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coryosbaby · 10 months ago

Note

I am BEGGING you to write about hannigram x innocent fem reader. mayyyybee featuring age gap and breeding? :) she just asks them "what does break my belt mean?" and oh..

Caretaker… Hannigram x fem! Reader

Synopsis: it’s up to Will and Hannibal to take care of you, however that may be.

Content warning . 18+, MDNI age gap (reader is in her early 20s), spanking/usage of belts, punishments, dumbification, threesome, cum play, daddy kink . hard dom! Hannibal, soft dom! Will

Author’s Note: I didn’t know how to go about this (my brain isn’t braining rn) so I did smth similar :) this is literally pure filth like Im ovulating sorry

‧₊˚ 🩰 ⋅* ‧₊

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself.”

Will’s voice is soft as he gently rubs your sock clad feet, watching the small wince that you make when he grazes over a bruised toe. You adjust yourself on your bed, bottom becoming numb from how long you’ve been sitting. You slide the sleeves of your dress back up on your shoulders— they have a hard time staying up, and it’s something that annoys you incredibly.

“He’s right,” Hannibal chimes from the cushioned seat in the corner of the room. He closes the book in his hand and sets it on the desk beside him. It’s funny, how different these two men look in your pink, frilly room. “You’re working yourself too hard, little one.”

You frown, feeling the bed dip as Hannibal joins you and Will’s side.

“But ballet is important to me.”

“So is your health,” Will replies, and notices the way you seem to fidget in your dress. “Is your dress bothering you, baby?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck when Will lifts the hem of it over your head. Now clad in your bra and cotton panties, you feel open and exposed. But since it’s Hannibal and Will, you feel safer than you’ve ever been.

“Come here,” Will says, and you crawl over to the place in between his spread thighs as he leans against your headboard. Hannibal follows in quiet suit, moving to Will’s side and holding your hand in his much larger one. Will’s hands play with your hair as you think back to something you’d been wanting to ask the two for a while.

“Can one of you use your belt on me?”

The soft scrape against your scalp stops at the question.

“What?”

“I mean,” you mumble, cheeks flaring. “I was watching a video.. ‘n.. the guy, he—“

“You’ve been watching naughty videos?” Hannibal inquires. You shake your head, wide doe eyes flashing.

“No!” You reply, too quickly. “No, of course not.”

“Hmm,” the man shifts, gripping the soft skin of your jaw gently with his hand. Looking into your eyes, he can see the deceit in them. “You have, haven’t you? You know what we say about those videos, darling. They’re bad for you,” he looks back to the other man in the room. “Maybe we will have to spank her after all. Don’t you think, Will?”

“Play nice, Hannibal,” Will warns, though his mouth pulls into a small, amused smirk. “She’s sensitive. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“I do.” you whine, pawing at the sleeve of Hannibal’s suit. He chuckles, thumb rubbing gently over your wrist.

“Come here then, little one,” Hannibal coos. “Over my knee.”

Your eyes widen, pouty lips dropping open in awe.

“Now?” You squeak.

Will rolls his eyes, patting you softly on the arm.

“You heard him, Bunny. Go on.”

Getting on your hands and knees, panty clad ass now revealing the puff ball bunny tail on the back of the fabric, the two of them think you’re the cutest little thing they’ve ever seen. You hear the sound of a belt buckle being undone, and watch as Will hands over his belt to Hannibal. It’s your favorite one, plain black but with a belt buckle that has your initials imprinted. Will wears it often— he’s not one to have flashy accessories, but since it was a gift from you he cherishes it dearly.

Since Will is on Hannibal’s left side, you decide to position yourself with your face directed towards him. This leads to your arms and face being smooshed against Will’s thighs, and he gently rubs your head with his hands. Hannibal hums when your ass lifts up for him, bunny tail flickering as you move your hips to get his attention.

“We should keep these on, don’t you think?” He says, fingers grazing over the bunny tail. “Too precious to pull them down, lover.”

You nod shyly, letting out a puff of air when Will’s fingers begin fumbling with the hooks on your bra. He advises you to slide the straps off your shoulders when he undoes them, and you awkwardly shuffle them off. Will’s hands move around your back to grope one of your breasts. The feeling of cold leather against your backside makes you whimper, and Hannibal positions his hand on the bottom of your thigh.

“Move your hands behind your back,” Hannibal demands. “You aren’t in any position of control. If you want to stop, you know the rules.”

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, almost immediately. You move your arms back to link them together, Will’s hands gripping the both of yours tightly to make sure you don’t move.

“Good girl,” and then, “You’re going to count each one I give you. We will stop at ten since this is your first time.”

You nod, as much as you can with your face buried in Will’s lap. You can feel the hardness in his pants, right up against your cheek, and your mouth waters.

There’s a comforting rub against your left cheek before Hannibal brings the belt down. It isn’t too bad, a slight sting that makes you jump.

“One.” You say, quietly. Your ass lifts up for more.

“Good,” Hannibal praises, soothing the skin once more. “Are you going to watch those videos again?”

You stay silent, contemplating but also being quiet on purpose. You can’t deny that Hannibal getting angry with you makes your panties drenched.

At this, Hannibal slams the belt down onto you once again. A warning. You cry out this time, feeling a burning sensation along your skin.

“Don’t make me ask you again,” he says sternly. “And don’t make me have to break my belt on you, little one.”

“What does that mean?” you whine, ditzy little head genuinely confused by such a simple term. You inhale the scent of Will’s pants, and from above you, the brunette’s hands gently soothe your back.

“Told you, Hanni,” he singsongs. “Doesn’t even know what she’s asking for.”

“Ignoring your interruption,” Hannibal says, annoyed (but not really). He directs his attention back to you. “Tell me, little one. Yes or no?”

You bite your lower lip, cheeks flaring as your arousal increases.

“Yes.”

Hannibal scoffs.

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

The belt comes down on you again. You jump, tears beginning to pool along your waterline.

“What was that?” Hannibal demands harshly. “Was that a yes that I heard?”

“No!” You say. “No, daddy, I’ll never ever watch those videos again! I promise, promise…”

You thrash against the pain, and Hannibal’s palms rub the sore skin.

“Alright,” he replies. “but I’m adding five more. Naughty girls who don’t listen get punished.”

“Hannibal,” Will warns. “She’s fragile.”

“She’s a brat, is what she is, Will. Stop defending her,” Hannibal’s hands wrap around your hair, pulling your teary eyed face up and craning your neck. “Now count. Starting from three.”

The belt comes down again, and your hands ache, along with your bottom.

“T-Three.” You say. The belt comes down on you again, and again. You count to five.

“You really need to be harder on her,” Hannibal says to Will, who’s subtly grinding against your face as he watches you writhe below him. “She needs to learn that her actions have consequences.”

“I know,” Will sighs, then gently taps the tip of your nose, and smiles softly. “But look at how precious she is.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, bringing out the sixth then seventh hit. You can already feel the blooming of bruises by the time you hit number ten, and your aching pussy grinds down into Hannibal’s thigh. He seems to allow this, and by the twelfth hit, he’s teasing you about it.

“Is this arousing you, lover?” He asks, amused. “You only have three more to go. You better enjoy it.”

“Mm, she is,” Will cuts in, reaching down between your legs to feel your soaked panties. “Little pussy is so wet,” and then, “You ruined your panties, pup.”

Mewling, you allow another smack to come down onto your ass.

“T-Thirteen,” you whimper out. “Could.. could you buy me some new panties, Will?”

Another smack. Another number. Will tilts his head, staring at your panty clad ass.

“Mm,” he replies. “I don’t know, Hannibal. What do you think?” His fingers grasp the puff ball tail and tug it up. This makes your panties ride up in between your folds, and you gasp, humiliated. “I think baby blue would really suit her.”

“That, or lilac,” the eldest man replies. “We’ll get you a new set, little one. But only because it benefits us as much as it benefits you.”

You smile, giddy with excitement to take another shopping trip. Hannibal rubs your ass again, and Will kisses you on the head.

“One more for us, alright?”

You nod, perky ass throbbing with heat. Hannibal slams the belt down, and this time you let out a sob. It was the harshest hit, one sure to leave a welt or two. Hannibal coos when he sees your look of pain, throwing the belt to the side and gently massaging you.

“Shhh. It’s alright. Come here, darling.”

You maneuver your body to slide in between Hannibal’s legs, pulling him into a hug. His arms wrap around your smaller form, and he kisses your hair, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder. You let out a few more stray tears while he and Will both soothe the ache on your bottom.

“You know we only do this because we have to.” Hannibal murmurs.

“I know, daddy.”

“Actions have consequences, and you asked for this sort of punishment. So we decided to give it to you,” he explains, and pulls away to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. “Did you enjoy it?”

You nod, a small smile grazing your lips.

“I did. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Good,” he replies. “And since you’ve taken your punishment so well, I’m giving you the opportunity to ask for something. Whatever you want, you can have it.”

Your eyes brighten.

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You lick your lips, contemplating your options with excitement.

“Hmm,” you say, and then finally come to your decision. You look over to your second boyfriend, who seems to be watching you with an almost love struck gaze. “I want Will… want his mouth. Please?”

Will licks his lips at the statement. Oral is one of his favorite things to give.

“Very well,” Hannibal says, then gestures for Will. “She can lay in between my legs. You lay between hers.”

Will nods, and you happily turn around and begin sliding off your panties. Spreading your legs, you look up at Will with doe eyes as he approaches you. His lips touch yours, sliding easily against the expanse of your mouth. When he pulls away, the scent of your arousal overtakes his senses. He groans, moving down in between your legs.

Hannibal’s big arms wrap around your shoulders, keeping you still. Will flawlessly licks a stripe up your slit, making you whimper and hold onto Hannibal for dear life as he begins to eat you like a man starved. His mouth works wonders against your tiny hole and aching clit as he groans into your cunt, drinking your sweet juices like it’s nectar of the Gods.

“How does she taste?” Hannibal asks, even though he already knows the answer. He loves to go down on you just as much as the other man.

Will pulls away, chin dripping and hair disheveled.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he gasps out, nosing at your folds. His thumbs spread them apart, exposing your hole that’s coated in creamy slick. “Cutest fuckin’ cunt I’ve ever seen.”

You clench, letting him see the opening and closing of your hole. You want him to stick his tongue back inside.

You don’t have to wait long for that, because a mere second later Hannibal’s big hand splays across the back of Will’s head and pushes him back down. Will lets out a moan at this, allowing Hannibal to guide his head up and down and every which way that brings you closer and closer to your peak. Hannibal smirks, watching the way you writhe under his tongue and watch Will with hungry, lidded eyes.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” He says, and you can feel his hardness pressing against your back.

Drool seeps down your chin as you nod.

“Mhm..” you whine out. Your hands go to the boy’s hair, and he whimpers when you tug on the strands.

“He likes when you do that,” Hannibal observes, his tone low. He kisses the shell of your ear. “Do it again.”

You comply, watching the way Will’s hips grind down into the mattress when it happens and the way Hannibal lets out a heavy breath. Will’s mouth works harder, bringing your clit in between his lips and lightly sucking. You gasp out his name, hips moving against him in tandem.

“Will, Daddy.. ‘m so close..”

“Close, yes?” Hannibal taunts, and his grip around your throat tightens. His biceps practically squeeze your neck as you near closer and closer to your high, your throat gasping for breath. When your orgasm overtakes you, Hannibal loosens his grip, but not quite. You let out a raw, pleasure filled moan when you cum, Will working you through until the point of overstimulation, your legs shaking and your sock clad feet pushing on his shoulders. He chuckles when he pulls away, a pleased grin forming as he wipes his slick coated mouth on the back of his wrist. And boy, is it a sight. He licks up the remaining remnants of your arousal with his tongue, hands splaying on either side of you and Hannibal’s legs so he can move up and kiss you filthily on the mouth. Hannibal is next, a tender peck that makes the cock against your lower back twitch. It has him licking his lips when Will pulls away, his lashes fluttering as he sighs in content. He presses a kiss to your mouth, too, and relaxes even further.

It’s only a mere moment of rest before you can feel that familiar throb again, and the sight of your two boys bulging through their pants makes you drool. You spread your legs, overstimulated pussy on full display.

Will, who had been laying at the foot of the bed in front of the both of you, watches with hunger. You lean away from Hannibal, instead turning yourself on your knees and presenting yourself to Will, who’s already positioning himself behind you eagerly. Hannibal, the most patient out of all three of you, no doubt, finally takes his aching cock out of his pants and wraps a hand around himself at the scene. You hear the rustling of Will’s fly being undone, then his length is pressed against your ass and wet, oh so wet, even when he slides it in between your folds and sheathes himself inside your little hole with one swift movement. Your mouth drops open at the sensation of being filled, your hands finding purchase on Hannibal’s thick thighs in front of you. His cock is hitting his stomach, red and leaking drops of precum down the tip, and you watch as Hannibal rubs it up and down with his hand. You look up at him pleadingly as Will begins to pound you into the mattress.

“You want daddy’s cock in your mouth, is that it?” Hannibal teases, and you nod. He sighs, directing the tip of his cock towards you. “Open wide, sweet girl.”

You happily obey, tongue lolling out to lick at his tip, his stringy precum sticking to your bottom lip and the head of his cock, tasting absolutely divine. Will’s hands roam over your ass as his cock bullies your gummy walls.

“Mm, Hanni got you good, didn’t he, baby?” He says, examining the marks. “Gonna have to put some lotion on that later.”

The use of the nickname in Will’s mouth is a mockery of your own. You nod, however, pouting.

“Mhm. But Daddy knows what’s best for me.”

“That’s right,” Hannibal grunts out, when you take him fully down your throat. “Dumb little girls like you can’t think for themselves. That’s why you need Will and I to take care of you,” and then, “God, darling, your mouth is just perfect.”

You hum, choking on him. Will’s fingers bruise your hips now, his balls slapping against your ass with every harsh thrust. Your pussy quakes around him, clamping down on his length. His breath is warm against your ear as he pushes in and out of you.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby..” as he watches your ass bounce back against him.

“Look at that tight little pussy, practically choking my dick.” as he spreads your cheeks apart, watching the way you take him.

“Hannibal’s cock tastes good, doesn’t it?” As you come up for air and gasp, drool soaking your neck and chin.

You can feel when he gets close by the way his hips stutter, and with a lewd whine hes babbling endlessly.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says. “Gonna cum in this slut pussy— god, squeeze me just like that.”

“Please,” you whimper endlessly, and you can hear Hannibal let out a breathy chuckle.

“She wants it. She wants you to cum in her cunt,” his voice drops an octave as he watches the boy. “Come on. I need something to lubricate her more once I get my turn, don’t I?”

“Oh—“

Will’s eyes roll back, his body tensing up as he finally releases inside her. She clenches down on him, milking him for all he’s worth as he shoots rope after rope deep inside her gaping pussy. Hannibal’s fingers nestle into the boy’s hair as he rides out his orgasm, gently twirling the soft locks in between his fingers. You watch with your mouth turned into an o, burying yourself deeper against Hannibal’s chest in retaliation.

“There you go,” Hannibal coos when Will sighs against your chest, spent. “Good boy.”

“Tease,” Will mumbles back to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. His eyes look up at you and he smiles. “Are you okay?”

You giggle, nodding your head.

“More than okay.”

He looks down at the mess between your thighs as he pulls out, grunting. A trail of his spend pools out of you and onto the sheets.

His fingers begin to move up to your drenched clit— you need release to, after all, and Will is never a selfish lover—but before he can, Hannibal’s hand grabs his wrist.

“No,” he utters. “Let me, once I’m inside her.”

“Like I said,” Will grumbles, moving out from between your legs to settle back against the headboard. “Tease.”

Hannibal rolls his eyes, guiding you to turn around and face him. You bite your lower lip at the feeling of Will’s cum trailing down your thighs. Hannibal undoes his belt, pulling down his zipper so his pants are open and his briefs are exposed.

“Take me out, darling.”

She reaches into the waistband of his underwear, pulling his length out and giving it a few languid strokes. Will watches, his spent cock twitching against his stomach. He ignores it, instead deciding to move to your side and press a kiss to your heated cheek. His hand provides a comforting pressure to the back of your head as he settles it in your hair. Hannibal tilts his head, grabbing the back of your thighs and pulling you into his lap.

“Put my cock inside you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Be a good girl.”

Your lashes flutter at the vulgar term spilling from the usually polite man’s lips. Will’s hands scrape against your scalp and your brain is fuzzy with how good it all feels. Grabbing Hannibal’s length in your hand, you position your dripping cunt over the tip of his cock.

Sinking down makes your brows furrow. Hannibal isn’t as big as Will, but that isn’t saying much. The man still has a considerable size, and his girth stretches your gummy walls exceptionally. You whimper, settling down to the very base of his cock. Hannibal’s head tilts back and hits the headboard, his eyes squeezing shut to get used to the sensation of you wrapped around him. His big hands splay across your hips and Will nuzzles your throat affectionately.

“Daddy.” you whine, your little pussy beginning to rock onto Hannibal.

“Yes?”

“Fuck me, please?”

He smiles, pulling you further against him so he can brace his feet underneath you. His cock gives a few shallow thrusts, getting used to your heat, before moving into more dangerous territory. It isn’t long before he’s jackhammering into you, your head tilted back by Will’s big hands. He demands you open your mouth, and you do. A glob of spit lands on your tongue, which you swallow greedily. Hannibal groans as he watches the scene.

“Filthy little things,” he mutters, pulling you into a kiss. You both share Will’s saliva on your intertwining tongues.

Your thighs shake as Hannibal’s cock and balls leak with Will’s cum. The sound is utterly sinful— the gushing sounds of his cock pummeling your filled pussy, his balls slapping against your ass, the sobs tearing through your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks and you’re sobbing.

Hannibal’s fingers reach down to your clit, deftly rubbing against the swollen nub exactly the way you like. It isn’t long before you reach your peak, your pussy clenching down as a string of filthy words makes its way out of your throat, burying your face in Hannibal’s white button down and staining it with salty tears. Will is an absolute sweetheart, guiding your hips with his hands to help you, cooing little sweet sayings in your ear. He cakes your throat in pretty red marks.

Hannibal draws closer to his orgasm, small grunts and heavy breaths spilling out of his mouth. It isn’t long before he empties inside you, filling you up with a second load of sticky, white cum. He pulls your limp body off of his length, your pussy making a gushing sound as both of your boyfriend’s dribble out of you. The two men sigh when they see it, their cocks both twitching at the sight.

But all three of you have had enough for the day— or at least for the next few hours. Hannibal disappears out of the room for a moment to bring back a glass of water and lotion. He holds the water to your lips and sweetly coos, “you’ve been such an obedient girl. Drink, okay?”

You do, of course. You drink the whole damn glass.

After going into the bathroom to pee and wipe your cum covered thighs, Hannibal lotions your sore bottom with gentle hands. After this you finally crawl back into bed, moving onto your stomach and hugging your pillow tightly. Will chuckles.

“You don’t want a bubble bath?” He asks, because that’s usually what you request. But you just shake your head, your eyes fluttering shut. Not asleep, but almost. Will nods his head. “Later then, sweet girl.”

The boy crawls to your side, wrapping his big arm around you and pulling you to his side. Hannibal soon joins, his tie loosened and jacket off, pants unbuttoned. It’s rare to see him in such a messy state, relaxed. Only you and Will can help him unwind like this.

He lays on his back, and you lay your head on his chest, inhaling his strong, expensive cologne. Beside you, you can smell the aftershave that Will wears— Hannibal teases him about it, but you’re quite fond of it. It smells like home.

They smell like home.

You smile sleepily, watching with barely open eyes as Hannibal and Will’s hands connect over you. As you fall into a peaceful sleep, the two men on either side of you stay wide awake.

After a moment, Will chuckles.

“So I’m assuming we’ll be using my belt more often?”

“Guaranteed,” hannibal confirms, watching you drool onto his shirt in your sleep. He never mentions it to you because he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed. “Perhaps we can use it on you next time, Will”

The younger man scoffs, his cheeks flaring as he buries his face into your hair.

“Shut up, Hanni.”

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

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bitchlessdino · 2 months ago

Text

scream : the death of a nympho (m)

Pairing: ghostface!seungcheol x ghostface!wonwoo x afab!reader

Genre: horror, scream au, smut

Word count: 6.8k

rating: rated R for ROUGH FUCKING SEX (probably the meanest i've ever written anyone)

tags: THIS IS COMICAL BUT VERY DARK FIC, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. CONTENT MAY NOT SUIT MOST READERS. Morally black woncheol with no redemption arc, VIOLENCE IMAGERY (stabbing, physical fights), mentions of knives, Mentions of blood, Mentions of alcohol, humiliation, degradation kink, name calling sexually and none sexually (bitch, slut, cum bottle, ECT), manhandling, slapping kink, deep throating, face fucking, double bjs, cum swallowing, unprotected sex

Summary: This worn-out little town has seen its fair share of bloodshed, but now there are two new Ghostfaces in town—and their eyes are set on you. Someone who craves intimacy just as much as they enjoy sinking their daggers into something.

author note: thank you @highvern for being a great betaread, they got some giggles in so i hope you guys get to as well! This idea was initially requested and offered by @smileysuh and I hope you enjoy the journey babes!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

The town has witnessed its fair share of bloodshed, with pages upon pages of stories about murders staining its history since its settlement. Transplants from the past couple of decades knew of the Ghostface murders, had experienced their horrors, and were relieved to finally learn the identities of what they believed to be the only culprits, known by the nicknames BL and SM. What they didn’t seem to grasp was that there was a lineage—a deep-rooted legacy that would take the eradication of many Ghostfaces to completely sever.

One that has yet to happen. But now there was another problem.

With nothing left but their dread, the townies embraced twisted ways of coping. They chased oblivion in reckless sex and drugs, feeding a festering culture of heightening promiscuity and sexual deviants to businesses catering to their darkest urges. But this decay only primed the ground for blood, making it easier to spill.

The Ghostfaces, known privately among themselves as the Spirituals, saw it as their duty to cleanse the town. In their eyes, there was no room for the filth that seemed to taint their almost perfect town, and so they took matters into their own hands, delivering judgment on their own terms.

Seungcheol took after his father, who was currently detained after being caught serving judgment to the town’s notorious transplant mayor, infamous for his monthly group-sex gatherings. Now, as the head of the Spirituals, Seungcheol was determined to continue following his father’s creed, not once forgetting the scripture carved into him as a child.

Whereas Wonwoo took after his mother, a caretaker of many children within their society's education system who had fallen in sacrifice for the greater good. Now the right-hand man to the leader of the Spirituals, once a soldier and now captain to many of its followers, he knew nothing but how to uphold and worship the Spirituals' beliefs.

They were a duo not to be reckoned with—the youngest in history to hold the highest possible ranks, and the most effective at slaying the vermin of the town. Unmatched to even their predecessors. If they wanted something to happen, they knew just how to do it.

Their targets had a history of overlooking them, their spry bodies and youthful faces seeming harmless to anyone they encountered—until their daggers found the light under a bright moon. They killed victim after victim, and were careful to not have a single clue that could be traced back to them or the society. It was the perfect ruse, ideal for victims like you.

Fresh-faced and eager to start your next chapter, you arrived in town for college and had stayed ever since. You’d dated here and there, with more than the occasional fling—so the thought of the murders never really intimidated you. As an aspiring journalist, you found the town’s dark history more fascinating than frightening. To you, it was just material for dark bedtime stories. Yet, while many who had survived the horrors saw them as more than history or folklore, those who had evaded them were a lot like you—they saw nothing to panic over, just a few rotten apples already put behind bars.

But you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been tempted to test some of the theories. Almost eager, you found yourself wanting to investigate the current-day Ghostface rumors, wondering if they might be linked to the recent disappearances.

You pondered even now, nursing your third glass of red wine, the deep red hue swirling in the glass, mesmerizing under the effects of a light buzz that calmed your body. You and the bartenders of the high end Diamond Club, Hansol and Chan, had gotten acquainted in your time here—perhaps more than necessary—so they had a good idea of your usuals, whether it was your drink of choice or preferred form of entertainment.

“Red wine tonight, I see,” Chan flirtatiously engaged, wiping down whiskey glasses.

“Tonight called for something sweet, a little treat for working so damn hard,” You replied, finishing the last bit in your glass. “Where’d Hansol go? He had just serviced me.”

“Just getting something from the back, probably more of your wine.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, setting the wine glass down politely in front of him. “You both do know me so well. I don’t suppose there’s room for me to check back there too.”

“No can do today, beautiful,” Hansol said, emerging from the backroom as he rolled up his sleeves. “We’ve got a big meeting tomorrow morning, so we need to be on our A-game.” He threw an arm around Chan, signaling caution to his coworker, then regretfully scanned your attire.

Hansol’s gaze traced over the perfect lines and curves of your dress as he tightened his grip on Chan’s shoulder, both of them watching as you patted your lips against your napkin, leaving a kiss stain in mauve-red lipstick. He knew soon enough he’d regret his responsible decision-making. “But we’ll be sure we’ll leave a slot available for you after.”

Hansol turned toward Chan, looking for reassurance as the other man held the middle seam of his pants. “Right, Chan?”

“R-right,” the other bartender responded with a tinge of disappointment.

You softly pouted. “Okay. Another time. I’ll let you guys get back to work.”

The prospects tonight were slim, but not impossible. There were group gatherings and couples, but no one alone like you—that made it more challenging, and you loved a good challenge. You turned away from the bar on your stool, twirling your freshly topped-off glass from a new bottle, and scanned the room for another late-night treat.

In the corner, you spotted a diamond in the rough—a pair of men who couldn’t seem to tear their eyes off you, each idly toying with the dark liquor in their glasses. You flashed them a sly grin before turning away just enough to keep them in your peripheral vision, watching as they drank you in. They smiled back, one darkly handsome man to the next, their gazes unmistakably intrigued.

“Isn’t that a beaut,” Seungcheol muttered under his breath, hiding it under his glass drenched in bourbon.

“They are,” Wonwoo agreed. “Their reputation precedes them. We complete our duty tonight.”

Before Wonwoo could stand to approach you, Seungcheol tugged him back down, something more than authority in his gaze. “Hold on, brother. What’s the rush? It’s not every day we come across a sacrifice as…delectable as this one. I say we take our time.”

“But, sir… Seungcheol,” Wonwoo corrected himself, remembering they were in a public setting. “We shouldn’t leave any evidence.”

“And we’ll make sure of that.” Seungcheol grinned at his capable, steadfast captain. “Besides, I saw the way you looked at them. Don’t pretend you didn’t, soldier.”

Wonwoo had looked at you—perhaps longer than he should have. Sinful deviant or not, he could understand why others found it impossible to resist you. You were a vision to behold, a captivating stain on the town he might have allowed to linger under different circumstances. But there were no exceptions in the scripture. You would meet the same fate as everyone else they’d killed.

“Nonetheless, we have demands to meet… Seungcheol.” Wonwoo’s tone was even, but his eyes held a flicker of impatience.

The elder man sighed, swirling his drink with a slow, deliberate motion. “Sure taking advantage of my given name, aren’t you…Wonwoo?” He raised a brow, an amused glint in his gaze, though his words held an edge.

“We must stay focused, even if the distraction is so… distracting,” Wonwoo replied, his voice steady but his gaze briefly drifting to you before snapping back.

Seungcheol smiled cunningly, leaning back in his chair as he let his eyes settle on you. “All I’m saying is, why not reward ourselves with a taste of their mercy? Give them a final moment of sin before they see the flames of the inferno where they belong.”

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened. “And would we not be sinning too, brother?”

Seungcheol’s smile faded, and he leaned forward his captain in arms, voice low and commanding. “You dare question my judgment?”

A silence hung heavy between them before Wonwoo let out a resigned sigh. “We need our affairs in order,” he murmured, his tone weary yet resolute.

Seungcheol scoffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened. “Fine. We’ll do it your way,” he conceded.

They adjusted their jackets, sharing a brief, knowing glance before rising from their seats and approaching you with a leisurely stride, intrigue glinting beneath their composed expressions. Seungcheol met your eyes first, flashing that boyish dimple—the one that had gotten them out of more than a few tight spots.

“Mind if we join you?” he asked, his tone smooth, and inviting, but with an edge that hinted at something far less innocent.

Your teeth grazed your bottom lip as you gave a slight nod. “Both of you?”

“If that doesn’t intimidate you,” Wonwoo replied with a polite smile, the bar light catching his glasses and casting a faint glare that concealed the depths of his true intentions.

“Not at all. Sit.”

And they did, boxing either side of you, each exuding an intoxicating mix of decadence, spice, and something darkly earthy. The scent was almost hypnotic, stiffening the hairs on your neck.

Every glance, every subtle movement, spoke of a carefully restrained danger, like a coiled snake waiting to wrap around its unknowing prey. Their intensity crackled in the air around you, unsettling yet somehow magnetic. Something about this pair was dangerous on belief and your gut was screaming it loud, but instead of listening, you were anchoring yourself in place, wanting to find out just what it is you should be afraid of.

“I’m Seungcheol, and my colleague here is Wonwoo. And you are?” The dimpled man asked.

As you introduced yourself, both men let your name roll off their tongues, savoring each syllable as if committing it to memory. Wonwoo angled his body toward you, his gaze intent. “That’s quite nice to say,” he murmured, repeating your name slowly, watching closely to see how you reacted to the sound of it on his lips.

“What brings you both here?” you asked, subtly crossing your legs with a teasing smile. “Date night?”

Both men chuckled, clearly amused by how effortlessly they’d caught your attention. “Something like that,” Seungcheol replied, leaning in just slightly. “We’re just looking for a nightcap before calling it a night. Came straight from the office.”

You raised a brow, laughing softly. “It’s 10 p.m. You both work this late? And turn in this early?”

“Well,” Wonwoo countered, a strategic smile on his face, “we never said how long we’d be here… or how brief our nightcap might be.”

You hummed, sipping your wine as you eyed them over the rim of your glass. “You two really do everything together.”

“Yes,” they answered in perfect unison.

“Everything together?” you pressed, a playful edge in your voice.

“Yes,” they replied again, this time with a hint of menace that made the word linger in the air just a moment too long.

The longer you stayed in their presence, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about their composed demeanor didn’t sit right. Call it survivor’s intuition, but something was off. Still—“I suppose neither of you has time for anything else tonight?” you asked a slight challenge in your tone. “A way to truly acquaint ourselves before the night ends.”

“That does sound interesting,” Wonwoo mused, pretending to consider, his gaze never leaving you.

“And what better way to end the night than with a new…friend?” Seungcheol added, his smile sharp as he leaned in.

It was almost too easy. One moment, you were at the club, indulging in a reckless amount of wine courtesy of these fine gentlemen, the night unfolding in a haze of alcohol and sultry gazes. The next, you found yourself in their penthouse, entangled in a kiss with Seungcheol as Wonwoo was tearing off your clothes, the world outside suddenly distant and irrelevant.

You could feel the warmth of the man’s breath against the back of your neck. His spectacles brushed lightly against your skin as he leaned in, the metal sending a subtle shiver down your spine as you counted the beats of his pants. He explored your body with reckless abandon, uttering your name under every tender kiss.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol was evidently impatient, his lips quickly latching onto yours in a frenzy. He wasted no time tracing the surface area of your mouth, as if time were ticking and he knew that sooner or later, it would run out. “By gods, you are something else.”

He pressed up against your body, only the thin layer of your lingerie to protect you as you began to undress him, the concaves and curves of his body scorching under your fingertips. Your moans muffled under Seungcheol’s lips as Wonwoo's moans muffled under your skin, the tautness of their body sandwiching you into a sweltering trap.

“You both have no idea how much I needed this,” you panted, hands roaming in Seungcheol’s hair as his lips latched around your tits.

Wonwoo softly scoffed, loud enough to hear but soft enough to be dismissed. “On the contrary, you don’t know how badly we needed you.”

You mewled under the sounds of his false pretenses and squealed when they brought you naked over the sofa. Seungcheol took a moment to admire your vulnerability, caressing along your sides, spreading your legs so he may position himself between them, and just behind you stood Wonwoo. Impatient for something else entirely, procured a knife from under the couch, just where he had left it.

Seconds before the spectacle man lifted it up, deciding to plunge it through your shoulder, chest, or even throat, Seungcheol stood up. “Just a moment, darling,” his eyes flickered over to the armed captain in caution, frozen with the hunter’s knife inches above you, “Me and my buddy got to do one last thing before we proceed. Wait for us patiently?”

“All right…don’t keep me waiting too long,” you purred, a slow smile curling on your lips, your heavy-lidded gaze smoldering with anticipation.

Seungcheol steered Wonwoo into a separate room, shutting the door behind them with a quiet finality. He fixed his subordinate with a piercing glare, the urge to drive him to his knees simmering just beneath the surface. “Tell me, soldier—what do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s not ��soldier’ anymore, sir,” Wonwoo muttered, his voice tense. “I’m doing what we’re supposed to. We can’t indulge in this…” he hesitated, searching for the word, “…depravity. It only complicates the operation.”

Seungcheol stepped closer, his figure casting a shadow over Wonwoo as he instinctively leaned back, nearly cowering under the weight of his leader’s stare. “So you doubt our abilities, is that it?” he demanded, his voice low and venomous. “It’s been a minute since I took on my bitchbreaker on for a ride and you of all people are deciding to be a nuisance. If you’re so certain we can’t balance pleasure and duty, perhaps you should step aside—so I, your capable and trusted leader, can finish the job without you repeatedly defying me.”

He turned to leave, his movements sharp with frustration, but before he could take a full step, Wonwoo’s hand shot out, gripping his bicep tightly. The hold was firm, almost defiant, and Seungcheol could feel the strength behind it—a mix of resolve and the fear of regret that held Wonwoo back. Their eyes met, and in Wonwoo’s gaze was a fierce determination, teetering on the edge between loyalty and a barely restrained desire.

“I’ll follow orders,” Wonwoo said, his tone unwavering. “Your orders. I won’t question you again, sir.”

Seungcheol gave a smug smile, brushing off his right-hand man’s grip before leading him out of the room.

When they returned, they found you still lounging on the couch, but now holding something you hadn’t had before—something stark white and blinding, something that didn’t belong to you and should’ve gone unnoticed.

“Boo!” you laughed, lifting the Ghostface mask to your face with a playful grin as the rest of you was still nude, offering an enragingly tantalizing image.

Wonwoo’s voice nearly boomed as he tried to keep his rage in check, suppressing another sensation that fought him to break out. “What do you think you’re doing?” His eyes flashed a sign of panic, quickly narrowing at you. Had they been caught? Exposed? You were already a risky target, and now you were making things a lot more complicated.

You pulled the mask off with a casual smile, unfazed by the shift in Wonwoo’s demeanor, which was colder than it was moments before. “Sorry for snooping; I couldn’t resist.”

Seungcheol’s calm voice cut through the tension. “Where’d you find that?”

You held the mask in your hands, inspecting it from front to back, not fearing the consequences. “Under the coffee table,” you said, turning it over, admiring the attention to detail. “It looks really real.”

Seungcheol stepped forward, his presence looming as his eyes flickered over from the mask to you, its captor, with an intensity that bordered on possessive. “It is real. We believe it belonged to one of the original Ghostfaces...As historians, we collect these kinds of things.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Ooh,” you grinned, your lips curling in slight admiration.

Seungcheol studied you for a moment, his arms crossed in calculated intrigue. “You’re not scared?” His voice dropped slightly in defense. “Why?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know… I just find it more interesting than scary. And maybe kind of sexy… I don’t know.”

Wonwoo couldn’t hide his disbelief. His voice came out sharp, almost incredulous. “Sexy… you find centuries of bloodshed and thousands of lost lives sexy?”

You paused, your fingers tracing the edge of the mask. “Okay, well not that—the mask! I know it’s tied to awful, disgusting, horrific events, but…” You brought it up to your face, tilting it as you peered through the narrow slits, your voice trailing off in their signature tone of voice that the articles quote were ‘shrill and cunning.’. “There’s something about it that’s...captivating. Like, what kinds of things did they do, and why this mask? What makes it so...iconic?”

Seungcheol’s eyes darkened for a split second, a flicker of something realization passing through them, but he said nothing. Instead, he watched you with a calm amusement, his lips curling into a slight, almost imperceptible smile.

“Really?” Wonwoo’s voice cut through the silence, laced with disbelief. His eyes narrowed as he processed what you had just said, a quiet judgment simmering beneath his calm exterior. “You really think that is sexy?” His words hung in the air, thick with the implication that he couldn’t fathom how anyone could glorify such an image.

Wonwoo was quiet for a moment, his thoughts clearly racing. Yeah, I’m the one doing the killing, he thought, but they were sacrifices—an entirely different kind of thing. They were meant for the greater cause, something you could never understand. He had been the one to offer the death, to carry out the act, and yet you—you—were somehow making it seem like some kind of twisted, romanticized thrill.

He glanced at Seungcheol, whose only response was a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips curved into that unsettlingly knowing smile, the kind that signaled anything but anger.

Seungcheol retrieved the mask from your fingertips, put it towards him, and shielded his facial features. “So if I wear it like this,” He stuck out a hand to grab you, tugging you by the waist and gliding his hand over your sides, “and touch you like this…”

His palms cupped the underside of your ass, digits digging into your flesh roughly, releasing a sharp breath from you. His body, gloriously exposed, was firm and warm, so inviting you couldn’t help but throw your arms over his shoulders to press against his waist. You stared into the eyes of the mask, stomach-churning at the increase of stimuli and you almost heard yourself growl under your breath. “I don’t think I could resist you.”

Seungcheol removed the mask, holding it in one hand and tightening his grip on you with the other. “You’re a weird little thing, are you,” he asked, narrowing his eyes, voice rich and dark.

“I’ve always wanted deep throat the cock of someone wearing one,” you blatantly confessed, your bottom lip caught in your teeth.

Seungcheol quirked a brow, interest piquing before tossing the mask in Wonwoo’s direction, who caught it flawlessly, looking back at it in concerned confusion. “Wear it,” said the fellow conspirer, “Make our little guest dreams come true while I enjoy the show.”

Wonwoo didn’t argue, and against his better judgment followed his leader’s orders, securing the mask on his face as he bared his nether region, regrettably taut and aroused. As soon as Seungcheol released you, you fell to your knees, gazing up at the Ghostface mask before drawing your gaze down to Wonwoo’s cock that stood on its own, full of life.

Beneath that mask, Wonwoo held on to his uncertainty, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to the image of your lips wrapped around him. It was about all he could think about since being aware of you, other than killing you that is. Even as you beckoned him closer, with your knees on the ground of where the blood he’s shed–the bodies he’s slaughtered–he couldn’t help but think about how to dispose of you. How to get rid of your stain next. But the moment your lips reach the tip of his cock, his worries and schemes seemed to fade away, vanishing even faster as your pace quickened so eagerly.

Your hands palmed over his waist, and the lust in your eyes was insatiable, making a man—even Wonwoo—wonder how that pretty little mouth could take so much cock. He groaned, grabbing you by the crown of your head, and pushing you closer as he started to thrust, gradually adjusting to the tight, warm press of your mouth. “Oh fuck,” his voice gave out, muffled by the mask.

He winced as he felt himself hit your throat, swallowing as he heard you gag on his cock—trying to fit all of him and he broke out in a hidden smile, and if he was being honest, he hasn't held a smile like it in a long time.

Why, Wonwoo hadn’t realized how long he’s had a good fucking like this. Ever since he took on as captain, sex was a thing of the past, something not even in the back of his mind, but you. Oh, you. You awoke something that should’ve stayed dormant. Years of training and discipline are suddenly out the window. And now he’s had a taste, he was going to ruin you until you didn’t even have the energy to breathe.

His hand locked between your tendrils, shoving your head impatiently. “Little toy that knows how to play. That’s rare.”

One hand found the underside of your chin, bringing your face up to gaze upon his, and watched as the mask on his face tilted in curiosity. Vice gripping that head of yours, he used your throat, letting his length slide down inside you. “Aren’t you a little slut? Just fucking wet having my cock down your throat, are you? Don’t try to deny it. I don't have to see or feel it. I can smell it.”

You confirmed with a strugged nod, salvia dribbling down your chin as tears began to burn your eyes.

Wonwoo let out a staggered breath, hitching another in his throat with a groan as felt your face touch the base of his cock, holding you in place and hearing you breathe with immense difficulty l. He pulled himself out of you, dragging you by your head, watching you cough on the ground, strings of your salvia ruining the floor and stretching from your cheeks. “You’re such a try-hard, taking my cock when I hear you practically gasping for air.”

He bent down to level with you, the mask staring back at you menacingly, so realistically. “What? You’re not gonna beg for more?”

“I will, I will,” you assured, a blubbering mess, gasping while the tightness in your throat failed to bother you like it should’ve.

“Is that right?” Wonwoo chuckled, squeezing your cheeks in a rough grip. “You gonna beg for me to fuck your face? Huh?” He inhaled your gasps, body convulsing. His voice was gravelly and stinging with repulsion. “Cockbreath.”

You whined, pleading: “Please, I want to feel it deep, deep inside me, Mr. Ghostface. Give me your cock.”

“Then let me hear how much you want it.”

Your mouth parted, fumbling for the right words, struggling to release them from your strained throat, the sound coming out rough and raspy. “I want your cock shoved in my throat. I want to feel it from one end and out the other. I live for you cock. I’d die on your cock. Please just stick in my throat and don’t stop please.”

Wonwoo looked down at you, surprised with the spew coming out of your mouth but went with it, shoving himself swiftly back in you, the sensation of your throat welcoming him like it never left. “I better see you swallow every inch,” he warned, his voice thick with malice. “If you so much as breathe, I’ll give you more than enough reason not to,” a smile laced with dark amusement edging his tone.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol watched as he promised, laying aloof back on the sofa with cock in hand and reveling in the sheer desperation from your voice as he stroked his cock to the pace of Wonwoo’s thrusts.

As the reigning leader of the Spirituals, he was accustomed to having others do his bidding, just as his father had planned. But through his experience in leadership, he discovered he preferred being directly involved. Very involved. And it was moments like this that confirmed it.

“Good little cocksleeve, ain’t they?” Seungcheol commented, licking his lips.

“They certainly know how to make use of themselves,” Wonwoo drawled, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he observed your efforts, taking him with as much excitement as you initially came with.

Seungcheol started getting up, standing beside his partner in crime with a growing cock firmly in his grasp. He cast his gaze down at you, his presence domineering and intimidating, yet all the more mesmerizing. Seungcheol scoffed as soon as your eyes flickered in his direction, and his hands found themself in your hair. “I wonder how they’d take two cocks. How does that sound?”

Seungcheol helped release you from Wonwoo’s clutches and invited you into his as he met your eye level. “Can two cocks,” He produced another Ghostface mask, lifting it to his face, “fuck that pretty mouth full? There’s only one right answer.”

“Yes,” you managed to answer, your voice trembling, tears streaking down your face as you exhale, your flushed cheeks betraying the weight of your words. “Always.”

“Exactly what I was looking for.”

Kneeling between them, you held them both in either hand and traveled down both their lengths. Each Ghostface was more wicked than the other as you shoved a cock down your throat, Seungcheol’s groan following in response. Your tongue dragged along its underside, mouth stretching to adjust its size and familiarizing with your throat just as Wonwoo’s had, and the familiar sting of your tears had caused another stream of heat down your cheeks.

“You dirty little slut, so this is the kind of treatment my partner here has been getting,” Seungcheol took you by the hair, and slammed you against the base before pulling you back to only reach the head, another fit of coughing to ensue. “You better work five times as hard if you want to please me too.”

You nodded, each stroke to either of their cocks deliberate and purposeful, the masked individuals looming in front of you anticipating your next move. Taking Seungcheol back in your mouth, you sucked all around his circumstances, memorizing the veins of his shaft to then do the same with Wonwoo, batting your eyes back at him, your mouth parted wide letting both exit and enter on your own accord.

It was then either tip breached one another, both of your hands rubbing against each other at once that you heard something so delicious in their voices, so real and so pure. And before you could truly savor it, both of them pried your mouth part, either cock rubbing against either inside of your mouth, stretching your cheeks, as they unevenly thrust into your mouth.

It looked like it hurt, and either man was glad for it because, in its own sick way, it was another form of punishment, catering to them would only guarantee your ultimate demise and proving to them once and for all how necessary their roles really were.

Still, they enjoyed it—hell, they were euphoric seeing you put so much effort into such an ordeal, but not more impressed than about how it felt. Each twist of your wrist aimed to pump ego in their lengths, the dampness of your slobber stretching from your chin to their shafts creating a path of viscous filth, and the tension building in their manhoods that never seemed to fade as they attempted to bury themselves inside of your face.

It was momentous, and Wonwoo, who was initially concerned, was elated to reap more of the benefits just as much as his leader.

They shoved you off as soon as one of them was close, landing you on the sofa, flushed with a thin layer of sweat. Wonwoo, lifting the mask slightly above his face, let his lips run down your body, the hard, cold of plastic the mask chill on your body, while his teeth were nipping your torso and soft growls hummed against your skin. Startled, you yelped as he tugged your legs toward him, his cock position almost perfect at your warm entrance before he inserted himself, not wasting time by giving you a warning.

You mewled at the sensation, his rock-hard length plunging against your moist, plush walls. You instinctively gripped his arms for support, his ruts definable sharp, guttural, and primal. He loomed over you, mask still in place, but the shadow cast over his face in combination with just the barest hint of his mouth exposed showed a twisted smile of lunacy, dangerous beyond recognition.

Wonwoo was rough, hurting you in a way you’ve never been fucked before, but it made it all the more pleasure and Wonwoo knew it more than you thought. Seungcheol joined your side, squeezing himself between you and the couch as he propped his cock towards your mouth, slapping it against your cheek. “Open the fuck wide,” he said in a gnarly rasp through his mask.

As you opened, he seized you by your chin, slapping the cushion of your cheek where it already stung, before slapping the shaft of his cock on your tongue. You looked up at him, panting in excited gasps before he filled your mouth, then emptied it, and then filled your mouth again. His free hand claimed your breasts, ruthlessly squeezing them, pinching at your peaks, before ultimately slapping them, every action you could only swallow at. At almost every end, you were filled to the brim, hung in the balance of their mercy, and not once could you open your eyes without seeing stars.

“Can’t fucking stand it, what’s a fucking slut like you think you deserves our cocks for,” Wonwoo slapped the underside of your thigh, the sting of it ringing in your ears.

Seungcheol chuckled, fingers threading through your hair, pulling your head back to see the glisten in your eyes, how they beg without saying so, or how they water in delight. “One would be lucky to be so fortunate. You’ll thank us later and it won’t just be with gratitude, it’ll be a plea for more.”

Wonwoo, almost as blinded with lust as either you or Seungcheol, gave a deep heart laugh as he folded your legs back towards you, feeling him bottoming inside you and hitting a spot that shot you up in space. At this point you were immobile of making conscious decisions that didn’t have to do with sex, deducing you to only something they could use—something they could fuck until they were sick of you.

You’d muffle something around Seungcheol’s cock, whether it be their names, or calling them Ghostface, it didn’t matter. It was as if the world outside this room didn’t exist and none of them cared for it to exist. Just them and you, and the sound of raw, unbridled sex. Succumbing to their primal urge to unleash pent-up tension and energy—and how effortlessly they did so.

Wonwoo felt his stomach seize, his abdomen tightening as the involuntary contractions slowed his pace, the warmth starting to overcome him, and his low groans took power over his voice as he doubled over. His cum up and out of him in thick ribbons up your path, the twitching of your orgasm quickening in response to his warmth. Simultaneously, Seungcheol filled your mouth, expanding your cheeks, and he gently stroked your throat, “Swallow every fucking bit of it, you fucking cumbottle.”

Your eyes fluttered, pushing the cum down your pipes as he still stood in your mouth, feeling it slide down with a heavy swallow, and you opened your mouth wide to show just how thorough you are.

Seungcheol finally peeled the mask from his face, revealing flushed pink on his cheeks and damp strands of hair clinging to his forehead, making him an undeniably captivating sight—nothing short of a perfect reward.

Wonwoo followed, his presence marked by a familiar mirage, his smile shifting into a Duchenne grin—a smile that sparkled in a way most didn’t, reaching his eyes and revealing just how genuine it truly was. Underestimating the relief that consumed him. “Finally,” he gasped out.

He stood up, towering over your frame, his shadow falling over you. “Nothing short of our expectations,” he complimented before pressing a kiss to your lips, explosive and electric, foreshadowing how it’d be the last.

He started to retrieve the additional knife from under the couch, its steely presence finally making a comeback, and you managed to catch the glint of it peering at you at a lower glance. Jumping into action, your feet aimed for his gut, throwing Wonwoo off base as the knife scattered on the ground and crashing him hard into the glass coffee table behind him.

“Fuck!” Wonwoo shouted, pain pricking him at all sides of his body, blood gushing from the holes from which the glass had penetrated. “You bitch!”

“Like I was going to let that happen,” you spat, recovering from your fatigue.

Seungcheol pinned his arms behind you, an evil smile visible in your peripheral. “And you think I’d let you damage my property like that?” He hissed.

Before Seungcheol could avenge his comrade, you head-butted him from the back of your skull, momentarily blinding him as he clutched his face in agony. “Fuck! Holy fuck! My fucking face! You broke my fucking face!” He growled from the depths of his gut as you backed off of him. “I’m gonna enjoy fucking killing you.”

“God fuck, you knew! Didn’t you, you stupid bitch?” Wonwoo started inching closer to you, the knife a good distance away from him. “You knew who we were and came up here anyway. To what? Get one good fuck? Are you that stupid?”

“Of course, I didn’t fucking know! But I had a gut feeling,” you panted.

“Yeah?” Seungcheol taunted, eye swollen, cheeks and forehead red as he procured a knife from between the couch cushions. “Where that gut feeling take you? Besides getting them rearranged, that is?”

Wonwoo scoffed, finally finding the strength to get up. “Dumb slut like them didn’t get that far. Just good for a fuck.” He spat on the ground blood, gritting his teeth.

Your gaze flickered from one to the other, bare fisted, preparing for the worst. “Why don’t you test that theory then, boys?”

“Fucking gladly,” Seungcheol agreed, voice falling several octaves.

They bolted towards you in blind fury, grasping at you like straw and swinging a knife in your direction, barely nicking you. When Wonwoo ran at you from one end, Seungcheol came at you from the other, attempting to corner you. Determination oozing in their gazes, piercing through your very being, the mirage of the devil’s on both of their unsettlingly handsome faces.

“Nowhere to run now, you little bitch.” Wonwoo screeched venomously.

Seungcheol twirled the knife between his fingers, a grin stretching from ear to ear. “This is where you start crying. Or begging for mercy? It doesn’t matter like it won’t matter where or what we stab you with next.”

You slid underneath their swinging arms, the knife briefly slicing, forearm and you gasped in response, stumbling backward. Feeling cornered. You slowly backed away, searching for an escape, but by luck, you find something in your purse instead, abandoned on the ground just out of your assailants’ sight. “You fuckers aren’t gonna get away with shit by the way. You should be careful where you leave your things around here.”

They both laugh at you condescendingly, not an ounce of doubt in their eyes. “No one is believing your bluffs, darling. Just come over nice and slowly. We’ll only stab you 20 times each,” Seungcheol feignedly reassured.

Thinking you were defenseless, they charged at you at full speed—until you lifted what you’d hidden behind your cowering figure. A burst of pepper spray erupted from the canister into their eyes, and the sound of grown men screaming from the tops of their lungs, like terrified final girls, seared itself into every wrinkle of your brain.

”You stupid slut! Pepper spray? Seriously?”

��First you swell up my face, then fucking blind me? You’re in for a real one, cum guzzling little shit.”

Seizing your chance, you delivered a final kick, shoving Wonwoo in Seungcheol’s direction, sending them into an unexpected embrace. In the haze of pain, Wonwoo's eyes shot open, the piercing ache in his chest telling him everything he needed to know about what had just happened. “S-Seungcheol…what the fuck…”

As he stared into his comrade's eyes, Seungcheol’s eyes grew wide in realization, and looked down at the knife he held in his hand, now plunged into their chest. The leader followed him as he collapsed, taking the longest moment to register the events leading up to this as Wonwoo’s eyes began to drift close. Gripping his brethren’s shoulders with the anger of a million suns, Seungcheol bared his teeth, voice singing in regret. “You…I’M GOING TO CHOP AND FEED THEM TO MY PET SHARKS, YOU TRAMP.”

He turned to face you swiftly—too swiftly—because as soon as he did, his neck met the blade, slicing from one side to the other until you plunged it deeper, twisting it down his throat before pulling it out. Fury lingered in his eyes, barely alive, as he began to spit up blood, several drops landing on your face and body. Moments later, he collapsed beside his partner, his eyes dulling as the life slowly drained from his face and body.

You collapsed to your side, shakily reaching for the phone in your bag and dialing the authorities. “H-hello…I just killed two men that attempted to kill me…I think I know the address.”

Once you hung up, you summoned the courage to flip your phone to camera mode to capture the evidence, gasping for breath, ensuring yourself of the life left in you. As soon as you did, a gravelly voice cut through the silence. Its owner raised the knife that had once been lodged in his chest, charging at you with bloodshot, deranged eyes. “DIE, FREAK, DIE!”

You managed a quick, well-aimed strike where the sun doesn’t shine, slowing him down just enough. As he stumbled, you seized the knife you’d stolen from Seungcheol’s throat and plunged it into his head, again, and again, and again, screaming at the top of your lungs until he finally collapsed to the floor.

With trembling hands, you struggled to hold the phone steady to capture the scene. Blood streaked down your forearms, and your sniffles provided the only soundtrack to the aftermath.

You’d done it—you’d finally done it. It only took a hundred tries and countless hours of risk, but it happened. You had become the one–if not the only–true survivor of the town’s Ghostface murders. If this didn’t launch your career, you weren’t sure what would.

You just had hoped they wouldn’t come with backup.

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dollishmehrayan · 1 month ago

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HOW BATBOYS TAKE CARE OF SICK!READER ── .✦

a/n: this was requested by a anon (here) I hope they get better though but Lowkey flu season is kinda in but I haven’t gotten a fever or flu or cold all year surprisingly but last time this time around my birthday I was in bed because of the same flu too 😭

(Tags: batboys x sick!reader)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Response: Bruce is not the type to show a lot of outward emotion, but when it comes to his S/O being sick, he’s all business. He’ll immediately take control of the situation.

What He Does: He makes sure you have all the proper medicine, checks with the best doctors in Gotham, and ensures that you rest. You’ll wake up to a tray with hot tea, some soup, and a blanket tucked in around you.

Care Style: He’s quiet but thoughtful. He’ll check your temperature often and make sure you’re hydrated. He may even work late into the night, but he’ll sneak into your room occasionally to check on you.

Humor: If you’re extra strong and act like your not sick, he might raise an eyebrow and make a deadpan joke about how you’re not allowed to go vigilante when sick.

“I didn’t take you for a hero when you’re running a fever, but I’ll make sure to add it to your file.”

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Response: Dick is the opposite of Bruce when it comes to showing his care. He’s incredibly affectionate and wants to make you as comfortable as possible.

What He Does: He’ll keep a stash of your favorite comfort foods and drinks on hand. You’ll find him sitting by your side, doing anything to cheer you up. He might even bring in a portable DVD player or set up your favorite show, just to keep you entertained.

Care Style: He’s a nurturing caretaker. Dick is constantly checking in with you, holding your hand, and making sure you’re feeling okay. He might even tell you stories to distract you from how miserable you feel.

Humor: His humor comes out when you’re feeling better. He might tease you about how dramatic you were when you had to stay in bed.

“I know you're sick, but I think you might have been faking it with that ‘I’m dying’ act. I’m pretty sure I’m more dramatic than you.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Response: Jason is very protective, especially when you’re sick. His initial reaction will be pure panic (he's not a fan of seeing you vulnerable), but he quickly shifts into overdrive mode, focusing on getting you comfortable.

What He Does: He’ll get super practical: medicine, blankets, food, making sure you’re hydrated, and then he’ll sit with you, watching over you. He’s not one to baby you too much, but he’ll definitely make sure you’re pampered.

Care Style: Jason can be tough and blunt, but when you're sick, he’s extremely attentive. He’ll help you with everything from bringing food to checking on your temperature, and he’ll hover over you with little complaints, even if he’s clearly trying to hide his concern.

Humor: Jason’s humor is very dry when you’re sick. He’ll joke about you using the flu as an excuse to avoid doing anything.

“Not like you’d be any help with the bad guys while you’re over here acting like you’re on your deathbed.”

“I’m dying, Jason!”

“I’m still going to make you soup, but you better make a full recovery before I let you get dramatic again.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Response: Tim is a caretaker by nature, and if you’re sick, he’s going into full research mode. Expect him to be the most methodical about it, making sure you get the best medicine and a recovery plan.

What He Does: Tim will make sure to check your symptoms, research flu remedies, and put together a detailed plan to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible. You’ll get healthy snacks, warm blankets, and an endless supply of your favorite teas.

Care Style: He’s very hands-on. Tim will likely be the one to prep your medicine doses, change your sheets, and even do some light chores so you can rest. If you need something, he’ll already know what it is.

Humor: Tim’s humor comes out in gentle teasing. He might make fun of how dramatic you’re being, but always in a loving way.

“You’re seriously not going to drink the tea I made? I mean, it’s not like I researched five different remedies or anything.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Response: Damian’s reaction to you being sick is a mix of irritation (because he doesn't like seeing you unwell) and a deep sense of duty. His pride might keep him from outwardly showing how concerned he is, but he’s actually very sweet when he’s worried.

What He Does: He’s the one who will give you strict instructions on how to recover faster, sometimes sounding like a miniature doctor. He might be a little bossy, but it’s coming from a place of wanting you to get better quickly.

Care Style: He’ll keep checking on you, ensuring that you’re resting and following his orders. He might even hold a glass of water up to your mouth, but don’t expect much coddling.

Humor: If you argue with him about taking the medicine or following his advice, he’ll roll his eyes, but there’s a soft spot in him that he won’t admit.

“You are not allowed to leave the bed. You will be much more useful as a fully recovered individual.”

“I’m fine, Damian.”

“No. I will call the League of Assassins to make sure you stay in bed if necessary.”

OVERALL TRAITS FOUND IN THEM ── .✦

Comforting: They’re all deeply caring, but their ways of expressing it vary based on their personality.

Teasing: There’s an element of teasing and dry humor, especially when you’re feeling a little better.

Protectiveness: All of them become especially protective when you’re under the weather. They want you to rest, and while they may not show it, they’re worried about you.

Little Gestures: Whether it’s bringing you tea, sitting quietly with you, or making you laugh, each of them will express their care in unique ways.

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kyseya · 4 months ago

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Yandere octopus hybrid

Yandere octavious

Scenario: your impression of him and the beginning-to-now of your relationship.

When you first took the job as a caretaker and walked into the aquarium, you didn’t expect it too be so hard to bond with a certain octopus hybrid. You learned form the name plate by his tank that his name is Octavious, along with other basic fact about him.

You barely even saw him the first month. If you were lucky you managed to see the very tip of one of his octopus arms. He was very shy, you realised; avoiding you and the visitors of the zoo like the plague. If you had to be honest, you did feel a bit bad for him considering he had to somehow entertain the guests whether he wanted to or not. If he refused to show himself the staff would try to lure him out and bribe him with food or new toys(sometimes he refused to come out even then). Everything for the 5-star reviews you supposed.

Whenever it was feeding time for him you would go onto the platform by his tank and throw down whatever his meal consisted of that day. While you did so, you made a conscious choice to speak as much as you could during that time. You thought that maybe he would grow used to your voice and eventually accept your presence.

And you were right!

Octavious approached you after a while- willingly, too! He popped his head up from under the surface and stared at you silently for a couple seconds. Then he’d greeted you with a soft voice before diving under once more. It was certainly a start! Afterwards, you continued to speak out loud and you were so happy when you noticed him peeking at you in - what he wishes to be- a secret. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he isn’t at all as stealthy as he thinks.

You became closer and closer and now you two are like two peas in a pod. You’ve come to really enjoy his company- although that is probably what you can say for all the hybrids of the zoo.

Octavious is quite shy and often hides away from visitors that crowd his tank during the day. You would lie if you said you didn’t feel bad for him. None of the hybrids in the zoo deserves to be locked up and kept in captivity. Unfortunately there was nothing you could do about it except try to make their time more enjoyable.

Which you do through certain….methods.

You admit, the first time Octavious asked you to accompany him through the night you were thoroughly surprised. Was that even allowed? Scratch that, it definitely wasn’t. But the way his eyes welled up with tears and the sad look of defeat had you in a chokehold. You weren’t able to leave him like that. Not after he begged and cried for you not to abandon him. It didn’t matter how much you assured you weren’t abandoning him, he still accused you of not caring about him.

Eventually you gave in, the guilt being too big.

Never in your life had you imagined the octopus hybrid to be so needy. As you shared each others warmth he begged and cried just as he’d done not long before- just for a different reason. As Octavious was the one to initiate the whole thing, you thought he’d take charge, but you were(pleasantly) surprised when he revealed he wanted you to top him.

His moans echoed around his cave when you slipped his hectocotylus(mating arm)inside you. You looked so perfect riding and using him to please yourself. You obviously love it as much as he does. You can’t believe how happy it makes him.

Octavious supposed a little whining and a few tears really is the solution to everything. He can’t wait to make this a regular occurrence.

#kyseya oc #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #Yandere octopus hybrid #Octavious the octopus #yandere zoo #hybrid zoo #kyseya’s zoo #Yandere hybrid #yandere aquarium #kyseya’s dungeon

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yaoyaobae · 2 years ago

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Its been awhile and i have another OC to share LOL gotta draw brain rots instead of keeping them in your head forever ☺️💖

Name: Aurore Dormir

School: Royal Sword Academy

Pastime: Escaping school to wander in the nearby forest, spending time alone

Hobbies: Sightseeing, Gardening, Fencing.

Family: Father, Mother , *Brother ( silver, please refer to the last note regarding my own theory)

Aurore is a third year student at RSA, currently house warden of the sleeping beauty inspired dorm.

Aurore is also the next king of the Kingdom of Heroes, which naturally made him the center of attention in RSA.

Unlike Malleus whose powerful aura pushes people away from him, Aurore draws people towards him as they feel a sense of security around him.

He was only recently enrolled into school during his second year as his family brought him back from isolation for training, far away from the world’s eyes.

At first glance, Aurore may seem like the ideal dream prince: Kind, Polite, Courageous, Strong and Smart as he is consistent in securing top grades across his cohort. But deep down, he isn’t exactly the perfect prince most of his peers think he is.

Aurore is actually afraid of strangers and overwhelming attention ( he was raised in isolation so meeting humans are.. yeah) He is skilled at hiding his weakness but starts blanking out if there are too many people crowding around him.

As a result, he finds happiness in spending time alone in places where no one recognises him. He usually takes a short stroll around Sage Island’s various forests when his caretakers aren’t looking.

Strangely, Aurore mentions that his enjoyment from lonely strolls only existed because he would suddenly find himself in unknown places as a child…as if something or someone was calling him. But he became mentally stronger as he got older and knows how to guard himself during his impromptu walks.

Bonus personal theory/lore:

Hi! So if you have been following me since i started creating twst ocs, you would be familiar with a certain comic i drew for an Aurora Oc ( its not exactly Aurore because i didn’t flesh him out) . But to sum up my theory for that comic:

There was once a powerful kingdom that clashed with briar valley, humans and fae did not get along as well back then.

Somewhere in between the war, both of the queen’s sons were cursed by a powerful magician and separated at birth. The queen initially wanted to send her two sons far away from the castle, but only managed to send one tucked away in a casket that drifted on a hidden river which led to a forest.

The war ended a few days later, with both fae and humans forming a truce. The queen fell into depression after realising that her second son probably did not make it and blamed herself for not keeping him a little longer had she known he would have been safe and alive in her arms.

Time heals wounds, and with some reassurance from the King the Queen got back up on her feet stronger for the sake of her people. Of course, sometimes the servants would catch a glimpse of the lonely Queen staring into the far forests wondering if she will ever see those small pair of Aurora coloured eyes again.

Because the Queen conceived her two sons alone away from the servants, only she and the King were aware of their other missing son. The three fairy advisors who had protected them from the very start told the Queen that if word of two cursed princes were to spread, the kingdom would be doomed to fall . The Queen had no choice but to accept this decision, and so they entrusted their only son to the three fairies in case the curse within him acts up. Hence Aurore was raised in isolation away from the world’s attention and only enrolled in his second year to prevent the curse from possibly manifesting.

In this story I created Silver is the missing prince in question who drifted far into the forest and eventually picked up by Lilia. His only proof of his royal status is a ring with an aurora coloured gem (Book 7 mention).

Regarding the curse: Silver was cursed to feel drowsy all the time while Aurore was cursed to follow a voice in his head which leads him to sleepwalk into dangerous places alone. Silver’s hair colour reminds me of the spindle/needle, so in a way he contains the sleeping curse. Like Aurora, Aurore is drawn into strange places by a voice and eventually to the spindle. Hence these two will always feel an unfamiliar sense of closeness to each other.

“Yao why do you think Silver would have a brother? Much less the RSA guy inspired by Aurora? Doesn’t Silver already have Aurora’s traits?”

In general this is just my own fun theory to think about, but my reasons are because i think it would be interesting if Silver canonically had living family member(s) from a royal family( that ring kinda tells all). It would also put him in place wondering if he should return to his biological human family or stay with his Briar Valley family as he feels a stronger bond with them. With the way TWST tackles issues about fae/human like Sebek from example, i would love to see Silver’s resolve for his found family.

In my old comic, the Aurora OC actually dislikes Fae because of the war. He especially hates Lilia because he believed the war criminal took his own brother away and is promoting peace despite his past.

I feel Aurore would dislike Lilia but eventually learns to see the war from both sides as humans aren’t all that great either, he is still a naive prince with much to learn about the world. So while Silver does have Aurora’s trait, Aurore may have some of King Stefan’s from Maleficent/OG film. TWST tends to combine diff character traits anyways🌝👍

Anyways I adore these two so much and am looking forward to Silver’s past in the future updates! Thank you for reading about Aurore, till next time 💖

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanart #yaoyao_twstoc #auroredormir #twst silver

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retroaria · 3 months ago

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hey! I'm not really into nsfw stuff- sooo would you like to do something soft with reo? 😭 like, idk, him as a husband or father so with a family? THANK YOU SO MUCH 💗💗

✮⋆˙ domestic reo headcanons ✮⋆˙

a/n: this is so brain rotted i can’t even lie i think reo is just so easy to romanticize. pure fluff.

• | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy !! - aria 💜 | •

✮ I actually love this because i headcanon that reo would be a great dad :D at the very least he’d be extremely supportive of whatever his children wanted to do in their lives. He wouldn’t force them to follow in his footsteps like his father and he’d use whatever devices he could to ensure they can comfortably follow the path they choose.

✮ Would post about all his children’s accomplishments, or if you guys didn’t feel comfortable posting the kids he’d still take any chance to tell everyone about it - even his teammates who literally don’t care that his son got the highest score on the spelling test (they’re happy for him though). He secretly enjoys scrapbooking for his kids but they’re “your books” and he “just helps you with it sometimes”. (he’s the one who took almost all the pictures and saved every piece of paper his kid has ever drawn on)

✮ Reo is a charming husband, so charming and sweet it’s hard to be mad at him. He’s a bit lacking in cleaning/caretaking capabilities when it comes to the home but he puts in the effort??? He tries his best and if he does a bad job he always makes it up to you one way or another. In all honesty, he’s probably already hired people to do that (forgot this man is inheriting a multi millionaire dollar corporation).

✮ Reo is however very good at taking care of children. Once he has a clear grasp of their needs, he finds it to be really enjoyable and fulfilling. He takes a lot of pride in whatever happiness and comfort he can bring to his kids. He hates the sound of his babies crying, not because it’s annoying (though he complains about that too) but because it genuinely hurts his soul. He can be a bit too worrisome about it sometimes - he’s totally the type of person to look up his child’s symptoms and freak out over seeing all the worst case scenarios.

✮ The one thing that reo particularly excels at is taking care of you when you’re sick. He can always tell when you’re not feeling your best and he immediately harps on you. He doesn’t know how to cook very well but he knows how to make a few different kinds of warm foods to fill your stomach and give you a little energy. He’d absolutely refuse to stay away from you (unless it was a seriously contagious illness or if you guys had a baby that could’ve gotten sick). Doesn’t care if you’re sneezing and coughing and wheezing, he wants to feed you and hold you and kiss your hot head until it cools down and everything is better again. His goal is always to make sure you get better as soon as possible and won’t let you do anything but rest and relax until then.

✮ Reo is an incredible gift giver! I’ve certainly mentioned this in another hc post, but he is always out and about buying you little things that remind him of you. If you guys have a kid that’s just more gifts he’ll have to get and the thought of that honestly excites him.

✮ Anything can happen but…reo with a daughter…guys….

✮ he would be the sweetest girl dad! would do everything in his power to make her believe she’s an actual princess and he’s just one of her loyal servants. Spoils her rotten and doesn’t feel bad about it.

✮ You’d have to explain to him how this could negatively affect your daughter and it would break his heart. He’d go into theatrics trying to refute it because “What do you mean I can’t let her have everything she wants?” and “What if she cries? You want me to make my daughter cry?” he gets it eventually, but remains reluctant lol.

✮ He’d love playing sports with his kids. Would try to get them into soccer but if they end up liking another sport he’s still just as hype. Isn’t initially familiar with the concept of letting the kids win but soon realized he has to level with the speed of their little legs.

✮ I don’t have any specific hc’s for him as a boy dad but he’d be just as great of course - he’d make sure his son sees how women should be treated based on how he treats you!

✮ If he could find a way to make you the total world ruler he would because he truly believes you’re the most capable person. He’s the kind of husband who lets you run things for the most part but is always there to step in when you need a break or if you just want him by your side. Would call for an emergency flight back home from whatever country he’s training in just because you said you didn’t wanna go to parent teacher night alone.

✮ He loves doing mundane tasks with you, but always tries to “make it a bit more fun” as he says - which basically means he puts away the clothes you fold while you listen to him crack really bad jokes at you, gossip about his teammates, or try to sing and serenade you with his MANY playlists he’s made dedicated to you. On days you both have nothing going on he follows you around the house like a lost puppy, which is slightly annoying but it also means you have four hands to do stuff because he’s a participator above all else.

✮ Reo always makes sure to show his appreciation for how hard you work whether it’s at your job, taking care of the kids/house, or both. He takes time alone with you very seriously, even as your lives get busier and your family grows he always makes sure there’s time for the two of you to just be together and be in love. Always jokes about how you guys need to keep the romance going. He has small romantic gestures that he indulges you in throughout the day: kissing you on the cheek, brushing your hair out of your face/tying it back for you if you if you need (taking his hair tie out for you to use), hugging you a little tighter just before you get up, running a bath for the both of you, massaging your shoulders while you talk.

to be fully honest with you guys, i have never in my life wanted to have kids so it was a bit hard for me to imagine what being happy with children would be like LMAO but alas i did my best. stay safe and stay cool. - aria :3

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occasionalsnippets · 6 days ago

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I’m curious about Tim and MC’s relationship.

Like, is Tim grateful for the fact that MC took care of him?

Does he know that MC took his shifts as Robin so he wouldn’t deal with B’s bad days/nights?

Does he know that Jack and Janet didn’t really like MC?

How much does he resent Jack and Janet?

How does he bond/show his love for his sibling?

Also, how would the members of the Batfam bond with MC? (Before and After Damian snitched)

And what do the Batfam think of MC?

- Storm.Anon

Focusing on just Tim for this! Send another ask for other Batfam members owo because I do want to individually dig into each relationship.

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream, @shirp-collector-of-fixations

Their relationship is both less complicated and more complicated than it should be. On one hand, you’re Tim's older sister-caretaker-parental figure-best friend- who can’t be categorized neatly into any singular category. On the other hand, none of those categories matter when you are the person he trusts more than anyone else in the world. More than he trusts himself.

Your parents do not hate you. You were an accident (huge, immensely big, giant accident) but they do care for you in some nebulous, difficult to discern, rich-people kind of way. They give you all the money you could want. They teach you the rules of high society and how to deal with the company. They try. Sometimes.

In many ways, you are their protege and student before a lot of things but you are still your mother’s child. A reflection of Janet Drake in every way that matters with a mind like a steel trap and a mouth that murmurs sweet poison. It is one of the main things Tim notes as a child when he thinks of you and mother.

The biggest mark against your parents, really, is the neglect. Their children weren’t their number one priority and both you and Tim knew. They could be worse. They could be better. C+ parenting all around.

Tim’s view on Jack and Janet are a bit fickle? Inconsistent? Complicated? He had wished for a very long time when he was younger for them to come home more often but he never really processed the whole situation until you forced everyone to get therapy. There’s quiet sadness in his feelings about his parents but not really resentment, not like you.

Not that those feelings have anywhere to go anymore. Both of you still grieved during their funerals.

Tim gives you gifts on mother and father's day and overtime the message written in the cards attached get longer and sillier. He still remembers the stillness of your initial reaction when he first presented you with a card.

He hadn't really noticed how much you did behind the scenes until he got older and realized you were internalizing a hell of a lot of things. His early days of existence are marked by your ever encompassing presence in his life. His parents leave. You stay. You always stay even as he digs himself into the pit that is becoming Robin.

He can always rely on you. If there is any truth in his life then it is that you will always be there for him. So, when you tell him with dark shadows cast upon your face that he shouldn't go out as Robin tonight, he accepts with minor protests.

You keep detailed reports on patrol to keep everyone updated when you're filling in as Robin and the ones from Tim's early days are... rough. Tim reads them because of course he does, and talks with you about it. A lot. You insist that he shouldn't have to deal with Batman because Tim is like 13 and Tim keeps saying that he chose this. So, the two of you compromise on it. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?

No one else really reads the old patrol reports. What happens during the early days stays between you and Tim and Bruce. Tim thinks Bruce still feels guilty about it, about both him and you.

Tim shows affection for you the same way you show affection. He'll go to company meetings in your stead. He learns to cook and bring meals to you when you're too busy. He orders materials for your hobbies whenever he notices you're running out.

Your relationship is not immune to normal sibling shenanigans though. You yell, you fight, he stands a centimetre away from the entrance of your room for no apparent reason, the two of you want to kill each other sometimes because "mother and father always liked you better-" and "I never wanted to raise you-"

You and Tim are so crazily co-dependent even if it isn't obvious. You're a bit less dependent than he is but you've also revolved your life around him and everything you do is basically for him so how true that statement is can be debated.

Sometimes you think you need him in order to be allowed to exist. There is no role for you except in reference to him, to your little brother who you'd give the world to.

Tim literally doesn't know how he'd survive or live without you. You taught him unconditional love. You're his favourite person. You've always protected him. He can't fathom the idea of existing without you.

You're impossible to separate from him and him from you. Aren't the two of you one and the same? Where does one end and the other begin? Who is he if not a reflection of you and who you raised him to be?

Alsjfjak so yeah. The Siblings. Them.

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hotchscoffeecup · 9 months ago

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for her, i’d endure

pairing: emily prentiss x reader

rating: t

word count: 7.6k

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: torture, descriptions of blood/injuries, drugs

summary: When you and Emily are kidnapped by The Chameleon, an elusive unsub that team had been tracking for years, you’re forced to watch her endure torture at his hands. In the hospital, you reel from your own injuries and the guilt of not being able to stop anything from happening to her. Angst and hurt/comfort with a happy end.

It’s hard to keep them open from the pain it causes you to try. You can’t help the slow drowsy blinking that follows. If they’re closed it doesn’t hurt as bad. Maybe this is a dream. Yeah, a dream. Just close your eyes and go to sleep, you tell yourself. You’ll feel fine in the morning.

Someone harshly whispers your name. You stir, but ignore it. Closing your eyes, you murmur something that isn’t quite a response, and try to welcome the darkness to take over. You just want to sleep whatever this is off…you try to at least. The harsh rasping whisper returns. There’s your name two, three times.

“Huh?” is all you can muster as you crack your eyes open once more. There’s a fluorescent light somewhere to your left, casting strange shadows over your field of vision. Your eyes burn. You want to close them again.

“Yes, that’s it!” cries the whisperer, “stay with me!” There’s an urgency in their voice, and as you take a few measured breaths, you gain more and more control over your senses. “Are you hurt?”

Emily. That’s Emily’s voice.

“My head,” you complain about the throbbing in your temples. “I think I hit my head.” You move to touch the side of your skull to assess the damage when your wrists don’t follow through with the command from your brain.

“What the—” There’s a sudden clarity that takes over as you hear the clatter of metal against metal. Your wrists are bound behind your back. You kick your legs out, or at least you try to. They’re bound too with zip ties to the legs of a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor.

“Don’t panic.”

“Emily?”

Fingers brush against yours from behind your back and you cling to them, though it’s awkward as you try to reach them. You’d know the feel of her hands anywhere. He’s got you and her back to back.

“I’m here,” she says soothingly, despite the edge in her voice.

“What happened?” you ask as your field of vision begins to clear and the picture of where you’re being held begins to form. It's dark save the fluorescent light you noticed earlier. There’s a few panels in the ceiling still flickering to life, though most are dark. Wires and cables hang haphazardly from the ceiling and water drips from a cracked pipe that stretches over the width of the room. The floor beneath your feet is concrete. You can’t see a door and the only windows are two small rectangles high near the ceiling. You’re underground. “Where are we?”

“The Chameleon,” Emily says after a short while.

Your heart skips a beat and you have to take a few measured breaths to keep the panic from creeping in. “You’re sure?”

The Chameleon, nicknamed such by the local media, is a serial killer that you and the team had been chasing across the East Coast for the last two years.You and the team didn’t care much for these nicknames as they often sensationalize the killer and detract from the victims, but it the name was fitting due to his nature to blend in to every environment he’s been a part of. This is largely due to how he is able to gain his victims' trust. Some of his known ruses include posing as law enforcement, a member of the clergy, other first responders, caretaker for a “lost” elderly patient, and more. He’d feign a scenario that caused the victims to unlock their doors, stop their cars, or otherwise pull their focus under the guise of safety. Once their guard was down, that was all he needed to ensnare them in his trap. Victims were initially blitz attacked, as evident by the bruising to their heads and faces, but as he evolved he began to dose them with heavy sedatives before taking them to a secondary location where he’d hold them for twenty four hours. During this time, he tortured his victims indiscriminately; sometimes cutting, sometimes burning, sometimes removing pieces of them or utilizing a combination of all three before ultimately succumbing to his need to kill. He favored a knife, often slitting the throats of his victims once he’d grown tired of playing with them. Despite his ability to blend in and kidnap his victims undetected, everything else originally pointed to someone just starting out, unsure of their preferences. However, this unsub evolved quickly. Victimology stopped differing and he’d settled on a pattern for women in their thirties, dark features, and often in roles that provided some sort of power. Though methods of torture varied, the rotation or combination of torture implicated states similar enough to create a pattern. He stuck to the routine, though. One woman every three months for the last two years. That was until recently. Now, a woman had been going missing weekly, suggesting a major deviation. Something had changed for this unsub, increasing his need to kill quicker and more often. Emily fits the victimology, but taking you too? It didn’t make sense? He’d never taken in pairs before.

“Fuck,” you mutter. You pull at the cuffs around your wrists, but they’re clamped too tightly. They don’t budge. “How long was I out?” you ask.

“Hours,” Emily responds. She sounds tired. “I don’t know how many.”

You blindly reach for her fingers again, this time with your other hand. When you brush against them, they’re slick with something.

“Emily?” you ask, concern edging into your voice. “What’s he done to you?”

“Cutting,” Emily answers clinically. “Left arm, chest, and right leg. They’re superficial.”

Red clouds your vision knowing he’d hurt the woman you love, and that you’d not been conscious enough to at least try to do anything about it. When you get your hands around this bastard’s neck…you yank hard against your restraints and hiss when all it does is cause the metal to dig deeper into your wrists.

“Baby, stop,” Emily whispers, keeping her voice low in case The Chameleon can hear. “We’ve been closing in on this guy. We just have to hope the team recognizes we’re gone before…” her voice trails off as a door opens.

Your heart stops and then starts, it’s usually steady beat now pumping erratically against your chest. You remind yourself to breathe, to take measured breaths to slow your heart and fight off the instinct to panic. The body’s natural inclination for self-preservation is astounding, but you couldn’t just think about yourself right now. You needed to be alert and look for anyway to wriggle into this guy’s psyche, anything to keep him from hurting Emily any further.

There’s a metallic clank as whatever door that’s out of your eye line slams shut. Heavy footsteps echo in the space and you count. Twenty four. There’s twenty four steps. You can’t fight the way your body tenses as a silhouette begins to emerge from the shadows. As the figure comes into focus, your eyes widen in surprise.

“Surprised to see me?” the man says, a twisted smile curving on his

“You know him?” Emily asks as she attempts to crane her neck to look at him.

You take in the man before you: white, mid-30s, average build, dark curly hair, and blue eyes wild with evil intent. You don’t know his name, but you've seen him before. You all had. Your mind flashes to each body dump where the team had investigated and gathered initial evidence to further flesh out the profile. You close your eyes and let your mind’s eye expand your field of vision to include the gathering crowd of onlookers. As you mentally guide yourself through each crime scene, you can clearly see him.

“You were there the whole time,” you say with a surprisingly level of calm as you open your eyes and meet his gaze directly.

He extends his arms to either side, a look-at-all-i-have-accomplished gesture, though there’s no audience save the two of you to take in his performance. “What can I say?” he says. “The media named me for my ability to blend in anywhere I go. I like the nickname, I do.” He points his finger at you as he begins to circle around you and Emily like you’re an injured seal in shark infested waters. “Though you profilers don’t like when these major news outlets do that. It sensationalizes the killer while taking away from victims.” He stops in front of you and bends at the waist to look you in the eye. You muster as much contempt into your gaze as possible.

“Good,” he snarls. “Those sluts aren’t worth remembering anyway. Any thoughts on that, agent?”

You nod. “Yeah, actually, I think I’m pretty tired of listening to you whine about your mommy issues.” A fire ignites in his eyes as you say this. You smirk. “Ooo, that did something. Did that strike a nerve?”

His lip curls as he takes a shuddering breath.

“I think I did, didn’t I?”

His knuckles collide with your face and there’s an explosion of stars behind your eyes as you feel your lip split in two. Emily calls your name and curses the unsub’s. There’s a buzzing in your ears as you blink the fog away. You sit up as best as you can and spit blood onto the floor. If his attention is on you, it’s not on Emily.

“Is that the best you can do?” you say, leveling your gaze back on The Chameleon. “You had to hit me from behind the first time. Are you scared to face a woman head on? Too much of a coward to face them? Or are you just too weak?” You incline your head toward your lap. “After all, you’ve got us tied up. Untie me and we’ll see just how well you do one on one.”

The Chameleon seethes, nostrils flaring as his rage blossoms. “You know nothing!” he bites.

“We know, everything.” You answer. He may not have been on the team’s radar, but you’ve seen this type before; a man that’s been forced into a submissive role and emasculated his entire life finally snaps and turns the tables on innocent women to make up for the lack of care he missed out on from a mother figure his entire life. He blames them because he can’t take his anger out on the person he wants to most. Mommy.

“Do you?” he sneers and you don’t flinch away from his hot breath on your neck.

“You’re easier to read than a children’s nursery rhyme,” you taunt.

The Chameleon snarls and this time his knuckles collide with the center of your face and there’s a sickening crunch. Blood pours from your broken nose onto the front of your shirt.

“Enough!” Emily shouts. “She’s not the one you want.”

You blink through the haze and blaring pain. Emily’s name is garbled as you try to say it, but there’s too much blood in your mouth. Just like the flickering gaze of a reptile, his eyes shift instantly to her. The desire that alights his face makes you want to throw up. She’s the one that fits the victimology. She’s the surrogate, the object of desire in his twisted fantasy.

“I think,” he says slowly, and you’re surprised you don’t see a serpentine tongue flicker between his lips. “That this next part will be more fun with an audience.”

Your vision shifts in and out of focus as you follow his movements. He shuffles just out of view of your peripheral vision and trying to force your eyes to see farther than they can exacerbates the splitting pain in your skull and face. Everything throbs. You can hardly see straight.

He returns with a syringe in hand. He holds it up for you to see. “Maybe I am weak,” he says bitterly. “But I’m the one in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He pushes the syringe into your arm and a slow, metallic heat creeps through your veins. Your limbs quickly grow heavy and your senses begin to dull.

Behind you, Emily pulls at her restraints. “Hey! What are you giving her? Leave her alone. You don’t want her, you want me.”

A choked laugh escapes the unsub as he cuts the zip ties at your ankles. You want to kick out at him and knock that smug look off of his face but the signals from your brain are cut off. Your body won’t follow the command your mind is ordering due to the drugs scrambling your system. Your eyelids are heavy. You want to close them. The unsub recognizes this and slaps at your face. “No, no. You can’t close your eyes, now. You’ve got a show to watch.” His lips twist into a sickeningly delighted smile. He slips a key from his pocket and undoes both sets of cuffs keeping you bound to the chair. You slump forward against him and he catches your weight easily. He wraps his arms around your waist and grunts as he hoists you over his shoulder. There’s static coursing through your limbs and despite every wish and desire to lift even a finger, your limbs don’t cooperate.

You slide off of him like rain down a windowpane, though instead of coming to a gentle stop you hit the ground like a stone thrown into a pond; all of your weight crashing down. Your head rattles against the wall and stars explode across your vision once more.

Emily calls your name and you try to focus on that. You blink and her form comes into focus. She’s bound in the same manner that you were in a chair exactly like yours. There’s blood staining her clothes, her blouse cut to ribbons and her pant leg tattered from where he slit it open with a knife; the same knife he used to cut into skin. Blood drips onto the floor.

She smiles at you and her gaze is so tender as her eyes meet yours. “Whatever he does to me, it is not your fault.” She’s soothing you. She’s about to endure more torture and she’s trying to comfort you.

You want to speak, to tell her you’re sorry, that you love her. You want to stand, to untie her and take her to safety. Most of all you want to put that unsub in the ground. A single tear leaks from your eye as The Chameleon wheels a tray table near Emily. The soft eyes she reserved for you steel upon seeing him.

He picks up a scalpel, his fingers gentle as he curls them around it; a stark contrast to the violence he inflicts with it. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Emily licks her lips and raises her chin to look him in the eye, defiant in the face of danger. “I’ve already come back from the dead once before. At least if you’re successful, I know whose ass I’m haunting first.” She narrows her brown eyes to slits. “Come on, lizard boy. Let’s dance.”

•

Tears leak down your cheeks as you’re forced to watch what he does to her. She continues to taunt him, but her voice has grown weak. She’s losing too much blood.

“I wonder,” Emily says, her breathing labored. She lifts her gaze to meet the unsub’s. “You love that knife.” She inclines her chin toward the blade in his hand and his fingers twitch. “Tell me, is it because you can’t get up? Are our mommy issues too severe?”

A wild scream tears from his throat as he backhands her. A sharp grunt of pain leaves her lips but no scream. She sheds no tears for him. She’ll show no fear to him and allow him to feed off of her emotions like he did with his other victims, but he knows she must be feeling the weight of the torture, of the exhaustion settling in.

Her voice is tired, but her words are dagger tipped. “You’re not a man,” she spits blood on the ground, her teeth stained with it as she bares them at him. “You’re just a coward, a little boy missing mommy’s hand to guide him through your pathetic, wayward life.” Each word is sharp and articulated, a needle digging a little deeper and deeper into his flesh with each cutting syllable.

“Enough!” he bellows, spittle flying from his mouth as he lifts his arm. In one swift downward motion, he plunges the scalpel into her thigh.

She screams, her voice ragged and raw. A panicked sound bubbles in your throat, but the drugs overpower your ability to call out to her. Your fingers twitch as you try to summon any amount of strength to them, but to no avail. You can’t move them anymore that. You try to wiggle your toes and only feel a tinge of movement from them. Tears leak down your cheeks and drip off of your chin. The tear stains left behind are cold overtop of the dried blood smeared across your face from your broken nose, still throbbing with pain.

Emily sits hunched over, her shoulders heave with shuddering breaths. She’s breathing. She’s alive. She’s alive. She’s alive. The thought plays on repeat in your mind. If she dies, there is no place this slimy, spineless creature can hide where you wouldn’t be able to find him.

A strangled moan rumbles from behind your lips as The Chameleon approaches Emily. There’s a smirk on his lips as he brushes his fingers along her jawline. Just as quickly as the smirk appears, it dissipates as he shoves her face away from him, disgust twisting his features.

“I think I’ve had enough of you,” he grits through clenched teeth. “You’re all the same. There is no place for women like you. I’m doing the world a favor by getting rid of you.” He picks up another knife off the tray table and moves to stand behind Emily, knife poised beneath her throat. His shifting eyes fall on you and his smile returns. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the show.”

You feel your brow pinch as a wash of emotion floods through you. Your hand twitches and you manage to ball it into a fist, but you can’t force much more than that.

“Emi—” your tongue lolls inside your mouth and you can’t get her name out but it’s enough to get her attention. Her wavering brown eyes fall on yours and you hope she can feel your full apology and profession of love in your eyes as you await the inevitable.

“I love you,” she mouths and a sob shudders free from your own.

A single gunshot cracks through the air like a whip.

As the unsub slumps to the ground, Derek’s hulking frame comes into view. “He’s down!” He calls as he holsters his weapon and rushes to Emily. His hand moves to the knife in her leg.

“Don’t!” Emily warns. “Let the medics handle it. The keys to the cuffs are in his pocket.”

As Derek squats beside the unsub Hotch and Spencer clamber down the stairs, spilling into the room.

“We need medics,” Derek says to them, eyes filled with concern. “We need them now.”

“Copy that,” Spencer states as he presses against his earpiece and relays the information.

Hotch holsters his gun and rushes to your side. Crouching down, his hands smooth your hair back from your face to inspect the damage.

“Can you hear me?” he says. You blink heavily as his face comes in and out of focus. He repeats the question and says your name. He’s asking you to talk to him, but you can’t.

“He injected her with something,” Emily says weakly as Derek works to uncuff her. “A sedative or a paralytic, I don’t know. She can’t move. She can’t, she can’t—” Emily’s eyes flutter and roll back in her head. Your eyes widen as she slumps forward. Derek catches her before she can face plant the concrete and risk dislodging the scalpel sticking out of her thigh before the medics can do their job to ensure she’s not at risk of bleeding out, if she wasn’t already.

Your hand twitches, fingers jerking against your palm as a sound of desperation eeks past your still lips. Hotch presses his hand into yours and squeezes. His hard eyes meet yours and there’s pain and understanding in them. He’s born witness to seeing the love of his life killed by an unsub. It was something he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He had to hope that Emily would survive what she’d endured here tonight. He squeezes all of that hope into your palm as the medics crash down the steps, backboards and kits at the ready.

“She’ll be okay,” Hotch promises, though there’s a hint of doubt on the edge of his words. “You’ll be okay.”

As the medics make way and his hand slips free from yours, you can only hope and pray that what he says is true.

•

A gentle beeping is the first thing you hear as your senses slowly creep back to life. The sound is soft, but each punctuated tone sends a pulse of pain to the space behind your eyes.

Your eyes crack open and you squeeze them shut again as the bright white of the fluorescent lighting blinds you.

“Shit,” you hiss. Your voice is hoarse.

“Hey, you!” greets a female voice. Penelope’s voice.

“Too bright,” you grumble.

“Oh! Hold on!” Her heels click against the tile of the hospital floor, a switch flicks, and the light behind your eyelids darkens. You feel the relief immediately though the bruising around your eyes and throbbing pain reverberating through your nose and cheeks starts to overwhelm your senses as you become more alert.

You crack one eye and Penelope’s bright face comes into view. Her pink cat eared headband matches her glasses frames and lipstick. Her smile reaches her eyes and that only just eases some of the anxiety that floods your system, the only other thing you’re able to feel besides the pain. If Emily was dead, Penelope wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye right now.

“I need to see her,” you say, sitting up and immediately regretting it. The room spins and your hand flies to your head, fingers pressed against your temple in a poor attempt to stop the whirling sensation.

“Sweetie, oh my God, don’t—” she stands up and crosses the room, but you’re already pushing the sheets back.

You curse as you rip the IV from your arm, the tape holding it in place ripping out the hairs on your arm. Garcia tries to take hold of your hands, but you bury them inside the folds of the hospital gown as your fingers feel for the numerous electrodes tacked to your chest. Hooking the tips of your fingers around the wire once you find a place to bunch them together, one swift tug is all it takes to dislodge them. The machine beside the bed flat lines as it no longer receives your heart rate.

“Honey please don’t make me—” Her face scrunches as you move to stand. She sticks her arms out to block you from doing so “Oh, you’re going to make me, ok— Derek! Hotch!”

Her shouts are like a drill through your skull. You blink and black spots your vision as it blurs. The pain in your face is so intense, but you have to push through it. If Emily could endure what she did, you can push through this to get to wherever the hell they were keeping her in this goddamn hospital.

Hotch and Derek burst into the room, eyes frantic and scanning the scene. Morgan swiftly cuts through the space, swerving in front of Penelope and taking you by the arms. Garcia may have hesitated to stop you in your tracks but Derek has no reservations whatsoever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks sternly.

Two nurses rush into the room and Hotch placates them with a gesture implying things are under control . He says something to them in a low voice and they glance your way once before nodding and leaving the space.

“I need to see her,” you say as you push against Derek, but in your current state you may as well be trying to push the Leaning Tower of Pisa upright.

His grip around your wrists is firm, but gentle; his hands placed just above the bandages from where the cuffs had bitten into your skin.

“She’s not awake yet,” Derek says. His features soften as he looks into your panic filled eyes. “She’s stable. She’ll be okay, and I promise you that the minute she wakes up I will take you to see her.”

“But Derek—”

He clicks his tongue. “No buts. You’re no use to her if you’re not well. You nearly overdosed on the drugs that man gave you. He broke your nose so badly, they had to re-break it to set it correctly. You have a concussion. Are you hearing me? You need to get your ass back in that bed.”

“Honey, listen to him.” Garcia adds, her voice equal parts soothing and concerned. “You can barely stand.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as hot tears well in your eyes. They slip down your cheeks and seep into the medical tape plastered to your face and nose. You draw in a shuddering breath as Derek guides you back into the bed. He presses a warm hand to your shoulder before stepping back and putting an arm around Garcia.

“Come on, mama, let’s go get a coffee while the nurses get her hooked back in.”

Penelope’s mouth drops into an o-shape as if she’s about to protest.

“I’ll stay with her,” Hotch assures her. “Go. I’ll call if anything changes.” That comforts her enough to let Derek steer her out of the room and into the hallway.

As the sound of their footsteps fade away, Hotch exhales a heavy sigh. The heels of his loafers click against the tile as he crosses the room and takes the chair Penelope had been occupying at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he reaches over and presses the call button to summon the nurses.

“Like someone cracked me in the face with a sledgehammer.”

A hint of a smile passes over your supervisor’s lips and a ghost of a laugh passes your own. You wince as the motion sends a new wave of pain rippling throughout your face.

“How bad is it?” you ask.

“The doctors say it should heal fine. They’re baffled that the break didn’t do any damage to your septum. The bruising will take time but you won’t need surgery so—”

You lift your eyes to meet his. “Not me, Hotch.”

His lips press into a firm line. “She lost a lot of blood,” he says after a moment. “In total, he cut her about fifteen times before stabbing her. She was right to tell Morgan not to pull the scalpel out. It was dangerously close to her femoral artery. The unsub was either incredibly calculated in avoiding it or it was dumb luck that saved her.”

Your brow pinches as his words sink in. “What was his name?”

Hotch’s chin dips in response to your question. “Carson Peters. He was a Vet Tech on the perimeter of the geographic profile. We never even interviewed him.”

“The whole time we never knew his name,” you breathe.

“If I know Emily, I’m sure she came up with a few,” Hotch remarks, trying to lighten the mood.

Your lips twitch, but a smile doesn’t take shape. There is an entire slew of names you’d wanted to hurl at the unsub, to say anything that would have taken his attention off of Emily for even a second but you couldn’t because of the drugs he’d pumped into you. You squeeze your eyes shut as an image of him cutting Emily flashes through your mind.

Hotch says your name. You hear the deep tenor of his voice, but it’s as though you’re underwater. Emily’s cries of anguish echo in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as a tear leaks from the corner of your eyes. “Emily, I’m sorry.”

A firm hand slips into yours and you gasp, flinching from the contact. The image distorts and vanishes. You open your eyes and take a deep breath, dropping your gaze onto the hand in yours. You lift your eyes to meet Hotch’s hard stare. His fingers squeeze around yours and he nods.

“You’re safe,” he assures you. “Carson Peters is dead. He can’t hurt you, Emily, or anyone else ever again.”

Your fingers twitch around his as you blink back the onslaught of tears that want to pour out of you. “I couldn’t do anything.”

Hotch’s features soften. “I know.”

“I couldn’t stop him.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat. Hotch squeezes your hand again, intentionally doing so to keep your mind from wandering. He’s keeping you grounded.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “I felt so helpless.”

“I know,” Hotch states as he levels his gaze on hours. His brown eyes waver as he speaks. “Witnessing a loved one’s abuse and not being able to do anything about it is a torture all its own. In our positions we have the authority to do something about it and in most cases, we can. When we can’t,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “It’s natural to play it over and over again, to wonder where you went wrong, to think that somewhere along the line you could’ve done something, anything, to change the outcome.” His brow lifts toward his hairline. “We will kill ourselves ruminating on the what ifs and what could have beens.”

We. He’s not just talking about you anymore. He’s talking about his past when the unsub George Foyet killed his wife, Haley. You’d joined the team several years after her murder, but you’d been briefed fully on the case. It was well known to everyone in the BAU.

It’s your turn to squeeze his hand and you realize how out of the ordinary this exchange is. You’re as close to Hotch as anyone else on the team, but he’s not usually the touchy-feely type; the occasional half hug or handshake sure, but this level of vulnerability is uncommon.

A nurse walks into the room and Hotch stands to greet her. He shakes her hand and introduces himself formally; name, rank, and title. Establishing credibility for what, you wonder. He speaks in low tones and after a moment the nurse looks at you before looking back at him. She nods her head and he thanks her before she exits the room.

“What was that about?” you ask.

“A favor,” he answers as the nurse guides a wheelchair into the room.

“Five minutes,” the nurse says, aiming a pointed look at Hotch.

“Understood.”

The nurse leaves and Hotch pushes the chair up to the edge of the bed. He slips a hand behind your back to help stabilize you as he extends his other hand for you to grab hold of.

“Where are we going?” you ask as you take the proffered hand. You groan as you sit up and your head spins. You swear you can feel every bone in your face throbbing as pain threatens to split you in two.

“To see Emily.”

Your heart swells. You look at Hotch, eyes widening. “I thought—”

“I told the nurse you’d stay put and allow them to do their jobs and help you if you were allowed to see her. Hence, the five minutes.”

“Five minutes,” you repeat, nodding your head.

Hotch smiles reassuringly. “Five minutes.”

Slowly, Hotch assists with the transition from bed to chair. The shift exhausts you and it sinks in just how weak you are. However, the prospect of seeing Emily keeps you alert enough to push through.

The trip to Emily’s hospital room is short. She’s two right turns and one long hallway away from yours. The door to her room is cracked when you arrive and JJ opens it as Hotch reaches for the door.

“Sweetie!” JJ smiles brightly at you, though her eyes are tired. She leans down to pull you in a gentle hug, minding your face as she does so.

Her eyes flit between you and Hotch. “She’s in and out of consciousness. They’ve got her on some pretty strong painkillers, but she’s going to be alright.”

“Are you ready?” Hotch asks.

Your heart hammers in your ears, but you nod your head and whisper, “Yes.”

JJ steps out of the way so Hotch can wheel you inside the room. You raise your chin to peer over the threshold and whimper upon seeing Emily, hand moving to cover your trembling lips. She lies still beneath the sheets, which are pulled up over her lap. Her arms sit atop the sheet, her left arm bandaged from above the elbow to her wrist. Bandages peek out from beneath her hospital gown. An oxygen cannula is fitted under her nose and butterfly bandages hold close the split in her eyebrow. Hotch puts the brake in place after wheeling you right up to her bedside. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “JJ and I will be right outside. Five minutes,” he says.

Your eyes don’t leave Emily. “I understand.”

When the door clicks shut you let the floodgates open. You take Emily’s hand in yours, minding the IV jutting out from it, and cradle it to your cheek. “I’m so sorry,” you sob. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop what he was doing to you.”

You blink away the stars that dot your vision as each sob sends an intense wave of pain through the break in your nose and bruising under your eyes.

Emily’s thumb sweeps slowly across your cheek. You take a shuddering breath and swallow your tears as you turn your attention to her. Her eyes crack open and a small smile ghosts her lips.

You gasp and choke back a sob. The smile that splits your face sends a burst of pain through your bones, but you don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You’d feel this pain and all that she endured to see her warm, brown eyes on yours like they are now. Her smile, despite the pain meds dulling her senses, reaches her eyes and they’re so bright. As you look into them, for a moment you’re no longer in the hospital. You’re on a bench overlooking the Potomac and the sun is setting; its golden rays falling over Emily’s face and her eyes changed from brown to liquid gold. It was then you knew you’d never love looking into someone’s eyes as much as you loved looking into hers, that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved her.

You blink once and you’re back in the hospital. “I’m so sorry,” you blubber and clutch her hand to your chest. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, but the way she says your name is as soothing as ever. She shushes you and presses her fingers into your skin as she grips your hand. “Shh, baby, honey, look at me.”

You swallow and try your best to still your quivering lip as you raise your eyes to hers. Hers are focused as she looks at you. Her perfectly manicured eyebrows arch toward her hairline as she inclines her head toward you. “There is nothing that you could’ve done that would’ve prevented this, and that is okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head in refusal.

“Hey,” Emily says, pulling you back in. “Look at me.”

You sniff and take a deep breath as you open your eyes. “If anything,” she adds. “Your being there saved my life. He drew out the torture because he had an audience. If you hadn’t been there, there’s a chance he would’ve killed me before the team got to him. Do you understand?”

Your gut response tells you that she’s right, and you have to fight the part of your brain that’s telling you otherwise.

Her hand slips out of yours and reaches to cup your face, keeping her palm along your jawline to avoid your injuries.

She smiles and gestures to herself with her other hand. “Most of this is superficial anyway. The knife he jammed into my thigh will scar and take a while to heal, but that’s the worst that was done to me. I was,” she presses her lips together as tears glisten in her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

Something between a laugh and a sob escapes your lips. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?”

Emily laughs in turn, the sound enough to make your heart swell three times over. “At least we’ll be able to spend our recovery together,” she says hopefully.

You smirk and tilt your head, considering. “My place or yours?”

Just then the door creaks open and Hotch steps inside. He smiles. “Sorry to cut the reunion short, but if I don’t get you back, I think the charge nurse will have my gun and badge.”

You all share a laugh. As he fixes the brake on the wheelchair, Emily tugs your hand toward her mouth and places a soft kiss to the backs of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You smile and nod as the tight feeling in your chest from before ebbs away. “Okay.”

As Hotch exits the room with you in tow, JJ hands you two cups of coffee. “For you and your watchdog,” she says with a nod towards Hotch.

You thank her and as Hotch pushes you back towards your room, you finally feel like things will be okay.

•

Two weeks later, you’re still on medical leave, but you feel as though you're getting back to normal. You’d been released from the hospital first and a few days later, Emily. Her apartment was bigger, so you’d gone to yours and with help from Penelope packed a bag. It was easier for you two to be in the same place knowing how often the team would be checking in.

Garcia had stayed over with you, helping you keep track of the medications the doctors had prescribed. She helped take care of Sergio too. The little guy had been all too happy to see you, weaving in between your legs and rubbing his furry head against your calves. When Emily returned home a few days later he couldn’t stop meowing. When she rested, he’d fall asleep beside her or curled up in her lap.

Just as expected, members of the team had been through in pairs, on their own, or as a whole. Penelope stopped in daily with coffees and pastries from the shop next to Emily’s building. Derek came by every other day, occasionally with Savannah when her work schedule allowed. She’d checked Emily’s wounds a few times from your insisting as you were worried about infection. Savannah assured you each time that Emily was and would continue to be fine so long as she kept up with changing her bandages and taking the antibiotics she’d been prescribed. Hotch had only visited once, which was unnecessary but still so kind of him. You knew he often stayed late working to ensure everyone else could go home on time. He did this all while balancing his responsibility as a father and the fact that he sacrificed a little bit more of his personal time just to check in on you two meant so much. Rossi had sent homemade Italian with Penelope or Derek. This week you’d been given enough carbonara to feed an army.

You’re fixing two bowls now for you and Emily, a late dinner as you’d both fallen asleep around 3pm and napped until 7pm no thanks to the pain medicines that kept you two on relatively similar sleep schedules. You shred some parmesan and sprinkle it over the top before sticking a fork into each.

“I’ve got dinner!” you call as you make your way back to the bedroom.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You push open the door with your hip and place the bowls on Emily’s bedside table.

You lean down and kiss her, wincing slightly. The bruising around your eyes and cheekbones has gone down dramatically, but your nose was still bound and held in place by a splint and medical tape. The doctors say in about a week or so, it should be healed completely but to still exercise caution with day to day activities.

Emily rests on top of the covers. Her hair is up and out of her face in a loose ponytail, pieces of which had fallen out while sleeping and now stick to and around her face in various places. You try your best to smooth them down before cupping her chin in your hand. You smile and stroke your fingers along the smooth skin of her jaw before dropping your hands to pull the throw blanket down off of her waist, exposing her legs, bare except for the plaid pajama shorts she wears and bandages wrapped around her thigh.

She shivers in response to the air against her legs. “Sheesh, give a girl some warning!” she protests and you throw her a cheeky grin.

You open the bedside drawer and retrieve the supplies to clean and dress her wound. “We should finish the rest of that movie,” you suggest as you climb onto the bed to kneel beside her. Using a small pair of scissors, you carefully snip away the bandages to reveal the square gauze pad covering the wound. “I want to know how it ends and we keep falling asleep.”

Emily snorts. “That’ll happen when we both take narcotics before bed thinking we’ll make it to the end.”

“Yeah, but,” you remove the gauze and inspect the incision, searching for any signs of infection around the twelve carefully placed stitches. As you squeeze a bit of the antibacterial ointment onto your finger and gently rub it over the spiky black threads of the sutures, you can’t help but think of how much it resembles the caterpillars that used to invade the trees in your backyard as a kid, a story Emily did not care for your retelling when you first did this. “It shouldn’t be so hard to make it through a two hour movie.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen The Parent Trap,” Emily says, bristling as your fingers rub over a particularly sensitive area.

You apologize as you lay a fresh gauze pad over the wound. Your fingers move quickly as you unroll and wind a new roll of bandages to keep the gauze in place. When you finish, you wipe your hands off and gently massage the skin around her thigh knowing it helps to stimulate blood flow to the area.

Emily moans in response to the treatment. Her head lolls to the side and she peeks at you from behind long lashes. “I can’t wait to show you how grateful I am for your incredible nursing skills.”

You arch a brow at her as a smile quirks at the corner of your mouth. “Down girl,” you tease playfully.

Emily bends her opposite leg, raising her heel to curve around your body. She pokes her toes up under your tee shirt and your back stiffens as they touch your skin. You reach behind your back and grab her by the ankle, chastising her as you laugh and place it back on the mattress. “Emily!”

“What??” she asks, laughter tumbling from her full lips.

“We’ve not been cleared yet for that!”

She pouts in response and you clamber over her, carefully, so as not to disturb the injuries of her leg. You straddle her waist and lean down to place a soft kiss along the curve of her jaw. “Trust me, I want to get back to that as much as you do.” Your eyes drop to the swell of her breasts, her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her camisole. “But you and I both know neither one of us are capable of having gentle sex, and I don’t think our doctors would be happy if we did anything to make this take any longer than it already is.”

Emily groans in frustration. “Stupid doctors and their stupid orders.”

You laugh as you lean down to grab your dinners off her nightstand. Carefully, you lift your leg and roll over her body to your side of the bed; passing Emily her bowl as you do so. You reach down and pull the throw blanket up over both of you as you snuggle into the uninjured half of her body. She turns and places a kiss on your temple as she grabs the remote and clicks on the tv.

As she twirls pasta around on her fork, she turns to you and smiles. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she says, eyes twinkling.

You smile in turn. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than with you here, right now, at this moment in time.”

“I love you,” she says.

“Not as much as I love you,” you answer.

“Impossible,” Emily promises.

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blakeswritingimagines · 5 months ago

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Yandere Baby Daddy Maegor Targaryen

Maegor, already a paranoid, power-hungry king, takes an even more dangerous turn upon becoming a father. His already cruel and harsh rule becomes more violent, his paranoia growing immensely. He locks you away in the Red Keep, refusing to let you leave without his supervision, and hires armed guards to watch over you constantly. His child is his heir, and so he puts on an obsessive facade in order to ensure the child’s safety. Anyone who even so much as gives the child a look is met with violence.

He never allowed anyone but himself to so much as touch his child. He insisted on doing everything for the child himself. Bathing, changing - everything. He was an overprotective and possessive father, refusing to let anyone but him and a select few he trusted get near his child - even the child’s mother.

He grows possessive, viewing you and the child as his property, and nobody else’s. He will kill anyone who even looks at you in a wrong way, or dares to touch you. He always demands access to you and doesn’t hesitate to lash out if it is denied.

Maegor would also be insanely possessive. He would watch his child like a hawk, refusing to let them wander from his sight. He would refuse to let anyone, even family, get close to the child. You would eventually grow to fear him even more and would dread the day his son would become more independent.

He’d be very possessive over you as well. Maegor would make it clear that he would kill anyone who attempted to woo you. He’d watch you constantly, even more than the child, never allowing you a moment to yourself. He’d forbid you from interacting with other men, including friends and family, and would only allow you out of his sight with guards he would hand-select.

He and you would likely have several more kids if he can help it, which would lead to him becoming even more paranoid. He would refuse to leave their upbringing to the nurses and caretakers. Instead, he would take on the job of caregiving to the extreme and would spend every waking moment tending to each of the children, his sleep schedule, and his own health suffering because of it. However much he may have cared for you before the children would soon diminish to near nothing, and he would barely regard you as a person, simply as a vessel for his heirs.

Yes, he definitely spoils his babies, to a dangerous degree. He would make sure his children would never want for anything. He would lavish them with gifts and allow them the finest clothes, toys, food, and other necessities. The children would never have to do anything themselves, their father would coddle them every step of the way.

He would spoil you as well initially, but as time went on he would spend more and more time doting on the children, and less time on you Eventually he would stop giving gifts to you altogether and would grow to consider you as simply a vessel for his heirs.

During the pregnancy:

During the pregnancy, he would become even more insanely possessive. He would be obsessed with watching your every move, and make sure you didn’t eat anything he considered “unfit” for his heir. Maegor wouldn’t allow you to leave the Red Keep without his supervision, and he would only leave with you if it was absolutely necessary. He would become much more controlling, demanding, and protective.

He’d spend his time doting on you and your pregnant belly. He would constantly be rubbing and caressing your stomach, would make up numerous reasons why you shouldn’t be standing or walking around, and would demand that you rest at all times. He would take your food requests seriously and would send servants for even the oddest requests.

Extremely attentive to your health. He’d make sure you ate well, slept enough, and were generally taken care of. He’d spend a lot of time with his hand on your stomach, feeling the baby’s movement and talking to it. The king had an odd desire to be as close as possible to the child while it was still in your stomach.

He’d be obsessed with monitoring your weight, to the point that he would weigh you regularly. If you gained more than he’d like, he would restrict your diet, and if you gained too little, he’d force you to eat more. He would also be obsessed with listening to the baby’s heartbeat, forcing you to lie down each day so he could listen. And of course, he would always be watching you, constantly observing for any signs of a miscarriage or stillbirth.

He’d demand to be present for all doctor’s appointments. He would hover over you constantly, fretting if you ever stubbed your toe. He would keep you from doing anything he thought was too strenuous, and would spend hours rubbing your feet and back to soothe your aches.

He'll be very sweet at first. He’d take care of you, make sure you were comfortable and would be obsessive in his want to be close to you all the time. If you wanted something, he would make sure you had it right away. He would also constantly tell you how wonderful you were, and how wonderful you would look with a big belly. He’d talk excitedly about the children you'd would have together.

After the pregnancy:

Extremely paranoid and overprotective. He would not allow you to do anything that could hurt you or the child, including going outside and working in the garden. He would assign guards to watch you.

He would constantly be checking how you were feeling and would make you take a rest every few hours. He would insist on feeding you himself, bringing your food, and watching to make sure you ate every bite.

He’d be constantly checking your health, making you strip down and get on the scale every day to monitor your weight even afterwards. He would force you to rest a great deal, sometimes locking you in the bedroom because he felt you got up one too many times in a day.

He’d also have the wet nurse give you a cup from each feeding, wanting you to nurse the children as often as possible to increase their health and strength. Even though you're already tired he’d push you to nurse as well.

He would obsess over your appearance. Making sure that you looked perfect each day. He’d make you work with a maester to “snap back” to your pre-pregnancy body. He’d buy you expensive clothing in order to keep you looking like a high-born lady and would take you to the Red Keep’s tailor to make sure your clothes were always the perfect fit. Your appearance was a status symbol for him.

As soon as you could safely have another baby he's jumping on you. He would likely start trying for another baby as soon as possible after your first child was born. When it came to continuing the line, he wasn’t a patient man.

With the child/children:

He’d be obsessed with them, like extremely obsessed. He would spend a ridiculous amount of time tending to their every need and would be watching their every move. The kids would be spoiled rotten no doubt, their father would see to that. Toys, candies, and whatever else they could want would be in limitless supply for them.

He’d be extremely attentive and obsessed with them, refusing to let anyone but the wet nurse handle the children. He’d spend hours holding them, and would constantly worry over their health, asking the wet nurse over and over again if they’d eaten enough or too much. He’d have a hard time allowing them to be too far from him, and he would refuse to let them leave the Red Keep at all.

Yes, he would ensure each and every child had a dragon. He’d have the keepers present a new egg to each child as soon as they reached the appropriate age, and would supervise the children closely at every chance to ensure the bond began as soon as possible.

He’d love his daughter fiercely but would be concerned by the fact that he felt a male heir was still desperately necessary. He’d dote on her as equally as her brothers but would struggle to overcome his disappointment that he hadn’t produced a male heir. She would suffer because, despite her father's obvious affection, she wouldn’t have the same opportunities as her brothers. He’d likely restrict her from riding a dragon and training with swords and other weapons.

He’d be very proud and elated at the birth of his son. He’d spend as much time with the boy as possible, holding him and showing him off whenever he could. He’d be quick to start pushing the boy into training for war and would start searching out an appropriate tutor for the boy. He’d also begin looking for a possible betrothal, wanting to ensure the boy had a worthy future wife. Of course, he would be very picky about who would be good enough to wed his son.

#maegor targaryen #maegor the cruel #maegor x reader #yandere maegor #maegor targaryen x reader #maegor targaryen x you #maegor targaryen x yn #yandere maegor targaryen #yandere maegor targaryen x reader

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electricbathsalt · 8 months ago

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Things I want to talk about/touch upon/see people mention more but cannot compile individual coherent posts about:

1. The fact Pops’ daughter apparently had a “falling out” with Pops (over her marriage??) that caused her to completely abandon the yakuza and maybe also cut contact with Pops (the dude is suspicious guys)

2. The fact that in the Overhaul-LOV initial meeting, Chisaki had to have intentionally chosen not to kill Mr. Compress.

3. The idea that many of Chisaki’s thought processes at least partially stem from his time in AFO’s facility. And of course, Pops.

4. How much Chisaki seems to lack a proper reaction to any sort of pain (He was beat to a pulp by Mirio & Midoriya, exploded himself, & got his arms cut off and I’ve never heard him so much as yelp) while still complaining about how overhauling himself hurts?? Yet he doesn’t show it.

5. (Highway scene) How Chisaki only screamed once the realization he wouldn’t be able to ever wake up Pops sunk in (isn’t confirmed but. I’m convinced).

6. The fact that there’s absolutely no way Chisaki wasn’t negatively impacted by being raised in the Yakuza. It’s simply inherent.

7. The blatant disregard Pops had to have had for both Chisaki and Eri’s well-beings to have designated Chisaki as her caretaker.

8. The endless amounts of potential for Chisaki & Dabi/Touya dynamics post-war, platonic or otherwise. (Multiple fics with this premise in my WIPs, lol)

9. The fact Chisaki seems practically incapable of holding a grudge. Like, think about it; is there a character you can say Chisaki genuinely, wholeheartedly hates and wishes the worst upon. You know what—what IS his opinion on Shigaraki/the LOV these days??

10. Realizing that in the initial Overhaul-LOV meeting, Chisaki literally just tone-matched them. Look:

Mr Compress says all that, and then Chisaki later explains:

Which, once you break down what Mr Compress said/how he said it, and what Chisaki said/how he said it… blunt statement of facts. Mr Compress told Toga how faded out the Yakuza have become with no sugarcoating, and Chisaki took that and said. “Well. Yeah.” But then when Chisaki did the same thing (blunt but true & valid criticisms of the LOV/Shigaraki’s leading skills (bc let’s be real, he was an ass leader at the time in terms of actual planning and execution)), the LOV got pissed. He pointed out all the relevant flaws and mistakes in Shigaraki’s leadership and then said it’d be better if he was the leader because he actually has a plan, and they got pissed at the mere prospect of serving under somebody else. Do you realize how much the story would’ve been altered if the LOV didn’t decide to just start attacking Chisaki here?? 💀 Sorry I’m exceptionally passionate about this bc the fandom gaslit me for a while into believing Chisaki was the one starting shit here 😔 but then I read it (a long time after I'd watched it in the anime) and was like. "what. he didn't initiate literally any of this shit. and everything he's saying is true??"

There’s probably more I could add to this but it’s getting long enough lol.

#bnha #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #overhaul #mha #league of villains #shigaraki tomura #dabi #todoroki touya #shimura tenko #rambles #rant #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shie hassaikai #bnha pops #bnha eri

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lilacxquartz · 8 months ago

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Don’t Make Me Feel Alive | Chapter 1

kenjaku x f!reader

plot: diagnosed at an early age with an illness that slowly deteriorated your body; you went from being a promising sorcerer to a retired husk of your once former self until he found you, offering you an opportunity to live instead—not that you had a choice to refuse.

chapter summary: you used to be so powerful before your illness claimed you and right on your deathbed, rather than finally meeting your end, you met your salvation instead. or did you?

themes: yandere, chronically ill reader, forced dynamic, non-con, dub-con, violence, caretaking, unrequited feelings, sorcerer reader, dead-dove, mixed pov, potential interpretations of dubious sorcery, spoilers

AO3 Link • Chapter Directory • Next Chapter >

1. Beginning

You were born with a disease; a terrible one too.

At first, you didn’t really notice it in your youth as the progression was initially subtle, the signs not really quite there just yet and for that duration, you were bustling with potential, a promising sorcerer with a powerful technique—a future so bright and aglow with promise.

However, all good things must come to an end and that’s exactly where you were headed.

Even if you were once sculpted with such strength and vibrancy—the illness drained away all the colour from your once saturated existence, replacing your present day life with a film of bleak monochrome, anchoring away at your body, soul and mind.

Not even your cursed technique known for its electrifying power was capable of reigniting the spark lost within you; your body relented against you, forcing you to succumb and deteriorate with not a single thing you could do.

It was a little humiliating in a way—like a bitter pill that you weren’t quite ready to swallow and yet here you were, forced to face reality whether you wanted to or not.

It felt strange being on your deathbed in your mid twenties, but it wasn’t all too bad.

The doctor who oversaw you did her best to offer comfort, assuring you that it likely wasn’t your time just yet, but she didn’t feel what you did, she didn’t understand your body the same way that you did. It was close, almost time for you to go, but strangely you didn’t quite mind. Whether it was your final week or your final day, you felt excited; you wanted to rest.

This was a sickness that made you feel weak after all, so tired and terribly sore.

So when you felt that strangely alluring pull invite you to a place you probably shouldn’t quite tempt going to just yet, you found yourself unable to resist the promise of a good sleep. Maybe even, with some luck, it could last forever and you would never have to live out your days in pain again.

To finally be devoid of suffering.

To drift off into oblivion, lost in an eternal void.

And yet, as you succumbed to the total darkness that otherwise awaited you, there was a strange sensation that manifested in the waking world—an interference of some kind? It felt as though unseen hands reached out to grab you, interrupting you from going under a final time and pulling you back to the surface, forcing you to live another day.

Your eyes reluctantly opened, feeling that something was off.

You were being monitored—watched by something, someone.

Your eyes focused on the person who stood before you, meeting with his chilling gaze from a stare so vacant and devoid of humanity, that he could have been the devil himself.

The stranger greeted you with cold indifference, bordering contempt as he continued to guide his gaze, the palms that he had initially planted firm against your chest now slowly moving away, having successfully done something that you couldn’t quite understand; your body still felt sore and yet, the pull of the void wasn’t so strong anymore.

Did he just give you life?

“It would be such a waste of a good technique if you were to die right now, you know,” the stranger spoke, his voice calm and deliberate, laced with a threat that he kept hidden well.

“What good is it if I can’t use it?” you croaked in response.

His lips curled into an amused smile as he heard your question, those soulless eyes finally ablaze with life, a flicker of something almost human.

“You can. Or, at least, I can make it so that you will be able to again.”

“Impossible,” you denied, knowing fully well that your body didn’t work the way you wanted it to, no matter how many times you have tried before.

“Don’t be so sure,” he persisted, his voice ringing almost melodic as he continued to fill your mind with ideas you couldn’t quite believe, “don’t you want to live your life again?”

You sighed into a nod, however not trusting the stranger just yet. There was something incredibly off-putting about him, seeming just a little too calculated and methodic, as if danger lurked behind his promising words.

“I mean, I want to, but…” you began.

“Sleep on it,” he told you, seeming to tease you as his widening grin revealed his teeth, “you were about to anyway, weren’t you?”

“Y-yeah, but-”

“Then do so,” he said, taking a step forward, “dream.”

The strange man’s words felt strangely hypnotic as you found yourself exhausted once again. A part of you wondered if this was some sort of hallucination already, perhaps one of those dreams that people could have as their bodies closed up shop, even if you did clock it as unfortunately real.

You closed your eyes as you let the pull of the void take you under once more, feeling the strangely familiar touch of unseen hands tugging away at your body once again, pulling your soul back up to the surface, preventing you from fading away. It was again that you felt haunted by a looming danger, your eyes blurring to focus awake.

When you finally properly awoke, you took immediate note that you weren’t in the hospital anymore despite being hooked up to similar machinery.

Where exactly were you?

As you sat up to make sense of your surroundings, your eyes scrolled around the room in a surge of desperation—your gaze begging for a clue, only for your stomach to drop as your body froze. Right by the door, he stood there, that same man from before with his creepy, unsettling smile.

“I will be honest with you though, you might not like what you’ll have to do,” the strange man spoke, his words flowing as smoothly as they did before.

“Which is…?” you asked, sounding a little resigned. Of course there was a catch, there always was.

“You’re going to be helping me with something.”

You blinked, “And that’s bad?”

“Given your prior alignment, I’d say so,” he smiled as he took a step closer, his fingertips brushing against your cheek, “but worry not, you will live should you accept.”

“But what if I refuse?” you dared to ask, your voice barely a whisper as his touch seemed to dampen your ability to speak.

“Don’t be silly,” he replied with a softer tone, his black eyes boring into yours as he intensified his unrelenting gaze—his smile falling flat, “I wouldn’t let you.”

(Not even if you tried to do so again and again.)

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zukosdualdao · 10 months ago

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i can’t stop thinking about WHY zutara bonding in the crystal catacombs scene is so moving and its just so!!!!

like. katara is someone who specifically addresses her mother’s death to empathisze with other people, like haru or jet. and while they do connect with her on this level (and i have lots of <3 feelings about haru and katara), she is always the one initially extending the empathy. she is always the one in that caretaking role.

and when she brings up her mother in the crossroads of destiny, it’s different! because it’s the first time she’s taking about it in anger, as she yells at zuko about what this war has taken from her, personally.

and ZUKO is the one who reaches out to empathize with her in addressing the loss of his own mother by the hands of the fire nation. zuko, who has thus far not been more than an enemy or very brief, reluctant ally to her says: “i’m sorry. that’s something we have in common.” because he hears her crying and her grief and her anger and gets it, he does. and instead of katara being the one to reach out, to provide this kind of care for someone, for once, it’s the other way around.

and for zuko’s part! we actually see time and time again that he is someone not only capable of empathy, but rather prone to it. but it’s a part of himself he HATES. he’s been taught a very harsh lesson by his father: caring for others is a weakness. so, up to this point, he’s always not only shied away from empathy and connection with others, but actively set out to not be seen that way and perform a lack of care for them. even when he does start forming new connections, like with song, who empathizes with him through the shared pain of their scars, he can’t bring himself to return the compassion of sharing his own experience. (actually, i’d go so far as to say stealing the family’s ostritch horse at the end of the episode goes beyond the simple motivation of “we need to travel, this will make it easier”; it’s a way of reasserting to himself that whatever kinship or care he may have felt for song, he is not WEAK, he can still be the son his father wants by performing this act of disregard for others.)

but in the catacombs, he doesn’t just NOT shy away from empathy, he actively embraces it, actively makes the CHOICE to reach out. and like, he didn’t need to. while WE know katara as an extremely kind person, there was no real reason for him to expect this would be met by anything but hostility. and he chose to reach out anyway! because the thing is: he genuinely HAD grown. it’s just that healing isn’t linear.

it’s why zuko’s choice in the catacombs is so tragic, and such a betrayal for katara. because however brief it was, for a moment, they shared something real and honest and vulnerable. with someone neither of them ever would have expected it from.

#atla #zutara #katara #zuko #in my emotions #meta #the crossroads of destiny

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shiny-jr · 2 years ago

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Random idea that I probably won’t write but I thought was worth sharing anyways. About Malleus. Did I write this instead of working on a post? Yes. Anyways. I feel like this can be interpreted as yandere and not yandere so yeah. Picture this...

Ever since he was young, ever since he could remember, Malleus has had the oddest dreams. He doesn’t quite know when they started, they just started one day. The earliest memory he has of the strange occurrences were when he was still a kid, when all he knew was the palace and those within the valley. There was always someone in his dreams, someone he didn’t know. It was a stranger, with flat round ears, not like the pointed ones everyone else he knew had. They looked to be around his age, although he assumed it wasn’t so, because if this was a human than they aged differently than a fae like him did.

At first the meetings in his dreams were awkward. This person seemed as hesitant as him. As for Malleus, well, his grandmother always reminded him to uphold a certain amount of dignity and elegance even if he was still a young prince. Eventually though, somehow, interactions were sparked. It could have happened by an unexpected comment, a glance, or one of them taking the initiative, it happened though. As a fae prince with an already worrying amount of power and status, he was avoided, and there were no others his age within the palace. So this curiosity became his friend.

When he told his caretakers and others about his friend, they assumed it to be an imaginary friend of some sort. To which the prince, irritated, tried to explain that his dear friend was real! Eventually, he began to look forward to sleep, because he wanted to play with his new companion in his dreams. It was eventually brought to the queen’s attention that her grandson was purposefully avoided certain tasks so he could go to bed early and spend more time with this “friend” he insisted he had.

Now, the queen was fair, and she loved her grandson, but she would not tolerate disobedience when the prince became more stubborn concerning these issues. When she had the most experienced magicians look into the matter, they discovered slight traces of magic whenever the prince slept and dreamt of his friend. Its origins were unknown, and for what reason was it there, no one could quite understand either. But it was there. And it became evident that Malleus had been telling the truth, he was seeing someone in his dreams.

Malleus would happily detail his latest adventures to caretakers. He smiled so brightly that he lit up the gloomy dark halls, he was the happiest whenever he got to speak about his friend. He eagerly recounted the stories they shared and the games they played. This friend didn’t know he was a prince, and once they did they didn’t care because they couldn’t realize the influence he had. They were oblivious, but he was happy. Based off what her grandson told, this friend of his seemed just as oblivious as him as to why they met in dreams. Although it seemed harmless at the moment, she could’ve allow it to go on, but Malleus was beginning to prioritize this friend above all. So, she would cut it off. She would not risk it when so much was not known about the circumstances. Much to the young prince’s tears and begging, the queen had her master magicians create a spell powerful enough to sever this mysterious connection and stop these dreams once and for all.

At first, the young prince cried and screamed. The usually calm child threw such a tantrum over the loss of their closest friend. And with his abilities and magic that he had yet to master, he caused such an ominous destructive storm to hang over the valley for several months. It caused flooding and the lightning sparked some fires. For what she did, he never quite forgave his grandmother, even as hundreds of years passed. Whenever it was brought up, he would be bitter and sullen for quite a while. It’s become an unspoken rule to never bring it up around the prince. And still, hundreds of years later, a part of him hoped that whenever he slept, he might dream of his dear friend again. But it never happened, and he’d always wake up to the black canopy above him with them on his mind. It had been so long that he was starting to forget their voice, their face, and it scared him.

So imagine his shock when he had wandered the familiar grounds of the abandoned mansion on campus, as he usually did, only to find it not so abandoned anymore. The lights were on, someone was there inside. At first he was a bit upset that his favorite wandering grounds would no longer be available to him, but his feelings quickly changed when he spotted a figure with an awfully familiar face. The sight of this person on the street that look just as surprised to see him but not for the same reason, caused him to freeze in his tracks and his glowing green eyes to widen. This person standing before him, looked exactly like his dear friend from his childhood dreams, but older.

You were startled to see a tall thin stranger with black hair and black curved horns just outside what was supposed to be your new residence in the dead of night. But what unsettled you even more was the peculiar gleam in his eyes that contained some strange sort of excitement and the wide fang-toothed smile he gave. What caused you to take a step back in apprehension was his smooth voice that greeted you politely, yet eagerly,

“Hello, (Y/n).”

You never once told this stranger your name.

#malleus draconia #Malleus #malleus x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus draconia

717 notes · View notes

justsomewritingblog · 6 months ago

Text

The Right Thing

Request: Nope

Requested By: Nobody

Prompt: "Don’t patronize me for something you were too scared to do!"

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!OC/reader

Summary: Hunt's best friend, Draco Malfoy, accepts the Dark Mark. She doesn't approve.

Warnings: violence (battle), mentions of death, mentions of blood

A/N: THIS IS SOOOO LATE. Holy moly, where does the time go?

Word Count: 12K+

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

I walked through Hogwarts’ doors, looking up and marveling at the scale of the place.

“First years, follow me, please,” a woman- I assumed a witch- instructed before leading everyone up a staircase. She wore a large pointy hat and green robes.

I followed her, grimacing as I bumped shoulders with a few other children.

“The sorting ceremony is your initiation at Hogwarts,” the woman explained, leading us through large double doors.

A big room with four long tables was revealed to us. They were nearly full with teenagers. Another table was at the end of the room, many adults sitting at it. Candles floated in the air, casting a pleasant warm glow.

As we were led further into the room, I could see a stool with something sitting atop it in front of the adults’ table.

The witch turned to face us, gesturing to the space in front of her. “Wait here, please. Before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words.”

A man with long white hair and beard stood from his seat at the middle of the adult table. “I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce.” He paused. “The first years, please note…that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker,” he gestured to the doors, “Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you… that the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone that does not wish to die a most painful death.”

I cocked an eyebrow.

“Thank you.” Dumbledore smiled before sitting back down.

The witch that led us in pulled out a scroll, opening it. “Now, when I call your name, you will come forth… I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head,” she lifted the hat, “and you will be sorted into your houses.” She looked down at the scroll she held in her right hand before looking back towards the crowd of first years. “Hermione Granger.”

A girl near the front of the group slowly moved forward, sitting on the stool. The hat was placed on her bushy hair. A few seconds later it shouted out “Gryffindor!”

One of the long tables erupted into cheers and applause.

I assumed that was the Gryffindor table.

Granger got off the stool, moving to sit at the table.

At the call of my name, I turned to the witch and eyed the hat in her hand before moving towards the stool, sitting down atop it.

“Ahh,” the hat said. “What have we here? Got a bit of bravery, a good deal of loyalty to your close friends…”

I looked up as best I could, trying to see the hat.

It went on. “Smart, too. I also see a great deal of passion and ambition. You want things to go your way, and you’ll do much to get yourself there.” The hat hummed. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Wherever will benefit me the most,” I reasoned quietly, hoping that my parents would be proud no matter what house I was put in.

“Very well. I will put you in…Slytherin!”

I let out a small breath of relief as the table by the right wall grew loud with claps. The hat was lifted off my head and I moved from the stool, making my way to the end table. I slid down the empty end of the benches, sitting by another student before returning my attention to the ceremony.

The witch looked at her scroll again before lifting her head. “Draco Malfoy.”

A boy near the front moved towards the stool, his hair the whitest blond I had ever seen. He sat on the stool, turning to face the students.

The witch began to lower the hat.

“Slytherin!”

My table began clapping again.

I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t think the hat even touched his head.

The boy walked over to the Slytherin table, sitting across from me.

“Susan Bones.”

A redheaded girl stepped forward to sit on the stool, a nervous look on her face.

“My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

I turned, looking at the boy addressing me.

His hand was outstretched.

I eyed it, extending my hand to shake it as I looked back into his grey eyes. “I know.”

He cocked an intrigued eyebrow, his confident smirk growing as he returned his hand to his side. “You’ve heard of me.”

“Most pureblood families know who the Malfoys are,” I reasoned, glancing back in time to see Bones walking towards a table.

It wasn’t the Gryffindor or Slytherin ones, but I couldn’t tell if it was Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.

I turned back to the blond. “Your name was also just announced.”

“Ronald Weasley.”

I looked back, seeing a redheaded boy move towards the seat.

The hat was placed on his head and shortly shouted out “Gryffindor”.

Weasley let out a sigh of relief, moving to the table and sitting amongst several other redheads.

“How many children does one family need?”

I turned to Malfoy, noting his displeased expression.

“Harry Potter.”

My eyes widened and I spun around.

A boy with dark hair and circular glasses moved out of the crowd, looking back briefly before settling on the stool.

The hat was placed on his head. For many moments, it sat there.

Potter muttered something.

The hat finally yelled out “Gryffindor!”

Potter got off the seat and moved to the Gryffindor table as everyone greeted him with enthusiasm.

I heard a scoff and looked back at Malfoy.

“Precious Potter,” he said with a sneer. “I’m surprised they didn’t have a parade for him.”

I smirked. “The day’s not over, Malfoy.”

Malfoy’s frown turned into a mischievous smile. “I think you and I can be great friends, Hunt.”

My smirk grew into a grin. “I think so, too.”

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

I stepped away from the display at the front of the bookshop, beginning to head towards the exit.

Gilderoy Lockhart was, unfortunately, selling the textbooks needed for the school year.

My parents walked behind me, talking to each other.

I lifted my gaze, seeing a mass of red hair.

Moving through the group of spectators, I approached them. “Ah, the Weasleys,” I said, looking over at them. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Some eyed me suspiciously, others in simple confusion.

“What do you want, Hunt?”

I turned to Ron. “Nothing, Weasley.” I cocked an eyebrow. “I’m just here for my books.” I looked between all of the children. “I assume you’re here to do the same?”

Lockhart moved towards the group, grabbing Potter and pulling him up to the front, making some sort of remark about them being in the newspaper.

“Something like that,” Ron said coldly.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not your enemy, Weasley.”

“Any friend of Malfoy is an enemy of mine,” he said, looking over at me.

I straightened, my clutch on my books tightening. “I see.” Turning around to face my parents, I nodded towards another area of the shop. “I’m almost ready. I just want to look at one more thing.”

“Alright,” my mother said, smiling down at me.

I moved to a different corner of the store, eyes raking over the bindings of the books. I frowned. The book I was thinking about getting wasn’t there. I returned to my parents, nodding at them. “I’m done.”

They nodded back and began to usher me towards the door.

The Weasleys and their crew had moved towards the exit, as well.

“-Potter. You’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

I smiled at the familiar voice. Moving around the Weasleys, I made my way towards the blond. “Draco,” I greeted with a smile.

Draco lifted his gaze to me before it was immediately drawn to his father’s cane that pushed on his shoulder to move him out of the way.

Mr. Malfoy began talking to Potter as I walked behind him, heading for Draco.

“Good to see you, Draco,” I said with a smile.

He gave a forced smile back before his gaze drifted over my shoulder to look at his father.

My smile dropped of its own accord, but I managed to keep it from falling completely into a frown. Clearing my throat, I looked up at him. “Did you get your books yet?”

“I got them earlier,” he replied distractedly, only glancing down at me for a brief moment.

“I see.” Looking to the side, I huffed out a breath before looking back to the blond. “I guess I’ll see you at school, Draco.”

He nodded, his eyes still on his father.

I frowned, returning to my parents. “I’m ready to leave.”

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

I looked around Platform Nine and Three Quarters, standing on the tips of my toes to see over people.

Parents were saying goodbye to their children before they boarded the Hogwarts Express.

My gaze landed on a head of blond hair. I smiled at the familiar shade. Feet moving into action, I made my way over, the speed of my steps increasing as I got closer. As I approached, his gaze scanned the area before landing on me.

A smile graced his sharpening features. He turned and said something to Crabbe and Goyle, who both went inside the train, before striding towards me.

“Draco,” I greeted quietly as he approached me. I met his gaze and let out a chuckle. “I have to look up at you, now.”

He smirked down at me. “Are you saying you haven’t always looked up to me?”

I rolled my eyes with a scoff. “Hardly.” We made our way into the train. I followed behind Draco as he led me through the compartments.

He looked into each window before moving on. He stopped, entering the box that Crabbe and Goyle were sitting in.

I followed, sitting opposite Goyle, Draco on my right. Raising an eyebrow, I looked between the three. “What nonsense do you think will go on at Hogwarts this year?”

Draco scoffed. “Whatever it is, you can bet Potter and his friends will be at the center of it.”

I chuckled. “Well, obviously.” I adjusted in my seat. “I swear those three look for trouble.”

The loud sound of the train’s breaks filled the air.

I winced, looking towards the window. “We can’t be at Hogwarts yet.” Turning to the door, I slid it open, sticking my head out to peer towards the front of the train. I could see other students doing the same.

“The stupid thing probably broke down,” Draco sneered.

I drew my head back in, closing the door, as I turned to my housemates.

The lights went out.

“Oh, lovely,” I muttered.

The train jostled.

I gripped the edge of the bench to steady myself. “What in the name of Salazar is going on here?”

A harsh chill fell over the room.

Ice began to form on the window.

The loud sounds of the rain hitting the still compartment filled my ears.

I reached towards the door, lowering the curtain. Sliding backwards along the bench, I kept my eyes on the only entrance as I pulled out my wand.

A figure passed the compartment, casting a cloaked shadow on the curtain.

I held my breath.

Silence stretched on for a few moments.

My gaze stayed locked on the doorway, even as the lights came back on.

“What was that,” Crabbe asked after a few more beats of quiet.

The train began moving again.

I relaxed slightly, moving slightly away from Draco to look between the three of them. “Nothing good.”

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

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception,” Professor McGonagall began, clasping her hands together as she began walking between the rows of seated students. “On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity.” She paused and looked around. “As representatives of the host school I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward… and I mean this literally, because the Yule Ball is first and foremost… a dance.”

Whispers broke out among the students; excited sounds from the girls, irritated sounds from the boys.

I smirked.

Professor McGonagall held up her hands. “Silence!”

The students quieted.

“The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons.” She smiled. “Now, to dance is to let the body breathe.” She turned towards us. “Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight.”

I shifted my gaze to Draco, who was sitting across the room.

His cool, grey eyes met mine.

I pointedly rolled my eyes before smirking.

He smirked back before wiping his expression, looking to the head of Gryffindor as she turned to them.

“Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance- Mister Weasley.” Professor McGonagall walked towards him.

Ronald looked up at her, looking the most uncomfortable I’d ever seen him. “Yes,” he asked quietly.

She reached her hand down. “Will you join me please?”

Weasley got up silently as the rest of the boys laughed.

Potter gave his best friend a push, grinning at him.

The ginger met the Professor in the middle of the room.

She held up her arms. “Now. Place your right hand on my waist.”

He looked horrified. “Where?”

“My waist.”

Weasley apprehensively placed his hand on his professor’s waist.

A wolf whistle sounded from the boy’s side of the room.

The redhead turned his head towards it, pulling his hand off.

Professor McGonagall grabbed it, putting it back. “And extend your arm.” She looked over her shoulder. “Mr. Filch, if you please.”

Filch put the needle down on the gramophone.

Music filled the room.

Professor McGonagall looked back to Ron. “One, two, three. One, two, three.” She began to lead him in dance steps. “Everybody come together!”

The girls all stood in a hurry, moving onto the dance floor.

I sighed before pushing myself to my feet and joining them.

The boys sat further back in their chairs, seemingly trying to be swallowed by them.

“Boys! On your feet!”

The boys all looked around at each other.

Longbottom finally stood, making his way towards us.

The rest of the group groaned before standing and walking over.

Professor McGonagall’s voice called above the noise. “Everybody, Mister Malfoy!”

I stood on the tips of my toes, spotting the blond huff as he stood from his seat, slowly walking onto the dance floor.

His gaze raked the crowd.

I moved to make my way towards him when I bumped into someone. “My apologies,” I said, looking up into the face of a Ravenclaw.

“It’s alright,” he assured with a small smile.

I paused, looking around him to see Draco.

“I guess we’re practicing…” the Ravenclaw said. He looked down at me. “Would you mind dancing with me?”

“Well, I was actually...” I looked to where Draco was, no longer seeing him. My eyebrows furrowed. I looked back up at the Ravenclaw. “I’d… be delighted,” I said, forcing a practiced smile.

He grinned down at me, his white teeth standing out even more against his dark skin. He placed his hands where they were supposed to go before beginning to move us along the floor.

I periodically looked around, trying to find my housemate.

“You’re very good.”

I looked back at the Ravenclaw. “Thank you. Knowing how to dance was a necessity with my family.”

“Have a lot of parties?”

I smiled. “And things of similar nature.”

As soon as Professor McGonagall announced practice was over, I thanked my partner before stepping away, trying to find Draco. Having no luck, I returned to the Slytherin Common Room. “Pureblood,” I said distractedly before walking into the room.

The girls that were already there were excitedly discussing the upcoming dance.

I strode passed them, looking for the blond.

“Hunt!”

I turned around, looking at the group of girls. “Yes?”

“Are you going to the ball?”

“Who was that man you were dancing with?”

I looked between my housemates. “I don’t know, and I don’t know.” I glanced to the side before turning back to them. “Have any of you seen Draco?”

“I think he went up to the dorm rooms,” one of them said.

“Thank you.” I moved towards the steps, grabbing Goyle’s sleeve, dragging him away from whatever he was doing, and pushed him up the stairs in front of me.

I was a little too old for slides.

Once at the top, I thanked him before turning to the dorm Draco was assigned. I knocked on the door.

A few beats of silence followed before the sound of a quiet “it’s open” reached my ears.

I opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind me.

“What do you want,” Draco questioned, laying on his bed. He was staring at the ceiling.

“Well, I wanted to dance with you, but you vanished.”

Draco snapped his head in my direction. His surprised, and maybe even panicked, look quickly became masked by indifference. “You were dancing with somebody else.”

I strode towards him, standing at the foot of his bed. “I was trying to get to you,” I said, looking down at him.

He lifted his gaze to meet my eyes briefly before he lowered them again. “Who were you dancing with, anyway?”

I shrugged. “A Ravenclaw. He’s nice.”

Draco’s eyes shifted to the side.

A few beats of silence passed.

My eyebrow quirked up for a split second. “Are you going to the Yule Ball?”

“I don’t know.”

I hummed. “Well, if you aren’t, I’m not.”

He finally moved his gaze back to my face.

I lifted a hand to gesture. “Don’t let that affect your decision of course. Just let me know what you choose. I wouldn’t want to waste my time.” I stepped away from his bed, moving towards the door.

“You aren’t going with that Ravenclaw?”

My steps halted. “No.” I turned around to face him.

A few more beats of silence passed.

“Did you want to go?”

I pursed my lips. “I hadn’t decided.”

Another pause.

“I would only go if you did,” Draco said. “You know how to dance, and I would never be seen with someone who would embarrass me,” he quickly tacked on.

I forced myself not to smile at his response. “The choice is yours,” I said, moving towards the door. I gripped the door handle before looking back at the blond. “Goodnight, Draco.”

“Goodnight.”

I stepped out of his room, closing the door behind me.

~~~~~~~~~~

I made my way to the Great Hall.

Students were everywhere, standing in groups.

It was odd to see everyone dressed so nicely.

It was odd to be dressed so nicely at school.

Stopping by the steps, I ran my hand over my flowy skirt before reaching up and adjusting my hair. Once I realized I had done the action I quickly dropped my hand to my side, chastising myself.

Why was I so nervous?

I fought the urge to fiddle with the jeweled silver necklace that rested at my collarbone.

Someone brushed my arm.

I turned to look at them. “Oh, I-” I paused, seeing Potter and Weasley. “Hello, boys.” I silently eyed Weasley’s dress robes.

“Hunt,” Potter said tightly.

Weasley lowered his head.

I cleared my throat, looking over at the Boy Who Lived. “Good job with the tournament so far, Potter.”

He forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Two girls walked over. “Hello, boys.”

The males lifted their heads, looking over at the pair.

Potter looked over at me. “Excuse us.”

“Of course,” I said, gesturing at their dates.

The four of them moved a few steps away and began to converse.

“I see Potter managed to find a date.”

My head whipped around to the sound of the voice.

Draco’s head was turned towards Potter and Weasley, a grimace on his face.

My eyes traced his form in his dress robes appreciatively. A twinge of horror ran through me, which I’m sure appeared on my face, before I forced the thoughts from my mind. Clearing my throat, I followed his gaze. “Yes. I imagine it’s pretty easy when you’re as famous as he is.”

Draco scoffed. “As if he wasn’t famous enough already. Now he’s a part of the tourna-” Draco looked down at me, cutting himself off. His eyes widened slightly.

I fought hard against fidgeting. Instead, I raised a challenging eyebrow, hoping that if I ignored the red color growing on my cheeks, he wouldn’t notice it. “Cat got your tongue, Malfoy?” I smirked.

He met my gaze, an irritated look on his face, opening his mouth to reply.

“Ah, Mister Malfoy, Miss Hunt.”

Draco and I turned to the voice.

Professor McGonagall stood beside us. “Please head inside the Great Hall. The students are going to welcome the tournament champions and their dates.”

Draco’s face twitched in what I knew was him trying to not sneer.

I nodded. “We will, Professor.” Taking Draco’s arm, I pulled him towards the double doors.

We walked through, standing in one of the two lines along the entrance.

Music sounded and the champions walked in.

Fleur was first with her date, followed by Victor Krum and Granger.

Cedric Diggory and Chang followed them, Potter and his date taking up the rear.

I joined the others in clapping, noting that Draco’s clapping ceased once Krum had passed.

The champions and their dates began dancing.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall stepped onto the floor after a few minutes, beginning to dance as well.

Longbottom and Ginny Weasley followed.

Draco took my hand, pulling me onto the floor. Turning to face me once he stopped, he took my hand in his, placing his other on my waist.

My heart jumped at the contact, and I fought to keep my expression from showing it, instead offering him a smile as I put my free hand on his shoulder.

We stepped in time with the music, effortlessly performing the familiar steps.

“Are you having fun yet?”

He looked down at me before his gaze drifted around the room. “It could be worse,” he said as he lifted me into the air.

I smirked up at him as he set me back down, resuming our steps. “Do I displease you that much?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He looked around. “It’s crowded. And Potter-”

“Don’t think about Potter.” I held his gaze, trying to get my earnestness across. “Not tonight, Draco. Relax and enjoy the festivities, food, and people.”

Draco scanned the room again. “I doubt I’ll get much enjoyment out of the people.”

I squeezed his hand that held mine. “Try.”

Draco sighed through his nose before nodding.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you for coming, Draco.” I smiled softly. “I hope you enjoyed yourself, at least a little.”

He shrugged one shoulder, looking to the wall. “It wasn’t totally awful.”

I hummed a chuckle.

Draco looked back at me. His grey eyes shifted between mine before flickering to my lips for a brief moment. He held my gaze. “Goodnight, Hunt.”

I nodded. “Goodnight.”

We each turned around, heading towards our dormitories.

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

“Did you know that Professor Umbridge is looking for people for an inquisitor squad?”

I turned the page of the textbook laid out on the Common Room table. “No, I didn’t,” I replied, eyes scanning over the title of the next chapter.

“I’m going to volunteer.”

My gaze lifted from the page I was studying to meet Draco’s. “What will that get you?”

“Power. Authority.”

I wrote down something I expected would come up on a test in the near future. “Both temporary.”

“Maybe.” Draco paused. “I might even get a good reputation with the Ministry.”

My quill stilled.

Now that was interesting.

Eyes darting back and forth, I pondered the thought. Lifting my head to look at Draco, I ignored his smirk.

He knew he had me.

“How many people is she looking for,” I asked.

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

I stepped inside Malfoy Manor, falling into stride behind my parents.

“Lucius, Narcissa,” my father greeted, shaking their hands. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you,” Mrs. Malfoy replied, smiling.

“Have you…” Mr. Malfoy’s gaze shifted to me briefly, “informed her of the situation?”

“Not yet,” my mother said.

My eyebrows furrowed. I opened my mouth to question them, but Mrs. Malfoy walked towards me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“I imagine you want to see Draco, dear.” She smiled down at me as she began to lead me towards their grand staircase.

“Mrs. Malfoy, what’s going on?” I looked over at her as she walked with me up the steps.

“You’ll understand soon,” she assured, though her voice seemed off.

We reached the top of the steps.

“Draco,” Mrs. Malfoy called out.

I looked back down the steps, seeing Mr. Malfoy usher my parents into the dining area.

The sound of a door opening drew my attention back to the upstairs hallway.

Draco stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. He wore an entirely black suit, and when he turned to face his mother I could tell something was wrong.

My heart tugged and my stomach sank as I took in his furrowed eyebrows, dark circles under his eyes and prevalent frown on his face.

“-to see you, dear.”

Draco nodded, lowering his head as he cast his gaze at the floor.

Mrs. Malfoy placed her hand on Draco’s cheek for a few moments before walking back downstairs.

I waited with held breath.

Draco, without lifting his head, turned back around and went back inside his room.

The door was left ajar.

I waited a few moments, stuck in place, before forcing my feet to follow him. Walking inside his room, I stared at his back, stopping just inside as I closed the door halfway. Turning to him, I tried to fight against my nausea. “Draco,” I called out quietly. Taking a small step towards him, I asked “what’s wrong?”

He let out a shaky breath, one which I could see in his back and shoulders, and turned his head away from me slightly.

I took a couple more steps, lightly placing my hand on his shoulder.

He startled.

I moved around his right, trying to look at him, but he turned his head away further. “Draco,” I said softly.

His jaw twitched.

“Look at me,” I whispered, my eyebrows pulling together.

He hesitated before turning his head towards me slightly.

I put my right hand on his cheek, bringing his head around to face me completely.

He still wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Draco.”

A few moments passed before he lifted his head. His grey eyes were dim, filled with unshed tears.

My entire body got set on edge. “Draco-”

He let out a short noise, similar to a sob, before crushing me in a hug.

I froze.

What in the world could get the Malfoy heir so upset?

I wrapped my arms around him. “What’s wrong?” I squeezed him. “What happened?”

Nothing but muffled cries escaped him.

I tightened my hold, resting my head on his shoulder. “Shhh. It’s okay,” I tried to soothe. Running my hand along his back, I reminded him to breathe.

“Children!”

My heart stopped.

Draco froze.

I lifted my head, turning to face the doorway.

“Come downstairs!”

My attention was drawn back to my best friend when I felt him pull away from me.

He stood up tall and straightened out his suit.

His eyes were red and wet.

I frowned. “One moment,” I called back, not looking away from the boy before me.

He stared straight ahead, focused on the wall, as he wiped his eyes.

My frown deepened.

He moved around me, heading towards the door.

I quickly followed him out, needing to move fast to keep up with his purposeful steps.

Draco turned the corner, heading into the dining area.

I did the same, stopping dead in my tracks.

“Ah, Miss Hunt.”

My eyes widened.

The Dark Lord gestured at the free chairs at the table. “Won’t you sit down?”

I looked to Voldemort’s right, seeing Mr. Malfoy.

Mrs. Malfoy sat on her husband’s other side, Draco sitting down beside her.

On Voldemort’s left… my parents.

As much as I wanted to sit by Draco, I reasoned with myself that sitting by my parents would be more professional.

Lowering myself into the seat beside my mother, I shifted my gaze briefly to Draco, who sat across from me, before looking back at Voldemort.

“Did you enjoy your visit with young Mister Malfoy?”

I blinked at the question, fighting to keep my expression neutral.

Not really.

“As much as could be expected,” I replied.

“Good.” Voldemort nodded, grinning. “I wanted to discuss business.” He nodded his head towards my parents. “Your parents have already accepted the Dark Mark, as have the Malfoys.”

I glanced at Draco, seeing his head still cast downward. I looked back to the Dark Lord.

“The offer extends to you.”

All eyes turned on me, awaiting my decision.

I resisted the urge to shift in my seat. “What do I get out of it?”

Voldemort laughed.

Everyone else looked baffled.

“What else?” Voldemort grinned. “Power. The world will be yours.”

I nodded, sitting up straighter. “And if I refuse?”

Everyone’s heads whipped around to face me.

They all looked horrified.

I saw a twinge of something flash across Voldemort’s face.

He chuckled. “My dear Miss Hunt…” he clasped his hands on the table. “If you are not with me… you are against me.”

The room fell silent.

“I see.” I tilted my chin up. “May I have some time to think it over?”

Voldemort’s expression fell for just a moment before he plastered a grin on his face. “Certainly. How long do you require?”

“A week.”

Voldemort nodded. “Very well. Until then.” He nodded at me, but remained seated.

I stood. “Thank you.” Casting one last glance around the table at the people I grew up with, I walked out of the dining area.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I readjusted my grip on the bag I was carrying. Stopping in front of my motel room, I pulled out the key and opened the door, closing and locking it behind me once inside.

It was getting late, and I wasn’t looking forward to the darkness that came with it.

Walking further into the room, I moved towards the kitchen before stopping in my tracks.

A figure was standing in the shadows.

I whipped out my wand. “Stupe-”

“Expelliarmus!”

My wand flew out of my hand, hitting the floor several feet away.

I froze.

My heart skipped a beat and my stomach jumped to my throat.

Letting out a quiet sigh, I lowered my head, turning on the lightswitch.

The overhead lights illuminated the room.

I stared at a spot on the floor, not wanting to look my visitor in the eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Why?” I lifted my head to look at him. “How did you find me?”

Draco hesitated. “They never lost you.”

I stared at him for a few moments before walking the few steps to retrieve my wand. “So why are they only sending you now?”

“They didn’t send me.”

I turned to face him. “Then why are you here? If You-Know-Who knows where I am, why haven’t they come to kill me?”

His posture shifted. “You ask a lot of questions.”

My eyes narrowed. “Draco-”

“You’re safe.” He paused. “For now, at least.”

My eyes scanned him for a few moments, gaze settling on his sleeved arm. “I could say the same to you.” I looked up to meet his eyes. “Getting the Dark Mark won’t protect you, Draco. You’re smart enough to know he’s only going to use you until you’re no longer needed.” I marched past him and put the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t patronize me for something you were too scared to do!”

I turned around, seeing that Draco had taken a step towards me.

For the first time in the six years we’ve known each other, he was glaring at me.

I fought against the instinct to take a step backwards.

I looked him in the eyes, forcing my voice to be steady. “I think we both know who acted out of fear.”

He held my gaze for a few moments before it dropped to the floor.

I sighed quietly, turning around again to put the food away.

A few moments of silence passed.

I closed the cabinet door. “Do you want something to eat,” I asked, voice just above a whisper.

“I can’t stay.”

I frowned. Realizing I was still tense, I forced my shoulders down.

More silence.

I closed a drawer.

“Why didn’t you accept the…”

“The offer?” Without looking, I knew Draco was watching me. “Truthfully?” I turned around to face him. “I don’t want to dominate the earth. I have no desire to rule England or anything of the sort.” I walked passed him, towards the couch. “I don’t need to control a nation to get what I want in life.”

“What are your ambitions then?

My steps faltered. “I…” I spun around to face him again, seeing that he had followed me. “I would like to run a business. Be successful. Maybe get married…”

Draco’s eyes darted to the floor before looking back at me.

While his expression didn’t change much, I could see the surprise in his eyes and the slight twitch of his eyebrows.

“I don’t think ‘world dictator’ suits you, either,” I said.

“I don’t really have a choice,” he mumbled.

“Yes you do.” I walked towards him, standing less than a foot away. “Draco, this isn’t you.”

“I promised,” he said, his concerned eyes peering into mine.

“Promised? Since when have you been concerned about keeping your promises?”

“Since they involved the Dark Lord,” he whispered, irises showing his fear.

My eyes shifted between his. “Draco,” I reached down, taking his hands in mine, never pulling my gaze from his. “Run away with me. Leave this behind. You can get what you want a different way-”

“I can’t. They’re already tracking you, and I promised-”

“Draco, he’s going to kill you anyway,” I hissed. Tears formed in my eyes. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Draco’s eyes, growing wet as well, darted between my own. “I have to protect you.”

It was so quiet and under-his-breath I barely heard it.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, don’t you dare,” I muttered, the tears flowing from my eyes. Reaching forward, I pulled him into a hug, wrapping both of my arms around him as tightly as I could.

He reciprocated, clinging to me as if I were a raft on the open sea.

We buried our faces into each other’s shoulders.

I hugged him tighter.

It felt like I couldn’t get close enough.

“Draco, don’t risk your life for me,” I whispered.

His breath stuttered. His grip on me strengthened. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“Well, how do you think I feel?” I pulled away just enough to look at his face. “If you die because of me-” I cut myself off, my voice breaking.

“As long as I do what he wants, I won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” I retorted sharply.

Draco’s eyes shifted between mine for a few beats. “I should go.”

Panic bloomed in my chest. I couldn’t bear the thought of- “What if…. what if I never see you again?”

Draco stared down at me for a few tense moments. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on my lips.

It only lasted a few seconds, and I was too in-shock to reciprocate before he pulled away.

“Be careful,” he whispered.

I swallowed hard as I stared up at him. “You, too.”

Draco nodded, pulling out his wand.

I blinked, and he was gone.

Almost as if he was never there in the first place.

My mind raced.

I was only alive because Draco promised Lord Voldemort something. Once that thing is done, whatever it is, or if Draco fails…

I took in a shaky breath, looking over at the kitchen.

What would happen if I left?

If the Death Eaters were no longer able to find me, would they have anything over Draco? Would Draco be free, or would he simply be killed?

My stomach churned.

The risk wasn’t worth it.

I forced my legs to move towards the kitchen.

I would just have to trust that Harry Potter would fulfill his role and end this, once and for all.

My steps paused.

Harry Potter.

Gripping my wand, I walked towards the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting to the Boy Who Lived turned out to be harder than I had initially imagined.

I had presumed that the Weasley family would take him to protect him.

But first, I had to get rid of my babysitter.

Diagon Alley, since the shocking news of Dumbledore’s death, had become far less crowded than it had been.

Voldemort was free to do whatever he wanted.

Rightfully, the streets were nearly abandoned.

Losing the Death Eater was going to be harder than I thought.

I turned through several alleyways, going into shops and leaving them through different doors, sneaking around as best as I could.

Swiping a coat from a store, I tugged it on, tucking my hair into a hat I grabbed. I strode out, altering my walk, as I made my way into the broom shop. I grimaced as I looked at all of them.

Such an uncivilized form of travel.

With a sigh, I grabbed one and paid for it, wrapping it before exiting the building.

I had already tried apparating to the Weasleys’, but it wasn’t letting me.

They must have put spells against it.

Potter was definitely there.

I made my way to an apparition point, quickly traveling to the middle of nowhere.

The field I stood on was vast, and the plants around me were only just starting to grow.

My gaze dropped to the broom in my hand.

Letting out a sigh, I unwrapped it and straddled the object.

My heart began to race.

I had never once been on a broom before.

I gently pulled up on the object and it rose into the air.

I wobbled and clutched the broom tighter, leaning down closer to it in an attempt to be more stable.

The broom shot forward.

I leaned down lower, gasping.

The broom sped up.

That was interesting.

With all of my willpower and bravery, I unattached myself from the broom handle, sitting upright and leaning back.

The broom stopped.

I held on tightly, grunting as I was almost thrown from the sudden action.

Heaving out breaths, I brushed some of the hair out of my face.

Sitting upright, I cleared my throat.

Time to find the Weasleys.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I slowed down the broom as the Weasleys’ house grew closer.

A flying, uninvited, object approaching them from the sky would probably not be welcome.

I lowered into the tall grass surrounding the building. Getting off the broom, I let out a relieved breath and looked around for any threats.

The Weasleys’ home was incredibly tall and skinny, almost as if whoever made it was trying to fit the whole family in there but only had a limited space to do so.

I saw some people wandering around the outside of the house. Creeping closer, I could make out Professor Lupin. My gaze lifted to one of the windows, noticing Potter walk by it, ascending a staircase.

They really should have their curtains closed.

I waited a few beats to see if anyone else was with him before apparating, landing on my feet behind the boy.

He spun around, drawing his wand.

I raised my hands in surrender. “I’m not your enemy, Potter.”

His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “How do I know that?”

“If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already,” I said with fake confidence, knowing deep down that Potter was likely more proficient than me at dueling.

But he didn’t know that.

“Yeah,” he nodded his head to the side briefly, “maybe.”

Slowly lowering my hands, I kept my gaze on him as I shifted my right hand to my left arm.

He watched me carefully as I rolled up my sleeve.

My bare forearm was revealed to him.

He let out a quiet relieved breath and lowered his wand to his side. “What do you want?”

“I want to help you end this.” I pulled my sleeve back down. “I want this war to be over.” My jaw clenched. “I want my friend back.”

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

“Harry, you can’t be serious,” Weasley breathed.

“She hasn’t exactly proven herself to be one of us,” Granger said in a near whisper. “Are you sure you can trust her,” she asked, her eyes darting to me.

“Yes,” Potter looked over at me. “She doesn’t have the Dark Mark, and I believe her motivations.”

“But she’s a Slytherin.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, Weasley, I think he already figured that part out.” I glared over at him. “The point is, I have an idea.”

They eyed me suspiciously.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

“Missy!”

An elf appeared beside me. “Yes, Mistress?”

Potter and Weasley startled backwards slightly.

Granger gasped.

I looked down at the creature by my side. “I need you to go to Malfoy Manor.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “The Dark Lord is there with all of his followers.”

“Oh, Mistress-!”

“I need you to find out all you can,” I insisted. “Everything depends on it.”

Granger scoffed. “Of all the-!”

I ignored her.

Missy’s ears drooped. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Don’t be seen or heard. When you get information, come back here.” I looked over at Potter. “I’ll be staying for a little while.”

Harry glanced over at me and nodded once, his jaw clenching briefly.

I turned back to Missy. “Be careful.”

She nodded, her gaze on the floor. “Yes, Mistress.”

She vanished.

“You can’t be serious!” Granger glared. “Sending her to her death like that! Why don’t you do it yourself!? She’s not your slave!”

“Actually, she is,” I corrected, standing back to my full height and looking over at the Gryffindor. “But the simple fact is, Missy would have a better chance of getting in and out without being noticed.” I cocked an eyebrow, side-eyeing her. “I didn’t hear you volunteering to go in her place.”

Granger glanced away.

“Alright.” Potter cleared his throat awkwardly. He turned to his friend. “Ron, would you…?”

Weasley looked over at me. “Yeah, I’ll tell Mum…” Turning around, he walked out of the room.

Potter looked back at me. “Well,” he glanced at Granger, “would you mind sharing your room, Hermione?”

“Don’t bother.” I tilted my chin up slightly. “I’ll sleep on the couch or the floor.”

They both shifted their gaze towards me, watching me for only a few moments before nodding. “All right. We’ll, uh……” Potter pursed his lips. “We’ll see you later.”

They walked out.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My posture sank slightly and I clenched and unclenched my fist, resisting the urge to run my hand along my face.

That wasn’t proper.

In an effort to distract myself, I looked around the room.

It was cluttered.

Pictures, books, and things filled every horizontal surface in the room.

Clothes and blankets were strewn about, and I assumed this is where the rest of Potter’s protectors slept.

I wondered if they rotated someone to stay up and keep watch.

The couch looked old and worn, and I was not looking forward to laying on it.

The pattern was also a crime against all things elegant.

“Uh…..”

I turned at the sound of the voice, seeing Weasley in the doorway.

He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

I raised an eyebrow.

He mumbled a very fast “supper will be ready soon.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

As he exited, I tilted my head to the ceiling.

Salazar, help me.

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

I walked into the dining area as everyone began to sit down.

There were several chairs that clearly weren’t supposed to be there crowded around the table.

It was odd; to be sitting around the dining table and eating like a family in such a time of fear and chaos.

But maybe that’s why they did it.

My gaze raked the room, spotting the only empty chair. I moved towards it, ignoring everyone’s stares. Pulling the seat out, I sat between Professor Lupin and what I assumed to be another Weasley.

This one I didn’t recognize.

The room was extremely quiet and tense as people began to get food.

I waited until everyone was served before getting some, myself.

The silence stretched on.

I swallowed the food in my mouth. “If you would prefer to talk with me out of the room, I’ll leave,” I said, not looking up from my plate as I cut some beef.

“We’re just surprised, is all.”

I looked to the head of the table at Mister Weasley. “Because I’m a Slytherin, right?” I shrugged one shoulder, looking around the room. “You all just assume I’m here to spy for You-Know-Who, don’t you? I’ve got news,” I raised an eyebrow, “not all Gryffindors are saints, either.”

Several beats passed.

I rolled my eyes, taking my napkin off my lap and dropping it on the table before awkwardly sliding my chair back away from the table.

It was so ridiculously tight in here.

Finally freed from the table, I stood up, marching out of the room and back upstairs.

I wasn’t hungry anyway.

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

Bloody Gryffindors.

Just as prejudiced as they accuse Slytherins of being.

I sighed, placing my chin on my hands as my elbows rested on my knees.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

The hushed sounds of conversation- tense, but conversation- floated upstairs.

I fought tears.

It was scary to not belong.

Maybe I had become too used to belonging; too comfortable.

I always had a home to go to. Loving parents. A best friend. My best friend’s home, when I didn’t feel like being at mine…

The sound of footsteps startled me from my thoughts.

I turned, looking up from my spot on the staircase.

The Weasley that was next to me for ‘supper’ approached, stopping at the bottom of the steps.

I resisted the urge to cross my arms, instead sitting up straighter and placing my hands on my knees. I looked up at him.

It was silent for a few moments.

The Weasley cleared his throat and gestured vaguely before putting his hands in his pockets. “Are you hungry?”

“I’m fine.” I raised an eyebrow. Truth be told, I was a little hungry, but I would rather not eat for a few days than experience whatever that was again.

He nodded, his fang earring jingling with the action. He pursed his lips, his gaze fixed on the banister beside me. “You can come back downstairs and eat, if you want.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “No, thank you. We’re all more comfortable if I don’t do that. Besides,” I leaned back slightly, “if I’m up here, you all can discuss your plans without worrying about me hearing.” I raised a challenging eyebrow. “Although, I am surprised no one placed an Imperturbable charm.”

The Weasley nodded again, this time more slowly. His gaze shifted towards me for a few seconds before he turned around and walked back out.

My eyebrows furrowed and I turned to look out the window. What in the world-

The footsteps returned.

I whipped my head around.

The Weasley stopped by me again, handing me the plate I had earlier. He looked at me for a few beats before exiting the room.

I stared at the doorway, dumbfounded. Pulling myself from my shock, I looked down at my plate he had thrust into my hands.

I huffed a small chuckle.

He had forgotten the silverware.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days had passed since I first arrived at the Weasleys’ house; “the Burrow”, as they called it.

I had taken to referring to all of the redheads by their first names, at least when more than one was in the same room.

There were simply too many of them to all be called “Weasley”.

I marched up the stairs, pausing to look out the window.

No sign of anything.

A ‘pop’ sound filled my ears.

I spun around. “Missy!”

The elf looked up at me with her giant eyes. “Mistress!”

“Anything to report?” I gazed down at her, hoping she would have discovered something- anything- useful.

Missy looked around, clutching her hands together at her chest. She spoke in a whisper. “Missy heard You-Know-Who say something about a cup in Lestrange’s bank vault.”

I looked down at the ground in thought, mouthing ‘her bank vault’ as my eyebrows furrowed. Shaking my head, I shifted my gaze back to the elf. “Anything else?”

“He spoke a lot about Harry Potter and the elder wand,” she said, her high-pitched voice quieting even further.

My eyes widened. “The elder wand?”

Missy nodded.

“Oh dear.” I took a deep breath. “Is that everything?”

Missy paused, cocking her head as she tried to remember. One of her long, pointy ears drooped. “You-Know-Who wants to kill Harry Potter, himself. It was very important to him.” She fidgeted with her hands. “I’m sorry Missy couldn’t find out more!”

I looked down at her. “No, you did a wonderful job,” I said, somewhat distractedly. “You should head back to my parents before they get suspicious.”

She nodded.

“Thank you, Missy.”

A smile appeared on her face. Looking up at me, she snapped her fingers and vanished.

I stared at the now-vacant spot on the floor for a few seconds before turning around, hurrying to search the house.

Potter. I had to find Potter.

I stepped into the dining room- which also happened to be the plotting area- the sound of my steps drawing everyone’s attention to me. I ignored their confused looks as my eyes swept across the room.

He wasn’t here.

“Have any of you seen Potter,” I questioned.

“I think he’s with Ron,” Weasley- Bill- said. His eyebrows furrowed. “Everything alright?”

I looked over at him.

What an odd question at a time like this.

I placed my hand on the doorframe. “Is anything?” Pushing off, I spun around and ran to Ron’s room.

If my parents could see me running- to a boys’ room no less- they would have a coronary.

I frowned as I hurried up the steps, my feet heavy and loud against the wood.

They didn’t seem to care how I would react to them becoming Death Eaters.

Shaking my head, I rounded a corner and rapped assertively on Ron’s bedroom door. I only had to wait a couple seconds for it to open.

Ron stood in the doorway, his hand still on the knob. An eyebrow raised upon seeing me.

“Is Potter with you?” I fought against the urge to try to see around the redhead’s form. “I need to talk to him.”

Ron paused for a brief moment, looking me up and down- as if to inspect me- before nodding. “Yeah, he’s in here.” He took a step backwards, opening up the room for me.

“Thank you,” I said, striding in. My eyes almost instantly landed on the boy sitting on the floor. “Potter.”

“Hunt.”

I heard the door close behind me. “I need to talk to you.”

The ‘Chosen One’ sat up straighter.

Ron moved towards us, standing between me and his friend, forming a small circle.

Potter glanced at the two of us before standing, himself.

I held his gaze intently. “Missy came back.”

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

“Are you sure about this?”

I paused once I heard the voices, stopping before I rounded the corner.

“We have to look into it,” Potter said. “There’s too much at risk to ignore.”

“What if it’s a trap,” Mister Weasley asked.

“I don’t think it is.”

“What if her elf was spotted and they let the information slip to lure you in?”

When a few beats of silence followed, I moved into view.

They both turned to look at me.

“Are you leaving, Potter?”

He nodded. “The sooner this is taken care of, the better.”

Mister Weasley excused himself, walking out.

I nodded back to Potter. “Be careful.”

“Thanks.” Pausing briefly, his gaze dropped to the floor before looking back at me. “What are you going to do?”

“Probably go back into hiding; see what else I can do from the shadows.” I clasped my hands and pursed my lips, avoiding his gaze.

“Alright. Are we doin this, or what?”

I turned at the sound of Ron’s voice.

He stood in the doorway, Granger by his side.

Potter straightened his posture. “Right.” He walked passed me, towards his friends. “We’d…better say our goodbyes,” he said to them quietly.

They nodded.

Looking at me over his shoulder, Potter waved. “Thanks for all your help.” He paused. “We appreciate it.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much,” I argued. “But, you’re welcome.”

He let out a small sigh and turned to his companions. “Alright, come on.” He ushered them out of the doorway and out of sight.

I stared at the empty space where they had been standing, a sudden sinking feeling settling into the pit of my stomach.

For some reason I felt as though I’d sent them to their deaths.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night sky filled with a sudden bright light.

I looked up, squinting my now-sensitive eyes. Moving around a tree to see better, I could make out whitish-bluish flashes, similar to fireworks.

Spells.

My gaze trailed down, seeing they sparked over Hogwarts.

Something was going down.

Something big.

I frowned, turning away.

Just look the other way, Hunt. That’s not your battle, I told myself, resuming my walk to my hideout.

It was the smallest cave I had ever seen, barely big enough to fit me and a few necessities.

I sat down on the jacket I had laid on the stone ground, frowning.

I couldn’t live like this.

No one could.

But that’s how everyone would be living if Voldemort won.

My eyes narrowed. Turning my head, I glanced back at the sky, barely able to still see the flashing from my location.

Allowing myself to sigh, I pushed myself to my feet, pulling out my wand. I ran to a clearing, staring over at the school.

The school that held so many of my memories.

The blue shell around Hogwarts turned to orange and began to dissipate.

The shield was broken.

I tightened my grip on my wand.

Time to stop running.

~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was chaos.

I apparated from the shore to the school grounds, dodging a falling piece of wall.

“Get inside!”

I turned, seeing Professor McGonagall gesturing towards the castle.

People ran by me, too quickly and too numerous for me to make out any faces.

I winced as another explosion hit the wall.

She didn’t have to tell me twice.

Running with the crowd, I hurried inside, spinning around as I tried to find Potter.

Knowing him, he was going to do something incredibly stupid.

I spotted a flash of red hair and ran towards it. “Ginny!”

She spun around, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked for the source of the voice. Her gaze landed on me and her eyes widened. “Hunt?”

“Have you seen Potter?” I stopped next to her. “I’m terribly afraid he’s going to do something foolish.”

“He ran that way.” She pointed. “But-”

“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder as I took off running.

He was probably faster than me, so I had to be extra fast to catch up, but not too fast to the point where I’d miss something.

“Potter!?” I ran through the hallways, letting out a yell as I turned a corner and nearly tripped over a collapsed wall.

Debris lined this entire hallway.

I saw a figure disappear into the wall on the other side.

The Room of Requirement.

I apparated to the spot to avoid trying to climb over the rubble and jumped in just before the door closed.

Letting out a sharp exhale as I looked behind me at the closed door, I turned back to face the room.

It was extremely crowded, full of……things. Random things like chairs and dishes, tables, cupboards, and more.

“Potter?” I moved forward, looking around.

“Hunt?”

Turning my head to the right, I saw the boy by a stack of objects, looking at a box. I walked over.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help,” I said, coming to a stop alongside him.

He nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

I smiled. “You, too.” I looked around. “What are you doing in here?”

Potter nodded down at the box. “I came for this.” Opening the lid, he picked up a crown from inside. “Ravenclaw’s diadem. A Horcrux.”

I blinked at him as he stared down at it.

He began stroking the object.

I backed away slightly, further behind a stack of nonsense, eyebrows furrowing.

“Well, well.”

I froze at the sound of the voice, ducking more out of sight.

Potter snapped out of his state, looking to the right.

“What brings you here, Potter?”

Harry moved slightly more into the open. “I could ask you the same.”

“You have something of mine.” A brief pause. “I’d like it back.”

“Well, what’s wrong with the one you have,” Harry asked, gesturing vaguely.

“It’s my mother’s,” Draco answered. “It’s powerful, but it’s…not the same. Doesn’t quite…understand me.” Another pause. “Know what I mean?”

I frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Potter stared ahead. “Bellatrix. You knew it was me.” He shook his head slightly. “You didn’t say anything.”

My head turned to look at Harry.

Draco did what?

I heard hushed whispers from where Draco was.

Potter reached for his wand.

I pulled mine out, ready to join the fight.

“Expelliarmus!”

Turning, I saw Granger with her wand pointed in Draco’s direction.

The sound of wood hitting the floor implied her spell was successful.

“Avada Kedavra!”

I recognized the voice of Goyle’s as a flash of green struck close to Granger.

“Stupefy!”

The diadem went flying into a couch atop one of the stacks.

Ron ran passed my hiding spot, his wand extended as he yelled. “That’s my girlfriend, you numpties!”

I stepped out of my corner as Potter and Granger began climbing, the objects wobbling from their weight. I lifted my wand. “Accio couch!”

The couch lifted from its perch, floating down to the floor.

I reached in the cushion, pulling out the crown and holding it up. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Potter and Granger exchanged a look before climbing down.

I handed the Horcrux to Harry before turning, pointing my wand at the floor. “Accio wand.”

Mrs. Malfoy’s wand flew to my hand.

I pocketed it.

A yell filled the room.

We all turned, seeing Ron running towards us, an orange glow behind him.

“Goyle set the bloody place on fire!” He ran by, grabbing Granger and pulling her with him.

“The fool!” I gestured at all the wooden furniture around. “This place will go up in a matter of minutes!”

Potter and I both turned, seeing a snake made of fire slithering towards us.

My eyes widened. “He set a Fiendfyre!?!”

“Let’s go!” Potter turned around and began running, me on his heels.

We followed Ron and Granger, turning corners as we tried to avoid fire snakes, birds and tigers.

Granger and Ron slid to a halt, Potter and I running into their backs.

“We’re cornered!” Granger yelled as fire rushed from the front.

Potter turned around, casting a shielding spell right as fire approached us.

The force of the collision sent us all backwards, Ron falling into flying brooms.

He picked them up, passing them out.

“Not again,” I muttered as I accepted one.

“Hope you know how to fly these things,” Ron said.

Granger climbed onto the broom behind him and they took off.

Potter and I followed suit.

“Come on, this way!” Ron exclaimed, nodding his head to the side.

We flew passed a tall stack.

Two figures stood atop it.

“Wait; we can’t let them die,” I yelled, trying to be heard over the fire.

Ron looked at me in disbelief. “You’re joking, right!?”

My eyes narrowed. “You know me; the jokester.” I turned around, leaning down as the broom sped towards them.

Draco and Blaise.

Using all of my courage, I let go with one hand, extending it down as I neared Draco.

He reached up.

I zipped passed him, fingers grazing his hand. “No!” I turned around as quickly as I could, seeing Potter grabbing Draco. I breathed a sigh of relief, heading towards Blaise. As I approached, I slowed my broom, helping him on.

“Let’s get out of here!” Ron turned around, leading the way out.

We all dodged the flames, a gasp leaving my throat as some fire sparked up, closer than comfortable.

Granger shot a spell, clearing a path.

Zipping through it, we neared the door, an explosion behind us pushing us through it.

We all tumbled off our brooms.

The diadem hit the ground.

“Harry!”

Potter caught something that Granger tossed to him, stabbing the Horcrux.

Black mist erupted from it.

Ron rushed forward, kicking it back into the Room of Requirement, into the flames.

Three fiery Voldemort faces yelled, rushing towards the door before it closed.

We all sat on the floor, trying to catch our breath.

I turned.

Draco and Blaise were gone.

Scrambling to my feet, I looked around.

Where on earth…?

“I’ve gotta go,” I informed absentmindedly. My eyes scanned the hallway. “Be careful, guys.” With nothing more than a sincere look at them from over my shoulder, I took off down the corridor.

They couldn’t have gotten far.

My steps slowed and I halted with a sigh.

Unless they apparated.

I spun in a circle, looking around.

They could be literally anywhere.

Okay, think, Hunt. Where would Draco go?

Somewhere he felt safe.

I apparated to the Slytherin common room.

Draco whipped around at the sound of my apparation, pointing a wand at me. His eyes widened and his poised arm lowered slightly as we made eye contact. “You’re the last person I expected to see here,” he said hesitantly.

“I’m the last person who would have expected myself to be here.” I dropped my gaze to his wand briefly before nodding at it. “Who’s is that?”

“I don’t know.” He answered quickly, with a bit of a shake in his voice.

“So you don’t know how it pairs with you…”

“I tested it.” He looked at it for a moment before looking back at me. “It’ll have to do.”

“Not necessarily.” I reached into my pocket, pulling out his mother’s wand.

His eyes softened with recognition almost instantly. He looked up at me. “How do I know this isn’t a trick?”

My eyes narrowed in offense. “Why would it be a trick?”

“You’re with Potter and his friends, now. That means you’re…” he paused, his expression falling. “You’re an enemy of mine.”

“I’m not here to fight you, Draco.”

“Yeah? Then what are you here for?”

“I came to keep Potter safe. I came to protect the school I grew up in.” I frowned. “I came to find you.”

“You still stand against the Dark Lord, then.”

“Of course.”

His bottom lip trembled and his jaw clenched. “I’m sorry.” He shot a stunning spell at me.

I lifted my wand, producing a shield. My eyes widened as I stared at him in disbelief.

He took half a step backwards and sent another one.

I blocked it, but barely, almost too shocked to think.

He sent two more.

They were easily deflected.

Draco huffed. “Fight back!”

“No.” I frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His eyes widened and his posture stiffened before deflating. “If I don’t at least try to hurt you, they’re gonna kill me,” he hissed.

“Why are you on their side,” I hissed back. “You know it’s wrong! There’s more people than ever in one place that want to take Voldemort down! This is our best opportunity at beating him!” I frowned. “It may be our last.” My eyes narrowed. “Do you want to be remembered as a cowardly Death Eater who went down with Voldemort? Or do you want to be remembered as the boy who did the right thing? The boy that defected when it mattered the most?”

A high pitched noise filled my ears.

I winced.

Based on Draco’s expression, he heard it, too.

The sound was followed by a voice in my head.

“You have fought…valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this: every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter…I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me, yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me.”

Draco and I made eye contact.

The blond gestured, a snarl on his face. “See?! He’s going to kill you!” His voice dropped as his expression softened. “You can’t fight him.”

I stood up straighter, my eyes narrowing as I clenched my hand that was around my wand. “I’d rather die against him than live for him.” I turned to leave but paused. Looking over my shoulder at him, I tossed him his mother’s wand before walking away, leaving my back exposed.

Only when I turned the corner did I break into a jog.

I had to find Potter.

Again.

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

I stopped, looking around the castle.

Where was everybody?

Stepping outside into the courtyard, I saw where everyone had gone.

Voldemort stood across from all the students, his Death Eaters behind him. “Harry Potter….is dead!”

My eyes widened.

We failed.

“No! No!!!” Ginny rushed forward, but Arthur grabbed her shoulder, pulling her back.

“Silence! Stupid girl. Harry Potter…is dead. From this day forth…you put your faith…in me.” Voldemort turned around, walking towards his Death Eaters as he extended his arms. “Harry Potter is dead!”

They all made various sounds of approval and excitement.

I spotted Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy at the front of the pack.

My parents weren’t far behind them.

Voldemort turned back around to face us, laughing. “And now is the time to declare yourself.” He extended his arms. “Come forward and join us.” His smile fell. “Or die.”

Silence stretched on.

Mr. Malfoy shifted a little on his feet. “Draco.”

All heads turned.

Draco was standing amongst the rest of the students, towards the back. He looked around.

“Draco,” Mrs. Malfoy said softly. “Come.”

The boy swallowed, his gaze darting around. It settled on me.

My eyes silently pleaded with him.

Draco, please.

He began walking forward.

My eyes closed in disappointment as I fought tears. A gasp left my throat as I felt a hand wrap around mine. My eyes shot open, looking over at the culprit.

Draco tightened his hold on my hand, staring across the gap. His eyes moved from his parents, to Voldemort, then back to his parents. He swallowed nervously. “I think I’ll stay right here.”

The students all looked over at Voldemort and the Death Eaters in shock, waiting to see what they would do.

“Draco,” Mr. Malfoy muttered, his eyes wide.

I had never seen Draco’s father look so unhealthy.

Dark circles under his eyes, unshaven, long blond hair stringy and unkempt, and paler than a ghost; he truly looked one step from death.

Voldemort pointed a long-nailed finger at Draco. “I will deal with you later.”

I frowned, stepping slightly in front of the blond.

Voldemort turned to the rest of the students. “Anyone who doesn’t want to die…”

Longbottom began limping forward.

Everyone stared on in shock.

“Well, I must say I hoped for better,” Voldemort said.

The Death Eaters all laughed.

Voldemort moved towards the Gryffindor. “And who might you be, young man?”

“Neville Longbottom.”

More laughter.

Voldemort moved back slightly. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks-”

“I’d like to say somethin’.”

A few beats passed.

“Well, Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone.”

“Stand down, Neville,” Seamus Finnigan urged.

Longbottom turned towards him. “People die every day! Friends…family.” He paused. “Yeah. We lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us.” He brought his free hand- what was he holding in the other one- up to his heart. “In here.” He looked around. “So is Fred.”

My eyes widened in shock.

“Remus. Tonks. All of them. But they didn’t die in vain!” He hobbled back around to look at Voldemort. “But you will!”

The Dark Lord started laughing.

Longbottom went on. “Cause you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us!” He pulled a sword out of the object he was holding. “It’s not over!”

Potter fell out of Hagrid’s grasp.

He stood up.

Everyone gasped.

I squeezed Draco’s hand.

Voldemort’s smile fell.

Potter shot a fireball at Voldemort’s snake.

The fire ricocheted off it.

Potter ran as Voldemort began casting fire spells at him.

Some of the Death Eaters vanished into smoke.

Potter hurried back towards the castle, ushering everyone inside.

I pulled Draco along behind me as Voldemort and the Death Eaters began approaching.

“We have to kill the snake,” Potter informed a little breathless.

Longbottom rushed forward.

Voldemort shot a spell at him, sending the Gryffindor flying backwards, before apparating away with his snake.

The Death Eaters kept approaching.

My eyes narrowed. “Barricade the doors!” Letting go of Draco’s hand, I rushed forward, grunting as I tried to close the doors.

Draco appeared on my left, helping to push them shut.

A few other students came forward to assist.

Once the doors were closed I flicked my wand at some of the tables, sending them flying towards the doors.

They piled up at the entrance, blocking it off.

More students aided in the action.

When all of the tables were set, everyone backed up, watching as the doors and the pile shook as the Death Eaters tried to get in.

The sound of breaking glass drew my attention to the windows.

Voldemort’s followers flew in as puffs of smoke before landing on the floor and beginning to cast spells.

Another fight broke out.

I produced spell after spell, barely thinking about what I was casting.

“No!!”

I froze at the sound of my father’s voice. Turning around, I saw him kneeling on the floor.

He was clutching my mother to his chest.

My wand lowered and my shoulders slumped as I stared at the pair.

My father buried his head into my mother’s hair, sobbing.

I heard my name yelled.

I whipped around, seeing a shielding spell block an attack at me before my assailant was struck with another spell. Turning to the left, I saw Draco approach.

“Are you alright,” he asked, stopping when he reached a foot away from me.

I blinked up at him with wide eyes, nodding slightly.

“Normally you’re more careful than tha-” His eyes drifted over my shoulder and his sentence died in his throat.

I turned around, watching my father briefly.

“I’m sorry.”

I looked back to Draco as he lowered his gaze to meet mine. My eyes narrowed as I looked away. “They never should have gotten involved.”

“She-” Draco paused, “This could have happened even if they didn’t.”

“Not like this, at least.” I looked back up at him. “Where are your pare- look out!” I pulled Draco with me to the ground, dodging a curse. From the floor, I snarled as I shot a spell back.

It hit the target and the Death Eater collapsed.

Draco rolled off me to work on getting himself to his feet. “I don’t know.” He stood, wiping his hands on his already-dirty black slacks. “I haven’t seen them.” Reaching down, he helped me up.

We both winced as a blast hit the wall by us.

Looking at each other, I readjusted my grip on my wand. “Be careful.”

“You, too.”

At my nod, Draco ran off to rejoin the fight.

I glanced back at my father before lifting my head higher and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~

I let out a yell as I stunned another Death Eater.

He collapsed.

Gasping for air, I looked around.

Every student in the room was standing, catching their own breath.

The three Death Eaters that remained turned into smoke, speeding out of the windows and into the sky.

Silence stretched on and the dust seemed to settle.

I looked around at all the bodies on the floor.

Some of enemies.

Some of friends.

Letting out a sigh, I looked towards the blasted-open doors.

Even the courtyard was quiet.

Forcing my aching and battered body to move, I made my way outside.

Potter was standing in the middle, staring at the ground as he took in labored breaths. He looked up at the sound of my footsteps.

“Are you alright, Potter?”

He nodded. “Fine. You?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.” My gaze dropped to the two wands he held; one in each hand. “It’s over, then?”

He nodded, looking up into the sky and wincing at the slight sunlight peeking through the clouds.

“What happened?”

“Turned into ash…” Potter looked back at me. “Drifted away.”

I pursed my lips and nodded, my eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.

At the call of my name, I turned to the right, seeing Draco running- and what an odd sight it was- towards me.

I grinned- tiredly- as he approached. “You’re okay.” My eyes scanned his face, seeing his head had been bleeding, but it dried, and a couple bruises, burns and scratches. Nothing more. Or at least that was visible.

“So are you,” he bent down, wrapping me in a hug.

I winced in slight pain, but hugged him back. Pulling away first, I adjusted my weight to be on my right leg a little less.

Draco looked down at me, raising a questioning eyebrow.

I nodded, waving a hand at him.

Draco nodded once in satisfaction before looking up at the Boy Who Lived. “Thank you, Potter.”

It sounded slightly strained, but it was better than he usually gave.

Potter huffed a small laugh. “Thank you. For choosing to fight alongside me.”

Draco looked down at me. “It wasn’t without convincing.”

I smiled up at him.

Potter cleared his throat. “I’d better go check on everybody else.” He pointed back to the castle before walking away.

I chuckled, turning slightly to watch him leave.

Once the boy was out of sight, Draco stepped around to my front. He tucked some of my fallen stray hairs out of my face. “It’s about time I did this properly.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Draco reached his right hand forward, cupping the back of my neck. His grey eyes shifted between mine. Slowly leaning down, he pressed his lips to mine.

I closed my eyes, kissing him back with as much love as I could muster.

All of my memories from the past six years of my life came flooding back to me. Meeting Draco, befriending him, growing up together, realizing our relationship was developing, the fear, the frustration, the betrayal, the hurt, and the pride.

It was almost too much to bear.

We pulled away.

Draco rested his forehead on mine. “I love you.”

Tears that felt entirely unprompted slipped down my cheeks.

“I love you, too.”

Draco lifted his head, frowning as he noticed my tears. Raising his hands, he swiped his thumbs over my cheeks, brushing the tears away.

I placed my hands on top of his.

“Are you going to be alright?”

I let out an exhale through my nose before nodding. “As long as I have you.”

He smiled, lowering his hands and wrapping one around mine. “I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere.”

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

A/n: 58 pages! Truly horrific! lol. Had a blast writing it, though. I also realize my 'sneak peak' out of context looked like an 'arranged marriage' story, but...it was too late.

I wanted to make Hunt clearly a Slytherin, with questionable Slytherin ideals, having grown up in a pureblooded Slytherin home, but I didn't want her to be evil. I tried to find a balance.

And I know McGonagall only taught the Gryffindors how to dance, but I thought I’d shake it up a little.

Just one note, I think:

- Hunt used some of her family’s wealth to go from motel room to motel room. She used a different name each time in order to try to stay hidden.

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter x reader #HP #HP x reader #Harry Potter fandom x reader #HP fandom x reader #Draco Malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #Slytherin #my works #Mara's works #my fanfiction #Mara's fanfiction #my imagine #Mara's imagine #my gif #Mara's gif

77 notes · View notes

chaotic-orphan · 6 months ago

Text

Delirious Villain x Hero Caretaker (4)

TW: family abuse, abusive older brother, sick fic, sick whumpee, weak whumpee, PTSD, whumpee afraid of being sick, neglect, vomit mentions, flu-like symptoms, violence, rough beating, callous whumper, sadistic whumper

Read part one here // continued from here

This part is dedicated to @sausages-things!!! Thank you for your comments, I hope you enjoy!!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hero woke up in the same position they went to sleep in, Villain in their arms cuddling into their chest. They smiled at Villain who was still sleeping soundly for the first time in days. No late-night vomit trips to the toilet, or night terrors, or throwing the blankets off and stripping to fight the cold sweats. Hero let out a soft sigh. They could stay like this forever.

They pressed the back of their fingers against Villain’s forehead. No fever. He wasn't terribly hot or cold, just warm — a normal, human temperature. Hero let out a breath of relief. Then started carding their fingers through Villain’s hair, pushing the damp strands off their lover’s face. Villain even looked less pale, raising Hero’s spirits that hopefully Villain would be on the mend after all the heartache of the last few days.

Hero’s phone rang from somewhere in the house and Hero stifled a groan. They really didn’t want to move or disturb Villain in their arms. Maybe if they ignored it, the caller would give up on their endeavour and Hero could stay in bed with Villain. Besides, it wasn’t anyone important. Hero booked time off in work so they could wait on Villain hand and foot, look after everything Villain couldn’t. It’s what partners were for, to be there for each other.

The ringtone stopped and Hero smiled, glancing down at Villain again. Their peace only lasted a fraction of a second, before their phone started ringing again. Hero seriously contemplated waiting it out, but what if it was something important? What if some new villain was decimating an entire city block? Villain would understand if Hero had to go and stop them.

Well, understand, yes, but Villain wouldn't let Hero go alone. Hero blushed as they remembered the last time they tried to leave to stop a new villain fresh in the city.

“I really have to go, Vil.”

Villain slammed his hand out on the opposing wall, stopping Hero from leaving Villain's room, back when they were initially dating. Hero rolled their eyes at Villain, crossing their arms across their chest.

“What if I say no?”

“Villain—”

“What if,” Villain continued, stepping in front of Hero and crowding them so Hero was pushed back a step. “There is another villain who wants your complete attention?"

“Is this same villain acting like a complete child right now?”

Villain chuckled in reply. The deep chuckle that wound a knot in Hero’s stomach and set their heart aflutter. He forced Hero back a step, then another until Hero was backed against the wall.

“Vil—”

Villain reached a hand up to cup Hero’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting their head up to look Villain in the eyes. “Do I have to threaten an orphanage, or kidnap the mayor to get an ounce of your attention?”

“I’ve given you attention all night.”

“I don’t like sharing,” Villain said, stepping forward and closing all remaining distance between them. “What if you chat with this new villain and he sweeps you off your feet?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hero said, ignoring the sudden, breathless quality of their voice.

“Am I? That’s what happened with you and me.”

Hero grabbed Villain’s wrist, not trying to dislodge his hold on Hero, but instead rubbing soothing circles over it, their other hand reaching to Villain’s cheek.

“This new villain isn’t you.”

“Damn right he isn’t.” Villain all but growled, smashing his lips to Hero’s, melting any words that still lingered on Hero’s tongue. The kiss was hungry, Villain deepening it quickly, forcing Hero’s head back against the wall when Hero tried to return the passion. This wasn’t a loving kiss, it was passionate, possessory. Villain showing Hero exactly who they belonged to; drawing a distinct line between Villain and all other villains that Hero had to fight.

Villain pulled back, pecking Hero once more before he nodded and stepped back. Hero blinked dazed up at Villain. Villain smiled wolfishly down at Hero, a flash of white and smouldering eyes.

“Come on, Hero. We have a villain to get rid of.”

Hero nodded stupidly, then shook their head, eyes narrowing as clarity hit them like a smack in the face. “Wait! What? You’re coming?! What if someone sees?! What if they—”

“What if they somehow think we’re dating? Darling, I’m not suggesting we arrive at the same time. You can swoop in, save the day, be the Hero I adore,” Villain said, brushing a stray hair from Hero’s eyes. “And I will dispose of this new villain once you rescue the hostages, hmm?”

“Villain—”

“I do love it when you say my name.”

“I don’t want you to kill—”

“Who said anything about killing, my dear? I’ll simply share my experiences and push them down the path of the righteous. To use their powers for good.”

Hero agreed at the time, but the other villain from that night never showed up again, and Hero didn’t think it was from Villain’s persuasive argument.

Hero cursed under their breath before slowly disentangling themselves from Villain and slipping out of bed unnoticed. Villain stirred briefly, but just snuggled into the pillow Hero was leaning on and settled again. Hero held back a groan as they opened the door to their bedroom and quickly shut it again so the noise wouldn’t disturb Villain.

Hero marched towards the counter, grabbing their phone and yanking it off charge, not even bothering to look at the caller ID when they barked: “what?”

“Hero! I’ve been trying to reach you for the last twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, Superhero,” Hero said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose, leaning heavily against the counter. “Listen, I have the rest of this week booked off.”

“I know, but Hero I need you.”

“Get Other Hero.”

“Have you not watched the news?” Superhero asked, almost heartbroken down the line. Hero’s heart seized in their chest. “Hero… Supervillain struck again last night. Other Hero and Sidekick were out on patrol when—” Superhero’s voice caught, and Hero lurched forward. “They… uh… they don’t think Sidekick’s gonna make it, Hero.”

“What?” Hero whispered.

“Please,” Superhero pleaded. “There’s not enough— I need you here, Hero. Or even to protect —”

“Of… of course, Superhero. I’m, I’ll be twenty minutes, but I’ll be there, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry. I know that your partner—”

“It’s okay,” Hero cut in. “Honestly, Superhero. Twenty minutes.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll see you then.”

Hero cursed checking the time. They had to get ready. They had to leave Villain a note or something, shit they had to get ready. They paused at the door to their bedroom, not wanting to wake Villain up. They pivoted on their heel, turning to the laundry room and praying that — yes! Clean clothes! Perfect. They wouldn’t have to disturb Villain at all, and Villain could get the rest he needed.

Hero was pulling on their runner, half hopping around the living room, eyes scouring every inch of the place for the other one. Their eyes drifted back to their bedroom door and cursed under their breath. They didn’t have time to worry about it, it would be fine. Just in and out, and oh fuck they needed their keys to get back in.

“Hero?” Villain asked the moment Hero stepped into the room. Bleary eyes raised above the duvet to Hero who was frozen mid-air reaching for their runner. Hero smiled bashfully at Villain and straightened, apologising as they walked over to the bed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I said that I had booked time off but something big happened and Superhero called, and he needs—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Villain said softly, putting his hand on Hero’s arm. “Don’t worry about me, I’m feeling loads better.”

Hero almost let out a sigh of relief. “Are you? Or are you just saying that, so I’ll go like yesterday?”

“Hero—”

“Villain.”

As if to make his point, Villain sat up in the bed and leaned over to kiss Hero’s knuckles. “Hey, crimefighter. Look, I’m fine. I feel great.” Hero tilted their head, and Villain pressed on, “you are going to miss a lot of sexy sleeping while you’re gone, though.”

Hero laughed.

“I’m serious,” Villain told them. “Oh, I’m gonna have a day in bed, full of sexy snots in tissues and shitty daytime TV, oh, how will I survive without you?”

“You’re such an idiot,” Hero told them smiling. Villain’s hand tightened in Hero’s.

“I’m your idiot.” Villain replied. “I’ll order soup or food or whatever, I’ll be fine until your home.”

“But if it’s a new Supervillain—” that meant long hours and possibly working multiple shifts to—

Villain’s gaze hardened as he cut in, “I’ll be fine. Go. You saved me yesterday; I can’t hog the city’s Hero twice in a week.”

“What about that time you held me captive in that warehouse?”

Villain’s cocky smile made an appearance on his tired face. It didn’t make as much as an impression as it usually did, with the bags under Villain’s red rimmed eyes and his pale, lacklustre skin. “Darling, that was a weekend getaway for the two of us.”

Hero leaned in and kissed Villain’s forehead. “If you need me, call.”

“I will.”

“Okay, I love you,” Hero said, gathering everything they needed as they left.

Villain reclined back into the pillows on their bed. “I love you too.”

*~*~*~*~*

Hero went straight to the Hero tower, rushing in and bolting to the lift, heading straight for Superhero’s office. When they got to the floor, Hero speed walked the corridor until they found Superhero in his office. His desk was in disarray, holding his head in his hands as Hero opened the door.

“Superhero.” Superhero looked up.

“Hero,” Superhero said, getting to his feet and walking around his desk. “Thank God you’re here. I’m so sorry about your partner. I just—”

“Nevermind that now,” Hero said with a wave. “What can I do? How can I help? You’re not usually this stressed. Tell me everything.”

“It was just — there was no rumours or hints at anything yesterday, or in the past month. It wasn’t disturbingly quiet or unusual, so we thought that it would just be a regular patrol, but Other Hero and Sidekick were hurt bad and they’re in the hospital getting treated…”

“Do you know what villain did this?”

Superhero’s eyes hardened. “I don’t know for sure. It could be a new Supervillain for all we know, but it reminded me a bit of Villain’s MO as well.”

Hero stiffened, a furrow forming between their brows. No way could it have been Villain, they’re home, sick in bed and Hero spent the entire night with them.

“Oh?” Hero asked. “Have you been to the hospital?”

Superhero shook his head. “I’ve been too caught up here. All I know is scraps from other heroes reports but I need someone I can trust to guard them.”

Hero’s frown deepened. “You don’t think a hero had anything to do with it, do you?”

Superhero’s eyes were desperate as he shrugged helplessly, turning to scan the papers on his desk. “I don’t know, Hero. I don’t want to rule out the possibility that a villain may have charmed one of us and somehow manipulated us to give up sensitive information like patrols or something.”

Hero was glad Superhero had his back to them, otherwise he would have seen the pain that crossed Hero’s expression. Villain… Villain would never do that to Hero, would he? He wouldn’t— I mean, Hero knew Villain wasn’t— he wasn’t friendly with other villains, so Villain wouldn’t betray Hero like that. Never.

“I’ll go to the hospital,” Hero said, voice firm. “I’ll get some of the heroes I trust most and recruit them as well. I won’t let anything happen to Other Hero or sidekick; I promise.”

Superhero turned and smiled. He placed a hand on Hero’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Thank you, Hero. You are one of the only heroes I trust would never converse with a villain. That will help everything run smoother here.”

“Of course, Superhero.” Hero forced out, guilt threatening to clog their words. They left as quickly as they had come, leaving Superhero’s office in a flash, back down the corridor to the lift. It was empty when it arrived, something Hero was grateful for. The moment the doors closed they pressed their back flush against the wall, taking in deep breaths. Unaware of who was watching them through the camera in the corner.

*~*~*~*~*

Superhero straightened once he heard the lift doors close at the end of the hall. He walked around his desk and looked at the Hero in the lift through the cameras. Eyes hard as Hero leaned back against the wall, hands braced on their knees. How had he not seen this before? Why had he trusted Hero of all people?! And somehow Villain wormed his way into Hero’s life?! He waited until Hero stepped out of the lift before he switched his computer screen from the cameras and stood from his desk.

He schooled his expression and stepped out of his office. He said to Number Two Hero: “I need to head out, will you hold down the fort while I’m gone?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Superhero thanked them and walked down the corridor to the lift. He needed to pay Villain a little, friendly visit.

*~*~*~*~*

Villain peeled themselves out of bed, skin sticky with sweat. His nose turned up as he caught a whiff of himself and he almost gagged. A shower before anything else was necessary.

He could almost hear Hero telling him that he shouldn’t take a shower, that he’s too weak and what if he slipped or passed out and the water was too hot — and a whole host of other problems that Hero could foresee. Villain smiled softly to himself as he locked the bathroom door.

He was lucky to have them.

*~*~*~*~*

Superhero told Hero that Other Hero and Sidekick were being treated at West-Point General Hospital, which was a pain to get to. It was on the edge of the city and took a forty-minute train to get there and back to the Hero tower, nevermind Hero’s apartment.

They shot Villain a text, informing him that they’d be late home. They hesitated to say the reason: the words: ‘Other Hero and Sidekick were attacked’ stared up at them on the screen. Hatefully, suspicion curled viciously like a snake in Hero’s chest, Superhero’s words of warning.

Villain would never betray me, Hero told themselves. Work and their relationship were completely different for them both.

If that’s true, a nasty voice piped up, why did you delete the explanation?

Hero swallowed thickly and shoved their phone into their pocket.

*~*~*~*~*

Villain let out a sigh of relief once the hot water hit his aching muscles, it felt so good. As if the sickness was being rinsed from his body. He glanced around the bathroom, half-expecting the apparition of his brother to appear again.

No, Villain reminded himself, shaking his head as if he could shake the memory from his head. He’s not here. He’s not real. That was just a hallucination or something. Still, Villain crossed his arms across himself in a self-hug under the warm water.

He pressed his forehead against the cool tile, hoping Hero came home sooner rather than later.

*~*~*~*~*

Hero walked to the reception desk, putting on their best charming smile. “Hi, I’m looking for Other Hero and Sidekick.”

Receptionist nodded and tapped on his keyboard. “Third floor. Room 316.”

“Thank you.”

Hero kept their eyes peeled as they ascended the stairs, looking out for any suspicious characters lurking around. When Hero got to the third floor, they followed the signs towards room 316. The room was left unguarded, and Hero’s heart started to run a little faster in their chest as they approached.

They half expected a massacre in the room, but it was worse than Hero imagined. Only Other Hero lay in the bed, the other was vacant, the door opened. Hero rushed inside, looking for any clues or hints or something that would lead to the missing Sidekick.

Other Hero looked was hooked up to a bunch of monitors, half of her face was swollen with deep purple and black bruises. Some of the cuts had been stitched and a tube was inserted in her mouth.

A gun cocked behind Hero, and they froze. “Come to finish us off, have you?”

Hero frowned, looking over their shoulder to see Sidekick wobbling in the doorway. They didn’t look much better than Other Hero, leaning heavily on the doorframe to keep themselves up.

“Sidekick it’s Hero,” Hero said. At the sound of Hero’s voice, Sidekick thumbed the hammer forward and clicked the safety on, lowering their gun.

“Good, I don’t think I can make it back to the bed.”

Hero immediately went to them and threw an arm over their neck, supporting Sidekick’s weight as they guided them back to bed. “What happened? Why did you leave the bed?”

“I needed the loo,” Sidekick grumbled and hissed as they settled back onto the bed. Hero’s panicked eyes went to Sidekick’s side that was red with bloodstains.

“Who did this to you?” Hero asked as they straightened to further observe Sidekick.

Sidekick shook their head then winced. “We didn’t see them, or at least…” Sidekick glanced at Other Hero, “I don’t think we did,” they said quieter. “I know I didn’t, but I don’t know about Other Hero.”

Hero nodded sympathetically. “Did you get an idea of their abilities? Were they powered?”

“Whatever they were they were strong, Hero. Really fucking strong, and— and I couldn’t fight them. Every time I got close to them, they’d weave out of the way and punch me and send me reeling. Other Hero she at least got a couple of good hits in before he turned all his attention on her.”

Hero frowned, eyes going to Other Hero’s broken body. If what Sidekick was saying was true, then — “how did you survive?”

“What?”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” said Hero quickly. “I just — if your opponent was a beast of a thing, how did you both end up in hospital?”

Sidekick scoffed. “Halfway through the fight I radioed for Superhero to help us. He must’ve arrived after I passed out because the next thing, I know I’m here and Other Hero is strapped to machines to keep her fucking breathing.”

Sidekick dissolved into quiet sobs that shook their body, not willing to let any sound out. “I should’ve— I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve been able to— to—”

“It’s okay, Sidekick,” Hero told them gently.

Furious eyes flashed to Hero’s face. “You can’t say that! You don’t know what it’s like to be weak! To be beaten so badly that you can’t even move! I should have been able to protect her!”

Hero stood still, lips drawn down tight, not knowing what to say to comfort Sidekick. A voice at the door took their attention.

“Hero. A word.”

Hero turned, frown deepening at the owner of the voice. It was the number three Hero, Ajax. What the hell was he doing here? Hero followed him out, closing the door as they left the room. “What’re you doing here?” Hero asked before Ajax could speak.

“I’m here to watch over them. Make sure the villain they faced doesn’t come back to finish them off,” Ajax said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“But… Superhero sent me to do that.”

“Superhero? He already posted me; I told him I could do it alone. I’ve been itching to get away from the office to tell you the truth.”

Hero’s brows drew together, deep in thought. Why would Superhero send me all this way for no reason? Maybe Ajax needed some support?

“Ah, Hero!” Hero looked up and saw Briar’s smiling face meet theirs. “Paying a visit? How is your partner? I heard he was sick.”

Hero let a smile slide across their features. “Yeah, yeah. It looks like you two got it all covered though. My partner… I actually got to get back to him.”

“Of course,” Briar said, slapping Ajax on the back. “Me and the big guy got everything covered here.”

Ajax shot questioning eyes at Hero, but Hero couldn’t answer any themselves, so they didn’t. Hero nodded and said their goodbyes, before heading back for the train, trying to make sense of Superhero’s emergency call.

Maybe Superhero just forgot he posted other heroes to the hospital? Maybe he was just stressed out… whatever it was it didn’t really matter. It meant Hero could get home to Villain quicker than anticipated. Maybe Villain could help them make sense of this wild goose chase.

Hero glanced at their phone when they got on the train, smiling at Villain’s reply they hadn’t seen until now. At least they were going home earlier and could relax with Villain at home, snuggled up under the blankets, maybe watch a movie or something.

*~*~*~*~*

Villain couldn’t keep the grin off his face after his shower as he towelled his hair dry. His body still ached; his limbs moved with a rust-like creaking, but he felt so much lighter after his shower. So much clearer and fresh.

He smiled as he glanced at their phone, Hero telling him that there was some soup in the fridge, and they might be longer than they initially thought. Villain stared at the words at the end of the text, I love you.

Such simple words that made more warmth bloom in his chest than the shower did. Villain text a quick reply before tossing his phone on the bed. He didn’t really want food right now, maybe some water or tea. He brushed his teeth before the shower to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He shuddered to think of it, happy it was over.

Villain ignored the idea of food or drink altogether and opted instead to take some painkillers and watch some TV on the sofa, cuddled up under the cow pattern blanket that smelled like Hero.

*~*~*~*~*

Hero stepped out of the lift of the Hero tower, walking towards Superhero’s office. They stopped outside it, but there was no Superhero. Hero frowned and turned, walking onto the map room floor. Second met their eye across the room, frowning as Hero made their way over.

“Hero? Aren’t you on leave?”

Hero frowned. “Yeah, but Superhero called me in. Have you seen them?”

“They went out,” Second told Hero.

“When?”

“About half an hour ago.”

“Do you know where?”

“No, but I didn’t ask.”

Hero nodded. “Right.”

*~*~*~*~*

Villain woke to the sound of the door being opened. He hadn’t realised that he had fallen asleep.

“Hero?” He mumbled, not opening his eyes yet as the door closed. Judge Judy played softly in the background until it was turned off. He felt Hero’s stare on him, sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Villain cracked an eye open, vision blurry with sleep, but he immediately knew that that wasn’t Hero. Villain jerked back on the couch, blinking themselves awake.

No, no, no, no, no, no…. Why was he having hallucinations again? He felt so much better. Villain shook his head.

“You’re not real, you’re not real,” Villain said to himself.

“Oh, I think you’ll find I’m very real, Villain.”

Villain kicked out on instinct, his feet catching in the blanket he was tangled up in. Superhero chuckled. “You’re still so pathetic,” Superhero said leaning forward. Villain pushed at Superhero’s outstretched hand, eyes widening as it made contact.

“Wh— what?” Villain asked, his entire body shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and fear and groaning muscles. Superhero didn’t answer, instead he batted Villain’s hand away and grabbed Villain by the throat. Villain’s hands went to Superhero’s wrist, trying to pull it off, but Superhero pressed him back into the couch.

“When I heard that Hero was dating a villain, I was concerned, but to realise that that villain was you. Well, I can kill two birds with one stone.”

Villain tried to untangle himself from the blanket, but he was well and truly cocooned no matter how much he kicked.

“I’ve missed you, Villain. And to think you were here, in my city. Hiding under my nose for the longest time, in bed with my best Hero, you’re like a cockroach.”

Villain’s eyes widened in terror. “If you laid a hand on them—”

Superhero tilted his head. “You’ll what? Kick me?”

Before Villain could think to reply, Superhero punched him right in the solar plexus. Villain lurched forward, breath stolen, straight into Superhero’s palm who squeezed, cutting off his air supply.

“Let’s get a proper look at you, hmm?”

Villain barely had time to process the words when Superhero yanked him off the couch by their shirt and tossed him to the ground. Villain barely felt the impact as they rolled, gasping in air as he went, hands protectively curled around his stomach.

“I would’ve thought that Villain, the Villain would have more to offer me. Something formidable, but look at you,” Superhero said, following Villain’s retreat with heavy, deliberate footsteps. “Still as weak as ever. I could kill you right now and let Hero find your mangled corpse, and y’know what?”

Superhero sent a swift kick to Villain’s cheek, whipping Villain’s head to the side. Villain turned over onto his stomach, getting one hand under himself before there was a hand in his hair, yanking thim back.

Villain cried out, grabbing the hand, trying to alleviate the pressure, but Superhero didn’t let up. He pulled Villain back and up to his feet, shoving him forward. Villain’s hands shot out to catch himself on the wall before he fell again.

“There you go, let me get a good look at you,” Superhero said. Villain’s whole-body shook, his legs trembling, struggling to keep himself upright. His limbs ached, screaming at him to rest and relax, but Villain’s terror left him frozen. “Turn around.”

This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be real, this isn’t real. This is just another hallucination, Superhero can’t be here, he can’t be… he can’t be…

Superhero’s voice dropped low, chilling Villain to the core. “Do I have to ask twice, or do you remember who’s in charge?”

Villain used the wall to turn themselves, facing Supervillain and staring him in the eyes. He refused to cower anymore.

“Hmm, so Hero’s been slumming it with you, have they?”

“Why?” Villain snapped. “Jealous?”

Superhero laughed, shaking their head slowly. “No,” he replied, tilting his head. “Though I’m sure my advances wouldn’t be refused.”

Villain grit their teeth. “You’re lying.” He was, but to see that flash of fear cross Villain’s face after so long was worth it.

“I just always pictured Hero with someone strong. Y’know, someone who could stand on their own two feet. Someone with a Hero’s physique, you? What, have you completely disregarded your training, or do you want to look like a complete failure?”

Villain shook his head, sweat clinging to the back of his neck as he stepped off the wall. He immediately regretted the decision and stumbled back, gritting his teeth as the world spun and tilted.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Villain said instead or rising to Superhero’s bait. “You don’t have any effect on me.”

“Is that so?”

Villain swallowed hard, humming his reply as Superhero started towards him, taking slow, deliberate steps that sent Villain’s heart racing.

“Because that’s not what I heard. I heard you begging your brother to leave you alone,” Superhero said, relishing the way all colour seemed to leave Villain’s face. “To stop, to beat you instead today, please, please, please.”

“Y—you h-heard that?” Villain asked with a timid voice as Superhero stopped in front of him.

“Oh yes, and I thought it was strange, because well, I wasn’t there, Vil. But don’t worry. Big bro’s here now, and we’re going to make you better.”

“No—” Villain protested, shooting his hand out. Superhero caught it by the wrist and twisted his arm before slamming it back against the wall. “No, no, no, no!”

“Don’t you want to be worthy of Hero? Don’t you love them enough to be perfect?”

“Hero loves me!” Villain cried, tears springing to his eyes as he struggled to get out of Superhero’s grip. But Superhero was too strong. Superhero was always stronger than Villain, and no matter how much Villain trained or wanted to forget it, he was right back where he ran away from. He was back as a kid, Brother overpowering him and staring back into his brother’s callous, dispassionate eyes. “Brother, please.”

Superhero brushed Villain’s hair from his forehead, gently hushing Villain. “Oh, Villain. We haven’t even started yet.” His eyes darkening. “But don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of time for begging later.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Continued here

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