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jaehunnyy · 2 years ago

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The sound of our tied souls

Genre: soulmate!au, rockstar!au, kinda enemies-to-lovers but not really, a bit of angst, fluff, happy ending

Word count: 3.3k

Pairing: rockstar!San x fem!reader (feat. reader's best friend x Mingi)

Warnings: swear words (quite a lot), time-skip, kind of a bad guy attitude—San's a bit of a jerk at the beginning but he has a character development :), soulmate rejection, mentions of some jealous fans, kinda slow-burn, one kiss, possible grammar mistakes

A/N: this oneshot is part of @sungbeam's soulmate collab, which i was so proud to be part of; thanks for the opportunity, love 🤍

You got woken up by that annoying song again, your beauty sleep being thrown away for the rest of the night—cause it seemed like your soulmate had no sleeping schedule. You couldn't understand how he could listen to this all the time, you often wondered if his hearing was still intact—cause the loud growl of what seemed to be an electric guitar could surely manage to make you deaf by now.

You have first discovered your soulmate bond after your 16th birthday, when you began hearing rock music everyday. Everyone was talking about how sweet their marks were: a tattoo with the letter of their significant other's name, a highlight in their hair matching their future partner's color, and the list could go on. You, on the other hand, had to struggle with listening to something you absolutely despised, without thinking that your soulmate returned the same feeling to your music choice. With a mischievous smile on your face, you made your way to your piano, starting to play one of your favorite songs. God, if only you knew how frustrated your soulmate got.

"San, you messed up again! Can you fucking focus?" Hongjoong, the leader of their group, Guerrillas, shouted, watching as the culprit lowered his head.

"I can't, Joong. I can't, because all I hear right now is Für Elise, and it messes my head up!" he shouted too, pulling his hair back in frustration.

The others looked at each other with confused looks; was there something they didn't know? Without actually meaning to, Mingi bursted into laughter, leading Wooyoung to chuckle as well.

"Since when do you listen to classical music?" he asked San, smirking playfully.

"I don't. That thing you call soulmate does."

"You're hearing what your soulmate listens to?!" Wooyoung exclaimed, covering his mouth in shock.

"Yeah. But you know I'm not into this shit of yours, so let's get back to practice. I'll try and focus." he simply said, taking his guitar again, the strap attached to it hugging his torso perfectly.

Seonghwa shrugged and signaled the others to start playing, their practice session blooming once again. You could swear that he'd never played music that loud before; it felt like a competition between the two of you, and you smiled at the thought of having him so frustrated. You didn't know who he was nor how he looked, but you were ready to make his life a living hell, as much as he had started to turn yours into one.

At one point, the music stopped and you managed to sleep a bit, but it was way too little for your liking. You woke up at the sound of your doorbell, your best friend standing behind the wooden door.

"You won't believe what my boyfriend got me!" she said as soon as you opened the door, barging into your house like it was her own.

"Do I wanna know?" you sighed, thinking that your best friend's excitement meant chaos.

"He got me two tickets at his band's concert! We're gonna see the Guerrillas!" she jumped, pulling the two golden-like tickets from her pocket.

She and Mingi—her soulmate, met a while ago, and since then, she was always talking about him and how much their music grew on her. She must have been so happy now, that her world had finally earned its colors. Her and Mingi's soulmate mark consisted of seeing the world in black and white, until the two of them met. You still remembered how fast they agreed on becoming a couple, and you still wondered how they made it work so well. You knew how proud she was of her boyfriend, mainly because it was the third time she was trying to convince you to go with her, thinking that it would be, somehow, her lucky chance.

"There's no way I'm going to a rock concert." you protested, crossing your arms.

"There's no way I'll leave you alone until you say yes." she smirked, shoving one of the tickets in your jacket.

Nice try, you thought, before taking a moment to actually read the information on the ticket. How bad could it be, after all? Maybe, in this way, you could find more about your soulmate's favorite genre of music. You also thought it was maybe an occasion to meet Mingi's friends; you knew he was in the college's rock band, though you've never met them in this formula.

"Fine. I'm only doing it for Mingi's effort to get you these." you said coldly, side-eyeing your friend when she gave you a bear hug; it was gonna be a long week.

While the two were already making plans for the big day, the boys took a break from their intense practice session, starting to talk about whatever traveled their mind while drinking a can of energy drink. San was absent from their conversation, fidgeting with his calloused fingers, the effort of always trying to hit the right strings showing. The thought of having a soulmate was really burdening him, he didn't want to spend his energy searching for someone he didn't even want to meet. Little San would probably be disappointed, because all he has ever wished for was to grow up and meet his other half. Arts student San, though? He didn't need anything else as long as he had his guitar by his side; a capo and some sheet music could easily solve his problems. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone constantly hearing the feelings he tried expressing through music; it made him feel vulnerable, like he had no personal space anymore.

"San, do you agree with the outfits we've decided on?" Jongho asked, looking curiously at the way too quiet boy.

"Huh… yeah, sure, sounds great." he replied, avoiding the way Yunho raised his eyebrow at his reply.

"You didn't pay attention," he sighed, before adding some other words: "Something's definitely bothering you, so talk to us."

"Is it because of your soulmate? Why don't you just search for her?" Wooyoung asked, feeling the way the elder tensed. "It should stop after you meet, right?"

"Meeting her means that I have to be committed, and I don't want to commit to her." he spat, putting emphasis on not wanting to do so, and without bothering to spare his friends the slightest glance, he just took his things and left them speechless, in the middle of the studio.

The week passed fastly, the not-so-wanted (by a certain someone, 'cause the whole college actually went crazy for it) concert finally coming to life. The boys were backstage, trying to memorize their lines or chords for the last time. You and your friend would be late though; because she couldn't let you wear the clothes you would usually wear.

"I can't believe you want to wear a coat to a rock concert," she sighed, slightly amused by your antics. "They cover songs like Smells Like Teen Spirit, Sweet Child O' Mine and more, and they will most likely sing their own songs as well. This isn't Antonio Vivanti."

You let out an offended scoff, grabbing the leather jacket she was trying to put on you and wearing it, despite the ick the weird material was giving you. "And it's Vivaldi, by the way. Pay respect!"

"Yeah, yeah. C'mon, or else we will be late!"

Luckily for her (‘cause you tried to lose as much time as you could), you arrived just when they settled on stage, greeting the ones who came to see them. You couldn't say you weren't a bit jealous whenever you saw the way her and Mingi looked at each other—because it did something to you. But you were scared of being rejected, pretty sure that the soulmate thing wasn't as easy as it seemed.

Your thoughts were brushed off by the loud sound made by the mix of instruments, making you flinch, to your friend's amusement. Not being able to sneak outside because of her hand constantly holding yours, you decided that the least you could do was to pretend you were enjoying it. The others seemed to have fun too, even the boys, who really owned the stage—until something stole the show. San was taken aback by the way his in-ears worked—or so he thought. The same song they were performing was playing in a faded but bothering way in his ears, making him look at the others with a questionable look. He then made a few gestures to the staff, waiting for the song to stop so he could go and see what was wrong. Hongjoong looked at him worriedly while still focused on his bass, meanwhile Mingi almost messed up while playing the drums.

"We will be back in a few minutes, wait for us, okay?" Jongho screamed, hoping to keep the audience busy for a bit, while the others went to see what was wrong with San; their mics weren't off, though.

"There's nothing wrong with your in-ears, San. They work perfectly," the staff informed him, a few curse words leaving his mouth.

"What if your soulmate is at the concert, San?" Yeosang asked innocently, almost like a joke—though the younger boy freezed in his place.

The audience went crazy; some fangirls gasped and started to whisper several things about San's potential soulmate, meanwhile some of them had the same reaction as San. Some of them even started to run, looking suspiciously at every single girl they saw. "San has a soulmate?", "God, what did she do in her past life?", and so many other phrases that made you scoff. Who was this San and why was he so popular? The influence of his jealous fans spreaded through the whole venue, making the staff finally notice their mics and turn them off, though it was too late—the fuss was already created.

"I don't think that's the case—" Seonghwa tried to protest, but San stopped him.

"I think that's exactly the case." San looked at them, before throwing his in-ears somewhere. "What should we do now? I don't want to perform anymore."

"Then… let's wrap it up." Hongjoong sighed, before going back on stage. "Due to some unfortunate events, we need to stop here, darlings. Don't worry, we will come back soon!" He bowed and left the stage, leaving the fans high and dry. In other circumstances, nothing could have made him leave the stage that easily; he would have found a solution. But seeing how messed up his friend was, it made him want to try and understand him, he was going through a quite special phase, after all.

"I will go ask Mingi about what happened, do you want to come?" your friend asked, though your answer didn't even matter, she was already dragging you after her.

She greeted her boyfriend and the others as if they knew each other since forever, asking them about what was wrong.

"San hears whatever his soulmate is listening too, and he has only told us a few days ago," Mingi said, wrapping an arm around the girl's waist.

Your eyes widened at what he said, but you decided to keep composure—maybe it was just a coincidence.

"And she is into classical music, it's so frustrating. Why would she come to our concert?" San snapped, ignoring the guest his friend's soulmate brought.

It all made sense to you then. You probably didn't realize the music coming from him because you tried to enjoy the new experience, but it made sense. The two-tone haired boy, the arrogant San everyone was talking about was standing in front of you—moreover, he was your soulmate; and he didn't seem too happy with the idea of being bonded to someone.

"Who's the lady next to you?" Wooyoung asked, feeling the need to make you feel implied in the discussion.

"She's Y/N, I dragged her here with me," your friend laughs awkwardly. "She's not a fan, but Mingi got me two tickets so I made use of them."

"Oh! Do you happen to hear rock music sometimes?" Wooyoung asked, smirking playfully.

"Uhm… no, sorry." you said, looking at San, who was already looking suspiciously at you. He was really arrogant, you wished to be able to reject him, but he seemed to do it first.

"Even if she was, I told you guys I don't care. My soulmate can go search for another one." he said, before leaving them, once again. You were the next one to leave, not even caring about the possibility of giving your little secret away.

Even after a few days, you couldn't deny the emptiness you felt the moment you were indirectly rejected by your soulmate—it was definitely noticeable, somewhere in your heart. It was safe to say San didn't feel as good as he thought he would either, even when he rejected the one he was assigned to live his whole life with on purpose. He figured out it was you, because he stopped hearing the once annoying music; but he missed it. And the news about his soulmate was spread in the whole college as well, not helping at all; they were making even the outsiders interested in the tea going on.

"I'm tired of this shit, guys. I won't come to practice today."

Hongjoong looked at him once again, nodding, not knowing exactly how to comfort his friend in this situation, words long forgotten. San started to walk in the direction of where the studio was, his ears filling with the melodious sound of a piano playing. Like it was a habit of his, his legs guided him to the door, which he cracked open, just to reveal you playing the piano. Your fingers moved skillfully along the piano keys, Debussy's Clair de Lune resonating beautifully in the room. The sweet melody managed to comfort him somehow; he didn’t know if it was the calming nature of the song or the closure he was supposed to have with you, but he felt relaxed, listening peacefully until the painful silence started to bother him. He then took the matters into his own hands—in such a San way.

"You’ve got some skills, soulmate," he said, his lips stretching into a little smile, though a little dimple made its appearance still.

You got a bit surprised by his presence, but stopped what you were doing, to return a small smile and answer him.

"Thank you. I guess you do too."

"Was that Beethoven?" he asked curiously, sitting on the chair in front of the piano, next to you.

"Claude Debussy, but A for effort," you said, smiling at his attempt.

A wave of silence spread across the room, before you decided to break it: "We got off to a bad start, but we can still repair it. I'm Y/N," you said, sticking your hand out to him.

He grabbed it, shaking it softly. "I'm San, nice to meet you again." He waited for another reaction of yours, but seeing that you didn't plan on saying anything else, he made the next step: "Let's be friends."

You spent most of the day with him, sharing tips and talking about your opposite passions—though it was well known that opposites attract. Now, that you've gotten to know him a bit better, you could say he was more than just an arrogant guy.

One month passed since your first interaction with your soulmate, and you would have never expected that there would be more; yet here you were, watching as he excitedly got two tickets from his pocket.

"You're invited to our concert tonight! My treat this time, for you and our friend." he winked, handing the same golden-like tickets to you.

"I'll be there, Sannie." you smiled, giving him a side hug before running to your class. He smiled softly, not believing the effect love could have on him.

Furthermore, tonight's stage would be an important one for him; it could mean accomplishment or failure, but he was still willing to try. The boys found him smiling like an idiot—but they enjoyed it, they could tease him about how a certain someone made him change. He never failed to amaze them, but someone definitely brought the best in him. He watched as the boys looked at him, his freshly dyed hair glowing nicely into the dim lights. His hands were covered in a pair of fingerless mesh gloves, fingers full of rings, while his t-shirt was nicely tucked in his leather pants. Some chains were dangling on his neck and waist, and a fake lip ring laid on his lower lip, completing the rockstar look he opted for.

"Where's San and what have you done with him?" Yeosang joked, entertaining the other seven boys in the room.

"Shut up, Sang. Are you ready?" Seonghwa asked, taking his mic and retouching the last details for tonight's show.

"Never been more ready." San smiled, taking his guitar and being the first one to get on stage.

"Hello guys, thank you for coming today too!" Wooyoung exclaimed, getting ready to perform at his best.

You and your friend were somewhere in the front row, singing along with the other fans who came to see the eight boys. You were bouncing with her, enjoying the genre you softly became addicted to, but it was surely an influence San had on you. You didn't know what happened to you, but you still had hope, that maybe something would change his mind. Suddenly, the culprit's voice was heard in the whole venue, catching your attention and making you stop whatever you were doing.

"As you all know, one month ago, I met my soulmate at the concert we held in the same place. I'd like her to join me here, please, Y/N?" he smiled, gesturing for you to get on stage, next to them.

You looked confusedly at your friend, who pushed you in the direction of the stage, playing their game. You got there, finding yourself in front of the crowd and waving awkwardly at them, not expecting to hear their loud screaming.

"I know I was a bit of a douchebag at the beginning, and that was definitely not the way you wanted us to meet. I messed up, but I hope you can forgive me."

The fans cheered up louder, while a big smile found its way to your face, making the boy's lips stretch into one as well.

"I know I rejected you at the beginning, but let me try to fix things. I hope it's not too late," he laughed softly, before continuing: "Have you started your looking for another soulmate project yet?"

You burst into laughter, nodding as no a few times. His cheeks got colored in a crimson red tone, and you could swear you've never seen anything cuter than a shy rockstar.

"Can I have the chance of being the lucky one, then?" he asked and watched as your expression changed, nervousness noticeable in his voice as well.

"I thought you considered yourself unluck—" Wooyoung interrupted, but Jongho was fast to cover his mouth and prevent him from saying anything else. "You're screwing the moment, Woo." he said, mouth still pressed on his older friend's mouth.

You laughed at their antics, taking the mic from San's hand.

"As much as you've annoyed me, I still like you, Choi San. I always did, which is why I would actually love to give you this chance."

As soon as you finished your romantic little speech, he cupped your face, pressing his lips on yours softly. The fans went crazy, cheering and jumping as the two of you sealed the promise of loving each other forever with a soft kiss.

"With these being said, I'd like to announce the title of our next album, entitled The sound of our tied souls!" Yunho said, making the night of every single soul attending that concert, the stars shining even brighter above their heads.

You pressed your forehead on San's, admiring his beauty while your noses rubbed lovingly against each other's. The road you had to walk on to find your soulmate was a tough one, but looking back on it, you wouldn't want it another way; you were too excited for your future with your other half—the arrogant boy you started to love, the one destined to be eternally yours.

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theslotherin18 · 10 months ago

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Ok, so quick question fellow HH fans. What is Velvet supposed to be based off exactly, like her theme? Yes, I know she was a maid cosplayer in her earlier design but they kinda got rid of that.

Edit: I saw someone say she is a clown/jester which I think is pretty cool ngl.

Valentino is very clearly based off a moth with his fluff and wings and its obvious he is the porn overlord with his pimp fit. The moth theme is quite clever given how irl moths emit pheromones during sex to make it more inticing. His red and white color pallet gets this across as well.

Vox likewise has a tv head and Wi-Fi symbols, blatantly signalling what he has power over along with an electric themed color pallet. The more subtle shark theming with his lair and coat tail shape is a nod to the sin of greed given how shark demons come from the greed ring(helluva boss). His wardrobe being a parallel to Alastor (which I made a post about) and theming makes it clear what he is all about even if it’s nor 100% original (if it ain’t broke don’t fix it)

The character designs, despite all the bashing from haters of Vivzies art style get their point across which is the most important role of character design.

Velvet on the other hand, I am not so sure. If she is based off an animal, idk what she is. Looking at her upfront, you can get the idea that she is an edgy bitch. The only thing she kinda has to play into her social media stuff is the hearts on her vest(?) and the constantly changing hairstyle and scene kid outfit. If I had no prior info, I would think she was Valentinos evil assistant with the repeating heart theme or Val and Vox’s love child incarnate. She doesn’t give Social Media overlord on her own.

I did notice she had a line that is perpendicular to her lips that gives her a doll like appearance which could play into the social media perfection angle but nothing else from her current design seems to go along with this theme.

Now, I have my gripes with a certain genre of character redesigns(the ones who in bad faith trash the originals and try to “fix it” by making the exact same mistakes in their improved one) but if I had to redesign her, I would give her a clear theme.

You could lean into an ocean theme based off internet lingo like “surfing the net” and how the Envy ring in helluva boss is speculated to have a deep sea theme and be ruled over by leviathan(if you like the theory that sinner’s demon form takes inspo from the native born demons that originated from the ring of hell their corresponding vice they most indulged in their earthly life was.). Or perhaps a cat theme given how ubiquitous they are in the early internet, social media and memes.

Perhaps instead of hearts, Vivzie could of used thumbs up, which on social media is an almost universally understood symbol. Maybe more phone or app based iconagraphy(copyright free of course)

Maybe a color pallet that looks less like a blend of Vox and Val’s color pallet that could stand on its own. I think keeping red would be a good call given how vox and Val also have that color, which would unify them as a trio. She has a tendency to blend into the background given how her pallet is both muted(the reddish looking color) and neutral (white and grey)

Idk, I am not expert on this stuff but that’s just what I see.

#hazbin hotel velvette #yes I spelled her name wrong but I was half through this post and I way to lazy to fix it #hazbin hotel #the vees #character design #vox hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel #helluva boss

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not-a-space-alien · 1 year ago

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Magnanimous Moonrise Chapter 22M

IM BACK BABY!!!!!!

Story masterpost

Complementary chapter

In this chapter: Who's at the door???

Warnings for this chapter: None

***

There was a knock at the door.

That was bad. In the time Valen had been here, Lex and Ari hadn’t had any visitors besides Jerome and Bailey.

Valen had been lying secure in his wooden box sleeping, but the knock woke him up. His stomach started to twist with anxiety. Who could it be? Not Nick, right?

Lex walked forward and opened the door.

“Ah, Alexis.” That was all Valen heard. Because it was his voice.

Why was Nick here?

Why is Nick here?

I thought he didn’t know where we live!

I thought you were going to take care of me!

I thought I didn’t have to worry!

Valen was immediately so wild with terror, heart pounding, ratcheting up to maximum panic, that he couldn’t even focus enough to hear anything that Nick was saying.

They’d betrayed him. All the comforting words had been just for show. He’d been trying so hard to convince himself to believe them, and the prickling anxiety in the back of his mind that he couldn’t ignore had been right. They were just going to hand him right back over.

His racing mind slowed down a bit as he noted Lex and Ari both sounded unhappy in this conversation with Nick, and that time was dragging on without the coffin opening, without them telling him Valen was here.

Calm down. Calm down. They weren’t opening the door. They weren’t giving him away. They didn’t plan this. Of course they hadn’t. Nick must have come over unannounced somehow. He wasn’t supposed to know where they lived, but he must have found out somehow and invited himself over.

Which meant one thing. There was one thought now blotting everything else out. His survival now depended entirely on his ability to be quiet.

The words in the conversation above him still flowed past him without comprehension, far too tense and scared to follow along.

Slowly, so slowly, he lifted his hands to his face and clamped them over his mouth and nose. Humans’ hearing wasn’t good enough to hear that, right? Nor his panicked breathing? Nor his hammering heart? Nor his sweating, or tears slipping down his face?

There came the sound of things tapping on top of the coffin. His entire body stayed rigid, about to snap like a taut spring.

He ground his teeth. Humans’ hearing wasn’t good enough to hear that, right? It hurt. His teeth clicked together.

He had one of his chew toys in the coffin with him. Nick wouldn’t be able to hear that, right? Surely his hearing wasn’t good enough to hear fangs sinking gently into fabric, muffling the sound of his teeth?

He very, very slowly reached down and took the dog toy, bringing it up and putting it in his mouth.

He sank his fangs into it. In the microsecond after his brain had sent the signal to his nerves to shut his jaw, but before his jaw had responded and closed, he realized with electric panic that he’d grabbed one of the dog toys that had a noisemaker in it.

The toy squeaked. It was like a gunshot. Valen’s heart stopped. He remained completely rigid, sweat pouring off his forehead.

“Do you have a dog?” said Nick’s voice.

Valen’s fingers twitched. He expected the coffin door to be ripped open at any moment. The seconds stretched on and it didn’t come. The voices continued their conversation. He still couldn’t make himself focus enough to actually listen to what they were talking about, eyes rolling around in terror.

Finally, finally, finally footsteps moved towards the front door, and he could hear Ari ushering Nick out. Valen waited in silence, wracked with full-body tremors.

“Valen, he’s gone, please open the door.” It was Lex’s voice.

Valen’s hands shook almost too badly to undo the lock. The coffin flew open, and Lex pulled him up and into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m sorry, I forgot that was one of the toys that had a squeaker in it. I’m sorry.” He felt so stupid. The anxiety had just been eating a pit in his stomach, and he’d needed something.

“You’re okay,” Lex said.

“It’s all right,” she’d said, and then locked him in the coffin and tossed him down the stairs into hell.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” It was Ari, and she was mad. At first Valen was terrified that she was talking about him, until it registered that him meant Nick. That was good, that was one thing he had going for him. Lex and Ari were still on his side. He clung to it like a drowning man on a life preserver.

“What do we do?” Lex said. “I feel like he definitely figured it out. He definitely figured it out, right?”

He definitely did, he must have. If he’d figured out where they lived, he must have figured out Valen was here, right? He was out there, plotting, scheming, making his weapons, imagining all the horrible things he was going to do to Valen once he got his hands on him again.

“And he has another vampire. We have to do something, right?”

Right. Valen wasn’t alone in this Hell anymore. Nick had another victim. They had to get them out.

Which was terrifying, because Valen might have to do something to help them. If it came down to it, he couldn’t not help them, but when it came down to it, he might not be able to make himself help them either, if it meant confronting Nick. His body would lock up, like it had just now.

Ari ground her teeth. "We have to get Valen out of here. Across the border."

Yes. Yes, please. Please. I need to get out of here. Where he can’t reach me. He was in a fit enough state to be on his own now, right? Physically, at least. Yes, probably. Mentally? Maybe.

“Can you run?” Ari asked. “Are you going to be okay on your own?”

Valen tried to control his breathing. He could, right? “Yes. I-I think so.” Maybe he would have to be, because the alternative was staying here when Nick knew where they lived, and oh God he knows where I am-

Ari came over and wrapped her arms around him. “Good,” she said softly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He just let himself be held, the anxiety melting slightly, here in her strong arms. His eyes started to slide closed, soothed by the sound of her beating heart. He had to resist the urge to follow her as she released him. “Which is why you’re going home at nightfall.”

Valen had mixed feelings about it. Truly he would only be safe over the border…but he was strangely loath to leave Lex and Ari, despite his very mixed feelings about them.

It didn’t have to be goodbye forever, he told himself. They had phones. They could call each other. It’s not like he would never get to see them again. Even though they were unsafe on vampire territory, and he was unsafe on human territory, they could figure something out. If the two of them wanted to…

With considerable effort, he wrenched his train of thought back on the tracks. Truly the only thing that could distract him from the fear of Nick was the possibility of….

Of what…?

Of….something with Lex and Ari.

But there would be time to think about that later, when Nick was no longer a looming, imminent threat. He nodded resolutely. “Okay.”

“What about the other vampire?” Lex asked.

Right…He couldn’t leave without making sure Nick’s second potential victim was safe from him. He braced himself–most vampires who came over the border were here to catch a human, so this was bound to be one of the worst of the worst among vampirekind. Maybe even one of the hunters that worked for the Kithrara blood farms, some of the nastiest people he’d ever met.

“Valen, can you hang around long enough for us to bust them out?” Ari asked. “I’m thinking we just…go grab them and dump them in your lap, and you both go home. Nick is gonna be pissed, but I bet we can finesse this in a way that we don’t get in too much trouble. We might lose our jobs, but Lex and I were thinking of quitting anyway. I’m not putting my job over my humanity. And it does come down to that, thinking about letting someone else go through that. Even a vampire that was here to catch a human.”

He could do that, right? All he’d need to do would be wait, and then get delivered home and make sure this second vampire got home as well. The thought was… Well, it weighed on his conscience to know that freeing a random vampire might mean they’d just go take another shot at getting a human, but what was the alternative? Kill them? Leave them?

Valen could try talking to them. Maybe they could be reasoned with, especially since their last attempt had failed. He nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Yes, we can do that.”

Ari ran her fingers through her hair, huffing. “Okay. Guess we just need to figure out what we’re gonna do, then.”

***

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#hurt/comfort #angst #whump #vampire whumpee #whumpblr

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remesrobotics · 2 years ago

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”Crash Girl” (Provisional Number 54β)

DWN.054β - “クラッシュガール” “[Directive complete. Standing by for further instruction]”

Note: This is an Alternate Timeline variation, and not ‘canon’ to the character’s current presentation

Good Point - Punctual Bad Point - Temporary Like - n/a Dislike - n/a

7’ (213.36 cm)* - though bad posture makes her appear shorter.

Purpose - While continuing research into his future ‘virus’, Dr. Wily intended to release a prototype into the populace to drive robots - targeting Dr. Light’s creations - to send them on a rampage. Unfortunately for him, it got out early, infecting his own robots, and the preliminary “destroy all humans” directive included him. He was forced to flee to a secret base not connected to any of his others, which few of his Numbers were even aware of.

While there, Wily could not risk sending out a wireless distress signal for fear of his whereabouts being discovered. So he pulled an incomplete robot - the initial construction intended to be “Slash Girl” - and equipped the chassis with provisional armor and other modules, and directed it to physically carry a distress message to Dr. Light, at high speeds, at any cost.

Despite the name, “Crash Girl” is not related in design to Crash Man (despite displaying a few similarities), and is not even a direct name, but rather a nickname granted by third parties to the improvised provisional build’s appearance, and habit of crashing through obstacles rather than navigating around them.

Her provisional armor is extremely heavy, but unrefined. This combined with her shock absorbers make her very resistant to blunt/ballistic and explosive damage as a result. However, because the plating is essentially raw, it is susceptible to corrosive and weathering damage, making her weak to water and/or acid based attacks.

Her high-speed electronic components have not been finalized in this state. She has no recording equipment, nor does she have failsafes (making limb blowout a serious risk). As a result, she lacks her final iteration’s weakness to electricity.

The lack of high speed sensors is the primary reason her provisional armor is designed to go through obstacles rather than around. She is intended to get from point A to point B as quickly and directly as possible. No more, no less.

Her wings haven’t been installed, but her brake boosters have, so her primary attack uses those. The name ブレイククラッシュ (Bureiku Kurasshu) could translate to Brake Crash, but also alternatively Break Crush, or any combination therein.

#oc crash girl #mega man #fancharacter #remes data cd #this is kind of a pointless character variant to include #but I had one (1) neat picture of her that didn't have to be this detailed #so be subjected to it lmao #not sure how i'll address asks for her though

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daybreakrising · 11 months ago

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HEADCANONS - B.AIZHU & THE CONTRACT (SIDE EFFECTS)

The name of the contract with Changsheng is known as "Way of the Dragon-Dragging Jade Snake." Only the name of contract is known, and not even Changsheng can explain the details, only that she learned it long ago.

given that we know next to nothing about the intricacies of the contract itself, i have of course taken it upon myself to expand on it. we already know how it works: b.aizhu has accepted a shorter lifespan & chronic incurable illness in order to heal the sick and save lives by sacrificing his own.

but an early grave and lifelong pain are not the only side effects of such a contract:

b.aizhu inherited changsheng's eyes, but this is not the only snake-like trait he possesses. hidden in 'sheaths' above his canines are a set of retractable fangs which can slide free as he wills them. fully extended, these fangs measure roughly an inch from root to tip. there is a shallow groove along the inner edge of the tooth which, typically, would be used to guide venom into a wound. for the most part, b.aizhu keeps these hidden, but will occasionally use them for practical purposes (piercing tough skin on fruit, breaking seals on jars, etc). he has never revealed them to anyone (barring changsheng, who is naturally aware of them). this is partly why his smiles are typically closed-mouth - even though the sheaths are near invisible unless someone is looking for them, he doesn't chance a keen eye spotting them.

his blood is toxic. a combination of his snake-like traits & the sickness he takes into his own body on a daily basis has turned his blood into poison. if ingested (either by human or beast), it will cause a myriad of unpleasant symptoms including: sickness, fatigue, fever, chills, dizziness, weakness, breathing difficulties, mental confusion - and, in the worst cases: seizures, loss of consciousness, and coma. naturally, he has created an antidote to appease these symptoms on the rare chance his blood is accidentally ingested, which he keeps on his person at all times. (there is also whisper of a deadly potent poison kept under lock and key in the pharmacy's stores, though the doctor will neither confirm nor deny its existence).

he is able to process venom in his body. do not mistake this - he is not immune; merely, he can withstand its effects for short periods of time without suffering. this enables him to treat victims of venomous bites or stings promptly and efficiently. the higher the dose, the less time he can fight the effects.

he can smell sickness. even at its earliest stages, he can sense it, similar to the way some animals can detect sickness long before it is discovered. it took years of experience and practice to hone this particular skill, but he is now able to pinpoint the exact type of illness and at what stage it is just from a brief inhale. this is how he can be so efficient with his treatments - how he knows what someone needs as soon as they step through his doors.

by extension, he can also smell death. he knows when someone is terminal even before he examines them, even if they are still in the early stages of a fatal illness. (on that note, q.iqi still carries a lingering scent of death about her, though it is different to those that are merely dying).

he and changsheng share thoughts. whilst they can't actively communicate telepathically, they are able to predict what the other is thinking or feeling. changsheng, too, is able to sense the state of b.aizhu's health - she can feel when he tires, when the pain is worse; she knows his bad days even before they actually happen. he cannot hide anything from her even if he wanted to try (this includes lying, which he does more often than people might think).

he can see in total darkness. like certain species of snake, he is able to convert the heat from organisms that are warmer than their ambient surroundings into electrical signals, which allows him to "see" in the dark.

#;the doctor will see you now (headcanons; baizhu)#( i will probably add more to this at some point )#( i'm gonna be doing a whole lot more research on snakes- )

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marcomargomeredith · 2 years ago

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It’s the end of January in my town which means one thing: there's still that one house that hasn’t taken its Christmas lights down yet. Luckily for me, this year that house is the one right outside my bedroom window. And, following this extremely obvious train of logic, these leftover lights have me thinking of two things: aliens and God. Why? Well, because when you wake up in the middle of the night and your bedroom is slightly lit by purple and red lights, you obviously think you’re either about to be abducted by extraterrestrials or raptured by angels. Obviously. I’m not going to touch the God part (sorry haters), but I am coming out as an alien-believer. Whenever people ask me why, I tell them that the universe is just too big to not have other living things in them. I mean scientists have already come up with equations that prove the probable existence of aliens. However, that's not the root of it all, and I don’t exactly care about math all that much. The simple fact of the matter is I believe in aliens. Despite the proof that they do or don’t exist, I do. People believe in things all the time, that things will get better, that things will get worse, and neither of them are entirely wrong. People believe that a stranger on the internet knows them personally or that he’s never gonna cheat on you again because he promised too (replace this with: the person who just glanced at them in class is in love with them), maybe those two people are actually wrong. I don’t know. That’s what's really being chewing me up, believing.

To slightly contradict myself, about 95% of the time knowing the truth and reality is important. For the majority of your life, belief isn’t some big leap from point A to happiness, it’s a daily prayer and a warm feeling. I’m not arguing for us to completely abandon reality for degrees of delusion. However, the other 5% still does exist. There’s a point where you reach the horizon and you have the option to look over the edge or not. If you do, you fall down into everything, suffocating under the facts that atoms are particles are quarks are whatever or whatever and you get lost in the technicality. Your 5-year-old self cries because they realize reindeer can’t fly nor can they eat carrots and there’s no way a whole man can fit down your electric chimney. The other option is to not look down, to close your eyes and confidently step forward: to believe. Younger you knows it doesn’t matter if Santa is real or not because the presents are going to pretend to have his name anyway, and it’s much more fun to pretend. You realize that whatever’s below quarks doesn’t matter because you hit a growth spurt very young and don’t have to worry about anything that small (RIP Short Kings - delete this whole sentence probably).

When you get down to it, we really cannot prove anything. That’s a sentence with a load of nihilistic 14-year-old energy, but stay with me for a moment. We prove everything based on our senses. They tell us what’s going on by sending signals to our brain. Our brain is made of millions of chemicals telling us they are a brain and we believe them. We believe them when they tell us we are chemicals and so we right that down. Not to say that science isn’t true, it most definitely is, but this is how logic breaks down. You tear any belief down to its core and you end up back at the top again. There’s a symbol called the Ouroboros which is a snake eating its own tail, going around and around, a symbol for infinity. That’s the way I imagine believing, you strip a belief back to its basics and circle back around to the whole. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s just the way I comprehend it. We believe tomorrow could be better because yesterday we did the same thing, and there’s another day coming tomorrow. The thing below quarks is just the tail staring us in the face, asking for another bite. I believe in aliens because I like the thought of it. I like the thought of it because it makes my life more entertaining. I got that idea from some movie about aliens. The person that made that movie probably thought aliens were entertaining too. Around and around and around.

In the end, I don’t believe in aliens because I have any proof, and I don’t need any. The point of it all is that my belief doesn’t affect anyone. It doesn't change anything pretty much, except for one thing: when I wake up in the middle of the night I get to imagine that something exciting is happening. I get over it just as fast, but I still get to smile because, for just a moment, I got to believe in something fun.

#free write #ouroboros #aliens #belief #topher talks

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flashdrivegarbage · 2 years ago

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humans are, i think, inherently very lonely creatures. we crave a closeness to others that is impossible to reach. there is loneliness in the fact that no matter how much or how long a person knows you they will never know you completely. we are ever shifting and changing. we are complex electrical signals chemical compounds that create thoughts and intentions and feelings. i could never truly and completely explain every facet of myself to another person and another person could never completely glean who and what i am from my actions and words. i will always, no matter what, be unknown in some way, in many ways. it is an inherently lonely existence, knowing that i am infinitely multifaceted and complex and also knowing that i can never be completely and truly known nor can i completely and truly know someone else. maybe that isn’t a universal experience. maybe i’m the only one who thinks or feels this way. i don’t think it’s a bad thing. the want for closeness that cannot be truly achieved is not overpowering. a want for closeness is what pushes me to make friends, to build relationships, to meet people despite already having friends. i do not think it is a bad thing that there is a small way in which i cannot truly be satisfied because i do not think that i really do want to be completely know. i would be uncomfortable with someone knowing me so truly. and yet the urge persists, the want for it, ingrained in me. maybe this is not a universal human experience. but even if it isn’t a universal human experience, what is another small way in which i am alone in my experience of the universe?

#existentialism #random introspection #the human experience #idk what to tag this #late night thoughts #loneliness #being lonely

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soullessjack · 1 year ago

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HAIIIIII I HAVE MOOOREEEEE ^______^

> just like crosses, jack is also affected by other apotropaic magic/symbols. he hates gargoyles bc he always feels like he’s being watched by them, and almost unwelcome to enter the place they’re mounted on (usually churches ofc).

good luck charms will either physically hurt jack or die/be destroyed in his presence; horseshoes burn his skin, rabbits’ feet rapidly decay, clovers wilt, and barn stars crack in a pentagram shape before falling off of their mounts. likewise, bad luck charms are either drawn to him or happen specifically in his presence; black cats will always randomly snuggle against him & be at ease with him, and any nearby birds/ bird flocks will fly left to right around him.

> when jack feels particularly strong emotions or has a strong reaction but stifles it, his repressed feelings physically manifest through subconscious telekinetic damage basically; hairline fractures in nearby glass, crackles of electricity in the air around him that affect any nearby currents of it. lightbulbs flicker and/or burst, candles will either burn blue-hot & melt the wax or simply die suddenly as if someone blew them out. if there are any tv or radio signals anywhere, it’s telekinetically hijacked and will begin playing things that reflect his mental state or whatever he repressed, like song lyrics or sitcom dialogue. sometimes sound effects. essentially it’s just, what if jack could electrically communicate his feelings when he’s nonverbal or refuses to physically say them.

> sometimes he’ll find himself accidentally doing something that mirrors what Lucifer has done according to the Bible or urban legends, like pacing around so much it creates a “stomping ground” in his floor/wherever he’s pacing around or being weirdly talented at the fiddle.

> not exactly Lucifer related but he most definitely has cryptid status in Lebanon after the events of Don’t Go Into The Woods. everyone has noticed how weird That Family Who Lives Out Of Town is and how their Bambi-faced kid-roommate-whatever is somehow even weirder, but then Eliot kinda spews out the whole “hanging out with That Guy” incident and how he turns out to be this magic yellow-eyed kid who hunts monsters all the time and pretends that he’s a Jedi & tried to teach the kids how to kill monsters like him but ended up stabbing Stacey but then magically healed her wound but they told him to fuck off and he did so it’s okay now they guess.

whenever he comes to town alone some of the local kids will follow him around to see what he does by himself (mostly consists of library visits, then the diner, then reading/using his laptop while he’s at the diner, etc. some of them want to get pictures of his eyes when they’re glowing but the photos never develop right bc it cant register celestial light or energy. one time there was a huge Halloween party in an abandoned house where some kids tried to pull off an urban legend ritual bc of course they do, and he just randomly showed up, armed to the teeth with salt and crowbars and weird occult shit for some fucking reason rambling about everything they got wrong in the ritual and how to do it Properly as per his books and apparent expertise

> kinda elaborating on the snake thing bc it’s not exactly a psychic link but it’s more like…they’re drawn to him in the same way mosquitoes are drawn to O+ blood bc they can sense the blood of The Serpent their common ancestor within him. snakes don’t have thoughts in coherent English speaking nor can jack psychically hear those thoughts, but he can understand their basic emotion and even feel it himself sometimes, especially if it’s very strong. many snakes have beef with him because The Serpent His Father is the reason they don’t have legs anymore

I kind of wish they had kept certain devily things about Jack. Like how when Kelly was pregnant with him she would burn when she held a bible. Like the juxtaposition of him being so innocent and ✋🙂 ‘hi I’m Jack!’ and then a bible literally lighting itself on on fire and burning in his hands and him being like ‘🙂🔥… huh. Well that’s weird.’

Like I get none of this happens to him because it shows he’s good and not like Lucifer but I just think it would be a cute & funny contrast to him being so clearly adorable to also “oh I can’t wear the priest collars like my Dad’s do. They immediately try and choke the life out of me. Crazy right?!”

Or like the cross thing with Lucifer. He has to keep flipping them back around when he’s working a case in a home so the owners don’t notice and freak out. Whispering for the crosses with little tortured men on them to “stay!” As he backs away from it. ✝️👀

“How do churches do that thing? Like you know, the thing where the air shifts when you come inside like it’s trying to suffocate you a little bit and there’s like a constant invisible force trying to push you toward the exit? …. It’s just me again, isn’t it?”

Or asking if it’s possible he’s allergic to holy water because it makes him break out into welts when it accidentally gets on him. Dean’s like “…yeah. Allergies. 👀 that’s what it is.”

#aight that’s enough I’m conked the fuck out dude #good night I hope you enjoy these ^_^#jack being a cryptid in Lebanon is so special to me honwstly #srb #spn #jack kline #spn headcanons #spn 14x14 #supernatural

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blackwoolncrown · 3 years ago

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For the past few days, a heatwave has glowered over the Pacific Northwest, forcing temperatures in the region to a record-breaking 118ºF. Few people in the region—neither Americans nor Canadians—have air-conditioning. Stores sold out of new AC units in hours as a panicked public sought a reasonable solution to the emergency. Unfortunately, air-conditioning is part of what’s causing the unusual heatwave in the first place.

We came close to destroying all life on Earth during the Cold War, with the threat of nuclear annihilation. But we may have come even closer during the cooling war, when the rising number of Americans with air conditioners—and a refrigerant industry that fought regulation—nearly obliterated the ozone layer. We avoided that environmental catastrophe, but the fundamental problem of air conditioning has never really been resolved.

Mechanical cooling appeared in the early 1900s not for comfort but for business. In manufacturing, the regulation of temperature—“process cooling”—controlled the quality of commodities like cotton, tobacco, and chewing gum. In 1903, Alfred Wolff installed the first cooling system for people at the New York Stock Exchange because comfortable traders yielded considerably higher stock returns. Only in the ’20s did “commercial cooling” appear. On Memorial Day weekend 1925, Willis Carrier debuted the first centrifugal air-conditioning system at the Rivoli Theater in Midtown Manhattan. Previously, theaters had shut down in the summer. With air-conditioning, the Rivoli became “the talk of Broadway” and inaugurated the summer blockbuster.

-another direct tie to capitalism. Everything born out of colonio-capitalism carries its toxic mark. Article totally not under the cut for those who can’t pay for Time. It honestly paints a really clear picture of the situation. Bolding mine.-

“It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.“

Before World War II, almost no one had air-conditioning at home. Besides being financially impractical and culturally odd, it was also dangerous. Chemical refrigerants like sulfur dioxide and methyl chloride filled most fridges and coolers, and leaks could kill a child, poison a hospital floor, even blow up a basement. Everything changed with the invention of Freon in 1928. Non-toxic and non-explosive, Freon was hailed as a “miracle.” It made the modernist skyscraper—with its sealed windows and heat-absorbing materials—possible. It made living in the desert possible. The small, winter resort of Phoenix, Arizona, became a year-round attraction. Architecture could now ignore the local climate. Anywhere could be 65ºF with 55% humidity. Cheap materials made boxy, suburban tract housing affordable to most Americans, but the sealed-up, stifling design of these homes required air-conditioning to keep the heat at bay. Quickly, air-conditioning transitioned from a luxury to a necessity. By 1980, more than half of all U.S. homes were air-conditioned. And despite millions of Black Americans fleeing the violence of Jim Crow, the South saw greater in-migration than out-migration for the first time—a direct result of AC. The American car was similarly transformed. In 1955, only 10 percent of American cars had air-conditioning. Thirty years later, it came standard.

The cooling boom also altered the way we work. Now, Americans could work anywhere at any hour of the day. Early ads for air-conditioning promised not health or comfort but productivity. The workday could proceed no matter the season or the climate. Even in the home, A/C brought comfort as a means to rest up before the next work day.

The use of air-conditioning was as symbolic as it was material. It conveyed class status. Who did and didn’t have air-conditioning often fell starkly along the color line, too, especially in the South. It conquered the weather and, with it, the need to sweat or squirm or lie down in the summer swelter. In that sense, air-conditioning allowed Americans to transcend their physical bodies, that long-sought fantasy of the Puritan settlers: to be in the world but not of it. Miracle, indeed.

But it came with a price. As it turned out, Freon isn’t exactly non-toxic. Freon is a chlorofluorocarbon (CFC), which depletes the ozone layer and also acts as a global warming gas. By 1974, the industrialized world was churning out CFCs, chemicals that had never appeared on the planet in any significant quantities, at a rate of one million metric tons a year—the equivalent mass of more than 500,000 cars. That was the year atmospheric chemists Sherry Rowland and Mario Molina first hypothesized that the chlorine molecules in CFCs might be destroying ozone in the stratosphere by bonding to free oxygen atoms and disrupting the atmosphere’s delicate chemistry. By then, CFCs were used not only as refrigerants but also as spray can propellants, manufacturing degreasers, and foam-blowing agents.

The ozone layer absorbs the worst of the sun’s ultraviolet radiation. Without stratospheric ozone, life as we know it is impossible. A 1 percent decline in the ozone layer’s thickness results in thousands of new cases of skin cancer. Greater depletion would lead to crop failures, the collapse of oceanic food systems, and, eventually, the destruction of all life on Earth.

In the 1980s, geophysicist Joseph Farman confirmed the Rowland-Molina hypothesis when he detected a near-absence of ozone over Antarctica—the “Ozone Hole.” A fierce battle ensued among industry, scientists, environmentalists, and politicians, but in 1987 the U.S signed the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, which ended Freon production.

The Montreal Protocol remains the world’s only successful international environmental treaty with legally binding emissions targets. Annual conferences to re-assess the goals of the treaty make it a living document, which is revised in light of up-to-date scientific data. For instance, the Montreal Protocol set out only to slow production of CFCs, but, by 1997, industrialized countries had stopped production entirely, far sooner than was thought possible. The world was saved through global cooperation.

The trouble is that the refrigerants replacing CFCs, hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs), turned out to be terrible for the planet, too. While they have an ozone-depleting potential of zero, they are potent greenhouse gases. They absorb infrared radiation from the sun and Earth and block heat that normally escapes into outer space. Carbon dioxide and methane do this too, but HFCs trap heat at rates thousands of times higher. Although the number of refrigerant molecules in the atmosphere is far fewer than those of other greenhouse gases, their destructive force, molecule for molecule, is far greater.

In three decades, the production of HFCs grew exponentially. Today, HFCs provide the cooling power to almost any air conditioner in the home, in the office, in the supermarket, or in the car. They cool vaccines, blood for transfusions, and temperature-sensitive medications, as well as the data processors and computer servers that make up the internet—everything from the cloud to blockchains. In 2019, annual global warming emissions from HFCs were the equivalent of 175 million metric tons of carbon dioxide.

In May, the EPA signaled it will begin phasing down HFCs and replacing them with more climate-friendly alternatives. Experts agree that a swift end to HFCs could prevent as much as 0.5ºC of warming over the next century—a third of the way to the goals of the Paris Climate Agreement.

Yet regardless of the refrigerant used, cooling still requires energy. According to the U.S. Energy Information Administration, air-conditioning accounts for nearly a fifth of annual U.S. residential electricity use. This is more energy for cooling overall and per capita than in any other nation. Most Americans consider the cost of energy only in terms of their electricity bills. But it’s also costing us the planet. Joe Biden’s announcement to shift toward a renewable energy infrastructure obscures the uncertainty of whether that infrastructure could meet Americans’ outrageously high energy demand—much of it for cooling that doesn’t save lives. Renewable energy infrastructure can take us only so far. The rest of the work is cultural. From Freon to HFCs, we keep replacing chemical refrigerants without taking a hard look at why we’re cooling in the first place.

Comfort cooling began not as a survival strategy but as a business venture. It still carries all those symbolic meanings, though its currency now works globally, cleaving the world into civilized cooling and barbaric heat. Despite what we assume, as a means of weathering a heat wave, individual air-conditioning is terribly ineffective. It works only for those who can afford it. But even then, their use in urban areas only makes the surrounding micro-climate hotter, sometimes by a factor of 10ºF, actively threatening the lives of those who don’t have access to cooling. (The sociologist Eric Klinenberg has brilliantly studied how, in a 1995 Chicago heat wave, about twice as many people died than in a comparable heat wave forty years earlier due to the city’s neglect of certain neighborhoods and social infrastructure.) Ironically, research suggests that exposure to constant air-conditioning can prevent our bodies from acclimatizing to hot weather, so those who subject themselves to “thermal monotony” are, in the end, making themselves more vulnerable to heat-related illness.

And, of course, air-conditioning only works when you have the electricity to power it. During heatwaves, when air-conditioning is needed most, blackouts are frequent. On Sunday, with afternoon temperatures reaching 112ºF around Portland, the power grid failed for more than 6,300 residences under control by Portland General Electrics.

The troubled history of air-conditioning suggests not that we chuck it entirely but that we focus on public cooling, on public comfort, rather than individual cooling, on individual comfort. Ensuring that the most vulnerable among the planet’s human inhabitants can keep cool through better access to public cooling centers, shade-giving trees, safe green spaces, water infrastructure to cool, and smart design will not only enrich our cities overall, it will lower the temperature for everyone. It’s far more efficient this way.

To do so, we’ll have to re-orient ourselves to the meaning of air-conditioning. And to comfort. Privatized air-conditioning survived the ozone crisis, but its power to separate—by class, by race, by nation, by ability—has survived, too. Comfort for some comes at the expense of the life on this planet.

It’s time we become more comfortable with discomfort. Our survival may depend on it.

#ac #climate change #climate crisis #eco #environment #comfort #articles #to read

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l4ndon0rris · 2 years ago

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Living a Lie; DR3

Masterlist

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x you

Summary: a one shot where you cheat on your asshole boyf w Dan SMUT

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: swearing, slight hints of verbal/emotional abuse, penetrative sex

A/N: was feeling uninspired so what better than a quick romp ✨ enjoy!!

Dan’s morning run routine had been cemented in his lifestyle for long enough that it was second nature to him, like clockwork he was out before 8am most days until he saw you. It took around ten days before Dan figured out your routine and ended up running on your time and not his. The girl he had noticed seemed to leave roughly around the time he got home, clipping in your headphones on the stairwell and setting off in a different direction each morning. He stuck to his own route to avoid any restraining orders coming his way but the minute or two he saw you each morning was enough for him, for now at least.

He couldn’t figure out what apartment you were coming from but he knew it was above him somewhere in the building, listening for the fast footsteps on the stairwell outside his door to time himself going out at the same time as you. He'd ask your name one morning, he told himself continually but for what good reason would anyone need to know a neighbour’s name? He had seen you far too often to suddenly introduce himself as a new neighbour and he didn’t have any houseplants that needed watering while he was away. The fact that your skin had the perfect blush to its cheeks that swelled just the right amount after your morning cardio wasn’t a reason, nor was the way your hair looked perfectly undone in its pulled back messy bun each day.

A few weeks into his new routine he had worked up to earning a polite smile from you each morning, very neighbourly of him. It took a few more weeks for him to finally learn your name, unfortunately it didn’t come from you but another man. Explicit words, your name, door slamming. The fast footsteps were even faster than usual that morning but he caught enough of a glimpse to notice you wiping your eyes with the balls of your hands as you made your way down the stairs of the building. Instinctively Dan rushed out of the building, this time his pace – or rather yours - was slightly quicker than usual as he ran to catch-up. Making his way in front of you to see your face red from tears you merely shrugged him off when he asked if you were okay and continued your almost sprint away from him. Unsurprising, Dan knew he wouldn’t appreciate a stranger making a fuss if it were him and he distracted by the thoughts of you for the rest of the day.

The next morning Dan waited for your footsteps until he assumed maybe you had caught on to the creepy man who just happened to leave at the exact same time every morning and were now doing everything to avoid him. Understandable but once again his jog was filled with thoughts of you right until he saw you, apartment building in site as he finished his 5k and your figure leaning against the brick wall outside. He wasn’t all convinced the small wave in his direction was for him until he got closer and noticed you signalling for him to take his headphones off as you spoke something.

The music was overtaken by the noise of early morning traffic and your voice. “Yesterday. Sorry. Bad morning.” He had never thought about how you sounded and it was the most soothing sound to his ears.

“It’s okay…I hope you’re okay,” Dan hoped he came across as sincere as he was.

“I was.” A faltering smile on your lips wasn’t enough to mask the flash of discontent in your eyes. “I am.” Dan’s eyebrow popped with the correction, intrigued by how quickly and naturally you had caught yourself slipping. “Y/N, by the way,” holding out a hand to him.

“Daniel.” He recognised a knowing nod he often got when introducing himself to people when they already knew him by name. Accepting the hand shake he felt the contrast in the softness of your hands with his rough skin. People often talk of a spark of electricity or the burn of a hot passionate touch but he was convinced they were nothing in comparison to the natural delicacy as your hand wound itself in his as if it were to belong there and be held by his repeatedly.

“I’m late today so…” you trailed off pointing in your headed direction, a deliberately telling look at Dan from under your lashes confirmed that maybe you had gotten on to the fact he was almost-stalking you out of the building each morning.

The morning routine had relaxed slightly; Dan no longer waited for the sound of your footsteps before he left the apartment. Instead it had become an unspoken part of the routine that whoever got back first would wait outside for a polite morning chit-chat. Savouring the small few minutes he had with you, never bringing up the loud voice that would heatedly yell your name more times than he would like to hear or never pressing to learn details about you. Whenever he shared anecdotes of his family or friends they were never reciprocated with your own but he silently accepted you as you were.

“Are you going to Jay’s party tonight?” Dan was optimistic considering the apartment building was relatively small and it was only occupants invited.

“I think we’re going to, yeah.”

We are. There is a you that is a part of a we. Dan knew this all along but somehow had managed to compartmentalise the you that gets yelled at upstairs whenever he felt like it to the you that he had gotten to know over the last few weeks. At the very least it meant he’d finally meet whoever it was that made you miserable. He had never seen you cry since that first morning but there was a noticeable uncertainty that lingered in your eyes, a gentle unwavering to your voice and the continuous glances to the building door every time a reflection passed or opened as you spoke.

****

The ‘party’ was more of a gathering but it was to Dan’s liking, enough of an atmosphere to have all of his jokes hit with the audience around him and be able to add a few songs of his choosing the playlist queue.

Dan had been introduced to a few neighbours he hadn’t met due to his day-job. There were two he was particularly interested in. Liam and Craig, both males from upstairs who had respective girlfriends who couldn’t attend for various reasons. Craig was a burly man with a beard he was envious of, worked early mornings outside - which explained the farmers tan poking from under his t-shirt – and had a laugh that rivalled his own. Liam on the other hand had decided to attend the party in a grey work suit, hair quiffed with too much gel and a five o’clock shadow barely visible. Dan knew who he had his money on.

“You should meet one of y/n’s friends, she’d be right up your alley.” Bingo. “What with you working away, probably best just to get your end away when you can, right?!” Liam was rhetorical in his question as the other men shuffled, not knowing each other well enough to know how to respond. “Speak of the devil, looks like she made it after all.” Dan looked over his shoulder to see you walking across the room to him. Until you bypassed him and went directly to Liam’s grasp given he was your partner, that made much more sense.

“I was just telling him about Gina, right sort isn’t she?” Liam looked down at you nestled in his arms whilst he pointed in Dan’s direction. Liam’s fingers gripping your arm territorially close to him. “Bit of a slag last time we saw her, probably sort you right out, mate!” Dan’s teeth grinded against one another in frustration at the way this guy spoke. “Oh babe, this is Daniel. Formula One driver.” Liam added as an after thought before he continued his obnoxious tirade to the group, Dan only heard your whisper hello because he was focused on you before you wriggled away to the drinks counter. Dan’s patience couldn’t withhold Liam for much longer, shooting Jay a knowing look and backing away from the conversation to follow you.

“Remind me why you’re with him?” Dan asked discreetly as he made himself a drink without even moving his head in your direction. He got the impression that any conversation you shared with another male could result in another yelling match and he wasn’t prepared to be the reason for that.

“I could stand here and tell you a lie or I could tell you the truth.” To his surprise you looked straight at him as you spoke.

Dan locked eyes with you almost challenging him to ask you to tell the truth but he didn’t have the nerve. “What would you usually do?”

“Lie.” Without missing a beat, your posture grew, your face contorting into a chesire-cat-like smile he hadn’t seen before and your voice heightened as you stood and lied to him so easily like you had done it thousand times before. “Because I love him.” Maintaining your demeanour Dan watched as you glided back over to Liam living the lie. He quickly realised that the you he had gotten to know had been the truth and this was the one wearing the mask.

It wasn’t long past midnight and Dan was already back at his apartment, feet cross legged on the sofa watching a movie channel. He had lasted long enough at the party but the more Liam grated on him the less trust he had in himself to stay composed. Watching as Liam overshadowed you more throughout the night, comments that nobody would notice to be hurtful unless they recognised the look that flickered across your face.

A knock on the door he was initially going to ignore disturbed his peace until the second knock was slightly more rapid and urgent sounding. Opening the door you were already scooting beside him into his apartment before he had a chance to look at you properly. You gestured for him to hurriedly close the door as he observed the bright whites of your eyes had been replaced by a vivid redness and tear stains marking your flushed hot cheeks.

Dan took giant strides toward you to close the gap between you both as fast as possible, cupping your face in his hands delicately which was like a reset button for your body to throb with fresh tears. He brought your face to his chest, hand on the back of your hair shushing you and telling you it’s okay. He felt the tight grip you had on the back of his hoody like he was the only thing holding you up from falling.

“I’m sorry, I have nowhere else to go,” you muffled out from his chest. “I burnt every bridge I ever had being with him and now I never have anywhere to go when he’s like this. It’s like a curse.” Dan continued to stroke your hair, placing his cheek atop your head as he listened to you finally opening up everything to him he had ever wanted to ask you. “It’s probably because he’s drunk,” the excuses began as you peeled yourself away from Dan.

“No. It’s probably because he’s a twat. Definitely because he’s a twat.” Dan had held his tongue all night and now had all the permission he needed to say how he felt.

“I’m sorry,” the edges of your sleeves now being used as a tissue as you cleared your face.

“Don’t do that,” Dan’s face and tone were hard. “Don’t apologise for him.” Placing his hands on your wrists to move them away from your face he looked at you. Really looked at you. The hair flung over your shoulder, the bare skin of your neck, your lips that were puffier and redder now from the crying. “I’m sorry.” Dan whispered before he let go of your wrists and placed them either side of your face, leaning in to kiss your reddened lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while, I’m sorry.” Pulling away nervous to see your expression at his bold move.

A slight shake of your head was all he could make out, “don’t.” A strained noise rather than a word caused Dan to sigh knowing he had done the wrong thing. Breaking eye contact with you accepting his fate until your hand on his cheek made him look up at how close you were now standing to him. “Don’t apologise,” your breath hit his lips so gently that he wasn’t certain it was real as you kissed him. Delicately at first, as though you were unsure of his reaction despite him instigating the situation. Once Dan wrapped his arms around your waist he felt you smile into the kiss, pressing into him more, willing. You disconnected but hovered still above his pink lips both mirroring a smile.

“Have you had much to drink?” Dan asked, not wanting to take advantage.

“None.” You smiled as you flicked your tongue across his bottom lip giving Dan permission. Dan held out his tongue, both of you teasing and tantalising each other before you enveloped one another in a gentle kiss.

“Do you wan-” Dan never got a chance to finish his sentence before you hummed into his mouth and pressed your body close enough against his that he was sure you could feel his hard-on through his joggers. Lifting you up from your bum, dress draped over his hands as he blindly carried you through to his bedroom, legs wrapped around his waist.

He lowered you onto the bed, lips disconnecting momentarily but only to strip his t-shirt above his head. Your nails gently raking down his back feeling the goosebumps rise along your trail. His hands now underneath the skirt of your dress, up along your thighs to the sides of your waist. Turns out your skin was soft everywhere no matter where he touched, your touch now palming through his joggers causing a stifled groan from his throat. You removed your dress straps from your shoulders, peeling down your dress to expose your breasts underneath Dan’s chest. He gazed in amazement momentarily before he realised he should be worshipping you, taking your nipple in his mouth sucking on it fervently with a gentle nip to the bud causing a shockwave to ripple through your body and between your thighs. You placed your own hand beneath your skirt to rub where was most desired but Dan gave a gentle smack away and replaced it with his own, back arching slightly at the two sensations taking over your body. You couldn’t take much longer, rolling your weight on top of Dan straddling his hips as you removed your dress completely.

Dan bit his lip at the view on top of him: breasts sat perfectly on your frame, one slightly red from where his lips had been moments ago as he shuffled his joggers off his bottom half. He couldn’t help the grin when he noticed your expression as his hard cock sprung from its waistband. You made quick work to take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip as you watched Dan bury his head back into his pillow at the sensation. Looking back at you to notice your hand had slipped once again between your own legs as you ran your tongue the length of his cock.

“Let me get-” Dan turned to the drawer beside his bed and took out a condom, tearing the wrapper and placing it on himself as you kissed along his hips gently. Shuffling back into a comfortable position he brought your face to his, feeling you hover slightly above him placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You ran your nose against his as you positioned yourself over him, slowly sitting down onto his length mouth agape as he filled you. Slowly bouncing up and down his length getting used to the feel of him inside of you, Dan’s face looking up at you more than satisfied with the feeling of you wrapped around his cock.

“You feel so good baby,” he encouraged, you leaning forward to connect your lips once again but this time more passionately than before as you picked up the pace on his cock. Hands gripping the headboard behind him for stability, Dan’s hands cupping your breasts as they bounced above his face. He knew you were incredible; he knew that from the moment he first saw you but this was more than he’d imagined. The groans that left the pair of you were explicit as he held you close against his chest, his own hips pounding into you from beneath. Your breath and moans against his ear were the greatest soundtrack he’d ever heard. Your bodies both clammy with sweat and passion as he hit deeper and harder inside of you as he held you closer.

“I’m close,” Dan groaned out quickening the pace, sitting up to give him a full view of your tits bouncing as you rode him to his climax. His face and body tensed beneath you, slowing to ride it out with him until you noticed his shoulders relax. Leaning over you placed a gentle kiss to his cheek earning a smile from him before you carefully sat up off him.

You left Dan on the bed to clean yourself up, looking in the mirror and feeling no shame or guilt about what had happened. Instead, you felt a sense of relief. You were your truest self around Dan, including the bedroom. You felt safe, secure… happy. Dan’s figure appeared behind you in the mirror, eyes half closed from exhaustion, a downturned smile on his lips mocking his all-worn-out mister down below. You giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist pressing a kiss to your temple. It was so easy and natural in this apartment compared to your one upstairs.

Dan crawled back into bed beside you, flopping his arm over your waist and snuggling into all of your hair on the back of your neck. Drifting off to sleep with the perfect woman in his arms.

A small noise disturbed Dan from his slumber, squinting as though that would improve his vision in the dead of night. Another noise from the corner of the room and a flutter of movement in his vision. He suddenly noticed the weight of the bed only held his own.

“Where you going?” Dan’s voice croaked through the dark room toward the noise.

“I have to go,” a faint whisper as you felt around the floor for your dress you had flung off along the way.

The black of night hiding the disappointment etched on Dan’s face. “You can stay,” the gentle hope in his voice hard to disguise.

“I never stay out,” your figure slowly making its way toward him. “I always go back.”

“You’re going back?” Dan had wished you’d stay asleep buried in the nook he’d made around you with his arms hoping you wouldn’t leave him.

“I have to go back.”

Those were the words would haunt Dan. Every time you escaped the turmoil of your relationship and made your way back into his bed. Sometimes an impromptu visit whilst Liam was working in the office on the odd weekday was all the reason you needed to knock on Dan’s door and fall back into his arms. Some morning jogs had been replaced with a knock on the door, sex and breakfast in bed to follow. The craving for one another was all consuming and the hope that one day that the pair of you would fall into your own domesticated routine as if Liam never existed was a dream Dan had replayed multiple times over. Some nights Dan wouldn’t wake as you left and he would roll over expecting to find you to place a kiss upon your head and snuggle in the morning light. But even as he slept you would still whisper your goodbye in the dark.

You had to go back.

taglist ily @readerselegance @d0ntjudgemy50shades @dr3lover @onelovelife @oyesmendes @chilwellsbitch @dr3ln4 @lace-dolphin @writing-about-current-obsessions

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo smut

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proserpina-magnus · 3 years ago

Note

ok ok I have to be honest I got this idea while reading your last marauders blurb. OT WAS GREAT BTW can you write James x reader where she has never done anything sexual and is really inexperienced. and James is showing her how to touch herself or just helping her explore her sexuality/making her feel really comfortable and safe/while being really gentle with her?

Idk if this makes sense, but I love your writing

Hi!! I'm literally so sorry this took so long, I rewrote it 3 different times. I hope you enjoy and I'm so glad you liked my other Marauders blurb!! Thank you for the request!!! xoxo

One Where You're Innocent [ James Potter ]

Word Count: 1.6k

[ Warning: Fem!reader, finger sucking, clit play(orgasm), fingered penetration, kissing, cum tasting, praise kink, words such as "baby" and "pretty/filthy girl" ]

You look up at James anxiously, knees digging into his bedsheets. You had just let out your biggest secret, one that you had been desperately ashamed of. You had never touched yourself, nor have you done anything...remotely sexual with another person before. Your face was red, a warm deep feeling filling in your gut. You felt this type of desperation, watching eagerly to see James's reaction.

"You've never...?" James leads on, his eyes a bit wide. You both had been dating for some time, but you've only shared a few kisses. You couldn't tell what he was thinking and truthfully, James didn't know how to react. He found it kind of erotic that he could be your first. He pushes that want away, trying to focus on you.

"No...never," you admit, looking down towards your knees. You played with your skirt, fiddling with the ends. James rubbed his slacks, trying to calm his nerves.

"We don't have to do anything, I don't mind waiting...or even never touching you like that," James soothes, trying to get you to calm down and realize he wasn't upset or appalled. You felt a nerve of want, your body upset at his suggestion.

"No, I want you to touch me," you expressed quickly, your legs pressing together to form subconscious relief. James watched, his eyes fixating on your twitching thighs. James wants to lose it, he found your flushed expression adorable. He pushes those thoughts away once again, his hand coming to hold your arm.

"Maybe let's not go all the way today then, would you like me to show you how to touch yourself?" James asked, he sounded so innocent. You felt warmth invade your belly again, your thighs spread as you push your cunt near the bed. You nod, your chest heaving as you take deep breaths.

"Are you absolutely sure? Because if any time you want me to stop, I will," James makes sure you understand, his hand moving to hold your head. You sigh from the touch, leaning into it. You nod once again, before mumbling; "I know I'm safe with you, jamsie,"

James smiled at your words, he pulled his hand away as he stood up. You grew confused, wondering what he was doing. James signalled you to wait a moment, he just looked over you with deep loving eyes. "Okay, I've got it," he muttered to himself, moving to prop himself behind you.

"What are you doing?" You asked, turning your head back to look at him. James only chuckled, his lips planting just below your ear. You shivered, sinking into his chest. His hands come to hold your waist, peppering your neck with sweet kisses.

"I'm thinking it would be less stressful if I just guide you, are you comfortable with that?" James asked gently, one of his hands dipping down to hold your lower belly. Your breath hitched, legs closing on instinct to hide. James watched over your shoulder, his hand instantly coming back up to hold your waist. "I'm sorry, was that too much?"

"No, you just startled me. I'm okay, I promise," you whisper, your head leaning into his chest. You look around the room, trying to distract your bubbling nerves.

"How about you undress when you're ready," James implied, his hands never leaving your waist. You nodded once again, your hair tickling his cheek. You take a few deep breaths, before moving your hands to push your knickers down your thighs. You felt James shift, his eyes watching intensely. You pulled the soft fabric off your ankles, tossing it next to you.

"Please touch me jamsie," you breathed in a whisper, your legs spreading. Your skirt hid your warm cunt, the fabric covering just your hipbones. Your legs propped up, knees red. James let his hands come to your thighs, gripping the doughy flesh against his large fingers.

"I'm going to go slow, I'll explain everything I'm going to do," James told you, his hands pushing your thighs wider. You grasped onto his elbow, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "It's okay, I've got you," James whispered, his right hand coming to gently push your folds apart.

"I'm just going to rub your clit, tell me if it's not making you feel good," James didn't give you much time to prepare, his index and middle fingers pressed your clit. You twitched at the feeling, fingers holding his arm for safety. He started to rub circular motions, making you take a heavy breath.

Low moans pushed past your lips, your thighs spreading more at the feeling. James held your hip with his other hand, holding you to his chest.

"James, I feel so warm," you express, not understanding why the slow-motion felt so good. James chuckled his lips against the shell of your ear. Your body jerked at a sudden wave of nerves, your hands gripping his large wrist. "Don't stop, don't stop," you pleaded, holding his hand to your cunt. James's fingers speed up, moans leaking from your throat.

"Does your pretty pussy like the attention baby?" James coo's, watching as you spasm and become a moaning mess in his lap. You're mumbling through moans, begging him not to stop. You feel an electric sensation spread through your body, your mind blank as you glow in the glory.

"So good James, so good," you ramble, eyes slightly opened as you lay completely in his embrace. James pressed kisses against your head, showering you in affection. "I know it does pretty girl, you were perfect, made such pretty sounds," James praises, making your mind fuzzy.

"Again, please touch me again," you beg, your body still feeling needy. You desperately want to feel that pleasure again, it felt like heaven. James smiled into your hair, parting your legs wider.

"Okay pretty girl, I'm going to try something new," James explained, his fingers moving against your folds. Your body shudder, still sensitive from your last orgasm. You whine as his finger slide against your clit, you twitch in his grasp. "You're okay, I'm not going to play with your clit anymore," he mused against your ear.

"I'm going to stuff you full with my fingers, would you like that baby?" James questioned, his fingers prodding at your dripping entrance. Your mind didn't understand much what he meant, but your body craved the attention so you pleaded for him.

"Please, I wanna be filled, hurts so bad," you completely crumble, tears lodging between your eyelids as you let out a sob. James pulls back slightly, his non-occupied hand coming to hold your face so he can see your pretty face.

"It's okay baby, you're doing so well for me," James distracted you while his fingers pushed deep inside, you let your mouth fall open. Your body gripped around his two large fingers, eyes twitching as you let out a whimper.

"Jamsie, oh god," you rasped, your nails digging into his arms from the pleasured intrusion. James has a smirk on his face, eyes filled with a longing love.

"Does it feel good pretty girl?" James asked a hum on his lips from your reaction. He adored the way your body shook, you took his finger so well. You couldn't answer, you just stared into his eyes with deep lust.

"Move them, move them," you repeat, lost in the sensation. James pushes you back into his chest, letting your lean into him for support. He complies with your wishes, his fingers curling into your warmth. You gasp, a loud moan gets pulled from your vocals. James doesn't waste time, his fingers curl and search for your golden spot.

James doesn't take long to find it, his fingers moving at a glorious pace as his fingers move just right. Your body loses it, your hands gripping at anything you could find. You let your eyes close, another new feeling filling you.

His fingers abuse your cunt, you let out a loud whimpering moan when another finger gets pushed through. His gentle fingers curl and twist deep inside of you, they moved fast but not hard. You could only grip his wrist, your body arching to get closer.

Before you can realize it, your orgasm hits you fast and quick. It makes you see spinning stars, your body limp against James's chest. James lets you take a moment to relax, his fingers still buried deep inside you.

"I'm going to take them out, I know your sensitive but I've got you," James whispered softly, his fingers slipping away from your quivering cunt. You whimper, his used fingers covered in your juices. Before he can wipe them, you grab his wrist and pull it towards you.

You take his coated fingers into your mouth, James stiffens from behind you. You suck his fingers clean, your tongue running between the slit of his fingers. You turn towards James slightly, cunt throbbing as you look up at him with wide innocent eyes.

"Filthy girl, you should've shared with me," James says, his fingers slipping from your mouth. You almost whine from the loss, but James's tongue meets your own. You sigh, his lips forming over yours.

When he pulls away, James wipes his fingers over his lips. He makes sure he gets all the taste, a deep groan leaves his lips.

"Fuck baby, I've should've made you ride my face. You taste like candy," James compliments, a glorious smirk on his lips.

"It's not too late," you comply, a greedy need wanting his mouth on you. James laughs, pulling you closer.

"Alright, let's get started then..."

#james potter #the marauders #james potter smut #young james potter #young marauders #marauders smut #james potter x reader #james potter x reader smut #james potter blurb #james potter x you #james potter fluff #the marauders era

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yandere--stuck · 3 years ago

Text

Grim - Yandere!Grimdark!John x Reader

[Warnings: Suggestive, graphic body horror, mentions of blood and gore]

---

John had watched you die. Not long after he had died himself.

He had seen the dead body of his father, lying on the floor beside Rose's mother. The scent of wine mixed with the stench of blood and death, making the Heir wrinkle his nose in disgust.

He didn't know why he didn't cry. He didn't cry at a lot of things. He didn't know why. Maybe he never learned how.

Or, maybe, it was the comfort of your presence at his side. The feel of your arm brushing against his, the sound of your voice hitching in shock. Even if he no longer had his father…. At least, he had you.

Maybe Dave had been right, the game had been bad news. They probably shouldn't have played it. Really, it had only brought ruin into their lives - into the lives of all it touched.

But it's not like they were the only harbingers of the apocalypse. And if you all hadn't played it… He could have lost you. It's not like he wanted to die, or that he didn't care about his dad or his friends, but you were the most important thing in the world to him.

Really, the main reason he had wanted to play was to finally see you, one on one. Rose was his best friend, but he felt disappointed that you weren't his server player, and jealousy at Jade being your client player. But, finally, to close the loop, he was your server player.

His excitement in seeing you, taking in everything about you, made him lose himself, and he ended up smashing his face against the screen of his laptop. The exhilaration and euphoria of seeing you and serving you almost overpowered the terror at the prospect of you dying, of you not making it to your planet in time.

But, you did eventually make it. The relief made John's heart burst with joy, hugging his laptop to his chest, trying to imagine the warmth of the machine was your own body heat. He made goo-goo eyes at you through the screen, resisting the urge to kiss the pixels that made up your form.

He had to continue making progress, but he was terrified of you getting hurt - so, he alchemized his glasses to include a screen that displayed your status in the game. This way, he could check up on you and carry you with him, outside of pesterchum, at least.

Vriska kept pestering him, eventually convincing him to fall asleep on his quest bed, saying something about "god tiers", apparently it was something even higher than the usual tiers on one's echeladder.

The next thing he remembered was awaking on some sort of chess board-esque battlefield with some little chess guys on it. Luckily, he was able to borrow his dad's car in the meantime (good thing his dad had gotten on his ass about *finally* getting his driver's license… Though, did he really need one if he was controlling it with his new windy powers?) And he had even managed to reunite with dear, sweet, precious Liv Tyler! Though… She was a lot more robot-y than before.

The thought of sharing her with you made him absolutely giddy! And the idea of you being a co-parent to Casey… God, it made him smile so hard his face hurt!

And! He had even gotten a cool hammer! You'd certainly be impressed by his strength and his cool moves. John would prove himself to be a great, protective boyfriend for sure!

A looming darkness caught his attention, and he felt himself pulled toward it. It seemed to come from a large castle shrouded in darkness. It didn't seem to be natural, like from a thunderstorm. It didn't seem to be from a fire either, the darkness neither smoky nor smelt of burning.

His eyes widened as he focused on something in the midst of the darkness - and he let out a gasp when he realized it was you!

He kicked into gear, rushing to meet you. You were dressed in your dream planet pajamas - and you looked so cute in them! As you turned, hearing him approach, he had to fight the urge to not fling himself at you, pulling you into a tight embrace as he spun you around in his arms.

He shook himself out of his daydream as you spoke to him, explaining that you had seen the darkness, as well, and wanted to investigate. It seemed to be coming from within the castle. Of course, John offered to accompany you inside. If anything went south, he'd be there for back-up!

He had to hide his grin and blush as the two of you ventured in, you sliding up beside him for reassurance.

Walking through the cavernous halls of the castle, you were horrified to find the bodies of so many innocent people strewn about, blood and viscera covering the walls and floors. The bodies, as alien as they may have been, were clearly. This was a massacre.

But, beside you, John felt… Nothing. It was sad, sure, but… You were still alive. And that was all that mattered, really!

You jumped when you stumbled upon a living person, John moving in front of you protectively. You held your breath as the figure turned, revealing…

Rose?

Though, she looked much different than what little you had seen of her. Her skin had turned a ghoulish gray, her eyes as black as night, and her eyes seemed to glow, illuminating her face. And a darkness seemed to surround her. It emanated off of her, stretching above her like tendrils.

Could… Could Rose have done this?

John seemed completely unfazed, greeting Rose with a wave, saying something about her "finally going grimdark."

Rose let out a noise that sounds something like a giggle, her lips quirking upwards. She tried to speak, but the words that came out… They weren't even words, you think. It sounded fuzzy, but also incredibly, painfully loud. It didn't sound like any noise a human could make, like TV static blaring in your ears, or switching through radio stations with no signals. It was suffocating and loud and- everywhere. It felt as though Rose's voice was everywhere, all around you, inside of you.

You were sure you let out a scream, but you only heard Rose's voice - even as you screwed your eyes shut and clamped your hands over your head, all you could hear was the noise…! It felt as though your ears were starting to bleed.

John's hands clamped down on your shoulders, bringing you back to the moment. You breathed heavily, chest rising and falling heavily as you tried to ground yourself.

Rose's eyes were full of guilt and concern, a pained expression on her face as she turned away.

As you tried to ground yourself and recover, you barely noticed John caressing your shoulder with a thumb. Nor did you see the deadly glare he sent to the back of Rose's head.

It's not like he didn't love Rose, but he loved you far, far more. If she ever hurt you again… He couldn't be held responsible for what he'd do.

The both of you followed Rose through the castle, the girl not able to bare turning around to face either of you. Still shaken up, you kept your head down, not wanting to look at the bodies or gore. John held you close to him, stroking your arms up and down to comfort you.

He had to fight not to smile, the feeling of your skin on his was electric.

Eventually, Rose guided the both of you out to a balcony of sorts - and you stopped dead, gasping in horror.

John's father and Rose's mother… Both dead on the ground. Murdered.

You couldn't help it, you turned to face John. The man's face was one of shock, his breathing shallow as he processed the scene in front of him.

His dad… He couldn't believe it. He had just seen him. He was right there… He felt his heart break.

Oh, and what was worse… You had to see something this awful! Oh, you poor thing! He had to get you away from here…!

But, everything happened so fast. All at once, a figure appeared - a man with the face of a dog and the body of one of the many, murdered chess people, armed with a sword. Instinctively, you stumbled back - and John turned, reaching out for you, terrified of losing you.

Before he could even call out for you, his words got choked up in his throat, replaced with nothing but blood. Pain exploded from his abdomen and his back, ocean eyes widening as they focused on the sword going straight through him.

The figure pulled the sword free, the Heir grunting in pain as his organs were ripped apart, blood gushing from his open wounds. As John fell to his knees, trying desperately to hold himself up, he spat out blood onto the white, marble floor. Slowly, he sank to the floor, eyes growing dim as, in his last moments, he tried to find you.

---

Coming back to life, John found, was a lot like waking up - the slow awareness of consciousness, the disorientation. A sudden burst of energy hit the man as he felt himself be rejuvenated, colors exploding across his vision. He blinked as he regained his sight, the world fading in from white. He swiveled his head, trying to find you.

In the distance, he could see Rose and the dog-man battling over the battlefield, blasting off magical attacks at one another. His heart pounded in his chest.

If she was there, then where were you?

Looking down, he surveyed the balcony. The body of his father, Rose's mother, and-

Oh. Oh, God. God, no, please!

The Heir felt tears strain at his eyes, his mouth pulled into a pained, horrifying grimace. He fell hard to his knees, kneeling above your body.

"No, no, please!" He choked out a sob. "Please, please, wake up!"

John clutched at your body, fisting the fabric of your pajamas in his hands as he shook you, desperately trying to get you to regain consciousness. He could feel his eyes and cheeks begin to sting with tears. His breathing was shallow and fast, having to use his powers to try to even it out.

He sobbed, all words incomprehensible by now. He let out sobbing screams as he clutched your body close to him, already feeling the warmth leaving you. He pressed, desperate, messy kisses to your lips and face - but, it was no use. Your real body and dreamself had both died.

He doesn't think he had ever cried before now. Only you made him feel so strongly. He loved you. He only loved you. He needed you. He couldn't lose you.

He couldn't.

Without you, life was meaningless. You were his only reason for playing this game. His only reason for doing anything - for living, for breathing. You were perfect. You were everything.

But, without you, there was no point. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!

Grief and rage filled him to the brim. He grit his teeth and he screwed his eyes shut, eyebrows knitting together.

The air tasted of electricity, and without his knowing, the dark clouds that swirled from above dripped down and encircled him like an inky blaze.

And John let out a scream.

Or, at least, he had tried to. His cry had been cut off by inky, black tendrils forcing their way inside of his open mouth. The tentacles came from everywhere, from the gloomy clouds from above the darkness that surrounded the man.

The eldritch beings that had given the Lalonde her current state had felt power within John's rage and sorrow, as well. The outburst had drawn their attentions - feeding off the darkness within him. They would remake him in their image, as well…

John gagged as the tendrils snaked their way down his mouth and down his throat, his neck bulging from the amount of vines forcing their way down his throat. John could barely breathe, writhing in desperation to get air into his lungs. He tried to use his powers, trying to suck in air through his nose in an attempt to somehow get oxygen through the vines' air-tight hold in his throat - only to let out a strangled, muffled scream as tendrils slipped up into his nose, reaching up into his brain.

If he could have, John would have gurgled or spit up around the tendrils, but he didn't even have the ability to do even that. The Heir's limbs spasmed as he tried to reach up to yank the tendrils out, only for more to snap the man's arms against his torso. Even more came to wrap around John's legs, restraining his legs and tying them together.

More tears bubbled up from his eyes as he felt the tentacles curled around his legs, thighs, stomach and chest - almost caressing him, as if gently teasing him. The tender touches only served to contrast the agony of the tentacles spreading further into his body, ripping through his throat and into his stomach and intestines.

The pain was so unbearable that if he could have, he would have puked, but the tentacles blocking his throat and mouth would have never allowed him to do so.

John swore he could feel himself bleeding internally, but in truth it was the feel of the darkness spreading all throughout his body, taking hold of him, corrupting him. He could the darkness clog his arteries, wrap around his bones, fill him up to the very brim with itself - somehow, despite the unknowable agony he was in, John had managed to stay aware, but only barely.

Until, the tentacles that had filled up his nose plunged deep into his brain. The man's body jerked wildly, twitching and spasming as the darkness overtook and corrupted his mind. Dark grey overtook and crawled up his skin. His dark hair slowly turned from his natural hair to a stark white. His eyes, forced to say open, lost their irises and pupils as they were lost in an impossibly bright, growing white.

As the tendrils finally burrowed completely into John's body, deep inside him - a horrible scream erupted from his body, making the ground below him shake and crumble, inky darkness flowing like smoke from his open, shrieking maw, now filled with fangs.

---

You awoke with a start, taking deep gasping breaths. God, your head hurt, and your back wasn't exactly feeling any better. Felt like you slept on stone… Rubbing your head, you looked down, confirming that you had, in fact, slept on stone. It had a distinct symbol on it, and looking at the front of your new outfit, it seemed to share the exact color and symbol.

You stilled suddenly, blinking, realization washing over you. An ominous presence seemed to loom over you, making a shiver crawl up your spine. You turned, and jumped in place.

It was… John. Or, what looked like John. He grinned, looking upon with an eyeless stare. It reminded you of how Rose looked before. Had… Had whatever happened to her, happened to him, too?"

"John… What's going on?" You asked, eyes flitting around in confusion. Somehow, John had taken you all the way to your planet after you…

You…

You died, hadn't you?

"John…?" You settled your focus back on him, letting out a gasp as he pulled into an embrace.

A rumble seemed to emit from within his chest… Was… Was he purring?

You settled into his hold, trying to hide your nervousness. "What happened back there? What happened to you?"

John's expression flickered to one of nervousness, before opening his mouth to speak.

You let out a yell of pain, the sound all too familiar to you. It suffocated you, overpowering even your own yelling, incomprehensible, ear-bleeding static that seemed to drill straight into your eardrums, into your mind, and your very being.

You had only realized John had stopped attempting to speak when he clasped his hands over yours, easing them from your head and holding them in his own. Whimpers bubbled up from his throat as he leaned forward, nuzzling you.

You laughed nervously, detangling your hands from John's to pet at his now-white hair. "It- it's okay, John. We… We just need to find out how to get you back to normal, okay? And then, we can get back to Rose and the others and-"

You were cut off, letting out a soft grunt as John pushed you back down onto your quest bed. A powerful purr rumbled from within him, leaning down to kiss and lick at your neck.

You were stock still for a moment, before letting out a shocked laugh, not knowing how to react. Your hands wormed your way to his shoulders. You chuckled, trying to push him off of you. "John, I- now's really not the time-"

In one swift movement, the grimdark Heir was able to pin your wrists by your head, letting out a playful growl as he straddled you.

"John…" You could whimper, voice dying out.

John only responded by diving in, kissing and licking hungrily at your neck and shoulders, occasionally pressing hungry kisses to your face and lips, swallowing your whimpers and moans.

John's purrs seemed to surround you on all sides as he dug his teeth into your neck, claiming you as his own.

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stuckybarton · 4 years ago

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Another One Bites The Dust

Summary: Another one of Tony's infamous parties ends with Tony urging the newer members of the Avengers into seeing who was worthy enough to lifting Thor's hammer. No one could have expected the measly girlfriend of Loki Laufeyson would have been worthy enough to lift the hammer. Not even Thor would have expected such an information.

Warning: A few curse words. Fluff. Crack!Fic? Overused Marvel Trope. Spelling and Grammar mistakes cuz English isn’t my first language. Not Beta’d. All mistakes are my own. Characters: Unnamed Female Character (reader insert?) x Loki Laufeyson; The rest of the Avengers. Words: 1,518 A/N: I--I really don’t know how, but too much Soju while writing isn’t a good thing. At all.

One of the few things Y/N could never get used to are Tony Stark's lavish parties. Faces, both new and old were overwhelming at times. But the very idea of forgetting about the burden of their profession as well as having to socialize with people of different walks of life brought a new view in her mundane life. It also didn't hurt to have her boyfriend talking to people instead of being the anti-social individual that he is always deemed to be.

But one of the favorite things she could say about the parties were when everyone was gone and the only people left were the team. To be able to let loose and just stopped worrying about work for once. No alien invasions, supremacist, or terrorist to hinder in their down time.

"Why do we have to do this again?" Clint groaned as everyone settled in their seats.

She finds herself settled on Loki's lap, hands intertwined and her back resting against his chest. Moments like this, even at the craziness of the people around them, their silence together means the most for her and she loved it, love this kinds of PDA that he had been more open to show--even for just the team at the very least.

"What are we doing again?" She asked, eyed as Thor placed his Mjölnir on the coffee table for everyone to see.

"Think of this as seeing everyone's potential. Who is worthy of being on the team." Tony explained, everyone responding with a resounding scoff. "Let's see if the new recruits could lift the hammer--which I still think is rigged."

She could hear Loki chuckle, the idea of anyone else besides Thor lifting the hammer was almost impossible. Loki had explained about the countless of warriors of Asgard that had dared to wield the hammer, but everyone failing.

"Okay, so Bird Man, Metal Arms, the Kid, and Y/N." Tony enumerates. "Let's see if you four could lift it up."

"I really think this isn't a good idea, Mr. Stark." Peter had pointed out but Sam was quick to stand up and hold onto the handle.

For the next half an hour, she had watched Sam try his best to lift the hammer but to no avail did not move even a fraction of a centimeter. It a lot out of the man to finally relent and agree with Tony that the hammer was rigged. Just as long as Sam had tried pulling the hammer, Bucky took shorter, standing only to tug at the hammer and seeing he couldn't even lift the hammer immediately admits defeat.

"You can go ahead, Ms. L/N." Peter insists.

She stared at her boyfriend for a moment, instead of the annoyance she was used to expecting from the man, in front of her was eyes of curiosity. Dilated green eyes wide as his tongue peaked through his teeth. With the rest of the team egging her own, she finally leaves the comfort of Loki's lap and make her way towards the coffee table where the hammer rested.

"Don't worry if you can't lift it, we won't be surprised judging by your choice in men." Tony pointed out.

She had rolled her eyes, there had been a handful of reasons why the first few months of their relationship was hidden to the team. Tony Stark was one of the biggest and most annoying reason.

Taking a deep breath and downing the rest of her drink, she had placed the glass just besides the hammer and immediately felt the spark of power from the weapon. Had anyone noticed it, she was yet to decide as everyone else seemed more amused with their own things. But Loki, he had his attention focused solely on her.

"So what do I get if I lift this?" she teased one hand finally holding onto the handle and the surge of electricity only made her let go.

"If you can lift that, then I'd buy you a new car and you'd probably rule Asgard among other things." Tony snorts.

Taking a deep breath, she held the handle now with both of her hands and with all the strength she had she lifted the hammer and landed straight on her back with the hammer resting on her chest like it weighed nothing. Loki and Thor were quick to make their way towards her. Everyone now laid silence in a mix of confusion and shock about what had just happened.

"Y/N!" Loki was both amused and worried for her well being especially with such a weapon in her hands, while Thor stood almost lifeless besides him as she had now stood back up, with the hammer still at hand.

"I think I've overestimated myself." she tried to brush of the embarrassment of landing on her back as her attention was now focused on the hammer. It was light as a feather in her hands and it made no sense to her now how Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were incapable of lifting up the hammer.

"I knew Point Break had hots for you." Tony was the first to point out. "He probably programmed that thing for you too." He continued.

With a roll of her eyes, she had signaled for Peter to come forward and much as the protest of the two brothers, handed the hammer to the kid. Everyone in silence for the fraction of a second the spider boy could lift the hammer, before crashing face first onto the floor leaving even Tony speechless and now eating his words.

"So, do I get to pick the car?" she teased earning an eye roll from Tony, but relented as he called for FRIDAY for further assistance.

Everyone slowly headed back to their own rooms one by one, leaving the two Asgardians and Y/N alone. The hammer now once again in her grasp, a smile resting on her lips at the weapon accepting her as someone worthy enough to carry it.

"Only thing left is marry Loki and now we can rule Asgard together." she teased earning a snicker from Loki and Thor rolling his eyes at the thought. Now taking the hammer away from her hands, she was left to pout at the man and his killjoy antics.

"I still cannot understand for the life of me how this is possible." Thor muttered before excusing himself to retreat to his own room for the night.

"You've annoyed the oaf and hurt his pride in one night, I'm impressed, Y/N." Loki smirked, pulling her right back into his lap, in the same position they had been throughout the party. Hands held each others and the mix of coldness of his chest soothed her more than anything.

"You're a bad influence." she teased leaning back until her head now rested on his shoulders. "But does this change anything about me--about us?" she asked, now wondering what this would mean for her.

"I don't believe it would." he responds kissing their intertwined hands.

"But I don't feel like I'm worthy." she points out. "I just joined the Avengers, and I'm not anyone's favorite cause I'd like to spend my time with you instead of them."

"That makes you more worthy." he explained. "For the life of me don't really care about being anyone's favorite but yours and I'm fine with that. I can live with that thought for an entire eon and I'll be alright with it. Happy as well."

Silence had once again lingered in the two of them. It brought back the reason why she loved being with Loki. He understood her in a way no one else did. He always considered her feelings but always tell the truth no matter what the cost may be for their relationship. He was the God of Mischief to her, but never had his silver tongue and his lies make their way towards her and she was happy for it. He was never one to make a fool of her nor did a lie of any kind linger on any of their conversation.

"I love you, Loki Laufeyson." she whispered now turning herself so she now faced him. Arms now wrapped around his neck and her face nuzzled onto the crook of his neck.

"I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N." he whispered, hands rested on the curves of her waist pulling her even closer to him in the embrace.

'NO FUCKING IN THE COMMON AREA.'

The disembodied sound of Tony's voice immediately had the two of them pulling away from each other and glaring at the cameras both of them were certain Tony was watching them in.

"Still have the prank ready?" she asked finally get back to her heat, the mood ruined.

"Ready as it will ever be, Love." he muttered standing back up himself.

"As soon as I get the car from Stark, we can mess up the rest of his car." she smirked pulling the man with her back to their own room, the planned already in motion. Tony shouldn't have annoyed her as much as he did for the entirety of the night.

#Loki imagines #loki laufeyson x you #loki x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #loki laufeyson imagines #loki laufeyson x reader #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson oneshot

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 3 years ago

Text

Pulse Point

A/N: Requested by anonymous. Warning for canon-typical violence; minor character death, nightmares, and post-traumatic stress. Also: borrowed Dr. Sweets from the show Bones.

Summary: A near-death experience leaves you with recurrent nightmares. Neal offers some comfort.

Word Count: 5,154

The steady beeping of hospital equipment was driving you insane. It had been hours now of nothing except the monotonous noise of your own heartbeat. If it didn’t shut up soon, you would claw your ears off. With a stiff body and an ache that penetrated down to your bones, you forced your body upright and pinched open the pulse monitor on your right hand.

You let out a relieved sigh as the equipment went silent and dropped yourself back onto the well-padded pillows behind you. The pulse monitor clattered to the floor on its long white cord and you settled down for a nap. The ache in your bones made you feel heavy, like lead. There was nothing quite like a well-deserved nap.

In mere seconds after you had closed your eyes, the equipment started acting up again, this time blaring one long, constant shriek. The surprise made your heart skip a beat, but your eyelids were too heavy to look and see what had happened. Then your heart kept skipping, and your throat tightened. You couldn’t breathe. Your chest burned. It wasn’t a heartbeat; it was a flatline.

You were dying.

The leaden feeling in your body doubled. Your muscles didn’t respond to trying to move and you couldn’t force your lungs to take in a breath. Footsteps pounded around you, incoherent shouts going in one ear and out the other. You were desperate for your paralyzed eyes to open. Was this what you’d have for the rest of your life? Nothing but darkness and unintelligible, mind-numbing noise, punctuated by electrical humming and the pain of a vice clamping itself again to your finger?

The flatline paused for a second. Your ears rang and you thought, for a moment, that you were safe, your heart was beating again. Instead, your stomach twisted and you realized you were losing feeling in your toes. No blood. No life. When the screech of your flatline came back again, it was louder, more piercing. The shrillness reminded you of screaming.

As soon as you remembered it, it was there – the same screaming as before, somewhere in your room, echoing from every corner. In the next pause of the flatline, it turned into a hoarse shriek and a plea. “No! Please!”

You couldn’t hear anything underneath it, no more overlapping voices, and your panic increased. Where were the doctors? Did they think you were gone? Help me!

Your eyes opened with a sudden snap, the droning of your alarm clock replacing the flatlining of the monitor.

As you stared at your ceiling, you panted for breath. Rationally, you knew, you had probably never stopped breathing, but in the panic of your nightmare, it felt like you’d been smothered. Terror powered your desperate gasps and convinced you that your feet and hands were numb, even as you could feel that one foot was poking out from the end of your blanket. After a long moment, you dared to move your arm, ready to scream if you weren’t dreaming after all and still couldn’t move. You turned your alarm off easily.

Soft rain pattered against the glass windows, creating shiny-looking streaks as droplets collected and streamed down the side of the building. It was much more soothing than the silence that usually reigned in Dr. Sweets’ office when he was waiting for you to talk. Maybe he should invest in one of those noise machines with rain as an option. You thought about making the suggestion, but knowing him, he would probably call you out on the procrastination, or deflection, or whatever else he wanted to call it.

You broke the silence. “I’m certain I can wait you out for the next…” You checked the clock. “Twenty-seven minutes.”

Dr. Sweets raised his eyebrows, still leaning his head on a closed fist, propped on the arm of his chair. “I’m equally certain I can recommend you remain on desk duty for the next…” He pretended to check his watch. “Twenty-seven weeks.”

You scowled.

Psychological clearance was a bureau mandate after something traumatic occurred during the course of the job. You’d been lucky enough not to need it up to this point, but after… that, you hadn’t been given a choice. Dr. Sweets was a highly qualified psychotherapist, and you were sure that he did amazing things to help a lot of people, but so far you felt neither amazed nor helped.

“Agent L/N, you went through something incredibly harrowing that you were very close to not walking away from.” The psychologist finally took his head off his fist and put his arm down in his lap. At least he’d taken the bait and you weren’t the one starting the discussion. “You were a half-inch or couple minutes from bleeding out.” He pinched his fingers to demonstrate as if you didn’t have a scar on your body that distance from your femoral artery. You’d never be able to forget what half an inch looked like.

“But I did walk away, and the person who did that to me is in prison for the rest of his life.” You crossed your legs, trying to look more comfortable than you felt. You weren’t sure how effective you were going to be at convincing a therapist that you didn’t need therapy, but it was worth the try.

He looked utterly unconvinced. Actually, the jerk looked like he knew exactly what you were trying for and thought it was cute that you thought you could trick him. “Justice, or even retribution, which it feels like you’re leaning towards, doesn’t erase a wrongdoing or its associated harm.”

“I didn’t erase it, I healed from it. I took medical leave, now I’m back.”

“Physically, you healed. It takes a lot longer to heal mentally from those kinds of wounds.”

“Does it?” You challenged.

“I think your nightmares speak for themselves,” Dr. Sweets said pointedly.

You glared at him, at a loss for a quick comeback. You knew you didn’t look like a million bucks, but you hadn’t thought it was that obvious you were losing sleep. If he knew, then the coworkers who spent a lot of time with you must know, too. Especially Neal – nothing got past him. Oh, that was embarrassing.

The nightmares had been recurring for weeks now. They had started once you had a return date to the office, but after actually resuming your work, they had increased in frequency and intensity. They weren’t identical, but they did all share some similarities: some fatal injury had you dying, alone, in the dark, like you almost had in real life. You never got to the point of actually dying in your dreams, you didn’t think, but you were just fine with that. They were bad enough as they were. Yes, they were a sign of trauma and anxiety. But if your mind didn’t heal itself from weeks safe at home, then you knew returning to normal as fast as possible was probably your best bet at getting over what had happened.

“I’m not your enemy here,” the therapist said to you more gently. You couldn’t say he was heartless, even if you didn’t enjoy the half-hour sessions where he tried to talk about your feelings whether you wanted to or not. “My goal is the same as yours. I want you back at work, safely, able to sleep through a night so you don’t jeopardize yourself or the people around you.”

You let out a deep sigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me about the affect this has had on you.” Dr. Sweets encouraged, not for the first time. “You’ve accepted what happened. I can see that. But the next step is processing what it means for you, as an agent, as a person… maybe both.”

You felt helpless. What was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t very well tell him you were terrified your job was going to actually get you killed or cost more lives on your watch. When your employer paid your therapist’s bills, you couldn’t fully trust doctor-patient confidentiality. Maybe it was just paranoia, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk it.

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted. Your tone sounded mournful. In a way, you were mourning for a time when you could sleep through the night and enjoy your days at work. It wasn’t like white-collar crime was your passion, but you did like puzzles, and you did like being around the people you worked with, especially a certain blue-eyed felon. “I keep having nightmares that I’m… injured, and I’m alone.”

“Your wire was jammed and your team didn’t hear you signal for backup.” Dr. Sweets talked slowly, patient and pragmatic as he validated your nightly anxieties. “You expected help, but they didn’t know to come.”

“They did come,” you said with a shrug. “It just… almost wasn’t in time. I know it wasn’t their fault.”

Your words about time felt glued into your ears. Yours had come really close to running out. And for what? Insurance fraud? No amount of money justified murder, and you likewise couldn’t put a price tag on a life. So why were you so eager to leap back into the same job that almost cost you yours?

It was something you had been mulling over since it happened. Your job was dangerous. You had always known that. You’d been shot at, been near explosives… your partner had been abducted by a murderer not that long ago, and your best friend had had guns in his face so often that, honestly, you’d lost count a while ago. Somehow it just hadn’t clicked, you supposed, that you could legitimately die. You were protected by the bureau and your body armor, until that wasn’t enough. Other agents had learned that lesson in a much harder way; being confronted with that was hard to simply get over.

Apparently, your use of the word “fault” led Dr. Sweets to talk to you about guilt and anger around the incident. You didn’t blame your partner or feel angry, except at the man who shot you, but you let him continue around your noncommittal, half-assed answers. You knew he at least suspected you were putting him on again, but you also knew you hadn’t given him much to work with. Then again, he didn’t call you on your bullshit replies, either, so you weren’t quite sure what he thought.

While Dr. Sweets had yet to approve you for field duty, there was still plenty to do at your desk. You pretended not to notice the itch in your legs to go somewhere while you kept yourself busy, preparing documents, performing research, helping delegate and manage case files, and topping off your team’s coffee whenever they got low. You had become even more of a desk jockey than Neal; at least he got to go out with Peter when given the green light. You missed outings with your partner, or really with any other agent.

Comparing yourself to a caged tiger was likely on the dramatic side, so you put it out of your mind and refused to feel sorry for yourself. You understood the protocols and the routines and they were for your benefit as much as the bureau’s. Besides, your team wasn’t treating you like you were fragile or demoted. They leaned on you to help just as much as they ever did, the assignment of duties just went a little differently.

You doodled a cat on your notepad during a meeting. Everyone had great ideas and you tossed in some ways you could contribute when you’d been quiet for a while. Peter’s proposed field op was going to go smoothly. Odds were high that any hiccups could be taken care of by Diana’s swift running of interference. Neal was raring to go and Jones was a little too excited to play the part of an intimidating brute, in your opinion, and Peter was appropriately apprehensive (someone ought to be, after what had happened to you).

“Let’s sleep on it,” Peter decided after looking out the window and seeing how low the sun had sunk. “If we’re all still in agreement in the morning, we’ll set the ball in motion.”

Jones graciously commented, “Good idea. We can all think on it.” He was probably the most cautious of all of you.

“Y/N?” Neal asked. You immediately looked up from your (admittedly lopsided) cat drawing. The forger was still in his chair, even while the others were pulling on their coats and blazers. “You’ve been quiet. Do you have any concerns?”

You shook your head, but not too quickly that it raised suspicion. You could get away with doodling – Peter often turned a blind eye to it; after several years, he’d developed a soft spot for you – but only if you were still paying attention and participating, so you didn’t want to give him a reason to suspect you weren’t.

Peter, Diana, and Jones all said their goodbyes. The two younger agents left the room, but Peter lingered at the doorway.

“Neal, do you want a ride?” He offered.

Neal looked from you to Peter, and then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll find my way. You don’t want to be late for roast,” he added when Peter looked unconvinced. After glancing at you, your partner decided that he really didn’t want to be late for roast and left without another look over his shoulder.

Now that you were alone, Neal softened his expression. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I told you, I’m not worried. We’ve thought of just about everything we can predict.” You said with a straight face, pretending not to know that Neal wasn’t just talking about this specific case anymore.

He wasn’t having it. “Don’t lie to a conman, Y/N,” he chided you with a small, fond smile. “Come on. It’s not just today, you’ve been quiet ever since you came back. It’s not like you.” You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips, uninterested in talking. Neal reached partway across the table for you but stopped there. It was an invitation but not a command. “I’m worried about you.”

The thing about your history with Neal was that it was a close one. You went from strangers when Peter got him out of Sing Sing to best friends within the span of two years. You trusted him more than you trusted just about anyone, and there hadn’t been a time when one of you needed the other and was turned away. He didn’t come to you when he was upset – seeking out reassurance and comfort was not Neal’s strength, because it involved professing vulnerability – but he never turned you away when you came to offer it, either. Now it seemed to be his turn to do the offering, as he had realized over the last few weeks that you weren’t going to ask.

You reached for his hand and silently sighed in relief at how solid and warm it was to the touch, so unlike the few dreams where you screamed and cried for someone to help and found yourself grasping at tricks that weren’t there. Neal turned his hand to hold yours and gave it a squeeze.

“It’s been so hard, Neal,” you told him reluctantly. “I have no idea how you do it. How you just walk away from all the close calls.”

Neal frowned a little. “I don’t just walk away,” he objected. “I have bad nights. I have bad days. Sometimes I have a whole bad week, or a few bad months.” You knew the latter was a reference to losing Kate, and you sympathetically gripped his hand tighter. “But, you know… there’s always something I can find to focus on instead, and after a while, the things go in the past. I let go.”

That advice was entirely unhelpful. “I’ve been trying to let go,” you said sourly. It wasn’t directed at him, exactly, but moreso at your brain, which was failing in its task of moving past what happened. “It’s not working. I can’t sleep. Sometimes I don’t think I can breathe.”

“It’s not easy,” Neal agreed, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. It was an intimately affectionate gesture that comforted and eased the nerves beginning to bubble in your stomach. “Company helps. The reminder that I have backup, even when it doesn’t come right away. I’ve got Peter, Moz. You.” He met your eyes with a small smile and raised your hand to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“Company?” You echoed uncertainly. If you were unconscious, how was company going to make a difference to what you dreamed about? Then you remembered what you had said to Dr. Sweets about your nightmares always ending with being alone. If you knew, on some level, that you weren’t alone, maybe you would feel safer. “Like, overnight?”

His expression didn’t change to give away whether you were right or wrong. Instead, he just asked, evenly, “Is that what you need?” The way he looked at you then, without judgment in his eyes, but with determination in the set of his jaw, you just knew that whatever you said you needed, Neal would move a mountain to give it to you.

“I’m not sure, but… maybe?” You hesitantly guessed. If it worked, it would be worth the awkwardness. Even just one night of solid sleep would do wonders for how you felt, and it wasn’t like it would be the first time you had stayed with Neal overnight. Long marathons on slow weekends, and the less pleasant nights after Kate’s death, meant he kept an extra toothbrush and a set of your pajamas in his penthouse.

“Okay,” he said right away with nothing but quiet matter-of-factness. It was so comforting to be proven right that you could rely on him to help you with what you needed. His tone just said, you need this, so we’re doing it, full-stop. You just hoped you were right, both so you could finally go eight hours without fearing for your life and so you weren’t inconveniencing him for no reason. “Let’s get dinner on the way. We don’t have to talk about it,” he quickly said, seeing your face. “Whatever you need.”

Everyone should have a friend like Neal, but everyone should find their own, because this one was all yours. If it weren’t for the table in the way, you would’ve launched yourself at him in a tight hug. As it was, you settled for a squeeze of his hand and a grin as wide as you could muster. “Dinner sounds great.”

The stickiness of your pants along your thigh made your hands shake, unable to bring yourself to look at your palms. You knew what you would see all over them. The fire lancing up your thigh told you what you already knew. So did the weakness in your body and the fog in your mind. It was done. The hourglass on the desk was trickling through the last of its sand. Moretti was nowhere to be seen. You couldn’t even die in the presence of a murderer.

There was screaming coming from another room. It was the desperate wail of another agent begging for their life. “No! Please!”

“No,” you mumbled, using all of your energy to turn your head to the doorway. He couldn’t… not now that you were down… you couldn’t even raise your voice to cry for help. You were completely helpless. You couldn’t save him.

Your chest burned with the effort of your heart, ironically helping you to bleed out faster. Your breaths came labored, and then they couldn’t come at all as your vision faded. The dark carpet blurred from a mass of pilled fibers into a solid navy sea. The pain in your leg was excruciating, it was all you could feel; the idea of feeling peace ever again slipping away.

Screaming. Banging. Footsteps. More screaming. Pounding. Shouting. It was all indistinguishable, a mess of men’s voices and loud gunshots. Then, you heard it. Just your name, barely audible above the rest, in a voice that made you strain to see past the blackness.

“Y/N!”

You’d give the rest of your precious seconds away just to see him one last time, just to know he was beside you and you weren’t alone.

“Y/N!”

Footsteps came closer and the pressure on your chest intensified. The blood loss made you dizzy and your body shook.

“Y/N!”

You jolted awake, eyes snapping open in time to see Neal leaning out of the way just in time to avoid your hand flying at his face. You processed slowly that his hands were on your shoulders – had he shaken you? – and it was still dark. You could barely see his face, but his figure was lit from behind by the lamp next to his bed. You could tell from his messy hair that he had been sleeping not long ago, and you felt awful for waking him up.

After cursing, you sat up and gripped the warm blanket on your lap tightly. “I’m sorry,” you said remorsefully, feeling like a fool. Not only hadn’t you been able to sleep through the night, but now you’d ruined his rest, too. You cussed again. “I really hoped being close… just not being at my apartment, alone…”

It had felt like a safe bet off to a good start. You had gotten dinner together near Gramercy Park, then watched a lighthearted movie before turning in for bed. Neal offered to let you take his mattress, but you didn’t want to put him out and you had slept over enough that he didn’t feel like a bad host for letting you insist on the sofa. You’d been out by ten, but now you could guess it had been less than four hours. Your heart was still racing, your leg still tense with an imagined pain.

“It’s okay,” Neal said, sounding unsettled. He kept his hands on your shoulders like he was keeping you grounded on the earth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

Neal’s eyes must have already adjusted to the low light, because his aim was spot-on when he lifted a hand from your shoulder to cup your neck instead. His profile ducked and you felt his lips land on your forehead, checking your temperature, signalling forgiveness, and administering reassurance all at once. He rubbed his thumb across your jaw as he stood up straight, releasing you, and walked away around the couch.

You put your legs down in front of you and rubbed your face, exhausted mentally and physically. Helplessness made you want to cry. Time wasn’t healing. Sleeping pills just made it harder to wake up, letting the nightmares ravage your psyche for longer. Not even the proximity of someone you trusted and adored was enough to let go of the past.

The light in the kitchen came on, bright enough to illuminate the studio but far enough away not to be blinding. Neal came back to the couch holding a bottle of water and offered it to you before sitting down. He looked so adorable, still sleepy and with a bit of pink in the side of his face from sleeping with his arm under his pillow. You scolded yourself for even thinking about how cute he was when you were the one who had woken him up.

You sipped at the water. It was so nice and smooth on your throat. You felt fine, now that you were awake, but the vividness of your nightmares always left you feeling parched and you always expected swallowing to hurt as if you had strep. Neal leaned into the back of the couch and put his arm up along the cushions. You capped the water, bent your knees to pull your feet back up onto the furniture, and let yourself lean into his side. Neal dropped his arm softly on your shoulders, holding you in a tender sideways hug.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again after a couple of minutes. You felt much better, much faster than you usually did, thanks to him, and if you were being fully honest, you were not ready for him to get up and go back to bed, but it wasn’t fair to ask him to stay up cuddling you at god-knows-what-time just because you were a wreck.

“I told you, it’s okay,” Neal said, his voice firm. If you apologized again, you figured he would start scolding you for it, so you let it go.

“I just – I should’ve expected this,” you said with frustration, feeling like you were confessing to knowingly bothering him. “I haven’t been able to sleep well in ages. I keep having these nightmares, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Neal was quiet for a few seconds, making sure you had said all you were inclined to. Then, knowingly, he asked, “This is about the Moretti case, isn’t it?”

“I can’t let it go,” you said with a whimper. “It won’t leave me alone. Every night, it’s a little bit different, but at its core it’s always the same.”

Neal’s voice cutting through the fog of your nightmare had been a saving grace, giving you peace even in your unconscious, but now that you were awake, you realized with clarity that his voice saying your name wasn’t the only voice you could make out. In fact, you always heard the same thing, every night, no matter what else changed.

“What’s the same, Y/N?” Neal asked you, trying to help. He stroked your upper arm with his open hand. You were already shaking your head. Neal could comfort you all he liked, but he couldn’t bring back the dead. In grief and shame, you turned your head and bent your neck to bury your face in his shoulder. Neal tilted his head so his cheek was resting gently on your hair. “Tell me, darling,” he coaxed in a whisper.

You felt like someone’s hands were wrapped around your throat, strangling your reply. “Agent Flynn,” you answered dryly, barely more than mouthing his name. “In every nightmare, I hear… I hear his last words. Begging Moretti not to take the shot.”

Neal was quiet for a long time, but never pushed you away. He held you closer when you started to shake, crying against him as quietly as you could manage. The artist rubbed your arm and periodically kissed your head, but he knew that there was nothing he could say to erase the horror of what you had heard or take away the guilt that you had survived because Moretti was distracted by taking out the other agent.

Moretti was part of a family gang, often in conflict with the Barellis, who, interestingly, paid a little deference to the white-collar division ever since you and Peter had recovered a stolen Book of Hours. The Morettis had no such connection or gratitude, so their response to the FBI sticking their nose into an embezzling scam was violent and bloody. Moretti shot you in the leg and intended to finish you off, but one of his own men had reported you came with someone. He left you to bleed out, and only a few rooms over, you had heard Flynn’s pleas – and the subsequent gunshot. Your team, wising up to the dead signal, arrived for a takedown before Moretti could make his way back to you, but it was too late for your teammate.

Neal shifted after what felt like forever, only to pull you closer to his chest and wrap both arms around you. You trembled in his embrace, but that just made him hold you closer, like you were delicate and breakable. When he next talked, his low voice was quivering, just like your body.

“I thought we lost you,” he said, cupping the back of your head in a gentle hand. He massaged his fingers into your scalp, even as he kept you cuddled in his lap. “I thought I lost you, Y/N. Two gunshots. I thought…” He struggled to find his words and you hiccuped, trying to stop crying. “I was the one who found you, and I was so scared I was too late.”

You sniffled and uncrossed your arms to melt against his chest and hug him tightly around his waist instead. “I didn’t know you…”

“We found him first, but you weren’t there and I needed to find you.” Neal now sounded equal parts frightened and furious. “If he had taken you away, I would’ve…” He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, as desperate to be close to you as you felt to be close to him. “I would’ve shattered. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I just can’t lose you, too.”

“I’m so glad I didn’t die,” you blurted, almost in a sob. You felt so safe with him, but now you knew for a fact that your own safety wasn’t what had been tormenting you. It was a nearly debilitating case of survivor’s guilt. “I just wish I hadn’t been the only one who survived.”

“No one wants that,” Neal promised you, untangling his hand from your hair and stroking it down instead. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could fix this and take it away, but all I can do is be here and hold you and tell you it’s going to be alright. It wasn’t your fault.”

You sniffed. Neal’s words were more of a comfort than you had thought they would be. They changed nothing about the situation, but… you weren’t alone. You hadn’t been alone since you met him. You just agonized that Flynn had been. “Neal, I can’t lose you, either. I love you, you’re… you’re who I’m going to heal for.” You had to find a way.

Neal seized your lips with his in a searing kiss. It wasn’t as sexy or patient as you may have imagined, but you gripped his shirt and gave as good as you got, and wow, the man gave verygood. It was a desperate kiss, needing to bring you together and reaffirm your life. To you, it was the seal of a promise that you wouldn’t let the past crush your spirit. When you could sleep through the night and had a handle on your post-traumatic stress… if he would just be patient, you would be his the way you wanted him to be yours.

He released you to breathe, eyes opening wide as if he only just realized what he had done. Before he could pull away, you pressed your forehead to his again, urging him to stay close. Your breaths mingled between you and you were sure you could feel his heart beating through his chest.

“I love you, too,” he said once he had caught his breath.

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