hated that he was good at this. That he made you want to keep going just to see the way his eyes lit up when you understood something.

Eventually, the lesson became background noise. Your focus shifted to the way his knee brushed yours, to the way he stole glances at your thighs like he didn't want to be caught but also didn't care enough to stop. To the way his fingers moved—long, elegant, tapping the page as he talked, not realising he was doing it. His mouth, his voice, his brain—God, this was so much worse than you'd planned. He was actually hot and smart.

You were openly staring at his lips when he finally noticed.

"What?" he asked, brow arching.

"Nothing," you said, leaning back with a slow smirk. "Just wondering how you make covalent bonds sound hot."

That got a laugh, rough and short. But his ears were a little pink.

"Thought you liked ionic bonds more," he teased with a raised brow.

"Don't get me wrong, ionic bonds are cool. Covalent bonds are... hot."

"That's a new one," he said, voice low. "Gonna start rating chemistry terms by sex appeal now? Want me to whisper 'intermolecular forces' next?"

You snorted. "Don't tempt me. I might actually learn something."

"Blasphemy," he said, mock-scandalized. "You learning? In my presence? Next thing I know you'll be asking about valence electrons like you mean it."

You sat up, leaned in, and closed the book between you with a soft thud.

"Okay, I was good. I listened. Took notes. Didn't even flirt for twenty straight minutes." You raised a brow. "Now, when are you gonna stop pretending this is actually about chemistry?"

That wiped the grin off his face—but not entirely. It curved at the corners, wry and knowing. His gaze didn't leave yours. You saw the fraying edges of restraint, the tension vibrating between you.

"Isn't it?" he asked, the words almost gentle.

But his pupils blew wide when they dropped to your lips. You caught it. And still, you didn't move. You weren't about to force it. A single "no" or even a flicker of hesitation from him and you were ready to throw in the towel, swallow your embarrassment for the rest of the session—maybe learn some more chemistry and then avoid him for the rest of your last school year. Hopefully, the rest of your life.

You let the silence hang a beat longer.

"Look..." you exhaled. "I'm not really good at this. I just pretend I am."

That caught him off guard.

He could tell—you were slick, but he was smart. Sharp enough to see through you and that overconfident persona you put on, but he hadn't expected you to admit it. Not like this. Not in your room, with his textbook sitting closed between your thighs. At least, he knew he wouldn't have.

You saw the shift immediately—his breath catching, his posture tightening ever so slightly.

"Huh," he said after a second. "Guess I'm not the only one bluffing their way through this study session."

"So you're saying you don't get turned on by covalent bonds?"

That earned a soft huff. He leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice low.

"Depends. Are you offering to share some electrons, or...?"

You laughed. His hand moved slowly, fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. And when he looked at you this time, it wasn't with that usual playful glint.

It was something raw. Like honesty.

"I like you," you admitted, tilting your head slightly. "But I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Good," he murmured. "Then we're even."

Then, slowly—finally—he leaned in to meet your lips.

Soft at first. Testing. But when you answered back—with a hunger he didn't expect—the leash snapped. His hand slid behind your neck, anchoring you against him as his mouth claimed yours. His tongue licked into your mouth with filthy, unhurried precision, dragging a whimper from your throat.

He kissed like he meant it. No fumbling. No hesitation.

You gasped when he tugged your hair just enough to tilt your head back, and the gasp melted into a moan when his other hand traced up your spine, pulling you closer—guiding you over to sit on his left thigh. Your fingers twisted into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing holding you up.

"You're all talk," he muttered against your lips, grinning when you shivered after a well-placed flex of his thigh. "But so am I."

You squeezed your eyes shut—dazed, aching, and a little embarrassed.

"...Shut up," you breathed, your usual sass caught somewhere between your throat and the pounding in your chest.

His smile turned downright wicked. His mouth dragged along your jaw, down your neck. You squirmed, knees bracketing his thigh as his hands slipped under your shirt, palms hot and rough against the bare skin of your back and waist.

"You don't have to act tough," he whispered, voice rough and reverent. "I think I like you more like this. Messy."

His mouth dipped to your collarbone, kissing and biting the sensitive skin. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Your head tilted back to give him more space, heart thudding so hard you thought it might crack your ribs. Your tough-girl act had fully melted now, replaced with the kind of hunger you'd been feeling since the first time you saw him—the kind of hunger you didn't know how to fake.

"God," you gasped. "You're not supposed to be good at this..."

He chuckled low in his throat, kissing a line down your chest. "Top of my class, remember?"

"Smart boy..." you growled—but it came out more like a broken, desperate plea. "If you don't—"

He cut you off with another kiss, deeper, devastating. His hands dragged up your stomach, slow and sure, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra with maddening patience.

You tried to shove him gently back, straddling his lap like you could wrestle some control back—but the second his dark, hungry gaze locked onto yours, you felt your composure crack.

"You sure you're inexperienced?" you asked, trying to tease—but your voice betrayed you, too breathless to land the hit.

He didn't even dignify it with a real answer. Just kissed you again, harder—tongue sweeping into your mouth like he fucking owned it. His hands clutched your hips like he was trying to brand himself into your bones, and after a small, involuntary moan slipped from your throat, you pulled back with a narrowed look, silently demanding a response.

He just shrugged. That maddening, smug little shrug. Like he hadn't just made your whole body tremble.

"I'm a fast learner," he said, trailing his mouth down your throat, voice dropping lower.

A shiver went up your spine as he bit down at your pulse point, and you whimpered, threading your fingers into his messy hair and tugging.

Still, you didn't stop him.

Didn't want to.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? To see if all that cocky arrogance and big-dick energy were just a front.

And judging by the thick length of him, already hard beneath you and pressing snug under your embarrassingly wet core... You might've bitten off more than you could chew.

Kuroo unbuttoned your shirt slowly, peeled it off your shoulders, and tossed it aside—then paused for just a second.

His gaze was scorching.

Starving. Almost reverent.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed. "What a pain in the ass."

"Huh? Which one is it?" you whispered, smirking—until his mouth latched onto the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to make you tense a little. It burned in the best way—lingering and possessive.

He unclasped your bra like he'd done it a thousand times, and the second you were bare in front of him, his hands were everywhere—palming your tits, dragging his thumbs over your nipples until they were tight and sensitive. Squeezing. Claiming.

Then his mouth followed.

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

His tongue circled a nipple, then flicked it—slow at first, then rougher—and you arched with a soft, broken moan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips rolled. "You're dangerous."

He laughed against your skin, biting just enough to make you jolt. "Top of my class," he muttered again—infuriating, smug, hot as hell.

You rocked down harder, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants, and his breath stuttered. He gripped your hips tighter—bruising—guiding your movement with a low, wrecked groan.

"Fuuuck..." he breathed. "Do that again."

You did—and something snapped.

His hands shot down to unzip your skirt, and you let him, lifting your hips so he could drag it off and toss it somewhere on your floor, leaving you in nothing but lace panties. Bare thighs. Wet as hell.

He didn't even strip off his shirt, still fully clothed—his mouth just went right back to you, trailing down your chest with a reverent slowness that made your pulse jackhammer. You felt his lips, his tongue, worshipping every inch like it meant something, while little groans and moans escaped his lips as you rode him over his pants.

His lips were swollen, your skin flushed, legs wrapped around him as he rolled his hips into yours, pressing you harder against his thick cock. His hands moved over your body like he owned it—confident, thorough, maddeningly slow.

And every time you thought you had control, he took it back.

Faster.

Rougher.

More deliberate.

His grip bruised. His tongue fucked into your mouth like he was chasing a high. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your folds, and your clit throbbed with every subtle shift of your hips against him. You didn't even care how obvious it was.

You wanted him. All of him.

Every time you rocked down onto the thick bulge in his pants, you could feel the friction spark—sharp, maddening, electric. The tension inside you built in waves, tightening with each grind, pressure curling low in your belly, spiraling toward something reckless.

You were right on the edge, strung so tight you felt like you'd snap if he so much as exhaled too close.

And the worst part? He was trying to keep quiet. You could feel him trying—holding back. Swallowing grunts. Burying moans against your skin.

But they kept slipping out.

Low, desperate sounds tearing from his throat with each drag of your body against his cock. His breath caught every time you moved—hitching, stuttering, wrecked. You could feel it vibrate in his chest, in his mouth, in the fists he clenched on your hips like he was trying not to beg.

Oh you could only imagine he was a loud fucker.

Those sounds were unraveling you faster than anything else.

And still you kept grinding. Kept chasing the friction.

You were dizzy with it. Hot and wet and aching. So close you could barely breathe.

"Don't stop," you whispered—your voice low, needy. "Just... don't stop."

He froze.

Just for a beat. Just long enough to make your heart lurch.

Then he leaned in, lips ghosting over your throat, collarbone, jawline.

"Oh, I'm not stopping right now," he said, voice rough like a sin. "I'm just choosing when."

You scoffed, tried to grind again—but his grip locked you down, holding you in place like you weighed nothing.

"God, you're..." He cut himself off with a ragged breath as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties—just barely. Teasing. "Didn't know you were this fucking greedy."

"I'm not," you argued. "But you are. You're so—fuck—you're cocky."

He laughed—quiet and mean—and you felt it echo through his mouth as it dragged over your bare tits again, tongue leaving wet, hot trails.

"If I keep going..." he murmured, lips ghosting over one aching nipple, "...I'm not going to stop."

You looked down at him, lips parted, chest heaving. "That's not a problem."

But he just stared at you—hungry, calculating. Controlled to a fucking fault.

"You're paying me to tutor you," he said.

Calm. Dangerous. Like a warning—or like a reminder. To you. To himself. Maybe both.

"And you think this is a game."

Your stomach flipped. You didn't know if it was the way he said it—so calm and knowing—or the fact that he was absolutely right.

And then he leaned close, mouth brushing your ear, breath hot and voice fucking lethal.

"I'm not going to fuck you just because you're good at pretending you want me."

Your whole body locked.

Then his hand slid up between your legs, pressing against your clit—hard enough to make your spine curve, but still not enough to finish you.

"I'm going to make you mean it."

You moaned, hips bucking—but before you could chase it, he was already pulling away. Already lifting you off him.

Gone.

Just like that, the warmth of him was gone.

He stood, chest rising and falling, one hand dragging through his hair like he needed air. The other palmed his cock through his pants—thick, straining—not even trying to hide it.

"I'll see you next Thursday," he said, voice maddeningly even. "For chemistry."

Then he smirked.

And walked out.

Left you half-naked, flushed and aching, sitting on the floor of your room.

Ruined.

Fucking prick.

tags. taglist open! let me know in the comments <3

Next chapter↪ (coming soon<3)

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 V Part I Part II Part III Part IV Mmm, 5-ish months and I finally finished. I was really on a roll with these stories but work really took a bunch of time out of my schedule. It did get to the point that I didn't really want to finish this. But I can't have another story that was scraped right before the end again XD (I'll finish that UA fic at some point--) Also, this isn't a bunch of bullet notes for once. Wowie. Another thing, there'll be a part VI focused on Bruce. I was gonna merge him with Damian but I realized it just wouldn't work. I wanted to sort of wrap this story up so I can move on to my other interests. But I got back into reading other people's yandere batfam stories and got me interested again. Hopefully this keeps me motivated to finish this story. And who knows, maybe I'll go back and update the last few parts Tag: @redkarmakai @erikasurfer @szapizzapanda @kore-of-the-underworld @imhere2dosomething @pastel-mouse @cooki3dough @naina326 @peptox @ladylupuscrow @confused-they @megasweetbones @1-800-crazy @lillian-morningstar @butterflycardigann @senhoritaapple @lunayaps @sirenetheblogger @ferchu0406 @caged-birdies-blog

CW: Mention of past kidnapping, bar fight, blood, and lab testing. "Death"(Impaled). Fighting. Explosions.  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

It’s been a few days since you’ve decided to return to the manor. You were sort of numb for the first few days, not entirely sure if you made the right choice. Being used in a lab doesn't sound appealing, but who says your “family” isn't going to do the same thing? It's scary how they know how your body works better than you do. But how do they even know all this? 

Yes, you were “friends” with Dick for a while but you don't think you were ever injured around him. Probably a small paper cut or scraped knee but that’s it. You’ve only met Jason once and it was during that bar fight. That whole thing was quite violent, you ended up dead in an alleyway. Maybe that's how they studied your “powers”.

Honestly, the biggest reason you decided to return to the manor is for the chance to see your mom. If Tim was telling the truth, your mom is still out there. Suffering. This is your chance to save and be with her again. There may be some questions on why your “family” is suddenly interested in you and wants you back at the manor, but you don’t think too much about it. You just want your mom.

Plus, if you’re gonna be tested on, at least you're treated decently here. Dick gives you full range of his apartment, Jason delivers whatever food you’re craving and Tim gives you space.

Speaking of which, you haven't actually been taken to the manor yet. Your “brothers” won't give you the details but they just tell you to wait a bit. You can’t decide if it’s a blessing to not go to that dreaded place or a curse. That manor will undoubtedly bring the loneliest memories but this apartment is filled with the people that made those memories.

Not only that, but Dick apparently had a pet dog. Of course, no hate to the sweet puppy, but you did not want to be anywhere near her. You thought you’d be okay with the small pitbull but the memories of Damian using his pets to attack you just came flooding in. Curse him for ruining your love for animals. At least you don’t mind watching Haley when she’s on the other side of the room. Though, you end up not seeing her at all since you primarily lock yourself in the bedroom.

While waiting to go back to Gotham, your “brothers” took turns staying at the apartment with you. Dick is fairly respectful of your need for space. He stays outside of the bedroom but he acts like a dog pawing and sitting at the door until it gets open. Constantly rambling and talking, trying to hold a conversation while you tune him out. Sometimes you can hear him commentating while playing with Haley. Just the thought of the dog happily chasing a ball warms your heart while also making you shiver at the thought of her chasing you. She may not be as big as Titus but your brain apparently can’t tell the difference. Unlike your other two “brothers”,  you let Dick in the room at times. It is his after all and he usually just grabs whatever before leaving.

Jason is a little more tolerable. You don't know how but he always finds a way into the room even though you were sure that the door was locked. No matter where you look, you can’t find out how he’s able to get in the room. He just pops in and jumpscares you every time. Jason mainly comes inside to give you food or some book to entertain yourself. You’ve asked for your laptop a few times but Jason wouldn’t hand it over. To avoid the constant surprise visits, you told him that you’d open the door for him if he was only delivering food or a book. Guess who still refuses to use the door.

Tim…You refuse to even acknowledge him. It’s possible that the rest of your “family” is just as, if not more, crazy than him, but Tim was the first to show his true colors. Immediately making him drop on your list of trusted individuals. Even though he wasn’t that high to begin with. Just that he was willing to sell you out to some lab for a power you didn’t know you even had until recently! It’s just unnerving to be anywhere near him and Tim, you think, knows this. While Dick and Jason are always talking or interacting with you, Tim hasn’t bothered you too much. It makes you wonder why he went through all the trouble of cornering you like this if he doesn’t even seem to care.

— ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

You lay diagonally on the large, blue and black bed. Your head closest to the lamp on its nightstand with a book at arm's length. Honest, you’ve lost the motivation to continue reading for a while now but also don’t have anything else better to do. Reading just gets boring when that’s all you can do all day. Can’t believe it’s only been about a week and you’re already getting Cabin Fever. You glance out the window and release a tired sigh. The sun is only just going down. While you could sleep the days away, you got a bad headache once from constantly sleeping so you tried to stay awake in the morning. 

You asked Dick about going out at one point and he said it was too dangerous. Or just rambled about how happy he was that you actually said something to him…After staring at the window for a couple more seconds, you slowly pulled yourself up and made your way to the over. Your hands reach for the window’s lift but hesitate with opening it. There’s a high chance that the lab group hunting you down is still out there. Just the thought of getting found out just because you wanted fresh air sent a shiver down your spine. Plus, you were still being watched by your “brothers”. Dick and Jason would definitely notice if you opened the window. Maybe Tim wouldn’t mind…right?

While they never told you this specifically, there was definitely an order your “brothers” took for who watched over you for the day. It was Dick, Jason, Tim, then repeat. You did your best to remember this because you didn’t want to get caught opening the window. You may not have completely wrapped your head around why your “family" is suddenly interested in you but don’t want to get on their bad side. Not when you know they’re capable of sending you to that lab group. Dick says how the family wants to fix their errors and to make amends with you. But how could you ever trust them? How can you trust your “family” that left you to die all that time ago and then threaten your life? What could you have done to make them do this to you…

The moment you were sure that it was only Tim and you in the apartment, you carefully opened the window and allowed the sun in. Feeling the warm light touch your skin almost made you melt and take a nap. Which you did. You even took one of the books Jason gave you and sat on the windowsill. There wasn’t really a way to get completely comfortable but the outdoor air was enough for you to give you the energy to read your book. When it started getting late, you dropped your book on a nearby surface in the room before turning your body to face outside. You swing your legs lazily while staring at the few stars that peek out of the sky. Even as the cold air makes you shiver, you don’t want to go back into the apartment. No way are you going to cut your time short when you barely get to go outside. 

Well, it seems it’s gonna be cut short anyways because a sudden creaking sound reached your ear. Jumping in surprise, you quickly grab the edge of the window to stop yourself from falling several floors. You may not die but it’d still hurt. Your eyes do a quick scan around you for the source of the sound before landing on a nearby fire escape. Just a window away, Tim stands there with two steaming mugs. Weak eyes looking directly at you with a blank expression. You can feel your heart sink as you debate on explaining yourself or being annoyed. While you’ve made plans to let Tim know how much hate you have for him, it was all in your head. Seeing him now after so long and being the one in a bad position, you didn’t have the confidence to start an argument. 

Before you can even think of what to say, Tim casually steps forward and holds one mug out to you. You hesitate but carefully take the mug. When you accept the mug, a smile suddenly spreads across Tim’s face but remains silent. Just taking a sip of his mug while waiting for you to do the same. It takes you a moment to register what exactly Tim put in your cup. You considered throwing the cup at him but you’re still a little frazzled and his staring doesn’t help. You eventually take a sip, allowing the warm and sweet flavor of chocolate to make you relax. Hot chocolate is always nice when it’s cold out. 

“...You know you shouldn’t be out here” His words immediately replace the warmth your body just had from the hot chocolate with a cold chill. Without meeting his eyes, you try to appear unphased. Just swirling the liquid in your mug while letting it keep your hands warm. “So? It’s not like I actually left. Plus, I’ve kept an eye out. I don’t always need you and your brothers watching over me” You keep your head high, wanting to make it clear that you still have no interest in being involved in this family.

A small laugh escapes the other party before a soft thud. When you steal a glance, Tim has an elbow resting on the railing of the fire escape and his head in his palm. “If Dick found you out here, he’d board up all the windows” Hearing this instantly makes you look at Tim in confusion. Would Dick actually do that? Tim’s smile doesn’t fade as he continues while bringing his mug to his lips. “Jason may chain your ankle to the bed frame” What the heck is with this family?? For several years, you’ve wished to learn about your “family” so you can bond with them. But this is too much

“And do you know what I’d do?” The question catches you off guard. A part of you just wants to throw a snarky remark but another part is still baffled by the possibility of having a barred window or a chain to your bed. You aren’t even sure if you’re supposed to answer the question until Tim speaks up. “I’d get you a cup of hot chocolate and tell you to come back inside. It is getting late, don’t want to Dick or Jason to find you when they return.” With that, Tim lifts himself from the railing and steps back inside the apartment. You remain seated while trying to process what Tim said. So, you weren’t gonna get in trouble? Your thoughts get caught off by the sound of a door opening behind you. When you turn around, you see Tim in the doorway and motioning you into the living area. 

You carefully get off the windowsill, not wanting to spill your hot chocolate, before stepping back into the warm apartment. Tim holds the door open for you and whispers as you cautiously pass him “I also won’t tell your brothers if you play some games with me” This immediately makes you turn around and glare at Tim. Of course there was a catch to his “kindness”. Maybe that is why you were so willing to listen to him. Tim may act normal but he’s from a family that doesn’t know what’s normal.

Reluctantly, you play a few games with Tim in the living room. Luckily Haley’s out with Dick or you would have been really distracted while playing. You loved any ranking game so you could beat Tim, so it was great not being paranoid about being jumped by the small dog. Though, you don’t feel as victorious when he seems just as happy as you are with your wins. You’d dump your hot chocolate on him but you ran out. Also Dick and Jason had returned. When Dick saw you out of the bedroom, he nearly broke your eardrums as he hugged you like a favorite plushie. You worried that Haley would come over to you since her owner was holding you, but Tim picked her up before she got too close. Also Jason made dinner.

 — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

Today is the day. Finally taking the dreadful ride back to Gotham. It literally is only around a 30 minute drive but you couldn’t help but feel like it’d be hours. Dick tried to cheer you up by saying what a fun family road trip this’ll be. As if you hadn’t been stuck with these three idiots for several days already. With Jason’s and Tim’s help, your stuff from your apartment are put in the car and it’s time to get on the road. Dick gets into the driver seat, Jason in the passenger seat, and you and Tim sit in the back. Ever since Tim found you sitting on the windowsill, you’ve slowly become more tolerant. You probably just feel a little obligated to spend a little time with him since he didn’t tell Dick or Jason about what happened. Or the other times that you opened the window again. Tim also helps get Haley tired so she sleeps while you go into the living room to play another game. 

Your gaze is focused on the window as the car starts up and begins moving. There’s some chatter between Dick, Jason and Tim but you don’t bother with listening. That is until Tim gets your attention with an open bag of chips. You all share the large bag while bantering with one another. Every time the opportunity arises, you make sure to tell them all the things you hate about them. It makes you happy to see them grimace but they always try to turn things around. Dick and Tim waves off your words, telling you to look to the future where you’ll be happier and safer now with your “family”. Jason would only scoff and redirect the conversation.

Arriving into Gotham, it’s as depressing as ever. Feels like it was only yesterday that you were on a bus to escape this city. Now you’re back for reasons you still aren’t completely sure about. When you looked at the time at the front of the car, you were surprised to see that a whole hour had passed. “What the hell?? It is not that long of a drive to get from Blüdhaven to Gotham” You look to Dick for an answer as he just releases a small laugh. Before he can answer, however, his phone rings. Jason picks up the device before you can see who the caller is and brings it to his ear. “What?” You and Tim watch Jason until he ends the call with a groan. He massages his forehead before finally speaking up. “There’s an outbreak”

This news immediately frightens you but Dick and Tim appear to be ready. The car is pulled over and hidden near an abandoned building. As they gear up, they formulate a plan to handle the situation and get you to safety. You honestly get a little distracted as you remember that your “family” are a bunch of vigilantes that fight crime. Wait, what if you’re being brought back to become one too? Before you can ponder on the thought though, Nightwing grabs your attention. “Okay, so I’m going to take you to the closest safehouse. You’ll stay with the other civilians until this all settles down. At the same time, Red Hood and Red Robin are going to their posts and handle the situation. Once I drop you off, I’ll be doing the same. Do not leave that safehouse.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard Nightwing so serious. Just as you all are about to split, however, a voice is heard from overhead

“I’ll take them back” It takes your brain a bit to process what is happening as a figure jumps down from a high ledge. Robin stands in front of you all before immediately walking towards you. “I can get them back to the manor if you three idiots can hold your ground” Without another word, he grabs your arm and quickly pulls you with him. You can hear Nightwing call out to you both but it quickly fades away.

You’re basically being dragged around like a ragdoll as Robin takes you through various turns. Trying not to trip and fall on your face, you still don’t have time to figure out that this Robin was Damian. That sick kid who had no problem with physically and mentally harming you. He definitely has the same arrogant attitude and him not properly worrying about how you’re tripping over yourself from how fast he was going checks out. At least he hasn’t forced you to climb buildings or do some impossible jump. 

So far, no trouble crossed your path as Robin continued to pull you behind him. Not once does he let go of your arm. It’s honestly hard to run when he’s holding you like this, but at least you won’t fall behind. Of course, all good things come to an end in Gotham. Robin and you are just about to cross a street when a loud explosion is heard a couple of blocks away from you two. He leads you to hide behind a flipped car to get away from flying debris. Your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of more explosions and the smell of smoke and metal. In your confused state, Robin takes off his cap and lets you use it as a mask of sorts. Trying to stop any more fumes from your system. You aren’t able to fully comprehend what he is saying if he suddenly stands up and leaves.

Obviously confused, your eyes follow Robin as you continue to hold his cap to your face. Your vision takes a moment to focus on the path ahead of him to see a group of villains creating havoc. You can’t quite see what or hear what is happening but you hope that everything is okay. As you sit behind a car and slowly clear your head, you piecing things together. Such as how much younger Robin is to you and how you just watched him get up and go fight those villains with explosives. You may hate Damian but he’s still a kid, right? You’ve wished plenty of misfortunes on him but you didn’t want it to be like this. It could be that you're actually still hazy from the smoke but you force yourself to figure out how to help Robin. 

You peek over the car again to look for something helpful but immediately find the opposite. There’s another villain nearby that is tearing down buildings and cars. There’s still time before they reach you so you try figuring out a plan. Looking inside the car next to you, you find a toolbox. You rummage inside of it until you find a decently sized hammer. This won’t be of any use against that broad villain that is destroying the city, but it could possibly be useful for Robin in his fight. As carefully as you can, you hide behind large debris as you step closer to where Robin was fighting. He’s doing well but by the time he’s done, the next villain will be here. You watch for an opening before throwing your hammer as hard as you can. It doesn’t do as much damage as you hoped but it gives Robin a chance to quickly knock the villain down.

Once the villain is taken care of, Robin yells and scolds you for getting involved. “I told you to say where you were! What could have possibly happened to give you the idea that I was in need of any help? I am fully capable and trained to handle these enemies while you can’t even follow simple instructions! Are you asking to die out here?!” Hearing his harsh words after so long almost makes you fall back. But no, you refuse to let this kid look down on you “I literally can’t die! Don’t fucking act like you I need your protection when I am capable of handling myself! Plus, there’s another monster thing coming this way. We need to get out of here before—” Your words get cut off as a loud roar is heard and more debris is being thrown around.

Robin quickly grabs your arm and begins pulling you both away. There’s no time to pick up the hammer you threw and you accidentally drop Robin’s cape. You stumble behind him while turning your head behind you, looking towards the large monster that appears to have just noticed you two. The villain easily pulls a lamppost up from the ground and throws it, with the top of the post pointing directly at Robin and you. The sight of the metal beam causes you to quickly grab onto Robin’s wrist and force him to let you go. Once he releases his grip, he turns to scold you again but you quickly shove him to the side. You’re suddenly launched forward a few feet as a sharp pain pierces through your body. The point of a lamppost suddenly appears at your front as your body quickly registers this new wound. The pain is so overwhelming that your brain doesn’t register the sound of someone calling your name. Eventually it all becomes too much and everything goes black.

— ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ��⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

Great. Just great. You were just speared right before Robin’s eyes. From the extensive research made by Bruce and Tim, you should still be alive. But this sight of you dying was still an unpleasant sight. It fills him with an unfathomable amount of rage at you, himself, and the villain that was after you both. Robin uses a great amount of force to defeat the monster as soon as possible. Wanting to get this over with so he can take your body back to the manor.

Once the final guy has fallen, Robin slowly approaches your body that still hangs limb on the lamppost. He picks up his cape on the way, seeing as you dropped it when you two were making your escape. Robin cleans as much of the dirt off before finding himself faced with your body. With careful hands, he pulls your body off and gently lays you on the ground. He lifts up his cap and immediately wraps it around your torso, applying enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Robin then carefully picks you and continues the journey to the manor. Being extra sure to avoid any more casualties so you can receive medical assistance sooner.

[samthegreenapologist]

Rating: Explicit

Tags: background alicole, manipulation, pnv!sex , Oral F receiving, doggystyle, Targaryen princess OC, Criston’s depressed inner thoughts, toxic alicole relationship, sad ending

Word Count: 3.5k

“Lord hand?” The Queen’s strained voice called out in his direction. It took the knight a moment to realize that she was speaking to him. He still was not completely wrapped his mind around the position that Aegon had bestowed upon him. He was hardly used to even sitting at this table with the small council let alone being asked his opinion on a topic. Alicent noted his dazed expression right away when he met her urging gaze and restated her sentiment.

“The princess has been increasingly restless, perhaps it is best we allow her passage home.���

He understood now why the queen was calling for his opinion, she wanted his support. That had been something he had always given to her without hesitation or any concern for the scrutiny he might face for following her commands fully. She was his Queen, he had sworn to protect her, to serve her… and in her candle lit chambers kissing her flesh he had silently sworn to love her as well. 

“Rhaenyra will only feel we are taking another child from her,” The men around the table were grumbling, her words were not swaying their opinions. “Perhaps sending her home would grant us the ability to speak reason with Rhaenyra? It could avoid further escalation.” 

The other lords were looking to him for comment, for a decision on this matter. To let him be the one to cast aside the Queen Regents illogical suggestions.

“It would give her cause access to another dragon.” 

He did not look at the Queen as he stomped down her suggestion by stating the obvious. He did not care to see her big brown eyes shocked from this action, that he knew she would view as a betrayal. But he did not think she had much of a right to be so irritated with him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to continuously support somebody he felt was not making intelligent choices and who did not show any indication that she even had a small level of appreciation for the sacrifice and attention he had shown to her for years. People snickered at his dedication to her and he was beginning to feel she treated him as a toy, especially as of late now that she was bitter about her life and position of fleeting power. She expected him to follow her like a dog, piping in to support her claims during the day and scurrying into her chambers once the hour of the bat arrived. There just long enough for her to ride atop his lap or plant herself over his mouth…just to reach her release and then fuss about the hour and how these actions were wrong and send him on his way with a scolding. 

Ser Criston was unable to stop the cyclical thoughts about his frustration regarding the queen as he took the steps in the tower two at a time, his eyes focused up the spiraling steps towards the chambers the princess had been confined to for moons now. 

"Princess," 

His knock upon the hard oak door had her rising from her spot by the small window at once and the simple gown she chose to wear most days flowed back down over her stocking covered feet just as the Knight entered. She stayed silent as he placed his helmet on the small table beside the doorway, finding it best to let him guide these discussions. In the past he had simply left her alone if she started up right away with the begging or weeping to be sent home, free from this chambers and far from the Red Keep. 

“We discussed the performances at night, have we not? The carrying on only makes the council feel you would scorn us all should you be allowed leave.” They had spoken of this many times before, she claimed her desire was just to go home and mourn her brother with her family insisting that she wanted no part in this war. 

“Yes My Lord.” She had made sure to call him that since he began appearing with the necklace of hands around his neck. It did her no good to disrespect his position especially when she knew he had been her mothers sworn shield. Her mother had selected his name to be written in the book so surely he was a good knight, an honorable man. He could help her…at least that was what she prayed for and what she had begun to believe was true since he initially mentioned the idea of being able to slip her out in the night.

Criston Cole looked to the small window for a moment as he sighed, weight dropping from his shoulders as the air left his lungs. This room was a respite for him, though it was a cage for her. 

“I am doing what I can,” he lied stepping a bit closer to her “But you must play your part too, the sweet girl.” he reminded and his eyes seem to notice the simplicity of her gown, practically just a nightgown with the addition of cloth stocking on her feet to keep them warm against the cold stone floor. Her light lilac colored eyes flickered up at him, some hope in them given his comments. 

“Forgive me,” she shook her head, scolding herself some. “It just…it becomes so lonely when you do not visit, my days melt together. I could not sleep.” she explained to him her pale hand coming up to delicately touch his chest plate, fingers light as if he could feel her touch even over all the armor. 

“You’ve missed my company?” His voice’s stiffness almost faltered and gave away how desperately he had needed to hear that. Affirmation that she needed him, that she looked forward to his company. It made something deep within him stir.

She simply nodded and rose up onto the tips of her toes to make her tall enough to kiss his cheek just above where his beard began to sprout on his face. The lord hand did not take a moment to reflect on the fact that he was the only company she ever got other than the maids bringing her necessities and coming to help her bathe on occasion. Aemond, the reason she had been here in the first place certainly did not come to her chamber. He likely felt relieved that this conflict had kept their betrothal from moving forward. Criston was the only person who seemed to care to speak to her and so she had realized quickly that he was who she needed to convince to free her. 

“You look lovely” His hand came to hold her cheek, the leather of his glove cool on her face, keeping her close to him. A fondness had developed. Performative at first on her part but true closeness had developed due to the contact and sprinklings of hope he gave to her. 

Alicent did not let him compliment her, she only wanted his mouth on her cunt, or his cock to ride. The queen had not kissed him at all the last few times he had been in her rooms after dark. She simply seeked his company for self satisfaction and then looked at him with disgust or shame. It made him feel like a whore. 

Used. 

“The queen spoke of releasing you,” a truth. “I’m getting through to her,” a lie that he did not dwell on because he had pressed his lips to her jaw and bit at her some before soothing the flesh with a kiss. 

“I always had faith you would.”

The airness that developed so quickly in her voice made the knight smirk slightly as he began to remove his armour. They had done this enough times now that she knew how to help him with the latches and knots so he was free of the hard material in a short time. She could see how hard he was breathing now that that armour was pulled away, with it the silver chain of hands too, revealing only his hairy bare chest and golden pendant. She reached to fiddle with the chain but his hands had found her waist and pushed her back until she could feel the hardness of the wall behind her. It was her chest turn to pound.

“I do not want you to feel so neglected you weep at night.” he said simply. As if bedding her now was a favor he did exclusively for her. Perhaps it was easier for him to imagine it that way. That he was helping her, helping her with all of this. Pleasure for company and empty promises for peace of mind?

Her eyebrows raised up at the front and pinched together in the most entrancing way when he would squeeze at her sides. She was not ashamed of his touch, she lavished in the moment of connection. Alicent was the Queen Dowager, but she could be his princess.

“Then do not neglect me”

Gods, She has so much of the quick wit her mother had. To avoid that thought he let his hands explore up her bodice and grope at her chest as his face dropped down to kiss upon her collar bones, his nose settled in the crook of her neck taking in her soft scent.

Criston was breathing hard. The air puffing out over her neck and warming her flesh a great deal as his hands pulled at the back of the gown. 

“Criston-“ she wanted to ask if he was alright, but his lips silenced her right away. She should be used to the intensity and eagerness he always had when he came up for a visit, but it always seemed to increase in intensity.

The tenseness of his shoulders made it so her fingertip could barely push into the skin when she grasped onto him so she knew he was quite a bit stressed, more than normal. Perhaps something that happened in the war? She wanted nothing more than to ask but he would get closed off if she questioned what was happening to much…weary likely that this was all some attempt at acquiring information for her mother. 

He was completely lost in her chest now, his large hand was keeping her firmly down against the windowsill so his face could enjoy her breasts. Mouthing freely at her flesh until he lapped at her nipple, warming one before moving to the next and as soon as he heard her soft breathy whimper he bit down. 

“Whining at night…” he huffed out a bit breathless as he regrettably pulled back from her chest  “does my princess need her knight every evening?” He growled looking down at her and his hand slid up her soft sides feeling her skin shift with his hand until his thumb was rubbing at the thin column of her neck. 

“Can you spare that time for me?” Her chin raised up and her heart pounded. That answer clearly pleased him because he had started to rut himself against her lower half. Harshly enough that she needed to wrap her legs around him so she was not pressed against the glass of the window too much. He couldn’t help but seek more of her after a question like that. She needed him, she appreciated that he was busy but she clearly wanted to be selfish and ask for his company more. She was the opposite of Alicent…she valued him.

The both of them needed connection and hope enough that they could use one another for these small moments without having to reflect on the greater actions at play. She could imagine her white knight would kiss her and set her free and he could pretend to be the longed for lover that saves her. 

Criston's trousers were shoved down by his own hand when he let her up so she could move to the bed and before he could reach her he was treated to a delicious show of her pale tights being bared to him as the stockings were removed. He all but growled at the sight. She was prettier than her mother had been at this age and so much more appreciative. His thick cock was bobbing with anticipation at the view of her and he made an audible noise of need when he caught a glimpse of the silver swatch of hair against her pink cunny. 

She was stretched for him by this point and he found a great bit of pleasure in seeing the small gape she had. He would have a lasting impact…her body would not be able to forget he had been there and in a world where his lovers…the women he worshiped casted him aside he needed to know that she wouldn’t be able to forget how he had fucked her…how he had made her feel. That would not fade like bruises from overzealous kisses on a neck. Their chest slid together as he came down overtop of her his hips nestled between her spread thighs and they kissed one another for a long while.

His golden pendant and some of the chain pooled in the valley between her breasts while his shaft slid between her folds, his tip reddened with blood bumped at her tender bud as he readied her, waiting to feel she was damp enough to take him. She did not rush him, there was no fast rump between meetings nor hushed encounters late at night when the maids left. He had her all to himself here, he was the one in charge. Most times he had her suckle at his cock to make it wet but on days when her release was mentioned he’d opt to kiss her, and hold her like this…perhaps to convince himself that she enjoyed this closeness enough that he was justified in keeping her here for these selfish reasons. 

When her whimpers turned into outright moans he knew she was ready. That point was punctuated by the fact that her pussy had swelled and gotten heated…she was so very reactive to him. He fought the urge to lap at her cunt…to taste the pleasure that was leaking from her. He would save that to help her reach her peak. He always ensured she came, no matter how roughly he took her he did still want her to experience that numbing bliss. His hands easily lifted her up, grabbing her wide bottom and placing a few kisses at the shell of her ear.

“Turn around” 

She yelped at the bite that accompanied his demand and compiled instantly. Crumbling back down to the bed but this time on her stomach for him. It took three swats to her ass and a solid pinch to her milky thighs for her to raise her butt up and open her knees for him. The words of praise he gave her were drowned out by the loud gasp pulled from her lips because of how abruptly he had entered her. His cock had been lined up expertly so with a bit of pressure he was able to seat himself fully into her. He swore Targaryens had the warmers cores, it drove him mad and had him gripping onto her hips harder than he needed to. Her forehead was pressed down against the quilt on the bed and she panted against the fabric as Ser Criston pulled his hips back and then shoved them back towards her at a rapid pace with quite a bit of force. He outright growled when he realized that her noises were being muffled by the fabric so he sent one hand up her back to the nape of her neck and let his fingers slide against her scalp, her silky silver hair filling in the spaces between his fingers before he pulled his hands back to lift her face up. 

“Ahh! Gods Ser-mmm,” she was devolving to incoherence…which he quite liked. He loved that he pushed her to a point where she could not keep herself buttoned up. She let go, not bashful of the noises that she made, certainly not concerned about the lewd sound that was occurring between his pelvis and her cunt. The wet slapping would be enough for anybody to know what was occurring within these walls. But she was his princess…he had been tasked at handling her, just him. Feeling how she cried out and her hips twitched against his hands made him pull her completely up so her back was to his chest and with a panting breath he growled into her ear. 

“You’re mine” he told her, with no room for debate in his tone.

When her core began to clench around him and his tip throbbed within her he did seem to sober up enough to realize he needed to remove himself from her. Gods know he wanted to fill her, wanted to see his seed drip down her swollen folds. But then things would be ruined if she was with child, people would notice and she wouldn’t be his princess in the tower anymore. So he panted as he mustered up all his good sense and  pulled himself out. She knew to stay in her spot, her cunt on display for him and he could see her small breasts hanging just slightly down below her stomach as she caught her breath and her core constricted over and over around nothingness while he fisted his cock. Making long strokes and groaning quite vocally as his sensitive tip was stimulated by his foreskin moving up and down. 

“Let me-“ the princess began, about to suggest she suckle at him, but his hand, the delicious view and her concern for his own pleasure sent him over the edge and the knight's thighs trembled as his seed ended up splayed across her slightly reddened bottom. 

“Seven hells.” 

Both of their panting was filling the air for a minute or so while he rubbed his hand up and down the side of her leg and circled her hip bone. Then once he regained enough air in his lungs he released her hair from his hand and started to lean his head down to press a kiss to her engorged clit and felt how she was twitching. It wouldn’t take much to get her to her peak. It was easy to urge her into her back, and instantly he braced his hands on the underside of her knees and pushed her legs towards her upper body which opened her up completely to him.

“We can’t have you whining tonight princess….” He murmured with a smirk as he ducked down and licked a swatch over her dripping core. She was nodded down at him quickly.

“I w-won’t.” She swore to him raising her hips up as much as she could in this position and he praised her promise by doubling down on his efforts and pushing his greedy tongue into her core savoring the taste as his nose nudged over and over at the underside of her clit until she had begun to clench against him once more. His grunts and breath only made for vibrations that sent her further into overstimulation. The princess whimpers turned into trembling moans again. She cried out, her stomach sucking in as she reached her peak and then puffing out as she rutted once more against his face before her muscles went limp.

He pulled his face back and wiped his hand over his mouth and some of his beard, a breathless grin on his face as he took in her weakened state. She clutched to him after her release and he lavished in these moments. When she held to him, not one thought in her mind to push him from the room like Alicent always did.

“I will miss this.” She was still catching her breath as he wrapped her up against his chest. The comment made Criston nod stiffly and hold her a bit tighter.

“As will I princess.” She looked up at him, her pale lilac eyes filled again with hope. He could not crush her “Soon you will return home, let me arrange a few more things.” He lied as she smiled and gently fiddled with the chain of his necklace as she settled against him, rest coming easy to her due to the comfort of those vows. 

Ser Criston Cole would not have to choose between his own self interest and being her hero for in a weeks time the marcher would set course for Harrenhall. He would not feel her soft flesh again, not see her eyes so desperate to be free, he would not ever pick up on the soft undertone of sadness in her voice as she bid him a goodbye and luck on his day of activities. He would never need to lie to his princess again for he would not return to the red keep and she would never leave it. 

[opreaadriann]

Help with Revenge Ideas

So, right now I'm writing the plans that the MC can choose to make his presence known and make the targets unnerved.

I was going to tell you all about it in the weekly update but I know a lot of you got ideas for revenge and subtle, petty stuff, so I would be grateful with some help if you guys got ideas.

So, here's how I went with it: You can either choose to do 3 small things to unnerve your targets, do a big thing to announce their comeuppance, or do nothing.

For the small things, here are the ideas I came up with:

Dylan 1 - Make him find a copy of your favorite statue (not the original, fixed one) from childhood with its mouth broken (cause he's a snitch, ya know?)

Dylan 2 - Create a fake account with your childhood nickname (added this to chapter 1 to fit) and comment on his live stream of the dance how you remember the Tragedy

Olivia 1 - Make the presenter who talks before the Fighting Rooster performance use the same words uttered between you and Olivia before the dance (best friends forever, sad because this is the last year together).

Olivia 2 - Make someone spill punch on her and mention that they heard she likes it (I don't like this one, I feel it's weak and would be better for Haley)

Michael (if crush) - Make the opposing fans jeer "Ew" every time Michael is at-bat during the homecoming game

Cecily (if crush) - Make the opposing fans jeer "Ew" during a ceremony where she leaves her crown from last year for the homecoming royalty successor

Michael and Cecily (if not crush) - Disclaimer: this one is kinda fucked up, I don’t know why I went so hardcore. Make them find a fake prosthetic head of their dog, Godfather-style

Vivian 1 - For the photobooth at the homecoming dance, add a filter that adds bloody broken glasses on your face (this is from the bullying content added in chapter 1)

Vivian 2 - Stamp “creep” on her dress

Isaac 1 - Stick a poster on his locker with his face and a target over it with darts stuck into it. How Isaac announced his lamb every week, MC will announce him as their target.

Isaac 2 - idk, kill him? Jk jk. Or am I?

Connor - Not sure yet. Something about him being two-faced.

Haley - Probably something with punch. Still thinking here as well

For the big thing I want MC to write with invisible ink “Creep” all over the walls, all creepy-like, and on the homecoming royalty crowns as well. After the homecoming king and queen announcement, power goes out and everyone sees the “threat.” It works pretty well if you’re homecoming royalty as well.

So, yeah. I wanna know if you guys have ideas for the smaller annoyances to unnerve the targets. I’ve made another poll where you can input your own ideas and I’ll see if I can work with any of them! If you had some petty cool way of scaring the targets in mind, this is your moment to shine!

[elainsgirl]

I honestly don’t know what is worse Nesta stans or Gwyn/Azriel stans.

Some nesta stans will deny that she did anything wrong. She has to be the victim in every situation. Everyone around her is the villain, especially her sisters. Her being mean? Queen behavior. Her constantly telling feyre that no one will remember if she lives/cares if she dies? Just normal sisterly behavior. Her blaming elain for their father’s death and comparing her to a dog? Iconic behavior.

Nesta’s dancing is wonderful and great, but feyre’s painting is awful and elain’s gardening is useless. Nesta’s the most intelligent, powerful, and beautiful woman in the entire series while feyre is stupid and elain is boring.

And according to them, elain and feyre owe Nesta unwavering support. How dare elain and feyre distance themselves from nesta after months of being verbally abused? But nesta doesn’t owe them basic human decency or the tiniest amount of respect. No, nesta is allowed to lash out and be angry - elain and feyre aren’t allowed to react in any negative way once so ever.

Like I understand that elain and feyre made mistakes. They didn’t handle Nesta’s trauma in a healthy way - but Nesta didn’t handle their trauma perfectly either. Nesta knew Elain was still grieving when she blamed elain for the death of their father. Nesta knew Feyre’s neck got snapped when she threatened to slit her throat. Nesta constantly used elain’s and feyre’s insecurities and trauma to hurt them. At least, feyre and elain always had good intentions and never sought out to hurt nesta.

Then again, there’s gwyn/Azriel stans that will go on about how elain is this awful person who’s secretly evil. They’ll go on rants about how elain doesn’t deserve love and respect because she’s so mean to nesta and lucien. They’ll call her a bitch for not being more empathetic to nesta. They’ll claim she’s manipulative and appearing weak to earn sympathy from Azriel - but then go on to say that she’s actually weak.

There’s so many headcanons and fics basically degrading elain all for the sake of gwyn. Fics about elain being desperate for a man, begging Azriel for attention only for Azriel to tell her that gwyn is smarter, sexier, and kinder than she is. Fics about gwyn yelling at elain (and sometimes feyre) for not being a good sister and smacking her for not being supportive enough for Nesta while Azriel cheers in the background. Fics about gwyn being Nyx’s second mom and not allowing feyre or elain to hold nyx because only she can calm him down - which makes Azriel baby crazy and he’s just overcome with the desire to impregnant gwyn. Basically, all these fics tell us that gwyn (and occasionally nesta) is so much better than elain because elain is vain, vapid, and superficial - gwyn is just so different and not like other girls.

It’s just exhausting seeing video after video of people analyzing the story and coming up with the most bizarre takes ever. Apparently, Nesta’s behavior towards feyre in the cabin and during the beginning of ACOSF towards elain is normal sister behavior and not at all abusive. Apparently, elain is just some selfish bitch who only wants a man to take care of her (if that was the case, she would’ve just fallen into Lucien’s arms).

I’m not saying all nesta stans or gwyn/Azriel stans are like this, but a lot are. It’s just weird to me. If you really don’t like elain or feyre why go on so many rants about why they’re such bad people - rants in which they don’t even use canon facts. Many of the things they’re mad about aren’t even stated in the books, they just assume. For example, people are claiming Feyre doesn’t appreciate “women’s work” when Feyre made absolutely no comment disparaging women’s work. Or when people are mad that elain is still not giving Lucien the time of day (which is fair - considering he helped kidnap her) because they believe she saw the past and knows about lucien’s trauma.

I like Nesta, gwyn, and even lucien. But some of their stans make it so hard… like, did we even read the same books?

atp im convinced we have not read the same books, I would not be suprised if antis all created a different version of the series which they follow from.

Most Nesta stans dont want to admit how terrible Nesta once was. They want to blame and bring down everyone else so Nesta can be seen as better - the top character, the one that redeemed the series and deserved everything good. They want the plot to surrond Nesta and her friends. Not Feyre, Elain and the IC. Nesta spat out many insults but the one time Elain talks back? They dragged elain through the mud calling her manipulative, evil, selfish. If Elain didnt leave Nesta alone - they would have said how Elain doesn’t respect Nestas boundaries. When Elain did leave Nesta alone - who literally pushed Elain away, she now “abandoned” Nesta. Same goes for Feyre, they hate her for standing up for herself and hate how everyone else sticks by feyre. Not Nesta. Nesta is potrayed by her stans as the perfect sister, no one calls her a terrible dancer but for some reason they want to label Feyre as a bad painter when there is no evidence for that claim and Elains gardening as useless despite the fact Elain is bringing beauty into the world and helping the ecosystem. Like, there is no logic or explanation as to why they think like this. Her stans use Nesta’s trauma as an excuse for her actions instead of a justification. But that only applies to Nesta ofc.

as for Gwynriels, they have to hate on Elain to make Gwyn seem better - its a way to justify their ship. Like how Nesta sees Gwyn as a true sister but not Elain, which is pure bull. Or how Gwyn will put Elain and Feyre in their place for not understanding Nesta. They hVe to undermine Elains importance and give it to Gwyn because in the series itself, Gwyn isnt rlly that important. She was a cute bestie to Nesta. Thats pretty much it. Their fics are degrading, i’ll never forget the baby one. They always make Elain jealous over every female whether its gwyn or vassa - as a way to punish her because canon Elain isn’t doing what they want her to do.

the thing is - when you constantly have to see and deal with takes like these, it makes gwyn and nesta less likeable which is a disservice to their characters but most of their stans are the definition of insufferable. They have to mischaracterise Elain and Feyre for their stupid narrative. They want the house of gang and Vanserras to run this series but thank god Mass doesn’t share their delusions nor has indulged them.

its funny and slightly concerning but mainly - these peope get upset and throw fits over their own stupid assumptions. Not whats actually canon. Like Feyre never appreciating or acknowledging the hardwork Nesta did in the cabin, which was nevr clarified to be true. Istg anon, when I saw the whole “elain is horrible and I hate her because her gift is sight meaning she saw what Lucien went through yet is still choosing to be horrible towards him” WHERE TF DID YOU GET THAT FROM BECAUSE ITS CERTAINLY NO WHERE IN THE BOOKS. Like how are you going to hate a character for an assumption/theory you’ve literally just made up. Make it make sense.

you’ve literally said so many truths anon, most gwynriel/nesta stans are just draining.

But to answer your earlier point,

“I honestly don’t know what is worse Nesta stans or Gwyn/Azriel stans.”

Nesta stans 🤝 gwynriel stans

its not a coincidence that most Nesta Stans are gwynriels, 9/10 both go hand in hand.

[lsjhl]

Nose in the Snow Pt.1

Parings:

Alcina Dimitrescu x Agender reader

Summary: Turning against your family was not on your 2024 bingo card but after a threat in the woods reveals itself you might win a prize.

Words: 1.3k+

The sharp edges of the metal cuffs cut into my wrists as I growl at my children and wife. I'm not sure why this is happening, but I know I'm scaring them. I feel like a passenger in a car flying down the highway knowing it will crash. 

Oh, I can see my sweet Bela wishing to come closer, I move back. I don't know what's happening but I do know I don't want to hurt my family.

– one week ago –

“er? oney? Y/N!?” I blink and look over to Alcina. “Yes, love?” I ask as I take in the worried expression she wears. 

“I asked if you were alright, you've been staring out of the window for some time now and while I know you love to bird watch, dear, there is no such evidence of life in the depth of winter right this moment” Alcina continues with her concerns.

I look at her still a bit fuzzy in the head and from behind my right shoulder, I hear my youngest of three. “Mother, you know father is crazy,” my dear Daniela says, and before Alcina can reprimand her for the unnecessary comment I ask something far more important than my faltering mind state.

“Who got to throw the dart?” 

A little backstory to this. You see in our world ravaged by the T-virus there will be a somewhat little chance that someone you know is infected. Either a small bit, enough to hold out longer than others if given a stronger dose, or fully infected. Umbrella was never good at keeping their dogs on a leash. 

So given that mutants and the savage bipedal we call humans live in one world together we have found ways to keep ourselves aligned.

For Alcina, that means breaking all our furniture or if caught fast enough having one of us take her to Heisenberg and having him allow Alcina to wreak havoc in his scrap yard. Anger issues, we all have ‘em.

My oldest, Bela, enjoys just finding a nice sunny spot and taking in some quiet time, it's impossible to reach her in the summer when she wishes to be alone. Not due to it being hard to find her but because I will strike for blood if someone dares bother my dear daughter. But I will relay a message. She does so much for this family, I will do anything in my power to get her downtime

Cassandra my middle child is big on throwing a mean right hook so boxing is right up her alley. She loves violence and gets it from her mother. But I do take credit for the care she puts into taking the proper measures to keep herself safe and having continued fun along with knowing the correct steps of taking good care of whatever weapon she uses.

And little daredevil Daniela loves to give her mother heart attacks by climbing anything she can get her callused grabby hands on. It’s a challenge trying to get her inside during the warmer months and winter is hell for both her and me. Her because she can't climb anything taller than about thirteen feet and me because I can’t allow her to climb anything higher than thirteen feet, I wish to give my daughters everything but I dont want her hitting her head on the ceiling in the library or getting to close to the openable skylight during the cold season.  

Gosh, how I love all of them for what makes them special, and they do for me too. Now while I might not have furniture slash face breaking anger or cat-like activities under my belt my family still counts one thing as The Thing™ that makes me special. I am not one to care for certain social roles and to make a long story short, I'm agender. This means that I experience and live through having no gender, so every morning, my wife or our three adorable kids will grab a dart and throw it at a modified dart board we had made that has sections labeled as Mom, Father, Momma, and Dad. The main reason for this was that I wanted my family to have an easy way to call me without having a stroke on thinking of what labels I might prefer. You can tell which it landed on today.

“I did!” little Daniela says proudly with a bright smile that falls as soon as she hears the next words out of her mother's mouth. “Daniela, what did I say about calling your father crazy?” Alcina goes off and while she does I turn my focus back to the window dissociating from my soundings trying to find the shadows at the edges of my mind. That is until I hear Daniela’s small “but he is” in terms of my mental state and wanting her not to feel bad I chime in with “I hear people in the walls” added with a goofy grin slapped on my face as I direct my look to be at my wife. 

She, of course, gives me an exasperated look, and with a roll of her eyes she puts down that claim with a “No, you dont.” Then looks me up and down with a flicker of worry and adds “You dont right?” I chuckle and softly say no as my smile morphs into something more natural and full of undying love rather than silly mischief. That is until I go back to my delusions, “I do think we have people hiding in the woods watching us” and before I allow that statement to sink in I continue “Or it’s like a bird or something, who knows” I finish with a shrug and an unbothered expression.

“What was it you were saying mother, about father not being demented?” I hear my oldest, Bela, say as she enters the library. They continue their talk on my fragmented brain and I now have my forehead against the glass of the window still lost in my mind thinking and re-thinking the same few things. Human, animal, shadow, crazy, crow? Birds, love, birds. So on and so on.

I feel my eyes move right and left as I look for the thing lurking in my wife's woods. I saw something, I'm always seeing something. God schizophrenia is a bitch.

 I'm going to go check it out.

I turn to the library doors and take one step before my last daughter steps in front of me to block my path. “Fathers lost again,” Cassandra says before I feel the strong hands that belong to my wife pick me up. “Oh Draga, are the woods bothering you this much?“ She says softly into my ear as she cradles me to her chest. I feel myself cut back into the current world and blink slowly once before looking up at Acina with an innocent face. “I'm okay but I do want to go look at the woods for a bit, just to settle myself.” She nods and goes to put me down, that is until we both hear Daniela and Cassandra whine.

“No fair, why does father get to be picked up?” Daniela says soon followed by her older sister adding “Yeah, I want to be picked up too” I chuckle and hold my hands up in a ‘calm down’ motion “Okay, okay. Once your mother lets me down I'm sure she’ll give you three a boost up” I look the trio over and see two enthusiastic head nods and one slow shy one from my sweet Bela.

Looking back at my wife I ask to be let down and with some hesitation, she does so. “I'm going to grab my boots. I'll be back in 10 minutes, okay?” I say while walking backward to the door. ”Be safe and do keep me updated if you find anything” Alcina says as our three little girls start climbing her like a tree and she gently swats at them.

Grabbing my boots and a heavy jacket I go out through the kitchen to find the thing or things that have been bothering me.

[silversiren1101]

6, 21, 27 for the WOTR asks?

Hi Ash! Thanks for the asks ❤️

[Asks are from this ask list]

Questions are all answered from Minovae's perspective

6. Which mythic path did they choose and why? Do they regret it?

"Choose" feels like an odd word in this situation, but I do suppose it's the closest it can be! Minovae goes on the Aeon path because of a few different reasons, some not entirely within her control or conscious knowledge:

-Her creation by Ssila'meshnik involved her soul being embedded with a mote of pure energy stolen from The Cloister that the protean lord managed to acquire in the immediate chaos of Aroden's death. Minovae is naturally driven towards order and law because of it, on a level that other outsiders can detect. The Aeon could sense something inside of her that it approved of, and so it chose her.

-Mino is spiteful towards the "good" gods just as much as she despises fiends of all kinds. She would rather each and every deity and outsider remove themselves from mortal affairs, but seeing the truth of the Wardstones and what had become of the angels inside of them made her furious on their behalf--and even angrier at the crusader gods. She destroyed it with the purple stone knife to send both sets of outsiders to the rightful place, "where they rightfully belonged."

-The point above is why she wouldn't end up on the Angel path. She would reject it out of spite and principle, despite being lawful good and honestly 'perfect' for it. Way in their shared past, Regill had even commented that it was unfortunate that her past had shaped her into the atheist she is, because any god would have been eager to have the paladin she could have been.

Does she regret it? AB-SO-LUTE-LY. Mino, ultimately, has only ever desired to be 'normal.' She loves mortalkind and has only ever wanted to fit in and have her own place among mortal society: to live, to love, and to thrive. As orderly as she is, she loves how messy mortals are, and knows that chaos is the spice of life that makes it worth living between all the rules. Society is a strong, healthy chain keeping everything from falling apart when the links have room to breathe and they aren't so tight as to be a rigid bar--those gaps are personal freedom, or the chaos of being alive.

The aeon does all that it can to remove this part of her since its fundamentally incompatible with what it wants, to the point that it starts eating her from within. It drives her crazy, literally. While in game she goes on the Legend path, her actual canon is that she forsakes every divine power: Iomedae and Nocticula both. She instead uses Radiance to cut out the Abyss from her soul (nearly killing herself) and just about succeeds at earning her mortality and freedom... only for Ssila'meshnik to intervene and trigger the true beginning of her apotheosis (what they had planned for her all along as their 'heir') by fusing all of that shed mythic power into the freshly exposed and vulnerable Cloister mote. Thus begins her true mythic path: The Paradox.

21. Did they actually like something about being the KC?

Meeting and helping so many people. Mino's only reason for being in her life for so long has been to shepherd and safeguard society. She has fastened herself into a guardian, more a tool than a person with needs and wants. Her position as Knight Commander was so potently self-destructive to her in this regard (phoenix-like, in the end) but she wouldn't trade any of her suffering for those she was able to protect, help, and save.

27. Favorite animal companion?

Lann's dog! He adopts the mangy thing shortly after they reach from the surface during the attack on Kenabres. His name is Victor, (short for Victory - Lann isn't the most imaginative) and starts off perfectly dog size then grows positively massive over the course of their journey. Mino loves to take a nap against his big furry flank on the especially cold Sarkorian nights.

[bllsbailey]

Megyn Kelly Demolishes Jill Biden in Brutal Takedown About Her Desire for Power

I wrote earlier about the ABC report that Jill Biden was "lashing out" at people who want Joe Biden to step aside from the campaign. 

Journalist Megyn Kelly called that out as "sick": 

This is sick. SICK. https://t.co/1MEEkhTziq— Megyn Kelly (@megynkelly) July 6, 2024

But that was calm, compared to how she ripped her during an interview with Piers Morgan earlier in the week. She said Jill has been "exposed" as a "power-hungry aspirant herself to political power":

Kelly pointed out how Jill Biden was on the cover of Vogue this week as well to "promote herself." She referenced how Jill had tweeted out a picture of herself, sitting in the presidential chair on Air Force One, on the way to the G7, showing how she thought she was the one in power. 

That was actually in 2021, and Jill tweeted she was "prepping" for the meeting. I wrote about it at the time:

Was she telling us even then who was doing the work behind the scenes? 

"She's not the damn President! Get out of the chair!" Kelly exclaimed. "No one elected you to lead us politically." 

Kelly then ripped Jill's obsession with being called "Dr." Jill got an Ed.D. Kelly explained how her father got a Ph.D but he never would have insisted people call him doctor. 

"Why does she insist on it?" Kelly asked. "Because she's power hungry. She has a small fractured ego that she needs built up. She needs the affirmation of strangers to give her an honorarium...she wants it."

Kelly spoke about how Jill guided Joe down the stairs after the debate and then made those comments to him, like he was a child, about answering "all the questions." Kelly said it was like how she speaks to her dog when he sits on command. This is supposed to be the "leader of the free world." Kelly declared, "She knows how infirm he is." 

Exactly. No one voted for Jill, or the tight circle of aides said to be shielding him like "Weekend at Bernie's." If he can't perform the job, then he isn't fit. 

Kelly also noted that if he isn't willing to take a cognitive exam, then it's probably because he knows the results won't be good:

Kelly blasted the people behind Biden, in addition to Jill, who are letting this go on: 

I do disagree with her on the last statement a bit. Biden was on board with this even as he had to know he was having issues. I believe he's greatly impaired now. He has to know it, yet he's still saying everything is just hunky dory. So while I blame Jill, he has a responsibility as well.

The Biden team now faces a mountain of questions, particularly in light of his refusal to take a cognitive exam and now, a report about his doctor meeting with a neurological expert and Parkinson's specialist. The White House and the campaign are doing the best they can to spin, but they're running out of time as the calls for him to step aside continue to grow. Biden is simply not dealing with that reality.

[oathskeepers]

why do i see people defending Allison? Especially making illogical comparisons with Viktor?

"Viktor ended the world twice" excuse me?? Viktor had been abused by his whole family since he was a child, yes their father was responsible for Allison rumoring him, so she isn't to blame for that, but the siblings have always excluded him. And they kept ignoring his input during S3 too. When he first discovered his powers, it was only normal he had no control over them and he was locked up again instead of getting help. He's easily the most powerful of the 7 and they all made him go in overdrive being abused and emotionally manipulated.

She lost her husband and child, fine, but Viktor ALSO lost the love of his life and the child he thought as his own. And when he found him again Allison murdered him in cold blood, after making fun of his autism btw. And for no reason too. Right, he killed their mothers by accident(!) but if he hadn't, that doesn't guarantee at all that Claire would be alive, because Reginald wouldn't have chosen them as children anyway in this universe, so Allison most likely would have had a completely different life anyway. And if we're playing "who's fault is it" game, then technically he has powers because of Viktor, and everything that happened is because of how he was treated, ignored and excluded since childhood, locking him away instead of helping him control his powers.

And she made transphobic comments about Viktor at the wedding (baggy clothes) too.

Allison has full control of her powers and used them questionably even before but she sexually assaulted Luther. No, it's not "just" almost rape, just because she didn't continue. She rumored him so she forced him to kiss her. It's full on sexual assault. Just because she didn't like that he wasn't her lap dog anymore. And her apology was such bullshit, especially because we know it was only to get people to agree to her plan. She's so selfish and manipulative. She has been abusing her power a lot, so imagine if she had the power Viktor has. She would not be able to control it at all, and who knows what she would do just because she could and would give her an ego boost?

[hmslusitania]

Paint it Black

@evanbucxley @arrenemris you guys wanted petty, jealous Eddie stuck in an elevator with Taylor during the blackout, right?

Eddie Diaz has been involved in his share of awkward dinners.

This one takes the cake though. It starts with him showing up at Buck’s loft by himself, and Buck opening the door with that stupid puppy-dog confused tilt to his head that makes Eddie want to do something drastic.

“Where’s Ana?” he asks.

“We broke up,” Eddie says. “Figured it would be weird to invite her to dinner after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Buck says, which yeah, Eddie knows because Eddie hadn’t told him yet. “I’m sorry, man.”

Which makes…one of them.

The night gets worse when Taylor shows up with her latest story of her investigation into – Eddie misses the details, but he’s discovered that Taylor’s voice somehow is at the exact right pitch that he can’t quite hear it most of the time. Weird how that works.

Buck, bless his fucking heart, feels none of the tension in the loft. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays chipper and upbeat and positive and doesn’t comment when Eddie and Taylor trip over each other to help him with making dinner or pouring drinks or to sit beside him on the couch while the food cooks.

But, like, the spot on the couch beside Buck is Eddie’s spot, and if it’s not Eddie’s it’s Christopher’s.

And Eddie…loses the fight.

Taylor’s tiny, and for just half a second, he entertains the utterly absurd idea of just picking her up and moving her, but it flits out of his head almost as soon as it arrives. It’s quickly followed by an unfortunate realisation that it must be easy as anything for Buck to just pick her up and move her when – which is then immediately erased by the second-hand memory he acquired from Captain Mehta that Buck had been able to just pick Eddie up and toss him into the engine like he was a sack of potatoes – which –

He’s saved when dinner is ready, but he feels Taylor’s eyes on him the whole way through the meal.

Annoyingly, they end up leaving at the same time. Buck and Eddie have a shift in the morning, and Taylor has a story to cut before some deadline or other. Eddie would rather not walk out with her, would rather not share the elevator with her – he briefly considers legging it for the stairs but they’re at the other end of Buck’s floor and the elevator is right there and it would be absolutely blatant what he was doing – but if the alternative is knowing she’s staying the night at Buck’s, he’ll deal with the elevator.

They’re both quiet while the doors slide open, the soft whisper of the brushed stainless-steel brushing against the dust guards the only sound besides the simmering mutual animosity between them. They step into the elevator, which smells vaguely of Pinesol, and Taylor presses the button for the ground floor with a shiny lacquered red nail.

The doors close again and the shimmering, irritable silence fills the space. No elevator music in Buck’s building, which is probably for the best.

“So,” Taylor says as the world’s slowest elevator descends. “Is it personal or are you just jealous?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Eddie says. The elevator has faux wood panelling, not mirrors, so he can’t tell if she’s looking at him or if she’s staring straight ahead like he is.

“You either hate me on a personal level, because I’m me or something,” she says. “Or you hate me because you’re in love with Buck.”

Eddie gets as far as a spluttered, indignant, “I am not in love with—”

And then the elevator lurches. Stops. The lights flicker and then die. The emergency lights do not kick on.

“Well that’s comforting,” Taylor says, dry.

Eddie pulls out his phone. Usually, it’s still connected to Buck’s wifi by the elevator, and the connection’s gone. So it isn’t just the elevator.

“There’s a button in here that calls the fire department, right?” Taylor asks, pulling out her own phone and shining it at the elevator panel. She presses the button that should connect them directly to the department, and nothing happens.

“Depending on how wide the power outage is, it might have knocked out dispatch,” Eddie says.

“Great,” Taylor says. “You’re a firefighter, you can get the doors open, right?”

“With a Halligan and a fully functional shoulder?” Eddie asks. “Sure.”

She huffs. “Do you think it’s just this building or wider?”

“How would I know?” Eddie asks.

“So helpful, thank you.”

“What do you want me to do, Taylor? Use my magical powers of divination to figure out if we’re in a building-wide, block-wide, city-wide, county-wide blackout?” Eddie snaps.

He can’t see her face in the shitty half-light of their respective phone screens, but he hears her roll her eyes.

“It’s because you’re in love with him, right?” she asks.

“For fuck’s sake, Taylor, I’m not in love with—”

“Because he’s in love with you,” she interrupts as though he hasn’t spoken. Eddie’s heart stops. “It’s weird, I’ve never really had to vie for someone’s affections before. I can’t say I’m a fan, but, see, he thinks you aren’t an option.”

“He told you this?” Eddie asks and hopes to God his voice sounds normal because it does not feel like it.

Taylor snorts. “He didn’t have to. Do you guys have any idea what you’re like when you’re around each other? It’s obvious to anyone who even meets you in passing, and I know both of you and have a journalism degree. It’s not difficult math.”

“Then why are you dating him?” Eddie asks, swallowing back the lump that’s just jumped into his throat that feels suspiciously like his heart.

“Because I like him,” Taylor says. “And because I like a challenge.”

Before Eddie can say anything rude about Buck being worth more than a challenge to someone, she sighs.

“I’d say you’re going to have to fight me for him, but it’s not going to be much of a competition,” she says.

“You really think my chances are that bad?” Eddie asks and he hates how sad he sounds, even to his own ears.

Taylor doesn’t get a chance to answer before Eddie’s phone lights up with a picture of Buck and Chris together and Buck’s name in bright letters. In the sudden illumination, he sees the annoyed, resigned expression on her face.

“That answer your question?” she replies, and Eddie answers the phone.

“Hey, did you make it out or are you stuck in the elevator?” Buck asks.

“We’re stuck in the elevator,” Eddie says. “No idea what floor. Maybe three?”

“Cool, don’t go anywhere,” Buck replies and hangs up before Eddie can ask where, exactly, they might go.

An awkward silence hangs in the elevator in the wake of the phone call.

Until, finally, Taylor says, “For what it’s worth, if I had to lose to someone, at least you’re as pretty as I am.”

Eddie is still searching for some kind of response to that – coming up absolutely blank – when the elevator doors slide open. Buck, illuminated by a headlamp, waves at them and pockets his keys.

“You have an elevator key?” Taylor asks while Buck pulls her out.

“Fire marshals and captains get ’em,” Buck says. “They’re standard across production lines.”

“Fire marshals have to give them back,” Eddie points out.

“Eh, when I was a probie, we got an elevator rescue and Bobby told me to go open the doors, and so I stood there trying to pry them open for like five minutes before he walked up to the elevator panel and unlocked them with his key,” Buck says. “Chim and Hen laughed at me for about a month every time we got near an elevator. So when I did my turn as fire marshal, I may have made a copy.”

“Of course you did,” Eddie says. He rolls his eyes and is grateful for the darkness so Buck can’t see exactly how fond he must look.

Taylor catches him, though, and for a tense second, Eddie thinks she’s going to say something about it. But Taylor Kelly is a lot of things, but “quitter” isn’t one of them. It might not be a fair fight, and the outcome might be rigged in Eddie’s favour, but he understands then that she’s going to make him fight for it. Fight for Buck.

No worthier fight, really.

“We should check in, see if they want us on shift early,” Buck says, already pulling his phone out to text or call Bobby.

“And I should go investigate,” Taylor says. “I’m sure my station is missing me.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Do you want my headlamp for the stairs?”

“I’ve got it, but, thank you,” Taylor says. She stretches on her toes to kiss him goodbye – much more thoroughly than she had when they left Buck’s apartment. She arches an eyebrow at Eddie once she’s let go of Buck and Eddie narrows his eyes right back. “See you boys later.”

She flips on the flashlight on her phone and waltzes off to the stairs.

“We should tell all my neighbours to stay inside,” Buck says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Eddie says, shooting a text to his abuela and Chris to ask them to do the same. He doesn’t know yet if the blackout’s reached their neighbourhood, but it’s a better policy.

“So what did you and Taylor talk about while you were in the elevator together?” Buck asks in between knocking on his neighbours’ doors to announce LAFD please remain inside your homes.

“We, uh, came to an understanding,” Eddie says.

“Oh! Good,” Buck says. He pauses. “What about?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie recommends. He nudges Buck with his shoulder and gets a grin in response. “Let’s check in with Bobby and see if they need us or if they recommend we just stay inside and stay safe, too.”

“No one I’d rather weather a lockdown with,” Buck replies, as if the second she stepped into the stairwell, Taylor also disappeared from his head. “Well, except maybe Christopher.”

Eddie laughs, and thinks in Taylor’s direction, may the best person win.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 37

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 300 notes on tumblr)

_____________________________________________________________

Simularé looked out over the city from the top of the school.  Using her replicated powers, she took the form of Volpina so they'd be able to alter the illusion quickly should something pop out and accidentally reveal the true form of the school. Thankfully the sentimonster didn’t need to do much in order to maintain the illusion; Paris was a surprisingly quiet city.

As far as they could tell, no one in the city outside of the school had any idea what was going on. And that worked out perfectly for them.

“So, this is where Lila has you stationed,” a voice called out, resulting in the faux fox turning around. The figure behind them was a woman clad in dark blue, with blue skin and a feathery fan. She looked confident and the sentimonster instinctively felt that this individual was very much aware of what it was.

Mayura had quickly deduced it was the sentimonster as it was in Lila’s previous akuma form, Volpina. With Lila now Masquerade, it was unlikely she would choose to take such a form. She would likely want to stay in her new form to show it off.

“Do not be alarmed, Simularé, it is your creator. Mayura,” Mayura spoke again.

The shapeshifter leveled a sharp glare at the woman. What made her so certain of that?

“How do I know that is true?” Simularé questioned.

The villainess took a moment to examine the sentimonster. Mayura had to admit that this sentimonster was her finest work to date. The amount of emotion harnessed from Lila to create it made it far more unique, much less of a mindless creature than her previous creations. Amoks were created much like akuma were, locking on to intense emotions before sending off. But unlike akuma, amok can be shaped and tailored with enough focus. Simularé was a special case, as it was made from the conclave of emotions that Lila was experiencing during her breakdown. It had been quite difficult to focus on one specific feeling but Mayura had pushed through. Simularé was sculpted to be Lila’s ideal ally, but it was also so much more than a simple asset. This Amok embodied Lila’s core personality. Her cleverness, her cunning, her mistrust of others, her playfulness, her pride and so much more. To put it simply, this Sentimonster was Lila’s spirit given a new form.

“Trust me Simularé, you would be best not to ask that,” Mayura warned.

The sentimonster felt as if it was being talked down to and clearly did not approve of anyone talking to them in such a tone, save for its master. It charged at the peacock villainess, ready to make contact, But, before it could get close, Mayura stuck out her hand and pinched her fingers together, causing the sentimonster to feel as if some force was pulling its essence out. The pain it felt was indescribable! It felt as if its very being was being ripped out. Mayura was in range to sense the Amok and could easily remove it without difficulty, much like Hawkmoth could with an akuma. Though Mayura had a feeling that letting the Sentimonster know that keeping her out of range of the item was the key to its survival would not be wise. It was best in this moment to display power.

“Stop! Please!” Simularé begged. “I … I believe you! I will do whatever you ask, just please stop the pain!”

The villainess smiled, it seemed there was even more to this Sentimonster than Mayura had anticipated. It had a powerful sense of self preservation, something controlled sentimonsters didn’t seem to have. She took note of that.

“Good. Now, you are going to explain to me your master’s end goal and where Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the building.”

Simularé felt the grip that Mayura had on its essence and held back its burning resentment towards the blue bird villainess. She would behave. For now.

“Okay… I will tell you everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Duck!” Ladyice called out as she had Ice Noir lower their bodies to avoid oncoming ice projectiles.

“Surprising that she's only attacking us with ice. She's Stormy weather. You'd think she would be attacking with more, maybe some rain or like a vol....” Ice Noir commented.

“Don't talk about that! Do not give her any ideas!”

The two had skated out of the room and made their way through the now icy hallway while Stormy Weather gave chase.

“I was just saying it seems weird how...mediocre her attacks are.

“It’s like we saw before, the akuma servants are like robots, they can’t react quickly so changing up her powers is likely just as much of a problem. She's probably not as dangerous as we initially thought.”

“So maybe we should face this problem head on now that we aren’t cornered?”

Ice Noir changed direction and began skating towards the umbrella-wielding akuma.

Stormy Weather noticed the approaching cat and raised her umbrella, creating a mighty gale to blow him back and ending him flying past Ladyice to the end of the hallway.

“She can use her other powers… can confirm,” Ice noir commented as he got off the wall, still dazed.

Ladyice skated up to the dazed cat and helped stabilize him. Despite seeming like a wasted effort, the cat’s brash antics actually inspired Ladyice with a way to take her out.

“I just figured out how we can stop her, think you can give her one last charge for me?”

“Why Bugaboo, asking me to rush headfirst into danger? How heartless.” He feigned hurt.

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Silly Kitty. Just be ready to hang in there when she blasts you with wind. Don’t get blown back this time.”

“Got it.”

Ice Noir quickly skated across the ice as he drew his weapon. He was ready for her this time.

“Hey breezy weezy! The weather today was supposed to be sunny with a 20% chance of raining Cats and Dogs!” Ice Noir called out, clearly happy with his lame joke.

Stormy Weather saw the cat approaching once again and prepared to send another wind blast at him.

But the cat was prepared this time around and extended his staff to anchor himself to the walls on either side.

“Nice try!” Ice Noir snarked. “But a small little puff of wind won't blow me back again.”

The storm akuma decided instead of creating just another wind blast, she was going to step it up with a cyclone attack! A powerful tornado tunnel would surely blast the cat down for good.

“We were wrong! She can amp up the power too!” Ice Noir exclaimed as he held onto his staff with all his might while his body was being blown back by the massive winds. “This was not well thought out!”

He focused on digging his claws into his staff and doing his best to remain in the wind tunnel. The powerful winds blew into his face and he could see Stormy Weather slowly approaching.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ladyice!”

He felt his grip slipping. Any second now, he was going to get blown back.

“Don’t worry, Kitty. I got this.”

Stormy Weather didn’t get a chance to react when she felt something tackle her full force and rush her into the wall on the opposite end of the hallway.

The wind died down and Ice Noir was able to land on his skates. He released his grip on his staff and fixed his windblown hair to resemble its original state before quickly skating down the hall to help his partner.

“Nice job, Ladyice.”

The red-clad heroine stood up from her grapple with the storm akuma.

“Actually…”

Ice Noir looked up to see that his partner had shifted power ups. Her skates and ice skater aesthetic were replaced with a suit that had red spacesuit-like plating, a jetpack with retractable wings with red and light blue colors that matches her helmet.

She had changed into her space form, Cosmobug.

“Space power up! Because you can fly through the wind! Genius!”

Cosmobug smiled.

“Well, Stormy Weather is dazed but probably not for long.”

The two heroes noticed her about to grab her umbrella, but Chat Noir’s cat-like reflexes helped him snatch it first.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ice Noir broke the umbrella over his knee.

“I don’t think she will be as mobile without her powers.”

Stormy Weather tried to stand but slipped on the icy floor she had created.

“Let’s just make our way to the boss,” Cosmobug said. She used the jet on her back to swoop up Ice Noir and fly slowly down the icy hall.

“Just like you to sweep me off my feet. But don’t think I will be a smitten kitten like usual.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The bug heroine raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard to imagine that you haven’t been dreaming about this scenario.”

“It helps that you aren’t riding a horse with the wind blowing in your hair,” Chat Noir joked back, catching Ladybug’s teasing.

Cosmobug quickly moved them to a part of the hall where there was no ice. Both undid their potion transformations, reverting back to their usual hero forms.

“Not keeping the jetpack?” Chat Noir asked. “It is really cool.”

“The room halls are pretty limited, and there's not much mobility, otherwise I might have,” Ladybug confessed.

The two heroes took a moment to catch their breaths and figure out their surroundings.

“We should thank Stormy Weather.”

The cat looked at his partner skeptically, remembering how a few minutes ago, the wind had nearly sent him flying through a brick wall.

“What makes you say that?”

“Lila probably had Stormy Weather out and about to flush out other people in the school and make sure the area was difficult to traverse. She likely sent out a bunch of other akuma to do the same, which means her forces are scattered and we have a better shot of dealing with her with fewer obstacles.”

Chat Noir nodded. He would not have deduced such a thing from one encounter with a weather akuma.

“Good to know, so the plan is to locate her and save the day.”

“No need to figure out where she is, I already have a good idea where she should be.”

Chat Noir noticed Ladybug had already started moving. He quickly followed behind, though he didn’t need an explanation this time. He already knew where Ladybug was heading — to his homeroom class, but he couldn’t say that without revealing what he knew.

_____________________________________________________________

‘This was a ridiculous decision.’

That was the thought running through Chloé’s mind as she ran for her life from a large group of Reflekta clones.

The two or three she had run into early were easy to avoid, but now it seemed like a horde of those tacky clones. And all of the ice that surrounded certain hallways made it impossible to traverse. She was limited in her running space and she was running out. But what made it all worse was that now those Reflekta copies had adjusted to running.

“HOW CAN YOU RUN IN THOSE HEELS!?” Chloé screamed as she ran down the hall.

She just had to try and be a hero. Why was she even doing this? The assistant probably got turned into one of those gross clones or got masked like those other students. She could have just sat back and just waited for Ladybug and Chat noir to find her or let them handle it.

“You can’t run forever” The crowd of clones sang in Rather impressive and creepy harmony.

Chloé took a turn down the hall and went into the door of the nearest room.

She closed the door and locked it before smelling the musty wet air.

“What the… EWW!” She spat in disgust as she realized she had locked herself in a janitor’s closet.

“Why did it have to be in such a gross smelly room?” she moaned.

Unfortunately, her comments caught the attention of the crowd chasing her.

She heard banging on the door.

“You can’t hide, we will find.”

Chloe put her back to the door to keep them out and felt herself slide down it in despair.

Was this how it was going to end? Getting turned into one of those fashion nightmares after hiding out in such a rank smelling closet? She didn’t even save… wait. She did save someone. She saved that old man. It hadn't been glamorous, but she did manage to save at least one person.

“I guess I did do something good after all. May not have been exceptional… but it was something.” Chloé smiled for a brief moment.

She took a moment to look at the positives, Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely come in and save the day, plus there were those other two heroes. Perhaps that would be enough. But she had to admit, finding solace in that was getting harder to do when the smell of the closet was destroying her nostrils. Just then, she remembered she had some nice perfume in her bag that she could spray to alleviate the smell.

“Well, at least I won’t smell awful when they capture me.”

She put her hand in her bag and felt around for her perfume. As she searched, she felt an unfamiliar object in her designer handbag. She pulled it out.

“What is this?”

She noticed a note on top of it. It was a bit dark to read so she pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight.

“Return to Ladybug after mission?”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Could this be what she thought it was? How was it possible? She didn’t have time to question it.

She opened the box and out came a floating bee creature, who Chloé recognized right away. It was real.

“Pollen!” Chloé exclaimed with cheer.

“It has been a while, my queen.” the bee kwami said.

Chloé would have loved to revel in this moment more but she knew that door was going to burst open any minute. She needed to be the bee heroine.

“As much as I would love to talk more, we need to hurry. We have some akuma clones that need bashing.”

“Right away, my queen!”

Chloe put the bee miraculous in her hair.

“Pollen, Buzz on!”

_____________________________________________________________

“It is a good thing there are so many copies,” Ryuuko stated as she leaped over a few Reflekta copies.

Viperion swerved and dodged the replicas of his sister’s akumatized form while avoiding getting caught in the bubbles that froze them and floated them up in the air.

Deadzone had been doing a lot of friendly fire thanks to its single minded obsession.

“After this, I really hope I never have to see my sister take this form again,” Viperion commented.

“Right, Adrien mentioned that you were Juleka’s brother. Older brother, right?”

“Older twin brother. But yes.”

“Really? You seem older.”

“I am a grade ahead of her, but we are the same age,” he explained.

“Could have sworn you were at least a year or two older.”

“A lot of people think the same thing. Even my mom forgets, sometimes. Rose, my sister’s girlfriend, says I radiate ‘big brother energy’ or something.”

“You learn something new.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Sadly no. I was an only child.”

“Too bad, I think you would have made a great older sister,” Viperion encouraged

“A snake charmer, are we?”

“Well I am the snake, and I am not charming myself, so I think the more correct term would be dragon charmer.”

“Change that to fun killer because you killed my fun right there.”

Before Viperion could retort, they had made their way down to the end of the hall and noticed that it was frozen off.

“Dead end,” they say at the same time.

“No, Deadzone.”

The two turn to see the deadly akuma amalgamation pointing its blaster at them.

The two heroes looked at the deadly akuma.

“Any ideas?” Ryuuko questioned.

“Just one.”

Viperion moved his hand to his bracelet.

“Second chance!” Viperion activated his power.

“Now we have some options.” Viperion explained.

The akuma fired a bubble blast at Ryuuko, and she was frozen.

“Second chance!”

Things reset to how they were a few seconds before. Viperion grabbed Ryuuko and pulled her out of the way of the oncoming bubble blast.

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought that thing had me.”

“It did, but I used my power to stop that. we still have to get out of here.”

“Look out!”

Ryuuko got hit with another bubble as they got up, protecting him from an attack.

“This might take a few attempts…”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth paced inside his lair.

Mayura was out there, his son was out there… and things were not going the way he planned. Masquerade seems to be building a base for herself and was more concerned with that than getting the miraculous. Adrien is MIA, and Mayura isn’t responding.

“I might need to step in. But there is a lot of risk in this. Far too many variables that I can't account for”

Hawkmoth never liked leaving his lair. It had too many risks to it. After Heroes' Day, he had nearly been exposed. And after that fiasco in Shanghai he didn’t want to risk getting taken out by his own akuma. He had already taken plenty of risks that had blown up in his face. Would this be another one of those times he would need to risk his miraculous?

“But it could also be just what is needed to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

With an akuma this powerful, the two would likely have to use their special powers multiple times. If he can just locate them and wait for them to do so, he could potentially gain the advantage. Maybe Mayura was on to something with her actions.

Hawkmoth walked to the window.

“There will be a right time. I just need to wait for it.”

He felt an itch in the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was but he could tell one thing, something big was going to go down, and he needed to figure out the right call soon or it could cost him dearly.

_____________________________________________________________

“…And that’s her plan.” Simularé finished. “As for Ladybug and Chat Noir… I am unsure. I lost track of them before I was given a new assignment. But they are in the building and they have not tried to leave.”

Mayura smiled at the information. While it was quite unfortunate that she didn’t have the exact location of the two heroes, it was good to know that they were still in the building, and Lila’s plan was certainly something interesting.

“Indeed, that is quite a clever plan. Ensuring everyone in the school couldn’t escape was pretty smart. You likely had a few escapes anyway, with how clumsy some of the akuma were. You are fortunate that neither one was Ladybug or Chat Noir. Still, though, it isn’t your master’s fault for that. They are basically mindless puppets. But then again, it seems that there might be zero escapes since there seems to be no new reports on the subject of a school takeover.”

Simularé let the peacock villainess muse, analyzing her movements as if trying to figure out any advantage it could handle.

“So, the next step now that all communications are cut is to send out a message that Ladybug and Chat Noir have already been defeated, so as to cause massive despair in order to create even more minions. Sounds a bit derivative, don’t you think?” Mayura mused.

Simularé said nothing. It held its tongue. Deep down, it knew that starting any dispute with this peacock was not wise. Especially given that crazy power she had over their being.

“Still, it is quite a plan. And with all those extra akuma recruited and Ladybug and Chat noir cut off from their guardian, they wouldn’t be able to get any sort of back up. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before all of Paris is under Masquerade’s thumb. I approve of the plan.”

“I am glad you do,” Simularé stated with a forced smile.

Their conversation was cut short when an akuma appeared. Seeing one it did not recognize, the artist akuma prepared to fight. But thankfully the shapeshifting sentimonster stepped in.

“Stand down Evillustrator, this one is not our enemy,” Simularé ordered.

Evillustrator eased and walked over.

“Masquerade has ordered that we start reinforcing the building. She wants this place to be like a fortress,” he parroted.

Mayura looked at the artist.

A fortress? Yes, Simularé mentioned that Masquerade wanted to reinforce the school so that she could ensure Ladybug and ChatNoir would have less chance of escape.

Simularé nodded at the akuma servant.

“Alright, so she wants us to drop the illusion, then?”

“She wants the place to be like a fortress.”

“Go ahead and start,” Simularé motioned. She figured that her master likely didn’t care about the illusion much as she was prepared for stage two. But she would maintain it for a bit.

The akuma moved to the end of the roof and begins working to reinforce the walls

Mayura began moving to the door of the roof to get back down into the school.

“Tell your boss I will be heading to her, and she best be welcoming,” Mayura ordered.

“As you command,” Simularé replied, hiding a large amount of anger and resentment towards the blue bird.

As soon as the blue peacock is out of sight.

Simularé contacts its master.

“Simularé, what is going on? Did Evilustrator reach you?”

“Yes. He is working to make this place a fortress. You want me to maintain the illusion, right?”

“I am about to go public shortly. After I make the announcement. Drop the illusion and make sure this place is a full-on fortress. After that is done, report back to me.

“Yes master. By the way, I had an idea.”

“Oh?”

Simularé smiled sinisterly. She was going to show Peacock why she was sorely mistaken.

“I will report the details to you shortly.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Everything is set up,” Robostus noted.

“Excellent. Let’s do it now.”

The Reflekta camera crew was all set, and Gamer had set it up so the moment they went live, every screen in Paris would show Masquerade.

Masquerade got off her call with Simularé. Something seemed a bit off with her sentimonster but she was intrigued that she had a plan.

“We are live in 5….4…3….2…” the gamer stated before pressing the go live button.

Masquerade smiled.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Paris. You may not know who I am, but don’t worry! You will be very familiar with me very soon. I am Masquerade, and I have decided to make Paris my personal kingdom.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“Now you are likely very alarmed by this declaration and that is normal. It will only be a matter of time before I spread my influence to everyone in Paris.”

She paused to let her words hang in the air before continuing.

“Do not be afraid, I am no monster. I plan on being a fair leader. All I ask is for your undying admiration and absolute loyalty. After that, you are free to live your lives as you normally would. Do not resist and you will have no problems. However, if you do… well, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Masquerade took a calm breath before finishing.

“This last message goes out to the heroes of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir. I know you are here, I know you believe you will stop me, and I know you have allies here. But you will fall to me. Your days of superheroing have come to an end, your miraculous will be taken from you, and I will expose you as the failures you are,” Masquerade finished with venom.

She ended the transmission.

“Now make sure that it is being looped,” she ordered.

“Already is,” Gamer confirmed. “And panic is starting to rise.”

Masquerade smiled. Her plan was already working.

It may have seemed like a simple ego boost, but that speech of hers was a crucial part of her plan. Her charm bracelet could hyper focus on anyone that was akumatized in the past and have their biggest insecurities exposed. But that one by one process took far too long, if the hope of the entire populace of Paris was already demoralized. Then all she needed to do was send out her masks and let them take hold. And all she needed to do was go out there and send the masks.

She could already feel massive amounts of negative emotion from outside of the school. As soon as she headed out of the school, she could easily go and get more akuma soldiers. She could feel her bracelet trembling with all the potential additions.

She was prepared to leave, activating one of the charms to give her black angel wings, but something she remembered caused her to stop.

“Simularé I am moving to phase two of my plan. Get down here.”

It only took a few seconds for the sentimonster to jump from the roof and knock on the window.

One for the Reflekta copies opened the large window to let in what appeared to be Dark Cupid, before it shifted into the phantasm form that was its base.

“Right on cue. So, what is this plan you wanted to suggest?” Masquerade inquired. “And be sure it is not a waste of my time.”

“What if I told you I could get you a Miraculous?”

The sentimonster could feel that Masquerade was very pleased with that idea.

_____________________________________________________________

37 attempts.

It took thirty-seven resets before Viperion figured out what they needed to do.

“Ryuuko, follow my directions exactly,” Viperion instructed. “I know how to win.”

He quickly pulled her towards him to make sure she dodged the first bubble.

The akuma was surprised by the avoidance.

Viperion smiled.

“Your next line is, ‘How did you know I was going to blast at her?'” Viperion stated confidently.

“How did you know I was going to blast at her?” Deadzone parroted in shock before realizing they had said exactly what Viperion had said they would say.

The dragon heroine looked at the determined expression of the snake. She could see experience and certainty in his posture. All her years of fencing taught Kagami the art of reading body language, and the hero in front of her was someone that exuded an aura of confidence. She knew she could trust him.

“Alright, Sassy Snake, I will let you take the reins.” Ryuuko responded.

“Jump to the left in 2 seconds and start running.”

Ryuuko followed the instructions and sure enough avoided yet another bubble attack from Deadzone.

“Head to their left and bounce off the locker at the end.”

Ryuuko dashed past the akuma and jumped as Viperion instructed, perfectly avoiding the barrage of blasts sent her way. Viperion had perfectly mirrored her motion as he explained the next steps.

“Now somersault twice and draw your sword.”

Ryuuko somersaulted as Viperion leaped over her and the dragon turned to draw her sword, now on the other side of the hall.

“Now as soon as it fires a bubble at you, activate your wind! No matter what! I believe in you Ryuuko.”

The last words seemed a bit strange to the fencer. What did he mean by that?

“Will you shut up!?” Deadzone shouted before sending a bubble at Viperion.

“For my final glimpse into the future, you will say, ‘Not so tough now are ya?'”

The bubble contacted Viperion.

“Viperion!” Ryuuko cried out.

The bubble enveloped the snake and floated to the ceiling, taking his frozen form along with it.

“No…” Ryuuko muttered. She looked down in sorrow.

I failed to protect him. He ended up protecting me. He had been backing me up to make sure I wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Ryuuko felt her mind flashback to a few days ago which now seemed almost like it happened a year ago. They had made such a good team back then and now… they get a chance to be heroes again and she couldn’t cover him like he did her.

“Ha, not so tough now are ya?” Deadzone stated with confidence.

Ryuuko’s ears perked up at the statement. That was the line Viperion predicted they would say. That means… Viperion knew this would happen! Which meant his previous statement was to show he planned this. She knew what to do.

Deadzone turned its attention to Ryuuko.

“Don’t worry, you will join him shortly.”

Deadzone fired another bubble right at her, but this time Ryuuko wasn’t moving. She was at the perfect distance to do what she needed to do.

Ryuuko smiled.

“Wind dragon!”

The dragon-themed heroine turned into a cloud and blew the bubble right back at the akuma.

“What!”

The bubble encapsulated the akuma, causing it to freeze in place and then float to the ceiling.

Ryuuko returned to her original form and smiled, seeing how they had finally incapacitated the akuma.

“We did it, Viperion. We took them down. I'm sorry it cost you so much… I won't let you down!”

She raised her blade, upon realizing that her partner was indeed trapped in a bubble.

“Wait a minute…”

Ryuuko walked underneath Viperion’s bubble. She wasn’t entirely sure if this would work, since akuma magic was weird and often unpredictable, but it would make a lot of sense if it did.

“It is a bubble, so this should work right?” Ryuuko questioned as she used the tip of her sword to touch the bubble. She pushed it forward a bit causing the bubble to pop.

Her partner dropped to the floor.

“Ugh… my head.”

“You’re okay!”

Ryuuko hugged her friend, but then realized her sudden action and quickly jumped back up. A bit flustered, she could swear Marinette was rubbing off on her.

“I am glad you are alright, friend. You had me concerned — slightly,” Ryuuko corrected herself.

Viperion was surprised by the quick motions but managed to steady himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. But make it quick, we will need to get a move on.”

“Okay… Who am I?”

Ryuuko froze at the question. She could see the confusion on his face. He was completely serious.

“Oh… that is not good at all.”

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade is on phase two of her plan and Simularé is starting to make waves.

Who will get to the akuma first, Mayura or our heroes.

What will happen to Viperion now that his memory is gone?

Will Queen bee be the right choice?

Reblog and Comment . Your support is invaluable in keeping this fic alive. And I love hearing your thoughts on it

[buckysdolls]

Chapter 5

Xavier Thorpe x O/C 

When Alana arrived at Miss Thornhill's class, her usual seat next to Xavier was empty. Even just looking at the back of his head was annoying her. She felt betrayed by the words he'd used to describe her, he could kiss whoever he pleased but the backstabbing comments is where Alana drew the line. She observed the classroom quickly scanning for any empty seats, there was one next to Kent, another siren, one of Bianca’s best friends. Kent was kind, known to be loyal and one of the funniest people at Nevermore. He had smooth wavy brown hair and during class it was always slicked back in a ponytail, he had piercing sea green eyes to match his sire aesthetic. With a confident stride, she wanted to be careful not to show any weakness, Alana walked past her normal seat and stood next to Kent. Kent's eyes landed on her books as she set them down with a purposeful thud. Kent’s eyes looked up to see who the books belonged to. 

"May I?" Alana asked sweetly, pointing at the stool.

"Yeah, sure" Kent, surprised by Alana's presence, pulled the stool out from underneath the table for her and gestured to sit down.

"Fancy a change in seat?" He asked, giving her a genuine smile.

"Needed a breath of fresh air." Alana replied, it took all her might to keep her eyes focused on Kent and to not look past his shoulder at Xavier 

"Glad to be of service" 

Stupidly Alana quickly looked over at Xavier, she hoped he'd be looking over but his focus was looking down at his sketchbook, he clearly hadn't noticed Alana's change in seats. Alana’s irritation grew as she saw Bianca approach Xavier, her fists curled into a ball and she tightened her eyes to control any anger and her power.

"Guess this is my seat today?" Bianca's voice caught Xavier's attention. He looked up to find Bianca hovering over the spare chair next to him. Class was about to begin and he knew Alana hated being late. He scanned around the room, he found Freddie who was glaring at a different direction than the front of the class. He watched as Ajax leaned into him to say something and Freddie shot him an unamused look. His disapproving stare made Xavier follow his look to find it settled on Alana and… Kent. Kent of all people Xavier thought scrunching up his face in confusion. The confusion quickly changed to discomfort as his face winced still imagining her with all the wounds from his nightmares the night before. Looking over at her again she was already making notes and not acknowledging him at all. He was unsure as to why she had taken a seat next to Kent but he desperately needed to talk to her. 

"Uh, yeah" Xavier replied, becoming aloof towards Bianca but moved his books to make space on the desk for her.

"Lovers tiff?" Bianca asked Xavier her eyesight upon Alana.

"What?" 

"You and Alana.. she's obviously sat next to Kent for a reason." Xavier took another glance but there was still no sign of Alana looking in his direction.

"I don't know" Xavier was blunt in his responses trying to not engage with his ex-girlfriend. 

"You must have done something terrible… she's usually glued to you like a puppy dog and it's owner" 

"Stop talking. Your petty comments are boring me." Xavier created a false yawn to further insult her.

"Mr Thorpe and Miss Barclay. Please refrain speaking whilst class is in session" Miss Thornhill interjected into their conversation, a conversation Xavier didn't want to entertain in the first place.

At that moment Alana looked over to see Xavier already staring in her direction. He looked dejected, almost like he was sulking by the way his lips pouted and his eyebrows drooped. Alana rolled her eyes with a subtle head shake and returned her attention back to her teacher. Xavier was even more confused by Alana's reaction, there was no genuine reason he believed for her to be acting pissed off. 

As class ended and people began to file out the classroom Xavier made sure he was right behind Alana so he could catch her. He watched as she walked past him smiling at something Kent had said to her. Xavier would never identify himself as a jealous person because he tried to keep himself out of other business and just be there for his friends, but Alana made him feel differently, that whole lesson whenever Kent and Alana spoke he would dig his pencil deeper into the paper and watch on through gritted teeth. 

As they reached outside it was a torrential downpour, anybody who was standing in its way was getting soaked. Xavier reached his hand out to catch her hand to stop her. As she turned around to see who had held her hand she sighed heavily, instantly feeling emotionally and physically heavier. Strands of Xavier’s drenched hair had loosened from his bun as he tried to catch up to her, with his free hand he tugged his hair back away from his face, a habit he did which always turned Alana on, catching her breath getting heavy she closed her eyes to calm down. 

“What was that in there?” Xavier exhaled. Alana tugged her hand away from his and quickly turned her back to Xavier and walked away. Xavier was hot on her heels, rushing to catch her up, he scooted past her and stopped her in her tracks placing his hands on her shoulders in desperation to understand what had happened. The heavy rain caused their faces to become covered in droplets, the way they slid down their cheeks alomst acted as teadrops.

“Alana, talk to me!” Xavier begged.

“There’s no point”

“Why?”

“Just forget about it Xavier. I’m not wasting my time and feelings” Alana huffed wiping away the cold rain from her face.

“Why would you be wasting your feelings? I’m so lost right now” 

“I’d just be ‘needy’ and ‘annoying’” Alana raised her eyebrows referring to what Clarissa told her. She wanted to be angry but her voice just carried disappointment instead. A heavy crash of thunder made the two jump and look intensely at each other, it was as if the thunder portrayed exactly how both parties were feeling. 

“Y… You wouldn’t be” Xavier cocked his head, he’d never said those words about her ever.

“Look, let’s just go back to how it was. Me, Freddie’s sister and you, Freddie's friend.”

“I’m not going to do that. I’m not just going to pretend like I don’t know you and let you discount my feelings.” Xavier shook his head assertivley.

“Discount your feelings? Maybe you should have thought about that before you were seen kissing Bianca and proceeding to call me ‘needy’ and ‘annoying.’ I need to focus on me not getting caught up in whatever this was” Alana’s black hair was soaked, she twisted it onto one shoulder and began wringing it to withdraw the excess water.

“Bianca? I haven’t been with Bianca for months, you know that. I wouldn’t have not since… you Alana. Where is this coming from?” Xavier’s voice broke as he pleaded with her.

“It doesn’t matter… I’m sorry Xavier I don’t want to do something I’ll regret. Leave me alone please” Alana took one last glance at Xavier before turning away from him again, she swore there were tears in his eyes and that made her feel awful. She’d never seen Xavier so vulnerable, mainly because Xavier never wanted to be not even with Bianca, he felt he had to be the power couple with her. Xavier opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing left his lips. The only thing he could do was retaliate by punching one of the walls. Alana heard a loud smack, turning around she saw Xavier shouting unpleasant terms, clutching his hand and grimacing in pain before grabbing his bag slinging it over his shoulder and storming off. 

“Sounds like an L bro” Ajax patted Xavier’s back who was sitting down, slumped forward, applying an ice pack to his hand. 

“Thanks for your undying support Ajax… it’s not even true” Xavier mumbled.

The sound of the door creaking open and Freddie entering the room made Xavier roll his eyes and groan. 

“What’s his problem?” Freddie questioned Ajax but walked over to Xavier to take a closer look at his hand.

“He punched a wall because of your sister” Ajax being a little too upfront about the situation. 

“What did Alana do?” Freddie crouched down to assess the injury. Freddie’s powers had begun to develop, he was displaying very early signs of healing, at the moment he could only nurse minor injuries. 

“Let me help” Freddie may have hated the idea of Xavier and his sister but Xavier will always be one of his best mates and he would do anything for him… as long as it did not include his sister. Freddie hovered his hands over Xavier’s injured one and channelled his energy into repairing any damage. The three boys watched in amazement as Xavier’s skin healed and the bruises disappeared. 

“Thanks bro” Xavier finally looked up from the ground and managed to give Freddie the tiniest glimpse of a smile. 

“What happened?” Freddie continued to ask, Xavier was unresponsive, and began to gather his things.

”Basically someone…maybe Bianca… out of spite … we don’t know, told Alana that Xavier and Bianca had been seen kissing and that Xavier said Alana was ‘needy’ and ‘annoying’” Ajax again spoke for Xavier, Xavier looked over at Ajax speechless giving him dagger eyes. Freddie rolled his lips and slowly nodded his head avoiding eye contact knowing he was the reason for this whole situation. 

“Sometimes Ajax you can keep your mouth closed. You’re like one of those snakes of yours on your head” Ajax scowled back knowing Xavier didn’t really mean it.

“Well maybe you just move on” Freddie bluntly told Xavier and flopped onto his bed. Xavier didn’t respond out of respect for his friendship with Freddie. Xavier waved his hand and them both as a signal of his departure. 

“Really? Couldn’t you show an ounce of pity?” Ajax asked.

“What? She’s my sister” Freddie’s eyes widened as he sat up. 

“And… he really likes her, I’ve never seen him like this. He wasn’t like this with Bianca bro. C’mon”

Freddie huffed heavily knowing that Ajax was right, after seeing Xavier so torn up about her he had a deep aching sense of guilt for going behind a friend's back. He just didn’t want to admit it and now he was far too deep into this lie he’d created. 

“I might have fucked up” Freddie declared.

“What?”

“It was me”

“What were you?” Ajax was confused as to where the conversation was going. 

“The comments about Alana? Xavier and Bianca kissing… it was me” Ajax’s mouth turned into a ‘o’ shape as he clocked onto what Freddie was talking about.

“I asked Clarissa to tell Alana with her siren song that someone had seen it.” Freddie dropped his head into his hands.

“That’s sneaky bro”

“I know Ajax. Thanks for the support” Freddie snapped

“People keep saying that to me” Ajax furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes darting all around the room as he thought about Xavier mentioning it just previously.

“Yeah because you’re not making anybody feel any better about what’s happened” 

Alana, Wednesday and Enid were sitting at a bench located in the quad. There were lots of people roaming the quad, the wolves were playing roughhouse and howling and the sirens were practising their singing for the next tournament. Alana saw Xavier appear, her instinct was to always talk to him… call him over or follow him, she began to think she had been too harsh earlier. She studied Xavier, his hair was down covering his face, his head looking down to the floor with his hood up and his walk was fast paced across the outskirts of the quad.. 

“Love is pointless” Wednesday’s monotonous voice tried to cheer up Alana. 

“Don’t listen to her. Look at me and Ajax, it isn't pointless”

“Look, do I look that bothered?” Alana snapped then smiled trying to convince her friends she was fine. 

“Yes” Wednesday spoke as Enid replied with a ‘No’ over the top of Wednesday. 

“Can we just move on…”

“Yes lets… so I’m trying to convince Wednesday to invite Tyler to the Rave’N’.” Enid flapped her arms in excitement much to Wednesday’s dismay.

Taglist: @maystecc

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

[jaedore]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 | 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: jaehyun x reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mythology!au, angst, romance

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, suggestive (just making out lol), mentions of alcohol, violence (mentions of choking)

𝐚/𝐧: if you are uncomfortable with these themes then i highly suggest you no longer interact! also, thoughts/emphasis are italicized. I'll just put the header on when I have the patience bc I felt like this is long overdue

[4.5k words]

You woke up finding your body was stiff and sore. It overpowered the pain in your wounded knees that stung with every movement of your limbs. Yesterday seemed like days ago, it felt like a fever dream. No, a nightmare. All you wanted to do was just curl up in bed, but then you remembered that your mother and you were having dinner at Jaehyun’s place. You’ve never gone to the Underworld, you didn’t hear many good things about it and that terrified you. What if Cerberus ate you? What if a wandering, lost soul stole your soul? The questions were endless and it sent you down a spiral of nervousness.

“Y/n?” Your mother softly came in, an apron hung around her neck and the aroma of breakfast food seeped into your room.

“Morning, mom,” you croaked.

“How are you feeling?”

Your mind flashed back to yesterday; Jaehyun in your room, tending your wounds, being flirtatious, or whatever. You remembered it as clear as the Fountain of Youth.

“I’m fine,” you answered, swiping the sheets away from your body to peer at the wounds.

You gently peeled back the bandage a bit only to see that the wound was almost gone. It held a faint discoloration as it was in the process of healing, but you were impressed nonetheless.

“So,” your mother began as she sat on the edge of your bed, “tonight, I was thinking about bringing a pasta dish. Or should we bring a cake? A pie maybe?”

“We can just pick up a pie from the bakery,” you brushed your hand in the air, dismissing any ideas, “it’ll be easier anyways.”

“Ah, yes. Hades does like his spicy chocolate pies,” your mother hums as she smoothes her palm against your bedsheet.

“Ugh, I don’t know how he eats that stuff,” you grumble, swinging your legs off your bed.

“Well, he is the God of the Underworld,” she raises both of her eyebrows at you, “so, what will you be doing today? It’s super nice out.”

Peering at your window, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The sky is bare of clouds and it does seem like a beautiful day today. You can imagine yourself sitting in the grass with a book in your palms. But you had more important things to do today, like beating the shit out of Maeve.

Your shoulders slump as you reply, “I’m going to go train with Mark.”

“You’re always training with that boy,” she narrows her eyes at you, “are you in love with him?”

“Mother!” You raise your voice, snapping your head to her, “No, I am not.”

Athena only laughs at your reply as she gets up and makes her way out of your room.

“Hey, Y/n?” her voice stops you before you step into the bathroom.

“Yes, mom?”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” she asks, her voice sweet and loving.

You nodded, recalling the things that happened last night at the beach. You haven’t told her and she must be worried, but you’re too drained and confused to spill it. So you spare her a small smile as you walk into the bathroom, not saying a word about what happened.

--

“Come on! You can hit harder!”

Annoyed at Mark’s ‘words of encouragement’, you purse your lips as you attempt to hit the boxing pad with your mitts. You were beginning to get tired, your arms burned from the repetitive movements and your knees ached as it chased after your feet. Mark hasn’t given you a break since you’ve gotten here and it’s almost been an hour of constant hitting.

Growing frustrated, you shouted in protest, “I’m done!” you throw your mitts on the dirt.

Mark sighs, seeing the frustration in your eyes, “Okay, what’s really going on?”

You exhale a short breath, “Nothing you’d be interested in,” you answer him sharply as you walk towards one of the rocks to sit on. Mark follows you closely, but quietly afraid to set off the fuming bomb of anger you always held.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve heard a lot of mysterious things about you,” he plops right next to you.

You curl your legs up to your chest as you stare forward at the waterfall, “Like what?” you mumble, really not interested in what he’s heard because it’s all been bad stuff.

“You tell me,” Mark shrugs.

You tighten your hold on your legs, “I think someone’s out to get me,” you whisper.

Mark leans in to hear you clearer, “Maeve?” he whispers back.

You shudder, her name bringing back awful memories, “Yeah, but I’m not sure why. I have nothing that has to do with her. Sure, I provoked her on the first day, but...it wasn’t severe to draw it out this far.”

Mark’s eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?”

You explained what happened last night at the beach party. You quivered as you retold the story from your perspective. It was a vivid nightmare that you didn’t know how to wake.

“Where is Lucas now?” Mark asked.

You fumed at the male’s name. He hasn’t texted or called you since last night. He would be the key to all of your answers, but he wouldn’t answer any of your messages or calls. Lucas was friendly, always nice, and shined bright like the sun. You just wondered what he was up to.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, picking up the mitts from the ground, “come on. We came here to train. Plus, I want to forget it all.”

Mark quickly jumps to his feet, “do you think this has anything to do with the feud between Hades, your mother, and her’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “What feud?”

Mark smirked, “Guess you don’t know then.”

“Mark,” you lowered your voice when he dismissed your question, “what. Feud?”

“I’ll tell you if you can beat me,” he said, picking up the other pair of mitts that laid on the ground.

--

Storming into your house, you shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me about the feud you had with Hades and Eris?”

Taken aback, she looked at you with wide eyes, almost dropping the spoon she held, “w-what are you talking about?”

You inhaled, “Why didn’t you tell me that after the Titan War, Hades, and apparently Zeus, imprisoned Eris in Tartarus? And that you were helping them and now she’s after me, possibly because of it?”

“Who told you that?” your mother calmly put down the spoon and rubbed her palms on her thighs.

“Does that really matter right now, mom?” your voice rose in anger.

“Sit down,” she wipes her hand on a napkin, discarding it as she walks towards you, who begins to be seated at the dinner table.

“Eris and I were good friends, we trained together as kids. She was good, almost better than me, but there was always the tension of competition between us. One could only be good in the eyes of Zeus so we grew up and trained with that mindset. As we got older, we were still good friends, but there was always that silent tension between us. When the Titan war came to be, Eris rebelled and fought against us,” your mother sighed, anguish tainting the streaks of her face, “I tried everything in my power to persuade her to fight with us, to be on our side, but that’s when she said all of the things that were never said. That I was the favorite, I was the best only because I was the favorite, I was only fighting along Zeus because he favored me more than her. Not because I was good or tactful, she disregarded our training together...our friendship, the bond that we had growing up. It was stupid really, but eventually, we beat their army and imprisoned her. According to Zeus, she did more damage during the war that I wasn’t aware of. That’s why she’s imprisoned in Tartarus. I haven’t asked because she’s...she’s dead to me really.”

You leaned back in her seat, realizing that Maeve probably was only acting out of feeling because of the relationship between both of your mothers. Her mother was imprisoned in the deep abyss below the Underworld, while yours lived a perfect, rewarding life.

“Is that why we’re going to the Underworld tonight? To talk to Zeus?” you quietly asked.

Your mother nodded, “I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just didn’t think of the possibilities of her coming for you through her daughter because of me.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. I just want this to stop,” your fingertips brushed against your neck.

“Well,” your mother sighed, peering at her watch, “you don’t really have time to get ready, so why don’t you rinse your face from the sweat, and then we’ll pick up the pie and head on down.”

Head on down. You whimpered as you stood up. And it wasn’t because of your sore legs.

As you washed your face, you wondered if Jaehyun would be eating with you guys. You recall that Hades said Jaehyun was always at the Mourning Fields talking to the souls that wandered there. There, holds the souls that wasted their souls on unrequited love. Does Jaehyun love someone? Or does he not? Then you remembered how he took up space in your room last night. His fingertips sent icicle daggers through your skin that you felt their phantom as you wiped your face on the nearby towel. With the hopes of Jaehyun not speaking to you tonight, you braced yourself on the journey of walking down into the Underworld.

--

You jumped back at the sound of barking. Cerberus. The three-headed dog barks at both you and your mother. No matter how powerful your mother, Athena, was, she had no power over a creature created to guard the gates of the Underworld.

“Why isn’t he coming? I rang the doorbell like five minutes ago,” your mother grumbled.

As if on cue, the gates opened and the growling sounds of Cerberus silenced in question.

“They are not the enemy or the dead, Cerberus. They’re our guests.” a voice rang above you. You found out later that the voice belonged to Hades, but you saw Jaehyun stepping out from behind the black, iron gates.

“Good evening, sorry for the wait.” Jaehyun bowed to you both.

Your mother paused, regretting the comment she made before as she saw how handsome Jaehyun was, “You’re Jaehyun, right? You grew up so well.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Tch “ma’am”. As if you actually had manners. You rolled your eyes at his sense of poise. You wonder where he learned such acts in a short amount of time.

Your mother nudged you, “do you have anything to say?” she whispered.

You inhaled a sharp breath, narrowing your eyes at the prideful male in front of you, “Thank you for having us,” you mumbled, barely nodding to him.

“Please, this way.”

Jaehyun led your mother and you towards Hades’ Palace, the stone tower tall enough to peek through the rising fog of the evening. Across the path to the left stood the Judgement Pavilion. Several souls lined up waiting for their next home where they’d be trapped forever. One of the souls snapped their eyes to you as if they knew where you stood, who you were. Their eyes were full of darkness and fury, almost consuming you into a tunnel of doom.

Jaehyun snatched your arm, his grip vice-like, “Don’t look at any soul who hasn’t been through the Judgement Pavilion, it’s their last chance to steal a living being’s soul before they’re judged into exile.” You hadn’t realized it but it was only you and Jaehyun who stood on the pavement that led you to Hades’ Palace.

You looked ahead not seeing her, “Where’s my mom?”

“She already went in. We didn’t even notice you were gone until she asked you something to only find you not behind us.”

You inhaled a sharp breath, “How long have I been standing here?”

“Around five minutes, you didn’t hear me call you?” Jaehyun’s eyebrows furrowed.

Shaking your head in denial you said, “No, I didn’t until you grabbed my arm,” you eyed down to your arm seeing that he still held you. Jaehyun’s grip loosened as he also realized that he hadn’t let go yet.

“Come on, let’s go,” his hand tightened around your arm once again as he dragged you towards the stone palace.

“I can walk myself,” you snapped at him, attempting to yank your arm from his clutch.

Jaehyun turned to you, his eyes cool and icy, sending chills down your spine, “I know,” he lowly said, “but I’m not taking my chances,” he gripped your arm again, leading you to his home.

The moonlight barely shined against the copper stone of his palace, creating sheer darkness looking like it hadn’t been touched for centuries. As unwelcoming as it felt, you could smell the complete opposite; a small scent of mint, the natural smell of tree bark, and the faintest feather of lavender. You glanced forward at Jaehyun, he hadn’t spared you look as you two made your way towards his home.

Jaehyun led you past the Asphodel Meadows, only tugging on your arm harder to bring your senses back. He was right to do so because looking at it was hypnotizing. You were even surprised that the ground-up dirt was able to grow flowers, and not knowing what kind they were, they were the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. The trees that sheltered them were bare of leaves and plants, creating a haunting aura, but it didn’t alarm you enough to look away.

“Come on,” Jaehyun tugged at you once again, this time gaining your attention.

You glared at him making you feel like some child that wasn’t able to concentrate. “What’s down there?”

He glanced back at you, mirroring your expression, “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. Now hush, we’re almost there.”

After a few more steps, you both came to face his home. The palace was bigger than you expected as it loomed over you. It felt like you were walking into your own exile.

“I thought you got lost,” your mother called to you as you walked in with Jaehyun behind you.

“She almost did,” he mumbled as he passed you to sit at the dinner table.

“She’s always been a curious one,” your mother laughed.

“That could get you in some serious trouble, girl,” Hades walked into the room with spoons in his hand. The high-pitched cackling sound of the spoon hitting the dishes made you wince, “come sit, it’s almost time to eat.”

Obeying Hades’ words, you idly sat next to Jaehyun with shame settling in your bones because you felt embarrassed that he had to drag your ass back to his place. The skin where his hands once grasped your arm felt tingly and you couldn’t burn it from your mind. It’s not like you and Jaehyun had many encounters, or rather, pleasant encounters, but you can’t help yourself but stare at him from the corner of your eye. Jaehyun sits with poise and pride, but you can see the burden he carries in the way he slightly slouches and the exhausted sigh that wriggles from his lips.

As everyone eats, you can’t help but think what Jaehyun’s thinking about. You can tell he’s thinking about something from the tension in his brow and the small pout coming from his bottom lip. From time to time, you ignore the small moments where his arm or leg brushes against yours or when you both reach for the same dish. And there’s a sort of tension over the table as everyone silently hides their comments as their food reaches their lips.

Hades is the first to speak, “So, I’ve heard you’ve had quite the events lately,” his tone low and cautious.

You clear your throat, “Um, yes.”

You begin to tell him everything that’s happened from the start of Maeve to the event in the Phantasms Forest. Not leaving out a single detail, you didn’t even notice your hands tensing up until you felt warmth from another on top of your chilled skin. Turning to your mother, she nods to you in comfort, letting you know that you’re doing well and you’re strong for facing what you’ve been through. Hades listens closely, not reaching for his food and feeling the slight disgust from those who caused you harm. Truth be told, he knew what was happening and why it was happening to you. Slightly nodding at your mother, they both lifted themselves from their seats and walked out the door leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

You turned to the male to your right, “Where are they going?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing the nearby plates, “Probably to Tartarus.”

“What?” You snapped up on your legs, immediately following him to the kitchen sink, “Why?

“I’m sure you know that’s where they’re keeping Eris,” Jaehyun spares you a glance as he begins soaking a sponge in soap.

“Yeah,” you crossed your arms, “but why are they going down there? To talk to her? What is she going to do? What are they going to do? How long is this going to take?”

Tired of the overload from your questions, Jaehyun turns to you. Unbeknown that you were leaning forward towards him as you spoke, your eyes widened as you came face to face with the hot-headed male. His eyes were a pool of darkness with a hint of brown like melted dark chocolate. You stood in front of him with your feet glued to the ground. Heat radiated off your body as you parted your lips. Jaehyun’s eyes flickered down. He sharply inhaled to only let it out as he turned away and began scrubbing the dishes again.

“Bring the dishes to me and I’ll wash them,” he said before you could turn away from him.

You clutched the collar of your shirt. What was that? Your fingers trembled around a plate when you realized that he didn’t even answer any of your problems.

Setting them on the counter next to him, you snapped, “You didn’t even reply to my questions.”

“You talk too much.”

Stunned, you purse your lips and walk away. He can clean the kitchen by himself. You sat yourself in their living room, plopping yourself on the couch. If it weren’t for the dim lamp that flickered in the far corner of the room, you would’ve walked around blindly. The walls were painted in black, the rug was black, and even the couch you sat on was black. Everything was black like a fire had torn through the palace. The only color that caught your attention was the pictures that sat on top of the unlit fireplace. Making your way towards the photos, you found family photos of Jaehyun and his parents. It looked like a regular family you would suspect in the human world, a mother and father playing with their toddler son in the park. Except it wasn’t a park and it wasn’t a regular family. The field Jaehyun played on was the Field of Asphodel, but it was beautiful, there was greenery, grass, and beautiful flowers that bloomed around little Jaehyun. You wondered what happened to the breathtaking scenery. Your eyes landed on a particular picture that made the corners of your lips lift in the slightest. There, laid little Jaehyun sleeping peacefully in the embrace of Cerberus who also laid in slumber around the little boy, sheltering him from the rain that penetrated to the Underworld. Cute. The faint blur of a finger covered the corner of the picture, you wondered who took this photo. You thought that maybe it was his mother, Persephone, who no one’s heard of for years. The last thing you heard was that Hades kidnapped her after eating six pomegranate seeds and she was forced to live six months in the Underworld and six months in the mortal world, Earth. But she hasn’t returned from her six months on Earth. And it’s been 20 years.

“No, I don’t know where she is, nor do I really care,” Jaehyun said beside you.

Jumping, you didn’t even realize he was there. Holding your chest, you panted, “I didn’t even say anything this time.”

“I know,” he glanced at you, his gaze flickering back to your lips, then lower to your neck, “but you were thinking it.”

“I-”

“Come, I might have some ointment left for your neck,” Jaehyun doesn’t even give you a chance to protest.

Grabbing your wrist, you obediently follow him back into the kitchen.

“Sit,” he commands.

You look around in question, “Where the hell am I going to sit?”

Jaehyun reached up to the upper cupboard, the bottom of his shirt slightly lifting with his shoulders to reveal his back, “on the counter, of course,” you averted your eyes somewhere else when he turned to face you, “unless you want to sit on my lap,” he smirks.

You shake your head, lifting yourself on the counter. Even if you sat on the counter, you were only tall enough to meet him at eye level. Snapping the cap open, the familiar smell of mint and ginger filled your nose as he dipped two fingers in the gooey substance. A very sinful scenario flashed across your mind as he pulled those fingers back out, his digits drenched in the healing fluid. Squeezing your legs together, you cleared your throat as he crept closer to you, but that only led to Jaehyun sliding his free hand around your nape to pull you closer.

“I don’t bite,” he whispers, that smirk returning.

“I didn’t ev-”

You tensed as Jaehyun’s fingertips brushed on your skin to apply the ointment. Both of your bodies were so close to each other, the only blockage being your knees that dug into this stiff abdomen. It also didn’t help that Jaehyun’s face was incredibly close to yours. With one movement, your lips would’ve met.

“Relax,” he whispers, his eyes switching up to meet yours.

Chills shoot down your spine, a sudden heat pooled at the bottom of your stomach at the breeze of his breath. But eventually, you relaxed. Until you felt his hand on your neck rubbing circles. He repeatedly dipped those long digits of his in the ointment and reapplied it to your neck. To be honest, you thought it looked fine, it was still sore and hurt in certain places but it felt like he was lathering you in it. Once in a while, you’d wince at the pressure Jaehyun’s fingertips pressed against some of the bruises.

“Sorry,” he’d murmur. You’d thin your lips but relax as soon as he apologizes, his voice sounding sincere and gentle.

Slightly turning to the side, you let out a troubled breath, sharply inhaling another, repeating those steps over again and again until Jaehyun slowly pulled away. His warm hand slipped from your nape and your breath trembled, the cold air settling on it as soon as he pulled away. You watched him set the ointment back where he got it from, not missing the flutter of his skin that revealed the slight muscles in his lower back. Oh boy, you sighed.

Jaehyun turned back to you, “You alright?”

You nodded, “Will it still be there by tomorrow?”

Jaehyun walked to you as you stayed glued to the counter, he hummed, “Considering that you almost met death twice in the span of two days, it’ll take a few days,” he was closer once again, “just be careful,” his voice in a low whisper.

You could feel his breath brisk your cheeks. You didn’t know if it was your own heat warming you up or the faint warmth of the words that escaped his plump lips. You felt his abdomen on the curl of your knees like before and there wasn’t a way to bring them closer because it’d reveal to him what you were thinking...or feeling. Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly, maybe you were just lonely. But the longer you stayed in front of him, your desire to kiss him grew. He’s been nothing but cold and mean, but he’s been so kind and taking care of you despite his spiteful aura. You sucked in your bottom lip, stopping whatever trembling words attempted to escape from the cage of your tongue.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jaehyun’s hands slid to your waist.

“Don’t do that,” Jaehyun brought him closer to you, prying your legs open to create space for him.

You sucked in another sharp breath, “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Jaehyun seemed to be drawing closer to you, his gaze occasionally glancing at your lips as both of your breaths began to weigh down. Closing your eyes, you swore you felt his lips brush yours until you realized he wasn’t kissing you at all, but instead lifting you until you were back on your feet. With bodies still closer than the stars were to the moon, you tipped your head up to meet his gaze. Already looking at you, Jaehyun let out a heavy sigh.

You should’ve inhaled another breath because the next second, you found yourself against Jaehyun’s lips. Those lips that were so pink and so inviting met yours. It felt like Olympus was on pause and it was just you and him. No Maeve, no darkness, nothing. A heavy sensation of peace settled in the curve of your palms as you dragged them down his chest. You gasped when he bit your lip, sucking and, licking it for permission of entrance and you immediately complied, not giving it any thought at all. Those calloused hands of his wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you closer flush against his body, against his hips. Jaehyun’s tongue danced with yours, a gasp revering the way he held you close to him, the way with each stroke, you moaned enough to satisfy him. Until he pulled away.

With panting breaths and blinking eyes scattering across yours, you could see the panic in his eyes. You could see instant regret that pooled in the darkness of his eyes, yet you couldn’t help but inhale when he stepped away, the heat of his body replaced with his familiar coldness. Your eyes follow Jaehyun as he runs out of his home. Not saying anything to you, but leaving you alone in the darkness of his home. In the Underworld. Standing alone in his kitchen, you could hear the loud beating of your heart penetrating your ears, blocking the sound of droplets from the faucet, the hum of the house, and the confusion in your breath. Your fingers fly to your lips, the feeling burns yours like a scar. Was it something you said? Was it something you did? Gulping, you frantically searched the cupboards for a cup of water, thirst reaching your throat, but instead you found a section that opened up to bottles of whisky and wine.

Even better. Finding a drying cup in the sink, you poured yourself a glass of the bronze liquid, not caring for it’s age or make. You winced as the liquid scorched your throat, coughing at the slightly burning sensation that warmed your mouth, but anything was better than the searing feeling of his lips and the pain of when he pulled away.

[nightingaelic]

Fallout New Vegas companions react to taking the Courier's place in Dead Money.

Arcade Gannon: Following the obligatory panic attack and subsequent state of dejection, Arcade would suck it up and start trying to get the heist done with as quickly as possible. He’d roll his eyes at Dean Domino, set aside Dog and God’s identity crisis for later and check Christine over for basic first aid purposes before trudging along toward the various goals set by Elijah. I think he’d opt for stealth over combat when encountering the ghost people out of a sense of self-preservation, but he would probably pocket some clothing and blood samples from any that Dog took down along the way to the casino. The story of the Sierra Madre would fascinate him, particularly the bits and pieces left behind by jaded treasure hunters and Elijah’s previous teams of victims. Arcade would see it as a microcosm of what’s happening in the wider world, a stellar example of partners turning on each other in pursuit of some perceived bright future attached to the hidden treasures of the old world. Vera’s desperate graffiti in her hotel room would speak to him most powerfully: LET GO. He would probably try to argue with Elijah about the viability of the former Brotherhood Elder’s plans, throwing some Latin phrasing in for good measure. No matter his level of success in this, Arcade would stow away as many gold bars as he could to lug home and use to sparingly and anonymously fund the efforts of the Followers of the Apocalypse. 

Craig Boone: During his first encounter with one of the ghost people popping up again after being downed by his sniper rifle, Boone would grunt in annoyance, swap his ammo for hollow points and switch from aiming at chests to aiming at heads. Ghost people bob and weave admirably, but Boone has a gift, and up until he actually got inside the casino, his main obstacle would be avoiding the noxious cloud. The holograms, on the other hand, would probably strike some fear into his heart. After all, how do you destroy something that bullets can’t touch? I don’t think he would put two and two together about the emitters until Christine or Dean pointed them out: From there, it just becomes a scavenger hunt to find the next piece of wall-mounted tech to shoot. Dean, Dog and God would annoy him, but he’d find a kindred spirit in Christine, and would appreciate her ability to convey meaning without words. Hell, he’s pretty good at that himself. Upon finding Elijah, Boone would immediately put a bullet in his head, look at the pile of gold for a few seconds, then walk away and out of the Sierra Madre without looking back. He’d never breathe a word of the place to anyone, but he’d track down all of the Sierra Madre broadcast systems one by one and destroy them, letting the desert swallow the place and its dangers for good. 

Lily Bowen: Grandma Lily wouldn’t understand why the angry man was so desperate to get inside the casino, but she’s more than familiar with being a forced follower of doomed causes. As such, she would be kind to her fellow captives, assuring Christine that she would be able to talk “when she’s ready,” admonishing Dean for his rude behavior and telling Elijah that he would catch more cazadores with honey mesquite than with vinegar. A trail of wrecked ghost people would follow her to the casino itself, but dealing with the holograms would be beyond her expertise: That part would have to be left to Christine or Dean. Elijah would receive a lecture once she made it into the vault, but she would probably let him live unless he attacked first. Dog and God, however, would earn the most care and compassion and even cause some introspection. Ultimately, I think she would help the two become one through intense conversation and shared understanding about what it means to be nightkin with no master, and once freed, she would take him to find a home in Jacobstown. 

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Upon waking up from being kidnapped by Dog on Elijah's behalf, Raul's immediate reaction would be something like "Again?" followed by "Carajo." Elijah’s insistence on pulling off the heist would annoy him, but Raul is constantly looking for something to occupy his unnaturally-long time on earth, and what is the Sierra Madre if not the Mojave’s most deadly time-waster? He would be sarcastic and exasperated for his entire time wearing the bomb collar, but would find ways to be tender and understanding with Christine, and patient and supportive with Dog and God - after all, he knows what it’s like to struggle with two sides of yourself. Dean, on the other hand, would vex him. Here’s another pre-war ghoul hung up on the promises and mistakes of the past, driven to the point of obsession where he can’t break himself out of the cycle. He can’t let go, and I think that doomed state of being would speak to Raul personally. I don’t think he and Dean would get along, but I don’t think they would have a final showdown in the Tampico either. Instead, I think Dean would watch Raul exit the vault’s elevator, flip one souvenir gold bar in his hand with a wry smile, then pocket it before walking out into the wastes, and the pre-war lounge singer would feel a twinge of kindred sadness before going back to rummaging through the casino’s secrets. 

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Following a tense standoff with Elijah while refusing to do as he says, Cass would eventually relent and start dragging her feet around the villa to assemble the ragtag heist crew. She’d hold each of them at a distance, intent on getting herself out alive and refusing to be responsible for anyone else. Nods of sympathy for Christine, dry comebacks for Dean and a quizzical comment or two for Dog and God would be her limit, at least until they all encountered their turning points inside the casino. Each of them would grow her disdain for Elijah and his methods, but, like Raul, I think she would be most personally affected by Dean’s story. She might find herself arguing with him like the courier did with her, about moving on from failed pasts and striking out into something new. I don’t think she’d take the time to argue with Elijah, though, and would take the first chance she got to lock him in the vault forever. She’d make off with as much gold as she could, of course. 

Veronica Santangelo: The Sierra Madre would make Veronica's head explode, though whether or not Elijah could stand her mouth going a million miles a minute once she wakes up would determine whether that would happen literally or figuratively. Tons and tons of pre-war tech lying around! But it's all under a haze of collapsed support beams, toxic gas and ghost people that can jump around like grasshoppers. Father Elijah is alive! But he's trying to break into a casino to build an army of holograms, and he imprisoned Christine. Christine is here! But she's been maimed and abused horribly, and is trying to kill Elijah. I think Elijah would try reasoning with Veronica before threatening her into obeying him - though she would probably figure out how to get the collar off or render it useless within the first 24 hours in the Sierra Madre - but I don’t think he would be able to convince her that his plan to get inside the casino’s vault would benefit the Brotherhood of Steel. The revelations that Christine would bring - the Circle of Steel’s orders, Elijah’s crimes against travelers and treasure hunters, his orchestration of their breakup in order to bring Veronica to the Mojave with him - would probably leave her feeling confused and empty about the man she considers a grandfather figure. She would probably do her best to free Elijah from the casino, but would offer him a choice if she succeeded: Leave the treasures of the Sierra Madre behind and walk away from his accursed quest for power, or remain trapped with what he’d sought. Whatever path he’d choose, Veronica would part ways with him once the vault’s elevator ascended. She’d bundle up Vera’s dress, sigh heavily, then take Christine’s hand and walk away from the Sierra Madre forever. 

ED-E: Ironically, I think ED-E would be a good pick for Elijah to use as a pawn in his heist game, though it would be kind of hard for Dog to hook a collar onto the little robot. If Ulysses can speak to the courier through an eyebot’s speakers, then Elijah can probably do the same to his already-assembled team. ED-E doesn’t have a whole lot of personal motivation, so I think the bot would just beep and go along with whatever it was ordered to do. Christine or Dean would probably take the lead, and ED-E would zoom around the villa, dodging throwing knife spears and trumpeting his location without a care. Once inside the casino, ED-E would again defer to his leader’s orders, with the added benefit of being a robot keeping him from the holograms’ notice. If allowed into the vault, ED-E would diligently pick up exactly six of the gold bars and carry them home to the Mojave, where he would deposit them at the bewildered courier’s feet with a triumphant beep. 

Rex: While much easier to slap a collar on than ED-E, I don't think Rex would fare better than the little robot in terms of leadership abilities. As an ally to whoever gets put in charge, though, he would also be invaluable at sneaking around the Sierra Madre’s various threats, particularly the ghost people. He would take a special shine to Christine and God, who would recognize the canine as a fellow being exploited by powers out of his control. Rex would absolutely hate the holograms, who smell of nothing, and Elijah, who smells of desperation and indifference. He would completely ignore the gold bars. Once freed, he would whine and beg and nudge Christine until she relented and left the city of the dead, leading her home to the New Vegas strip and another woman whose scent told him of metal bunkers and longing.