#and had to pull out a guide twice during investigation

[cometrose]

tried to play aa1 rise from the ashes without a guide and failed like twice and had a massive headache

[solbach-colbrock]

SEPARATED - Seth Borden X Reader

SUMMARY - During a solo investigation, Seth comes into contact with a spirit that wants to harm you while you are three floors away from him. He needs to check on you

WARNINGS - very briefly proofread (yes that is a warning)

WORDS - 2.1k

~*~*~*~

Seth was getting more comfortable with the alone investigations. They still freaked him out a bit, owing to the fact that those investigations tend to leave people feeling incredibly vulnerable. Safety in numbers, and all. He also still had trauma from being grabbed twice in the Conjuring basement. Frankly, one of the things that kept him calm was your attitude about the investigations. 

You had ways been a go-getter when dealing with the paranormal. Of course, you always took proper precautions both before and after you had been at any location any of the boys took you to. You were very good at swallowing your fears for the sake of the investigations and have (on more than three occasions) run directly towards some sort of perceived danger in an attempt to catch something on camera. You were seemingly fearless, something that Seth admired about you. He was trying to be more like you, though his anxiety got the better of him sometimes.

The hospital that Josh had brought you to had seven floors. This was the second night of the investigation. The night prior, the three of you had done a walk through and attempted an EVP session on each floor. Some floors didn’t seem to be active at all, while others felt they had something much more sinister lurking around. 

“Okay, what do you guys want to bring? I’m taking the DR60 to the children’s floor. We got a lot of EVP there yesterday,” Josh said, taking the device from its box. Seth pulled the spirit box from the bag, and you followed by retrieving the Alice box. 

“First floor seemed the most calm last night so I’m staying here. I’m not dealing with any demonic shit tonight,” Seth said. You rolled your eyes at him, turning on your camera.

“God, you’re such a baby. I’m taking fourth floor. Hopefully I can actually catch that door slam this time,” you declared. Seth looked at you with wide eyes.

“You’re insane. I don’t understand how you haven’t had an attachment yet.”

“I always get sick evidence. You can judge when you capture a shadow figure as clear as I did a few months ago.”

“They got a point,” Josh cut in, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Everyone ready?”

~*~*~*~

The fourth floor was designated for the psych ward, back when the hospital was operational. The guides that you had taken the tour with yesterday said that the energies on this floor were more demonic, given how violent they typically were. You wanted to test a theory about that tonight. Something told you that the energies were just the violent patients. They were treated horribly when they were held in this hospital. A fair amount of hostility was to be expected. 

“Okay guys, so I’m on the fourth floor, which was the psych ward, and I’m completely alone tonight. I have the… Alice box with me. I really want to figure out if its truly demonic, or if it's just violent spirits. Frankly, I just think it’s the patients because it didn’t feel very demonic to me. Now where do we want to go first…”

There were a few spots that felt the most active to you, including the reception area and the singular children’s room, where the guides said they had watched a ball roll on its own only a few days ago. The most unnerving was the isolation room, where they would lock up the most violent patients for up to three weeks at a time. There were multiple recorded suicides in that room alone, which earned it the name of the ‘suicide room’. It was the room that the door had slammed closed on the previous night. If you were going to get any activity, it would most likely be there. The Alice box beeped in your hand as soon as you touched the door.

“Hunger.”

“Hunger… there were rumors that the staff would borderline starve the patients as some fucked up punishment when they were annoyed with them. Did the nurses not feed you while you were locked in here?” You placed the camera on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of it, keeping the device on the floor in front of you.

Beep. “Rare.”

“They rarely fed them. God, that’s so fucked. I’m so sorry that you were treated like that. You didn’t deserve it. I heard that there were patients that killed themselves in here. Is that true. Did you commit suicide in this room?”

Beep. “Stop.”

Beep. “Rude.”

“Was that rude to ask? I apologize, I just want to know your story. People should know how badly these nurses treated you. You deserved better.”

Beep. “Get out.”

Beep. “Room.”

Beep. “Mine.”

“Guys, I don’t think I’m very welcome here. Can you at least tell me your name before I leave? I’d like to know who I’m talking to.”

Beep. “Fuck off.”

~*~*~*~

“Alright guys, so I am on the first floor, which was where they had the emergency rooms and ICU, and they also did a lot of like, the lab work down here. Now, according to the guides, these two rooms right here are where they would keep the bodies of the recently deceased until either they were identified by a family member, or they would just stay here until the morgue had the space for them.”

A chair was sat in the corner of the room, the only piece of furniture in the space aside from the shelves drilled into the far wall, where Seth placed the camera. He sat in the chair, turned on the spirit box, and started his session. Static filled the empty room, echoing off the walls.

“To any spirits that reside in this room, the next room, or even any of the spirits on the entire first floor, if you would like to communicate, please feel free to come into this room and talk to me. I’d love to hear your story.”

“Hi, Seth.”

“Hello. Are yo-“

“Help.”

“Do you need help. Are you a patient here? If you were, can you say-“

“Yes I am.”

“ ‘Yes I am’. Do you need me to get you a nurse?”

“I’m dying. Seth.”

“I swear it just said-“

“Danger. Y/N.”

~*~*~*~

Beep. “Demon.”

“Well that’s comforting. Okay, you obviously don’t want to really communicate with me, so I’m leaving. Is there anything else you’d like to say to me before I leave? This is your last chance to… get a message out….” A wave of dizziness hit you halfway through your last sentence, leaving you to place a hand on the floor to stabilize yourself. “Shit, I’m lightheaded. I’m gonna have to take a second. This isn’t a good sign.”

Beep. “Die.” A loud slam echoed through the room as the door swung shut next to you. Your head snapped up to check the viewfinder, smiling to yourself as you realized that was most likely caught on the camera. The dizziness doubled as your vision started to go white, leaving you completely doubled over on the floor.

“Oh, motherfucker. Leave me alone. Get away from me right now. You do not get to affect me like this. If you want me to leave, then let me!”

~*~*~*~

“I don’t fucking like that at all. Are you saying that Y/N is in danger? Is there something that is going to harm them if they explore the psych ward alone?”

“He’s angry. Run away!”

“Who is angry? Tell me what’s gonna happen to Y/N.” Seth’s leg started shaking now, and his free hand pressed itself against his mouth as the anxiety crept in. He already didn’t like the alone investigations very much, but to hear what sounded like something threatening you made him all the more scared about it.

“Suicide. Help.”

“Will they be in danger if they go in the suicide room?”

“Too late. They’re dead!”

“Okay, fuck no. I’m going up there. That floor scares the fuck out of me but if something’s threatening them, I’m not letting them stay up there alone.”

“Y/N.”

“Nope, nope. I’m turning this off. We’re going upstairs, now. Y/N! Y/N!!”

~*~*~*~

Your ears had started ringing. You had turned the Alice box off to cut off communication with whatever was targeting you. You had tried the door, but due to the original purpose of the room, it could only be opened from the outside once fully closed. You had also tried to call either Seth or Josh to come get you out, but inexplicably, your phone had died. You had entered the room with 73% battery, and now it wouldn’t even turn on. The room was also soundproofed on the inside, and the boys were each three floors away from you, so shouting wouldn’t help. You were trapped until they realized you were missing, and you had all agreed to spend an hour apart.

“You have no real power over me. I am stronger than you. If you want me to leave, you have to leave me alone. I can’t walk out of this room if you keep making me… this dizzy… Christ, I’ve never had a room spin this fucking much in my life.”

Beep. “Scream.”

“What the fuck? I turned that o-… I think I just heard footsteps outside, holy shit.” You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes in an attempt to stop the spinning. You turned the Alice box off once more.

“Y/N! Y/N/N, where are you?”

“Oh thank fucking god, it’s Seth. I can hear him, but I don’t think he’s gonna hear me. I can try…” You shuffled over the door, relying on touch to find your way. You pounded your fist on the door, wincing at the volume. The footsteps grew closer, as did his voice. 

The door flew open, and instantly, your head cleared up. You breathed a sigh of relief as Seth’s terrified expression came into view. The smile that spread across your face did a good job of confusing him. Your hand made its way to his cheek. You were incredibly thankful to see him. He put down the camera to give you a once-over, making sure you weren’t physically harmed.

“God, I’ve missed your stupid face. Get me the fuck out of here.”

~*~*~*~

“You will not believe what I-… what happened?” Josh became concerned as soon as he saw you and Seth huddled next to each other on the lobby couch. Seth was still very shaken by what happened, while you were just relieved to be back to safety. He tucked the DR60 in his pocket and walked over to you, camera still rolling.

“I may stick with a buddy for the next few investigations,” you laughed softly, resting your head on Seth’s shoulder. 

“They got locked in the fucking suicide room and almost passed out,” Seth explained. His hand made soft passes over your back. You were incredibly worn out from the whole experience, and it took a lot of effort to keep your yees open for very long.

“Holy shit. That’s terrifying.”

“Something was warning me about it on the spirit box, dude. I ran up there as soon as they started saying they were in danger. They would’ve been trapped in there for almost an hour if I hadn’t run up there.”

“See, because I thought I heard the door slam from upstairs but it sounded like it could’ve been on my floor so I didn’t know. Oh my god, that’s crazy.”

After Josh told you about the sheets moving and EVP of children crying he got on the top floor, the three of you decided that you had enough footage for the night and quickly filmed the outro outside the front doors of the hospital. As you packed everything into the car, Seth wrapped his arms around you.

“Good god, Borden. I’m fine. I feel like that freaked you out more than me,” you teased, turning around to return the affection.

“It said you were gonna fucking die! It scared me!”

“Well, too bad for you. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I’d never want to get rid of you. I kind of like having you around. Don’t know if you’ve noticed.” You laughed at his words, pulling away to finish packing up. 

“In that case, we’re sharing a bed tonight because I’m sure you don’t want to sleep alone tonight and Josh snores like a motherfucker,” Seth said. You both laughed as you heard Josh’s protests from the driver’s seat.

“Aww, Seth. You know, if you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.”

“Shut the fuck-“

[kyndaris]

Into the Breach

On 25 June 1950, after the creation of two separate governments in Korea following the end of World War II, North Korea (also known as the Democratic Republic of Korea) launched an attack on its neighbour in order to subsume it. After fighting the South Koreans (Republic of Korea) down to Busan, the South Korean army rallied with the help of the United States. Their counteroffensive nearly pushed North Korean troops into China. With the aid of weapons and artillery bequeathed by the Soviets, China entered the Korean War. Following intense fighting, the front was stablised close to the 38th parallel with the final two years of the war becoming a war of attrition. An armistice was later signed in 1953.

The signing of the armistice paused hostilities on the Korean peninsula and created the Korean Demilitarised Zone, or DMZ (pronounced Dee-Em-Zed) for short.

On our second proper day in Seoul, bleachpanda and I joined a Seoul City Bus tour (paid through Klook) to scope it out. Having prebooked the tour, we were contacted the day before by one of the organisers to arrange a hotel pick-up. By 9:30 AM, bleachpanda and I were in the hotel lobby, waiting for the bus to come pick us up. Except, instead of a bus, a nondescript black van showed up.

Into it we climbed until we arrived at another hotel before piling into the coach that pulled up, and which would take us to the DMZ.

Our first stop, after driving about an hour from Seoul, was the Peace Park. During the drive, our tour guide Yeoni, explained the history of Seoul - from the Joseon Dynasty to the modern reiteration we now know today. At Peace Park, Yeoni pointed out several important monuments including a bunker, a comfort women statue, the Iron Horse train engine, the Peace Bell and the infamous 'Cow Bridge'. Cow bridge is so named because a defector, and founder of Hyundai Groups, Chung Ju-yung sent over 1001 'unification' cows over the border as a gift.

After Peace Park, we headed back onto the coach and was taken to Dora Observatory. As we went through a security checkpoint, our passports were checked. My picture, of course, is horrendous as I didn't wear any make-up and the post office didn't retake my photo despite my fringe blocking a part of my face. After we had gone through the checkpoint, Yeoni told us of how visitors could take a train to visit the DMZ prior to COVID-19. This was run twice a day during the weekends with the train stopping at Dorasan station.

Once at Dora Observatory, Yeoni provided us some additional information about the relationship between North and South Korea. And as we peered through the binoculars, she was quick to point out key areas of interest. Bleachpanda and I even caught glimpses of a North Korean guard standing outside their outpost!

From Dora Observatory, we then headed to the 3rd tunnel. During the drive, Yeoni told us that there were about 1,000 defectors from North Korea annually. Often, defectors would flee first into China and find alternate means to enter South Korea. Once in South Korea, they would be assessed to see if they're spies sent from the north. If legitimate defectors, they are given free housing for a few years as well as a mentor to help them adjust to life outside of the communist state.

What was most telling to me was how these two nations, despite their differences, stilled hoped for unification and to once again be one people. Time will tell if it will come to pass but their stories of families being split apart reminded me of several other countries that endured such trauma including Partition and the ongoing challenges between China and Taiwan.

As for the 3rd tunnel, though reviews made it sound as if it was a claustrophobic spelunking crawl, it honestly felt like exploring a low-ceiling granite cave with sufficient space for two people to walk abreast. It certainly wasn't as impressive as investigating the twisting labyrinthine tunnels of Cappadocia last year.

The 3rd tunnel was simply a very long tunnel with a sharp incline at its entrance. Once in the tunnel proper, it was flat although there were patches of water here and there. While taller people might accidentally hit their hard hats on the ceiling, I was short enough to get through unscathed. At the end of the tunnel was a metal barricade and a monitor with four video feeds showing what lay beyond.

Bleachpanda, fearing the 3rd tunnel experience after reading reviews of it online, did not descend. Which, honestly, might have been a good idea as she would have needed copious breaks on the way out given how steep the incline was.

From the tunnel, our last stop on the DMZ tour was the Unification Village. It was here that bleachpanda treated me to a lemon tea. Something I desperately needed after the slog of a climb back up to the surface and running out of my pre-boiled water.

So ended our visit to the DMZ, with the Seoul City Bus dropping us all at City Hall. As bleachpanda and I wandered back to our hotel, we stopped to visit the now open Deoksugung Palace. What made it stand out to the two of us was its very modern western-style garden and fountain, known as the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art.

Pictures are as below:

And while the visit to the DMZ was an eye-opening experience (my grandparents on my father's side actually met during the conflict although neither were on the frontlines), I couldn't help but feel I had missed an opportunity to chat with a few fellow Australians on the trip.

Still, I want to end his blog post by thanking Seoul City Tour, and Yeoni in particular, for taking us around the DMZ and safely getting us back to Seoul in one piece! You may have thought I was bleachpanda and the start but you certainly warmed to Kyndaris as the day went by. Even acknowledged us when we nearly missed the coach at the Peace Park because I had to search for a bin in order to throw the remains of my soy fried chicken away because the bus driver wouldn't let bleachpanda and I bring it along.

[whereireid]

Omg but how about Eddie with a soft cute shy plus size gf, he worships the ground she walks on , and she’s so innocent. One night he wants to show her how much he worships her and she’s just so shy and clueless as to what he means , please n thank you!!:))))

Pretty in pink [Eddie Munson]

as a plus sized girl I loved writing this req so thank you anon 💓

warnings: nsfw, mentions of insecurities, religious references, mentions of Eddie wanting to impregnate reader, sex

Rhiannon quietly echoes around your bedroom. You rest on your bed, the pink silk duvet dancing around your skin. It’s so sleek, so gentle against your body, and you sigh happily as you gently apply moisturiser to your skin. Legs recently shaven, the scent of mango fills your nose as you rub the cream in slowly, making gentle swirls on your skin.

Rain patters against your window. Your TV blasts the Bugs Bunny Show - it’s the only thing you find mildly entertaining, and you hum to yourself gently. You haven’t seen your boyfriend, Eddie Munson at all today — which is surprising as usually the both of you are joint at the hip. You frown to yourself, wondering where he had been. Yesterday he said he wouldn’t be around much today, and you had just giggled slightly, twirling your hair and gazing up at him through your lashes. You assumed he was joking; you mean, where else would he be if not by your side?

Pat, pat, pat. At first you think it’s the rain hitting your window twice as hard, but when you hear a shout override the sound of the rain, you jump from your bed, walking over to investigate your window. It’s quite late now - about 11pm, and you’re actually kind of scared there’s some random man in your back garden. You frown when you arrive at your window - there’s nobody there, just grass, and you assume maybe it was the branches from the tree hitting your bedroom window.

When Eddie sticks his face into your view, you swear you almost have a heart attack. It’s not besides him to try to break and enter your house, but still - the sight of him sends you backwards slightly, skin prickling with fear, but when you drink him in you sigh in relief, moving forwards to unlock your window. His hair is slightly dishevelled, a few leaves sticking out of it, and his tongue is poking out from his lips in concentration as he starts to clamber through your window.

“Really, Eds? That tree is so frail I’m surprised you can even climb it.” You watch as Eddie slides his body in, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You pick the leaves out of his damp hair quickly and throw them out of the window, before pulling it shut. You didn’t want rain on your carpet - your parents would kill you.

Eddie stands himself up, brushing his wet jeans and shirt. “I’m a good climber, sweetheart. You just have to work your way around the tree and be careful not to hit any of the delicate parts.” He shoots you a cheeky grin, holding onto your hands and eyeing you up. You feel slightly exposed; you’re wearing a pink, lacy nightgown, and it leaves very little to the imagination. “You look gorgeous, baby.” Eddie practically purrs, his eyes slightly fiery. “Gimmie a kiss.”

A flush spreads across your cheeks and you tiptoe up to kiss him. He kisses you back, softly, treating you like a porcelain doll that could break if handled too roughly. You’re so innocent, so precious and he’s worried that any rough touch would hurt you. The kiss descends into gentle, soft pecks, and during it Eddie carefully guides you towards your bed. When the two of you finally pull away, Eddie looks around your bedroom.

He’s rarely in your bedroom during the day. With your parents being devoted Christians who hated Eddie Munson because of his ‘satanic’ beliefs, he rarely had a chance to visit you, and definitely was never invited in with welcome arms. Plump pink pillows sit on your bed, the silk cover shining and reflecting your bedroom light. The bed is perfectly made, perfectly organised, and Eddie loves it; how much it screams you.

The teddy he had won for you at the local fair sits proudly in between the pillows on your double bed. It’s small and white, with a tiny pink ribbon around its neck, it’s black, glistening eyes somehow full of emotion. “I think ‘m gonna name him Mr Ribbons,” you had told him when he had won it, a gentle smile on your lips, “I love it, Eds.”

“How was your day, my pretty girl? Get up to much fun?” Eddie asks you, planting loving kisses on your neck, his fingers dancing towards your hips. You bask in his touch, a small smile on your lips, trying to ignore how fast your heart is hammering at his closeness. He smells so good, so familiar, like pine wood and cheap cologne, and you drown in his musk. You love his scent, love him, and you’re so grateful he’s here. Today has, frankly, been boring without him.

“‘S been okay. I missed you.” Your admission is shy, and it makes Eddie’s grip on your hips tighten. “Just wanted to see you all day.”

“All day, huh?” Eddie hums into your neck, gently sucking at your skin, kissing the marks he left behind. “Been pretty busy today, baby, but couldn’t stop thinking about you and those pretty little tits of yours.”

Eagerly, Eddie’s hands squeeze your tits, nipping your nipples softly through your nightgown. You squeal against him, shuffling backwards slightly, basking in the warmth of Eddie’s touch. His hands are so cold compared to you, and you’re almost sure you can hear his heart racing against you. You giggle slightly as he gently presses kisses to your cheek, nearing your lips, and when he pecks you quickly, your face flushes.

“Bugs bunny, huh, baby?” Eddie says, flickering his eyes over to your television. You shrug sheepishly, your eyes glazing over with embarrassment. “You’re so cute, sweetheart. So precious and innocent. Daddy’s gotta protect you at all costs, huh?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod your head, watching as Eddie slides his shirt over his head. “Uh-huh.” Your voice is quiet, oozing with adoration, and you don’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes glaze over, darkening slightly. You shuffle atop your bed, trying to fully ensure your comfort, and bite your lip as you watch your boyfriend undress in front of you.

“You look so good,” Eddie practically groans as he slides into bed with you, pulling you close. You can hear his heartbeat race slightly as you snuggle into him, gently trailing your hands up and down his biceps. “So pretty. Pink really suits you.”

“I was a little nervous to get this nightgown,” you admit quietly, nerves prickling at your skin. “I mean, it didn’t seem like something someone like me should wear.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, massaging your waist slightly. “What do you mean, someone like you?”

“Well, I mean..” you trail off slightly, watching as Eddie gazed at you in confusion. He’s genuinely unsure as to what you mean, and it makes your heart pang slightly. “Because… I’m slightly bigger than other girls. It just - it just seems like I shouldn’t wear things like this. Like I should leave it to the pretty, slim girls. I don’t look as good as they would in this.” You shrug your shoulders as if what you’re saying is normal; but your heart clenches when Eddie’s face falls, and his lips form into a frown. Hurt flashes across his face as though what you’ve said has genuinely offended him.

“But you are pretty. And there’s nothing wrong with how you look. Have you seen how fuckin’ perfect you look in this nightgown? It was made for ‘someone like you’.”

“I mean it’s nice,” you say, “but other girls would suit this better.” You laugh to make the atmosphere light, but Eddie’s face seems to hold what seems to be annoyance.

“Baby, are you delusional? No, they wouldn’t look better,” Eddie says, grabbing your hips and forcing you atop of him. You squeal slightly, clutching onto his chest for support, and stare down at him nervously. Eddie’s bulge presses against your crotch through your nightgown. “Baby you don’t understand how fucking perfect you are.” Eddie’s voice raises pitch slightly, and he begins to whine pathetically, his hands grabbing at your waist, “do you even know how much I worship you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head slightly, trying to ignore the way his words make butterflies explode in your stomach, and you try to look away from him, but he tuts, grabs your face and forces you to meet his gaze. “It’s like you’re my fuckin’ God or something, sweetheart.” His words are desperate, his hands trailing over your stomach, squeezing gently, and you squeak slightly when his cock twitches beneath you. “Let me show you how much I worship you. Please. Because it feels like you don’t know how fuckin’ badly I do.”

“I know you worship me, Eds,” you whisper quietly, adjusting yourself so Eddie can take your nightgown off. His fingers are gentle against you, his touch loving, and his eyes hold a determination you’ve never seen. He throws your nightgown on the floor, leaving you bare and exposed. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, and his eyes are hungry, his fingers coming up to pinch your nipples. He toys with them until they harden, his fingers sending electric shocks through your body. “You - you don’t need to show me.”

“Except I do,” Eddie moves his hands down to your legs, “help daddy open ‘em, baby,” he tells you, gently beginning to force your thighs open. You comply with his touch, your heart racing in your chest as his fingers tickle your thighs. Eddie sits there, staring at your cunt - how wet and gorgeous and ready it is for him, and he groans slightly. “You’ve got such a perfect little pussy. Come on, shuffle up.”

The slick of your pussy leaves shiny wet marks on Eddie’s thighs. You position yourself on his chest, and furrow your brows in confusion when he beckons for you to come closer. “I can’t get any closer, Eds,” you laugh slightly, hands cupping his cheeks, running your thumbs over his stubble. “If I get any closer I’d be sitting on your face.”

At your words, Eddie’s heart almost stops in his chest. “Sitting on my face, huh? You wanna do that, baby?” His cock twinges slightly, and he wets his lips, looking up at you, watching as your cheeks flush red. Your tits are perfect, nipples hard, ready for his mouth, but then so is your pussy. It’s so wet, dripping on his chest, and what - all he’s done is kiss you? God, you’re so easy to make horny. Eddie’s eyes flicker down to your stomach, and it’s fucking gorgeous, and he just wants to fill you up with his cum again and again until you’re with his child. But he can’t do that; not yet, not right now – he needs to show you he worships you, need to ensure you know how fucking beautiful you are. “You like that idea, huh, baby? Sitting on my face? Move up, then.”

Swallowing thickly, you feel the tips of your ears heat up, and you carefully hoist yourself on his face. You linger above him, scared to put all your weight on him. “I don’t wanna crush you, Eds,” you whimper quietly, Eddie’s hot breath fanning your pussy. “What if I’m too heav-“

The grip on your hips is harsh, and shocking; Eddie practically slams your cunt on his face, desperate and hungry. He hums into your cunt, and you gasp as his tongue makes it way through your folds. Your fingers find his curls, gripping harshly, basking in the ecstasy of his tongue. His tongue swirls up and down your cunt, teasing your clit gently, before sliding back down to your slit, edging his tongue in slightly. You whine at his touch, jutting your hips, urging him to slide his tongue back up to your clit - and he does. Eddie grabs your hips, rolling them against his face needly, his tongue swirling and sucking at your clit. His face is soaked with you, and your stomach tightens as he continues to suck, lap at you like a dehydrated, starved animal; you taste so good, so perfect, and he wants to drink you. The heat of your cunt on his face is good - too good, and when you begin to moan unbearably, your thighs shaking desperately, Eddie coaxes you - “does my good girl wanna cum, hmm?” he murmurs, moving away from your cunt momentarily. At the loss of touch you cry out, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him to continue licking your pussy.

When he doesn’t continue, you stumble out; “Yes, I wanna cum, Eddie. Wanna cum so so bad.” You yelp out slightly as his teeth grazes your clit, the pain mixing with the pleasure of his tongue steadily swirling at your bud. Your core is clenching at his touch - his face is so slippery and wet that the roll of your hips is easy, and all thoughts of suffocating him is long gone. You’re desperate for release, and you grip onto Eddie’s hair, hopelessly blubbering out strings of encouragement, “fuck’m gonna cum, make me cum Eds, gonna cum all over your face like a good girl,” and Eddie grabs your hips harshly, his tongue darting circles on your clit so quickly your legs begin to shudder and your vision goes black.

Stars surround your vision, your ears ringing as you fuck his face, tits bouncing. A whine escapes your mouth as you come, your stomach twisting in ecstasy, and you paint his face in your squirt, shaking atop of him. Eddie doesn’t stop sucking - his hands hold you steady atop of him, and he laps at your sweetness, wanting to drink you all in. “You taste so fucking good, baby,” Eddie moans from underneath you. The feeling of his hot breath fanning your pussy makes your body shake slightly. “You’re so good.”

Eddie groans at the sight of you. So dishevelled, so pretty. The marks he left on your neck are bleeding slightly, and he grins up at you. “Look at how pretty you are, baby. Spin round for daddy, get on your hands and knees. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.”

The mirror opposite your bed truly shows your dishevelled state. You gasp slightly at the sight of you; there’s tear stains on your cheeks, running mascara, blood falling down your neck from where Eddie had bit you, and your hair looks like a birds nest. You flush slightly, wondering how the hell could Eddie find you sexy when you look like this? Your train of thought is interrupted by Eddie forcing your head down slightly, so your ass was positioned high in the hair. You whimpered slightly as his tip rested at the slit of your cunt.

“I don’t have any condoms,” you whimper, trying to move away from Eddie’s cock, but he kept you still, sliding his shaft up and down your folds, tickling your clit. “Do you have one, Eds?”

“We don’t need one, baby.” His tone is sickly sweet, and you gasp slightly when he pushes the tip of his cock in. Your cunt grips him and he hisses, gently caressing your ass. “I wanna make you feel good. I wanna fill you up with my cum, sweetheart. Give you a little Munson.”

“A-a little Munson?” you breathe out, burrowing your head in your bed as he thrusts forward, forcing his shaft inside of you. Despite being with him for so long, you hadn’t really gotten used to his size - how he stretched you out so well, left you burning and sore afterwards because of how often his cock hit your cervix. “I-I like the sound of that, Eddie.”

He leans forward, kissing your back gently. You’re perfect, and he needs you to know that. Needs you to know you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. If that means getting you knocked up, then that means you’re getting knocked up.

Your cunt tightens against him when he slides his hand underneath you to touch your stomach. His thrusts start off slow at first, gentle, wanting you to feel loved. And you do. His hands roam around you, touching all of your insecurities - loving them, whispering sweet nothings about them. His hips snap into you, his cock sliding against your g-spot, and you cry out. “I love you, sweetheart,” he groans through thrusts, placing loving kisses on your back. He’s leant over you, his body so close, so warm, and your stomach twists as his hot breath fans your face. He feels so good, and he stretches you out so well - you want all of him, everything, the good and bad. When you go to say it back, go to tell Eddie how good he is and how much you love him, he shushes you, “no, baby, this is all about you today, my pretty little girl. Daddy wants to make you feel good, okay?”

Squelching sounds fill your bedroom. Your grip on Eddie’s cock is tight, and he never stops hitting the little spongy spot inside of you. Your body feels like jelly with every snap of his hips, your core tight and ready to snap. His thrusts quicken, his cock slamming into you, making your body shudder; your toes curl in ecstasy, crying out some of the most foul words that Eddie’s ever heard, and you beg for more. You want him to fill you up, want him to stuff you full of his cum, and your stomach twists as he brings a hand down to toy with your clit. Eddie knows your body, knows you so well, and his kisses and touch and cock are so much.

You’re cockdrunk. You come undone around him, groaning and whining out as his thrusts keep the same pace, watching in the mirror how easily he slides in and out of you. You’re so wet; he’s so big, and you love it, love all of him and how good he makes you feel. Again and again and again his cock brushes against your spongy spot, and it’s too much; too good. Your body shakes beneath him, and he rides you through your orgasm, slapping a hand over your mouth as you scream out his name. Your body feels like it could break from how good it feels, the churn of your stomach and butterflies which consume you overwhelming all of your senses. He doesn’t stop thrusting, not when you’ve squirted all over him and ruined your silk bedsheets - they’ll have to be washed; but you don’t care. Your body struggles to hold itself up, so Eddie does it for you, carefully rolling his hips into you.

“Wanna cum again, my pretty girl?” Eddie coos as he feels you tighten against him again, your fists gripping the bedsheets. “Wanna cum at the same time? All over daddy’s cock?”

“Yes, please, god yes please,” you cry out - tears stream down your face, sobs rack your chest as he slams into you, again and again, whispering sweet nothings to you. His pretty girl, he tells you as his cock fills you up, nabbing at your cervix, stretching you to the point you’re certain you’ll break, his princess, his darling, his girl. All of his. Everything. Beautiful, breathtaking, gorgeous. Eddie doesn’t stop showering you in compliments, not when his thighs tense and his cock threatens to spill his seed inside of you. “I want it, Eddie, ‘m gonna cum-cum with me?” you’re begging now, your cunt so tight against him, you’re core twisting, body collapsing into the bed.

He pounds into you relentlessly. You come undone again, animalistic mewls leaving your mouth, ecstatic sobs shaking your body. You can’t take it anymore - this feeling, no matter how good it is, and you try to scramble away but his grip is so tight you can’t and it’s so good, he’s so good, and you squirt all over his cock. The tightness makes Eddie’s hips judder, and he comes, too - shooting thick, white strings of his cum inside of you, and he groans, “you’re so beautiful, baby, I love you so much,” whilst trying to keep himself steady.

Your heart races in your chest, tears staining the bedsheets and your face. Eddie hasn’t even pulled out yet - you milk him for all he’s worth, your cunt tightening and loosening against him, wanting all of his cum inside of you. The fact he wants to be with you forever makes you feral - the thought of you being who he comes home to in twenty years time drives you completely and utterly insane, and you almost want to tell him to stay inside of you and make sure you end up pregnant.

But you know that’s impossible. And you whimper slightly when Eddie pulls out, wishing he had stayed inside of you a little bit longer. His cum drips out of you, onto your silk bedsheets, and you squirm slightly. You’re still coming down from your high when Eddie pulls you into him - his body is soaked from the waist down, with your cum and the sight makes you face flush.

“Sorry, Eds,” you squeak out in embarrassment as you look down at his wet body.

“Why’re you apologising, sweetheart? I wanted this. I want this every day, baby. You’re like a fuckin’ fountain in the middle of the desert.”

Heart slamming against your rib cage, you smile up at him. He truly is beautiful - his long curls stick to his slightly sweaty skin, his brown eyes shining in ecstasy, a small, gorgeous smile on his lips. He’s perfect, and he’s yours. Forever.

“Did you mean it?” you mumble quietly. Your head rests on his chest, your fingers toying with the rings on his fingers. “You-you want a little Munson? With me?” your voice drops an octave, and it’s barely audible - but Eddie certainly hears it, and his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Who the hell else would I have a little Munson with?” He says, before engulfing you in another kiss.

The rain patters against your window, though it’s much gentler than an hour ago. You assume it’s gonna clear up soon, and snuggle into Eddie’s chest. He’s staying the night - seeing as tomorrow is a Saturday the two of you will probably go to his trailer to hang out. He dozes off before you do, gentle snores filling your once quiet bedroom, and you turn your attention to the TV.

The Bugs Bunny Show plays quietly. You hold your belly softly. You hope one day Eddie will fulfil his promise and knock you up.

Deep down, you even hope it’s sometime soon.

[lazysimp]

Innocence /// Virgin!Tamaki x Top!Male Reader (18+)

Click Here to read bottom!male reader

Click Here to read Fem reader

Request: Hello! Can I request a Top male reader* x Tamaki. It's his first time and he's very shy and reader takes advantage of it.

A/N: Of course anon, I love the idea of corrupting a sweet innocent Tamaki

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI explicit sexual content, virgin!Tamaki, dominate reader, submissive Tamaki, mild somnophilia/dubcon, tentacles, handjob, He/Him pronouns

Word count: 4k

masterlist┃AO3

Patience had never been a virtue of yours, so when a soft timid Tamaki beat around the bush asking you out on your first date you took the first step. And when he could not find the words to ask for a second you gladly volunteered them. Instead of growing annoyed or feeling emasculated your sweet boyfriend looked at you with gratitude every time you guided the relationship.

So, when it was finally time to take your relationship with him to the next level it was no surprise that you were the one to push it there. In the dimness of your shared bedroom, you laid still in bed listening to his breathing. During the day he would never let you stare at him like this, he would grow too flustered and hide his face.

You wish more than anything he could see himself how you see him. How he is the strongest person you know, choosing to push beyond his limits every day to save those around him, uncaring if it left him in a panic after. You had to bite your tongue every time he came home from work covered in blood and dirt. In your mind you know he can handle himself, but the idea that someone can look at Tamaki and still choose to hurt him baffled you.

You raise your hand to his face and brush your knuckle across his cheek. You wanted to be with him in every way, but you were so unsure he was ready. You know if you asked, he would say yes, he would never deny you. But he has never shown any sign that he wanted to take that next step.

So when a deep groan left his soft pink lips your ears perked up. Normally the only sounds he made while he slept were a few soft huffs as he shifted around. You sit up in bed, now watching his face intensely. Maybe your mind made up the sound, desperate for an excuse to jump on him. But to your delight, his mouth opened, and a single word left his lips, "Please."

This had to be too good to be true. Was your boyfriend having a sex dream? You needed to investigate. Carefully lifting the covers, you look down his slender body unit your eyes landed on his pants. You rub your eyes to clear them and make sure you were seeing things right and you were. A large bulge pushed the seam of his pants up, his erection barely contained in his underwear.

Instantly you felt heat flare-up in between your legs. You look up at his face and grow even hotter, his cheeks were dusted pink, and the tips of his pointed ears were bright red. His lips were slightly parted letting you catch a glimpse of his teeth as he let out another low groan, this one even more desperate than the last.

Without thinking you trail your hands down his chest, tracing the soft muscles until you landed on the elastic of his pants. You could feel the warmth he emitted and moved in closer until you lie parallel to him. The soft purple hair of his happy trial teased the tip of your fingers as you ever so carefully slip your hand under his pants.

You watch his face for any distress, but he held the same expression. Growing bolder you inch your hand further down until your fingers brushed against the head of his cock. You have to stop for a second, already overwhelmed at how far you have gone.

He was so warm and soft, his sweet olive smell filling your nose. You needed him so bad, needed to be close with him, touch him, love him. So you take a deep breath and wrap your hand around the head of his cock. You could feel his hot length pulse in your hand, just begging for your touch.

Needing to touch him more you place your lips by his delicate ears and whisper, "Tamaki, baby, wake up for me."

The man under you tensed and ever so slowly his eyes lazily opened, "Huh?"

You can't help but laugh at his dazed expression, he looked like a newborn fawn. "Baby, can you look down for me?"

His bright purple eyes looked at you with confusion but did what you told. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before his gaze snapped to meet yours. "What?" he asks his eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

You keep your face neutral, not wanting to give away too much, "I could hear you begging in your sleep." You purr, "And when I looked down, I could not help but notice the tent in your pants."

His face grows impossibly redder, and he looks anywhere but your face. Not liking that you gently acquiesce your hand around his cock until his eyes snapped back to you.

"What were you dreaming about Tamaki?"

"N-nothing?"

You tsk your tongue, "That's not true, is it?" You lift the hand is his pants up, revealing his hard cock for both of you to see. You could hear his breath hitch as he was finally able to see what your hand was doing.

"Now why don't you tell me what you were really dreaming about?"

You could see his mouth open and close as he tried to form words. His purple eyes started to grow wide and wild. Needing to stop that train of thought you decided to try something else.

"How about I try to guess what your dream was about?"

His breathing slowed and he tiled his head, "What do you mean?"

"We will play a game of hot and cold. If I am doing something you saw in your dream you say hot and if I do something that was not in your dream you say cold."

He looks to the ceiling, "I've never played that game."

You softly smile, "That's ok, we can try it out and if you don't like it, I will stop."

"A-alright," he tightly swallows, "Let's try it."

You let out a squeak of joy and peck him on the cheek, "I am so proud of you!"

He gives you a wobbly smile, but you could see his eyes starting to dilate. He was getting excited.

You look down at your hand and take a deep breath. You know he has never done anything like this, so you had to make this perfect for him. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gently slid it down until it rests on the base.

The soft hair surrounding his base ticked the back of your hand as you let it rest there for a second waiting to see what he says.

"Cold," he mumbled weakly.

You give him a rewarding squeeze and began to pump your hand, admiring how his foreskin traveled up to cover his glands. Everything about Tamaki was perfect and his cock was no exception. It was long, almost double the size of your hand. Instead of being perfectly straight, it bent off a little to the side. You could not wait to take advantage of that.

"Warmer," he said a little stronger.

"Good boy," you praise, starting to pump your hand a little faster.

A shiver traveled through his body at your words. You made a mental note to praise him more. As you gently pump your hand on his cock another idea popped into your mind. You slip his underwear down with your free hand giving you room to dip your hand lower until it settles on the tight skin in between his balls and hole.

You watch his face for any signs of distress as you gently press one finger at his entrance. You could feel him tense for a second but as you continued to stroke his cock his hole relaxed enough to allow one finger to slip inside.

"Bunny," he cried, "Warm."

You hum your approval, sinking your finger even deeper inside his tight hole while you pumped your hand, once, twice, three strokes. His hips started to lift in time with your hand, creating even more delicious friction.

"So good Bunny, don't stop!"

You press another finger inside him, giving him a few seconds to adjust before you spread open your finger, scissoring the digits. His hands desperately grip the sheets beside you, trying to find purchase as you stretch him open.

“Please Bunny I need,” he begged, unsure what he really needed. Needy cries filled your ears as you started to stroke him at a punishing pace, already feeling his cock pulse in your hand.

"Hot, hot, Bunny it's so hot." He cries, his hips rising to meet your hand. You deepen the thrusts of your fingers, pushing them up until you found a soft spongy spot inside him. His hips lurch up and a sob leaves his lips as you press on that spot inside him, keeping your hand moving on his dick.

You force yourself to keep steadily pumping, knowing the consistent pressure is what he needed to finally tip over the edge. And you were right, with his hands white knuckling the sheets he came with a silent cry, his face contorted in pleasure.

You watched mesmerized as he releases all over your hand and his stomach. You ease your grip on his cock, not wanting to overstimulate him too much, and instead weakly kept your wrist moving, letting him ride out his high. His chest rapidly fell up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You carefully pull your fingers out of his ass, watching carefully for any signs of discomfort. As he came back to reality, he looks down at you with a wobbly gaze, “I’m sorry.”

Your hand flies up to cradle his cheek, “What are you sorry for baby?”

He looked down at the mess on his stomach, “I came too early, I messed the game up.”

You take a second to try and find the right words and finally settle with, “We are just having fun Tamaki, there is no winning or losing.”

His hands lift to cover his face, “But I finished so fast, it’s humiliating.”

“Hey,” you coo, “It’s just me and I thought you cumming so quickly was hot.”

His hands lowered slightly so his eyes could look at you skeptically.

You laugh, “I am serious, the way you could not control yourself and cried out will be the fuel of my late-night fun for weeks.”

His hands fell from his face and the look in his eyes changed completely, “You think about me when you touch yourself?”

"Yeah baby. You are all I can think about when I touch myself. I think about how your cute little ears twitch when you are embarrassed, I think about how good you look in your hero uniform, and I especially think about the look on your face as you take down a villain. But do you want to know what gets me off every time?"

He nods eagerly, the embarrassment of finishing quickly long forgotten. You crook your finger at him urging him to lean in closer. When his pointy ear was inches from your mouth you whisper, "I think about how you would use your quirk to fill me up until you are the only thing I can feel."

He shoots back and looks at you with a mix of curiosity and horror, "You don't mean. . ."

You nod, "Yeah baby that is exactly what I mean."

His entire face grows bright red, "B-but that is so, so dirty."

"That is why it's so hot."

"What do you say we continue our little game but it will be my turn to say hot or cold?"

"Y-you want me to touch you like that?" He whispered the last word.

"Yeah baby, I want you to touch me like that."

He bites his bottom lip, "What if I mess it up or hurt you?"

"You have nothing to worry about baby, I will be in charge the entire time."

The worry on his face eased a little at your words but you could see he was still fiddling with his fingers.

"Why don't we start off slow?" You suggest, rubbing your hand along his bicep.

"You can put your hands anywhere on me and I will say hot the closer you get to where I want your hand to be."

"What if I touch you somewhere you don't want to be touched?"

"Impossible," you mumble, "There is nowhere I don't want your hands to be."

A high whine left his lips, the sound sending heat flashing through you. Oh, you wanted to ruin him, and you were pretty sure he would let you.

Not wasting any more time you wrap your hand around his wrist and lift it towards your chest, letting him get a feel for your skin. His breathing increased and his eyes grew wide as you dragged his hand up your chest until it rested near your collarbone.

"I am going to drop my hand, remember I will let you know where to touch me, all you have to do is follow my cues.

He nods, barely breathing as you drop your hand from his, leaving him free to explore. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, staring at his hand touching you. His soft cock was already filling again, ready to stand to attention as he carefully dragged his hand down the side of your arm. He looks to you for instructions.

"Cold," you mumble as his hands drift off to your hands. He nods, his fingertips sliding up your arms. Involuntary you could feel goosebumps follow the trail of his fingers. If he ever figured out how much power he held over you, you would be doomed.

His fingers trail up until his hand settles around your neck. "Warm," you groan pushing yourself closer into his hand.

With his first hand occupied his second slips under your shirt, sliding up the soft material until he revealed your chest to his view. You could hear his breathing stop completely as his gaze locked onto your soft peaks.

"Breath Tamaki," you order, "In and out, that's it." You watch his chest rise and fall slowly as if it took intense concentration to remember to breathe.

When his breathing grew steadier his hand reached out and slid up your stomach. "Warmer," you reach out to bunch the blankets in your hands, needing something to keep your hands busy.

His brows furrowed as his long cold finger circled around your areola, watching in amazement as your nipple bunched into a tight peak. "Warmer," you say, needing him to deepen his touch.

Thankfully he seemed to understand what you wanted as his fingers pinched the bud and rolled it. You could not stop the whine from leaving your throat as he flicked his finger against your nipple.

Growing bolder from your reaction Tamaki dipped his head until his mouth was only a breath away from your nipple. Again, his bright purple eyes look up at you for approval.

"Hot baby," you bring your hands to thread through his hair as his lips wrap around the swollen peak, sucking it into his wanting mouth. His cheeks hallow as he takes long drags, his tongue lashing the tender bud resting in his mouth.

Small mewls of approval leave your lips as the hand on your nipple pinches and pulls, a stark contrast from the soft teasing of his mouth. The difference in touch left you reeling, if you thought you were hard before, you were fucking steel now.

"Tamaki," you push his head in closer, wanting more, god you wanted so much more. He strengthens the suck on your nipple until you were sure he was going to leave a mark.

The hand on your nipple leaves and started to trail down the softness of your abdomen, caressing the skin. "Warmer," you moan, hoping they would go where you wanted. And he did, his fingers lift the elastic of your underwear and his palm resting on your length, waiting to be told what to do.

You reach over to the side of the bed and pull out a bottle of lube you had hidden away. You quickly squeeze a generous glob of the liquid onto the head of your cock, watching as it dripped down to Tamaki’s hand." It will make it easier later on,” you explain as he stares at the viscous liquid.

“Oh, ok,” he agrees, unsure what you meant but too excited to care.

One finger slides down your length, tracing a vein before he wrapped his hand around you. You both let out a groan of want as his hand slowly moves up.

The palm of his hand wet itself with your precum, making it easy for his hand to slid down the length of your cock before settling as your base. His other hand raised up to your mouth, you give it an inquisitive look but open your mouth anyways, allowing his dainty fingers to come inside. You swirl your tongue around the digits, wetting them with your spit before letting him pull away.

As his finger dips down toward your entrance you mumble, "Warmer."

He lets out a low groan, sucking harder on your nipple as his finger moves down until it settles on the outside of your hole. In the quiet of your room, you could hear the lewd sounds of his fingers breaching your entrance.

You let out a hiss, surprised he had forced you to take two fingers so quickly but the burn felt so good you let it slide. The fingers inside you twist down and press, you had a rough idea what he was trying to do. “Cold Tamaki.”

The fingers inside you twist around again, blinding looking for your sweet spot. After a few misses attempts you could feel him grow more agitated, his teeth now nibble on the tender bud of your nipple. "Patience baby, move your finger up, just like that, a little to the side- there!"

Your hips lurch up into his hand as his finger finally brushes across your prostate. Your hands in his hair tighten to a bruising hold but he didn't seem to mind, in fact, your reaction drove him even further.

His soft fingers hone in on the spongy tissue, rubbing it gently, a little too gently.

"Harder Tamaki, touch me a little harder."

And the good boy did as he was told. His middle finger pressed down with force, his fingers making a firm coaxing motion. You were feral, having him touch you like this was better than any fantasy your mind had made up to help you get off. There was no comparison to having the real thing.

While his mouth distracted you, the fingers in your ass grow longer and softer. You look down in confusion unsure what was going on only to see purple tentacles now fill you instead of his fingers. One large tentacle wrapped itself around the length of your cock, with one large sucker latching onto the tip of your cock, sucking on it like a mouth.

Your head falls back, too overwhelmed to watch anymore. You could already feel the tight grip you had on your control slipping away. Following the cues of your body, Tamaki used another tentacle to tease around your entrance. It circled around the tight hole, wetting itself in your pre-cum before carefully pushing inside along with the rest, stretching you impossibly wider.

He releases your nipple to watch his tentacles sink deeper inside you. The tightness of you around him would fuel his fantasy for years to come. He had always felt deeply for you but doing something like this with you made everything click into place. There was no one else in the world he would ever want to share this with and being with you for his first time was something he would never forget.

He made sure to move his tentacles up inside you, remembering something Mirio had told him a year earlier about how men’s g-spot is on their ass. It seemed his best friend was right. You bucked wildly into his hand, he could tell you were fighting to keep control of your movements, but he wanted to see you lose control, he wanted to see his Bunny become wild.

So when the sucker around your cock strengthened its pull you had to reach down and frantically pull it away before it tipped you over the edge. Tamaki instantly stops what he is doing and looks at you with eyes full of worry.

"You made me feel so good baby," you praise, pulling him in for a hug. “Too good, I was going to finish right then and there.”

"You really liked it? What I did with my quirk?" he asked weakly.

"Fuck Tamaki I don't think I will ever be able to get myself off without your help," you look down at him, "Nothing could compare to that."

A bright smile spreads across his face, "I am glad I made you feel that good bunny, but why did you make me stop?”

You look down at his body and smile.

His head tilts and he follows your eyes until it lands in his erection. His breath sputters as he tries to wave it away, “Wait, you don’t mean-“

“I want to cum inside you baby.”

“I, you, you want to- “

“Fuck you. Yeah baby I want to stretch that tight ass around my cock and fuck you until you can’t speak.”

His mouth opens but no sounds come out, for a second you worry you have finally pushed him too far but suddenly he snaps back into focus. “Yeah, bunny, I want to d-do that too.”

You give him a relieved smile and get to work. You quickly take off your underwear and have him swing his leg over your lap, positioning him to hover over your waist. You reach down and grab ahold of your throbbing cock still slick from earlier, lining it up with his hole.

With you already being prepared all you had to do was push down on his hips, urging him to sink lower, slowing impaling him with your length. You could feel the tightness of his hole as it resisted your entrance at first, not letting you move forward.

Soft mewls left his lips as he tried to relax and let you in but he could not do it on his own, “Shh baby, it is ok,” you coo, trying to get him to relax.

“I don’t think it is going to fit,” he whines, starting to lift himself up.

“It will work,” you mumble, and pull him in for a kiss. You explore his mouth with your tounge, distracting him until you could feel his hole begin to soften. Not wasting time you thrust your hips up, finally popping past the tight ring of muscle guarding his entrance.

A loud cry rips from his throat as you sink into his heat further, the head of your cock now settled inside him.

You force yourself to look up and meet his eyes and it was beautiful. He was an absolute wreck, already gasping for air and you were not even halfway in. His pupils were blown out, eyes barely focusing until you grab his hair and force him to look down.

“Watch baby,” you coo, “Watch me take you like this. No one but me will ever get to see you like this but me.”

He whimpers but complies, watching you sink in the last few inches. You lean forward and press your lips to his one again, wanting to be surrounded by him. Needing his taste on your tongue. At the same time, you start to lift your hips, admiring the feel of him slipping down onto your cock.

With each rotation of your hip, a new whine filled your mouth as he tried to stay in control. You broke the kiss and ordered, “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

He complied, his fingers digging into your skin and helping to increase the power of each thrust.

“Y-you are so perfect,” Tamaki panted as you rocked your hips forward in time with his. “I never want to be without you.”

“My baby,” you groan, “You are a natural, feel so good around me.”

His breath hitches, you could feel him growing closer, the hands on your shoulders weakening and the trusts becoming more desperate. Wanting to cum together you reach down and grab ahold of his pulsing cock.

“That’s it Tamaki,” you groan, “I want you to cum on my cock.”

Without needing to be told twice his hand came to life spurting three tentacles. The smaller two spread dipped low, gently cradling the weight of your balls with the third latched onto his cock, joining your hand to stroke himself with its slippery ribbed texture.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, your head falling forward to rest in the crook of his neck. You could feel his hole tightening around you, spasming as he grew closer, “Just like that Tamaki, please keep going just like that.”

And as always, he did as he was told. He lifted his hips, riding your cock at the same speed, driving you higher and higher, the tentacles on your balls gently squeezed mercilessly milking the pleasure from your body.

“Ah, god Tamaki, just like that,” you babble, unsure if the words were even able to be understood.

You could feel yourself slipping further away and needed to do something before you embarrassed yourself. You shifted up your hips, changing the angle of your thrusts. The next time your cock plunged inside of him, your length brushes against his prostate.

A beautiful look of shock crossed his face, there was no time to prepare himself before an explosion of pleasure suddenly blasted through him. He could not even cry out as he was swallowed whole by his release.

He convulsed in your arms, his mouth opens in a silent scream as his ass clenched around you, sending you spiraling too. In the middle of your haze, you could make out his hole clenching your cock as you fill him to the brim with your cum. His tentacle still toying with your taunt balls.

No longer able to support himself Tamaki collapses onto your chest, relying on you to stay upright. You wrap your arms around his wairs, pulling him in closer to your chest. He rests his cheek on your pec and you could hear his broken breath as he slowly recovers.

“Wow bunny,” Tamaki says breathlessly, “That was amazing!”

You kiss his sweaty neck weakly, “Yeah baby it was.” You look down to where your bodies were still joined and could already make out some of your cum starting to seep out of him.

“Bunny, I don’t think I can move.”

You laugh, “Oh good, because I don’t think I can either.”

He slouches down even more, “I think I will just lay here for a little bit; you feel so warm.”

You tighten your arm around his waist, holding him close, “Sounds good to me.”

[erodasfishtacos]

Hahah but please write a smut blurb about Y/N and Harry with that mustache please???

Last one of the night.

warning: complete smut

-

Harry had been away from home for two weeks - traveling for games and endorsement obligations during that time, he hadn’t shaved.

He knew his wife loved it and he wanted to treat her a bit for leaving her take care of the three boys for that long without him.

YN had been (im)patiently waiting for his arrival back home - they had a facetime sex the third day into his trip and after that they couldn’t find a coordinating time again.

She was ready.

He was to arrive home at nearly two in the morning, YN told him that she couldn’t stay up because she’s been so tired with the babies.

He obviously understood that.

But she had lied.

Instead, she was sitting on the kitchen island waiting for him in just a skimpy navy blue bralette and a matching pair of cheeky panties.

She knew he’d come to investigate if he saw the light on.

It’s nearly three when he arrives home, YN slips her phone in a drawer when she hears the front door close.

Harry spots the light on and whispers softly, “Mama? Y’okay? Y’in there, my love?”

Quiet so he didn’t wake his three little boys.

She doesn’t respond, hears his nikes padding against the marble as he enters through the archway.

His eyes find hers instantly, duffle still on his shoulder, and his mouth gapes.

“Mama. Wha’s all this? I didn’t kno-“

YN cuts him off, eyes focused on the facial hair above his upper lip and his golden tan skin that highlighted his lean muscle.

“If you don’t get your head between my legs in the next five seconds, you’re sleeping on the couch,” She interrupts, spreading her legs demurely.

God, you didn’t need to ask him twice (or really even the first time) because he’s dropping his bag and he’s hard within a minute.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He groans, having no shame in adjusting her roughly to lay on her back, he then tugs her bum to the end of the counter.

The panties are shredded, falling limply to the ground, and he’s just looking for a moment at her swollen, perfect center.

He nearly comes when he sees stripe of hair left in her mound, a fucking land strip - how sexy is that.

He spreads her folds with his thumbs, watching her shine with arousal in the light of the kitchen, and he can’t help it.

Ducking down, he flattens his tongue and drags it slowly from her entrance up to her clit - gently nipping at the hood of thin skin.

“H, fuck it’s so good,” She praises happily, her stomach sucking in as she begins to breathe heavier and faster, “Do it, please.”

And he knows what she wants.

“S’it the only reason y’wanted me home, hmm? Just to feel it on y’cunt?” Harry teases, thumbs still keeping her open and waiting.

“Please, stop talking,” YN’s hands weave into his hair, harshly guiding his mouth to where he belongs, right where she wants him.

Of course, he obliges - never ever says no to delivering his wife pleasure whether she demands or begs.

He does what she’s been aiming for, tongue finding home in her core while the wiry hair on his upper lip brushing roughly against her clit.

“Ooo-oh, yes,” She hisses happily, hips moving to meet his mouth and he has to get his hand into his shorts and pump himself.

“There y’go, sweet girl,” He murmurs against her, “Know y’wana ride my face, c’mon.”

“Thank you, so good to me,” She whines, letting Harry hook her leg over the inner side of his elbow to give her leverage.

He laughs, “Don’t have t’thank me, m’your husband - it’s my duty to let y’ride my face.”

YN can’t help but roll her eyes before getting back business, Harry flattens his tongue to give her control of how she wants it.

She goes back and forth between fucking down onto it and greedily rubbing her clit against his mustache he - she’s so wet and needy that it doesn’t take her long before she’s tense and coming.

Harry stands up, shimmies down his short, and pliantly murmurs, “Please, darlin’ - help m’out.”

He expects a hand or maybe her perfect mouth, he grunts in surprise when she guides him into her center and he slides home.

It’s only a few pumps before he’s spilling inside her and panting out, leaning down to lick into her mouth, taste still on his tongue.

When he stands back up to pull out, he frowns, thumbing at the extremely irritated skin of her folds and inner thighs.

“Mama, y’shoulda told me,” Harry scolds, petting over the friction rash.

She shrugs, “Will remind me of y’mouth.”

Harry has to kiss her again before murmur, “Y’so good to me. Welcome me home with a little face riding and fuck. I love you.”

“Mmm, romantic. I love you more, baby daddy.”

He glows at the nickname.

[nincompoopydoo]

Could I request a oneshot with Remus Lupin with the promt "kiss me so i can feel alive again". Also congratulations on 1000 followers 🎉✨💕

ALIVE AND TRUE

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x reader WORD COUNT: 2k (whoops) SUMMARY: Having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. A/N: Thank you for requesting and I’m so sorry for taking so long! This is one of my favorites because it’s so soft and romantic and I adore this request. Please tell me what you think of it xo. WARNINGS: Angst. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

It’s the house you see from trudging down the walkway that forces you to double take your previous steps. Silent and empty, it seems to twist into the forest from afar. Bent trees adorn the lane with overgrown greenery at its feet and ancient brick walls that run along with it. The fields in Yorkshire are vast and immaculate but right now, you are alone and suddenly the far stretch of land doesn’t seem to have the shine of the countryside. Your eyes shift to the house that sits behind a rusted gate, joints barely holding together from the years of rotting and exposure to the heat and rain. It’s barely a house but more of a cottage. No, it’s not even a cottage. Semi-derelict and tumbledown, it looks more like the ruins of what used to be a home.

You look down to the note in your hand, parchment torn at the edges with the cursive words of your handwriting that make up an address and coordinates. Visually, there’s no indication of where exactly you are but according to the coordinates, you are precisely where you need to be. For the past three years, your investigation into finding your friend has proven to be impossible and almost met with the acceptance that you will never see him again. Yet, after an anonymous tip had been owled to your doorstep, indicating the suspicions of the presence of a werewolf somewhere in Yorkshire as overheard by the locals of a nearby town, gave you a tinge of hope to reconnect with someone you lost.

The sight bears a high chance that he may be hiding here, unfortunately. It makes it hard to believe that someone you saw had so much life in him, is living in this condition.

Anxiety starts to creep onto you as you push the worn-down gate. It creaks with the rustling of the wind, a sign of an imminent storm. The sun doesn’t shine anymore, clouds of grey congregate in the skies above in the chorus of rainfall. You don’t do too well with apparition, thankfully having only lost half of your hair during the war. Hence, if the anonymous tip turns out to be a fake, you would have to make your way out of the countryside in the rain or even worse, take the Knight Bus.

You hate the Knight Bus.

Attempting to conjure up whatever courage you have left, you steadily make your way into the compound, plodding through the overgrown grass. As you grow closer, the cottage looks even worse than it was from afar, climbing plants of dull green embellish the walls of the ruins.

Then, in your periphery, you catch a glimpse of violet—Bluebells. The same flowers that used to grow on the forest floor of the forbidden forest. You remember him telling you about how he had seen a white bluebell, rare to its nature.

Warmth fills your chest, you know he is here.

The door is wooden, climbing plants seem to have made their way to it, branching around its handle.

You knock once. No answer.

You knock twice. There’s footsteps, they’re heavy.

With the swing of the door, you are met with none other than Remus Lupin. He looks older, dark circles below his eyes that have lost their intensity of blue, hair unkempt and shabby, and a beard, tracing along his jawline. He has his wand directed to you in defense. Probably because no one ever visits.

The smile on your face is impossible to suppress. It's bright at the recognition of the familiarity of his face. “Remus,” you breathe, eyes crinkling and gleaming with the bliss from the effort and worth of your investigation to find this very man, who stands just a couple of inches away from you. You swallow, not wanting to blink away the possibility that this may all be a dream. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He says your name through a whisper like it’s the answer to the millions of prayers recited and uttered from his lips as he drifts off to slumber under the moonshine, beaming through the shattered glass of the windows by his bedside. He dreams of you, often in times when his body is too weak to endure the aftermath of a full moon.

Yet, you're here and very real.

Then, he watches your grin falter and how your eyes move around the curves of his face. The deep cuts are there and visible. Although magic heals, time and energy play a crucial factor in healing wounds. In an instant, his apprehension creeps in, and suddenly, he feels small. The memories of you are forever intertwined with the rest of his friends, memories too painful to endure.

Your hand reaches out for his face but he staggers back in his step.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean it. Remus really wants you here. To feel your warmth, your touch, the smell of your hair and to hold you but he sees the way you bring your arm down to your side, shoulders slump in near defeat. In reality, you would never let him go that easily.

“Don’t say that, Remus.”

The crinkle of your eyes is gone, now sharp with the frustration of his tendency of locking himself away from the world out of paranoia. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen his face after three long years and he’s already trying to chase you away.

Typical Remus.

An odd sense of nausea takes over him, knees buckling as his surroundings begin to spin like he is on a sailing boat at sea. His body is frail and with a blow, he will fall. His eyes are trained on you as he feels his feet give way and his body drifting towards the ground. Just then, he feels your touch, arms around him like an embrace. You’re holding him in his weakened stance, stabilizing his balance by moving his arm to hang around your shoulder. He immediately shifts his weight on you, uttering a soft apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for something you can't control.” Your voice is soothing, speaking so close to his ear. Your tone is laced with knowing and care. You both know those words have been articulated from your very lips many times before. And your hands are gentle upon the curve of his waist, against the rough material of a dress shirt but your grasp is strong—the true touch of a healer’s hands, precise and careful. Remus always knew you would turn to become a highly-skilled healer.

With every cautious step, the creaks of the parquet flooring are loud and lasting. It’s as if the house itself cries for its condition, like a child with a wound to their knee after taking a nasty fall. The wailing wind outside doesn’t help with the fact that everything seems to be falling apart.

You guide him to the armchair by the fireplace, pressing him by the shoulders to sit. He plops onto the chair with a heavy sigh and feels a sense of regret sinking in his chest at the sight of the visible scowl of your lips and the turn of your brows.

Your open palm finds his cheek. He hears the drag of your deep exhale. You don’t say anything, only to pull out your wand from your back pocket. Yet, Remus is quick to grab your hand, halting you in your movement. Your frown a little deeper, sharp eyes finding him.

“Just let me heal you. It’s the least I can do.”

It’s a promise, a vow, uttered from your very lips filled with dignity and hope. So, he lets you, just to feel you close to him.

—

The rain is yet to arrive. Thunder booming through rolling clouds above and still not a single drop of rain but there’s a peak of sunlight between the cracks of the storm. Maybe, it’s because you’re here and sunshine always seems to trail your steps, no matter where they lead.

Now, Remus is seated on the toilet seat facing you, who has settled for a shaky stool to perch on as your gentle hands hold the edge of his jaw while the other grips onto a straight razor, gazing along the cheek. He cannot take his eyes off the crease between your brows and the way your eyes slowly shift along with the moving blade.

Magic is meant for convenience in small but necessary tasks like these yet you insisted on doing it in the traditional muggle way—using your fingers. Your hands work wonders, beautifully moving as a paraclete. You hold him like you’re maintaining his strength, to keep from fracturing into pieces. You look at him like he’s your masterpiece, carving every curve and bend of his skin and structure.

You lift the blade away from his face, dabbing it onto a rag cloth hung by the sink. Remus finally finds the time to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” You simply laugh and it comes out like a puff of air. Your eyes are still trained on cleaning off the razor. “Of course, I don’t. But, I also don’t want you competing with Dumbledore’s beard.”

Remus laughs, truly laughs. It’s loud and echoes within the walls of the tiny toilet. “I could never beat him.” You’re laughing too, grin wide as ever. Then, after a beat of silence, your grin suppresses into a small smile, lips pressed together as you place the razor aside. You’re clearly in deep thought.

“Come away with me.”

Remus blinks. “What?”

You turned to him, eyes glinting with expectancy. “Stay with me. I live a few blocks from St Mungos...and you get to see me at work.” You watch how his mouth is now agape, half of his chin still in shaving cream.

“And I’m sure you look magnificent in green but you know I can’t—”

“You can, Remus. You can come here a week before the full moon and then come back to my place. I’ll help you heal, a lot faster and you know that’s true. Maybe, I could get hold of aconite for Wolfsbane at the hospital— ”

You hadn’t realized your rambling until Remus began to shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with an odd sense of serenity and hint of urgency for you to stop. So, your words immediately halt with a turn of your head to meet his gaze. Your expression is soft. His hand drifts to yours, holding it in his. “You know I can’t because if they find out you are living with someone with lycanthropy, you will lose your job and I don’t want you to lose it for my sake,” he squeezes your hand with assurance. “But, thank you. Thank you for always being so kind to me.”

The candle flickers from behind you, sitting idly on the ceramic shelf above the sink. No sunlight beaming through the room and only the hues of flame, beginning to shrink with the melting of its wax. Your hair presents an illusion of golden threads against the candlelight, face as warm as your hand on his as you shift your fingers to the back of his palm. Gradually, you sigh whilst raising his palm to you and press your lips to the arch of his hand. It’s quick but affectionate.

Your stare is strong and his heart stutters for the millionth time since your arrival.

Remus is drawn to you and the thought of how your lips should be on his. He drifts closer, eyes roaming your face, feeling your breath against his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” your question is soft, a whisper, only for his ears. A secret so sacred that you’re afraid nature would hear the words of your confession that was solely reserved for your mind and the man you are confessing to. He nods, it’s slight but it’s true, feeling like this is all a dream. He doesn’t want you to dream anymore. For you are here, hand tangled in his, thinking about his lips on yours.

Then, he whispers as the candle flickers once more. “Kiss me so I can feel alive again.”

So, you do. You kiss him, gentle and sweet, your hand still in his.

[captains-simp]

Ummmmm........

Can I have Yelena Belova "I'll stay as long as you need me too" or Fluff number 3?

I think i got the right prompt but it's definitely fluff.

If you still are accepting these requests and you haven't already done this one yet.

Chskdjks I didn't think anyone was actually going to request anything, this sparks so much joy (all of the requests are amazing and I'm working on them all). Soft Yelena let's gooooo

"I'll stay as long as you need me to."

Warnings: injury detail and my extreme lack of knowledge regarding medical treatment

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hearing someone knocking at your door at 11:48 pm was never something you took much comfort in. Especially when there was no previous heads up about it.

You considered not opening door, telling yourself to continue watching your show and not think about the fact that you didn't live in the best neighbourhood.

When the knocking continued you wondered if you should call someone, anyone, but the faint and very much strained sound of your friend's voice had you sprinting across the apartment to open the door.

Yelena was leaning against the door frame, frighteningly pale and looking as tired as someone who had just fought a war on their own. Given her line of work you guessed you weren't that far off.

"Lena you...what happened?" Your eyes fell to her stomach where she was holding her blood stained shirt. You felt faint imagining how bad of an injury she had sustained.

You stumbled backwards and motioned for her to come in before you shut the door behind her and rushed to the bathroom to get your well-stocked first aid kit.

You had meant to go back to the front door to help Yelena into the bathroom but she had already made her way towards you.

"I love that you have such a small appartment." She breathed out. You smiled weakly and supported her weight as you helped her manage the final few steps to your bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub.

"You should be thankful for the friend that owns it too." You joked as you knelt down infront of her.

"I am." Yelena was quick to say. "I really am." You smiled up at her took her hands away from her shirt before you slowly peeled it away to expose the gun shot wound. You took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of it.

"You need to go to a hospital." You said as you tried to examine it without causing your friend any extra discomfort.

"I can't." You knew better than to push that. It no doubt had something to do with her mission, which meant you weren't allowed to know.

Yelena had never made it a habit of coming to you for medical assistance - especially as you weren't a doctor or nurse. The first time you had done so was when you picked up on her strained walk. You kept bugging her about it until she finally showed you the gash on her calf. It had been easy to clean and healed quickly. After that was a deep cut on her arm, then a burn on her back, then another cut. All of which you noticed. It was only when the injuries were bad that Yelena asked for your help. Too stubborn to ask anyone else and smart enough to know she needed assistance.

You never told Yelena, but you had gone out of your way to learn a little more than the basics on dealing with injuries. Once or twice you had to sneak away from her in your bathroom to double check one of your books to make sure you were doing everything right. Whenever she asked how you knew so much you made up some lie about watching a lot of TV...okay so maybe that wasn't a complete lie.

"Where's the bullet?" You asked, confused by the absence of an exit wound.

"I took it out." Yelena mumbled, she was starting to look worse now.

"Yelena!" You scolded. "No wonder you're bleeding so much." Yelena knew better than to do that but you decided you would investigate that further another day.

You placed a cloth against the wound and held it there with one hand and bit your lip as you glanced up at her.

She's lost a lot of blood...really needs a hospital...are stitches enough?

You didn't want to leave Yelena's side for a second to check one of your books. You weren't sure stitches would cut it, the wound should have been cauterized but you had no experience with that and didn't want to try your luck. Stitches would have to do.

You prepared the needle and thread as Yelena held onto the cloth. Your hand was shaking slightly in anxiety over the situation. You wanted to hear about the mission, about who shot the blonde you cared for so deeply. She wasn't meant to tell you anything, but you needed to hear her voice and it would help her stay conscious so you tried.

"Did you get the jackass who shot you?" You asked as you started to hold the skin in place. Yelena hissed sharply before speaking.

"Of course." Even bleeding out she was smug, what else would you expect from her?

"Mmm, and the mission was a success?"

"It was." You were surprised at the confirmation. "Besides getting shot." She added. You had been trying to keep her attention off of that fact.

Yelena gripped the bathtub tightly and groaned. There had been no time for anaesthetic.

"Almost done." You assured.

You stayed in a concentrated silence as you finished the last stitch. It wasn't perfect, but you had done a good job.

You got up to get a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and handed them to Yelena with a glass of water. She waved them away at first until she begrudgingly accepted them after a firm look from you.

You carefully cleaned the blood off of her stomach with half a dozen wipes and placed a dressing over the wound as gently as you could manage. It would need constant attention for a while and you could only hope that Yelena would stay with you in that time. You wanted her by your side until she was well. You wanted her by your side when she recovered too. That was a convosation you weren't ready for.

"Thank you, y/n." Yelena said as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Let's get you to bed." You said, lifting her arm over your shoulder again to help her up.

"No, you don't have to-"

"Doctor's orders." You insisted, not in the mood to deal with Yelena's stubborness when she could have bled out in your bathroom. There was still a chance that could happen. She could sense your slightly agitated tone - she was superspy and your best friend of years, so of course she could.

"Not a doctor." She muttered as you guided her to your room. You rolled your eyes but didn't manage to stop the small smile creeping onto the corner of your mouth.

"I'll take the couch." She made a move to separate from you but you held onto her waist perhaps a little too desperately to lead her to your room.

"No way."

"It's your house." Yelena said, trying to look at you but you kept your eyes forward, afraid of what she would discover when she read you.

"Then we'll both take the bed." You sighed. Yelena managed a sly smile at your words and you gently nudged her side as you sat her down on your bed. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before." You said that to yourself more than Yelena, trying not to think about how close you would be during the night and how that would probably keep you awake.

You handed her a spare pair of pajamas and went to leave for the bathroom to change and clean away when you noticed her struggle.

"Let me." You muttered in the least pitiful and condescending tone you could, knowing if she thought she heard some she would reject any further help from you. She nodded so you lifted the stained shirt over her head as carefully as you could, using her breathing patterns as a guide to tell you if she had any discomfort.

"You want that off too?" You motioned to her sports bra and averted your eyes a little too obviously from her toned stomach.

Yelena huffed when she noticed the sports bra, clearly thinking about how much of a literal pain it would be to get off.

"Just get me some scissors." You nodded and grabbed some from your desk and handed them to her, instantly turning on your heals to leave to avoid a sight that would be stuck in you head for the rest of your life.

God, y/n. Don't be such a perv. You mentally scolded as you cleaned and cleared everything away before quickly getting into your pajamas.

You knocked on your bedroom door and heard Yelena tell you you could come in.

Her discarded and very much ruined beyond saving clothes were in a surprisingly neat pile on the floor, you would deal with that the next day.

Yelena was wearing one of your shirts, which looked much better on her, and hadn't bothered with the pajama bottoms. You gulped as you realised you would be sleeping next to her in that.

"You always have your heating on way too high." Yelena mumbled, you smiled sheepishly and let the complaint go as she was clearly not having the best of days.

"I get-"

"Cold easily. I know." Yelena smiled knowingly at you as she pulled the covers over herself and layed on her side facing your side of the bed. You got in next to her and mirrored her position.

"Please don't go disappearing as soon as I fall asleep." You said with a slight pout. It wasn't like she hadn't done that before.

"I'll stay as long as you need me to." Yelena smiled reassuringly at you. You wanted to believe that, but it seemed much more likely that you would wake up without Yelena next to you the next day.

The blonde must have picked up on your skepticalism, she placed a gentle hand on your hip and the other snaked around your back. Together, they pulled you closer to her slowly until you were pressed against Yelena as she moved onto her back. One of her legs even tangled around yours to keep you close.

You didn't move for a moment, almost not trusting yourself, but eventually you gave in to what you were craving and rested your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms firmly around her.

Her familiar scent engulfed you in a way that was much more reassuring than her words. This was amplified when Yelena kept her hand on your hip while the other combed through the top of your hair in the most comforting gesture you had ever seen from her much less received. You felt yourself sink into her more as you fully relaxed.

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips. Nor could you ignore the butterflies throwing a rave in your stomach. It definetly didn't help you get a handle on your ever-growing feelings for your friend, but there was no way you were going to pull away from the embrace.

In the warmth and security of Yelena's comfort it didn't take long for sleep to overtake you. You knew she was safe, as you kept brushing your fingers lightly across the part of her shirt concealing the dressing, and you knew she was there with you. It put your mind at rest better than anything else ever had.

But just as you slipped into your deep sleep you could have sworn you felt Yelena's soft lips on your forehead.

Maybe there was a chance you could fall asleep in her arms more often and maybe it could be when she was unharmed. You were unsure about a lot of things in life, but that was something you felt confident on.

And rightly so.

[mianavs]

making amends

part 10 of Cathexis

a/n: relationship development...and that’s pretty much it. currently planning the next arc that’ll include a troupe of characters

wc: 2.1k+

Cathexis 

No matter how many ways you looked at it, Hisoka had once again manipulated you into meeting him using Illumi as an excuse. The only difference now was that you knew more about him than you had during your encounter in Swardani and wouldn’t make the same mistake twice—or at least that’s what you told yourself during your flight to Heaven’s Arena.

After hours of fighting the urge, you pulled out your phone and reread the message he’d sent you.

[Come to Heaven’s Arena and I’ll let Illumi know that you want to meet with him ♥]

Unbidden memories of your night with Hisoka came to mind. The pleasure and pain he gave you. The heat during your coupling and coldness afterwards. The logic-defying lust and numb detachment. The conflicting emotions of that night mirrored your relationship with the magician—you knew he was dangerous yet you couldn’t stay away.

You put your phone away and with it any lingering thoughts on Hisoka to direct your focus on the purpose behind your trip—apologizing to Illumi.

Of course, you didn’t have to apologize to him since he was completely oblivious to your falling out with your brother, but you needed to rid yourself of the guilt you felt when his face came to mind. In addition to eliminating your guilt, the apology would serve as proof of your differences; you were open-minded and understanding whereas Illumi was stubborn and cold. That was the logic behind your reasoning yet the possibility of you two bonding over your similar situations crossed your mind throughout the remainder of your flight.

The glaring lights of Heaven’s Arena against the dark backdrop of the night sky guided you to the tall building where you had first met Hisoka a couple of months ago. You couldn’t believe how naïve you’d been at the time, treating your investigation on Illumi as a hobby when in reality your connection with him went back two generations with your grandfather and Zeno Zoldyck. Yet despite the anger and frustration over the situation, your relationship with Illumi deepened to the point that you thought about him from time to time and forced yourself to travel to a different continent just to meet with him.

The arena was as busy as ever with fighters and spectators alike crowding the hallways, restaurants, and shops. It had once been a place that filled you with excitement but now only reminded you of the fateful encounter that changed your life—whether it’d been for better or worse you couldn’t exactly say.

Upon getting off the elevator on Hisoka’s floor, you made your way towards his suite number when you saw a short pink-haired woman with a sack slung over her shoulder exit a room. For whatever reason, you suspected the room she’d left was Hisoka’s and that suspicion grew ten-fold when she shot you a knowing look. Your mouth opened to say something but the woman passed you wordlessly and left you no choice but to swallow the question that’d been on the tip of your tongue.

Sure enough you stopped in front of the room she’d exited out of and looked towards the elevator but the woman was already gone. You took a deep breath and shifted your focus back to dealing with Hisoka before knocking twice on his door. It swung open almost immediately and you wondered if he’d been waiting for you at the door—If he’d told his prior guest about you.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” Hisoka drawled, his eyes drinking you in from head to toe before stepping aside to let you in. “I’d been waiting patiently for your arrival.”

You entered swiftly and pretended to look around his suite while putting some distance between the two of you. “Yeah, I could tell. I hope I didn’t interrupt a prior engagement with the guest that just left.”

Hisoka’s mouth stretched into a smile, “Oh, her? No, we finished our business before your arrival.”

“That’s good,” you replied and turned to face him. “You must be tired after finishing your…business, so I’ll let you rest. Let Illumi know that I’m here and want to meet with him tomo-”

You broke off when Hisoka took three large steps toward you and effectively backed you against a wall with an amused grin on his face. His close proximately allowed you to see his still-wet pink tresses that clumped together at the ends and smelled the sweetness of his soap that still lingered on his skin.

“You’re mistaken, Y/N. I didn’t sleep with her-”

“Forget it. Who you sleep with really isn’t my business.” You cut in and pressed a hand to his chest with enough force to gently push him away. Hisoka’s smile only faltered for an instant before caressing the spot on his chest where your hand had been. You rolled your eyes and sidestepped him to head towards the door

“Since Illumi isn’t here, I’ll head ou-”

“I didn’t sleep with Machi but I believe Illumi did.”

Your head snapped to him and you spoke without thinking. “What did you say?”

Hisoka let out a low chuckle at your fierce reaction. “So that’s how it is, huh? Does it bother you that much knowing Illumi slept with another woman?”

His words shook you to your core when you realized how your little outburst appeared to an onlooker like Hisoka. Your eyes widened before you looked away, taking a couple breaths to calm down before you spoke. “Who Illumi fucks isn’t my business either.”

“When it comes to Illumi, you really are a bad liar. Not a good thing for a Transmuter, you know.”

Hisoka’s face darkened and a vicious look reflected on his golden eyes that sent chills down your spine. In that moment, the apprehension you felt the first time you met him returned. You averted your gaze when Hisoka’s bloodlust seeped out, poking and prodding at the Nen barrier you put up.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hisoka.” With that you left the unnerving magician and buried all thoughts of Illumi and that Machi woman in the darkest recesses of your mind.

The entire way to Hisoka’s suite the next morning, you rehearsed the words you’d say to Illumi when you saw him and even went as far as to plan the events that would take place. You would greet the two of them, ask to speak with Illumi alone, leave Hisoka, and head to some random café to converse privately where you’d quickly apologize and then leave.

That had been the plan yet when Illumi was the one to greet you at the door, your mouth went dry and all you could do was stare helplessly at the assassin.

All it took was a glance at him for you to realize he’d just finished up a mission. His clothes were covered in dirt and dotted with blood while his hair was matted and pulled into a loose bun. There was also the slightest hint of weariness on his face that you’d seen on him at the mansion after he returned from his mission.

“Did you just finish a job?”

The question tumbled out of your mouth as you crossed the doorway and turned around to face Illumi while he closed the door behind you.

“I did. Hisoka said you wanted to see me, so I came as soon as I could.” Illumi stated, fixing you a quizzical look.

“Morning, Y/N.” Hisoka’s lilting voice rang out, but you ignored him and remained focused on Illumi.

“You’re not hurt are you?” You asked and took a step towards him while your eyes scanned his entire body for cuts or patches of blood on his clothes.

Illumi’s brow furrowed ever-so slightly but he shook his head. “I’m fine. Why did you want to meet?”

You opened your mouth to answer but remembered your plan and turned to address the magician instead. “We’ll be leaving first. Thank you for arranging this, Hisoka.”

Not waiting for him to respond, you grabbed Illumi by the wrist and exited Hisoka’s suite without sparing the magician a glance.

It wasn’t until you reached the elevator that Illumi spoke. “Where are we going?”

You wondered the same thing, but when your eyes glanced at Illumi’s clothes, the answer came to you. “My hotel. You look like you could use a shower and a meal. We’ll talk afterwards.”

Illumi didn’t say anything and just stared at you with those wide, black eyes of his that fascinated and unnerved you all at once. The elevator ding broke your trance and the two of you stepped inside. The entire elevator ride, you ignored the voice in your head that protested bringing Illumi to your hotel room.

The walk to your hotel was filled with inquiries over Illumi’s preferred food to which he responded with “anything is fine”, so you made a mental list of decent take-out places nearby. The two of you passed by a clothing store and you almost stopped to go in until you realized how ridiculous that would make you look. In the end, you took Illumi’s clothes while he showered and handed it to the concierge to get them dry-cleaned immediately, making sure to include a handsome tip.

By the time Illumi finished, his clothes were clean and hanging from the bathroom door while you set up the food that’d been delivered a few minutes prior. You were pouring juice into two cups when he stepped out of the bathroom along with a cloud of steam.

So he also likes hot showers

He looked more like the Illumi you were used to seeing with clean clothes and blow-dried hair that swayed with each step. When you met his gaze and realized he’d caught you staring, you averted your gaze to the food before you and took a seat while he followed suit.

After making sure Illumi swallowed three bites of food, you spoke. “How is Killua?”

A dull half smile appeared on Illumi’s face but his voice was as apathetic as ever. “He didn’t pass the exam but I did.”

The juice went down the wrong pipe and you coughed into your napkin as you fixed Illumi a bewildered look. “Y-you…why?

“For the job I just finished and to placate Mother. He might have even passed if he’d gotten a different opponent in the last trial.”

You thought back on how excited Killua seemed to take the exam and shook your head lightly before taking another bite of food.

“How was your brother?” Illumi asked off-handedly and you tensed up instantly with goosebumps erupting on your skin. It shouldn’t have been a surprise he knew you’d gone home, but the fact that he specifically mentioned your brother made you paranoid. Illumi’s face revealed nothing as he stared at you with mild amusement before the corners of his mouth turned downward the longer his eyes remained on your face.

“Good. He’s healthy and strong even though-” you trailed off and lowered your gaze to think over what you wanted to say. “He told me he didn’t want to be a hunter after years of intense training. It was a huge shock to me and we ended up having an argument.”

Illumi’s brow quirked but he remained silent while you squirmed in your seat.

“Look, I-I wanted to apologize for judging you the way I did about Killua rebelling and taking the Hunter Exam. It was hypocritical of me since I reacted similarly when my brother told me he wanted to be doctor instead of a hunter. I understand now why you’re so against Killua straying from his path because my brother is also my father’s heir and if he gives up being a hunter then our family’s legacy will be over.”

Per usual, Illumi’s face didn’t betray whatever he was feeling. The only indicator he’d listened to you were his eyes that studied your face for a minute before he opened his mouth to speak.

“I suppose I also owe you an apology for what I said over the phone.” Illumi admitted before taking a sip of juice. “You’re not an outsider. You’re my betrothed and you deserve respect.”

The statement should have made your stomach turn like your first conversation with him in York New. Instead your heart fluttered and there was a tightness in your chest as you searched his face for any indication he was joking, but it was Illumi and he meant every word.

“I- thank you,” you replied after collecting yourself and turned your attention to the half-eaten food on your plate.

“We should finish eating before the food gets cold.” You laughed awkwardly and glanced up in time to see the faintest smile playing on Illumi’s lips.

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 17: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: Things get pretty intense in this chapter in a lot of ways. I can't be detailed without spoiling the events of the chapter, so I'll put more the general warnings in the tags. If you want more specific warnings you can click the link above and go to the Ao3 page where I’ve posted the spoiler filled warnings in the bottom notes. And if anyone feels like I didn’t tag/warn about something that I should have please let me know. This is your warning, here be dragons, proceed with caution.

There was a stain in the carpet, from coffee if he had to guess. A dark brown spot glaringly obvious against the beige. It looked just big enough for his hand to cover.

“Jim, are you listening?”

He jerked his eyes up from the floor towards the desk in front of him.

“Sorry what was that?”

Her lips turned downwards into a tiny frown “We were discussing your goals Jim,”

“Oh, right….” he drummed his fingers against his knees. 

A goal. Jim had still been trying to think of one when he zoned out looking at the carpet.

Couldn’t do any kind of job or college, those weren’t happening for him. She’d said their goals could be as long term or short term as they wanted, so maybe--

“My goal is to buy my own Vespa,” Jim said, giving himself a mental pat on the back as he did.

Owning his own Vespa. Nice, realistic, normal. A good, solid goal that no one should look twice at.

The frown melted away into a wide smile “That’s great, do you have anywhere you want to go in your Vespa?”

His face blanked, stomach dropping no less than two inches.

Stupid. 

People wanted cars and Vespas and stuff because they wanted to go places in them. Unlike Jim who was never going to leave his hometown.

“Ummm…..not sure, all the places I normally go I guess,” he forced his voice to stay even despite the squirming in his belly.

Her porcelain smile remained fixed in place “I think that sounds like an excellent goal, but how about you try to think of a more long term goal before the end of the school year?”

Jim nodded along, digging his fingers into his jeans to distract himself from the hot, fluttery feeling sweeping over his entire body.

Was she suspicious? Did she pick up on how he wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere? Was she going to call Dorrie the second he left her office?

“Ok, long term goal next time, I can do that,”

Beaming at him, she pulled a packet of papers off the top of the pile sitting on her desk “You don’t have to use the guide to pick a goal, but if you have trouble thinking of one these should give you some ideas, now do you mind sending in the next student on your way out?”

Jim forced himself to stand up slowly and not just bolt out the door “Ok, no problem,”

“Thanks, have a good spring break,”

He managed to smile and give a half hearted ‘You to’ as he accepted the papers and stepped out of the office. Heading down the hallway back to the main waiting room, the jittery feeling crawling through his muscles diminishing but not completely going away. 

It never did.

Glancing around the waiting room, he spotted the next person in line.

“Eli, you’re up,”

Eli fumbled with the magazine in his hands before popping up out of his seat “Oh, thanks Jim,” he grabbed the magazine along with a stack of others from the floor before rushing down the hall. Jim craned his head to try and read the cover before Eli vanished around the corner.

Keep So-Cal Weird.

Jim rolled his eyes as he exited the main office. At least his goals wouldn’t be as weird as Eli’s. Although quite frankly he’d rather live in a world where they didn’t make freshmen discuss their goals with the guidance counselors.

It wasn’t like Jim didn’t have enough on his plate already.

He had no idea if guidance counselors and social workers talked to each other on a regular basis, but he had to play it safe and act like they did.

Especially since he was like 99% sure that all the teachers knew. He knew that Strickler knew, and he was pretty sure that Strickler had told all the other teachers. So it was more like he was 99.999% sure they all knew, and the 0.001% was just him kidding himself.

So now he couldn’t even come up with some kind of goals to give the guidance counselor without his anxiety going through the roof.

Jim all but threw his bag into the locker and slammed it closed with much more force than was needed, unable to stop himself from getting worked up. 

This past month had been the absolute worst of his entire life. 

It had started when he’d walked in on Dorrie and Charles going through their house and it hadn’t really improved since. 

When he and his mom had gone over their game plan that night after the initial panic it hadn’t seemed all that bad. Be extra vigilant about making sure that no one saw anything weird and otherwise pretend that everything was normal. If they kept on top of it the investigation should fizzle out to nothing. 

Simple enough.

And the first week hadn’t been all that bad, tense but not bad. Week two had been nerve wracking but doable. Week three was when he really started having trouble sleeping, and it wasn’t like he got tons of sleep to begin with. That snowballed to him starting to forget late night meals and nod off during the day, having to work even harder at keeping up the act during school. 

Although if Jim was honest with himself he forgot most of those night time meals on purpose.

On top of that, week four was when he developed a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away, not to mention learned that his hair was falling out. Now it was the end of week five and Jim couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t stressed out, dead tired, and constantly felt like rats were chewing on his insides.

Grimacing, Jim pressed a hand to his stomach as he turned and headed to the cafeteria. Feeling sick and exhausted all the time sucked, but that was nothing compared to the everpresent, unrelenting, blood curdling dread.

The fear that he’d somehow let something slip. That right at this moment someone was coming to arrest his mom and take him away. All because of something Jim said or did.

Forget walking on eggshells, this was more like crawling through a minefield.

Every second that Jim was outside his house he had to be on guard; keeping himself under complete control at all times. Making sure that anyone watching, teachers, nurses, other classmates, wouldn’t see anything worth reporting. No outbursts no meltdowns no nothing.

As far as anyone else knew the Lakes were a normal, happy family. And Jim had to act like it.

But after five weeks he knew that was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

Jim couldn’t be sad or scared or angry any more, even about regular things. With so many people watching he couldn’t afford to let them get the wrong idea. So regardless of what he was actually feeling at any given time, he forced himself to stay calm, plastered on a happy face, and continued along like everything was fine.

But he wasn’t fine. Underneath his plastic smile Jim was coming apart at the seams.

He felt like a nerve with all the skin and muscle ripped away. Exposed to the cold air and completely vulnerable, ready to go off at the slightest touch.

Constantly keeping himself under control in front of all the teachers and every other adult in school was was bad enough, even without--

Jim stopped short as he stepped into the cafeteria, instantly spotting them sitting at a corner table. Five weeks ago the sight would have been somewhat soothing, now it was enough to make his heartbeat triple and intestines knot up.

Pulling in a shaky breath, Jim forced down the sudden bout of nerves. 

He was in the middle of school in the middle of the cafeteria surrounded by other people. Now was not the time to lose it. 

Five in. Hold for five. Five out.

Repeat

After a minute of deep breathing the full body shivers finally diminished to a much more manageable fluttering in his chest. Confident that he’d successfully gotten his emotions under control, Jim raised a foot and slowly resumed his approach.

Jim had been going back and forth about doing this for weeks, but this morning cinched it. 

He was doing this. Today. Right here right now. Even if the idea of doing it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. 

Because the worst part of the past month hadn’t been constantly being on guard or always being tired and nauseous. It was not knowing who’d he had to be on guard from.

A month ago, when he’d walked in on CPS in his house, Jim instantly knew one of his friends had blabbed.

While his immediate response had been to call Toby and demand answers, it didn’t take very long for Jim to shift gears to shoving the thought into the back of his mind and keeping it there. Couldn’t do anything to change it so there was no point to shoving his foot into that hornets nest. A with the way things had blown up when their problems with his mom first came out, forcing the issue might put him on the odds with all of them, and cost Jim the one part of his life that didn’t actively suck right now. The only thing to do was let it go.

So Jim let it go.

But as the weeks went by, despite how much he actively tried not to think about it, small doubts kept sprouting up in the back of his mind like weeds.

Did Mary really mean it when she asked how he was doing or was she fishing?

Was Toby trying to be helpful by offering to help carry groceries in or was he looking for a chance to spy inside the house?

His heart shot up into his throat, pounding as he closed in on the table.

And while Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them that called, he still had no idea who it was. That meant he didn’t know who it wasn’t either.

So as much as he tried, as much as he wanted to, Jim could never completely relax around any of his friends.

It was bad enough being on edge with every single adult in his life, but not knowing which one of his friends had stabbed him in the back, and worse not knowing if they were waiting to do it again…..

Jim stopped in his tracks, table just inches away. The four of them chatting away, his presence still unnoticed. Heartbeat hammering in his ears.

This was going to be ugly but Jim just couldn’t take not knowing any more. One way or another the truth was coming out today.

“I know one of you called the cops on my mom, so who was it?”

The four of them practically jumped in their seats before whirling around to face him. Claire was the first to find her tongue.

“What?” 

Her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. An expression shared by all the others sitting around her.

Somehow that made the lump of coal sitting in his ribcage smolder hotter even as his heart was threatening to beat out of it.

One of them knew exactly what he was talking about. One of them was only pretending to be confused.  

“A month ago someone called CPS on my mom and I know it was one of you,” he made a show of narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms “So don’t try to deny it,”

They all turned and looked at each other, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. 

Jim stood his ground, mouth set into a firm line and prickling doubts shoved down into the bottoms of his feet. There it was, the accusation out in the open. Whoever it was might try to deny it, but Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them, and he wasn’t going to let them weasel their way out of--

“Jim….” Toby spoke slowly, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away “We….all did,”

His heart stopped.

For a moment Jim wasn’t sure how to respond, wondering if he’d actually heard Toby correctly, then the world slowly started to turn again and the words sank in.

“.....you what?”

“It’s true,” he snapped his gaze over to Darci, she flinched but didn’t look away “After we tried...talking to you, the three of us went to my dad and showed him the photos,” she glanced over to Toby at her side “It was only after that we learned Toby also talked to someone about--”

Jim whirled on Mary “I thought you said you deleted those?!”

“I-- uh-- umm…” she squirmed in her seat “I....made…...copies,”

Jim’s jaw fell open, unable to form words.

Out of all the possibilities, all the theories and ideas he’d had on who might have called, he’d never even dreamed that they’d all been in on it together.

His head was spinning, insides frozen and a roaring sound in his ears. Both hands rising up and fisiting through his hair, in a distant part of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be doing that since it was still falling out.

Just when he’d thought there couldn’t be anything else. That life couldn’t possibly throw anything worse at him--

Things became worse than he ever could have imagined.

He was faintly aware that the four of them were glancing around at each other from across the cafeteria table “Ok,” Claire laid both hands flat in front of her palms down “You have every right to be mad at us, but…”

Jim tuned her out, he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to whatever Claire was saying when his world was going to pieces right now. 

He thought that when he figured out who had been the one to call CPS he could call them out for lying and get the rest of the group to back him up. That he’d figure out who he could actually feel safe with and finally be able to fix at least one part of his completely messed up life.

But it hadn’t been one of them, it had been all of them. They’d torn his life apart and kept it a secret. They lied to him. Every day. For over a month.

Heat shot through him, flooding through his whole body until it felt like every ounce of blood in his veins was boiling. 

It was his friends all along. All of them. They threw him and his mom under the bus and then they lied about it.

All the fear, all the worry. His inability to sleep or keep food down, the fact that his hair was falling out.

It was all because of them.

For the first time in weeks Jim wasn’t scared, he was pissed as hell.

“I can’t believe you guys!”

They all jerked back, eyes wide, shocked at the volume of his outburst.

“All of you knew about this,” Jim felt nails stabbing into his palms from the force he was clenching his hands “And you lied to me about it for over a month!? How could you!?”

He was spitefully glad to see them all flinch and look deeply ashamed at that.

“Look Jim,” Toby started to speak “I know you must be angry, but--”

He shriveled into silence under the glare Jim gave him.

How dare he. How dare he try and pretend like any of this was ok. The girls he could sort of see, but Toby was practically family. His mom had done more for Toby than anyone else would have in the same situation.

And Toby had still sold them out, with Claire, Darci, and Mary giving a helping hand.

Jim slowly turned to glare at each of them, the heat rushing over him blazing even hotter as he saw their pained faces and slumped shoulders.

Had they had secret meetings talking about this without him, had they laughed, snickering about being able to keep him fooled for so long.

Somehow a cold dribble of guilt managed to seep in past the white hot fire in his belly. 

Even as blindingly furious as he was, for both himself and his mom, deep down Jim knew that wasn’t true. The reason they made the call was because they felt they had no choice. 

They hadn’t done this as a joke, they were worried, they’d done this because they were scared for him. They’d done this because they wanted to help.

But despite knowing that, despite knowing that he was taking this too far and was going to regret everything he was saying as soon as he cooled off, Jim was too angry to care.

“I told you guys. My mom. Doesn’t. Hurt me.” he got louder and louder with every word, until he was practically shouting, the raging inferno inside him demanding to be set free “Don’t you get it? She could get arrested because of this, I could get taken away. Did you even think about that at all!?”

Toby shot up out of his seat with a bang, cutting off Jim’s tirade. Glancing up at him out of sheer reflex, he saw that Toby had the edge of the table in a whiteknuclekd grip, every muscle in his body taut and trembling, eyes sharp as knives.

“No Jim. You don’t get to do that.” his voice was cold and harder than steel, harder than anything he’d ever heard coming out of Toby’s mouth “You don’t get to drop bombs like your mom locking you in the basement and expect us to pretend like everything’s ok. And you don’t get to act like we’re the bad guys for trying to help you,”

Jim found himself taking an involuntary step back. He’d never heard Toby this angry. Ever.

Prying his hands free, Toby stomped around the table towards him, Jim pinned in place under his molten gaze “You don’t get to talk about lying when you were the one who’s been lying all along. When you’ve been lying to me for years!”

“Tobes I--”

One look from Toby shut him up.

“But now you want to play honesty hour? Fine, we’ll play honesty hour. How did you really get those scars on your ankle?”

The bottom fell out of Jim’s stomach, taking every remaining drop of anger with it.

“.........what?”

“Well?” Toby stopped two feet away, green eyes boring holes into him “Go on, tell me, where did those scars come from?”

Jim couldn’t do anything but gape at him. The rehearsed answer, they came from a fox bite, sat in the back of his throat withering.

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Only two people in the world knew the truth. The act done in the dim of the early dawn in the middle of a remote forest.

Don’t worry sweetie, it's a sterile blade. A few quick cuts and a bandage on top should get you all the shots you need, no questions asked.

There was no way for Toby to know, but the look in his eyes told Jim that he did. 

“How-- how--” he struggled to get the words out “How do you--” 

Darci gingerly slid out of her seat to come stand next to Toby “Ok let’s all just take a deep breath and relax for a second,” she glanced over, her expression cool and professional, no longer holding any trace of guilt “Jim, I’m sorry we lied about what we did but I’m not sorry for doing it,”

“Darci’s right,” Mary stood and approached, Claire at her side “And we all agreed, what’s going on with your mom….that’s not ok, and we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I know your mom was probably really messed up when your dad walked out, but that doesn’t mean--”

The words hit him like a fist to the gut “How do you know about that!?”

Mary shut her mouth, cheeks pink.  

By now everyone in the cafeteria was turning and looking at them. And who could blame them with all the yelling. Jim knew that this was exactly the type of scene he needed to avoid, but all the emotions boiling up in his chest were too enormous and tangled and turbulent for him to make space to care about their audience.

Claire took half a step forward “Look Jim, I’m sorry we lied to you about reporting your mom, that was messed up and we shouldn’t have done it, but...” she inhaled, drawing herself up to full, regal height “But we wouldn’t have had to report her behind your back if you had just let us help you in the first place,”

“Yeah, you don’t get to talk to us about lying,” he spun back towards Mary. Hands on her hips, eyes narrowed into diamond hard points “If you had been honest with us from the beginning we wouldn’t have had to lie about anything,”

Toby stepped to the front of the group, arms folded in front of him “To more tricks or lies. We need the truth Jim. The whole truth, about everything. The scars, the basement, your curfew,” his expression was granite, voice flint “Right here, right now.”

Jim staggered back, furiously glancing at each of their faces. Claire and Darci were stern and unmoving as statues, while Toby and Mary were full on glaring daggers into him.

How was this possible? How did they know all this?

He couldn’t get enough air, chest tight as he shrunk under the weight of the four sets of eyes on him.

What else did they know? If they knew about the scars and his dad and the basement, what else did they know? And how close were they to learning….the rest?

The one tiny, microscopic flicker of hope Jim had was that he knew that they still didn’t know about….his real secret. 

If they did they sure as hell wouldn’t be quiet about it.

But how close were they to figuring it out? They’d figured so much out already, it was probably only a matter of time.

And if this was how they responded to everything else, how would they react to learning that Jim was really a--

Icy daggers twisted in his gut.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

He needed out now.

Jim turned and bolted, running out of the cafeteria as fast as his legs could carry him. Barely aware of his friends’ shouts from behind him. But he couldn’t outrun the panicked screaming in his skull.

They knew about his mom locking him up, they knew about how his dad left, they knew how he really got the scars on his ankle. Sooner or later they would figure out that Jim was the monster all along and when they did--

Throughout the years ideas of what would happen if people learned about his transformation had always flickered at the edge of his thoughts. Jim had done his best to force them out of his head and keep them from taking full shape, but now every horrible, twisted thought he’d had over the years surged to the front of his mind and refused to be buried.

If anyone learned his secret it was only a matter of time until the government found out, and when they did they wouldn’t just let him run free. Jim’s blue form was an unknown; wild, dangerous. At the very least they’d lock him in a cell and throw away the key. Or maybe they would send him off to some secret lab to get dissected and analyzed piece by piece.

His breath became choppy and ragged as he raced down the hall.

Or maybe Jim was too dangerous to leave alive at all, maybe they’d drag him away for a long drive into the desert that ended with a bullet to the back of his skull.

And his mom-- 

A jagged lump spouted in his throat.

Would they lock her up to? For keeping his secret as long as she did. But she hadn’t broken any laws, maybe they’d just leave her alone? But then would they even tell her what they did with him? Or would she be left sitting alone in their house not knowing what happened to him while Jim sat in a prison cell, or got chopped to pieces in a lab, or rotted in an unmarked grave.

He could barely see the lockers rushing by him as heat built up behind his eyes. He was trembling all over now, blood rushing in his ears and scream building in the back of his throat.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

Jim was going to break down, he knew that. But he couldn’t let it happen in the middle of school. Not now, not again. Had to get out, go home, get somewhere safe.

Right now his secret was still under wraps, and the only way for Jim to keep those horrific ideas from becoming reality was to keep it that way.

And that meant not having another public meltdown.

Ignoring the sound of the bell, signalling other kids to start streaming into the hall, Jim scrambled up to his locker and started fumbling with the lock.

Despite his badly trembling hands he managed to get the locker open and pull his bag free, but in his haste to grab it the bag started slipping from his grip. Jim just barely caught the side in time to keep it from falling, but in doing so accidentally pulled the bag open, causing everything inside to spill out.

Jim could only watch in horror as textbooks clunked to the ground, papers scattering all over the floor, pens and pencils rolling in every direction. Insides curdling as he stared at the mess.

Why now? Why today of all days? On top of everything else--

His eyes stung.

Why couldn’t he just get a break?

Trying and failing to force himself through his breathing exercises, Jim got down on his knees and struggled to gather the contents of his bag.

Somehow his efforts to gather the papers just spread them even more, the task made impossible by how badly he was shaking all over, breath coming in quick, quivering pants, teeth digging into his lip until he tasted copper, a storm roiling just beneath his skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing a textbook and clenching his fingers around it so tight they hurt.

Get it together. Get it together. Get it together.

“Oh my god are you crying again?”

Jim froze, inside and out, eyes shooting open to stare down at two of his pencils and the textbook he’d just grabbed off the floor. Familiar snide, smarmy voice coming from behind him.

“Dude he totally is!” Seamus said with a laugh “This is too good,”

Jim couldn’t move, nerves paralyzed. Every drop of emotion he’d had to deal with today, shock, anger, fear, and guilt, surging through him.

“Awww what’s the matter baby?” Steve jeered “Do you want a bottle?”

Seamus and Logan’s laughter echoed in his ears. From the corner of his eye he saw the traffic around them slowing as other people stopped and stared. He couldn’t feel his fingers any more, curled into rigid claws around the edges of the book.

And just like that Jim was done.

He threw his textbook against the lockers as hard as he could, unleashing a thunderous boom into the hall.

“Fuck off Steve!”

Steve, along with Logan, Seamus, and everyone else milling around in the hallway behind him, froze “What did you just say Lake?”

“You heard me Steve,” Jim growled, stomping to his feet “Fuck. Off.”

Normally he would never lose his cool with Steve, the guy just wasn’t worth it, but after everything that had happened today, everything that had happened over the last month, he just couldn’t take it any more.

And Steve thought he was such a hot shot; popular, spot on the basketball team, grades good enough to keep it but not so good to be considered a nerd. But Jim knew a lot more than Steve thought he did.

Recovering from his surprise at Jim’s outburst, Steve gave him his best sneer “Alright Crybaby you got about ten seconds to get down on your knees and apologize before I break your--”

“Oh can it Steve, like you have any business calling me crybaby when you were the one bawling in the locker room about how your daddy couldn’t come watch your big game!” Jim practically spat the words.

The smug look on Steve’s face vanished, eyes going wide and the color leeching from his skin “Wha-- how-- how did--”

“Since you can’t seem to figure it out I’ll spell it out for you, your dad doesn’t give a shit about you or your basketball games! And if you really want to make him happy go play in traffic so he doesn’t have to pay child support!”

A hush went through the crowded hall. Semus’s eyes were bugging out and Logan looked absolutely petrified; Steve himself was wearing the most hang-jawed expression Jim had ever seen.

More and more people were gathering around now, drawn by all the commotion. Jim knew it was bad to be drawing this kind of attention, especially after the stunt he just pulled on the cafeteria, but the dam inside him had burst and it felt so so good to finally let it all out.

Let someone else have the rug pulled out from under them. Let someone else feel exposed and vulnerable. Let someone else have their deepest darkest secrets thrown back in their face.

Let someone else be afraid for once. Someone who actually deserved it.

“Face it Steve you’re not special,” Jim’s voice practically dripped venom “You’re just some moron who thinks that if they dribble a basketball good enough they can get an even bigger moron to give two shits about them. It’d actually be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic,”

Even as he said the words, felt the thrill of finally being able to take Steve down a peg, a tiny trickle of guilt managed to creep in. For saying something so horrible, so wrong. That no one deserved to hear, not even Steve. But what little guilt he had was easily drowned out by the massive ocean of vindictive glee he felt now that Psycho Steve was getting to experience a tiny piece of what it was like to be Jim Lake.

The crowd around them was deathly quiet now, everyone stunned into silence by Jim’s words. Shocked that he actually went there. With one exception. 

Steve’s face had gone from ghost white to purple, the veins in his neck bulging, hands balled into fists as his sides “You’d better shut your mouth Lake,” his voice was soft but dangerous. Everyone, even Logan and Seamus, nervously edging away from him.

Unfortunately for him Jim just didn’t care anymore.

“Or what?”

He stepped forward, unable to resist poking the bear “You gonna punch me in the face or something? Well go on, do it! You’re only mad because I’m right!”

Another rush of spiteful satisfaction coursed through him when Jim saw the purple flush on Steve’s face darken even further at his words, so much that he didn’t even care that some of the onlookers had started to pull out their phones.

“Well what are you waiting for? Hit me, punch me, it’s not gonna make a difference. It’s not going to change the fact that you’re a loser who’s life has fucking peaked!” he jabbed a finger into Steve’s chest, getting right up into his face “That the only thing you have going for you is a spot on the basketball team. And after that all you have to look forward to is a dead end job at the gas station and at least two divorces!”

Steve was practically quivering with anger now, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked, but Jim could still see the flash of genuine hurt in his eyes “I’m warning you Lake--”

“Because that’s all you’ll ever be, a loser! Maybe the real reason your dad left was because he finally figured out how much of a loser you really--”

The blow took him by surprise, more than it probably should have. A dazzling flash of pain in his temple that snapped his head back into the lockers with a deafening bang as more pain flared in the back of his skull. Hot stars danced in his vision, the world around him spinning,. 

Jim vaguely registered that he wasn’t on his feet anymore, felt the linoleum under his back, the cool metal behind his shoulders and neck. Dimly heard the panicked shouts coming up from around him, even though he couldn’t make out the words. 

Blinking past the throbbing pain in his skull, and the warm trickle of something in his eye, Jim’s sight cleared just long enough for him to see Steve’s face, twisted into a mask of primal rage, and another fist rapidly approaching.

[mnictasbcl]

October 11th

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 2nd: Sober android- drunk human. @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: Angst, Death, (mention of), Swearing, Grief/Mourning, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Crying

Summary: It’s the anniversary of Cole’s death. Hank slips back into old habits, but Connor won’t let him suffer alone.

 TW: Alcoholism

 Story below! Or, read it on AO3

OCT 11TH, 2038

TIME PM 20:32:07

 It had been a long day, Connor noted, as they arrived back home from the DPD. A hard day of working, dragged on by a late case they couldn’t delay investigating. A strange day, as well. The android had noted a change in Hank, and somehow, something within him corelated it to that specific day. He’d thought over it in the morning, trying to figure out why he’d left a reminder on this date in his internal calendar, but what with being late to work, he hadn’t had a chance to deduce a conclusion.

Hopefully, he’d be able to chat to the man once they got inside, after he’d made a warm meal and put on some mindless TV. But first, he had to take a shower. It wasn’t that androids required them as regularly as humans, but since he’d examined a crime scene that had been rather messy, and had also still had the suspect there, who’d fought with him, smearing thirium over his front during the confrontation, he needed one.

Still, he felt like he should talk with the Lieutenant before he showered, his concerns only reaching higher levels as Hank remained silent on their trip from the car to the house. He simply gave Sumo a light pat before heading into the kitchen, pulling back a wooden chair and sitting down.

“Is…” Connor paused at the threshold to the room, thumbs twiddling, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

The man glanced him over. “Get that blood off of you.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bathroom.

Connor nodded, noting that Hank may have usually made a joke about this. Perhaps it had just been a long day. “I will get to that presently. But—”

“Go on, Connor.” Hank interrupted, casting his gaze back onto the kitchen table.

The android pursed his lips, hovering awkwardly for a few more moments before deciding it would be safe to go and do the task at hand, briskly. It was likely distressing to see the blue blood coating the front of his clothes also, he thought, even if it wasn’t his own.

He made quick work of undressing and getting into the shower, turning on the water and letting it run over his body. His clothes would probably need to be taken to a cleaner’s, as thirium was regrettably a hard stain to scrub out, Connor mused, as he reached for the shampoo.

But that wouldn’t need to be an issue he brought up tonight. Hank definitely seemed to have a lot on his mind. It was then that Connor realised he had a moment to think back to his neglected task of researching the date. October the eleventh. It wasn’t a significant date from the last few years past, he noted. There was nothing monumental worldwide that had happened to affect life so drastically in the 2030’s. Maybe he needed to look closer.

LED whirring yellow, Connor put his inner detective skills to work. His shower was now fully forgotten, and the shampoo he’d lathered up in his hair was starting to drip down his forehead. He didn’t notice.

October. October 11th. It had to be something to do with Hank. Nothing last year, although he managed to find that the man had missed a day of work then also. Nothing in 2037 either. Or 2036. In 2035—

His LED flashing a bright, warning red, and his eyes flew open. He groaned, shampoo burning in his eyes, and he quickly rinsed water over his face.

After this was done, however, Connor switched off the shower and made quick work of getting dried off and into some clean clothes. Shit, how hadn’t he realised? Made a clearer note of this?

October 11th, 2035, was the day Cole had died.

And today marked the third anniversary of his death. No wonder Hank had been so different today, he was grieving. And Connor hadn’t even known.

But there was no time to dwell on what he could have done. What was important was what he would do now. Research over grief briefly gave him tips that he shouldn’t be too pushy, too close, but he should provide comfort, and support, and—

He blinked away the tabs opened in his mind. That wasn’t the way to go about things. Not like he would have done as a machine, looking up step-by-step guides on how to respond to grief in a human.

Pushing open the bathroom door, he took a few breaths, forcing his LED to cycle back to blue.

“Hank?” He called, glancing around him as he made his way down the hallway. “Are you—”

He frowned when the chair Hank had been sitting at was empty. Instead, the table now had an empty bottle of whiskey laying on its side, no contents left to spill out. He looked frantically about, before meeting eyes with Sumo, and then with the Lieutenant, who was laying sprawled out on the floor.

It was almost exactly like how he’d found Hank on the evening of November the 6th. That was only a month ago but yet it felt like years had passed between now and that moment. He’d been a machine, back then, focused only on accomplishing his mission. In that moment, his mission had been to locate Lieutenant Anderson and get him ready to investigate the scene at the Eden Club. He’d simply roused the man sharply from the ethylic coma he’d fallen into. He’d only cared about getting him ready for the mission.

Connor blinked. Right. Back to the matter at hand. He wasn’t that machine anymore. This was Hank. His best friend, his… He cared. A quick scan of his vitals told him that Hank wasn’t in dangerous levels of intoxication, simply numbing ones.

But he couldn’t leave the man lying on the floor. Instead of sharply slapping him back to consciousness, he brought his arms around him to carefully lift him from the floor, making sure to support his head. The couch was the closest place to bring him, but come the morning, the light coming from the front door and the windows would be bright and painful for his hangover. Therefore, Connor decided it was best to bring him into his bedroom.

Hank mumbled incoherently as he walked, words slurring, eyes half open at times. The android simply smiled at him; in case he was awake in any way. The journey wasn’t too long, and soon he was able to lay the man onto the bed. Connor made quick work of pulling the covers over him.

What next, he pondered, this time allowing himself to do some research. He pulled the curtains shut, fetched an empty bin with a liner in it and placed it beside the bed. After placing a glass of water beside the bed, Connor saw that he had everything ready for when Hank would wake up.

He doubted the man would be up until the morning, however, as the evening drew on, he seemed to be semi-conscious. At first, it was simply more incoherent mutterings. But when he placed his hand over Hank’s, in an attempt to calm him, he began to speak more coherently.

“Cole…” Hank’s eyes met his. “I’m so sorry.”

Connor froze. LED swirling, mind racing. Was Hank mistaking him in his state of impaired lucidity? Or was it something else? Was he recalling the event, was—

Calm down, Connor, he told himself firmly, there was an important situation he needed to be present for.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Hank. It wasn’t your fault.”

Hank blinked, eyes seeming to come a little more into focus. “I just… it was… you should have lived.”

He noticed the tears starting to slip from the lieutenant’s eyes, and so he took a tissue from the bedside table, dabbing it gently under his eyes. There was little he could say to contend against what he was saying, so Connor instead patted his hand lightly, making what he hoped were soothing noises.

The minutes ticked by, and, as he began to calm a little, Hank seemed to recognise him. “I’m not going to lose you too, Connor.”

His heart (or thirium pump- technicalities didn’t matter) jumped into his throat. Of course, with the fight today with the suspect at the crime scene, must have been stressful, and particularly upsetting for Hank on a day like today. What with seeing the thirium staining his shirt. It’d freaked him out too when he’d looked in the bathroom mirror at his reflection.

“You won’t, Hank.” He answered, tone a little wavering but confident. That fight today might have been close, but he was nothing if not good at his job. And with his deviancy, this newfound sense of being alive… with having someone to be alive for, as well as himself, he would never put himself in unnecessary risk.

Hank reached out with his other hand, shaking a little, grasping the collar of Connor’s shirt. “I can’t—I can’t lose another son.”

He wasn’t supplied immediately with a confident answer, this time. Connor’s LED cut to yellow as he processed this information. Another son—son. Hank thought of him as a son. That—why did it both break and mend his heart at the same time?

Connor dipped his head briefly, blinking away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. It hurt because it was true. In the short time he’d known Hank, in the time he’d been alive and truly known him, their relationship… it had been warm. It had been fond, filled with bad jokes and nights spent on the couch together watching crummy movies, working as partners at the DPD—behind me, Connor, as they came into every new crime scene with its unknown and looming threats… It had been finding himself, finding themselves in each other, finding family.

“You won’t.” He repeated, tone softer this time, eyes darting back up to meet Hank’s.

The man nodded. Once, twice, hand falling down from where it had been clutching his shirt and onto the bed covers.

“You better not.” Hank replied, and at that, Connor chuckled. He noticed then that Hank’s eyes were beginning to slip back shut again, and he smiled, reaching across to readjust the covers with his free hand, the other never letting go of Hank’s.

It hadn’t been perfect. He knew he could have done better, could have started with making a clear note of the day—but that was life, he was beginning to notice. Nothing was perfect. There would be grief and mourning, joy and sorrow, days where he wouldn’t be able to predict the demons lurking in Hank’s mind, where he would find the man passed out, drunk on the floor. But he would show him he’d never lose another son. He’d always be there to scoop him back off the floor, and tuck him into bed with comfort, like he knew the man would do for him. It was messy, but it was real.

“I promise, dad. I promise.”

[sodone-withlife]

it's a sad song

heavily inspired by Hadestown, will feature lyrics from How Long? and Epic III. thanks to @yourlocalheartbreaker for indulging me and my rants about how much i love this musical

the musical's interpretation of Hades and Persephone's story is perfect for Hotch and Haley, so here is the self-indulgent cliche songfic. as usual, i did little to no proofreading so apologies for any grammatical/spelling errors. it's also more choppy than i'd like, but i really wanted to get it out so i can force myself to work on another angsty Hotch fic

warnings: canonical character death, non-canon character death, suicide

word count: 4k words

(And what has become of the heart of that man, now that the man is king? What has become of the heart of that man, now that he has everything?)

In the grand scheme of things, Hotch was lucky. He was further away from the bomb when it went off and only needed a day and a half in the hospital before he was back at the field office, taking the reins in handling the press and brass that was ready to tear Gideon apart.

The inquisition that followed in Virginia was vicious and by the end, Gideon was on indefinite medical leave and the unit was under the brass’s close scrutiny as Hotch took charge of the unit. As much as the word “temporary” was being parroted around in regards to the new chain of command, it was tacit knowledge that it was a permanent arrangement. A fiasco on the scale of Boston was enough to get an agent fired, and it was only Gideon’s seniority and excellent record that kept him with the bureau.

For Hotch, Boston and the months following only reinforced three lessons that were already hardwired into his brain:

Do not break and do not allow yourself to bleed where others can see, for there are always sharks waiting to tear you apart.

(Give them a piece and they'll take it all Show them a crack and they'll tear down the wall)

Nothing is certain. Even the strongest, the smartest, the most experienced, can fail. Do not fall victim to your own hubris, for it will be your undoing.

(Lend them an ear and the Kingdom will fall The Kingdom will fall for a song)

Death awaits everyone. It takes without mercy or regard for the lives left behind.

He was the new face of the BAU within the bureau, and even his prosecutorial and investigative record could not help protect the team from scrutiny.

So he straightened his spine and hardened his already severely sharp features, throwing himself into work and restoring the unit’s reputation.

Then Hotch came home one day to Haley’s brilliant smile and delighted excitement, and for a moment, he was reminded of the first time he talked to her nearly twenty years ago, when he told her he was quitting his smoking habit.

He had frozen when she first approached him in his dark corner a few weeks after school had resumed in the fall. She had smiled amusedly, his social ineptitude clear as day as he struggled to find words to greet her, to apologize for seeming like a creep over the summer when he first saw her outside on the sports field coaching younger students through vocal warmups before they started rehearsing the musical that was being put on that year, only to completely blank she plopped herself down next to him with her own school bag and lunch.

By the end of that day, he had convinced himself it was only going to be a one-off thing, that she wasn’t going to come back. If he had been honest with himself, part of him, the part that knew so intimately that his mother’s skin only remained free from bruises after his innocent baby brother was born was because his damned father finally had a son he could look at without being reminded of his self-hatred, wished it was.

But then she came back the next day, the day after that, and the day after that, apparently content to sit beside him in silence only broken by periodic comments about the going-ons in her life and the musical. And she continued going to sit next to him, even as he watched as others tried to warn her away, tried to physically guide her away from the bleachers.

What was stranger, he thought, was that she stayed even in spite of his silence, and in spite of his vices—he could tell she didn’t like his habit, but she didn’t comment. She just kept him company.

It was a few weeks into this arrangement, when he saw his still mostly full pack, that he realized that he hadn’t itched for a smoke during lunch for weeks, not while she was there and talking to him in ways he’d never been talked to before.

Sometime later, as the number of cigarettes in the pack remained unchanging, as the pack itself went untouched in his schoolbag, he finally threw it away.

That was the first time Hotch talked to her, to tell her that he’s giving up the habit. That small, but no less proud or bright, smile that spread across her face, he decided, was something he wanted to see again.

Slowly, he started talking more, and on good days, the two made conversation on topics ranging from classes to their favorite books all the way to whatever shenanigans Sean or Jessica was getting into. On other days, on bad days, the silence was never awkward, and she simply kept him company as he struggled to control the storm in his mind.

Those were the days his fingers itched for a cigarette, and those were the days she introduced to him a new book that he would finish within the day. The next day at school, they would once again be stuck in an in-depth conversation about the characters’ flaws and the absurdities of the antagonists, and the itch would be gone.

And it went on like this, even after he threw all caution and his doubts to the wind and asked her out on the first day of their senior year, even as they faced the townspeople’s questions about why such a good girl like Haley Brooks was dating someone of the likes of Aaron Hotchner, who, despite being so coldly brilliant, was just that.

Cold.

Dangerously unfeeling.

Barely human.

But she had seen behind the facade and she knew that he loved with the fierce burning of a thousand suns. She knew how terrified he was of losing everything, that he would be left alone and floundering in a world that was not kind to the lost.

So she stayed, through college, as she went into teaching and him into law, as the final straw came and went and he registered for the Academy and started training, breaking records along the way before finally being assigned to Seattle and quickly climbed his way up the ranks until he caught David Rossi’s keen eye and transferred back to Virginia for the BAU.

Every night, Hotch came home to his wife, the light of his life, and was reminded of why he was working himself to the bone. That day, when he came home a month after Boston for Haley to press a simple rectangular box into his hands, the stakes were raised once again, and he knew he had to fight twice as hard.

Not only for his team, the people he protected so fiercely under that steel mask, but for his son.

Early mornings and late nights became the norm as he threw himself into more and more work, and slowly, the unit began to recover as Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jareau joined the expanding unit, as Gideon returned as a senior agent, and as Elle Greenaway was pulled from Seattle just like he was all those years ago.

Then Jack was born, and he used his accrued vacation time to finally take a month off. Never had he been more terrified than in the moment he first held his son in the delivery room, acutely aware of his tiny size and sheer vulnerability to the dangers of the world.

That night, sleeping in the hospital bed with an exhausted Haley and their child in his arms, he swore to do whatever he could to make the world safer for his family.

His world.

So he tried. He tried and he tried, forcing himself to leave when cases that required their presence in the field came in, forcing himself to take on the heaviest burdens of the job so his team might be protected and his family would be safe.

Maybe a part of him was trying to get him to stop in his tracks and look up, to take a moment so he could clearly see that he was being consumed by the chase.

Maybe if he was strong enough, he could have lifted the weight of his world just enough to change the direction he was going.

But he was scared.

Scared that the moment he looked up, the moment he let go, he would lose everything he was defending.

And so he did not stop—not as Elle was shot in one place she had a right to feel safe in, not as Elle resigned and prevented him from making a terrible choice, not at Reid was suffering in a hell that could only be created by the lure of potent drugs, not as the unit was once again put under scrutiny because of her and Gideon’s actions.

Not even as he was forgetting important appointments, as he was struggling to be present for the important events and early milestones in his son’s life.

Not until he was suspended for two weeks because of the vow he made to himself the moment he stepped into the leadership position to protect the team to the best of his ability.

He stopped, looked up, and put in for a transfer.

But it was too late.

(It's true the earth must die But then the earth comes back to life And the sun just goes on rising)

(I’ve had enough)

The divorce did nothing to lessen the weight on his shoulders or the utter terror he felt at the prospect of stopping.

As more and more cases started piling on his desk, he kept his back bent and head down for hours as he pushed himself to the brink with a mental image of the smile that had not dimmed for twenty years and of the only proof of his humanity at the forefront of his mind.

Every day, he bent lower and lower, but he never let himself crumble, forcing himself to remain Atlas as Kate fell and Morgan nearly followed in New York, Reid and Prentiss in Colorado—

—as JJ and Will brought their first child into the world and he promised to protect her as best as he could so she would not make the same mistakes he did—

—as he wrangled politicians and major corporations in the aftermath of him fulfilling the promise he made to Megan Kane—

—as he called in favor after favor to get to the Vatican so Prentiss could get justice for her friends—

—as he compartmentalized as best he could when he found out about the anthrax attack at a public park he knew Haley and Jack frequented whenever they visit her parents’ house and when Reid got infected—

Then the Reaper returned after ten years of silence and ten years of being a silent spectator in Hotch’s nightmares to become an active participant in his night terrors for months.

But the night Hotch returned to his apartment with the intent of pulling out a glass of scotch and staying on his couch with a book, those dreams that left him nearly paralyzed with fear every night became his reality.

That night, as his team was sleeping in their beds, dead to the world while he was slowly bleeding out from nine stab wounds and floating in and out of consciousness in his own apartment, he only felt fear—fear for the team, fear for Haley, fear for his son.

He faded into unconsciousness with the expectation that that was it, that his hubris finally caught up to him.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Hotch was staring at the dried streak of red on the photo of his whole world and wondering if he had made his way into hell without realizing it.

When Haley and Jack visited him in the hospital, he could barely look at their faces, not wanting the scared and confused expressions they wore to be the last memory he might have of the two people whose lives he sought to protect in throwing himself into work but ended up putting in danger.

Then they were walking away, and he felt his walls slowly building themselves back up to a height and with fortifications that he had not needed since he last wore them in his youth to protect himself against the people in his hometown who had treated him with suspicion and derision.

The months following the day his world was ripped from his weakened grip was its own brand of hell, and more than once he wished he had been less of a coward and let himself look up from his chase.

Soon he was stepping down and ignoring all reason as he threw himself back into work yet again, wearing a facade that his teenage self would have been proud of while desperately trying to fulfill the promise he made Haley, that he would spend the rest of his life making everything up to her.

But of course, life has a funny way of reminding people of the promises they made and the important lessons they have learned at the worst times.

Suddenly, the sound of three gunshots was ripping through his head.

Suddenly, he was forcing himself to look away from Haley’s body, strewn on the floor like a doll with its strings cut, forcing himself to keep it together so he could clear the room.

Suddenly, he was straddling George Foyet and unleashing upon him years of pent-up hurt and anger that he had never allowed himself to feel in favor of remaining strong for the people he loved so fiercely.

Do not break and do not allow yourself to bleed where others can see, for there are always sharks waiting to tear you apart.

Nothing is certain. Even the strongest, the smartest, the most experienced, can fail. Do not fall victim to your own hubris, for it will be your undoing.

Death awaits everyone. It takes without mercy or regard for the lives left behind.

That day, Hotch was reminded of all three statements that he swore to live by after Boston.

Foyet was witness to his unraveling and poked and prodded at him, so much so that he uncovered the rage he inherited from his father and had vowed long ago to never express.

His hubris, his confidence in assumptions that had been made so many times in the past, his confidence that denying the deal that had been offered to him just over a year ago was the right thing to do, cut the threads of over ten people far too early.

Haley was lost to him.

Forever.

But in the years afterward, as Hotch found himself stuck in his head and mentally removed from the team’s present more and more often, he wondered if that was actually the moment that he lost her.

Perhaps the time he had to fly out to Mexico on his birthday weekend was the start and the stress of his suspension the catalyst.

Was he simply too destructive and too desperate to have a happy ending? Was anyone closely associating with him doomed to fall along with him?

Why else was his mother spared from bruising when she was able to focus on raising Sean, a son whose looks did not remind his father of the sheer hatred he felt for himself?

Why else had his brother, who he was estranged from, done so well in life and remained so carefree?

For what other reason could Haley have been murdered than the fact that she was collateral damage in a psychopathic narcissist’s dream to cause him as much pain as possible?

For a short time, Haley’s murder had given Hotch a chance to look up, to free himself from all the responsibilities he had taken on, but it ultimately only served to increase his fear and paranoia. The team had seen the tail end of his unraveling in that house, and he knew it had shaken them to the core, so the walls remained up. Strangers in the street were unsubs, and he was never far away from a weapon if he could help it, always fearing that he would be too late to be of any help.

Four years to the day he locked himself away, he was seeing Haley smiling radiantly at him and wearing the same dress she was wearing when he proposed as she waved him over to sit next to her in an empty movie theater and he was struggling to articulate her beauty.

The large screen in front of them was playing scenes from his life in the years since she was stolen from this life. While her eyes were glued to the projection of his memories, he was left unable to tear his eyes away from her, the woman who had been such an integral part of his life, whose death he would probably never forgive himself for, whose presence in his world he had so desperately missed.

Then he was looking down from the screen when their moment was interrupted by the man who had become a permanent fixture in his night terrors and surprising himself with just how prepared he was to kill again to protect Haley like he had failed to do years ago. It was only Haley’s repeated assurances that finally got him to look back up at the screen, and in the next moment, he was once again experiencing his nightmares in real-time.

His voice cracked as he tried calling out for help, becoming more and more desperate as it became clear no one was coming, and then—

You’re not meant to.

They were suddenly standing face to face in that dark corner of the school where they first met. Hotch froze, rooted to the spot by the uncharacteristically cold expression on Haley’s face.

Where is he?

It wasn’t right, the hard tone, the way she was looking at him as if he were a stranger—

I don’t see Aaron Hotchner in front of me. Where is he?

Then her face softened, and she walked over to sit against the wall, uncaring of the dirt that was gathering on her dress. She stared at him pointedly until he made his way over to her and joined her on the ground. It was with great surprise that he felt her lean onto him, a long-forgotten and now unfamiliar warmth settling over him.

I want to tell you a story.

She told him the story behind an old song, the story about the queen who brought spring and summer with her every time she walked the earth and the king who ruled the shades and the underworld. And though the king loved his queen so desperately, every time she walked the earth while he remained in the underworld, he doubted that she would come back to him, for what could he offer her except his darkness?

So he worked and he threw himself into building a kingdom of metal and glaring bright lights that might compensate for his darkness, but he could not bring himself to look up for fear that he would lose everything the moment he stopped. In his fear, he kept his head low and his back bending, he locked his love away so it wouldn’t be a distraction.

(But what he didn’t know is that what he is defending was already gone.)

When Hotch found himself on the edge of a roof being held against Peter Lewis, who had a gun at his temple, facing the team’s desperate and fearful faces, he could only think about that story Haley had told him and the questions she had sent towards him right before he woke up in the hospital four years prior.

(Where is the treasure inside of your chest? Where is your pleasure? Where is your youth? Where is the man with his arms outstretched to the woman he loves with nothing to lose?)

That was the first time he could remember crying in front of Jack—when the two were clinging to each other in the hospital bed after yet another close call—and he resolved it wouldn’t be the last. It hurt to tear down the walls he had so meticulously built around himself over the course of nearly five decades, but to see the smile that his son inherited from Haley…

He could only lament that he hadn’t started earlier.

Slowly, he rebuilt his world, and it was filled with a warmth that hadn’t been since those golden years between first meeting Haley and becoming a prosecutor.

But then Peter Lewis came and turned his mind against him, forcing him to watch his nightmares come to life. And when he found himself at MPD’s gunpoint with Jack watching, his world cracked.

And in that interrogation room, watching the recording of Lewis’s testimony against him, his world cracked again.

And seeing his son’s withdrawn affect, trying to get him to understand that he wasn’t leaving, that he wouldn’t ever abandon him of his own free will—

Then they were called to Arizona and he found his name carved into a victim’s forehead, and he knew it was only a matter of time before the attacks would become more and more personal.

Favors were called in, calls were made, and all the while Hotch tried to keep Jack as ignorant as possible to the way his world was going up in flames around him. For a moment, it felt like the immediate aftermath of Boston, with all of the non-stop workdays and the scrutiny of the brass falling onto him and the struggle to balance his work and Jack—

And then one day, Jack disappeared in the middle of the school day.

A day later, Rossi and Luke were holding him back, trying to keep him away from the security checkpoint at the entrance of the Academy office buildings that had been taped off as a crime scene. His eyes caught a sudden movement, and all the fight left him when he saw the white sheet being unfolded and lowered over the small body that was on the gurney.

Maybe he was supposed to be more grief-stricken than he felt.

Maybe that’s why the team tip-toed around him in the months afterward—they were waiting for the sand to run out, for the inevitable breakdown that was expected from a man such as him.

And the sand did run out, only it wasn’t where any of them expected.

The cold metal digging into his temple provided him an odd moment of clarity as he thought about the questions he had asked himself—because that wasn’t Haley, she never looked at him with such cruelty, not even when he probably deserved it, it was always that voice in the back of his head, the voice that led him down the road to hell.

That treasure that he kept in his chest—it was buried in the ground with Haley and Jack.

His pleasure, his youth, it was left behind in his past with that first strike he felt from his father.

A smile spread across his face for the first time in months and he closed his eyes, a strange peacefulness settling deep in his bones. He flung himself backward, letting himself become dead weight as he suddenly heard shouts of horror through the sound of the wind rushing around him and Peter Lewis as they fell.

Didn’t you tell me to find the man who was reaching out with nothing to lose?

I found him.

I hope you and Jack waited for me, Haley.

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

“How long has this been going on?”, Damians voice was flat. An outsider would maybe even perceive it as bored, but his brothers heard him. Damian Wayne was horrified. “Five and a half days now, to be precise. We have heard of the earthquake but we didn’t know about the metas. That’s why we’re here, save the citizens and catch the-” “How did we not know of any metas in Paris? Why are we only coming to help them now? Look at this place!”, Nightwing interrupted his father, in Jasons opinion rightfully so. Paris was not what he remembered from the posters and booklets he had seen. The city could have lost WW2 and even then it would probably look better than it currently did. “That’s international matters, we’re not even meant to be here but it got out of control so I asked Red Robin to investigate. Now stop complaining and start working.”, Bruce scolded his adoptives and, leaving no room for further interruption, began giving out orders. Dick, Jason, Stephanie and Damian were on citizen-saving duty, while Tim stayed at the manor and guided them per earpiece. Bruce, Cass, Duke and Barbara were on metawatch™, meant to collect more information on the cause of destruction, aswell as the heroes Tim had mentioned in his report. One final tech-check later the formerly crowded rooftop was deserted and Paris had a new crew of support in form of bat-themed vigilantes.

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

Jason felt...sad. Deeply, desperatly heartbroken. He remembers feeling that way when he first discovered his fathers lack of avenging the death of his second son. But now? Of course, the sight he was currently enduring was horrific. He was sorry it had to come to this, frustrated his hands just weren’t enough to help every Parisian in pain. But that desperation? His inhumane tiredness? The way his whole body just felt numb, as if he were in so much pain his senses just wouldn’t- no couldn’t keep up? He knew it was out of place, his brothers were okay after all. Even Dick, the most emotional one out of his siblings, was much more focused than Jason. He knew it had to do with his soulmate, at least he guessed as much. The thought of them being somewhere in this city, hiding in one of those hyper-secure shelters he had seen while rummaging through the collapsed buildings and pulling out everyone he could find...it was unnerving. Though somehow he knew that that wasn’t the case. 

Upon first taking in the sight of Paris’ ruins Red Hood just knew where he was and what streets he was aiming for. He knew where the shelters were, could guide the civilians towards them and even recognized some of the buidings, even though there was nothing left but dust and dirt. Jason had a gut feeling telling him that all those things weren’t actually his knowledge. It had to be his soulmates. They knew everything he needed to know about the city, they recognized it from above. But one piece of information, which now that Timmy has properly updated them about Paris’ situation should have been absolutely unavoidable, was missing. What do those shelters look like from the inside? 

Why doesn’t his soulmate know?

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

Marinette was on autopilot. It has been four days since her parents death. She hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten and hasn’t stopped moving. Chat has already collapsed twice, which ended up with her carrying him to one of their recharging-shelters in the water and spending ungodly amounts of time trying to find food and water for him aswell as holding him in place while he slept, hoping to avoid his otherwise certain death by drowning. “What a sad end it would be”, the girl thought to herself, “all that effort, all that pain, and we could just loose it all to a petty accident. Not that there is much left to save...”

She wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but Ladybug, the hero and saviour of Paris, did no longer care about winning. She didn’t think of saving those people who were praying in her name, praying to her. She didn’t believe in god and oh Kwami did she not believe in herself. What she did believe in, though, was revenge. She wanted to kill that dusty bitch, even if it was the last thing she would do. Ladybug didn’t care about the victim. She knew for herself that if she were the one who did this to her beloved City of Love, she could no longer live with herself. She wanted to kill the akuma and even though a voice deep inside her was telling her otherwise, trying to stop her and arguing that this was not what her parents would have wanted, Marinette did not care. She was going to free the petite akuma and then tear it apart with her very own teeth. And guess who’s next? “That’s right, I’m coming for your ass, Shitmoth.”

Her voice woke the boy next to her. She hasn’t even realised how her train of thought has surfaced into the real world until Plagg, who was sleeping on the blondes stomach, started grumbling in despleasure about how his pillow shouldn’t be moving. Adrien sat up, not meeting Ladybugs eyes as he took the cheese she was handing him and giving it to the suddenly awake and alert Kwami who, as always, swallowed it whole. It was kind of nice, reassuring, watching him do something Adrien has formerly perceived as highly annoying. Back then, before “The End of the World”, as he now called it, has fallen from the sky. Or rather dug it’s way out from six feet under, since the main cause of destruction were the earthquakes. Destruction. Thinking of it made Adriens gag-reflexes act up. He hated this akuma. Not only for the obvious reasons. No, Adrien hated how useless he himself felt because of it. Why should he cataclysm something while he’s trying to stop Dirtface from doing so? It was highly contraproductive and Chat could not stand it. It was like watching the person you hate most, fan-girl about something you love. Kind of ruins the experience. Adrien didn’t know if he could use his power the way he did before, ever again. The only upside to it was, that he didn’t have to recharge as often and was therefore capable of protecting his partner whenever she had to hide. 

As long as he didn’t fucking collapse from exhaustion, of course.

“I fainted again, didn’t I?”, he asked, shame crawling into his every pore. He was hoping to avoid that. The first time already came at the price of his identity, though luckily Ladybug has been quick enough to hide him before anyone else could catch a glimpse. Adrien wasn’t aware of it, but once Mari managed to securely position him on one of the upside-down-boats benches, she fell into a hysterical fit of laughter. She cried, she felt as if she were about to choke, as if she were about to finally explode into all those shattered pieces her heart now consisted of. Her laughter, though, showed none of these emotions. An outsider would be afraid to come near her, her parents would not be able to recognize her, she herself would have been disturbed by that sight. If the Joker were there to see it, he would have had to give his crown to her, for her laugh was scarier than any Jokers could ever be. 

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

Marinette just nodded and waited for Chat to suit back up. She didn’t think of his collapses as embarassing. Instead, Ladybug was highly impressed by his skill and endurance. She knew he didn’t have the luxury of someone taking the hit for her, sleeping and eating instead of her. For so long Mari has been trying to convice herself that she realy was, just like Adrien, just like Chat, alone. She wanted to believe that her soulmate was dead, wanted to live and not give a damn about that extra source of pain, which is the only thing she has ever thought of, when it came to feeling any kind of relationship towards her bonded. How could she love what brings her torture? How could she want to love the pain? Now though, with death being all around her, no-one she could turn to and time playing against her...Marinette was relying on them. She would not be able to surive this without her soulmate sleeping instead of her, would have probably fallen to the hands of malnutrition, if it weren’t for them feeding her through that inexplicable bond between their souls. 

Adrien did not have that. He was born without a soulmate, which wasn’t anything unusual. After all, more than half of the worlds population were either born without a soulmate or simply existed during a different century than their significant others. 

Just like Nino, just like Chloe, just like Nathaniel, Kagami and Luka: Adrien isn’t going to stay by Ladybugs side forever. She knew that now. That was okay, though. Because now she was certain of one thing. Her soulmate was alive and, according to her intensifying tiredness as well as that energizing tingling keeping her body up and working, they were on their way to save her.

That carries a tiny problem though.

She had to avoid getting help. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

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

HI! First of: Thank you so much for the amazing feedback, I am so fucking grateful you have no idea (or you do? idk. THANK YOU ILY)

This story has gotten much longer than I had planned but tbh I love it. There’s a part 3 and probably a part 4 coming, Though I’ll post it tomorrow ‘cause I gotta write it and like, live life a bit.

Critique and any kind of feedback is very welcome!

I will most probably continue Jasonette July, this is so much more fun than I expected. So see you tomorrow \o/

Thanks for reading^^

P.S.: There's finally some proper Jasonette on the horizon☄

[kat-hawke]

Kul Tiran Backing

A puddle broke beneath the soles of the Director's boots as she journeyed through the rain across the city of Boralus. Eyes swept across open streets from beneath the hood of the long coat, drops of water cascading off to the sides. The amount of rainfall here stirred up memories of her Gilnean childhood for only a minute before she shifted focus to the upcoming meeting.

"I don't think I've ever seen you nervous," Alyssa chimed across the telepathic link. "Anxious, sure. But nervous—"

"Are you making a point here, or?" Kat interrupted.

"No. Just curious. Why does she make you nervous and not anyone else?"

"It's not her. It's the topic at hand. Doing this puts an unnecessary risk on other financial ventures and our relation, should she decline. Yet, I'm left with little other options to seek funding." Kat admitted as the office came into view across the plaza.

"There's also the matter of what I plan to do. Pad her funding line with my own coin to avoid potential investigations into my financials. She won't like it, I know. To keep that behind her back creates more risk while revealing the matter could turn her away."

"Well, if she doesn't need to know, then why risk it? What she doesn't know won't hurt her." The dagger-bound woman practically shrugged in her tone.

"It could hurt us both. I'll consider your point," Kat sneered.

Drowning out the warlocks reply, she swung the office door open, the bell above the frame emitting the soft chime throughout the space, announcing Kat's arrival to the noblewoman seated at the desk. Pulling back the soaked hood with a smile, the pair commenced with the standard pleasantries. An informal greeting, inquiring on one another's state of wellbeing, and a brief catch-up of the recent Scourge invasion.

"My family is all well and safe, and Stormhollow did not suffer the Scourge. I would consider things well and good." Lady Stalsworth answered as she eased back into the seat, following their courteous handshake.

"Glad t'hear," Kat nodded, swinging one knee over the other as she dropped into the adjacent chair. "Gransonee was spared from the dead risin' again as well. So, no effect on our current arrangements as it stands." She paused for a moment. "Unless, of course, ya' wish fer changes?"

"Unless there are reasons why I should wish for changes, I see no need. Do you?"

The Director shook her head slowly. "None wot-so-eva. Th' profit flows, th' people are happy, and the hamlet has been able t'repair and expand some infrastructure. Most importantly, it keeps Jasper out of m'ear."

Elaianna chuckled in a breath, a faint smile touching the corner of her lips. "You did not write to me about our current business affairs, but rather, a new one if I am to understand your letter correctly?"

The pleasantries were dismissed. Both women preferred to discuss business over the former at every meeting.

"That is correct, yes. While this proposal is of another nature, it bears no effect on the current trade agreemen'." Kat cleared her throat, ignoring a comment from Alyssa as she pulled a ledger from the coat. "I'm sure yer aware of th' current state of the Kingdom, yes?"

"Presuming you mean things such as the King's absence and an ill-chosen replacement on the throne in the meantime? Yes. I cannot say things are any better here, as the Lord Admiral has also gone missing."

"I was referin' more t'the current economic situations." The Director clarified, collecting her hands upon the leather cover of the ledger.

"Aye," the Lady dipped her head in a shallow nod. "Such things come with recent events."

"More-so when on th' tailwinds of a long and costly war," Kat added. "Stormwind is, well t'be blunt, fractured. Th' military cutbacks, coffers empty...surely ya' know wot follows there. Taxes and overexertion. Th' nobles houses are all in a tiff, vyin' fer favors and agreements in exchange fer gold. Sharks, th' lot of 'em."

"I am an affluent woman, but I cannot cease an entire kingdom from going into taxation," Elaianna remarked, weaving her fingers together and studying the Director. "So what favor and agreement are you looking for?"

Kat quickly wet her lips, knowing her discomfort in this proposal was visible to a small degree, and while the dagger-bound woman was silent, Kat knew she was listening. Without further delay, she promptly opened the ledger to her Unit's budget and slid it across to Elaianna.

"I do no' have th' time or patience t'lobby the houses while they are in congress fer fundin', nor would I likely care for th' things they ask in exchange. My Unit is internal affairs, we are no' combat facin', but many believe wot we do is of little value."

"What -do- you do? Especially in times post-war?" Lady Stalsworth inquired, glancing over the ledger.

"Th' same as we would durin' war. We handle issues that extend beyond th' capabilities of the guards; serial killin's, drug cartels, slave rings, th' occasional cults." Kat picked at her nails in her lap, out of the other's view.

"Our latest project has no' been well received by m'peers, and I narrowly dodged havin' the Unit axed with my proposal. With the right resources and time, we could document and categorize these dangerous people's thought processes and mental states. Study them, if you will, and create a possible method t'detect these behaviors before they manifest into somethin' larger. However, with no fundin' or resources, I canno' produce the results needed to keep my Unit from disbandment."

"And you're looking for..." Elaianna asked as she found no estimated total within the ledger.

"Wot eva yer willin' t'give." Kat answered plainly. "I hate t'even ask at all, given our current professional relationship. And I certainly do no' expect charity either."

The Lady nodded again, motioning toward the Director. "Would monthly increments be of use, or were you hoping for a singular lump sum?

"Monthly would be ideal, luv'. A lump sum may create too much of a surplus that others may try to pillage."

"I can commit to supporting your Unit on a monthly basis." Elaianna pushed the ledger back across the desk with her answer.

Inquisitively, Kat stared and collected the ledger, returning the book to her coat as she hesitantly asked, "And in return?"

With a simple shrug, the Lady answered, "I would ask what I would hope you would already do. If you happen upon any knowledge of a threat to Stormhollow or my family, you will let me know so that we might protect our people and ourselves."

A soft hum rattled with Kat's throat. This was something she would have done already, yes. But while Elaianna had never given her a reason to be mistrusted, Kat struggled to believe one would ask only this in return for funding. A thought that Alyssa did little to dismiss.

"That I would already do, yes. Though I will add that if ya' have an issue within Stormhollow that falls within wot m' Unit handles, I would be more than happy t'direct focus there until the matter is resolved."

"Thank you."

Kat lifted her hand, "it is I who owes ya' thanks, twice over."

"Then let us call it a deal." Elaianna smiled, extending her hand over the desk to cement the agreement.

Now at the crossroad of revealing or secreting her intend, Kat's conflicting thoughts churned again as she eyed the offered hand. Forcing her way through, she began to reach but recoiled at the last second.

"Don't do it," Alyssa argued to no avail.

"There is one more thing," Kat muttered, clearing her throat.

"I will pull funds from my personal accounts, those undocumented linked to Gransonee. Doin' so on m'own would draw attention and force m'hand into revealin' th' island and hamlet publicly, which would then force a pledge to the Alliance or vassalage t' a noble house. Against the wishes of its people. I will hide th' funds I sent in the same ledger line as yer own." The Director admitted, letting out a heavy breath as if a weight had been lifted.

"I wanted ya' t'know, rather than keep it hidden from ya' and risk an auditory blowback."

Immediately, Elaianna's lips pursed, and a low hum vibrated behind the displeased expression as the offered hand was withdrawn. The silence which followed lingered uncomfortably between them for a solid minute as Kat held her breath and avoided the Lady's gaze.

"I suspect such will not pose a problem," Elaianna finally spoke, "as it is assisting the Kingdom."

Kat's shoulders dropped as she relaxed and let out her breath.

"I wanted t'be honest and transparent in m'intentions than lead ya' blind and risk everythin'."

"I appreciate that," The Lady smiled faintly. "Thank you."

"Th' consequences will be mine, and only mine t'bear should anythin' happen." Kat offered her hand to complete the transaction with a nod, relieved when Elaianna nodded and took the hand in a firm shake.

"Let us hope such things do not come to be."

Standing to exit, Kat fixed the position of her coat, which had shifted slightly while seated. The hood remained down, as the sound of rainfall beyond the door had ceased during their exchange.

"Light and Shadow keep ya' and yer family, Lady Stalsworth."

"Tides guide you and yours, Lady Hawke."

Resisting the urge to correct and discourage using such a title, Kat resigned to dipping her head and turning towards the door. Quickly leaving the office and taking in the scent of the city after the rain. She knew Alyssa overheard every word and would likely inquire on details but cut the inquisitive warlock off before she had a chance.

"Another time," Kat implored, "I promise. Just give me time."

[ @elaianna, @alyssa-ward​ ]

[ Relevant: @tristanasneak, @jocelyn-wellson, @myzariel, @nikkithorpe, @lovelydeadlysocialite, @quinn-varden ]

[wordsintimeandspace]

All That Haunts Us (5/14)

Jon and Tim have seen their fair share of strange things while working in Research at the Magnus Institute. They still didn’t quite expect to rescue Martin, who has been missing for a year, from a supernatural encounter during one of their investigations. Together, the three of them hunt for answers and try to find a way forward, but they all have things that haunt them.

Meanwhile, Elias sees the perfect opportunity to set his plan into motion…

Jon/Martin/Tim, rated T, ~2900 words for this chapter. Read on tumblr or AO3!

In the days after Martin’s rescue, they barely leave Tim’s flat. Jon and Tim call in sick for a few days, reluctant to leave Martin on his own, and apart from a few quick trips to the shops and Jon’s place to get both Jon and Martin some clothes and necessities, they spend most of their time bundled up on the couch together.

Jon can’t remember when he last spent so much time around people, but somehow, it’s easy with Tim and Martin. It’s nice. Sometimes, it even feels normal. In these moments, when they cook together, argue about what to watch on Netflix, or get increasingly competitive in Mario Kart, it’s easy to forget that they’re all terrified.

But in the end, there’s no way to escape the horror looming over them. Martin still has moments when he goes quiet and distant and cold, although they become less frequent, and it takes hours of quiet reassurances and soft touches to get him back to himself. Tim is always on edge, barely letting them out of his sight, as if he’s afraid both Martin and Jon might vanish into thin air at any moment. Tim doesn’t talk about it, and Jon doesn’t ask. After all, he’s not talking about his dreams either.

In front of Jon, there is a door. It's a familiar door. He saw it first in a book when he was eight years old, and it's been haunting his dreams ever since.

 There's a thread pulling Jon forward. It wraps around his limbs, his wrists, holding him tight, guiding every movement. He’s helpless as he approaches the door, and watches in terror as he raises his hand to knock twice. With a creak the door swings open, showing the darkness behind it. And in the darkness something impossibly huge, scuttling and looming, waiting for its prey.

 This time, the prey is not Jon. This time, it’s so much worse.

 Jon steps aside and turns to see Martin, wide eyed and terrified. Thin grey strands tug at his limbs and he moves forward, step by step towards his terrible fate. Jon can’t move, can’t even lift a finger. He tries to scream, but the threads clamp his mouth shut. All he can do is watch, helplessly, as Martin steps onto the threshold and the spider stretches out its ghastly limbs-

“Jon? Jon!”

Jon startles out of his sleep, heart hammering against his ribs. Breathing hard, panic still clinging to the back of his neck, it takes him a few moments to realize where he is: in the dark of Tim’s living room with Martin hovering above him, a hand on his shoulder. The blanket is tangled around Jon’s legs and he frantically kicks it off and pushes himself upright.

“What...?” he finally manages to get out, his voice dry.

“I think you had a nightmare,” Martin says quietly, still crouching next to the couch. “I heard you cry out in your sleep. Sorry for waking you.”

Jon lets out a breath, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “It’s fine,” he says tiredly, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No, don’t worry. I just couldn’t sleep and got up to get a glass of water when I heard you.”

Jon squints at Martin in the dark and reaches out to turn on the lamp next to the couch. Martin blinks at the sudden light, and Jon takes in the paleness of his face and the tiredness in his eyes. It doesn’t look like Martin is getting much more sleep than he does. Jon finally shifts to make some room and pats the space beside him. With a huff Martin gets up and falls down onto the couch next to Jon, so close that their shoulders touch.

Before he can overthink, Jon reaches for his hand. Holding Martin’s hand is an issue he’s been dancing around for a few days now - he did it in the fog and in its aftermath, and every time in the last few days when Martin needed something to tether him. But never quite like this, unprompted, for no other reason than that he wants to. He was never quite sure if he’s allowed to and Martin never initiated it, but now Martin doesn’t hesitate to entangle his fingers with Jon’s. Maybe it’s easier like this for both of them, in the dark of the night.

“Bad dreams?” Jon asks softly and Martin lets out a long sigh.

“Yeah.”

“Do you- do you want to talk about them?”

Martin turns to him, regarding him for a moment. “Do you want to talk about yours?”

Jon lets out a small laugh. “Not particularly.”

Martin gives him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Me neither. Not that there is much to talk about. I don’t even know if they’re dreams or memories or…” Martin shudders, averting his eyes.

“The fog?” Jon asks, and Martin gives a small nod.

“It’s over,” Jon says, his voice surprisingly steady. He gives Martin’s hand a squeeze. “We made it out of there.”

Martin lets out a shuddering breath. "Yeah, I know,” he says quietly. “Doesn't make it easier to dream about it. Sometimes I’m afraid that when I go to sleep, I will just wake up in there again.”

“That won’t happen. We won’t let it happen.”

“But we don’t know, do we? We don’t understand how this works. And I keep dreaming about this man. I…. I think he came out of nowhere last time, what if he does it again?”

Jon frowns. The thought that someone did this to Martin, instead of it just being a coincidence, a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, scares him more than he wants to admit. “Do you remember anything else about him by now? Anything that might help?”

“Um.” Martin hesitates for a long moment, gnawing at his bottom lip as he thinks. “He… he kind of looked like the fog? I’m not sure if that makes sense, but… kind of pale and muted. Washed out. White hair and beard.”

“Okay. That’s… that’s helpful, I think.”

“Is it?”

“Of course. It gives us something to look out for.”

Martin lets out a thoughtful hum. “I don’t really remember his face in more detail, I’m afraid. Except for his eyes. They were grey, like the fog. And so cold.” Martin shudders, so violently that Jon can feel it with his shoulder pressed against Martin’s. He tightens his grip around Martin’s hand.

“It’s alright,” Jon says softly. “Don’t push yourself to remember.”

“I- I’m fine. It’s-”

Before Martin can finish his sentence, there’s a thud from somewhere in the flat, followed by frantic footsteps. A second later Tim appears in the doorway, eyes wide and chest heaving. His shoulders sag as he spots Jon and Martin on the couch.

“Oh,” he says with a breath of relief. “You- you’re still-”

“We’re still here,” Jon reassures him, frowning as he watches the sheer terror on Tim’s face slowly melt away. “Are you okay?”

“I- I just thought-” Tim stops himself, shaking his head and taking a deep breath. “What are you two doing?”

“We both couldn’t sleep. Sorry, did we wake you?” Martin asks softly. He gestures for Tim to come closer, and Tim crosses the room to slump down onto the couch with them. He sits on Martin’s other side, letting his head fall back against the headrest and running a hand down his face.

“Nah, you didn’t,” Tim says quietly.

With a frown, Jon takes in the exhaustion in Tim’s voice, the tiredness in Martin’s eyes, the fear and concern etched so clearly in both their expressions. He doubts he looks any better. They’re all a mess, although they more or less successfully manage to hide it during the day. But now, in the middle of the night, stripped bare of all their usual defenses, there’s no way to deny it any longer.

The thought makes Jon anxious and restless, and just a bit irritated that he still hasn’t done anything to make it all better. He needs answers. He needs to know what’s out there, what nearly took first Martin and then him as well. He needs to know if it's still after them. How he can keep all of them safe. And there’s only one place where he can start.

“I’m going back to the Institute today,” he announces suddenly, and both Tim and Martin turn to look at him. "It's just, we can't stay cooped up here forever. And we said so before, it's the best place to search for answers. I- I think it’s time."

Tim lets out a resigned sigh. "Yeah, probably," he finally says. “So, what’s the plan?”

“You said Sasha could get us into the Archives.”

“Yeah. I think so. Would be a good place to start.”

Jon nods. “Then we’re doing that.”

“Should we- I mean, should one of us stay here?” Tim asks, looking at Martin in concern.

“I- I think I’ll be fine,” Martin says, a blush rising on his cheeks. “Really. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m not saying you do, but… are you sure?”

Martin nods. “Yeah. I’ll manage. I mean, I’ve been doing much better. And you… you’re both doing so much for me already. You shouldn’t have to supervise me all day long.”

“You know we really don’t mind,” Jon says gently.

“I’ll be fine,” Martin says again, a bit more firmly. He gives Jon a reassuring smile, and gives his hand a squeeze. “I promise.”

~~~

The next morning, after they all managed another short kip on the couch together, Jon goes back to work.

He’s exhausted and has a crick in his neck, and the tube ride - his first time being alone since the fog - is more than a little nerve-wracking. It was his idea that he and Tim should come in separately, just to avoid any more suspicions after they already called in sick at the same time, and he can’t help but regret his choice. But… it’s fine. It’s all fine, until he steps into the entrance hall of the Magnus Institute and immediately knows that something is wrong.

Two police officers are standing at the front desk. Instinctively, Jon freezes in the doorway, staring as they have a hushed conversation with Rosie that he can’t quite make out. He only startles out of his stupor when one of them - a bulky woman with short cropped blonde hair - turns and narrows her eyes at him. Nervously, Jon grips the strap of his messenger bag and hurries through the foyer. Rosie meets his eyes as he rushes past with a mumbled good morning and gives him a tentative smile. She dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief and turns back to the other officer, a woman in a headscarf who is frowning down at her notepad.

Jon lets out a breath of relief as he’s past the foyer without being stopped. He hurries towards the research department, frowning at how quiet and deserted the corridors are. There’s a bunch of people in the break room, standing close together as they’re immersed in a conversation, but Jon doesn’t know any of them well enough to interrupt and ask what’s going on.

Instead, he makes his way to his desk and boots up his computer to check his email. There's nothing in there that explains the police and the somber atmosphere that seems to have settled over the Institute. Nervously, he taps his pen on his desk and waits for Tim to come in.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, Tim appears in the doorway. “What the hell are the cops doing here?” he asks before Jon can get a word in.

Jon shrugs. “I don’t know. Did they say anything to you?”

“No. They were just talking to Rosie.” Tim shrugs off his coat, dropping into a chair beside Jon. “Everyone else seems to be on edge too. Are you alright?”

Jon takes a deep breath, and forces himself to stop the tapping of his pen against the desk. “I- yes. I’m fine. And you?”

“Yeah. Just a bit stressed.” Tim lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s fine. I’ve already texted Martin before coming inside. Seems like everything is okay.”

“I’m sure he’ll manage,” Jon says, trying to convince Tim as much as himself.

“Yeah. Shall we find Sasha? Maybe she can also tell us what’s going on here.”

Jon nods. In the end, they find Sasha in a small corner of the library, sitting at one of the desks with her nose in a book. She looks up as they approach, and her face lights up at an instant.

“Tim!” she says, a strange kind of relief in her voice. She jumps up to give Tim a hug. “It’s really good to see you. I’ve been worried.”

Tim laughs and readily puts his arms around her. “I’ve been away for just a few days,” he says, sounding about as confused as Jon feels right now. “Didn’t know that you’d miss me that much, but I’m flattered.”

Sasha pulls away, giving him an unimpressed look. “Not like that.” She turns to Jon, giving him a smile.

“Good to see you too, Jon.”

“Sasha,” Jon says, very carefully. “What’s going on?”

Sasha suddenly goes very still. “Oh. Um. You haven’t heard yet?”

Both Tim and Jon shake their heads, and Sasha lets out a long breath as she slumps back down into her chair. “It’s… it’s about Gertrude Robinson. The Head Archivist. She’s been missing since last week.”

For a moment, Jon is struck speechless. He stares at Sasha, dread churning in his stomach. Tim is the first one to speak up again.

“Shit,” he says. “What happened?”

“We don’t really know,” Sasha says with a frown. “She didn’t come into work on Thursday last week. Elias reported her as missing after there was still no sign of her after the weekend. The police are here today to ask some questions.”

Jon nods. “Yes, we saw them.”

Tim lets out another quiet curse and crosses his arms over his chest, sitting down on the edge of the desk. “What do people think has happened? There’s got to be rumours.”

Sasha scoffs. “People are talking like she was a senile old woman who just wandered off or got lost or… I don’t know. But I know Gertrude. She wasn’t like that. I think something must have happened to her.”

Jon shares a look with Tim. He can’t help but feel a little unsettled by the fact that Gertrude disappeared around the same time he rescued Martin from the fog. Given the somber look on Tim’s face, he seems to think the same. In the end, neither of them says it out loud. Tim finally looks away, letting out a sigh.

“I hope she’s alright,” he says, reaching out to squeeze Sasha’s hand.

Sasha gulps, and forces a smile on her lips. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Is there… is there still a way to access the Archives when Gertrude is away?” Jon finally asks after a moment of silence.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s currently closed off for the police investigation. Why are you asking?”

“Jon and I are working on a case. We were hoping to find some clues in the Archives.” Tim looks around nervously and lowers his voice, as if he’s afraid Elias would pop up behind a bookshelf any moment now. “It’s, err, a bit unofficial.”

“Oh?” Sasha perks up immediately, leaning a bit closer, eyes sparkling behind her round glasses. “Do tell. What are you looking for?”

“We’re looking for anything related to fog and isolation and… loneliness, I guess? Not really sure about the details at this point.”

“And mentions of the man that Martin was describing,” Jon says.

Sasha freezes, her eyes wide. “Wait. Hold on. Martin? Martin Blackwood? From the police report I got for you?”

“Yep, exactly that one,” Tim says with a smile.

“What happened?”

“Short story is, he was stuck in some kind of spooky fog dimension and Jon swooped in like a knight in shining armour and got him out.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jon protests, his cheeks burning as Sasha gapes at him.

“It totally was, and I’m sure Martin thinks so as well. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Tim. Can we focus, please?”

“Alright, fine,” Tim sighs. “I guess we’re stuck with the library for now until we get news from Gertrude?”

Jon frowns. “I suppose.”

“Can I help?” Sasha asks excitedly. She looks from Jon to Tim and back, her eyes gleaming.

“Oh. Really, you want to?”

Sasha’s smile widens. “Are you kidding? That’s definitely the most exciting thing that has happened in this dusty old place in a while.”

“You worked in Artifact Storage,” Tim says, one eyebrow raised.

“I mean, the most exciting thing that doesn’t want to either curse me or kill me on sight.”

“I’m not entirely sure how Martin feels about sharing all the details of his story,” Jon says. “We’d have to ask. But we would certainly appreciate any help we can get.”

Sasha nods in understanding before clasping her hands together. With a grin, she turns to the shelves behind her, eyes wandering over the rows upon rows of books that might contain the answers they’re looking for. “Right. Let’s do this.”

[a-libra-writes]

Fighting Alongside the GoT Characters & They Realize You’re a Woman

THIS IS A NEAT IDEA + a request woop woop, I hope i did it justice, anon!

I didn’t include some characters because a few started to get repetitive, or bc I genuinely struggled with them. If i removed or didnt include your fav, serenade my ask box and ill add them!

In this preference, you'll be fighting with: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Tywin Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brienne of Tarth, Roose Bolton, Ramsay Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

When you removed your helmet, Ned was certainly taken for surprise, but it wasn’t so unheard of for women to fight in the North - for a moment he wondered if you were with the Mormont family and he just didn’t recognize you. He’d thank you for helping him in battle and once he was home, ask around to see if anyone had heard of you. If you were the daughter of a knight or soldier at Winterfell, he’d feel quite abashed for not knowing you, and he’d make a point to try and speak to you again.

ROBB STARK

In the middle of battle, Robb noticed you were consistently protecting other men on the battlefield. He focused his attention back on the battle and at one point, you intercepted a soldier coming for him. After the battle, Robb looked for you, and was stunned to silence when you removed your helmet. He quickly recovered himself and thanked you for protecting his men and himself. If you had time, he’d want to know more about you, especially how you learned how to fight so well.

SANSA STARK

A tourney had gotten out of hand, and you were the one to shield Sansa away from a drunken crowd that turned into an outright brawl. She got separated from everyone, and you easily guided her home. She’d graciously thank you, asking if you were a Ser, and she wouldn’t hide her surprise once you pulled your hood back and showed your face. She’d think about you well after she went back into the Red Keep, and ask her handmaidens if they knew of a woman with a pretty face and a sword at her waist.

JON SNOW

Jon flounders a little when he finds out. He was thanking you for your help and complimenting the quality of your sword, then you took off your helmet and his words suddenly sputtered and failed him. You could probably tease him a bit for it, and he’d apologize with a blush. Jon wouldn’t be able to hide his curiosity as to who taught you how to use the sword, and he could definitely be goaded into a spar. The matter of how you ended up at the Night’s Watch occurred to him as well, and you certainly had to elbow him when he tried to ask you something in front of others.

BENJEN STARK

He had a few suspicions when he’d seen you before, but his attention was quickly taken away when a pack of wildlings attacked you and his scouting party. You watched his back more than once, and he did the same, and you two dealt with the wildlings fairly quickly. Once you both were alone, he’d just bluntly ask if you were a woman. He’d want to know more about you and why you were here of all places, asking with a genial smile. He wasn’t judging, you could tell, and he wouldn’t expose your secret. 

JORY CASSEL

He was pleasantly surprised when you stepped in to help him fend off some opportunistic bandits. Once you revealed yourself, he couldn't hide his surprise and stumbled on his initial words. He still thanked you and he'd think about you for some time after, wondering if anyone at Winterfell has heard of you. If you ran into each other again, he’d take that chance to actually ask you his questions and get to know you better.

DOLOROUS EDD

He didn’t pay much attention to “the brother who creeps about in a hood”. You both were somewhat friendly, you were just quiet for obvious reasons. It wasn’t until you both got caught out beyond the Wall during an expedition, and a wildling yanked your hood off, did he realized why you were bundled up and hiding. It was just you and Edd that were caught out, and you more or less threatened them into silence. To say he was surprised was an understatement, but he played it cool, trying to get to know you throughout the trip and subtly distracting anyone who was bothering you.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

Tormund would light up with absolute glee once he realized the crow he’d been watching in combat was actually a woman. He liked your style and asked you outright to show your face and give him a proper spar. It only made him like you even more, especially if you’d disarm him during the spar. He’d probably end up with a crush by the end of the day, and Jon would have to pull him away once he started asking after your battles and scars.

THEON GREYJOY

Theon actually scoffed when you remove your hood. There's no way a girl could've hit the bandits with the ferocity you did, but here you are. He's distinctly reminded of Yara when he sees the way you grip your weapon and glare at him, so he gives a half-baked thanks. Later in the Winterfell training yard, he'd laugh at the way you'd knock over Jon and Robb, until the two of them pushed him into the ring to fight you. He wondered how he’d never noticed you before, but not being noticed was kind of the point of your disguise. For every time you’d laugh at how easy it was to disarm him in a spar, he’d laugh at how sideways your arrows would fly.

YARA GREYJOY

She didn't pay attention to who was fighting alongside her until afterwards. When you removed your hood to shake out your hair, she just laughed outright, recalling just moments ago when you doubled over a man twice your size. She would then saunter over, bluntly asking why you were helping her and her men. Yara appreciated ferocity in a woman, and she’d say as much. She’d want to grab a drink with you and find out how experienced you truly were, and if you were looking for a crew to work on. Being surrounded by a bunch of men with only a few brains between them got exhausting, after all. 

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

You had heard of her exploits through Essos and travelled to Meereen to see the dragon queen for yourself. During a sudden revolt, you jumped forward beside her guard and helped fend off the angry crowd. Once she was safe in her palace, Daenerys demanded to see your face and know your intentions. You removed your hood and explained yourself. Admittedly, she was much more interested upon seeing your face, and she’d accept your service if you decided to pledge to her.

JORAH MORMONT

He’d seen and heard of women warriors in Essos, it wasn’t too unusual. He was still surprised when Viserys hired you to watch Daenerys on her wedding day, perhaps thinking she’d run. You and Jorah ended up with something of a rapport, especially once he saw you fight. He grew up with ladies in courtly dresses and manners, so to see such a pretty woman wield a weapon with such ferocity was an interesting and sometimes amusing sight.

MISSANDEI

Missandei rarely left the palace unless she followed Daenerys’ lead, and this was the exact reason why. She’d try to be stealthy, but she was caught up in a riot in Meereen. You pulled her to safety back to the palace, cutting down any that tried to hurt you both. There wasn’t time to talk until you both were finally safe - shaken, but safe. 

You’d finally remove your hood and ask if she was alright, and Missandei was surprised, but still grateful. She’d implore you to come into the palace, to see the khaleesi and perhaps you’d be rewarded. Missandei liked that you didn’t want a reward, but she’d still want your wounds to be tended to.

TYRION LANNISTER

Like the rest of the attending audience, Tyrion was shocked that it was a maiden who won the melee at Casterly Rock. It wasn't long before the gossip caught up and he learned your name and House, if you had one. Later at the feast, he'd make a point to bring you a cup of wine, since he heard many lords snickering and complaining about your win. He'd jest that you'd lost them quite a bit of gold, then would chat and try to learn about you. 

JAIME LANNISTER

You fought alongside him in his father’s army, and at first, he thought nothing of the soldier beside him, besides your competence and skill with the blade. It wasn’t until in the heat of a fight, when your helmet was knocked off, that he realized what you were. You scolded him for being distracted and retrieved your helmet after the battle. You then implored him to keep your secret, and Jaime did. He still thought of you sometimes, and would try to seek you out at camp, but you blended in too well with the other Lannister soldiers. It’s an understatement to say he was surprised to see you long after, when he returned to King’s Landing a very different man. You still had the same sword, the same armor that hid your features. It was oddly grounding to see something hadn’t changed, and this time, you gave him a smile. 

TYWIN LANNISTER

He'd heard some years ago about a lord in the Crownlands allowing his daughter to don armor and learn the sword, but Tywin never kept idle gossip in mind. The thought returned when you arrived with your lord father and his men, fresh off the battlefield. You removed your helmet and gave your courtesies, while your father remarked on how many Stark men you took the life of. After that, when his generals would disappoint him, Tywin would make a snide remark about how he ought to bring the Crownsland girl to the wartable, since her bannermen were doing more for the war. He might even call you into the war chambers and quiz you on strategy in front of them, just to make a point.

SANDOR CLEGANE

You were a sellsword hired by that Imp, along with those hill clans he brought along, but you certainly weren’t with them. He must’ve picked you off the street. Sandor thought something was off, but he also didn’t give a shit to investigate further. You were pretty short for a mercenary, though. It wasn’t until the riots, when the two of you went after the missing Stark girl, did your secret get out. Your hood was thrown off in the scuffle, but it hardly deterred you as you pulled Sansa to her feet and into his arms. On the way to the Keep, you had the mind to pull your hood back, but he already knew. It was a funny thing for a woman to carry a sword with such confidence, but you were useful in a fight, and you lacked the cruelty of most of the City Watch and Goldcloaks.

BRONN

Tyrion sent him looking for sellswords, so he did, listening for gossip around the city and checking the seedier taverns. You had a reputation, and he saw your skill firsthand when you handled yourself in a brawl some sellswords started. He didn’t join in until a sword came straight for his gut and you blocked it. Your eyes met for a moment before you returned to the fight. You hadn’t noticed your hood had fallen down. 

A woman with a sword was a strange thing, to be sure, but it could also be a useful thing. With a lopsided smirk, he offered you a drink and said a certain Hand of the King could use your sword.

STANNIS BARATHEON

You had distinguished yourself during the battle for Blackwater Bay, even if it was a failure. Not only had you killed a number of men, you saved a good amount of your own. When Stannis called you and a motley of other knights and soldiers to give credit where it was due, you wore your helmet, like the rest of them. And like the rest of them, you had to remove it when your king commanded. There was a rise of murmurs and hushed whispers across the room, and you were sure a flicker of surprise crossed Stannis’ face, but he pressed on. Your skill was recognized and you were given a newer, better command.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

You were one of the many sellswords brought to Dragonstone, and while Davos spoke with the leaders of their mercenary bands, he rarely met the individual warriors themselves. It was during one of these meetings that a sudden brawl broke out between a bunch of hot-blooded, bored men that you went to work in breaking up. You’d helped get Davos out of the way while the men were dealt with. Your hood had been torn in the process, and while he had seen plenty of women with weapons during his travels, it was still a little surprising, especially seeing one so young. He gave you genuine thanks and, if he saw you again, he’d make a point to say hello and ask after you. 

MARGAERY TYRELL

You were a supposed sellsword that saved Margaery and her guards on their way to King’s Landing. It was just bandits, but there were a number of them, and you got a wound for your troubles. Margaery positively lit up once she realized you were a woman, and a cute one, at that. She’d insist you come back with her, especially to tend to that wound, and she’d ask all sorts of questions on the way back. It almost felt like a job interview….

BRIENNE OF TARTH

You helped her fend off several soldiers on the battlefield, and she said a quick word of thanks before moving on. It wasn't until the battle had finished and she saw you around camp - the same armor and shield, sans a helmet. Brienne quickly approached you, baffled that she couldn't tell. She'd be very interested in your skills and would shyly ask after you. Secretly, she was delighted and intrigued, but she didn't want to annoy you with her questions. It was pretty obvious to see her interest, though, and Brienne would be more than willing to join you in a round of spars.

ROOSE BOLTON

Your father was an old sword for the Bolton house, and he taught you what he knew, provided you kept your head down and stayed out of trouble. You did so for years, no one suspecting until a battle against the Lannister men. You thought you were alone when you removed your helmet and armor and tended to a wound. Lord Bolton decided a woman with proficiency in swords and an ability to keep hidden for years in his own keep, could be put to better use than a common footsoldier. It didn't take long before he confronted you and assigned you under new orders.

RAMSAY BOLTON

Although he’d claim otherwise, Ramsay didn’t actually know every man and sword employed to the Bolton house. Some were strictly his father’s, and didn’t report to him. You were one of those swords, often keeping to yourself under a hood and few words. Unfortunately you were tasked with accompanying Ramsay to free Winterfell from the impromptu Greyjoy attack. When one of the Ironborn tore off your hood, he was there, and he saw. You recognized that glint of interest immediately, and promptly reminded him that you were a soldier for his father, not him. He didn’t command you, and you weren’t going to be a part of his little games.

OBERYN MARTELL

His skill with a spear was more than well known, and he was confident in his abilities, so Oberyn didn’t worry too much about bodyguards. His brother finally wore him down and he agreed to take two on an impulsive trip to King’s Landing. Sure, that was enough, and you came in handy when a sudden brawl broke out at the brothel he just insisted at staying at. In the midst of the fight, your hood was thrown off and he really stopped everything, even ignoring the man bleeding at your feet, just to get a look at you. He made some cheesy line about treating you like a proper lady, had he known, and offered you a drink. You pointed him to the angry matron of the brothel and suggested giving it to her instead.

BERIC DONDARRION

Like many in the Brotherhood of Banners, you joined after your village was destroyed by the Lannisters. You kept to yourself and kept your identity a secret. You trusted Beric as a good man, but some of the others, not so much. The first time he saw you fight properly is also when your identity was exposed, a soldier having ripped your cloak off. Beric just smiled and asked if you were alright, and complimented your skills with the sword. He had an inkling you were a woman when you both first met, and he was more than willing to keep it a secret if that’s what you wished. And, yes, he’d set your sword on fire if you asked- just once, though.