#but then these fuckers wanna start banging on the damn walls?

[aaaaaaaaaaaa-a]

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[thefanficmonster]

Partner

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort

Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.

“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.

“And we can’t thank you enough.“

The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.

“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.

On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.

“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“

They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”

While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.

“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.

They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.

Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious. “Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“

Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”

                                                               *  *  *

“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.

Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.

“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“

Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”

“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“

“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“

“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.

“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“

Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“

“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“

Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.

“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.

Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”

“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.

Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“

“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“

Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”

He needn’t be told twice

[ren1327]

Close to Me

A Huskerdust/Angelhusk tumblr exclusive fic based on Ellie Goulding's "Close to Me" feat. Diplo and Swae Lee.

Part of the Light up the Night storyline

CW: Lots of cussing, mentions of sex and bullying Moxxie

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

SLAM!

Charlie jumped when she heard a door upstairs slam, then a hard pounding on wood before a frustrated yell had her on her feet.

She nearly ran into Husk as he stalked to the bar, grabbing a bottle off the shelf and uncorking it, taking several large gulps.

“Um…Everything good, Husk?” She asked.

Niffty suddenly hopped past, whining softly to herself as she leapt into the kitchen, hearing pots and pans banging.

Charlie looked at Husk, who had started on a second bottle and quickly followed the cyclops girl.

“Hey, Niffty?” Charlie asked.

Niffty was quickly measuring out flour and muttering to herself as she grabbed some eggs.

“Sad brownies?” Charlie asked as Niffty grabbed a block of fudge, then turned a grabbed a second.

“Sad brownies.” She said and turned to tie her hair in two short pigtails and wash her hands.

“What happened?” Charlie asked when Niffty gave her a bowl and whisk.

“Oh, Miss Charlie…” Niffty sighed and started chopping nuts. “It was awful!”

*

EARLIER...

“Dance with me, Husk.” Angel teased as they walked past a club, Niffty peeking inside and grinning.

“We gotta get this stuff back to the hotel, Ang.” Husk said. “Some other time, okay?”

“Fiiiiine!” Angel huffed and reached for Husk’s hand.

Husk pulled his fingers away and crossed his arms.

Angel blinked. “The fuck?”

“Not here, Angel.” Husk said and looked at an old poster of Angel in drag.

Angel’s eyes followed his and he scoffed.

“Are ya serious?” He asked and stalked ahead, Niffty looking from Husk to Angel before hopping to the former’s side.

“Husky, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Nothin’, Niff.” He grumbled.

The walk back was tense and silent as they all made it back into the hotel.

Angel dropped his things on the counter and went up to his room, Husk cursing and following after his boyfriend once the groceries had been put away.

Niffty cocked her head and leapt up the stairs, hearing muffled shouting.

“…fuckin’ scared to be seen with me?”

“…know damn well I don’t give a shit!”

“Be honest Husk!” Angel yelled as Niffty placed her ear near the door. “Ya think I’m disgusting or somethin’? Think I’m too much of a slu—”

“Shut up!” Husk yelled. “I just…I don’t think…Ang…we’re…not good enough to been seen together…”

Niffty squinted her eye, Husk voice very low.

“Good en---Good enough?!” Angel yelled and there was the sound of glass breaking.

Niffty ran behind a plant as Husk ran out, a perfume bottle smashing behind his feet as he turned.

“Angel…I didn’t mean it like that…Angel!” Husk yelled as the door slammed. He pounded on the door before yelling in frustration and going down the stairs.

*

NOW...

Niffty sighed. “I think I get what Husk meant. I hear him talking with Mimzy when she’s over."

“Oh?” Charlie asked as they waited for the brownies to bake.

“It’s not Angel isn’t good enough.” She looked up at Charlie. “It’s Husk. He thinks he’s not good enough to be seen with Angel.”

“And so Angel…oooooh.” Charlie said. “What should we do?”

“Brownies and milk.”

“Right! Any alcohol will make Angel spiral!” Charlie said. “He’ll lose all his progress!”

“…No, milk just taste better with brownies….” Niffty said with a frown.

“Right, right, right…” Charlie laughed awkwardly. “Sorry.”

Niffty huffed and heard the oven ding, taking the brownies out and letting them cool as she set up a tray.

“Ya know, Miss Charlie, sometimes we just gotta do what’s best for people in their own way.”

“But Angel staying clean is best for him—”

“Angel, not the hotel.”

“I…I think I have an idea. But I might need some help.”

She grimaced as she took out her phone and shot a text.

“Okay, Niffty, we might need a few more batches of brownies…” Charlie said. “And some of the good liquor I know you stowed away for this kind of situation. Let’s move all this to the home theater. And make sure the front room is clear.”

“Why both rooms?”

*

“That’s such bull!” Loona said as she downed another shot.

“How can he imply he’s better than you?” Octavia added.

“Yeah, Angie, you’re like, the fucking best!” Cherri said and stuffed another brownie in her mouth.

“Thanks gals.” Angel said, sniffing and taking another tissue from Millie. Then another shot.

Niffty sat on one of the sofas, a weird cartoon playing on the screen no one was paying attention to. She quietly excused herself and hopped to the other side of the hotel where Husk was drinking from another bottle as Blitzo chattered away.

“Listen, they all throw fits, but just have really rough angry se—”

“Sir!” Moxxie interrupted. “The best response is proper communication. As a happily married man, I can say with confidence—”

“No one cares about your boring married life!” Blitzo said and pushed Moxxie off his stool.

“Blitzy Dear…” Stolas cooed. “Aren’t we in a committed relationship?”

“Well I mean, yes.” Blitz said with a blush. “But! Marriage makes it less…sexy.”

“I see. But being my consort is much more…enticing?” Stolas purred, leaning against his partner.

“Uh…”

“Fellas!” Mimzy chided. “This isn’t helping.”

Husk was sobbing now. “I fucked up again…”

“Oh, Husker…” Mimzy said and rubbed his shoulders. “Alastor! Can’t you help us?”

The Radio Demon looked up from his drink, cocking his head. “Oh, I’m trying, my Love.”

“Tryin—Alastor! What are you up to?” The shorter demon asked her lover.

Niffty chirped and gasped, running back to the theater.

She burst in to see the same scene she had just escaped from.

Husk blubbered.

“He’s so fuckin’ beautiful, Mimz!” He said. “Like, look at ‘im! Hic! ‘Den look at me! He’s too good fa’ me and I hate…”

Angel’s eyes were transfixed on the screen.

“Hate how people look at us. ‘Dis tall fuckin’ babe and his shlubby boyfriend!”

“You’re not shlubby—” Mimzy said.

“Yes, I am!” Husk said and hiccupped. “I’m an ugly old man and he’s just! Just!”

“Just what?” Mimzy asked, side eying Blitzo and Stolas escaping into the hall to a bedroom.

“He’s fuckin’ perfect! He’s pretty an’, an’ has a nice voice…His cute widdle snore an’ man! Can he shoot, Mimz! He’s so fuckin’ vicious when he wanna be!” Husk said, waving his bottle around. “He looks so happy when he’s mowing down fuckers! Yeah, I snap at ‘im. But he can always tell when I’m bullshitting ‘im. We get in our little back and forths an’…he does dis little pout that melt me, ya know?”

Angel chuckled.

“His laugh…” Husk continued Mimzy carefully took the bottle. He mixed his drink with a smile. “Fuckin’ infectious. An’ he always smells so fuckin’ good. He looks at me like…like I’m da best damn ting in da world, ya know?”

He smiled into his glass.

“When Angel is…well, if anyone makes it outta here…I hope it’s Angel…I want ‘im happy.” Husk said. “I love him—”

Angel tackled him on screen, and everyone was shocked to see Angel had sprinted down the halls to kiss Husk's face.

“Love ya too, Husky!” Angel yelled happily, kissing the cat demon's cheeks and lips over and over.

Husk clutched him tight in a hug. “I’m sorry, Baby.”

“I know, I know, Husky.” Angel whispered. “Let’s get ya sobered up, Baby. Then we can cuddle with Nuggs.”

“Love Nuggs.” Husk mumbled as Angel picked him up, his wings dragging behind them.

“Aw~” Millie cooed as the girls joined the rest of the group in the front.

“Well, it’s late.” Charlie said.

Vaggie placed her hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Feel free to stay the night.”

They suddenly heard pounding from Blitzo and Stolas’s room.

“Ew.” Loona and Octavia said.

“I just fixed that damn wall!” Vaggie huffed and shook her head.

Niffty offered her the last brownie, the taller demon smiling at her as they dispersed.

*

Angel rubbed the base of Husk’s ears as he purred into his chest fluff.

“Ya wrong, Baby.” Angel said.

Husk moaned sleepily.

“We good.” Angel said, pulling the other into a kiss. “Together.”

“But…”

“Shut up.” Angel chuckled. “Just stay close to me. And love me like ya do, okay?”

“Love ya, Angel...” Husk agreed.

“Love ya too, Husky~”

[ellemcu]

I don’t wanna hurt you

Chapter 5: Trust you? Again?

Part 1 \\ Part 2 \\ Part 3 \\ Part 4 \\

Word count: 1685

Warnings:Panic attack, swearing

*****************

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling numb all over your body. Everything was blurry and your nerves felt as if someone was stabbing them repeatedly. You groaned and struggled to keep your eyes open. After a few minutes, memories of everything that had happened flooded your brain and you sat up quickly. You were in a small room with 4 white walls and one big mirror, which was obviously double sided, after all the years you had been stuck in a small room, being studied on, this was nothing new. 

You drew your gaze where you were sitting and you were lying on a small plain bed. Your whole life you had slept on the grubby floor and this new sensation was awful. You rapidly stood up but as soon as you put your whole weight on your knees they buckled and you tumbled on the floor. But you were determined to get out of this place because you need to go back to HYDRA, the more time you’re away the more pain they’ll inflict on you, the more they’ll train you until you don’t have enough energy to even breathe. You need to go back, at any cost.

 You slowly stood up again and ran towards the mirror and banged your fists on it, so harshly that blood started to draw. You kept on banging until you couldn’t feel your arms anymore so you stepped backwards until your back met the wall. You slowly slid down it until you sat down, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to catch your breath. You weren’t even tired but the more time you spent in this damn room the more your brain thought about all the possible ways you were gonna be punished. You were gonna kill every single person without thinking twice about it if it meant to go back home

 You felt as if your lungs had stopped working and breathing was becoming really difficult. You rocked yourself while trying uselessly to even out your small, choked breathes. Your mind was racing and suddenly, irritated by your whole situation you reached out your hand and slowly raised it, telepathically, bringing your bed with it. You made your bed float through the air, slightly tilting your head with a cold stare until you swiftly moved your hand towards the double sided mirror. 

The bed crashed into the mirror, making the whole room vibrate. You were sure that the glass was not made to be broken but with your super hearing you heard a slight crack. That was enough to make you stand up and accumulate more power. Your (e/c) started to turn purple and red sparks started to escape your hands. You swiftly lifted the bed and started to slam it against the mirror. After a few powerful strikes the glass shattered and what was on the other side kinda shocked you. 

You inhaled deeply and cracked your neck, a small smirk formed on your face as you took a step towards your new exit. On the other side there was a room full of computers and strange looking machines that made your shiver. You looked around thoroughly but the room was completely empty, there was no sign of any threat. Just as you were starting to let your guard down a door flung open. You froze and waited for someone to come in. Staring deeply into the door a man appeared. He was a tall, bald man with a black eye patch on his left eye. He slowly walked towards you, raising his hands to show he didn’t have weapons but you obviously saw through that after seeing a pocket knife he had strapped on his knife. You still hadn’t moved and were looking very carefully at his every move. “ Listen Y/N I’m Nick Fury and I know you must be feeling scared “ he stated while you scoffed at his comment, YOU scared? PLEASE-. “ Or you might be feeling uncomfortable because you feel like you need to get back to HYDRA” he continued as you looked at him with a confused look. “Listen I just want to help you,” he said, offering his hand out to you. You looked at him “ That's the same damn thing your friend told me and look at me now.” you murmured. “ Listen I don’t wanna fight because you are not my mission but if you are gonna stop me just know that nothing can stop me from going home”. You growled. You were about to leave when Steve walked in “I get it, I really do but listen”. You hadn’t stopped walking, you were tired of listening to these dumb people.” I knew you mom” he continued. You stopped dead in your tracks: “Yea, she was a lovely lady, extremely smart” he went on. “And I know for a fact that she trusted me, we were buddies, so please trust me. Just once. Please” he sounded so desperate. “You think I should trust you?Again? What, so you’re doing all this for what? Trying to help me? trying to help me not go back to what you think is wrong? Dude I don’t think you understand.” You answered in a low growl. Suddenly you felt a sharp pain in your skull, but it wasn’t external; it was as if your cells were reprogramming. You felt as if someone was crushing your skull while dividing your brain into their smallest atoms. You knew this feeling too well. It was HYDRA turning you into their 

soldier. You were turning back to The Shadow. 

You breathed in deeply and opened your eyes though this time your expression was cold. Your mission was to kill everyone here. Every single person.

You stared at the floor for a couple of seconds before lifting your gaze towards Steve “ You did this?” he questioned not really understanding why you were staring at him. A smirk forming on your lips once again as you fisted Nick Fury's neck knocking him out completely. You grabbed a pocket knife and threw it with precision towards Steve. It hit his shoulder, just in the right angle to injure his muscle perfectly. You slowly got up and walked towards Steve who had fallen to the ground and was trying desperately to grab his shield even though it had slided away from him. Your eyes were emotionless as you telepathically choked Nick fury while pushing the knife from Steve’s shoulder up, towards his neck as slowly as possible. Everything was perfect, no time to lose. You were finally gonna go home. Out of the blue You heard a pair of boots run across the corridor towards you. You glanced at the door and there HE was. THAT muther fucker. You stood up, still moving the blade telepathically towards Steve’s neck while he squirmed helplessly. A woman came running in after the tall dude with red hair and a jet black suit. She raised her hand towards you, aiming to hit you with an electric shocking device, as if that was going to make a difference after all the electricity that had flown through your body. You scoffed at her action and stopped choking Nick Fury (he was about to die, just to say), you looked deep into her eyes and then turned your gaze towards the man you kept trying to kill, every time failing miserably. But this time his expression was different. You could read his emotions easily, which was impossible a few months ago and his eyes had a different look to them, not easily noticeable but if you paid enough attention to someone, like the highly trained assassin you are, it was easily detectable. After a few seconds of staring deep into his soul, his expression changed, now he was surely worried. “Natasha freeze” He shouted at the red head. “Barnes she is gonna kill us, what the fuck is wrong with you?” she murmured back to him, still keeping her wrist high. ”She’s under their control. She.. she doesn’t understand”. he shouted quickly back at her. “ Just let me deal with this” he continued quickly as you were about to attack Natasha. You understood completely what they were saying but you weren’t reacting in any way. You lunged towards Natasha and she tried to dodge your attack but she was way too slow for your quickness. You twisted her arm and pulled her on the floor, pulling out the knife that was in Steve’s collarbone, blood gushing out as you brought it to her main artery. You were about to stab her neck when the all in black dude said in a clam voice “Soldat. Stop.” you recognized that voice. The Shadow recognized that voice and froze. “I’ve heard a great deal about you. We even met but I don’t think you remember now, do you?”. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes. You never could  make eye contact with your handler at HYDRA so you kept eye contact with the floor. “Now stand up.” he said clearly. You listened and stood up from  Natasha and stood by her side. “Barnes how the fuck did you do that?”. You finally looked up at him, trying desperately to be able to see his next moves before he hurt you. He walked towards you and said in a steady voice. “Now follow me (Y/N), I know you’re in there.”. You nodded, following his orders as he walked out of the room and you followed.

 In the corner of your eye you could see Natasha run to Steve but you couldn’t disobey this man, even though you had no idea who he was, you were fully aware of what he was capable of.

******************************

omg I’m really so sorry it took so long but school has been killing me. I know this is being very slow but I promise once we’re in the compound it will be so much better. I really hope you like it and if you wanna be tagged or you have any request on any sort just send it!

elle.

Tags

@vicmc624

[kerwritesthings]

The Heartbeat of Inspiration

Summary: Musicians find magic within the simplest sounds, especially when it’s laced with love

Word Count: just shy of 1.5k

Warnings: silly and sweet with some fluff and a slight dip into cheeky fucker

Author Notes: I had been lamenting earlier Saturday that I wanted to write, opened a few things I have going (which I HATE having multiple things started let alone started and just hanging) none sparked joy at the moment, prompts I’m sitting on were doing the same. Was about to close down for the night when Bre @fallinallincurls decided to blog THIS and then all of a sudden, a word doc was opened and I vomited 250 words in like 10 minutes. I had about 1k done in an hour, then it took a turn. All in all, 2 hours to bang out this whole thing start to finish. CRAZY. Miss muse, she has a mind of her own.

This falls earlier in the verse than I’ve been writing lately, like somewhere between Sharing a Look and Because I Need You. Totally can be a stand-alone but as always, verse knowledge helps. Full masterlist can be found here.

“Can I play you something?” he asks earnestly, guitar slung on his back as he reaches for your hand.

“Of course, always. But why not here?” you question as he pulls you through the maze of people, cases and wires, down a random hallway you don’t remember seeing before. He peeks around the corner and ducks you both into a dimly lit room.

“Because,” he smiles, swinging his guitar around before hopping up on the counter in the small space he’s found.

“Because is so not an answer my dear. What are you up to Shawn?” you knit your eyebrows as you pop down cross legged on the floor across from him.

“When you were on that call before, after sound check? I didn’t want to sit or anything. Too much rolling through me,” he explains strumming lightly. “I felt something bubbling. I needed to play and write and just be you know? Bus wouldn’t do it or my room cause everyone would be popping in and out. I went to wander, it got quieter. Found this. Not sure why we’re not using it considering everyone’s on top of each other in this place.”

“I thought you went to nap, I know the bus and all the extra stuff hasn’t been the best for you for sleep,” you start before he jumps back in.

“Nope. Was in here. Remember that progression that’s been eating at me? The one I made you record on your phone the other morning?” he plays it, and eases into it further, looping back to the original. “Music’s done. Or I think it is.”

He goes head down, focusing solely on the guitar and the sounds coming from it. You love all facets of this man of yours, but seeing him in his element, creating, in love with the music. The way you get to see him, the way he allows you to see him this way; it’s nothing short of special. Towards the end he’s bopping his head along as he strums, smile creeping across his lips.

“And so yeah, it’s that,” he shrugs, bashful and flushing all of a sudden.

“Can you play it for me again?” you request. “Please?”

He turns a few shades pinker, deeper. “Really?”

You nod, looking him straight in the eye, lips quirking up on one side.

He slides back into music mode, this time a little surer of the chords and the strings underneath his fingers. He looks up at you more this go, cheeky little grin as he progresses. Head bops a little more towards the end of this go, the newness still there but something with it settling underneath his skin and into his bones.

“I think I’ve got the start of lyrics too,” he mumbles, fingers drumming against the front of the light washed wood. “If all goes well, wanna get this down, mixed. Done. Drop it when we get back from all this. A surprise, a thank you, an end note to this bit of running if you will.”

“What brought this all on all of a sudden? What’s the inspiration?” you question, head tilting to the side just enjoying the scene folding out in front of you. He’s always pretty in your eyes, but when he gets deep into his music, he’s ethereal with a whole other glow.

“You,” he says so matter of factly, not looking up from his fingers fidgeting across the frets now. “The other night, when you finally got in, and you slid into my arms. Something just popped, clicked. It was this feeling of calm and serenity, that nothing else mattered but that single moment with you. I heard the progression in your heartbeat, as fucking cheesy as it sounds, but I did. It hit, stuck in my head even when we slept. Felt it again, stronger and more sure really, when I woke up with you sleeping on me. Why I made you record me playing it first thing that morning. I couldn’t let it go, I needed to keep it.”

“I had to go and fall in love with a poetic as shit songwriter,” you sniff, shifting to your feet to get to him.

He hopped down off the counter, slinging his guitar behind him to get you into his arms.

“I warned you that this whole muse thing for a musician was real,” he laughs brightly, holding you tightly to him. “You’re a pretty damn good one at that. Thank you, baby.”

You nuzzle your face against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, wrapping your arms about his waist being careful of the guitar behind him and just hold him so for a few minutes.

“Love you pretty girl,” he whispers, nudging your face up to look at his. “So damn much.”

He leans down, dusting the softest kisses across your face, hitting your eyelids, cheeks, the tip of your nose before carefully pressing into your lips. You’re lost in the moment, in him, in the bubble. Then your phone starts buzzing wildly in your pocket, Shawn’s following suit.

“Shawn,” you utter against his lips, pulling away ever slightly.

“They can wait,” he mutters against your jaw, sliding his hands into the back pockets of your jeans to bring you closer into him. “Wanna love on you a bit before I have to go into show mode. I’ve missed you, missed being this close. You feel good under my hands, the taste of you on my lips.”

He hits this spot on your neck that makes you let go something between a moan and a sigh. “The part of me that loves you so much wants to say to hell with them all, but the rational part of me that knows if they’re hitting both of our phones…”

Shawn doubles down, nose skirting against your skin with his tongue following. “Couple more minutes, please?”

“Baby, sweetheart,” you fight out as he nips at your ear while slipping his thigh between your legs. “You’re not fighting fair. You’ve got folks to see, fans to make swoon, songs to sing.”

“I’m seeing you; I’m making you swoon, I can sing to you,” he utters into your ear, hips canting against yours. “You’re my favorite audience.”

“What’s gotten into you…” you begin just as a familiar face busts into the room.

“There you are. Kids, really?” Cez barks through a deep laugh. “Enough of that. You two are damn lucky it’s me that found you and not say Andrew or even Louis, who by the way is here tonight.”

“I tried,” you say, trying to peel back from him, but he won’t let his grip on you go, his head leaning down into your shoulder at this point.

“Yep, ‘smy fault, but do you blame me man?” he grins wickedly as he picks up his head and pulls you into a much more PG hold. “My girl that I love is here, you know how much I’ve missed the hell out of her and I mean look at her. You’re lucky I’ve behaved at all lately.”

“Shawn,” you push at him, face bright red.

Cez rolls his eyes and chuckles. “You are lucky I care about you the way I do, kid. God help me why I do, I wonder sometimes. You have 15 minutes to get yourself back to your room, cleaned up and changed before meet and greet starts. If you cannot behave, I will take your love with me, so you have to behave. Get it?”

“Come on,” you push him towards the door and in Cez’s direction while still tangled in his grasp. “Time to go be a Rockstar, Shawn.”

He loosens his grip on you, kissing your forehead before letting you go. Shawn nudges at him as he walks towards the door. Cez throws his arm around his neck in a loose head lock. The two walk through the door and down the hallway that way for a beat.

“Thank god for you. Someone here that he’ll really listen to,” Cez replies, letting him free of his hold.

“I listen to you,” he sticks his tongue out at him in retaliation as they hit the main hallway backstage.

“See what I deal with? Go, I’m back for you at 4!” Cez calls out walking past the both of you

“Wanna dress me?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows with a wink as you get through to his room.

“I’ll help choose, no touching now, but I call dibs on getting you out of it later ok?” you pick through the rolling rack on the far wall.

He comes behind you to hug you again, his chin hooking over your shoulder. “Promise?”

You twist to kiss him as best you can. “Post Rockstar show Shawn is one of my favorites so yes, of course. Me, you and that couch after the show.”

“It’s a date.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @etherealpetey, @sinplisticshawn​, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry, @adelaidestreets, @thotmendes

*Always feel free to ask to be added to the tag list!

[meikos-realm]

Six Moons (CH.1)

Lunar awakens rather startled, a horrific nightmare plaguing her once again.

“Fucking…” Wiping her eyes from the tears as she rolls off the sofa to start her day. She heads to the kitchen, eyes lingering on the knife block for a little longer than they should before making her morning tea and breakfast.

“It’s been 5 years. Why are you fuckers still in my head!” Slamming the counter in anger before recomposing herself and taking a few deep breaths. She heads to her bedroom, turning the radio on as she passes it. A little background noise to break the deathly silence. Lunar gets changed for school before heading back to the kitchen to actually have breakfast. “Bastards” Muttering through gritted teeth. “I know I’m going to hell, but at least I took you fuckers with me.” She stops herself again, taking a few deep breaths before grabbing her bag, mask, and helmet. The cool air is apparent as her visor almost immediately mists up as she closes the door. “Great. Can this morning get any bloody better.” Today was definitely not a good day for Lunar. Her usual quiet and calm demeanour replaced with a rather vicious amount of spite and anger. Wiping her visor she starts her motorbike and enjoys the gentle hum of the engine ticking over before setting off, taking a bit of a longer route to school just to enjoy the ride.

Ahead on the road she sees a very vibrant yellow beetle that can only belong to one person, Six. Wanting to have a bit of fun with her friend she pulls up behind Six’s car and revs her engine really loudly before popping a wheelie and riding past, engine still revving loudly. Hearing the car horn go behind her gave her a small smile as she pulled into the parking lot, shutting down her bike and waiting for the yellow beetle to peel in. It pulls up along side as Six steps out.

“You cheeky little bitch!” Jokingly thumps her arm still chuckling. “But in all seriousness, getting rev bombed is better than any cup of coffee” Six grinning like a cherisher cat at Lunar.

“Thought you’d appreciate the little shock to the system” Her voice seeming up beat but still obviously down trodden. Popping her visor open, the dark bags under her eyes very apparent. Six’s expression changes to one of concern, stepping closer to her. “Nightmares again?” Lunar only nods in response, hanging her head a little. “Hey, it’s fine, I did stop by the shop on the way here so here, have this.” Hands Lunar a drink with a reassuring smile, Six’s unusual teeth a little visible. “I’ll meet you up on the roof. I know you wanna get your mask on.” She heads off after patting Lunar on the back reassuringly.

Heading into the school building, Lunar darts for a bathroom allowing her to swap out to her mask before depositing her helmet in her locker and heading to the roof. Whilst on her way to the roof one of the known bullies shoves her into a wall causing a yelp from her whilst deep in thought .

“Well well well, if it isn’t our favorite little psycho.” Lunar tries to hurry to the roof to get away from them but is quickly grabbed by the bully, pinned against a wall in the corner. “Oi! I was talking to you!” He barks in her face, the mask hiding her terrified expression. “Tch, disrespecting me. I should break that stupid fucking mask of yours.” He speaks while raising a fist. ”LUNAR! DUCK!” She does as she is told rapidly hitting the floor as someone slams the bully on the top of his head with a chair, before getting barged away. Keeping her eyes slammed shut, and arms protecting her head, a familiar touch gently rests on the back of her head. “Come on, let’s get out of here before the teachers show up” Helping Lunar back to her feet, Six leads her to the roof and their usual little spot overlooking the sunrise.

“You alright?” Lunar nods taking a minute before replying.

“Yea, just shaken…and my shoulder hurts. Shoved me in a corner again.” Her voice still wavering a little, adrenalin still coursing through her veins.

Six pulls her close rubbing her arm to try and help her calm down somewhat. “I am still sticking what I said that night. Whenever I’m around no one is hurting you again. Ever.”

--- 5 Years Earlier ---

“Just sit here, and we will have someone here for you shortly.” An officer tries to offer a gentle tone to the blood-soaked girl, shaking and still clearly terrified. He walks back to the people at the desk asking them to keep an eye on her.

Across another kid, wearing a yellow raincoat is sat swinging their legs watching the newcomer with curiosity. She hops out her chair and sits on the bench next to the bloodied individual. “What happened to you? You look like you have been through hell and back.”

The kid looks up at her, eyes almost nothing but tears, her now stitched slash on her face still very apparent. She just stares at Six for a few moment before looking back down at her hands, dried blood clinging to every nook and cavity in her skin. The weight of the crimes she had committed still fresh in her mind. Six just watched her for a while before noticing the shaking and tears dripping from her face. As if the kid was a sibling she pulled her into a hug and just started soothing her the best she could. It took a long while but she eventually fell asleep on Six, probably the safest sleep they have had in a while.

The lady at the front desk noticed this and went over to see what was up. “Everything okay?” Six nods looking at the now sleeping Lunar, still occasionally shaking. “What…happened to her? She looks like she was in a warzone” The lady rubbed the back of her own head before speaking. “Her parents tried to kill her, and killed her brother. She…shot them both dead” Six’s eyes opened wide in shock before looking back down at Lunar. “She must have been so scared…” The lady stood back up, heading off and bringing a couple of drinks and a snack for them each before heading back to the desk.

A few hours had passed when Six’s parents had arrived to pick her up. “Come on, let’s head home.” Six didn’t move, keeping Lunar’s head on her lap and still idly stroking her head. “I don’t want to…she needs someone to keep her safe” They keep going back and forth for a while before one of the officers pull Six’s parents to one side explaining what happened to Lunar. ”Ma, Is it alright if I stay with her until she is okay… I don’t want anyone to hurt her whilst I’m here…” A sense of duty and determination in Six’s voice as she speaks softly to not disturb Lunar. Her parents relented, and the pair spent a night in one of the cells, door left open so that they can roam freely.

During the night Lunar had managed to cuddle into Six, waking her up but giving her a small smile before settling back down.

“As long as I am here, No one will hurt you again.”

--- Present Day --- Lunar smiles having flipped her mask up to drink, leaning against Six quietly. “It seems you have kept that promise…And I’m glad you did.” She checks her phone, making note of the date, a bigger smile creeping up on her face, noticed by Six. ”What’s got you all happy all of a sudden?” Curiosity killing the cat as she looks at Lunar’s expression.

“Just…a plan sort of falling into place in my head.” Looks up at Six, the smile still there.

“Well whatever it is, I hope it works. Especially if it’s keeping you this happy.” The pair go back to watching the sunrise and drinking what remains of their cans before heading to class.

--- End of the day ---

Lunar sits waiting outside the detention hall playing a game on her phone, waiting for Six to get out. As she finishes another round a notification pops up.

[Feb 14, Valentines Day, 1 Reminder Set]

The smile she had earlier re-appears bigger than before. Staring at the phone screen as if in her own little world until a gentle thump noise from her mask being flicked shakes her out of it. ”Earth to the moon, we okay Houston?” Six chuckles at the bad joke she cracked before helping Lunar up onto her feet again. “Sorry about the wait, apparently one of your bullies squealed like a piggy.”

Lunar laughs at the pretty bang on description of her bullies before replying. “Heh, its okay. Just my plan came back into my head.” They start heading toward one of the bathrooms so Lunar can swap back to her helmet. ”Still not telling eh? Must be pretty big if you won’t even tell me about it.” Lunar nods in response. “Okay now I am really damn curious.” Lunar giggles at her before booping her nose and zipping into the bathroom, leaving the startled and confused Six in the hall. She pulls her hood up hiding her blush as she leans against the wall softly feeling the letter in her pocket and letting out a long drawn out sigh. Her own cowardice annoying her at the moment.

“Ready to go Six?” The chirpy voice spooking Six out of her thoughts. “Hehe, now who’s day dreaming.” ”Yea yea, come on. I’ll race you back to the village!” Trying to hide her annoyance in confidence and competitiveness.

“Oh you are gonna so lose. 3, 2, 1, GO!” They both bolt to their vehicles, Lunar being the first to get her engine started but almost stalling as Six gets her engine started and peels off, tyres smoking. Lunar rapidly catches up with her and rev bombs Six on her way past before the pair get stopped at some traffic lights. Fingers on the trigger waiting for the lights to go green. The minutes feeling like eternity as Lunar takes off immediately as they go green, causing a wheelie in the process. Six hot on her tail as they race towards the village sign, neck and neck passing almost at the same time and stopping at the burger van just on the outskirts. ”Who Won?” Six steps out laughing still unsure. Lunar can only shrug as she doesn’t know either. Six goes ahead and orders their usual Friday after school grub as Lunar changes to her mask in a secluded part of the car park before rejoining Six. ”I think you may have won by a headlight Six.” She says walking to the benches and plonking herself down opposite Six.

“Nah, I think you won by a mud guard.” Pushing a portion of chips over to Lunar as she tucks into her own. ”Draw? Again?” The pair go quiet for a moment before letting out a few laughs and digging in to their Burgers and chips.

They sit chatting as the sunsets, deciding to head out as it gets a bit chilly. “Hey Six... You busy tomorrow?” ”I don’t think so, why?”

“Want to come over and chill for the day?” Lunar hoping quietly she accepts, the final piece of her plan falling into place.

“Sure! Only if I get to finally beat your ass at XGIII. I’ve been practicing.” Six again using bravado to hide her nervousness, but in the back of her mind thinking this might be her chance. ”Sweet! Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then toothy.” Lunar smirks under her mask at the little jab. ”Watch it big ears. Hehehe” The pair share a hug before setting off home. To them both, tomorrow was a big day should all things go to plan.

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

based off of the LN School AU by @becauseimgabbeh-blog

[btssunnyboy]

Mistakes- Jeon Jungkook

Being drunk is such a cliche excuse, but being sober only makes matters worse.

Word Count- 3,087

Warning - Cheating, implied sexual themes and mentions of alcohol.

Also this was inspired by the amazing @hobisgorgeousass and their Shattered fic! I really hope you don’t mind me tagging you!

Masterlist

——————————————————————-

It definitely wasn’t a spur of the moment type thing.

It took months, more specifically four months. It was all good at the start, almost too good to actually be true. The longing kisses and the desperate touches were something you began to crave the longer you stayed. It was all so delectable, who would want to willingly leave something so amazing like that. Through your eyes it seemed like a perfect relationship.

Oh god, where would you begin to describe why it was immaculate. For starters the luscious dates he’d always prepare. Moonlit dinners with soft candle light, or a cheesy, but very wonderful walk on the beach. He’d wrap his arms around your waist and sway to an unheard rhythm. It was peaceful and beautiful, as were all of his dates.

His perfect words. He had a way to hook you in with a single syllable that dripped past those honey like lips. They’d wrap around you like a fluffy blanket, trying to provide you with some sort of comfort. You should’ve paid more attention to often he spoke those caring words, versus what he does now. He’d usually treat his words like a poem, making sure they follow a pattern and definitely making sure they express all the feelings that run a muck in his oh so troubled mind.

His touch and his overall scene of love. At the start, it was like being on cloud nine. He showered you in affection every chance. His large hands clasping over your smaller ones. Rubbing those comforting circles over your smooth knuckles. Pressing his soft lips your tender neck and painting a beautiful masterpiece of the blank canvas. As possessive as it sounds he loved letting everyone know your heart is already taken and not up for sale.

The thing is he’s worked out a routine. A precise and well thought out routine. It has to be perfect he can’t get caught, but he can’t fall behind and accidentally mix two things that should never mix as long as he’s alive. He has to make sure you received the gentle smooches and the others received the rough part of him that is begging to be released. The tequila that lingered on his breath done more then just sting, it made his body reactions a bit more uncalled for. He had control, but at the same time he didn’t.

He knew it was a bad idea to mix stress with the overwhelming amount of alcohol. Yet he did it. Despite all the nagging in his ears, he grabbed his keys and raced to a secluded bar. Filled with only ones who could keep a secret or those who were going through the same famous troubles as him. A soft hand, kinda like yours, but the difference between the two were easily noticeable.

He should’ve stopped it right then and there. Let this stranger know his love was at home, and he couldn’t betray her. Yet he allowed one drink to quickly turn into another which then led to another. Pretty soon her face was slightly distorted and the sight resembled you in a weird way. Her lips were so inviting, so damn inviting. He couldn’t help himself.

Do you wanna take this somewhere else?

The question hung heavy in the air, but his body reacted before his mind. His tattooed fingers cling to her ink-less skin within a second. The walk to the car sobered him up a bit, but his mind was already set. There was a beautiful woman — not as beautiful as you — giving him bedroom eyes, and he needed to release. His inner roughness was clawing at his insides and the way this mystery women was talking it seemed like he hit the jackpot. Saying she could last a few rounds, and she was already half way undress in the car.

The moment the car pulled up to the doom he led her to his room as quietly as he could. The soft giggles she was letting out were distracting, and he’s do anything to get that horrendous sound to spot echoing in his head. So he grabbed her waist and held her against the wall. The steaming hot kiss between the two leaving them breathless. Her shaky breathes were edging him on as he attacked her neck with this honey lips. The same lips that placed loving kisses on your forehead, but now instead of honey they’re venom.

They’re a substance to be used with caution, it’s dangerous to play with something like this. She knew as she pulled him into another kiss and it was at that moment she knew this wouldn’t be the last time they met. When his bedroom closed and the legs opened, he knew this was a mistake. It went on to happen though, with the sound of the headboard assaulting the wall. Making the paint chip with the harder it happened.

He was careful as can be the first time. Besides one thing. He didn’t plan on someone banging on the door with urgency. The sound made him shoot up and his eyes dart to the sleeping body placed beside him. The mystery stranger, whose name he soon found out was Piper. He shook her wildly and tossed her discarded clothes in her direction and made her hide in the closet. It was such a childish thing to do, hide the one who just slept with. Why not own up and just say you got laid.

Oh that’s right he can’t, because that’s not you in the closet. But that could be you at the door, and he can’t let these two situations meet in the middle. Time, that was all he needed, but he knew he didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be caught in his dirty tracks. He deserved to have his dirty laundry aired out for the entire fucking world to see.

She blew him a kiss when he shut the wooden door once more and raced to other. He swung it open and a sight of relief passed through his body. It wasn’t you, but it someone he knew would keep this secret. Jimin eyed his out of breath figure suspiciously and soon let his gaze linger around the room.

“I thought Y/n hated pink?” He questioned, what was supposed to be an innocent question as well. His head tilted in confusion before he put the small puzzle together. You hated pink with a passion, and he knew that bra definitely wasn’t your style. “You mother fucker.”

“Jimin I can explain!” Jungkook gasped out as he yanked the man into his room.

Jimin let out a dry scoff as he watched the women come out of the closet. Jimin forcefully yanked himself away from Jungkooks touch, like the mere brush of his fingertips burned him like a raging fire. His face held a mix of emotions, but disgust was overtaking them all.

“You screwed up big time.”

“Is anyone else here.” Jungkook panicked as he peeked his head out of the door. Seeing no one insight he grabbed a handful of cash and said get a cab to the women. When he finally heard the front door slam shut he turned to a pissed off Jimin. “Don’t say anything! Please!”

“And why the hell should I keep this a secret. You fucking cheated on y/n!” Jimin bellowed as he made wild hand gestures to prove his point. “Besides I don’t even have to open my mouth for her to find out.”

Jungkook held a confused look until he followed Jimin’s gaze down to his neck. At neck breaking speed he raced to his bathroom. His canvas was painted. Purple with splotches of red littered his neck. For once, you weren’t the paintbrush in this example. He knew he was royal screwed now, oh god he didn’t want this to happen.

“Jimin please I’m begging you I love her! I swear this’ll be the only time.” Jungkook sobbed with his bloodshot eyes. He couldn’t lose you, he just couldn’t bare the thought.

“You better not be lying.”

Those five little words lifted a weight off of Jungkook’s shoulders. After this he went on his day as usually, just making sure his neck was covered. On the other hand Jimin was a ball of nerves. The stress from this secret was eating him alive. He should’ve said something and made you’d leave Jungkook once in for all. When he decided to keep this secret he thought it was for a once time mistake, what he didn’t realize was this one time mistake was growing into a common occurrence.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

He’s being distant. A lot more then he is usually. You knew the stress of the upcoming tour, and he needed to sort things out. It was best you kept your distance as well. If only you knew what that meant. Right now he wasn’t complaining about the stressful choreography, but he was praising the women beneath him. After the usually session was done he grabbed his clothes and bolted.

“What took so long?” You questioned as you sat up from the floor.

“Yeah just needed a longer bathroom break.” Jungkook shrugged as he placed a sweet kiss onto your cheek. Your eyes lingered on the sweat that was dripping down his neck and the stain right above the collar of his shirt. Before you had the chance to speak up another voice beat you to it.

“How about we all go out and eat. I can ask Piper to arrange something.” Namjoon suggested as he downed his water.

“I’m up for it.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Jimin felt like he was going to throw up all over his meal. He couldn’t believe that’s she of all people got hired as a personal assistant. He wished he could just scream at the two of them and let this shit get settled. He almost gagged at the sight of them giving sideways glance to each other each time you turned around.

That fucker promised him it was a one time mistake. He’d lost count of how many times he’s caught then since then. The other members are beginning to catch on and oh how they wished they had the balls and tell you. Their breaths hitched slightly when Piper has to excuse herself due to a so called urgent phone call. Like clockwork, Jungkook excused himself to the bathroom.

“Geez, you could cut the tension with a knife.” You commented lightly as you picked up a piece of your meat. Your softly chewed under the tense eyes of the others.

“He’s cheating.”

It caught you off guard. In the process making your meat go down the wrong pipe. Seokjin softly sighed as he hit the boy next to him.

“Are you being serious?”

“Y/n-“

“Don’t say my name when it’s not relevant, are you being serious? Is there any proof?” You asked worriedly as you bounced your leg up and down. Their eyes stayed casted downward and that was all the evidence you needed. You quickly excused yourself and hastily walked towards the restroom. As soon as you yanked opened the bathroom door two figures stepped out of a stall.

You’d remember those red bottom heels anywhere. And those black combat boots as well.

“You’ve got be to fucking kidding me!”

Both stopped dead in their tracks when their eyes landed on you. Your eyes were glossy and tears were screaming to fall over your waterline. Your legs felt like jello as you fell into the nearby wall. Out of instinct Jungkook’s arms began to wrap themselves around your fragile form. When his skin touched your all those suppressed feelings surfaced and a sob raked through your body.

You yanked yourself away and quickly wiped underneath your eyes. If anyone saw you like this then they’d know what happened in this stupid bathroom. You couldn’t afford to cause a scene, if this got out who knows what would happen to the boy’s reputation. Even though you wanted so desperately to take everything away from Jungkook you couldn’t do that to the rest of them, even if they know all along.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You should’ve connected the dots sooner. From the red wine stain on his white shirt, he drinks tequila and you never drink red. Next, was the late night hours he’d come back home. You knew he worked hard, but he was unusually tired and you never would’ve guessed that the reason was another woman. Lastly, you should’ve known your nose wasn’t fooling you. That cheap perfume was a dead giveaway, since you’d never use something that, well cheap.

If you had just paid a smidge more attention you could’ve avoided this whole thing. The boys wouldn’t have had to lie and keep this dirty secret. Right now you probably wouldn’t have all of his belongings in a box ready for it leave your sight at once.

“Get your shit.”

The harshness of your voice took him back more then a bit. He came not only because of his stuff, but he wanted to make peace. He wanted to try to win you back. It was a stupid plan, at least that’s what everyone was preaching to him, but he needed to make things right.

“Baby please it was an honest mistake.”

“Don’t baby me, and besides cheating is a choice not a mistake.”

The conversation died after those words. They echoed in his brain like a taunt. He deserved it though, is what he kept telling himself. He deserved every ounce of pain and guilt that were gonna come his way. If anything he deserved for his whole career be destroyed, just like destroyed your relationship.

“I know your legs work, use them and leave.”

You have no remorse for him. You wanted him out of your house, and out of your life completely. Not caring about how harsh you sounded, you were not going to be gentle and caring version of yourself. You were going to be a stone cold bitch. Jungkook eyed the box once more with a guilt stricken face. His eyes soon glossed over, and he almost let the sob loose.

“I’m still so sorry, y/n.”

“You should be, now get out.”

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

He’s a total wreck, from his head to his toes. Everyone could only watch on as his light dimmed each and every day. They felt bad, but he brought this on himself and he needed to learn from his actions. Just because he was famous doesn’t mean his actions can’t have consequences.

“Y/n, he’s a mess.”

That didn’t bother you one bit. It’s only been two weeks since the breakup and in all honesty you were doing fine. Not perfect, but you were getting along just fine without him. By the sounds of it, Jungkook seemed to be taking this hardest.

“Should I care?” You shrugged as you nonchalantly sipped on your drink. “Why am I even here?”

“We just wanted to see if you’d consider just talking to him for a few minutes, the poor boy looks like he could use some time with you.” Yoongi softly spoke, as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He knew how the whole ordeal happened, and he knew this was a touchy subject. Surprisingly, he was the only one who didn’t know this was happening at the start.

“I get it you guys care about him, but he broke my heart. He cheated on me and now I’m gonna have to live with this constant doubt that I’ll never be good enough.”

“You’re more then enough, Y/n.” Jimin stated rather quickly as he soon zipped his mouth shut. His cheeks burned a bright red as he kept his head down.

You ignored those words as your mind kept replaying that night. As you watched the two walk out of that stall. Her burgundy lipstick smeared across her chin, and the shoulder strap of her dress hanging limply beside of her arm. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his lips were still pressing soft kisses to the base of her neck. Then their eyes met yours and the color drained from their faces.

In all honesty, you wished you’d slapped him. Tell him how much of a fucking idiot he was. Make him wither in a pit of his guilt and despair, but you didn’t. You let yourself go in that moment and you swore to yourself that you’d never let yourself get caught up in anything like that again.

“He still texts me a lot.” You sighed as you ran a hand though your hair. The soft sensation calming you down slightly. You shouldn’t have said anything, but you needed to get this off of your chest. “I barley open them, but if I do I never respond.”

“Are you ever gonna talk to him again?” Hoseok asked while his fingers tapped away at the table. As much as you tried to focus on that sound you still couldn’t get the situation out of your head.

“I want to say no, I really do, but in all honesty I’ll probably give in like I always do.” You scoffed at your pathetic self. He cheated, he’s the one who destroyed this relationship. You shouldn’t even give him the time of day. Now here you are actually thinking of talking to him again. Talking to the one person who single handily destroyed the way you see yourself.

“Just talk for a few minutes and get every last thing off of your chest. It might help you feel better.” Taehyung suggested as he gestured to the buzzing phone on the table. The screen lighting up multiple times with a phone number. “Did you take him out of your contacts?”

“I had too, because the temptation to text him got stronger every time I looked at his name.” You mumbled, while fiddling with the sleeve of your worn out sweater. “I thought he would’ve got the hint by now.”

“Y/n, please just try to give him one more chance to get some last minute things off of his chest.”

You took their advice too heart and tried to settle things out. You typed your heartfelt text and poured every ounce of your hatred and sorrow into as well.

Let’s just hope he finally gets the hint, you’re done. And you want him to finally leave and go be with another. Considering it wasn’t that hard for him when you were together, now he’s free real-a-state anyone can have him.

[burgerkang000]

Breaking the law

The noise. The noise is killing you. How much longer till they leave, better be soon, or else you’re committing murder and blaming it on the cat. You briefly wonder when your brother’s friends got so rowdy, well hanging out with him must have taken a toll on them.

You try to concentrate on your phone, scrolling through mindlessly at memes you don’t get, and then you hear the door slam. You hold your breath; it slams again, a deafening ‘bang’ followed by the sound of the keys rattling, probably still in the keyhole.

That’s fucking it. If there’s anything you can’t handle, its doors being slammed. You can't take it anymore and aggressively make your way downstairs, you see a badminton bat lying somewhere on the floor. You pick it up and enter the living room, where your brother along with his douche bags sit.

And you throw the bat next to you with as much force as you can. As the plastic hits the tiled floor, all of them look up. Silence, that’s what you get. The living room becomes so silent it’s almost deafening.

Suddenly you’re aware that you had no exact plan on what to say, and you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks.

 But you didn’t do that for nothing, so you clear your throat and-

“I’d appreciate it if you keep the noise down, or just leave and make noise elsewhere-”

Your voice trembles at the next part, out of anger or disgust, you don’t really know.

“-and DO. NOT. SLAM. THE. DOORS . Got it? EVER.”

You look up when you hear your brother laughing. The audacity of that fucker-

“Woo, I think she bout to commit murder, quit it-“

You heard a familiar voice saying-

“No she’s too innocent for that-“

And that’s it, you lose it, like lose it lose it. And you take the bat and slam it onto him, throughout which his friends were howling with laughter and somewhat cheering for you. A shit eating grin formed at your face at that.

“Yah, stop it.”

You feel arms wrap around your waist and pull you back and pull you back onto the couch, it was Hongjoong.

“Maybe we should calm you down with some water.”

“Yeah, give her some water, crazy bear woman” Your brother angrily mutters, rubbing the sore spot where you hit him particularly good.

Hongjoong grabs you by the elbow, and guides you to the kitchen; you turn around to childishly poke your tongue out at your brother, and catch Yunho’s knowing smirk and wink while you’re at it. At that your cheeks heat up and you duck your head down so no one (read: Woo) won’t catch it.

You sit on the counter as Hongjoong fills a glass with water and hands it to you. You take it and as you look at him you know there’s more coming.

“Damn babe, didn’t know that you had it in you.”

You sigh and take a sip.

“Well, you know I absolutely loathe people who slam doors, why’d you let them do that?”

“It’s not like I have powers to freeze people, and even if I did, I’d like to try and see it work against Choi Jongho”

Oh. You didn’t know that it was Jongho who slammed it, you were planning on screaming at the person who did as soon as you got the info from Hongjoong, but now you’ve changed your mind.

As if he could read your thoughts, Hongjoong giggles and then bursts out laughing. It was too much for you to keep in and you joined along.

When it was over, you breathed in the comfort of the silence that washed over the both of you, it felt like the first breath you take when it starts snowing, fresh, cold and crisp. Somehow, that  makes you think of fish, but before your brain could go to that, you think about the time when everything changed between you and Hongjoong.

You met him before your brother could introduce you. A really cute guy who had just moved back from abroad. You guys had already gone out on a couple of dates, had (kind of) steamy  make-out sessions, held hands, all in a span of a week. And you really had liked him.

But then on a not so fine day, your brother called you and introduced you to his new- not so new friend, Hongjoong. They knew each other from childhood, you couldn’t remember, you were too young. Shame, you thought and after that you both agreed that you should stop whatever it is before it gets too far so that this way it doesn’t get too messy and Woo doesn’t get involved, less drama, etc. It wasn’t like they were that close anyways .But the more you hung out the more you liked him, and for the record, you thought it was one-sided.

Things don’t always work out the way you want it to though, and soon enough you guys agreed to secretly date and tell your brother when you were ready. That happened about a year ago. Your peace was shattered when Seonghwa walked in, carrying a plastic bag, most probably trash, since he was wearing that look when he’s annoyed at everybody for making a mess.

“What you got there, Hwa?” You ask to poke fun at him.

“You boyfriend’s dick”

You laughed hard at that, about the same time Hongjoong barked out an exclamatory ‘hey!’

You knew he was just pretending to be mad though, or else he would have gone quiet, or laughed along with you awkwardly.

“Better be back soon, Woo’ll get suspicious” Seonghwa says.

“I wanna stay here a bit longer, say we broke a glass and now we’re cleaning up”

You grabbed the abandoned glass which was on the counter and raised it.

“Whoa, calm down babe-”

Says Hongjoong as he grabs the glass and places it back on the counter.

“I’m sure Hwa can come up with something good”

But the expression Hwa was making could not be trusted, so you grabbed the glass again-

“I ain’t having any of that. Look at his face; he’ll put us through shit.”

And you raise it over your head once again, prepared to hear the shattering .But then Hongjoong coaxes it out of your hand, rinses it out and places it on the rack to dry.

“I’m pretty sure you need snack refills, right? Bring the bowls; we’ll fill it up while we talk”

Hongjoong says to Hwa, and Hwa dumps the bag and its contents into the trash can ,nods and walks out to grab the bowls.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at you. OK, so you might have gotten a bit carried away.

You shrug and sheepishly smile in response. Hwa comes back with bowls, and sets it down.

“Be back soon, Woo’s starting up a new round, you coming?”

He asks you, you nod.

Hwa lingers, hesitation clear on his face-

“Do you- I mean when are you going to tell Woo about... you know-?”

Honestly, you  don’t know

When both of you were silent for a while, Hwa scratched the back of his neck

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to pry-“

You share an affirmative look with Hongjoong and say

“We don’t know”

“Oh well, umm… I’ll be gone now-“

With that he was gone.

You fiddle with your fingers and look down, Hongjoong grabs one of your fingers which have formed a hook, with a finger hook of his own, and now you’re pulling and tugging, grinning at each other, by the end of it, you let him win (read: he won).

And suddenly Hongjoong snaps his head up-

“I have an idea”

“Go on”

“We got to tell Woo one day or the other, I mean he’ll find out one way or the other, right?”

You hum.

“Let’s tell him now?”

He asks. You were caught off-guard, usually you’re the one who comes up with on the spot plans which are abrupt and random, and Hongjoong is more thought out and formulated. Either way, you were on board with this idea. But your confusion must have seemed as disapproval to him as he rambled off about how it’s okay if you’re not ready and how he can wait.

“I mean, I just thought it’d be better if we tell Woo, than keep it for later and then he somehow finds out, I don’t want him to feel bad-“

You stifle laughter and say

“Okay”

“Huh?”

“We should do it, I think the others will be surprised we have the guts to tell him.”

“Yeah…” He trailed off.

You grab his cheeks and squish them together.

“And, duh- I wanna spend more time with you”

You feel his restrained cheeks widen at that and you let them go.

“So how we gon’ do this?” you ask.

“Let’s just go with the flow?”

He asks and you jump off the counter and grab his hand and drag him behind you. You feel the nervous swooping of your gut acting up. You breathe a little quicker, and you remember that you haven't refilled the snacks yet, but you don't want to go back, too late now anyways.

You feel your gut pang at your stomach when you’re in front of Woo, who pointedly ignores Hongjoong and your intertwined hands.

“Where are the snacks?” After seeing your serious expression, he puts the deck of UNO cards down and asks

“What’s wrong?”

You look back at Hongjoong and raise your eyebrows in a silent question.

‘Who’s doing this?’

He holds out five fingers and counts down.

Together

“We’re dating”

“I like your sister”

Silence, the deafening type.

“What?” Woo chokes out.

“Me and Joongie, we’re dating, Woo. We have been for a while.”

“How long?” he asks, with an emotion you can’t make out on his face.

“’bout a year” replies Hongjoong quietly.

Woo stands up and you shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to see what happens next.

“Excuse me” and he brushes past the both of you. For some reason that hurt more than an outburst. You can hear people trying to comfort you; you can pick Hongjoong’s out of them all. But you’re not letting this happen; Woo’ll do everything in his power to ignore you both, until he’s ready. But you need him to not misunderstand. You gently push them away, and open your shut eyes.

“I have to talk to him”

“Don’t you think you should give him some space?” San says.

“No.”

You tell Hongjoong that you need to do this alone and that he can talk to Woo later, or if he prefers, they both can try again later and you go upstairs. You expect the door to be locked shut, and since this was Woo, he probably would have several more locks placed and the whole thing chained up, like you see in those cartoons. But the door was open, wide enough to see that Woo was sitting on his bed, head in between his knees, slumped into the wall.

You crawl up to him and then poke him annoyingly at his shoulder, the way that always gets him riled up; you haven’t really thought this through.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to fall in love with your best friend, I’m really sorry. Don’t be mad at Joongie, you don’t really know how much he values you as a friend, or maybe you do, it’s really precious-“

“You think I’m mad at you guys for dating?” His head is still between his knees, but you could make the words out, barely.

“Well, I guess-“

He suddenly raises his head and thumps it against the wall, and winces. your hand shoots towards the back of his head, and you apply pressure to ease the pain.

“I -” he pauses. You encourage him by telling him to take his time.

After a good while of you tensely waiting and rubbing his head and him breathing in and out, way too loud for your liking, he opens his mouth.

“I mean I’ve always seen the way he looks at you; I never thought he’d go after you”

“I knew him before you introduced me, you know?”

“What?”

“Yeah, so we went on dates for a week and then you told me he was your friend, and you only bring special friends home. Also you guys knew each other since you were young, so we didn’t want to come in between that and broke it off.”

“Then?”

“It didn’t work…. I really liked him, I really love him.”

You hear him sigh.

“I’m mad because we’re so close. Both of you mean a lot to me, and why didn’t you tell me? why didn’t you trust me? Do I mean nothing to you?”

“Woo, do you know how afraid we were. You mean a lot to us too, it’s just we were going into an unknown territory of feelings; I didn’t know what to do and- it’s hard to tell the truth to people whose opinion matter. And yours definitely did, since we love you and care about you”

He nods and then he shoots a smile at you, but it falters as soon as it came.

“The others, they knew didn’t they? Didn’t their opinions also matter? Were you bullshitting me?” There were tears in his eyes now. You gently wiped them away with you thumb and tell him-

“We were caught by them actually, they caught us doing- doing stuff?”

“STUFF?!”

“Shhhhh, just kissing and stuff don’t freak out”

His eyes were comically wide and his face became red. “Oh come on, we’ve been dating for a year and a half.”

He sighs and tells you that this isn’t over; you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and hold out your hand, “so we cool?”

“I guess….wait! Where’s your so-called boyfriend? I have to talk to him.” You groan but nonetheless drag a confused and question spewing Hongjoong in and then you were dragged out and not allowed to take part in their conversation, not even as a spectator.

But later that night, Hongjoong tells you about the ridiculous rules your brother has set and the heart to heart conversation they had and you in turn told him you part. Then later on the couch, both of you connected your lips together in a sweet tingly kiss, which left lingering warmth and the promise of tomorrow in, and you fell asleep on top of each other.

You woke up in the morning in your room with no Hongjoong, only to find out you were separated by Woo.

This gon’ be a looong year.

[werezmastarbucks]

tapes

tapes masterlist 

tape final 23/23

word count: 1661

TAPE FINAL

This last tape is really loud and really dark, quite uncomfortable to watch, to be honest. If you have motion sickness, it’s highly advised that you just read the transcript. So, it starts in the kitchen. It’s night time, and the light goes out the next second after the recording goes on. There’s silence in the house, but then we can here steps. They’re light, quick, and soon, there’s Malachai. My, my, what a handsome young man he is now. The moonlight is silver on his face as he picks up the camera. His eyes seem completely black in the twilight of the kitchen. There’s pans and platters shining bleakly.

“It’s almost my birthday”, he says quietly, looking in the camera, “and everybody’s asleep. I wanna start celebration early, because it’s very probable that this is the last time I see my precious sissy. My name is Kai Parker, and this is my little home movie”.

Suddenly, you can he wheezing. Can you? Can you hear wheezing? It’s very close.

“Can you hear him? It’s the Gemini coven leader wetting himself on the kitchen floor. Hold it in, dad”, he says and picks the camera up.

He doesn’t hold it to his face, and just waves it in his hand as he walks through the kitchen. We can see the cupboard door. There’s a metal sound, like he’s taking a knife out of the knife box. Well, not ‘like’. He’s taking a knife out.

He’s walking around the house quietly, almost like a ghost. He goes upstairs and not a single step creaks under his feet. He comes in his parents’ bedroom quietly.

He finally puts the camera to her face as she’s sleeping.

“Mum. Ma-ma. Mum”, he whispers. There’s dark silhouette moving on the bed.

“Kai?” he asks, his voice is raspy from sleep.

“Yes. Dad’s not feeling good”.

She sniffs and lifts herself on one elbow.

“What’s happening, Kai?” she’s still calm. You can see the whites of her eyes in the darkness.

“He’s downstairs, in the kitchen”, Malachai whispers.

“Why?”

“He’s not feeling well”.

Mama Parker sits up in bed and looks at her son.

“Not well – how? Does he need help?”

“No. I poisoned him”.

Movement. Slap! Slash! Kai hits his mother with the knife. She grunts shortly and falls back as he stabs her again. Who knew it would be such a blunt sound? Bang, bang, bang. She moans very quietly, as if saying, I’m grateful for you, Malachai.

He leaves the room, closes the door quietly. There’s a knock on the wall.

“Parkers! Wake up!” his voice shatters through the house, but at first, it’s silent.

He snaps another door open, and we can see the moonlight briefly again. Blue on white walls. He walks up to the two beds.

“Malachai”, this strict voice with the hint of annoyance that articulates every single consonant belongs to Samantha. There’s shuffling in the dark, and she yelps in pain. Kai throws the camera on the nightstand and it lays on the side. Kai drags Sam out of her bed, and Tyler springs to help her, but Kai kicks him in the stomach.

“You wait for your turn, four eyed fucker”.

He drags the girl out of the room and throws her on the floor by the sound of it.

“Stop twisting, bitch!”

She whines.

Reappearing in the doorframe, we can see that he’s wearing his favorite blue t-shirt with a rainbow. Immature!

He looks around and his stare falls upon the open wardrobe.

“Mum! Dad!” Tyler screams from his bed. Malachai dismisses him with a wave of his hand and reaches for the skipping rope. There’s fidgeting behind the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Kai, stop, please, what are you doing?”

“Kai, stop, please”, he mocks her.

Sam screams, and they wrestle a little. Then there’s a sound of thump, and everything’s quiet. Tyler jumps from the bed and heads for the door, and Kai reappears again, like a ghost, and catches him.

“Yeah, let’s go”.

“No, please, fesmatus…”

The older knows all their tricks. Kai slaps his hand on Tyler’s face, covering his mouth, and the boy’s body starts shaking as magic flows into Kai’s body. He drags his brother from the room, too.

“Stop fidgeting!” a voice commands from the hall. There’s a scream. Tyler shrieks when he sees something – I wonder what that is?

Another thump. He works so quick, you gotta admire his composure.

He returns for the camera. Taking the knife out of his pants, he weighs it against the camera’s eye, and even in the pale moonlight, it’s obvious the sticky black on the blade is blood.

“Kids! Wakey-wakey time!” he yells again and his ever-seeing friend travels smoothly in his hand. You can see the dark hall walls, and finally, Josette’s voice goes,

“It’s the middle of the night! Fucking go to bed!”

Kai laughs quietly. He knocks on the walls again, counts: one, two, three, four, five. Five steps until the next room. There’s someone walking up to him.

“Kai”, a voice in the end of the corridor, “what are you doing?”

“Go down the stairs and look”, he suggests. The camera shuffles against his leg and it’s dark again. A door opens.

Kai whistles.

“Ashley, baby, are you up?”

“Kai?”

It’s Joey speaking.

“Yeah, buddy. Hello. Sit tight, alright? Or run, I don’t care”.

He puts the camera in the bottom of the bed so that you can see it when he lifts his arm and dives the kitchen knife into the little girl’s stomach. Ashley doesn’t even scream. But Josette does – she screams from downstairs and runs back, her footsteps loud, deep and harsh. She’s still yelling, not really saying anything, when she slams the door open and she, just as we do, sees Kai carving something with the knife on the body of his sister.

“Oh my god! Joey, run!”

“Modus”, Kai waves one hand and there’s a sound like a body is falling, and Josette is silent. Joey’s footsteps are like a puppy’s: he runs fast, finely, but his legs are short. Kai’s still bent over his little sister’s body, working with the knife. Blood splatters up onto his shirt, but he doesn’t even blink. In such darkness we can only tell the outlines of his face. There’s loud banging from the downstairs – Joey ties to get out of the house – but Malachai had secures all the doors beforehand. He’s not going to run around the yard like a fucking idiot chasing his siblings.

“There it is! Finally”, he exhales as he takes out an organ from Ashley’s belly. It’s big and black and doesn’t really look like anything, but it’s soaking in blood. Kai turns to the window to see better and studies it, frowning, twisting it in his hand. A second – and he loses interest. The organ goes on the floor with a quiet splash. He walks to the camera and picks it up again.

“We’re playing operation with Joey all the time”, he says calmly as he walks out of the room. The camera records the floor and Josette’s unconscious body that’s laying in the hall.

“And I always have trouble finding liver. I mean, it’s so big, and it doesn’t move around, right? But now I finally found it, so Joey can suck it. Liv, Luke! Are you up?”

The house is quiet for now, but there’s footsteps on the first floor. Kai descends the stairs and lifts the camera to film the banisters.

“Damn it, the two nerds”, he says with a lot of passion, looking at Sam and Tyler’s bodies hanging down. In their pajamas, they look like dolls, pale in the blank light of the moon.

“Joey!”

“Yes?” a voice comes from the living room. Kai laughs out.

“Wow! You’re an idiot. Come here, buddy”.

“Are you going to hurt me? Please, don’t”.

He films the boy, crawling out of the darkness of the room. Big couch and the armchairs stand still like monoliths.

“Of course, not”, his voice is full of mockery, but Joey steps out in the light line. His little face is wary, his eyes are big like cherries. He’s a pretty boy, one like Kai used to be when he was his age. Only, his face was bruised, and Joey’s isn’t. and Joey doesn’t have a flight-or-flight instinct. He has something Malachai never learned: feeling of trust. Kai tells him to step to him, and he does, like a kid is supposed to.

“I wanna show you something cool on the camera, come here”.

Joey approaches him, and the whole picture flies away. Bang! Joey yelps like a kitten, once. Thump! Thump! Thump! There’s a loud crack. The living room hops up and down as Kai beats the camera into his brother’s skull. Are you nauseous yet? I mean, that’s a bit excessive, how many times do you really have to hit a seven year old kid?

He’s breathing. But there’s no rest for the wicked: Jo’s up. She runs to the master bedroom by the likes of it: there should be a scream.

“Oh my god! Mum!”

She discovered Martha.

He gets up and the camera flies. Kai twists his arm and we can see him again. There are drops of blood on his forehead, but the camera’s lens is all covered in dark liquid. He frowns and rubs it with his finger.

“Just want to let you know”, he says, heading for the stairs, “I’ve never heard so many ‘pleases’ in my life before. It’s a Christmas miracle. I mean, merge miracle. Jo!” he yells, “where are the twins? Are they in beds?”

He looks in the camera again, but at that very moment he jumps into the spot of darkness. We can only hear his breathing now.

“Well, I gotta go. Gonna montage the shit out of it later”.

There’s a click, and the tape is over.

[artificialqueens]

At last we find each other (Branjie) - Thorpe

A/N: Long time, no see! So basically I’m staying on brand. It was “Those long van rides”’s first birthday on the third, and the best way to celebrate fics is with more fics, don’t you think? So here it goes, my 5+1 story, that would not grace your screens for a couple months more if it wasn’t for Pinkgrapefruit, Freyja, and, most importantly, Dane. Neither it would without the most amazing beta this fandom knows, Meggie. I’m so excited to be able to show you my work again, so without further ado - enjoy xx

Five times Brooke Lynn and Vanjie didn’t meet, and one time the did

In fairytales, if two people are meant to be together, their paths will cross eventually. That’s how fate works. 

But life is not a fairytale.

1.

They were at yet another pageant. Vanjie still couldn’t believe how many of them could be organized in the span of a single month - all mixing into one feast of colours, sequins, and foundation too orange to match anyone’s skin tone. They used to be busy before, but with Alexis’s career taking off, “busy” was an understatement. It was only for the good, though. More bookings meant better money and people catching interest in him as well - two things no young queen would complain about. He was enjoying a brief moment of a break before they had to get ready for their performance, all the hustle and bustle of the contest beginning to wear his ever-so-cheerful persona off.

The talent show segment had just begun and Alexis was going in as one of the last girls. Good - they’ll end it with a bang. Vanessa felt a rush of excitement just at the thought of what they had prepared, jumps and twirls and drops he was ready to slay. He was backstage of the venue, peeking through the slit between the glittering silver of the curtains from where he was leaning on the wall. It was hotter than concrete probably should be, but then again - with strong lights everywhere, poor air conditioning, and pressure so high it was clawing at the ceiling - everything there was too hot for comfort. He didn’t have the time to get a good look at the other contestants since their arrival - there were way too many of them, and he was hungry, so once he clapped and whooped as his drag mother charmed the jury, he went on to look for the buffet. Judging from what he could see now, he hadn’t lost much. The curvy redhead on the stage did have some good moves, Vanjie had to admit that, but watching her struggle with her wig constantly getting tangled up in the embroidered material of her sleeves was far more entertaining than the performance itself. Yeah, Alexis had this title sewn up, whichever it was. He chuckled under his breath. Almost on cue, one of the other back-up dancers came looking for him, gesturing to follow her.

“Alexis wants us to go through the routine once more,” she said over the high pitched voice of the host announcing another contestant, her expression reflecting the exasperation  Vanessa felt. He rolled his eyes.

“Hoe’s crazy, she a drag queen or cardio instructor? Hope ya have that mug all set, I tell you that! Mama gon’ whoop your ass if you get on that stage looking busted.” Cackling louder than he should, he uncrossed his arms and used them to push himself off the wall to stand straight. As he was following her down the corridor, he heard the audience cheer louder and more enthusiastically than before. Curious, he tried to look back, but was already too far to see a tall blonde entering the stage in pointe shoes, so he simply shrugged and rushed to keep up with his companion.

2.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Brooke sounded more than skeptical, brows furrowed, as he took in the sight of his friend. Steve was sitting on the bathroom floor - body sluggish against the wall and face the shade of pale that borders on greenish.

“Yeah, must have eaten something off. You and your damn seafood,” he mumbled, probably aiming for a querulous tone, but coming off tired at best, his eyes closed and temple resting on the cool tiles.

“Oh, hold on, bitch, don’t blame me. It was you who came up with the idea!” His mocked offence was soon alleviated by gentle hand coming to rub one of the sickly looking man’s shoulders as he crouched next to him. “You want me to get you anything? Water or something?”

A small ’Water would be nice’ was directed towards his back, as he got up not waiting for the answer, determined to come up with something that would help his friend. He frowned at how weak it sounded and tried to remember some the home remedies his mum used to prepare. Citrus, maybe, or was it for cold? Muttering to himself, he looked at the cabinets with puzzled expression, trying to figure out where the glasses could be. He found them on his first try, realizing Steve’s Chicago apartment was organized just like his old one back in Toronto. He smiled at the memories of all the evenings they spent there, only to wake up in a state similar to Steve’s present one on the next morning.

“I didn’t find anything with ginger, but this will do.” Coming back to his friend’s misery den, he used his chin to point at a mug of chamomile tea he was carrying on a small tray. “And water with lemon, it should help… I think.”

“Won’t be worse than it is now, eh?” Steve lifted the corner of his lips in a crooked, but warm smile. Brooke let out a little laugh and sat by his side, carefully placing the tray on the floor within arm’s reach. “Don’t get all comfortable here, you better start getting ready if we want to make it to the show.”

“Actually, I thought we’d pass on Roscoe’s tonight, you know? You’re not quite killing it on the dance floor right now.” Canadian queen bumped shoulders with the shorter man, raising an eyebrow at him with a smirk when he huffed.

“With a little help of my lovely nurse Hytes here, I’ll be back in shape in no time.” Not bothering with a response, he just glared at the still awfully pale face. “Don’t look at me like that, Brock. You didn’t come all this way to sit in my bathroom. We’re going out.”

“Listen up, bitch. What I came all this way for was to see my best friend. If I cared about clubs I might have just as well stayed in Nashville.” Both his voice and eyes were unusually stern, warning against raising any protest. Soon his face softened as he placed a hand on top of the other man’s one and squeezed it. “I’ve missed you. And if freezing my ass out on those hideous tiles means spending time with you, you can bet I’m down for it.”

“You really are the best, B, you know that?” Steve turned his palm around and squeezed Brooke’s in return, looking up at his friend.

“I do,” the blonde followed back quickly, sly smile widening to an amused grin as the bearded man shoved him playfully. They both leaned back in comfortable silence, Steve sipping his tea, and their hands still interlocked loosely. After a bit, Brooke remembered something. “Who’s performing tonight, anyway?”

“Uhm, some of the local girls, regulars mostly. But there’s someone new, from Florida, I think. Heard she’s a great dancer, really turning it out.” Steve noticed his friend’s sparking interest at his words. “You’re sure you wanna miss out on that?”

“Positive. If she’s really that good I’ll probably get to see her somewhere else, too.” Brooke nodded before helping himself up. “Now, I wasn’t joking about freezing out. We’re either moving to the couch, or I’m building a pillow fort here, you decide.”

3.

The bouncing of his own leg started to annoy him, but it’s not like he had much else to do. For what felt like the millionth time, and probably was pretty close to that in reality, Vanessa let his eyes wander over the departures hall of the Tampa Airport. Children playing tag - or another game that required running around the two huge metal flower pots and screaming like little banshees - on his right, an older woman lifting her crossword to the harsh white lighting and squinting her eyes behind big glasses before writing in another answer, black plastic of the three empty seats, a teenager in headphones tapping to the rhythm on the handrail, young, dog-tired couple with a baby - or just a bundle of blankets from his perspective, a blonde dozing off with her head on another girl’s lap, and a row of windows on the left. He studied the dirt in the corners of the frames and the pattern on the hackneyed green carpet, not even hoping to notice something new, having spent almost two hours on memorizing every spot and abrasion. Slowly, he transferred his gaze to one of the screens, his usual Duracell Bunny attitude long worn out, to once again discover that nothing had changed. Father rocking the baby in his arms, young boy’s fingers twitching to the slightly faster tempo, another crossword solved, and the same red letters arranged into the word ‘DELAYED’ next to the number of his flight.

The Puerto Rican squirmed in his place - another futile attempt to make himself more comfortable - thinking on a way to convince RuPaul to speed up the season premiere. He needed big gigs with bigger tips to start coming, so that he could pay for the VIP lounge and not deal with those cheap-ass plastic fuckers anymore. Did she have a dog? Or a cat? Maybe he could kidnap it and demand the tapes as a ransom, smuggle it into his bag or something. The sudden scratching of the loudspeakers interrupted his inner contemplation of whether Riley would take to their potential hostage. The voice of a bored woman didn’t  sound sorry at all as it was sincerely apologizing for the inconvenience (inconvenience his ass, it was a hell of fucking disaster) and regretfully informing that the delayed flight to Nashville was canceled . Just like that, Vanjie was back at 10, jumping from his seat, ready to throw hands at the first airport worker he saw. He had to settle for muttering curses in two languages, as complaints and grunts took up all the air in the hall. He unlocked his phone and angrily tapped on one of the contacts.

“Miss Vanjie.” He rolled his eyes at the greeting Kameron chose, exasperation fading slightly. “Shouldn’t you be on a plane right now?”

“Child, don’t even tell me.” There it was, anger back to its full form. “Been here for hours, waiting for my gate to be announced, all patient and shit, and now they go sayin’ the bitch won’t fly!”

“Wait, what? Nah, girl, you have to be here!” The Nashville queen whined. They wrapped up filming not even two weeks earlier, but all of the season 10 girls already wanted to meet up, and Kameron’s belated birthday party was a perfect occasion for them to catch up and try to get all of the details out of the top four.

“Lemme go find that plane, Imma go there like ‘Hey, Captain Mateo’s on board, where we flyin’?’ Or ain’t it a pilot? Pilot Vanessa ready to take over!” He heard cackling on the other side and felt himself smile a little as well. With a sigh, the tanned man sat down and started playing with loose threads at the hem of his shorts. “I’m sorry Kammy, it cancelled. Won’t make it”

“No way. When’s the next flight?” Bodybuilder Barbie insisted, but seemed a bit distracted, and he could hear some muffled voices coming from the other side.

“Tomorrow. No connecting flights or whatever.” The way regret sounded in his voice brought back the still bitter memory of his elimination, making him feel even worse. Maybe it was better if he harassed Ru into not airing the season at all? “Can’t do that, gotta be home in the evening, ya know she’s a werkin’ woman, baby.”

“Ow, such a shame, we’ve…” Kameron trailed off and he could hear her talking to someone else. “Sorry, Brooke’s helping me set everything here. I haven’t even unpacked all of my stuff yet, she’s a lifesaver.”

“Who dat?” The name sounded familiar, woke up some faint memories of a crowd cheering and anger boiling behind Alexis’s practiced smile as she waved in a runner-up sash. He recalled green eyes catching him staring in the changing room, but he wasn’t sure - maybe it was someone else.

“Brooke Lynn Hytes. You’ve never met her?” Kam was genuinely surprised. “Girl, you’d love her. I bet you’d hit it off-  What? Shit, no, I forgot. Uh, sorry, Vanj, I have to go. Talk to you soon, girl!”

“Sure. You guys have fun.” His friend hung up with a final goodbye, and he rubbed his eyes, trying to remember which one of those identical counters he was supposed to go to to get a refund on his ticket. Stepping in the direction of a long queue he noticed a familiar old lady standing in, he tried to shake off the pressing feeling of missing out on something important.

4.

He didn’t act on impulse, he didn’t. He planned his every move and word and decision, instinct to always strive for precision etched into lean body with tired muscles, judging eyes of strict choreographers, and ribbons tightly wrapped around his ankles. Impulsiveness was uncertain ground, and expectations growing heavier with every title and crown needed a solid foundation. And yet, there he was - comfortably seated against his headboard with Apollo curled next to him, hitting the blue icon and opening an empty conversation against his better judgment, not allowing doubts and what ifs to change his mind. The last notes of “To the Moon” still played in the background as his fingers started typing.

Watching past seasons, realistically he had known he wouldn’t make it in the casting because of the green card, but seeing all of the queens that got in - he couldn’t help looking for other reasons that wouldn’t get him through, every single thing they had and he didn’t. Maybe it was the fact he finally got the call himself, his life becoming a frenzy of alterations and toning Courtney’s excitement down, or that he kind of knew Vanessa - saw him performing, stood dumbstruck with eyes struggling to follow impossibly quick movements, relishing in the energy and pure joy his small body radiated - and knew how much more he had to offer, but this time, instead of spotting differences, he found a connection.

‘I don’t wanna get emotional with a lot of people,’ the Latino man had said, unwilling to let his resolve crumble for everyone to witness, but breaking down in a lonely corner with Eureka, and the Canadian felt his heart fall a little with bitter wave of understanding. He listened to the crushed voice talking about his fears of letting his family down, disappointing his mum - fears Brooke Lynn knew all too well; saw him holding a silver statuette and winced at the image of himself being in the exact same position in a couple of months - clutching the cold metal like it could prevent his dreams from shattering down on the floor, dreading the thought of all the sets of eyes trained to the screen at Play Nashville.

But, obviously, he couldn’t have written that, so he set for a short and nice message showing his support, nothing too personal or potentially embarrassing. They didn’t know each other that well and, actually, maybe even reaching out to him after his elimination in the first place would come off as overstepping. After all, it must have been close to a year - Vanjie had surely gotten over it months earlier. For a second his finger hovered over the little arrow, weighing the arguments for and against, but he hastily sent the message before he got to think on it too much. I probably won’t see him anytime soon, anyway, he reassured himself with a deep breath, but once in a while glanced to check if the message was received, imagining short fingers sliding over the screen and plump lips curling in the corners.

Two months later, when his apartment looked more like a Samsonite shop than his usually organized space, he set up three alarms to make sure he got up in time to get to the airport and hesitantly opened his Messenger app, scrolling down to one particular conversation.

After checking if the alarms were turned on, he rolled over. And if his smile was a little sad, it was too dark to tell.

5.

DragCon was fun. He was having fun, it was great. He had his booth dripping with flowers, his silhouette snatched, pink and sparkling - all Barbie fantasy that would not get knocked out the first episode, if he could have gotten his hot glue gun on Cazias’s level (or himself on the sewing machine’s level). There was a line of people who came to support him, waiting to take a photo, gagging on his merch and his lovely mama selling it, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. Even if it all was a bit tiring. 

“Hi, gorgeous. Look at that, you look great. Come on, do a twirl. Yes!” He laughed and clapped as a short girl made a turn, long, black braid attached to her hat spinning with her. He pointed at the pentagram sewn on the hat’s brim. “What’s that? You some witch? Mary, if ya lookin’ for Miss Sharon, try again. Ain’t no bobbidi-boo here.”

“I’m in a some sort of a coven, yeah,” she laughed. How excited she seemed didn’t fit with her edgy look - all back and revealing, a crop top with a logo Vanessa didn’t recognize - but it matched her sweet voice and bright smile perfectly. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m here. I’m running to the show, but I saw your booth and just had to stop by. You’re amazing.”

“You so sweet, thank you. Let’s get a photo. A nice, pretty photo with that mug of yours.” He led her to the pink wall and posed. As the girl got her phone back from the photographer and checked the time, she suddenly started gathering her bags in hurry and apologized, adorably rambling about the fashion show she was heading to. Vanjie didn’t catch most of it, just that her friend, B-something, was walking in it, but he cackled regardless, amused with the girl’s babbling, before going to give her a usual hug goodbye. “Say hello to that model friend from me, won’t ya? Bye! Have fun!”

Soon the commotion started to die out a bit, and as he could see the end of the queue approaching, he couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved. His fans always hyped him up, but after hours of feeling the tape pull, laces squeeze, and bottoms of his feet prick from standing in heels, he’d have taken every break he could get.

“Vanjie! Can we talk with you for a second?” Vanessa sighed at the sight of WowPresents’s crew approaching him. That’d be it for his break . “We’re interviewing queens for the promotion videos, and we’ve been asking them about you.”

“That’s why everyone saying ‘Miss Vanjie’? It’s just my fucking name. I ain’t mad, though, I love it.” Ever since he appeared in the convention centre there had been people screaming his iconic quote at him at every turn - the crowd providing better acoustic than freaking Grand Canyon, two words constantly echoing in some part of the room.

“Guilty.” The young man holding the microphone laughed. “Could you tell us more about who Miss Vanjie is?”

“Miss Vanjie is a wild, ghetto bitch from Tampa, Florida. Puerto Rican background. And got eliminated first, and is legendary. That’s what Vanessa Vanjie is. With a lotta’ flowers an’ a lotta’ Barbie. They didn’t like it, though, so it got a boot.” He said it like nobody’s business, all cheeky - the nerve everyone loved brought up for the camera. He had had a hard time dealing with his elimination, felt like a failure, and when the ‘Miss Vanjie’ thing blew up, he first thought he was a joke. But as the love and support around him grew, he came to rebuild his confidence. And with season 11 popping up, he felt just that, legendary. “What did those other hoes say ‘bout me?”

The cameraman exchanged a meaningful look with the interviewer. “Actually, why won’t you ask them yourself?”

They were walking through the convention centre, music blasting and people bustling around them, looking for his sisters that hadn’t been interviewed yet. He kept waving to people and screaming through the megaphone in his hand - the sound guy regretted having given it to him after five minutes - as they were approached by a smiling couple and a little boy wearing a feather boa and looking absolutely dumbstruck. He leaped to greet the boy with a bright smile before his mother finished introducing the boy - Noah - as his ‘biggest fan’.

“Ya wanna be a drag queen, little man?” he asked, and the boy eagerly nodded. Vanjie noticed the ballet shoes on his little feet. “Oh, you a dancer? Show me some moves.”

Noah took a step back and stood on his toes to make a turn, ended with a bit shaky arabesque. Vanessa eagerly started applauding him, motioning for the crew to do the same. Noah looked a bit shy and reached for his mum’s hand before speaking, but he smiled back at Vanjie. “I do ballet.”

“A drag queen ballerina? Ya know, someone’s gotta be first,” he smiled warmly. Kids were his favourite part of DragCons, so passionate and creative, and so, so cute. “Gonna keep my fingers crossed for ya. All of ‘em, just watch it.”

Drag queen ballerina , he thought to himself as he bid his goodbye and got the last hug. That’d be something to see.

+1.

Back straight. Shoulders back. Head high.

Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. Repeat.

Smooth out the wig. Is that a tangle? No, he brushed it out perfectly, breathe in.

Maybe he messed it up checking? Is there a mirror somewhere? Don’t think, hold it.

Remember your lines. They’re stupid. And boring. He should have thought about something funny. He’s going to make a fool of himself at the very beginning, and now it’s too late to change them, and- Calm down, breathe out.

It’s going to be fine, it’s all going to be fine. It’s not going to be fine, it’s-

A man with headphones, whose name he had heard, but forgot immediately, approached him and gave him a last minute warning, bringing him back from the verge of falling into the spiral. Brooke shook his head - it wasn’t the time to get distracted. He stood at the red line painted on the floor and forced his hand to stay still at his side, despite nervous itching to make sure his hat wasn’t tilted.

“And… you’re on. Come on, good luck.” He opened his eyes, losing the image of smiling Farra, but the encouraging words she would always tell him before every pageant still rang in his head as he started walking towards the streams of bright lights slipping through the pink door frame at the end of the corridor. With every step the screams and laughter got louder, but he couldn’t pick up anything because of the erratic beating of his heart. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. He was almost there, red sequins on his costume glimmering like perfectly cut rubies in the first bits of light already reaching him - making him feel regal, confident, right. Ducking his head a little - just in case - the Northern queen put on his well-practiced smile.

“Is she international?” A loud voice cut through his adrenaline-induced haze, and Brooke automatically turned his head to the left, looking for its source, taken aback for a second upon catching the sight of a smile he knew as good as his own. Without thinking, he rushed to Nina’s side, matching her grin, and fell into familiar embrace. It can’t be that bad with her here, he thought to himself, eyes roaming over heavily painted faces surrounding him, taking in curiosity, furrowed brows, amusement, and- oh .

At the end of the table he saw a short man covered in glitter, though he guessed his skin would have a golden glow even without it. He was clad in red - the shade loud and summoning attention, suiting him perfectly - tight dress hiding toned muscles that had had his gaze lingering a tad too long on Instagram. Full lips curled into the brightest smile he’d seen, showing rows of blindingly white teeth, lighting up the pretty features Brooke knew for a fact weren’t painted on, and bringing a glint to his eyes, which managed to seem playful even behind blue lenses as he returned the Canadian’s ogling with equal interest.

There wasn’t a flutter in his heart, a pang in his chest, or a rush of warmth in the pit of his stomach. It didn’t feel like coming home, like two pieces of puzzle fitting together, or like never having to wonder if he’s enough.

Not yet.

But there was a spark, electrifying the air between them more and more with every quick glance across the room and quirk of lips sealed with a shared secret none of them fully knew, but guarded regardless. And it felt like a promise, like a long time coming change they didn’t realize they had been waiting for until then.

In fairy tales, if two people are meant to be together, their paths will cross eventually. That’s how fate works. But life is not a fairy tale. 

Except sometimes, sometimes it is.

[always-against-the-grain]

Showers

Summary: You head to showers after a rugby scrimmage at the Sanctuary and run into Negan.

Pairing: Negan x reader (female, named Eddie)

Tags: Negan smut, Negan x reader

PS: wrote this for shits. quality not gaurenteed.

There’s wasn’t much pass time at the sanctuary but when there was, you and other saviors played rugby. You played in high school and college and a few of the others did too or at least knew about the game, and you all decided to start organizing games whenever you could.

There was an unforgiving heat today but that didn’t stop you all from continuing play.

You were on offense down a couple try’s - though no one kept real count.

You ran at pace, hands out, with the full intention of a quick pass to the player next to you. As soon as the ball got into your hands you gracefully chucked it to your right, your teammate taking the hole.

“Whoo!” You thought to yourself for a fraction of a second before ricocheting off a man’s built torso and landing your side with a grunt.

You rolled onto your back, “Jesus fuck, Ron”

“Sorry kid, you alright?” He asked with a laugh, though he genuinely cared.

“Yeah, I’m good” you reassured him, reaching out to his stretched out hand.

“Good, thought you were gonna be a pussy about it”

“Haha, I mean I am what I eat but not today!” You joked as you back-peddled into position.

“Damn kid! Alright!” He laughed

It was just touch rugby, but Negan watching from atop the rails, couldn’t help but notice that you played with a higher intensity. He saw you tumble and roll a couple times and push folks a little too hard considering it was non-contact. He was impressed with the grit that accompanied your petite size.

After a couple games, the sun was beginning to set and everyone called it and headed for dinner. The ruggers tended to congregate at a table and highlight the game with a splash of shit talking.

After dinner, you headed for the showers to get cleaned up. Midway through your shower, you heard someone walk in and hop in one of the other showers. After a couple minutes, you recognized the whistling. It was Negan.

You heard the water shut off and you listened to his wet feet patter away. You were thankful he finished earlier, talking to your boss outside work wasn’t exactly comfortable in any situation, not then and not now.

A couple minutes later, you stepped out, wrapped a towel around yourself and headed to sinks to floss and brush your teeth. As you turned the corner, there was Negan, shaving. You briefly admired the back of his long torso and slender legs - whatever the towel around his hips allowed you to see. Fuck, you were attracted to him, but you made sure he never knew it. You were nervous but acted natural and approached the mirror to continue your hygiene routine.

“Hey, Eddie,” Negan said after dragging the underside of his chin with his razor and banging the residue against the ridge of the sink.

“What’s up” you responded pulling the mint string out of its container.

“Good work today” he complimented your game, wiping his face with a small towel.

“Thanks” you said, trying to cut the conversation.

Negan turned around and leaned back against the counter. The corner of your eyes were drawn to his natural bulge, but you quickly looked before he noticed your line of focus.

“Hey, so are you gay?”

“What?” You stopped flossing, confused why he would ask that

“Sorry, doll, Ron mentioned something you said on the field and I was mildly curious”

‘Not mildly enough’ you thought to yourself as your spread toothpaste over your brush.

“Oh haha, I was joking but nah I’m not.” You began brushing.

“I mean not really, I don’t know —“ you stopped and continued as the foam built up in your mouth “— I just like people—“

“—Men, women, it doesn’t matter.” You added.

“So you’ve had your share of pussy” Negan crudely asked.

“Yeah...” you mumbled, before sucking the running water to swish.

“And dick?” He stepped a little closer to you.

“That too you” you spit and cleared your throat.

Negan noticed the hesitation in your voice.

“My bad Eddie, am I my making you uncomfortable?” His question was genuine.

“Nah, takes a lot to do that” you looked up at him, then down to his crotch making sure he noticed this time.

You both barely made eye contact again before you were attacking each other’s mouths. Negans tongue was something else, dominate yet playful. You bit his lower lip, and he moaned into your mouth.

“Fuck, doll. You like it rough huh. I can tell”

You didn’t answer, you just kept kissing him. Gripping his hips into your body, feeling his erection. He dropped your towel. His hands going to your breasts. He began rolling and pinching your nipples between his rough fingers.

“Harder,” you said softly as your lips worked around his neck.

He did as he was told. Pinching your nipples significantly harder, drawing a louder moan out of you.

Your hands dragged down his back, snuck under his towel and pulled it down. Your lips slowly kissed their way down, over the middle of his chest, down his abdomen. You slowly got down to your knees. You teased him by rerouting your mouth to his hips, licking and sucking his protruding bones.

“Fuck” he groaned, “get to it before I get real rough with you”

You looked up from him with a daring look. The defiance oozing out of you.

“Alright,” he warned.

He grabbed his thick cock and shoved between your lips.

After a couple of thrusts of his member hitting the back of your throat, you got your gag reflex under control.

“That’s it babe, feels so fucking good. Oh fuck”

Your hands wrapped around to grope his glutes and dig your dull nails into his skin, down his hamstrings. Negan was not expecting to enjoy that but it brought him close to the edge.

He harshly pulled your hair to you off him.

“Don’t wanna blow before I get to be inside you, now stand up”

You had a weird relationship with his authority. You simultaneously hated being told what to do but also enjoyed when he ordered you around.

You stood up and he turned you around so you both could face the mirror. He gave you a moderate spank on your cheek, and your hips flinched forward.

“Don’t run away from me. You hear me?” he whispered sinisterly in your ear, pulling your hair, arching you back. He sucked on your neck while making eye contact through your reflections.

“You hear me?” He repeated, pulling on your hair harder, forcing your neck curve more.

You groaned before responding, “Yes, sir”

“Good” he let go of your hair.

He hooked his calloused hand behind your knee and laid it atop the counter. He began rubbing his bulbous head over your folds, causing your hips to rock back and forth, gaining more friction.

“Oh fuck” you moan out, desperate to have him inside you already.

He knew you were fit, but now standing this close behind you he noticed your muscle definition. You weren't cut, but the curves of your muscle groups weren't necessarily nuanced.

He slowly slipped inside you grabbing onto your hips. You felt your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You didn’t know if it was painful or pleasurable. Dancing on that line is what you liked, sports and sex.

He pulled out all the way and calmly entered you again, pushing deeper this time.

You tried to restrain your ungodly moan, but couldn’t.

“I got you,” he said gently, as he wrapped his lanky arms around your torso, continuing his insanely deep maneuvers. You felt his balls push against your vulva.

With one arm snaked around you, his other hand moved your wet hair away from the back of your neck and he began nibbling at your skin.

“Negan” you whimpered

God, that felt different. You felt his freshly shaven skin against yours, you wished there was some scruff but damn, that spot between sent electricity down your spine.

He was aware of your positive response and sucked at the sweet spot harder, his eyes looking up to make eye contact through the mirror. You stared at each other briefly, before his thrusts increased in speed, but maintained the depth.

His hands eventually came around your waist and he began fucking you silly. Both of you grunting and moaning and throwing around “oh fucks”

Each time he pushed back in you could feel his tip hit your cervix. It wasn’t too much, just right on that line.

“Can I come inside you?” He asked between his thrusts

“I prefer you didn’t” you managed to get out.

His grip tightened around you, there would for sure be finger bruises tomorrow. His pace increased slightly and became erratic. You told him not to come inside you and you weren’t sure if he was going to comply, but the way he was fucking you, you suddenly didn’t care.

But you felt Negan pull out with enough time to work himself, finishing with a loud grunt, spilling his seed over your ass.

You thought it was over but Negan turned you around, lifted you up onto the counter and spread you wide. He lowered himself to meet your silky center.

“That’s beautiful” he commented before bringing his mouth to your clit

He sucked at your clit, flicked his tongue across it. He brought two slender fingers into you, working you with them as his mouth continued to do wonders on you.

“Comm'n doll finish for me” he ordered, his fingers curving to hit that spot inside you.

“Oh fuck! Negan!” You were almost there.

Your hips began humping his face, meeting his rhythm. His free hand reached up and clamped your nipple and a few seconds later your hip collapsed and you convulsed around his fingers, sighing out.

“Fuck”

He helped you off the counter. Your legs a little wobbly

“Woah there Bambi” he joked

“That was something” Negan mentioned.

“Yeah, it was” you looked up at him.

He leaned down slightly to kiss you once more, his hands cupping your jaw. Negan saw this opportunity and returned the harsh bite you gave him.

“Fucker” you moaned.

“You asked for it” he reminded you

You grabbed your towel off the ground and organized your toiletries began to head out.

“So, when’s the next game?” He asked, wrapping his own towel around himself, hinting that he wanted to hit the showers again.

“Bye, Negan” you gave him a cocky smile.

[laurasfox-originals]

What We Are Made Of (Fist To The Heart Bonus Story, Patreon Exclusive) by Laura S. Fox

This is an excerpt from the bonus story for Fist to the Heart, describing some of Johnny’s and Ruslan’s adventures when they go visit Ruslan’s family in Russia.

Start of excerpt

What We Are Made Of

Ruslan took in his husband’s shadowboxing with a slight sensation of wariness. The doctors said Johnny was okay, but that he shouldn’t box. What he had done, fighting in Yanis’s ring, had been crazy. Ruslan had a mind to strangle his husband and best friend both for that recklessness.

After all, it was true that Johnny’s lungs were no longer what they used to be. The incredible strain put on them had, apparently, unraveled a condition Johnny hadn’t been aware of, or at least, it had been postponed by training and discipline.

Approaching thirty, Johnny would soon be less of a young man, and more of a mature athlete if that was what he wanted to be. Ruslan had a mind to prevent that, and yet, Johnny still trained every day.

“Gotta keep myself in check,” Johnny had told him.

And Ruslan had felt it was not his place to take that away from Johnny. However, he had an inkling what was eating Johnny on the inside and intended to be diplomatic about it. Johnny wasn’t used to sitting on his ass all day, as he had pointed out, and had taken to new joint entreprise with all the seriousness making him who he was.

Together, they ran a gym where young men came to learn a mix of martial arts. As much as Johnny preferred boxing to other disciplines, it had been Ruslan’s idea to bring in trainers of varied backgrounds. It was the surest way to determine Johnny to take a step back and assume the role of someone who was in charge for once and not doing grunt work.

“Isn’t a bit too early in the morning for torturing your body like this?” Ruslan stretched and yawned exaggeratedly.

Johnny turned to look at him. One of his eyelids drooped slightly, another consequence of that fateful and frightening night. Ruslan had suggested plastic surgery, but Johnny said he had refused it when he was in the hospital and he would do it again.

This man was stubborn and wore his war scars as badges of honor. It made Ruslan shake his head each time he thought of that. He had married quite the character, and he was happy for it, nonetheless.

“This? You call this torture, pretty?”

Ruslan smirked as he walked closer to Johnny and wiped sweat from a strong round shoulder with the tips of his fingers. Without thinking much, he kissed his fingers. There was a hooded look in Johnny’s eyes that told him it was as good an incentive as any to make his husband take a break from his training.

“You here to tempt me?” Johnny asked gruffly.

Ruslan smiled. “Anything to make sure you don’t exceed the recommended amount of physical exercise.”

Johnny snorted. “You’re going to tell me I should fix my nose, too? No way I’m going under the knife for that.”

Ruslan wasn’t bothered by that. Johnny’s nose was more crooked than before, but it became him. He was rough and tough, and that kind of nose sit well on his face if it ever fit anyone.

“Are you chicken?” Ruslan teased.

Johnny grabbed him so quickly, he missed one step and ended up in his husband’s arms, laughing. “You know, pretty,” Johnny said while pushing one strand of hair behind his ear, “walking in here, looking sexy and all, it might not be good for your sexy ass. One way or another, I’m getting my workout.”

“Promises, promises,” Ruslan replied. He pushed Johnny away just enough to look him in the eyes. “What’s wrong? Your invisible opponents are all dead on the floor, by the looks of it. Are you a little upset?”

Johnny grimaced and looked away.

“Hey.” Ruslan caught his cheek and caressed it. “What’s bothering you? I know you think these limitations --”

“That’s not it, pretty,” Johnny interrupted him.

“Okay, then I understand that you need something more to do and --”

Johnny let him down and moved away from him. Suddenly, he was interested in lifting dumbbells. Ruslan huffed and took the weight from Johnny’s hand to put back to the rack, pretending that the thing hadn’t almost removed his elbow from its socket.

“Out with it. Come on. I’m in the mood for breakfast, and I don’t want it spoiled by a pouting husband. What’s wrong?”

Johnny ran both hands through his hair and threw a dejected look aside as if there was someone there to help him. “It’s just that ... Ah, why do you want me to say it? Men are pigs, okay?”

Ruslan snickered. “It’s not really news. So, who’s a pig, and why do you care?”

“Even at our gym, shmucks talk,” Johnny said. “I would kick their sorry asses, but you told me not to start some fight, in or outside the ring.”

“Don’t tell me someone’s been dissing you?” Ruslan said in a tone he wanted playful, imitating slang he didn’t usually use.

“Not me, you,” Johnny said shortly.

Ruslan sighed. “If they’re homophobic jerks, we can just throw them out.”

“It’s not like that. Or I don’t know.” Johnny appeared to grow frustrated. “I told them not to talk smack, or I’ll kick their asses. Hey, I didn’t fight,” he added, putting his hands up. “But it’s like what they said got stuck in my brain or something.”

“Johnny, we don’t have to accept everyone. What do they say? What’s making you so upset?”

“They talk like they wanna stick it in you. There, you happy?” Johnny said, pursing his lips and kicking the weight stand so hard that the weights rattled.

“Stick it in me?” Ruslan laughed. “So, you’re jealous? Do you think I would ever look, all my life, at another fighter? C’mon, Johnny, I said some pretty cool vows at our wedding. And I meant every word.”

“It’s not just that,” Johnny replied like he was deaf to Ruslan’s tries to convince him he was the only one from here to eternity. “It’s like ... Fuck words!”

“Make a damned effort because now you made me fucking curious,” Ruslan said and crossed his arms over his chest.

“They talk like guys talk about chicks.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like what a great ass you have, and they would try just once if they could do it with you.”

Ruslan laughed. “My, my, people are getting into the alternative lifestyle more and more these days.”

“I’m not joking. You’re nothing like a chick,” Johnny said. “They’re stupid. And them talking like you’re a pussy or something --”

“Johnny, me and you, we know that’s not how things are,” Ruslan intervened. “They’re idiots, and they don’t get a thing about gay sex, obviously.”

Usually, his words got to Johnny, but it looked like there was still something he kept from telling.

“I treat you that way,” Johnny said suddenly.

Ruslan stared at his husband. “Seriously? By what you told me, you’ve never been with a woman, so how can you even compare the two?”

The frustration was growing inside Johnny again. The weight stand didn’t quite stand a chance.

“Can you just stop with that? You’re hurting my ears,” Ruslan said, a bit sharply. “Now explain yourself. How have you treated me like a woman?”

“You know.” Johnny looked down. “Every time I want, I stick my dick in you. I tell myself I care about your ass, and next thing I know, I’m humping you like a guinea pig.”

“A much-muscled guinea pig,” Ruslan joked.

Johnny threw him a brief look. “I mean it, pretty. It’s like you’re my cum dumpster or something. I don’t know how you can stand me, being the horny fucker that I am.”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, and before breakfast on top of it all. I love sex as much as you do, and I do want to remember you that I was the greedy one.”

“Yeah, you’re good like that,” Johnny said back. “But it ain’t fair. You’re not my woman; you’re my man.”

The proverbial light bulb lit up in Ruslan’s brain. “I’m your man? Prove it.” He challenged Johnny with his eyes.

“How can I do it? If I’m alone with you more than half an hour, all I can think of is to bang you.”

“Prove it that I’m your man,” Ruslan said, as his lips twitched.

Johnny threw him a confused look.

“Do you need me to spell it for you?” Ruslan walked slowly toward Johnny, trying to hypnotize his prey with pointed looks.

It seemed like there was a dawn of realization in Johnny’s eyes. Unconsciously, he took one step back, almost stumbling on another dumbbell that who knew how it got there. “Wait, wait, pretty, what are you saying?”

Ruslan licked his lips and came closer, making Johnny meet the wall behind him with his back. “Here,” he took Johnny’s hand and pushed it into his crotch, “I’m a man. Do you want another confirmation? Just rub it up and down a little. It won’t take long to make it hard.”

Johnny licked his lips, too, but Ruslan had a feeling his husband’s mouth was dry for a very particular reason.

“And now, since you seem to need the guidance, tell me. Do you want to be part of the problem or part of the solution?”

“Do you want me to suck you off?” Johnny’s voice was getting deeper, hoarser, as his hand was moving on Ruslan’s cock, making it hard, indeed.

“Try again, Johnny.” Ruslan hovered close to Johnny’s lips. “Your ass,” he added, seeing how Johnny didn’t dare to say another word.

End of excerpt

You can read the entire story on my Patreon.

[tactileconsensus]

happy accidents.

She treads the worn out city streets as any other troll would. She wears tedious black clothes, and her reddish complexion brands her as insignificant to the majority of the high-blooded locals. Her long, long hair - a feature that has often been the only thing people remember about her - has been braided and pinned up, making it’s length unremarkable. Her blank expression looks unfriendly and keeps others from wanting to look at her for too long. Nothing about her is special. The group of indigos that pass by don’t even seem to notice she’s there. It’s perfect.

The blue lights adorning the sidewalk are the only company she keeps. She’s enjoying the way they pulse and illuminate the ostentatious gardens along the way, giving every strange and beautiful flower she encounters an alien glow. These high-bloods sure know how to impress a dumb girl from the woods. She’s never even seen most of these species... She snaps a few pictures so she may search for their names later.

She has had many names but only one truly belongs to her: Morras. That is the only name her friends know. Now that she thinks about it, it’s probably a good thing that she has so few of those. It’s not that she worries about what would happen if her real name got leaked out to the world but, in Morras’ line of work, one learns to treasure anonymity.

With each step she takes she feels the comforting weight and swing of the weapons she’s almost always carrying around with her: daggers and small throwing knives, things as sharp and dangerous as a bear’s claws. They remind her of home; the road’s never lonely this way.

Morras walks calmly for a while longer until a number of beautifully lit, highblood-owned mansions begin to rise above the horizon. She starts to hear music and the laughter of dozens of trolls who have decided to enjoy the cool breeze. They are all wearing fancy clothes and sipping on something dark with delight. 

The bright lights of the lively neighborhood cast dark shadows that she inches towards slowly until she vanishes from sight. Morras sneaks from building to building with feline grace, keeping her eyes and ears peeled for anything that might try to creep up on her. 

Deftly she continues until she finally arrives at the party. She struggles with a very stubborn window she’s forced to break and kill two guards for. If only she’d found the courage to do all of this in heels and a suit, she thinks, then she might’ve simply swaggered through the main entrance like everyone else and avoided this unnecessary death. She spares some time to close their eyes, to move their bodies somewhere quieter and mourn their passing in case nobody else cared. ‘Rest easy, ya’ poor bastards’. Their fear led them to loyalty and servitude they weren’t ready for. They deserved closure, and certainly not the one granted by death.

Morras leaves the corpses behind. If she’s not careful, she’ll be forced to take another life or risk compromising the mission, so she tries her damned hardest to navigate the space undetected. She succeeds. 

She climbs an embellished stairwell and hugs the wall as she hunts down a specific room. When she arrives at her destination, two guards stand between her and her kill.

Two knives disappear from her belt with only a flash of cold steel as warning. Each blade finds and pierces through the thigh of each guard and, before they have time to process what happened, before they can even scream from the pain, the substance coating her blades makes them go limp. Morras lunges forward and catches them easily before they fall. She watches their chest rise and fall for a moment as they enjoy a much deserved nap and knows she can move on to more important things.

Morras straightens her back and takes a deep breath before walking through the large door. She’s not nervous, she just wants to make sure she’s ready for anything.

She hears screaming from the other side and she’s immediately on edge. Carefully, Morras rests an ear against the door and tries to make sense of the muffled voices and only stops when she hears glass shattering.  

The first thing she sees the moment she bursts into the room is a table neatly set up for two where dinner seems to have been forgotten. Behind the table stands a young troll, holding a blunt knife between her and Morras’ target. For a moment she wants to protest and ask why this child has come to steal her kill, but that chain of thought is broken when the dim candle light in the room bounces off the streams of blue running down her rounded face. “I WANNA GO HOME!” She cries out, a pathetic attempt to threatened her captor into submission. It doesn’t work, of course.  

“You are home, Nakomi! Please, my child, you must stay. I can help-” Morras’ arrival cuts their sentence in half. She watches their fake smile fall apart, anger poisoning their expression. “Who are you? How did you get here?!” They bark. The girl doesn’t seem to know where to point her knife anymore.

“I’m good.” Morras’ eyes linger on her. She wishes she would take this opportunity to run away, but she seems to be paralyzed in fear. 

They scoff. “The only good assassin, is a dead one, my dear,” The world ‘assassin’ seems to send the girl through ten different emotions at once, all of them negative. Morras would never do anything to her... Not that she’d be able to guess it from just looking at her perpetually hard expression. “What have I ever done to you anyway?”

“To me? Nothin’, I don’t think. But you definitely wronged someone enough that they paid me to see you dead, so” She flashed them one of her favorite daggers - a large jet black beauty with small roses carved along the handle and blade alike.

“If what drives you is money, I assure you I can double whatever you were offered. Hell, I’ll even let you take her!” They grab the girl’s wrist suddenly. She’s so weak and frightened that it’s enough to make the kitchen knife fall from her trembling hands. She looks between the two adults in the room, terrified at the prospect of being sold to a scary assassin, or staying here with a mad slaver. Morras’ heart breaks a little. “She will control the minds of your enemies, if only you can tame the bitch,” Morras’ fist clenches around her weapon. Research told her this troll could match her in speed, and that was really the only thing keeping them alive. They were holding a kid hostage. 

“Only problem is she’s an unpredictable little creature - oh, and she’s incredibly ungrateful; here I was, keeping her safe and trying to make sure she didn’t kill herself with her own stupidity and that is how she thanks me.” They look down at the knife on the floor. They’re practically mocking a defenseless girl; it’s disgusting. “Look what your idiocy caused you already.” They pull back her silvery bangs, revealing the scaring on her forehead. She yelps in protest.

Morras looks at Nakomi with what she hopes to be a sympathetic look. She knows what nearly frying your own brains feels like, knows what a terrifying thing it is to go through it alone.

“I’m not convinced.” Morras replies after a brief moment of silent contemplation. “How do I know you’re not lyin’? That could just be a normal girl with pretty hair and some bruises, no?” Morras looks at the girl as she speaks her next words, begging the gods to make her understand. “I’m gonna’ need a quick demonstration.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. I just told you she has no control over her own damned powers.” 

“Oh, please.” Morras continues to look directly at Nakomi’s soul. “Have some faith.”

A moment passes before it finally dawns on her. 

Morras speaks again but she’s not really sure what she’s saying. All she means to do is distract them while the small girl frowns through her cerulean tears and struggles to seize control of her captor’s body.

It takes her long enough to make Morras a bit nervous, but Nakomi does eventually force them to open their hands. She runs away as soon as she’s free, and the time it takes them to regain control is more than enough to ensure Morras scores a clean kill - not that they deserved one.

The girl throws both arms around the scary assassin. She’s shaking and Morras is as awkward as ever. After a few seconds of not knowing what to do, Morras bends down and hugs her back until her crying dies out.

“Did he hurt you?” Morras asks.

The girl means to say ‘no’, since that’s technically the truth, but she clearly feels like they hurt her a lot. She doesn’t say a word.

“He’s dead.” Morras doesn’t understand what she’s supposed to be saying in moments like this, but she’s trying to be comforting. 

Nakomi sniffles. “Is she going to kill me next?”

“What?” 

The girl’s eyes go wide. “W-what what?”  

“You think I’m gonna’ kill you?”

“How did you-!” She looks at her with wide, trembling eyes and takes a step back. “You’re scary.”

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already.” Morras tries to reason. Naturally, it doesn’t help much. Oh, no, is she going to start crying again? “Fuckin’... O-okay, listen,” She sighs. “I kill bad people. Like that fucker over there, right?” Nakomi nods slowly. “You’re not a bad person, so I’m not gonna’ kill ya’. It’s that easy.”  

Silence takes over and a moment passes.

“How did you know what I-”

“I got cool powers. Like you.” She’s surprised. Does she not know others like her exist? “I can read thoughts.”

“O-oh...” Nakomi still looks a bit frightened, but Morras spots a flash of something that puts her at ease.

Silence takes over once more. Morras coughs. 

“We have to leave this place.” 

“How are we going to do that?”

“Dunno. Same way I came in? We’ll figure it out.” Morras looked down at her with intensity. “Stay close to me unless there’s a fight goin’. If we’re attacked, you just hide and wait for me, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

The journey back down would’ve been much easier if she’d been heartless enough to slaughter every guard on duty earlier.

Walking around with company during work - a child, of all people - is new and a lot to handle. She keeps worrying about her whereabouts and over planning their next movements. At some point, a moment of doubt is enough to alert a group of guards that immediately swarm them. Morras counts 5 in total; they all wear the same uniform but some have spears while others have swords. She knows she can take them on, but she needs Nakomi to hide first.

“Go!” Morras yells at her small companion, pushing her away from a mean spear swing that would’ve cut her in half. She runs off, panicked. Two tranquilizing blades find two different targets and the threat’s reduced significantly. Those were her last; she would carry more tranquilizers around if the sedative wasn’t so damn expensive. 

Two of the remaining guards run towards her, one swinging high, the other going low. Morras jumps over the spear and extends an arm upwards to hold the guard’s wrist, seizing control of his sword hand. Morras spins and throws her back side roughly against the guard’s chest. She bends his arm in a painful angle that forces him to drop his weapon. The guard sees their closeness as an opportunity to yank her by the hair with his good hand, but all that does is release her gigantic braid from a maze of hairpins. Morras twists her body and grabs her long, long hair at the base to avoid any pain. She kicks him in a certain spot that has him falling on his knees. Unfortunately for him, he refuses to release her braid even as he squirms, so Morras chokes him with it. He’ll live.

The guard who’d swung her spear at her before turns around and tries the same move again. It actually grazes her cheek once but, when she tries another attack Morras just grabs her spear, ripping it from her firm grasp like it was nothing. She hits her with the blunt end of the weapon, stunning her, and sticks the pointy end through the guard she feels sneaking up behind her. 'I really didn’t want to kill another person today...’ Morras thinks with a tinge of sadness.

That short moment of vulnerability is all the last guard needs. Weaponless, she rips one of Morras’ knives from her friend’s body and sprints towards her, aiming to sink it right between her ribs, where her heart might beat. She probably thinks Morras killed her friends, and she’s not entirely wrong.

Morras knows she could’ve defended herself in time from her surprise attack, but she’s still thankful for Nakomi who repeats her neat little trick on the guard, making her drop Morras’ knife. Morras’ fighting instincts kick in. They trade blows until the guard falls on the ground in pain, rust pouring from her nose and lips. Morras sits her up and locks her in a chokehold until she stops moving. The guard joins her friends in the realm of dreams.

At the end of the fight, Nakomi pokes her head out from her hiding spot. “Is... Is it over?” 

“Yeah. You can come.”

Nakomi walks the distance to join her new ally. She’s avoiding Morras’ gaze like she thinks she’s about to get in trouble. “I know I promised to just hide, but...”

“You did good.” Morras wants to smile. Instead, she gives her a lame thumbs up and a nod. 

“You did everything...” She shrugs and picks at her fingernails. Her cheeks are tinted blue and she seems to be smiling.

“Oh! Did you ever tell me your name, miss?”

Morras stops to think about it. Her loaf of bread is lamely forgotten between her lips as she does it. “Did I not?”

“No!” Nakomi replies before swallowing a large bite of chocolate cake. “If you did, I forgot. Sorry.”

“Morras.” It sounds silly when said with your mouth full. It earns her a giggle.

“Morras, huh.” She repeats, looking off into the distance. 

The night had gotten colder, so Morras let her borrow her sweater. The damned thing was already over-sized on her, so Nakomi was currently wearing what looked to be a full body woolen dress, with sleeves she had to roll up to the armpit. 

They had distanced themselves from her captor’s corpse and the fancy party their matesprit threw. The dinner Nakomi left back at their mansion explained the embarrassing noises her stomach was making. Morras offered to buy her something cheap and sweet to remedy that, and that’s how they came to be where they are, sitting on the sidewalk outside a convenience store, eating something light. 

“Thank you for saving me, Morras.”

“It was no problem.” She nods. Saving her was basically a happy accident, really. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

The girl stays quiet, making a face. Morras doesn’t need to read her mind to know she wants to agree.

“It’s okay to want someone dead, sometimes.” Morras tells her calmly. “Some folks just need killin’. It’s why I exist.”

“I never thought of assassins as the good guys. But you’ve been so nice to me...” She takes another bite of cake. “Do you have other good assassin friends? Oh! Oh, are you part of a super duper secret society or something? Who pays you to kill the bad guys, anyway?” 

“I don’t really have assassin friends, no.” Most assassins she does know are batshit crazy. It’s why she works alone. “As for who pays me, well, I suppose it can be anyone? And really any sum will do.”

“Who hired you to kill them?”

“A guard.”

“A guard?” She blinks, confused. “Why were they all trying to kill us, then?” 

“They’re too scared not to. During my research I found out that practically everyone working for them was hiding from something big. So, really, either they did as they were told, or they were sent back to their old lives without any protection. Can you blame them?” Nakomi looks away and doesn’t seem to know how to reply. What Morras said has clearly hit close to home. “They were doing the same to you, huh.”

Nakomi sat in silence, fighting back tears. “My lusus...” She sniffed. “She d-died yesterday. I searched for help and I found them. They said I’d never have to worry about the empire coming after me if I accepted their help... They weren’t that scary at first.” Morras places her hand on her shoulder. “But then they said I could never go home again. They said I would have to do everything they said and that I’d be punished if I didn’t,” She’s sobbing again. Morras wants to do more than stare and touch her arm.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”  

The girl hugs her. They sit there in silence until the tension dissipates and her tears dry up for the second time in only a few hours. This poor girl deserves better.

“You really are cool... A little scary, though.”

“I know.” Morras sighs. She’s definitely pouting. “This is just... how my face works, though...” It’s obvious this undeniable truth about her is something she’s insecure about.

 “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Nakomi jumps in her seat, now worried that she hurt her feelings. “You’re really pretty! And- and your hair is nice! You just... You should smile more.”

“You’re right.” She nods. “I’ll... work on it.” As if she hasn’t been doing just that for sweeps now. 

Morras blinks. “Now that you mention things to work on - you should definitely train your power. They were right when they said that it can kill you.”

“How do you know?”

“Nearly died once.” She shrugs. “Don’t worry, though. You might not know how to control yourself just yet, but you have talent. I’ve seen it twice today already.”

Nakomi peers up at her shyly after a moment of no reaction. “... Will you teach me?”

“Huh?” 

“Um-” She looks away, embarrassed. “I don’t know anyone else with cool powers like us, and you seem to know a thing or two about my current level already, so... Why not?” She chuckles. She’s nervous.

Morras pauses to think. Morras isn’t good at many things, and she’s certainly never been a teacher to anyone. Could she really teach a girl she barely knew about powers she did not have? ‘At the very least, I can keep her safe’.

“Why not.” She repeats with a nod.

Nakomi smiles brighter than the sun and, for once, Morras’ cold expression doesn’t stand a chance.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Like Ghosts In Snow (Ch. 2)

While your guardian is keeping a huge secret you take on the nightlife and find yourself in a mad supernatural hellzone.

Vampire au, villain au

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence

A/N: I had written 90% of this before I started requests and figured I’d finish it before continuing. I’ll get on to do more requests Thursday at the latest! Deku is here! I’m stoked.

Previous

Chapter 2: Ambrosia

You sat on the passenger seat of Bakugou’s Oldsmobile and listened to his shitty gangster rap music. Eijirou moved around in the back seat from window to window allowing his head to pop out to catch the cool salty pacific air, occasionally popping his head over your seat to give kisses and sniffs.

Bakugou parked the car on the side of the road. You knew immediately by looking around that this was a college town. Kids around your age walked in groups up and down the street, shopping, finding hot spots, looking for places to get a drink or go to dinner. They skipped and cheered and laughed with one another. You felt a twinge if jealousy watching other kids having fun with their friends.

“The comic book store a couple blocks away so we’re gonna have to walk,” Bakugou said letting Eijirou our of the car. Eijirou sat on the sidewalk waiting patiently for the two of you to start walking. A good boy.

Before you got out of the car, you bent down to tie your shoe. Bakugou opened your door for you. You looked up at him surprised. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you said slightly slurring the word ‘chivalry.’

“Hurry the fuck up.” Woah there, partner.

You slid down your seat and out of the car and walked fast paced towards the sidewalk however you managed to trip over your own leg and nearly fell into the road.

It was like you were frozen in air. You started at the street but your face never met it. At that same moment a 1967 black mustang sped down the road. The would’ve hit me, you thought yourself.

Bakugou pulled you onto the sidewalk. He had caught you by your hand just in time. “It would be really nice,” he growled at you, “if we could make it to this damn comic book store without you getting yourself fucking killed.”

You blinked at him. He had saved you by he was still so mean. You looked into his glowering red eyes. He did look a bit concerned. Still he was being so rude to you, and why?

You laughed. “I just wanted you to hold my hand,” you said innocently. You looked down at your hand still intertwined with his.

He threw it away stalking off down the street. You thought for a second you had seen him blush. You just shake your head.

You walked in silence for a while, watching as Eijirou sniffed every lamppost, ever plant, and every trash can you passed by. People avoided Bakugou on the street, making sure to walk into the road to avoid being near him. It probably didn’t help the Eijirou was a growling machine whenever anyone looked his way.

“We’re going to cut down this alley and walk behind the buildings. The dog is wasting our time stopping every second he can to get his damn fix.” So you followed Bakugou down an alley with Eijirou watching carefully behind you.

The alleyway was plastered with ‘Missing Person’ posters. Faces of all ages stared at you with messages from loved ones pleading for the viewer to call specified numbers if there was any information on their whereabouts. You read some of the names. ‘Momo Yaoyorozu’... ‘Denki Kaminari’... ‘Hitoshi Shinsou’... You came upon a poster where the person’s face was torn away from the wall. The name read ‘Izuku Midoriya.’

Bakugou has stopped walking to watch you look at all the posters. You turned to him and asked, “is this town safe?”

“Does it feel safe?” He glared at you. He was so cryptic.

You gulped. It didn’t. But you weren’t going to let this smug fucker spook you out when you wanted to enjoy your night. You sarcastically fluttered your lashes gave him a smile, curling a lock of hair around your finger and gushed, “I feel safe knowing that a big strong man such as yourself is here to be my personal body guard.” You could nearly see steam fuming out of his nostrils. Eijirou barked at you, as if to say, I’m here too you know! You turned away from him and skipped down the alleyway.

The back of each building had something beautifully painted on it. You were mesmerized by the swirl of blue mixed with an orange and pink hue that painted a landscape of a giant wave crashing against a bluff. The next building had the scene of a thunder storm in the middle of a desert, the cactus and dunes were silhouetted against a purple night sky with a white lightning bolt bursting through it.

The last building on your trek really caught your eye. An incredibly bulky man stood over a mound of skeletons that had pointed teeth. His blonde hair seemed to be blowing in the wind. He held a medieval axe in one hand while his other flexed showing off rippling muscles. He had a huge conquering smile on.

“We’re here,” Bakugou snapped you out of your daze.

“Wow,” was all you said.

“Tch,” Bakugou looked down at Eijirou who seemed almost as amazed as you were at the painting. You didn’t think dogs could understand artwork. “You’re staying right here,” Bakugou said to the dog.

Eijirou let out a whine but he sat down obediently.

A bell dinged as you entered the store. At the front, an older man sat staring blankly through the window at people walking by. He was scrawny, nearly skin and bones, eyes sunken in casting a shadow over his face, but he had wild blonde hair, with bangs parted down the middle falling to either side of his face. When you walked by, giving him a smile, he slowly put up a hand to greet you but continued to stare outside, as if his greeting was only a reflex. Bakugou didn’t look at him.

The place was filled. Different swords and weapons decorated the walls, comic books grew in stacks, there were standees of heroes from recent movies you’ve watched in theaters, and separate sections for old movies, games, and cds were labeled in pictures and stickers, and there were stairs towards the back of the store labeled ‘records,’ with a sign pointing up.

You slowly walked to a stack of books and fingered the folds of a random book before picking it up. It had been a manga from the mid 2000’s called, ‘My Date With a Teenaged Vampire.’ You snickered to yourself as you flipped through the pages, watching the heroine blush and swoon over a very cheesy looking vampire.

Bakugou scoffed over your shoulder causing you to jump and throw the book back into the stack. “Jesus! Hover much, Katsuki?”

“It’s Bakugou,” he rolled his eyes at you. “Of course you’re one of those girls that believe in that ‘vampires are romantic, star crossed lovers, fate’s kiss’ bullshit. Vampires feed, kill, and burn, in that order.”

“And werewolves howl, piss on trees, and hump each other, in that order,” you wanted to defend yourself but you didn’t want him to think you cared about what he thought about you. You didn’t.

“Werewolves don’t exist,” he said crossing his arms, challenging you.

“And vampires do? Honestly, Bakugou, if you are gonna be a killjoy, you could just wait outside.”

“I don’t see why the fuck not. It’s not like I wanna be here.”

“The door,” you said, motioning towards the outside, “is right over there.”

He narrowed his eyes and slammed his hand on the table next to you and started leaning in to you causing you to move away from him. For a split second you thought he was going to kiss you but the thought quickly left your mind when he stopped right in front of you, his hot breath on h s face. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he whispered and shoved something to your chest before stalking away towards the front. You watched as he swung the door open, causing the bell to ring, and the shopkeeper raised his hand to say goodbye to his guest.

You looked at what Bakugou had left you. It was a comic book from the 1980’s. The title of the book was blacked out with sharpie pen and over it written in chipping whiteout was ‘10 Ways To Absolutely Destroy a Vampire.’ You flipped through the comic and saw various different scribbles over the original work, seeming to correct or call bullshit on certain things the comic had written in it. You read through a strip where the hero dramatically piles a stake through the heart of a vampire the words ‘obviously’ were messily scribbled next to the perishing vampire. You scrunched your face. Why did Bakugou give you trash? You flipped to the last page of the book where ‘property of Edgar and Alan Frog: vampire hunters’ were written. “Well, Edgar and Alan Frog, you guys are psychos,” you said aloud.

A sudden ring from the door front caused you to jump. You glanced up to see the shopkeeper put up his hand in greeting but didn’t see anybody in the store. A shiver went up your spine. Maybe it was someone lost or confused and turned back immediately? You shrugged it off but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

You made your way up the stairs to look at the collection of records. You flipped through the $2” stack and read through dozens of bands you hadn’t heard of. Your hand ghosted over some lapel pins representing music labels. You made your way over to the rock bands that were in an alphabetized order. You scanned through through the D’s; David Bowie, Dead Kennedy’s, Depeche Mode, and your fingers landed on the Morrison Hotel album by the Doors. You pulled it out of the stack and you felt eyes on you again.

You turned abruptly and your eyes met with mesmerizing emerald ones. You smiled at the messy haired boy who was fixated on you before returning reading the back of the album.

“Jim Morrison... quite the inspiration,” a friendly voice rang in your ears.

Nervous at the stranger speaking to you you didn’t look up from the album when you replied, “yeah... I think my dad is a big fan of his. I’m thinking about getting him this album.”

“You should get it for yourself,” the voice was right up against your ear. You took a step away and turned to the boy, giving him a surprised look.

His green irises peaked through half lidded eyes, face dusted in freckles, his red lips stretched into a lazy smile when he got a good look at you. He almost looked like a doll. He wore a white dress shirt with a black vest, black slacks, and converse. His cute face did not match his clothes at all.

“M-maybe I will,” you felt an uneasy tension creep up your back.

Taking a step closer he reached behind you, his arm pressing uninvitedly on your shoulder, and pulled a different record back into his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re going to get an album by The Doors, might I suggest ‘Strange Days,’?” He flipped the vinyl over to show up the list of songs, rubbing his shoulder against yours. “Some of the songs feature a harpischord, an elegant instrument that’s not usually associated with rock and roll.” When you didn’t say anything he continued, “you know, when Morrison died they didn’t do surgery on his body to see what his cause of death was. Some believe he might still be alive.”

That made you laugh. “Yeah he’s probably somewhere sharing a drink with Elvis, right?”

The boy grinned at your joke. “Yeah, something like that,” the spirit of eerie irony filled his voice.

You took the vinyl from his hands and admired the odd photo they used as the album cover.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked.

“F/N L/N,” you said without hesitation. You felt you should be cautious around him but you couldn’t help but blurt out the honest answer immediately. A shiver shot through your body.

���F/N L/N,” your name was drawled our through his lips, slowly, as if he was savoring the taste of it on his tongue. “You’re a friend of Kacchan’s?”

“Who?”

The boy chuckled humorlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou. I can smell him on you.” Another uneasy wave hit you, still you were unable to move away from the boy. “He has a hard time making friends.”

“I can’t fathom why,” you said rolling your eyes.

The boy jumped up to sit on top of the counter holding the records. He smiled down on you. “I like you, y/n,” he said slightly kicking his feet. He reached over to the box of lapel pins and held it in his lap. He tilted his head to the side and asked, “Will you do me a favor?”

I don’t think so. “Sure.”

“Give me your hand.”

Your right hand involuntarily reached up to reach the boys. Taking one of the lapel pins he pricked your pointer finger. You winced, shooting your hand back. A drop of scarlet oozed from the tip. You sucked at your wound.

The boy’s smile grew, his tongue pressed against his white teeth. “What does it taste like?”

Leave. Turn around and leave. Go find Bakugou and go home. “It takes like,” you licked your finger, “skin and copper.” Why do you want to know?

He bit his lip, looking pleased. He held out his hand to you once more. “Let me try.”

Again your hand met his. He caresses your arm as he brought your bleeding finger to his lips, keeping eye contact with you, he kissed your finger. “Oh,” he took your finger into your mouth, you felt his tongue swirl around the wound, and he sucked. A greedy moan escaped his lips.

You felt a different kind of tingling envelope your body. It’s like you were entranced by this man who was sampling your blood.

Looking pleased, he let your hand fall to your side. “You taste magnificent. Like honey, sunshine,... ambrosia.” He licked his lips as if the taste of you lingered on them. “I can’t wait to have you when you’re not intoxicated.”

How does he know? How am I not screaming? Why can’t I call for help? Questions ran rapidly through your head as you stared at the green haired boy, paralyzed.

He hopped down from the counter and started walked towards the stairs. “Sadly, we’ll have to save that for another... date.”

Your body was burning to move. “What’s your name?” Was all you could muster.

He tossed his head back, sleepy eyes landing on you. “*Izuku Midoriya*, but you won’t be remembering that anytime soon.” The boy disappeared down the stairs.

Chapter 3

~

Tags for EVERYTHING: @yandere-inamorata @doriichii @miitaart @dessiedawnwritesfanfiction @kido-is-not-a-ghost @wickedlewicked @chickennuggetsarequestionable @nevermorelenore @kpanime @jetblackjessie @ayeputita @bokunoheroes-stories @captain-sin-allmight-queen @diisasterbii @iceformer @meganofmars @colagirl5 @colorbookshd @grimmjadeskye @sm0kingcrack @sarcastictextstuck @zellllyyyy @psionicsnow @mynahx3 @andie-in-tumblland

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[winsister91]

Make Amends

Part Eleven - Guardians

This series is a sequel to Breaking A Promise.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam, Crowley, Cas and...an ofc...who I won’t spoil

Warnings: Language, flangst, canon-typical violence, more violence, abduction, reader being a cocky fucker

Word Count: 2300~

A/N: Hey, who remembers this series? I know I don’t! *sigh* In all honesty, I’ve had this sat waiting to go for a while but I’m starting to have doubts with this series, maybe should have written it as an ofc rather than a reader, the plot is too out there etc etc more self depricating shit. Also, I’ve hit a bit of a block with it too, and I got so many other projects going on right now...yup excuse after excuse. I don’t know if anyone is still reading this or even remembers what’s going on, but I REFUSE to repeat what happened with my abandoned series, Three Wrongs Make a Right. I WILL finish this, even if it’s just for my own enjoyment, I can only apologise if the chapters come sporadically. If you are reading, you may need a reminder ‘cause I know I did, hit up that series masterlist for a catch up. Also, thank you so much if you are reading, your patience is remarkable.

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

~ Series and forever tags are open! ~

“Crowley,” you mumble to yourself with a determined frown. You recognize that voice anywhere. Your eyes dart up to the rafter when you can just make out a shadowy outline. Without a moment’s hesitation, you roar with rage, firing an anger-fuelled magic blast up towards him. It explodes chaotically, shattering the wooden beams into nothing but shards and splinters, but no sign of the demon.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts to get your attention, “We got problems here first!”

You bring your eye line back to ground level, standing back to back with the two brothers as the crowd of demons slowly close in on you all.

“We got a plan?” Sam mumbles, looking around trying to do a headcount, ten demons and an invisible hellhound skulking around, “How the hell are we getting out of here?”

“I’m working on it,” Dean grimaces, scowling at the hoard as it grows closer.

“I’ve got to get Crowley,” you growl, pulling an angel blade from inside your jacket, your eyes following the Hellhound prowling the outskirts of the room, waiting for its moment “I got the puppy.”

“Y/N!” Dean shouts as you step forward.

One of the demons decides to try for a preemptive strike, lunging for you the second you broke away from the boys. You already suspected one of them would try something stupid like that. You roll your eyes, effortlessly twirling the blade in your grasp and plunging it straight into his heart before he could so much as enter your personal space. He cries out in agony, his veins glowing bright orange before flickering away to nothing and dropping to the floor in a clumsy heap.

Your actions spark the rest of the demons to attack. You see Sam and Dean jumping to action in the corner of your eye, taking on one each, but that still left you majorly outnumbered as rest made a beeline for you.

“Give it up, freak,” a particularly plucky female in the group spits at you, “You’re outnumbered.”

“You have no idea what you’re fucking with here do you?” you tilt your head and laugh in bemusement.

The group doesn’t stop, two of them brandishing particularly nasty looking daggers and lunging for you. Automatically, on instinct, you wave your hand, eyes glinting blue as they are forced back and collide into the Hellhound shaped dent in the wall.

Before you can turn and make a sarcastic quip at the remainder of the group, one tackles you to the ground. You drop the angel blade in the collision and it clatters to the ground and rolls out of reach.

“Y/N!” you hear Dean shout again, swiftly followed by the cry of the demon he just lodged the demon blade into.

The demon that tackled you grabs your throat, squeezing with all its strength. You choke for air, one hand on the clasped to the monster’s wrist trying to break its hold, the other stretched out to your blade trying to reach it.

Gimme!!

The blade zaps into your awaiting palm, you instantly jam it straight into the demon’s throat. His body drops with dead weight onto you, making you groan in disgust and annoyance. You shove him off you, retrieving your trust weapon and getting back to your feet.

Dean was working his way over to you, taking out three demons single-handedly on the way, arriving at your side just as you were getting to your feet.

“You ok?” he asks urgently, his face and torso were spattered with specks of blood.

“I’m good,” you gasp. Your eyes flash blue briefly and your angel blade glides over Dean’s shoulder, burying itself into the demon trying to pull a sneak attack, “Huh, better than good.”

You summon the blade back, glancing around the room for your next target. Sam and Dean had been busy while you were playing murderous magic tricks. The room was littered with bodies, the only movement coming from the two demons you’d catapulted earlier, now groggily getting to their feet. You wave your hand, forcing them to bang their heads together and knock themselves out. You chuckle, admiring your slapstick handiwork and starting to appreciate having the old mojo back.

“You two okay?” Sam jogs over to you and Dean, all three of now donning the splattered with blood’ attire.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, his hand trembling while he held Ruby’s demon blade, “Fucking Crowley, that son of a bitch!”

“Wait,” you mumble, laying your hand on Dean’s arm subconsciously. Your eyes are narrowed, scanning the entire room, “Where’s the Hellhound?”

The three of you go rigid, slowly turning and looking around for any sign of it. You furrow your brow in bewilderment while your heart beats with fear.

It can’t be here, I could see the damn the thing. It surely wouldn’t suddenly go invisible again…?

“I think you gave her the spooks…” a gruff voice retorts behind you. You turn and set eyes upon the King of Hell, and instant fire of anger sparking in your belly, “Must’ve done a runner.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with a small smirk.

“Crowley!” Dean snarls, shaking your hand off his arm and marching straight for the demon.

“Dean!” you cry after him, totally panicked at where this was going. Sam strides forwards as well, joining his brother. You can only watch as Crowley nonchalantly flicks his wrist and both Winchesters smash into the wall behind, suspended by an invisible force around the throat.

There’s a sting in your eyes as you look up at them both briefly, but then you turn back to Crowley. The fire burns hotter in your guts, making you clench your fists and jaw.

“Enough,” you say calmly, trying to hold it back, “I’m not going. You tried and you failed.”

You falter in your breathing, glancing up at Dean who grunts in pain above you. You blink your eyes quickly to focus back to Crowley.

“You three,” the King of Hell spits, “are such a god damned pain in my arse d’ya know that? You have to make everything difficult!”

“Don’t go underestimating how much more difficult I can make this,” you threaten as you momentarily fantasize the numerous ways you could kill him right now.

Crowley’s chest heaves and he splutters a laugh, “Y-you?” he points in mockery, “You think you can take me!?”

“Y/N, don’t,” Sam manages to choke out, but you keep your eyes firmly locked where they stand.

“Y/N!” Dean roars, trying to get you to listen. Your heart skips hearing the desperation and pain in his voice.

But I have to find out where the witches are. Crowley is the key. Then, I’ll kill him.

You glance down at the angel blade in your hand, you didn't even realize how much you were shaking. You blame Crowley for last year. If he hadn’t have taken Dean away, you would have never sought out the potion and started the first fire. If Crowley never plotted with “Demon Dean” to have you trapped down in that basement, The Red Dragon Inn would still be standing. All those people wouldn’t have died.

You twirl the blade in your grasp. “Do you wanna see a magic trick Crowley?” you ask, a smirk playing on your lips.

The King tilts his head in slight curiosity, “Humor me,” he chuckles.

“Y/N!” Dean roars again, but he almost a white noise to you know.

“You ever seen Guardians of the Galaxy?” you ask with a sadistic smile.

He doesn’t answer, just furrows his brow. You shrug, shoulders shaking as you laugh, “Nevermind.”

The boys watch on, still wincing in pain and gasping for breaths, “Y/N...don’t please!” Dean pleads.

Your eyes flash with light, the angel blade now levitating before your face. You playfully wink as Crowley sighs and shoves his hands in his coat pocket feigning boredom. You purse your lips and whistle, the weapon now swooshing and gliding around in the air, dancing around the room gracefully.

“Cute,” Crowley chuckles with a raised eyebrow, “but-”

He stops as you suddenly whistle a high pitched harsh tone, and the blade shoots for his face, directly stopping a couple of millimeters before his nose.

“Very cute,” he smiles with a glare, “What do you want?”

“Who’s trying to bring the potion back?” you ask hurriedly, “Why? Where are they?!”

“Darling, Princess,” he shakes his head still wearing a cocky grin, “What do I get in return for such information?”

“I’ll give you a headstart,” you scoff, “I’ll only kill you after I’ve killed all of them.”

You feel a draft of hot humid air brush over the back of your neck. You freeze, the very audible growl of something extremely pissed off stood behind you.

“Oh,” Crowley beams, “Looks like Betsy came back.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Y/N!!” Dean bellows, tears filling his eyes painfully at your screams. The Hellhound had tackled you, hurtling you both over the bar and out of sight. His heart races, screaming your name over and over with all the force he could. Sam clenches his eyes closed, trying to bite back the outburst he could feel building rapidly.

Your cries of pain dwindle to nothing and a thick silence fills the air. The brothers stare at the bar, waiting for something, anything, just some indicator that you are alive.

“No,” Dean clenches his jaw and bares his teeth, unsuccessfully holding back his tears, “N-not like this…”

Sam’s head drops, his hair falling in front of his face, hiding his grimaces of torment.

“NOT BECAUSE OF FUCKING YOU!” Dean roars at the King of Hell.

“Oh relax,” Crowley rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna kill her when we need her.”

“You son of a bitch, you just wait,” Dean spits, “I’ll fucking rip you apart limb from limb.”

Dean could feel it, that itch in his arm, he clenches his fist and doesn’t fight it this time. He wants the mark to fuel him so he can get his kill.

“I told you to relax!” Crowley patronizes him, “We’re gonna have a little road trip! Me, Squirrel and Princess!”

The brothers look upon him in bewilderment, “What the hell are you talking about?” Sam grunts.

“Oh, Moose…” Crowley sighs and looks at him in disappointment, “I’m afraid you're not invited.”

Another idle flick of Crowley’s wrist and Sam finds himself smashing into a nearby table head first, and everything suddenly dropped to black.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Sam!”

Sam felt his shoulders being shaken, but he couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes. He feels something touch his temple firmly, followed by a warm sensation, and his body sudden feels revitalized. He jolts awake, shaking head and rubbing his eyes into focus.

“Sam,” Castiel sat before him, his hand moving away from Sam’s forehead, “Are you alright?”

“Uh...yeah,” he replies, getting to his feet and finally remembering what happened. He was still in the bar, bodies of demon’s still scattered around, but no sign of Crowley or Dean, “Y/N!”

Sam runs to the bar, jumping over it swiftly and looking around for you, but there’s no sign of you either, just a lot of broken glass and pools of blood.

He can’t speak, his heart freezing and becoming breathless.

“Sam, what happened?” Cas asks urgently, “Y/N sent an SOS out on Angel Radio and I came immediately.”

“Sh- she did that?” Sam gasps, blood draining from his face, “Cas...I...He knocked me unconscious, I couldn’t do anything.”

“Who knocked you unconscious?” Cas grabs Sam’s forearms, “Where is Dean and Y/N?”

Sam’s jaw trembles, partly in anxiety and also in anger, “They’re not here...he- Crowley has taken them.”

“Where?”

“I-I don’t know.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Your eyes slowly open, they feel swollen and bruised. Your hands are bound by something cold, iron shackles. You’re curled up on a stone floor, there are markings on it around you, looks like an Angel Trap. Your eyes sting as they try to focus, a bright light dazing you. You wince in pain as you try to blink them into focus, finally noting that the light is coming from a large ring of fire surrounding you.

Where the fuck am I?

You sit up, trying to look past the flames to see the surrounding walls, but the fire glares in your eyes too much to see.

Is that….holy fire?

You try to sit up, white-hot pain wracking your body as you do. You can see your arms and chest covered in hot sticky gashes and grazes from the Hellhound’s claws. You can also feel the same sensation straight across your cheek, the familiar feeling of congealed dried blood across it too and pulling at your skin.

There’s a parting in the flames and a hooded figure walks through. It stops in front of you, kneels down and holds a finger under your chin which you violently shake off.

“Long time no see Y/N,” a familiar voice echoes from inside the hood. A voice that triggers pleasant memories, one you were used to hearing in a positive tone. Now however, the tone is different, darker and sinister.

You don’t answer, but narrow your brow trying to place the voice. You have a mild suspicion, but you know that it’s impossible.

A pair of slim hands reach onto the edges of the hood and slowly pull it down. Blonde hair. A face that wouldn’t melt butter. A face that you were once delighted to see.

“J-Jenny?”

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[looptheloup]

Whumptober!

Day 6: Betrayed

Link to AO3

Fandom: Detroit Become Human (DBH)

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Todd, Minor Original Character

Warnings: Emotional distress, Fear, PTSD, Implied Abuse, Injuries, Gore, Android Slavery,

Summary: Connor is abandoned, bleeding out, on the street. Hank trips over him and decides to take matters into his own hands.

[Author notes: This is a slight AU where the androids are programmed to ‘feed’ off praise. If they aren’t praised, they start to suffer synthetic pain and slowly break down - this is shown by their LED. Hope you enjoy!]

*

Betrayed

Hank slogged through the rain, his hands shoved into his pockets and his head so far down that he all but tripped over the android that was sprawled at the side of the pavement.

“Shit!” he managed, staring down at the thing, which seemed to be more a pile of bloody, damaged parts than anything functional.

“Sorry…sir,” the android slurred. Its arm spasmed by its side. Soft brown eyes rolled upwards to look at him, before being lowered obediently.

“Fucking hell,” Hank muttered, staring at it. “Someone’s fucked you up real bad, huh?”

The android closed its eyes briefly and shuddered tiredly. It was too cold out here for androids to be out for any length of time, and especially sprawled on wet concrete. Hank crouched down beside it, blinking when the android flinched away from him. Androids weren’t meant to fucking flinch.

Hank touched its icy cold arm, grimacing at the tears in the limb’s outer layer, the bone-white of its interface showing through. Hank was close enough to see that it was male and that his LED was cycling red. So it wasn’t just injured, but praise-deprived too.

Without praise, androids suffered a slow decline into a broken, malfunctioning thing. Fuckers these days bought these cheap androids without bothering to read the manual. Just because androids didn’t eat and drink didn’t mean they didn’t mean they couldn’t starve. It didn’t take more than a few words a day but this stuff was in their damn programming and the poor things broke down completely without it. Fucking humans.

Hank rubbed the android’s arm gently, “Try sitting up?” he said and the android obviously tried, obedient even as he was clearly suffering in the throes of synthetic pain, and Hank clenched his jaw in the anger at whoever had done this. Hank put his arm behind the android’s back to help prop him up against the wall and then stroked the male’s soaked, black hair out of his doe-like eyes. “Look at you, doing so good,” Hank said roughly. He wasn’t good at praising people but the android needed it and his eyes all but rolled into his head in sheer relief at Hank’s words. “That’s it, obedient aren’t you,” Hank continued. “So good, listening to me, being polite. You’re doing good, android.” Hank was relieved to see the android’s LED flicker from red to yellow and tension seeped from the male as his shoulders sagged.

“Thank you, sir, thank you,” the android mumbled, incoherent with relief. He’d probably been in a certain amount of pain for weeks, and severe pain for days, no wonder he was overwhelmed. Hank gripped his shoulders to steady him.

“You’re welcome,” he said. “How long’ve you been out here, huh?”

The android blinked a few times before he was curling in on himself, “I’m sorry, sir,” he said softly. “I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

Hank inwardly shook his head, furious that someone had fucked up this android so much as to leave him in this state, cowering in fear. Androids were tough; it took a lot to break them down but this one was like a goddamned rabbit.

“Hey it’s fine,” Hank said and petted his arm awkwardly, but the android relaxed into the pain-free touch regardless. “You did your best to answer me, that’s all I need. You did good.”

The android sighed quietly, his head lolling forwards for a second as he drunk in the praise, before lifting his head again to blink, slightly dazed, at Hank. Then he lowered his eyes again. Hank frowned. Damn shame it was, reducing an android to this.

“How damaged are you, android?” he asked.

The android blinked again, his processors clearly working unusually slowly, a combination of the injuries, the neglect, and the cold. Hank waited patiently, even as the rain was beginning to soak through his jacket into his shoulders.

“Thirty percent loss of thirium volume, nearing critical levels; thirium pump regulator is fractured, needs imminent repair or replacement; left audio processor severely damaged; left upper limb requiring replacement,” Hank glanced at the android’s left arm and grimaced. The thing was barely attached and was bleeding blue blood steadily down the android’s side. “Core temperature is currently detrimental to proper functioning and needs to be raised imminently. Central cerebral processing unit and thirium pump are functionally normally.”

Hank huffed, “Fuck,” he muttered.

The android flinched, “Sorry, sir-”

Hank’s stomach twisted painfully at the pure fear in those brown eyes, “Hush,” he said gently. He hadn’t taken his hand away from the android’s arm and he stroked him gently now, “It’s alright, you did fine. That’s a long list but you did good telling me. I’m not angry at you, android.”

The android was visibly relieved, “Yes, sir,” he said softly.

Hank continued to rub the android’s arm because it seemed to settle him a little. “Where does your owner live, huh?” he said after a moment had passed.

The android tensed and Hank didn’t miss the fearful glance he sent at Hank, before he dropped his gaze to answer, “D-down the street, sir. Third house from the end, sir, number one-hundred-and-four.”

“Alright, good job,” Hank said because he could see that the android was low-key freaking out again. “What’s your name, huh, android? What can I call you?”

The android blinked at him, “Whatever you wish, sir,” he said quietly, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Hank said. “But you must have had a name at some point, eh? Something someone named you?”

The android was silent, processing. “I think, sir,” he said slowly, “I was called Connor.”

Hank smiled, relieved, “Nice, that’s good,” he praised gently, watching as the android, Connor, shivered in response. “That’s a good name, Connor, I’m gonna call you that, alright?”

“Yes, sir,” Connor said. “Thank you, sir.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Hank said. “Do you think you can try standing for me, Connor?”

Connor looked nervous again but he nodded willingly and it just damn near broke Hank’s heart. It was harder to be sympathetic when neglected androids were sour-faced assholes who snapped at every human like a fucking chihuahua, but Connor seemed good as gold and Hank hated that he’d still ended up like this; tossed out on the street like trash to power down alone and in pain.

Connor touched his good hand to the wall, his left arm hanging useless by his side, and tried valiantly to get to his feet. Hank stepped in quickly to steady him, pretending not to notice how Connor initially cringed away from his touch. Such a fucking shame.

“Sorry, sir,” Connor all but whimpered but Hank shushed him.

“You did good,” he said. “I asked you to try and you tried hard, Connor. You did fine.”

Connor looked relieved, “Yes, sir,” he said softly and Hank put Connor’s right arm over his shoulders.

“Just lean on me, alright. I need to have a little chat with your owner.” Hank was close enough to feel Connor tense at his words but the android didn’t protest at all, but did his very best to stumble alongside Hank, despite his left calf being visibly fractured and his right knee being soaked in blue blood.

“What did they do, take a goddamn baseball to you?” Hank grunted irritably, before quickly hushing Connor when the android mewled pleadingly and curled into himself, “Shh,” he said. “It’s not your fault. I bet you were good, alright. You seem like a good kid to me, Connor. You’re doing fine.” Connor’s head sank down onto Hank’s shoulder and Hank did nothing to discourage it, admiring the android’s tenacity as he continued to put one foot in front of the other, trying to obey Hank. “You’re doing good,” Hank praised roughly after a few minutes. “Almost there.” Connor made a small, soft noise.

“Please- please don’t return me, sir,” Connor said, barely audible.

Hank exhaled heavily. Connor wasn’t light and he was getting tired holding the android up but he pushed on. They were almost at the door now. “I’m not gonna, Connor,” he said as they came to the concrete front step and Hank lowered Connor carefully down to sit the trembling android on the ground. “Jus’ don’t listen to what I say to your prick of an owner, alright?” he said as he banged on the door with his fist.

Connor’s eyebrows drew up, flinching at the loud noise, “Sir?” he said, looking up at Hank, but Hank didn’t have a chance to answer before the door was being wrenched open by a bloated-looking man in his late forties with a nasty set to his thin mouth.

“This thing yours?” Hank said roughly, gesturing at Connor without looking at him. He saw Connor cringe away in his peripheral but made himself ignore it.

“Yeah, so what?” the asshole said, folding his arms.

“I wanna break it down for bio-coms,” Hanks said flatly, ignoring Connor’s choked whimper even as it turned his stomach. “Reckon we can make a deal?”

The asshole lifted his brows, glancing down at Connor with sadistic amusement.

“Please,” Connor begged softly, sounding devastated, betrayed even, and Hank felt a soft touch on his trouser leg. He hated it, but he just jerked his leg like the android’s touch was a nuisance.

Asshole smirked, “Depends what you’re offering,” he said, but Hank could tell he was going to agree. The sick bastard.

Hank shrugged like the matter was little to him, “It’s pretty fucked-up,” he said. “Dunno how much I can off it, and it’ll need some heavy repairs.” Then he was silent, looking at Asshole expectantly. People tended to want to fill a silence and it was always better to let them set a guide price when bartering.

Connor’s owner grunted and scratched his belly, “Five hundred,” he said. Hank was silently pleased, that was lower than what he’d been expecting, but outwardly he sneered.

“Seriously? I dunno if I’m gonna be able to even get it home before it bleeds dry. One-fifty.”

Asshole snorted in derision. “I paid two fucking grand for it,” he snapped.

“Yeah, well, you’ve fucked it pretty badly,” Hank said coldly, his anger breaking through for a minute. He was painfully aware of the bloody, huddled figure at his feet. But he pulled his game face back on, “Two hundred,” he said.

“Four,” Asshole said.

“Two-twenty-five,” Hank argued back.

“I’m not doing a fucking cent less than three-fifty,” Asshole said and Hank paused, pretending to consider.

“Done,” he said finally and held out his hand. “You drive a hard bargain.”

Asshole grinned smugly as he shook Hank’s hand, not knowing that Hank would have coughed up the five hundred if Asshole had demanded it. He wasn’t sure his budget could have stretched to much more than that, though.

Hank pulled out his phone and Asshole gave him his details so Hank could transfer the money before he went back inside the house, shutting the door first, to go and fetch the android’s documents. Hank was relieved the asshole hadn’t lost them; things got so much more difficult when you had to get an android re-entered into the system.

“Please, sir, please don’t deactivate me,” Connor begged quietly from the floor. He didn’t touch Hank’s leg again, though, “Please-”

“Hush, Connor,” Hank said as gently as he could manage. He couldn’t explain to Connor right now, not when Asshole was going to come back any second. Connor obediently fell silent.

Hank finished putting in the details that Asshole, whose name was actually ‘Todd’, had given him but didn’t transfer the money until Todd returned with the documents. Hank took them, scanning them briefly but everything looked in order and he showed Todd the screen of his phone as he transferred the money. Todd pulled out his device to verify that the money had come through and then Hank nodded.

“Nice to do business with you,” Todd said, smiling coldly. He spared Connor an icy glance, “Fucking piece of shit appliance,” he growled, before he closed the door and Hank stopped hiding the anger he felt from his face. He shoved the documents in his pocket, zipped it up, and then reached down for Connor, who flinched away.

“Easy,” Hank said tiredly. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Can you get up for me?”

Connor, bless his fucking heart, did his best. He thought Hank was going to deactivate him but he still tried to obey. Hank supported the android best he could with one arm and used his other hand to call for a taxi while he led Connor a short distance away to sit the bloody android down on the floor under an Android Temporary Parking station. A passing woman gave them both a disgusted glance as she grabbed her android and tugged it away and Hank glared at her coldly.

Connor was shuddering, his hand pressed to his left arm, where blue blood was still seeping slowly out of him. Hank found a handkerchief in his pocket and urged the android to put it to the wound. Connor looked confused.

“But I’ll ruin it, sir,” he said softly, clearly fearful to disagree, but also scared of irreparably staining a fucking handkerchief.

“I don’t care, Connor,” Hank assured him. “Just apply pressure. I’ll get you some blue blood soon.” Connor blinked at him owlishly but obeyed, thanking him. Hank leaned down slightly as he gave in to the temptation to run his hand through the android’s wet hair, stroking his head gently. “You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered. “Fuck, no android does, but you’re a fucking gem, kid. You deserved a lot fucking better than that prick.”

Connor didn’t seem to know how to answer and his processors were clearly struggling to process Hank’s gentle touch, his words, whilst staying aware of his surroundings, and his eyes flickered closed briefly.

“It’s alright,” Hank reassured him. “Power down for a little while. I’ll wake you when the taxi comes.”

“Thank you, sir,” Connor said, falling insensate immediately, his head sliding sideways to lean against Hank’s thigh. The lack of blue blood made androids struggle to hold themselves up, their joints unable to kept turgidity in their limbs, but Hank didn’t mind the cool weight against his thigh. Androids usually somewhat approximated the temperature of humans but Connor clearly just didn’t have the energy for it.

The taxi arrived soon enough and Hank roused Connor to help him into the taxi. He told the system his address and the taxi sped away.

“Hang in there,” Hank told Connor. “We’ll be home in a bit.”

“Sir, m-may I a-ask a question?” Connor’s oral functions seemed to struggling but he seemed to rouse himself a little inside the warmer taxi.

“Yeah?” Hank said, guessing what Connor was going to ask him.

“A-am I going t-to be deac-tivated, s-sir?” Connor stuttered.

Hank sighed and wrapped an arm around Connor’s shaking shoulders, uncaring of the blue blood getting all over his shirt.

“Do you remember me telling you not to take much notice of what I said to your owner? To that asshole Todd?”

Connor blinked and Hank waited for him to process, “Y-yes, sir,” he said.

“Alright, then,” Hank said. “Well, I was lying, Connor. I’m not taking you apart, I’m not deactivating you, and I don’t think you’re trash, alright? I think you’re a sweet android who deserves to be fixed up nicely and put in a nice warm home and praised regularly.” It was the absolute fucking basics: being operational, having shelter, and being given sustenance, but Connor looked at him like he’d offered him the fucking moon and Hank looked back at him sadly.

“Really, s-sir?” he said, looking at him with eyes that pleaded with Hank not to lie to him.

“Promise, Connor,” Hank said, tucking the hair that had fallen in Connor’s face out of his eyes. “I’m gonna get you some blue blood, then we’re gonna get you charged, and warm, and cleaned up. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Thank y-you, sir,” Connor choked.

Hank petted him gently, “Don’t thank me, android. It’s only what you deserve. Just relax now, okay. We’ll be home soon.”

Connor gave him a soft, watery smile that was tinged with tentative hope and Hank returned it wearily.

“Gonna be okay,” he said, and Connor closed his eyes, trusting him.

*

[Author notes: Let me know what you think of the praise-kink thing! (my beta, the awesome Imperial_Dragon over on AO3, said she found it funny)]

Links to:

Day 1 - Stabbed, Detroit Become Human

Day 2 - Bloody hands, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Day 3 - Insomnia, Harry Potter

Day 4 - “No, stop!”, Altered Carbon

Day 5 - Poisoned, Supernatural