#apologies for the delay!!! I'm never sure when to post things

[outeremissary]

I hadn't shared (faux pas!!!)........... Tiny little Balthazar from @arrow90-art 🥺🥺🥺 He's so adorable and soft and this was such an unexpected and beautiful gift, thank you so much 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[allertonhoe]

unbridled love - rafe cameron

chapter 1

summary: You end up taking a trip out to OBX to attend your estranged brother, John B's, wedding. You also happen to meet someone while you're there that you just can't seem to shake. (post-s3, if s4 didn't happen—all canon same except rafe & sarah get back in touch sooner … and no sofia technically lol).

content warnings: john b's sister!reader, original afab!reader, obx!universe, use of petnames (sweetheart, baby), kissing, 18+ MDNI - smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of being under the influence/consumption of alcohol, totally unrealistic love at first sight plot lol, a little mix of angst and fluff for valentines day 🥰🥰🥰

length: 3.2k words

As excited as you were to be present to witness this milestone, you were nervous above anything else. You and John B had never been particularly close, the circumstances in which you'd met your half-brother not the most conventional either, but when has anything in your life been?

He'd reached out a couple of years ago, not having known he even existed prior to that point. The younger boy had been riddled with panic because your shared father had gone missing while on some sort of work excursion. That was the only other time you'd been in the Outer Banks.

You'd stayed with him for a few weeks, trying to get to know him and help him get some sort of balance in his life. The two of you finding out you weren't very alike despite being siblings, which ultimately resulted in you deciding to return home and letting him handle it all himself.

You only heard from him again months later, offering you an apology and an unbelievable story about his wild adventure looking for the same treasure that had once consumed your father. Having kept a distant but amicable relationship with him since then, which is why you were back on the island.

"I'm so glad you made it!" Sarah cheered as she ran up and engulfed you with a hug, your brother not far behind as you stepped off the ferry. "Now the wedding can officially start."

"I take it that you guys are ready for this?" You gush as they led you to the truck.

"Absolutely." Sarah proclaims, turning to your brother with a bright smile.

"Never been more sure about anything in my life." John B adds without delay, taking his bride-to-be's hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

As they drove you to your hotel, you watched the scenery pass through the window, becoming familiar with the small town once again. Catching up with the couple over mundane life stories, Sarah eventually changing the subject to gossip with you about final arrangements.

"I'm sure you're exhausted from travelling all day, and the weekend is pretty jam-packed, so we'll drop you off and let you chill tonight." Sarah explains. "Tomorrow, we're having a barbecue at the new Chateau for the wedding party, and then the rehearsal later on."

"Sounds good." you affirm, trying to absorb all the new information. "Is there anywhere around here for me to grab dinner?"

"The Wreck's nearby," John B suggests. "Kiara's parents own it. Food's pretty good."

"Did you want us to pick you up tomorrow morning?" Sarah extends graciously.

"I'm sure you have enough running around to do with final touches. I'll figure it out," you reassure them as they pulled up to an elegant hotel.

You thanked them again for picking you up from the dock, the couple helping you get your luggage from the van before finally bidding you goodbye and driving back off. Leaving you to enter the swanky lobby of one of the nicest resorts in Figure 8.

This was one of the things you didn't meet eye-to-eye with your brother on—having grown up in a much different tax bracket than he had. It was nothing close to the extravagance of the crowd that lived here, but the middle class was a life of luxury compared to what he experienced in The Cut.

By the time you'd checked in and gotten settled in your suite, you were starving. Looking up the place they'd told you about and deciding to walk over since it wasn't longer than a fifteen-minute journey. The trip there being much different than when you'd go to the bars at home, passing vast forests and being surrounded by the sounds of nature instead of honking horns.

The restaurant was bustling when you arrived, locals scattered around the beloved establishment as they kicked off their weekends. Spotting the bubbly brunette right as you wandered inside, assuming she was on the clock from the creased apron tied around her waist.

"Hey!" Kiara beamed as she came over, instantly recognizing you. "So good to see you! When did you get in?"

"A few hours ago."

"Came for a bite?" she correctly assumed. "Did you want a table, or did you just wanna sit at the bar? It's a lot less crowded over there."

"Whatever's easier for you guys," you tell her, blindly following as she took you into the busy area.

You sat at a long counter with rows of liquor bottles displayed behind it, assessing the array of options, impressed at the selection since it wasn't the busiest of towns. A bartender came to take your order, opting for a gin and tonic. When they brought it to you, however, a filled shot glass was also set alongside it.

"Oh, I didn't get this," you inform the employee.

"It's from him," they reply, nodding their head towards whoever they'd been referring to.

You prepared yourself to be confronted by some creepy old dude or dopey hick that you knew you'd need to outwardly turn down, but that wasn't how the culprit looked at all. If anything, there was a subtle familiarity about him even though you couldn't recall meeting him during your last visit. 

He was incredibly handsome and clearly ripped, despite the fact his arms were mostly hidden by the rolled up sleeves on his button-up shirt. Your brother had mentioned the deep-seated politics of the island—the distinct class divide—but there was no questioning that this guy was well-off. His style was preppy and clean, hair buzzed down and accentuating his sharp features even more.

Sending you a devilish smirk as he raised a shot identical to the one he sent to you like an indirect greeting, tossing it back with ease and swiftly meeting your gaze again. Immediately picking up that he had an edge to him, not missing how the other patrons had been giving him apprehensive looks as they passed by.

Your indifference didn't seem to discourage him at all as he sauntered your way about ten minutes later, his strong musk and overall presence hitting your senses and providing a different kind of intoxication. Not anticipating for him to tower over you like he did because of his large stature.

"Hey," he establishes, his voice more gruff than you'd expected. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

"Is it that obvious?" you quip back.

"Just know I would've remembered such a pretty face." He banters, scoffing at his cliché line even though it totally made you blush. "You here on vacation?"

"Something like that." You shrug, not wanting to expose too much to the unknown man, no matter how attractive he was.

"Yeah?" he notes curiously, taking a swig from his old fashioned. "Business or pleasure?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You avert, taking a sip from your own beverage, not having touched his initial offer yet.

"That is why I asked," he asserts, not making his interest in you a secret. "The least you could do is answer that for me. I did send over that shot."

"That I never asked you for, by the way." You flip back onto him, a little amused by his shameless flirting.

"Is it a crime to buy a beautiful girl a drink?" He grills, bringing his glass back to his lips, inadvertently glancing at them. Realizing he'd caught you when his cheeky grin grew even more. "Just trying to show some Southern hospitality, since you're from out of town and all."

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you finally took the small glass in your hand. Giving him one last pointed look as you knocked the tequila down your throat, feeling the alcohol burn through your body. You rested your elbows on the table, propping your face in your hands as you examined the cute stranger keeping you company.

"You're welcome," he teases lightly, inherently leaning closer.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, wiping off a drop that hadn't reached your mouth. A faint tingling erupting where his finger had barely caressed you. Popping it between his lips and sucking it suggestively, a dangerous glint sparkling in his gaze.

You were grateful when the server interrupted you, abruptly diverting the conversation and giving you the opportunity to order dinner like you'd originally gone there to do. You had no idea where this guy came from and why he was so infatuated with you, but you couldn't deny that you liked his unwavering attention. Even with his constant provoking.

"Two more, please," he sneaks in right at the last second, not letting you get any input.

This time, when the shots showed up, you decided not to stall. Rafe tapping his cup against yours before simultaneously tossing them back. The effects from your liquid courage giving you a surge of confidence in handling his magnetic charm.

"Got any more plans tonight?" He interrogates, still not letting up on his pursuit.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" You retort smartly.

"I doubt it." He remarks. Taking the opportunity to steal a french fry off your plate, tossing it in his mouth. "As a matter of fact, I have a feeling I might end up being involved."

"Oh yeah? Cocky much?" You sneer.

"You don't seem to mind," he observes, revealing you might not have been acting as sly as you thought. "Let me take you home," he deadpans out of seemingly nowhere. 

"Do you really think I'm just gonna leave the bar with a stranger in some random town I'm passing through?"

"Fine. I'm Rafe," he introduces smoothly. "Now we aren't strangers."

"Is this what you consider Southern hospitality?" you reference back to his earlier comment, getting a hearty laugh in return.

"Only the best, sweetheart," he persisted. "What do you say? It's getting late."

You pushed the remnants of your food around the plate as you contemplated your next move. On one hand, it's not like you'd never had a one-night stand, having dealt with your fair share of doting admirers. There was just something about this guy that you couldn't ignore, and you weren't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"Just for, like, a drink or something..." you concede begrudgingly.

"Yeah. For sure." he concurs, not hiding the pride in his expression.

He took you back to his place at his insistence, boasting about how he resided at one of the biggest properties on the island, something he was not shy about showing off. The previously chatty man letting a thick silence fall between you after that, making you grateful that the drive wasn't too lengthy. 

You lounged on the passenger side of his Range Rover as he raced through the unfamiliar neighbourhoods. One of his hands clutching the top of his steering wheel with his other arm stretched across the back of your seat, his thumb brushing against your shoulder every so often.

And even with his exaggerated description of the house, that was still an understatement. Turning onto the long path, a huge manor sat at the top, surrounded by extensive acres of land. The car rolling up the steep hill and taking up the otherwise empty driveway. 

You hadn't expected him to jog to your side of the vehicle and open your door for you, his hand finding your lower back as he led you towards the home. Taking you inside and into the equally impressive kitchen, the counter in the middle of the room finally giving you some space from all his poking and proding. 

"How the hell did you score this place?" you investigate as he grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, unable to hide your absolute awe for the lavish home.

"Uh... It was my dad's." he indicates somberly. "He left it to me when he died." he clarifies, tearing his focus from you for the first time that evening as he poured the whiskey.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry for asking." you apologize, although he didn't look particularly upset.

"Don't worry about it," he dismisses, feeling a discomfort rise as he poured out the gold-coloured liquid.

"Mine did too..." you disclose, not knowing how else to respond. "But we weren't super close."

"I get it." he acknowledges. "Didn't have the best relationship with mine."

"The house is a pretty sweet consolation," you ramble on. "And you live here, all by yourself?"

"Yeah..." he trails off, passing one of the half-filled cups to you.

His focus fell to the amber spirit, swirling it around as he contemplated how to proceed with your encounter. Sensing a palpable shift in his attitude after that. Not wanting to create any more awkward tension, you lifted the beverage in the air. Rafe following suit and clinking his against yours in ritual.

"To shitty, dead dads," you toast earnestly as Rafe brought the drink to his lips, choking slightly upon hearing your declaration. Noticing a sheepish grin appear through the crystal pattern on the glass as he went for another swig.

"So, what's your deal." he surveys, purposely changing the subject. 

"You really don't stop, huh?"

"Just making conversation. Unless you just wanted to get right down to it," he taunts.

"Is that how it usually goes for you?" you quiz.

"What do you think?" He throws back to you, not being subtle as his eyes dragged themselves down your body.

"I don't think I need to inflate your ego even more than it already is."

"You're acting like you don't want this as much as I do. You did agree to come back here with me, you know," he reminds playfully, raising his brow at you in challenge.

He topped up both of your cups, sauntering around the countertop so he was standing beside you again. Taking a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face and placing it behind your ear. An obvious move but still making your stomach flutter with butterflies.

You were already pretty tipsy leaving the restaurant, but the strong liquor quickly pushed you into drunk territory. Knowing your clouded mindset was due to all the alcohol but inwardly recognizing Rafe's effect on you wasn't just physical. Your head spinning just from the way he was staring at you.

"What?" you press, feeling vulnerable under his scrutiny. A bashful smile settling on Rafe's lips as he shook his head.

"I don't know... There's just something about you."

"Really, Rafe?" You sass, giggling at the vagueness of words. "How many girls have you used that line on?"

"You'd think more, but..." he falters, his brows furrowing in concentration. "Seriously, I have no idea. There's just something different about you."

He kept his hand on your chin, cradling your face upwards and cutting right to the chase. His other hand going to your waist, rubbing circles over the fabric of your shirt. His warm breath mixing with yours the closer he got, literally dangling what you wanted directly in front of you.

"Is this okay?" he whispered right as his lips ghosted yours, as if he was feeding you the question. Looking up at him wide-eyed, nodding because you couldn't form an answer at that point.

The kiss was initially slow and sensual, the two of you savoring the moment. A rush of heat passing through your body as he embraced you with a mix of caution and raw passion. Letting him maneuver you through the halls without breaking away from your kiss, both of you giggling drunkenly with every stumble or misstep.

He pinned you up against the wall, one of your legs instinctively lifting and wrapping itself around him. Leaning back on the hard surface for some sort of balance, your earlier skepticism having disappeared and turned into total hunger. Tasting the mix of booze on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth, Rafe swallowing every moan that escaped you.

"Jump," he instructs hoarsely, catching you without difficulty and carrying you up the grand staircase.

Once you hit his bedroom, all bets were off. Nudging him to lie back on his mattress, you straddled his waist as you continued making out. His hands grabbing your ass and prompting you to grind against him. Realizing in that moment that as easily as he'd gotten you to agree to come back here with him, he was unraveling twice as quick under your regard.

You gave him one last kiss, roaming further down his body, mirroring each other's fierce demeanor. Your fingers went to his waistband, removing his belt and undoing his pants, palming him over the fabric. Removing them with his boxers, you spat in your hand and started stroking him.

"Fuck," he groaned, mesmerized just at the sight of you.

You bent slightly forward, pouting your lips and dragging his glistening head against them, coating them with his precum. Finally taking him into your mouth and swirling your tongue around him. You hollowed out your cheeks to fit as much of him as you could, gagging lightly when he hit the back of your throat.

While you took your time getting used to his size, he wasn't as patient. Threading his fingers through your hair to gently guide you back and forth, craving some kind of relief. Grasping whatever you couldn't fit, letting him determine your rhythm. Your jaw feeling sore at his needy movements.

"Just like that, baby," he mutters, completely mesmerized by your skills.

You bobbed your head at his faint urging, his grip on your hair tightening as you swallowed around him. Pulling back to give yourself some air, focusing on his tip and spreading your saliva along his shaft. Watching his feral reactions through your lashes, unknowingly pushing him even more.

He started thrusting again when you could tell he was getting closer to his peak, his motions becoming frantic and desperate. With a few more pumps, his cum coated your throat, his head falling back as he reveled in the sensation. Looking absolutely blissed out as he rode out his high, brushing his fingers down the back of your head as you both caught your breath.

And it just picked up from there. It was explosive and fast and hot, neither of you making your desires a secret throughout the night. Rafe claiming dominance over you as if you'd known each other for years, picking up on your ticks and locating all your sweet spots without difficulty. Worshipping you and your body like it was the most magnificent thing he'd ever encountered.

You wanted to blame it on your intoxication, how enamored you felt over a man you'd only met hours ago and barely even spoke to properly. Boiling it down to pure lust, fundamentally knowing this was a one-time thing and that assuming otherwise was unrealistic.

When you finally heard his breathing still, indicating he'd fallen asleep, you decided to make your exit before you could be caught. Not wanting to deal with the post-hookup routine in the morning, especially when you'd have to spend the day with your brother, his fiancée, and their rowdy group of friends.

You knew the island wasn't huge, remembering how your brother was able to greet almost every person he'd pass by their first name. But you couldn't have guessed the predicament you'd just managed to accidentally get yourself into.

note: ahh i went so back and forth over actually posting this… love the concept but not super excited over what i actually wrote?? let me know if you guys like this, i probably will post the whole thing (it’s 4 parts!) just to get it all out lol but apologies in advance if there’s a bit of a delay 🙈 hope you guys like it!! always appreciate your support & msgs!! 💞💞

[donteattheappleshook]

Not Broken at All Chapter 18/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Oh hey! What's up everyone?

I know it's been a while (shocking) but it's Solstice today and the muse decided something needed to be posted for this fic in honour of the fairy orgies XD

This was written super fast and not really re-read because it's already 10pm so I'll probably edit it later but I'm giving it to you all now.

Happy Solstice and I hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

********

Part 18

“Doesn’t look so bad,” Will shrugs when they stand outside the mouth of the cave the next morning. Emma and Wendy roll their eyes at the same time. It does look that bad. For a place called Echo Cave she’d had expected something bigger, something louder. But all she can see as they approach is a narrow tunnel in the rockface, no sound escaping from within. So she jumps when Tiger Lily’s voice suddenly comes from within. 

“You’re late.”

“Apologies,” Killian nods. “The forest has changed a fair bit since I last made the journey - it took us longer than anticipated to find the path.” 

“You have a habit of doing that,” Tiger Lily scoffs. “Misinterpreting time.” 

The reply is so quick, and Killian’s sigh so exhausted, that Emma has to hold back a snort of laughter.

“We came as fast as we could.”

“Come then, let’s not delay any further. The others have gathered.” 

“Who are the others?” Emma asks Hook quietly as they follow.

“The eldest of those who were here before Pan. They were barely more than children when it happened, but They have some memory of how things were.” 

“I thought you said they’d forgotten all their magic.” 

“We did not forget,” Tiger Lily snaps from the entrance. Emma watches as the faint, gold dusting of magic that covers their skin, the only light in the otherwise pitch black cave shimmers and slides over their arm, cascading like water down through their fingers  that they trail along the  rocky wall, leaving flecks of sparking, gold dust in their wake.  “It was taken from us. Through slaughter and cruelty. When the children who were left behind grew enough to become a threat to Pan, we were forced to lock away what little we remembered or meet the same fate.” 

Every time she thinks it can’t get worse, it does. The massacre of Tiger Lily’s people and the destruction of their history, the torture and killing of the Lorelei, the horror of the murder of those boys on the beach. There’s no end it seems to Pan’s cruelty, to his thirst for blood. 

Emma reaches for the shimmering of light that remains along the wall, glittering and moving with the flow of the rough surface. It glows brighter beneath her touch and something swells from deep within her, rushing to meet it, warm and electrifying, before she yanks her hand back and stumbles the rest of the way though. 

The walk is long, this cave buried deep in darkness and stardust. She’s not sure she even hears it at first, a small whisper of a voice from far away, the words too quiet to make out, but repeating. As they continue along and a dim light starts to appear in the distance, they grow louder. It’s a child’s voice, rolling against the walls of the cave - wish I’d never come here… just want to go home. Just want to go home. Just want to go home….

She feels Killian’s hand on the small of her back and realizes she’s stopped walking. “It’s alright, love. It’s just an echo. The last secret that was shared here.” She still hesitates, not wanting to get any closer to the haunting voice. “Whoever they were, they’re not here anymore.”

“His name was Ruffio,” Will says, nearly as quiet as the first echo. “He’s been gone a long time.” He only meets her eye for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing as though he hadn’t said anything. She can’t blame him. She knows by now that nobody in Neverland ever goes home. “Come on - we’ve got secrets to spill.” 

The light ahead grows until finally they emerge into a massive cavern. The stone that surrounds them black onyx - gleaming faintly against the dust that covers the ceiling like a galaxy above them. The space feels boundless, endless like the darkness could go on forever and she’s reminded of their flight here, of the endless sea of stars they’d sailed in on. 

There are four people standing in the center of the chamber on a platform of the same black onyx, all of them with the same sharp, androgynous features as Tiger Lily, all with the same loose-fitting clothes and cropped hair, and all with that same shimmer of living magic glowing faintly in the dark. Tink stands with them, waiting. None of them are any older in appearance than herself, but she knows better by now than to judge age or power by appearance on this island. 

The Constant. 

They follow the rest of the way to the narrow, stone bridge that connects the ledge to the platform on which the others stand. When Emma takes a step to follow Tiger Lily onto the bridge, Killian puts an arm out, halting her in her tracks. Emma watches, heart in her throat as the bridge crumbles after Tiger Lily, stone falling away behind every step until they reach the end and there’s no bridge at all. 

“The Constant keep no secrets,” Killian explains. “The cave can’t compel anything from them. We, on the other hand…” 

“Of course they don’t.” No wonder they wanted to use this place. Easy to make others share their deepest darkest secrets when you’ve got none of your own to divulge and nothing to risk. “What about Tink?” she asks, nodding at the fifth person standing with the Constant.

“The fey have wings.” 

Right. “So how does this work?” 

“From what I remember, you step out onto the edge and call out your secret. If it’s truly your darkest, the cave will echo it back to you.”

“And then we get across?” 

“Aye, easy as that,” Killian attempts a smile, but it comes out as a wince. “I’ll go,” he offers though he looks like he’s dreading this as much as she is. She’s just thankful she doesn’t have to start.  He lets out another sigh, bracing himself and then, “I kissed Emma.” 

Fuck. Her heart drops into her stomach. He’s been a pirate for two hundred years - How the hell can his darkest secret have anything to do with her?

Will smirks. “Kissed? Is that what they’re calling it these days? And I think you’re forgetting that we were all there when she jumped you at Solstice.” His smirk deepens. “And when Emma came back all wet.” If Emma could reach him she’d smack him. 

“I literally walked in on you,” Wendy deadpans.

“I’m not talking about Solstice,” he sighs, not rising to the bait. “It was…” She knows when it was. We’ll keep each other safe, they’d promised. She doesn’t need everyone else to know though. Not when she’s not even sure what any of it meant or what it means now. “It doesn’t matter,” Killian shakes his head. “It was what the kiss - what all of it - exposed.” Fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. “My secret is… I never believed that I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah.” He breathes her name like a prayer and a wound. “To believe that I could find someone else.” His eyes lift to hers and it’s only by sheer force of will that she’s able to stop herself from taking a step back, from running away from the way he’s looking at her. Because she needs to hear this. They all do. If she wants to get across this fucking bridge, if she wants to talk to the fucking Constant, if she wants to get her son back - she needs to hear this secret as much as he needs to tell it. “That is, until I met you.”

She doesn’t know what to say or if she’s supposed to say something, can’t bring herself to look at Wendy or Will or look away from his eyes still burning into hers. And then before she even can do anything, Killian’s voice echoes through the cave, ‘until I met you’ called back to them like a ghost. A rumble follows as a section of the fallen bridge rises back from the depths below them, rock by rock, rebuilding itself. 

Killian lets out a humourless laugh. “So, who’d like to go next?” 

“I will.” Wendy stands with her shoulders straight, like she’s ready for a fight rather than a confession. Emma gets a sinking feeling in her stomach from the way she’s making herself look at Killian, with shame and guilt. He doesn’t look surprised - he looks like he expected this to hurt. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish you’d never found me. Sometimes I wish you had just kept on walking that day when Pan left me to die.” She winces. “I’ll always be grateful to you for saving my life, for taking me in but…” 

Killian nods when she hesitates, her eyes damp with unshed tears. “Go on, it’s alright.”  

“You trapped me here, Hook. You’re the reason I have to live in this neverending nightmare. Forever. You knew what that water would do to me and I know you couldn’t ask but… you didn’t give me a choice. And I think that if I had one now - if I could have had a say in the next hundred years of my life… I’d rather you’d just let me die because this -” she gestures at herself, at everything around them.  “It’s worse than death. And because of you I’ll never leave.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “I can’t even die if I want to. Not unless Pan decides that’s what he wants. You forced this life on me, Killian, you cursed me to live because it made you feel better and I don’t… I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Tears stain her cheeks now, jaw tight as she refuses to let any more follow and Emma can see the heartbreak on Killian’s face. “Wendy…” but she shakes her head and he stops the step he’d taken towards her. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes and he shakes his head this time. Her secret echoes around them like a taunt this time - ‘never forgive you for that’ - and another piece of the bridge rebuilds itself. The silence hangs between them, louder than any echo, until Will steps up. 

“I suppose I should go next - while we’re on the topic of never being forgiven.” He takes his own steadying breath. “I’m dying.” 

Wendy’s face falls. “... what?” It comes out cracked and small and frightened. “What do you mean you’re dying?”

The look Will gives her - there’s so much guilt there, so much pain and self-loathing and love. Emma may not know much about it but she can recognize it now in his eyes, in the way he looks at Wendy. “I lied when I told you I didn’t know what Pan did to my heart. I’ve seen him do it before.”

“One hundred years…”

Will nods, a self-deprecating smile falling flat. “I really hoped that I could keep it from you for a little longer. Neverland will slow it down but… he squeezed a hundred years from my heart. I’ll start aging faster - a lot faster - and pretty soon…”

“How long?” He hesitates a beat longer than Emma can handle - and Wendy… gods, she can’t imagine. “How long?”

“I’ll be dead in a few months - three, maybe four depending on how long I would have lived if I’d aged like a normal person but - I’m so sorry, Wen. I didn’t want to tell you, I -”

Whatever he was going to say and whatever she might have answered  is stolen by the cave calling back to them in Will’s voice, ‘dead in a few months’. Nobody looks as the bridge puts itself back together, all of them too focused on the cruel revelation. He did it for her, Emma realises, for all of them but… he’s dying because of her. Wendy’s losing him because of her. Even Killian looks solemn at the news. 

“Your turn, Emma,” Will chokes out with the palest attempt at levity she’s seen him manage since she met him. “Wouldn’t want to be left out of all the fun, would you?”

She looks out towards the chasm between them and the Constant. She doesn’t even know what she expected to confess, or what she’d hear confessed by those with her, and now, with the truth of Will’s fate hanging in the air, nothing feels like it matters in the grand scheme of things. 

What even is her deepest secret? That she gave up Henry? That she had her heart broken by a selfish man who used her and then left her? That she spent a year of her life in jail? That she’s spent her whole life searching for the parents who left her behind? That between Neal and her parents she doesn’t think she could ever trust someone again - could ever let herself love someone again, or let them love her… That she might be anyway? None of it feels like enough; none of it even feels like a secret anymore, not since Henry found her and brought her to Storybrooke. 

And then, like bile and sick, she feels something being forced up from her throat, words clawing their way to the surface and past her lips of their own volition. She can’t stop them. She doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until they come spilling out. 

“I wish Henry had never come to find me. I wish he’d never brought me to Storybrooke.” The confession leaves her gasping, tears in her eyes as though she had been sick. She wants to be, hearing such a horrible truth being spoken out loud. Killian looks at her with sympathy, but she turns away from it. And once it’s started, she can’t stop it. “I never wanted to be a mother. I gave him away because I knew he’d be better off without me - but also because I knew I’d be better off without him. He’s a beautiful, amazing kid and I love him more than anything… but I never asked for this. Every day since he showed up at my door I’ve been terrified - every minute of every day. Those few minutes in the Fae forest when I couldn’t remember him were the most peaceful I’ve felt in months and when it all came flooding back it just reminded me of how much simpler my life was before I had to be anything to anyone. I don’t want to lose him. But I never wanted to find him either.” 

The bridge rebuilds itself, completing the path across as the worst thing she’s ever said, ‘never wanted to find him’,  is echoed back to her cruelly. She feels drained, numb, and she wonders if the others are feeling this horrible emptiness too. She looks out at where the Constant wait. If this is their idea of having them prove their allegiance, they better be ready to give theirs in return.

“Come on, Swan,” Killian tells her, leading her across the bridge. None of them say a word, Will and Killian both casting glances at Wendy who won’t look up from her feet, and the silence follows them the whole way across. 

“That sounded rough,” Tink comments when they reach the platform, the five Constant talking in harsh whispers in a language she doesn’t recognize. 

“How lucky of you to have missed it then,” Will snips. He must be feeling worse than Emma realized.

There’s an argument starting, still in that foreign language, but she can tell just the same. Every few words there’s a glimpse of something that feels familiar, a syllable from another language she’s heard, a word that could be French or Spanish, a glimpse of English, not one language but many - like every language spoken at once.

“This meeting has been a topic of some controversy,” Killian whispers. “But I think Tiger Lily might be on our side.” 

“You can understand them?” 

He shrugs. “One picks up a few things after two centuries.”

There’s a small scoff from Tink. “Yeah, all that pillow talk was really educational.”

Killian ignores the quip. “They’re the keepers of the last of the forgotten history of the old Neverland.” He nods at each as he names them. “That’s Philodendron, Halcyon, Alder, Jacaranda, and you know Tiger Lily.

“Tiger Lily is one of them?” 

“Tiger Lily was the oldest Constant to survive the massacre. They were just shy of a century when Pan took over.”

“A century?”

“The Constant are eternal, love. A century is nothing.” 

The Constant have gone silent, a tense, begrudging conclusion to their argument that Emma can feel even if she doesn’t know the words. 

Finally, Tiger Lily speaks. “Tinkerbell tells us you wish to unearth the secrets of the island - secrets that were buried to keep us safe.”

“Secrets that could return the island to the way it once was if you ally with us against Pan,” Killian counters. 

“If our knowledge could have defeated the boy,” Alder interjects, “we would have done so a millenia ago when he first laid waste to this island.” 

“Maybe your knowledge alone couldn’t defeat him, but we have the Lorelei on our side, and the fae,” Wendy adds, gesturing at Tink. 

Alder scoffs. “You have one fairy. One who’s been without magic for almost five hundred years, who’s magic was corrupted by the very demon you seek to destroy. Our magic was born from the innocence and dreams of children, the purest light magic there is, and even it was snuffed out by Pan’s darkness. What chance have you with a weakened fairy and the duplicitous sirens?” 

“We have more than that,” Tink interjects, bitterness and insult obvious in the bite of her words. “We have her.” It takes Emma a moment to realize that she’s the one being gestured at and now every set of eyes is on her. 

“Me?” 

“Her?” Wendy frowns. 

“You can’t honestly tell me you haven’t noticed. She practically reeks of magic. It’s spilling out of every pore. I clocked it as soon as she got here.” 

“I don’t have magic.” The Constant continue to stare, questioning, doubting. “I don’t. Don’t you think if I did I’d have used it by now to get Henry back?” 

“Not if you weren’t aware of it, love,” Killian offers gently.

“Okay but I’m not some fairytale character; I’m from Boston - the land without magic. I don’t have any power.” 

“Oh for…” Tink swears under her breath, crossing the room and grabbing Emma’s wrist. Faster than she can stop her, the fairy pulls a small blade from the complicated twist of pins and leather that keeps her mass of blonde hair piled on top of her head, ivory handle embellished with gold runes, and slashes it across Emma’s palm. 

“Ow! What the hell!” Emma shouts, yanking her hand away. That fucking hurt. Tinkerbelle doesn’t resist, the rest of their small crew moving to intervene, but all at once, they freeze. Emma follows their gazes to her hand, clutched tightly in a fist to her chest and her breath catches. There’s light seeping through the cracks in her fingers, golden and swirling like smoke, shimmering like the magic that flows over the Constant’s skin. 

Jacaranda reaches a hand out to her, palm upturned in a request and Emma looks to the others before carefully placing her hand in theirs. Carefully, the Constant unfurls her fingers, examining the light that shines from her wound with a careful touch. Their eyes go wide. “This is our magic,” they say, voice soft and tinged with awe. “Ours and… something else.” 

“May I?” Philodendron asks, extending their own hand. Emma nods, even as the urge to refuse shouts at her. You don’t have magic. You’re not magic. You’re a goddamn bail bonds person from Boston, not a fairytale character. Philodendron looks at her after taking a moment to examine the wound themselves. “This is light magic,” they confirm. “It’s raw and untapped but powerful, more powerful than anything I’ve seen since before Pan’s time.” They twist her hand a bit, trying to look closer, to read something in whatever they see that Emma can’t. “But this isn’t born of belief and dreams as ours is, it's the product of something else… of -”

“True love,” Emma breathes out, so low she doesn’t mean for anyone to hear it. Henry had said that hadn’t he? That she was supposed to be the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming, that she was supposed to be the Saviour. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Philodendron nods slowly. “You were right, Tinkerbelle. This is more powerful magic than we anticipated.” 

“Can you use it?” Emma asks, still not believing it really, but if it means they’ll help her get her kid back, she doesn’t care what she has to do. 

“That depends,” Halcyon takes a step forward. “Can you wield it?” 

“No, I…” she doesn’t even know how this is possible. 

“I can.” They all turn to Tink, Emma cradling her hand to her chest once more. “If you tell me what we need to do, I can guide her. But you’ll have to let me.” The last bit is directed at her and she hesitates… Tink hasn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that she’s not a fan of hers, and she just slashed her damn hand open… Trust already isn’t her strong suit to begin with. “I’m not going to steal it,” Tink snaps and looks genuinely offended and Emma remembers that she knows what it is to have her power taken from her. 

“I know you won’t. I just… what if it doesn’t work?” How powerful could this magic be? She’s not anything special, she never has been. Why would this be any different? 

“Then I guess you don’t get your kid back.” 

“Tink,” Killian warns but Emma can’t help but appreciate the fairy’s bluntness. 

“What do we need to do?” 

“This cavern, ” TigerLily starts, taking a knee and placing a hand reverently on the stone, “used to be a sacred place. It held all of the secrets of Neverland, and the dreams of children who visited - the purest and most honest of truths of all - fueled the island as it did our magic. This was its source - the source of everything. 

“But then Pan tainted this cave with his twisted version of secrets as power, as something to be wielded, and forced us to sacrifice the last of the light magic that still breathed life into Neverland, the cavern shielded itself from his darkness. Now it echoes truths rather than accept ones taken maliciously. This place… has seen nothing but darkness for centuries. It has not been sleeping, but fighting, the last of the resistance against Pan right under his nose, keeping the darkness at bay and it has hardened. We need to remind it what the light looks like.” 

“It can have mine. Whatever this is. If it can help and if this place can defeat Pan it can have all of it.” 

Tiger Lily smiles kindly. “Not all of it. It would never snuff out your light. But even the slightest kindling can spark an inferno and with it you can breathe magic back into the island.” 

“How?” 

They nod to Tink who retrieves her knife again, slashing her own palm this time, the light that glows from her wound a shimmering green, and holds her hand out to Emma. Heat burns across her skin when she takes Tink’s offered hand, the light between them growing, shining and mixing. Tink places her other hand on Tiger Lily’s shoulder and the Constant flattens both their palms against the stone beneath them. After a moment, they look to Emma and she knows she’s doing it wrong. She’s not doing anything but she’s doing it wrong. 

“I’m sorry.”

Tiger Lily shakes their head, their smile not malicious, but understanding. 

“I have met so many lost boys and girls on this island. So many broken, hardened children lead here by fear and hurt and neglect, so afraid to trust, to love, to admit or even accept what they want, what they desire more than anything - what has been robbed of them. This place is born of dreams and truths and you, dear Swan, strong Swan, brave Swan… frightened Swan, have locked yourself away from both.” 

“But I already told this place my darkest secret.” But she doesn’t need Tiger Lily to tell her - this place echoes darkness, resists darkness. That secret was Pan’s magic - not Neverland’s. 

“What do you dream of, Emma? What truths do you keep from yourself?” Emma opens her mouth to speak but Tiger Lily holds up a hand. “Do not tell them to me. Tell them to the lost girl. Unburden her.” 

What does she dream of? Things she can’t have, things she’s never had, things that were taken away. She wants to find her parents, that’s no secret though, she’s always known that. She wants them to have never given her up in the first place. She wanted a family, the one she could have had with Henry and Neal if he hadn’t turned out to be the vile person he was, the life that she’d had just a glimpse of after one missed period, before everything went to shit. She doesn’t want that anymore. She hasn’t let herself want any of it since then, not love, not family, not hope… 

Her skin begins to warm, something flaring beneath the surface. Liar. She doesn’t know if it’s the cave or herself or her magic but it echoes through her like her secret against the walls. Tiger Lily accused her of locking herself away from her dreams, from her truths, but can they even still be truths if they’ve been silenced and stomped down for decades? 

She thinks of the lost girl she was, abandoned, a runaway on the street, burning the last of her childhood, of stupid fairytales and stories to keep warm in a world that was only ever cold. What had that girl wanted? Powerless, lost, alone. That girl who felt like nothing, who meant nothing to anyone, who had never mattered and never would, who had only herself to take care of her. She wanted to matter - to someone, to herself, she wanted people to matter to her, to be able to let them. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Even as she pushed away every foster parent, every friend, every lover as she grew older, she didn’t want - she doesn’t want - to have to do it alone. 

That’s what she dreams of, what she refuses to admit that she dreams of. That for all of her rightly earned distrust of everyone, for all of her caution and her fear of abandonment, of love and hope, she wants to be able to let them in, let them matter. She wants to believe that she could have that happily ever after that she’s scorned all her life. 

Images flash in her mind as the heat builds, her body tingling, a faint glimmer of light shining against her shut eyelids. Henry smiling in her doorway in Boston, Mary Margaret offering her a home, Killian bringing her to Neverland, Wendy helping her hide from Pan, Will sacrificing himself for her, Killian nearly sacrificing Milah’s name - sacrificing his memories, all of them banding together to help her save her kid, even Tink now, helping her to wield magic she doesn’t understand. 

She’s not alone. She’s not in this alone. For the first time in her life she has people she can count on. People she can trust. She thinks of the smile Henry gave her when she let him know she wasn’t going to leave Storybrooke even though she could, of Mary Margaret’s pep talks, of shared hot chocolate and drinks and advice in their apartment, of Killian in that dank brig after one of the worst hours of her life - perhaps I would - of his words whispered in the quiet darkness of his cabin - I’m here. You don’t have to ask - of his confession echoing around them - until I met you. She does matter to people. She’s not nothing. She was never nothing. She matters and she has people who matter to her. 

Her whole body alights, the blood in her veins not blood anymore but something else, something powerful and she can feel it surging beneath her skin, pulled by a force as it rushes through her and towards that opening in her palm. The white of her light overtakes the green and Tink’s body jerks like the surge of magic is as jarring to her as it is for Emma. Tiger Lily gasps, the ground beneath them starting to glow, tendrils of golden light snaking towards them across the stone like rivulets. Their body starts to shimmer, the dusting of gold shining brighter until their skin is swallowed by it completely. 

Emma can feel sweat beading on her skin, the salt mixing with the tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying. She doesn’t know how much longer she can keep this up, the power coursing through her overwhelming. Tink’s hand is shaking in hers, both their palms damp and slippery and white knuckled and she can’t imagine how much more effort the fairy is putting in as the one actually channeling all of this. 

“There’s so much,” Tiger Lily says in awe. “We’ve forgotten so much.” Their eyes are glowing with the same gold that covers their skin, their mouth pulling into a smile even as tears roll down their cheeks. 

“I can’t -” Tink starts, but doesn’t let Emma release her hand when she tries to stop.

There’s another moment, the light engulfing the Constant almost completely, so bright Emma has to look away, before finally, suddenly, it stops. The three of them slump against the ground with a gasp of exhaustion. Emma doesn’t even turn when she feels hands on her shoulders, helping her to sit up, she knows it’s him. Wendy is at Tink’s side helping to support her as well as the Constant circle around Tiger Lily, all of them holding one another in a moment that feels beautiful and private as joy and heartbreak play over their faces. 

“Can you. Stop him?” Tink pants out. 

“I… I think so. There’s just - there’s so much. I need time to sort through it all.” 

“We don’t. Have. Time.”

“All of the secrets of Neverland, millennia’s worth, have just been poured into my mind. It will take me more than a few minutes to understand it all and find what will help us.” 

“How much time?” Emma asks. Henry’s already been here too long - too long without knowing that she’s here, that she’s coming for him. 

“I don’t… give me a few nights at least. Come back in three days. That should give me time to make sense of what is needed at least.” Their eyes are far away, like they’re not seeing the cavern around them but something far bigger and far more extraordinary.  

Emma nods. “Three days?” 

“Three days. And then we’ll rid this island of its false king forever.”

***********

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[tinytinyblogs]

Hii!!!

I saw that your requests are open and I wanted to request something with yandere skz?

I really love your Chan and Minho one's!!

Feel free to ignore this if you want!!

Tutoring Session

Your gentle tutor appears to be growing increasingly agitated, signaling that there's more to be taught.

(Yandere theme) 1,1k words

A narrative drawn from inspiration found on Pinterest

Stray kids masterlist

💬Hey there, apologies for the delay. I've been having an incredibly exhausting month, and it's not quite over yet. However, I wanted to express my gratitude for your request. It's been a while since I've written, and you've given me a reason to start again. I'm aware it's not perfect, especially considering my current mental state, but I'm doing my best. I hope it meets your expectations.

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

The pen hitting the table echoed in a tense silence, stirring unease without clear cause... or perhaps there was. The idea of you being admired by many, with one confession and one secret admirer, left him contemplating: how many more should he weed out? Glancing at his watch, he counted each passing second, eagerly awaiting your arrival for the tutoring session. Once he catches sight of you, once he senses your presence, he swears he wants to keep you all to himself. He admits he's a bit crazy, but if it means having you, he's willing to do whatever it takes. He's always doing that, and don't forget how he made that guy scream in pain when he tried to flirt with you. During the tutoring session, his mind isn't on the lessons; instead, he's consumed with thoughts of how to make sure you stay with him.

He doesn't even entertain the idea of letting you go home afterward. He's meticulously watching your every move, knowing that every tiny detail drives him even crazier. If he releases you now, he'd consider it a loss in this game, wouldn't he? On your end, you might be oblivious to his schemes or perhaps you're in denial due to his innocent façade. As you pause, setting your pen down and sliding the paper over, he eagerly takes it, pretending to make corrections when he's really not. With his gaze fixed on the paper, he noticed your phone lighting up with text notifications from another guy. Jealousy gnawed at him, an unpleasant feeling. As he set the paper down and glanced at your distracted attention on the phone, he observed you for a few moments until you finally noticed. "Finished? Am I doing it right?" you asked, and he simply nodded in response.

As you gather your things, starting to feel a slight panic over him, Felix blocks your attempt to reach for your phone. His hand intercepts it, sliding it out of your reach. "It's not over yet," he asserts in his deep voice. "We could have completed learning those topics from the book, but there's still another matter we must attend to." You gaze at him with an apprehensive expression, noticing a certain aura of danger emanating from him, though you can't quite put your finger on it. "The thing is," he begins, pausing before continuing, "you and those around you seem too close." His eyes now fixate on yours, his demeanor shifting from the sweet tutor you once knew. "And I detest the notion that others believe they can lay claim to you... They could never even fathom such a thing. Why? Because you belong to me, whether you realize it or not."

Slowly withdraw your hand from your phone, feeling a creeping sense of unease. His presence looms larger, his demeanor more intimidating as he leans in closer, causing you to instinctively retreat, your back pressing against the couch, a memory of feeling trapped flickering through your mind. In his deep, resonant voice, he declared, "I could lose everything, but never you." His words, once admired, now sent shivers down your spine. "Oh God, not you," he continued he raises his voice, unleashing all the emotions he feels, causing you to flinch., his gaze piercing into your soul. "I won't allow you to slip away from my life, never." As he drew closer, you couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Is it time to push away and flee? He seemed far more menacing than you had ever imagined. Your hand continues to push him away, trembling with fear as panic surges through you.

His grip tightens harshly around your hand, overpowering your feeble attempts to break free. His eyes blaze with anger, as if seeing nothing but red. The fear of losing you completely consumes him, evident in every tense muscle of his body. "Do you even realize the lengths I've gone to just to have you here, under my arm?" His intense gaze pierces into your soul, rendering you unable to look away, trapped by his commanding presence. His firm hand confines you to the couch, while his deep voice resonates throughout the room. "I've done everything, absolutely everything for you." His voice grows increasingly fervent. "I've removed obstacles, shadowed your every move, earned your trust until you relied on me for even the most trivial matters, all for a sliver of your attention." After a moment, he exhales sharply, his breath gradually returning to a more steady rhythm, a hint of calm seeping into his demeanor.

Yet, he remains rooted in place, unwilling to retreat. "If you believe you can simply walk away to another man, think again," he asserts, his voice carrying a weight of warning. Pausing briefly, his hand glides to your cheek, tenderly stroking it, offering a semblance of affection that, instead of melting you, sends shivers down your spine. "You belong to me, and me alone," he declares adamantly. He refuses to entertain any alternative, steadfast in his conviction that you are destined solely for him. It's a truth he's ingrained in his mind, and he implores you to understand and accept it as well. His smile, once so angelic, now fails to evoke the same warmth it once did. Instead, it sends a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the unsettling truth beneath the façade. His loving gaze, once cherished, now fills you with a sense of dread, a realization of his true, unsettling nature.

"Did I startle you, my love?" he inquires with a voice dripping with sweetness, a stark contrast to the darkness lurking within. "Forgive me, but perhaps it's for the best that you see me for who I truly am," he continues, planting a kiss gently upon your forehead. "Because this is the reality you'll be facing for the rest of your days – your devoted tutor, boyfriend, or whatever role you choose to assign me." From today until who knows when, you find yourself uncertain about how long you'll remain under his control, consumed by his obsession. "The tutoring session isn't over yet, my darling," he remarks, forcefully moving your phone out of your reach, almost as if discarding it. "There's still so much more for me to teach you." His gaze returns to you, his favored individual in this world. "I'm going to educate you further on what it means to belong to me. Pay close attention, because in my world, there's no room for forgetting. Not when it comes to me," he asserts, his words cutting deep into your heart. "I won't allow you to forget a single thing about me, your beloved." He wore a smirk.

[dbnightingale24]

Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

A Follow Up 'Love Me Or Just Let Me Go'

~~

~~

Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but I got real fuckin' picky about certain things, because I'm ✨annoying✨ ANYWAY, this is just a snippet of what's to come, and I hope you all enjoy it! You all get heartbreaking smut, cause tomorrow is Valentine's Day!! 🙃🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Heartbreak, Arguing, Violence, Angst, Uhh...I think that's it for now.

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

“We need to get in and out of your apartment. Only grab what’s important,” he tells you softly as he turns on the car.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

That was the extent of the conversation you two had. 

You’ve never had such a quiet car ride with Jonathan, and you hate it. You hate this. Besides the fact that almost everyone you know and love has been attacked tonight, and you feel like it’s your fault, you also don’t know what the fuck to do about you and Jonathan. After everything that was said tonight, all of the tears and begging, he still can’t just fucking say it. You can’t help but grow tired of all of this shit. Yeah, it sucks that he feels like shit, but you’re not doing this to him.

He’s doing it to the both of you.

“Jonathan,” you sigh as he gets out of the car along with you, “I can go up on my-”

“You can get as far away from me as you want when we get home. For now, I’m coming up with you. I don’t want to argue anymore-”

“Fine, lets just get it over with,” you mutter, quickly making your way inside, Jonathan following behind you with a low groan as he sighs.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yeah well, this part isn’t on you. 

“Is there anything I shouldn’t bring?” you question, unlocking your door.

“You only need to bring-”

“Welcome home,” a man with a thick accent greets as soon as you open your door, his fist already traveling towards your face, but you duck just in time.

“I haven’t had a bad enough day?!” you growl, head butting the much larger man in the chest, forcing him inside. 

“I love a bitch who can fight,” the man laughs darkly, pushing you aside.

“Get out of my HOUSE!” you scream, picking up the vase of flowers Jonathan bought you hours ago and throwing them at the man, missing him by millimeters.

“This is barely a shoe box,” the man laughs, pulling out his revolver.

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” Jonathan growls, grabbing one of the bar stools and smashing the man over the back of his head with it. 

That has you freezing on the spot. You’ve never seen Jonathan’s violence, and you’re not sure how you feel about it now that you have.

“You break into her home,” Jonathan continues roughly, still beating the man with stool as it creaks and cracks, “try to hurt her, and then insult her home?! Where are your manners, Ivan?! HUH?!” he roars, slamming the wooden stool against the countertop, breaking off one of its legs. “Who else has been running around Gotham doing Boris’ dirty work?! Y/N’s Mom, her Uncle, her friends?! Who did it?!”

You glance over and see that the door is still open; you run to close it, knowing that it’s bound to get bloodier and more violent. 

“I asked you a fucking question!” Jonathan broods, hitting the man with the broken stool leg.

“Boris warned you,” the man coughs out while trying to fend off Jonathan, wildly flailing his arms as he rolls side to side on the floor like a broken metronome.

“And I warned Boris! The fuck ups you all make are on you! It’s not my fucking job to fix it! You go after someone I care about and you think there won’t be any fucking repercussions?! I warned all of you and now look!”

“Dr. Crane-”

“Dr. Crane isn’t in right now!” he snarls, striking the guy across the face again before tossing the the bloody stool leg aside. “Now, apologize to the woman.” The man spits out a tooth, groaning to himself.

“Boris just wants-”

“APOLOGIZE!” Jonathan roars.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man sobs at you.

“Good boy,” Jonathan praises as he pulls out his .45. “I think I’ll make you the first casualty in Boris’ army.”

“Dr. Crane-” his words feebly teeter from his bleeding mouth.

You cover your mouth as you yelp at the steely explosive bang from the gun shot and take a step back. This day is really taking a toll on you. 

He stands up straight, breathing heavy, before turning to look at you. His hair is wild, half of his face is splattered with blood. His eyes are still and wild. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you can’t help the arousal pooling between your legs at his feral state in the soft glow of the night.

“Pack while I run through his pockets,” he tells you after a moment, pushing back his messy hair.

“You should shower,” you tell him weakly, looking from him to Ivan’s lifeless body.

“Y/N-”

“You have clothes here. You walking out there covered in his blood is a bad look. You should shower and I’ll call the cops-”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it,” he interrupts, tone still authoritative as he tries to calm down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise,” you answer calmly as a soft tapping on your door has you jumping.

“Y/N? Are you okay dear?” your elderly neighbor, Miss Francine, asks softly, and a soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Are you okay? That’s laughable right now.

“I’m alright, Miss Francine. You need to get back to your room, it’s not safe in the hallway at this hour.”

“Do you need me to call someone? I’m not afraid of these thugs!” she says defiantly, and you laugh to yourself softly.

You love her so much.

“No no, I have someone here with me. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Alright dear. Good night,” she calls softly and you hear her footsteps retreating, soon followed by her door opening and closing.

“Pack,” Jonathan repeats sternly.

“Shower,” you tell him softly, giving Ivan’s dead body one last look before going into your room. 

You look around and you can’t decide where to begin. Your mind can’t and won’t slow down. You’ve just seen Jonathan murder someone, and he murdered that person for you. How the fuck is it easier for him to murder someone than fucking admitting that he loves someone? Even when he was beating the man to death, all he could say was, ‘someone I care about’.

Yeah, that’s the last thing you should be thinking about right now, but if there’s ever a time for an accidental ‘I love you’, that would be it. Damn, maybe there is a part of you that’s a self absorbed little shit, but you’re not about to feel ashamed about it. Not after all that’s happened tonight.

You hear the shower turn on, and your mind is instantly reminded of something else. 

No matter what he can or won’t say, he still killed someone. He killed them without hesitation and he did it for you. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe, and he had no thought for his self care at all. His only focus was you and keeping you safe.

Plus, truth be told, him looking so unhinged and wild? A total turn on for you that you weren’t expecting at all. 

No, none of this is ideal and you still don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do about the both of you, but you know that you’re lonely and in pain. There’s only one person you want right now, and he’s the last person you should want right now. 

God damn him for making you love him so damn much.

You slowly take off your dress and strapless bra, at war with yourself about whether or not you should go through with this, but the part of you that needs a release wins. Sure, you could have a drink or a smoke, but it won’t be enough. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be drinking till you’re numb in the face for the next few weeks anyways. No, it’s not the best solution, but you’re done trying to be smart and logical for the moment. You’ve been at war with yourself since all of this started, and you’re just so damn tired of thinking. 

You just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.

“Y/N, you should be...Y/N,” Jonathan trails off as you get in the shower with him.

“I can pack after,” you tell him softly, looking him over, fingers lightly tracing over his faded scars. “You didn’t have to attack that man-”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want-need to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he huffs, and you can hear him at war with himself.

Well, fuck it. If he isn’t gonna say it, you will. Again.

“I love you-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I love you, Jonathan. I don’t care if you don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t care if you don’t want me to say it. It’s a fucking fact. I love you and I’ve never loved anyone this much, and I know I never will again, no matter what happens. I am so painfully in love with you, Jonathan Crane. You may be afraid of your feelings, but I’m not afraid of mine,” you tell him without fear or trepidation in your heart.

If this is the end of the both of you, you may as well lay all your cards on the table. 

“Y/N...,” he sobs, looking away from you, and your heart breaks.

He truly is broken by all of this.

You gently grab his face and turn it towards you, “You tell me you care about me? Then show me. Show me just how much you care,” you beg softly, tears in your eyes. 

Just like that, he’s gone for you.

He’s crashing his lips into yours as he presses you against the wet shower tiles, your back squishing against it. It feels like Heaven. Moaning into the kiss, you grind yourself against him while his hands travel down your sides softly; almost as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Show me, Jonathan,” you breathe against his lips, begging him to give you a reason to fight for more. “Show me how much you care. Show me how much I mean to you.”

This time, he grips your thighs and hoists you up, no hesitation present as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he trails kisses down your neck, desperate to cover every inch of you in them.

“Dr. Crane,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as one of his hands starts massaging one of your breasts.

“No...please don’t...call me by my name, I need to hear you say it,” he cries shamefully.

At least you can believe it’s more than a filthy hook up now.

“Jonathan...Jonathan I need to feel you,” you pant, eyes clenching shut at the feel of his fingers kneading your nipple between his fingertips. “I need you!” “I don’t deserve you,” he groans, slowly sliding you down on him.

“Shit!” you cry, still not used to the way he so easily pulls you apart. 

“I’m so sorry,” he husks, slowly moving within you, kissing along your neck, “I ruined everything and I’m sorry!”

“Just wanna be with you right now. Tired...tired of thinking,” you moan, focusing your attention back on him, which was extremely hard since he kept- “OH MY GOD! That’s the...fuck! Right there, don’t stop!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels, his grip on you getting tighter as he helps you chase your release.

“I love you,” you sigh, feeling your core tightening.

“Y/N-”

“I love you,” you repeat, not relenting because of his guilt for his past.

It’s not like you ever meant to fall in love, or that you even wanted to you, but you did. For all your planning, and hoping for it to be a one time thing, it hasn’t panned out that way at all. 

“God, you’re clenching me so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he grunts, his movements becoming quicker as you dig your nails into his shoulders, “feels so good being inside of you...getting lost in you.”

“Fuck! Jonathan!”

“Never knew someone could ever love me like you do,” he continues with a breathless pant, changing his angle just a bit to hit that spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Never knew how much I needed to be loved by you!”

“Jonathan...I can’t...I can’t...oh shit!”

“C’mon baby! Give it to me! I wanna feel your love!”

“YES!” you cry out, your release washing over you as you tighten your legs around Jonathan for fear of falling if you don’t.

The bastard may have broken your heart, but he’s the closest you’ll ever get to Heaven.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly, tenderly stoking your face .

All you can do is nod.

“Do you need more?”

Once again, all you can do is nod. 

He’s quick to turn off the shower, keeping his hold on you tight as gets out of the shower. He walks you both to the bedroom, and your eyes land on Ivan’s dead body. God, of all the ways you thought this night was going to end, this wasn’t at all what you had in mind. 

“I want you on your back,” you tell him as he goes to lay you down.

You can tell that you’ve caught him off guard. He does what you want nonetheless, and lays back on the bed, looking at you with eyes that are filled with adoration and guilt. Usually you’re not on top unless he puts you up there. That’s rare because he likes hearing the screams that leave your mouth when he fucks you hard from behind, or watch as the euphoria overtakes you when he gives you an orgasm.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him slowly, your hips grinding against him, mouth slightly agape at the feel of the new angle and how deep he is.

“Touch me, Jonathan,” you beg pathetically, starting to pick up your pace once you’ve adjusted to him. “I want to feel you everywhere I can.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Jonathan, please. I just need you right now,” you practically sob.

There’s a dead man laying in your living room. Your best friend may never walk again. Someone tried to kill your Mother. Your ‘Uncle’ is laid up in the hospital and his wife has been killed. The man responsible for turning your life upside down in the best and worst ways during all this can’t even tell you that he loves you. 

If all you can have is temporary bliss that only he can provide, then you’ll take it and beg for him to show you the things he’s ashamed to show. Besides, who knows when you two will have each other like this again.

If ever.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your torso.

“You think so?” you question, your damp hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet your moans as he starts massaging your breasts.

No, having sex on your bed soaking wet probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping in it for a while.

“Fuck yeah...GOD!” he groans as you roll your hips against his.

“Shit!”

“Gotta have you on top of me more often,” he husks, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, “I love watching you take whatever you want from me. You can take whatever you need, baby. You can always take what you need from me,” he promises as he grips your ass.

“Oh fuck!”

“Bring yourself on my cock like the good girl you are, baby. I know you can fucking do it,” he encourages, licking his thumb before bringing it between the two of you, rubbing your most sensitive bud. 

“Jonathan!”

“I know you wanna cum for me, baby. I know you wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuuu-yes!”

“Cause you’re my good girl?” “Jonathan!”

“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re my good girl!”

“Fuck yes!” you cry out, lulling your head back as you squirt hard, floating out of your own body for just a moment. 

“My messy little princess,” he praises with a grunt.

In one swift move, you’re on your back and Jonathan is fucking into you relentlessly.

“Shit!”

“You’re always gonna be my girl, baby. I know I’m a mess right now, but I will fix this. I’ll make this right,” he promises, holding himself up as he cradles your face with the other hand.

Your eyes sting as you hold back tears at his words, because you honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. You don’t know what happens after all of this gets settled. 

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he pants as his movements become erratic, “but I need you. I need you so damn much, baby!”

“Too...it’s too much,” you sob as you feel that knot in your core tighten.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” he begs breathlessly, his grip on neck getting tighter.

“JONATHAN!” you scream out, tears spilling over from the pleasure coursing through your body and the pain in your heart as you squirt hard. One hand grips him and the other grips the bed sheets.

“My perfect princess,” he groans as he spills inside of you, his hand almost giving out.

As he rides out both of your highs, the room is filled with nothing but your silent sobs and heavy breathing between the both of you. 

Not a word is said as he pulls out and you both start to get dressed. He’s first to exit as soon as he’s dressed, and you can only assume that he instantly goes to search through Ivan’s pockets. You take your time packing up what you deem necessary. You grab all of your photos, wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of your...whatever with Jonathan. You pack up your laptop, Mr. Fin, the hideous ash tray Jonathan got you in Hawaii, a few books, some comfort clothes, and basic hair supplies. You give your room a once over, fighting back more tears, before making your way out to see Jonathan sitting at the kitchen island and drinking bourbon.

“Do you have everything?” he asks, not even looking in your direction as he swirls his drink around in the glass.

“Just have to grab makeup and hair products out of-”

“I can buy you more. It’s not important.”

“Then yes, I guess I have everything,” you snap, voice edging between anger and bitterness. “Do you have everything.” “Everything that I need,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before putting it in the sink. “Lets go.”

You’re quick to grab the photo of your birthday party by the door on your way out, and shut the door behind you, walking past Jonathan in an attempt to get the elevator as fast as you can.

Your mind is racing and you just wanna lay down.

The entire elevator ride down, Jonathan is tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s mad at himself. You know that he thinks he revealed too much of himself to you, and that makes you even madder at him. He’s already broken your heart, what the hell does he think will happen if he’s actually sweet to you during intimacy? That you’ll go off and tell everyone in Gotham that he does, in fact, have a soul and a good heart?

It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

The second you two are back inside his house, you’re grabbing the things you left on the floor earlier, and racing up the steps. You’re more than happy to stay locked away in a room, but the only issue is that you don’t know any other room besides Jonathan’s.

“Just take my room,” he encourages softly as he makes his way up the steps. 

“I can stay in another-”

“None of the other rooms have been slept in, in years. My room is the only room ready, and the only one I feel comfortable having you in.”

“I don’t want to be around you.”

“Lucky for you, I won’t be sleeping much.”

“When you do-”

“I know my house better than you. I’ll stay far away from you, just take my damn room,” he instructs before turning and racing back down the steps and disappearing around a corner. 

You stick your tongue out in the direction he went before turning and making your way into his room, closing the door behind you. As you drop your bags, you look around and let out a deep breath.

Welcome to your new life for the next few weeks.

~~

[softxsuki]

Hello, I have an urgent request, could I request head cannons for Baji and Hakkai and how they would comfort/ help their s/o with anorexia? But like, they never noticed since their s/o is always wearing baggy clothes, but one day they collapse and then the boys go to pick them up to help them and realize how thin they are.

My mental health has been really down recently and your blog has brought me so much comfort, keep up the good work :)

Baji, Hakkai, and Mitsuya (Separate) with Anorexic Reader

Pairings: Baji x Gn!Reader, Hakkai x GN!Reader, Mitsuya x Gn!Reader

Warnings: mentions of anorexia, being thinner than usual, mentions of potential death in mitsuya's (very brief), pretty sure I accidentally used a comma instead of a period somewhere in here, but I'm too tired to look for it :0

Genre: Comfort

Post-Type: Headcanons

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: In which you collapse and upon helping you up, they discover how thin you've become and address the issue of your anorexia

[A/N: Hi hun! I was supposed to write this yesterday, but I woke up not feeling too great, so sorry for the delay. I'm so happy to hear that my blog has brought you some comfort <3 I hope these headcanons are useful to you as well then <3 Take care! ]

Baji:

You were spending the day with Baji at his place

It was pretty easy hiding your anorexia from him–he never pushed you to eat at his place, having already told you that you can just take food if you want it from his kitchen

He was always too caught up in the moment of spending time with you to realize that you never ate while with him

So when you suddenly collapsed after standing up from the couch, he was very shocked, and worried

He’s by your side in a second wrapping his arms around your waist to hoist you up, but what he feels makes him pause

Expect him to be very blunt, he’s not going to sugar coat his way around asking you upfront why you’re so thin

And he doesn’t have the patience to hear you try and weave your way around excuses–you weren’t like that before

Is this why you haven't been so touchy with him lately? You used to love cuddling up to him, but lately you had been pushing him away

He didn’t really think anything of it at the time though; gosh he was so stupid

He picks you up with ease and traps you on his lap as he sits back on the couch, refusing to let you go until you’re honest with him

Doesn’t care if you’re upset with him afterwards, he needs to know so he can help

After everything is said and done though, he’d apologize for being so rough about things

You’re very important to him, and he doesn’t want you to struggle in any way, especially not right under his nose when he could have been helping you the whole time

You’re definitely not getting off easy though, he’s keeping a close eye on you this time, and will try and make sure you at least eat something whenever you’re with him

He’d do whatever he can to make sure you feel better again–tells you that you don’t have to starve yourself

Reminds you of how perfect you are in his eyes, and how badly he wants you to be healthy again

Overall, he is very passionate and a bit aggressive at his approach to help you out, but he’ll soften if you ever crack under the pressure and apologizes for being too tough on you

Just tell him your boundaries very clearly and he’d do his best to not cross them

Hakkai: 

You were walking hand in hand with Hakkai back home when you suddenly collapsed, causing Hakkai to freak out

Reaching down to help you up, he could feel how thin your arms were

He tries to wipe the shock off his face though, not wanting to alarm you or make you think that he was judging you or anything–because he wasn’t, he’s just…worried

After reassuring him that you’re okay and just felt dizzy for a moment, he plays along and continues to walk by your side, your hand still held in is

He’s not fully there though as you try to talk to him for the rest of the walk

Truth be told, he was trying to figure out how he wanted to address what he had discovered; would it be rude if he just asked you outright? What if you got self-conscious and closed off from him? What if you scolded him for pointing out when he should have just kept the discovery to himself? He was just over-thinking at this point

So when you finally arrive at your place and kiss him goodbye, getting ready to let go of his hand and walk into your home, his grip on your hand doesn’t loosen

“What’s going on?” He asks nervously, hesitant that you’d take his words the wrong way, but knowing he needed to address it nonetheless

If you do brush him off though, he definitely wouldn’t have the guts to reiterate what he means, so he’d try again another day, but he’d be keeping a closer eye on you

He loves you so much and he’s scared he’ll say the wrong thing and potentially lose you one day, so he’s extremely cautious

However, if he does notice you getting thinner and thinner before his eyes, he would find the courage to go to you about it

He just wants to help you and love you–he wants a long future together with you where you’re both healthy and happy! So he’ll definitely make sure that happens.

Tell him what he needs to do to help, and he’ll do it 

Mitsuya:

You were jumping onto Mitsuya’s motorcycle behind him, when the world started to spin, making you stumble a bit, almost falling off the bike had Mitsuya not caught you

He felt it, how thin you had become, but it wasn’t news to him–he had already noticed your face getting thinner and thinner each time he met up with you, but he couldn’t sit by and help from the sidelines anymore, he needed to be more bold with his approach

“You’ll be riding up here from now on until you start taking better care of yourself, darling,” he whispers in your ear as he sits you in front of him, making sure your helmet is on securely before racing off with you leaning against his chest

You knew he had found out–but you didn’t know that he had already known for a long time–as observant as he was, Mitsuya was a gentleman and he didn’t want to address it at first in fear that it would make you self-conscious

His lousy attempts at helping you subtlety weren’t working so he needed to do more–and that started now

The rest of the ride is silent (ofc, you’re not gonna try and scream over the motorcycles’ engine lol) but as soon as he stops at your destination, he keeps you trapped in his arms

“Look, I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself, and I won’t pry for an answer if you’re not ready to give one, But something has to change. I can’t sit back and watch you slowly kill yourself. I love you too much to see you harm yourself like this, so please…tell me what I can do for you and I’ll do it.”

With having two sisters, he’s used to being the person people rely on, and you feeling like you couldn’t do that, hurt him, but he needed you to know that he was here to help and even after knowing what he knows, he still loves you and will continue to love you through it all

That’s the only time he’d bring it up though. He keeps a close eye on you and makes sure you’re eating well balanced meals, even if it isn’t a lot. But he won’t speak of it ever again until you bring it up first

When you’re ready to take the step to seek professional help as well, he’s right there by your side the whole way

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

[youhavetosmile]

Karedevil (Taylor's Version)

Thanks @kdheaven for the prompt! Apologies for the delay.

The most Karedevil song on each Taylor Swift album, with rationales, according to me:

Debut: Tied Together With A Smile

I think this song encapsulates how both Matt and Karen present the image to others that they have their sh*t together, but on the inside they're really hurting. The second verse really gets me: "I guess it's true that love was all you wanted / 'Cause you're giving it away like it's extra change / Hoping it will end up in his pocket / But he leaves you out like a penny in the rain / Oh, 'cause it's not his price to pay." You can think of Matt's relationship with Stick and Karen's relationship with her dad this way. I like to think that by the end of the show they each have a more real vision of the other.

Fearless: Come In With The Rain

This feels very post-Defenders/early Season 3 from Karen's POV. At that point, everyone but Karen thinks Matt is dead. She doesn't get any proof of this until several episodes into S3, but she always has that hope. She's also dealing with a lot of complicated emotions toward Matt - she still loves him (obv) but she's also really mad at him and grieving the fact that he's not around. I'm sure even Karen questioned whether Matt was still alive at some point. I can see her going to bed with her window open just in case.

Speak Now: I Can See You

I love @kdheaven's pick of "Sparks Fly" but this one is so spot-on in my mind. I love the irony of the title because Matt is blind but he can "see" Karen in a way no one else can. "And we kept everything professional / But something's changed, it's something I like" fits them, as well as "I can see you being my addiction / You can see me as a secret mission / Hide away and I will stop behaving myself." I love this one for them!

Red: Forever Winter

I think this song is a great musical representation of S3 Karedevil. The facades have fallen and they've gotten to see each other's self-destructive tendencies and said "I love you even at your darkest / And please don't go." "He seems fine most of the time, forcing smiles and never minds" is an apt description of Matt.

1989: You Are In Love

Again, love @kdheaven's pick of "This Love." But the chorus is what really does it for me: "You can hear it in the silence / You can feel it on the way home / You can see it with the lights out / You're in love, true love." 'Nuff said.

reputation: New Year's Day

To me, this song represents Matt and Karen's commitment to support each other, no matter what. Again, all the cards are on the table, and they're still willing to show up for each other, "When you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away...When it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes." The second verse seems particularly applicable as a message from Karen to Matt: "I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe / Or if you strike out and you're crawling home." Daredevil is morally gray, and I'm sure lots of people have lots of different opinions about him. But Karen has always stood by him. Also, New Year's Day is a day typically associated with New York here in the U.S.

Lover: Cruel Summer

This entire song screams Karedevil to me. I think it's particularly applicable to their early relationship, when they're still figuring each other out. There's a lot of feelings there, but it's fragile because it's new and they're hiding so much. "Breakable heaven" indeed. And then there's "He looks up grinning like a devil." ;)

folklore: peace

I'm 100% with @kdheaven on this one. The only thing I can say that they didn't already is that Matt and Karen both have chaos in their souls. This song is basically them saying "Here I am. This is me. Is this enough?" I also really love the "sit with you in the trenches" line for them. They're both willing to get their hands dirty for each other.

evermore: willow

I think this song follows the arc of their relationship really well. The first verse makes me think of their first meeting, when Karen is "rough on the surface" because of the charges leveled against her but Matt "cut through like a knife" and believed she didn't do it when no one else did.

The second verse coincides with when they start dating. They're idolizing each other, seeing each other as "a mythical thing." "Head on the pillow, I can feel you sneaking in" always gives me the image of Matt coming home after a long night of Daredeviling and crawling into bed next to Karen.

Then the last verse: they know the truth and have shown each other "the places where the others gave you scars." I also love the legal references throughout the song: "open-shut case" and "every bait-and-switch was a work of art." I can imagine Karen sitting in the gallery of a courtroom with a huge smile on her face as she watches Matt absolutely kill it.

Midnights: Karma

"Karma is my boyfriend" propels this song to the top of the list. Is there a more fitting description of Matt from Karen's POV? I will die on the hill that Karen was never mad at Matt for being Daredevil. She's always been a fan, even before she knew who Daredevil really was. And after that, her issue was that he didn't tell her. She's always been and, in my opinion, will continue to be proud of him and what he does on both sides of the law.

TTPD: The Albatross

In an effort to not end this post on a super sad note, I'm picking this song (though MBOBHFT is, unfortunately, also fitting). This one has a similar vibe to "peace," though I see this one a little more from Matt's POV than Karen's. Stick taught Matt that relationships are dangerous--for him and for the other person. So he tries to keep everyone at arm's length. Karen ignores all of that. She still loves him, even though she knows who Matt is and that being associated with him is potentially dangerous for her. I hear Matt in the lines "The devil that you know / Looks now more like an angel / I'm the life you chose / And all this terrible danger."

Thanks again to @kdheaven for the opportunity to combine my two obsessions!

[dwimmerlaiks]

hello! good evening! my train was delayed and then I missed my connecting tram and while waiting for the latter I had one of those moments where I felt queasy just because I was so tired. then when I finally arrived at home I had some pistaccios and rosehip tea and went straight to bed. "pistaccios and rosehip tea" sounds so fancy now when in reality it was me standing at the kitchen counter working my way through the first snack I could find and the only thing that would count as a "fun beverage" I had available.

Pistaccios (the roasted, salted kind) are also so nice to snack on because of the haptics. it's like a little project, every single one. gourmet stim tools, maybe.

also, I am nearing the end of my train book (the book I read on the train). I've been reading to kill a mockingbird, I've never read it before. I think for many US-americans it's one of those standard high school reads, yeah? the type you feel some ambivalence towards maybe because you've spent some of your formative years overanalyizing it in a school setting? Or maybe not - I think that's what I heard. It wasn't for me, not being from the US, and the year I went to High School in Maine as an exchange we read Beowulf lol. Oh and!!! Macbeth. I haven't reread either since and don't remember much now. Beowulf was DENSE, for me, tough to read. That year though I was deep in my "russian literature" phase (this sounds ridiculous but to explain I was 17 and tragically in love with my friend, she talked a lot about the books she read.. which naturally became the books I read lol) and that's why I once held a 40 minute presentation about anna karenina in front of my highschool class which I would like to apologize for now to everyone involved. that was probably NOT EASY to have to experience. again, 17, gay, pretentious... my environment had to go through it. but you know, the books I read during that time were a real gift and opened worlds to me. so yay.

Maybe let's take a moment to be thankful to our 17 year old gay pretentious, obsessive selves for opening up worlds, whatever they might have been.

ok weird direction for this post to go in. anyway, trainbooks. I'm glad I read this one (to kill a mockingbird), it offered a lot to me. Next up is handmaid's tale which I also haven't read yet (obviously). am a bit anxious about it.

during summer I read dracula, finally. I'm a little sad I missed the first dracula daily run when everyone was reading it, I'm sure it was fun. but it was fun also to just read it by myself. I've watched and read sooo much vampire media and literature and then to read this finally was... so odd. I kept thinking, wow, actually - this is much more scooby doo in genre. It's like ... much closer to buffy the vampire slayer than like, nosferatu (the new one) lol. anyway that's what stood out to me, just some twenty-somethings forming connections and experiencing life and solving crime!! the vampire bits was just set dressing. (I know that's a simplification but that's the vibe I got and what I enjoyed the most! also why nosferatu (new) was such a let down for me personally. ergh). also van helsing was so. annoying. sorry but can anyone back me up? I started sighing out loud when he started talking hahha. like pleeeease can you hurry up. can you keep it a little shorter. the point, can you get to it!

oh this post is so long now, again. I can't believe I just told van helsing to zip it. I go on and on just like he does!

ok good night! I'm going to doodle and watch youtube and fall asleep.

[cirrus-grey]

Hello! I'm the person who asked you about episode 169, thank you so much for replying! I especially loved hearing your opinion about Jon's paranoia, and how he's probably still recovering from it, because it never crossed my mind that it might still be relevant to this situation - but you're totally right!

He genuinely doesn’t realize that Martin might want to find another way to go until he asks (“You’re sure there isn’t another way?”) and then literally the first thing Jon says is “I’m sorry,” because it doesn’t hit him until that moment that he’s just assumed Martin’s willingness the entire way without asking him. - you said this and later part of the conversation was probably what people had the most divided opinions on, and I can see why.

Though I don't think I read Jon's "I'm sorry" as apology, but more as sympathising? Kind of like:

"Well, it’s the best I can do!" - Jon, still under the impression Martin will be glad to see Jude killed

"You’re sure there isn’t another way?" - Jon says nothing to this, so I thought this was the first moment when he thought something might be wrong and didn't know how to answer. But then Martin says, "Yeah, I know, the journey will be the journey, blah blah ominous blah."

Now, after your reply, I think Jon takes it as "burning building doesn't sound good, but obviously any other choice will be just as bad, so it's fine", but the first time I listened it sounded like Martin was saying "yeah, I know we have to go through certain places", and that's why I was so surprised Jon didn't correct that misconception. But looking at the next lines, I think he only understood that Martin was thinking they have to go through after Martin's next words. His "I'm sorry" now feels like sympathising that they have to do something unpleasant either way - I kind of can't imagine he'd be so cagey about there being another way if he understood how distressed Martin really was.

"It’s fine. I know you wouldn’t take me through if we didn’t actually need to go through, so…" - it seems like this is when Jon realises he and Martin have been having two different conversations, though he has not yet realised that Martin really doesn't want to go. It's clear from some of the next parts of the conversation he already sees that Martin is conflicted, and that knowing there is another way is making him reconsider things ("You said you were onboard." / "I was! I am. I just thought-" / "It wouldn't hurt?"), but he still doesn't understand just how much.

"John, is there another way?" / "I mean – sort of? Maybe?" - I wonder if this just residual caginess resulting from having to have a difficult conversation and knowing he'll have to admit some difficult things, or if he genuinely didn't look at other options before. Since he took a hard turn after the roots, I'm thinking the former, but. who knows?

Sorry if this is too much dissecting for you, I just had so many thoughts after you replied, but I don't want to overwhelm you so please let me know if you're not up to this! And thank you again for replying to my previous ask!

Previous post here.

I always appreciate extra analysis! I don’t have much to add though, because… yeah! You make a very good point, and I could definitely see this being the arc of Jon’s perception - slightly delayed from what I was saying before, taking just a bit longer to catch on to the fact that Martin thinks this is the only way through.

Though, on a slight tangent, I’ve never really been certain that they can go around? Jon’s “Sort of, maybe” combined with the fact that they bring up Arthur Nolan has always had me suspecting that the “other way” is still through fire, just… not Jude Perry’s section of the fire. They have to pass through the Desolation at some point, and I’d imagine there aren’t too many sections of it that aren’t burning.

Anyway, that doesn’t really effect any of the analysis here, but it could be another level of Jon’s hesitance - he really doesn’t want to have to tell Martin “yes, there is another way, but it’s also on fire.”

[coldercreation]

(Anon from before)

Your work was actually my first dip into original stuff on ao3, I was a purely fandom person before and was so nervous to read original work because I was scared it would be the most freaky shit to exist. But LINK set the bar in the sky and I’ve never found anything better, and honestly I sometimes replace other book characters with one of the boys just to make them more enjoyable for myself 💀 (sorry other authors 😬)

You write so thoughtfully, even the sexual content feels like it has purpose; and lemme tell you, I cried reading Nathan’s inner monologue when it came to intimacy ✋ just the thought that someone showing such easy love was so INSANE for Nathan really just hit me hard. I don’t even know how to articulate how much I adore your work. If I could, I would show you my heart and how full it is even just from reading the snippets.

Anyways sorry, I’ll start rambling for real if I don’t stop now. I LOVE EVERYTHING YOU DO, no pressure to write, just keep being you 💜💜

Reading this means so much, you have no idea<3 Seriously, thank you for taking the time to message again and share this.

It often takes me forever to catch up with my ask box, so apologies for this being delayed! I always read and re-read any messages I get, even if I don't have the time to respond right away (or I don't post them on the blog as they include prompts; they go in my well loved prompts document). I have read this one (along with others<3) every now and then when I've needed some motivation or just wanted to get an extra lil !!! for the day heheh!

I'm so glad you've liked LINK, and that they weren't any bad kinda freaky shit hahah! It's actually really nice to hear that bit about how you've felt like there's purpose to the writing, even for the more spicy chapters in the series. Nothing wrong with just purely physically sexual content, there's room for that too I'm sure, but generally I like to have the emotional side in there as a leading 'main plot'. Writing/reading anything just makes sense to me more that way, and if that emotional intimacy and feelings are missing from something I'm reading, it can leave me feeling a bit cold and distant from the characters? (Maybe that's why I struggle with reading/watching a lot of pure action lol? I need my feels!)

CYE is pretty much my love letter to all Nathan's in the world, who deserve the best, from themselves and from the people around them<3

I'm so happy he and CYE have made you feel good things xx

[pebblysand]

Are you working on any new projects that you feel like sharing with us

Love castles and you

Never gonna give you up never gonna turn around and dessert u

hey anon! apologies for the delay here. this is a very sweet anon that made me smile when i got it, so thank you ❤️.

regarding your question though... i suppose: not really? i don't know. it's complicated. to be fully transparent, i've not written a word since the end of castles. i know that for you it might feel like a long time because objectively, it has been five weeks, but for me, i just haven't had that much downtime since then. i spent almost four weeks in france post-publication, most of which were holidays where i wasn't working (at my IRL job, i mean). this was so peaceful and restful and nice but also so outside my usual routine that i didn't have much time to think about writing (or to really let the end of castles sink in, for that matter). i wrote 23 in about a month, and 24 over a weekend, so looking back, it all feels like one big feverish dream i haven't really had time to digest, yet. i came back to ireland just over two weeks ago and i don't know, i guess i've been... crashing - a bit? 😬

it's not bad. like, trust me, you don't need to worry about me - i'm alright. i've been distracting myself with going to london a couple weekends and have loads of other trips planned between now and christmas, which i am very much looking forward to and should keep me busy. i've been doing a lot of podcast-y things, i'm getting reacquainted with my friends who i've sadly neglected for far too long (hopefully they don't hate me too much, haha), and with life in general (i've been going running more consistently, i've done embroidery - lol 😅 - i'm thinking about signing up for pottery classes - the works, you know).

if i'm honest, on a deeper level though, i've been finding that i'm not quite sure what to do with all the time that is now on my hands. my anxiety skyrocketed early last week, which i know is just my brain slowly readapting to this new, post-castles normal, but which still very much sucked. i am worried about my dog's health and my mum's health, and loneliness in my thirties. i'm worried about my plans for next year, i am worried about whether i'll be capable of writing original fiction, and i am worried that now that castles is finished and that the post-completion around it has stopped, everyone will forget about me and no one will read my works anymore. again, 🙄 ugh.

having said that, here are my plans for the short, medium, and long term:

SHORT TERM (BETWEEN NOW AND DECEMBER)

i don't want to start any "big" project between now and december, tbh. i need to sit and breathe and recharge (see above). i could however ever see myself doing one or two short-ish things (under 10k), that i could get done over a weekend or something. in that list are:

the aoife one-shot (follow-up to the fault in faulty manufacturing) (likelihood: 90% - i've been meaning to write this for age, it haunts me. my only issue is that i'd love to write it for paddy's day but since the beginning of the year will probably be busy with other things - see below - it might be my winter project)

maybe a fic about pansy parkinson's side of the amycus story, possibly tying into chapter 22. (likelihood: 50% - i literally just had the idea for this this afternoon but i kind of like it. i've been fascinated with the concept of pansy parkinson lately, so we'll see.)

for reasons that i don't want to explain yet, i'll probably need to have a really good 3,500 words original fiction story written by march 2025. i should probably get started on it this autumn. (likelihood: 35% - i know me and i will probably be procrastinating this as much as i can because it's not "fun" and feels like a chore)

MEDIUM TERM (JANUARY TO SEPTEMBER)

there's literally an endless list of stories i'd like to write. some of them might be written next year, some of them might never get done. the current list includes:

HP Harry/Ginny Muggle College AU (likelihood: 20% - i love the idea of it but idk about the execution)

HP Harry/Ginny FWB AU (likelihood: 40% - this one i'm more interested in. could be a sort of AU of castles but could also stand alone)

Peaky Blinders Ada Character Piece (likelihood: 70% - i need to rewatch the show, but i really like that one. i already have a few paragraphs of this i'd written somewhere)

Peaky Blinders May Character Piece (likelihood: 60% - same as above, i also have it already started somewhere. i do feel like i'm more interested in Ada than i am in May right now, but we'll see)

The Good Wife Will Character Piece (likelihood: 60% - i've been meaning to write this for, like, 10 years. i just need to brave a full rewatch which, ugh)

HP Malfoy Character Piece (likelihood: 25% - idk. same as the college AU. i like the idea, but no idea about the execution. just marginally more interested in this one cause it's a character i've not explored before)

HP Harry/Pansy AU (likelihood: 10% - i've found a fantastic fic for this pairing already in existence, so that has satiated my need to write it, i think.)

Silk Martha/Clive Children AU (likelihood: 10% - it's a beautiful fic... in my head)

HP Hermione Character Piece (likelihood: 40% - i know you all want this one but honestly i'm not sure what i would have to say. it's a hard one because i would love to write it, i find hermione a very interesting character, but it also needs to narratively bring something that isn't already in castles. like, i don't want to repeat something people already know. so, we'll see. i will write it if i find an angle for it. i was going to write it as an ode to friendship - like: the long-standing nature of she and harry's friendship, the way everyone always focuses on romance when actually, platonic friendship is also very important to us as humans - but i think i already sort of blew that angle with Lily and Naran now. so, again, we'll see.)

Black Sisters Piece on Female Rage (likelihood: 20%. i had a very, very specific idea for this back in 2023 and i never wrote it. i'm thinking of revisiting)

having said that, i also know that January - March 2025 will really be the moment i'm planning on easing back into writing more frequently, but also the moment when i'll have to focus on original writing for a while (again, reasons i can't explain). so, write that 3,500 words short story, and outline a larger project. so, not sure i'll have much time for fanfic at the start of the year.

LONG TERM

there will be a book. i have an idea. i have characters. i need... an outline, and a plot, and all that stuff. i would love to outline january 2025-march 2025 (as said above), then to slowly start writing it as life allows. i think fanfic will remain my outlet, my "fun" thing, the thing i "cheat" on my main project with haha. we all need those.

i will keep you updated on all this as it happens, and i hope (hopehopehope) you stick around ❤️.

[darkanddirtyknb]

Important Notice

I want to give a warm hello to all of my beautiful like-minded freaks, creeps, and horny little toads. We have had quite the journey together. It's hard to believe I started my blog and Patreon so long ago. Sometimes it's painful to reflect on because I was in a much better place when I started my blog. But we learn to live with the hand we receive in life, and that's what I'm doing. Which brings me to the reason I'm posting this today. This has been a long time coming, and I suppose I've been putting it off because I haven't wanted to admit it to myself. I've been in such a period of stasis. But I kept trying to convince myself that I could return to how I used to be—putting out content like the wind, writing commissions, having deep discussions and long conversations with my supporters, and so on. But the truth is, I just can't do it anymore. My body has taken a toll on me, and my fire has burned out. My physical health (and sometimes mental) has taken its course, and this is the path I have no choice but to follow. However, despite the war I'm waging with my body, there is good news. I won my disability claim. I'm not making much, but it's enough that I can support myself monetarily. So, I will be closing my Patreon. I'll also no longer be writing commissions for the foreseeable future. I've been delaying this part of my announcement because I hate letting people down. My Patreon aside, I made a lot of promises to people that I couldn't keep. For that, I'm sorry. I never accepted any money for work I didn't start, so I owe no one anything in a monetary way. But I will be letting people down, and that truly bothers me. If you were in line for a story, I give you my sincerest apologies from the bottom of my heart. If you feel like I let you down in any way, I'm sorry for that too. That said, to be fair, I didn't know this was going to happen to me. I hold no control over the turns my health takes, and if I could change it, I would. I will still post from time to time. I'm not giving up on writing. But what once took me one to two days now takes me weeks, sometimes months to finish. I will still be around, and I will still engage with my followers. I'm not disappearing. My health may have won this round, but I won't let it take me down. I've come too far to give up what I love. I actually have a very detailed story in the works, and come hell or high water, I will finish it. I want to thank everyone who has stuck by my side. To everyone who has supported me, shared talks with me, read my works, liked my stories, and left comments—thank you. These things have helped me through some of my darkest hours. As for my Patrons, hopefully, by closing my account this month, you'll be able to have some extra money after the holidays. I want to give a special thank you to you. You kept me afloat by helping me pay for necessities like my medication, food, gas for medical appointments, and more. Without you, I truly don't know how I would have reached this point in my life. I hope there are no hard feelings. I'm doing what I need to for myself, but also, what I feel is best. If I get a second wind, I might write those stories still jotted down on my whiteboard. You never know. Lastly, I want to share another piece of good news. My parents surprised me with a new friend. I will post pictures of her below. Her name is Luna. (Not after Luna Lovegood, but our Lord and Savior, The Moon.) She has certainly kept me on my toes, and I'm not sure she's been the best thing when it comes to my disabilities, considering I can barely keep up with her. But I'm in love, and I know that ultimately, she'll be well worth the hassle—which she most definitely is right now. She's a right pain in the ass. I'm pretty sure she's a quarter Gremlin, a quarter Audrey 2, and two-quarters Piranha. I'm sending all my love to everyone. I hope you have a wonderful holiday season. If you have any questions or just want to shoot me a message please don't hesitate. Please take care of yourselves. It's dangerous business out there. Much love, Kai

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

Hiiiiii! I was wondering if you could do 9 with Paul. I’ve just read your works, and I think they’re great.

Hi, love! So sorry for the delay! I'm having a problem with Word on my phone so I can only post from my laptop which is a pain >.> So glad you like my work btw! Proofed in UK English (the usual). Enjoy!

CW: John being an asshole (sorry)

And I Love Her

(Source)

You and Paul arrive at the studio together.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here during a recording session?” you ask.

He wraps an arm around you. “’course it is.”

You give a smile, an uneasy smile but still a smile, before the two of you go inside.

The other three boys stare at you when you enter: Rich looks pleased to see you, George just always has resting bitch face, and…

What is that look on John’s face?

You can’t tell if it’s anger, annoyance, or his usual brand of jealousy, but whatever it is, it doesn’t feel good.

He leans over and whispers something to George—what, you’re not sure—before picking up his guitar.

It's a relatively calm session, despite John flubbing several lines. Paul does the same so you think nothing of it.

It's during an impromptu songwriting session after the recording that things start to go sour.

John keeps breaking his pencil, no matter how many times he sharpens it, so Paul hands him his spare pen. He practically snatches it from his grip before finally finishing the word he’s trying to write.

A few moments later, John gives a huff. “How am I supposed to focus with her staring at me?” he snaps.

You blush. You didn’t think you’d been staring but now that he’s mentioned it, you’re not sure. You turn to focus on the wall instead, mumbling an apology.

“John, I—” Paul begins.

“Don’t we have a strict ‘no bird' policy, Paul?! Why d'ye think I never bring Cynthia ‘round for these things?!”

“I always just assumed it was because she was superfluous to you,” Paul says rather boldly.

George and Rich stand silently in the background; they both look as if they’ve seen a ghost, as do you.

“Don’t you dare bring my marriage into this,” John says through gritted teeth.

Paul scoffs. “You brought your marriage into this! I’m sorry that you can live your life without Cynthia, but I can’t live without Y/N! She’s my whole heart and I love her!”

The two bicker back and forth for a moment before Paul throws his notebook and pen down before grabbing your hand and starting for the door.

“Paul, wait!” shouts Rich as he follows the two of you outside.

There are tears streaming your face by now; Paul is trying his best to console you. You know you shouldn’t take most of what John says to heart, after all, he’s a very troubled man given his past.

“Paul, please come back inside,” Rich speaks. “John’s always in a bad mood this early.”

Paul sighs deeply. “He can’t just talk about Y/N like that! How would you feel if he talked about Mo like that?”

Rich sighs this time. “I know, Paul. I’m sorry. Please come back inside… for me and George.”

Paul stands in silence for a second before you say, “Come on, Paul. For Rich and George.” You extend a hand.

He grabs it with another sigh before the two of you walk back in.

Calm as he may now be, John is prideful first, so instead of a downright out-loud apology, he mumbles one. You can tell it’s still heartfelt, so you happily accept it before sitting back down.

[kartaylirnaak]

Oh I missed your wip game post from like a week ago, but can I still ask about Waxer/Boil/Wooley Discord Rambling?

Of course! I think I rambled on about this in the W*B discord so apologies if you've read this before. This is loosely set in the vampire clones AU where Boil is a vampire and has just finished feeding on Wooley. Never figured out what Waxer was so that's open to interpretation. I wrote this ages ago so it's very rough and I'm not sure I'm ever going to finish it so I'm just going to chuck the whole thing under a cut and let people enjoy the smut >:3

Warnings: D/s, Vampire!Boil, Dom Waxer and Boil, Sub Wooley, vampire feeding during sex, orgasm delay/denial, anal sex, cock warming, voyeurism, masturbation, exhibitionism, butt plug

Context Wall of Text Waxer is leaning back against one end of the bunk, lazily stroking himself as he watches Boil feed. Wooley is in Boil's lap and is sitting on Boil's cock, being filled and stretched as Boil is balls deep in him. Boil has his legs over Wooley's and is keeping them spread wide, so Waxer can see how deep Boil is in Wooley and how much he's stretching him. Boil has Wooley's hands pinned behind his back as Wooley leans back against him, so they're trapped between his back and Boil's chest. Wooley's head has lolled back onto Boil's shoulder and to the side and Boil has his head turned and his teeth deep in Wooley's neck as he happily feeds away while his cock throbs and twitches in Wooley's ass. Boil is keeping Wooley spread out and pinned so all he can do is writhe pointlessly and moan as he's kept in place to warm Boil's cock while he feeds. This whole time Waxer's talking to him, telling Wooley that he's not allowed to come until Boil's finished feeding. When Boil's done, he pulls his teeth out of Wooley's neck and laps over the bite mark. Wooley whines in response, half at Boil's teeth no longer being in him and half pleading in hope that they'll let him come now. Boil huffs in amusement at this as he kisses up Wooley's neck and nibbles on his earlobe.

Fic "I might've finished but Waxer hasn't and good boys don't come before they're told, do they?" he growls into Wooley's ear. 

"No Sir," Wooley whimpers in response, tears leaking out of his eyes at the thought of having to wait longer. 

Boil shushes him and kisses away the tear that's run down Wooley's neck. 

"Now you're going to be good and watch Waxer enjoy himself, aren't you?" he says behind Wooley. 

"Ye–Yessir" Wooley manages to croak out with a little nod of his head that sends his curls bouncing. 

Boil looks over at Waxer and arches his eyebrow in response to the amused smile he gets from across the bunk. 

"You've got him spread pretty wide," Waxer comments idly, hand still loosely wrapped around his cock as his eyes flick down to where Boil's cock is disappearing into Wooley's ass. 

"Reminds me of when we plug him," Waxer adds casually. 

Boil feels the rough moan that rumbles out of Wooley's chest as their sub shivers on his cock. Smirking, Boil growls in Wooley's ear "You like it when we plug you, don't you? Keep you all nice and stretched for us." 

Wooley moans again and nods but that just won't do so Boil tightens the grip he has around Wooley's hands and pulls them up higher in admonishment. "Don't you?" he repeats as Wooley arches and lets out a high pitched gasp. 

"Yes Sir," Wooley replies in a rush, as he desperately tries to clutch onto what’s left of his control. 

"Yes Sir what?" Waxer prompts with calm amusement. 

"Yes Sir, I like it when you plug me," Wooley replies, any sense of awkwardness long thrown out the airlock. Besides, it's true. He does like it when Waxer and Boil finger him loose and slide a plug in him. The weight and stretch reminding him who he belongs to throughout the day.

 "Good," Boil croons in his ear. "Now be a good boy and sit still on my cock while you watch Waxer enjoy himself." 

"Yes Sir," Wooley replies, as he tries to focus on Waxer, who has returned to idly stroking himself. 

A slow smirk stretches across Waxer's face as he looks Wooley straight in the eye while giving himself an exceptionally slow stroke. Far too late, Wooley realises he's doomed and is going to be trapped on Boil's cock for much, much longer.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 3

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Deals with trickster entities and death omens :)

Special Thanks and Credits: @furyeclipse is the wonderful creator of a very main character in all this plot, Ovid - the trickster being the reader will be dealing with and who will have many interactions with the crew. Fury helped me to write some of Ovid's key moments, their realm, their appearance and their mannerisms - after all, it was all Fury's creation and I'm just honored to be able to share such a rich character and worldbuilding!

Thank you so so much for allowing me to add your character to Nemesis and for being such a wonderful friend!

You can check Fury's work on their Ao3, which you can find here: FuryEclipse Ao3

Strongly suggest you guys reading Devoid of Purpose, where you can understand Ovid better ;)

Author's Notes: It took me a little while for this one and I do apologize, but my health isn't the best currently. I will have to go through some medical exams in the upcoming weeks and I'll start taking some meds, so I might have some delays/disappearances from writing. But I will ALWAYS come back to post Nemesis!!

This was a very fun chapter to write. I do enjoy Ovid a lot and their interactions with the reader are 10/10 based on knowledge seeking. Get ready for fighting (and annoying) Vergil on the next chapter, though ;)

Chapter 3

The city reeked of blood and destruction.

After so many years from your city’s incident, you never expected your memories to feel so alive. But there they were, haunting every corner of a new disaster – ghosts of a past you longed to forget, back to cling to your slivers of sanity like demons burying their claws in human flesh.

That city had fallen into chaos. People were crying, screaming, running around in despair looking for solace – for something or someone to save them from whatever the Abyss had attracted.

They first looked at you with hope and admiration – only to change to fear and horror when they realized that, even if your victims were demons, you were a killer after all.

And a very skilled one. Behind your footsteps, no demons were allowed. To fall into your protection meant to be safe; to find salvation amidst all that hell. Even if people feared you and your bloodstained hands, they were grateful for being their only hope of survival.

“Is everyone out of the city already?” You cleaned the blood that spilled on your face while walking towards the captain of the city’s guard, in charge of the evacuation.

Even the soldiers looked at you with a certain unease in their eyes. No one would want to get into a fight against you.

“The last two safe buses are just ready to go.” The captain, though, was the only one able to look into your eyes without hesitation. He could use a soldier like you. “Next one is for me, my crew, and you, y/n.”

“Thank you, but I’m not going with you.”

Your comment sent a wave of whispers among the soldiers. Before the captain could answer, you explained yourself.

“The Abyss is far more dangerous than we know. Someone has to stay behind and make sure it’s going to close without anything going in or coming out.”

Of course, you’d never say it was the only place you would certainly find the blue coated devil who almost killed you back in your city. You were certain he would be there but, so far, no blue demons crossed your view.

And you were especially aware of it.

“Well. You have a good point there. Just make sure to come back alive, alright?”

“Will do. I have to help a friend with laundry next week.”

No one understood your comment, but they also wouldn’t ask. You swinged your silver blade to get it rid of the blood and paced back into the city.

It was time to meet an old enemy.

*

As your steps echoed through the streets of the abandoned city, you had this uncomfortable feeling at the base of your stomach. It seemed like eyes were fixed on the back of your head and hands rested heavily on your shoulders.

But no one walked those streets except you.

Keeping your silver sword in hand, you didn’t stray from your path. The Abyss was close: you had learned to discern between how demons and the Abyss felt like as you started working as a devil hunter. While demons were certainly unnerving, the Abyss had something of… Uncertain. A sense of unknown – and the knowledge of what that was could be worse than fatal; probably better left in the realms of shadows.

But there was a… Third energy. Something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint its origin. It was unnerving, yes, but it felt… Old. Older than whatever demons you could’ve met.

Your steps approached an ancient building – probably a public school; you couldn’t exactly tell what it was. And you would’ve remained focused on your main objective if you hadn’t glimpsed inside the building.

A pair of eyes observed you from the shadows. It stared at you before disappearing deeper into the darkness, but you could swear those eyes were yours.

“What gives…?” You murmured to yourself, barely feeling your feet unconsciously following those eyes, as you crossed the derelict entrance.

You should be going towards the Abyss. That was the reason why you were there, it was the main purpose of you being hired that day. But… How come you saw a being with your eyes inside that building? As you entered the main hall, you found nothing but a reception desk and paper tossed around, ripped and burnt as people fled. Observing into the darkness, that place was a library.

Infinite rows of old mahogany seemed to go deep inside the shadows – until your eyes could barely make out any shapes. It was all probably in your head: dealing with demons made one prone to hallucinations, sooner or later.

As you prepared your feet to leave, you heard a scratchy metallic noise – faint, in the distance, but still there. Turning around, you stared into the shadow and you could swear your eyes picked up something moving.

You couldn’t tell what it was – if it was a demon, a creature or a human. But it was someone. If it was a human, it needed your help. If it was a demon, it deserved to die.

You decided to let your steps follow the sound.

Upon entering the rows of destroyed bookcases and rotting books, you kept on following that light metallic noise – like gentle knifes scratching at the floor, wood or any surface it could touch. Your eyes caught glimpses of a shadow, but never its full form. You turned your head around, your feet followed with precision – your curiosity leading you further and further into the labyrinth of old pages and decaying wood.

When you reached what it seemed to be the center – a round open space, surrounded by aisles and aisles of mahogany bookcases – your white rabbit seemed to have disappeared. There was no other indication of which path you should follow to find it, and you couldn’t deny you were certainly lost inside the library.

Your steps circled the room, slowly, trying to find your way out or the creature leading you further inside. Perhaps… Perhaps it was him. The devil who defeated you that fateful day, the one you longed to rematch. Maybe it was his way of leading you into a trap – and, if it was, you would be ready. Holding your silver sword with certainty, you wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

That library certainly looked like a proper place to defeat him and hold your sword to his neck, while one of your feet held his chest down on the floor, keeping him in his place. No demon was superior to a human, and you would prove him that.

The metallic tapping brought you back from your thoughts, dissipating the image of you finally subduing the blue coated demon. Turning around, you found your eyes again at the end of a long, dark aisle. With resolute steps, you plunged into the darkness, without flinching or thinking twice.

The eyes disappeared as soon as you started to follow them – but, upon reaching the end of the aisle, you found a great wooden door with an old plaque by its side. Cleaning the dust to see it better, you read what it was: “Forbidden Session – Entry allowed only upon authorization”.

Indeed, the door had an old black iron lock, probably requiring an iron key to enter. You tried to force it open a few times, but it was to no avail. With a deep, slightly frustrated sigh, you turned around to look for a way to open it – but your search wasn’t needed: as soon as you rotated on your feet, you found a great, heavy iron key waiting for you in one of the shelves filled with dust.

It didn’t escape your eyes the key was clean despite how abandoned the place looked.

Without questioning, you took it on your hands and finally opened the heavy door. Its hinges complained as you pushed it open and your steps entered the room.

Your heart slightly jumped inside your chest for a couple of quick seconds. It seemed like your eyes got used to the darkness, but soon you realized that session of the library was lit in a procession of warm candles that seemed to never really burn out. The door behind you was closed, and the reception desk had an old, heavy guestbook ominously waiting for you between two candles lit with purple flames.

You didn’t let go of your weapons. Strengthening your grip around the silver, you walked over the guestbook – finally noticing your steps weren’t the only sound to be heard: a faint, albeit calm, piano song filled the air. You didn’t know where it came from, but it was weirdly… Soothing.

“Traveler from afar, if you wish to drink upon the knowledge of forbidden and forgotten books, you must let go of your protections and sign your name. Only then, the library will welcome you among its pages and endless words. Beware, though, not to get lost in other worlds: some writings are tricky and the search for knowledge might claim your soul.”

Those were the words written on a blank, old page of the book waiting for you at the reception. Let go of protections and sign your name. Both conditions were tricky and asked too much of you: the protections were your weapons, and your name could be used in ancient spells for many purposes. The book asked you to be completely vulnerable and you weren’t comfortable with that.

“Hmmm…” You wiggled your nose while thinking, murmuring to yourself. That presence remained around you, but there was no reason to believe someone was really watching you. And, if there was indeed a being following you, they could at least try to answer any questions. “I wonder if this place has information about the Abyss…”

As you muttered, something seemed to fall in the inner part of the round reception desk. There was no one to receive you, so you took the liberty to inspect what made that noise. You found another book on the floor – this time bigger, older, and seemingly infinite: clearly a product of magic. There were no doubts you had crossed into another realm and, even if you didn’t know how to go back, your curiosity was bigger than your fear.

Taking the leather cover into your hands, you leaned the book in one of your arms, opening it with your free hand. Your eyebrows raised in delight as you realized you were staring into a library Index: all books and their subjects were noted down in beautifully crafted calligraphy, with a note on their location inside the library.

You turned page after page in what it seemed like an endless passing of time – as if Time itself didn’t exist in that wonderful realm of books and knowledge you had found yourself into. That presence seemed to keep watching you; intently, carefully… Curiously. As curious as your eyes running on the pages searching for more knowledge on the Abyss.

“Aha…” You finally found what you were looking for. The Abyss and other Ancient Realms – that was the only title on that theme. It was in the Restricted Session, and that could only indicate you would have a price to pay for that knowledge. “Alright. Let’s find the Restricted Session then.”

As you murmured those words, a path of purple flames lit the way to said Restricted Session. You wouldn’t have to worry about becoming trapped or never finding your way back: the library would show where the knowledge you needed was – your will would have to bring you back.

With a deep breath, you let go of your silver sword, leaning it on the reception desk. You placed your guns by the side of the guestbook, taking an inking pen and, after dipping it in the deep purple ink, you signed your name in the old, yellowish pages.

You were completely vulnerable, but you could use your arcane knowledge to your advantage. You had tested it before in several situations: the blood spell you did on your silver sword was very efficient in bringing it back to you in dire need. The blood inside it felt the calling of the blood in your veins, it didn’t matter the distance. It could take some time, but your trusted sword would be there to protect you – and that gave you some peace of mind.

The Restricted Session was less ominous than you thought it would look like. Behind the black iron bars of the gate that kept curious hands at bay, lied an obsidian box that could keep just one book inside, framed by the light of many sparkling purple candleflames.

“You who search the oldest of secrets must leave something in return.”

An old, golden altar stood beside the bars of the Restricted Session, keeping you between the knowledge of the Abyss. It was at your hand’s reach, so close and yet, so far away. You wanted it with your whole heart, but that altar was a warning and a deal: you had to sacrifice something if you wanted to learn something new.

No small offering would be enough for that book – no, it had to be a big one. Something beloved, something cherished. Something your heart would break to part.

Your guardian angel’s deep blue shawl.

You touched the soft fabric, your heart jumping inside your chest. Of everything you were willing to part of, that was your most prized belonging. It was the only thing that reminded you of some protection, of some gentleness. You didn’t want to let go – you wanted to keep the memory of your guardian angel close to your heart forever.

But you could never attain the knowledge you needed without making sacrifices.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep and slow breath. It was stupid to cry over a piece of fabric, so you wouldn’t – even if your heart wanted to weep. Unwrapping it from your neck, you once again opened your eyes, carefully placing your beloved shawl in the ancient golden altar. The purple flames reflected a beautiful dance in the only memory you had of your guardian angel… Of you being cared for and remembered, at least by someone.

With your heart sinking in your chest, a heavy click opened the gates of the Restricted Session, allowing you to go in.

The obsidian box was open, revealing a big, ominous book with a deep blue leather cover. The Abyss and Other Ancient Realms – the letters were in silver, slowly fading with time, but beautifully crafted inside a gothic frame of vines. You took it into your hands, the weight almost heavier than your sword. It shouldn’t be, but some books held more knowledge than others. Some enchanted books, with infinite pages, impossible to run out of space in its binding.

You left the Restricted Session, looking over your shoulders one last time to catch a glimpse of your cherished blue shawl. It seemed like leaving a piece of your heart behind, but you took a deep breath and kept on your path back to the reception desk – you wouldn’t cry, at least not with your eyes, and you wouldn’t turn back once more either.

What was done was done. You had made your choice, and you wouldn’t go back.

As you approached the reception desk once more, though, a dark figured towered around it – and the eyes. It had your eyes.

It looked like a Eurasian Eagle-Owl, feathers in deep purple and black, glistening with the trembling candle flames. Its chest carried a blood red glow, faintly able to see under its jet-black wings. It stood tall, far taller than you, smart eyes mimicking yours as it followed your every move with interest and mischievous curiosity. Only when your careful steps got close enough you were able to see it had two sets of wings – one close to its body, another resembling the mannerisms of human arms.

You had your eyes in it – carefully drinking its every move. You didn’t know if it was friend or foe; if it tried to attack you, your sword, peacefully laying behind it, would have to make its way to your hand.

“If you’re looking for that white rabbit, he’s not here.” Its voice reverberated through walls and the floor, catching your ears and your heart. You’d say it was a demon, but something about its energy was… Different. Ancient. “But I sense that you seek a knowledge that is worth pursuing to the darkest depth of the Underworld to find it.” As it finished speaking, a small laugh followed the words, clearly enjoying your curiosity that led you to that realm. “How will curious little Alice accomplish such a dangerous feat?”

“With courage. You have to be curious in order to be brave.” Your answer was certain albeit careful. Never before you had encountered a demon that resembled the creature standing before you – and the Codex Daemonica had no information about that. “I wonder. If I was led here but there’s no white rabbit to be seen, who am I talking to? The Cheshire Cat?”

Once again, that laugh reverberated through your chest, while its feathers shook with delight. Of all creatures you had met, that was the first who made you unsure. As far as your knowledge went, you could be talking to a trickster, like the ancient Norse deity, Loki.

“Alice should know better that names are not to be given so lightly.”

You just stared back into your own eyes, a small unsatisfied smile coloring your lips. You had signed your name; you had given it already. But words have power, especially the ones voiced by one’s own lips. If you wanted its name, you had to give yours – you had to voice it so it could voice its own. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a name for a name.

“Y/n. My name is y/n, as I signed in the guestbook already.” You said after a deep breath. You could be making a huge mistake, but the book in your arms was worth whatever price. You had already left your guardian angel’s shawl – there was no going back now.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, little Alice.” The creature bowed its head slightly, making you mirror its chivalry. “You can call me Ovid, master of this realm.”

“You certainly have a wonderful library, Ovid.” You couldn’t keep secret the fact that you had a Restricted Session book in your arms: Ovid probably knew what you had given up for it already and you had every intention to check that book out. For good or for bad. “With knowledge that even the best arcane libraries in the human realm only dream of.”

“Indeed, y/n, indeed… How far would you go fur such knowledge, little Alice?”

“As far as necessary, dear Cheshire Cat.”

Its eyes reflected the same fire that burned in yours – but you didn’t look down. You had already met that stare before: years ago, when fighting the blue coated devil, it was that sort of glance that commanded you to give up and made you only ignore it and remain stronger in your own will.

It was rare for Ovid meeting such a strong-willed human. A journey alongside you could be quite interesting, after all.

“I see you have already accessed the Restricted Session…” Ovid murmured back, glancing quickly at the book in your hands. “To check out such knowledge, in the other hand, there are a few conditions.”

“As I said before, I’m willing to go as far as necessary. I already gave up something dear to me.” It was rare for you to put yourself in such a vulnerable position, but there you were. That book was worth much more than you could ever dream of and, if you needed to, you would fight that creature for it – even if you didn’t know what it was.

“And you can read it in my realm whenever you see fit, as long as your offering remains in the altar.” Once again, it bowed its head slightly, only to turn those bright, cunning eyes back to you right after. “But in order to return constantly, I shall need something in return.”

You smiled. There was always a catch. That’s how it was when dealing with demons.

“What is it?”

“For which purpose does little Alice needs such a book so desperately…?” You could hear it in its voice: they knew you had a goal, that you needed that book not only for curiosity, but for something else.

You had to be honest and vulnerable – something you avoided with all your strength. There were no cards left up your sleeve and the only thing you had in your advantage was that you could summon your silver sword at any moment – unless Ovid had sensed that spell already.

“There are no books in the human realm with knowledge on the Abyss. Whatever it is, I need to know more about it to keep it from destroying entire cities like it did to mine.” You took a deep breath, never lowering your eyes from Ovid’s cunning stare. “I will write a Codex Abyssae, just like there is a Codex Daemonica, so other hunters may be able to protect other people. This…” You looked down at the book in your arms, furrowing your brows. “This is the best source I found to this day. I can’t let it go.”

As your eyes went back to Ovid’s, you could swear it was smiling – after all, you knew how your eyes looked when you were doing so.

“Well, well, little Alice…” There was a tinge of delight in its voice, and you couldn’t refrain your heart from being wary. “It seems that the Fates brought our paths together, then. This book can only be read on my realm, however you might be able to come and go as you please for your research as long as you keep its information updated.” Those eyes, your eyes, glinted with a smart burst of energy of something that hadn’t had that much fun in centuries. “You see, my collection, sometimes, gets obsolete. Inside this book, you will find everything you need to know on the Abyss, but I’m afraid there is so much more yet to be discovered. It will be an honor harboring a copy of your Codex Abyssae along my many pages and oceans of words.”

One of their wings pointed back at the book. As you observed the cover, The Abyss and other ancient realms title disappeared, only to give room to the carefully crafted, gothic silver words of Codex Abyssae.

That was your book. That was your research. If you accepted it, all that knowledge, all that power would be yours – and you would get to update it, as well as write your own version for the human realm. It was really a lot more than you could have wished for, even if it bounded you to that creature you knew so little about.

“What happens when I am done?”

“You cannot return.” Ovid’s voice was calm, acting as if it was just another day in their eternity. Their eyes, though, glinted with delight. “The Codex will return to its safety in the Restricted Session. Your shawl will be returned. You will have your knowledge, and I will have mine. Our deal will be over.”

Of course, it was a deal. Something like that always had a price.

And you were willing to pay it.

“How do I access the library to read the Codex when I need to?”

“You can always summon me with one of my feathers, dear Alice.”

It seemed like you hadn’t noticed it before, but right by the guest book, there was a golden dish with a silky, long black feather in it. Like you imagined before, you would be bound to that creature to a certain extent, as long as you kept your part of the bargain. They would give you knowledge if you delivered knowledge in return.

It was a small price to pay, in your point of view.

“Well, then. You have yourself a deal, Cheshire.” You took a deep breath, declaring your will out loud. “I will keep the Codex Abyssae updated as long as I can come and go from the library and read it for my research, Ovid. Deal.”

That laugh reverberated through the library once more as you reached for the feather. You could finally leave the Codex on the reception desk, knowing you could come back any time and spend hours and hours reading it to your heart’s desire.

“I have to finish the job I was hired to do, but when I want to come back…”

“I will be there to guide you into my realm, little Alice.” Ovid made a small signal with their head, making you slightly bow in return.

“Thank you for allowing me to have access to your library, Ovid.”

“Thank you, little Alice, for giving me such knowledge to build upon, but do be careful on the road ahead.” Their warning caught you off guard, making you stop as you were ready to get your weapons once more. “You have been close to death once before, I can see that.” As those words filled your mind, you furrowed your brows. “Before you go, I shall give you a piece of advice to mull over. The next time you end up on death’s doorstep, it will take you without hesitation. So, live a fruitful and fulfilling human life, with the time you’ve got left. Death does not give second chances lightly.”

That warning placed a heavy weight on your heart, taking your breath away for a few seconds. You had defied death once but, as it seemed, you wouldn’t be able to do it twice.

With so much left to do, you kept that warning in a place you could think about later. You struck a deal. It was done. You couldn’t turn back now.

*

As soon as your feet left the door that got you inside the library, you found yourself back into the derelict building that led you there. You glanced back, hoping to see the purple flames and the reception desk once more – now with your weapons back to your grip and the feel of your trusted sword hilt calming your heart – but you only found an old empty room, with books and paper scattered all over the dusty floor.

You were back – and it all seemed like a lifelong dream. You would consider it all to have been just your imagination, if Ovid’s feather didn’t weight inside your coat’s pocket. Checking once more, your fingers found the silky touch of the feather and you knew; it was all true. You had struck a deal with a trickster, maybe a demon, maybe something older – you weren’t sure. But you had done it for a knowledge and a power the strongest demons could only dream of.

Your steps quickly led you back to the round hall surrounded by the labyrinth of mahogany aisles, lit only by a sheer light that entered through the cracks in the walls. Soon, you would find your steps away from that building, back to your job, to make sure the Abyss would close, and nothing would be able to go in – or get out.

“This time, I will not allow you to go any further… Little human.”

That voice. It was his voice. You were certain of it.

Turning around, you smiled as you saw a very well-known silhouette lit only by the stray rays of light, framing his shoulders and his conceited head held high in the air – the sword on his hand, ready to attack; the smirk framing his arrogance… His eyes, defying yours with a fire burning in silver. The blue coat gracing him as a frame.

You smirked back, holding your head high and staring back with your burning eyes.

“Long time no see… Demon.”

**

To be continued...

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 27

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 2074

Warnings: Talk of death, angst

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Also sorry for the delay in posting this (again). I just got settled into my new place, so trying to get back into the swing of updated. Also happy belated birthday to Juliette and Ghost, who both share my bday :)

Chapter Songs: Stay Blindedsided

****

Ghost and Hangman left Texas the day after the funeral. It turned out to be a rough day for both of them because, after the ceremony, Jake had left the Blackwoods to grieve at their patriarch's headstone in private- despite knowing they would've been perfectly fine with his presence- and strolled through the cemetery until he came to a stop in front of a familiar marble stone inlaid into the soft grass. His body had reacted on its own accord as it slowly collapsed to the ground onto his knees. Hangman's eyes had stared at the engraving on the stone: Natalie Seresin.

He had talked to her, apologized for getting her killed, for cutting her beautiful life short. He told her of the fiasco he'd made of his life: how he'd pushed everyone he ever loved away, how he'd fucked things up with Ghost, how terrified he was to screw it up again, if the fallout would destroy him like it tried to last time. It'd come so close to succeeding before…

Hangman had told her of Michael Seresin's health issues and how Nick was on the lam; how he and Matt were rekindling their brotherhood and trying to be a family for once in their lives; how adorable her granddaughter Sophie was and what an asshole Jake had been to hold off meeting her for so long because of his anger at his father and brothers.

Ghost had found Hangman. She had silently knelt beside him, taken his hand in hers, and waited for him to speak the first word. He didn't remember what he said, but they ended up in his truck mindlessly driving on back roads for hours, sometimes chatting, sometimes not, but those silences never felt awkward, and only when they returned to North Island did Hangman's fear of losing her rear its ugly head again, telling him he didn't deserve her, let alone a second chance.

It was those thoughts that consumed him while he and Ghost sat on his couch with alcohol in hand. She had dreaded spending the night alone tonight, and Hangman was more than happy to oblige her request to stay with him for a bit. They were in the middle of watching the 2005 Pride and Prejudice, which she and Juliette adored. It'd even surpassed Ghost's love of The Notebook, and honestly, Hangman could kind of see why. It certainly had a happier ending!

"Okay, Mr. Darcy-" he began, pointing at the TV with his whiskey glass and nearly sloshing the liquid out- "or Noah Calhoun?"

Ghost groaned in despair. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Because I love you." The truth slipped out so casually, but Ghost would never suspect he meant it as anything more than platonic. She had never figured it out after all these years, and Hangman was content with the situation because it let him get his feelings off his chest without any risk of getting his heart well and truly broken by her inevitable rejection.

"That kind of question makes me think you hate me. If I had to choose…" Ghost bit her lip and then took a sip of her Bailey's and whiskey. "Darcy. I'm such a sucker for the brooding type."

"Is that why you fell for Rooster?" Hangman teased, bumping her knee playfully with his.

She glowered at him, but the hint of a smile tugging on her lips took the venom out of it. "We were both in shit emotional states, and he looked a lot better brooding than I did."

Hangman's face fell into one of disagreement. "I hold an informed opinion when I say you look better brooding. This may have to do with me having to watch Bradshaw pine for Juliette from the moment he saw her when we arrived for the training. Don't get me wrong; I get it with their history, but still, annoying to deal with on a daily basis. Especially because those lovesick puppy eyes were involved."

Ghost raised an eyebrow at him. "You staring at Rooster's face a lot?"

"I had to gauge my competition, both for the training detachment and romantically. Bradshaw wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can see whatever he's feeling. From the first night we arrived, he had his eyes set on her. I had history to contend with, and I figured out pretty quickly winning her heart was a lost clause."

"You really liked Juliette, didn't you?" The question came out more of a statement, and Hangman winced at the sound of it. "I knew you had a flirtationship, but I never realized you had genuine feelings for her."

Hangman shrugged to give an air of indifference. "It is what it is. My family isn't exactly lucky in love, except for Matt."

"I've seen the way girls look at you. You could have any girl you want. What gives?"

None of them are you. "Haven't found one I clicked with in a long time," he replied, eyes trained on the amber liquid in his glass before knocking the rest back. "You want more to drink?"

Ghost nodded and followed him to the bar, where he poured their glasses fuller than he should've. He probably didn't need more, considering the strong buzz he currently felt, so Ghost had to be buzzing as well, although if she was, she didn't show it outside of talking more animatedly. She'd always been able to hide her drunkenness well. Sometimes too well.

"Who was the girl you clicked with?" Ghost prodded. "Was it back at the Academy?"

"Yeah, but she didn't feel the same. We shared one drunken kiss, and that was it. I was actually doing it to save her from some creep." Jake bit his tongue, realizing he might've said too much. Ghost would figure out he spoke of her if he said anymore. He had to move past it. "It is what it is. Besides, I'm happily married to my job."

Ghost leaned against the bar on her forearms. "Did I know her?"

"Yeah, you knew her." Hangman hoped his short response would end that topic of conversation.

Ghost had other ideas. "Who was she?"

"I don't see the point in saying it since it's in the past, and telling you now won't change anything about it."

"Well-" Ghost began matter-of-factly- "she missed out, but I think you got it wrong about her not returning the feelings. All the girls at the Academy had a crush on you at some point. Hell, I'm pretty sure a few of the instructors did."

Hangman searched her eyes, and a certain amount of anxiety crept into his heart. She knows. She knows I'm talking about her. But why isn't she saying that aloud? Is Ghost trying to save me from the embarrassment? Or maybe... is she trying to save herself from it? 

Hangman decided to play the game. "All the girls," he echoed, straightening and stepping closer to her. "Does that include yourself?"

Ghost stood but still leaned against the counter. He saw her breathing hitch a little, giving him his answer. "Like I said. All girls had a crush on you at some point."

He took another step toward her, so close now that one deep breath from either of them would cause their chests to touch. "And now?"

Do not start anything! This is a bad idea. Abort mission. Abort! Abort! Abort! The warning bells clanged loudly in his head, but seeing Ghost's eyes drop to his mouth wiped those thoughts from his head in one fell swoop. 

"Jake-"

His name rolling off her tongue broke him. Hangman leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, soft, restrained, and questioning, giving her the opportunity to pull away in case he'd horribly misread the signs. In case he'd overstepped any boundaries.

Ghost hands found their way to his face, gentle but firm. Hangman's willpower caved at the green light she'd granted him, his arms wrapping around her torso to pull her close to him, her soft curves flush against his solid abdomen. He couldn't get enough. Couldn't get enough of the taste of his whiskey on her lips, the smell of her Jo Malone perfume enveloping him, the softness of her hair as one of his hands tangled up in it. 

"Stop." Ghost's quiet voice dragged Hangman out of his euphoria. He leaned back to look at her, wondering what happened, what he had done wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, carefully brushing a stray piece of hair from her face.

Ghost disentangled herself from his arms, leaving him feeling cold and empty. She backed away while shaking her head. "I can't- I can't do this."

"I'm sorry. I- what did I do? Did I misread-" Hangman started reaching out for her but immediately stopped when she stepped back.

"It's not y- I can't do this. We just..."

"What is it?" Hangman inquired, dreading where this was going.

The pained expression on her face only deepened. She opened her mouth but closed it just as fast, searching for the words she wanted. "Why? Why did you leave me?"

He blinked, processing her question, fearing the route he knew they were heading. "What are you talking about?"

"After the accident, when I was clinging to life in sick bay, when I had just lost my best friend, where were you?" Ghost demanded, taking a challenging step toward him, fury temporarily wiping away her sadness. "I died and came back, I waited for you, I asked Coyote where you were, begged God for you to come see me, and you were nowhere to be found. For fuck's sake, even Cyclone and Warlock visited me despite the shit they were dealing with in the aftermath of the accident to see how I was holding up. Phoenix, who I barely knew at the time, came to check on me. Coyote was at my bedside every day and tried to cheer me up even though he was reeling from the loss of his girlfriend, and you-" Ghost's breath hitched- "you were nowhere to be seen. Why?"

Hangman gulped, desperately trying to gain control of his mind and block out the horrific memories and thoughts that plagued him from that time. In a strained voice, he replied, "I thought you didn't want to see me. I thought- I thought you blamed me for the accident."

"Blamed you? Jake, I know Javy told you I wanted to see you. I even asked fucking Cyclone and Warlock to send you, but nothing! Why would I ask for you if I hated you? Why would I defend you in the trial for the accident if I blamed you for it? And I know you avoided me before the trial, how you always managed to disappear before I could reach you from across the room. So, I'm not buying it. There's something else that stopped you. What was it?"

"I- I can't-" Hangman found himself at a loss for words; the images of what he'd seen, of what it reminded him of, rendered him speechless, incapable of defending himself against the barrage of valid fury and hurt Ghost hurled at him. God, he wanted to tell her, to tell her everything, but he couldn't. Hangman couldn't bring himself even to the edge of that long, dark hole of endless despair he'd spiraled into after Ghoul's death. If Hangman did, he was terrified he wouldn't be able to pull himself out again.

"I have never needed anyone in my life," Ghost said, her voice cracking. Tears brimmed her eyes, threatening to cascade down her flushed cheeks. Barely able to get the words out, she whispered hoarsely, "But I needed you then, Jake. When I needed you most, you left me alone. Why?"

I loved you. That's why I couldn't be there. The words lodged in his throat, paralyzing fear taking control of his body.

Ghost scoffed in disgust. "Even after all this time, you still can't tell me. I should've known. Goodbye, Jake."

She turned on her heel, grabbed her purse, and exited his apartment, leaving Hangman rooted to the spot and realizing that goodbye had been final. She'd given him a second chance, and he'd blown it. She handed him the perfect opportunity to explain himself, and like the coward he was, he clammed up. 

The black hole of despair he'd escaped for years finally won as he tumbled back into it.

****

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