#anybody else he would go full feral on them

[francis-writes]

Hiii! can i request what feyd would do if he gets jealous/possessive of his wife/partner? i just have a feeling that he would go absolutely feral. thank you sm! after dune 2 ive been searching her feyd stories everywhere!

READER IS GENDER NEUTRAL

A/N: thanks! I had crush on him since i read the book but now fortunately there is much more about him. I am still obsessed with him but for next week I may publish less often because of university and personal stuff

First of all, you're absolutely right. Not that Feyd is self-conscious. He thinks about himself as a perfect partner, a main prize, so he isn't afraid that you would find someone better than him.

But it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't like the idea of you being out of his control or someone else seducing you. (He trusts you but there's never enough caution, world is full of dangers; also with his position it is possible that someone could try to take you away just to get a revenge on Feyd)

I already wrote a scenario where somebody flirted with his crush and lemme tell you, nothing changes when Feyd is in established relationship. If anything, he only gets more possesive.

Of course, there are many different possible scenarios. His reaction depends on whether there's actual reason to worry or he just has suspicions, whether somebody flirts with you or just gets to close to you, whether it's a stranger, an acquaintance, a family. Is it a noble, a common person etc. But lets just speak about some possibilities

If you were somewhere in public, perhaps on some official party, and Feyd notices that somebody is flirting with you, he quickly drops whatever he's doing and comes to you. Keeping his calm posture, he joins the conversation and makes sure to emphasize that you're HIS partner and you aren't looking for anybody else. Feyd keeps his arm around your waist, starts talking about how happy you are together (constatly repeating "MY love", "MY spouse", "OUR family" etc). He's not that much into PDA and being soft publicly but he kissess you as hungrily and as long as possible. People on the party feel a bit awkward but the point is made.

If potential rival is going to far with their advances and acts too bold, or if it's a less public situation (for example a common afternoon in Harkonnen's residency) then it's very likely that Feyd would use violence, perhaps treating that person like he treated Rabban in the movie (throwing him on the floor and forcing to lick Feyd's boots), no matter the status of that person (unless it would be Emperor himself... I think). Maybe instead of boot-licking (or in addition to it), he would force them to admit that you're Feyd's and they had no right to mess with his possesions (even if your relationship is pretty healthy, Feyd still treats you as his possesion and he's very territorial)

Or maybe if somebody flirts with you more subtly, there's a possibility that Feyd will fuck you in a near room so everybody knows what happen because 1. He knows how to make you scream 2. It's pretty obvious from your disheveled look later. And this can happen no matter whether the flirt happened on a party (and all the nobles have to wittness this little show) or on a common day (and the only recipient of this show is his rival and maybe some poor servants).

When there's no direct threat to your relationship, he still acts pretty possesive. Feyd likes to know where and how do you spend your day (though he really likes if you spend your time with him and if you're interested, he engages you into his duties and takes to fight trainings). He wants you to inform him about your plans and he may or may not make sure that servants observe you. It isn't spying. It's just curiosity and making sure that you're safe.

Also. If Feyd was going to fight with somebody and that person acted the same way as he did with Paul and Chani ("Who is the little one, a pet perhaps? Will she deserve my special attentions?"), Feyd would be fucking livid (kinda hypocritical but that's what we love him for). That person wouldn’t survive to see the next day. And if he left them alive, it would be only to torture them and teach them how messing with his close ones ends.

[monimccoythings]

Hello, Neighbor (C!Wolverine x reader)

I'm so sorry, as much as I adore Hugh Jackman the second I saw that Wolverine something inside me broke and I went feral. I needed to do this. I just love mutual pinning. I'm not specifying which Wolverine because it's a small spoiler (not entirely plot relevant!) but I think we all know who I'm talking about.

Slight NSFW themes, nothing big

X- You usually find him working on his motorbike in the garage below your shitty apartment complex, a cigar in his mouth, and dressed in a thin white tank top that clung to his sweaty and impossibly muscled body like a second skin.

X-Not gonna lie, since the very first moment you laid eyes on your new neighbor you have had the hots for him. Who wouldn't??

X-He was the quiet type. Reserved, with a permanent scowl that seemed to drive away anyone who crossed his path. You understood, maybe he valued his privacy. But that didn't mean you weren't going to be as kind as you could everytime you two met.

X-Easier said than done. It was hard to form a coherent thought let alone two sentences when he was in front of you in a leather jacket whose seams were about to burst from the inmense pressure his bulging biceps were submitting them.

X-You saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards at your antics. Gosh, now he must think you're an idiot. Why wouldn't earth swallow you up once and for all and end your misery??

X-Still, no matter how much you embarrassed yourself you still came for more. Even if it left your heart nearly bursting out of your chest and your insides twisted in knots. It was all worth it just to see his frown loosen.

X-One day, he even dared to show a small smile. And you, being the current monarch of kindness and stupidity, thought it would be a great idea to tell mr. 'dark and broody' that he had a nice smile. He immediately tensed and mumbled some excuse to quickly retreat to his apartment, leaving you alone in a hall that stank of mold and booze.

X- As you dejectedly made your way towards the apartment, you mentally kicked yourself for stepping over his limits. Who were you kidding? That man could have a supermodel every night if he wanted to, of course he wouldn't have any interest in you. He was just being polite. And now you have ruined it. Way to go, Y/N.

────────────────────────────────────────────

X- Fuck. Shit. God fucking damnit. What was that? One compliment and he already turns into a fucking lovesick mutt. He needed a fucking drink.

X- The cold bitter taste of the beer, helped cool the burning fire inside him. He shouldn't have allowed it to go that far. Not with you.

X- He could argue that he barely knew you at all and he had to be careful, but he would be a lying bastard, wouldn't he?

X- When he saw you for the first time, absentmindedly looking through your mail, the animal inside him riled against the bars of his cage, demanding to consume you and possess you. It was overwhelming.

X- He had memorized everything about you: your routine, the music you liked based on what his sensitive ears heard, the way the corner of your eyes crumpled when you smiled, your scent, the sound of your voice, your dressing patterns...

X- He knew each time you went out and each time you brought a man with you. He hated every single one of them, he watched from afar with clenched fists and foam in the corners of his mouth, and desired nothing more than to rip those men to shreds with his claws.

X- He knew when you touched yourself, how poignant and musky your scent became, nearly driving him insane. How husky and soft your voice sounded when you moaned. Sometimes he found himself wishing it was his name you were calling in short breaths, sometimes he wished he was the one making you sigh in pleasure.

X- He was a dangerous man, unstable, full of rage and trauma, with many enemies who would do anything to get back at him. And besides, he was still hurting over Jean, he doubted he could open his heart to anybody else that wasn't that redhead. It was better this way.

X- So he vented his frustrations in alcohol, one night stands and bar fights. Claws unfolding when the treacherous thought of your delicate face came to mind. He had given you thousands of reasons to turn away from him, like the others.

X- Yet, there you were... Always with a smile, always with a nice word for him. If only you knew what he was, what he did, would you run away from him?

X- He couldn't afford this. This couldn't be for him, the closer you got the more dangerous it would be. This itch inside him that wouldn't let you go entirely was urging him to go across the hall and pound on your door until there were no more barriers between you two.

X-However, he knew, that the second he set foot on that corridor, all of his self control and restrain would be thrown out of the window. Even so, he still opened the door of his apartment.

[xiaoheart24]

A brother's promise 1/2

Have you ever wonder if you knew your closet family/friend good enough.

And were you ever prepared for when you knew more.

When his family looked at Kai they would see one out of four things.

The most often thing they saw was a grown, hard-working, hotheaded person whose ego was as sharp as his wit. That was what they saw in Kai when they were at home, or out where the boy went out of his way to either relax or train and would hang out with the others.

Then other times, very often as they saw the grown hotheaded being, but still often, they would look at Kai and see not the Kai Smith, but instead the Master of Fire. This was usually in a battle, or when being serious was required. This version of Kai that they saw was reckless, but still careful with a serious face. He was the master of fire, who channels the fierce fire and scorching heat to where they needed to go.

Then at different moments, his family would see a wise boy trapped in a teen body, a boy who, despite being seen as reckless and a few times selfless, has a heart deep to help support his family, no matter the situation. Who could surpass the others' strength with ease if required. A boy who isn't afraid to lecture one, if the situation calls for it or takes the role of the grown adult.

So most of the time, they would see Kai as the Hothead brother', that was just his persona, it was who he was, usually. The second thing they could see was the master of fire not as often visible, but still definitely there as the same with the wiser side of Kai.

But then, once in a blue moon, in some truly rare moments, they could see Kai as something else entirely.

Whenever anybody was seriously hurt or in danger, they saw not a specific side of Kai.

They see Kai as rage-filled with a protective aura.

This Kai was as hot and dangerous as the element he controlled, with anger that had the sharp fangs of heat damage and intelligence that always hid behind an easygoing smile. Would break any rule, a dead-fast loyalty to keep his family safe and unharmed. The anger that sometimes comes out when anybody is down for the count and Kai makes their attackers regret ever hurting them.

The first few times they saw that side they'll admit gave them a bit of a scare as no one had ever seen the master of fire so mad, he looked downright feral as he attacked their enemies with precision no one believed he could show.

No matter their thoughts, what came next shocked them even more.

“Come on hurry” Hissed one of the guys standing post in the hallway keeping the hostage in control.

“Be quiet” Another guy growled back fiddling with an explosion device at a metal door. “This takes time”

“Well hurry before the -”

“HALT IN THE NAME OF THE FIRST SPINJITZU MASTER”The attacker turned to the door entry in shock as they saw the ninja

“Really Zane” Jay, looking disappointed. “Couldn't keep it simple”

Zane gave a confused expression. “How so?”

“I don’t know” Jay swung his arm around. “Like HALT!” He snapped.

“But I did,” Zane answered, confused.

“GUYS!” Their green leader interrupted.

“Fight now, talk later” He unsheathed his sword.

They nodded unsheathing their weapons, taking a stance.

“Took the heroes long enough” A guy dressed in all black with blond hair stepped forward.

"Axel Vill at your service" He gave a mocked bow.

“You're just in time” He snapped his finger, and not long after one of the guys stepped up holding a weird-looking gun.

“I've been dying to test it”

Without even hesitating, the man activated the gun and fired a blue, ray at high speed.

Cole and Zane reacted immediately, summoning a wall together but to no prevailed as it shot right through hitting the team.

After a few seconds, the ray stopped.

Jay was the first to react, patting himself down, and then giving his attacker a big laugh. “Hah. Didn’t work” He said proudly.

"What?" Kai said, shocked.

“Doesn’t matter!” Lloyd sprinted forward. “STOP THEM”

The leader only smirked. “Get Them!”.

A full battle war erupted across the room.

Jay went up against their big guy. “Show me some big guy moves,” He teased.

“I’m gonna crush you like the blue bug you are” He clasped his hands together and then sent them down to squash Jay.

He dodges, jumping up high with a grin. “Nice try”

He puts his hands together. “But I think it’s time for some LIGHTNING” He shoved them towards the guy, only to his confusion, nothing happened.

The guy takes the moment of confusion to smack his arm into Jay's chest, knocking him aside into Cole, and making them both roll into a pillar.

“Watch it!” Cole groaned, getting up.

“What’s the deal?” Concentrating hard and trying again, he tries to summon lightning, but nothing happens.

“AGH” The two look up to see their teammate trying to summon their elemental powers, but to no luck.

“How wonderful” Axel was clapping, bringing all the attention to him.

“I see our new vengestone ray is working wonders” Looks of horror came on their faces.

“Took some time perfecting it but with some help it worked like a charm” He gloated.

“Do our heroes have anything to say”

“This won’t stop us,” Kai answered back, determinant.

“Huh… Guess you right” His grin got wider “Unless we up the circumstances”

“LET ME GO” The team freezes upon seeing Nya brought out between the group trying her hardest to get free.

“NYA” Cole reacted fast to hold his fiery brother.

“So gentleman” He moves in front of Nya. “Let’s talk business”

“What you want?” Lloyd growled.

“You to step back,” He grins. “And let us do our job” He pulls out a knife and leans against Nya pointing it at Nya’s neck.

“Or she will meet the first master sooner than planned” He brought the knife closer drawing some blood.

Time seemed to slow down for Lloyd, he didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t risk his friends getting hurt but couldn't allow Axel and his team to continue with their plans. He could have Zane try to hit Axel with one of his shuriken but the knife could cut Nya by accident … or maybe he could have Cole… No, their powers are out and who knows when they'll be back!!

He was at a loss.

BANG!

“AAGH”

The room got silent, all the people were in utter shock at the scene in front of them.

On the floor, Nya sat in shock unharmed, her attacker, not so much. Axel had gotten on his knees cradling his arm, teeth grit to try and hold back the sounds of pain that tried to escape him with the knife lying far behind him.

Click!

The sound drew everybody to the one responsible and who shocked them all.

Right there with a furious expression, Kai stood with an arm outstretched, holding a GUN!!!

He stepped in front of the guy, Axel looked at Kai who didn't move a muscle as he put the gun away and he gave him a look most knew all too well- he was furious beyond normal.

"Don't move"

The doors suddenly sprung open and multiple police officers rushed in and rounded the group.

"POLICE"

Everything beyond that point happened fast between the bad guys surrendering and getting arrested, their explosion device taken care of and things calming down once everybody was checked over.

But

The drama had yet to leave the team as they got home.

The team sat in the living room in the monastery, with stunned expressions.

"DUDE!!!" Jay turned to Kai the second he entered the room.

"Seens, when did you use guns?!" He yelled.

"Jay calm down,” Kai told his brother. “It’s not a big deal”

“NOT A BIG DEAL!!” Jay said in a mocking voice. “You having a GUN is a big deal”

“But…. it isn't” Kai muttered not looking at anyone.

Zane sighed as he walked over.

“What Jay is trying to say is, that we never would’ve expected you to have a gun” He put a hand on his shoulder.

Kai shook the hand on off his shoulder as he took a step back looking annoyed.

“Really,” He asked, ridiculous. “We fought snakes, skeletons, ghosts, sky pirates, the ancient stone army, the dark lord HIMSELF, and the ruler of all darkness” Master Wu came in, the yelling brought him out of his meditation.

“What's going on?!” He demanded.

After a brief moment.

“Um…. the mis-”

“Everything is fine,” Kai interrupted.

“Now if you’ll excuse me” He walked past Wu to the sleeping quarters.

Wu averted his eyes from his students to the door multiple times before landing on his students.

“So about that mission”

[bambirex]

The World Is Yours, If You Seek The Good: Chapter 15

Pairings: Geraskefer, Yennskier, Geraskier, Yenralt

Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt of Rivia, Ciri of Cintra, Lambert, original male characters, Rience, Yarpen Zigrin

Additional tags: implied/referenced abuse, forced pregnancy, mpreg, creature fic, fae Jaskier, creature Jaskier, creature Yennefer, captivity, enemies to friends to lovers, polyamory, found family, hurt/comfort, it starts out angsty but it will get better, completely made-up lore, fertility issues, completely made-up skills and powers, angst, angst with a happy ending, whump, Jaskier whump, Yennefer whump, Geralt whump, Ciri whump, blood, nightmares, injury, wound care, past rape/non-con, trauma, sexually inexperienced Yennefer, sexually inexperienced Jaskier, threesome- f/m/m, mild sexual content, violence

Rating: mature

Chapters: 15/20

Full word count: 46,898 words

Chapter word count: 3,452 words

Summary: Used and abused by humans, Jaskier and Yennefer believe they are alone and with no reason to trust anybody. That is, until they meet each other - and then, a couple of other strange misfits.

Chapter summary: Geralt sends Ciri, Jaskier and Yennefer away with an old friend to find a temporary safe place while he looks into the lurking threats. On the way, they run into a terrible surprise.

Author's notes: After about 5 chapters of found family sweetness, love confessions and bonding, it was time I grabbed everyone and sat you back on the angst train. I need to make things worse before they can be better again!

Read on Ao3

*

Geralt's chest felt heavy as he helped Jaskier, Yennefer and Ciri pack up. It became evident that his safe haven wasn't as safe as it used to be, anymore: Lambert informed him that the dwarves who helped Geralt keep an eye out for anything dangerous in the woods have seen soldiers lurking way too close to the forest around the hut. Ciri's vision also worried him. Maybe it meant that whoever wanted to get their hands on his daughter was coming closer and closer. Ciri was not safe anymore there, neither of them were. Geralt had gone through the possibility of moving somewhere else with Lambert before, but then he decided moving right then would've drawn attention to them. Now, they needed to act quick before Ciri's whereabouts were discovered.

"Where exactly are we going?" Ciri asked him, her eyes terrified. Geralt placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Yarpen can hide you for a bit. We can buy some time before we can head to Kaer Morhen."

"Who's Yarpen?" Yennefer asked. She was pale, her hands shaking badly. Geralt has never seen her so scared.

"An old friend of mine. He has a group of mercenary dwarves out in the woods. He's been helping me from afar. It's okay, you can trust him."

Geralt decided to send Jaskier and Yennefer away with Ciri. He needed his entire family safe. It shattered his heart to think they would be away from him for a while, but that was the safest option they had. Lambert had to go do his own thing, and Yarpen was the second best man Geralt would trust with his loved ones. A dwarf wagon would probably draw less attention than a feral witcher, anyway.

He would stay behind to keep the soldiers at bay. Luckily, he could get rid of them before they managed to track down Ciri and the rest of his family.

"You'll join us soon, right?" Jaskier asked. He peered up at Geralt with worried eyes. "We don't want you to get hurt..."

"I'll be okay. Look, Yarpen is here."

Geralt went ahead to greet him. Yarpen jumped off the wagon, patting the flank of his horse before he shook Geralt's hand. He looked at the rest of them, his eyes narrowing when he saw Jaskier.

"Oi," he drawled, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Not gonna go into labor in my wagon, are ye?"

"Still have some time to go, what a polite greeting," Jaskier scoffed. Yarpen held his hands up.

"Aight, but if you do, don't expect me to help. I'll get you folks to a safe place but I'm not putting my hands between no fae's legs."

"You better not," Geralt told him pointedly. Yarpen chuckled.

"Yeah, that's your job, clearly. Are you fucking the drepima, too?"

"Yarpen!"

"Sorry, mate," Yarpen said, his voice softening. "Just trying to lighten the mood, alright?"

He reached out and gently patted Ciri's shoulder, offering her the warmest smile he could muster. Ciri smiled back weakly.

"Don't worry, girl. I won't let nothing happen to ye and yer friends."

"My family," Ciri corrected him softly. Geralt smiled at her proudly.

He turned to Yennefer who stared at the wagon in distrust. He took her hand into his gently. Yennefer immediately laced their fingers together, seeking comfort.

"It's gonna be okay," Geralt told her, "we'll get through this together."

"But you're staying behind," Yennefer reminded him with a sigh. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It's what we have to do now. You need to gain some leverage over the soldiers. I'll take care of them."

He let go of Yennefer to pull Ciri into a hug. She buried her face in his chest, her arms tight around Geralt, desperately clinging to him.

"Promise me you won't get hurt," she whispered, her voice muffled with tears. "And that we won't get hurt either."

"I promise. We'll be back together in no time."

He pulled back to kiss Ciri on the forehead. He cupped her cheeks and gently wiped her tears off.

"Jaskier and Yennefer will keep you safe. And you will keep them safe in exchange. I believe in you, Ciri."

He turned back to Yennefer to kiss her on the lips, then kissed Jaskier. The fae made a soft whimper against his mouth.

"I really wanna believe you," Jaskier whispered through his tears, "that everything will be okay, but I'm scared."

"We all are," Geralt admitted. "But we need to take this step if we wanna get through this."

He went to his knees and kissed Jaskier's belly. He smiled when he felt a little kick.

He steeled himself as he watched Yennefer enter the wagon. She sent him one last, weak smile before she helped Jaskier up. Jaskier peered out the little window, his eyes full of tears as he looked at Geralt. Ciri was the last who climbed up. She lingered in the opening of the wagon. Geralt sent her a smile that he hoped was encouraging. Ciri returned it weakly.

Geralt only allowed himself to cry once the wagon was out of his sight and he was sure his family didn't see him. He was just as terrified and uncertain as them, but he needed to be strong for them - he needed to make sure no one he loved would get hurt.

--

The wagon was not very comfortable, and Yarpen's whistling was very off-key. The other two dwarves that traveled with them kept discussing something in their own language which Ciri didn't understand a word of. The whole situation did not help her nerves, even though she knew this truly was their best chance.

If that man from her visions was looking for her, then it was smarter to disappear from the map a little bit. The last thing she wanted was to put her family in danger. Her entire existence was the reason Cintra fell. She couldn't afford to lose any more people close to her because of her heritage.

She could only hope that Geralt would be alright, that he would manage to hold up that group of soldiers the dwarves saw, and that he would soon join them. Ciri didn't like the idea of her family missing any members.

Jaskier sang to her on the road, calming her nerves with his voice. It worked for a couple of hours, lulled her to a somewhat peaceful sleep right in Yennefer's lap before she woke again, nerves wrecking.

A whole day has passed on the road, and nothing happened. On one hand, it could have meant everything would be okay and they would reach their destination without a hitch, but Ciri also knew that often it was the most quiet before a storm.

They were well into the evening, the darkness descending down on them slowly, when Yennefer made a horrified sound. Ciri jumped. She followed Yennefer's eyes that stared out of the window of the cart, wide and terrified. Jaskier mumbled something under his nose, his voice stifled by the hand he had pressed over his mouth.

"What's wrong?" Ciri asked, scooting closer to them on the seat. Jaskier didn't reply, but Ciri noticed his breathing got quicker until he nearly hyperventilated. Ciri placed a hand on his back, trying to soothe him. Panic rose inside her own chest seeing him in such a state.

Yennefer practically leapt forward to knock on the wall of the driver's area. Yarpen turned back and opened the little window, confused.

"What are we doing here," Yennefer hissed. Her eyes turned from scared to murderous. "Why did you bring us here!?"

"Here? Where here? This is the area we need to get through to get to where we want!"

"There has to be another path!"

Ciri felt more and more at unease. Yennefer sounded about as mad as she did when she discovered Ciri lived with a witcher, back in the day, if not madder. Yarpen tried to explain to her that they couldn't find another path, but Yennefer wouldn't listen to him. She kept growling at him, her hands shaking with anger. Jaskier still breathed too quickly next to her.

"What is going on? Someone tell me, please!" Ciri pleaded. Her heart pounded like a hammer inside her chest.

"This... this is the place..." Jaskier whispered, his voice shaking badly. "The place where we... please, can we hurry up!?"

His voice went hysterical in the end. Ciri looked out the window. She saw a big, rich mansion with a metal fence. She let out a gasp as bits of her visions played in front of her eyes- metal bars, her family getting hurt, Geralt too far away. She saw the face of the man again. Cold chills ran down her spine.

"What is this place," she whispered, her entire body shaking. Yennefer finally looked at her.

"That's where we were kept," she told her, voice full of pain, "where we escaped from."

"Shit," Yarpen mumbled, "I didn't know, folks. Don't worry, they can't see inside the cart."

Ciri gripped onto the edge of her seat, trying to swallow her panic. The thought that the place her loved ones had to go through so much pain at was so close seized her heart. She didn't know what it meant that she's seen this place in her dreams, but she knew they needed to get away as quick as possible.

"Yarpen, we need to hurry!" She yelled. She reached for Jaskier and Yennefer's hands, both for their comfort and their own.

Yarpen opened his mouth to reply something, but he didn't get to finish his sentence as something knocked into the wagon hard enough to shake the entire thing. The horse neighed and bucked in distress, yanking the reins out of Yarpen's hands and running away into the night. Yarpen yelled after it, but the horse already disappeared in the darkness.

"What the fuck was that," Jaskier whispered. He clutched a protective hand over his belly as he tried to peer out the window. "What... Melitele!"

Ciri stifled a scream as she saw something grab one of Yarpen's dwarf friends and tear his head off in one quick movement. Yarpen yelled and jumped at whatever it was, but he was quickly thrown away.

"Stay in the wagon!" Yennefer ordered. Before Jaskier or Ciri could stop her, she jumped out.

"I have to help her!" Ciri yelled. Jaskier grabbed her arm, his eyes wide in panic.

"Ciri, no!"

Ciri shook off his arm and followed Yennefer. She unsheathed her sword. It was lucky she decided to take it with her, as she wasn't sure she would be able to control her powers enough to defend herself.

Her heart rattled inside her chest as she slowly walked around the wagon. She tried not to look at Yarpen's decapitated friend. She stepped on something. When she looked down, she saw the other dwarf, blood steadily oozing from the gash in his neck. His eyes were vacant, with no more life in them. Ciri swore under her breath.

Ciri needed some time to adjust her eyes to the dark, but she noticed Yennefer helping Yarpen sit up against a rock. He was alive, luckily, but his head wound looked terrible. He was unconscious.

"Yennefer, where did that thing go?"

Yennefer looked up at her voice.

"Ciri!" She hissed, "get back in the wagon! You're not safe out here!"

"Where did it go," Ciri repeated, ignoring what Yennefer said. "What the fuck was it!?"

"I don't know."

Yennefer rushed over to Ciri's side. She looked around, searching for whatever attacked them in the dark.

Ciri turned the other way to check their surroundings herself. The blood froze in her veins as she stared into the face of something - she wouldn't have called it a someone.

It looked vaguely human, with half of its face appearing the face of a man. The other side looked like it was burnt off, revealing his flesh, his eye on that side completely black. His mouth curled into a terrifying smirk, revealing sharp teeth.

Before Ciri had the chance to lift her sword, the creature knocked her down. He tore up her arm with sharp claws, making her yelp in pain.

Yennefer jumped into action, sending a burst of flame towards the thing. Instead of screaming in agony or jumping away, the creature opened its mouth and breathed fire towards Yennefer, fighting her back with the exact same weapon. Yennefer only managed to duck away in time before he burnt her face off.

The creature took advantage of Yennefer having her head down and grabbed her, throwing her out of the way. He stepped over Ciri and marched straight towards the wagon, where Jaskier was.

Ciri gasped and quickly jumped to her feet, rushing after him. He was too quick. He tore the door off and threw it away, crawling inside before Ciri managed to stop him.

Jaskier screamed and kicked out at him, but the creature didn't budge. It continued grinning as he sniffed the air, drool and blood dripping from his jaw.

"Pretty," he snarled as he sniffed at Jaskier's neck. The synella kicked at him again, trying to push him off, to no avail.

Ciri swung her sword through the air. She managed to cut the creature across his back. He let out a scream as he turned around and grabbed Ciri's sword. Ciri struggled to wrangle it out of his grasp, but he was too strong. The creature twisted the sword out of her hand and threw it away, rendering her defenseless.

Before he could open his mouth and breathe fire into her face, Yennefer flung herself out of the darkness and tackled him to the ground. The creature bit her hand, causing her blood to pour out. Yennefer took advantage of it and held her injured hand over his head. Her blood dripped into his face. The acidic poison burnt his exposed flesh, making him scream in agony.

Jaskier got out of the wagon and wrapped his arms around Ciri, trying to pull her away. The creature continued to wrestle with Yennefer, and he managed to throw her off. He stood back up, once again revealing his teeth.

He was terrifyingly strong. Ciri knew that Yennefer would have been able to defeat anyone with her powers, but this thing was too quick, too resilient. He always seemed to be one step ahead, already attacking before Yennefer could use her chaos.

Jaskier grabbed a stone and threw it at his head to try and distract him from hurting Yennefer again. The creature growled and moved towards Jaskier. Jaskier shoved Ciri away so she wouldn't get caught up in the attack.

The next few minutes were a blur. The creature knocked Jaskier down on the ground, hand gripping at his chest to keep him down. Jaskier fumbled with his hand on the grass. It started growing under the fae's touch, but the creature tore it away before the plants could twist around his neck. Whatever that thing was, it seemed almost impossible to defeat him.

Ciri crawled around in the grass, trying to find her sword. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Yennefer weakly stand from the ground. She was bruised and bloody all over, but her eyes were flaming when she noticed the creature was pinning Jaskier down.

Ciri couldn't find her sword. She swore under her breath as she stumbled through the mud on all fours, blind and desperate. The only thing she could think of was that she couldn't lose her family.

Yennefer and the creature fought each other again. Their fire scorched the grass as they shot at each other, Yennefer through her fingertips and the creature from its mouth. The flowers died where Yennefer's blood dripped, and crushed beneath both their legs as they did their deadly dance around each other.

Jaskier had trouble getting up from the ground, weighed down by his own stomach and an injury to his leg. The creature must have wounded him when he pinned him down.

Yarpen was still unconscious. Ciri wasn't completely sure he would even survive with that head wound. They were all running out of time, fighting an impossible battle against a mysterious danger.

The second Ciri finally found her sword, the weapon was kicked away again. She looked up and saw a couple men above her. One of them reached down and grabbed her by the scruff of her shirt.

She flailed around in their grasp, but they held her tight. She saw other men jump onto Yennefer, taking advantage of the fact she was too occupied with fighting the creature. They tackled her down and wrangled something around her neck, something that looked suspiciously like a collar. Ciri suddenly remembered the horrific stories Yennefer and Jaskier told her about the power suppressing collars. She realized Yennefer would be too disadvantaged now- and she was already weakened after the blows she suffered from the other creature.

Ciri watched in horror as Jaskier was also grabbed and collared. The strange creature looked battered, but its ugly snarl had a smug edge as he watched his fellow creatures getting captured.

"My, my," Ciri heard a voice, "we meet again."

It was a middle-aged man with hard eyes and a smug smirk. He stepped to Yennefer and hooked a finger under her chin. He lifted her face and tutted. Yennefer growled, but she couldn't do much with the collar dampening her skills, and her body so weakened.

"Not so feisty now, are we?"

The man grabbed a piece of Yennefer's hair and tore it out, causing her to hiss. He put it in his pocket with a chuckle.

"Where have you been wandering, you monster?"

His eyes fell to Jaskier who trembled in the men's grasp. His eyes were thunderous, though, when the man approached him.

"Long time no see, Treasure," he said. Ciri's eyes widened as she heard the nickname Jaskier has mentioned before. It was their old master, the terrible man they thought they would never have to see again.

"I see you two met my new friend, Rience. He's one of a kind, isn't he? He's a driatingex. Very famous for their speed and incredible senses, especially their sense of smell. They're trained specifically to sniff out whatever their owner asks them to. He hasn't exactly had luck tracking you down, Melitele knows where the fuck you disappeared to, but it seems like luck is finally on my side."

He shook his head at his former creatures.

"It was high time you returned to me."

"Leave them alone!"

The yell ripped out of Ciri, loud and angry. She trembled with sheer frustration in the men's grasps. Master blinked at her in surprise.

"And what is a child doing out here with my creatures? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

He laughed, and said something to his men that Ciri didn't hear. Her ears rang as her anger rose and rose. She felt her chaos fizzle under her skin as she watched her weakened, terrified family. She couldn't let them go back again, she couldn't let them be hurt again.

She closed her eyes and sought out the power within her like Yennefer taught her- and she let out a scream.

To her biggest horror, it didn't do a whole lot. Her chaos did come through, but not hard enough. The men around her stumbled, the surge of energy pushing them aside. It caused even Yennefer and Jaskier to lose their balance for a bit. Master also fell back on the ground. It was enough for a bit of distraction, but not enough to cause actual damage. Still, Ciri had to make do with what she had if she wanted to save her family.

Ciri leapt forward to try and free Jaskier and Yennefer, but she was caught by Rience and tackled down. His clawed hand was clamped over her mouth to prevent her from screaming again.

The men were back on their feet in an instant, grabbing Jaskier and Yennefer again. Master approached Ciri who was still struggling under Rience. His eyes had a morbid, disgusting glint of fascination in them.

"You are no ordinary child, it seems. What are you?" he whispered as he leant down. Ciri growled, then bit down on Rience's hand as hard as she could muster. The creature let out a yelp and his grip loosened.

Ciri managed to free her head, but before she could try and bring her chaos forward again, she felt a hard hit against the side of her head.

The pain seared up, and then the world went dark.

[vipier-a]

▸ i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

THEY BOTH KNOW THE STEPS OF THIS DANCE BY HEART NOW AND TRISTAN IS TIRED OF DOING IT. he’s been tired for a long time, ever since he first realized what this thing between them was likely fated to be. what they truly are hasn’t been clear since they first crossed that line, since they first put their fumbling hands on each other following assurances that we’ll still be best friends, since they shared hungry and too-eager kisses for hours until their mouths were raw. since they flirted more boldly and @k4ssa began finding little reasons to touch him more often in public. since they finally fell into bed together — after weeks of teasing and exploring each other in every other way — and cassian fled the following morning as though his heels had caught on fire. ever since, to varying degrees, tristan has felt cast to sea, sometimes in full view of land and sometimes with nothing on any side of him, stranded and alone. that first time being left was undoubtedly the worst, followed closely by the second which confirmed that cass’s leaving had not simply been a one-time error in judgment. from there, the severity of this brutal back and forth has varied. sometimes, tristan can keep his head high, proceed as normal, as though he’s become immune to the pain of being disposable. other times, the knife sinks deeper and he becomes all the more a feral thing in the interim.

ironically, it is the latter reaction which often allows cassian back through the door more readily, high as it makes tris off the flame of his own emotions, thereby making him more vulnerable, allowing both his love and pain to slip through. a controlled tristan, however, is lethal, exacting, detached. his experience going round and round in this cycle has taught him that this version of himself tends to discomfit cass, throw him off, sometimes make him edge toward desperation. why is beyond tris, given that it is simply his version of one of cassian’s own masks. if anybody should understand the instinct to shut down, to make one’s self inaccessible and far away, it should be him. besides, tristan feels — however snidely — that he’s damn well earned the right to greet him coldly after being shoved aside yet again for whatever new model cass wished to pursue.

“ I can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean. ” cassian accompanies his words with a bump of his knee to tristan’s beneath the bar. his tone borders on playful, as though this were all some sort of big joke between friends, rather than cass once again attempting to reel him back into his grasp — while, of course, avoiding addressing what he’s done, what he keeps doing. it sets alight a blaze of righteous fury in tristan’s chest, leaving him to wonder if cass’s purpose is twofold, if he would be content pulling anger out of him instead, just so long as he exhibited some emotion.

tristan patel has all his life made a point of avoiding giving people what they want of him. his stubbornness is a gift he clings to with greedy claws.

silently, he lifts his ale to his lips to take a long draw, refusing to look over at cassian despite feeling those dark eyes fixed upon him with singular intent. all these weeks, once again, he has yearned for those eyes to seek him out, to find him in the ferrix streets. yet now that they have, right here in the local cantina, tris rejects them. how dare cassian treat him with such flippancy, as though it had only been days since they spoke, as though he had not been in such a hurry to leave weeks ago that he even left his jacket behind. but the anger does not rise to his serene face ; tristan swallows it expertly back, staring at the far wall behind the bartender with a distant look in his eye. if he focuses enough, perhaps he can pretend he is anywhere else, anything else besides the scraps his friend returns to when someone else’s novelty fades. silence envelops them and a hesitancy hangs heavy within it, as though cass is uncertain how to proceed now that tris has refused to rise to the bait.

“ I’m sure that winning confidence will work beautifully to tempt someone else in this bar, ” he finally answers in an exhausted monotone before draining his beer and setting some credits on the bar top as he prepares to leave. part of him rebels against the act of goading cass into bringing someone else home tonight — it is ever a lie to claim he doesn’t want him, especially to himself — but his obstinacy and hurt win out with shocking ease. he pulls his knee away from cass’s abruptly and pointedly as he rises from his stool. he’d planned to stay longer, have a few more drinks and perhaps a round or two of sabacc, but since his parttime lover had materialized beside him to talk, tristan finds that his enthusiasm for further recreation has decidedly left him. “ and I wish you the best of fucking luck with that, cassian, but I’m going home. alone. I’m tired. and I don’t have the time or energy for your shitty attempts to flirt with me. ”

tristan can’t decide if his cutting words, delivered flatly with alarmingly little emotion, actually make him feel better, but if they do, he knows it’s only temporary. everyone in ferrix knows perfectly well his pathetic situation by now, he suspects. in this town, he will not only always be the pariah, but somehow too the pitiful lovestruck stray hound trotting desperately at cassian’s heels, begging for even the barest scraps of affection. they have not been open about the nature of their relationship beyond their age-old friendship, but even those residents who have not guessed its progression probably know well enough tristan’s weakness.

he knows his weakness, too. he knows in his gut that, even after walking away at this bar, still he will give in. cass might follow and then tris will cave shortly after they reach his place, or in the doorway of his flat, or even on the next street over from the bar. or cass will remain here and instead come crawling to his door tomorrow morning with a bag of food, asking to cook breakfast, trying to make small talk, all but on his knees to seek his friend’s favor again. either way, tristan will inevitably surrender, eventually. they will embrace as friends, but then cass’s mouth will seek his. tris will pretend to resist, they will stumble around his flat pushing and pulling at each other, hungry and furious, half a war the way it always is. even as tris eventually yields to him, even as he melts into their savage pleasure, he will call cass names, sink his nails and teeth into him, tear another fissure into the timeline of them like a notch in a belt. he knows how this ends. but still, he seeks to wound now in a different way while he still can, reaping some paltry seeds of revenge from a dead garden.

“ you’re embarrassing yourself, ” tristan half sneers as he finally turns his head to meet cassian’s eyes. despite himself, he is unable to stave away a spark of defiance, such that he feels his body’s betrayal in his bones. he’s lost the game already, he knows, but he perseveres regardless, allowing his lip to twitch as if in disapproval. his gaze sweeps critically up and down cass’s figure before adding in a hiss as he turns to leave, “ get a grip. ”

[tenrose]

The only reason why I need somebody to live with me is so they can hold my cat while I shove medicine down his throat. Because it's too much of a hard work for one person..

[dearcat1]

(Street Fight)

Part 1 of Feral Home

Xanxus knows he's being a childish little shit. It's stupid, it's ridiculous, it's below him. This is a civilian town, a little place in the middle of fucking nowhere with the only interesting bit being that it's close enough to Namimori to store his men in. Fuck. Who is going to tell him to stop? Sawada? The thought of the younger Sky makes him furious and the next hit comes dangerously close to being full of Wrath. Fuck this civilians, they're not even putting up a fight.

"Oi!"

He whirls around to find some dude glaring at him. It would be hot if Xanxus wasn't sure this one will fall just as quickly as the rest of them. Besides, this one looks sick. It's a shame, too. He's all hard lines and fury, orange hair glinting in the sunlight. Xanxus could almost be tempted into another source of anger control if he wasn't so close to losing his shit. He's not in the mood to deal with a civilian in his bed. Xanxus snorts, downs the last idiot and turns to the newcomer. "Fuck off."

"Stop throwing the idiots to the old lady's garden, you idiot!" The newcomer snarls right back, pointing at the sad remains of what Xanxus supposes once was a garden. Now, it's a pile of passed out bodies. 

"No." Xanxus stalks up to the guy, pushing him away with one finger and watching him flich slightly. Is he injured? No matter. "Fuck off, brat."

"Name is Ichigo," the newcomer informs him. "And if anybody needs to fuck off, it's you. What is a bad boy wannabe doing in Karakura?" 

"Wannabe?" Xanxus doesn't know if he's amused or angry. This civilian has more balls than Sawada. And some so-called men of famiglias. He's staring Xanxus down like he thinks he can handle whatever Xanxus throws at him. Or, Xanxus thinks, like there's no other option. 

Ichigo rolls his eyes. "Wannabe." He shrugs, somehow making it seem dismissive. "I've seen worse."

Angry, Xanxus decides. That's what he feels. "Fuck you." He rears his fist back, ready to down this one too. But this one ducks underneath him and bodily pushes Xanxus away from the destroyed garden. 

"What did I just say?" Ichigo grunts, taking the punch to the ribs in favour of herding Xanxus back. "Leave the fucking garden alone." 

"It's just a fucking garden." Xanxus snorts, ducking under the kick that tries to brain him. He grabs the leg and pushes up, ready to watch the civilian fall. Instead, they both end up wrestling on the ground. "The fuck."

"Not your garden, you asshole." Ichigo manages to untangle himself, pushing for enough distance between them to stand up again. "Fuck off, bug people somewhere else."

"Or what?" There's something nagging at Xanxus, some knowledge his body grasped that escapes his mind. So Xanxus stands back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Truly, or what?" Something in Ichigo's eyes flashes and Xanxus finally figures it out. This is a Sky, a dormant one. Curious, lucky, maybe. It's not common to find random civilian Skies. Even if this one appears to have at least some level of martial training. Xanxus could be responsible here, inform the Vindice of the probable powder keg in this civilian town and move on. Or, and this one will cause his old man so much grief, he could push this Sky into activation and then sit back to watch the chaos. 

With that in mind, Xanxus lets his flame simmer under his skin, no longer tightly leashed. It's not enough to break omerta, not enough to show anything. But this Sky is close to the edge already, Xanxus is just hurrying things along. Surprisingly, for the first time since the confrontation started, the dormant Sky takes a step back. Brown eyes stare at Xanxus with suspicion. "What sort of bullshit idea did you just come up with?"

"Perceptive," Xanxus taunts. Maybe he'll snap this one up after all. "Don't you stress about it, you'll see soon enough."

Ichigo clicks his tongue in disbelief but takes on Xanxus without hesitation. With his Wrath helping him along, the fight takes a turn. Ichigo, dormant Sky or not, is injured and very clearly tired. Stamina alone would make Xanxus the winner but the brat keeps pushing himself up, he's losing and he knows it and still, he keeps getting better. He keeps coming for more. Screw it, Xanxus wants him now. Two Skies in the Varia will be difficult to pull off but Xanxus has confidence in his abilities. Worst case scenario, he creates a subdivision. With a right hook, he pushes the idiot down again. "Stay down, trash."

"No." Ichigo stands up, spits out blood and glares. "Fuck off, you sadistic bastard. What are you playing around for?" 

Well, Xanxus can't quite tell him he's trying to get him active. Brat might run off. And yet, they've been at it for hours now and Ichigo should have ignited by this point. "So I'll stop playing around." The assassin almost chuckles at the sudden wariness. He wants this one so he's going to get him, Mammon is around now anyway. Omerta won't be broken once this Sky is active and the other civilians won't see a thing. Mammon has that in hand. "Show me." Xanxus pushes his flames out, forces Ichigo down with them and watches him crumble.

He's not expecting Ichigo to stand back up. He should have but he's not. Ichigo glares at him, shaking where he stands but standing anyway. The brat's hand reaches for something on his back and his mouth turns down when he doesn't find it. "Show you what, you asshole?"

But finally, finally, something pushes back against Xanxus. An overwhelming flash of Sky flames that tell him all he needs to know. "You're injured." Flame deep. This Sky isn't dormant, he's hurt enough that it's almost impossible to feel his power. But that's not the part that makes Xanxus reflexively reach for him, pull him into his arms once Ichigo passes out. This is a Home, one compatible enough with him that it makes Xanxus's brain screech to a halt. "Fuck." Mammon shimmers into existence beside him and Xanxus doesn't move, doesn't indulge the miser's curiosity. "Get me Lussuria."

[mylittlemystery]

Do you have any LJ Tk Hcs? (I’ve never seen any and I wanted to hear yours :D )

Aaahhh, of course I do! I think this is the first time anyone’s ever asked me to share my headcanons, so thank you for that! :3 I hope these’ll prove satisfactory:

• First of all, he is hands down the official Tickle Monster of the gang - there is no competition when it comes to him and tickling

• Although his lengthy fingers are more often than not used to tear open flesh, they can also deliver some of the most teasingly ticklish sensations when he wants them to (he just has to be mindful of his movements, as they’re still rather sharp even when he’s not applying brute force to them)

• He has a whole mouth chock full of those jagged teeth, and he makes sure the others never forget it by delivering ticklish nibbles to their abdomens (these are accompanied by the exaggerated animal growls, naturally)

• His height definitely gives him an advantage when it comes to preventing any particularly squirmy ‘lees from worming their way away from him, what with those long limbs barely having to so much as move an inch to have the average person trapped once more

• He adores wiggling his fingers in menacing faux claws just above his ‘lee’s skin, shooting them down in false starts just to cackle at the screeches they make

• Raspberries are probably the move he goes for most frequently; he absolutely relishes in the way they can get almost anyone to squeal

• Verbal teasing is his forte (he’s Laughing Jack, of course it is), but he’s especially talented at baby talk. Lots of sickly sweet cooing and nursery rhymes inbound (i.e. “Aw! Can the ickle baby not handle the tickles, hm? Can they~?”)

• Usually tickles Jeff, Sally, and Slender (even though he nearly loses an arm for it), but he’ll go after anybody like a feral dog chasing after the mailman

• He’s immensely ticklish himself, but he doesn’t mind it one bit because he’s a filthy switch

• His worst spots would probably be his tummy (belly button in particular), feet, and ribs.

• He thrashes like absolute mad, so the ‘ler either has to be extremely agile or restrain him in some way to avoid getting hurt

• His laugh is…definitely something else; it’s not ugly (no laughs are), but it’s an ear splitting mixture between a crow’s caw and a witch’s cackle that can really catch you off guard the first time you hear it

• Teasing him is so fun to do because you get to watch his face turn this endearing shade of pale pink, and strands of his hair fall into his eyes as he shakes his head

• It turns out that one of the reasons he gives out so many raspberries might be because he loves receiving them in return, even if they make him lose his breath rather fast because of how much he snorts

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

Toki’s Psychological State Through the Seasons

Toki is by far for me personally the most interesting member of Dethklok; I know to some degree he’s deemed as a potentially over hyped character by fans and even the show itself, but there’s countless reasons why people cling onto that character, and they’re good reasons. Even if said reasons just come down to “I think he’s neat.” that’s valid.

For me I am so fascinated with his character development, personality, and the varied chunks of background information we get about him throughout the series. A big part of this character is that when you look at him in season one compared to season four he is very different or at least he appears to be much different. Season one does establish that Toki does have a childish personality, his bedroom looks more like a room for a kid than one for a guy in his 20s. Season one establishes those basic facts about him that do heavily carry out through the show, but also increase as the show goes on.

Toki goes from immature but not overly immature to....a complete fucking wreck by the finale of season four (before Doomstar) and the reason for it is simple; it’s trauma.

Toki starts to act differently in season one after the Dethfamily episode; he spends practically that entire episode in a catatonic state, his parents always looming nearby like figures of danger and doom. After this we do get to him being bitter about being seen as immature and seen as the kid of the band (despite the fact he was barely 16 when he joined Dethklok) and when a charity informs him that a dying girl wants to meet him he turns into a complete prick. He finally comes out of that when he sees a video the kid made of herself singing a song about death and hatred, with that scene we see a small flashback of Toki’s childhood; him about the little girl’s age standing out in the snow staring up at his parents looking confused and a moment later he’s being smacked across the face. 

We could already gather beforehand when we found out he came from a very devout religious sect outside of Lillehammer that his childhood was sketchy, plus how he locked up when around his parents, but seeing the flashback of him being hit as a little boy.....Answers the obvious question of “did they beat him?”

Season one is the least eventful of the seasons. Season two is when shit begins changing drastically.

Season two Toki receives a call to inform him that his father has cancer and is on his death bed, the family and the church wants him to return to Norway to see his father. He acts completely fine about this initially, the phone conversation and the way he announces his father’s terminal illness to the band is as if somebody just asked to borrow his car. When it gets close to time to actually go and when they are in Norway it’s different though; he becomes anxious and clearly uncomfortable, in Norway he stays in town mostly, stalling around places he went to as a kid and a teenager before he ran off to America. 

He does handle his father’s dying well once he finally convinces himself to go inside his house and see him then follow through with his father’s dying request to carry him up to his old childhood home (which goes wrong because his friend’s are dicks.) 

I am not going to go into personal detail at all and my situation was nothing like Toki’s (it’s incredibly rare to hear situations like that anymore), but Toki handling his father’s passing freakishly well kind of was a red flag for me, because I know from my own experiences that when you find out something complicated like a terminal illness or the death of your abusive parent theres’ a chance you may respond way too calmly to it, and then later down the line days or months or years later something will trigger a big reaction to it. Which is what happens.

After handling his dad’s death well we get the most iconic scene involving Toki at that point and honestly still the most iconic; he beats a man to death with his bare hands. The thing that triggers this is a hallucinated image of a rabbit, an animal he associates both with his father and his childhood, the image of it triggers him to fly into an insanely feral blind rage taking it out on a guy who had been annoying him all night. Toki has always throughout the entire series shown signs of being a tad violent, but never THAT bad. Sure he shot down a plane and had accidentally caused a death or twenty (the whole band is, it’s part of the sacrifices to the Gods deal) but we had never seen him before or after that moment beat somebody to death. That is new and it came from a place of pent up....shit. Shit he never worked through and even after that continued to not work through.

Because after this we lead into him worsening further; he begins drinking. A lot. The band consist of dudes with addiction issues, mainly alcohol, but Toki never seemed to drink quite as much as them until after he went feral on that straight edge guy. 

Toki deals with his childhood trauma in several ways:

He drinks. A lot.

He focuses on fantasy and daydreams to keep himself from focusing on his past.

He spends a lot of time with Dr. Rockso who takes advantage of his kindness often, he also spends gross amounts of money bailing his clown buddy out of jail. Constantly.

He occasionally gets violent, but never to the point of manslaughter.

Seasons three and four are when we get fully introduced to Toki acting like a kid more than a guy in his 20s and it makes sense. Toki didn’t have a childhood; we learn that his parents essentially made him into a slave at a young age having him do pointless “chores” like sweeping snow during a storm, carrying stacks of wood much too heavy for a small child, etc. and when he failed to work quickly enough or failed a task they punished him. They punished him by locking him in a shed, they punished him by chaining him up like an animal, they punished him by smacking him, by beating him with a bull whip, and worst of all (who knew it could get worse) they would force him to stay for long periods of times in a deep hole dug into the ground. A hole where he hid a clown doll made of twigs and straw, the only friend he had as a little kid.

From all that we can gather through the show he didn’t exactly have a social life of any kind until his teens, the older he became the braver I think he became, and that was responded to with worse violence from his parents. I think the statement in season one about a vision of father killing son wasn’t totally off, I think if Toki had never run away from Norway that his father would have murdered him. I think his parents knew somehow that he isn’t entirely human, they knew he was something else, and I do think his parents had plans to kill him before he could become “too powerful”. 

That aside though.....Once we the audience as well as his friends find out far more details about his horrifying childhood Toki changes. A lot. He’d already been immature and a tad bit off but he regresses further after that, more prone to depression and outbursts, clinginess, and a need to feel like he’s loved by pretty much anybody.

This is a dude who is about my age that came to the horrid realization that any person or animal he loves will die because that’s his “gift”, the gift of death. He works his ass off to repress and rationalize a brutally nightmarish childhood, and the guys he’s in a band with who he loves and sees as his family....are dicks. We know that when he joined Dethklok before they got famous that they were all close, but when they began becoming popular and became immensely wealthy the others became more focused on self indulgence and power, less focused on this still a child who desperately just wanted a family.

I think a key factor with Toki being the way he is comes down to the band’s “no caring” rule. A rule that only existed because of Magnus. Toki is the baby in a group of people who have known each other for a good while, people who came to an agreement to not give a shit about each other for a reason they never explained to him because it’s too painful for them to think about. I think he always tried to live by that rule of not caring, he tried to bury all the shit wrong with himself the best that he could but he was never good at it. It’s also clear they all care about each other and they definitely care about Toki; Nathan and Skwisgaar often being the most protective of him. 

In season four aka the season where the show becomes less of a comedy and more of a drama with stunning animation. Toki is immensely more immature and awkward, he’s clingy with the band especially where Skwisgaar is regarded. Near the end of season four he’s completely fucked up; he splits his time between Rockso (his comfort object) and Magnus (a father figure to replace Nathan) in the dinner episode which has so much going on in it. So much. Toki is at his lowest point in the series; he shows up late, drunk as fucking hell, shirtless, and covered in bruises and cuts. Rockso is with him and when Charles tries to tell him Rockso shouldn’t be there Toki goes into a full fucking anxiety attack until Charles tells him it’s fine to have the clown there. Toki’s heavily dependent on Rockso by that point; his found family is quickly falling to shit. God knows what kind of shit Magnus might have been feeding him about the band at that point. 

Toki’s entire thing from day one/the pilot of the series is that he just wants a family. When he feels like he doesn’t belong in the one that he found and was taken in by he searches for family in other places, when he can’t handle the memories of his childhood he spirals hard. I understand that the guys didn’t really know how to handle it after they heard about Toki’s childhood so I can’t fault them completely for just.....shoving him off onto Rockso after that, but I still think they should have tried to be there for him more so, more directly. I think an outlet that isn’t a drug addled clown might have helped him in some way, I think if when he’d been a teenager if one of them had found out about his upbringing and just pointed out “that isn’t okay, at all.” then things might have panned out differently. 

Mental regression isn’t uncommon when it comes down to victims of trauma caused by extreme abuse. Especially considering his trauma all occurred basically from the get go; he was a child slave, the closest I would guess he ever got to having a childhood when he was a kid was seeing other kids childhoods. Going into town and seeing kids playing, sneaking into birthday parties just to be around other kids his age, etc. and he definitely was childish as a teenager, but I think he tried to bury that side of himself when his bandmates started teasing him or pointing out how unmetal it all is.....But then a douche bag journalist brought his parents to America, a little girl died, his abusive father died horribly (as he should) in front of him, he beat a man to death (allegedly), etc. 

He spent a lot of years away from all the trauma and the death and the bull shit then suddenly it started piling on top of him again and his escapism was fantasy, clinging onto a junkie clown, partaking in childish hobbies.....because why not? 

Each member of the band suffered some messed up shit when they were kids and it shows in different ways, this is Toki’s way of dealing with it....or not. I’m not entirely sure what his psychological state would be post Doomstar; the way he bounces back from immense trauma makes me think that he would be okay given some time and that’s a safe assumption to make, especially now that his bandmates/family will be there for him the way he needs them to be.

I want to tag @theidiotwiththepaintedface who hopefully will enjoy this painfully long deep dive into a character’s psychology lol.

[sidespromptblog]

Between the Mask: Part 3

One, Two and End

Warnings: Again plenty of tears, Virgil kinda mouths off about Janus, and Logan gets a little salty about it. 

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly he should treat him after being told that being both nice and mean to him was wrong. Only to discover that after everything that he’d been through, Janus isn’t the person that he portrays in front of everyone else. 

Word Count: 3013

AO3 LINK

Despite everything that had been promised, it started out rather slow. So much so that it felt like it was driving Roman to absolute madness, he knew as well as the others that they couldn't just rush into this without any kind of warning. They needed to build up to revealing everything, along with the fact that Logan wasn't even ready yet to face Patton let alone Virgil. Doing it too soon could and very well would go wrong, and the last thing that he wanted was for things to go back to the way that they were before. He didn't want Logan to go back to being holed up in his room, unable to be reached by anybody. Or for Janus to go back to putting on his persona every time he wanted to be even a little accepted, even if it was as the villain.

Virgil, who already panicked at the slightest hint of change in his and Thomas' life. There was no telling just how he’d react as soon as Janus showed his face to all of them, let alone with Roman now openly supporting him in everything he was doing. Not only would it make Virgil feel left out of the loop, but… it would make him paranoid as hell as to what Janus was plotting and if he had been plotting at all to turn everything around like that. Because whether he liked it or not, Roman knew Virgil, and he knew somewhat to how Virgil would react to all of this.

They needed to be smart about this.

But coincidentally… having to be smart about things just sucked.

Honestly Roman felt like he was trying to get a herd of feral cats to get used to the mere idea of comfort and love, something that Janus had been sorely lacking in the many many years of his Deceit role. As well as getting the idea across to the others that this was something that they should accept while making it all seem like it wasn’t some huge plot from the very beginning. Doing so would only shift the blame onto Janus, leaving him right where he first began with not a single shred of hope to be had for him.

Small steps, as Logan had said to Janus and him.

But small steps didn't make enduring this any easier.

Because for the first time in more than a week, Logan had answered Thomas' call to see him without any kind of hesitation. He had done so without his tie and his hair a little less than neat, it was a change, the first change that he had talked about making in order to ease the others into things. But even that little bit was almost instantly noticed by everyone. The looks that he had received from Virgil and Patton made Logan unconsciously squirm in his spot, the urge to dig his nails into his palms almost overwhelming to him. It took a conscious effort to remain perfectly still, and not fidgeting with the area where his tie would have been. Really though it felt like his progress that he was supposed to be making might as well have been moving at the pace of a snail, with how much the others seemed to notice everything about him.

Whether he wanted it or not.

"What's with the new look Logan?" Patton curiously inquired, "We just changed our outfits not that long ago, is it time for another one?"

Even the smallest and carefullest of prods from Patton felt like a harsh poke to Logan, even if the moral side didn't mean it to be. The other side had no idea that the tiniest little question could flay Logan’s emotions, leaving him wanting to retreat back into himself without a moments notice. As if… as if everything that he did was under constant question, and he couldn't just be without someone bringing up what he was doing. For a hot second he felt like curling into himself, as if that would draw less attention to himself. Or just receding back to his room like he had done before, and never showing his face.

It felt just like the infinitesimal incident.

Thankfully Roman sensing his rapidly dropping mood turned the attention to himself. "If he likes it that way then who are we to question it? Maybe it's more comfortable, I know it would be for me. Even my glorious sash becomes too much for me sometimes, and I wish for nothing more than relinquish it of its duties." It took a lot out of Roman to not immediately move to where Logan was, and to stand in front of him getting there gaze off of the nervous logical side. But even he realized that doing so would only sink their plan before it had even begun. "He looks nice without it, doesn’t he? Right Padre?"

The affectionate name was not lost on Patton, and nor was the question being brought to light. In Patton’s eyes, any change from the norm deserved its time in the light so it could either be praised or worried about. But now that the attention drifted over to Patton, his cheeks turned scarlet at the realization of the fact that he had unintentionally been putting Logan on the spot just for a single change of the logical side’s attire. He had never stopped to consider whether or not Logan wanted it to be brought up in such a way, or if he even wanted it brought up at all. He had just done so…

Kind of like when he had just blurted out Logan’s name before Logan had decided to tell it to Thomas.  

“You do look nice though…” Virgil mumbled from the side, his fingers clenching and unclenching the hem of his hoodie fighting through his anxiety of the awkward situation to get even a single compliment out of him. “Your hair… it’s… hair.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked on Logan’s lips, and just like that the protective storm welling up inside of Roman flew right out of him. Just that single quirk of his lips seemed to lighten up the logical side’s whole face in a way that had been sorely lacking before, nobody least of all Roman knew when the last time that Logan had smiled was. It felt like almost an eternity ago, when Logan still had that faded polo shirt and that pale blue tie, that was close to the last time he had seen Logan look over to him with a smile of pure excitement on his face. Not one that had constantly crushed and forced over the years that everything had been happening, especially not that one.

“He’s right,” Patton’s voice dragged Roman out of his own musing. “Your hair is lovely Logan, so.. so if you want to experiment with your style. I won’t comment on it unless you want me to.” A part of Roman felt a great deal of shock at the fatherly figure’s words, but another part of him knew that when it came to their own close circle of ordeals Patton would promise anything to make the other side more comfortable.

There was no doubt that Patton would mean those words, and there was no doubt that he’d try to stick with it too given how much their little family meant to him. It was just a matter of whether Logan would feel confident enough and comfortable enough to come to him in the future.

Logan’s gaze didn’t exactly meet Patton’s, evidence enough of the rift that had grown between them from Patton’s last actions when it had come to Logan being in the last video. “Thank you,” Behind his back Logan’s nails dug into his palm, biting harshly into it. Now here came the curve ball. “Janus has made a few suggestions, so I’ll be sure to show you when I begin to try them out.”

Just like that it was almost like the warmth in the room had been sucked out by a vacuum.

“Jan..us?” The letters of the dishonest side’s name stuck to the room of Patton’s mouth like peanut butter. “Huh?”

The confusion was clear, and the tension in the air palpable.

Almost immediately Roman wanted to motion to Logan to abandon such a topic of conversation, as judging by the way that Virgil’s shoulders had suddenly stopped hunching and the anxious side now stood towering with a withering look on his face… he clearly wasn’t ready to hear about Janus in any kind of capacity. There wasn’t anything that Logan could do to change that, especially if Patton couldn’t do anything about it considering that he was the closest one to Virgil right now. Asking Virgil to humor any kind of discussion involving Janus was as useful as asking him to stick his hands in a bee nest, not only would he not do it, but he’d probably smack the person who suggested it in the first place. It was just how Virgil was as a side, change was… bad for him, him and the anxiety he subconsciously produced.

“You’ve… been talking with Janus?” Thomas spoke up for the first time since Logan had shown up, the amazement that Logan had shown up had shifted into something that kind of resembled softness as he looked back at the logical side in question. His entire body had shifted from facing Patton and even Virgil, to now facing Logan. He gave the logical side his full attention for once. “Is that what you’ve been doing since you were gone? Have you been okay with him being around you? Is he…”

Thomas’ words trailed off once he got to the topic of Janus, clearly he too wasn’t so certain about how he was supposed to even entertain the idea of Janus. Given how Janus had introduced himself though, Logan couldn’t fault him for that.

“He is fine.”

And that was the truth.

Nervously Thomas eyes shifted from Logan back over to Roman, obviously expecting some kind of reaction from Roman. Something like dismissal, anger, outrage, or just coldness. But there was nothing as Roman kept his gaze firmly attached to the other sides, he was stiff, but stiff in the kind of way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else other than worry over how the others would react to Logan’s rather bold declaration of conversing with Janus when he had been avoiding Thomas and the others for as long as he had. For Virgil, it would undoubtedly feel like a betrayal and nothing more given the context, or the lack thereof that Logan had been so stingy about. But for Patton… Roman wasn’t sure, despite how the moral side had prided himself in being an open book, Roman knew remarkably little about his actual thought process. That’s what had made it so hard to see Janus’ acceptance coming from Patton, he had expected Patton to stick to his guns and be determined that lying was bad, so when he didn’t…

Patton was very much of a wild card, despite how the other side liked to downplay himself.

A short irritable huff left Virgil, “Really Logan?!” Snarled the anxious side, the eyeshadow dark and thick under his eyes. “You’re actually willingly talking with him?! After he silenced you?! Why would you ever want to be around him now, the last thing you should want to do is hang around him! Do you even know what he’s like?!”

In an instant Logan’s gaze snapped up from the ground, and Virgil felt a shot of ice slam into his chest.

The look in Logan’s eyes..  it was unlike anything he had seen before…. He had seen Logan’s unbridled anger when Roman had called him stupid, he had seen him snark before, and even get a touch underhanded when it had come to things he didn’t want to talk about and things that he didn’t want to do. But this… the sheer anger that reflected in Logan’s eyes now, for the first time… made Virgil very afraid.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like this new Logan.

“That’s enough V-” Roman almost immediately stepped forward, a familiar look of protective rage on his face ringing throughout his entire body. He had never once been provocted into drawing his sword against Virgil, but hearing him so dismissively talk about Janus as if he knew him… It made something inside of him rage, to want to snap at Virgil and tell him exactly what he knew about the real Janus and about how far off Virgil was from the actual truth.

Roman stopped dead as soon as Logan held his arm out, his chest merely brushing against the logical side’s arm with how close he had come in just two strides. But he held himself back from saying a single word, it was Logan’s time to talk…

Not his.

Not yet.

“As if you know the real him.” Logan didn’t shout, he didn’t need to for everyone to hear what he was about to say. “And he is by far not the first person who has attempted to silence me, but he is the first person who has actually apologized for doing so. So as far as you are concerned Virgil, I will continue to hang out with him and treat him as my friend. Because he is my friend.”

A look of twin guilt blended together on Patton and Virgil’s face, a look that had said they knew the not so hidden meaning behind Logan’s words and had understood every bit of it. They had never apologized, Virgil had actually threatened Logan when he had attempted to talk about Remus. And Patton… Patton had actually silenced Logan, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

Virgil looked sick to his stomach, as if just now realizing. “Logan…” He murmured, unease and guilt swimming in his murky eyes.

Patton however could only stay silent, his hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to stop any sound from leaving him as well as to stop the shaking of his own hands. His eyes though did all of the speaking for him, betraying how Roman had been unable to get a reading on him before, as they now told everything for him without the use of words.

I’m sorry. His eyes said. I understand why you left for as long as you did after what I did to you. And even… You were right to stay away, if we hadn’t even realized until now.  

“Don’t apologize,” Logan sharply said, cutting them to the core. “Don’t apologize to me unless you’re apologizing to Janus as well. He deserves better than a one-sided apology.” He was right, or at least Roman knew that he was right even if the others didn’t. “I will see you all at dinner, set another plate out for Janus.”

Logan’s steely gaze only softened when it landed on Roman, Roman had made his apologies loud and clear to him just days ago and he had apologized to Janus as well. Not only that…

They had both kept their promise to Janus.

“See you… Roman.”

And just like that Logan was gone, leaving a vacant space where he had once been standing. Leaving Roman there with an amber-like warmth in his chest, at the thought of returning to Janus’ cozy room where they could all sit and be together without a care as to who would interrupt them. Where they would be safe, and be their truest selves without the fear of outside eyes peering in and judging them.

“So…” Thomas awkwardly broke the silence, cold tears dripping down his cheeks as his voice cracked the moment he tried to use it. Both Patton and Virgil’s combined emotions hitting him with a kind of blunt force. “You’re not angry about Logan seeing Janus?”

A rough snort fell from Roman’s lips before he could stop himself. “Go take a nap and play a video game Thomas,” He instead gently told the man who certainly looked like he could use one. “I’m not angry about Janus, and I’m happy that Logan is finally happy. It’s the way he should be.” Being emotionless and robotic didn’t suit Logan, no matter how he liked to say in the past that it did. He was supposed to be the vibrance of curiosity, combined with the endless knowledge of things that had been learned. He was the one that knew all of humanity was made out of stardust.

He was never supposed to wither like he had.  

Thankfully Thomas didn’t argue, as he nodded tiredly to his creative side and staggered back towards his bedroom. Roman suspected that he was far too emotionally drained to do so even if he had wanted to at the time. He’d have time to endlessly question them all later, but now Thomas deserved some peace and relaxation without having to worry over what came next. He didn’t need Janus to tell him that much, Thomas wanted it, so Roman too wanted it. Turning around Roman moved to sink out just as Logan had, just for a hand on his shoulder to stop him dead in his tracks. Patton finally taking this time to gather his wits had finally reached out, twin streaks of tears running down his face.

“What did you mean?” Patton softly croaked, “When you said it was how he was supposed to be?”

Ah…

Roman grimaced, he didn’t want to answer questions right now, but… if he had any chance of getting the two off his back for even a little while he’d need to give them something. And it had to be something for them to think over. Something that would stop them from going after Logan as well, and even relax even the slightest around Janus and get the gears turning in their head. Something…

It had to be good.

Really good.

He knew what to ask.

“When was the last time you saw Logan smile?”

[oldjane]

So this friend of mine, whose tumblr handle I don’t even know, so Imma link to their ao3 profile instead, was going feral about some movie they saw, and about a JoeNicky AU for it, and I haven’t seen the movie, don’t even remember the name of it, but well.

Here is... Some AU (unedited).

“We have to get out of here!”

Nile’s panicked voice spurs him on. He is running to the dock, hoping the emergency pods are not too badly damaged by the ravage going on around them. Joe is half a step in front of him.

Nicky doesn’t know where everybody else is – most of the inhabitants got evacuated late yesterday afternoon, but there will still be dozens of people who didn’t make it onto the evac shuttles. Nobody expected disaster to strike quite so soon. Nicky knows pods have been leaving all day, but they thought they had at least two more days. There will be people trapped, families who are desperately trying to make it to the pods –

Nicky stops, tries to turn around, but Joe notices and grabs his wrist.

“Nicky, no! We need to go, now!”

“But there might be others, we should –”

“No!” Joe’s voice is sharp, and he tugs at Nicky’s arm desperately. “There is no time!”

His eyes are huge, and his curls stick to his sweaty temple. His shirt is dirty and there is a gash on his arm. It is a far cry from the cool and calm engineer who arrived almost three years ago, introducing himself to Nicky with a wink. But he is still the most handsome man Nicky ever saw.

He fell in love with Joe at that first wink, and somehow, Joe didn’t seem to mind Nicky being painfully shy and blushing fervently as he awkwardly managed to introduce himself. Over the next two months, Joe simultaneously managed to draw Nicky out of his shell and make himself a fixture in Nicky’s comfort zone. They’ve been the best of friends and Nicky kept his feelings firmly under lock, afraid of losing Joe completely.

“Come on, Nicky, please!”

Nicky throws one last look over his shoulder, and Joe almost dislocates Nicky’s shoulder, he is yanking his arm so wildly.

There is nothing Nicky can do, and so he follows Joe. He would follow Joe everywhere.

The dock is in complete disarray. A lot of the stations are empty, and Nicky is glad that so many people got out. The far side of the dock is completely destroyed, and some of the remaining pods seem too damaged to risk the journey.

Nile yells at them to hurry. They run to where she found a pod in a good state.

“I don’t know – I never used these things –”

She is trying to enter the correct code with hands that tremble terribly, and Nicky looks at Joe. Joe nods, and he covers Nile’s hand with his own.

“It’s really easy,” he shushes, and he turns her towards him while Nicky makes quick work of unlocking the pod and firing up the systems. He hears Joe talk to Nile, explain to her how the pods work, what will happen. His voice is soft and calm, and Nile sniffs away her tears as she nods.

Nicky’s heart could explode. Here is Joe, taking care of one of their friends, as if this is just another day and they are not minutes away from being completely wiped away.

Nile steps into the pod, and without hesitation, Nicky and Joe strap her in, as if they have done this a thousand times. Their hands brush. Nicky feels the usual combo of heart flutters and a sense of belonging whenever he and Joe touch, but there is no time for that. He keeps running the procedures, and Joe keeps talking to Nile.

“You will get to the surface, and we will be right behind you, okay? I promise we won’t leave you alone. A beacon signal will alert home base, it will be no longer than thirty minutes before the chopper picks us up. You can open the hatch as soon as this light comes on, okay?” He points to the clear indicator. “The systems are all working perfectly,” he continues, when Nicky reaches the final check. “Tell me what you have to do.”

“Enter my personal code and the take-off code – seven-nine-four, enter, three-nine-three. Then the green button. Close the hatch.” she says, sounding almost normal, ticking it off on her fingers. “When I get up, this light will come on and I open the hatch. You will be right behind me. The chopper will be there not long after.”

“Good,” Joe replies fondly. “You’ll be fine, Nile. Keep your eyes on the screen, the counter will start as soon as you take off. We will see you up there in fifteen minutes.”

As Joe reassures Nile one last time, Nicky scans the stations. They can’t go back to the main section anymore, they need to find undamaged pods here and they need to be fast. The warning signs for critically low oxygen levels have been blasting for at least twenty minutes now. They could run out any minute. But most stations are empty, and the pods that are still here are broken and rusty.

There. Nicky sees one, and as soon as Nile closes the hatch, he pulls Joe along.

He opens the pod, and he breathes out in relief when it reacts immediately. It seems to be functional, and he pushes Joe in, entering the launch key.

Joe goes along, strapping himself in.

“Leave it, Nicky, I can do this myself, get to a pod –”

Nicky knows exactly when Joe notices what Nicky already knew. He starts unstrapping, but Nicky is faster. He locks Joe’s chair in place, keeps working on the take-off checklist.

“Nicky, stop, we can find you one further along –”

“There is no time, Joe,” Nicky says calmly. “We will run out of oxygen in seconds.”

“Come in, then, I won’t leave you –”

“There is not enough oxygen for two, Joe, you know that.”

“We will breathe as little as possible, hold our breath, something! Nicky, they never even tested that stuff, we could –”

“We are not risking it, Joe. One of us has to make it up there alive for Nile. You promised her.”

Joe is frantic now.

“Not without you, Nicky, stop, please!”

He reaches for the touch screen, trying to override Nicky’s commands. Nicky slaps him full in the face, and Joe falls back in the chair, stunned. It gives Nicky just the seconds he needs to complete the final procedure. He knows Joe’s code, of course, they’ve been friends for years, and he doesn’t make a mistake. Then the same numbers Joe told Nile, seven-nine-four, enter, three-nine-three.

“Nicky, no,” Joe begs, and –

Nicky presses the green button, not looking at Joe, not listening to his pleas.

Nicky will die here. He will die, within the next minute, while Joe is travelling up, and –

Nicky grabs Joe’s face between his large hands. One cheek feels hot where Nicky slapped him, but he doesn’t pay attention to that.

He stares into Joe’s beautiful, beloved eyes, and he bends closer to press his lips on Joe’s.

It is too short, too chaste for three years of pining, but there is no time – a crash, close by, vibrates through the structure, and Nicky pulls back. Joe starts saying something, but Nicky shakes his head and closes the hatch, gently but determinedly.

He hears Joe’s voice, calling out for him, but then the pod is sealed hermetically. It takes off smoothly, and Nicky’s knees buckle.

 ***

The fifteen minutes before Joe reaches the surface are the longest and the shortest of his life.

He screams himself hoarse in fifteen minutes, he bangs his fists on the inside walls of the pod until his knuckles burst, and then he touches his lips, where Nicky’s were but the blink of an eye ago.

Almost three years of dreaming about Nicky’s kiss, and –

And now –

He curses himself. He should have known Nicky would make sure everybody else got out before him. He should have seen right through him, should have forced him to go first –

He should have told Nicky he was in love with him three years ago. He should have kissed that man every chance he got, because now he will not ever get to again.

He is too distracted to pay attention to the screen or the indicators, and only when a robotic voice announces he needs to open the hatch because oxygen is low, he mechanically unstraps and enters the correct code.

Nile is floating right by his side.

“Oh, thank God!” she says as soon as he stands up. “Your pod arrived but you didn’t open the hatch, I was freaking out here, I didn’t know if there was a problem or – wait.” She takes a look at Joe, and she cuts herself off.

Joe doesn’t know how he looks – his eyes feel puffy and tears are streaming over his cheeks and his hands are bloodied.

“Wait,” Nile says again, unsteady. “Your pod arrived at least five minutes ago. Why isn’t – where is Nicky?”

Joe can’t help himself. A fresh wave of tears springs to his eyes, and he screams to the heavens.

He wants to dive back into the water, swim down, every meter a meter closer to Nicky, until he drowns as close to Nicky as he’ll ever be again.

Nile gasps.

“Joe, Nicky – Nicky made it out, right?”

He doesn’t answer, just sobs, his lungs burning, his throat choked up.

Nile reaches her arms out for him in a futile gesture, since they are both confined to their pods, and anyway, hers are not the arms Joe wants around him right now.

“I am sorry,” he hears Nile whisper, but it doesn’t help either. It feels like nothing will ever help.

If you asked him two days ago, he would have said feeling the sun on his skin again would make him the happiest man ever – it would have been a lie, of course. Kissing Nicky would make him the happiest man ever, and he got to do that, and the sun is reflecting from the water, but nothing will ever make him happy again.

The water has exactly the same colour as Nicky’s eyes.

He should say something to Nile, praise her for making it up here, assure her they would be picked up any minute now, tell her he loves Nicky with all his heart – though she might have some inkling of that by now – but he cannot bring himself to do any of it.

Then he hears the rhythmic sounds of the helicopter blades, and he will be brought to home base, and he will be further away from Nicky than he ever has been since they met, and –

Nile is winched up first, and then Joe. Somebody is interrogating Nile when he is pulled into the chopper.

“Anybody else coming?” a rough voice asks, and Joe curls in upon himself on the floor as he shakes his head.

“We were the last people at the dock,” Nile says hesitantly, “The two of us and – and Nicky – but we were out of oxygen –”

“So we are still waiting for this Nicky then?” the pilot asks, and Nile looks at Joe.

Joe doesn’t answer, can’t speak, wants to get to the base and be left alone for a week – a month – maybe a lifetime.

“I – I don’t think so,” Nile says. “There were not many pods left, and most were damaged, and – and we’ve been up for ten minutes, and –”

She doesn’t finish, but everybody knows what she’s not saying. There was not enough oxygen left for ten minutes. Nicky isn’t coming.

“Sorry,” the first speaker says. “Let’s go, then,” he directs the pilot, and they swerve off. Joe stares to the window, to their floating pods. A boat will come by later, tomorrow or the day after, to retrieve the pods. Somewhere, miles below, is Nicky.

Did he suffer? Did he regret kissing Joe as he died all alone?

Another sobs wrecks through him, and Nile does pull him closer this time, and Joe buries his face against her shoulder as he cries his heart out.

And then suddenly a harsh beeping fills the cabin.

“What the –” the pilot mutters, and the other guy’s voice is hard.

“You said there was nobody else!”

Joe’s heart leaps into his throat.

Nile speaks up.

“We thought – we didn’t know –”

“Could be something else too,” the pilot mutters. “Let’s check.”

The chopper swerves again, and two dots appear as they get closer, but no –

There is a third pod there, and the beacon signal gets louder, almost deafening Joe.

“Joe – Joe, look,” Nile says, and Joe does.

The pod is battered and cracked, an older model by the looks of things. It’s a miracle it made it, any of these fractures look like they could tear the thing in two any second, and –

Nothing.

The hatch doesn’t open, and Joe dies a second time that day. Is it just an empty pod that managed to launch itself somehow?

They get closer, and still no sign of life. The diver is winched down, and he pries open the hatch so agonizingly slowly.

Then they hear his voice through his comms system.

“There is someone in here. Male, unconscious. Twenty-five, thirty, maybe. Brown hair.”

“That your friend?” the pilot asks.

“Yes, maybe,” Nile says, hope dripping from every syllable.

“Older model pod,” the diver continues. “Takes longer to come up. Amazed it even got here, seems to have not been maintained in years.”

The winching up is silent, and it seems to take so much longer than when it was Joe hanging there. Every second is a lifetime.

“He has a mole on his chin,” the diver then says, and Joe doesn’t believe his ears, asks Nile to repeat, but she just hugs him, laughing and crying at the same time.

“It’s Nicky, Joe! It’s him! He made it.”

And then the diver is pulling him in, and it’s Nicky, and he is breathing, and Joe is sobbing again, from joy this time.

The diver puts an oxygen mask on Nicky, and Joe crawls over, cradles Nicky close, kisses his jaw, his hair, his hand.

He’s gonna do that for a long time, if Nicky allows him to. As soon as Nicky wakes up, he will tell him he has loved him since he first saw him, competently bandaging up somebody who had fallen off a ladder, setting a broken bone and wrapping up a deep wound on their temple. He had been talking softly the whole time, reassuring the woman it would be fine, distracting her from the pain, and at the same time managing to keep the woman’s young child calm. He’d been so effortlessly competent and kind and so damn attractive. Joe had introduced himself and Nicky had been adorably shy, and Joe had been hopelessly lost.

And then he’d wasted three years.

And he’ll be damned if he wastes another second.

Nicky opens his eyes, and blinks. Joe smiles, but he must look a freight. And yet, Nicky pulls off the mask, and he mouths Joe’s name, though no sound comes out.

“Nicky,” Joe stutters, and then he decides talking is overrated.

He softly, gently lays his hands on Nicky’s face. He stares into Nicky’s beautiful, beloved eyes, and he bends closer to press his lips on Nicky’s.

There is nothing short about it. They have three years to make up for, and the rest of their life to do it.

[seijorhi]

Shiratorizawa was on my mind today and this stupid little drabble wouldn’t leave me be but idk it’s an odd one

tw non con

It’s easy for him to turn a blind eye.

He’s not a man without morals. He might be coarse and rude, demanding of the players under his control, but he understands the difference between right and wrong. If his players win (and they’d damn well better) it would be because they were the stronger team - not because of any underhanded, cheap tactics.

He is single minded, as he expects his team to be, but that doesn’t mean he's blind. He didn’t pay much attention in the early days. You were eager and excitable, but ultimately a distraction - Saito dealt with you, helped guide you along and shape you into something he could actually use to benefit the team. Of course, back then he couldn’t have even imagined that things would turn out as they have. 

He knew your name, stiffly acknowledged you when you showed up at practice every day along side the team. He knew that you had a decent knowledge of volleyball, kept notes on the team and their form, always commenting on their improvements. You were diligent and hardworking - he wouldn’t have allowed you to remain otherwise. He supposes that even back then, you were an asset. The boys worked harder when you were around, and there was a certain... cohesiveness to the team that had been lacking in prior years. 

But his first and only concern was the team’s success. 

He is observant, but only when they’re on the court. It’s Saito who brings it up one afternoon, his tone just a little too casual for Washijo to believe it was a spur of the moment thought. 

“The third years sure are close with Y/N, wouldn’t you say?”

It was natural, he thought, for the players to gravitate towards their manager. Especially the third years - you’ve been with them since the beginning. But for some reason, Saito’s comment keeps running through his head, and perhaps it’s then that he starts to see you - really see you. He knows his team better than they think. He knows that Semi is furious about being passed over in favour of Shirabu (knows it and uses it to push the boy) but the look in the older setter’s eyes when Shirabu’s hand brushes yours as you pass him his bottle is almost feral. After practice, he notices the boy grab you and pull you aside. He notices the way you pale as he whispers something in your ear too low for the coach to catch.

There’s a bruise on your neck the next day at training, too high to be covered by your jacket. A hickey, he realises when he catches the pinch server grinning proudly at it.

Tendou has always ignored personal boundaries, but he drapes himself over you at any chance he has - time outs, breaks, the gangly redhead even follows you around during pack up, stepping up behind you to ‘help’ take down the net. The way you flush and stutter, trying to duck out and away from him does not dissuade the middle blocker in the slightest.

But it’s Ushijima that he notices most of all. Shiratorizawa is strong - he’s made damn sure of that, but a lot of that strength comes from his ace. Ushijima rarely drifts from your side - although, perhaps it’s the other way around. He’s seen the way fan girls flock to the Captain, following him like a shadow until he’s forced to bar them from the gym, and he might be tempted to believe the same of you, except for the way you avoid Ushijima’s eyes when he stares at you (often) and you shy away the very moment you think he’s distracted. Unlike Tendou, Wakatoshi is not a man who often initiates physical touch, or seem to enjoy it, but you seem to be the exception to that too. 

It’s little things. Lingering glances, hushed words, a hand that slips just below what’s appropriate, what could be passed off as friendly. He could easily explain it away as boys being boys - there was nothing forbidding them from having a relationship of any kind with you - so long as it didn’t affect their game.

If it did, he’d kick you out in a heartbeat. 

He could pass it off, except that you’ve changed too. You don’t speak as often, you’re not as bright and bubbly on the side of the court. You still takes notes, pass out towels and bottles, but you don’t cheer for the team anymore. You’re still pulled into celebratory hugs and tugged between them like a toy to be fought over, but you don’t grin and laugh about it like you did back in your first and second year. 

You look scared.

But still, it’s all hypothetical. He could guess at what was going on with you and his team behind his back, but why waste the effort? It wasn’t a distraction to the team, it wasn’t impacting how they played, so why bother? It’s easier to deny something is an issue if you don’t have any tangible proof that it is.

Of course, proof finds its way to him whether he likes it or not. It’s merely by chance that he forgets his clipboard at the gym that afternoon. Walking back past the shower block he hears it - the low grunts and laughter between the slick slapping of skin. Hissed pleasure and backhanded praise tossed out with crude insults. He recognises the voices of his players well enough, but it’s the sobbing that makes his heart clench. The pleading whimpers that he wishes hadn’t come from you.

It’s harder to pretend after that that you’re a willing participant in all of this, that somehow you want to be where you are, shared (fought over) amongst them. Yet it’s harder still to deny the impact it’s had on the team. They’re working harder, playing smarter, they squabble amongst themselves, but it only pushes them to be better on the court - there’s a fire that been lit under their asses and the results he’s seeing are incredible.

So when you come to him, teary eyed and beg for him to sign the paperwork to transfer out of the Volleyball club, he looks up at you - tired and afraid, marked up with bruises and bite marks you don’t even bother hiding anymore - he’s faced with a choice. 

And it’s not that he doesn’t like you. He might be gruff and dismissive, but you’re not a bad kid. You’ve done good things for the team, even before... all of this. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you hurt and used.

But his team will alway, always come first.

It’s easy for him to turn a blind eye, tear up your paperwork and tell you that you gave your word when you signed on to be a manager for the full year and you will see it though, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t consumed by guilt every time he meets your eye.

If you were anybody else, if the situation was even slightly different, he likes to tell himself that he’d step in and put a stop to it. But... you’re good for the team.

It’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

[just-my-thoughts-about-stuff]

Alright y’all

I just got done rewatching Over the Garden Wall and I NEED to hear some theories!!

I’ve watched it a number of times, and I always absolutely adore it, but, though I’m usually quite good with symbols and deeper meanings...every time I watch it I feel I only have the vaguest senses of the symbolism, especially in regards to individual episodes, and it drives me a little up the wall.

Then when I try to look up theories, while I still love them, they’re almost always about the plot as a whole, not individual episodes.

I really want to hear people’s deeper thoughts on what individual episodes, characters, and items mean.

I know full well the answer could just be that it’s not supposed to make sense/is nonsense, but I do feel and hope there’s a deeper meaning to them, and that’s what I’m personally here to discuss.

I also haven’t done too much research on tumblr yet, so my apologies if there are theories galore here I just haven’t seen!! And please do feel free to link me to them if so!!

So, a very brief summary of some theories from other people that I’ve heard/read (spoilers ahead!!):

The Unknown is purgatory/limbo, or a purgatory/limbo of sorts. Asides from them being between life and death, this is especially evidenced by images like the trees being like those who committed suicide in Dante’s Inferno (and they are indeed people who lose hope in OTGW), and the fact that they have to pay a coin each to get onto the ferry, like the river Styx. (I’m sure there’s many many more but those are the ones off the top of my head).

The Unknown is a place where all stories exist. At the end it becomes clear Beatrice made up a story that her family became bluebirds, not that it was their punishment is some purgatory. Much of the episodes can be thought of as the stories people made up (wanting animals to talk, the cat could have thought up Pottsfield, Quincey creating a beautiful ghost out of his loneliness, Fred wanting to talk...)

The seasons: it starts with autumn because autumn is a symbol of life waning, and then it becomes winter when they are truly starting to die.

The Beast is a symbol for despair. People turning into trees is very clearly a symbol for lost hope. The lantern is a blind sort of hope that can people going with despair ever at their shoulder reminding that person what would happen if that hope goes out. (And Wirt proves a number of times before the actual scene he’s not the kind of person to follow blind hope.)

“Over the Garden Wall” could refer to the fact that the graveyard is called “Eternal Garden” and they go over the wall. Or it could refer to the comics and how The Woodsman tells his daughter not to go past the wall and into the unknown (I’ve not read the comics, just heard people mention them in theories. Anyone have links to where I can read them online?)

Personally I’ve also always wondered if some things in individual episodes are more literal plays on things that really happen:

Like I can definitely hear old ladies saying “close the door, I’ll catch my death of cold!” And I’m curious if Adelaide is a more literal play on that (I suppose that could be a story she would be telling herself—she told herself she’d catch her death of cold and did).

Lorna and Auntie Whispers seem to be a play on the Puritans. They’re wearing Puritan garb, and “don’t do XYZ because it’ll cause you to become evil/an evil spirit to take you over” seem true-to-form for Puritans. It seems like a play on that where there’s actually an evil spirit. (And again, could be a story they told themselves)

But for the most part those don’t answer much of what happens in individual episodes:

Why does the big pottsfield pumpkin/aka the cat say everyone comes to pottsfield eventually a) if only a few people are there, and b) if the story theory is true rather then the purgatory one?

Just...what is up with everything in the school episode, especially with regards to symbolism?

What’s the symbolism of everyone having an occupation in the tavern?

Is there any symbolism in the Quincy episode or is it just a cute little story?

Why can Fred talk?

What’s the symbolism of Greg’s frog being able to sing in that one episode? Is it just a funny unexpected thing? And why are there no other humans on the ferry if the coin thing is common knowledge?

What does it mean (literally and symbolically) that Adelaide does what the beast commands? She’s not a lantern bearer nor a tree yet she’s his follower, what does that mean?

What’s up with the threads in her house? Is it an old lady knitting thing or a Moirai thing, or something else ?

If Wirt has such a strong crush on Sara why does he seem attracted to Lorna that way? Is Lorna a symbol for Sara herself?

What does it mean that Adelaide and Auntie Whispers are sisters? (And is there a significance to both of them being voiced by male voice actors?)

What the heck is up with Cloud City and how is the Cloud Queen able to grant wishes? The North Wind being the real north wind upon them is really the only thing about that episode that makes sense to me. (Though Greg being able to bottle it makes less sense)

What’s the significance of Greg stealing the rock?

Is there symbolism behind the frogs name changing every episode, and then landing on Jason Funderburker or is it just a funny little throughline?

How can the bell be inside the frog if the Unknown isn’t a physical place they were in, either way?

And for the love of all things holy what do the black turtles mean?! This drives me absolutely bonkers every time I watch it. Why does that dog become so feral and beastly when it eats one turtle (not to mention look like it’s dripping with Edelwood oil), as well as have the same eyes as the Beast, but Autie Whispers just looks uhh...weird when she eats a bunch, but remains in possession of her faculties?

So uh, yeah! Anybody got any theories? Please reblog this with them or tag me with your own posts, or link me to posts you’ve seen!! Nothing is too big or too small!!

[greensaplinggrace]

Hi! for the Dragon Age prompts, how about an assassin Fenris and Anders au?

Ask and you shall receive! Although I really hope you didn’t have any preferences for who was the assassin. I only realized after I wrote it that you might have meant assassin!Fenris. This is actually a one-shot right now, but I’m planning to write a few more chapters if all goes alright.

*TW for violence, attempted murder, near death situations, asphyxiation

- If you want to send in a prompt, the guidelines are HERE and HERE!

---

Fenris wakes to the sound of crickets chirping. A cool breeze sharpens the air above him, where sheer green curtains curl lazily in the air. He breathes in deeply, then blinks.

The window is open, he thinks in alarm, and then there’s a blade over him, a dark form beside his bed, and suddenly he’s rolling. With a shout, he dodges the incoming blow, throwing a knee at the figure beside his bed. There’s a yelp of surprise, the figure falling back as Fenris launches from his bed and tackles the man to the ground.

He grapples at the writhing limbs beneath him. The blade hisses through the air again, nicking the side of Fenris’s throat with near deadly precision. Blindly, Fenris scrambles at the arm until his nails bite into the other man’s shoulder. Then he ducks, curling his elbow around it, and wrenches sideways with all his might. The man snarls and kicks out, forced to relent lest he dislocate his shoulder.

What follows is a brutal struggle, but eventually Fenris has him on his stomach, arms down. Attempting to pin him is proving more difficult than he’d expected, however. They both wrest for control, the dagger making appearances with more and more frequency as time passes. Fenris yells for help, slamming his palm into the back of the other man’s neck, shifting to keep his hips down and his legs locked.

Nobody answers.

Venhedis. Where the fuck is Hawke?!

With all of Fenris’s battle experience it should be easy to contain such an unskilled rival. Yet the man is persistent and possessed of a strength his lithe frame belies. Every attempt to disarm him is met with wily resistance, and every time he thinks he’s finally got the other man fully pinned down he squirms out of it again.

It’s almost enough to make Fenris activate his brands - almost enough to turn his bedroom into a bloodbath right here and now. Except that the trouble isn’t worth destroying all of his hard work; the research on his desk and the evidence he’s so close to completing. Certainly, it should not even be necessary in the first place.

The assassin tries to brace a hand against the floor for leverage but Fenris easily knocks it aside. He grabs a handful of coarse wool and hair to slam the assassin’s head down, catching the wrist still holding the dagger with his other, and is unprepared for the leg that sweeps his knees out from under him. Fenris tumbles to the ground as the body beneath him rolls, barely deflecting the dagger in time as it plummets toward his eye. He curses up a storm when it cuts open his forearm, vowing to fire every single accursed guard who was supposed to be on watch tonight.

The foreign chuckle that follows is entirely unexpected, the halt in battle even moreso. Fenris nearly falters when the sound echoes through the room. His gaze hones in on the wry twist of lips beneath a dark cowl, and out of some ridiculous sense of honor Aveline must have planted in his head, Fenris freezes in place as well.

“Who knew the prince would be so foulmouthed?” the assassin says, voice accented and lilting with amusement, and Fenris thinks he must be an idiot for speaking at all.

“Anybody with half a brain,” Fenris snaps back, “so I can see how you wouldn’t.”

“...you’re really not at all what I expected.”

“An easy kill?”

“Er, yeah, sort of.”

Fenris scoffs and then kicks him in the stomach, honor be damned.

The fool falls back with a startled wheeze, defense breaking, and Fenris takes advantage of the opportunity to lunge forward. With practiced movements, he finally takes hold of the stranger’s wrist and twists, bringing it down on the cold stone floor as he does so. There’s a snap and a cry, dagger clattering across the room, but Fenris doesn’t waste time celebrating. Knocking aside the assassin’s legs, he uses his own knee to pin the man’s uninjured arm to the floor.

In seconds, he has his hands wrapped around the other man’s neck.

Short blonde hair is revealed as the hood falls away, twisted and matted with blood. The split on his forehead paints half his face in shining red, but the rest of his features are lost in the dim light the moon provides.

Fenris presses down. Boot heels scramble at the ground behind him and a broken hand comes up to tug futilely on his own.

“Who sent you?” Fenris growls venomously, teeth bared. It’s supposed to be menacing. Terrifying. Enough to make anybody freeze in horror.

The assassin merely sneers defiantly, as if the fear itself is challenge enough to resist. “Will you let me go if I tell you?” he asks roughly, mockingly. “I promise to be ever so quiet. We don’t want anybody getting any ideas about the state of your honor, after all.”

Fenris can hardly believe his ears. “Have you no sense of self-preservation?”

“I’ll have you know that I am very concerned for my safety! I just can’t tell you that specific piece of information.”

“Then you will not be leaving this room alive.” If he has no information of use, then Fenris will kill him. It is not so unusual for him to kill someone with his bare hands, although he wishes he had his sword to make this faster.

Perhaps he will grant this man a merciful death and use his brands to tear out his heart.

“Don’t be selfish, love. I’ve got other suitors waiting, you know.”

Or perhaps not.

Fenris narrows his eyes, fingers tightening, and squeezes until the man begins to buck his hips in desperation, strangled gasps escaping his lips. “You’re mouthy for an assassin.”

“Thanks,” the stranger chokes out, broken hand sliding abruptly up Fenris’s arm to meet his shoulder. “Let me show you what else I can do.”

Ozone fills the air a split second before Fenris’s brands flare. Electricity crackles between them in a violent burst, sending Fenris flying through the air. He lets out a grunt as his back meets the wall with a sickening crack. Pain sears through his chest, shoulders screaming, and he collapses on hands and knees.

Furiously, Fenris looks to the assassin who now sits crouched in the middle of the room. He cradles the dagger in his hand once more, a feral smile pulling at his lips, smug and vicious in simultaneous abandon.

“Mage,” Fenris snarls, fists clenching on the cold stone floor.

The stranger laughs in response, and Fenris has never wanted to tear someone’s heart out more. “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

Pale moonlight flashes across the silver edge of his blade as he raises it. Fenris expects blood next, a wound cut across his skin to feed dark magic, but instead there’s a snick as his dagger meets the curl of metal on his boot. A dim spark jumps into the darkness, instantly snuffed by the hand that rapidly flies out to catch it.

Fenris watches as fire blooms in the stranger’s palm.

“You would burn me alive?”

“I would kill you, yes.”

“At whose behest?”

“You’re incredibly stubborn, did you know that?” Fenris wants to scoff. He’s the stubborn one? Anybody else would have cut their losses at the possibility of choking to death. “What does it matter who hired me? You deserve to die.”

Firelight flickers along the shadowed edges of his face, features painted in stark relief. A straight nose and full lips. Golden eyes.

Mage, he thinks again, in equal parts fear and hatred, and prepares to light his brands.

“What arrogance leads you to believe you may judge my actions so? You know nothing of me.”

“I know enough.”

Then the mage moves, lightning quick, a web of fire arcing up his arm, and Fenris bathes the room in blue. He launches to his feet and fades into the other man’s space, fingers curled into claws, and only briefly registers the faintest hint of surprise in wide golden eyes before he sinks his hand into the other man’s chest. When Fenris’s fingers brush his heart, the mage goes stark white.

Unfortunately, this does not keep him silent.

“You just fisted me!” he blurts out, wild and panicked, and every thought in Fenris’s mind simply disappears.

“What?”

Fire erupts between them. A blazing inferno that spouts in one abrupt, blinding ascent, forcing Fenris to rear back and away from the other man. He instinctively begins to shield his eyes, but the need for it has already passed. As quickly as the light begins, it ends; leaving nothing but a writhing darkness and spots in Fenris’s vision.

He blinks to chase them away, searching the shadows for the assassin, and notices the glint of a blade seconds before it strikes. Fenris twists to avoid a killing blow, roaring at the explosion of agony in his shoulder. The room floods with blue light once more.

“Scheisse!” the assassin curses, stumbling back at the reappearance of his brands, and those would have been his last words - would have been his last moments - had there not come a sudden, deafening crack from the bedroom door.

“Your Majesty!” someone’s deep voice calls into the room, heavy chainmail gauntlets slamming noisily against wood. “Your Majesty! The castle is under attack!”

And Fenris glances over, distracted only for a brief moment. A half second. Nothing.

But it’s enough.

When Fenris turns back around, the assassin is gone. His curtains flutter, the sill of his window scuffed and scratched. The dagger on the floor has disappeared. And there is no man. No assassin.

Nothing but the scorch marks on Fenris’s ceiling to prove he existed at all.

[vintagedaydreams]

True Love Never Runs Smoothly Part FIVE (Carlisle)

What? Two updates in a week? I’m actually sure I’ve been replaced with an alien. Hope she gets my laundry done while she’s here.

Warnings: suicidal/depressed thoughts, anxiety attack, language, bit of blood, same ol’ same ol’ really.

Enjoy!!

@kettnerjanea​ @jelly-fishy-babie​ @the-graceful-ace @amwolowicz​ @batsdothings​ @waxingmoonstone​ @littlebabybatthings @mauvette268​ @sagittarius-flowerchild​ @katsav17​ @batsuperflashmartianwonderman​ @imyourapocalypse​

The next morning found you wandering the castle corridors, looking for any member of the Volturi. You needed to go home. You had a life you’d very much like to get back to and a job that you’d very much like to keep.

You had only come here because you were Carlisle’s Mate and you and Bella were still human.

You stumbled a bit. Shit. There hadn’t been any discussion about you and Bella being human. And hopefully staying human. At least for a bit longer.

Or maybe there had and you missed it. You had been sequestered in your room an awful lot the past few days. And for good bloody reason.

You really needed to find one of the Kings – Aro preferably. Marcus you didn’t really want to bother – he seemed like he was always miles away. And Caius… well he still scared the crap out of you. While the rest of the Volturi had been ridiculously nice, he hadn’t given you much attention. Which was absolutely fine with you, but you also hadn’t had any chance to get to know him. Again, absolutely fine with you, but not knowing him made you wary around him.

Yes, Aro would be the preferred option.

If only this castle wasn’t so confusing!

You wandered around for who knows how long before you stumbled across yet another hallway that didn’t look the least bit familiar to you. Well, it looked like every other hallway, but other than that, completely unknown to you.

But it was darker than other hallways in the castle and you felt your skin prickle in awareness. Okay, so in hindsight, a human wandering through a castle that housed creatures that ate humans wasn’t like…the brightest idea you’d ever had.

Though, in your defense, you had been greeted, and quite quickly too, any other time you’d ventured out of your rooms. Except for today.

Just your luck. You need to leave and then can’t find anybody.

At this point, you’d even be willing to meet up with a Cullen!

Well…maybe you weren’t quite that desperate yet.

Movement at the end of the hall had your ears metaphorically perked and goosebumps erupted on your arms. There were little to no lights in the halls as you wandered deeper into the castle – guess vampires didn’t need lights to see in the dark.

You did though. And right now, the one feebly glowing torch, (an actual fire torch!), was giving off a very small halo of light that you’d stopped in.

You couldn’t see much further down the hall.

But you could hear the noise of something moving again.

You couldn’t help the shiver that raced through you. It would be very…inconvenient if you were to die here, today. After all the shit you’d been through recently…it… it would actually be just your luck, come to think of it.

Of course you’d die when you finally made up your mind to leave all of this, all of them, behind.

But, if a vampire was trying to stalk you, wouldn’t they move silently so you couldn’t hear them?

A nasty voice in your head shot back, Why would they move silently when there is no one else around to hear?

…True. You hadn’t seen anyone since you left our room. The vampire trying to eat you would not need to move quietly. It’s not like you could do anything against them and with no one else in hearing range…

Shit.

There was a scrape on the stone ahead of you in the dark and then a gust of wind and suddenly, the lit torch was out and you were thrown into total darkness.

You broke out in a cold sweat and desperately turned your head this way and that to try to see something. Anything.

But it was too dark. You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

Another gust of wind blew past you and then, you felt the chill of a nearby vampire seeping into your skin.

Whoever it was, they were standing close. Very close.

A soft whimper escaped without your permission when you were suddenly pushed to the wall behind you and a cold hard body was pressed against you.

“You and the other human have been guarded quite carefully,” an unknown male voice breathed out, sweet smelling breath wafting across your face and turning your stomach. “The other human’s mate has not left her side, but you…your mate has not been seen by your side since you first arrived. And now that the Volturi Guards are no longer protecting you, you are…free for the taking.”

Another whimper made it past your lips and you clenched your eyes shut as a long fingered hand ran through your hair in a mock expression of tenderness.

“Hush,” came the purred command. “I won’t hurt you. Much.”

You bit your lip hard to stifle another sound.

“You should be thanking me,” the male vampire continued, voice pitched low and soothing. “Your mate doesn’t want you and no vampire wants an Unwanted Bond Mate. You’re too entangled with the Vampire world to be set free now. You’ll likely either be changed or killed. But…no one will want you as a vampire.”

You flinched at that and the vampire in front of you moved even closer to you.

“A Bond Mate is a sacred thing,” he continued, voice near a purr. “If you are Unwanted, there is something wrong with you that no vampire will want to touch. But I…I can help you.”

The hand in your hair suddenly tangled deep and your head was jerked back to bounce against the stone behind you and bare your neck.

“I can save you from an eternity of loneliness by killing you now. And, as you have no guards and no Mate here to say otherwise, why shouldn’t I?”

You couldn’t quite keep the half sob from escaping this time but you froze as you felt a hand around your throat.

“I said to hush,” the vampire growled, fingers tightening around your neck threateningly. “I do not want to rush this, Unwanted Mate. I would like to enjoy this. But if you keep making sounds, I won’t be quite so nice to you.”

Dutifully, you swallowed your cries, though you were unable to keep yourself from trembling.

You had never been scared of vampires before – not like this. The Cullens and Hales had been rude, angry and completely destroyed your self esteem, but they had never actively tried to kill you before. Neither had the Volturi.

But this one—

A sharp pain on the side of your face startled a gasp out of you and your eyes flew open, even though you couldn’t see.

“That’s better,” the vampire purred, the sound of sucking reaching your ears. Something wet ran down the side of your face and you realized with a full body shudder that the vampire had cut your cheek and was licking the blood off his finger.

His fingers were no longer locked around your throat, but they were still tangled deep in your hair, keeping your head up and your neck exposed.

“I want your attention solely on me when I feed from you,” your assailant purred, “not lost up in your head.”

You clenched your eyes shut again as you felt the vampire lean in, a lone tear snaking it’s way down your face.

“Crying will not help you now,” he whispered, breath fanning your neck against your jugular. There was the barest hint of a fang scraping your skin and then suddenly, a loud cracking was heard by your face and the presence in front of you was gone.

Something gently hit the side of your head and with a rolling stomach, you realized the unknown vampire’s hand was still in your hair and hanging limply, detached from the rest of his body that was now no longer near you.

What sounded like metal being torn apart, and loud feral growls, alerted you to the fact that a bit farther down the hall, your attacker was being attacked.

By who, you didn’t know.

A cold hand gripped your elbow and you screamed, startled.

“Easy, Cara,” came Aro’s low voice, “you are safe now.”

Gentle hands began to untangle the vampire’s fingers still buried in your hair and you felt your trembling worsen. This was the most terrifying thing you had ever experienced.

The pressure eased off your head, but you felt your chest tighten as it got harder to breathe. You’d almost died. You’d been attacked and toyed with by a vampire that was about to drain you. Kill you. You had almost been murdered!

“Cara,” Aro’s voice sounded from far away, “Cara, you are safe now. That vampire will not be able to touch you again. Your mate has taken care of him. Come, cara, breathe for me.”

You tried, you really did, but you couldn’t get your mind to stop spinning in circles around the fact that you had just been attacked and almost drained by a vampire a few moments ago!

Aro’s voice faded back to the background again as you tried to get air into your lungs, only to spiral down into a deeper panic when you couldn’t get enough air. You managed to survive being almost killed by a vampire only to suffocate yourself immediately after!

Cold arms were suddenly wrapped around you and you were lowered to sit in a cold lap. You struggled for a moment – you would not be almost drained again! – but then the scent registered. Woods and spice and home.

Carlisle.

Whatever reservations you had, whatever anger you were feeling towards the man who had shoved you aside to the mercy of his family, all disappeared as you felt a strong feeling of safety envelop you.

Burying yourself in his chest, you wrapped your arms around him in return and started giving off hiccoughing sobs in between your struggle for air.

You just wanted to go home!

The cold chest you were pressed against started vibrating with a low purr and a large hand started rubbing up and down your back.

“Y/N,” Carlisle murmured, voice calm and doctor-like, (though was that a hint of fear you detected?), “you are safe. I need you to listen to my breathing and try and match yours, okay? You need to calm down before you hurt yourself. Breathe in, hold it…and breathe out, hold it.”

It took a few tries, but you followed along to both his instructions and his exaggerated breathing as best you could.

“Good, Y/N, good. In, hold…and out, hold.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in a darkened corridor in Carlisle’s lap, but finally, finally, you felt your breathing coming more naturally and the pain in your chest started to ease, leaving a bone deep weariness in its place.

This was…not how you had envisioned you leaving Volterra to happen. You had been hoping you could just slip out and not think about the supernatural again.

Obviously that didn’t work out.

“Cara,” Aro’s voice spoke up suddenly from somewhere to your left, “what were you doing down here?”

“I was looking for you,” you murmured out, surprised at how hoarse and exhausted your voice sounded.

“Me?” Aro said in surprise and you nodded against Carlisle’s chest.

Right. Carlisle.

You needed to move, like now. But he felt so safe and so good, you were having a hard time reminding yourself of all the reasons why staying here with him was a bad idea.

And there were many.

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh, finally unlocking your arms from around the doctor and pushing away from him. “I wanted to talk to you about leaving. I need to get back home.”

There was silence in the corridor and then a gust of air that had you instinctively flinching back towards Carlisle.

A soft whoosh and the torch was relit and placed back on the wall from where it’d fallen.

You blinked at the sudden light, eyes trying to focus on Carlise and Aro who were both very close to you.

Neither one of them looked happy.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Carlisle asked Aro after a long moment and you looked at the blond vampire in confusion. First aid kit?

Your eyes flitted down to all the parts of Carlisle you could see. If he had taken care of your attacker, (and a fuzzy memory of Aro saying your mate had done so came to mind), he looked no worse for wear. Why would he need a first aid kit?

“There should be one in the human wing,” Aro murmured after a moment, blood red eyes narrowed at the side of your face.

You made a little sound. Right. Your assailant had scraped you.

“It’s really not that bad,” you muttered, starting to detangle yourself from Carlisle’s lap. Nope. No dutiful mate, no happily ever afters, no knight in shining armor, no doctor to save the day and patch you up like some Lifetime movie.

You just wanted to go home.

Besides, you were pretty sure it had stopped bleeding already. Probably already started to coagulate and close up with how long it took you to get your head on right.

He did not get to play the part of caring mate!

You were grateful he saved you from being drained or from suffocating yourself, but that was as far as your good will extended.

You had to be strong. You were not going to be someone’s second choice!

“If you insist,” Aro said after a moment and a cold hand left your arm. Good. Aro saw your reasoning and agreed with it. Or at least wasn’t going to fight you on it.

You didn’t need another fight right now. You were all done in from the last one.

“Carlisle, my friend,” Aro said suddenly, “why don’t you go and let the rest of your family know what is going on? I will take Y/N here and make sure she gets settled and taken care of.”

Carlisle looked like he was about to argue, but a faint buzzing told you that they were talking vampire speed, and then Carlisle took off down the hall after another long look at you.

You felt all the tension drain from you as soon as he was out of sight.

“Come, Cara,” Aro said from right next to you as he gently lifted you up and into his arms. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“Home,” you murmured, eyes closing, “I want to go home.”

“And you will,” Aro promised lowly, “we’ll discuss it when you’re rested.”

[lord-explosion-baku]

Yandere Warlock!Monoma x insecure witch!reader

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, suggestive themes, hinted dubcon scenario, light violence

A/N: THIS WAS RUSHED AS HECK. Like when I say that, the story just moves along really fast and I’m hhhh sorry about it. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Monoma though! Fun stuff! Also ahhhh I’m not loving the way the reader reacts to how Monoma treats her. I’m so used to writing the reader with a hint of ANGERY BASTARD inside but I figured that if she’s insecure, and wack enough to fix a love potion for someone, this might be natural for someone like her?? Idk dood. I love magic and I am a newt.

“Tell me you love me…”

You’d spent so much of your time yearning for Neito Monoma, wondering if he’d ever give you the time of day. It was wild and unexpected of you to crush so hard for someone as arrogant as that warlock; usually types that constantly had to one up everybody irked the living hell out of you, especially since you were too modest by nature, too nervous to ever give yourself any credit when you’d excel, but Monoma paid you a few compliments here and there. He smiled at you during passing periods and even told you he liked the way you cast your spells. You thought that maybe he was this way with all the other witches, even so, he made you feel less obscure, visible to even a stronger caster such as him. You had no idea that he’d reciprocate your feelings, at least, until it was too late.

It was a simple potion, you couldn’t even call it a love potion. Sure, you may have added some reagents that had similar properties one would put in a love potion, but it wasn’t supposed to be for “love.” You just wanted to be more recognized by him. And woof, after you’d slipped that potion into his morning pumpkin juice, you were for sure recognized.

Things started out fine. You had stumbled upon Monoma in the school gardens, a place he rarely studied but it was one of your main haunts. He was sifting through flowers, making an eclectic bouquet full of different varieties of your flora friends. When he’d caught you staring at him, he gave you a bashful smile that nearly melted your heart.

“I was hoping this would be a surprise,” he said, tying a black ribbon around the bouquet that made the various colors of each petal pop out more. He held the bouquet out to to you and when you took it, his long warm fingers lingered of yours. Clear blue eyes scanned your face, lingering on your lips before you brought the bouquet to your nose to take in the sweetened aroma. “The prettiest flowers for the prettiest girl.”

After that, you spent so much more time with Monoma. He seemed pretty normal to you other than how often you caught him staring at you from across the classroom. He’d leave you cute little notes, if you could call them notes; honestly, they were a bit more like sonnets than anything, and he’d bring you nice gifts and pay you sweet compliments. He made you feel special. You had never known that someone who spent most of his time boasting about his power and shutting everyone else down had such a way with words! He was nearly the perfect boyfriend.

Until he started to get a little more creative with his gift giving. You’d find roses left on your pillow when you returned back to your dorm room after a hard day’s work. Warlocks weren’t permitted to enter the witch’s dorms but somehow Monoma figured out a way past certain enchantments. You thought it was cute that he was willing to break some rules for you. After you told him that you were interested in brewing a certain master level potion that required fairies blood, a super rare rageant that not even Aizawa, your potion’s professor, could get his hands on, Monoma came to you with a box full of four vials of fairies blood. That was a bit excessive. The potion only called for a tiny bit.

Monoma grew more violent towards other warlocks in your life as well. He’d hexed your best friend, Hanta Sero, giving him octopus arms after Sero carelessly threw his arm around your shoulders in the main hall, right in front of Monoma and sometime after Kaminari asked you what you saw in your new, probably too invested boyfriend, Kami’s lips were seen sewn shut for about four hours until a professor figured out how to reverse the curse. Kaminari never told you how it happened, but after everyone who was supposed to be your friend started avoiding you, you kinda figured you knew what was going on.

On top of everything else, he was advancing on your hardcore. You enjoyed the attention, in fact, you craved it, but you weren’t ready to go all the way with him and he was beginning to get really pushy. When you didn’t do whatever he wanted, he’d get frustrated, accusatory, he’d make you feel guilty about things you never did! Claiming that you weren’t faithful to him seemed like his favorite thing to do and the only way to get him to stop was for him to use a strange truth spell on you, one that you were always afraid would work so you’d tell him about the potion you slipped him, though the questions he asked never lead to that. Once he was satisfied with your answers, he’d litter your neck and body in hickeys, little bruising love marks to make sure that if you weren’t committed enough, everyone else knew that you belonged to him.

So you knew you had to confront him.

Walking up the steps of the astronomy tower, your shared secret spot with Monoma, the place you’d use to make out amongst other things without being caught by any school faculty, you gripped the note you’d written out for Monoma tightly in your trembling hands, trying to steady your breath. You knew what you’d done and you had to admit to Monoma that you were responsible for how he was acting. Aizawa always said that you shouldn’t mess around with love when it came to magic. You didn’t think you were when you’d made that potion, but deep down, you knew what you were going for. This was your stupid mistake and you had to right your wrongs. You shoved the note in your pocket and opened the astronomy room door.

Monoma was already there, standing by the extravagant telescope, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re late,” he said, hands latching onto your hips immediately. “I was beginning to think that I was going to have to fetch you.”

Instantly, he yanked you close so your body pressed flush up against his, and he turned so your back was against the wall. His body felt… warmer than usual.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Almost instantly his tongue slid out and he licked a strip up your neck to your ear, making you shudder against him. “Don’t make me wait for you again, angel. I can’t stand not seeing you.”

He squeezed your hips before trailing a hand up to the edge of your shirt, thumb gently caressing the skin underneath. “How are you?” He asked, playfulling toying with the elasticity of your skirt.

“Um- I’m okay,” you stammered, catching his hand in yours that only made him smirk as he brought the back of your wrist to his lips.

“Just okay?” He lifted a brow, brushing his lips across your skin. “Better now that I’m here?” He closed his eyes and breathed you in. “Oh!...” you took in another long whiff. “You got a new perfume…”

He brought your arms to hang around his neck, keeping your gaze locked into his. You wondered if he could tell just how guilty you were just by looking at you. “Did my sweet girl have a bad day?”

“I’ve just been… a little stressed, is all.”

“Mmmm, I can tell,” he mused, “lucky for you, I know the perfect way of relieving tension.”

You bit your lip, dreading the blood that undoubtedly rushed to your face. Even if Monoma wasn’t all there, he still made your heart jump, especially when he got himself riled up.

“Sound nice?” He smirked, leaning closer back to your face. “I’ll be gentle. You know I only want to take care of you, right?”

“Neito,” you began, turning your head away from his cool, mint scented breath. “N-not right now…”

He scoffed. It was too easy to aggravate him and pissing him off was a dangerous game to play. He never… forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, but he was not above throwing fits. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you? Honestly Y/N, you’ve been acting strange for weeks, and if you don’t want me to show you just how much I love you, then you might as well come out and tell me who you’ve been fucking already.”

“Neito!” You shot him an incredulous look. “I haven’t been sleeping with anybody! You know I’m a-!”

“Who is it? You can tell me,” he cut over you, not bothering to hear you out. “You know I’ll always forgive you, but I want to know what filth has been tarnishing what’s mine.”

“Nobody, Neito! I’ve never had sex!”

“Was it Todoroki? I saw him talking to you after your Charms class.”

“He was lending me notes! I missed classes because I was with you!” Jesus, you hadn’t even seen Monoma after you had charms, he was like some kind of obsessive ninja.

“It better not have been that trash, Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been eyeing you since the moment he saw that you were with me. I bet he can’t stand seeing me have something that he doesn’t!”

“You’re not listening to me!” You cried, moving your hands from his back to gently cup his face. You watched as his eyes went from feral and angry to soft and loving as you drew your thumbs across his lips, trying to ease him back to his senses. “Neito, nobody’s been talking to me… even if they were, I’d let them know there’s only one guy for me. I… really liked you, Neito. I liked you enough that I did something very wrong and it has hurt you and for that, I’m sorry. ”

“Hurt me?” He didn’t understand.

“I spiked your drink with a love potion. I thought it would just make you notice me, but now everything is wrong!”

The pregnant pause between you and Monoma was nearly deafening. He lifted his hand to neatly place over yours, his body hot. His eyes searched yours, seeming to register what you were saying. But his eyes lied.

“Liked?” His hands tightened over yours. “As in past tense?”

“That’s not the point and not really what I meant-!”

“Oh, darling, don’t be cute with me right now. I’m thinking!”

You only realized how hard you were shaking when he pulled away from you to let you breathe. Monoma ran his fingers through his hair, messing up its usually neat style. He let out an exaggerated sigh and began to pace. You brought the note out of your pocket. If he couldn’t understand your words, maybe it’d make more sense to him if he’d read them?

You reached out for his shoulders, he tensed at your tender touch for a moment before relaxing against you. You hugged him from behind, burying your face into his back and held the note out in front of him. “Please read it,” you asked, muffled by his blazer.

Gingerly, he took the note out of your hand. He read it over; it basically said all that you had done, when you did it, and why you did it. You noticed his back growing damp and you only realize that you were crying when he turned to face you, with an unreadable expression.

Monoma’s thumb found your cheek and he wiped away an escapee tear you hadn’t intended to let him see. He sighed and watched your lips part, a natural, possible submissive instinct you’d picked up since you started dating the warlock. “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered, trailing his warm, now shaking fingers down to your chin. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

“I-I know.” You forced yourself to speak even though your skin was nearly vibrating from anxiety. “And-“ you gulped “-It’s all my fault. But I’m going to fix this, Neito. You won’t have to hurt… anymore.”

Monoma’s hand found your neck, his touch tentative and gentle at first until his fingers wrapped around you and he started to squeeze.

“You know?” He demanded, his face inching closer towards yours. “If you know how much pain I’m going through, then why the hell are you trying to push me away? Why don’t you ever say you love me back? Why is my angel lying to me?!”

“I’m not,” you squeaked back, pulling on his arm but that only encouraged him to back you up against the wall again.

“I’m going to make you tell me who’s making you say these things to me and then I’m going to have you watch as I strap them to a chair and set them on fire!”

“N-no, Neito,” you choked out as he began to raise you against the wall. The corner of your eyes started to blacken as you stared into the raging blue irises of the crazed blonde.

“I’ve done so much for you, Y/N, and I’ve asked so little in return!” He scoffed at the pathetic, reddened face you were making. You didn’t think you could hold on much longer. “Tell me who it is, Y/N. Tell me who it is or I swear I’ll kill every last warlock, hell, every last caster in this whole goddamn school!”

“Aizawa!” You cried out, noting the shifting black figure across the tower windows.

Monoma blinked, registering who you had named. He was silent for a moment, not noticing the older warlock muttering an incantation behind him.

“Filthy slut,” Monoma finally seethed. “You like older men, then? I bet he gets a kick out of that, taking advantage of something so pure-“ he dropped you to the floor “-so fragile.”

Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t manage to look at him and didn’t dare look at Aizawa while he was preparing a spell without Monoma noticing.

“I bet you call him daddy before he makes you choke on his cock, huh?” Monoma grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Once I rid the world of him, I’ll make you do everything you've done to him to me. I’ll be your daddy then, and you’ll be my dirty. little. princess.” He laughed dryly, yanking your head closer to his crotch. “But why wait until then when I have my pretty angel on her knees all ready for me?”

“That won’t be happening.” Aizawa’s low voice sounded across the room. Before Monoma could even turn, Aizawa muttered something in Latin and your boyfriend’s arms were magically bound together and he fell to his knees beside you.

You grabbed Monoma before he could topple over onto the floor, hugging him tightly, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over again. Monoma looked at you incredulously before thrashing around in your embrace as Aizawa approached the two of you.

“Obsessive and violent behavior, attempted assault on a student,” Aizawa sighed. “This is exactly why you don’t screw around with love magic, little witch.”

You wiped at your wet face, looking up to your teacher. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why,” you sniffed, looking apologetically bac to Monoma leering next to you, “why didn’t you do something sooner?”

“We have to from our mistakes by facing the consequences,” he said as if your situation were so simple. A potion vial appeared in his hand. “Now it's time to take care of your mistake. Step back.”

You looked to Monoma who had his lip curled up at your teacher. His eyes flicked to you. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before scooching away from the writhing warlock.

“Stay away from me!” Monoma snarled at Aizawa as he got a bit closer.

“You need to drink this,” Aizawa said to him, “it’s going to cure you of your ailments.”

“Lying pig!” Monoma all but screeched at your teacher. It burned you to see him this way. This was all your fault, all your fault. “You just want her for yourself!”

Monoma’s eyes once again found yours as he pleaded, “angel don’t do this to me. You love me right? I love you… tell me you love me baby, just this once— KEEP YOUR HOBO HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Monoma kicked his legs up, nearly knocking the vial out of Aizawa’s hands. Your teacher sighed, “at this rate, it might be better to just knock him out.”

“I dare you to try,” the blonde growled.

“Neito, please,” you silently begged, “this is only going to help you.”

Monoma answered you with feral noises, he was practical foaming at the mouth, being over dramatic and kicking himself away from his threat, even while Aizawa backed off and waited for your go ahead.

“If you do this for me-“ you inhaled, heart beating rapidly against your chest “-I’ll do anything and everything you want.” Though, you were sure that after this, Monoma would want nothing to do with you. “I promise you, Neito, anything.”

Monoma scowled at you. “You promise?” He asked. “Anything?”

Another tear fell to your cheek. You nodded.

He finally let up. He stopped his squirming and Aizawa could finally get close to him. Monoma didn’t fail to warn Aizawa that he was going to “be the end of him,” before Aizawa popped the vial into his mouth, and Monoma drained it dry, all while keeping his glare on you.

Minutes passed. You stayed on the floor, allowing silent tears to roll off your face while Aizawa stood cross armed, watching the motionless Monoma intently. Finally, Monoma groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“How are you feeling?” Inquired Aizawa.

“I…” Monoma winced. “My head feels like it’s splitting in half…”

“That’s to be expected.”

Guilt hung on your shoulders. Still, you managed to reach out to Monoma’s legs. His eyes opened, he looked right at you, then down to the floor, crossing his legs closer in to himself.

“You should probably go,” Aizawa said to you.

You never wanted this. You never wanted Monoma to be hurt, never wanted him to be obsessive or possessive, never wanted to feel how did you now. You just wanted him to recognize you so you did something vile to him and now you had to live with your guilt and your shame. Now you had to live with Monoma hating you. And you carried your guilt all the way home, using it to cry yourself to sleep.

~

You didn’t go to school the next day. You would have to face your problems sooner or later but after the night you had, you couldn’t face Monoma or Aizawa or anybody else who would without a doubt know about the heinous act you pulled.

You went into town, trying your hardest to forget about who you were, but whenever you saw a couple holding hands or simply exchanging glances, your heart stung. You managed to split Monoma’s head in half while you simultaneously ripped your heart to shreds. It was what you deserved.

Your legs felt heavy as you crawled into bed. You hardly had enough energy to kick your sheets over your body. You thought you just about drained yourself of all of your tears, but when your head hit the pillow, they came rushing back to you. You could only hide for so long. You were going to have to go to school tomorrow.

Sleep crept its way into your bedroom all the while another force snuck its way in. You were busy having a dream of being forced into a cauldron, when a heavy weight was pushed onto your torso. Your eyes snapped open and you found yourself face to face with Neito Monoma.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a sickly sweet smile crawling across his face. “You were so still, so… perfect… Did you know you talk when you sleep?”

“Monom-!” Before you could get his full name out, Monoma’s lips locked into yours. He moaned as he kissed you, fingers wrapping around your wrists and bringing them up above your head. He took your breath away, but it wasn’t all that uninvited. You had missed him.

He pulled away, sighing as he took in your flustered physique. His body pressed down harder on you and you were finding your breathing to be a bit strained. He was crushing you.

“I waited for you today,” he mused, peppering kisses down your collarbone. “It seems I’m always waiting for you…”

“What… are you doing here?”

“I’m hurt you even have to ask,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Don’t you remember the promise you made me before making me drink that poison?”

You promised him you’d do anything he wanted. “But the potion was supposed to change you back…”

“It didn’t work,” he said thoughtlessly while his hand slid down to palm you breast.

“W-wait!” You grasped his hand but his merely pushed your arm back down, pulling his knees up to hold your sides tightly.

He glowered down at you. “What I mean to say is, the first potion you slipped me didn’t work.” He smirked. “Do you think that I’m so much of a fool that I couldn’t tell that a drink of mine had been spiked? I was insulted at first, of course, but your actions did give me incentive to pursue you. I’ve always had these feelings for my little angel, and soon, you will too.”

In one swift motion, Monoma held both of your hands back with one of his, while the other pressed glass against your lips. Cold liquid was forced down your throat. Panicking, you swallowed, making Monoma grin and coo, “good girl.”

You coughed when he pulled the vial away from you. He hushed you and kissed your forehead. “Things will be better this way,” he whispered as your body began to shake. “You’ll see me just as I see you. We just have to wait a few minutes.”

Your head spun and it felt like your body was sinking into your bed. Your mind was clouding over and there was nothing you could do about Monoma’s wet, hot, hungry kisses across your body. But in a matter of minutes, just like he said, it wasn’t of any negative concern. Your head, along with your heart, was changing.

“Neito,” you sighed his name and leaned up against your bed.

Monoma placed a tender kiss on your stomach before looking up at you with the most dazzling and brilliant blue eyes. You lifted your hand out to him and he wove his fingers through yours.

“Is my angel ready to make good on her promise?” He asked. You nodded and he grinned, crawling up your bed to level his head with yours. “Then let’s start with one simple request,” he said before brushing his lips against yours.

“Tell me you love me.”

~

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