#at the first drop of ANYTHING WHATSOEVER they run crying and sobbing and throwing up to get their hands held

[askshivanulegacy]

"We're scared" ?????

Please touch reality.

Ciao, Neil!!

People are spreading some snippets of the script for season 3 of good omens all over the internet, we're scared, please tell us, is it a fake?

Sighs.

Googles.

Notices that the "script leak" ends in /j.

Breathe, people. Think and breathe.

[f3itansgirlygirl]

drivers license - suna rintarou

part 2 right here

inspired by the song driver's license

his house is right there, right in front of me. 

sitting in the car biting my lip holding back the sob that threatened to escape, how did it become like this? how did i end up sitting in here alone while you went off with her? that was supposed to be me, you said you would wait? 

suna rintarou

a beautiful boy, his smile never failed to warm your heart. the way he would hold you in his arms, pout when you weren't paying attention, brush your hair behind your ear, the way he would kiss you and buy you your favorite drinks or take you to that little park you loved so much as you guys watched the sunset and fell in love all over again.

then how did it get like this? 

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

“hi my name is l/n y/n and i'm your new manager!,” you introduced yourself. was a first year at inarizaki and needed to get into a club, atsumu decided to introduce you to the coach and give in a few words.

looking around the team you felt a nice presence, and that's when your eyes landed on his, those green piercing eyes. having his knees to his chest laughing at atsumu for trying to punch him for showing him something on his phone. 

the way his laugh died down but kept a smile as he looked at you. 

you blushed but became distracted as kita called you over.

“thank you guys for accepting me have a good night!,” you said grabbing your bag and leaving. “wait up i’ll walk with you,” you heard a voice behind you say. you turned to hear the voice and it belonged to him.

you guys walked under the stars, you shivered forgetting a jacket and that's when he looked at you and smirked. “the old jacket technique huh let me guess you want me to take mine’s off and give it to you,” 

you gasped and looked right at him, “no i actually forgot you weirdo whatever i guess i'll walk faster,” you said speeding up. “wait i’m just teasing here i have a hoodie it’s my sleeping in class hoodie so better not ruin it.”

you took it hesitantly but put it on either way, it was big and burgundy and my god the scent you can still remember to this day how good he smelled like. “looks good on you maybe i’ll let you keep it,” he said as you guys continued to walk.

that was your first interaction, your first words to each other and one of the many nights you guys have come to spend together

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

everything else came easily, even though having a age gap it didn’t stop your feelings whatsoever, and also never stopped him from showing affection.

you still remember your first kiss

how he kissed you by surpised on the slide of a old park where you guys sneaked out to get ice cream.

still remember how he started bringing extra hoodies and hair ties since you had a habit of forgetting both.

still remember that night under the stars in the backseat of his car when he looked at you and told you he was in love with you.

you teared up staring at him as he giggled softly caressing your face, holding your waist even more closer to his chest as your bodies connected.

“i love you rintarou,” you smiled crying softly. 

he looked at you rubbing your tears away, “and i love you y/n l/n,”

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

how it was such a good 6 months. looking back you should have seen the way you guys would only hang out around the night or weekdays. 

how he wouldn't hold your hand in school or only be affection around the team.

and how you guys weren't exactly official, never asked you officially to be his but hey because of the memories spent together you thought of course your his and he’s yours.

you first saw her when she came through the doors, holding his notebook as she apologized but nevertheless gave him a smile and he gave one back. she was pretty- like really pretty. 

pretty blue eyes, blonde long hair, beautiful body.

“so this is what overthinking feels like huh,” you mumbled as you shook your head and went back to setting the net up.

after practice you and suna as always walked home 

you guys decided to take a detour heading to your park where many memories were made. 

“hey rin,” you asked as you looked over the river that was by the bridge. “yes love?,” he replied. “what are we?,” you asked him.

please say im yours...

“well your younger than me, i want you to be mines and you already are, always and forever sooo how about this,” he turned to look at you and bent down so his head was right at yours. “when you become a 2nd year and get your driver's license we can officially be together yeah? i'll get down on one knee and ask you to be mine,” he rolled his eyes as you giggled. 

he stuck out his pinkie and you stuck out yours. “you’ll wait for me?,” you said.

he wrapped his pinkie around yours, “always, make sure you just don't crash don't want you dying before your mine but yes i promise i will wait for you l/n,” suna smiled grabbing you and pulling you in for a kiss. 

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

finals came up and yes you and suna got distant due to you studying, yet you weren't nervous you were excited to finally walk down the halls holding his hand.

looking back you should have seen the signs of him not texting you often or wanting to help you, you shrugged it off maybe he was struggling in some classes too.

finally the day was here, texting osamu all morning about how you would pick them up for school so you can show off to suna. 

laughing driving up to school with the twins, you got out the car and seeing suna’s back against one of the walls

 you were about to call out for him until you saw her again. this time she was wearing the burgundy hoodie, and he was the one holding her hand. he was smiling? the smile he gave you specifically to you he was giving to her. 

tears filled your eyes. 

“y/n chan.. i’m-” , “its okay atsumu just get to class okay?,” you turned around hand shaking as you hold your keys, tears spilling down your eyes. “i'm going to be okay,” you smiled. “no, you’re crying,” 

“i said i’m okay, i’m just going to leave,” you said running to your car and getting the fuck outta there. 

leaving you saw atsumu go up to suna and scream at him. 

your heart felt like it was being pulled, this can’t be real? 

you headed home, slamming your door and falling to the ground, how could you rin? 

flashes of him and her passed your mind seeing how happy he was. 

you looked underneath and saw a photo on the ground. your grabbed it and sat on your bed, it was you and him in a photobooth smiling and then kissing. underneath in his handwriting he wrote “my love always and forever,”

you felt like throwing up, so this is what heartbreak feels like. 

you were hurt mad even at the fact that before anything was able to happen it was already ruined. you cried yourself to sleep wanting to ignore the pain/

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

you woke up around 9 p.m, you were confused but remembered all that happened today

“so that wasn't a horrible dream?,” you tried to laugh it out but really couldn’t.

you needed fresh air, you changed into sweatpants and a baggy shirt.

going for a drive blasting music, you didn’t know where you were going but you just needed to feel the air flowing past you. you stopped at the red light, everything was getting blurry tears now leaving as you hit the steering wheel. 

you kept driving and ending up parking in this neighborhood, being very familiar but automatically knowing where you ended up. you looked to your right and saw his house.

you were about to get off trying to get closure you said, needing answers still trying to doubt everything and thinking maybe this was a horrible joke from the twins and him but then you got all the closure you needed. seeing as the door opened revealing the girl coming out.

your heart dropped seeing how happy they were and dare you say actually look good together. he smiled down at her and grabbed her for a kiss. 

you gasped as a heart wrenching sob escaped your lips, she walked away as he never took his eyes off her figure.

that was me.

 he then looked turning his head and made eye contact with you, you just silently laughed as you shook your head at him and turned on the car leaving. “y/n wait!,” you heard him say as you left.

you headed to the small park and sat in the slide looking up as you laid down and finally let everything out. “never knew your waiting was just a short trial did i have to pay for millions of hours?,” you cried as you looked up in the sky seeing your memories replay in your head

‘Cause how could I ever love someone else’ And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me 'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street’

your phone dinged as you look who texted you

suna rin: y/n we need to talk... suna rin: please, i am so so sorry just hear me out. suna rin: i really did wait i just, please let's just meet up.

you texted back 

“im really happy for you suna, goodbye rintarou.”

you then deleted his contact as you took a deep breathe and sat up.

“i still see your face

In the white cars”

you grabbed your head, “was i not good enough?,” 

“We crossed I still hear your voice In the traffic We're laughing”

flash back

“you know i think we're meant to be,” suna said from your bed as you were on your laptop finishing some things. “wow such a hopeless romantic,” you smiled at him as you were putting back your earphones. “just maybe right person wrong time,” he said softly. you looked back at him, “i'm sorry did you say something,” you asked him. he just shook his head, “nothing i was just saying your a nerd,” he said as he threw a pillow at your face. “you know what,” you got up and jumped on top of him both laughing.

flashback over

‘God, I'm so blue Know we're through But I still fucking love you, babe’

you finally realized what he said, right person wrong timing 

you looked up at the cherry blossom tree and softly smiled

“your right suna we really were meant to be just right person, wrong time.”

i guess not every love story is meant to be complete.

the end.

[iconicstyles]

A Vampire and a Witch Walk Into a Bar

So this is my first story back? My first complete fic in how long? I’m not sure but I had an idea and went with it and before I knew it this thing was 15 pages long. In honor of spooky season here’s my first ever Halloween-ish fic. Also this wasn’t proof-read so I apologize for any mistakes, I’m quite rusty. Also I’ve been on a vampire diaries kick lately so this story is influenced by the show.

WARNINGS: Harry Styles x female reader, graphic violence somewhat, blood, gore, smut, female receiving, unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it folks

Being immortal could be quite annoying. Some would call it a blessing to know you’re going to live forever. You don’t put into account everything you suffer. Once you see your loved ones pass away you’re afraid to get close to anyone again. It was a lesson Harry had to learn the hard way. Not only did he have to leave his beloved village in fear of the townspeople discovering his true self, he had to leave his mother and sister behind. He remembered the night he was bitten. It was late, he had worked later than he originally intended at the town’s blacksmith shop. The night was cold, his loose shirt providing no warmth whatsoever. He was almost home when he heard what sounded like crying coming from the forest near his small house. Against his better judgement he trekked closer to the sound, in fear it was a child that had gotten lost in the woods. He should have told his mother where he was going but in hindsight he would have never forgiven himself if anything happened to her. If she had to bear the curse that was placed upon him.

Harry usually avoided the woods, even in the daytime he didn’t enjoy exploring the thick forest when he was a child. He remembered tales his mother used to tell him and his sister before bedtime and they always involved dark creatures and monsters living amongst the trees. As he walked further into the forest under the moonlight he realized he should have listened to his mother’s stories. The crying had stopped, all he could hear were the snapping of twigs and the occasional hoot of an owl. His skin erupted with goosebumps as his heart began to pound in his chest. Maybe he just heard a wounded animal in its final moments. He was about to turn around and head home when he felt it, sharp pain in the side of his neck. All he could do was scream, thrashing his arms in a pitiful attempt at throwing whatever was attacking him off. 

Finally the pain in his neck was lifted but was soon replaced by a searing burning. He collapsed onto the wet earth, writhing in pain as the poison swept through his veins. At some point he must have passed out only to wake up hours later. It was almost morning but he still had the cover of darkness. The pain was gone only to be replaced with a deep hunger, one he had never experienced before. Rising to his feet his hunger led him through the woods back into his village. All he could focus on was his thirst, nothing else mattered. Unfortunately he came in contact with a farmer who had gone out to start his day by tending to his cows. “Harry?” The older man asked.

Harry didn’t even acknowledge the man. At that moment he didn’t know the man, he wasn’t a friend, he wasn’t even a person. The man was a meal. Harry launched at him, gripping the man’s coat to keep him from fleeing. The man’s scream erupted in Harry’s ear as he fed on the man’s blood. Slowly his screams and sobs softened until the man went limp in Harry’s arms. Once he had his fill he dropped the poor soul with a sickening thud. The red blood dripped down his chin onto his white shirt. Only then did he realize what he had done, what he had become. He noticed the sun peaking over the horizon, soon everyone would be waking up and surely his first victim’s body would be found. He had to run, he had to get away before anyone could be the wiser. With that Harry left with the searing memory of his first kill.

Harry had to adjust to the times. He was a hippy sixties, wore bell bottoms and danced the disco in the seventies. It almost scared him how easy it was to blend into society. No one suspected he was a monster, no one was intimidated by him until he bared his red eyes and his fangs and by that point it was too late for the poor soul. In the years that followed since his transformation he changed within while his exterior remained the same. He wasn’t the same warm, caring human. He had to become harder, he couldn’t let anything affect him. The moment feelings came into the picture he could get himself killed.

The only person who he possibly let in was Y/N and she wasn’t totally a normal person. He remembered the first time he saw her. Or at least he remembered what he thought was the first time. He was instantly attracted to her, something about her being was like a lighthouse in a sea of fog. Harry had to stop himself from doing something reckless, opting to try to woo her properly. Now Harry wasn’t one to become attached to anyone, especially a potential meal, again feelings made his life complicated. Even though Harry was a monster by definition he never killed anyone that didn’t deserve it. Over the years he learned to control his cravings, feeding but only to quench his thirst. Of course sometimes he went too far but in his opinion they had it coming. He only killed truly terrible people, murderers, rapists, anyone that hurt a child, those were always the ones he went after, even if in his opinion their blood tasted dirty.

That was why he wanted Y/N so bad. Just from her smell he knew she would be sweet. He wanted to devore her. In the hours after meeting he bought her drinks, feigning to be just as tipsy as she was. At some point she suggested leaving the bar which he eagerly agreed. Hand in hand they stepped into the cool evening. She leaned into him allowing him to smell her sweet vanilla scent mixed with whatever mixed cocktail she had consumed. Normally Harry could control himself, hold off until he had a few orgasms before he fed but with her he couldn’t wait. Pulling her into an alley he pushed her up against a wall. The breath was almost knocked out of her but was instantly covered up by his mouth. His bottom lip was slotted between hers. He heard her moan allowing his tongue to slip into her mouth. Her hands drifted into his hair, her nails scratching down his scalp until they rested on the back of his neck.

Harry was experienced, that much he couldn’t deny but with her he felt like he was a virgin all over again and she was the first girl he kissed. He was consumed with her. Pushing one of his legs between hers he pressed his body against her. He could have waited, gotten her in a more comfortable place instead of a cold brick wall but he could feel his fangs lengthen. Pulling away from her mouth his lips pressed down her neck until he found his favorite spot to bite. Just as he was about to sink his teeth into her flesh he felt a sharp pain in his head, a loud ringing that brought him to his knees. Letting out a loud groan he looked up at the woman above him. “God, sometimes I forget how easy it is to bring a vampire to his knees.” She scoffed, placing one hand on her hip.

“What?” The pain had stopped but now he was just full of confusion.

“My coven always warned me vampires would attack when you’re the most vulnerable but I thought you would at least wait until after we slept together.” She explained, crouching down until she was eye level with him. “Plus I’m kind of offended you don’t remember me.”

Harry prided himself on his excellent memory but when you were as old as he was some memories would slip through the cracks. He looked back up at the woman, racking his brain from where he had known her. Then it hit him, it was Y/N, a young witch he met years before. “Y/N?”

“About time you come to your senses.” She giggled.

“You could have told me that before you went all witchy on me. I’m gonna have a headache for days now.” He whined.

“And miss out on the chance to see how desperate you get when you’re hungry?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You haven’t seen anything, love, I was just playing with my food.”

“Yeah, yeah, just admit I beat you up so we can move on with our lives.”

“How did you even know it was me?”

“Considering you look exactly the same as the last time I saw you? It was pretty easy to remember you, Styles.”

“I didn’t even tell you my name after...after that day.” It was a memory he knew pained her.

“I could recognize you anywhere. You’re the one that couldn’t remember me, truly I should be the offended one.”

“Well in my defense you’ve...filled out since the last time I saw you.” He made it a point to look her body up and down.

Y/N placed her hands on her hips. “You’re way too old to be thinking like that.”

And that was how Harry became entangled with an infuriating witch with a beautiful smile and intoxicating scent. They had been reunited after years apart. Harry never forgot about the young witch he helped when she was just a teenager, a memory he knew she didn’t like to relive. Even though Harry still had to travel, never to get comfortable in one spot he allowed himself to visit her much to her annoyance. “Harry, you break another one of my bottle of crocodile tears. I will hang you by your ankles.” She warned. 

“Oh come on, love, making a crocodile cry can’t be too hard.” He chuckled, placing his feet up on her desk.

“Really? I know your boots are GUCCI but they’re still sitting on my list of incantations.” 

“Like you haven’t memorized them by now. How old are you again? How were the Salem Witch Trials for an actual witch?”

“I’m not as old as you, weren’t you around for the Stone Age?”

“I came after the cavemen, I’ll have you know.” Pointing a ringed finger in her direction he watched as she went back to organizing her bottles of ingredients. “What are you making anyway?”

“None of your business.” 

“Are you about to bring someone back from the dead? If so, give me a warning first, a corpse is quite revolting when they come out of the ground.”

“I’m not bringing anyone back from the dead, I’m just working on something for a client.”

Harry never admitted it to her but he was always fascinated by her doing magic. Even if he didn’t understand the language, he didn’t even know what type of spell she was casting. Besides if he asked she wouldn’t tell him something about witch, client confidentiality. “Who would I tell, love?”

“Harry, don’t make me feel sad that I’m the only person you aggregate.” She quipped. 

“You know you love it. I make your life exciting, just admit it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You distracting me from my work isn’t what I call exciting.”

“Without me you would be locked up in the back of your shop, surrounded by your books and muttering whatever language it is you use.”

“Me actually getting work done doesn’t sound like a bad thing.” She laughed. 

“Maybe I would stop distracting you if you actually told me what you were working on.”

“You know I can’t do that.” She told him, her eyes tracing over the page.

“But why?” 

Y/N sighed, dropping her hands to stop her cast. “You should know by now supernatural creatures aren’t supposed to be real. If humanity found out about us it would be the end of all of us. You, me, and everyone else I help. If I don’t talk to you about my clients I keep their secrecy, I keep their trust.”

“So you wouldn’t tell anyone about me?” Even during a conversation so serious he had to make it humorous. 

“Depends on the day.” She said, arching one of her eyebrows. 

“You don’t even see me every day. When I’m gone you know you look forward to me coming to visit.”

Y/N glanced back at the shelf where she kept her collectibles. Wherever Harry went he would always pick up a souvenir just small enough to fit in his carry on, a glass elephant from India, a woven handmade basket from Africa, a Kabuki face mask from Japan. At first she was confused about the gifts. “Why are you giving me this?” She held a boomerang in her hands, what the hell was she supposed to do with a boomerang? 

Harry shrugged. “Just things to remind you of me when I’m not in a town.”

“It’s just more clutter in my office.” She muttered even if she didn’t totally mean it. She started placing them on the shelf close to her desk. Even if she called the items ‘junk’ Harry noticed that shelf being the only shelf that was always free of dust. And the items were always rearranged so older trinkets could be up front and then they were rotated. She hated to admit it, and would never tell him, but she did enjoy them. They meant Harry thought about her when he was away and then kept them safe until he got home to give them to her. 

“Enough about my work, how long are you in town for?” She asked, giving up on her spell for the moment.

“A few weeks and since it’s my first night in town you know where we need to go.”

Y/N dropped her shoulders. “I thought you were stocked.”

“That was months ago, love, I need to hold myself over until I leave the city.”

Rolling her eyes she agreed. “Fine, but let’s go later when there’s not many people out.”

“I’m a vampire, darling, I do my best work at night, remember?”

“You actually work in the day now since you were able to keep track of your daylight ring.”

Harry glanced down at the piece of jewelry that easily blended in with his various rings. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You lost three of them! At one point I considered just letting you burn alive.”

“Like creating a daylight ring is that exhausting. You just close your eyes and focus on a ring, I provide the jewelry, love.”

Y/N scoffed. “Vampires.”

“Wha?’” He asked, feigning being offended at her tone.

He heard her mumble something about ‘vampires not understanding the complexity of magic’ as she went about her business. It was a rant he had heard many times before. He tried to argue she didn’t understand what it meant to be a vampire which didn’t go over well. “Really? ‘Huh, I’m hungry, let me go bite someone, suck their blood, and compel them to forget me.’” She said in a horrible English accent in a poor attempt at mimicking him.

“For one, I don’t sound like that.” He said, holding up a single finger to make his point. “Second, there’s more to it than just walking up to someone and biting them. That’s a good way to get a stake in the heart.”

“Since you’re in the US it’s also a good way to catch a bullet.”

Now there was no agreement between them for Y/N to help him. Did she consider him a friend? Some days, maybe but that didn’t mean she had to help him break into a blood bank and steal a cooler full of bags of fresh blood. Consider it her good heart at work but she couldn’t let him starve. She also helped him because of one big reason, it was thanks to Harry she was able to remain in her hometown. She was able to keep her shop, the one place that she felt sane. The only thing that remained in her life that kept her together.

She hated remembering that time in her life. Y/N was an exceptional witch, she excelled in her spells, mastered incantations at a young age, she was on track to become the leader of her coven before she turned twenty one. Then everything came crashing down. Magic is one of the most seductive drugs imaginable. Once you have a taste you want more, most witches are able to control the urge to obtain more power. Then there are some that give into their cravings, like a new vampire searching for their first taste of blood. When witches are young, before they even cast their first spell, they learn the laws of magic. It is drilled into their heads the dangers of too much power, elders tried to teach children that a strong coven is the ultimate strength to a witch. Her cousin however had other ideas. He would tell her all the time covens only held powerful witches back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Oli.” She told him. They couldn’t have been older than ten when he first started telling her what he wanted.

Y/N was the daughter of their coven leader, something Oliver always envied. His father was the second in line before Y/N was born and with how she was able to control her magic he knew there was no chance she would be passed over as the leader. Oliver would never become what he deserved. “You don’t get it. You get everything handed to you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I work just as hard as you during our lessons.”

“It just comes easy for you!” He screamed, the glass windows began to shake from his outburst.

If there was one thing Y/N regretted more in her life it was the fact she never warned her family about Oliver’s tantrums. She never told anyone about the threats he made or his ideas about gaining more power. She just always thought he was frustrated about their lessons and needed a break. As they grew he began to distance himself more, isolating himself from the coven and Y/N mostly. When Y/N was seventeen, a few days before her eighteenth birthday she decided to take a trip with a friend from her neighborhood. It was one of the only human friends she was allowed to have. She packed a bag, gave her parents a kiss and then went out of town. Everything about that weekend was amazing, she had more fun than she had in years. Training had gotten more intense as she got older, it was one of the rare breaks she had. 

When she returned home there was nothing that could have prepared her for what she saw. The house was dark, something that never happened with her parents and all of her siblings home. As she walked through the front door the smell of blood hit her, almost sending her to her knees. Covering her mouth she stumbled through the house, every room contained a body, a member of her family. She found her mother in the kitchen. “Mommy?” She cried, barely able to contain her sobs anymore.

Collapsing beside her mother’s head she hesitantly reached out, hoping by some miracle she had survived. “Mom…” She whispered, her tears falling on her mom’s face.

She jumped in surprise when her mom’s eyes opened. “Y/N?” Her voice was so soft.

“Mom, mom, I’m here.” Y/N was near a panic attack. 

“Y/N, take my hand.” Y/N instantly grasped her mother’s hand. 

Nothing could have prepared Y/N for the rush of magic coursing through her. It wasn’t necessarily painful but overwhelming. When it was over she could barely hold herself up. “Mom…?”

“You...now hold the power of our coven.” Her mom told her before her grip on her hand went limp.

Y/N began to cry as she watched the life leave her mother’s eyes. “No...no.”

“So sad isn’t it?” A new voice said, making Y/N jump in surprise.

Spinning around she saw Oliver standing in the doorway, his clothes saturated with blood. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home.” 

“Oli...what did you do?” She asked, her voice trembling.

“I did what I had to do.” He sneered. “I told you a long time ago covens only hold us back, Y/N.”

“So you murdered all of them?!” She cried. “There were children in this house! They hadn’t even cast their first levitation spell!”

Oli leaned against the doorframe. “I suppose you’re right but they only got in the way. Poor things thought they could stop me with their not even developed powers. It was pathetic really.”

Y/N’s sorrow only grew into fury. With one last glance at her mother she stood up, her power swirling inside of her. “What are you going to do, Y/N? Fight me?”

Y/N didn’t speak, only held up her hand and without much effort knocked Oliver backwards sending him flying off the back porch. He landed with a harsh thud, knocking the wind out of him. By now Y/N was seeing red, she wasn’t even aware she was levitating towards him. “I want to see what you did.” She whispered.

Oliver sat up on his elbows. Before he could reply she grasped his head forcing her power through him until they were transported back to Saturday night. Her family was home along with some of her cousins, aunts, uncles, even her grandparents. Just what Oliver was planning on. He found her father first. Y/N watched in horror as Oliver went room by room striking down anyone that he came in contact with. She almost threw up when he came up behind her grandparents and slit their throats. She couldn’t understand why no one even tried to fight back. “How?” She asked.

“At first they were just shocked but then with a little charm I found in a dark magic book they were unable to use their magic against me.” He explained.

Watching him kill the children was tough, they didn’t stand a chance against him. Even when they tried to hide he easily found them. He saved her mother for last, knowing losing her would be the biggest hit to Y/N. “You killed your own parents.” She choked out.

“They got in the way.” He sneered.

Y/N still couldn’t wrap her mind around his intentions. “Why?”

“You should really read up on your dark magic, Y/N, with how amazing you are. I'm surprised you haven’t looked it up sooner. A witch can absorb the power of it’s coven only after every member is dead.”

Now she understood why he waited for her to get home. He needed to kill her to complete the spell. “Not happening.” She knew why her mother transferred her power. Y/N was going to need it to defeat her cousin.

She had never been in a duel like this before. Oliver easily overpowered her in fighting magic, Y/N never really found a need in this kind of magic. With the new power coursing through her she also found it harder to control. After finding her footing she was able to send him back, crashing into her neighbor’s fence. It only made her sick when she heard him laughing. “I have to admit, I’m a little impressed. You’re lucky your bitch of a mother absorbed everyone’s power.”

Something in Y/N snapped, she saw red. Magic ran through her veins as she picked his body up until he was floating in the air. Tears ran down her face as she whispered. “This is for my family.” 

She heard the crack of his neck before his body fell to the ground with a satisfying thud. It was over, she was the last remaining member of his family. The weight of it came crashing down on her. She was about to fall over when she noticed them, members of her neighborhood were filtering out of their homes. They had witnessed the entire thing. “Oh no.” She muttered.

She could hear the whispers from where she sat. How in the world was she going to explain this? Panic was rising inside of her when a deep voice told her to go inside. “What…?” Looking up she saw a curly haired man with beautiful green eyes.

“Just go inside, let me handle this.” He told her.

Y/N was in no state to argue. Rising to her feet she stumbled back into the house. When she made it back she closed the door, but found herself looking out the window. She watched in amazement as the man approached her neighbors. They were probably planning their own version of a Salem Witch Trial and a way to set her on fire. She wished she could hear what he was saying. He was animated with his hands but within a few minutes her neighbors just nodded their heads and walked back to their homes. Was this man also a witch? 

She eagerly opened the door for him as he approached her house. “What did you do?”

“I compelled them to forget everything they had just seen.” He explained. “Took a little longer than it usually does but I got the job done.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “Compulsion? You’re a vampire?”

Everything Y/N had heard about vampires was bad. They were bloodsucking monsters that killed for fun. “Stay away from me.”

“That’s one way of saying thank you.” He said.

“You’re a vampire.” She repeated. 

“And you’re an orphaned witch, so now that we’re done with formalities can we move on?”

Y/N’s eyes watered, making him pause. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “I smelled all the blood from miles away. When I got here I heard your psycho cousin tell the story about when he killed your family.”

“And you helped me, why?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I know what kind of stories you must have heard about my kind but believe it or not some of us have traces of our humanity left.” He admitted. “And I don’t take kindly to those that kill children.”

She didn’t even know this man’s name but she allowed him to help move the bodies of her family members. He instructed her to call the police and when they arrived he compelled a story. Oliver went on a psychotic break and murdered the family, conveniently leaving out the elements of magic. It all ended when Y/N came home and another fight ensued. Y/N killed him self defense. The police obviously believed the story and with that the man’s work was done. In the chaos of coroners picking up the bodies he disappeared. She didn’t even have the chance to thank him for helping her. It was probably for the best though, he was a vampire after all.

In the years that followed Y/N had to learn how to control her magic all over again.  She went back to basics, reading every one of her old books and spells. Practice made perfect, even if she felt like a newbie witch all over again. Then late at night she thought about the handsome vampire that basically saved her life. Without him there’s no telling what her neighbors would have done. Surely she would have been run out of town at least. She never even got his name, she never got the chance to thank him. 

So that night at the bar she was beyond surprised to see him. He hadn’t aged a day of course and in a new light and without the devastating circumstances Y/N was able to appreciate how good looking the vampire was. Curly hair that appeared to be recently cut, sea foam green eyes, and a crooked smile that surely got him whatever he wanted. So Y/N took a chance, made her way over to him only to find out he hadn’t remembered her like she did him. Maybe she reacted poorly, sending him to his knees with her magic but she was angry. She quickly got over it, she was basically forced to since Harry began to visit her bookshop to pester her. Would she call it a friendship? She wasn’t sure, he was more like a thorn in her side she didn’t quite want to get rid of.

She did reconsider her feelings for him when he forced her to accompany him to a blood bank. “I don’t see why you need me.” She complained every time.

“Because you can open the door with your little witchy powers.” He told her, waving his hand as if he was casting a spell.

“For one, I don’t wave my hands like that when I’m using magic.” She snapped.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at her. “Are you sure about that, love?”

“I hate you.” She muttered.

She heard him chuckle as he directed her towards the door. Unlocking doors was easy, she could do it with a flick of her wrist. Once the door was open they walked down the long corridor to where the blood was stored. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry holding his cooler as if he was on his way to a frat party. “How many do you need anyway?” She asked quietly.

“Why are you whispering?” He asked.

“Because...what if there’s a guard?”

“There is one, a very nice gentleman that just turned seventy.”

“You didn’t bite him, did you?” She demanded.

Harry rolled his eyes. “If I bit him I wouldn’t need to break into a blood bank at eleven o’clock at night.” He explained. “I merely...compelled him to look the other way when myself and a beautiful woman came visiting tonight.”

“I feel like compulsion is worse than biting someone.”

“What? Forcing someone to go against their will to do your bidding is such a terrible thing? That’s worse than forcibly sucking the blood from their veins.”

“Ok, you don’t have to be gross. Now go in there and get your B positive so we can go.”

“Ugh, you know I’m more of an O positive man, love.”

“Whatever, go on.”

It felt like hours before Harry returned with his stolen bags. “So they’re not gonna notice seven bags suddenly missing?” She asked.

“Also compelled the nurses to look the other way.” He told her as they stepped outside.

“Of course you did.”

“So what now?”

“What now...I am going back to my store while you go off and drink till your heart’s delight.”

“Why don’t you come have a drink with me?”

Y/N gagged. “Ew, Harry.”

“Not blood, you bellend, come to a bar with me. I feel like I only ever see you in your dark, spooky office. Come out with me.”

“Harry…”

“I’ll buy you every round.”

“Ok, sounds great.” She agreed, making him laugh under his breath.

Since he was buying, Y/N allowed him to choose where they went. Harry wasn’t a fan of loud, pulsing nightclubs. He quite enjoyed a smaller, hole in the wall bar. True to his word he bought their first round and then the second. Harry was quite amused to see how giggly she was after a few drinks. “Having fun, love?”

He also noticed how easily she blushed once the alcohol hit her bloodstream. “I am having fun, actually.”

“Better than working in your shop?”

“Why do you hate my shop so much?” She shot back.

“I don’t hate your shop. I just feel like you could use more of your talents elsewhere. You have your whole life ahead of you and you insist on staying behind those few walls.”

“Like you? You spend your days traveling the world, never in the same spot twice.”

“Actually when you’re as old as I am I’ve been forced to travel to the same place...multiple times. Even though Greece is never boring.”

“You’re just saying that because you love Mamma Mia.”

“It’s a catchy soundtrack, sue me.”

“Why are you so concerned about me being in my shop though?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I just don’t understand. You’re a beautiful woman with no connections, nothing holding you back. But you insist on staying in the same place, casting your spells, and not truly living.”

He noticed how her face fell slightly, her smile disappeared and he noticed her eyes appear glassy. “I guess...I guess I don’t want to leave the place I feel the most connected to my family.”

Harry nodded, looking down at his near empty glass. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

Y/N’s head cocked to the side. “No?”

“Figured as much, it’s a subject I don’t really enjoy talking about...or even think about.” He began. “After I was bitten I fled my home, my country, I feared what would happen to me, my mum, and my sister if everyone in my village discovered what happened to me. My life became a blur of hiding, feeding in the dark, and adjusting to my new life. I only ever returned to my home town after I was sure I had myself under control. Unfortunately it took almost seventy years.”

“Why so long?”

Partly because I feared anyone would recognize me. Going home and someone who’s aged so much seeing me who barely looks a day over twenty five? Not really my intention. Also it was because...I didn’t think I could handle seeing my mum again. How could I explain to her why I disappeared without so much as a letter to say goodbye?”

“So what did you find when you went back?”

Harry frowned. “I found my mother’s grave and then my sister’s. They died a few days apart. I asked around and was told shortly after I left my village was hit with a terrible virus. My mother and sister unfortunately didn’t survive.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

He quickly shook off his feelings of sadness. “And that’s why I don’t stay in one place for too long. No connections.”

“That’s not true. If you didn’t want any connections, why do you keep coming to see me?”

Her question shouldn’t surprise him. The only reason he was taken aback by it was because he truly didn’t know the answer. He didn’t understand why he always returned to see this woman. There was no real reason why he had to see her, why he had to be around her. “I guess you just bring out the best in me.”

“Or is it because I can help you steal blood bags?” She teased.

Harry laughed. “Oh, love, I could steal them without your help but I just enjoy having a partner in crime.”

“Just admit you like my company, it’s ok, I won’t tell anyone.”

Harry smiled, she had to mentally slap herself for admiring his grin. “So what if I do?”

“Then you’ll have to admit this whole ‘I can’t get close to anyone’ lifestyle isn’t accurate.” Harry had to contain his chuckles at her tipsy attempt at his accent. 

“All right then, what about you?”

“What about me?” 

“You have the power to throw me out of your shop every time I visit. Hell, you could probably cast a spell to ban me from the place and yet you don’t. Why is that?”

Y/N suddenly lost her giggly attitude. “Because…because I hadn’t thought of that.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s bullshit and you know it, love.”

“I’m not talking about this.” She hissed, rising from her seat to leave the table. 

Harry stared at her back for a few seconds before chasing after her. He had a strange sense of deja vu when they stepped outside. He was chasing her into an alley. “Leave me alone, Harry.” She told him without looking back.

Harry quickened his steps until she was in arms reach. Reaching out he grasped her arm and pulled her back towards him. “Let go of me.” She demanded.

“Not until you explain it to me. You sent me to my knees that night when we left the bar. You could easily get rid of me and yet you don’t.”

Y/N glared at him. “And you could easily walk out of my life and never be seen again so why don’t you?”

Harry watched her chest fall and rise, he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “I think we both know our answers.” He whispered.

Y/N glanced up at his eyes down to his lips. She would later blame it on the alcohol in her system but next thing she knew she was launching herself at him. His soft, plump lips felt heavily against hers. She gasped when she felt his hands grasp at her hips in a vice grip. Harry had to control his strength as he pushed her up against the brick wall of the alley. One of his hands trailed down to cup her ass, giving it a squeeze before traveling down to her thigh, urging her to hike her leg up around his leg. Y/N moaned into his mouth, she could feel how hard he was through the fabric of his pants. She held onto his shoulders to steady herself as he began to grind against her. 

Pulling back Harry took her in, from her swollen lips to her glazed over expression. He needed to hear her, he needed to make sure she was with him completely. “You ok?”

She was having a hard time controlling her breathing but she was sure of how much she wanted him. “I’m good, I promise.”

“You’ve been drinking.” He could taste it on her tongue.

“I’m fine,” She told him, looking him in the eye. “I promise after that I don’t even have a buzz anymore.”

“So you want me?” He asked, brushing his nose against hers.

“Yes.” Y/N hated how whiny she sounded but she was growing desperate.

His eyes darkened, almost like when he was about to sink his teeth into a victim. Y/N gasped when she felt his hand cup her over her jeans. “You wet for me?” He whispered.

All she could do was nod her head. “I need you.” She told him quietly.

That was all Harry needed. “Hang onto me, love.” 

Y/N barely had time to grasp onto his shoulders before Harry was picking her up, carrying her through the streets with his lightning speed. Before she knew it they were in front of her shop. Of all the places to take her. “Really?” She laughed.

“Just unlock the door, darling.” He whispered, his voice was becoming lower and huskier with each passing second.

He didn’t even make it easy for her to open the door. As she was searching her purse for her keys he was pressing himself against her back, his lips found her neck making her moan softly. “Hang on.” She muttered, struggling to find the lock.

When she finally got the door opened they stumbled into the dark shop. Harry slammed the door so hard she was surprised it didn’t break off the hinges. Surrounded by darkness he picked her up once more, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She felt so safe in his arms, he lifted her easily, carrying her through the shop without knocking anything over. Her lips found his in another passionate kiss. His tongue brushed against hers, exploring her mouth. She was dying to feel his skin, to see how he would react to her touch.

Next thing she knew they were in her office, the place he mocked her for spending so much time. “Why did we come here?” She asked as he dropped her onto the old, plush couch she had in the corner of the room.

“I’ve thought about fucking you on this couch so many times, love.” He explained, his hands finding the hem of her shirt. In one fluid motion it was off revealing her bra. “I’ve thought about making you cum in every way possible.”

He smirked when he saw her blush. “You’ve never said anything.”

“Was afraid you would send me flying out of a window.” He told her honestly, it was true, he was always hesitant to push her too hard.

To his surprise she unbuttoned her own jeans and pushed them down her legs. She was nearly bare in front of him, making his eyes widen. Then she reached for his hand and placed it between her legs. “What do you think now?” She questioned.

“I think you need to lay down and let me take care of you.” 

Stepping backwards she held eye contact with him as she reached around to unhook her bra letting it loose around her breasts. Now Harry really felt like a virgin all over again, seeing a pair of breasts for the first time. Just like he said she laid backwards on the couch, the soft blankets warmed her chilled skin. She stared at the beautiful man in front of her as he unbuttoned his shirt letting her see his pale skin littered with black tattoos across his torso. She had seen them before but had a whole new appreciation for the art. It was her opportunity to explore his body close up. 

She sat up on her elbows as Harry stepped towards her, placing his hands on her thighs. Moving over her skin he placed her ankle on his shoulders, kissing each of her calves before lowering himself until his knees were on the floor. All she could feel were his lips against her skin as they moved up her thighs to the lace panties. His hot breath made contact with her center making her moan his name softly. “You’re gonna have to be much louder than that, love.” He warned, his hands following his mouth up to her panties.

He snapped the band, making her cry out. She was about to scold him when she heard a ripping sound. “Harry!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He told her, throwing her shredded underwear to the side. “Now there’s nothing in the way between me and my treat.”

The first swipe of his tongue made her drop her head back on the couch. One of his hands held her thighs open while the other rested above her mound, revealing her clit to him. Blowing softly he watched her quiver before licking the sensitive numb. He didn’t want her to cum too soon, he wanted to savor her like she was his last meal. His tongue explored her, tasting her, applying more pressure until she was almost over the edge before pulling back. “Harry!” She whined.

“I told you.” He said, sucking her clit into his mouth. “Gonna have to be louder for me.”

“Please!” She cried, grasping at her breasts just hoping he would let her orgasm.

The next thing she knew she felt one of his fingers prod at her entrance. A gasp died in her mouth as he pushed it in. “Oh my God.” She moaned, arching her back.

She was starting to get the picture. With his mouth on her clit and his finger pushing in and out she was getting closer and closer. Her moans drowned out the wet noises of his mouth and fingers working her over. Occasionally Harry’s groans vibrated against her clit making her cry out his name. When he didn’t seem to let up she allowed herself to be louder until she was finally cumming on his tongue. Y/N was sure she saw stars. Her thighs twitched, her breathing hitched as he pushed her further over the edge. Harry held her legs open preventing her from squeezing his head between her thighs. 

As she came down she felt him place one more kiss on top of her mound before rising up. Y/N sat up, grasping his face to pull him in for a heated kiss. She could taste herself on his tongue, making her moan into his mouth. She needed him, she couldn’t wait any longer. Lost in her kiss Harry almost didn’t notice her hands working on his belt buckle. This was the one time he regretted wearing such tight pants. His prick was practically aching within the confines of his jeans. Even her pulling the zipper down provided some relief. He had to stop her from reaching into his briefs. “I want to touch you.” She said, breaking their kiss.

“Later, right now I need you on me.” 

Reluctantly he pulled away from her, pushing his jeans and briefs down in one fluid motion. “Turn around.” He commanded.

Y/N looked into his eyes before spinning around on the couch. She allowed him to move her in the position he wanted. One of her knees rested on the cushions with her other foot on the floor, spreading her open for him. Her hands gripped the fabric so tight she feared she would tear holes into the upholstery as she waited in anticipation for him. Next thing she knew she felt the tip against her entrance. A low moan escaped her as he slowly pushed in, she could feel every vein and ridge of his cock buried deep within her walls. When his entire length was inside he had to pause to stop himself from finishing too soon. “Oh fuck.” He mumbled, his hands holding onto her hips.

“Move, please.” She whined, her forehead resting against the back of the couch.

“Patience, love, I’m gonna make you feel good. I promise.” He told her, slowly pulling out before pushing back in.

Leaning over her back he moved his hips faster, their thighs slapping together as he quickened his pace. Reaching forward he grasped her hair into a ponytail arching her back for him. All he could focus on was her moans and cries of his name. Looking down he could see how they were joined, watching his cock disappear within her. When she began squeezing him he knew she was growing close. 

Y/N whined feeling him pull out, leaving her feeling empty. Her world was spinning, next thing she knew she was looking up at her ceiling. Harry had spun her so she was laying flat on her back. Thankfully she didn’t have that much time to whine. Harry shifted her again, propping her leg on his shoulder as he pushed his cock back in. From where she was laying she could admire him, his muscles flexing as he thrusted, his eyes closing as he lost himself in her body. He could feel her shaking against him signalling she was growing close again. “Go on, love, cum for me.” He told her.

His thumb circled her clit urging her further until she was crying out his name. Watching her cum was going to be burned in his mind forever, an image he would never want to forget. He was so lost in her pleasure he didn’t even feel his own release come over him. All he saw was white as he came inside of her. He made a guttural, feral sound as he came, grasping her body so hard he was afraid he broke her. His legs felt like jelly as he fell forward, barely stopping his body from crushing her. Her body was fucked out, exhausted, as her heart beat against his chest. As she tried to catch her breath she could feel his lips on her shoulder. “ Fuck…” He groaned.

Moving off of her they took up the entire couch, trying to calm themselves. Y/N almost didn’t want to look at him. She feared what this meant, did they totally just ruin their friendship? Were they even friends in the first place? Her fears were silenced when Harry rolled over onto his side, one of his hands wrapping around her waist. “You all right?” He asked.

“Yeah,” She whispered. “I was just wondering...what happens now?”

Harry sighed, running a hand through his wild hair. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out later.” He promised.

Y/N fingers brushed over his face pulling him forward until her lips pressed against his. Within the next few minutes she gave into her exhaustion. The last thing she was aware of was a soft blanket being placed over her. “Sleep well, love.” A deep voice told her.

Hours later Y/N awoke to an empty room. A blanket was covering her but she only saw one set of clothes on the floor. All feelings of bliss and happiness dissolved into anger as she stood up. Where the hell was he? Next time she saw him she was going to hex him so hard he was going to wish someone staked his ass. 

Y/N was losing herself in her fury as she stormed around her office, her blanket around her like a dress. As she walked over to her desk she finally saw it, an envelope with her name on it. Inside was a plane ticket along with a letter beautifully written in his elegant script. ‘Dear Y/N, I’m so sorry but I had to leave sooner than I thought. If I had it my way I would still be at your side, watching you sleep. And if you make any Twilight references you will never get my cock again.’ Y/N snorted since she always teased him with Twilight quotes.

‘With this letter you will find a place ticket I bought you to come visit me in London. I don’t want to push you but just know the world is out there for you. I am out here for you. Your shop will always be there waiting for you when you get home. If you decide not to use the ticket I understand. I will be back for you as soon as I can, love. Yours, Harry.’

Y/N held the letter close to her chest as she looked down at the ticket. She couldn’t believe he was inviting her to go travel with him. What amazed her even more was that she was considering it. Not only considering it she was mentally packing her suitcase. Leaning back in her chair she realized she had stuck around because she wanted to remain connected with her family but she had to come to terms with the fact they were gone, physically. She would always have them, their memories, and their love around her. Next thing she knew she was drawing up a sign to hang in the front of her store. ‘Close Until Further Notice.’ 

Later on that week she sent Harry a text along with a picture of the airport terminal. ‘See you soon?’ She asked.

‘I’ll be waiting.’ He wrote back almost instantly.

Y/N smiled. She was finally ready to live her life with her vampire...friend? By her side.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the whump for Supervillian... whipping?

Thank you for the ask! In reference to this post (I want to torture Supervillain some more so if you have any ideas, please send them in!)

Drowning Part 9

Masterlist

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate @sunflower1000

Warnings: very gruesome whipping (flail, to be exact), torn flesh, blood, torture, betrayal, unrequited love, broken bones, desperation, crying, exhaustion, drowning (a little), restraints, inability to breathe, vomit, manhandling,

~

Supervillain's nose emerged from the water first, followed by the rest of his face. He gasped for breath, instinctively attempting to claw at his face, but the restraints made that impossible. He gagged, throwing up all the water that he swallowed and breathed.

"Done," a voice spoke. "Day four only took two tries. Medic, write that down."

Supervillain shuddered, water streaming down his cheeks... or were they tears? Supervillain didn't know, and didn't want to know, but the lump in the back of his throat confirmed that crying was indeed a possibility.

"Are we done then today Doc?" A hero spoke, his voice slightly quivering.

"Hmm," the doctor stepped into Supervillain's line of sight. "No."

Supervillain whimpered and pulled himself tighter to try and escape the doctor's sour breath against his cheeks.

"Bring him to the Interrogation Room."

Hands once again grappled onto every piece of bare skin on Supervillain's body. Maybe once he would've shrugged them off, spat out a snarky statement, but now he was too tired- too utterly exhausted- to anything more than just allow it to happen.

He wasn't placed on the gurney this time. Assistants and heroes carried him in a way that made him swing around like a hammock. His head dropped, overgrown hair brushing the ground ever so slightly. The position made all the blood rush to his head, which, in turn, made him undeniably dizzy.

His eyes, which he found closed, jostled around in weakened eye sockets. He dragged them open with much resistance and looked up. From his limited view of the world around him, he put together that he was being carried left... or was it right? He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling his own saliva dry and stream down his face.

Like every single room, the Interrogation Room was once again white, yet the cherrywood table in the center of the blanch room provided at least some contrast.

Supervillain was slumped upon that table- not set in a polite manner whatsoever. For a few seconds, he sat there, head lolling against his own shoulder, before getting his bearings.

Unlike previous torture sessions, Supervillain was not restrained or tied up in any manner. Heck, the room was completely vacant of any of those means other than a metal loop that could have handcuffs attached to it if necessary.

But in this case, it wasn't.

The doctor stepped in, scribbling something on the clipboard which seemed to be his only accessory.

"Get me some microphones," the doctor spoke into a walkie-talkie. "And the recording."

"Sir." The line clicked to leave the room silent other than the huffs of breath leaving Supervillain's nose.

"Supervillain," the doctor finally spoke up. "This is going to be your first test. Think of it as an end-of-chapter summary that is worth 95% percent of your grade."

"Aren't tests suppose to be at least somewhat revelant to the chapter? At least the unit?"

"I said it was a test right? Classic science tests with the wrong answer key and the like," the doctor replied. "Or an English test about prepositional phrases yet the pupil learned about parts of speech."

Supervillain snickered, yet he didn't find the doctor's apparent joke funny by any means. "I am not in middle school," he reminded the doctor with a sigh, but his anticipation obviously shone through his carefree demeanor.

The door opened and two skinny, pathetic looking interns ran in with devices that were certainly going to he used on Supervillain. He looked at a particular invention- a black cone with a bulb that was no doubt a taser in disguise- and bit his lip, sharp canines chewing into the moist flesh.

The other coddled, seemingly trying to block it from the captive's prying view, a large black box with extension cords and wires. Supervillain stiffened. It was a generator.

Or, maybe not, the wimpy kid carrying it would not be able to lift even a small generator a measly inch from the ground.

The intern with the impersonated microphone walked behind Supervillain. Being free of restraints, he shot his head around to watch- anything just to suspect the oncoming barbarism.

But two cold hands yanked his head back.

"You know," the doctor spoke, curt and smooth. "I was really hoping that we wouldn't have to tie you up, but that could easily be arranged..."

Supervillain grunted in reply.

The foreboding torture implement, also known as a black box, was placed in front of Supervillain. He could now examine the box.

He did and came to the conclusion that it was just a black box, with... speakers.

Speakers.

"This is a recording of Hero's voice," the doctor spoke, circling Supervillain and taking notes on his clipboard. "From today. To be precise on timing, it is live."

Supervillain shifted into a more upright position and eyed the speaker, but he didn't say a word. Heck, he didn't even acknowledge the doctor in any form.

Hero abandoned him. Left him to rot in the stupid lab like he was garbage. Maybe to her he was... but that was besides the point.

It was her whole facade that she put on when he was sick- when he was so feverish that he was to the point of delirium. The soft brushes of her hand through his hair- the hair that was now nearly past his ears. The warm embrace after a horrifying nightmare... it was all fake.

She didn't care, as much as her fingers and soft words wanted to him to think that, she just didn't.

The doctor started humming- a melodious tune that made the walls itch with nauseating prediction- as a long finger tapped a sunken button that, though Supervillain could not see, had the classic "On" branding.

"Go get the milk and flour." That was Hero's voice- her sweet purr, comforting tsk. Supervillain's chin trembled, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion.

"On it." And that was someone else's. Male, obviously, with the monotonous drawl. Deep too, oddly familiar in the sense of-

"Oh yeah Villain? Your henchman's wedding is tomorrow, are you sure that they don't need any help?"

The other voice was... Villain?

"She said that Fiance's parents are taking care of the last minute things, but I can ask again. Dear, we don't have any flour."

"Dang it." Hero again. Supervillain found himself floating towards the speaker, and soon, his hands were wrapped around it.

"I can go get some-"

"No, just use... here," a shuffle, cans and bags being dragged across wood. "Bread flour."

"Such a shame," the doctor's present voice interrupted Villain's reply. "This is really quite sickening. Actually, the whole concept of betrayal is."

Supervillain heard, but wasn't listening. Tears were welling up in his eyes... she gave up on him?

For Villain?

She left him to he drowned over and over again. Doomed him to endure unethical surgical procedures... to be free herself.

A tear spilled done Supervillain's cheek and onto his hands.

He hardly heard the doctor's swift order: "bring the whip", and when he finally realized, the metal was neatly embedded into his back's flesh.

He hissed, pushing away from the speaker in desperation. Surprisingly enough, no one stopped his resistance.

The whip felt to be wrapped in some form of metal barbs. They weren't barbs, of course, how unprofessional that would be. It was more like metal shards sticking out from the end. Kind of like a flail from the medieval times in a gruesome way.

The metal was roughly pulled from his muscles, leaving a larger wound than the intial strike did. Supervillain whimpered and stood up, swaying, and attempted to run away.

"We can make caramel popcorn instead."

"And watch a movie?"

The microphone was also speaking now, or so Supervillain thought through the haze of agony. Another blow smacked into him, this time between the shoulder blades.

Supervillain screamed and rushed into a corner, cowering.

"Or instead, let's get Starbucks and watch a movie. Black Widow is out, I know how much you like the Marvel series."

"Do you hear that?" The doctor spoke as another hot flash of pain overcame Supervillain's senses focalizing on his thigh. He leaned his head into the wall, sobbing quietly.

"Hero, she forgot about you," the doctor droned on. "Her and Villain... they are going to a movie together."

"S-shut-t u-up," Supervillain stuttered.

The whip clashed into Supervillain's knee. He felt bones crack and shatter... he yelped.

Adrenaline started pushing through his body, desperate to rid it of the incomprehensible pain that it was feeling. Supervillain stood up, favoring his right side, and stalked over to the assistant holding the whip.

"Supervillain, be smart. Is that poor boy over there the cause of your pain? If Hero was still here, taking her fair share of the punishment, you wouldn't have a broken knee," the doctor stepped into Supervillain's field of vision. "Why destroy someone innocent when you can destroy the guilty one?" The doctor gestured towards the speaker before nodding to his assistant.

The assistant shakily stepped forward and brought the whip down onto Supervillain's chest- who was too slow to react. He gasped for breath, collapsing to his hands and knees. Agony pounded into his chest until he was unable to breathe.

The whip came down onto his back again, sending him sprawling onto the ground. Then it came again, and again.

Supervillain rolled over in a rush to protect his back, but the flail just landed onto his stomach. He retched, spewing out vile vomit in one fluid motion before sobbing quietly again.

His brain, by some miracle, decided to block out the pain and focus on words.

The doctor's words, Villain's words.

Hero's words.

"We could share a frappuccino. Get a venti."

"Share as in..."

"Two straws."

"Under the moonlight, on a bench, in a park... forget the movie."

"Sounds romantic, my dear."

"Do you hear that tragedy?" The doctor said, breaking into the recorded people's conversation. "She has forsaken you. Left you here and moved on... not that she ever cared about you, it was more like an act of duty."

Supervillain pressed his sweaty face into the cool, tiled floor and closed his eyes.

The whip came again.

Supervillain let out a sob.

The metal shards pulled out skin, leaving it garbled.

They would be impossible to stitch up, if he was even given that luxury. He was most likely going to be pumped full of antibiotics and painkillers until his vitals were deemed stable...

The whip crashed into the back of his already broken knee.

"The roses are so lovely."

"Here."

"Thank you my Villain."

"You know how to end this, Supervillain." The speaker was placed in front of the bleeding person's face. "Destroy it. Destroy Hero's voice."

Supervillain groaned and shook his head. The pain, not just physical, but the piercing agony that tore his heart in into slivers of broken down vessels and veins, was intolerable- even dancing at the edge of unbearable- but her voice kept him stuck in reality. It kept him from drifting off into whatever void awaited him.

"Isn't it good?"

"Delicious."

Supervillain squeezed his eyes shut, fingers involuntarily moving against their own will.

"Destroy Hero."

Destroy Hero...

"The pain will be gone."

"You care about me?"

"More than anyone else in the world."

Hero's answer stung, even worse than the bite of the whip in his back, on his legs.

"She doesn't care. Nobody does. Stop being obstinate and care for yourself. Stop this misery. Destroy her."

Fingers laced over the speaker, clenching into fists.

"I love you."

"Destroy Hero."

The fist met with the box, silencing the dreadful voices just as Supervillain plunged into darkness.

[fanficboo]

The King and his Queen

Author’s Note : This is my first time writing anything, ever. Let me know what you think :) 

Pairing – Yoongi x reader

Genre – angst, fluff, light smut (?)

Word Count – 2.9K

Summary – A day (or night) in the life of King Min Yoongi and you, his Queen.  

Sleep never came to you on the nights he wasn’t by your side. Especially on a night you didn’t know if he was even going to return to the palace…no, he will return. He must. You stand by the window with your eyes closed and take a deep breath; you count up to 10 and repeat. Usually, this calms you down, your mind takes you to the places you made memories with him, but not tonight. No matter what you do, your mind is here, in this present moment, thinking of the state he might be in right now, your most favorite person in the world, your confidant, your husband and your King - Min Yoongi.

It’s so calm in your bedchambers, but there’s so much chaos in your mind. Now you’re getting restless, you’re tired of pretending to be a strong Queen while her husband is outside fighting a war. Just when you’re about to break down and give in to the tears waiting to escape your eyes, the doors to your chambers slam open. You look up immediately; hoping to see Yoongi’s face, but are disappointed to see the royal guard who had left to war alongside Yoongi. It’s at that moment the realization dawns onto you that he is here without his King, which means…no.. it can’t be.. Your husband has never broken his promises before and he cannot do it tonight. He kissed your forehead just a few hours ago and promised he would return to you. Now that moment seems a lifetime ago. Your heart is racing, not able to wrap your head around the fact that he isn’t here with the royal guard.   “My Queen” says the guard looking down, unable to meet your gaze. “Where is His Highness?” you demand. “I’m so sorry.. we tried our best to protect him.. we told him.. told him not to go too far off into the enemy’s camp.. but.. but..” the guard stutters, holding back, looking pained and trying not to break down. You stare at him, almost forgetting how to breathe. You cannot believe this.. no.. it’s not true. “HOW DARE YOU?” you scream at him, “How dare you return to this palace without your King?” This cannot be true. This CANNOT be true. “His Highness ordered us to stay behind..” the guard says, looking almost ashamed that he couldn’t do anything but follow the order. The fact that Yoongi decided to risk his life on his own breaks your heart. No, this cannot be true. It just can’t. You repeat this sentence over and over again in your head while the tears stream down your face uncontrollably. Your heart feels like it’s been ripped apart. No, this cannot be. It cannot be true. You need to see him. Now. Without a second thought, you lift your sword from the bedside table; the sword Yoongi had gifted you on your wedding day. You will go and find him at any cost. When the royal guard realized what you’re doing, he says “my lady, you cannot my lady. You should not. Please..please stay here..it’s dangerous” dangerous? When your life has no meaning without Yoongi in it, what does danger even mean? “Please step out.” you tell the guard as you take off your crown and place it on the bed, you take off your royal robes and put on your chest guard, you then pick out an old robe to wear, not wanting to be identified as the Queen when you step out of this palace. It is hard, it is extremely difficult to think practically while trying to look composed when all you want to do is throw everything within your sight and just scream Yoongi’s name. But you’re a Queen, and you WILL return to these very chambers with your King. He is still out there fighting a war and refuse to believe otherwise.

You step out of your chambers and a pool of guards gather behind you to match your pace, you walk down the stairs as gracefully as ever, and stop to turn around once you’ve reached the royal gates startling the guards behind you “I will not be accompanied by anyone tonight” you say in a stern voice. “But my Queen..” starts off the royal guard when you cut his words off with your fierce stare “This is an order from your Queen” you say, “And you will follow it. Stand guard outside the gates and wait for our return”

Just when you’re about to turn and leave the palace, there is a loud thud that startles everyone, the royal guard is screaming orders at everyone asking them to spread out and find the cause of this sound. Is it what you think it is? The noise seemed to come from behind the palace, the same place which has a secret opening to a small passageway that leads up to your bedchambers. Nobody knows about this except you and Yoongi. He had made this as a mark of something that only you both will ever know of, your little secret. There have been nights when you both have snuck out of this passageway to enjoy the weather, to dance in the rain together, to stare at the starlit sky, to have conversations that do not involve ruling a whole Kingdom, to just be Yoongi and y/n, not the King and Queen. Your heart starts to race for the millionth time tonight, should I leave or go and check what is happening back there.. what if it’s him? what if it’s not? but what if it is? You are thinking hard, trying to make a rational decision. You weigh your options and finally decide that you first need to take care of the situation here at the palace as Yoongi always made you promise that you will protect this palace and this Kingdom in his absence. Yoongi loved being a King, he loved this Kingdom and its people so much and would do anything to protect it. His ability to be a strong ruler and a good hearted person that the people of this Kingdom can trust and confide in is what made you fall for him in the first place, he has never let anyone down before.. your lips curve into a small smile at this thought because it gives you hope that he is not going to let you down tonight either. All these thoughts had crossed your mind while you were running and making your way to the backside of the palace. There are guards spread across the whole ground, it’s dark and everybody seems confused as there is absolutely no sign of any source that made the sound. You look around and immediately find the rock placed in the corner of wall which hides the entrance to your secret passage, there is no sign of it being moved and your hopes start to quiver. You sigh and move closer to the rock and bend down just to make sure nobody was near it, but what you see there makes you gasp in shock. You stand up at once when the guards come running to you and ask you if you’re alright. “I’m fine; there is nothing here, stand guard outside the front gates until you hear from me” you say and you walk away taking long strides towards the front gates for the second time tonight, but this time to enter the palace and not to exit. You enter the well-lit palace and climb up the stairs on the right side, quickly glancing up at the empty throne in the centre of the hallway for a moment. You reach your bedchamber, heart racing, you open the door silently, making sure it makes no noise whatsoever, you tiptoe inside and see no sign of anyone. Everything is exactly how you left it a few minutes ago, your crown on the bed, your royal robes on the floor with your wardrobe open and yet, your hand immediately moves towards the sword saddled around your hip; one thing you’ve learnt from Yoongi is to never trust what you see, always be cautious no matter what. Is it possible for anyone apart from the two of you to know about the secret passage which leads to the bathroom in your bedchambers? You slowly walk towards the bathroom and pull the doors open, what you see there almost makes you scream. Blood. The same blood you saw near the rock hiding the secret entrance in the backside of the palace. You immediately pull out your sword, there seems to be no sign of anyone there, the smell of the blood almost making you weak. What has happened? Who was here? If it was Yoongi, why was he bleeding so much and where is he now? All these thoughts cross your mind so fast that it almost makes you feel dizzy. You move towards the wall which consists of carefully picked tiles by Yoongi to conceal the opening to your secret passageway. There are blood stains all over it and your heart sinks. As you’re about to slide open the door in the wall, somebody from the other side opens it, you gasp and take a step back pointing your sword to whoever is about to step out of this passageway. You blink away your blurry vision caused by the tears that were waiting to fall and see the man standing in front of you, he almost looks as startled as you are for a very brief moment before his eyes light up and he says “That’s my girl” in his raspy voice. You drop your sword immediately and throw yourself into Yoongi’s arms. You sob loudly into his arms and he says “y/n? Baby? What’s wrong?” and you explain to him about how the royal guard returned to the palace without him and told you about him going too far off into the enemy’s camp and they didn’t know where you were. “Why.. did you have to order the guards to stay behind? Do you not care… for your life? Or mine?” you manage to say through your sobs, you are still wrapped around Yoongi’s arms; he sighs and says “y/n, you know how it is sweetheart, it is me who they wanted. So why unnecessarily risk other lives?” you cry harder, “but look, I’m here now, we won! We’ve won the war.” he says stroking your head with his left hand, and that’s when you realize how much his right hand is bleeding. You pull away immediately to inspect it, muttering curses under your breath at the person who did this to your husband. Yoongi looks at you in surprise and laughs; your heart warms at this sound, his laughter is your most favourite sound in the world. You hold his left hand in yours and walk him towards the door; you sit him down on the bed and start nursing his wounds immediately. There are totally seven cuts in his body, among which three are deep. You nurse every wound delicately and flinch when you nurse the deeper wounds, while Yoongi on the other hand is just gazing at you casually, as if he cannot feel any pain caused by the wounds. After you’re done, you ask him to rest while you go and inform the royal guards about his return. Everybody looks relieved and there is an immediate change in the atmosphere. Now everyone can fall asleep in peace, you think and return back to your bedchambers. You find Yoongi resting his back on the bed with his eyes closed. You get onto the bed and sit next to him; you inspect his face, his beautiful pale skin, his nose, his lips, and the scar running across his right brow and eye, his long blonde hair and his toned body covered in the royal black and golden robes. “Stop checking me out” he says so suddenly that you gasp, your cheeks turn red and you’re blushing now “I thought you were asleep” you say. “I was, until you woke me up with your stare” oh goodness. You roll your eyes, “how is that even possible?” you ask, “stop rolling your eyes at me” he says, with his eyes still shut. Wow, there’s nothing this man does not know. “Oh? So now you can see me with your eyes closed?” you ask teasingly, reaching out to the knot on your robes and slowly untying it. His calm posture suddenly tenses as he slowly opens his eyes to look directly into yours. Your heart flutters as if he’s looking at you for the first time in this life. He moves closer to you and holds your face in his hands, you think about how these are the very same hands that held a sword a couple of hours ago on the battlefield and yet they are here now, holding your face ever so delicately. Tears threaten to form in your eyes; you just love this man so much. He gently kisses your forehead, then each of your eyes, your nose, and finally, your lips. You didn’t know until this moment that this is what you were starving for the entire day, this right here, makes your whole life complete. He moves his hands down to cup your breasts, and instead finds you wearing your chest guard. He pulls away and looks at you with confusion “May I ask why you are wearing this?” Oh no. You look away, breaking eye contact, “Mmm. Just for safety” you say. You know by the look on his face that he is not buying this; he says “y/n, the palace is safe enough. Look at me and speak the truth.” You are left with no choice now, you look down and tell him that you almost left the palace in search of him. You then look up and are not quite able to understand the expression he is wearing on his face. Is it anger? Is it pain? Or could it be.. fear? Your eyes widen at this thought, you’ve never seen Yoongi fear anything before. Fear does not exist in his life, and yet here it is, sitting on his face like an old friend. “Say something” you say, he stares at you for a few moments and when he speaks, there’s a hint of pain in his voice “y/n, how can you think of such a thing? Promise me right now, that you will never leave the palace grounds when there is a war going on outside” you look away feeling hurt, “do you not think I’m a good fighter? Do you think I cannot protect myself?” you say in a small voice. “It’s not about that, it’s about you staying here in my absence and protecting the palace and its people. And just so you know, I trust you with this because I know you’re a damn good fighter and you can.. not just protect yourself, but protect the entire palace” he sighs, and in almost a whisper he adds “and I’m also worried if something bad may happen.. How am I supposed to live without you?” a tear escapes his eye and you cannot stand the little distance that exists between him and you. You gently wipe away the tear from his cheek and climb on his lap, facing him, your hands cupping his face. You close the distance between his lips and yours, letting him feel your affection through this deep kiss. You pull back after a few moments, your forehead resting on his, both of you breathing heavily and you say “nothing bad will happen to us, as long as we’re together” Yoongi smiles, “as long as we’re together” he repeats and you say “but on second thought, if you smile like that, it makes me want to do some bad things to you” you say. Yoongi’s smile turns into a smirk, his eyes turning a shade darker, you feel his manhood throbbing beneath you and you giggle “y/n..” he sighs and stares deep into your eyes, and when you least expected it, he turns you around in one swift move and you squeal in surprise. Now you’re lying on your back and he is on top facing you. “You know exactly how to turn me on, even on a night like this” he says while his hands are already working on undressing you. There’s just something about the way he moves his fingers, the way he touches your body that makes you feel so safe and so loved. You can’t help but feel emotional about how much this man means to you; he looks at you and stops what he’s doing “what is it? You don’t want to?” he asks. Oh, he couldn’t be more wrong because you grin and wrap your legs around his hips, your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, you whisper in his ear “I need to.” and you can feel his smile on the side of your neck, sending shivers down your whole body in a way that makes you squirm and ache for more, and it’s safe to say that your King is going to give you exactly what you need tonight.

[countryshitposts]

I Won’t Cry For You

Germany suffers alone.

Trigger Warnings: emotional, mental, and physical abuse, child abuse, vomiting, eating disorders, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt

"Frankreich please, I swear I really didn't hear it!" Germany reasons with his wife, his soft voice with reason has turned to a hysterical and almost-wail, but instead of convincing the woman in front of him it only gives him an uncomfortable glance and a shift of position, but her gaze becomes stern and firm, making Germany squirm a little.

"Allemagne, you were the only one left here in the office", France says in her 'mature and adult' voice; Italy would always try mimick it to make Germany feel better but now he wants to throw something - preferably soft - at her to distract her and run from this confrontation. "Surely you know what happened to why the safe is open and our money just vanished into thin air?"

Germany sputters a little; he tries to think of a good excuse to try and put himself in an innocent light - like he is - and stop Frankreich from tearing him apart piece by piece.

(He remembers all the eyes on him as he and his twin sister was revealed in this large crowd of cheering Germans, cheering for Reich and complimenting his 'children' and how East will hold his hand tighter when they are regarded as his. Ost had almost spoken out of a party, to answer a woman Third Reich, that cruel man, was not their father but West arrives in no time and ushers her into her bedroom to calm her down.

He wonders how she is doing behind the wall, seeing dozens of houses and buildings runny and downed. He stares at them for a moment, before moving on.)

"What, Allemagne, have nothing to say?" He hears her snicker and he shivers, remembering the cold room in the middle of the night with a gun on his fingers and Third Reich's laughs echoing in this closed room with absolutely no lights whatsoever. "I was right, and still am; you and your father are nothing but spineless cowards, only trying to stir trouble away from you but it doesn't and it comes back to bite you in the ass. Useless."

Germany's eyes widen, but he only keeps his eyes on the floor, lips trembling, tears threatening to spill out and screaming when they're not unleashed with a torrent, polished black shoes scratching the smooth and shiny floors with the light showing his thin, pathetic self.

(He hates the way his appearance was like- how it was all thin and delicate with no skin whatsoever and he'd try to change it but in the end he gets more and more hurt.)

But he cannot deny it; Frankreich is right of him. She is right, he is useless, he is nothing but another miserable soul in earth that was put there just to be another life form that sucks the air out of earth and waste it for his own gain. It is what Reich says; a spectre of useless things being thrown to the pages of the books being burned in the town square while others revel.

When France leaves, the tears in his eyes drop like rain; in tiny, unnoticeable small drops like a drizzle, before becoming more numerous and backing sheer amount of size as it becomes a waterfall in his face.

-

West silently walks his way into the building, ignoring the thrums of people he passes and they ignore him too, an invisible spec of light to behold. He opens the door to the office, and, much contradictory to the silent spell he is creating. He sits besides Italy, who was talking to Greece and not paying the slightest bit attention to him. Then again, he has always been invisible until he speaks, and that it when everyone would yelp and remember and regard that he was, in fact, there.

He opens his documents to observe the requirements of the day, pen full of ink as he starts to scribble the daily memoirs for the day. He tunes out for a little, not listening to the dramatics of everyone, the little hand waves everyone would do every so often but he does not pay attention to the slightest bit of movement or word.

That is, until, France ruins this moment of serenity.

"Allemagne was the only person in the building when the alleged crime scene happened", France says, and West's handwriting turns ugly for a bit before going back to its default style, his hands still shaking. "So, technically, that makes him our number one suspect."

He stops writing, as he feels everyone's eyes upon him, and he looks down at the ground, hating the confrontation happening, remembering the audience's eyes on he and Ost as Reich parades them in town, looking proud and almighty.

(Reich had beckoned him to sit with he and his allies, once. Reich asks West many a question to the point he could not keep up with all of them and stumbles on his words; Reich had called him an underdeveloped child and sends him on his way, but the pang was still there.

It always is.)

"Frankreich, listen to me-"

"You can't just fabricate another alibi, West; sooner or later you're going to lie yourself into a corner and be done with it."

"Es tut mir leid Frankreich aber-", he falters; he questions to why he is speaking in German, despite the fact that everyone here despises him and one time France had hit him when he spoke in his tongue. He reasons it is due to his nervousness and anxiety, his whole body shaking but he tries not to show it.

(It was a complete reverse to what went on in Reich's household.)

The beads of sweat were basically hugging his skin, making it all warmer as he fans himself with his suit, silently asking how it had grown warmer in the course of minutes.

France laughs. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue le crètin?"

His heart stops; he remembers the insults that Reich had hurled in his way, remembering the hands and raising of fists and the cold and dark room in which he and that tyrant were always locked in as he tries not to spill any tears and minimise the shaking of his body, blonde hair covering his eyes.

He stands up, feeling his stomach plead to him for them to release the half-digested remains he had eaten in breakfast; scrapes of food he had found on his cupboards as he struggles. Germany throws a hard look at France, and, without waiting for her reaction to this, immediately runs out of the door, nausea in his veins.

He runs, his feet still light and nimble on the floors, making small squeaking sounds but wad not loud enough to alert anyone of a nearby person. He had practiced his light feet from sneaking out to meet Ost in her room, to taking food from Reich's plates and then for just not frightening or making anyone aware of his presence at all. His mouth was burning, bile covering his tongue like the millions of souls that Reich had murdered reaching out to him in his dreams.

(He had dreamt of them many times in the past, their screams of fury and horror, their protests and screams to make him confess that it was his fault, oh his fault. It is his fault that he had caused their deaths, and he tries to fight back and say he cannot do anything but they let out horrible and gruesome noises until he is on the floor, sobbing, covering his ears and confessing that yes, yes, he murdered them all.)

Germany opens the door to the bathroom, immediately running to the first stall - almost tripping - and hunches his back over the toilets, making retching sounds as his throat burns, bile creeping up his throat and seeing the remains of his breakfast in the toilet makes him vomit even more. He sobs a little, trying to compose himself, shaking even more after he unleashed a torrent of his remains. He shakes, as he stands, wiping the edges of his mouth with the back of his wrist, before looking at himself in the mirror.

He makes notes of his now messy blonde hair, sad green eyes showing how much he had cried this day, the messed up suit. Germany exits the bathroom, looking at the direction of the office where he had ran off to and the exit. He turns on his heel.

He has no motivation to go back to the meeting.

-

Germany desires for a drink, but he abstains from that thought; he cannot return to a meeting by simply being drunk, no, he would make an ass of himself even more, and will be the subject of ill-willed jokes for months. He would pass bars that offer the best of beers, but he shakes his head from that thought- he had also realised that he left his wallet in the coat rack at the front of the building, and he swears silently at the loss of it.

(At least he won't go wasting his fortune on little drinks, that is a plus.)

He finds a park bench he can sit in, looking absolutely miserable, not minding the others' staring and the looks they give of him, of him displaying the vibe of an employee who was fired from his job.

Germany would usually stare off into space if he cannot get the slightest bit of the revelries of being drunk- the way his eyes will dilate, his mind bring him into a different world just as bad as this one, and his limbs going slack as if he had fallen asleep in all of this. The voices in his mind would make him imagine gruesome thoughts, and he lets them control him like a puppet with strings, since that is what he is, right? Nothing more, nothing less. At least he would not deal with the consequences of a hangover in the morning, head pounding and stumbling as he makes his way downstairs and visit the pharmacy store to buy painkillers.

The guilt inside of him is easy to be played with, and he lets everyone take advantage to the softest of pleas to the most direct of them all.

He does not fight back as he gives them what he wants.

He stands from the bench, feeling himself drained from thinking of these thoughts. He throws a glance to the people at the park; elderly men and women feeding the ducks, young couples having their first dates in underneath the trees while the children are playing and their parents are setting up the picnic table in a relaxed manner.

Sometimes Germany wishes he can be as relaxed as them; not these contorted limbs that had always been aching and hurting and making him want to cut them off one by one until he is limbless.

Feeling utterly sick to his stomach, he leaves the park to go look for a way to calm himself down of the insult.

He breaths in- t'was just an insult; he has no right to get angry or sad or offended by it.

It just brings back some horrible memories.

But horrible memories are meant to be sidelined to make way for happier and joyous memories.

(It is bold enough to assume he even has one.)

And horrible memories shouldn't be brought up on the dinner table; that's just going to make everyone hate you more instead of pitying your sorry face.

So he keeps them bottled up; only using them as a leverage to get some exquisite excuses from his mind and sometimes his line of work, whenever it gets stressful for him to even function.

(He'd have days like these- days where he is plagued by the ultimate failure and outcome of his mind that he cannot even begin to process the fact that he has a life other than being sad and lonely and being mad for the fact that his father up and abandon them to snap and become the most evil man he has ever witnessed.)

West kicks a rather empty can back to where it had come from, an abandoned and moldy alley with no light coming from there. He stares at it for a little; how he had unknowingly kicked a priced vase from its foundation and how Reich had heard that shatter and immediately fumed once he sees West's frail figure trying to pick up the broken pieces of the vase but ends up cutting himself, pricking his fingers and drawing in an amount of blood. He had remembered the insults and words thrown onto his face as he tries not to cry, but he does and Reich even grows more furious, his hand raised to hit him.

But it never did, instead he was laughing and making fun of the way West's body quivers in fear and tells him he's only joking; no need to overreact.

But West knows that he will never hesitate to hit him even in his most simplest of mistakes.

He now desires for a smoke, but he has neither the cigarettes nor lighter to even light one- he swears once again, now really regretting not bringing his wallet with him. He wants to get blackout drunk by now.

He passes by a fine-dining restaurant, with everyone seeming like they are having a good time with their friends and family, and he pauses his feet, looking through the glass like it is an ideal dream- unreachable, yet it can exist if he can just try. He remembers his father, feeding he and Ost with the scrapes of food he finds in the streets, and he feels content with even the single particle enter his stomach. Then it is replaced by a memory of Reich giving him only a meal a day; if West ever dared step out of his boundaries he will never be given a meal that day and will be left to starve.

(West had objected to this the first few times, of course.

"Papa would let me eat despite the fact I broke a frame!", he had said in front of Reich, who was smoking a cigar, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

"The only frame you'd be breaking is yours- except for the fact, it is already broken." Reich laughs at his joke as West's eyes immediately go downward.)

He jolts at the sudden memory in his mind - stop giving him painful memories you useless sack of membrane - stepping backwards and landing onto somebody's arms, and he looks up to find a concerned man and woman - perhaps husband and wife - looking down at him.

"Are you alright, young man?", the man holding him asks, and West steels himself and gets up from where he was being aided from; he did not need to be babied, that perspective of his life had come to a close once his father had turned.

(Germany must confess, but he wanted to be held, nurtured, cared for and loved in someone's arms once again, back to the times someone actually loved him before two people had the complete and utter gall to take them away and place him in a different surrounding where his sister hates him and everyone is against him.)

"I'm fine", Germany replies to the man, stepping back a little, "just a little... dazed."

"It's just... you've been walking 'round the place with quite a solemn look, like something has been on your mind."

Germany shakes his head and smiles, knowing full well it is plastic. "Really, I am fine- I just have a lot of things in my mind right now."

The man nods, "All right, off we go then. I do hope that you sort out whatever issues you are dealing with right now." With that, the couple walks off; leaving Germany in his thoughts once again and completely solemn.

He wonders if there are any vacant high-scaled buildings he can break in in the middle of the night.

-

Germany wakes up screaming after a nightmare. He gets up from the bed, unconsciously throwing his nightly glass of water to the walls, its shattered wails of glass desecrating his night - or day, he has lost time really - and screams even more when he remembers the horrible sounds of shattered glass to the screams of his people running rampant to Ost telling him they both need to jump out the window to escape the wrath of the enemies. West throws his sheets upon himself, utterly shaking from head-to-toe, trying to make himself relax, all his joints swollen and throat in pain after the high screams from his nightmare.

(He doesn't remember his dream; all he knows was that at first everything was white and then it faded to a crimson red of the blood his alleged victims had owned and the blue-stains signifying his tears.)

West gets up from his bed and unwraps himself from his blankets, looking around cautiously like the ghost of the past has been left behind to haunt him forever. Yet the ghost of the past is him; he is a living memory of what Reich had done, and he will be the one to blame for the next century or so.

(Sometimes he'd jump back from a reflection of him- scared at how he looks so much like his father to the point it is rather jarring.)

West was not fond of handling steak or kitchen knives at three in the morning, with his skin full of thin lines are tingling underneath his long sleeves, thirsting for the sharp metal to bury deep into his skin but he denies them with all his might despite the fact he eyes it- eyes the way it shines underneath the kitchen's ceiling light, calling him, tempting him to come have a taste of what the knife can do.

He sighs a little before ultimately giving up at making himself a snack at three, knowing full well he could not trust himself with a knife. Or any sharp object in general.

He decides not to eat anything at all, remembering the way he vomited out contents of his stomach at a single mention of the awful and horrible things Reich had done. Of course, has not eaten anything since yesterday, preferring having an empty stomach retching over the toilet trying to spill its contents into the bowl than a full one- his appetite would immediately become lost.

So Germany blankly opens the television and spends the rest of his free time before going back to his work place of pure torture. Not like he'd find a good movie or show to watch; he sincerely thinks that real life was much more entertaining than a measly motion picture with scripted words and actions and romance to top it all off.

(The way he sees it, he feels as if the romance of all the complicated movies and series he has seen are rushed; a handsome, dashing man and a damsel in distress falling in love, kissing passionately at the very end to show all that they are a couple, they are together, and everyone will be happy of their love. All the while, Germany would clench at his fists hard and crush the utter soul of what he is holding.

He had love. He had love a long time ago, before it came crashing down like tidal waves pinning him down to the deep blue sea and forever rendering him without his sister and father to guide him endlessly.)

He lets himself melt into the suffocating couch, sighing a little from how soft it feels on his back, contradictory to the fact that he can still feel the bruises Reich had caused on it, still throbbing with pain every time he presses them onto a hard surface. (Which is why his chairs on every meeting is stacked with pillows; he knows he cannot have his back mangled from both work and a painful past.)

He then stiffens when he hears a gunshot- then it starts to multiply a lot in his ears, amplifying it to the sounds of many a soldier screaming and ordering in German, then a shot towards he himself, a scared and trembling boy who tries his damnedest to lift the heavy armed weapon on his arms as he, with quivering feet, try catching up with the older men who were completely ignoring him to save their own asses.

"Bitte... lass mich alles vergessen." He silently prays to no one in particular; he has never had believed in a single faith after his childhood came crashing down to reveal the outside world in the most sickening and twisting of ways, twisting his mind until he cannot make up what is real and what is not anymore. "Bitte... bitte..."

His nerves start to rack as all of his senses were now on fire, trying to claw their way into his skull and he grits his teeth, opening and then closing his eyes again when he sees that everything around him is as dark as the death of the night, no stars nor light was there to guide him. He tries to stand, but his legs had turned as soft as jelly, and he stumbles with a hard thud- but it doesn't hurt him, only giving him a slight amplifying when his heart starts to beat, faster and racing like they were trying to catch up with his nerves settling into him. He tries to feel his hands, but they were numb, like they were settled deep into a blockade of ice where they stayed for an hour or two before completely being submerged frozen. His chest was heaving, pounding outwards like there was a beast inside him waiting to be let out so they can murder him. He can feel the wetness of his cheeks, though, and opens his mouth to let out a muffled sob but nothing comes out (if something did come out he'd choke it back down).

He tries to calm himself down - which was now a daily occurrence - because he knows no one will acknowledge him, no one will care that he's having panic attacks in three in the morning and trying to control himself from taking the knife and giving himself a variety of cuts and bruises along his skin.

No one will care.

And that's a fact he has to live with.

-

"You have the nerve to show your face here again?" Germany's green eyes slither towards the towering figure that was Frankreich, always high and mighty, always proud, and always antagonizing him no matter what he has to do. His eyes go back to the documents he was writing.

"I work here, Frankreich", he says softly but can still be heard by everyone in the room, "please leave me be."

He hears the woman laugh, her laugh just as warm and thick with honey as her voice. "Ah, so the la mauviette learns how to talk back to his higher-ups, hm?"

He ignores her, despite the fact he knows she doesn't have an inclination towards being ignored, loving the attention, loving the spotlight that may sometimes be meant to others.

(One time he sees Italy and France arguing about something he cannot hear, except for the fact that France was complaining about how she 'didn't have enough screen time' and Italy looking genuinely apologetic.)

"Rèponds-moi- I do not want to be ignored."

The sounds of scribbling paper fills the room, the entire office becoming eerily quiet for Germany's taste, and he wonders if France did have a specific touch on the building to let everyone know that drama was happening.

"RÈPONDS-MOI, SALE ALLEMAND!" Her shriek, which is an octave higher than her voice, makes West's handwriting sloppier as he jumps from his seat with his hair a mess from the jolt. His shaken eyes turn back to France, jaw locked, eyes murderous and bloodshot, her fingers on his desk.

(No, this did not bring him bad memories of Reich, absolutely not.)

"Ah, so I can get your attention from shouting", France says, a tiny smirk dancing across her face, a malicious intent in her eyes. "What? Scared I'll come to your room and murder you in cold blood?"

I am not afraid of murder, Germany wants to say but bites his tongue, knowing he'd provoke France even further than he did before.

"You are", she says with a small chuckle as she retracts her fingers from his table slowly, like she was going to raise it and scratch his face with her nails. "I think I know what else will frighten you."

She raises her hand, clenched to a fist, and Germany gasps; all of a sudden the warm air around the room has been shattered, replaced by the familiar chill he has always felt whenever he was around, whenever his shadow lurks in the darkness, watching, eyeing him and whenever he shows up in his delusions that are called dreams in his slumber. And he remembers those tainted red eyes of madness, showing no remorse as he strikes East after she had misbehaved his order, and then him, cowering in fear underneath the staircases but he receives a blow, horrible and it repeats and repeats, the blows becoming more and more painful as pain blossoms into his body while he apologizes, knowing full well Reich would never listen.

"ES TUT MIR LEID!" He did not know when he had stumbled into the ground, out of his chair, into the cold and hard floors, sweating, chest heaving and breath quickening, seeing the shadow of the ruthless dictator he had come to despise all his life, and not France. "Vergib mir! Bitte! Hit me but not her!" He starts to choke and sob, a river of tears running down his cheeks, gritting his teeth.

(Was he aware that he was foolishly breaking his own walls in front of people who dislike him? Perhaps, or he is hallucinating he was in his room once again talking to a shadow of that man.)

He screams when he feels someone's hand on his shoulder, and scrambles back like a rat against all human touches and wanting to get away from them. "GET AWAY! DU BIST NICHT VATER! Ich will meinen Vater! WO IST ER!" His eyes sesrch frantically at the sea of faces, trying to decipher who was the kind and caring father that had raised him over the years with his kind smile and lively attitude, and breaks down into sobs, crawling into a fetal position when he cannot find him.

(France hears Allemagne repeat Weimar and Ost's names, crying his heart out as he puts his face into his hands, his fingers digging into his skin. All the while, she did not know what had triggered this, and she looks at her fist with a confused look.)

The whole room is now full of nerve-racking sobs, when the man in front of them reverts back to a young boy that wants his family back.

-

Austria hears impatient knocks on his door, and he sighs, sitting up from where he was sitting and pinching the bridge of his nose, silently deciding whether to abandon his music composition briefly or answer the door. He decides to come downstairs, in his bathrobe and hurries down towards the door, where in which the troublesome knocks were resonating.

"Darf ich Ihnen helfen?", he asks calmly, until he fully registers who was at his doorstep-

France looks at him awkwardly, feet shifting from left to right and hands on her back. "Puis-je te demander quelque chose?"

France takes a sip of her cup of tea which Austria had brewed, placing it on the tray on the small coffee table as she puts her hands on her lap daintily.

(Austria knows that her dainty and fragile features mask the she-wolf of a woman that she is; that her innocent looks and pure smiles can mean something else and everyone who has fallen under her spell has suffered a terrible fate, a poisonous apple.)

"Third Reich", Austria spits his name out of his mouth, like a forbidden curse. "You are aware of the fact Weimar turned into him, correct?"

France rolls her eyes, "Of course I know. I wasn't born yesterday you know."

"Well, you see, the twins are quite attached to their father; something you can never relate to." He flicks his finger, a tiny snap as his eyes carefully flickers to a portrait of Liechtenstein. "When they realized their father was replaced by a terrible and god-awful man, oh, were they devastated."

"Well, from the way Allemagne was crying of his father today I can see it." France mentally slaps herself after she lets the remark slip out of her mouth, and now Austria was glaring at her, holding his cup of tea.

He sighs, "Well, I cannot critique you; I made no help to both of them, with the delusion of still being in power." He sighs a little, guilt lingering in his voice as he fixes his glasses. "Why do you need my help again?"

France's leg starts to bounce, "Because, Austria, I want to know why Allemagne overreacted to me almost hitting him yesterday."

Austria's eyes give off another slight irritation, as if not wanting to talk about how everything all went wrong yesterday.

(He was, of course, there, obviously- he had just gotten back from the coffee room only to see West on the floors with everyone standing like a deer in the headlights and France nowhere to be seen. He and Schweiz had to soothe Germany out of his fetal position and support him while walking. The nerve-wracking sobs remind Austria of Confederation and he was close to sobbing as well.)

"If you were such a 'smart' woman as you put it", Austria puts finger quotations on the word 'smart', much to France's dismay, "then you would know how much harshness Reich treated those twins of Weimar."

France leans uncomfortably into her chair, looking at the steam rising from her cup of tea like it was a phantom offering her something else in the cup, a woman giving her a thousand knowledge in one life time. She sighs, "Look, I know me and the others were at fault for his demise-"

"It's not entirely your fault too", Austria cuts in, "it is partially also Weimar's for accepting the ghost in his head telling him of promises so he can take what was his."

"Alright, back to the topic", France swivels, "I've noticed something peculiar about Germany. About the way he's always really silent that when he speaks everyone just jumps because they're unaware he was in the same room as them; the way he jumps when someone makes a loud noise; the way he asks people if this seat or place is taken despite the fact that he actually is seated there; and just yesterday, when I tried to hit him he just spent half an hour on the floors, grovelling, until you helped him up."

Austria thinks for a moment, lips pursed as if contemplating how this situation had gone to a topsy-turvy. "Have you ever considered that this net behavior of West can stem from years of hurt and pain?"

France blinks, "I thought he was just anxious and shy-"

"You thought wrong, Frankreich", Austria says, glowering a little. "You'll always assume even the most basic of things. I've seen West being hit and belittled by Reich, while that disgusting man had enjoyed his pain and misery." His face shows more regret once again. "But what do I know? I turned a blind eye on them all. The next thing I knew Reich was dead in his office, West is in the Allies' custody, and East is now with the Soviet Union."

France sighs a little, "Listen, I've done something horrible to Allemagne, that I can tell; and I want to... help him."

Austria scoffs, gripping the handle of his cup hard. "Help? I think you've done your part on helping the poor boy. You think hitting him will make you feel satisfied at the fact you made a boy grovel at your feet? That is not helping; you are doing the same thing Reich did."

"And what did Reich do?"

The man in front of her chuckles, like he has seen a hilarious move right in front of him. "Isn't it obvious? He hits, starves, and misuses the twins to the point they are broken beyond belief."

"I... I didn't know that bastard would do that to his own children!" France tries to find some evidence so she can prove herself justifiable of why she had tried to hit West in the first place. Her mind gives her a conscience instead of a reliable excuse though- she wanted to hit West to see how much his mind will topple over and break him like the fragile glass in abandoned buildings and even in her own home in which she drunkenly throws all of her glasses of wine into the walls.

Österreich glares at her with a magnitude of a thousand suns looking to strike her down. "Now you know, and now... I do not know. If you would've given the boy a chance, then he would not be scarred by days past. He would not wallow in guilt on what has become in his life and how he should make it up to every single one of you. I can only be here for him for a short while before he goes back to his home in a pitying manner, before he goed nd play with that razor blade-"

France's heart stops for a second as she jolts up from where she was sitting. "Wait... Allemagne hurts himself?"

The sadness in Austria's eyes increase as he looks back at the cup in his hands. "He does; I tried so much to get him out of those manners but he would not listen- he keeps telling me he will kill himself when the timing is right, when the sea meets the sky."

France feels more and more feelings of guilt churn inside of her; who is she to mock the German family when even she was just as terrible as they are? And she remembers the awful things she has told about West and his sister and father, even right in front of him or in earshot like she has no care for his feelings and treating him as a person even lower than she.

She stands, "Thank you for the small talk, Austria, but now I have to go."

He gives her a small wave of farewell as she closes the door behind her, cup of tea already cold.

-

The air at the roof of the building was quite cold and chilly- like the cold floors that Reich would press West upon or the even harsher winters in which he is thrown outside after pushing Reich's buttons too much so now he has to sleep in front of the door he has been kicked out of, with thin clothes and freezing to death as he tries to plead with Reich to take him home.

(He'd cry and weep as he shakes with the shattering snowflakes as the tears on his face freeze up as his body becomes frozen and he crawls into a sitting position to conceal the warmth that still resonates within him.

Reich would only open the door when he is unconscious and would take him in like the loving father figure he is, wrapping him up in blankets and hiring the best doctors to help heal him. When West came to, he would shout at Reich but he'd simply laugh and say he has saved his life from the hazardous cold of the winter season.)

He takes the burnt out cigarette that has been stuck on his mouth for long as he drops it to the ground and steps on it as he grows closer, tantalizingly closer to the edge. The wind becomes colder and stronger, screaming at him to back away unless he deserves the terrible fate he's always did and steps on the edge to see what lies beyond the top of the very building.

West's eyes scan the neighbouring buildings, full of blinkering yellow lights that show people going on about their mundane but impacting lives, at how, in introspection, these lives are not worthwhile in the history books and that only the people living their lives fully know what has happened; not even their closest relatives will know of their deepest secrets and dreams and fears, only the speck of imagination that came out of their mouth is the only knowledge their closest companions will absorb of. He looks down at the speeding cars, wondering if he falls down from this great height and be flattened by the ashphalt road, will the cars zooming in such a high or moderate speed stop when they see some large thing fall from the sky in heaven's grace? Or would they simply ignore and accidentally run over his mangled corpse?

His polished dark shoe is camouflaged with the dark sky, as he taps to create a small cadence before his untimely - but expected - death. He takes a deep breath - his last - closing his eyes and to calm his beating heart, which was protruding from his chest and wishing to escape.

Not to worry, he tells his beating heart, you will be free after I fall off this building.

West takes a cautionary step outside the edge of the building, his shoe touching thin air, trying to see if it can carry him away from oblivion, away from its taste, trying hard to seduce him into the dark side, lips tainted with past lovers. He exhales, letting out all his stress, trauma, hate and sadness that has been plaguing him like a sickness in all the years after Reich had been created (his father was a fool).

So he leans- leans into the very edge, waiting for his inevitable death to sweep him into the afterlife, where he belongs.

A hand holding on his wrist stops him, and now he is frozen on the edge, like the sculptures of a fountain he has seen numerous times before. And then he is pulled back, pulled back to the bittersweet tastes of imminent death, his eyes looking back down to the ground waiting patiently for him, trying to comprehend that a body would not drop to their hard bed that easily.

Instead of fighting, he feels numb; like the only safe way to close the curtains of his life is down. He cannot feel his hands, like he had just inhaled another fresh bag of cocaine and spread it all over his systems like a fresh batch of flour had just rubbed off into him. West then feels himself coming to his senses, as he is brought back to the world of living he hated and will always hate and into warm arms that scoops him up like a swan.

"Allemagne, can you hear me?" The voice was sweet, pure but with the touch of concern in it, like she cares, oh she cares at how far West has fallen down. Her hands finds West's cheeks, warm with tears he did not know had appeared on his face during his time being saved by the light that has always hated him ever since he was born. "S'il te plait dis quelque chose, Allemagne."

West stares up at the night sky, stars blinking and twinkling all above him like they will shower him with gifts, gifts that will never make sense in a lifetime. His eyes search the skies, to find the constellations moving to form his sister, his dear sister that had pushed him away when they had reunified, smiling down at him just like in the old days, when spring felt warm in his hands as it devours the icy winters, touching the frozen wasteland that had become second nature. The constellations move again to form his father, his dear and loving father he had loved from the beginning to the end of his life, anger suddenly dissipating when he remembers the real reason why he became desperate, clutching at short straws before succumbing to the deepest and darkest desires of his mind, working like a needle for him to grapple at and sew his own life story.

(He reminisces about the small but comfortable apartment they had once lived; he was always never alone, he was always never sad nor angry, especially when it was with their father and Ost, so happy and so peaceful, until like a picture they were torn apart by the great grand scheme of things.)

And he sees her, burning like a supernova under the stars, the sun expanding and expanding and expanding until it wholly occupies the space where all life exists, her troubled face looking down at him with such intensity that he could not bear look at her eyes of hurt, knowing he's disappointed her, over and over again.

Frankreich's hands feel like the sun underneath his tear-covered cheeks, ultimately caressing him and then taking him by her arms, like they were the best of friends, the worst of enemies, dying in battle. "Je suis vraiment désolé." There she goes again, cradling him like a small and vulnerable infant unready for the world to take them out, but he enjoys it, he enjoys her embrace, he enjoys everything about this feeling, as if he had not felt it in a long time.

So he stays.

-

Es tut mir leid Frankreich aber- i'm sorry France but

Bitte ... lass mich alles vergessen- please, let me forget everything

Rèponds-moi- answer me

Vergib me- forgive me

Du bist nicht vater- you are not my father

Ich will meinen vater, wo ist er- i want my father, where is he

Darf ich Ihnen helfen?- may i help you

puis-je te demander quelque chose- can i ask you something

S'il te plait dis quelque chose- please say something

Je suis vraiment désolé- i'm so sorry

[ivy-stjames]

tw : teen pregnancy 

IVY ST.JAMES WASN’T THE MOST RESPONSIBLE OF MCKINLEY’S TEENS. that fact was known and it was applicable anywhere from taking accountability for her actions to getting her school work done on time. needless to say, even with her seventeenth birthday on the horizon, ivy’s life thus far had been filled with prioritizing fun and doing what she wanted to do rather than what she probably should do. sure, that approach to life had gotten her into a couple of binds, but she had yet to confront one quite this big. 

after the happiest little getaway, ivy naively thought things could only get better. sure, she had felt a little nauseous on the drive back to lima, but ivy chalked it up as a bad combination of the alcohol consumed the night prior and the churning motion of the car. quicker than she would’ve liked, she gave leo a peck on the cheek, grabbed her bag, then jogged into her house and directly into her bathroom. if she was gonna hurl, she wasn’t going to do it in front of leo. had her tolerance really gotten so low?

she quite literally threw her bag on the counter and dropped to her knees, entirely prepared to spill her guts. though the longer she remained on the bathroom floor with her head hung, the more and more that general queasiness seemed to fade. eventually, ivy pulled herself back onto her feet and turned the sink on so to splash some water on her face and ground herself back in the moment.

shortly after recovering from that weird nauseous spell, ivy mindlessly put some music on her phone and began to unpack what belonged in her bathroom from the overnight bag. she didn’t think of herself as an over-packer in any regard, but she needed what she needed and there was no shame in bringing it all. first came her toothbrush, then hair brush, followed by deodorant and body spray. she dug around the bag a little more just to double check she had gotten everything out when her fingertips brushed a flimsy tin and plastic sheet.

fishing it out, ivy looked at it, head tilted in confusion. she hadn’t really remembered throwing her birth control in her bag yesterday, but then again she had packed pretty quickly. more pertinently than that though, she hadn’t remembered getting so far behind on it. the assortment of pills popped out was random and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason in how or when ivy had taken them. the only common strain was that in each of the four rows there were pods with pills in them and pods without. as she examined the packet, it was initially concerning to visualize the sporadic pattern. once she counted up, the brunette felt more assured to see over half were gone. that was close enough, so any unprotected . . . moments with her boyfriend were still protected in a way. she opened her medicine cabinet and placed the sheet inside, trying to push aside any concerns. any that lingered were absolute paranoia not grounded in any logic whatsoever.

ivy turned out the bathroom lights and tried to leave those thoughts behind her as she moved into her room to unpack her clothes. thinking logically wasn’t really her forte, but as she unpacked both her her clothes and jewelry she tried to talk herself down from this irrationality. when was the last time she had a period? like a week before prom? that didn’t sound too great. she too tried to brush that off as a shift in her usual athletic schedule, cycles weren’t always super consistent. when she finished unpacking, she sent leo a text apologizing for her rushed exit and explained that she had just been car sick. was it car sickness, though? morning sickness, maybe? woah, slow down there ivy.

she laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to spiral. what if she was pregnant? there was no way. she had been taking birth control for almost two years now and there were only . . . one , two, three, FOUR times they had gone unprotected. there was simply no way. it’s all she could keep repeating to herself. there was just no way. in an attempt to distract herself, she picked up her phone and rolled over on her stomach to give joey a call. maybe they could do something for the day and she’d distract herself from the worry running through her mind. they talked for a little, ivy kicking her legs back and forth and twirling her hair as they did. it was a decent distraction and by the time she was asking if he could hang out she was back to feeling care free. unfortunately though, joey already plans with tracy, which left ivy feeling worried all over again once she no longer had a friend to talk to.

the next thirty minutes were spent rearranging her earrings, shoes, and closet in this lame attempt to preoccupy herself before she finally grappled with the fact that the only thing that was going to get this crazy conspiracy out of her head would be if she actually took a test and saw that negative indicator with her own two eyes. maybe a bit dramatically, she put on a hoodie and some sunglasses, grabbed her car keys, and began her drive to the nearest walgreens. lima was a small town, the last thing she wanted was to be caught buying pregnancy tests, so she’d deal with the hollywood breakdown chic outfit for this brief excursion. 

ivy was in and out as fast as she could be, grateful not to have bumped into anyone. no research went into what tests were best for her to get, she just plucked two of the most expensive ones off the shelf and figured they would be of the best quality. with a job, she could buy them with her own money, even if the expense would put a significant dent in her bank account. she wanted to get two just so she could be sure she was sure. purchasing a large thing of water along with the tests, she tried not to make the exchange with the cashier awkward, but ivy was nervous and didn’t have much tact in holding up conversation as she usually did.  on her drive home, ivy was sure to chug the water bottle so she could get to seeing that negative sign in high quality as soon as she got home. that plan had done what it intended to do, so much so ivy parked in the driveway to race inside and upstairs back to her bathroom. she read the directions in a hurry, but once she got the gist, she followed the instructions, did both in one sitting, and set the tests on the counter and waited.

never had she felt so nervous for anything, not about a cast list, not about a boy, nothing compared to the way she felt sitting there and tapping her feet. time didn’t seem to pass at all, yet she felt stuck staring at the wall and waiting. forcing herself to stand up and check, ivy stoop cautiously shuffled over to the counter where both tests sat. why was she so nervous? they were gonna be negative. she looked at herself in the mirror, hands on the counter top, in what felt to be a final time before looking down. 

an instant shock pulsed through her body that left her feeling both numb and painfully aware of what could be a brick weighing heavily at the bottom of her stomach. at first, she did nothing but blink to make sure she had correctly seen two positive indicators. at the confirmation after her double take, ivy clasped a hand over her mouth and stumbled back into the wall, sinking down slowly once she did. there was no pinpointing when the tears started rolling, just the terrified and lonely feeling of sitting on her cold bathroom tile that set in almost instantly. both hands come to cover her mouth as she tried to muffle any hyperventilation or sobs. leo was going to be so mad. he didn’t want kids, she was painfully aware of the fact. what was she going to do? ivy would love to be a mom, she’d verbally expressed this only a handful of times, but right now? well doing it right now left her with a paralyzing fear. 

she couldn’t say how long she sat there crying and deliberating and thinking with her hands pressed fearfully over her mouth and tears grossly coating her cheeks and even down to her neck. ivy tried to figure out what to do, what steps to take, even if they were just to get herself up off the ground, but all she could think about was how terrified she felt and how scary the idea of telling leo seemed to her. completely at a loss, she glanced up at her phone on the counter and had her first thought that wasn’t ‘fuck, what do i do? fuck fuck fuck.’  she could call eli. just the idea of her big sister walking her through what to do and calming her down comforted ivy slightly. wiping her tears, she eventually got herself to her feet and over to her phone on the counter. sniffling, she picked up her phone, unlocked it and pulled up eli’s contact info. starting to cry again, ivy hit the call button and almost instantly regretted it. what was she doing? eli wasn’t going to want to listen. she was mad and refusing to come back home. she didn’t want anything to do with her or their parents anymore. stupid ivy. rapidly, the cancelled the call and desperately tried to wipe her tears again as she looked at herself in the mirror.

for a moment, she felt entirely out of her body. while she remained sniffling, ivy pulled up the hoodie and ran her hands over her still flat stomach. was this real? for a fleeting moment, part of her was hopeful. there was a baby in there. well, kinda. if she could just get leo on the same page, they could keep things quiet until the mamma mia run was over, then start the beginning of the rest of their lives. but that’s all it was. fleeting. still, it was enough to get her to stop crying. even with her tingling arms and legs, ivy went through the motions of throwing the tests back into the boxes, then the boxes into the bag, and gathering her things before heading into her room. ivy stuff the bag with the box into an empty shoe box in her closet, just until she figured out what to do with them. 

one thing was for certain, even if she had stopped crying, ivy didn’t feel real right now. the concerns and utter loss for what to do were still there, but this detachment from the real world piloted her into her bed and under the covers where she would stay, staring blankly at herself in her mirrored closet wall for the rest of the morning.

[turning-the-kaleidoscope]

“Undefinable” - Part 1 / 2

They say psychic powers can manifest under extreme or traumatizing circumstances...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Seri?”  

Serizawa doesn't have the leisure of drinking in the scene. It's shoved down his throat like poison, burning all the way down and scorching a hole in his stomach. 

The room is filled with spirits. Screaming, convulsing spirits, blasts of black and white and every type of gray in between. The floors are cracked. The ceiling is blown full of gaping, gnawing holes opening up to a dark, smoke-filled sky. 

In the middle of it stands Reigen, twisted around to face Serizawa. He's standing in a thick pool of acidic green, up to his ankles. It's on his hands, splayed in his palms, dripping like dark ink from the tips of his fingers. His eyes are wide and unseeing. 

"Reigen, what happened?" His head spins with the world around him, voice barely above the screaming din of writhing spirits. "What happened? What's going on?" 

"I thought they killed you," Reigen says, staring through his eyes instead of into them. His voice is steady, but it isn't the Reigen that Serizawa has come to know and love. "I thought... I thought they killed you, I..." 

And now is when Serizawa realizes the ring of acidic green in Reigen's irises. 

It's when he realizes the green is spreading. 

It's when he realizes it isn't acid. There's power behind it. Energy. Scared. Unfamiliar. Psychic.

It's when he realizes the green isn't on Reigen. 

It's from Reigen.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It happened easily enough, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that should happen whatsoever, at any point, at any time, at any magnitude, to anyone. 

Serizawa shouldn't have let Reigen go alone, but Reigen is more than capable of taking care of himself, and he'd proven that on more than one occasion, more times than Serizawa really wanted to think about. It isn’t as though he’s helpless. Not being a psychic doesn’t mean he isn't capable. And he’s probably the most capable person Serizawa had ever had the pleasure of knowing and the privilege of working under, not just as an employee, but as a friend. 

But as a psychic, he shouldn't have let Reigen go on his own. He should have considered the bad outcomes, the things that could have gone wrong. The fact that being capable didn't necessarily translate to ‘capable of dealing with spirits.’

But of course, Serizawa hadn't thought about that. Neither of them had thought about that, until it was too late to think about anything at all. 

Serizawa is in the middle of a long stretch of hallway, lined with lanterns and doors on all sides. It gives him an awful sense of claustrophobia, but also a sort of familiarity, like he's been here before. It reminds him of being alone in his room as a child, how constraining it'd been in comparison to the wonderful breath of freedom he has now that he's working under Reigen and is surrounded by so many wonderful, incredible people, who love him as much as he loves them.

It's another reason why he shouldn't have let Reigen go alone. Reigen would never leave Serizawa to go on his own if he thought there was anything dangerous afoot. At the very least, he'd offer to tag along, just in case the worst case scenario actually happened. 

Serizawa guides the flashlight along the cracks in the ceiling, searching. A spider skitters across its web; a rat skurries across the floor and almost trips him in his start. He drops the flashlight, and when he picks it up, has to brush dust and dirt off of it. The place is a wreck; an old, abandoned, maze-like structure, but built entirely out of wood, with a ceiling to boot. Who designed this place, why it was designed this way, Serizawa can only guess. And his guesses don't amount to anything sensical. 

He keeps walking. He isn't even thinking about Reigen now, as his footsteps leave soft echoes in the space behind him and the corridor gnaws ahead of him, gaping and dark. He clutches the flashlight tighter, just to have some sense of reassurance, but it doesn't help. There's spiritual activity here, he feels it. Not just in the thrum beneath his feet, but in the beat of his heart, in the marrow of his bones, in the blood of his veins. It's deep and leaves him with dread in his stomach, but at least he's sensing the spirit here. Now he thinks of Reigen, but only in the sense that he should call, that they should regroup, because now he knows where the spirit is. 

He should have called a lot sooner. 

He shouldn't have let them separate at all. 

He's making his way down the hallway, shining the flashlight this way and that, when the entire building gives a lurch and a rattle. He staggers on uneven floorboards and his knees hit the ground, flashlight spiraling and whirling out of his grip and down the darkened hallway. He reaches for it, but can't get close before another shake rattles him to his bones, and he throws up his barrier just in time to block a panel of falling ceiling loosened in the tremble. 

His first thought is earthquake. But that's only for a moment, in the space between being thrown to the ground and the dawning realization of a new presence, of a second spiritual something. Something he doesn't recognize. Something that hadn't been there before. 

And he scrambles to his feet, hits the ground running, heart in his lungs. He doesn't bother with the flashlight; the faint, amethyst glow of his barrier gives him all the light he could ever hope for and then some. It lights the way ahead of him. Rats scurry in the opposite direction down the hallway from whence he'd come. The spiders are suddenly eerily still, right where they're at, as though frozen in time. Serizawa leaves common sense and reasoning behind him and lets his pounding heart take charge as he bursts down the hallway, footfall after footfall, unable to breathe. 

It occurs to him now that he shouldn't have left Reigen to himself. Not when they didn't know what they were dealing with. It didn't matter how insistent Reigen had been, how hard he'd pushed it, he shouldn’t have let him go.

He runs faster. 

"Reigen!" Shrill, loud, slamming into walls and bouncing back at him like a rebounding bullet. "Reigen! Reigen, where are you!? Answer me!" 

Another shake, only this time, he realizes it isn't a rattle. It's an explosion. 

He doesn't remember making it there. He doesn't remember the moment he made it to that room, slammed open the doors so hard that they banged the walls and snapped off their hinges, and came to a horrible standstill in the open air beneath a blown-out roof, before a scene that would embed itself a tattoo in his mind for whatever foreseeable future he has. 

"Seri...?" Reigen's voice. It isn't his. That aura isn't his. It shouldn’t be. "I... I thought they killed you, Seri, I thought—" 

His voice is so haunted, so shaky, so not him that it leaves Serizawa with a knife in his gut and another one twisted in between his ribs. And Reigen stumbles back, tripping in the entanglement of aura at his feet, twisted around his limbs like vipers. He doesn't try pulling away—Serizawa isn't sure he can—but his eyes stay wide, and he looks down at his green-splattered hands, wide-eyed, aghast. Trembling.

The spirits behind him are still screaming, still shrieking, and Serizawa is just about to exorcise them himself when they burst from the inside out in a firework of green. Remnants go flying, but vaporize before they make contact with anything or anyone. The smoke burns in the sky above them. Reigen's breaths come ragged, short, and rasped. 

"Wh-What did I do?" Reigen chokes, and he shouldn't. He was never meant to sound like that, never meant to sound so scared, so unsure, so frightened. Least of all at himself. "S-Seri, I don't—y-you were dead, you were dead, I-I thought—you were dead, they killed you—" 

He's babbling, as tears gather in the corners of his green-stained eyes, and Serizawa lets his heart lead once more. It carries him across the broken floorboards in long leaps and bounds, until he can capture Reigen in his arms and hold him tightly. His skin is hot to the touch. His forehead burns like a brand into Serizawa's collarbone. His aura—green, sickly, with the consistency of tree sap—clings to them, weak and frightened and desperate and Serizawa doesn't push it away. He doesn't try pulling Reigen off of him, or out of it. He knows it would do more hurt than good. 

“It’s okay,” Serizawa promises, without knowing whether anything is, or will be again. "It's okay, Reigen, I'm okay. You're okay. We're okay.”

“B-But—what did I—”

“It's okay,” Serizawa reiterates, but can't quite keep the wreck out of his voice this time. “It's okay, I promise, I promise you, it's okay. We have to get you home, now, we can talk about it, we'll fix this, we can find a way to fix this—”

In his heart, he knows that there's no fixing this. There's nothing he can do now that will fix this present he's stumbled upon. This presence he had a hand in building. 

Reigen's sob comes dryly, sounding more like a choked noise of a someone strangled than an actual cry. Serizawa squeezes him tighter, screwing his eyes shut and trying to keep his breathing steady. He doesn’t know how the spirit did it. How it tricked him, perceptive as he is. But Serizawa can’t trick Reigen. He has to be present. He can’t break down, not now.

“Seri, I…” 

"Reigen?" Serizawa opens his eyes, and Reigen becomes a heavier weight against him, heavier and heavier. "Reigen!?" 

He slumps completely, the last thread of his consciousness leaving him in a desperate exhale, and Serizawa drags him up and into his arms, mangled aura and all. Reigen's eyes are closed, chest barely rising and falling, and it's all Serizawa can do to swing himself around, and run like hell.

[shastelly]

Jackets - March Klance Prompts from MonthlyKlance - Day 10

And finally the block on this word clears....

 Two angsty tales of two jackets

 Keith's jacket

 "He left his jacket."  Lance sat on Keith's bed holding the red jacket.  Hunk stepped inside and let the door close behind him.

 "I found him, Pidge."  Hunk spoke into a com as he sat next to Lance.

 "Where is he?" Pidge channeled her worries into anger and Lance cringed at her voice.

 "Keith's room." Hunk answered.

 "Oh."  Pidge deflated over the com in that one word.  "I'll be there."

 "He just left it behind, Hunk."  Lance held the jacket up, like it was to blame.

 "I see that.  Do you think we should send it to him or something?  I mean, maybe we can drop it off sometime at a Blade outpost?" Hunk offered, though his doubt crept into his voice.

 "I don't understand why he left it."  Lance stared at the jacket, eyes as round as saucers like somehow under all the stitches there was an answer hidden.

 The door slid open and Pidge stepped in.  She met eyes with Hunk who shook his head sadly and she looked away.  She took a deep breath and climbed onto the bed behind Lance and wrapped her arms around him.  

 "Found you."  She whispered.

 "Wasn’t hiding and I think you mean, Hunk found me."  He huffed.

 "Could have fooled us."  Pidge leaned against him.  "We were looking for you for the last varga."

 "I'm sorry.  I was going to…I left a t-shirt in here last week and I wanted to come and get it and then I found…"  Lance just held up the jacket.  "Why'd he just leave it?"

 "He probably can't wear it with his Blade uniform, you know?"  Hunk offered.  "You should keep it safe for him, till he comes back."

 "Is he? Coming back?"  Lance looked over to Hunk.  "I mean, did he say anything to you about coming back?"

 "No."  Hunk bowed his head and broke eye contact.

 "He'll be back Lance.  He'll visit at least, right?" Pidge tried.

 "It's my fault."  Lance whispered.

 "No! No way."  Hunk argued "Why would you think that?"

 "I told him there were too many paladins.  I wanted him to see that I should step down."  Lance started

 "NO!"  Pidge snapped.  "No. Just no.  There is no way you should step down."

 "Pidge, it's…I mean…you and Hunk are geniuses, Keith and Shiro are better pilots and better fighters, and Allura is a serious bad ass not to mention how awesome her and Blue are doing.  It just made sense.  It's not like I would have run off.  I could have stayed and helped Coran with the castle or gone on missions where you needed cover, just wouldn't have been a paladin."  Lance tried to explain.

 "How does this make Keith leaving your fault?"  Pidge asked, still a little angry about Lance suggesting he step down.

 "I told him.  I was nervous and I don't think I explained right.  He said to leave the math to you Pidge."  Lance gave her a sad smile.  "And then he left.  Did he think I wanted him to leave?"  Lance asked desparate.

 "No."  Hunk denied. "Nothing you said suggested that and you guys were working together great as Red and Black paladins.  Him leaving was about him Lance, I'm sure."

 Lance nodded, looking back at the jacket.

 "He just left it behind, like it didn't matter.  I thought he cared about this thing.  I thought it was important to him and he just left it."  Lance's eyes were shining with unshed tears. "How could he just leave it? Did something change?  Did he decide he didn't like it anymore? Doesn't it fit right anymore?"

 "Lance,” Pidge rubbed his back with her hand.

 Lance's shoulders shook and the tears started to fall.  

 "We're here for you."  Hunk leaned over put his shoulder against Lance's shoulder.

 "I don't understand why he just left it."  Lance sobbed before turning and burying himself in Hunk's arms. Pidge curled around him and they let him cry until he fell asleep clutching the red jacket.

 Lance's jacket

 Keith sat in front of the cryopod still wearing Lance's jacket and wondering how this day had gone so spectacularly wrong.  Keith had been on a Blade mission in the same area as the castle and it had completed early.  Kolivan said that he wouldn't have a transport for him until the designated time, two quintents from now, and that he should see if he could stay at the castle.

 Allura and Shiro had been happy to let him stay.  Allura said that they were taking a much-needed break and wondered if he would join them.  They were going to a local festival to relax.  There weren't supposed to be any issues.

 Keith had agreed.  He'd been a little surprised to find his room still intact, but he'd changed into some casual clothes, jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt, he couldn't find his jacket, and went to the common room to meet the others.

 "Keith?"  Hunk asked from the kitchen and then Pidge echoed from the couch.  They both rushed over and gave him hugs.  Hunk's warm and all encompassing, Pidge's sharp and near rib breaking.

 "Miss me?"  He laughed. He knew he had missed them a lot. The Blade weren't much for hanging out during free time and he had been spoiled by his time in the castle.  He wasn't the loner he used to be, and the solitary time was hard.

 "Oh course, you dope."  Pidge slugged him in the arm.

 "Ow. Been working out more I see." Keith rubbed the sore spot on his arm, ever amazed at the power Pidge could put behind her fist.

 "Eh, you know how it is."  Pidge scoffed, but her smile was pleased.

 "What?"  Lance's voice echoed behind him.  

 Keith turned and smiled and waved.

 "When did you get here?"  Lance asked with his face frozen in shock.

 "Um, just a few dobashes ago.  I finished my last mission up early and Kolivan didn't want to send transport early. So, I needed a place to stay for a couple of nights.  Allura and Shiro said it was okay and invited me to go with you to this festival?" Keith shrugged.

 "Oh, so just visiting?"  Lance's face went from frozen to frown.  "Nice to see you."  Only when he said it, it didn't really sound nice at all.

 Keith returned the frown, "Yeah, you too.  Don't get emotional or anything, not like I haven't seen you for a few months."

 "Yeah, haven't seen or heard from you.  Your communicator must be broken."  Lance snarked.

 "Hey, guys, let’s get on down to the shuttle, Shiro is flying us down for the festival and we don't want Space Dad to leave without us, right?"  Hunk offered wedging himself between the two frowning boys.

 "Yeah, festival time.  Keith, Allura said they had something like a carnival with games and all kinds of junk food."  Pidge pulled his arm dragging him to the door.

 "I like junk food."  Keith muttered, still stinging from Lance's reception.

 "I know, so come on."  She grinned up at him as the left, throwing a worried look back at Lance before they turned the corner into the hall.

 "Lance, hey," Hunk started.

 "Don't. I know.  I'm being an ass.  I just." Lance blew out a breath and ran his hand through his hair.  "I thought for a moment he'd actual come back, but he's not staying."

 "Not this time, not now, but maybe someday.  And do you really want to miss out on the time he is here, worrying about when he won't be again."  Hunk put an arm around Lance and steered him into the hall.

 "Oh, wise and warm Hunk, I will heed your advice."  Lance mocked chuckling as they made their way to meet their friends.

 The festival was something like a country fair.  There were baking contests, games, animals, rides, and a diverse group of people. This planet was home to a variety of species that had settled here as it was a crossroads of sorts.  There was a decent sized space port, space mall, places to stay, and warehouses that handled shipping all over the quadrant.

 Lance had seemed less angry by the time they'd gotten to the planet.  Keith did feel bad about not having talked with him, but it's not like the Blade gave him a phone or any communication time whatsoever that wasn't either and emergency or part of a mission.  This was the first time since he'd left that he'd been in the same quadrant as the castle.  Generally, if Voltron was in the area, the Blade considered it covered and didn't run a lot of ops under Allura's nose.

 They'd walked together for a while, but then Hunk and Pidge had peeled off to see some sort of technology display, something about the robotic systems in place in the warehouses.  Allura and Coran had seen a delicacy that they needed to try, which smelled like gym socks to Keith, Shiro and Lance.  The three of them were making their way to the game area.  Shiro was watching some sort of throwing game involving rings and a series of colored hooks.  Keith and Lance were standing back a bit and Keith shivered as a breeze blew across the stand.

 "Should have brought a jacket."  Lance mentioned looking over at Keith.

 "Oh, I couldn't find mine earlier and then I forgot."  Keith shrugged wondering why Lance blushed.

 "Here, I'm not cold."  Lance shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to Keith.  "This blue thing is thicker than that shirt you're wearing."

 Keith looked over and Lance was wearing essentially a sweatshirt and he was cold, "Um…Okay, thanks."  Keith slipped the green jacket on, the sleeves were too long, but it was warm, and it smelled like a mix of sunscreen and sandalwood, just like Lance's skin cream.

 Keith closed his eyes to breath in the scent and that's when he missed it.  The breeze picked up suddenly as he felt a gust push against him.  An angry shout and suddenly Lance was on top of him pushing him to the ground.  There was a sound of something crashing and falling and it then was dark.  

 He woke up in the shuttle on the way back to the castle.  He'd apparently taken a hit to the head when the stand behind them had been blown over by the sudden windstorm.  It had rolled across the pedestrian walkway.  Keith’s frantic eyes found Lance laying on the floor with his head pillowed in Hunk's lap.  Hunk was stroking his hair and whispering to him, though it didn't seen Lance was awake enough to know.

 "Lance?" Keith reached out a hand and cringed when he felt Lance's jacket still over his fingers.

 "He pushed you out of the way of the main part of the booth.  It came down across his chest.  We need to get him to a pod."  Coran answered his unspoken question.  

 They had put him in the pod and Coran said he would be out in about forty varga, give or take a varga.  It was then Keith realized he wouldn't even be there when Lance got out.  He'd be away again with the Blades.  So, he had sat on the floor of the med bay determined to stay here as long as he could.

 "Keith?"  Hunk sat next to him.  "Kolivan called.  They'll be here to pick you up in a few dobashes."

 "Okay."  Keith wiped a tear from his eye.  "I can't believe I'm leaving him here like this.  He pushed me out of the way.  He gave me his quiznaking jacket."

 "I'll let him know you stayed with him until you had to leave."  Hunk offered.

 "Would you?"  Keith turned hopeful eyes to him.  "Do you think it will help?"

 Hunk paused before answering carefully, "I think it will help, some."

 Keith's shoulders fell.  There was no way Lance wasn't going to be hurt when he woke up and Keith wasn't there. He stared down at the sleeves of Lances jacket for several ticks before slipping it off and handing it to Hunk.

 "Please, tell him I'm sorry."

 "I will. Keith, you don't have to go.  You could stay you know.  We'd figure it out."  Hunk tried grasping Keith's arm.

 "No. I have a mission.  I leave tomorrow.  We have a lead on something important.  I have to go and it's solo.  I've been prepping for the last phoeb.  Maybe, after that mission."  Keith stood and waited for Hunk to let go of his arm.

 "If you're sure."  Hunk let go with a sad look.

 "I'm not really."  Keith returned the sorrow and walked away, leaving Hunk waiting in front of Lance's cryopod feeling like he might just have made the worst mistake of his life for a second time.

[clarosowrites]

   "I'm sorry, do you--did you just say marriage?" 

   Across the war table, Lelianna returned his gaze levelly. Josephine smiled tightly and smoothed a hand over her elaborate updo.

     "Do not fret, Commander," the diplomat hurried to assure him, "It has been mentioned once or twice in negotiations but there is certainly no need for any--"

     "It would not be wise to dismiss any idea out of hand." Lelianna cut smoothly over their fellow adviser. 

   Cullen shook his head. After the Winter Palace, he knew that some of the nobles inquired about him, but he never took it seriously. To hear his colleagues talk about it like it had any merit whatsoever was alarming. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "No. Absolutely not."

   To his great relief, the subject was dropped. He pushed the matter out of his mind and resolved never to think about it again. 

   Cullen ground his teeth as he lashed out at a training dummy. The feeling of his blows connecting usually helped centered him, but tonight it did nothing to stem the anger blooming in his chest. Another pointless dinner surrounded by fawning nobles, forced to suffer through inane conversations about the latest scandal. This was the third evening in two weeks that he had to spend shmoozing with politicians instead of doing something useful. Reviewing reports, coordinating scouts, drilling soldiers, or literally anything else. 

   And afterward, Lelianna had introduced him to a young woman and promptly abandoned him. With no way of escaping, at least politely, he managed a stilted conversation with... what was her name? Anne? Annabelle? 

   Another blow with the wooden practice sword knocked the dummy over. He panted with exertion, glaring at it. A low whistle caught his attention.

     "What'd the dummy do to piss you off?" Inquisitor Adaar was leaning against the sparring ring's fence. In her formal uniform she seemed even larger and more imposing than usual, but her scared face was open and smiling.  

   "It cheated at cards." He replied, but his jest felt empty. 

   "Well, I'll have it put in the dungeon."

   He huffed. "I can think of a few others to throw down there with it." 

   "I doubt Lady Anna Marie was that awful." She nudged him with an elbow. "She wasn't the one to talk about mabaris for close to an hour."

   "I panicked! Lelianna just up and left me there with no warning, if she would at least let me know me know before I could--"

   "You'd run off at the first opportunity." Adaar finished for him. When he tried to protest, she held up her hands. "I don't blame you Cullen, I hate these things as much as you do. But they're necessary." 

   "But I'm just a soldier, I'm not suited for this! I cannot stand all this groveling and pretending just for some idiotic nobles!" 

   "And?" She looked at him coolly. 

   Cullen faltered. He forgot, sometimes, how much horseshit Adaar dealt with on a daily basis. Besides her position as Inquisitor, her very existence as a Qunari meant she had to fight that much harder. And she always took it in stride, no matter what. 

   "And how do you bear it?"  

   She crossed her arms and looked away. "Talking to them is easy, most of the time. It can be difficult to be around Josephine during these events. I have to stop myself from reaching out for her hand."

     He hadn't even thought about that. The Inner Circle knew about their budding romance, of course, but they tried to keep it secret from the outside world. Maker, he felt like an arse.  

   "I'm sorry." He said weakly. 

   She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry that Lelianna is trying to set you up with a noble."

   "Maker's breath." Cullen groaned, putting his head in his hands. Adaar laughed.  "I need a drink."

   "You're buying." She clapped him on the back. He grumbled, but couldn't help smiling as they made their way to the tavern.

   Some days, Cullen felt like he lived in one of Varric's ridiculous books. Today was certainly one of those days. According to several different reports, the Inquisitor had just fought a duel for Josephine's love. He couldn't help but laugh.

     "Do you find this amusing, Commander?" Lelianna asked.

   He smiled and put down the reports. "I suppose so. I didn't know Adaar was such a romantic!"

   When the spymaster's expression didn't change, he felt the smile slip off his face. 

   "The Inquisitor was just in a very public duel with an Orlesian nobleman. In the middle of Val Royeaux." She said icily. "I don't find that very amusing at all."

   He frowned. "The noble wasn't even hurt, and he conceded the duel. I don't understand why you're upset."

   "We can ill afford a scandal right now. We will not receive support from those who are laughing at us."

   "Laughing at us for what?" He asked, bewildered.

   "For an overemotional leader, for fraternization among our advisors, and our inability to hold up a simple marriage contract!" Her fist hit the war table with a sharp bang. "The Inquisitor being involved with anyone in our organization would be ill-advised and with an adviser? It's a disaster."  

   "That's ridiculous! Do you want them to be miserable, just to please a few nobles?" Cullen shook his head.  

   "You don't understand the Game at all, Cullen. There will be repercussions for this, serious ones. Are you ready to meet them?"

   He squared his shoulders. "For this, of course."

    When Adaar and Josephine returned, they were greeting rambunctiously at the gate . The applause and whistles when they entered a room eventually died down. Cullen didn't think he ever saw the Inquisitor so happy.  

   Unfortunately, the same could not be said of their Lady Ambassador. She was obviously stressed. He noticed her staying up later and skipping meals. When Adaar was out in the field, he and Lelianna brought food to her office.  

   The stream of visiting nobles dried up. There were no new arrivals, eager to see Skyhold and meet the Inquisitor. Most already here packed up and left, and the few that stayed were the ones that gossiped behind their decorative fans and overworked the staff.  

   The companions in Skyhold did their best to help, but the bags under Josephine's  eyes continued to deepen.

   One night, when the ache for lyrium wouldn't let him sleep, he was walking to the War Room when saw a light under the door to the Inquisitor's quarters. Adaar wasn't due back for another two weeks. He loosened his sword in its sheath and opened the door.

   Someone was sitting against the ground, face buried against their knees and a mass of dark hair tumbling down their back. A single candle lit cast a wavering light on them.  

   "Josephine?" 

   She jerked her head up, revealing her tear-streaked face. "Commander!" She scrambled to her feet. "Excuse me, I didn't expect anyone to be up at this hour, sorry for disturbing you, I--"  

   "No, don't apologize. Are--" He awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder, not sure of what to do. "Are you alright?"  

   Josephine looked up at him, wide-eyed. Tears started trickling down her cheeks and her chin wobbled. 

   "Oh no, I'm sorry, please don't cry--" He said frantically.  

   Her face crumpled. She fell into him, sobbing and clutching at his shirt. Hesitantly, Cullen wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders.  

   "Fine. You're fine. Shh." Maker, he was terrible at this. He couldn't remember the last time he has to console a friend. At least he wasn't wearing his armor.

   Eventually, she quieted. "Thank you, Cullen." 

   "I'm not doing much." 

   When she stepped back, wiping her eyes, she pointed at his chest and giggled. "Oh, Maker, I'm so sorry." 

   "What? Oh." The front of his shirt was streaked with makeup. He chuckled.  

   "Oh, no, I must look terrible." She sniffed, wiping at her face. "I can't be seen like this." 

   "There's no one up at this time. Except us." He smiled. "Can I walk you back?"

   "Of course." She took his arm gratefully. 

   As they walked across the great hall to her room, he rubbed the back of his neck. "Josephine, I know I'm not the most skilled at diplomacy..." he said hesitantly, "but is there anything I can do to help?"

   "Cullen, I..." 

   "Even if you need me to flirt with an Orlesian or two, I can."

   They stopped and she looked up at him. "Are you being serious?"

   He glanced at her tear-stained face, the dark circles under her eyes. "I...Well, I suppose I am." 

   "Thank you, Cullen." She smiled wanly and squeezed his arm. "Goodnight."

   "Goodnight, Ambassador." 

   The door shut behind her, and Cullen hoped he hadn't agreed to more than he could handle.

[solign0501]

Shall We Begin

Masterlist Part 16 Part 17

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: As a SHIELD agent your work alongside the Avengers means you and Bucky start to get to know each other but then one day you are ordered to go under cover away from him. When the mission goes wrong, the Avengers are called in for a rescue.

Warnings: Reference to torture/ some bad language

A/N: I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!

“Bucky, please,” you begged, leaning against Steve's door. Your fists ached from pounding on it for him to open up and your voice was a hoarse whisper. Tears overtook you as you collapsed onto the floor, clutching at yourself as though trying to close a gaping wound. “Please,” you sobbed once more. “Let me explain.”

The door opened and your heart soared as you looked up, only to see it plummet again as you met Steve's stony gaze.

“You need to leave, Y/N,” he said steadily. You desperately tried to see around him, to catch a glimpse of Bucky but he deftly moved in your way, blocking your line of sight. “Now.”

“Steve,” you whispered, broken. “Steve please.” His eyes seemed to soften for a moment and he stepped out of his room, quickly shutting the door behind him before you had the wherewithal to try and rush inside. You stared blankly at the solid wooden barrier between you and the man you loved, barely even blinking as Steve's strong arms wrapped around you and practically hauled you to your feet. He placed your arm over his shoulder whilst using his own to support your waist and started walking you down the hallway and back to his own room.

After a moment you came to your senses, although it still felt like the world was in sickening slow motion. You planted your legs, forcing Steve to stop next to you.

“Steve,” you said but he lowered his eyebrows in a look of disappointment that was somehow worse than any physical blow.

“I don't want to hear it,” he said. “I'm going to take you to your room, then I'm going to get Nat or Wanda to watch over you and I'm going back to Bucky.” You looked back over your shoulder in the direction of his room. Steve sighed, relenting. “Listen, Y/N, I don't know what happened, but I know something is off. You love each other, any idiot can see that, so that makes this,” he motioned to her current state and to the prone form of Loki, that you had left unconscious in the hallway a few feet away, “all the more confusing.”

“I swear, Steve,” you started but he cut you off again.

“Go on,” he motioned to your room as he pulled out his phone. You obeyed, stepping dream-like around the Asgardian and into the empty bedroom. You heard Steve say something on the phone but you were too distant to care. Sitting on the bed, you picked up one of the pillows on Bucky's side and held it to you, inhaling his scent. That wonderful mixture of metal, cologne and the mint shampoo set of yours that he used more than you did. That was when you broke, surrendering completely to your broken heart.

You were oblivious to the sound of footsteps outside as Thor, Natasha. Clint and Wanda all came running. Steve gave a brief outline of what had happened and, Captain mode engaged, gave everybody their orders. Thor and Clint grabbed Loki by the arms and legs and carried him to the recreation room, all but throwing him on the sofa there until he woke up. Natasha and Wanda filed into your room, shutting the door behind them as Steve headed back to his.

Bucky lay on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had no more tears, they wouldn't come even if he had wanted them too. He had almost forgotten he could cry like that. It was a pain response, but one he hadn't felt since the first time they had wiped him, after the fall. Is that a comparable pain? He was wondering this as Steve walked in the room, shutting the door behind him with a sigh.

“Bucky,” he said softly, coming and sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to his friend. “You have to talk to her.” Bucky said nothing, he just continued staring. Steve raked his hand over his face letting out another sigh as he turned to face Bucky. “Seriously, Buck. What is it going to solve hiding from her? She wants to talk to you. Maybe you should hear her out.”

Bucky's eyes flicked to Steve and it took everything in the blonde younger man not to recoil at the ice he saw there.

“I don't need to,” he said, his voice equally as frozen. “I saw enough.” He got up and, manoeuvring around Steve, swung his legs off the bed and stood, pacing. Steve crossed his arms over his chest, watching him.

“Maybe it wasn't what it looked like, Buck. I mean, it was Loki...”

“Don't say his name,” Bucky snarled, making Steve shudder imperceptibly. “I don't want to hear it.”

“I'm just saying, this isn't like her. She wouldn't do that to you.”

“Yeah, well she did!” Bucky snapped. His pacing increased until Steve was concerned he would wear a trench in the floor. “It's my own fault, I'm such an idiot. I fooled myself into thinking I could have someone like her.”

“What the hell are you on about?” Steve asked, genuinely confused.

“Look at me, Stevie,” Bucky groaned, waving his arm around as he turned, causing Steve to duck. “I'm a monster, a monster of Hydra's creation. I'm broken and I was an idiot to think I could be anything else, even with her.”

“Come on Buck,” Steve said softly, getting to his feet as his friend became more and more agitated. “You can't think like that.”

“I can, I do! It's all I think about. Whenever she smiled, whenever I made her laugh. Oh god, her laugh, I love her laugh! Maybe this is better, I mean... he's a god and I'm just, I'm nothing.” He laughed maniacally and Steve felt his blood run cold. “I was going to ask her to marry me, can you believe that? I was going to ask you to help me get her a ring and I was going to propose. Saves me the trouble.” Steve's jaw dropped.

“You were going to propose to her?” Bucky nodded fervently and Steve cursed, dropping his chin into his chest as the idea of that hit him. What the hell was he meant to say to that? “Look,” he said after a moment, eyes returning to the still-pacing form in front of him. “This is ridiculous. Of course you deserve her, and she deserves you. I've never met any two people more perfect for each other.”

“Don't, Steve,” Bucky warned but Steve ignored him.

“And I don't know what is going on here, but I know she's every bit as broken as you and, if we're being honest with ourselves, we know that there's only really one person to blame and that's Loki.”

“DON'T. SAY. HIS. NAME!” Bucky yelled, slamming his metal fist forward, the full weight of his body behind the punch as it passed cleaned through Steve's door. A high-pitched scream and a string of curses came from the other side as Bucky pulled his fist back, revealing the stunned faces of Tony and Sam peering in. Bucky looked in horror from his fist to the door and back again.

“Shit, Steve I'm so sorry,” he said, looking over to his friend as the broken door swung open. “I don't know what...” Steve sighed and walked forward, wrapping Bucky in a strong, warm hug as the other man realised he did still have tears to cry after all.

“Y/N,” Wanda cooed in her lilting accent, “what's happened?” You looked up at her soft face, and Natasha's stern one, painfully aware that you were a bleary eyed, snotty mess and they both looked flawless as usual. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down despite your current attack of hiccups.

“I (hic) fucked up (hic) and now Bucky won't see me or (hic) talk to me and it's all Loki's fault!” Natasha's eyes narrowed even further as Wanda rubbed your back, pulling you into her embrace as you calmed down.

“Loki?” Nat asked, her voice as steely as her expression. “What did he do?” Finally getting the hiccups under control, you told them everything starting with the argument you and Bucky had had that morning, your tale accompanied by what you were sure were curses in Russian from the corner of the room. When you had finished, silence descended for a moment before you heard the door open and slam shut. You and Wanda jumped up simultaneously as you figured where Natasha was going. Oblivious to the fact that you were still clutching on to the pillow, the pair of you darted after her into the recreation room.

Thor stood by the door, trying to bar her passage but Natasha delivered him a swift punch to the stomach and the god of Thunder doubled over in surprise, her blow nowhere near actually hurting him, even with her uncanny strength. Clint scrambled out of her way as she came through, he knew better, he was only human. She picked up a vase of flowers that were sitting neatly on the side and, pulling out the blooms, dumped the ice cold water all over Loki's face, throwing both to the ground with a crash of broken glass. He woke with a start, sputtering madly before clutching his bruised head as if he needed to hold it together. Nat, showing no sympathy whatsoever, stood over him glowering.

“What...” he started to say, trailing off as his eyes flicked over to you and Wanda, having run into the room after her. He looked back up at Nat, eyes widening as he braced for another strike.

“I'm not going to hit you,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet. “Not yet. But I am going to make you fix this.” With that she reached forward to grab him and haul him to his feet, but her hands passed straight through him. The replica of Loki flickered once before vanishing in a flash of gold light. He had heard the commotion in the doorway as he came round, giving him just enough time to replicate and hide.

“You can stop with the threats,” a voice said from behind you, making you jump. Loki was standing there, close enough for you to feel his warmth, You licked your lips instinctively, more out of anxiety than a desire to repeat what happened earlier. Yes, the kiss had been good, but it wasn't Bucky. Almost as if he had heard your thoughts (and you weren't entirely sure that he couldn't), Loki glanced down at you. “I truly am sorry,” he said softly.

You could tell he meant it, but sorry wasn't going to help. It wouldn't make Bucky talk to you, it couldn't repair the gaping hole in your chest that you were convinced was really there.

“I don't care,” you said, your voice calmer than it had been all afternoon as you turned on your heels and left. Nat stalked up to Loki, making him back up closer to Thor as though willing his brother to protect him.

“Fix. This,” she snarled, before following you out.

@hillywooddestiel @imaginecrushes @thebookisbtr @fandomlover03 @rosep16 @marassberry @capandbuck @fangirllover2000 @diinofayce @characterxreader

[greasygyeom]

Highschool!AU

Title: Capture The Flag: The Absconding

By: GreasyGyeom

Summary: Two teams, a lot of snow & a simple common goal. The only problem is that you don’t really care about the game.

YugyeomxReader / Sad Fluff / SFW / Trigger Warning: Accident, Loss of family member

Notes: Hello everyone  <3 This is a part of my Valentines Day’ Collab for the @kpoptrashnetwork with the lovely Lys @kpopchangedme​ Read Capture the Flag: The Trade  for the full context <3

It was the deciding day - the day this mess would either be over or continue for the next three days. The blue team had succeeded in capsizing the red fort the first three days. If the blue team failed to get the flag today, then the game would go on until the they got their fourth flag — not like you really cared. You were only there because Jaebum  had been your best friend for more than 6 years and he needed a player.

“Don’t space out.” Bambam nudged, as you wished for literally anything that would help you slip out of this game. Physical activity, of any kind, was not your strongest suit. “I know you’ve not been playing”

“What?”

“You’ve slipped out within fifteen minutes of the game, every day.”

“What of it?”

“Jaebum will notice, you know”

“No he won’t. He’s too focused on winning. He didn’t notice the last three times”

“Yeah, but this time I’ll tell him”

You glared at Bambam. If you hadn’t known him for as long as you had, you’d have shoved his face in snow by now.

“Bammie, I will kill you if you say a word”.

“Not if he kills you first”

“Pfft... Jaebum? He’s terrified of me”

“I know, but he’s going to feel all bad and get moody. Do you really want that?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll buy you pizza, you dweeb. Just cover for me”

He smirked as you whacked his arm.

At a short distance you heard Youngjae clear his throat, and start explaining the rules for the fourth time this week. As always, no one paid attention but he diligently followed his role as the referee.

Bambam cackled next to you, when he was called out for using fireworks the previous day. There was no remorse on his face, whatsoever.

Everyone around you screamed when the score is announced; 3–0 for the Blue Team. Jaebum beamed proudly, throwing his hands in the air and you sulked a little more. It was too noisy, and that was some statement coming from a metalhead. But you’d take the guitar riffs over this howling bunch of idiots any day.

You just wanted the commotion to start so you could slip out again.

When the siren cut through the cold wind, it was mayhem on the ground. Jinyoung cornered you as soon as the snow started flinging in all directions.

“I need you to snowball as many red caps, as many times you see them at a height higher than you. Got it?”

“I cannot believe you found a way to make a snide comment about my height while strategising for a game I give no fucks about.”

“I don’t have time for banter, munchkin. Just do as I say okay.”

You punched him, making him squirm in pain. “You’re an asshole.”

As soon as you could, you crawled away from his line of vision. All you had to do was inch towards the edge of the playground so you could vanish into the forest. Luckily it was right behind your side of the fort.

Going around it without being caught by Jaebum was the real problem.

You scanned the ground for an escape route when you felt a pair of eyes follow you around, but the snow made it impossible for you to make sense of anything.

You spotted Bambam on the left side of the fort, guarding one of the three entrances.

“You never saw me.” You whispered to him as you went around him to the back of the fort.

“Make it two pizzas and we have a deal!”

“Oh, you’re so dead after this is over” you scoffed but didn’t have enough time to stay and argue. At the right moment, you vanished into the slip road that led to the heart of the forest. Thanks to all the times your elder brother had taken you on his bug treks, you knew the area inside out.

You walked through the trees, avoiding bumping into the snow-clad branches, when you heard an echo of footsteps behind you.

“Who’s there?” You asked, turning around. It was a stupid question really. If someone was following you to hurt you, it was highly unlikely they’d answer anyway.

You couldn’t see anyone within your vision, so you trooped ahead, dismissing it as your imagination; towards the little clearing where you and your brother always ate lunch after he was done looking for new insects.

You really missed him.

It was a clean patch of grass, except right now it was covered in white.

Sitting down by a tree, you looked up. The sun hadn’t set yet, so you couldn’t see the stars, but streaks of cotton clouds filled the bright blue sky and it warmed your heart.

You heard footsteps approaching you again, just as you were about to plug in your headphones.

Alarmed, you jumped up, expecting to see something ominous. There were no animals in the area so you were sure someone had followed you in. Grabbing a stone nearby, you readied yourself to run for your life.

“Oh my god, it’s just you!” you exclaimed, breathing in after what felt like excruciatingly long minutes. “Damn, Yugyeom, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you slip out, so I followed you.”

“Why? Just go back to that game, alright?”

The tall boy stood unmoving, simply looking at you. He took of the red cap and ruffled his silver-ish hair.

“I don’t want to.”

“Then go somewhere else.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, I don’t want you here, so leave me alone.”

“I won’t bother you.” He shrugged and took the spot opposite to you. “You can throw the stone now — just don’t throw it at me.”

You made a face at his smartness and sat back down.

You didn’t like intruders in your space but you couldn’t really make him leave either, so you ignored him to your best capabilities and went back to doing what you were supposed to before he’d interrupted you.

He sat with his gaze fixed on you, a little pout settled on his face.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything”

“But you’re looking. Don’t look”

“Why are you always so angry? I’ve always seen you frowning. Don’t you ever laugh?”

He really knew how to get on your nerves.

“So much for not being a bother.” You sneered, pulling your leather jacket closer to your body. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —

“— indirectly call me a bitch?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch. See you’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?”

“Being mean, for no reason.”

“I have a reason, you followed me in here!”

“Because I wanted to spend some time with you... alone”, he replied rather sheepishly.

His answer confused you. You knew him through Jaebum and Bambam, because he frequented underground dance battles with them. But you never actually had held a proper conversation with him.

“Me? Why? I thought you thought I was a bitch”, you teased this time, easing your tone.

He got up to take up even more of your personal space and dropped his weight on the ground next to you.

“I didn’t say you could sit next to me.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t either”

It took every ounce of your patience to not actually smack him.

“So, why do you come here?” He asked, resting his head on his hand and looking at you expectantly. There was this softness in his face that made you feel comfortable.

“I like it here. It’s always quite and calm here. And I can see the stars”

“Your parents let you come here alone?”

“I don’t tell them, they have enough to worry about.”

“I’m sure they would want to know though.”

“I’m sure...” you trailed off, looking away. You hated crying in front of people.

“Hey... hey I’m sorry.... we don’t have to talk about it or anything. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you cry”

“I’m not crying. I just – nevermind”

He didn’t push you further but could see you were hurting.

“Want to see something beautiful?” He asked

“Like what?”

He pulled out his other hand and showed you a ladybird walking on the back of his palm.

It made you smile, but it also unstitched an old wound. You sniffled, in an attempt to not cry, but it was futile.

Hiding your face in your knees, you sobbed as silently as possible. Yugyeom froze, not knowing what to do—whether to stroke your head or say something comforting.

He chose to scoot closer and sit in silence, feeling absolutely awful.

You took a few minutes to calm down and he finally asked if you were okay or not.

“No, not really. I’m sorry for crying like this.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“I just... really miss my brother. He.... he’s in a coma. This spot is his actually. Whenever I was sad he’d get me here and teach me about insects. Did you know ladybirds bleed from their knees when they feel threatened?”

“Really? I didn’t even know they could survive winters ”

“Yeah, they can. They usually hibernate though. He taught me all this when I was 9.”

“I’m really sorry. I said some mean things. I shouldn’t have said all that”

“It’s alright. It wasn’t untrue. I am always angry. I’m angry at the drunk driver who jumped the light. I’m angry at my parents for not letting him go. I’m angry at myself, at him, at the everything.”

You leaned onto Yugyeom’s shoulder for support and he gently stroked your hair.

“Being angry won’t make the situation any different. You’re only hurting yourself like this.”

You couldn’t believe you had just spilled out your guts to a boy you had met five minutes ago and that now he was giving you advice about your life.

“Feeling angry is a lot better than feeling useless”, you dryly replied, pulling yourself together. “I’m sorry for laying all this on you.”

He nodded and you stayed resting your head on his shoulder for several minutes. Your thoughts swarmed around your brother and how if it hadn’t been for him you would never have met Jaebum and eventually the rest of them. You sighed dismissively.

“You’re not scary at all.” He finally spoke.

“Wow you’re excellent at complimenting people”

“That’s not what I mean.... everyone discouraged me from talking to you. They told me you would probably punch me if I tried.”

“Well, I was ready to fling a stone at you”

He chuckled and it made your heart flutter like a butterfly. You hadn’t felt this relaxed in the past year; not since your life had turned upside down.

“I like being scary. Normal people don’t come near me.”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“I’m calling you strange”, you laughed.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind being stupid for you” he replied, giving you a peck on your cheek.

The warmth you felt took you by complete surprise, and you shyly looked away at the sky, begging your heart to stop racing.

A stray streak of red sparks in the sky caught your attention, giving you the diversion you needed.

“Oh! Looks like your team won. I guess we better head back.”

“Do you want to?” He asked, holding your hand as you got up.

“Not really, but I don’t wanna fight with Jaebum — or worst, Jinyoung — about it. Won’t your teammates be mad if they couldn’t find you on the ground?”

He stood up, at least three heads taller than you and smiled; before briefly brushing his lips with yours.

“Noona will probably kill me. But, it was totally worth it following you here.”

You blushed a bright crimson. “If you tell anyone about today I will push you off a cliff. But I’m glad you followed me here too.”

You couldn’t wrap you head around the familiarity you felt, but even as you walked towards the playground, holding this strange boy’s hand, you felt no fear.

And in that brief moment of invincibility you knew, he was going to be someone special.

[ibangtanthings]

Baby

Chapter Two

Jin had the room temperature changed back to normal so that you could enter.

Yoongi's wrists were chained up in the air and he was dangling upright with his feet just barely touching the ground. He was shirtless and his shoes were tossed to the side.

His hair and body were dripping wet with perspiration.

His breaths were ragged and he looked up at you with sunken eyes.

"Namjoon said she's yours now. Just for a day though." Jin said.

Yoongi laughed. “Great.”

"Don’t piss him off too." Jin whispered into your ear before taking his leave.

You backed away from Yoongi and stayed against the wall, watching him try to keep his eyes open.

"Untie me." He ordered. "Get me down."

You wanted to leave him there, where he couldn't hurt you but the fear of disobeying him was too great. If you didn't untie him now someone else would later.

With heavy steps you approached him.

You started with his right wrist and his arm fell down to his side, causing you to flinch away.

He stayed still, taking deep breaths and watching you.

Quickly undoing the other knot, you sucked in your breath as he fell onto you.

It hurt like hell holding him up but you couldn't just push him off.

He was so exhausted he needed your help to walk.

You recalled the sign above the door with his name on it. None of the guards helped you guys on the way there.

It was scary just being in the elevator with him.

He could hurt you at any moment and no one would do anything about it.

His door had a passcode lock on it and he didn't bother hiding the numbers as he punched them in.

4820

Once inside he let go of you and slowly walked into his bathroom. He was drinking water and you heard it splash against the floor.

You had your back against the front door, anxious and waiting.

His room was laid out exactly like Jin's expect here the room was all black and white. Mostly black. Nothing seemed overly extravagant but it had to be as expensive as Jin's room looked.

He came back out and let his body fall onto the bed. You didn't know what to do except sit down with your back against the door.

You realized he wasn't going to move for a few more hours. He had fallen asleep.

This was good, you told yourself.

It was only 24 hours. He was consuming precious time and you'd be in someone else's room soon. Someone who didn't want revenge. Someone who didn't hate you.

You decided to use the bathroom before he woke up, hoping he wouldn't wake in the two minutes you rushed to pee.

After washing your hands, you opened the door slowly but he was already there in front of you. His hand went over your mouth and your eyes went wide with fear.

"I guess punishing me, making me weak, was Namjoon's way of protecting you?" He backed you into the shower and turned the water on. “He's scared I'll hurt you too much?" 

Your head hit the tiled wall but he didn't care. Your eyes shut for a moment, the pain registering in your head.

Within seconds the hot water was becoming too hot. It was burning. You screamed and sobbed into his hand.

"You know why Namjoon makes us burn in the cellar? Because he says we're all going to hell anyways." He laughed, genuinely finding it funny. "Doesn't it feel good Baby? Doesn't it make you feel all warm inside?"

You tried to move his hand from your face and his other arm was on your shoulder pinning you against the tiled wall. The more you struggled the more your side hurt.

Bruised rib or not, you wouldn’t be able to escape.

He didn't budge no matter how much you hit his forearm.

"Shhhh. Hoseok shouldn't hear you scream, he'll become addicted to your voice." He said moving his hand away from your mouth.

When he said that you realized that each of them had a fix. Yoongi enjoyed your fight against him. It excited him.

Jin said he liked playing with fire.

You stopped your attempts at escaping his grip, closing your eyes and letting the water burn uncomfortably. Your tears were indistinguishable from the hot water covering the both of you. He seemed to be in no pain pain whatsoever.

For a moment he seemed confused.

He set the water to the coldest setting. It was freezing cold and you gasped, feeling every inch of your body react.

He pressed his body against yours and let his wet lips crash into yours. His kisses were passionate and angered. His hands brushed the hair away from your face and you gasped for breath in between each kiss.

He was the only warmth in that moment and you hated the fact that it felt better than the cold water.

You noticed the more you fought, the rougher he was. When you stopped squirming his lips became gentler, until he was really kissing you. As if you were already his and he was yours.

As if he cared about you.

For a moment you wondered what he would do if you really kissed him back.

When you did, he let go and stopped pressing you into the wall, kissing you gently a few more times before turning away.

He laughed to himself but you took the opportunity to move out of the pouring water, trying to get as much distance between you two as possible.

"Get out." He said as he began to strip off his pants.

Somehow you managed to run out of the bathroom dripping wet from head to toe without falling.

Still, you stood like a statue besides the bathroom door, trying to prevent the rest of the bedroom floor from becoming wet.

You're heart never stopped beating at an accelerated pace. Once he finished showering, you didn't know what he was going to do next.

You closed your eyes and cried silently, shivering and wishing for that safe warmth again, but from Jin.

"I'm going to get changed." He said causing you to jump in fear and involuntarily open your eyes.

Seeing as he had a towel from the waist down, you shut them again, shivering in place and refusing to open your eyes again.

Even when there was a knock on the door, you kept them shut and stayed still, praying that someone would take you away.

"I brought her clothes-Jesus Christ." Jin said.

You finally opened them and met Jin’s eyes. He was standing at the door just questioning what he saw.

"Get the fuck out! She's mine." Yoongi slammed the door shut.

"Please. Please, please, please." You whispered to yourself.

Jin had to help you. He had to take you back to his room. You wouldn't make it out of here.

Again you started to whimper, disappointed and angry that Jin didn't knock again. That he wouldn't come help.

You felt the clothes hit your body.

Yoongi sat on the edge of the bed, putting on a white shirt and watching you with dark eyes.

"Get cleaned up. I need to change your bandages. Stop crying because I haven't don't anything to you yet." He said proceeding to dry his hair with the towel.

Slowly, you opened the bathroom door and quickly locked it behind you.

You savored the seconds away from him and reluctantly did what he said, taking a quick shower and going back into the room.

He was eating quickly. You noticed two plates in front of him and your stomach growled.

"Hurry come." He patted the bed. "Eat."

You dropped the wet clothes into the trash, a habit now as you never wore anything more than once, and hesitated going near him.

"Eat." He ordered again.

You approached the bed and quickly took your plate from the bed, taking a seat on the floor instead of next to him on the bed.

You glanced at the clock and it was only midday.

"Bring these back to the kitchen." He said throwing his body back onto the bed.

You didn't ask him where it was, you just left the room, grateful to be away.

But it was the first time you could roam free. All you knew was that the place was usually busy. There were a lot of guards everywhere all suited up and armed. They paid no mind to you.

Some of the girls were roaming around too. They glanced over at you with pity and turned away, whispering to each other.

Lightly knocking on Jin's door, there was no answer. You wanted to cry right there and then.

Looking around for the kitchen, you found a map on one of the walls. It was a hotel apparently, but it was larger than you expected.

It was wide and had ten floors. The emergency exits were listed on each far end of the floors.

You followed the paths in search of the doors that led to the emergency stairways.

The exit sign was over the doors but two guards blocked the way. Not only that but the doors were locked with some kind of lock that required a passcode.

Yoongi's room came back to mind and you focused on finding the kitchen. Going back to the map, you spotted your destination on the 5th floor.

The elevator doors opened and you spotted Jin.

"Jin!" You ran towards him.

"Baby. Why aren't you in Yoongi's room?"

"I'm...I'm looking for the kitchen." You held up the plates.

He took them from your hands. "He's going easy on you isn't he? You don't have any burns."

Burns? You recalled that he said Yoongi had a thing for fires, Hoseok had a thing for screams. "Jin, get me out of there. Please. He scares me."

"Baby, it's your fault. Be thankful he hasn't smashed a mirror over your head or burned you with cigarette buds. Yoongi's crazy."

You started to cry, because he liked that. You needed him to pity you. "Please Jin. I promise I'll be good."

Jin’s eyes became softer and he held your face in his hands, “Baby, I’m sorry. I can’t do anything.”

"Baby, I was wondering why you were taking so long." Yoongi's arms wrapped around you from behind, a mischievous smile on his face all while pushing Jin away.

He pressed his elbow into your ribs.

You gasped and tried to fall away from him but he kept you upright.

"Nice Yoongi." Jin said sarcastically. "Way to get on Namjoon's good side. I can tell you can't stand her."

"Are you upset that you don't have her anymore? That it's my turn to play with her? Or are you afraid I'll actually hurt her, our precious Baby." He kissed your cheek.

"You're hurting me right now.”You cried.

"I'll go easy on her if you ask nicely. She still has to go to Hoseok...and Jimin....and Jungkook and Taehyung. I only have her for a few more hours, how much damage can I do?" He teased, kissing your cheek again.

"Namjoon wants her ready for next week. If you mess her up it will set Namjoon back even more. He's already in a bad mood because of Angel."

"Angel...Maybe I should invite her to my room. I think she'll love to see Y/N."

"Don't hurt her." Jin stepped closer and Yoongi let go, stepping in front of you.

You backed away.

"Namjoon said I could do whatever I want."

"You want to get punished again?"

"Are you threatening me?" Yoongi laughed and cocked his head to the side. "Do you want her or something? She's Namjoon's remember that.”

"You remember that Yoongi. She's more than just his doll." Jin pushed him a step back.

Yoongi backed off. "Maybe I’ll take her away from him." He pulled you into the elevator. “He needs to be on my good side remember?”

Jin met your worried eyes but he turned away, telling you there was nothing he could do, nothing he would do.

You began to whimper again and only then did he turn back around but the elevator doors closed.

______

You hugged your knees to your chest and sat down in one corner of the room, shivering in fear as Yoongi talked to himself like an insane serial killer.

"When you give the orders to kill Angel, let me do it. Please." He begged with a pained expression, suddenly kneeling down in front of you.

You nodded, biting your bottom lip trying hard not to cry and failing.

He smiled and kissed you, pulling you upright.

You laid your head against the door and wondered when this nightmare would end; if it would end. 

Your tears said that you wanted to be with Jin.

Yoongi was beyond scary, he was unpredictable.

"Baby. Come, lay down. Stop crying. I'll let you sleep yeah?"

You held his hand as he led you to the bed.

"Face me." He said as you laid down beside him.

You sniffled and closed your eyes, hoping he would just let you sleep as he said.

The scent of cigarette smoke filled the air and you opened your eyes.

"You're crazy you know that? Those lips kissed me today and I couldn't believe it. Were you not scared?" He asked, leaning back into the pillow and exhaling the smoke.

You were still afraid of him, how could he not see it?

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done Baby?”

You remained silent and watched him carefully, having a hard time calming down.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. “Don’t tell me, I already know you’re a good girl. A baby.” He said exhaling again.

The sweet smoke filled your nostrils and it smelled good.

“But I can imagine how bad you could be and it’s so intriguing. You’re perfect. You’d be the perfect good girl gone bad, I can see that. I’ve always wanted that in a doll. Namjoon saw that in you a long time ago I guess. He’s kept you away from me for so long and now I know why.”

“Why am I here?” You asked, hoping he would be honest.

“You’re the new girl, that means more money. They’ll bid on you just because you’re new. But Namjoon will never let you go. He’s in love with you. He never falls in love. We never fall in love. It’s just business, but you...there really is something different about you. He’s smart.”

“What kind of business? Who’s going to bid on me?”

“Just business. You’ll see soon enough. Don’t be scared, Namjoon won’t let you go.”

“Go where?”

“Baby, relax.” He said throwing his cigarette away and climbing on top of you. “Or do you need me to help?” He asked kissing your cheek and getting dangerously closer to your neck.

“No.” You pushed him off.

He smiled as he laid on his back again. “Namjoon would kill me.”

“If I’m his, why do you guys act like I’m yours?” You asked, annoyed.

“Namjoon said you’re mine for now. He’s sharing for now. I just want to see how bad you can be.”

“I won’t hurt anyone.” You said, imagining all the crazy stuff they would ask you to do. 

“Not even me? I hurt you, don’t you want to hurt me?”

“No. I’m afraid of you.”

“Don’t be.” He said looking at you. “Show me who you really are Baby. I just want to know. I need to know just how much hate you have inside.”

“How much hate do you have? Why are you like this? What do you get from hurting others? From killing them?”

“I do what I have to. When you have nothing else to lose, you feel invincible. Namjoon has a lot to lose actually but I don’t.” He said.

“He makes you kill, and for what? You have nothing but blood on your hands.”

“No that’s Hoseok. He likes blood, because it means he can make you scream. He’s worse than me. He doesn’t kill quickly, he likes to hear your pain. If Namjoon wants someone dead, that’s my job. If he wants someone to give up answers, he gives them to Hoseok.”

That scared you even more. How could Namjoon give you to any of them in the first place if he supposedly loves you?

“You won’t have to go to Hoseok if I have any say in it. If you tell Namjoon you want to stay here, he’ll let you be mine.” Yoongi said.

“Namjoon favors you for now, but he won’t give me to any of you. He’s made that clear....I’m not like you, I never will be.”

“Baby, I can deal with him. I can protect you from him. From all of them. You think Jin can? He left you here with me. Fuck all of them. I’ll show you what it’s like to feel invincible. You won’t be scared ever again. I promise. I’ll be good to you.”

It was clear now that Yoongi had something against Namjoon.

“What do you want me to do?” You asked, realizing he was right. Could he get you out of here if you made him believe that you loved him. 

Jin was safe for now but Yoongi was right. Jin could only do so much as long as he was under Namjoon’s orders.

Yoongi seemed like the only one that could push Namjoon.

You didn’t want to go to the other rooms, much less Hoseok’s.

“Kill Angel.”

“I can’t...kill her...” you said fearing his response.

“I know....don’t worry about it for now. Just go to sleep. Here take this. It’ll put you to sleep immediately.” He said taking a pill out from his bedside drawer.

You took a deep breath and felt overwhelmed. One second he was plotting a murder and the next he was just so relaxed.

“You’ll really protect me Yoongi? I’ll do anything else. I’ll tell Namjoon I want you only. I’ll make him jealous if that’s what you really want, to make him suffer?”

“See, I knew you could think like I do.” He said placing the pill against your lips.

You parted them and swallowed the tiny substance, a bit relieved that you could sleep for a few hours. At least, you hoped that was what he was giving you.

You’d worry about Yoongi’s vendetta against Namjoon tomorrow. So long as Yoongi wasn’t hurting you and the other rooms were off limits, you were safe.

Yoongi kissed you delicately, his hand resting on your side where he hurt you before.

You placed your hand over his, telling him you forgave him, and kissing him back before falling asleep.

_______

It was so hot. The sweat poured down your face. Breathing became harder.

“103.” Yoongi said watching the thermostat.

“Jin!!” You screamed, sobbing and pulling on your restraints.

“Shh......” Yoongi said coming towards you and wiping the hair away from your eyes. “Hoseok will hear you. That’s the last thing you want Baby.”

He finally grabbed the gallon of gasoline and  dumped it into a bin with papers. He started a fire and pushed the bin closer, making it feel hotter and hotter.

“Baby, this is just us having some fun. Why are you so scared?” Angel circled around you, a knife trailing around your bare stomach.

“Namjoon!!” You called with all your strength.

“Enough.” Namjoon’s voice came through the radio in Yoongi’s pocket.

Yoongi ran to lock the metal door and you screamed for Namjoon. There was no way they’d get in.

“Yoongi open the door.” Namjoon slammed his fists into the door. Jin was calling your name. Telling you to calm down.

“Help me!!” You yelled, pulling on the rope around your wrists, making them dig into your skin deeper. “Jin, get me out of here!!”

Yoongi just smiled and poured the rest of the gasoline into the bin, making the flames rise.

Angel stood at one end of the room and did a cartwheel, throwing the knife in your direction and missing.

The knife hit the wall and you shut your eyes, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Namjoon’s isn’t taking care of you. I will. You need to trust me.” Yoongi said.

“You said you’d protect me.” You whimpered.

“You need a reason to want to hurt her.” Yoongi said as a matter of fact.

“Hurt me?” Angel laughed. “By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be dead and so will I.”

“Let me in!!” Another voice called from the other side of the door. He sounded somewhat excited.

“Hoseok knock it down.” Namjoon ordered.

A chill ran down your spine.

“Sorry boo, it’s just me and Yoongi. I’ll paint a really pretty picture with her blood so you can see afterwards.” Angel said, running the blade down your back, teasing you.

“Yoongi.” You whimpered.

“Give the orders, and I’ll let you do it yourself.” He said gravely.

“One!” You heard something big pound into the door.

“One!!” Angel repeated after Hoseok and she carved a one into your lower back.

You screamed and arched your body away from her to no avail. The hot red liquid ran down your back and a stinging pain making you cry for Jin again.

“Two!” Hoseok yelled and this time you heard an endless round of bullets hitting the metal door.

“Two!!” Angel squealed with delight, carving the number two into your back.

“Baby.” Yoongi said as you screamed with pure agony.

“KILL HER.” You groaned, just as the door was knocked down.

But Yoongi was quicker than the guards. He took a gun out from his pocket and smacked Angel’s face with it, making her stumble back. In his other hand, a knife the cut the rope between your wrists with perfect accuracy. You dropped to the ground and he shot Angel before she could get up.

Twice he shot her, then the guards restrained him and Namjoon placed the gun under Yoongi’s chin.

You never saw a man so angered, yet Yoongi wasn’t scared.

Jin ran over to you, and you pushed him away, grabbing the knife and standing upright despite the pain in your back.

“End her suffering.” Yoongi said out loud, to you.

You looked down at Angel who was in agony, he had shot her strategically, in the leg and shoulder, so that she wouldn’t die immediately. So that she’d die slowly and painfully.

It was the perfect revenge in that you’d end her pain but you’d ultimately kill her. No one else would save her and no one else would end it. Only you could and you would take some relief in it just because she hurt you.

You sobbed and walked over to Yoongi, taking his gun. Namjoon just watched as you moved past Jin and took deep breaths, aimed the gun at her head, closed your eyes and turned away before firing.

Hoseok was the one that grabbed you before you could fall unconscious.

___________

Part 3

[tacticalbrilliance]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Teen!GWashxTrans!Reader (angst to fluff)

Summary: The reader gets kicked out for being transgender (FTM). His best friend, George, takes him in immediately and showers him with love.

Words: 2,326

Warnings: swearing, transphobia

A/N: I want to thank @hamiltryingmybest for inspiring me. I had never read a trans!reader fic until I read Home. I didn’t know people wrote them. It made me very emotional and it was something that I could relate to on a very personal level. Thank you. x (If anyone is wondering, requests are open!)

You smile as you pick up the back of men’s underwear. You stare at the male model in envy for a moment before making your way to the cashier. You proudly place the item on the counter.

“Are these for your little brother?” she asks, trying to strike conversation as she rings them up. You feel your heart ping. You couldn’t blame her. They were the smallest size you could find, and it would seem like they were for a child to you if you were in her position.

“N-No. They’re for me,” you correct. She looks up and raises an eyebrow. You take the bag she offers and slide a ten dollar bill across the counter. You turn and exit quickly, embarrassed and nervous.

When you arrive home your mother greets you, a sweet smile on her face. You hope it stays that way.

“Hello, Honey. Are you alright?” she asks as you walk into the living room.

“Yeah. There’s something I want to tell you and Dad,” you inform, swallowing. You wait for the both of them to get settled on the couch. You inhale sharply.

“What is it, Princess?” your father asks, and you feel your eyes begin to water.

“I… am transgender,” you whisper. You clear your throat and speak up. “I’m not a girl. I am a boy, and my name is Y/N.”

“That’s bullshit,” your dad says, eyebrows furrowing and eyes becoming angry. Your mom doesn’t respond, but her face becomes pale.

“It’s not bullshit. I’m a boy,” you argue.

“Do you have a dick? No. You are a female. Nothing more, nothing less. This is just some stupid phase that social media is putting you through. I raised a fucking daughter!” he shouts. Your eyes begin to burn as your heart shatters inside of you.

“I am your son,” you defend, feeling like you might throw up at any moment. 

“You are a girl! What the hell is wrong with you? It’s fucking stupid to think you aren’t!”

“I’m not a girl! I am a male! Mom, please! Tell him!” you yell, looking at her hopefully. You hope she’ll take your side, that she’ll tell your dad to shut the fuck up. She doesn’t. Her face screws up in annoyance.

“Get out of my house,” she orders. Your eyes widen and your stomach drops. You shake your head, beginning to cry. “Get out of my house!”

“M-Mom, you can’t-”

“Get out!”

You take in a deep breath and run to your room. You grab your suit case, angrily tossing clothes and your toothbrush into it. You throw the bag inside and zip it shut. You wipe your eyes as you storm out, trying to breathe correctly. As you step out onto the sidewalk you look around.

Your feet instinctively carry you towards George’s house. George: your best friend since second grade. He’s been the only supportive person in your life. He helped you through figuring it out and choosing your name. Every single day he makes sure to call you a boy in some way shape or form, just to remind you that he supports you. He comforts you when you have dysphoria and gives you his old clothes that no longer fit. He bought you your binders and made sure that they arrived at his house so your parents wouldn’t know. You still remember the first time he did it.

“Hey, Y/N. you know how you said your really wanted a binder?” he asked,and you had dropped your pencil. You looked up at him from your homework in shock.

“You didn’t,” you said breathlessly and he grinned. He turned his lap top around to show you the checkout screen of the GC2B website. You felt tears prick your eyes.

“I did,” he had confirmed proudly. He quickly moved his laptop out of the way as you tackled him in a hug, pushing him onto his back. 

“Oh my god! George!” You shouted, holding him tightly. His smile was bright as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s nothing. You’re my best friend, dude. I told you that I’d do it,” he reminded. He blushed lightly when you pressed several kisses to his cheek, continuously thanking him. “You’re welcome.”

“I can’t believe you did it! I am never going to forget this!” You laughed happily and shut your eyes tightly. “I love you!”

He’d wash them for you, too. He even offered to somehow pay for your surgeries whenever the time comes. So your gut screams at you to go to him.

You knock on the door nervously. He opens it, smiling. He quickly frowns as he sees your tears and panicked state. He pulls you in by your hand, shutting the door.

“What happened?” he asks, opening his arms. You lunge at him, sobbing as he hugs you tightly.

“I-I told them. I came out to my parents,” you tell him. Your hands grip onto his shirt, tugging. “They kicked me out. I-I’m homeless. I have no where to go.”

“I’m going to kick their asses,” he angrily states, arms tightening around you.

“What am I going to do, George?” you whisper, choking on air.

“Stay here. Move in with me,” he suggests. You look up at him in shock. “My parents love you, Y/N. They’d be honored that you’d go to them for help.”

“Really? Do you think they’d be okay with that?” you ask. He nods, smiling. You wrap your arms around his neck, planting a kiss to his cheek. “Oh my god. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll just let them know when they come home,” he says, smile turning into a grin as you keep kissing his face. He turns a bit red, laughing softly. “It’s nothing. You’re my best friend, dude. I told you I’d do anything for you.”

“Am I going to stay in the guest room?” you ask, looking at your suitcase. He reluctantly lets go of you to reach over and pick it up.

“You’ll stay in my room with me,” he answers, leading you up the stairs. You didn’t need him to. You’ve been over so many times before, you knew the layout of the house better than your parents’. 

He sets the suitcase down by the door and grins at you. You return the gesture and plop down onto the bed. You sit cross-legged with your back against the pillows.

“I’m going to live with you,” you say and smile, hugging the stuffed bear sitting next to you. You had gotten it for him at a carnival. It was the same day that you came out to him and sobbed in public. He was extremely okay with it, not a problem whatsoever. For the rest of the day you two had played games and won each other prizes. The bear was his favorite one, so he kept it on his bed and slept with it every night.

“Yeah,” he confirms and sits in front of you, legs stretched out and spread apart. “This is gonna be so cool.”

“I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been so good to me. You’re nothing but supportive and caring,” you say, leaning forwards to hug him instead of the plush. He smiles sheepishly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. What else are friends for?” he questions, then corrects himself. “What else are roommates for?”

You let out a happy sigh and pat his cheek. You laugh as he swats your hand away. The two of you sit and talk for a good hour or so before his parents arrive home.

“George! Come help with groceries, Dear!” his mother calls from downstairs. The two of make your way down. “Oh. I didn’t know your friend was over. You can go back.”

“I’ll help, Mom. It isn’t a problem,” he says sweetly, walking out to the car. He comes back, carrying ten bags in each hand.

“Look at that muscle! Two gallons of milk in one hand plus some,” you tease, clapping. He laughs and smiles brightly as he sets them on the kitchen counter.

“Is your friend staying for dinner, Sweetheart?” his mother asks, loading things into cabinets.

“Yes. Actually I have something really important to ask you,” George says, moving to stand next to you.

“Just give me a minute, Dear,” she says, reaching up for the top shelf. George walks over and takes the can from her hand. He sets it in the cupboard and looks down at her.

“Mother, this is very important,” he urges. She drops her arms to the side and looks at him with concern.

“George, did you leave the garage door open again?” his father asks as he enters.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll close it, I promise, but I have to ask something of you and Mom,” he says and steps towards you.

“Hurry on with it, then,” he grumbles.

“Mom, Dad… Y/N was kicked out by his parents,” he says carefully, glancing down at you. His parents had already been aware of your preferences. He refused to call you by your birth name and ended up telling them for you with your permission.

“Oh, no. Come here, Baby,” his mother says sympathetically. She hugs you and kisses the top of your head.

“He needs somewhere to live, and I offered he stay here,” George continues. His father raises an eyebrow and his mother nods.

“That is perfectly okay. We’ll take care of you, Sweetie,” she says softly. “You’ve always been like my second son.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Washington,” you say and hold back tears. His father clears his throat.

“I thought you two were dating,” he says simply, looking between you and George.

“Dad,” George warns lowly.

“What? I’m not allowed to tease?” he asks, looking over at you. “Please enjoy your stay.”

“W-We aren’t dating, and thank you.” You flash him a smile as you’re let out of the embrace.

“Are you sure? George talks about you every single day like you’re his boyfriend. He goes on and on about how you-”

“Okay, so, I’m going to go help Y/N unpack,” George interrupts loudly, pulling you up to your new shared bedroom. 

“What was that?” you ask through laughter as he shuts the door.

“Nothing,” he replies quickly. He sits cross-legged with you on the floor, helping to separate your clothes into piles. He opens the pack of briefs. “You got new ones.”

“Yeah. I needed more so I bought them myself,” you say, a gleeful smile on your face. 

“I’m very proud of you,” he informs with a grin as he folds them. He watches your hands as you pull out a shirt. “My dad was just messing around. I don’t talk about you.”

“Not at all? I’m hurt,” you joke, and he laughs lightly. 

“Okay, that was a lie,” he admits. “I do talk about you.”

“Knowing you it’s always something sweet,” you say, looking up at him. You smile softly.

“It is,” he confirms. “It’s always about funny something you said that day or how amazing you looked. I even rambled about how I’m happy that your voice has gotten so deep considering you aren’t on T and how binding is working. I talk about you a lot; more than my father insinuated.”

“Awe. You’ve always been so prideful and supportive,” you say and hug him.

“I may have also mentioned once or twice that I have a gigantic crush on you,” he rushes out. You pull back in surprise.

“You… You have a gigantic crush on me?” you ask, astonished. He nods sheepishly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Is that okay?” he questions hopefully, looking at you with worry.

“Only if it’s okay that I’ve liked you since second grade.” You give him a small smile and he returns a bright one.

“Can I kiss you?” he requests. You laugh and nod. He has always been the type to ask to do something, even it seemed embarrassing or silly.

He pulls you towards him by your hand and tilts his head as he leans down. When your lips meet he lets out a hum. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands frame your face. 

“George! Y/N! Dinner is ready!” his mother announces.

You pull away and smile up at him with red cheeks. He stands and offers his hand to you. You take it and he pulls you to your feet.

Dinner is lovely. You eat sitting next to him with his parents on the other side of the table. For once you felt completely comfortable and loved as you’re surrounded by people who support and care about you.

“You kids go meme or whatever it is you do these days,” his father says as everyone finishes up. George and you look at each other and burst out laughing. 

“Yeah, Mr. Washington. We meme,” you say, nudging George. He lets out another fit of laughter.

It’s nearly midnight once the both of you decide to lie down. He strips down to his underwear, which is how he always sleeps. It doesn’t bother you one bit.

“Those are hot,” you say, laughing loudly at his white boxers with pink heats plastered all over them. 

“These are comfortable and were on sale,” he defends.

“I can see why,” you mumble. He playfully grabs your arm and pulls you against him.

“Are you making fun of me?” he asks, a small smile pulling on the corners of his mouth. 

“I would never,” you respond, gasping lightly. “How dare you think such a thing?”

“Mmhmmm.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We need to rest.”

He climbs into bed and scoots over as you slide in. He drapes an arm over your body and you move to press your back against his chest. He places a soft kiss to the back of your head and softly whispers, “Welcome home.”