#and then just...did it again but slapped saints row on it

[circethesinner]

infuriating ⟐ xavier thorpe

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

wednesday x enid mentioned

warning(s) : mild language, enemies to lovers, mild violence, injury, and bl**d mentioned

word count: 6.2k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

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summary: no matter what you did, xavier would somehow find a way to one up you - but when he accuses you of something you didn't do, you set off on a mission to clear your name and help him

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 Sometimes you mourned the friendship that could have been between you. 

Then he’d do something that boiled your blood until it evaporated, and the mourning was replaced with seething rage.

“Looks like I won again, Y/N,” Xavier’s smile was so smug you wanted to slap it off of his face. “I’d say ‘better luck next time’, but we both know it takes more than luck for you to beat me.” 

“I am going to sprinkle shattered glass in all of your left shoes,” You glared at him, snatching the test paper from his hands and comparing his score to yours.

One point.

He’d beaten you by One. Fucking. Point.

“Flee from my presence, foul creature,” You shoved the test paper into his chest and turned around, making yourself look busy by rooting through your bag. “I can still hear your breathing.”

“Just revelling in my victory a little,” You could practically hear his smirk as he spoke. Taking deep breaths, you tried not to engage with him. You’d gotten in trouble for fighting in class before, and you weren’t going to let it happen again because he couldn’t help but shove his victory in your face. Your breathing didn’t return to normal until you’d heard him walk away, catching up to Ajax to likely gloat about his achievement. 

That was the fifth test in a row that he’d beaten you on, and it was infuriating. Xavier Thorpe was utterly infuriating in every way possible. You had spent nearly every waking hour studying, yet he would doodle in the margins of his textbooks and still come out on top.

You swung your bag over your shoulder, feeling the weight of your sketchbook clunk against your back as the corners jabbed you in the spine. You considered it to be the sketchbook taking revenge on you as it lay at the bottom of your bag, having been left untouched for over a month. As much as you adored art, you couldn’t face it much anymore. Not just because you didn’t have time, it was what it represented to you now. He’d soiled one of the few activities you enjoyed with his mere being, and you hated how much it got to you as much as you hated him.

Art was what you and Xavier had bonded over in that first week at Nevermore. You would sit together under the shade of the trees on the outskirts of the forest, drawing and comparing your individual art styles, taking notes from one another. You had admired how he’d make his art come to life and delighted in it when he’d lean over and do the same for yours.

You were both good students, great students even. Two of the top scorers in almost every class. At first, it was a playful competition to see who could do better. You would take friendly jabs at one another, but the mood soured like milk that had been left on the kitchen counter for a week in the middle of summer. 

It started with a comment here and there that would hit home, you’d brush it off at the time, but it would weigh on you. Soon, those jabs became sharper and more frequent.

You weren’t a saint. You knew you were guilty of dishing them out as much as you were taking them in. Somewhere, the bond you two had briefly shared was cut entirely, and that was it. You hated one another.

It wasn’t just academically that he would one-up you; it was everything. 

You got a new paintbrush? That’s cool. He got a whole set.

You won a teddy at the fair? That’s amazing. He won five of them.

You got to turn an old supply cupboard into a mini art studio? That’s great. He fixed up a whole shed.

Everything you did, he had to do better. You could keep up at first. It was back and forth. You’d beat him one day; he’d beat you the next, and so on. However, your grip was slipping, and it was clear to everyone who knew you.

You had increasingly stopped talking to people, started to eat meals at your own table so you could study in between bites without interruption, stopped showing up to fencing club. The list went on.

“Pick three colours!” Enid threw her arm around your shoulder as you were walking. You flinched, having not expected it, but acclimated very quickly. You were more than used to Enid’s ambushes and hugs after two years at Nevermore.

“Pink, purple, and blue,” You answered, trying to use the arm that wasn’t pressed up against her side to readjust your bag so it would stop literally stabbing you in the back. “Why do you ask?”

“I got a new manicure set the other day, and we are going to treat ourselves to a nice spa evening,” She announced proudly. “We’ll put on some cheesy movies, eat some junk food, do face masks, the whole nine yards!”

“Enid, that sounds lovely, but I really have to study for-” You tried to protest, but she cut you off.

“Nope! I’m not taking that again!” She shook her head wildly. “You’ve cancelled on me seven times in the past three weeks so you could study.”

“You’re free to study with me,” You offered up. Enid stopped walking and turned to you, grabbing your shoulders, so you faced her.

“Y/N, I am genuinely concerned for your health,” She sighed, shaking you slightly as she spoke. “The bags under your eyes are not designer! You look like you haven’t slept in a year, and all you do is study!” 

You wouldn’t admit it to her, but your sleep had been rough for a while. You’d stay up until 3am studying, then go down for two hours of restless sleep full of nightmares of failure, only to wake up at 5am to get some more studying in before class. As for the weekends? Sleep simply didn’t exist.

“I just really need to-” You tried to protest again, but Enid was having none of it.

“I’m not asking you to relax. I’m forcing you to,” She said firmly. She let go of your shoulders, but before you could react and escape, she had your hand in a death grip as she dragged you to your dorm.

“Enid! Claws!” You pleaded as her sharpened nails dug in slightly, but she was too busy making sure you got to your dorm without escaping to take notice.

Once you had reached your dorm, you noticed that Enid had already set everything up on your bed. Your roommate, Yoko, was notably missing, and you cursed under your breath when you realised that they had likely been planning this ambush for a while.

“This is going to be a fun, relaxing evening!” She smiled as she finally let go of your hand. You rubbed the area where her claws had dug into you as you pouted at her. “Don’t give me that look! You brought this on yourself. Now sit down, and relax.”

She switched some awful cheesy rom-com on and set to work shaping and painting your nails.

After a while, you did manage to relax. It was nice to be pampered a little, and the rom-com was so bad that it made you laugh, something you realised you hadn’t done in a while. 

You were halfway through the second movie when someone started pounding on your door. Regrettably, you knew the voice demanding to be let in immediately.

“Don’t,”  Enid warned, clearly also recognising the voice.

“I’ll just make him leave,” You signed, getting up as slowly as you could just to antagonise him.

“I can hear you in there!” Xavier shouted, still banging on the door. He almost fell into your room when you opened the door. Pushing past you, he barely paid attention to Enid as he started to open your drawers. “Where is it?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled back. You’d never seen him look this frantic before. Whatever had happened had shaken him, but that wasn’t an excuse to barge into your room and root through your belongings. “Whatever you’re looking for isn’t in my goddamn underwear draw, you creep.” You slammed your drawer shut, only just missing getting his fingers trapped, which was a shame in your eyes.

“Where is it?” He repeated, turning around and apparently only just noticing Enid on your bed. He pointed at her accusingly. “Did you help her?”

“Don’t bring Enid into whatever little fucking mind games you’re playing!” You stood in front of your bed, blocking Enid from his view. “What are you even looking for?”

“My sketchbook,” He answered, his eyes still scanning every surface of your room. “I know you took it.”

“You know I took it?” You repeated, completely flabbergasted. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re-” He gestured at you wordlessly. You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know who pissed in your cereal this morning, but I didn’t take your sketchbook,” You told him firmly, pushing on his chest to try and usher him out of your room. “Now get out of here before I summon every teacher I can and say that you barged into my room and rifled through my bras.”

“Where is my sketchbook?” He asked again, standing firmly still so you couldn’t push him away.

“Where did you last see it?” Enid asked, standing up to join you. You almost cursed how helpful she naturally was but couldn’t find it in you to be even remotely upset with her.

“I left it in my room after class while Ajax and I hung out in the quad, and when I went back to my room, it was gone,” His eyes had met yours and were fixed in a stone-cold glare. “I know you took it.” Before you could defend yourself, Enid jumped in again.

“That settles it then! Y/N can’t have taken it!” She told him, sounding relieved that she could settle the conflict. “I pulled Y/N back here straight from class, and we’ve been here since! She hasn’t left my sight for a second.”

“She wouldn’t even let me pee by myself,” You added, hoping to solidify it further. “She followed me into the stall and faced the opposite direction.” 

“How do I know you weren’t an accomplice?” Xavier asked, focusing back on Enid. “You could just be covering for her.”

“Oh, please! She couldn’t lie to a dead fish,” You rolled your eyes and turned to her. “Watch this! Enid, do you have a crush on Wednesday?”

“What?” Enid giggled nervously, playing with her hair. “Nooo!” 

“See!” You pointed at her, looking back at Xavier. “She plays with her hair whenever she lies.”

“No I don’t!” Enid tried to protest but realised she was still playing with her hair as she denied it. With a small ‘shoot’ muttered under her breath, her hand dropped, and she looked down at the floor.

“I didn’t take your sketchbook, Xavier,” You repeated for the final time, watching as his shoulders dropped in realisation that you were telling the truth. “But we’re going to find out who did.”

“Wait, what?” They said it in unison, each looking at you in confusion. You felt almost as much confusion with yourself when the words had left your mouth, unsure where they’d come from. But you had said it now, and you weren’t going to backtrack.

“Why the hell would you want to help?” Xavier asked.

“Firstly, to clear my name,” You told him, tapping on your nails to make sure they were dry before you started this ordeal. They were still a little tacky, but you figured it would be okay. “Secondly, stealing a sketchbook? That’s unforgivable.” 

“Can’t you just buy another one?” Enid sighed, looking longingly over at the bed where the snacks she’d curated for the evening lay undisturbed.

“Buy another one?” It was your turn to speak in unison with Xavier.

“Look, Enid, while Xavier was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, sketchbooks can’t just be replaced that easily!” You received a small jab in the side with Xavier’s elbow at the silver spoon comment but ignored it as best as you could. “I’ll put this in terms you’ll understand, okay? A sketchbook is to an artist what Moona is to you.” Moona was Enid’s favourite plush teddy. It was a wolf that Wednesday had won at the fair, which she had claimed she’d won accidentally, but you knew for a fact that she’d specifically won it for Enid. It was an irreplaceable treasure to the lovesick werewolf.

“Well, then, why are you still waiting around?” She gasped, pushing the two of you out the door.

“Are you not helping?” You asked, trying to plead with her not to leave you alone with Xavier without using words.

“I would, but I really need to find out of Jack and Sarah end up together!” Enid nodded back over at the laptop where the rom-com you had been halfway through had been paused.

“They’re the main characters, and they hate each other,” You scoffed. “Of course they’re going to end up together!”

She mouthed the word ‘sorry’ without a trace of actually being it on her face as she closed the door behind you both. You heard the lock click behind it.

“Enid! That’s my room!” You groaned, leaning against the door. “You can’t just lock me out of it!” From inside, you heard the sound of the movie being turned up to cover your voice.

“You don’t have to do this,” Xavier sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I know I don’t have to,” You rolled your eyes, pulling away from the door.

“So you want to?” He looked smug again, and it boiled your blood.

“No, shut up,” You waved your hand around in front of his face as though you were fighting the words off physically. “Just show me to your room so we can get this over with.”

“That’s what she- never mind,” He stopped himself midway through the sentence, but you knew exactly what he was about to say. With a small, seemingly nervous laugh, he pushed his hair out of his face again and started walking.

“Tie your hair up,” You instructed, holding out your wrist so he could take the spare pink hair tie you kept on it.

“Why?” He asked, taking the hair tie and doing so anyway.

“It’s annoying me,” You told him, ignoring the look of ‘are you serious?’ he had given you in return. “Do you have any pieces of it? A page you ripped out?” You asked as you neared his door. “Hell, even a sticker that was on it might work.”

“Uhh…” He opened his door, looking around his room for something that would fit the bill. You noted that it looked like he’d torn the whole place apart to try and find his sketchbook. He walked over to his bed, rooting around in the storage he kept under it before pulling something out. “This is a page I ripped out of it.”

He passed it over to you. It was folded up tightly, and you went to unfold it. You didn’t need to. You were just nosey.

“Don’t-” He held his hands over yours, stopping you. “It’s… just don’t look at it.”

“You been drawing naked ladies? Naked men?” You teased him but stopped trying to open it. Whatever it was, he wanted to keep private and you, as much as you disliked him, respected that much at least.

“If you’re not going to help, just-” He tried to take it from your hands, but you snatched it away before he could.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You raised an eyebrow as his shoulders slumped in acceptance. “Turn around.” 

“What? Why?” He looked incredibly skeptical. Convinced now more than ever that you were playing some sort of elaborate prank on him.

“Fine, I will!” You sighed, turning your back to him. You rooted through your bra until you found what you were looking for, hearing a quiet ‘what the fuck?’ being mumbled under Xavier’s breath. When you grew up with pocketless clothes, you had to learn to make do.

You had pulled out a hand-drawn map of the school grounds. It wasn’t your finest work, but it did the job. You had also pulled your necklace off to use.

This wasn’t your first rodeo. You knew what you were doing. You’d been scrying since you were 7. You could do this in your sleep.

“As much as it… pains me to say….” You took a deep breath as you placed the map on Xavier’s bed and sat crossed-legged in front of it. “I need you to… ugh… hold my hand.” You held your hand out, the torn and folded page from his scrapbook in it. Wordlessly, he took it.

Within seconds of focusing your energy, your necklace zoned in on the quad. You were thankful to be able to pull your hand away from his.

“It’s in the quad,” You said as he examined the map.

“Are you sure?” Xavier asked, looking doubtful. “Can we double-check?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just looking for an excuse to hold my hand,” You groaned, holding it out again. He took it, and the necklace once again zoned in on the quad immediately. “I swear to god, if you took your sketchbook with you and left it there yourself, I will never let you live it down.” 

“I didn’t take it with me, I swear,” He protested, his head tilting back in annoyance.

“Can you let go of my hand now?” You asked, trying to wiggle your hand free. He’d been gripping it tighter than last time. As soon as he realised what you’d said, he dropped your hand like it had the plague. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I know where it is now. You don’t have to come with me,” He pointed out. “That is unless you’re not confident in your scrying.”

“I am going to shove that damn sketchbook up your ass when we find it,” You glared at him getting off of his bed, brushing yourself off dramatically as though it had been filthy. “I’m going with you because, and I say this with all due respect, which is none, if someone had hypothetically taken your sketchbook, what would you do about it? They’re clearly not scared of you if they broke into your room and stole from you.”

“And you’re supposed to do what exactly?” Xavier scoffed at you. “Have you seen yourself? You’re the least intimidating person I’ve met.”

“I’ll show you intimidating,” You stormed off, determined to get to the quad and show whoever it was a piece of your mind, just to prove a point.

You should have known who it was before you turned the corner and met eyes with him. Josh was a werewolf with an attitude. Enid had once described him as ‘if anger issues were personified’, which was very accurate. The meathead was usually more bark than bite, but when he did bite… Well, he would quite literally bite, which wasn’t the safest thing for a werewolf to do.

He’d been in trouble more than once for breaking into people’s rooms and stealing their stuff just for the thrill of it. People tended to be too afraid to call him out on it after he’d sent three kids to the infirmary. But you had a point to prove.

“Drop it!” You spoke to him the same way you would with a dog who had grabbed something they weren’t supposed to have, which you deemed a very accurate comparison in this case. Xavier rounded the corner to see what was happening.

“Make me!” He taunted, flicking through the pages, not even looking at the images. You heard Xavier suck in a breath as he watched one of Josh’s claws catch and tear a page.

“Fine, I will,” You stepped forward, full of what you knew was pure spite and stupidity masking as anger. With each step you took, your shoes clacked against the cobblestone flooring and echoed throughout the structure.

From behind you, you were vaguely aware of Xavier calling your name, the volume increasing the closer you got to Josh.

“What are you gonna do? Hit-” You cut him off with a square punch to the face with your right hand as you grabbed at the sketchbook with your left. You didn’t even allow yourself to wince as his claws scratched your hand. If anything, you feared Enid’s reaction to you messing up your new manicure she’d worked so long on more than the practically feral werewolf you’d just punched. 

The following few seconds were a blur full of tears, but surprisingly not yours. Josh was crying as he clutched his nose, which was now bleeding profusely. Without saying anything, he slunk away.

“Holy shit…” Xavier was right behind you by the time Josh had disappeared. “That was…” He couldn’t quite seem to find the right words.

“Your sketchbook,” You turned around to pass it to him, but he caught your wrist before he’d even taken the book back.

“Infirmary,” Was all he said as he studied the scratch marks, which, now that the immediate rush of adrenaline had worn off a bit, hurt. You nodded and allowed him to drag you to get the scratch checked out. 

Five minutes later, you were sitting on a chair in the infirmary following a lecture about being careless from the nurse. Xavier hadn’t left your side, nor had he spoken since you’d arrived.

Usually, you enjoyed not having to hear his annoying know-it-all tone, but the silence was making you uncomfortable.

“The words are ‘thank you’ in case you’ve forgotten them,” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. You thought you saw the ghost of a brief smile cross his face, but it was gone when he saw the scratches again. You brought your sleeve down to cover them in the hope that it’d make him talk, but you were still receiving radio silence. Eventually, you were annoyed with him again. It was to be expected. He was infuriating even when silent. “If you’re going to act like a stubborn child, just leave.” You spat out at him, turning your head away to look out the window. It had gotten very dark by that point, and it was bound to be curfew soon.

“You’re so reckless,” You almost dared to smile when you heard him talk at last, but you pushed down whatever weird part of you had presented that idea to the table, firing it immediately. It could go seek unemployment in someone else’s mind.

“Got the job done, didn’t I?” You pointed out proudly, nodding at the book that rested on his lap. “And I’d say I was pretty intimidating.”

“Well, I’d say you were pretty stupid,” He sighed. He’d let his hair down again at some point, your pink hair tie now round his wrist. You’d ask for it back later. It wasn’t that important to you. You had about 50 more scattered around your room and in your bag; you were pretty sure there was even one tied to the tag of your blazer. 

“You’re so cute when you think I care about what you think,” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“You think I’m cute?” Xavier had a smug grin on his face that you wished you could punch off. But, given what had just happened, you thought better of it.

“Shit! No! Fuck!” You cussed, throwing your head back in annoyance. “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“What I know is that you just called me cute,” Before you could come up with a worthy retort, the nurse came around to check the scratches and sent you both away. As you’d predicted, it was almost curfew, not that anyone really abided by it, but it meant the halls were quieter than they would usually be. 

You were at your door by the time it registered that Xavier had walked you back to your room. You’d walked together in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It almost felt like a peace offering of sorts. You weren’t sure if it would last when you woke up the next morning, but dare you say, you enjoyed it while it did.

“Thank you for….” You felt wrong thanking the person you’d considered your sworn enemy, but you were raised with manners, and it felt even more wrong to not be polite when someone was kind to you. “Walking me to my door.”

“Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t punch anyone else,” Xavier didn’t make eye contact with you, but the slightest smile crossed his face. “Thank you for….” He held up the sketchbook he’d been holding.

“Don’t mention it,” You shrugged, leaning slightly against your door. “Seriously, don’t mention this to anyone. I can’t have people thinking I’m soft.”

“I think Josh’s nose will speak for itself,” He joked, allowing the smile to properly settle as he spoke. “Make sure you put that stuff the nurse gave you on your hand.”

“Shit!” You groaned as you realised you’d forgotten it back in the infirmary, rifling through your pockets in some hope that you’d just placed it in one of them without realising what you were doing. You pulled out some loose change and a bar of chocolate that you’d forgotten you’d picked up last time you were in Jericho, which was a score, but no sign of the salve the nurse had given you. “Goddamnit, I left it at-” You froze as Xavier waved the little pot in front of your face.

“You mean this?” He teased, holding it just out of reach. You glared at him, trying to grab at it anyway. After some jumping, you managed to grab it, pulling him down with it in the process.

You didn’t realise quite how close his face was to yours until it was all you could see. The movement was so subtle that you almost didn’t catch it, but you saw his eyes so briefly dart down to look at your lips.

You were aware that your breathing had gotten heavier, and your heart rate was starting to pick up as his face inched closer and closer to yours. What confused you was that you were making no move to stop whatever was about to happen from happening. That was until your door swung open, and the two of you parted so fast you would have just been a blur.

“I was wondering what the noise out here was!” Enid grinned, leaning on your doorframe. “You managed to get it back?”

“I punched Josh,” You proudly held up your hand, only for Enid to grab it and examine it in pure horror.

“You smudged the nail polish!” She gasped, her voice laced with pure outrage. “We’re starting over! Come on!” She started to tug you into the room before you could protest against it.

Your other hand was caught by Xavier, who pressed the pot of salve into it wordlessly before he rushed off down the hall, assumably to his own dorm. You managed to just about kick your door closed before Enid had pulled you away entirely to try and salvage what had been ruined.

Looking down at your free hand, you noticed that the salve wasn’t the only thing Xavier had left with you. In your hand, you held the torn piece of paper you recognised from earlier, still folded. You decided to open it when Enid went to sleep or disappeared back to her own room.

That didn’t happen for another four hours. You were exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open as Enid finished doing your nails for the sixth time before she was finally happy. She’d curled up at the end of your bed and fallen asleep immediately after, the fifth rom-com of the night playing in the background.

Yoko hadn’t returned to your shared room, but she rarely did on weekends as she was too busy with Divina. You usually enjoyed the quiet evenings you’d get to yourself or at least enjoyed not being told to turn the light off at 4am as you were still hunched over studying so you could do better on whatever test was coming up next. But having company was nice once in a while, even if that company talked at 100 miles an hour and had absolutely destroyed your cuticles.

Remembering the piece of paper Xavier had left with you, you pulled it out of your pocket, trying desperately not to smudge the still tacky nail polish as you feared Enid had a sixth sense and would awaken from her slumber foaming at the mouth.

Carefully, you unfolded the piece of paper, holding it up to the dim light of the laptop as you’d long since turned the other lights off. 

Your eyes scanned the image; even in the low light, it was clear as day. On the piece of paper, curled under a tree with a book in hand, was you. Every detail, down to the strands of your hair, sticking up at odd angles after a long day. You looked serene, almost ethereal. It was difficult to understand how anyone, let alone Xavier, could have seen you and depicted you in such a beautiful way.

Though your eyes were begging you to finally allow them to rest, you reached over and pulled your own sketchbook out. After a long month, you finally allowed a wave of artistic inspiration to flow through you.

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Slip the drawing under his door and get away from there as fast as you could. The plan was so simple, yet you repeated it in your head like a mantra so you wouldn’t forget.

Unfortunately, your plan didn’t account for how small the gap in between the bottom of the door and the floor would be. Nor did you plan for Xavier to be in his room and open it as soon as he’d seen the piece of paper start to wiggle through the small gap and heard your disgruntled grumbles from the other side. His hair was damp, and you could smell the shampoo he always used. You weren’t sure when you’d committed it to memory, but you had told yourself it was just so you could avoid him better if you could smell him a mile away.

“I know your hand is busted, but you do have two of them, so you could have used the other to do it,” He looked down at you as you slowly stood to your feet, trying to hide the piece of paper behind your back. Unfortunately for you, he caught it before you had a chance to. “You’ve been trying to shove this under my door for three minutes, don’t tell me you suddenly don’t want me to see it?” He teased you, unfolding the paper. It was only folded in half, so you didn’t have time to dash away before he could open it. 

That didn’t stop you from trying, of course. You’d managed to spin on your heel and take a single step before a hand grabbed your shoulder. Using the leverage, he turned you to face him.

You expected a variety of different reactions.

Laughing at your face?

A shouting match?

Maybe just an awkward ‘thanks’?

What you didn’t expect was for his hand to gently cup your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. In fact, it was so unexpected that your brain hadn’t registered what was happening until he was pulling away.

Your eyes were wide, and your lips were parted as you watched a flurry of emotions cross his face. Confusion, happiness, annoyance, until finally settling on embarrassment.

“Sorry- I just thought-” He took a step back. His face had turned a brighter shade of red than you’d ever seen on him before. You’d seen his face flush from anger, but this was different. “I think I misread the situation, sorry.”

“No! It’s fine I-” You struggled to put your own emotions into words. “I… think I was… I think I maybe… liked that?” Though the words sounded uncertain, you knew them to be true the moment they had left your lips.

“Can I do it again?” He asked. His words were fast, as though they were falling out before he had a chance to catch them. You didn’t have to answer him properly as you surprised yourself by taking a step forward and pulling him down into a kiss. It was clumsy and fast but felt so right. You were the first to pull away, noticing how his lips tried to chase yours as you did so. Instead of kissing you again, he settled with just resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t think I have the energy to keep pretending I hate you,” He sighed, closing his eyes. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against his chest. His words felt warm as they reached your ears. You tried to find a snarky response, as was customary in your exchanges, but you couldn’t find anything. Perhaps you were just equally as tired of pretending to hate him? 

The two of you instinctively let go and took a step away from one another as soon as the sound of someone’s voice echoed down the hall, increasing in volume as they grew closer.

“Should we…?” You nodded at his open door. His hand found yours, and he pulled you into his room. You took note of how he’d taken your injured hand but had avoided touching the area where it would hurt. You weren’t sure if this was intentional or not, but the tender look in his eyes as they fixed on yours once the door was closed behind him suggested it was intentional.

Your eyes trailed down to his hand again, noticing the pink hair tie on his wrist. His hair was damp, but the hair tie wasn’t. He’d taken it off so he could shower and had gone out of his way to place it back on his wrist afterwards.

“I just wanted to impress you,” He sighed softly, his fingers slowly lacing with your own. It was a foreign but pleasant feeling. “I kept on hoping that you’d notice me more if I did well in class, which you did… But by the time I realised it wasn’t working in the way I’d intended….”

“You just doubled down on it?” You finished his sentence for him.

“It was stupid, but you were talking to me more,” He shrugged. “At one point, I considered failing classes so you’d have to tutor me, but I realised it was too late, and you’d just celebrate my loss instead of helping me.”

“As much as I’d like to argue with that, you’re right,” You laughed lightly. It wasn’t a laugh of joy but rather one of disbelief upon reflection. Had you really spent the past two years actively hating someone over a misunderstanding of intention? “So what do we do now?”

“Well, I had planned out a first date ages ago,” He smiled. He’d taken a step closer to you. His arms had found themselves around your waist as he spoke. “We’d go down to the lake with a picnic and our sketchbooks and draw, I had a playlist ready with your favourite song, and when it would play, I’d offer to dance with you.”

“That is disgustingly cheesy,” You grinned, not a hint of spite in your voice. “How would you even know my favourite song?”

“Your Spotify is public and linked to your socials,” He shrugged.

“Stalker!” You gasped. Your tone was playful.

“I was genuinely so concerned that I almost went to check on you a few months ago because you’d been playing ‘Vending Machine of Love’ for 7 hours straight,” He teased. “I listened to it out of curiosity, and I have questions.”

“And I will not be providing answers!” You laughed, knowing the exact day that was as you’d been antagonising Wednesday with it all day after she’d accidentally hurt Enid’s feelings and was too stubborn to apologise for it. “Then what would we have done on the date?”

“After dancing our little hearts out, I would have kissed you for the first time,” He admitted, his cheeks reddening a little. “I guess I messed that part up? We could pretend we-” You cut him off when you pulled him into another kiss. It was slower this time, lasting a lot longer than the previous two. His lips moulded against your own as though they belonged together. It was a cheesy thought, one you’d never dare to admit out loud.

When you finally pulled away, you did so with a smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t stop myself from ruining your plans,” Your hand absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest. “Old habits die hard.”

“Guess we’d better make some new habits,” Xavier shrugged before he captured your lips in what would be one of many, many more kisses.

a/n - I am a total sucker for enemies to lovers and writing this was an absolute delight - I enjoyed writing it so even if people deem it trash, I am happy 😌💅

anygays! I've got a couple of xavier requests that I'm working on, but feel free to send me more for xavier or any other wednesday characters!

likes and reblogs very appreciated! lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future xavier x reader fics

@ali-r3n

[bearballing]

End of the year Asks exept they’re not asks and done like a livejournal/myspace answer thing

1) Song of the year? Rare Ould Mountain Dew - The Irish Rovers i actually discovered in on xmas eve last year, rare old mountain dew was mentioned in Fairytale of New York so I decided to look it up and this was the first version i found and then i fell down a rabbit hole of traditional irish music. lol. anyway this is still the best recorded version of mountain dew there is

runner up is Hell’s Comin’ With Me - Poor Man’s Poison it just so happened to be the perfect song for saints row 2022 AND for thaddeus. whomst i played as

notable mention is any version ever of The Rattlin Bog/Bog Down In The Valley-o. i found a youtube version of some irish wedding where the guests were drunkenly singing it at like 3am and even that slapped

2) Album of the year?

Not released in 2022 - The Irish Rovers 50 Years

Released in 2022 - Bronco, Orville Peck. and i had apparently forgotten to put the album on my phone until THE OTHER DAY???

3) Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

The Irish Rovers. Other notables are The Dubliners, Flogging Molly, Dropkick Murphys, Strugill Simpson, The Protomen

4) Movie of the year?

Nope. like enoguh for me to Physically own it when it came out on bluray.

5) TV show of the year?

we watched Parasyte and Ghost In The Shell, first time I saw both of them and i love when shows make me like obsess over the lore lmao.

OH AND UH THE UK COMING /SECOND/ IN EUROVISION.

6) Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯  i dont think there was a specific episode of anything.

7) Favorite actor of the year?

jim byrnes, every time we find out something about him it makes our heads explode lol. we still have to actually watch half the stuff he’s been in

8) Game of the year?

joint Saints Row and Pokemon Legends Arceus. 95% of the complaints about saints row are stupid i loved it. i still want to try to 100% it (I’M CLOSE) at some point

9) Best month for you this year?

january/february maybe

10) Something that made you cry this year?

hurricane ian. also the death of 2 cats

11) Something you want to do again next year?

go to maine lol. we May be able to

12) Talk about a new friend you made this year

well i gained several mutuals on here.....

13) How was your birthday this year?

it was nice!!! i got to do shit that i wanted and just chill. and i’m finally not in my 20s anymore

14) Favorite book you read this year?

i don’t think i read anything new, only re-read things

15) What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

fuck i dunno. procrastinating on vacuuming the house.

16) Post a picture from the beginning of the year

17) Post a picture from the end of the year

18) A memorable meal this year?

we had dinner at belle’s castle at disney world. IN THE WEST WING.

19) What’re you excited about for next year?

visiting my family in the uk. which i’m also nervous about ngl

20) What’s something you learned this year?

that gamefreak can truly get away with anything regardless of quality

21) What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

WE OWN A HOUSE WE OWN A HOUSE WE OWN A HOUSE WE OWN A HOUSE

22) Favorite place you visited this year?

didney wurl trip was gr9, really liked getting to go to new england again even though the circumstances sucked.

23) If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

house happens on the 31st don’t worry about it

24) Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

got a house lol

25) Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

no new ones but this was definitely the year of our lord Thaddeus2022. i played as him in saints row And in pokemon violet and accidentally created so much new lore for him. boxy also accidentally dreamed up yet another AU where he is the main character too lmao

[herstarburststories]

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle. 

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea,  how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once. 

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction. 

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[crow-summoner]

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.  

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.  

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal���s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

 *****************************

 Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead.  Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

[unloved-cadillac]

All Over Again(Levi x Reader)

After regaining his memories, Levi is in high school searching for Y/n, his past Queen in which he served under. But after he does, she doesn’t remember him nor her past. Can Levi make her remember or will he make her fall in love with him again?

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 3.4𝗄

Reincarnation was the norm in the new world. After many lives lost, they were found a lifetime later. Many got lucky in the sense of finding their other half from their previous life. Either it’s by accident or glimpses of their face in dreams that drove a person to find them. Although, not everyone remembers their past lives. And, boy, does it suck for their friends who do.

In Levi’s case, it was his previous queen who didn’t remember him. Who also happens to be his lover.

His dreams were filled with her ever since he can remember. Her beautiful h/c hair flowing in the wind while they rode on their horses, her sparkling eyes when she spoke of her new book. Her plump rosy lips that made him want to kiss her forever. What he gathered from his memories, he was some kind of knight that was under an oath to protect the L/n family who was the royal family at that time. Levi also found out that he had fallen hopelessly in love with the princess. Y/n L/n. Well, at the time she was a princess when he fell for her. Levi was a mere soldier when he was picked to be one of the royal guards sent to protect Sina’s flower.

“Hey! Levi! You’re daydreaming again!” Hange yells out while tapping his shoulder. “Huh? Oh. Sorry.” Levi snaps back to reality. He was in class. English to be precise. He hated English. But he remembered Y/n telling him that she was very fond of writing and reading so he tried for her. “Thinking of her again?” Hange asks with a broad smile on her face. Hange was also part of that era with them. As a matter of fact, she was the closest friend apart from Levi since Hange helped in the castle’s science field. “Shut up, Shitty Glasses.” Levi groans and wipes his face. “I have a new memory of her.” Hange tells him and he looks back up at her. “What was it?” “Well, we were in the lab and I spilled some kind of solute on her and it burned her left hand by a mistake. Even though she was hurting she laughed which in turn made me laugh. You even slapped my head. Ouch.” Hange tells Levi and chuckles. “But that was also the moment that she kissed you.” Levi’s eyes widened and a faint blush formed on his cheeks. “Yeah. I remember spying on the two of you and she kissed your cheek while you dressed her wound. It was cute.” Hange continues and smiles.

As Levi was about to say something, their school bell rang, indicating the end of the school day. They packed their bags and walked out together. “How am I gonna find her, Hange?” Levi asks and Hange sighs. “I don’t know, Levi. It was by pure luck we found each other. Maybe in time she’ll turn up.” She pats his back as they walk home. Yeah. In time.

~~~~

The following day, Levi was in his home room class with Hange when their teacher came. “Alright, kids. Today I bring some good news! We have a new student joining us today!” He exclaims making Levi groan at his loudness. Pixis was always so damn enthusiastic about everything and it was a pain in the ass sometimes. As this man spoke, Levi thought of Y/n. He was willing to walk out this damn school and the life he had here just to find her. She had his heart for so long and all he wanted to do was hold her on his arms again.

“Ok, kiddo. You can come in now.” Pixis says and the door opens. Levi had his head on his table, trying to catch a few winks before 1st period but that was disturbed when Hange shoved him awake. “Jesus, shitty glasses. The fuck you want?” He questions her and Hange had her mouth agape and her eyes wide. So wide, her eyes were for sure going to pop out of her skull in a few moments. “Oi, Hange. What’s wrong?” All she does is point to the front of the class and he turns his head to look at what his friend pointed at. That was where he almost started crying.

“Hello, everyone. I’m Y/n L/n. I’m glad to be part of your class!” Y/n says and smiles a bright smile. Levi almost fainted from what he was seeing and hearing. She was here. This wasn’t a dream nor a memory. She was right in front of him, smiling a smile he hadn’t seen in forever. “Y/n, there’s a seat right there by the window. Go on.” Pixis tells her and she walks to the table and sits herself on the seat. She sat in the third seat from the front in the row next to Levi’s. But he sat right in the back with Hange so they couldn’t speak to her. Hange and Levi shared a look before the bell rang. As everyone started to leave, Levi and Hange walked up to her. Levi’s heart was beating a million miles per hour. This was it. He was finally going to hear her voice after so long and he will have her again. “Uhm, Y/n?” Hange called to her and Y/n turned around and smiled. “Hello.” She says. Hange looked at Levi and Levi looked at Y/n. “Hi, Y/n.” He says and she smiles. “Hello.” She says again and Hange launches herself onto her making Y/n almost fall over. “Oh, Y/n! I’m so happy that we found you! You have no idea how long we waited for you! I’ve missed you so much!” Hange cries out and all Y/n does is pay her back. Hange could feel her resistance and pulls away to look at Y/n’s confused face. “Y/n?” “I’m sorry. Do we know each other?” She asks and Levi’s heart just drops. Hange looks at her then Levi. “What?” Hange asks Levi and he doesn’t say a word. “I’m gonna be late to my first class. Goodbye.” Y/n says pulling away from the awkward scene and walks out the class, leaving Levi and Hange with a broken heart.

“What the fuck, Levi?!” Hange yells out while they sit in the cafeteria. Levi’s eyes were trained on Y/n while she spoke with some people. Y/n stopped and looked at him. He blinked and continued to look at her. She blushed and looked away. He smirks knowing that even if she doesn’t remember them, he still could do that to her. “Guys!” A friendly voice calls out to them. Turning around they see Armin walking up to them with a book. “Armin! Hi.” Hange says and Levi greets him with a “hey.” Armin sits next to them and places the book in front of them. “So, I read up on your little situation with Y/n and I might have a solution.” Armin says and Levi looks at him sharply. “Explain.” Levi says and Armin opens the book. It’s old, with a brown cover that was filled with little designs. “I found this book in the library. It was written by someone who was always reincarnated and in this page,” he points to the book, “it explains what he experienced when his friends couldn’t remember him.” Levi grabs the book and starts reading it.

..and man was I bummed. The four closest people to me couldn’t remember each other and me. Funny how I did but they didn’t. I kept on trying, for almost two months, to speak to them. To tell them about the adventures we had in our lives. But none of them budged. I was getting really impatient. Not only did I feel alone, two of them were destined to be together and they never even looked at each other. So I stayed up for countless nights, trying to find a way to jolt their memories. Something must’ve happened that was a constant in our lives. I’m sure previous life me is laughing at my face now. Anyway, I wrote everything down from what I could remember. Four lives. I wrote everything for four lives worth. And there was a thing that was a bit constant.

In my first life, we were in the times of mythical creatures. Maria and I were playing with a small dragon and it burned her arm. All of us laughed and helped her treat it. In my second life, we were in medieval times and a horse bit her hand. In my third, we were in a forest and Maria didn’t know the three of us. But when my cat scratched her, she gasped and fell down. Then she leaped into my arms telling me about our lives. In my fourth, I was a soldier and Maria had been shot. The five of us smiled at each other and then we died.

After coming up with the conclusion that Maria had to be injured in some way for her to remember, I set a plan. Since I wasn’t the cause of any of her injuries, it was something that did it. A creature or animal. The next day, I went to Maria and told her to meet me behind our school yard. She was hesitant, of course. But she showed up anyway. I told the others and they all showed up. Mostly because I used their interests to lure them there. When they showed, I had a dog. Tim was my big Saint Bernard who could never harm anyone unless I said so. When I pointed to Maria, he ran up to her and pushed her on the ground. His claws mistakenly scratched her and I quickly pulled him away. No one did anything. They all just stared at each other. Maria looked at her arm and then up at me. Tears filled her eyes and she leaped into my arms. She whispered to me that she remembers. I smiled and hugged her back while the others joined in. When we pulled away, the two that were destined to be together kissed. We were back together and that’s all I wanted.

Levi sighed and handed the book back to Armin. “So, we need to find a constant. Something that happened before that will jolt her memory.” Levi says and Armin nods. “Yup. Is there anything that might work?” He asks. “There is one. But here’s the thing: we only remember our one past life. For what we know, this is our first time being like this. So how can we be sure it will work? What if we fuck it up?” Hange asks with a worry. “Then we start fresh.” Levi answers while still looking at Y/n. “Ok. Well, let’s meet up at the cafe later and we can talk about it.” Hange proposes and Levi hums in agreement. “Oh! Armin! How is Annie?” Hange asks and Armin blushes. “She’s good. Her school is far away so we hardly see each other. But we Skype and stuff so I guess we’re okay.” He replies. “Your past life is so cool, dude. Being a merchant and falling for a soldier. You must tell me more one day,” Hange excitedly says and Armin smiles. “Of course.” Those two ramble on while Levi thinks of how he could win his queen’s memories back.

~~~~

At the cafe, Levi and Hange talk over coffee and tea. They were brainstorming and Hange speaks. “Levi, maybe we should try that burning thing on her.” “I hate having to hurt her. Isn’t there something else?” Levi asks while sipping his tea. “The thing is, I can’t remember anything else that might work.” Hange explains and he sighs. They continued to speak when Levi heard the cafe bell ring. Out of curiosity, he looks at who entered and he quickly slapped Hange to look. “Ow, Levi! Not so hard. Oh.” She stops and looks at Y/n. She was with some girl and it looked like she didn’t know they were here either. Hange groans and looks back at Levi. “I miss her. That should be me dragging her everywhere,” she says. Y/n and her friend order drinks and it looks like they weren’t staying. Since their drinks were in take-away cups. A man stood behind the pair and Levi narrowed his eyes. The man leaned down in between the girls, making them startle. “Hey ladies.” Levi heard the man speak but the rest was soft. Levi saw the man’s hand making its way to Y/n’s back. “Uhm, I’ll appreciate it if you kept your hands off of me and my friend, sir.” Y/n says and Levi smirks. Yup, definitely his Queen. “Oh, come on doll. I know you like having a man holding you.” He replies and his hand was going to grab her ass when Levi stepped in and grabbed his wrist. “What the..?” “You heard her. Keep your hands off of them,” he says sternly and Y/n looks at him. Suddenly, Y/n flinches and holds her head.

“This prince doesn’t seem to understand that I do not want to marry him,” Y/n whispers to herself while the prince continued to babble on and on about how rich his father was and how good they would be together. “So, princess,” he leans towards her, “what do you say we go up to your massive chambers and have some fun?” He moves his hand to grab her waist when another arm grabs his. “Levi!” Y/n says and Levi twists the prince’s arm. “Keep your hands off of her,” he says and throws the prince on the floor. He looks at Y/n and cups her cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” Y/n snaps out of her memory and looks around her. What was that? She looks at Levi who was eyeing her carefully. “Did he hurt you?” He asks and she shakes her head. “I..I need to go.” She goes past Levi and walks out. “Thanks Levi. I owe you one,” the girl says and walks out with the drinks to Y/n. “Hey.” Levi turns to the barista. “Levi, right? Thank you. For saving them. You’re welcome here anytime for free.” He says and Levi nods. He goes to sit back down with Hange and looks at her. “What?” He questions her smug face. “She remembered something,” she replies and Levi scoffs. “Sure.” “Really, Levi! She did. If she didn’t she wouldn’t have held her head or would’ve thanked you! We’re getting close.”

~~~~

“Oh my god. What was that?” Y/n whispers to herself as she gets ready for bed. She remembers her faint dreams that she had. All of them were of this boy. He looked just like Levi. Now that she saw him in real life, her heart fluttered all the time and the sense of pure love radiates from him. She knows the whole story about reincarnation. Her friend told her of her past life and how she and her girlfriend were there together. “Why can’t I remember?” She holds her head and groans. “He means something to me! I know he does! Shit.” She says and falls into her bed. Maybe her dreams will give her some answers.

Back at the palace, Y/n was reading her book while Levi stood guard by her door. Looking up from the book, she catches Levi looking at her but he quickly looks ahead when she does. Closing her book, she sets it on the table and walks up to him. “Levi.” She calls his name. “Yes, your majesty?” He responds. She wraps her arms around his neck forcing him to look at her. “You know you don’t have to be so stern when you're with me alone, right?” She asks and he looks down at her. “I hated those men looking at you today,” he suddenly says and she gasps. “Was my knight, perhaps jealous of said men?” She slyly asks while he scoffs but doesn’t answer. “Is that a yes?! Oh I knew it!” She giggles and he looks at her. Y/n calms down and cups his cheek. “Your Queen orders you to give her a kiss.” She says. “I don’t need to be ordered to do that,” he responds and places his lips on hers for a soft, loving kiss.

Levi wakes up after his dream. “Another memory. Fuck,” he sighs as he runs his hand through his hair. “Y/n. Remember me. Please.”

“Y/N! RUN! GO AWAY FROM HERE!” “NOT WITHOUT YOU, IDIOT!” “FOR GOD’S SAKE Y/N LISTEN TO ME!” Levi yells back at her. He swings his sword back and forth fighting the enemy while guarding his Queen. He turns to look at her and sees an arrow flying towards her. He runs in front of her with the intention to block it from piercing through her. Instead it pierced him. He saw her eyes widen and looked down at the arrow. “L-Levi,” she whispers to him as her tears fall. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. So he quickly kisses her and he leans on her. “I love you, Y/n.”

“LEVI! NO!” Y/n yells out, springing up from her bed. She pants and tries to catch her breath. She feels her cheeks which were now soaked with tears. Her hands were shaking. It felt so real. “Levi. Queen. It all makes sense now.” She whispers to herself and wakes up to go to her bathroom to wash her face. As the water hit her face, another memory ran through her mind. His funeral. It was pouring down and Y/n looked up to feel the rain hit her face. “I love you, Levi.” Y/n looks at herself in the mirror and smiles. “Finally.”

~~~~

Levi and Hange walk to their class while Hange goes over their plan. “Ok. So, I’m gonna take Y/n to our science lab, okay? You will be outside watching like how you did back then. I’m gonna show her some cool experiments and I’m gonna accidentally hurt her. When she yells out or like cusses at me or something, you come in and ask me what happened. You will take her hand and look at it while she looks at you. Then, you take her to the nurses office and help her wound and get all lovey dovey. Then you look at her, staring into her eyes oh so lovingly and then you will lean in and she will then you both will..-“ “ALRIGHT, HANGE! I get the idea!” Levi puts a hand over her mouth to shut her up and she chuckles. She looks ahead and sees the person they were just speaking about. Hange points to her and Levi looks. There Y/n stood. With an apple and caramel muffins.

Levi and Hange stop dead in their tracks and look at her. Y/n smiles and walks up to them. “Hange.” She says and Hange smiles. “I remember you telling me once that you loved the caramel muffins I got for you. So here,” she hands her the container. Hange eyes sparkle and take the box. She looks at Y/n and brings her in a bear hug. “Oh Y/n! Y/n! I’m so happy you remember me! I’m so happy!” Hange yells out and Y/n laughs at her long lost friend. Setting her down, Hange looks at Levi who had his own smile on his face. “I’ll leave you two be, your majesty.” Hange says softly and Y/n giggles at the name. Levi looks at Y/n with adoration in his eyes and Y/n smiles while holding out the apple. “And my knight told me that his favorite fruit was an apple.” Y/n says as some happy tears fall down her bright face. Levi moves to her and wipes her tears away. “You remember me?” Levi asks and she nods. “I remember. I remember us. Levi, last night I, I saw how you died. You died protecting me. You saved me, Levi. You saved me, baby,” she whispers and holds his face. “Yeah. I told you. I’ll always protect you.” Levi replies with tears falling down his face and Y/n crashes her lips with his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her around. He settled her back down but kept her in his arms.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into her lips. “And I’ve missed you.” She says and hugs him. He pulls away and looks at her. “Just know, that I’ll do it all over again for you.”

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

i am thinking abt elita domming the lil praxian trio…

Is this late? yes. Is it done and SUPER horny? yes.

@queenofmeatballs Here it fucking is, my bitch in crime for this bullshit.

“She’s SO pretty when she sleeps!”

“I know, we ALL know! Now quit FUCKING peeking!”

Red grinned as Scar tried to pull him away. Ever since the incident last week, Red was no longer allowed to watch over Lady Elita by himself anymore. So, all three of them were keeping watch over her. Even now, red kept peeking, opening the door a bit more every time. Scar kept pulling him back, but it was like pulling a mutt away from meat. Red groaned, getting a bit tired of how much of a goddamn prude Scar was being.

“You’re just mad because unlike you two, I have a bit of a shot! I’m the cute one!”

“One, you’re stupid. Two, I’m the one with scars, I’M the hot one by default. Three, stop opening the door, she needs to sleep!”

Blue butt in this time, scoffing.

“Excuse me, I’m the one who writes her poetry! I’m the suave, romantic one!”

Scar let go of Red for the sake of glaring properly at Blue.

“First of all, no one likes your poetry. Second, she reads it because she’s NICE to us! Only SAINTS deal with you!”

“Excuse you!”

He scoffed, hand over his chest. Scar was about to tell him off further, when he made a realization.

“Wait. Where’s red?”

They both looked inside the room. He was in there, the cheeky bastard! They both dove into the room, recalling they had to be quiet at the last second. Red grinned at them as he stood by her sleeping frame. He kept his voice to nothing but a whisper.

“God look at the CURVES on this fem! She is SOMETHING!”

“We know! We all know! Now get out!”

“I second with Scar, uncouth as he is.”

But Red was a cheeky, bold bastard. So instead of leaving, he placed his hand right on the blanket, where her hip was. Not only that, but he slowly trailed his hand up her frame, nearly losing his shit. The blankets did NOT show it properly, but her body was FINE. They both gawked at him, before losing their shit, yelling at him as quietly as they could.

“Are you serious?!”

“How DARE you?!”

Red stuck his glossa out at them, getting a bit cocky now.

“Because she’s hot, she’s asleep, and you guys are SO jealous!”

“Okay fine, sure, we’re jealous, just STOP! Lady is going to kill us!”

Red thought about it, before he shrugged. The mischief in his smirk showed that he could NOT see reason.

“Why don’t we see just how well put together our lady is, eh boys? Just a little peek?”

Red watched as they tried in vain to stop him. He pulled off the sheets, and as she rolled onto her back, he reached his hand up her thigh, stopping just short of her crotch plating. Scar dashed over and tore his hand away, glaring at his smirking, cocky face.

“Are you SERIOUS?!”

“Tch, don’t be a prude! I wasn’t even going to do it!”

“Were you?! I can’t tell with you, you’re a stupid PERVERT! Now we’re going to get out of here, and we’re going to forget this ever happened!”

Scar nearly threw his hand away, snarling. Suffice to say, Scar was the most protective of the three, and he would NOT tolerate such behavior towards her. He knelt down to pick up the blanket, covering her again. Just as he was about to wrap it up, a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“What are you three doing?”

Those sharp, blue optics focused onto his own, and Scar never felt like running like this before. He swallowed.

“M-my Lady! I assure you this is all just one big misunderstanding! I’m so sorry, we’ll leave and-”

“Don’t think you two are safe either.”

Red and Blue froze, being caught trying to sneak off and leave Scar in the dust. Bastards. Scar gave an apologetic smile, nerves on FIRE. While he was giddy that she was touching him, he hated the fact that it was in a way that made him look so awful. Unlike Red, he was NOT a pervert. Elita pushed the blanket off of her, and let go of Scar’s hand, choosing instead to fold her arms across her chest.

“Let me take a guess. You guys got...curious. You boys just couldn’t help yourselves, could you?”

“M-my Lady, I ASSURE you, this isn’t what it looks like! I’d do no such thing! It was Red!”

“W-you snitch!”

Elita’s eyes fell right onto him, and she made the motion for him to come to her. While Red was a pervert, he was just as shy as the other two were, honestly and truly. He gulped as he walked over to her, hands fumbling. She held onto his face, squishing his cheeks as if he was a naughty sparkling.

"Answer me honestly. I'm MUCH more forgiving if you're not lying to me."

Red gave an uncomfortable chuckle, and only really started to find his voice when her hand moved from his face, to his throat. She was as big and scary, as much as she was big and beautiful.

"I'm sorry! I was just messing around! And I came in and then I took away the sheets and...You’re just so pretty.”

It was exactly as she thought. These three were such perverts, they came into her room when she was just trying to recharge. That was why she felt so warm. She thought about just throwing them out, scolding them for doing so lewd, but...well. She had been so tense as of late. So pent up with anger and frustration and worry. They were HER boys anyway, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t mind helping her ease her woes.

“I see. I don’t know why you boys haven’t said something sooner. You really shouldn’t be so afraid of me. I don’t bite. Much.”

That was when she pulled him towards her, and pressed his lips against hers. They both sat there, cheeks ablaze as they stared in disbelief. She wasn’t just kissing him, she was KISSING him. Kissing him a way that she SHOULD be kissing Optimus. But she wasn’t. She was kissing RED like that. Fully, with greed, as they could plainly see when she pulled away, drool still connecting their mouths. He looked ready to dive in for more, before she stood up, placing a hand on her hip, and pointing at the berth.

“Three of you. Bent over the berth. Now.”

They moved fast, knowing that tone of hers. They laid down over the berth in a neat little row, like the cutest little duckies. Scar only just now, in the middle of them, seemed to notice just how weird this was.

“Does this seem right to you guys?”

Blue shook his helm.

“Does it matter? Elita gave us a command, and I’m not the one to refuse her.”

Scar opened his mouth to express his concerns again, when her hand dug into his aft, lifting him up a bit.

“Ass up. I want easy access to the three of you.”

Elita walked over to blue, clicking open his valve panel. Scar watched as Blue damn near swooned. Elita was ACTUALLY sitting there, touching not only him, but his panels. She hummed curiously as her fingers traced over his valce folks. He buried his hands in his face, muttering praises for her. She scowled, pulling away after a moment, looking unimpressed.

"Hmm...not you."

Scar peered behind him, watching her walk past him, to red. Red's panel was opened, and Scar sat there, watching him grip onto the sheets and bite his bottom lip. It was fairly short lived however, as she seemed just as displeased.

"Not you either. Hmm...okay, let's try you."

That was when Scar felt her right behind him. Her hands placed themselves on his ass, slowly sliding down his thighs, till he felt his valve exposed to the open air. Then he felt her servos carefully rub against his folds. Slowly, carefully. His breath hitched, his face buried into the sheets, and it took everything to keep his legs from buckling.

"Hmm...how's my hands feel?"

"G-good my lady, very-"

He couldn't talk more than just a mewl as she pushed two fingers into him. Oh it had been SO long since anyone touched him. Let alone someone so pretty, so big and stunning. She pulled her fingers out after a moment, and he thought he could breathe a sigh of relief. Then he felt something pressed up against him. He was no Wheeljack, but he knew damn well what it was. It was her spike. Long, thick. Not enough to be freakishly big, just enough to make his tanks do flips. He felt her size even further as she laid on top of him, one hand cupping his cheek.

"You. Are going to be SO fun. You're gonna treat me good, won't you?"

She kissed him right on his nose, making him just swoon. So big, so lovely. Primus himself made her. He nodded eagerly, not trying to seem TOO excited about the notion of getting fucked by her, but failing majorly. She held onto his face as she started to move her hips into him, and he swore he was melting like butter on a pan. Not only was she pushing herself inside and outside of him, but she was constantly kissing his cheek, constantly cooing over just how good of a boy he was. And what made it even better? The fact that the other two just stared at them. Silent, yet he could tell they were bubbling with jealousy. He wasn’t a cocky mech, but he prided himself in being the one who loved her the most. And now? They got to see it in full force.

“L-lady Elita?”

“Hmm?”

She kissed him again on his cheek, which, combined with the steady rolling of her hips, only made him feel weaker. How he found his voice was nothing short of a miracle.

“Can...uhm...can you go faster, please? Not that I’m trying to rush you, I don’t dream of it, I just...h-holy shit you’re so pretty.”

That seemed to make her laugh a bit. She patted his cheek.

“I can go faster, so much faster. But I just wanted to get a feel for you. A feel for this nice sweet valve that treats me SO sweetly. I can’t remember the last time I had a valve, let alone one that fit so snugly. But you’re right. It’s about time I start taking care of YOU.”

She slapped her hand over his mouth, and started to move. He knew she was big, knew she was a real strong lady, but he did NOT know just how powerful, till right now. Her hips clanged against him, and combined that with his soaked valve, filled the room with loud, lewd sounds. He wanted to cry out, wanted to beg her for more, but she kept her oh so soft hand around his mouth, forcing his cries to become muffled. And she chuckled. She chuckled so dreamily into his audial, and her voice alone could make him overload.

“Such a cute little con I have. Nice little face, nice little valve. You like my spike? Like it right up inside you? Like how you sit there and take me?”

Scar nodded furiously. He loved EVERYTHING about her, but as she was throbbing inside of him, he was finding even more things to love about her. Including her cruelty. Just when he thought he was going to overload, she stopped, slowly pulling herself out of him. She let go of his mouth, allowing him to freely pant like a dog. She sat back, looking at the hungry, happening valve of his. She stood there, biting at her thumb, and clearly liking what she had done.

“I almost wanted to let you finish, really I did. But, being the commander, I go first. So, let’s get this party started. All of you up, spikes out.”

Red and Blue had no issues turning around to face her, popping open their spike panels. It took Red leaning over to smack his ass to get Scar to stand back up, doing the same. Elita looked over at her selection, curious over which one she wanted. Despite them having so much in common, each spike was different. Red’s had a little more gerth, Scar’s had a slight curve to it, and Blue’s had just the cutest little vibration mod. Yep, she knew just which one.

“Blue, be a dear and lay down for me.”

Blue pointed to himself, as if he wasn’t sure of his name, before she chuckled.

“Yes, you. Lay back for me.”

Blue nearly tripped on his way to scramble to the berth, but the excitement on his face was palpable. He leaned back on her bed, fighting the urge to sniff her pillows. Everything was just so big, so soft here, he could die here and be just fine with it. She crawled into the berth, when Blue suddenly held his hands up, as if to stop her.

“Wait, just one moment!”

They all looked at him in confusion, before they nearly saw that bullshit romance dance in his optics.

“Can. Can I kiss you? Before we go any further? Please? I wanna write a haiku about your lips!”

Even SHE had to roll her optics at that. He was lucky he was cute. She crawled over to him, before holding his little face, and kissed him. It was a slow, sweet kiss that made it look like she sucked the spark out of him. When she pulled away, he was a blushing, lipstick smeared mess. She poked at his nose.

“You gonna be able to hold it together for me?”

“I...y-yes Lovely!”

“Good.”

She made sure he was comfy, before she pressed herself against his front. Don’t ask blue how, but he was suddenly under her, spike rubbing against her oh so warm crotch plating. Red scoffed, knocking against Blue’s helm.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out. What, is sweetspark here too heavy for you?”

“Not in the slightest~”

Truth be told, she was SO heavy compared to him. But he didn’t care in the SLIGHTEST, he could be crushed under her weight all day. Elita chuckled, cupping Red’s chin in order to peck at his lips.

“Don’t be jealous. You’re all going to get a turn.”

As she said that, she opened her valve panel. And they STARED. She had the prettiest valve they had EVER seen. Not only was it huge, not only was it wet, but it was so big and puffy, the pink lips looked akin to a heart. She rubbed at herself, showing them smear her fluids against herself. Combine that with that big, wet spike, it was no wonder why they were head over heels for her. She held onto Blue’s spike, rubbing it against her, before slowly pushing him into her. It was a slow steady moment, but he was acting as if she was fucking his processor out, helm tossed back as he squirmed in place. Red scoffed, completely unimpressed.

“Sweetspark, I’m never one to question your leadership, but HIM? He looks like he’s going to overload any second. Let ME do it!”

Scar leaned over to smack his arm.

“YOU’RE pumping your spike to this, idiot.”

“It’s cuz she's hot? Are we looking at the same thing here?”

She held her hand up to silence them, before motioning for Scar to come forward.

“Come on, back on the spike you.”

Scar carefully crawled back into her lap, and sat back down onto her spike. It felt different at this angle, hitting a whole new cluster of nodes. He had to lean against her a bit to keep his composure, and even then, her grin didn’t help. Scar chuckled nervously, trying to keep his breathing under control.

“I...Is this all okay, Lady Elita? I d-don’t want to overstep any boundaries.”

“You worry Scar, really you do. I’m pretty happy, trust me. It’s...been a while, so I kinda need this. If you boys think you can handle just how much I need.”

Blue, who was practically smothered by her weight, raised a hand to get her attention.

“I can say, personally, that I’m fully willing to accept my fate here.”

“Well then. Let’s get moving, boys.”

Blue moved first, surprisingly enough. He had his vibration mod up and going, and that seemed to be enough to make her grip onto the sheets below. Scar did his best to keep up; riding her spike to match his pace with his thrusts. She was so giving, even as she was taking from them. She kept gifting them with plenty of fluids, as well as a great many kisses, leaving their faces covered in pink lipstick smears. She seemed to just now notice Red, who was standing to the side, and touching himself to the scene.

“Oh, I had no idea I was so mean. Come here, Red.”

He was about to ask just how she was going to do anything for him, when her lips met the head of his spike. She chuckled around him, holding his gerth in her hand, stroking him as her lips adorned him in kisses. She moaned around him, clearly feeling satisfied by all the stimulation she was being given. Blue was swooning underneath her, despite the fact that his hips already ached.

“Lovely’s moans are SO pretty~”

“For once, we can agree on something, Blue.”

Red chuckled. Red wasn’t fairing much better, finding himself wiping the drool off of his face. She was enjoying herself FAR more than he thought she would be.

“Lady Elita...how long HAS it been for you?”

She kept pumping the spike in her hand, kept moving with the thrusts. She was enjoying herself, but her face looked so solemn.

“Optimus and I...haven’t been close enough for that in a long time. Mega cycles, and that’s being generous. He focused a lot more on the war, rather than me. Which I understand, but-”

“Hey, Scar, quit making pretty optics here all sad! WE’RE handling it!”

Scar thought about it. He was right. Optimus didn’t deserve the chance to satisfy her. While he was unsure if he himself deserved it, he knew one thing; SHE deserved the chance to be satisfied, totally and completely. Scar nodded, leaning down to kiss at her forehelm.

“I hate to say this, but he’s right. Please, let us take care of you, my Lady.”

While she was used to being the one to lead, this was something that demanded their full attention. As soon as Red shoved his spike into her mouth, they finally pulled their own weight. Blue started to buck his hips into her, burying his vibrating spike as deep into her spike as he could, and Scar riding the hell out of her spike, even leaning down to leave kisses right between her chest plating. Red chuckled as Elita eagerly slurped at his spike, drool running down her perfect pink lips. While his spike was rough against her mouth, his hand was gentle with her as he pushed it back and forth.

“Holy SHIT you’re SO good at this, Sweetspark. You feel good, you look SO pretty. How a mech that dumb couldn’t be taking care of you? He’s stupid.”

“A r-real fool.”

Blue added, nearly shaking as he fought back the urge to overload. Scar, being the sort of leader between the three, saw that Blue was struggling too hard to keep it together, and decided to speed things up, lest his Lady be disappointed in them. His kisses towards her turned into hungry, plentiful nibbles, and he leaned a hand down to rub her cherry node in fast, small circles. THAT got her going, and they all got the pleasure of seeing her shake, of seeing her face erupt in a deep, intense blush. Elita was a strong, sexy woman, who demanded so little. Making her feel good was the least they could do to show her appreciation. Scar nodded, agreeing with Blue.

“A mech who can’t make you feel good? Shame. You WANT to feel good, we can see that, and we want to make you feel SO good. We want to watch you overload, we want to see you be happy.”

He was going to continue, when Red took a firm hold of her helm, and overloaded right into her mouth. Scar was about to scold him for being so rude, when he saw just how much she liked it, slurping up the fluids that steadily dribbled from his spike. She would’ve stayed there, had she not suddenly tossed her helm back, and overloaded. The cry she let out. The way she gripped onto the sheets underneath her. The way her spike pumped fluid into Scar and tightened around Blue. Suffice to say, the other two didn’t stand a chance, and promptly overloaded right after her. They all sat there, full of condensation and overload, before Elita started to laugh, covering her lips as she did so.

“I can’t believe you guys!”

They looked at each other, confused, before she fanned at her face, near to tears.

“You guys really just did all of that...to make me happy. It’s so sweet of the three of you.”

Her optics were...something. To Scar, they were prettier than any star out there. To Scar, her smile was brighter than the sun. To Scar, she was the most incredible fem he had EVER met. He leaned down to press his forehead against hers, as if it was just the both of them, and no one else.

“We would do ANYTHING to make you happy, Lady Elita. We can do this as often as you need it of us.”

“Like...now, maybe?”

Oh the way her servo lightly tapped against his lips. He was about to agree, when Blue held his hand up, rather weakly.

“Can we uh, take a small breather? Everything is very...sore.”

“Fucking weak, move over Blue!”

“W-I just need a break, get off!”

Blue and Red started to bicker and fight as Red crawled into the berth, and watching them fight seemed to make her chuckle. Elita was looking down at them fighting, and Scar was happy she wasn’t looking at him. Seeing eyes of lust was one thing.

But eyes of true, honest love? He knew that was something best kept to himself.

[bahamutgames]

Games Played in 2021

It’s that time of year again! A list of every game I bought, beat, or just played in 2021! When I’m writing this exact sentence I just beat what I’m fairly certain will be my last game of the year. So now’s as good a time as any to show off a recap of what I’ve been playing!

I’m actually a little embarrassed by how much I bought this year. But hey! It’s been a tough year for me and I am a tax paying citizen! I’ll spend embarrassing amounts of money on whatever I want. List is under the read-more :)

On this list I included games I got that were presents from people which are marked as “Present”, as well as gifts I bought for others that I can still play myself (which means I bought them for a family member lol) which I marked as “Gift”. And I included games that I got for free, marked as “Free” of course. If it’s a game I bought for someone else but I can’t actually play (like, for example, a steam game) I booted it from a list. This isn’t a list to show how charitable and sexy I am it’s so show what I bought that I can actually play.

As for the “played this year” section, I only included games I played for the first time this year or had the intention of beating this year. So I won’t be including something like Smash, which I played this year, but I’ve been playing for years now. I also tried to make games I know released this year bold but I didn’t do any real research because I’m lazy.

Games purchased in 2021

Boomerang-Fu (Switch)

Super Bomberman R (Switch)

Heart & Slash (Switch)

Downwell (Switch)

Xbox Gamepass (Xbox One) 3 months (I did this again in June lol. it was $1 each time)

Backed TY 2 HD on Kickstarter

West of Loathing (PC)

Nintendo Switch Online (Switch) 1 Year

Woodle Adventure 2 Deluxe (Switch)

SNK vs Capcom: The Match of the Millenium (Switch)

Guilty Gear Isuka (PC)

Guilty Gear X2 #Reload (PC)

Guilty Gear 2 -OVERTURE- (PC)

Guilty Gear (PC)

Twinbee Bells & Whistles (Switch) Present

Ratchet & Clank: Going Commando (PS2)

Guilty Gear Strive (PC) Preorder

Toree 3D (Switch)

Cthulu Saves Christmas (Switch)

New Pokemon Snap (Switch)

Dadish (Switch)

Miitopia (Switch) Gift

Horizon: Zero Dawn (PS4) Free

Dadish 2 (Switch)

Say NO! More (PC)

Indie Bundle For Palestinian Aid (PC)

Indivisble (PC)

Shanty - Them's Fightin' Herds (PC)

Spark the Electric Jester (PC)

Spark the Electric Jester 2 (PC)

SNKRX (PC) Present

Megabyte Punch (PC)

Slap City (PC)

Grapple Force Rena (PC)

Later Alligator (PC)

Blade Kitten (PC)

Sonic CD (PC) Present

Sonic Mania + Encore DLC (PC) Present

Sonic Adventure DX (PC) Present

Sonic Adventure 2 + Battle DLC (PC) Present

Garou MOW (Xbox One) Free

Granblue Fantasy Versus - Character Pass Set (PC)

Ultimate Marvel vs Capcom 3 (PC)

Street Fighter V (PC)

Cthulhu Saves the World (PC)

Breath of Death VII (PC)

Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury (Switch) Present

Tales of Arise (PS4) Present

Minit Fun Racer (PC) Present

Annalyn (PC) Present

Dadish (PC) Present

Dadish 2 (PC) Present

Echolocaution (PC) Present

Hylics (PC) Present

Hylics 2 (PC) Present

Super Sami Roll (PC) Present

Samurai Showdown II (Xbox One) Free 

Toree 2 (PC)

Nickelodeon Allstar Brawl (Switch)

SuperMash! (Switch) Free

Fatum Betula (Switch) Gift

Fighting Juggernauts Bundle (PC)

BlazBlue Centralfiction (PC)

Iron Fisticle (PC) Mystery Bundle

Pumped BMX Pro (PC) Mystery Bundle

Indie Pogo (PC) Giveaway

Xbox Gamepass (PC) 3 months (it was $1 don't judge me)

Sonic 30th Anniversary Bundle (PC)

Everhood (PC)

Crosscode (PC)

Black Book (PC)

Petal Crash (PC)

Mail Mole (PC)

Astrodogs (PC)

Room to Grow (PC)

Dungeon Seige (PC) Present

Part Time UFO (Switch)

Ibb & Obb (Switch) Free

Legrand Legacy: Tale of the Fatebounds (Switch) Free

Saints Row IV Reelected (Switch) Gift

Yoshi's Crafted World (Switch) Present

The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles (Switch) Present

Mad Rat Dead (Switch) Present

Games beaten in 2021

Final Fantasy 8 (PS3)

Night in the Woods (PC)

Super Mario 64 (Switch) 100% Complete

Wandersong (Switch)

Pikuniku (PC)

Fateful Lore (Mobile)

Power Rangers: Battle for the Grid (Xbox One) Trini's Arcade only

Donut County (Xbox One)

Nier Automata (Xbox One)

New Super Lucky's Tale (Xbox One)

Oneshot (PC) 

Guilty Gear X2 #Reload (PC) Sol's Story only

Twinbee Bells & Whistles (Switch)

SNK vs Capcom: The Match of the Millenium (Switch)

Dragon Quest 11: Echoes of an Illusive Age - Definitive Edition - S (Xbox One)

Ty the Tasmanian Tiger 2: Bush Rescue HD (Switch) 100% Complete

Toree 3D (Switch)

New Pokemon Snap (Switch)

Guilty Gear 2: Overture (PC)

Dadish (Switch) 100% Complete

Escaped Chasm (PC) idk if you count it as "beat" persay but I did play it

Dadish 2 (Switch) 100% Complete

Bella's Venture (PC)

Joe & Mac (Switch) 

Say NO! More (PC)

Hot Pot Panic (PC)

Sly 2: Band of Thieves (PS2)

Guilty Gear Strive (PC) Sol Arcade Mode (Hard + Extreme), Milia's Arcade Mode (Hard), Story Mode

Tekken 7 (Xbox One) King Arcade Mode

Them's Fightin' Herds (PC) Oleander Arcade Mode

Spark the Eelectric Jester (PC)

Slap City (PC) Goddess of Explosions' Story + Arcade Mode

Guilty Gear the Missing Link (Switch) Millia Story Mode

Skullgirls (PC) Filia Story Mode+Fukua Story Mode  - Replayed

Jak II (PS2)

Tales of Vesperia (Xbox One)

Ratchet & Clank: Going Commando (PS2)

Ikenfell (Xbox One)

Woodle Adventure 2 (Switch)

Guilty Gear Xrd Rev 2 (PC) Sol Arcade Mode (MANIAC) - Replayed

Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 3DS (3DS) - Bowser Classic Mode (9.0) - Replayed

Super Smash Flash 2 (PC) - Bowser Classic Mode (Insane)

Super Smash Bros. for Wii U (Wii U) - Bowser Classic Mode (8.0) - Replayed

Ultimate Marvel vs Capcom 3 (PC) - Shuma Gorath Arcade Mode (Normal) + Firebrand/Hsien-Ko Arcade Mode (Very Easy) - Replayed

Cristales (Xbox One)

Garou: Mark of the Wolves (Xbox One) - Tizoc Story Mode (Grant Only)

Spark the Electric Jester 2 (PC)

Street Fighter V (PC) - Laura Arcade Mode (Easy)

Granblue Fantasy Versus (PC) - Zooey Arcade Mode (Normal)

Dodgeball Academia (Xbox One)

Journey to the Sun (PC)

Grapple Force Rena (PC)

Tastunoko vs Capcom (Wii) Morrigan Arcade Mode (Normal) then I played through arcade mode 5 additional times on the easiest setting while spamming Alex's moves, THEN I played Arcade a 7th time on normal difficulty as Zero but messed it up and got Morrigan's ending again

Tomato Adventure (Gameboy Advance) Emulated

Later Alligator (PC)

Super Mario 3D World + Bowser's Fury (Switch) 100% Complete Bowser's Fury

Minit Fun Racer (PC) 100% Complete

Superliminal (Xbox One)

Deltarune Chapter 2 (PC)

Chocobo Racing (PS1) Emulated

Kingdom Hearts (PS2)

Blade Kitten (PC)

Helltaker: Examtaker (PC)

Annalynn (PC)

Super Sami Roll (PC)

Toree 2 (PC) 100% Complete

Nickelodeon Allstar Brawl (Switch) - Reptar Arcade Mode (Very Easy + Normal + Very Hard)

The Black Heart (PC) - Animus Arcade Mode (Easy + Normal) + Everyone else (Easy)

Fatum Betula (Switch) - Ending 7 on my own, walkthrough for the rest of the endings

Luigi's Mansion (3DS) - Hidden Mansion

The Bouncer (PS2) - Volt Ending?

Indie Pogo (PC) - Jack Arcade Mode (Normal)

Mighty Goose (PC)

Unpacking (PC)

Darkstalkers Chronicle: The Chaos Tower (PSP) - Lord Raptor Arcade (DS3)

YIIK: A Postmodern RPG (PC)

DEEER SIMULATOR (PC)

Psychonauts (PC)

Part Time UFO (Switch)

Blazblue Central Fiction (PC) Ragna the Bloodedge Arcade Mode Act 1/Act 2/Act 3

Father 2: No Bad Ideas (PC)

Starfox 64 (Wii) Replayed

Yoshi's Crafted World (Switch)

Mad Rat Dead (Switch)

Games played in 2021

Boomerang Fu (Switch)

Super Bomberman R (Switch)

Downwell (Switch)

Wild Arms (PS1)

Heart & Slash (PC)

Brawlhalla (Switch)

Sea of Solitude (Xbox One)

Guilty Gear Isuka (PC)

Killer Queen Black (Xbox One)

Slime Rancher (Xbox One)

Super Hot: Mind Control Delete (Xbox One)

Moving Out (Xbox One)

Battletoads (Xbox One)

Tadpole Tale (PC)

Hyperdot (Xbox One)

Gato Del Robo (Xbox One)

Monster Hunter World (Xbox One)

Sea of Thieves (Xbox One)

Peggle 2 (Xbox One)

DOOM (Xbox One)

DOOM II (Xbox One)

DOOM 64 (Xbox One)

Pacman 99 (Switch)

Miitopia (Switch)

Jet Buster (PC)

Sonar Smash (PC)

Yoshi Touch & Go (DS) Emulated

Cubefall (PC)

Super Grome: Bullet Purgatory (PC)

Collared (PC)

Turn-based Champion (PC)

They Bleed Pixles (PC)

Romeo And Juliet (PC)

PullFrog (PC)

Super Snake 3D (PC)

VVVVVV (PC)

Megabyte Punch (PC)

Jetpac Refeuled (Xbox One)

Hades (Xbox One)

Tetris Effect Connected (Xbox One)

Lumines Remastered (Xbox One)

Cluster Truck (Xbox One)

Baba Is You (PC)

Mixolumia (PC)

Rushdown Revolt (PC) Pre-Beta Test

Lonely Mountains: Downhill (Xbox One)

Stardew Valley (PC)

SNKRX (PC) 

Flynn: Son of Crimson (Xbox One)

Cooking Mama: Cookstar (Switch)

ECHOLOCAUTION (PC)

Mad Rat Dead (Switch) Demo

Breath of Fire III (PS1) Emulated

VR Chat (PC)

Slippi Online (PC)

Grand Theft Auto: San Andres (Xbox 360)

Dicey Dungeons (PC) - Warrior Episode 1

Mortal Kombat vs DC Universe (Xbox 360)

Flynn: Son of Crimson (PC)

Halo Infinite (Xbox One) Multiplayer only

Astria Ascending (PC)

Fae Tactics (PC)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - Smash Up (Wii)

Games Demoed in 2021

Decided to add this category because I played TONS of demoes this year, in addition to the fact that discovering XBOX game pass let me try tons of games that I only played for a few minutes before just kinda stopping. So games like that I decided to put here :)

Streets of Rage 4 (Xbox One)

Slay the Spire (Xbox One)

Subnautica (Xbox One)

Dead Cells (Xbox One)

Terraria (Xbox One)

Aoelis Tournament (Switch) Demo

Brawlout (Switch) Demo

Woodle Adventure (Switch) Demo

Enter the Gungeon (Xbox One)

Undermine (Xbox One)

River City Girls (Xbox One)

Cyber Shadow  (Xbox One)

Don't Starve (Xbox One)

Skate 3 (Xbox One)

Overcooked 2 (Xbox One)

The Messanger (Xbox One)

The West of Dead (Xbox One)

Worms W.M.D. (Xbox One)

Mirror's Edge (Xbox One)

No Man's Sky (Xbox One)

Fallout: New Vegas (Xbox One)

Phogs! (Xbox One)

Born of Bread (PC) Demo

Vibrant Sprit (PC) Demo

Seahorse Saga (PC) Demo

Kaze and the Wild Masks (PC) Demo

Dreams of Fear (PC) Demo

Pocket Bravery (PC) Demo

Dodgeball Acadamia (PC) Demo

Wolfstride (PC) Demo

Jack Move (PC) Demo

Rain on Your Parade (Xbox One)

Grapple Force Rena (PC) Demo

Sizeable (PC) Demo

Ascii the Brave Cat (PC) Demo

Duel on Board (PC) Demo

Aloof (PC) Demo

Astrodogs (PC) Demo

Going Under (Xbox One)

Gang Beasts (Xbox One)

Lyss Everlust (PC) Demo

Buck Up And Drive! (PC) Demo

Art of Rally (Xbox One)

Boyfriend Dungeon (Xbox One)

Carto (Xbox One)

Super Mario 127 (PC) Demo

Froggun (PC) Demo

Go! Go! Pogogirl (PC) Demo

63 Little Pieces (PC) Demo

I Am Fish (Xbox One)

SkateBIRD (Xbox One)

Nuclear Throne (Xbox One)

Pokemon Unite (Switch)

VA-11 Hall-A CYBERPUNK BARTENDER ACTION (PC)

Crab Fight (Switch) Demo

Beatdown Dungeon: Demon Day (PC) Demo

Hoo, god DAMN that’s a lot of stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s missing things or there’s tons of repeats. It’s a sloppy list but honestly I don’t care. I’m putting myself in a vulnerable spot by showing you how irresponsible I am at spending money, so you’ll forgive me if the list is a little messy.

With getting tons of commissions for games, my friends being WAY too generous all year round, having a gaming computer for a full year for the first time ever, and also discovering game pass (which I’m not a certified shill for) I was able to play an INSANE amount of stuff this year. And I really want to thank everyone who helped contribute to this list in one way or another. IT’S YOUR FAULT!

No but seriously, I love playing games and I wanna play a bunch next year too. Hopefully by then I’ll have a better idea on how to organize these lists (or I’ll just become too embarrassed to post them. I’m honestly questioning if I should post this as we speak.) So here’s to hoping 2022 is also filled with tons of games and some much deserved good times. Have a safe new years, everyone!

[straycat-writes]

i saw that you write for ikemen vampire as well, so if it's alright with you i was wondering if you could write headcanons for mozart, vincent, comte, and arthur with a depressed/suicidal s/o who's main coping mechanism is humor? like they joke abt suicide a lot + make jokes abt feeling shitty when asked since they dont wanna worry anyone much but their jokes start getting increasingly concerning bc its smth i do a lot lol,, u dont need to do this if ur not comfortable.. thx and love your work!!

anon added: wait fuck i just remembered only three characters for headcanons so just do it for mozart, vincent, and arthur. thank u!

notes: Whaaat, come on, you cannot just do my husband dirty like that, of course I’ll do all four 😆 Before we begin, since everyone experiences stuff like this differently, our experiences might not be exactly the same, so these might not be universal. In any case, I hope you feel better 🥺💕

trigger warning(s): depression, mentions of suicide, and suicidal ideation.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

He did notice the jokes each time, but at first, he didn’t necessarily feel the need to intervene.

Once was alright, he thought you might just have a different sense of humor. Twice was morbid, but he brushed it off. But thrice was downright worrying, and he was starting to suspect something might be wrong.

He observed you make increasingly dark jokes for weeks on end, and brush off anyone who tried to ask you about them, before he decided that enough was enough.

“What is wrong with you?”

It’s a blunt question, completely tactless, but only because he’s actually quite concerned and doesn’t how else to put it. Nonetheless, it catches you off-guard.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, “Don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). Have you been spending too much time with shitty Dazai again?”

When you don’t say anything, the scowl on his face melts into a concerned frown. He wants to help, he really does, but it’s hard for someone like him to deal with such heavy feelings, whether his own or someone else’s. After all, words have never been his preferred medium of expression.

So, he decides not to use them. Instead, he envelopes you in a long, silent hug. It’s a little stiff, but when you start crying softy on his shoulder, he gives in and pulls you even closer, gently stroking your hair.

Up until then, you had no idea that the stern, ice-cold Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart could ever feel so…familiarly warm and soft, with his arms around you.

“I’m not asking you to confess anything, (y/n). I’m not even asking you to tell me anything. I…actually have no idea how to fix any of this, but…Just…know that you don’t have to deal with this on your own.”

Vincent van Gogh

Out of everyone, it would probably take Vincent the least time to notice when something is wrong with you.

The morbid humor is one thing, but what really concerns him is how hollow your laugh has started to sound, and the glazed…empty look you get in your eyes when you think no one is looking.

He notices because he knows what to look for, because he has already seen too much of it, in himself.

“(Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”

“Hm? Yes, of course, Vincent. Why do you ask?”

“…Why do you think?”

There is a certain look in his eyes, so wistfully sad, as if mourning something he hasn’t even lost yet, and you just know that he knows. There is no use lying to him. In hindsight, you think, you should have known you could hide it from anyone except him.

When a lone tear slips down your cheek, he gently wipes it away and holds your face with both hands, looking into your eyes. To your surprise, and immense pain, his own are glistening with tears too.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“…Because it’s my problem and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

You realize it doesn’t make much sense now when you say it out loud, but you knew he was all too familiar with this complete and utter despair, this emptiness you felt inside of yourself, and you never wanted him to feel it again, even if it was by proxy.

But now, he stands in front of you, hands on either side of your face, and he places a chaste, gentle kiss on your forehead. He doesn’t say anything, but you realize what he means. I’m here. I understand. You’re not alone.

(note: for those who don’t know, Vincent van Gogh committed suicide at the age of thirty-seven.)

Le Comte de Saint-Germain

He is used to the residents of his mansion having…strange sense of humor and habits, honestly.

Even so, when you make a jest about killing yourself for the fifth time in a row, he can’t help but be worried. There are only two explanations, you either just have a very, very dark idea of humor, in which case there was nothing much he could do except gentle advisory, or there was indeed something very wrong.

He keeps hoping it’s not the latter, but days pass and your jokes keep getting more and more morbid, and any attempts to talk to you about the issue are only met with smooth elusiveness.

“I’m only kidding, Comte. Of course, I’m not going to throw myself off the roof. Probably.”

“…I think we need to talk, ma cherie.”

That sentence in itself is enough to scare anyone half to death, and when you have so much to hide, even more so.

The talk is long and tedious, with quite a lot of repressed emotions involved. On your part, first there is the defensive anger. Of course, there isn’t anything wrong, how dare he imply otherwise? Then there is the desperate denial, because ‘ignore the problem until it goes away’, right? Except, this problem isn’t going away on its own, and you both know that.

Finally, there is the reluctant acceptance, and a lot of crying. Throughout this, he is as calm and collected on the outside as he always is, even when you grip the front of his coat and cry in his embrace. You’re barely holding yourself together, so he needs to be your support.

But on the inside, there is a storm raging. You were supposed to be his responsibility. He was the one who brought you here, and he was just watching you wither away like this in front of his eyes? What kind of a person did that make him? Just how much of a failure is he?

“I’m so sorry for not noticing sooner, ma cherie. I have failed you.”

“Wh-what?”

“I was supposed to protect you from everything, including yourself. Evidently, I have failed at that, and my heart aches at the thought of you suffering all on your own. But I intend to rectify my fault a thousand times over.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, and without a warning, more tears spill.

Arthur Conan Doyle

Peculiar taste of humor is kind of Arthur’s brand. He enjoys his shamelessly perverted jokes, so he assumed you enjoy your dark ones.

Even so, he does get a little worried when he notices how your first instinct to almost anything is self-deprecation and jokes about killing yourself at the slightest provocation, and how you laugh a little too loud and too much when asked about any of it.

The more he notices, the more concerned he gets, and the more confused about just what to do about it.

At first, he tries to deflect your morbid jokes with some of his own, just to see how you would react. But the moment he talks of killing himself, you go pale, asking him to stop with such distress in your voice that he ends up feeling guilty.

But even after that, it doesn’t stop you from doing it yourself.

“Welp, guess I’ll just go drown in a river somewhere.”

“Ahahaha, but consider this, how about you…don’t?”

He’s always so playful, and even fickle that it almost slips your mind that he is a writer, after all, and a very observant one at that. He is intelligent and notices every little thing, even if he doesn’t show it. That includes the fact that your laugh has been sounding more and more empty lately, your smile seeming more and more like fake plastic.

So, when he confronts you about it, it takes you by surprise.

“Whatever do you mean, Arthur? I’m fine.”

“Right…Stop lying to me, (y/n).”

You frown. You should have known how hard it would be to hide anything from Arthur for too long. How long did you really think you could keep up this façade? The realization comes like a slap to the face, and it’s almost like your metaphorical mask drops. You start crying.

He is distressed at the sudden turn of events, but tries his best to console you. As he hugs you to his chest, gently rubbing soothing circles on your back, he wonders if he could have done something to help you sooner.

“Listen, sweetheart. I don’t claim to know what you’re going through, but I do know that you need help. I know I cannot just fix whatever…this is, but I can promise that I’m going to be here with you, through everything”

You laugh bitterly, “It gets ugly.”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I’m going to be here with you, whether you want me to be or not, and I promise to hold you together as you scream your throat raw trying to hold yourself together, promise to…stand by you as you save yourself. You do not have to do this alone.”

He kisses you softly, only for a moment, soft and true on the lips.

“Show me every dark and hideous, every bitter thing about your soul…and then, let me love you anyway.”

[yandere-society]

The Ultimatum

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day has rolled around once again, and just like last year, you plan on spending it with none other than your emotional support dog. What you don’t know, however, is that you have an unexpected visitor awaiting for you at home.. and not only does he have a loaded gun on his hip, but he also has your beloved pet in his lap.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 6,000

Admin: @tatertotthethot​

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, signs/mentioning of mental disorders such as: anxiety, depression, PTSD and dissociation; Mentions of gang violence; Depictions of gore; nonconsentual kissing (nothing sexual); no dogs were harmed in the making of this…

“Here you go, guys.” You said as you handed the couple across the counter their drinks. You returned their smiles and bid them a good day, but as soon as they turned away and linked their fingers together on the way out, your expression settled into one of disdain.

Baley, your manager, noticed it. But like always, she chose to ignore it. She’s very much use to your secretive, albeit bitter distaste towards romance. She’s been working along side you for two years now, and knows that you’re a big advocate for holiday decorations. You’ve decked the place out on Halloween, thanksgiving, Christmas— even fucking Saint Patrick’s day. But for Valentine’s Day, all you did was slap some heart shaped stickers on the window and didn’t even look too happy to be doing that, either. But she’s never been one to push.

“Guess what I’m doing this evening,” She hinted, hanging the ‘closed’ sign on the door.

“Hm?” You asked, having zoned out while rinsing your shot glasses out.

“I’m gonna eat the rest of my edibles and read some alien erotica.”

Not expecting anything less from her, given her personality, you only choked out a laugh and shook your head. It’d be more amusing if you knew she wasn’t kidding. Baley has a weird obsession with aliens and you never took her serious about it until you bought her a tentacle dildo as a gag-gift on her birthday, and instead of laughing about it and going off into a banter like you were anticipating, she started screaming and jumping up and down like you just handed her the last Golden Ticket to the fucking chocolate factory.

“What about your boyfriend?” You asked, forcing yourself to engage in conversation to keep you from spiraling.

“He’s out of town. So I’ll be thinking of him as I read about the alien king abducting me and using my tenta-holes—“

“Never mind.” You cut her off, trying to let that lighten up the mood. You appreciated the effort, but it didn’t work. You just wanted today to be over.

It’d be a whole lot better if only you could tell her the truth and come clean about your past. But it’s not like she’d believe you, even if you had the guts. But in all honesty, her fantasy about alien abduction was more believable.

You’re a barista making $10 an hour, living paycheck to paycheck and inhabiting the house your grandmother left you in her will. You have no car, you rely on public transportation; all your clothes are from goodwill and when you’re not working at this shop, you spending your life in confinement of those walls with your dog, as a recluse.

If you even dared to tell Baley that, just three years ago, you were living in a million-dollar mansion in South Korea, and had a luxurious wardrobe from big-name designers and that you didn’t even own a pair of fucking socks that were under $100.. she’d look at you as if you were the alien. She wouldn’t entertain the bigger half of the story, about how you were engaged to a man who’s now serving a life sentence and could possibly be put on death row for committing a robbery that left one of the international banking systems short 23-million won— which would amount to be approximately 20 million dollars in America... you would’ve lost her at the word Fiancé.

It’d be easy to prove, though. Your associations to the crime may not show up in your background check, being as you’re back here in America and was never detained, and the news isn’t relevant enough to circulate here. However, a simple google search would reveal it all, even with pictures of you two in public.

But not even you wanted to look up his name to know what was going on with his case. You were still ambient to forget about him, in a way. You wanted to ignore his existence. You fucking loath that man.. you swear, you do.

You had fallen back into a brooding silence again without even meaning to, and although you were busily cleaning up off muscle memory, you were detached. He still has that effect on you. And truth be known, the first year you spent in lonesome isolation after leaving Korea was just a change of scenery but not very different from the lifestyle he had subjected you to. But even still, it was so much better than living with him at the estate. And now, with your dog Sweetpea there, you feel safe again. At least you were in the same place you grew up, and felt closer to your grandmother—

Fuck, you missed her so much. He wouldn’t even let you visit her in person before she past. The man owned his own private jet and it never had any maintenance problems until the one fucking night you needed to go back home. You only got to speak with her on the phone, and bawled your fucking eyes out and spewed out an incoherent apology just hours before her heart gave out. That’s when she told you that she left you the house, and how sorry she was for kicking you out of it because you didn’t pursue the career field she wanted you to go for.

If only they would’ve arrested Taehyung a month prior, you could’ve been there for her. You could’ve hugged her and the two of you could given each other the apology you both deserved.

“Hey..” Baley’s voice suddenly came to your left ear, the only one that you could actually hear out of. Your right one, despite being 80% deaf even with a functioning hear aid, was faintly ringing from the emotional tangent you had accidentally drifted into.

You looked over at her, and broke down. Although she could never fully understand, she still gave you an empathetic frown and was pulling you into a hug before you could sputter out an apology— not that there was any use for one.

You had secrets that still haunted you, and will always impair your daily life— much like your botched eardrum and this shitty device you spent way too much money on. That’s another thing you only had Kim Taehyung to thank for, along with your fucked up shoulder.

You had to carefully elevate your arms but eventually returned the hug and cried a little harder, not able to help it. Sweetpea was a great reciprocate for affection and did a swell job with distracting you, but as far as human comfort goes, you haven’t had so much as that in.. well, seven fucking years. Tae was always big on affection, and also comforted you when you needed it. But it was redundant and didn’t have a sincere effect, being as he was the very one that initially caused the hurt it derived from.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, I never do... but I want you to know that I can see how strong you are. You’re doing a great job at making it through each day...” she muttered, rubbing your back as it shook with each silent sob. You felt bad when you heard her own voice beginning to thicken, but that was no surprise. She was a sympathizer and a little bit emo in general. Seeing others cry was enough to jerk a tear out of her, and you loved that about her. She’s a weirdo, but she’s pure, and she’s very good hearted. You could even say that you may have deeper feelings for her as well, and they may even be mutual, but you were no good for her. Hell, you were already putting her in enough danger just by being an employee at her shop. If you were to let your relationship stem past being friendly coworkers, or even hung out with her outside of work, that could pose an actual threat to her safety.

So, even though you wanted to lengthen the embrace, and longed to tighten your arms around her even more, you pulled back and wiped at your face, giving her a weak grin and a nod instead.

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before taking a step back, recollecting herself.

“You go home. I got everything else.”

You sheepishly nodded again, thanking her one last time before collecting your things and booking it out of there. Had you not felt so broken and defeated in that moment, you would’ve refused. But her show of affection triggered a deep, dire need to give and be given more comfort.

Fortunately for you, though, you had a special someone for that. Your dog is the only living creature on this planet that can be trusted with the revelations of your past. She’s the only reliance you have for receiving unconditional love and support without any judgment... probably because she doesn’t even understand what the fuck you’re saying half the time, nor can she repeat the shit you say, but as far as comfort goes, it’s always a guarantee.

— That’s just in her nature, like most pets. Pitbulls, however, are very sensitive and attentive to certain emotions— especially depression and anxiety. They’re just as good with protecting their owners, as well as they are with babysitting them. Everyone knows pitbulls have a notorious and misguided reputation for being aggressive. But little do most know, before dog fighting became a popular thing and defamed their personalities, pitbulls were primarily referred to as ‘Nanny dogs’. They’re great with babies in general, and very domestic and charismatic by nature. But despite being big, loveable goof balls themselves, they can literally sense stressful emotions and will know what type action to take in order to sedate them.

Sweetpea may not have professional training and certification but it is by her true nature and personality that you call her an Emotional Support Dog. When you’re having another one of your episodes— panic attacks, senseless paranoia, nightmares— she’s running to your aid and doing anything she can to distract and get you to play with her. When you’re depressed and spiraling into another breakdown, she licking at your face and sitting in your lap, not even seeing the problem with her being three times bigger than the average lap dog—

“Kneehemplamaforseeking?”

You sucked in a breath and blinked over at the PetsMart employee, smiling a few away from you. You probably looked lost, and in a way you quite literally were. You hardly remember walking in the direction of this store, let alone entering it. But this a common thing for you, so you easily just went on about your way despite the sudden worry of missing your bus... again.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” You had asked, turning your good ear towards her and watching her lips move.

“Do you need help looking for something?” She repeated, carefully annunciating her words this time, now that she could see the device in your ear. In today’s age, most people mistake it as a bluetooth— which has unknowingly saved you from accidentally talking to yourself in public, more than you would know.

You shook your head in response to the lady, and checked the time on your phone. You had 30 minutes left, thank God.

“No thanks. I’m just here to get some treats and waste some time before my bus comes. It’s windy as hell outside.”

“Ah, it certainly is,” she agreed, making her way to the next aisle. “Be safe out there!”

“I’ll try.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing a bag of bacon strips off the shelf— the very thing you had ultimately came for. It should’ve taken you no more than 5 minutes to grab and go. But it wasn’t uncommon for you to take much longer and aimlessly wonder down multiple aisles only to get one or two things from the same aisle, though. You do it at every store you go to, if you can stand to be outside of your home or away from work.

After checking out, you made it a mission to stay present until your bus came. By the time you got home, you were more stable.. up until the bus driver— a sweet elderly man who’s been transporting you on this route for last couple of years, handed you a rose on your way down the stairs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, young lady.”

You had the strength to give him a genuine smile, but as soon as you stepped off and the doors closed, and the bus engine picked back up and left you with a gust of wind, you broke again.

Taehyung always gave you a bouquet of blood red roses for Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sucker for them. And you still are, but sentiment wasn’t the only emotion to come now. They brought on an ache. A pain. A worry. A twinge of longing, but a fuckton of resentment.

You wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp at it.. better yet, you wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn while smoking a much needed cigarette. But first, you need to see your dog. You know she’s just as anxious to see you.

You trudged up to your door and was quick to unlock it... but frowned when you didn’t see her on the other side. Maybe it was because your ears were ringing again from how worked up you’d just gotten. But usually, the mere sound of your key twisting at the lock would have her running to the and practically beating it down, and you’d opened to see her gleefully wining out and wagging her tail.

But she wasn’t there.

“Sweetpea?” You called out, making it a point to swing the door shut behind you. Still, nothing—

Whimpering. You heard her whimpering and your head snapped over to the hallway. Your heart began to race. Your bed door was open, as always, and you could hear her in there but she wasn’t coming out. Only whimpering for you to come to her.

Fearing the worst, thinking perhaps she’d hurt herself to the extent that she couldn’t move, you barged down the hallway and listened with a sickening sense of uneasiness as her whimpering turned to muffled howls.

“Sweetpea, wha—“

You screamed. Sheer horror and white-hot adrenaline erupted through your veins and scorched your nerve endings, leaving you numb in the limb to the impact of the floor beneath your kneecaps. All you could feel was the volcanic eruption of despair in your chest and the strain in your diaphragm.

Sweetpea was okay, but very much in danger. She had a muzzle on, and her big, canopy-like ears were peeled back and her big, doughy eyes were wildly beading dead at you as she struggled and pawed at the carpet, watching you fall to you fall out. She was so worried to get to you but she couldn’t, do to the death grip of the man who was holding her by a leash. She couldn’t even interpret the lethality of the weapon that was also aimed at the back of her head— a glock you specially recall being the weapon of choice when Taehyung pistol whipped a man’s head open before emptying all twelve rounds in his magazine into his face.

Now, all you could envision was the same being done to that sweet face and big, bulbous head.

You screamed out and wailed even louder, not even looking at the intruder or registering who it was. Because you already fucking knew and in your mind it was too late.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared, making you and Sweetpea flinch. You stopped screaming but your breath was ragged beyond your control. Your vision was bouncing between his fierce scowl and Sweetpea’s fearsome one. You dove forward, intending to crawl and beg but two pairs of shoes stepped out from where they’d been standing behind the door, and their hands gripped you by the biceps before hauling you up to your feet. You didn’t even try to resist them. You knew better than that. But fear still had you discombobulated and speaking out to yourself, feeling incredibly dizzy and disarrayed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“You’re not dreaming.” Taehyung snarled, palm itching to slap some sense into you. But even within the three years he’s spent in bitterness, it didn’t change the morality he did have in relations to you. He’d never hit you out of anger.

But then he realized the real reason why you were saying that, when your knees suddenly gave out and the hold his men had on you became the only thing keeping you up right as you fainted out. He didn’t realize you still had that problem, and it hurt him to see that now.

Back when he had you in his possession, you had accidentally witnessed an execution down in the basement of his mansion. It was the first time you fainted, a d your body came toppling down a good ten-or-so steps, which were made of cement, and you were lucky to have only broken your nose and dislocated your shoulder.

Guilt crashed over him, suddenly. He meant to terrorize you in a way that wasted little time to gain submission, but he didn’t mean to trigger your PTSD— although he knew it was likely. Given the resolve, he put the gun back in its holster and stood up, beckoning for Yoongi to take the leash. Jungkook easily held you up by the waste and waited to pass you off to your fiancé before bringing your wrists behind your back. You slowly came to as he did so, and your head lolled back up only for your entire body to snap back into attention all at once, now that you were face to face with the Devil himself.

“Come on, you fucking idiot!”

Your head snapped over and you began to panic again as Yoongi fought with your, trying to drag her over to her cage by the leash. She was putting up one hell of a fight and audibly wheezing from the choke, her eyes now bulging as she looked at you.

You bucked against the both of them, your maternal instincts causing you to go feral as you saw red.

“QUIT! YOU’RE FUCKING CHOKING HER, YOU FUCKING PRICK! PICK HER UP!”

“She’s too squirmy!” He shouted back, the shock of your outburst causing him to lose tension and Sweetpea lunged the both of them forward. Tae was shouting at Jungkook to hurry with the restraints and squeezing you tighter, but you were kicking and flailing like a fish out of water now.

“MAKE HIM STOP!” You cried out, but was forcefully silenced by the gigantic hand that grabbled around the entire bottom half of your face— including your nose. Having been in this situation before, knowing his antics, you knew he wasn’t going to let you breathe again until you did as told. So you were forced to settle down but was still desperately pleading with your eyes, crying as your dog continued to heave against the menstruations.

“Yoongi, for fuck sake, the dog is 50 pounds. Just pick her up and put your in the kennel.” Tae stressed, eyes still locked with yours.

With a grunt, Yoongi tackled your dog and trapped her in a bear hug, snatching her up off the ground. You wanted to scream at him again but you were actually starting to struggle for oxygen, chest jolting with an involuntary attempts to inhale.

“Alright, they’re on. I just gotta link them.”

Tae’s hand finally dropped and you hacked out, swallowing as much air as you could. Now that Sweetpea was safely in her cage, you had time to worry about your own safety, but the look on his face wasn’t giving off such a merciful vibe.

“You do whatever you want to me. I don’t care. I won’t fight back... but if you hurt my dog—“

“If I hurt your fucking dog, it’ll just be tough shit for you. I’ll still do whatever the hell I want and unless you need me to prove that, I suggest you stop with ultimatums..” he chuckled, but it sounded so cold and twisted. He was on the verge of snapping, and was fighting to keep as much composure as he could right now, for your sake.

But he was on a heist right now, you readied yourself for the unknown when he punctuated his sentence by grappling your throat with the same, vandalized and accessorized hand he just smothered you with— fingers digging in at the sides. Your breathing was once again constricted and your eyes reddened in strain, your voice dying out.

Tae may not beat you, but he knows your worse fear is dying by suffocation. Hence, why he’s so big in breath play.

“Can you?” He reiterated, snarling his teeth at you and revealing the top and bottom pair of golden, fang-shaped plates framing his pearly white canine teeth. Back in the day, you found them so extravagant and tasteful, but now you found them all the more threatening.

He waited until your eyes began fluttered back before letting go again, and Jungkook’s body was the only thing that saved you from falling back. You never understood why, but for some reason, Jungkook was the only person Tae allowed to be in closer range of you, even when it wasn’t necessary. He even reminded you of that when Yoongi had stepped a little too close and Taehyung shot a glare over to him that had him taking a couple steps back. But Jungkook was apparently free to stand there, holding you up even as you regained your footing. You feared that one day it will all make sense, but for now, you were thankful that he was there to at least to save you from collapsing.

It’d be great if they weren’t even fucking here, at all.

“Go put the kennel in the car— not on the seats, though. Hobi will kill me if I fuck up the interior.”

“Please let me rehouse her.” You begged, cringing as his eyes returned to you. They looked even more colorless than before. “I’ll come with you, but I don’t want her there with us.”

“She’s fine. As long as she doesn’t shit and piss everywhere and doesn’t chew any of my shit, or try to attack me, I’ll let you keep her.”

“You were just holding a fucking gun to her head, Taehyung. Please let me rehouse her. My friend Baley will take her. All I gotta do is leave her in the cafe with a note— I have the keys. I’ll even let you write the fucking note yourself and we can go...” It was significantly getting harder to speak, now that your airways were irritated and your unsteady emotions were only making it worse.

You had already accepted your fate, but had a twinge of hope left that he’d at least hear you out on that request. His features had softened into a crestfallen display of guilt, and remorse. But your faith in him shattered all over again when he stubbornly shook his head and reached for the gun again. You were just about to throw another fit until he pulled the magazine out and showed it to you.

It was empty, until he pocketed it and pulled out a fully-loaded one and clipped it into place, before putting it back in the holster.

He tricked you, and although it was still pretty fucking evil, you were relieved. He never intended to shoot her and wouldn’t have been able to, even if his finger applied enough pressure on the trigger. But you were still very much in the midst of an abduction, and you still hated this man for what he was doing to you now.

“Why are here?” You croaked.

“To come get you and our new pet,” he announced, faking the enthusiasm before reinforcing his glare. “I’m... incredibly pissed about the fact that abandoned me.. but even more so offended by the negligence to stay updated.”

His eyes then caught the flash of a blue light at your ear. Your hearing aid was dying and faintly peeping in your ear. The remembrance had his entire demeanor shift to a sullen one, like a switch.

“But at the same time—“ his voice had fallen into a lower pitch, almost to the point of being a whisper as he stepped closer and easily molded his hands around your face. You suddenly felt fragile, but not in a way that made you giddy, like it use to. Now, you had to swallow down the bile in your throat and fight against the nausea as his suddenly lips came near.

“—It’s really hard take that out on you, when I can’t even blame you for it. But It’s been three fucking years, honey. Three. How could you not even have enough concern for my well being, to not even send a fucking post card? Did you really think you‘d never see me again, and that you had snuck away from me? I knew what you were doing, and where you were going before you even boarded your fucking flight.”

“You’re suppose to be in jail. I thought you were letting me go.”

“First of all, you didn’t even know the original plan to think that it had failed. All my charges have been dropped and the suspicion of my involvement dismissed. Namjoon has been found guilty and is now serving that sentence, like I had initially plotted from the beginning. You never knew shit to fucking assume anything!”

You glared at him despite the jolt that came with his drastic notch in volume, and not your tongue as he went on.

“But I did allow you to leave the country, but only to give you space and to let you touch base with... whatever the fuck it is that you still find valuable here. I didn’t think I’d have to clarify the circumstances of your stay, but for you to not even reach out.. and the fact you got some shitty, minimum wage job on top of it all, when you still have access to the saving account I’ve put in your name.. You really thought we were over? You haven’t even checked the news articles to see any updates on the case. I’ve been out for a week!”

He was still holding your face but his hands were shaking and the pressure was increasing again. He always pulls back and regains control over his temper before inflicting harm, but it’d be foolish to not expect him to one day lose that control. He’s hurt you on ‘accident’ before. He’s slaughtered many people, more than you’ll ever know to keep count. Nothing is sacred.

But now, you are a lot more contempt and able to tolerate the fear of him hurting you on impulse, being as Sweetpea was out of harms way and no longer in the room. You were still shaking though and had closed your eyes, bracing for it. But the jerk of shock only came when his suddenly lips covered your’s, and Jungkook finally backed away.

The kiss only lasted about three solid seconds before he pulled back, and was heavily panting through his nose. You dared to look up and caught a glimpse of the physical pain marring his features. His eyes had gone watery and his jaw began ticking like a time bomb, nostrils flaring and chest rising. He pressed his forehead against your’s and snaked his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, trying to fight off his own sobs and choking on them more and more with each second.

“You hate me.. you haven’t even missed me.” His voice was so thickened by his emotions that it deepened the natural richness he already had, making it sound contorted and almost inhuman. A tear dropped down his nose bridge and hit your quivering lips, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fight back the heart wrenching burn it inflicted on you.

How could you still feel anything for this man? It can’t be. It just fucking can’t be..

But it was. You were so bewildered and petrified by the oncoming sympathy that it stunned you into a froze state of shock. He kissed you again, thinking it was a show of fear for own safety— and he was right to interpret the fear, but it was with different cause. He was steadily conjuring up feelings that you wished you could’ve watched burn, like you had intended to do with the rose your bus driver gave you. But here you were, heart bleeding for him.

You still didn’t reciprocate the kiss but it brought on more involuntary anguish.. you cried harder and so did he, and as he leaned your head back to kiss at your neck, you stared in perplexing awe at the gigantic bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand.

“It’s okay. I‘ve missed you too fucking much to punish you now.” He calmed, and took a good 30 seconds to regain his composure. There was still a groggy undertone in his next words, but once again, he was back in his domineering mindset. “But I ain’t cutting you that much slack.”

You yelped when he suddenly shoved you back, straight into Jungkook for the nth time. He heatedly wiped at his eyes and stepped back, and it was the first time you took in how much more muscular and rigid he’d become over the years.

Before, he was a lot more slender and you’re certain that the very shirt he’s wearing now use to be at least 2 sizes too big on him before.. however, the black silk was skin-tight and clinging to the humps of his biceps, and straining around the buttons between his pectorals. His skin was more pale than ever before but now you could see a tattoo curving along his temple, arcing aside the edge of his pierced brow. The word that was written in elegant, cursive writing made your heart palpitate and your stomach twist even more.

Honey. That was your signature endearment. That was the name you’d given him in place of your real one the very night he met you, and asked for it.

This crazy motherfucker really is obsessed with you. How he can lie to you, deceive you, punish you and drive you fucking bonkers and stalk you down only in the act of what he calls love.. and for it to actually be a form of true—albeit dangerous love, was beyond you.

The scripture on his handsome, albeit matured face distracted you for a few seconds. You snapped out of it when Jungkook suddenly hauled you up by the midsection and slammed you down on the bed, pinning his hand down between your shoulder blades and rendering you defenseless.

“What are you doing? Taehyung! Please! Get him off of me!”

“If I could trust you to stay still, I would.” His voice was neutral again, despite a offhanded sniff. You struggled to look back, but it was no use as he was standing out of view.

“Stay still for what?”

“Do you still have your ring?” He asked instead, ignoring you.

“It’s in my nightstand drawer. Now tell me—“

“Told you she kept it,” Jungkook finally spoke— and just like it was back then, it was a very rare occurrence for when he did speak on your behalf. That’s another thing nobody else dared to do, unless asked. But knowing that he was the one stalking you for Taehyung made you all the more disturbed with him.

“Fucking creep. You’re hurting me!” you screamed at him, and he had the audacity to increase pressure. Tae said nothing, nor did he stop his friend from retaliating.

“I also know about your little affair with your coworker. Since when did you start swinging both ways?”

“What are you talking about?” You growled, and he only snorted in response.

“She knows you like her. She knows you stare at her ass every time she bends over and that you bend over on purpose to make her look at yours. She knows you like it when she slaps it.”

You, one again, went unmoving.

Jeon Jungkook is her fucking boyfriend.

“What does Jk even stand for?”

“Jackson. But he doesn’t like to be called Jackie, and you know how I am about nicknames. So I call him JK.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt her, Jungkook. You leave her alone. Tae, don’t you let him—“

“Don’t you worry about me.”

“BALEY?!”

Baley walked into view, an unreadable expression on her face. The mere realization of what was happening finally over filled your mental tolerance and you brain suddenly launched you away from reality.

The beach. You were at the beach with your cousins, all of you a little over the age of 18. You were on spring break your senior year in highschool and talking about the future. Graduation. Prom. College~

“She’s zoned out.” Baley said, and Jungkook finally let go. You were indeed paralyzed and had completely dissociated, talking to yourself. Taehyung, with a fully-loaded syringe in his hand, leaned over to look at your face. Your pupils were dilated, eyes stargazing in general, lips softly moving as you babbled nonsense. He hated knowing that it was coming to this, but he swore he’d earn your forgiveness.

“I’m gonna get your ear fixed.. or at least get you a better device. We’re gonna be okay. We’re so fucking rich now, I don’t even know what to do with all our money— only to turn it into more. I won’t have to work as much. We can get married, have the best fucking honey moon we can imagine. We can get started on a family. I’ll win your dog over, too. I promise.”

He sank the needle into your bicep, and you didn’t even flinch. Only blinked in rhythm as a tear fell.

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.” You incoherently muttered, having said that to your friend, Jessica, on the beach.

It was insensitive, but he couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. Whatever memory you were reliving at the moment, was quite sometime before you actually began your classes for such profession. He bent down and kissed your cheek one last time as he injected the entirety sedation serum into your system and pulled it out. But you were oblivious to it all.

“I think I’m smart enough...”

��You’re very book smart, baby. But you’re probably gonna drop out after three semesters and become a bar tender at a strip club, because you’re not fit to be a homicidal investigator. You’re too soft.”

“I’m not..”

“You sure?”

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.”

“Well, you’re gonna become my wife before you become anything else.”

“Ew, don’t even play like that. You’re my cousin.”

“Jeez..” Baley muttered. “You really have driven her a little bat-shit, huh? This is way more disturbing than I anticipated—“

“Babe, lets go sit in the car. Come on,” Jungkook hurried, pulling her out of the room.

Taehyung continued to whisper sweet nothings into your deafened ear, but the last night you heard before it all went blank was the perfect, bittersweet saying that bidded you goodbye for the night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey.”

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

Please something smutty regarding Nathan young showing off his dominant side? I feel like he’s always the baby haha! Yet to find a saucy ‘daddy’ one for him😆😆😆

Your wish is my command! More about the event here. Send your gifs!

Sheehanoween!

Nathan Young x Fem!Reader

Warnings: filthy language, filthy smut, angst, they have quite the row, Nathan gets a slap. 

Author’s Note: this one is messy. In this fic, I imagine Nathan is around 28. A bit more mature in some ways but not really in others. Relationships are complicated, and I imagine being in one with Nathan would pose its own unique challenges. This one gets pretty intense and angsty, and of course, angry smut. I don’t do daddy kink, but hopefully this one pleases you.

Rend Me in Two

You loved Nathan, you truly did, but he could be difficult. It pained you to see him constantly throwing up walls, deflecting situations with inappropriate humour, and sabotaging relationships with his friends and family.

People had a history of not sticking around for Nathan, so he tried to keep everyone at arm's length. Unfortunately, this also meant that he could be sweet and affectionate with you one moment, and cold and distant the next. You joked with your friends that you had the patience of a saint, because you knew that eventually he would come around and apologize. However, there were certain situations that were harder to come back from, like the time that he bailed on you for turning down sex because you were sick, and other such crimes. One would think that these moments would make a relationship insufferable, and it could be. But then Nathan would come out of whatever funk he was in and be the kind and attentive man you loved again.

Tonight was the final straw. You were having dinner at a local pub; not exactly a posh do, just a place in town that served good burgers and fried food. Your server was just dropping off the check when Nathan grabbed her wrist and said, “Hey what are you doin’ later darlin’? After I ditch this one, wanna get together and see where the night takes us?” Then he laughed.

You knew he was joking, of course, but it was just so fucking inappropriate. Your attempts at looking nonplussed failed and the server fixed you with a look of such pity that suddenly you realized, this is it. This is the moment where I’ve had enough. It broke your heart. You loved him, and he had the potential to be truly great if he would just shut the fuck up and get out of his own way. But you had tried long enough.

You fumed silently on the way home until Nathan asked you why you were being so quiet.

Quite calmly, your voice monotone, you replied; “I’m done, Nathan.”

“Wha’?” he had the audacity to look genuinely confused, which only made your disgust grow.

“Oh come on Nathan, you can’t really be surprised,” you said simply.

“Wha’ the bit with the waitress? C’mon, you know I was only fuckin’ around,” he said, as if you were the unreasonable one.

You chuckled bitterly and turned your head to look out the window.

“Babe, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and the fucker was starting to sound annoyed.

“The only thing that’s ridiculous here, is that fact that I’ve put up with your shit as long as I have. I’m done,” you said, and the final syllables were emphasized for extra potency.

Nathan scoffed, and the sound made your blood boil.  “Wha’, you on your period?” he said.

“Pull the fucking car over,” you said.

“Wha’? No!”

“Nathan, if you don’t pull over I’m getting out anyway. Pull. The fuck. Over.”

He complied, and you threw yourself out of the car, slamming the door behind you. You half-blindly stumbled down the gravel road in inadequate ballet flats, your eyes not acclimated to the dark.

You heard the other car door open, and you turned to see Nathan getting out of the car, dimly illuminated by the interior dome light.

“Babe, come back! Stop being ridiculous!”

“Fuck YOU,” you yelled, your voice breaking on the second word, as you had practically shrieked it. Don’t cry don’t cry dontyoufuckingcry...

You heard Nathan close the car door and weren’t sure whether he was coming after you or not. You were never sure with that man. But then you heard his shoes on the gravel and you sped up your pace to increase your distance from him.

“Babe,” Nathan called again. “You can’t walk all the way back home in the dark.”

I sure as fuck can, if it means staying away from you, you thought angrily, but you stayed silent.

“Oh stop alright? We’ll swing by the chemists on the way home and get ya some Midol,” he said with a chuckle.

You whirled on him, eyes blazing. He was standing there wearing that dumb fucking I’m Nathan Young aren’t I so funny grin, and you wanted to rake your nails down his face. You wanted to kick him in the balls and shove him to the ground. You wanted him to hurt because for some reason your words just did not touch him, so you wanted to hit him; to cause him the physical pain to match the hole in your heart.

When he saw the expression on your face, his grin faltered. “Say one more thing Nathan Young,” you said, voice thick with fury and grief. “Say one more thing to make this my fault instead of yours, and so help me god…”

“How is it my fault?” he yelled with incredulity, and you stepped forward and slapped his face as hard as you could. He covered the side of his face with his hand and he gaped at you, his wide eyes watering. You fought aside the feelings of shame and regret that threatened to take over. You could not be weak now. You couldn’t back down now.

You had hit him so hard that your palm was stinging, so it had to have hurt him even worse. He was still in shock; stunned that you would do that to him. “Nathan,” you said, more quietly, letting the pain you felt lace your voice. “I don’t know how else to express how badly you make me feel. The cruel jokes, the abandonment, the cold shoulder. Don’t tell me you don’t know you’re doing it. You know exactly what you’re doing.” A tear slid down your cheek. Your fury was giving way to a bone deep sadness that had been building for a long time.

Nathan had finally lowered his hand, but in the darkness you couldn’t see whether you had left a mark on his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said.

This was not what you expected to hear. “I’m sorry?” you repeated bitterly, obviously doubting his sincerity.

“Yeah,” he spat, matching your tone. “Yeah I’m fucking sorry. I didn’t realize I was making ya feel so bad, and I’m sorry for that. But what is it you want from me, exactly?”

You blinked in surprise. “Wow,” you said.

Nathan’s own anger was building. “You think I can just change who I am because the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen actually gives me the time of day and likes to sit on my cock? I’m a fuck up babe. A royal fuckup,” he jabbed a finger angrily in your direction. “And YOU knew what yeh were signin’ up for!”

Your eyes swam with tears and your fury was building anew. “I just want you to treat me like you really give a fuck!” you cried. “I want you to treat me like you don’t want anyone else! That you actually care how I’m feeling, that you love me…” your words devolved into sobs and your shoulders slumped in exhaustion. 

This brought Nathan up short. “You think I want anyone else? You actually think I would want anyone but you?” He seemed surprised that he had to explain it to you. “You think I don’t love ya?” For the first time since this blowout had started, he looked sad.

“It’s not like you’ve ever said it,” you said, dejectedly.

He closed the gap between you, gently laying his hand where your neck met your clavicle, his long fingers splayed wide. “I’m not good with the feelings and shit; never have been,” he said, and lifted his eyes to yours. “I will try to do better; be better. How do I show you how I feel?” he asked, and his hand squeezed your neck ever so slightly. He bent his head so you could feel his breath on your lips. “Do you want me to tell you I love you? Because I do, I do love you,” he said barely above a whisper, and while you were still angry with him, the anger now warred with something entirely new. Your breathing became more rapid, and your chest heaved; Nathan’s hand on your throat a solid reminder; oh yes, I am here.

Nathan licked his lips. “Do I need to show you, darlin’?” he said, and with his left hand he curled his fingers into your hair, his right still holding fast to your neck, his fingers beginning to dig in and mark you. He pulled your hair to gently to tilt your head back, and crashed his lips onto yours; your strangled cry swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you, slipping his tongue between your lips which you opened to him reflexively. The kiss was hard, deep, messy and wet, and then he stopped, pulling away from you. With his hand still on your neck and in your hair, he pushed you back against a tree, pressing the length of his body against you so hard that the air left your lungs, leaving you gasping. 

“I am a fuck up darlin,’ he cooed down to your panting form. “But my greatest fuck up will be letting you leave me. No darlin.’ You see, I do love ya; you’re the only fucking thing in this fucked up universe I care about, and I’m sorry if I haven’t shown ya that. But that ends now.”

With that he lifted you up enough to sling one of your legs around his hips. He removed his hand from your throat to reach down between your legs and under your skirt, and his fingers found your sex. He rubbed your clit with his thumb through your knickers, and with his other fingers he teased aside the fabric enough to push two into your depths. He still had you pinned against the tree which made moving quite difficult, but you squirmed and whimpered as your slit grew slick against his pumping fingers, your lust becoming your driving desire, and then his mouth was back on yours, wide open and wet. He practically shoved his tongue into your throat and your teeth clattered together as you devoured each other. 

He reached down to unbutton his jeans and shoved them down roughly, exposing his cock. He tried to move your knickers aside with his fingers but they tore in his haste, and you cried out when he slid into your aching cunt fully and to the hilt. He pulled out almost fully, then shoved himself back in, slowly at first, then he picked up speed. He removed his left hand from your hair in order to hoist your other leg around his hips, untethering you from the ground completely, and his thrusts hit you deeper. You were a mess of whimpers and cries, and your upper back scraped the bark of the tree roughly as Nathan slammed into you, but you didn’t care. Your shirt may be ruined and your back a mess of scratches when this was over but you wouldn’t change one goddamned thing.

Nathan was breathing roughly and grunting softly, throwing himself into this fuck like nothing you had ever experienced before. Your eyes met, both blazing with intensity and depth of feeling, and you thought you might weep. He’s so beautiful you thought, my broken angel, my beautiful, broken angel… and it was with that thought, eyes locked together, that you came undone pinned between your lover and a tree. It was a powerful orgasm, and tears streamed down your cheeks as your legs shook and you cried out; the sound of your screams swallowed by the darkness and the forest around you. 

Your climax triggered Nathan’s, and he moaned into your neck as his hips shuddered and bucked, and he sighed as he stilled post completion. He gently lowered your legs to the ground and cupped your face with his hands, peppering your face with the sweetest kisses. He brushed your streaming cheeks with his thumbs. “Please, stop cryin’ love,” he said softly, and there was so much emotion behind his words that your heart soared. He tenderly gathered you up into his arms, and he carried you back to the car with you curled up against his chest.  He brought you round to the passenger side and set you down. You stood by the car for a moment, fixing your skirt, laughing a little when you realized your appearance must be a mess. Nathan smiled at you before brushing your lips with a gentle kiss. 

“I really am sorry, you know,” he said solemnly, leaning over you. “I know this can’t...fix everything right away, but I never meant to hurt you. I’m such a useless twat.” He stopped speaking, looking unbelievably frustrated with himself.

You reached your hand up to caress his cheek. “At least now I know how you feel,” you said quietly as he sighed and melted into your palm. “Keep the mask off with me Nathan. I know it will be hard, but you can trust me.”

He nodded wordlessly, fighting off emotion. “I will,” he whispered. “I’ll try.” 

“That’s the best I can hope for,” you said, before kissing him, your bruised lips pressing to his and lingering before you pulled away and opened the car door.

“Take me home and put me in the bath,” you said. “I must look like a hot mess.”

“You’re stunning,” Nathan said before kissing the back of your hand and walking around to his side of the car. “I’m the luckiest idiot in the world.”

“Don’t you forget it,” you said, smiling. Lounging back in your seat, already picturing yourself sinking into the warm sudsy water of your bath, and pulling Nathan in there with you whether he cared to join you or not. The night was still young, after all.

[megalony]

Next time

This is a murderer! Ben Hardy imagine I came up with which I hope everyone is going to enjoy, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) argue in the club but he takes things too far when he hurts her in front of an audience.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't walk away from me!"

"Then stop being an unreasonable prick!" (Y/n) didn't bother to look over her shoulder at Ben as she spoke, she couldn't be bothered to argue with her husband right now but he was as persistent as ever. She knew he wasn't going to let this go. She had just shown him up when he was about to give a punishment she deemed unreasonable, Ben always had to be seen as the boss, the one in control, but (Y/n) just proved he wasn't always in control when she was around.

(Y/n)'s lips pressed together tightly when she felt Ben's fingers tangling in her hair to pull her back to him when she continued walking down the corridor. Her hands reached back behind her to grab hold of his wrist, a strangled breath pulling through her teeth when he only tightened his hold on her.

Two men who were walking past slowed down until they were almost halted in place when they noticed the exchange between husband and wife. A lot of workers at the club had seen (Y/n) and Ben argue, but no one had ever seen Ben be physical in a bad nature towards her. He had broken someone's nose for wolf whistling at (Y/n) and trying to touch her inappropriately, he didn't seem the kind to turn on (Y/n) in public like this.

Only a few men at the club had seen (Y/n) on odd occasion come in with a split lip or a few bruises and if (Y/n) wasn't at the club for a week it was a sign that Ben had either punished her for something or rowed with her. He never hurt her in public.

"I said, don't walk away from me." Ben's voice was lower and deeper than normal as he almost growled the words at her. His head turned to the side so he could look down at her properly as his hand pulled her head so it was almost resting on his shoulder.

"And I said, don't be unreasonable. I'm not one of your men, you don't control me Ben."

(Y/n) clawed at Ben's hand until he let go of her hair but she didn't make a move to walk away just yet, she wanted to know what he would say in response and how he would react. She didn't fancy walking away just to have him yank her back by her hair, or worse.

"When you're in my club, you play by my rules and that means I'm in control."

His words sparked something inside of (Y/n) and she pushed his hands off her frame before taking a step back from him. He could order his men around and get them to do whatever he pleased, but he couldn't do that to (Y/n), at least not in the way he did with his men. She would follow his rules to a degree but there were times she just couldn't comply with his controlling, possessive demanding nature.

"No, it means your a bastard." (Y/n) felt something inside of her twitch and clench when she saw the way a fire burned in Ben's eyes and his lips curled into a snarl like a rabid dog.

(Y/n) held her breath in her lungs before she spun on her heels so she was no longer looking at her husband who was staring at her like he wanted to devour her, and not in a good way. Her eyes set on Leo and James, two of Ben's workers who she didn't know all too well, they were walking towards her and Ben as she was going in the opposite direction.

(Y/n) managed to take two steps forward, keeping her chin up trying to act like nothing was wrong. But her eyes widened in their sockets and her body stiffened and froze when Ben's hand suddenly and violently came down and smacked against her, catching her ass and her thigh. It wasn't a loving or playful or even a chiding movement, it was aggressive and intentionally hurtful and Ben never did that when they were at work, he wouldn't hurt her in front of anyone. Ben didn't hit her to make a scene, he hit her to cause her pain and quite possibly show her up in front of the men walking past after what she just said.

Both Leo and James looked at one another before looking at (Y/n)'s horror-stricken face, and then over at Ben who was seething with anger. Neither of them knew whether to carry on walking, if they should say something or if they were to wait for instructions.

"What are you gawping at? Fuck off!"

They visibly shivered, sending (Y/n) sorry looks before heading down the corridor with their heads tipped down towards the floor when they passed Ben in case of getting another telling off like dogs with their tails between their legs.

Ben barely had the time to watch them scamper off because the moment he turned to look at (Y/n), she reached out and slapped him across the face. As if realising what she'd done, (Y/n) recoiled her hand to her chest and her eyes showed the fear she was now experiencing, but the rest of her face was livid. She wasn't having Ben slap her like that when they were at work, arguing in front of the workers or members of the club was bad enough but she didn't want him being violent with her in front of anyone. It was different with the men, but she was his wife he couldn't do that here.

"Don't you dare do that again." (Y/n) breathed through her words, taking a step back but a gasp escaped her lips when Ben grabbed her wrists, looking like he was wrestling with her when he pulled her closer but she scrambled to get back.

Ripping herself free from his grasp, (Y/n) turned around and hurried down the hall before turning right into the gym. She wasn't going to hang around in here but at least with about seven or eight men in here, Ben surely wouldn't try anything on like he did just then. (Y/n)'s sights were set on the door further ahead on the left, if she could just get out through reception she could get to her car and leave. She didn't want to argue or have a fight here at work and she didn't want Ben to get physical because he always had the advantage.

Ben was normally only threatening and hurt (Y/n) with words but on the odd occasion he would physically hurt her, he always had the advantage. He was a boxer, he knew where to punch, kick or hit with a blunt instrument to make it hurt the most and he knew how not to leave many bruises. If ever Ben hurt her he would apologise profusely either an hour later or the next day and (Y/n) knew he meant it. He never liked to lose his temper with her like he had done right now.

A strangled sound left (Y/n)'s lips when familiar but harsh hands dug into her shoulders and yanked her to the side, throwing her off course. (Y/n) stumbled to the left, trying desperately to regain her balance as she was turned to face her husband.

"You dare fucking slap me like that? What, do you think I'm too afraid to give it back to you?"

Lashing her hands out, (Y/n) hit Ben in the chest, trying to get him to let go whilst still wanting to have her dignity and sense about her. But she couldn't stop the panic from filling her eyes or her face and she could see one or two people were now looking in their direction in confusion. Tears sprung in her eyes and a scream left her lips when the back of Ben's hand lashed against her face sending her head snapping to the right. She could feel the sting from the force and from one of his rings that slashed against her cheek.

One of Ben's hands moved to hold her upper arm bruisingly and his other hand held her chin with force so he could pull her head and make her look up at him.

Usually seeing (Y/n) afraid, worried or crying snapped something inside of Ben but today it had no effect on him. He shook her arm until she stopped wriggling and buckling like she was about to fall down and her erratic breaths did nothing to phase him, if anything his grip on her got tighter.

(Y/n) darted her eyes around the room, wishing that it would suddenly snap Ben out of this once he realised every one of his workers in the gym were frozen in place, not knowing what they should do. They had enough common sense to realise that if they dared try and drag Ben away from (Y/n) they would get punished but at the same time, no one wanted to stand and watch and they didn't seem to have the courage to walk away either. They would feel like useless cowards if they just walked and left (Y/n) to get hurt.

"Let go." She tried to sound forceful but her voice only came out in a pleading, terrified voice that took away the dignity she wanted to keep.

Ben looked at her like he was teasing her, prompting her to do something so he could show her who was going to win this fight. Every time (Y/n) tried to pull her chin and her arm from his grip, he held her tighter until moving no longer felt like an option and it was just their gazes battling out for dominance.

Not knowing any other way she could get away from him, (Y/n) jerked her knee up until it hit his crotch and moved her free hand until she could push her knuckles into his nose. She'd never done that to Ben before, the worst she had done was break one of his fingers and she'd fractured his nose once that had been broken so many times it had changed in shape. (Y/n) never had the chance to do much other than scratch at him or slap him, if she ever got the chance to punch him it never affected him like she willed it to, he barely flinched.

(Y/n)'s knees suddenly buckled and she leaned backwards when Ben groaned and leaned over her, stooping down from the pain she inflicted but he didn't give her the chance to try and pull away. He looked like a demon hovering over her with blood dripping from his nose that was thankfully not broken or fractured this time. His teeth were bared and his eyes were darker than (Y/n) had ever seen them before. The moment he let go of her chin and arm, (Y/n) took a few stumbling steps back but Ben followed with her until he could ram his fist up into her chest on the right side.

All the air left (Y/n)'s lungs and her body contorted and doubled over like she was origami being formed into a new shape. If she'd had the chance and the choice, she would have put her head between her knees but before she could even start to breathe again, Ben's hands were back on her.

It was clear she couldn't find the ability to breathe, he'd knocked all the air out of her and her lungs were in shock from the pain but Ben didn't care. His hand latched around her throat like a blood-thirsty vampire and when her left hand reached out for him, he just snagged her wrist in his palm. Ben twisted his hand until he could feel the muscles and tendons in (Y/n)'s wrist stretching and tightening and she wondered if he was going to break her wrist. The pain caused (Y/n) to let out an almost silent scream but Ben's hand around her throat made it harder than it already was to breathe.

(Y/n) wasn't sure whether Ben let go of her or if he pushed her but either way, she ended up on the floor, leaning up against the boxing ring.

All eyes were watching Ben, wondering if he would be so malice as to kick his wife whilst she was already down but they were all surprised when he just stood hovering over (Y/n) like some kind of beacon. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood across his face and his hand.

After a minute that felt like an hour, Bill, one of Ben's workers, took a few daring steps over towards (Y/n) before stopping when Ben's voice hit his ears.

"Don't help her, she can get up on her own. Can't you?" Ben's eyes focused on (Y/n) and his head nodded in her direction, telling her to stand up.

(Y/n) stared up at Ben for a few long seconds, wondering what he would do if she just stayed where she was but part of her didn't really want to find out the answer. Her hands grabbed onto the rope of the boxing ring behind her which she used as leverage to get her shaking legs to move under her control. Her eyes never swayed from watching Ben as she stood to shaking legs with repulsion in her eyes for the man she married.

When Ben reached out either to grab her or maybe even to steady her, (Y/n) coiled her arms to her chest, trying to keep her chin up as she unsteadily walked past him and left the room. If her wedding ring wasn't such a perfect size and was easier to get off her finger, (Y/n) would have thrown it at his feet to see what kind of reaction that would have gained from him.

Why did she marry a brute like him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nothing extensive.

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine as she looked at herself in the mirror. Sometimes she wished her injuries were extensive because it would make Ben remember what he'd done every time he looked at her and saw a bruise or a cut or some swelling. Other times (Y/n) figured it was better without the markings, no one else would know that way.

But people did know, a room full of workers had just witnessed what Ben had done to her. How was (Y/n) going to go out and show her face in front of them when everyone would have either seen or heard what had happened? Ben had publically hurt and embarrassed her in a place that they both worked every day.

Wiping at her sore eyes, (Y/n) tried to look calm and collected but she couldn't seem to look anything but hurt and damaged. Her eyes were dark and sunken and they looked like broken marbles in their sockets. Her features were dampened with red and her face was sticky with tears that she had continuously smeared onto the back of her hands.

She was going home.

Ben would undoubtedly be staying here at the club which would give (Y/n) time to go home and be on her own and decide if she was staying at home or if she was going to leave before Ben got back. Her mind wasn't made up yet about whether she wanted to be around him or not when she got home.

When she left the bathroom (Y/n) tilted her head down, not wanting to catch sight of anyone or have anyone look at her because although no one would have the nerve to say anything, their stares would be enough. The sorrow or guilt or the pained glances they would spare her would be far too much for (Y/n) to witness, she didn't want anyone to look at her, she wanted to glide through the halls like a ghost and disappear out the car park without anyone noticing.

The thought of Ben being in the office didn't cross (Y/n)'s mind as she walked in so she could retrieve her car keys before leaving. When she caught sight of her husband out of the corner of her eye, (Y/n) kept her eyes focused on the floor, quickly grabbing her keys from the desk before she spun round to leave.

"(Y/n)... (Y/n) stop."

It was very clear by his tone that Ben was trying to sound calm and not be irritated when she didn't look at him or stop walking like he demanded. He was quick to move and block the door from her sights just as she reached it but his lips curled in distaste when she didn't even look up at him. Ben was itching to reach out and hold her chin to force her to look up at him but he knew if he did it would make matters a lot worse and she wouldn't talk at all.

"(Y/n) I'm sorry-"

"Sorry isn't good enough." Her words surprised him and his brows shot up when she finally tilted her head up and looked at him. "Sorry doesn't excuse what you just did to me out there, it doesn't make everything better or make you blameless. Look what you did to me."

Sorry wasn't going to work this time around. Ben couldn't just say he was sorry because (Y/n) wasn't letting him forget what he'd done. Sorry didn't excuse him hurting her and it didn't make up for him beating her up in front of their workers in the club. Sorry wasn't good enough for Ben to get back on (Y/n)'s good side when he'd left bruises on her skin this time and he'd made it harder for her to come to work tomorrow because everyone was going to be looking at her and whispering and spreading rumours. No one was going to forget this in a hurry, including (Y/n).

Gripping the hem of her shirt, (Y/n) pulled her shirt up to her bra so Ben could see the purple bruises beginning to form on the left side of her chest where he'd punched her.

The look in his eyes was something (Y/n) couldn't decipher as he studied her chest until she dropped her shirt and turned her head so he could see the faint finger marks left around her chin and cheek.

(Y/n) took a step back out of precaution when Ben suddenly tried to close the space between them and the pain was evident on his face when she stepped back, but it didn't put him off. He moved closer again until he could lift up her shirt and the quietest growl could be heard vibrating against the back of his throat when he watched his wife flinch like he was going to hurt her again.

Surprise was clear in (Y/n)'s eyes when Ben slowly started to dance his fingertips over the bruises on her chest, feeling like the tip of a feather was slowly being dragged across her skin.

Ben moved his hands to hold (Y/n)'s hips in his usual light yet still firm grip so he didn't hurt her but she also couldn't pull away. (Y/n)'s head turned to watch him with unease, she didn't know what he was doing but she didn't know what she wanted him to do either. Sorry was always the thing he said to her after he hurt her but she wasn't letting him do that this time and if they were arguing about this at home he'd use sex to try and make it up to her.

Shivers ran down (Y/n)'s spine and caused her stomach to pull in when Ben slowly and very lightly kissed the bruises he'd unintentionally created on her skin. He hurt her in the heat of the moment, he didn't mean to bruise her or punch her badly but he had done and he was truly sorry about it.

"Ben..." (Y/n) sighed through his name as her lips curved into a frown, he was doing this because he knew he could get around her this way. He could melt her and wear her down until she forgave him, he wouldn't let her stay mad at him for very long and they both knew it.

She barely breathed when Ben pulled up before his head was leaning in and his lips were suddenly kissing her jaw where he'd left more marks that weren't the good kind.

"Forgive me, call it a truce. I won't do that again I swear it." Ben's words were quiet and breathless against her skin that he wouldn't stop kissing because he could already feel (Y/n) wearing down against him. He felt her hands moving to his shoulders in an attempt to push him away but he pulled her closer in response until her head had to lean back so he could keep kissing up and down her jaw and occasionally kissing her cheek.

"I-if you dare hurt me like that in front of anyone I'm gone. I mean it Ben, the next time you try it this ring will come off my finger and we're finished."

(Y/n) didn't know how true her threat was because they both knew she'd made threats to leave and the most she'd ever managed to do was pack a few of her things before Ben came home and stopped her. But she knew deep down that she would try her best to leave him if he ever hurt her in front of anyone, whether it was family, their workers or a stranger. He couldn't hurt her and he couldn't do that when there was an audience because it was cruel and (Y/n) couldn't take it.

"I won't baby I swear."

(Y/n) didn't know how true his words were despite how sincere he sounded, but when his lips melted against hers, she knew his promise would have to be enough for now.

[scarletenvy]

eastbound, homebound. — chapter 3

this is for the nony who the other day asked me to post any previously unpublished parts of the airline au i might have. here’s 5k of unfinished, unbeta’d and not edited ch3. includes smut.

Chapter 3: concrete jungle.

*

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Violet squeaks, startled and surprised, and tries to get up, but Pearl just lets out a guttural grunt and tightens her grip on the junction of Violet’s hip and thigh under her skirt, thus effectively trapping Violet where she’s straddling Pearl’s lap. Violet produces a disagreeing noise that turns into a shameless moan as soon as Pearl sinks her teeth into her flesh just above her collarbone, and involuntarily grinds her hips down.

“Come on, guys, again? Really? In my fucking cockpit, too?” Kameron whines.

Violet’s lids flutter open and she looks up. Kameron is standing in the doorway, shielding her eyes with her palm theatrically. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s body, settling against the backrest of her pilot’s seat, but her index and middle fingers curl under the waistband of Violet’s panties.

“Oh knock it off, Michaels, you can’t possibly expect us to believe you haven’t done this with your purser wife even once,” Pearl says while her other hand slides up Violet’s back under her unbuttoned blouse and sneakily unhooks her bra.

“Pearl!” Violet protests half-heartedly and slaps Pearl’s arm. Pearl just smirks and pushes her hand under the undergarment to cup Violet’s breast.

“I’ll be happy to inform you that my wife and I can actually keep our hands off each other for longer than five minutes, because we’re not a pair of libido-driven bitches, thank you very much,” Kameron says sternly.

Pearl hums in a noncommittal manner and leans back in to drag her lips against Violet’s collarbone. Violet’s lids fall closed again and a pleased purr forms somewhere deep in her chest and escapes her.

“I should really fuck you in first class next, doll,” Pearl states. “You’d look so fucking good, getting yourself and the seat all wet and messy while I finger your pretty little pussy. Would you like that, babe?”

“Oh, God, I can’t hear you, I can’t, I’m not listening!” Kameron shrieks before Violet can react.

Violet blinks, trying to bring her surroundings back into focus, the rampant arousal that pools in her gut making it difficult. Kameron is squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with her palms, looking equal parts flustered and amused.

“Pearl,” Violet repeats hoarsely.

“Mmm,” Pearl says, slipping her hand to squeeze Violet’s ass under Violet’s skirt while her other one is still playing with her breast. “Okay, go on, then, doll, the sooner I land this thing the sooner I’ll get to actually fuck you.”

She manoeuvres her hands to rest on Violet’s waist and swiftly pushes her to her feet, proceeding to straighten her tie and crack her neck like she wasn’t just walked in on by her captain. Violet reaches to wipe her lipstick off Pearls mouth, and then secures the hooks of her bra behind her back and buttons her blouse up.

“C’mere, princess,” Pearl beckons her closer as soon as Violet’s done straightening her uniform.

Violet bends over, planting her hands on the armrests of the seat Pearl’s occupying, and Pearl presses a gentle kiss on her mouth, her plum lips so soft and good against Violet’s own. Before it can escalate, Pearl slaps Violet’s ass lightly and repeats her command to go on. Violet pecks Pearl once more and grabs her blazer from Kameron’s seat where she shedded it not too long ago before circling Pearl and heading out of the cockpit.

Kameron is still standing in the doorway, her arms crossed on her chest. She’s shaking her head slightly, her expression scolding, and it would almost make Violet bashful if it weren’t for the way Kameron’s so obviously fighting off an entertained grin.

“Nice bra, Chachki,” she shoots as she moves aside to let Violet through, and that’s when Violet is assured she’s not nearly as irritated as she tries to act.

“Why, thank you, captain,” Violet says, making sure it comes out pointed and clear, audible.

Behind her, she can hear Pearl snap around in her seat and let out an actual growl, low and dangerous, and she runs off quickly, feeling oddly pleased with herself for provoking a reaction.

There’s always a small part of her, shy and quiet, that keeps nagging that she should be ashamed of such vulgar, flamboyant behaviour she’s engaging in. Lately Violet’s grown very talented at ignoring it, progressively more so around Pearl, but today it’s louder, more persistent somehow. Maybe it’s because of where they are right now. Violet doesn’t let that thought linger, doesn’t let any of it linger, just works harder to not think of it at all.

She arrived in Atlanta early in the afternoon yesterday to overnight there before their flight to Johannesburg. She hadn’t told anyone she’s back, hadn’t left her hotel room, either. It was unlikely she would run into someone familiar in the busy streets, but she didn’t particularly feel like risking it. It’s been a while since she’s been back, and it was a peculiar feeling, being here as a visitor, a passer-by on her way to another, faraway destination.

Now they’re at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International, getting ready for their flight. The airport is, at core, the same it was eleven, thirteen, fifteen years ago, but at the same time it’s not. The difference is, she’s never seen it like this before. She’s never seen the staff security checks and airline meeting rooms and unnoticeable doors that only open with a swipe of one’s I-D. badge. It’s both unnerving and comforting, the way a place can change so much, but not because it hasn’t, essentially, remained the same; rather, because she has not.

It seems no one’s really missed her in the main cabin. Farrah is standing in the middle of one of the two aisles, her palms placed on the backrests of the seats either side of her, and one of her knees is bent, her foot lifted coquettishly and the heel of her shoe brushing against her ass. Michelle is standing in one of the rows, her back to Violet, and she’s snapping photos of Farrah as she poses. Her expression is simultaneously oozing both seduction and saint-like innocence in the way only one Farrah Moan is capable of perfectly mastering.

“NorthWest should really use you in their next advertisement campaign, Farrah,” Violet chuckles.

Farrah strikes another pose, standing back on both feet and popping her hip, her hand moved to rest there now.

“I’m Farrah. Fly me to Milwaukee,” she breathes out, her tone eery and empty like she’s a bimbo from some 60’s movie.

“Amazing,” Violet laughs. “Do they even have an airport there?”

“Does it matter? It’s Milwaukee,” Farrah shrugs and reaches for her phone Michelle’s handing her.

“You ever been to Atlanta before, Violet?” Michelle asks.

“This is the first time this is my base,” Violet replies vaguely.

“So you’ve never been to Johannesburg before?” Farrah says wistfully. “Me neither. Gonna be fun!”

Violet hums her acknowledgement, then looks around the cabin. “Where’s Brianna?”

“We’re missing two life vests, she’s sorting that. We should be able to start the boarding soon,” Michelle says.

“I’m sure someone stole those vests during the previous flight,” Farrah chimes in expertly.

“Why would anyone steal a life vest?” Violet questions.

“Girl, people tend to steal the most random unnecessary shit, you’d be surprised,” Farrah says like it’s obvious.

“She would know,” Michelle notes.

Farrah whines, that drawn, high-pitched sound that has become her signature in Violet’s mind by now. Michelle doesn’t seem too bothered by this reaction, just laughs and suggests they get back to work.

They monitor the cabin together swiftly, making sure everything is taken care of before Brianna returns with the missing vests. Violet is unsettled, craves to get going already, but luckily Farrah is rushing them in her palpable excitement, so Violet clings to that excuse as she moves through the familiar steps with more urgency than is usual to her.

They’re one-third into the 15-hour flight when Brianna asks Violet to check if the cockpit needs anything for her while she deals with something in first class. Violet uses the intercom in the back galley, holding the receiver between her ear and shoulder as she leans against the counter, her legs crossed at the ankles, and examines the fresh coat of nail varnish she applied that morning while she waits for Kameron and Pearl to accept the call.

“Liaison,” she hears Pearl’s absentminded drag after two rings, her voice thick with amusement as if Kameron and her were just laughing at something when Violet phoned.

“Captain,” she purrs seductively. “Main cabin here, Violet speaking.”

“Blatant erasure,” Kameron chimes in before Pearl can reply.

“Shh, Michaels, you’re ruining the fantasy,” Pearl snorts.

The playfulness in Pearl’s tone makes Violet smile involuntarily, and she glances down at the tips of her black pumps and bites her lower lip like she’s trying to hide her reaction despite being alone, convince herself her heart doesn’t beat faster and her cheeks don’t get a little bit warmer whenever she hears Pearl sounding happy or imagines her grinning.

“So, what’s up, main cabin?” Pearl prompts.

Violet straightens her posture, crossing one arm over her chest and grabbing the receiver, and quietly clears her throat, seductively narrowing her eyes and dropping her pitch before she speaks. “Just calling to see if the cockpit needs anything, captain. Maybe I could get you something to eat?”

“That depends,” Pearl drawls cheekily, clearly playing along with Violet’s flirting, her voice husk. “What’s on the menu?”

“Why don’t I come and personally show you?” Violet chirps immediately.

“Jesus, Chachki, you’re on fucking speaker, come on,” Kameron groans.

Pearl laughs roughly, and Violet lets out a pouty sound, not really caught off guard by the interruption — it’s a wonder Kameron let it fly as long as she did, actually — but still a little dismayed. It’s been six days since their last flight together, six days since Pearl rushed her into a toilet stall at Seattle-Tacoma and took her against the wall, hot and desperate and messy, six days of radio silence and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Violet is itching for contact now, restless to get her hands on Pearl, hardly satisfied by their quick make out session from earlier.

“Goddamnit, Michaels, you’re such a bitch,” Pearl complains through laughter. “Why can’t you ever let me have any fun?”

“Because your idea of fun is having phone sex at work while you’re flying a craft and I’m sitting a foot away, you absolute genius,” Kameron shoots back.

“It’s better than your idea to play I spy with my little eyes for three hours straight, Michaels. There’s only fucking sky and clouds to spot!” Pearl says and Violet giggles, knowing full well the line was punctuated by a huge eye roll.

She moves her arm from her chest and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear, then fits her hand between herself and the counter and slips one of her heels out of the shoe, absently dangling it on her toes in the air. Pearl is in a good mood today, had been already when she had come out of the conference room to meet Violet in the hallway before their briefing and, despite Violet’s protests, taken her suitcase from her and carried it herself. It’s not exceptional, Pearl is in a good mood more often than not, but it’s a contrast to how she had been in Seattle last week, curt and rough and on edge, almost as if inflammable if approached wrong. It had been a three-hour layover, a flight that wasn’t even scheduled for Violet but that Aja had magically made happen anyway, and they had spent the majority of it with their hands and mouths on each other. After Pearl had made Violet come, Violet had backed her up against the opposite wall and gently rubbed her through her panties, the damp cotton catching on her swollen clit so perfectly, a light teasing touch insistently right where Pearl needed it until it had slowly gotten too much and she had let go and released.

Violet hadn’t asked if something was wrong, and Pearl hadn’t said anything, either, had just hidden her face in the crook of Violet’s shoulder and held her close while she came down, and then abruptly pushed past her out of the stall and the restroom without another word, and Violet hadn’t seen her again until the briefing.

“Seriously, though, is there anything you two need?” she interrupts Kameron and Pearl’s friendly bickering, her tone more professional now.

“No, babe, not really, I don’t think. At least I’m good, how about you, Michaels?” Pearl replies.

“Nah, I’m good, too. Maybe like a bathroom break in a half hour? But send someone else, I don’t want this plane crashing while I’m peeing because Liaison got distracted getting her fingers wet.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so fucking funny, Michaels, fuck all the way off,” Pearl snorts. “But what a glorious way to go, huh?”

“I’ll send Brianna or Michelle up there in like twenty,” Violet promises, stepping back into her heel and pushing herself off the counter.

“Thanks, Chachki,” Kameron calls. “Tell my wife I miss her and I love her and I can’t wait to get back to her.”

“Ew, you two are gross,” Pearl says before Violet manages to get her reply in.

“You just tried to have public phone sex and I’m the one getting called gross?” Kameron gasps in mock offence.

“You wish, Michaels, I know you’d like to hear how pretty she moans,” Pearl deadpans.

“Oh, trust me, I have heard her moan. Our room has been next to yours more often than I’d care to remember.”

“Okay,”Violet cuts in before Pearl can continue. “Nice talking to you, cap, main cabin will check in again later, have a good one. For the love of God, stop torturing her, Pearl.”

“Okay, baby, if you say so,” Pearl agrees solemnly. “I’ll see you soon.”

The line clicks in indication that the call is over, and Violet stays staring at the mute receiver for a while, the word Soon heavy on her tongue but never having had the chance to leave her lips.

*

They arrive in the early morning, and despite it having had been a fairly easy flight, Violet is physically drained and a little disoriented. It’s immediately clear Pearl likes Johannesburg, and while she puts her chin on Violet’s shoulder and keeps pointing out places and landmarks, painted in the soft glow of the quickly rising sun, through the tinted car window on their cab ride from the airport to the hotel, Violet thinks she could see herself falling in love.

Their accommodation is located in the northern part of the city, and Pearl tells her the neighbourhood, as well as those surrounding it, is considered one of the most prestigious in Johannesburg. The establishment is scattered across an undulating hill, a bunch of separate villas rather than one big building with rooms, and Michelle says it’s lovely, one of her favourite overnight locations she’s ever been to. Farrah snatches a little booklet from the front desk upon their arrival and check-in, and buries her nose in it, reading away and informing Violet that the name of the business — Zandfontein — comes from one of the early farms in the area.

Inside, their villa turns out to be a cosy, open space with a number of bedrooms and a shared kitchen and lounge. Everyone just kind of silently agrees that Pearl and Violet will take one of the two doubles, with the Michaels’ occupying the other, without any discussion or explicit acknowledgement of it. Violet thinks she should feel flustered about the way they’re treated by everyone as an extension of each other, a package deal, almost, should resist the implications, but there’s a craving crawling under her skin and she can’t think far past it, needs Pearl close and can’t deny herself.

“How do you feel about thunderstorms?” Pearl asks her when they’re settling in and the air between them is mostly filled with weary contentment and slowness of thought and motion, no energy to jump each other until they’ve slept the flight and jet lag off.

She’s changing into something comfortable to nap in, her uniform shedded and carelessly draped in a messy heap over the first somewhat suitable surface, the back of a chair today. She always does that, and then curses on the day of departure, stressing over how wrinkled the fabric is and resulting in Violet trying to straighten her up to the best of her ability. Violet is only slightly better than Pearl at this. Her uniform usually ends up strewn across the floor of whatever hotel room they’re entering as soon as they’re through the door, but at least she picks it up later on and makes an attempt at actually hanging it.

“Um,” Violet says, a little taken aback by the randomness of the question. “I feel fine? Or, like, I’m not, like, afraid of them or anything. It’s kinda nice when it’s thundering outside and you can just curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea and a book, yeah, you know, the cliché. I don’t know, why?”

She glances at Pearl over her shoulder, a hanger with her blouse and blazer temporarily looped over her wrist. Pearl is pulling on a white tank top, her bra already off, and Violet succeeds to catch a glimpse of the perfectly round underside of her breasts right before Pearl tugs on the hem and covers the rest of her upper body. Violet lets out a pouty noise and blindly tries to hook the hanger on the closet door handle, eyes concentrated on the visibly darker spots on the material of Pearl’s top where her nipples are stiffened and poking against it.

“Just figured I’d ask for, you know, later,” Pearl shrugs, running her hands through her hair to get it out of her face and then readjusting the waistband of the loose black cotton shorts she often sleeps in. “Baby, my eyes are up here,” she adds with a low chuckle after noticing Violet’s spaced out staring.

“I know, but I’m talking to your tits,! Violet muses, finally managing to place the hanger where she wants it and reaching for her skirt to hang it. “Whats happening later?”

“The thunder?” Pearl says like it’s clear while she moves to pull the comforter aside on the bed and adjust the pillows and covers like they’ve grown accustomed to having them. “It’s gonna be raining and thundering in like five hours or so.”

“Oh, come on now,” Violet snorts and brushes her off, finally turning to fold the skirt over the little bar on the hanger and grab the oversized t-shirt she packed as her pyjama. “There’s not a single cloud in the sky and it’s getting progressively warmer by minute. Thank God you’re a pilot and not a meteorologist ,”

“Babe…” Pearl says softly, and there’s a pause in the rustling of the sheets.

“Hm?” Violet hums and spins to face the rest of the room, pulling her locks out of the collar of her shirt where they got stuck upon her putting it on,

Pearl now has one knee perched on the bed, stretched out to place the pillow she’s gripping wherever it is she sees appropriate and frozen mid-movement, gaze turned up to scan Violet. Violet fixes her a quizzical look and spreads her arms in the air with a little shrug, almost challenging Pearl to disagree with her observations and deduction, and suddenly Pearl’s expression lights up, one corner of her mouth twitching up into a lopsided, extremely pleased smirk, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” Violet demands.

“Nothing, babe,” Pearl says and shakes her head, going back to her pillow arranging. “It is an awfully clear day, isn’t it? Almost like calm before the storm, huh?”

“You’re such a cryptic fucking bitch, Pearl,” Violet complains, slipping her hands under her shirt to unclasp her bra and toss it aside. “The fuck is that even supposed to mean?”

Pearl laughs uproariously and throws a pillow at Violet. It hits her in the thigh and lands at her feet, and Violet sighs in exasperation as she bends over to lift it. When she straightens up, Pearl is already sprawled on the bed, limbs splayed out in disarray like a human-sized starfish. Violet crosses the room and shoves the pillow in Pearl’s face as soon as she’s close enough to aim.

“Bitch,” Pearl mumbles into the soft material, giggles spilling out of her in sporadic gales.

“Idiot,” Violet shoots back,

“Yeah, but you like that,” Pearl retorts, still making no attempt to free her face.

“Do I really, though?” Violet mutters absently and flops onto her back on the bed next to Pearl.

“Uh-huh,” Pearl says assuredly, like there’s no care in the world, no doubt whatsoever, and maybe there isn’t, maybe she’s right, maybe she knows something Violet has no clue of, and Violet allows it soothe her until there’s something heavy in her belly and throat.

They lie there for a while, both completely quiet, and Violet enjoys the weight of the body next to her, just the way it makes the mattress dip different than it does when she sleeps alone, the warmth of it, the familiar scent, cherry blossom of Pearl’s perfume twining with the smell of cigarettes, lacing lacing lacing until it’s so unmistakably her Violet thinks there’s no replicating it,, not even coming close to. She verges on searching for Pearl’s hand, but then changes her mind and interlocks her own fingers beneath her chest, wonders how and when the silence between them got more comfortable than mindless chatter with most people is.

“What’s the meaning behind your thigh tattoo?” she asks finally, when the atmosphere gets too light, too easy, close to compressing in how natural it feels.

“Huh?” Pearl finally raises the pillow off her face and drops it somewhere in general direction of the head of the bed. “Oh, this one?”

She throws her legs up and props her ass off the mattress, trying to keep her lower body up with her abs and failing spectacularly, almost tipping over and nearly ending up with her feet over her head and eventually just falling back down on the sheets with a frustrated huff. Violet resists the urge to laugh for approximately a split second and then cracks up, drawing her hand up to facepalm. Pearl mumbles something under her breath and elbows Violet in the ribs lightly, pretending to be dismayed by her temporary loss of cool, even though she’s never been hiding her dorky side around Violet and they both know it.

“Each flower represents a woman in my life,” Pearl says when Violet succeeds to stop cackling and outstretches her arm to brush her knuckles against the ink. “There’s one for my mom, then my sisters, and my grandma, oh, yeah, and this smaller one is for my nephew.”

“that’s so sweet,” Violet smiles. Pearl must be close with her family, she seems the type, seems like somebody who keeps in touch a lot and insists on spending at least one set of holidays a year together, makes it work despite everyone having their own busy lives. Violet doesn’t ask, though, wants to avoid the series of corresponding questions touching the subject will surely breed painfully harder than she wants to learn these things about Pearl, feels claustrophobic more than she does intrigued. “You designed it yourself, didn’t you?”

“Yah, doll, all of my ink,” Pearl confirms. “Nap time?”

With that, she pushes herself up on the bed to lie down on the pillows, Violet follows her, pressing close to her side and twisting her gently until Pearl’s back is to her chest and she can loop her arm around her middle and bury her face in her hair. Pearl sighs happily, her hand immediately covering Violet’s where it’s resting on her tummy, and relaxes, and Violet falls asleep to the deepening pattern of her breathing.

*

Sure enough, Violet wakes up to the sounds of thundering and raindrops against the window some hours later.

It takes her a moment to register she’s in Pearl’s arms now, despite them having had been in the reversed position when she dozed off, but it doesn’t particularly alarm her — she’s used to Pearl’s tendency to flip them around in her sleep, as if she can’t possibly get enough of holding Violet and will utilise any chance she gets. Next, Violet registers Pearl’s open mouth dragging against the skin of her neck and her fingers aimlessly stroking her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, the light trailing of her blunt nails sending chills up Violet’s spine.

“Pearl…” she croaks, her voice cracking a little.

“Shh, baby,”Pearl breathes out.

Violet gasps almost soundlessly, shifting a bit, and Pearl presses a kiss right where her whisper is still burning Violet’s skin. Her palm flattening on Violet’s middle, she starts unhurriedly sliding it higher, pulling Violet’s shirt up with it. She reaches Violet’s tits, gropes the flesh forcefully, but before Violet can push her chest out into the contact, Pearl drops her hand lower, hooking her fingers under the rolled up hem of the shirt. She tugs it over Violet’s breasts, and Violet barely bites down a filthy moan as the cool air on her bare body gives her goosebumps.

“Pearl,”she repeats, a pleading tilt to her tone.

Pearl’s mouth moves to Violet’s ear, and she closes her teeth around the lobe lightly, then laps her tongue over the spot, and Violet’s toes curl, the action causing her to lose a bit of her breath. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Pearl presses two of her fingers right between Violet’s exposed breasts and starts slowly tracing them down her chest and abdomen, her leisurely pace nearly torturous and making Violet’s gut twist and her whole body tense and shiver in anticipation and excitement. She’s still hazy from sleep, soft and a little powerless, ardent and almost shapeable under Pearl’s touch, needing her to set the tempo and do whatever she pleases, and Pearl seems to be in the matching mood, wanting to take control and have Violet her way, dominant in such a tender, disarming fashion. She reaches Violet’s panties, twiddles with the waistband, slipping her index finger under it and swiping across the skin there, and Violet involuntarily bucks her hips into the impact, a whimper escaping her as Pearl retaliates and puts her palm on Violet’s pelvis instead, swiftly drawing her back closer.

“Baby…” she mutters, scolding, teasing, perhaps a tiny bit breathless.

“Please,” Violet utters instantly, not caring about how desperate the thickness of her voice sounds.

Pearl’s lips are back on Violet’s skin immediately, kisses being peppered in a neat string from behind her ear all the way to the crook of her neck. She simultaneously forces her foot between Violet’s ankles, and gradually pries Violet’s legs open with her own, fitting her full thigh high enough to be lightly brushing against Violet’s pussy. She starts sucking a mark on top of Violet’s shoulder, and moves her hand and places it on the back of Violet’s own, fingers feathering over the knuckles before interlacing with hers.

As Pearl begins to drag their joined hands lower, Violet squeezes her eyes shut and exhales in shattering pants, wanting to squirm, to rock her hips to try and get some friction against Pearl’s thigh, but also immobilised, unable to recall how to use her muscles, her lust rendering her boneless and completely pliant. Pearl detaches her mouth from Violet’s skin, leaving the spot hot and throbbing in her wake, and lifts her face to nose Violet’s curls, her deep and heavy breath tickling the nape of Violet’s neck. She guides their hands all the way down and stops right above Violet’s panties again, her fingers still securely clasped over Violet’s, and Violet senses how prominently her muscles tense under her palm as Pearl stalls deliberately.

There’s a moment of stillness, the only sounds disturbing the almost perfect silence — the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional thundering that feels like it rolls over the area in huge waves, as well as their noticeably laboured breathing. Violet’s wound up, thinks she might snap any second now, loves how charged all of this is, utterly enjoys the way Pearl is torturing her and the ache in her core from too much tension without any relief.

After the longest while, Pearl nuzzles her faze closer and presses her lips behind Violet’s ear, and that’s what finally sends Violet right over the edge.

“Daddy,” she whines, so fucking needy and desperate that there’s no mistaking it.

Pearl must lose some of her composure with that, because she curses lowly and screws her knee, thus working Violet’s legs farther apart. With determination, she pushes their hands into Violet’s panties, and Violet produces a surprised Oh, her eyes flying open, not having had realised Pearl was planning something like this, but promptly relaxing her wrist to allow Pearl full control of the situation and her body, relishing in the way surrendering to Pearl turns her on so much.

Without delay, Pearl presses their fingers between Violet’s lips, and Violet hisses as she senses her own wet heat, nearly burning against her skin. She’s slightly mortified by the ease with which Pearl reduces her to this state, by the fact Pearl can feel it just as well, by the way the humiliation only stirs her on.

“God, Vi, dripping already,” Pearl rasps, her fingers twitching like she can’t contain it. “Slutty little thing.”

Violet whimpers and squirms, too overwhelmed and consumed by all the sensations, all the softness and intensity of their position to produce anything intelligible, limbs too heavy to try and speed the things up, to do anything except give up and let go. Pearl aligns their fingers so that hers are lying primly along Violet’s, and. with another kiss pressed to the side of Violet’s neck, thrusts her wrist to rub the digits against Violet’s aching clit.

[binniedeactivated]

Church Boy. ||seungseung💦

hey ya’ll since it’s taking me longer than normal to complete request pls enjoy some stray kids smut i made long ago~~

Pairing: top!seungmin bottom!jisung genre: smut word count; 2396

If we are being completely honest, nothing ever went in Jisung’s favor. 

It was always, “Put your head down Jisung” or “Make sure you are reading the Bible every day Jisung”, or even worse, “Make sure you are forgiven for your sins”.

He did all of these things each and every single day but he still believed that he could never be forgiven. After all he was the biggest sin he thought himself to be.

Jisung was gay.

But who would he ever tell that to?

His father was a preacher and his mother was his advocate. They’d never understand where their son was coming from. All they knew was church and that God hated you if you were any different from them. 

Luckily he has never been tempted before. Usually, his sexuality wasn’t too obvious while he was in church until the devil himself appeared in Sunday school that fateful morning. And ever since then, Jisung couldn’t stop his cravings. Not even while he was in the middle of service.

He walks into the sanctuary seeing the saints pray ferociously, he was debating on whether he should sneak off and smoke some weed while his mother prayed too. But he disposed that thought as soon as he locks eyes with his favorite blonde haired angel in the back row. 

On the verge of falling asleep Jisung’s eyes flutter open fearfully at the sudden slap on his butt by some unknown figure. He glares up to view the tall bastard standing there, smiling like a complete fool before he sits right beside him. 

“Ow! Why would you do that?”. 

Jisung hisses with his hands still in a folded manner. It took everything in him to pretend he didn’t like it. Pretending was the only thing saving him from his father’s wrath. 

“Psh. Because I want to. Are you actually praying right now?”. 

“Well yeah I have to. And you should too”. 

Seungmin smirks. 

Seungmin declared. He used a hand to grasp a chunk of Jisung’s ass, massaging both cheeks softly. Jisung’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He gulped hard and squeezed his eyes tight, swatting the younger’s hands away while trying to pray. 

“It makes me think about what else you can do on them, other than pray, church boy”. 

Just ignore him.

Maybe he’ll go away.

But ignoring him was so difficult when he was constantly running his hands over the fatty globes of flesh which turned Jisung on in an instant. Each time Seungmin dragged his hand to a different sector of his ass Jisung caught himself hitching a breath in between.

However Seungmin saw the boy’s diligence and became frustrated. Jisung always had a way of turning him on without doing much. He snakes his fingers in the boy’s hair and yanked it back until their eyes met.

“Are you ignoring me?”. 

With a combination of pain and fear, Jisung delicately replies,

“W-we’re supposed to be praying right now. We can’t talk”. 

Seungmin wanted to wreck him even more with his words but instead he grinned, thinking of a better idea. 

“You’re right. We can’t. Instead I’ll show you. Shall I?”. 

Seungmin releases his grip and brings himself to his knees with Jisung. He darts his eyes around, thank god the back of the church was cleared. 

He presses his half hard member against the fabric on the back of Jisung’s slacks, releasing a gasp from the boy’s lips. Out of panic Jisung reaches back to grab Seungmin’s waist but nonetheless Seungmin takes Jisung’s hands and pin them against the church pew. 

“Or what? I’ll be banished from church?”. 

“No. No, it’s just, just the right thing to do”. 

Seungmin could reply with some witty remark but he didn’t want to. He’d much rather spend his time letting his eyes graze over the boy who was more adorable than anyone he’s ever seen. The boy who always looked so cute in his church clothes, the boy who’s slacks fit way too perfectly around his ass.

Jisung cut his eyes away from the younger, trying to find something else to pray about before he became tempted. He was already flustered with the way Seungmin was checking him out. 

“You look so pretty on your knees like this”. 

It was now time for evening prayer. Already feeling his mother’s glare, Jisung pulls the pillow from beneath the pews to place his knees on while he prays silently, trying not to fall asleep from forbiddingly staying up too late last night. Because of this, Jisung’s special place for evening prayer was in the church’s back rows. 

It didn’t take long for Satan to arrive, looking absolutely stunning in his sweater vest and white long sleeve button up with the top buttons undone. He wore a middle part in his silky hazelnut strands, and even though his mother always did her best with covering him Jisung always saw the tattoos dancing along his neck and arms. 

reflected in his twitch in response to every move Seungmin made. In his short gasps for breath,“Not so fast church boy”. 

“W-w-we can’t d-d-do this. My dad will kill me”. 

Jisung whines but Seungmin grinds himself against Jisung’s ass once more. And god, Jisung would be lying if he said this isn’t what he wanted. He bit his lips in satisfaction. He was feeling too many emotions all at once and definitely way too fast. 

“Look how hard your little ass makes me. I want to fuck you”. 

Seungmin hisses in his ear with enough harshness to make Jisung’s own pants tight. He couldn’t believe the rush Seungmin’s voice gave him. 

“We, we will get caught”. 

“So what? By the time they catch us you will already be fucked out anyways”.

Seungmin devilishly grins again before pushing his soft wet lips on Jisung’s neck. Out of everything he loved about Jisung what got him the most was how pure the older was. This  the high pitched noises he made to keep from becoming too obvious. The way his fingers drums against the wooden pew. 

Sliding his lips downward Seungmin relishes at the bright red hickey behind the boy’s ear. He fishes his hand to the front of Jisung’s trousers and gives the growing bulge a good squeeze, knocking the breath right out of him. His body was so sensitive to everything that had never been done to him before and the feelings overwhelmed him entirely. All he knew was that Seungmin was incredibly hard and so was he. 

Yes, he wanted to be filled but he didn’t quite know how to say that. 

“Have you ever been fucked before church boy?”. 

Jisung shakes his head, licking his parched lips,

“N-no”. 

Seungmin takes this opportunity to shimmy down Jisung’s pants before unzipping his own. He snatched the bottle of lube out of his coat pocket and allowed the liquid to pool in the palm of his hand. 

All the while Jisung couldn’t believe himself. He was always his parents little saint and here he was, about to lose his virginity in church. He didn’t have time to have feelings of regret before Seungmin dips his hand into his briefs and strokes his length with a lubricated hand. A line of shaky moans cut its way into Jisung’s throat. Seungmin began at a perfect rhythm and a perfect pace, making Jisung instinctively thrust his throbbing hard on in his hand. 

The feeling was absolute bliss. Like heaven on earth he never felt anything like it but he was mesmerized. In just a few thrusts Seungmin increases in speed, being careful to conceal the squelching sound. Jisung’s lips were being bitten with a strength that could make them bleed. 

“Look at you fucking yourself in my hand. Does it feel good church boy?”. 

Jisung swallows,

“Y-y-yes”. 

“Faster”.

Seungmin demands and with uncertainty jisung listens, slamming his waist into the fist. The sensation relieving his throbs couldn’t be tamed it was all so addicting yet so sinful.

“Like this?”. 

Jisung squeals, 

“Faster”

Seungmin demanded again and Jisung’s heart ran marathons in his chest. He pushes his waist forward again and makes his thrusts quicker but the feeling of Seungmin’s slimy hand around his cock unboxes another swarm of butterflies. 

“Like, like this?”. 

Jisung now whines now feeling a particular feeling in his gut. At this point he was going incredibly fast and if he didn’t stop he’d been in for one hard orgasm that he didn’t want anyone else in the church to hear. 

“Faster”. 

Jisung tries his absolute hardest but finds himself slowing down, he didn’t want to give up the moment of bliss all too fast and he could feel his throbbing tip prepared to let loose. 

“I can’t, I can’t”. 

Jisung wails with the tiniest throaty moans finding a home in Seungmin’s eardrum.

“Yes you can. I said go faster”.

Pursuing the demand Jisung does as he were told, letting Seungmin’s hand rub him off until cords of white shot onto the floor below them. Jisung’s stomach caved in and a wave of relief washed over him. His breathing was weighty and although he could possibly get grounded for the rest of his life, he was grateful. 

But the fun didn’t end there.

Right after smearing the lubricant on Jisung’s ass Seungmin aligned the puckering hole with the tip of his member. The older gasps once again, not feeling confident that he could take it all.

“Seungmi—-“.

“Shhh. I’m going to stretch you and then you’re going to take my dick like the innocent boy you are”. 

Inch by inch Seungmin teases his hole, and every single time Jisung didn’t know what the hell he was missing. Who would’ve known all this time what he needed was a good fill. 

After the painful teasing that made the older’s mind spin, Seungmin is all the way in and Jisung’s body stiffens immediately at the foreign feeling. 

“Relax church boy. Keep your ass up for me”. 

“Y-y-our so big”. 

Seungmin grins before grabbing his waist and making his first thrust. A long lewd moan escapes Jisung lips, having being so loud that Seungmin clasps a hand over the older’s mouth. 

“god you are so loud for me”. 

Feeling pretty prideful Seungmin gradually increases his pace. Starting slow to get him used to the feeling, now to the point where he was practically drilling him. Jisung’s nails scratches the wood underneath his elbows and he rolls his eyes to the back of his head. His hair bounces continually and his moans were just as high pitched and erotic as they wanted to be. 

Seungmin loved the way Jisung’s tight hole clenched around his Rock hard member. He’d be dreaming up something like this for weeks. Finally he’s getting a chance to ruin his delicate angel. Everything about him was angelic, even down to his whiny moans. god, Seungmin could just cum at the sound of his whimpers. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself you little slut getting fucked in the back of the church. What would your dad think of this hm?”. 

Seungmin degrades harshly, and he’d hit Jisung’s prostate so many times that the older didn’t care anymore. The sensation running through his torso couldn’t compare to anything else on earth. He loved the way Seungmin pounded in him with absolute ease, making him feel like the whore he truly was. The whore he truly wanted to be.

“Why do you make me like this hm church boy? You got me so hard— fuck”. 

Seungmin groaned in Jisung’s ear growing the older’s erection all over again. He couldn’t believe he was getting fucked like this by someone who was younger than him. Where did he learn? 

Seungmin dangerously strengthens his strides sending Jisung over an edge. He wanted to scream, groan and moan as loud as he possibly could. He wanted to claw at Seungmin’s back and tell him how much he wanted to be fucked. He wanted to leave hickies on his neck. He wanted to ride him until he couldn’t stop cumming. 

But their relationship was forbidden. 

So Jisung sat tight and let Seungmin pound his hole senselessly until moans were no longer attainable. He was surprised the pew was still in tact with the floor. He was surprised no one was hearing them. He was a moaning mess between Seungmin’s fingers. 

“Fuck you’re going to make me cum your whines

are so pretty”. 

Seungmin lunges even harder chasing his own high. Jisung felt his eyes water with bliss. His cock had already been squirting the cum it could muster. He couldn’t fathom the speed of Seungmin’s waist. But all in all the younger was blessed to make him feel this way. Everything was so wrong but it never felt so right. 

Seungmin slams into the younger one good time now fully reaching the older’s prostate, making Jisung cum again. He seriously felt pity for the janitor at this point, he made such a mess of himself. Seungmin grinds sluggishly slowing down, his hot liquid filling Jisung with more than he could bear. 

Seungmin takes his hand off of Jisung’s mouth and the younger lays his head down trying to capture all of the deep breaths he wasn’t able to take. That was, until Seungmin thrusts his fingers in him leaving Jisung desperately clutching the arm rest until he came from oversensitivity. With no energy left, Jisung’s body draped over the pew with his strands sticking to the sweat on his forehead. Seungmin pulls the older’s bottoms back up as he zipped his own. He doesn’t hesitate to suck purpling hickies on the back of Jisung’s neck as he knew the other didn’t have the strength to fight him off anymore. 

“All fucked out. I could just fuck you again but you’re lucky I have mercy”. 

“Where did you learn to do that?”. 

“I didn’t. You’re just so cute I wanted to ruin you”. 

Jisung places his head back down trying to figure out if he was going to be able to walk correctly when he got up.

“I made you cum four times in one prayer session church boy. Let’s see if we can beat our record this Sunday”. 

Seungmin hisses again. His sinful words were like venom. 

A venom so sweet that Jisung couldn’t stop tasting.

He hoped god forgave him.

[salemsarc]

i’m not even my own - ao3

It was rare to have anyone other than Tadashi watching Kei’s games.

Kei was running off of a slight adrenaline high walking off the court. The Sendai Frogs had just won against a formidable rival, and Kei was a part of that team. Warmth pooling in Kei’s gut didn’t disgust him anymore, he accepted his passion for volleyball long ago.

Before the match, Kei was opening his texts before confining his phone to his gym bag for the duration of the game.

From: <3Tadashi<3

good luck tsukki !! i’m in the front row

A smile crept up onto Kei’s face, which surprised some of his teammates who were glancing around the locker room. Sure, he was a lot less cranky since high school, but he was nowhere near Hinata’s level of enthusiasm. Kei only sent a short reply to Tadashi before he was about to turn off his phone, another text had caught him off guard.

From: Akaashi

Hey. I’m watching your game. Can we hang out and talk after?

Kei didn’t pretend that those words on the screen didn’t cause him some unease. It wasn’t like he wasn’t on good terms with Akaashi, rather the opposite. They texted frequently (under Kei’s standards) and still made time to go out to brunch or watch a movie occasionally. Just slightly strange that he would request to see each other so suddenly, especially right after one of Kei’s games.

Now that Kei had thought about it, Bokuto didn’t have any games for that week. Akaashi attended every one of Bokuto’s games, the beefcake claiming that Akaashi was his good luck charm. That man was a saint for being able to deal with Bokuto’s antics on such a frequent basis.

Thinking time was over, one of Kei’s teammates slapped his shoulder roughly, causing his phone to clatter to the floor.

“You can text your girlfriend later, Tsukishima,” said his teammate with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Girlfriend, sure. Kei picked up his phone from the ground and shoved it into his bag. He could worry about Akaashi later.

Tadashi was waiting for him, of course, right outside of the gym. Kei’s teammates were still inside, probably doing some stupid locker room ritual that Kei had no interest in. The way that Tadashi’s irises were sparkling in pride still made Kei’s insides swirl around.

“Congrats, Tsukki!” Tadashi threw his arms around Kei’s lanky body despite the fact that Kei was pretty sweaty. “You kicked their asses! God, I’m so lucky to have such a cool boyfriend.” Kei’s insides swirled a little harder at his words.

Tadashi followed up by pressing a chaste kiss to Kei’s lips, having to go onto the tips of his toes to reach his excessive height. Kei didn’t make any fuss because he was feeling particularly sappy for Tadashi at that moment, and his teammates probably weren’t around.

“Yeah, well, everyone else also played the game too, you know,” teased Kei.

“I hate you, just take the compliment!”

“Fine, thank you for the compliment that is definitely the truth.”

Tadashi smacked Kei’s shoulder lightheartedly at that, but he knew what Kei was thinking. He always did.

“Oh! I was sitting with Akaashi during the game, are you guys going to hang out now?” Kei didn’t pay any mind to the stands during his games, regardless of Tadashi’s presence. But he did remember getting a brief glimpse of Akaashi’s emotionless resting face.

“Mm. He said he wanted to hang out and talk.” This time, Kei tried to hide his unease.

“Stop worrying so much, he probably just wants to catch up.” Hiding was pointless.

“He’s by the parking lot, I’m going to go now.”

Kei chose to ignore Tadashi’s remark on his nervousness and instead leaned down to slot their lips together. He held it there for a few seconds, just to be safe.

“Oh, wow, Tsukki. This bold in public? I’ll be waiting for you when you get home!~” Tadashi made a point to drag his pointer finger down Kei’s chest before leaving. His finger carved sparks and tingles in its path of destruction.

He should go find Akaashi.

Akaashi was, indeed, waiting for him at the parking lot entrance. He was by no means short, standing only seven centimeters below Kei’s own stature. But, the jacket he was wearing (or vice-versa) made Akaashi appear Tadashi’s size.

“Ah, Tsukishima. Thanks for agreeing to this so last-minute.” Akaashi had peered over his phone to regard Kei.

“It’s not that big of a deal. I would have just spent some time with Tadashi,” uttered Kei. He didn’t include what he thought that time would ensue, he also chose not to think about it.

“I feel bad for interrupting your time with Yamaguchi, are you sure this is okay?” Akaashi asked. He was shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. It made the oversized jacket sway back and forth, and make a small sound when the zipper collided with a nearby car. Akaashi looked nervous about something and it made Kei’s insides swirl in the opposite direction.

“It’s fine. Seriously. I spent a lot of time with Tadashi as it is,” They did live together, after all, “I don’t mind going somewhere with you for one afternoon.” He couldn’t make his face look any more pleased, as much as he tried. Kei prayed that Akaashi would pick up his sentiment so he wouldn’t have to admit it himself.

“Okay, thank you,” Akaashi’s lips curled up briefly before he showed Kei his phone screen. “Can we go here?” It was a small coffee shop he went to with Tadashi on occasion. Kei simply nodded before beginning to navigate.

Almost no time had passed when the two boys arrived at the coffee shop, it was only a small walk away. Upon receiving their drinks and Kei’s slice of cake (It was most definitely for Tadashi, not himself, grump master Kei would never consume sweet, sugary confections.), they found a table to sit at.

“You did a good job today. A lot of your blocks only had a brief window of decision, I admire your analysis,” complimented Akaashi.

“Coming from you, of course. I’m sure you overthink how you tie your shoes.”

Small talk felt empty when it was obvious that another matter was gravely present. Akaashi just chuckled before taking a long sip of his hazelnut coffee. He took a deep breath.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you some things,” muttered Akaashi while he threaded a hand through his obsidian hair.

“I assumed as such. Why else would you voluntarily spend time with my joyful demeanor?” The sarcasm came from Kei as deadpan as ever.

“Do you mind if I ask something about Yamaguchi?”

“Not really, no. Unless it’s something weird and perverted.”

“How did you realize you were in love with him?”

The question cut through the tense air like a dull butter knife. Kei certainly wasn’t expecting such an emotionally-charged question from Akaashi. Did he want romantic advice? That wouldn’t be like Akaashi, it had to be deeper than that.

“I guess it was right before graduation. Tadashi was really upset over leaving the volleyball team, especially as captain. I didn’t really mind, but I suddenly felt myself feeling upset because Tadashi was. It was when I realized that I didn’t have some silly crush on Tadashi for all those years, but that I was just in love with him.” Kei recalled the moment as if it had happened the day before.

“In hindsight, it was stupidly obvious how in love with him I was. All the signs were there. Even the dumbass freak duo figured it out before I did.”

Akaashi was listening intensely when Kei met the boy’s eyes once again. Now it was clear why Akaashi asked him to hang out, really it should’ve been a lot sooner.

Kei thought about how Akaashi’s mood dropped whenever Bokuto would go into his emo mode during a game. He hid it extremely well, but Sugawara had pointed it out to Kei once, and he never unsaw it. Akaashi’s sets were still precise as ever, but the way the ball sprang off his fingertips made it feel like Akaashi was the one getting his spikes constantly blocked.

“What signs.” Akaashi asked immediately with a sideways cough right after.

“I would sacrifice a lot for him. Tadashi sucked at English so I always would teach him whatever he struggled with after practice, no matter how much work I had. In general I gave all of my free time to be with Tadashi. What’s that song? If I had to choose between him and the son, I’d be one nocturnal son of a gun. As embarrassing and nauseatingly cheesy as it sounds, it’s true.”

Kei thought about how many plans Akaashi cancelled to go to Bokuto’s games. He would always provide the same reason, that he had to be there so Bokuto wouldn’t go into emo mode. Tadashi asked Kei if he was being held at gunpoint.

“The jealousy, too. Sometimes girls would confess to Tadashi after school, and he would come to practice feeling self-confident, but still describing how bad he felt for rejecting their feelings. I was happy that he felt more confident in himself, but some ugly part of me wanted to kiss him right in front of those girls. I guess showing them that Tadashi wasn’t available. But he was. I didn’t want Tadashi to date anyone. Turns out I didn’t want him to date anyone that wasn’t me.”

This time, Kei didn’t think about Akaashi. He thought about Bokuto talking to him during the training camp. A girl confessed to Akaashi that morning and he responded with a simple rejection. Kei may be taken, but he sure isn’t blind (with his glasses). Akaashi was really fucking attractive. It was surely a common occurrence but Bokuto was still dejected. Bokuto didn’t bring his voice volume above a respectable level the entire morning. His mood brought down the whole warm-up. Even Kei felt his arms stinging just a little bit more from the ball.

“Oh, okay. That was really detailed.” Kei had finished his answer and met eyes once again with Akaashi. He appeared more somber than anxious like he had before in the parking lot. Dark eyes were zigging and zagging to find some imaginary answer in the coffee shop.

“I mean, you asked. So, I answered.”

“Yes, I guess I did. Wow.”

“Did that help you realize that you’re in love with Bokuto?”

It was a little too blunt, even for a person like Kei, but he felt like he needed to state the everloving obvious. Akaashi’s eyes blew open like saucers and his mouth stood slightly agape. Only for a fleeting moment, however. He quickly composed himself into emotionless-Akaashi-mode and took an even longer sip of his now cold coffee to solidify his composure.

“Yes, it did. Thank you Tsukishima,” stated Akaashi flatly.

“No problem. When are you going to tell him?” Kei had no desire to press further into Akaashi’s personal feelings.

“I’m not. I can’t.”

Akaashi’s visage was inflicted with a familiar pain. Kei had felt the same emotion himself, he saw those cracks festering onto Akaashi’s state of mind. He could see the doubts swimming into Akaashi’s eyes that would leave him dizzy and longing.

“Akaashi.”

He met Kei’s gaze, and promptly gave in. Akaashi was not about to start crying in a coffee shop where he could feel the stares of a family behind him. Instead, he spilled out all the thoughts that were imprisoned in his mind.

“It’s the classic ‘ I don’t want to ruin our friendship! ’ kind of deal, I know. In the stories and movies the person ends up confessing anyways and of course, the other person feels the same way because this is a romance, coming-of-age movie after all! But this is real life! Just because it worked out for you and Yamaguchi doesn’t mean I get a happy ending too!” The subtle jab at the end, most likely unintentional, made Kei feel a dull guilt.

“I’ve known that I’ve been in love with him, I wish I was that stupid. This was just my reality check. I go to all of his games no matter what, just because he wants me there. Do you know how much I’ve missed out on from loving him? Koutarou could ask me to give him the world, for fuck’s sake, and I would do it. Yet, I feel like throwing up every time he asks me to set to him with that godforsaken confidence in his eye.”

“Yes, I’m in love with Bokuto, but I can’t fucking live like this!”

Kei had never seen Akaashi express so much emotion in his years of knowing him. It was more than every year combined. Kei cursed the emptiness he felt. He couldn’t understand what Akaashi was feeling.

Venting his emotions did nothing to stop the tears already dripping down Akaashi’s face. Upon realizing this, the setter shamefully wiped the wetness from his face with his jacket sleeve. No, Bokuto’s jacket sleeve. The player gave it to Akaashi the previous day because it was cold outside and Akaashi didn’t bring anything to keep him warm.

“Keiji! I can’t let you get sick! I would be a terrible person if I let you suffer like this,” screeched Bokuto. The same excitable man ended up getting sick and Akaashi took care of him because he felt guilty.

An uncharacteristic hand grasped Akaashi’s shoulder. Kei had reached out to him, just like that. Akaashi couldn’t help but halt his downward spiral and look up in complete surprise.

“Just tell him. If he rejects you, whatever. Then you can get over him and stop giving him everything. If not, then there you go.” Kei said firmly.

While it was just a hand on his shoulder and some words of common sense, the gesture being from Kei created a new level of authenticity. Kei felt uncomfortable as all hell for doing this, but he couldn’t watch Akaashi dig himself into such a deep hole. It was by no means a gesture of comfort, but rather of desperation.

“Text me how it goes, okay?” Kei moved to get up and leave. He felt terrible for leaving all too suddenly, but he knew this wasn’t his area of expertise.

Akaashi understood.

Akaashi picked up his emotions that he had scattered all over the table and neatly put them back inside of his head. He dusted off the crumbs of emotional vulnerability from the table. It was a moment of instability, but Akaashi had managed to pack it all down. No more troublesome Akaashi burdening his friends with his useless feelings. Everything was back in its rightful place in the universe.

“Goodbye, Tsukishima. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.”

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw!  Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi.  Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it?  Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph.  Is that gonna be important later?  If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear--  ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best.  Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!?  --Oh right.  The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird.  Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately.  Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!?  --Of course you’re attacking.  You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country!  Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures.  With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she?  And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing??  I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket.  (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click.  (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid?  GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members.  She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she?  Not even hear herself.  And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching.  They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click.  This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan.  (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.)  When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row.  It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”.  It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious.  (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just.  I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen?  Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE.  --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though.  Still.  If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane?  You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away.  Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you.  (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8.  <3

[angst-art-writing]

Introduction- Sinners and Saints

CW: Blood, torture reference, violence, amputation, reference to abuse, slight dehumanization.

Blood was spattered on the ground, the crowd of people sitting behind the glass walls shouting, their yells blurring together to make a loud roar. Her heartbeat was hammering in her chest, almost as loud as the crowd, and warm blood trickled from her nose down her chin and onto the ground.

She hated the Arena.

Her eyes flashed as a silver blade came for her throat, the blade gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the Arena . She moved back quickly, the blade missing by mere inches, then ducked under the same blade as it made for her head, and in the same second moved to her opponents side, slamming her elbow into his ribs. "You nearly got me there!" She said to him, eyebrows raised. "But I'm afraid you're a bit too slow!" He gasped sharply, before turning to her, swinging his other dagger towards her once more.

She felt a small sting upon her cheek, but she didn't mind it too much. She then backed up a couple of steps, fists in front of her defensively, but in an instant he darted for her, aiming for a stab directly for her heart.

But she was quick, and experienced. She had faced many others for as long as she could remember, in this exact arena. She instead moved to the side as he staggered forward, slamming her fist into the same exact spot she had elbowed moments before. A loud crack was heard as her fist made contact, and the crowd laughed at her opponents failed attempt. Enraged, her opponent dropped his dagger from one of his hands and whipped towards her suddenly, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her off the ground.

"You little bitch," he growled at her, his grip tightening as her hands scrabbled at his wrist and her legs kicked uselessly. His face was red with embarrassment and oddly, she felt a little satisfaction at that.

Her chest was already starting to hurt as her eyes flit up to the top box, where her mentor sat, watching. She shut her eyes as she felt her opponent hold her throat tighter, keeping her from getting any air into her lungs now.

Her mind was racing. Even though she wasn't allowed to die in the arena, they could make her unconscious; Which meant she had failed the tournament. And then her mentor and Dad would be very mad.. Especially since she had made them look bad.

With her lungs burning inside, and the awful feeling of her throat being crushed and bruising, she let go of his wrist and brought her arm down upon the elbow of the arm he has holding her with. Even with that, he still didn't let go and she simply turned and slammed her into the glass wall's surrounding the arena. Pain blossomed in the back of her head.

She was getting desperate, the sting in her chest only getting worse. "Nice try, brat," the man cooed in a falsely gentle tone.

Artemis opened her eyes slightly, glaring at him, but even with her glare her eyes were light. "You know, I liked it better when your girlfriend choked me~" she teased, her voice strained.

His eyes flashed with anger and he brought her off the glass before slamming her back into it again. Artemis clenched her jaw. And he spoke again, his voice only a low growl, "Honestly, I expected better o-"

He was cut off by his own scream.

She fell to her knees, coughing and gasping in air, a hand on her already bruising throat. In her other hand she was holding her own bloody dagger. She closed her eyes for a moment.

Beside her, was her opponent, holding the new bloody stump of his wrist. His hand lay on the ground beside him as he screamed, writhing and crying from the pain and shock as just having his hand sliced off. The crowd was yelling. Delighted or angry, she couldn't tell. She just knew that she hadn't failed, and she wouldn't be punished severely.

A few of their medical people came into the arena and carried the screaming man away, his cries fading. He would be fine, anyways. They could probably make him a mechanical hand. They were good at that.

She shook her head and exhaled slowly, picking up her knife as she turned, rushing out of the Arena quickly, into the prep room where she had come from earlier, ignoring the Reapers yelling at her.

She hated them yelling. She hated yelling at all.

Her mentor was already there. She slid her dagger back into her belt as she looked at the ground, fighting to keep her face blank.

"Don't look so sad, Artemis! You won!" Her mentor- also the leader of the Reapers- said to her, grinning. He reached over and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up. Artemis flinched from the touch, and he slapped her across the face directly after, his tone sharp and harsh when he spoke again. "What did I say about flinching?"

She bit down on her tongue, her head turning to the side from the impact before she raised her eyes to Vincent. "To not do it.." her voice was quieter. His blue eyes narrowed slowly.

"Then don't," he snapped. But then his voice was gentle again. "I think the crowd really enjoyed that battles, don't you think? It was quite bloody.."

Artemis simply nodded her head. That's all she was used as. A toy, to entertain them, and then as a toy, a weapon, to do their bidding. And she hated it so much. She wasn't a person. She was a thing.

"Although.. You really could have done better. You were slow, today.." Vincent sighed, crossing his arms. At those words Artemis tensed, expecting him to announce some sort of punishment for being slow, but then he continued. "But I can let that slide, only for today. You'll get your food and a bed, Artemis. And no punishment." Artemis's shoulders dropped in relief, exhaling slowly. Vincent went on. "But anyways, you have another assignment. People just keep getting nosier and nosier.. And, as they say, curiosity kills the cat."

Artemis remained silent. She didn't complain, even though every inch of her was sore and ached. She had fought six other people before, all in a row with no break and she just wanted to collapse and go home to her bed.. At least, it wasn't groups today.. Groups was always worse than individuals..

"It's very rude to not answer people, Artemis," Vincent said, frowning.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, her shoulders tensing back up.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "I've told you too many times about that." He then sighed before he pat the side of her face and Artemis fought not to flinch from his hand, which had been so harmful so many times before rather than gentle, before he then turned, and started walking. "Come, now.."

He strode out of the room and Artemis followed after him reluctantly, letting her gaze drop to the floor as soon as he turned away, crossing her arms and digging her fingers into the white long-sleeve she wore, which matched the walls and the floors of the building. She hated the color white too, now.

---

Artemis slipped into the window after Vincent, the two of them completely silent. When Artemis got targets, either Vincent or her father still had to go with her. To make sure she finished the job and didn't run away. The last time she had tried to run was when her mother died, and that was years ago. She hadn't done it again, out of pure fear. The punishment for trying to escape or being defiant was severe.

Even if she hadn't done anything, there was still the chance The Reapers would hurt her. They took out their anger on her whenever Vincent allowed them to.

The room they had entered was dark. Another disadvantage for Artemis, as she had grown up to hate the dark. She had grown to hate a lot of things. She didn't say a word though, and neither did Vincent. Her eyes scanned the room before settling on the bed. Their target, John Finch, was asleep soundly in bed, snoring.

Artemis didn't move a muscle from where she stood, her hand gripping her bow tightly. She just wanted to get it over with and go back to her house, where she would just have to put up with Lance, maybe.. Then she could rest.

Vincent smiled as he walked towards the man, his arms crossed. "Aw.. Look at him," he whispered lowly. "He doesn't even know what's coming.." He paused and looked to Artemis. "Why don't you do the honors?"

"Me?" Artemis exclaimed, and John stirred slightly at the loudness of her voice and Vincent's eyes narrowed slowly. He gave her a look. She swallowed, looking to the sleeping man. She put her bow on her shoulder and her hand went towards her knife instead, her stomach twisting uncomfortably. Normally, she was used to it but..

Vincent stepped aside and Artemis went forward, sliding her knife out from it's sheath. She tried to make herself go numb, and on the outside she looked the part. Her face was completely blank and her eyes conveyed no emotion at all.

She tried to stab her blade into John's heart, but she jolted when a hand grabbed her wrist. She looked down, and her eyes met John's, before he suddenly twisted her wrist and took her knife, before he then kicked her away, slamming his foot directly into her stomach.

Artemis staggered, caught off guard as she gasped and coughed from the impact. Vincent snarled as John stood up, holding Artemis's knife defensively as his eyes flit between the two. "What are you doing here?!" He cried, his voice shaking with every word.

Vincent merely sighed irritably, before he suddenly moved forward, grabbing John round the neck with both hands and picking him up before slamming him into the wall, hard enough to knock down a few pictures.

"Artemis! " He snapped, his tone suddenly sharp and harsh. Josh was clawing at his hands with one hand as he desperately tried to breathe and squirm free. Artemis jumped and moved forward, her second dagger in her hand now. "Kill him !" Vincent hissed at her, his eyes on John.

But she hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, John sliced the knife up, vertically slashing Victor's face shallowly. Victor cried out and dropped John, staggering backwards as John darted for the door.

Artemis stared, her mind racing before she ran out afterwards after John. He was running down the hall. Without thinking, Artemis threw her knife. The knife flipped in the air, before the blade buried itself right into the back of his head.

John dropped to the ground a moment after with a loud thud, and Artemis skidded to a halt, her blood running cold instantly as she saw him fall.

She stood there, her arms falling back at her sides as she closed her eyes moment, taking a deep breath.

"What the hell was THAT?" Vincent had come up behind her, grabbing a fistful of her hair as he swiveled her around to face him. She yelped and opened her eyes, staring right at him with wide eyes now. He looked upset, blue eyes blazing. "Why did you hesitate? Haven't we talked about this?!"

With each word he tugged at her hair, and she yelped, just staring. "I know, I'm sorry-" She hissed in pain, but she didn't dare try moving away from him or struggling.

The one time I hesitate- All the other times I did good but noo. She held her tongue, however. No matter what snarky comment she wanted to say, she didn't. Not to him.

Vincent threw her onto the ground and she hit the floor hard. She turned on her stomach and tried to get back up, but Victor's boot suddenly slammed on her back and pinned her to the ground harshly. She yelped again, the side of her face smacking down into the ground.

"You really pissed me off there, brat," Vincent hissed, digging his boot into her back. "I already taught you a lesson about hesitating before.. But I think you need to be taught again."

Artemis just shut her eyes, as the familiar feeling of fear and dread overtook her. She knew exactly what was going to happen when she got back to the Reapers base.

---

The first-aid kit was shut with a loud snap, Artemis then putting the kit back into the cabinet of the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror afterwards, her eyes narrowing slightly at the large bruise on her jaw. Her throat was also bruised. Underneath her clothes, her body was littered with many more. But its not like she wasn't used to them.

With a sigh, she picked up her backpack from the floor, then her bow, turning to walk out. Finally, she could go home. That was slightly better.

Artemis turned, backpack slung over one shoulder and her brown jacket over her white long-sleeve as she walked out of the base, turning and heading towards her house. She walked through, and as she got closer the bright lights of the city got dimmer and dimmer. She gripped the dagger in her belt as she walked, eyes constantly darting around.

At last, she approached the front steps. She slid the house-key in and unlocked the front door, before slipping inside and re-locking the door again. As she stepped in, she was greeted by a strong wave of alcohol, mingled in with smoke.

She peeked in the living room, finding her dad passed out on the couch. She let out a small sigh of relief. No bottles breaking over her head tonight, thank goodness..

She turned, going down the hallway and into her room, careful not to make any noise. She shut the door softly and dropped her bag in the corner, before she slipped the brown jacket off and draping it on one of the hooks on her wall. Afterwards, she changed into her pajamas and flopped on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

--