#desperate enough to make a wish and desperate enough to stay against his better judgement

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: Mentions of drinking, drunk driving, dog penises, and more. 

A/N: FIRST CHAPTER OF A NEW SERIES HOES!!!

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P1: Dumb Dog Dicks

wc: 1100+

The screech of the tires scratching on the street sends a shiver down my spine, my clammy hands clenching together harder. 

“Assholes,” I mutter, dragging my dirty shoes along the cement. Even the laces are sticky, a bright, unnatural blue staring back at me as I watch the cracks in the sidewalk pass beneath each step. 

It was stupid. Tessa had invited me to the party. I had been excited to have fun, but it wasn’t fun. The vibrant stain on my shoes was definitely from some kind of jungle juice. I hate jungle juice. 

Well, I hate alcohol in general. But jungle juice? That's a different kind of hatred. The entire point of the drink is to mix it with so many add-ins that the alcohol is barely noticeable. Which is why so many people were throwing up at that damn party. 

My house isn’t far. It’s only a couple of streets away from the booze-infested mansion. But it’s far enough to be a different neighborhood. It wasn’t sketchy by any means, I enjoyed the suburbs. The neighbors were nice, but their dogs were even nicer. 

Especially this one. 

“Hi, girl!” I whisper-shout, crouching down to reach my hand through the metal cross-wired fence. A short laugh escapes through my lips as the small dog snorts, licking my hand enthusiastically. 

She’s adorable. I pass her every day on my morning walks. She’s always sunbathing, her eyes glowing like honey in the sunshine. And she’s just a sweetheart. This moment is exactly what I needed after tonight. 

The fence rattles as she tosses herself against it, desperate for more pets. The clatter echoes through the empty streets, making my eyes go wide. 

Looking around, I’m relieved to see nothing but a flickering lamp post. I know walking home alone this late isn’t smart, but it’s still better than letting a drunk guy drive me home. Even though Shawn had promised to stay sober. 

“So dumb,” I mumble, rubbing the dog’s ear–something I know she loves. Although I have pet her countless times, I still can’t get a hold of her collar to read her name. Not that it really matters–she liked being called Cutie. 

“Did you just call my dog dumb?” 

My whole body jolts at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. I quickly retract my hand from the fence, clutching my chest as I gasp for air. 

“Jesus! I–no, no, I was just…” I stand up fast, my eyes dropping to my hands as I smooth down my short skirt. Why does it have to be so cold? “I was talking to myself, sorry,” I huff, giving the dog one last glance before finally looking up. 

A lump forms in my throat as I meet his gaze. Even in the dim light, I can see how bright his eyes are–sharp, piercing. Intimidating. 

“She’s, uh… she’s really cute,” I add, nodding to the dog as I give an awkward smile. 

My forehead crinkles as I watch him cock an eyebrow, his arms unfolding slightly as he gestures toward the dog. “She’s,” he points, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “-a he.” 

Oh. 

She’s a he. 

“Oh.” My mouth draws into an ‘O’ as I chew the inside of my cheek. I wrap my arms around myself, bracing against the cold breeze that cuts through the air. God, I wish this skirt were longer.

“Yeah.” He reaches for the fence gate, pushing it open and shutting it behind him with a soft clank. “Why are you petting a random dog at…” He glances down at his phone before stuffing it back into his coat pocket. “Nearly two in the morning?” 

The judgemental look on his face makes my fingers twitch. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was walking home from a party,” I grumble, my tongue pressing against the back of my teeth as I hug my arms closer.

His lips curl slightly. “This late? Are you stupid?”

I clench my teeth, a sharp breath leaving my nose. “I–well—you, ugh.” 

His head tilts, watching me like he’s waiting for me to form a coherent sentence. 

Annoyed, I cross my arms. “What are you doing out so late, hm?” I shoot back, my confidence wavering as he stares at me–completely unfazed. 

My feet shift against the pavement as I drop my posture slightly, glancing away. The flickering street lamp blinks in my peripheral vision, its erratic pattern drawing my gaze to the tall metal post.

“I went for a walk,” he says blankly. 

I slowly turn my head back toward him with a raised brow. “Without your dog?” I gesture toward the so-called ‘he,’ who is now cleaning himself. 

Yep. That’s definitely a boy. 

My shoulders shutter as I recoil slightly, disgust creeping up my spine. 

“Trevor's lazy,” he states.

My ears perk at the name. Trevor. 

A small smile creeps onto my face as Trevor stirs at the mention of his name, wagging his tail slightly. 

Trevour wags his tail half-heartedly before flopping onto his side, done with us both. 

I smirk. “Yeah, he seems real energetic.” 

The guy exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “He has more sense than you, at least. Doesn’t go wandering around at night like an idiot.”

My smirk drops. “Okay, rude.”

He shrugs. “Not rude. Just stating facts.”

I glare. “Well, fact: I’m fine. I walk this way all the time.”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Wow. That makes it so much safer.”

I groan, throwing my hands in the air. “You know what? I don’t need a lecture from some random guy who names his dog Trevor.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “What’s wrong with the name Trevor?”

“It’s just—” I glance at the dog, who’s now licking his own paw in oblivious contentment. “It’s very human.”

The guy crosses his arms. “Yeah? Well, Cutie isn’t exactly original.”

My face heats up. “It’s not his real name! I just—ugh, whatever.” I back up toward the sidewalk, rubbing my arms against the cold.

He watches me for a moment before sighing. “Chris.”

I blink. “What?”

“My name. Since you’re so desperate to call me something other than ‘random guy who names his dog Trevor.’”

I hesitate before answering. “Y/N.”

Chris nods once. “Cool.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence. Trevor lets out a loud yawn.

“Well,” I say, shifting on my feet, “enjoy your walk.”

“Enjoy not getting kidnapped,” he retorts.

I scoff but don’t dignify him with another response. Instead, I spin on my heel and march away, my shoes still sticky, my mood somehow worse than it was before.

Behind me, I hear the fence creak, followed by a soft, “C’mon, Trevor.”

I roll my eyes. Chris.

This neighborhood just got a whole lot more annoying.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

A pair of white, jade-like hands covered Wei Wuxian's own, skin deceiviengly soft against the callouses of hard fieldwork and scar tissue. His fingers stop drawing characters on an unfinished talisman, an empty look in his eyes as he stares at the yellow paper.

"Wei Ying." A soft, all too familiar voice echoes through his ears. "Enough of that. You need to rest."

Wei Wuxian says nothing, eyes unseeing as they focus ahead. He breathes in a laboured way, almost as if he is trying to meditate.

"Wei Ying."

He doesn't react, again, as if waiting for the other to give up on his own. His tired, ashen features do not contort in any way, but the dimming light in his eyes is enough of a tell that he is revisiting bad memories.

The warmth on his hands feels foreign, to the point of being uncomfortable - and the slight whiff of sandalwood feels almost foul. Yet, he does not fight it.

"Wei Yi-"

"Stop calling me that." He says, voice flat, like he is only speaking to fill in the silence and not hoping to be obeyed.

There is no reply. Instead, he feels the other's body press comfortingly against him, enveloping his back in a gentle hug.

Wei Wuxian's hands ball into fists, eyes narrowing slightly. But other than that, he does not bother to make any sounds or gestures, like he is waiting for an uncomfortable sensation to pass.

The other rests his head in the crook of his neck, a soft breath raising goosebumps all over Wei Wuxian's skin. There is a small, fleeting sensation of a kiss to the column of his neck, marking the place where his pulse had jumped.

"Wei Ying..." he whispers softly, almost lovingly, almost real. "Why won't you rest?"

Wei Wuxian swallows hard, clenching his fists. He focuses on the sting of his blunt nails against his palm, on his rising heartbeat, on the way it feels like his lungs cannot take in enough air to fill.

But he does not respond.

The other peppers slow, soft kisses over his throat, his hands sliding over Wei Wuxian's arms, atop his tattered robes, into his lapels, over the skin of his chest and the unhealed Wen brand scar. It feels painful, but in an odd sort of way, like it is being healed against his body's wishes.

The hands slide lower, over thin scarred skin that barely covers his protruding ribs - and against his better judgement and his will, he shivers in something that's akin to pleasure.

Even so, his lips stay sealed - but the glint in his eyes is almost painful now, longing in a way that knows will find no comfort.

The other sighs, in great disappointment, as he retracts his hands.

"You will break one day." He says, his voice fragmenting into hundreds of ghostly whispers as his illusory body disapears into formless wisps of resentment. "You wish so desperately for him to-"

"Shut up!" Wei Wuxian all but roars, sending his hand through the cloud of dark resentment to dissipate it. The voices laugh and screech in his ears, the pain so sharp as if a terrible beast was biting into his eardrums.

He will never want you! We're all you have left!

And Wei Wuxian knows that must be the truth.

(It is not.)

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 39

Third POV

It's Monday. The beginning of the week. Most are optimistic, hoping the week would be better than the last. Not Eboni, though. She wishes for the weekend to return so she can spend her days in her bed doing absolutely nothing.

After everything that took place, Eboni blocked Taylor on everything - heart heavy as she did so. Eboni was also informed by Tiffany that they'll be returning today later in the evening. The teen is thankful towards Luna and Iris for cleaning up her room. She didn't want her foster parents to question why her room was a complete mess. But she would have to make up some lie for why most of her favorite belongs got destroyed.

Eboni is riding to school on her rollerblades, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Once there, she puts her hood over her head, desperate to go unnoticed by a certain guy. She quickly grabs the books needed for her first three classes and changes her shoes, stuffing her rollerblades into her locker. When Eboni goes to shut her locker, a hand appears above her - pressing the locker shut.

Her body tenses, knowing exactly who's behind her base on the feeling of his body pressed against hers. The male stares down at the teen with unblinking eyes, drinking in her appearance. The blonde grins, leaving down to whisper in her ear.

"Hey, Ebs. I missed you. How come you haven't replied to my message?", Alex questions.

Eboni doesn't answer, her body freezing. No matter how much she pleases for her body to move him away, it won't comply. Alex frowns, pressing his body against her much rougher - causing Eboni's body to be pressed against the lockers.

"Ebs. I asked you a question, I don't like getting ignored - you know that better than anyone. Remember the tantrums I would do if you weren't giving me enough attention?"

"Th-Those tantrums..g-got you beatings." Eboni stutters out, malice laced in each word.

"But it was wooooorth it! Wanna know why? Because you'd always come to my rescue and give me the attention I wanted all along." Alex giggles.

"Y... You sick f -"

Alex moves to grab Eboni's hair, a few students watching the interaction, but thought nothing of it. His smile stretches, grip tightening. "Me? Sick? My love for you is sick, Ebs? That's soooo mean! Any idea how I felt when I went back to my room and you were gone? The abandonment - the rejection you forced upon me? And how you didn't respond to none of my messages - not a single one. That hurt me so... so badly, Eboni. But it's ok! I forgive you!"

Eboni's heartrate spikes. She has the power to shove him away, but she can't. Her body is frozen in place - breath hitch once he presses himself fully against her. He plants kisses against her neck, and she feels his length grow hard.

"Fuck Ebs. I want you right here, right now."

That was enough to snap Eboni out of her fear stricken state. "NO!" She screams, elbowing him in his stomach and pushes him away - her body falling against the lockers as she pants heavily.

Alex's eyes narrow, close to hitting the girl again until he notices the crowd. So he smiles, lowering himself down and holding his hand out. "My bad, Ebs, I forgot how scared you are of bugs. I was joking! There wasn't a spider on your shoulder." He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

Eboni's eyes dart around her, judgemental and questioning stare back at her. She looks at his hand, slowly shaking her head. She's so close to screaming, so close to falling apart right then and there.

"E-Eboni...h-here I'll help you up." Iris said softly, ignoring Alex while gently helping the teen up from the floor.

Alex watches with that fake blinding smile, nodding his head. "Oh! You're the girl that's always around Taylor. She never introduced us! I'm Al-"

"I-I know who you a-are." Iris stutters, bringing Eboni close and taking her hands into her shaky ones. "A-And I would appreciate th-that you stay away f-from my friend. S-She's uncomfortable a-around you."

"Really? Uncomfortable? Why is that?" Alex questions, playing coy.

This truly shakes Eboni to her core, "Because y-"

"She thinks ya raped ha!- can ya believe it?" Taylor joins in, taking Alex side.

Alex eyes widen only slightly, glancing around at the crowd. Most didn't believe what was said. Others look doubtful. The blonde laughs, shaking his head. "Really? I mean, we had a few drinks and had a little fun. Nothing to wild though - right, Ebs? I'd never do anything you weren't begging for."

Eboni didn't say anything. She keeps her head low, clinging onto Iris for dear life. Taylor didn't like that at all. "He takin' ta ya Ebs. Can't ya hear?"

Iris glares at Taylor, her heart aching at the way her former dear friend is acting. "St-Stop it, Taylor. This is p-pathetic even f-for you.." the goth states boldly. "Let's g-go Eboni."

"Never took you as a fearless type, Iris. That's kinda cute. But I'll see you around Ebs!" Alex said, leaning down to kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear. "Behind the school near the dumpsters. Don't show up, and our night of fun will be displayed throughout the whole school - got it?"

Eboni nods reluctantly, breath caught in her throat. Alex smiles, leaning away, and walks off to his first class with Taylor right behind him. Eboni watches with widen eyes, knees giving way - the girl falling to the ground. Iris is by her side, trying to help her up, but Eboni doesn't budge. Her life hasn't come to this... right?

The rest of the day went by rather quickly. Eboni's mind wasn't present for most of it, dozing off in class and zoning out - trying to distract herself from her meeting with Alex. She would've said no if he didn't insinuate having possible pictures and videos of what took place in his bedroom. She wants to feel doubtful, but at this point, he seems crazy enough to do something like that.

At the final bell, Eboni rushes to the back of the school , wanting this meeting to end quickly. She sees Alex leaning against the brick wall. The blonde turns his head, smiling happily at Eboni. He meets her halfway, his smile hiding the horrors about to leave his lips.

"Be my girlfriend."

Eboni blinks, backing away a bit. "Wh-What?"

"You heard me, Ebs. I don't like repeating myself." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Come on. Just be mine."

Eboni is petrified. She can't be Alex's. She wants nothing to do with the man who raped her. She belongs to Jeff. Her mind, body, soul - everything belongs to Jeff. Her physic won't allow her to think otherwise, let alone consider anyone else to fill Jeff's place. That's just not possible, so in response, she shakes her head.

Alex raises a brow, pouting his lips. "Does that killer have that strong of a hold on you? Come on, Ebs, I'm so much better."

"Why would I want to be with the guy that drugged and RAPED ME!?" she screams.

Alex grabs Eboni, slamming her body against the brink wall, and places his hand over her mouth. "Tsk Tsk tsk. I didn't rape you, Ebs. I displayed my feelings in a more intimate way. Can't you accept it?"

Eboni shakes her head, struggling to leave Alex's hold. Her body suddenly feels so weak. His grip tightens, his frown deep and eyes cold. "I didn't want to resort to option two." He sighs, reaching into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He goes to his gallery and clicks on a video, his moans coming from the speaker.

He shows the video to Eboni, smiling sickly. "See this, Ebs? It's US! Though you can't really see my face - everyone can see yours. Ahhh~ just watching this makes me hard! Anyways, be my girl, or I'll leak this video all over school - or better yet, on the internet! It's your choice." He hums, pulling away from her.

Eboni slides down the wall, breathing heavily as the reality of the situation sets in. Her only - only hope is for Jeff to somehow get rid of Alex while invading suspicion from the police. With that in mind, the teen stands to her feet, looking at Alex with all the courage she can muster.

"Y-Yeah... Yeah, fine.." she said, voice shaky.

Alex beams, scooping Eboni into a tight hug and showering her face with kisses that make the girl cringe. "Aaahh!! Finally! You're finally mine, Ebs! I've been waiting years for this!" He pulls away, checking his phone for the time. "Shit! Late for practice! I'll see you tomorrow, Ebs!" He cheers, kissing her cheek and waving - skipping away

Eboni feels the disgust settle in, causing her stomach to bubble. She leans forward and vomits. She heaves, quickly slipping on her rollerblades and rushes back home, fighting back tears and more bile raising in her throat.

Once home, she yanks her rollerblades off, rushing past her foster parents and into the guest bathroom and throws up again into the toilet - throat burning and mind buzzing. Tiffany rushes to her side, trying to help the girl from the floor. Eboni moves to sit on the toilet after flushing it, staring down at the white tile floor.

"Oh my goodness, Eboni! What's happening, dear?" Tiffany questions with Daniel leaning against the doorframe.

Eboni is torn. Should she tell them? They're rich, one of the richest in town. They'll have the money to hire the best lawyer. Sure, Eboni would have to go through the publicity she wants to avoid - but at least she would finally be away from him. That seems the more reasonable route than having Jeff kill him.

She looks at Tiffany, forcing herself to speak through her burning throat. "I...I-I was raped.." she whispers, but Tiffany caught on.

She gasped, moving closer to Eboni, pushing the hair out of her face. "By who Eboni? Tell us, and we'll handle it."

"Alex...Alexander Willson."

Both parents' eyes widen before they become lace with uncertainty. Tiffany backs away, straightening herself up. "Oh...well dear, tell us the full story."

Eboni explains every detail from beginning to end, not leaving anything out, except for Jeff. The parents share a look, Daniel quick to take his leave back into the living room. Tiffany sighs, placing her hands on the girl's cheek. She smiles warmly, but her words bring a dagger through Eboni's heart.

"Are you sure dear? It seems like both of you had drinks, and you just had more than you can handle. Even if we go to the police, not much could be done. So maybe....its not as bad as you made it out to be? Just had a few drinks to many, and you got carried away. That's all right?"

Eboni stares at Tiffany, the hope she had in her foster parents fading completely. Of course, they didn't believe her. They don't want to taint their image within the media. They're rich, after all, and everything they do reflects their image - including taking in problem children.

Eboni pulls away, standing from the toilet, and goes to the sink to clean out her mouth. Tiffany watches nervously, moving to place a hand on the teen's shoulder. "I'm making dinner.It'ss almost re-"

Eboni shrugs her hand off, shooting a glare her way. "Not hungry." She growls out, storming past her and into her room.

Eboni slames her bedroom door, locking it as well. She moves to her computer desk, glad to see her laptop isn't damaged. She pulls it out, typing away at Google to find ways to somehow get out of the situation she's in - all pointing to going to the police but that's now out of the question. Her only source of hope is Jeff, who she hasn't heard from all day. She pulls out her phone, refusing to believe that he has abandoned her over something she lost control of.

Eboni: Jeff....he asked me to be his girl. I SAID NO...at first. But..but he has a video. His face isn't in it, but mine is. My foster parents don't believe me, so I can't go to the police....please Jeff, I need you. Please do something..please help me.."

As Eboni types out her message, she notices drops of water land on her phone screen. She touches her face, feeling her soak cheeks. Crying yet again. Eboni sends the text, curling up in her bed and holding her stuffed bunny close. As her tears soak her pillow, she prays for Jeff to reply as soon as possible. Who knows how long she can withstand everything....until she gives up.

Unbeknownst to Eboni, two men watched everything that took place within the home from the windows. One was able to hear the conversation thanks to bugging the house while everyone was away. The man jumps from the window, walking towards the forest where the other man stands waiting.

"H-He should know what's happening." Toby said, a tick affecting his speech.

Hoodie nods, glancing at Eboni's window before the two begin their walk back to the mansion. "That bad?"

Toby nods, placing his hands into his pockets. "Her rapist won't leave her alone. Her incompetent parents don't be-believe her, and well... there's no way for h-her to contact Jeff. Sh-She looks like she'll break any second."

"Mhm.....why inform Jeff of this?" Hoddie ask as they go behind the mansion and open a trap door leading underground.

Toby walks down first while Hoodie closes the door behind them. "To give him a reason to be on his best behavior while he's stuck down here. T-Th-Th-The worse he acts, the longer he's stuck there."

Hoodie nods, walking into the control room station above the white room. Toby slips on the light switch and turns on the controls, live footage showing Jeff still in the straitjacket. The blindfold was removed from his eyes yesterday, but a metal mouth guard is placed on him due to the smiling killer biting anyone that touches him or tries feeding him food. Toby switches on the microphone so Jeff will be able to hear him through the speakers.

"Jeff."

He doesn't respond, eyes cast downward - body hunched over. Toby sighs, pitching the bridge of his nose. "I-Its Toby." Jeff responds with a shrug.

"L-Look, I'm here on E-Eboni's behave - so it's best to l-listen to what I'm about to s-say," Toby said, hoping the girl's name would bring some type of respond.

And it does. Jeff sits up, staring straight into the camera. He doesn't try to stand, but he nods his head, wanting Toby to continue.

"Sl-Slend...Master ordered me to watch her for the rest of the month. It's November, by the way. A-Anyways, I'm not sure why... but that girl looks like she's about to b-break any second. H-Her parents don't believe her. A-And her Rapsit won't l-leave her alone."

Jeff's eyes narrow, forcing himself to stand as he begins shouting through his mouth hard, but everything is muffled. This is what the killer was worried about. He knows his girl - he knows Eboni. There's only so much she can take, so much she can handle. The fact that the boy that hurt her won't leave her alone ignites that white hot fury from before.

"Calm. D-Down." Toby said.

Jeff stares at the camera, wanting so badly to destory it, but he listens - trying to stop his body from shaking. Toby clearly has more to say.

"I-I'm telling you, n-not because I like you i-in any way, but because I-I know how it f-feels..." Toby explains, his ticks getting stronger. "Th-The same happened to m-mine. I w-w-was-not able t-to protect her b-because.....a-anyways just get your sh-shit together so you can help Eboni out of her n-nightmare. I-I'll make sure she doesn't do a-anything rash." With that said, Toby shuts off the speaker, both him and Hoodie leaving the control room.

Jeff sits back down, moving to lay on his back as he stares at the white cushions ceiling. He closes his eyes, taking Toby's words into consideration. As much as he hates to say that ticking freak is right - he is. He should've better controlled himself that day for Eboni's sake, yet he still doesn't regret his actions. Despite this conclusion, he'll follow Toby's advice. Once the smiling killer does, he'll be released and able to, as Toby stated, help Eboni out of her nightmare.

[pawsometoons]

Soooo me and @man-of-fandoms began brainstorming on once again another GHS related au, this one actually also being related to the Scales of Fate au. Basically, it's an alternate timeline to the Scales of Fate au. And we called it

The Scales of Twisted Fate Au

Justin, Desperate to get a win, secretly employs the help of Assasin, Shelly De Killer, who assasinates Japser and Ray, (Jasper being stabbed with his scales while Ray is shot in the heart) causing them *both* to end up in Gregory House. And naturally, all the fucked up things that happen to Jasper still happen, and despite Ray being there to try and help him keep his sanity, Jasper eventually loses it.

Ray would eventually succumb to his own transformation as well (becoming Ray "The Grieving Pierrot"), making him look more like a slightly twisted version of Reala, but leaving his humanity intact as he desperatly tries to pull free the one he loves from Judgement Boy.

But, Justin's plan still backfires on him. Because he ends up getting killed for going back on his deal with De Killer, and ends up in Gregory house as well. But he quickly learns of Jasper's fate, and knowing that his normal tactics won't work, he demands that he undergoes the same transformation as Jasper did. But he wished to make his better than Jasper's, just to show that HE was the superior one. Becoming Judgement Boy Gold.

But his Judgements are twisted and made to be the outcomes HE wants, while JB's would be the truth. Similar to how they were as lawyers. Strangely enough, there were no clones made, as Justin wanted it to just be him and Jasper. So he could be the one to constantly wave his "greater status" above JB's head. Along with constantly calling him by Jasper. A name he no longer remembers and is constantly confused as to why he keeps being called that name by those he doesnt know hes forgotten.

Over time, as much as Ray wanted to stay by JB's side, he was always pushed away by this look of confusion, telling Ray that JB just couldnt recognize him anymore. So Ray would try to help elsewhere and bring hope to the other guests, and even try to convince Gregory to stand up to his mother! Ray did all he could to try and get the love of his life back. But at this point, he had to try something else.

Then one night, Justin Gold's laying down the insults on JB because he doesn't remember him and is filling his head with how he's better at everything he will try to do. But Ray then comes in, pretty much close to giving up on getting Japser back. Plus, Ray is pretty much unrecognizable in his transformed state. But still he defends JB and tells Gold to get lost. Which he reluctantly does, but not before rubbing it in that it "was pointless trying to save someone that doesn't even remember them anymore".

JB thinks: 'What did he mean by that?" and quickly scans Ray's memories before getting that headache of awakening. Then, as Ray is about to leave, he hears a familiar voice call out his name for the first time in years.

This is when JB finally realizes and remembers the love he had once forgotten by some sort of miracle! Once again they would cherish each other's loving embraces and just for a moment, feel whole again. And from that point onward, Ray never leaves JB's side. And eventually, despite looking the same JB would start to act a little like his human self again.

Soon enough, a power struggle would begin between Gregory and his mother. Due to Ray's help in bringing the Hotel back to it's former status (a place for lost souls to stay until Death comes along to bring their souls to the afterlife), Gregory would begin going against his mother's orders and eventually kicking her out. But not without Gregory Mama taking Judgement Boy Gold with her. This is when Gregory Mama begins to wage war against Gregory House, and makes her own hotel across to the other side of the forest to take in twisted and evil souls. She tried to take some other guests in the hotel with her, but all except Gold refused to go with her.

This brings in new opportunities for Gregory House to grow and become better than it once was, which is where the shared events from the Twisted Fate AU come in. In which the Judgement Circus is a thing here too, along with Ringmaster RoseGold! And instead, the Judgement Boy clones were created after the Judgement Circus is built, (As well as future Judgement Bots made for this au and the Twisted Fate au) Ray would find himself to play a good role on the Judgement Circus alongside JB! Due to Ray's already clown-like appearance.

As time goes on, Gregory would be working hard day and night to make sure the hotel doesnt fall like it once did, along with the help of Ray and JB of course. Meanwhile Gregory Mama was having a hard time getting any guests at all for her "Dark Gregory House" (as she calls it) and so she gets the idea to have the little ammount of prompters there was that Gold managed to drag along with him create a Judgement Boy clone for her hotel. But to spite Gold, these promoters that were forced into doing the bidding of these two monsters would prove to Gold that you can't make something that beats the original. But Gold only makes it worse for himself due to him berating and rushing the prompters. Due to this and the lack of materials, a faulty clone was made (Soul Collector JB). Gold decides to roll with it anyway since it's really all he has, although relentlessly abused the poor thing for the constant mistakes it would make.

Ray and JB catch wind of what's going down at Gregory Mama's hotel and the poor clone in Gold's posession.This they could NOT stand. And so they sneaked into enemy territory to eventually retrieve this clone and bring them back to Gregory House. This clone eventually becomes very close to Ray and JB, basically becoming their child!

Later on, a bit farther into the future, Gregory is confronted by Death for an important matter. Gregory is told that a slight disturbance has manifested within the between of their realm and reality. This disturbance being the appearance of souls manifesting from non-living objects within an elementary school in the real world. Death supposes it's from essence of these forgotten objects that give them living and breathing forms. And somehow the energy from their realm is leaking into the waking world, giving the elementary school a new form during midnight. These beings formed by these objects seemed to be children, Wandering around this empty school aimlessly, not sure what to do. Death tells that this is why he came for Gregory's help. But as much as Gregory wanted to help, he has so much on his plate already and couldnt possibly offer help of his own. But... lately, seeing how well Ray and JB were at watching over the children of the hotel every now and then, Gregory had an idead that just maybe... Ray and JB could be the ones to help out death with this situation.

It is later found out, that this midnight version of the school was once in operation before under different owners. But due to Gregory Mama having the most power in the realm the school was connected to, she destroyed it, causing no more forgotten objects to be given living forms. This, along with the Principal of the Midnight School being the only survivor, but was trapped away in a void like prison. But with Gregory Mama not in full power anymore at Gregory House, new forgotten objects in the school been given form! So when Gregory is informed by Death about the school, it would soon be under the watchful eyes of Ray and JB!

(There is an update reblog to this au that you can find here)

[mentalpolaroids]

Focus (on me)

[gif creds @thyla]

Eddie Munson x female!Reader (Claire)

Warnings: a bit of angst, swearing, mentions of smoking, use of an original name instead of (y/n) 

Summary: When your’re best friend’s with Chrissy Cunningham you have no choice but to get used to the lack of attention because everybody is focused on her. You just wished one person in particular would be different and focus on you instead. And he did.  

The idea of being Chrissy Cunningham’s best friend was easily anyone’s cup of tea. For the girls, it was a win in popularity points, for the boys, it was a chance to get in her pants or, even better, on Jason’s nerves, and to Claire, it was being a constant magnet to weird and confused side-eyes. Nobody seemed to understand why she, of all people, was friends with Chrissy. She went from a nobody to the nobody that follows Chrissy around. That’s what people would say anyway, neither Claire nor the cheerleader cared about whatever shallow-minded comment people had to share. 

Both girls felt the same about each other: their friendship was the most genuine of Hawkins High. Claire saw through Chrissy’s desired status and beauty and knew how to appreciate her kindness. Chrissy wasn’t judgemental about Claire not caring about cheerleading or makeup and knew how to appreciate her sense of humor. 

They were complete opposites but worked together so well, it felt like nothing could tear apart the unlikely bond. 

Until Eddie Munson came into the picture. 

For more it pained her to admit it, Claire never expected a boy to be the reason she would start questioning her friendship with Chrissy the way outsiders did. It was obvious Eddie had a crush on the cheerleader, who didn’t? If it was any other guy it wouldn’t be a shock nor would it make her chest hurt, but it was Eddie: the only other person in that damn school she could also call a friend. Unfortunately, just a friend. 

Not even Chrissy was aware of the crush her best friend had on the metal head, so Claire had to remind herself constantly that it wasn’t the poor girl’s fault. She probably didn’t even know how or when they became friends in the first place, which started with a smoke break on an unintentional shared secret spot behind the school. 

Eddie had just finished another intense DnD campaign and was dying to step outside. Not that he wanted to get away from the kids, but he knew it wasn’t very role-model like to smoke in front of them. The game itself and the fame it gave to the club was enough to terrorize the boys, they didn’t need the rumor of Eddie inciting drugs on them to be added on that. 

Claire was waiting for the cheerleading practice to end so she and Chrissy could go explore the new shoe store at the Starcourt Mall. According to the cheerleader, the shoes were so pretty even Claire would want to buy a pair of heels for herself. It would probably just stay in your closet as a decorative piece though, Chrissy would joke. 

Eddie didn’t expect to see the girl, or anyone really, in his usual hideout, but the disappointment of not having the place to himself quickly went away when she offered him her lighter. She assumed the not so neatly rolled blunt hanging on his lips and the repetitive, clumsy and desperate rummaging through his various pockets was a sign he had lost his. With a shy but charming thank you, both stayed put in their place against the wall, looking ahead. Conversation started flowing more naturally with each blow of smoke, and from then on, the smoke breaks got expanded into quick conversations in the hallways and then to hangouts outside the school. 

They didn’t mean to keep the friendship a secret, it was just that it was an escape from reality for the both of them and opening it to the rest of the world would take the specialness away. They weren’t ready to give that up, and maybe that’s why it stung so much when Eddie started to use Chrissy as the topic of their conversations, and for more he played around with his words, it was clear in his eyes that he had some puppy feelings for the cheerleader. 

Safe to say, Claire wasn’t happy that something from “the outside” made itself present in her Eddie bubble, not even (or especially) her other best friend. She felt bad for feeling like that, but she couldn’t help it, just like the metal head couldn’t help his crush on Chrissy, so it was all very overwhelming to Claire to try and organize her tangled emotions. 

..

“Why the long face?” Eddie asked after blowing the smoke into the chilly air and turned his head back to look at his best friend.

“I don’t have a long face.” 

“You look kinda sad and shit. Angry, even.”  

Claire snorted. Bingo, she thought. 

“Just not in a very good mood today.”

“No shit.” Eddie replied, the sarcasm lowkey angering Claire a bit more. 

The girl let out a long sigh, closed her eyes and counted to five in her head. On six she opened her eyes, on seven aligned her cigarette to her lips and took a drag of it until she reached nine, and blew the smoke on the count of ten. Then, she glanced at the boy next to her, who still observed her with curiosity and a bit of concern. 

For a few seconds, she disregarded Eddie’s emotions to appreciate his lovely features. She had always loved how his fringe would fall over his eyes and he would simply ignore it, not even notice it was limiting his vision. Or how his big, brown eyes could hold such expressionism that she would know what he was thinking about without him needing to say it. Or how every time he says a joke he immediately turns to her to see if she laughed. And don’t get her started on how he occasionally lends her one of his rings, even knowing it’s too large on her fingers, just to play with it and how that alone makes her content. All of that makes Claire’s heart beat faster, her stomach does more turns and still she gets sadder everyday because none of that seems to matter because it’s not her Eddie wants. It’s Chrissy. 

Claire hated herself for mentally mentioning her friend’s name with such disdain, but she had been hating herself a lot lately because nothing ever seemed to go her way so what was another thing to add to that? 

“Don’t you have a campaign to go back to?” she finally spoke, drifting her gaze from Eddie to look at her blunt. Still half of it to go, which meant she could stay there longer, hopefully alone. 

“Yes, but I also have a friend who’s sad and clearly needs someone.”

I need you. And oh how she wished she didn’t. 

“I’ll be fine.” an attempted smile wasn’t enough to convince Eddie, but he knew better than to play stubborn with an even more stubborn person. He would lose big time, if not leave the battlefield wounded. 

“Ok.” he replied, overdramatically separating himself from the brick wall and throwing himself on the girl in a clumsy hug. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

A longing kiss on the side of the head was the last thing she got from Eddie before she was finally left alone with her guilty thoughts. 

..

Chrissy called Claire’s name a second time when she didn’t acknowledge it in the first attempt. It was clear she was distracted, just like she had been in most of the latest conversations the two had been having lately, and Chrissy wasn’t sure if she should be worried or frustrated. 

“Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?”

The cheerleader then saw behind Claire’s head what she had been staring at. Eddie Munson. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, a small curve over her lips forming a sympathetic smile. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Claire continued with another apology after taking one last glance at Eddie, almost as if to make sure he was still there, “Sorry. I’m just having trouble focusing on everything today.”

“Just today?” 

Claire looked at her friend, confused.

“What do you mean?”

Instead of a verbal answer, Chrissy nodded her head towards the boy in the distance that was now looking in their direction. Claire followed her signal and fixed her eyes on Eddie again and she wished she hadn’t done that this time. 

He was smiling, in a way that always made her melt a little bit on the inside, but that warm sensation was quickly replaced with a cold one when she looked back at the girl next to her to see her smiling back in the same way. Of course he’s looking at her. 

Sighing in defeat, Claire got up from her seat. 

“I just remembered I left my notebook in my locker.” she hadn’t, she just wanted a quick, believable excuse to leave, “I’m gonna go get it before class starts. I’ll see you there.” 

And without a last glance to either Chrissy or Eddie, Claire left the cafeteria. 

..

A mix of annoyance and guilt seemed to be following Claire around like a dark, heavy looking cloud on a stormy day: it could rain, bad, at any moment and there would still be some dumb person walking around without an umbrella despite the warnings. Claire felt like that dumb person. 

Was she aware that caving into her curiosity and sitting still listening to Eddie brag about Chrissy would trigger some unpleasant feelings inside of her? Yes, but there she was, fighting the strong urge to roll her eyes at the mention of her best friend, something she never thought she would find herself doing. The girl felt ridiculous for being so jealous and that was now another feeling nominated for the how worse can this get? But this is a rhetorical question category. 

All of it felt suffocating, and she was thankful Dustin interrupted Eddie’s rambling. 

“That’s super cool and totally of my interest but I really need to go home and I need a ride.”

Apparently, Claire wasn’t the only one sick of the topic of their conversation. 

“Alright, yeah, let’s go.” Eddie replied, putting his jacket back on. 

Claire followed the two boys to the parking lot after saying goodbye to the rest of the Hellfire Club, keeping her distance from the pair. 

When they reached the van, Dustin got settled into the passenger seat and waited for the other too to get in as well, but his wait got prolonged when Eddie, on its way to the drivers side, noticed Claire was starting to walk in the opposite direction of the vehicle. 

“And where are you going?” 

“Home.” her reply was given with her back still turned to him. 

“I’ll drive you.”

“I’ll walk.” 

With every step she took, their voices got higher to be heard within the growing distance between them.

Eddie sighed and turned to Dustin, who at that point had slid the window down to be able to hear what his friends were yelling for. 

“Don’t just stand there, go after her!” 

Ignoring his demand, Eddie asked.

“Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

“No, but if you go after her and stop being so blind maybe you can tell me.” 

“So you do know what’s wrong with her.”

“And it’s not my damn business to tell you.” the young boy insisted, “Just go, Eddie!” 

“Whatever.” 

Eddie took his jacket off, folded it into what was supposed to be a ball shape and called for Claire. She turned around to face him, not feeling like having her walk interrupted but still curious as to what he had to say. To her surprise, she saw his jacket falling by her feet.

She stared back at him, confused.

“You look cold. Don’t forget yours next time.” 

It was almost emotionless the way he said it, it kinda felt like he was giving up on her and the jacket was a way of torturing her with the memory of him turning around, getting in the van and driving away, leaving her in the middle of the parking lot trying to process what just happened and how she was supposed to deal with it. 

Still, she picked the jacket up and, ignoring the tears hanging from her lower eyelashes, she put it on and proceeded with her walk back home. 

..

“I’m not proud to tell you this but you kinda deserve it right now,” Dustin started, “you can be a real asshole sometimes.” 

Eddie knew exactly what he was referring to and, honestly, he agreed with him. He wasn’t sure what hurt more, seeing Claire ignore him and walk away or the way he wanted to be as cold as her and walk away as well. 

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have to be an asshole if you had just told me what is up with Claire.” 

“Like I said, it’s not my business to. And you are her best friend, you should know these things without needing to be told everything.” 

“But I don’t, okay? So sue me for being a little angry she would rather ignore me than talk to me.”

Dustin sighed, defeated and accepting he would probably get in trouble for this. But anything was better than having to see his friends suffer from their own stupidity. 

“The mischievous plan you share with Chrissy about Claire’s birthday is giving her the wrong idea. She thinks you like her.” 

Realization smoothed Eddie’s hardened features and he made a silent Oh. But his face quickly morphed into confusion.

“Wait, why would she think I like Chrissy?”

Dustin didn’t answer, simply looked at him slowly, held his gaze for a few seconds and looked back into the road in front of them before letting out another sigh. 

“I’ll give you some time to think about it. You’re smart enough to get there.” 

“Dude, seriously, what the fuck is going on?” 

“Dude, seriously, it’s not that difficult to understand.” 

Eddie thought for a while, a bunch of reasons flipping through his head like the pages of a book, until they reached a stop light.

“Is she afraid I’ll steal their friendship away or something?” he cringed at his choice of words. 

“Something like that.” with an annoyed glance sent his way, Dustin elaborated, also annoyed, “More like, she’s afraid you guys are gonna start dating eventually and get married and have kids and she’ll be left to be the drunk aunt who wishes your babies were hers instead.” 

“Wait, huh, hold on…” Eddie took a while to continue to organize his thoughts and choose his words, “Are you saying… Claire likes me?”

“I didn’t say anything. See? You are smart, you figured it out.” 

“Dustin.”

“What?”

“Claire likes me? Me?” 

“I’m not confirming nor denying anything.”

“You just said I figured it out!”

“Then why are you asking?” Dustin’s voice was as loud as Eddie’s on those two last sentences and the silence that followed right after was an unsettling contrast to the momentary chaos. 

They eventually arrived at Dustin’s place, the van parked a few feet past the doorway, and before the curly-haired boy could step out, Eddie asked.

“How do I fix this?”

“Would you like me to also tell you what you should have for dinner?” 

..

Claire walked through the locker’s corridor of the school with her head low. The weight of the leather jacket she held in her arms was a constant reminder of how heavy she felt inside due to the memory of the day before. The girl hated the way Eddie reacted, but what was really crushing was believing that she was the one at fault for it. 

Lost in her self-pity, Chrissy’s sudden presence next to Claire made her hold her breath for a nanosecond in surprise. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.”

The sad and lazy reply compared to Chrissy’s chirpy greeting made Claire cringe. But Chrissy seemed to not care about it, as she continued, the inviting smile still present on her face. 

“Walk me to practice?” 

Claire nodded her head and attempted to smile, as if to compensate for her lack of enthusiasm at seeing her best friend that she showed earlier. 

“Sure.”

As they walked, they fell into a conversation that, for a moment, made Claire forget about all the reasons she was starting to distance herself from Chrissy. Truth is, you had to be a really shitty person to not see how honoring it was to have a friendship with the cheerleader, and it had nothing to do with status. It wasn’t everyday you could find someone so genuinely pure like her and Claire really didn’t really want to throw away that rare found treasure over a boy. It could not be just any boy, but he was an obstacle nonetheless and she needed to get over it. If not for the sake of her sanity, then for the sake of the friendship that helped her get through most of her high school experience. Not a very good one, as you can imagine. 

“Trust me, he does not like me.”

“What? Of course he does.” Claire gave Chrissy an intense stop fooling yourself look and the cheerleader continued, “He told me so.”

“Of course he did, he would do anything to have you wrapped around his finger, even lie to you.”

“Tell me one time Jason has ever made you feel like he didn’t like you.”

“Wait, we might have to go back to my locker so I can get the list of reasons for that.” Chrissy innocently slapped Claire’s arm, “Did you seriously not see the way he looked at me last week when he offered you a ride home and you said you didn’t need one because we,” she moved her hand between them to point at the both of them, “already had plans?” 

“Okay, maybe I did see that, but I’m sure he was just disappointed.”

“Please let’s stop pretending like the fact that I’m not popular but somehow I’m still your best friend actually bothers him- hey, where are you going? Gym is that way.”

“Just come.” Chrissy smiled, leading Claire in the direction of another room. A room she knew all too well and that made her frown in confusion as to why her friend was taking her there. 

The cheerleader knocked on the door before smoothing down the skirt of her cheer uniform, something Claire knew she usually did when she was nervous in some way. 

“What’s going-” she was interrupted by the door opening and a very well known curly haired boy appearing from behind it. “Dustin.” her tone wasn’t one of question nor surprise. Just confusion. 

“Ladies.” he greeted, opening the door further and revealing another person inside.

Eddie. 

Claire absent-mindedly gripped the jacket in her arms at sight of its owner. His eyes were set on her with an apologetic sorrow covering them. He then moved his gaze to Chrissy and so did Claire. 

“Sorry, I actually didn’t need you to walk me to practice.” Chrissy showed her a guilty smile before looking back at Eddie, “Good luck.”

The boy smiled in appreciation, a nearly straight line indicating some apprehension still.

Claire stood still, her feet felt glued to the ground as the only reaction coming from her was the alternate looks from Eddie to Chrissy and vice versa. 

“I’ll walk you to practice?” Dustin asked the cheerleader in a hopeful tone. The girl smiled and nodded her head in agreement, signaling for him to follow her. On his way out, Dustin gave Claire a pat on her shoulder accompanied with an encouraging wink.

She watched her two friends disappear around the corner of the corridor, lying to herself saying it wasn’t an excuse to not look at Eddie, who was patiently waiting for her to go inside the room. He made his wait known by clearing his throat as he made his way to meet her at the door, opening it up wider as if to invite her in. 

“Can we talk?”

Claire only nodded. She felt like her brain would betray her with nonsense words if she even tried to open her mouth. 

The girl didn’t know why she felt so nervous, and she was doing everything she could to talk herself out of such a nerve wracking mindset. It was just Eddie. Her best friend. Who was probably mad at her. Not helping. 

She finally stepped inside and Eddie closed the door behind her. They turned to face each other at the same time. 

“I have your jacket.” Claire said and immediately felt like taking it back. Not a very good start. “If that’s what you were looking for.” 

She gripped the leather-like fabric before stretching her arm to him. 

“I- thanks.” Eddie grabbed the jacket, studied it for a second and dropped over the back of a chair at the end of the room. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about though.” 

“Oh.” she breathed in and out slowly to not make a sound and unmask her nervousness, “What was it then?” 

It was Eddie’s turn to take a deep breath. 

“I wanted to apologize for giving you the wrong idea. And for being an idiot. And an asshole.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked quietly. “You’re not an asshole. An idiot sometimes maybe,” she chuckled, “but you’re not an asshole.”

Her tone reeked of insecurity, now contemplating if she was crossing any line considering the heaviness of their interactions of the last day. 

Eddie smiled at the sound she let out, tension melting away from his shoulders. 

“I’m not interested in Chrissy.”

Claire’s eyes met his and her tongue was moving inside her mouth as if looking for words to reply to his statement. An awkward okay was all she could let out. 

“We just decided to pair up and surprise you for your birthday. That’s all. And after Dustin- don’t kill him, by the way, it’s not his fault-” he cleared his throw up. It was not or never, “He told me you thought I liked Chrissy and that that’s why you’ve been kind of ignoring me.” 

Claire moved her eyes to the floor between them when she realized where the conversation was heading: the moment she dreaded for the longest time. He was about to reject her and her thoughts were balancing between it’s okay, I’ve seen it coming, I’ll be fine and I so want to disappear right now. 

“I’m sorry.” after a few seconds of silence that’s all Claire mastered to say. She wasn’t sorry for liking her best friend, she was sorry she had ruined the friendship, even if unintentionally, “I’m sorry, I know we’re friends and I obviously don’t want to ruin that, I just- I don’t know. I’m sorry if I freaked you out, I-”

“Freak me out?” Eddie interrupted, “Do you know who you’re talking to, sweetheart? I’m the freak here.” he smiled, trying to calm her down, “You can’t freak out the freak.” 

Claire smiled gratefully. How could she not like that guy? Even when rejecting her he was still so gentle. Still not meeting his eyes, she shook her head as if to say silly me. A thunderstorm of thoughts rained down on her head, thoughts on solutions to fix whatever she had broken between her best friend, wondering if he would still be her best friend, what he was thinking of her, how to not-seriously kill Dustin for opening his mouth. 

Eddie, knowing the girl in front of him better than she could ever think of, knew there was only one thing to do to put her out of her misery. He walked the few steps between them until he could reach her cheek with his hand, the roughness of his fingertips from playing the guitar for hours feeling so unfair to touch the softness of her skin. Like a crime. The gesture put her overthinking on hold and her eyes finally had no option but to stare back at Eddie’s. 

“I just want you to know that,” his thumb caressed the spot between her nose and upper lip, where it met her cheekbone, “all those times you thought I was looking at Chrissy, I was actually looking at you.”

Claire’s lips turned upward into a closed smile which made Eddie’s thumb brush close to her lips. The boy got fixated on her mouth with the touch and he lost track of logic for a moment. He just wanted to skip to the part where he hopefully got to finally kiss her. 

“Like you said, I am an idiot sometimes, but not the kind of idiot who doesn’t notice you. I swear to Mordor I only have eyes for you.” 

Claire snorted, which made Eddie laugh too. The action made their foreheads nearly touch and Eddie made sure to make that actually happen when he noticed how close their faces were to each other. 

Not much was said after that, nor while they stared at each other with so much adoration and a sprinkle of shyness, nor when Eddie mentally scolded himself and finally pressed his lips to hers. Nor when their mouths started to move in sync, leading to a slow but quick rising of warmth in both their stomachs that left them aching for more. Eddie took the opportunity to slip his tongue between Claire’s lips when they both paused a millisecond for a much needed breath, leveling up the makeout session to a mutual agreement of never letting each other go and say what they needed to say because that mistake had deprived them from possibly many moments like that one. But not anymore, and in that room, while picked up and positioned on the table with Eddie between her legs, his hands spreading sparkly warmth through her tights, hips, waist, back and neck, Claire no longer dreaded whatever label people had for her or her friendship with Chrissy. The only person she wanted to pay attention to, and that she cared about paying attention to her, was already doing it. And oh so well and right. 

................................................................................

a/n: This is my very first Eddie fic, feedback is appreciated ❣️ I also hope you don't mind me using an oc name, I really don't like using (y/n), let me know what you think of that. Hope you guys enjoyed it, thanks for reading ❤️

[genevievemd]

A Picture to Burn

Book: Open Heart: Second Year (Post 2.12)  Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 2806 Rating: T Category: Hurt/Comfort Trope(s): 

Summary: While secretly staying at Ethan’s apartment after the attack, she discovers something she shouldn’t. 

Warnings: allusions to adult activities

A/N: For the anon who asked how G would respond if she found photos Ethan had kept of his exes. This is how. And yes, it’s considered part of my canon, aka Saraland. 

She watches the weather shift from the living room windows, the blanket suddenly unable to keep her warm, despite it being all she needed up a few minutes before. Now, desperately wishing she hadn’t forced Ethan to go to the store and he was there to hold her. 

Genevieve had been staying at his apartment, secretly, since Bobby and Daniel’s funeral two weeks ago. After their intimate encounter in his car, he drove them back to his place. Where they fell into each other’s arms again and again, making up for lost time. And perhaps reminding themselves that Gen had survived. 

She’d gone home the following day to pack a bag, lying to her roommates that she was going home to Maine for a few weeks. Ethan himself, had gone to the hospital, and told Naveen he needed the next two weeks off, giving him the ability to be with Gen twenty-four seven as they both heal from their trauma. 

They spent the fourteen days playing board games, watching movies and cooking shows, reading quietly in each other’s arms, baking a million different treats. Simply enjoyed the uninterrupted time they had together. Allowed themselves to be just Ethan and Genevieve, two people navigating a new relationship. 

It was healing for them both and they were dreading Ethan’s return to work in the coming days. 

Gen looks out the window again, watching the frozen rain begin to fall. It wasn’t uncommon for it to snow in mid-November on the upper East Coast, and it made her glad they’d decided to try a new soup recipe they’d seen on TV that afternoon. 

Which was why Ethan was at the store now, picking up what they needed to make dinner. 

Deciding the blanket was no longer enough, Gen ventures into the bedroom. Hoping she’d remembered to pack a hoodie two weeks ago. She rummages through her duffle bag, still on the floor beside Ethan’s dresser, her search coming up empty. 

It’s then she remembers Ethan’s old Hopkins sweatshirt that she’s seen him wear a handful of times when they met to discuss Naveen’s case the year before. 

She quickly makes her way to the walk-in closet, laughing at the difference in his closet compared to hers.

Hers is a jumbled, disorganized mess, while Ethan’s is a color coordinated, organized masterpiece. 

She searches the closet for the hoodie in question, finding it tucked away on the top shelf. Gen reaches up on her tiptoes, fingers just barely grazing the worn material. Cursing her – whatever he is to her--’s height for what seemed like the thousandth time since arriving at his place. 

She reaches up again, seeking leverage from a lower shelf, finally able to grab her prize. She tugs it forward, perhaps a little too hard, losing her balance as the sweatshirt and something else hit the floor. 

It’s a manila envelope, clearly old and worn. And as it hits the closet floor, a collection of printed out photographs spill out. 

Gen freezes, her heart racing as she realizes that she has accidently found something she never meant to find. Against her better judgement, she kneels down beside the pile of polaroids and flips one over. 

Her heart sinks the moment her eyes land on the photo, her stomach dropping as if she’s on one of those tower rides at an amusement park. Except this time, the feeling doesn’t come with a thrill, it comes with dread and despair. 

Because the photo in question is not only of a woman, but a very beautiful woman, dressed in lingerie and smiling seductively at the camera. 

Trying to steady her breathing, she sits on the hardwood floor completely, taking three deep breaths. Her shaking hands reaching for another photo, and then another, and then another. Until every one is in a pile in her lap and her stomach is in her throat. 

They’re all of women, some have Ethan in them as well, but they’re mostly photos of women. Dressed in lingerie, in a bed sheet, in a dress that reveals every asset and probably costs as much as her rent.

Gen has always known Ethan had exes, they work with one of them, but knowing and seeing the evidence of his past are two different things. Seeing it feels like something sharp in her heart, the sting of a betrayal she has no right to feel. 

It has her brain swimming in a sea of questions, why did he still have them? Does he get up in the middle of the night to look at them? Does he wish Gen was more like them? Does he regret his decisions and wanted to be with them instead of with her? 

Because she was clearly nothing like these woman, some of whom she recognizes. Socialites and television reporters. They’re all beautiful and successful, and in a league lightyears away from Genevieve. 

She was a stupid girl who made even stupider decisions. Like running into the middle of an assassination attempt and staying with a man who abused her – hoping that if she just gave him another piece of her he’d change. 

She was tainted, in more ways than one, and no where near deserving of a man like Ethan.

And she has the photographic proof of what he does deserve sitting in her lap. 

“G?” Ethan’s deep voice breaks her out of the fog of anxiety and self hatred, echoing in from the front door. 

She quickly tries to clean up the mess, shove the photos back in the envelope and hide the fact that she found something she shouldn’t have. 

“What are you –” He’s behind her before she gets everything back in order, stopping mid sentence when she turns. “How did you find those?” 

“I was looking for a sweatshirt to borrow because I didn’t bring one and I was cold even with blankets and this fell when I grabbed your Hopkins one and I –” She stops to take a breath, her eyes linger down to the yellow envelope, one of the more salacious photos peaking out. “Why do you have these?” 

“Why were you going through my personal effects?” His once calm voice quickly turns to anger, an accusatory tone dripping from every word. 

“I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to – I…” Gen looks up from the photos, but when their eyes meet all she can see is him with those other woman. 

Taking off their clothes, kissing them the way he kisses her, hovering over them in his bed. Wondering if he’s made them cry out in pleasure the same way he’s done with her. 

Suddenly feeling sick to her stomach, all she wants to do is retreat. Escape from the man in front of her. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re mad and I’m…” Try as she might, she can’t stop her gaze from falling down to the photos again. Her eyes now burning with unshed tears as her stomach does somersaults once more. “Uncomfortable now.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to be harsh. Look, this thing between us is still new and…” Ethan pauses, his blue eyes falling to the photos in her hand. Something that she can’t quite place flashing across his face. 

Regret, longing, sorrow…

Whatever it was, it makes her want to be anywhere but the slowly shrinking closet. 

“I’m sorry.” Gen quickly takes a step towards him, shoving the sweatshirt and envelope into his hands and pushing past him into the bedroom. “I’ll go.” 

“Hold on a second.” He’s quick on her heels, tossing the offending material onto the bed without a care. “Don’t leave.” 

“No. I should go. I’ve been smothering you and you need space. Like you said, we’re not even really a thing, so, I should leave.” 

“I don’t want you to leave. I want to discuss what’s happening right now. Why are you upset?” 

“I’m not upset. I’m uncomfortable.” She maneuvers around the room, picking up her scattered clothes and duffle bag. 

“They’re just photos, Gen. Old photos.” 

“I know that.” She shoves her things into the bag, not bothering to make sure they’re folded. Zipping it up without a look in his direction. 

She can’t look at him, afraid of what her broken mind will come up with if she does. “It’s fine. Really. I’m gonna go home.” 

“Gen.” He’s watching her every move, struggling to figure out what to do. He doesn’t want her to leave but he’s never been the type to force a woman to stay when she doesn’t want to. “Talk to me. Please.” 

“It’s fine.” Gen swallows back the tears rapidly forcing their way past her defenses, briskly walking past him once more and out of the bedroom. 

“It’s clearly not fine.” Ethan is behind her again, following her every step. 

“It is. I shouldn’t have snooped. Besides you need – I…” She grabs her phone off the coffee table, scanning the room to make sure she isn’t forgetting anything. 

Retreat. Run. Hide. Is all her mind is screaming. Save him and yourself from inevitable heartbreak. 

You’re no good for him. 

You’ll never be like the women of his past. 

“I need what? What is going on?” His eyes follow her around the room, but she ignores him.

Instead walking to the front door before he sees her cry. 

“Geneviève.” Ethan calls after her. His voice vibrating off the walls. 

He never uses her full name anymore. It’s always Gen, or G. But mostly G, because he knows she loves it. To hear her full name leave his lips, in the correct pronunciation, finally makes her stop her frenzied pace, but her hand stays on the door handle. If only to keep her standing. 

“What is going on? Thirty minutes ago we were talking about making dinner. I go to the store and come back and now you’re leaving. Saying you’re uncomfortable around me.” 

“Not around you, Ethan. That’s not what I meant.” 

“Okay, so then what did you mean?” He takes a cautious step in her direction, as if she’s a wounded deer. 

And she is in a way, wounded from her own stupidity and curiosity. And carelessness. 

“They were…” Gen drops her bag to the ground, lifting her head just enough to catch his eye. “They were not PG rated photos.” 

“Not all of them.” 

“Most of them.” 

“Which is why I didn’t just throw them away. And the ones that aren’t are… good memories.” 

“Right.” 

She can feel him studying her, the intensity of his gaze like the light from a microscope. It makes her feel more exposed than when she’s laying naked in his bed. 

He’s already seen more of her than any man she’s let before, and now after weeks of pretending like she isn’t wounded, he’s finally seeing the broken part. 

The anxious part. 

The part she’s always been ashamed of. 

Normal people don’t spiral like her, they don’t see a pile of photos and jump straight to the worst case scenario. A normal girlfriend, if that’s even what she is to him, would probably tease him for it, make jokes and feel secure. 

He takes a deep breath, forehead creased in worry and debate. “This is the first time that I can’t figure out what you’re thinking.” 

“I don’t even really know.” Her body practically folds in defeat, her stature shrinking as she lets go of the door handle. Looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Alright, so sit down for a minute and talk to me.” Ethan takes another step in her direction, his face twisted in the same look of concern she’s seen for the last three weeks. 

“How do I compete with that?” Genevieve whispers into the space between them, looking away from him as another wave of shame overtakes her. 

Swallows her whole and drags her down to the ocean floor. 

“Compete with what?” 

“That!” Gen points towards the bedroom, her hands still shaking. “Them. I’m nothing like them. They’re successful and beautiful and smart and take sexy photos for you. I’m a stupid child compared to them.” 

No longer able to hold it in, she lets the tears fall. One after another until she’s a sobbing mess in the middle of his entryway. “I go to burning buildings to find stupid stuffed animal frogs, and steal medicine for patients, and jump in the middle of assassination attempts. I –” 

She catches herself, before she blurts out the worst part. He isn’t ready for that yet, and neither is she. 

“I watch Disney movies when I’m sad and stay up late in mismatched pajamas playing board games.” Gen takes a breath, wiping furiously at the tears on her flushed cheeks. “I’m not sexy and sophisticated like them. I’m…” 

“A breath of fresh air.” He speaks gently, a half smile gracing his handsome face. “You’re right, you’re nothing like the woman I’ve dated and that is what makes you, makes this, so special. “

“You’re just saying that.”

“No. I’m not.” Ethan takes the final few steps to finally put an end the metaphorical and physical distance between them. “Those women are all the same, they all offered me the same thing. Sex and mindless conversation. While I won’t deny that they’re all beautiful, and at one point I was very attracted to them, it doesn’t negate how I feel about you.”

He takes her hands in his, thumbs stroking gently across her skin. 

Like they had a million times before. Like they did when she was on her death bed and there was a layer of plastic between them and he confessed his deepest regret. "You are also beautiful and sexy, but you offer so much more than that. G, you challenge me, force me to step outside my comfort zone. Remind me that there is more to life than work. You’ve reminded me that it’s okay to have fun, to watch Disney movies and play board games all night.”

He chuckles softly, but quickly sobers up. His ocean blue eyes drawing her in, locking with her emerald green. “And feel things I’ve never allowed myself to feel before.” 

“But, do you ever wish I was like them? Is that why you still have those photos because even if I offer you all those other things, I’m still –” 

Ethan cuts her off, his lips pressing into hers while his hands take ahold of her face. 

He’s never kissed her like this before, so adoringly and softly. Like she’s a priceless treasure that he’s unworthy to hold in his hands. He pulls away after only a moment, but he doesn’t go far. Resting his forehead against hers has his fingers wipe the remainder of her tears away. 

“I don’t wish or want you to be like them, Gen. I want you exactly the way you are. I…” He takes a breath, the words he wants to say, the ones she wants so desperately to hear, dying on the tip of his tongue. “I’m sorry you found those photos, and that they upset you. But they mean nothing, absolutely nothing. If you’d like, I'll get rid of them. Put them through the shredder or burn them.” 

“No. You don’t need to.” Gen wraps her arms around his waist, closing her eyes. “It’s not my place to ask that of you.” 

“You’re not asking, I'm offering. And it is your place.” 

“So, you won’t be mad if I say yes?” 

“Not at all.” 

She goes through every possible outcome of her answer. The one where she says yes, only for them to break up one day and he regrets letting the photos go. The one where she says no, but the thought of the envelope stashed away in his apartment haunts her for the rest of their time together. And the one she hopes comes to fruition. 

The one where he’s telling the truth, offers her peace and never judges her for the way she thinks or feels.  

“Then I’m saying yes.” 

“Okay.” Ethan pulls back to kiss her forehead, lingering as he takes a deep breath. 

When he moves away their eyes meet again, and for the first time since finding the envelope she doesn’t see him with his exes, there are no flashes of made up emotions and dalliances that aren’t with her. 

All Genevieve sees is her Ethan. The one that was scared to lose her, the one that’s spent every minute of the last fourteen days right beside her. Making her feel safe in a world that no longer felt that way. 

In that moment, and every moment since the met, she’s all that’s mattered him. And maybe, it will always be that way. Maybe they’ll heal and grow and be together for longer than they ever dreamed. 

And maybe she’ll take photos for him too, one’s that he won’t ever have to throw away.

A/N: Spoiler Alert - she takes a whole ass boudoir photo shoot for him... packaged neatly in a little book that says “For My Husband..” 

Again, thank you to the anon who sent that question. I hope, whoever you are, you see this and like it. 

Also, I know I owe you guys chapter 4 of Long Story Short, I’m gonna try to do that next. But I also have that fic of Ethan asking Gen out on their first date... which was supposed to be done for their anniversary literally a month ago from today. So maybe that will be next and then LSS. IDK we’ll see

(tagging separately) 

[yesimwriting]

Solace.

SUMMARY: you find yourself going to visit General Kirigan in the night. 

PAIRING: The Darkling/General Kirigan x heart render! reader

Warnings: the beginning of a toxic relationship 

--

The urge to flinch away from and melt into the feeling of his fingertips, too temptingly warm, as he grazes them across my knuckles and up to my wrist is almost overwhelming. When the unexpected contact is something I manage not to shy away from, Kirigan’s touch becomes more confident, turning my wrist in order to expose my palm. He lets out a low breath, if he was anyone else I’d think that a sound of tiredness. He drags his index finger down the back of my wrist and over the lines etched into my palm. There’s a new tension to his touch as if he’s searching for invisible answers in the natural creases of my skin. 

“You could stay,” Kirigan’s voice is as supple and alluring as sin, “Just for tonight.” 

Waiting him in any capacity twists at my heart in a way I can’t comprehend or justify. There is so much of him I do not know, so much of him that’s darker than the inky shadows he bends to his will. “People will speak.” 

It’s the kind of shy cop-out he doesn’t like. The kind of shyness that leaves everyone losing. I can make out the way he pulls his eyebrows together despite the only light in the room coming from a small lantern on his bedside table. I’m not sure if I’ve displeased him. Perhaps I’ve reminded him of why he felt the need to take me from everything I’ve known. Maybe he’s seeing how far I am from what he wants me to be, or maybe he’s seeing the opposite. I’m not sure which possibility scares me more. I’m not sure if I want him to turn me away or persist that I stay. 

“If you’re defined by what people say,” he taps the back of my hand as if to mark his point, straightening and letting the contact between us disappear, “You’ll never be what you want to be.” The tone he uses is one you’d use to scold a child, “Did anyone see you?” 

I don’t think he’s trying to fluster me with potential scandal, but the lack of warmth from the returned absence of his proximity is making this situation a lot less appealing. And without his easing touch, I’m too clear headed to ignore the dangers of this. 

“No,” I try to sound factual, nonchalant and at peace with this entire situation. 

The tilt of his head tells me that none of the casualness I’m desperately trying to manufacture on a surface level at least came off as believable. He takes a partial step forward, extending his hand and casually squeezing my hand, pressing my fingers into my palm. 

“You came to me, little wolf.” I swallow back my embarrassment. It had been a lapse in judgement driven by what...a deep loneliness that comes with being taken away from everyone you’ve ever known? “Why?” 

I wish I had an answer to that for myself. Because he’s the only one that speaks to me as if I am not less than? Because each short brush of our hands has made me yearn to know what purposeful touches from him would feel like? Because it’s dark and I hate being alone in the dark? Because I can’t sleep without seeing every mistake I’ve made? 

Yes. I could attribute my lapse in judgement to all of this. I could attribute my mistake to some other factor that my mind cannot process. Exhaling slowly, I reach for his pulse with my mind, hoping to see if he truly is as calm and steady as he seems. 

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” The words are enough to stall me before I can feel more than two heartbeats. They seemed even, but I didn’t hear enough off of them to be sure. 

I swallow back the embarrassment of being caught. “How?” 

If I didn’t know any better I’d consider the easy quirk of his mouth as an almost smile. “An answer for an answer?”

More generous than he usually is. I keep my jaw as set as I can manage. “I don’t--I’m not sure why.” 

He keeps his face unreadable. “You swore you’d never look for anything from me, that you would never…” Kirigan shifts closer. “That I’d always be a villain to you.” 

There’s a surprising amount of restraint in his words. Had I hurt him? The ridiculousness of my thoughts causes me to wrinkle my. He is a villain, he has to be, and yet here I am. “My insults do get particularly creative when I’m upset.” My attempt at humor falls oddly flat. Kirigan’s clearly not in the mood for a lighter atmosphere. “I wish I knew why I came here.” 

Shifting even closer, he raises a hand. I don’t understand what his intentions are until I feel a brush of knuckles against my cheek. The touch is too soft, too much of a reminder of all the absence...all the places where we’re not touching and the fact that I resent that. 

“When you tap into your abilities your brow furrows,” he pulls his hand away from my cheek and gently taps the space above my left eyebrow, “Right there.” Oh. Such a small thing to pick up on. “Even when you’re not doing anything particularly strenuous--it’s more an act of habit.” I don’t know if there’s a way to respond to that. “And when something upsets you that you want to play off, your eyebrows furrow here,” he touches the space between my two eyebrows. “As opposed to when you’re particularly focused on something and your,” he pauses, thumb brushing my bottom lip, “Lips press together.” 

My stomach flutters and knots all at once. His thumb stays on my bottom lip for longer than it needs to, neither  of us in a hurry to leave this moment. I wonder if he’s as afraid of what comes after this moment as I am-- thoughts of both the potential more and the potential nothing make my heart ache. His thumb brushes down the corner of my mouth and chin. 

“There’s a danger in desire,” his voice is so low I almost miss it, “But I think you know that by now, little wolf.” 

Feeling like a chided child, I dare to raise my chin a fraction of an inch but all that does is press my face into his touch more. “I’m not a victim of desire.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way.” 

So now he finds humor in the situation. Fantastic. “People should know you more for your wit.” 

I don’t hide my sarcasm, but his expression retains all of its easiness. “I guess the ones that matter already do.” The touch of lightheartedness evaporates as quickly as it appeared. “Will you stay?” 

This is different from the first time he mentioned me staying. The first time it was an option he presented, but this time, with his voice the closest to vulnerable I’ve ever seen it, he’s requesting my presence. For the first time I let myself picture it. Staying here. Falling asleep here. With him.

Cautiously, I meet his gaze. “Just for tonight, right?” 

“Stay with me.” He repeats, a bit more certain, a bit more...needing. “For tonight.” 

My body nods once without my permission. I wonder if this is how people feel after I use my abilities on them. That one tiny, unrestrained signal is all he needs. Kirigan angles my head slightly before brushing his lips against my cheek, the warmth of his breath against my skin is enough to leave me melting. 

“I--I wish I knew why I came here.” The words are more honest than I intended them to be. 

Kirigan pauses, warm breath still fanning across the side of my face. “Maybe it will become clearer when I turn you into my solace and my solace alone so that I may be the only thing you can find comfort in.” 

His words are gilded tar, dark and suffocating blackness disguised beneath a thin sheath of gold. “I don’t understa--” 

“You will.” The urgency of his tone strips him of all lazy softness. Something in me tenses, the shift too sudden and cold and similar to the way he was in the beginning. The tension does not go unnoticed, Kirigan fights against it easily, brushing his lips against my skin again. “Lets get some rest my little wolf.” He squeezes my arm easily, the touch leaves my skin tingling in warmth. “Tomorrow things will be different for you.” 

“Different?” 

“Training,” he replies easily, “Together we’ll see what you can do.” His fingers brush up my arm and across my shoulder easily, my breath stalls. “We’ll bring out that facet of your abilities that came out the day we met, and with that we’ll change the world.” I do not think myself a world changer, but the softness of his touch and the praising quality of his tone leave me with no protest. “And we’ll find solace in only each other.”

[sinisterexaggerator]

NSFW Headcanons / 18+ - Shriv Suurgav / Duros species

Shriv would be one to pretend like nothing is happening between you around his superiors. He takes his job fairly seriously. There would be a lot of sneaking around at first. He might even reprimand you a little bit for trying to purposely distract him, that is until you’ve got him in a supply closet somewhere and start kissing him. Now he remembers why he’s going to all this trouble.

By the way, once he realizes he can use his *serious voice* to his advantage, watch out. Think of that line where he says: " Contact the general now.”  I bet he can be a little dominating once he gets over his initial timidness.

Although don’t ask him to be seriously rough with you – he’s not really too into that. He can’t bear the thought of his predatory nature accidently kicking in. He could easily tear your throat out and the very idea of something like that happening is enough to make him freeze up and retract into himself. “Hurt me, Shriv, go hard. Make me scream.” - “Angel, d-don’t ask me to do that… I-I-I can’t…Mm… I don’t wanna … hu-hurt you on accident…” *puppy dog-duros eyes*

He’s not proud of his predatory instincts, he just can’t help himself. He figures back in the ancient bygone days of Duro he would have wound up a snack for some cannibal arachnid. Although, they tend to kick in on occasion when he’s especially riled up or turned on by you. The soft flesh of a humanoid woman tends to do that to him, as well as anyone stepping on his toes after the fact. He wants to mark you so, so bad, but he refrains. He know it’s just his stupid reptilian brain yelling at him. He’s better than that ( though you can be sure he has slip ups … ).

Once he’s convinced you’re being sincere and you’re not just a cruel woman trying to bait a desperate Duros, or that you weren’t put up to this against a bet, Shriv is reckless and wild in his abandon. Groping, fondling, nuzzling, kissing, stroking , heavy petting, and maybe even a nip or two if he’s too out of control, though he would never dream of harming you – he’s very careful with his fangs. Hyper aware, in fact. It’s a point of contention for him – sometimes he wishes he didn’t have any. He’s very self-conscious about it.

Though, once you’ve thoroughly stated you love his fangs, he’s open to teasing you on occasion, especially when it gets a rise out of you. If he ever drew blood he’d be mortified, even if you told him that you liked it.

When he’s appreciative, he definitely growls, purrs, or otherwise makes sounds that remind you of an animal who is either dining on a meal or who is very pleased to have your undivided attention.

Against his better judgement he winds up ravishing you in places that are dangerous, places where you could get caught, possibly court martialed. Supply closets, the cockpit of his x-wing, empty conference rooms, Lando’s office when he’s out on business, planet-side after a dangerous mission when you’re just glad you both made it out alive, etc.

Some Duros are born with two penises, it’s a recessive trait leftover from Duros evolution. Back when Shriv’s species was heavily preyed on, they had to repopulate quickly and thus had two testis and two dicks so as to fertilize multiple females one after the other if necessary. Duros used to be more polyamorous, though family oriented. They took care of younglings as a unit, and since they laid eggs, no one really took claim to a child and they raised it together. As predators died out and their species didn’t have to worry so much about their survival, more and more males started to be born with only one penis and not a hemipenis, though the two testis stayed. Shriv is one of these males to be born without a double-dong, whereas my Cad Bane has two *wink.*

Also, in this case, more and more Duros were beginning to find life partners, and those that really enjoyed each other’s company went through a hand-fasting or an engagement period. If they survived, they mated for life in a kind of bond or marriage. Shriv’s parents were bonded for life. He had a sort of ideal family unit back on Duro, though his mother was kind of overbearing and Shriv was the baby. His mother has very high standards by the way; call her a helicopter parent. She only wants the best for her little boy, even if it’s against his wishes, and his brothers, Maker, they were the worst at picking on him. Despite his stocky frame, he’s actually the “ runt of the litter.”

Shriv has always wanted kids – he’d be an excellent father. He might even have a bit of a secretive breeding / daddy kink that he’s awfully embarrassed of and wouldn’t think to ever speak aloud.

If you were ever pregnant, he would be the sweetest you have ever seen him, though he’s also more worried than he’s ever been before. At first, he might not even believe it’s his. Duros and humans can interbreed, but it’s rare. It’s also sort of taboo, and his mother would be absolutely shocked and maybe abhorred. TOO BAD! It’s more and more common with the younger generations, but his parents are old-school.

Shriv would be a doting, gentle, caring, AMAZING lover and life partner. Very attentive. Fight me.

A halfbreed Duros baby would take a lot out of a human mother. I can imagine she’d need a high-protein diet, and that she would be very, very tired.

Normally Duros have a larval stage, this would instead occur within the human female body – very active at this point – lots of “kicking” or squirms (ew), but also they come out fully formed afterward with feet and legs. The pregnancy might last a little longer, 10/11 months to account for this extra period. Poor girl.- Ultra sounds are SCARY!!! Sure, it’s cute when it comes out, but … talk about an “alien pregnancy.”

Feminist. He loves women. General Organa is powerful. Mon Mothma is powerful. Iden is powerful. He respects them, and he will respect you – also, to bring a new life into the world is a mind-boggling thing to him. “You just created that thing out of thin air… life-givers … amazing…”  “Well, you helped.”

Thus, he would definitely worship your changing body.

Shriv doesn’t have nipples. Duros do not nurse, so the females do not have breasts either, therefore he FEKKING LOVES yours.

Duros females either don’t have clits, or they have two of them like a reptiles have two dicks. Saying they don’t, Shriv would be especially fascinated by the human female body. "It's like you have a little button on you that makes you orgasm.. Hells, it couldn't be any easier to tell ya the truth." - "Don't even have to think about it. I can just watch you squirm; I can tell if you like it or not. Very convenient.” He prefers GIVING rather than receiving, though he will blushingly accept a blowjob though he “ doesn’t want to degrade you like that.”  - “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that… “ “Well, I want to.” “Who am I to say no?”

Once he gets over his fear of hurting you with his fangs, he is addicted to going down on you for this reason. He loves to watch you writhe and him be the reason for it. Ego boost, for sure. “C-can I .. fierfek… eat you again? I mean .. if you don't mind ... if you're sick of it I-" * shoves his head down*

He also looooves finger fucking you, watching you ride and twist across his many knuckles. Ooh, and that slippery feeling – he loves the texture of human lubrication. He’ll be careful not to go too deep; he’ll ask If you’re OK. His fingers are longer than the length of your vagina. “ I could do this all day long – too bad I have a meeting with Mon Mothma in an hour.”

Speaking of when it’s “ that time of the month” he definitely knows. Duros have a very acute sense of *cough* smell, as well as precision eyesight. When his female is in heat he desperately wants to “rut” or just bury himself down there, but he never would – he understands it’s an uncomfortable, weird thing to want. I can see him becoming flustered, maybe trying to keep away from them for the next few days so he can control himself - Cad Bane on the other hand … think “cat pupils dilating” or  “predatory mode activates “ and he’s not above earning his redwings. Shriv isn’t either, and if you ever allowed him to do something like that, he would be soooo, sooo careful and considerate with you. I’m thinking multiple orgasms.

Everything is cold. His dick’s cold, his cum is cold, his spit is cold, his hands, everything, but the contrasting temperatures feels soooooo good. Also, Duros cum is sweet, mostly clear, and with a faint green tint. You could literally guzzle the shit – it’s addicting. He also smells good to you, pheromones, man.

Also, his penis is def barbed/ ribbed, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels like a nice, inside massage. Very pleasurable. And it’s long. AND thick. It also hides when it’s not in use like a reptile penis.

Duros kiss by pressing their foreheads together and rubbing rostrums ( that flat space where their nose would be on a human) – Duros will also nip and bite each other and flick their tongues but kissing mouth to mouth is a bit difficult, though Shriv can be trained. His tongue is also forked at the tip. Sometimes his s’s come out as a hiss like when he says “Rissk.” Family members might press their foreheads together and say things like “My thoughts are with you.”

Shriv’s name means “sincere” in Durese. I made that up.

Duros are mostly carnivorous, or feed on things insectoid in nature, though they have taken to other types of food as the galaxy has become a more civilized place. Some things don’t sit too well, but Shriv will try anything once. Another reason he’s *cough* attracted to the smell of blood.

Shriv would definitely be the one to fall in love first, hard, but he wouldn’t be the one to say it first. He’s too afraid it’s an infatuation on your part, but once you tell him he says it back with fervor after getting over his initial, self-deprecating reaction of disbelief.

[hercleverboy]

yours

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ based off of the prompt “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

category ↠ angst/fluff

warnings/includes ↠ none

word count ↠ 2.9k

“If someone makes you feel, let them.” — Reyna Biddy

Spencer could never very well doubt just how much she loved him. 

She told him every day, not always with words but he could hear them clearly in how she touched him. Feather-light fingertips tracing along his delicate skin, perfectly pursed lips pressing affectionate kisses to the scars littered on his arms and chest. 

He heard the words in how she cared for him, in a way that he’d never felt cared for before. Her hand would squeeze his three times when she could see him getting anxious in a social setting, three small squeezes that screamed the words ‘I love you’, ‘you’re safe here,’ ‘I’ve got you.’

But despite everything, nothing seemed to be a match for Spencer’s own insecurities. Insecurities he thought he’d buried deep down, hidden away for so long he could almost kid himself into thinking they’d simply disappeared. 

Combine those insecurities with the green-eyed monster that had attached itself to Spencer’s back, and you’re left with an ugly amalgamation of self-hatred and jealousy. As if he hadn’t felt insecure enough over the prior weeks, it didn’t help that he had to watch some guy flirt with his girlfriend once the night ended. 

The BAU had been dragged along to a charity event that the Bureau was holding. The whole idea was to keep up the FBI’s good reputation, and an appearance from their elite profiler team would certainly look good for them. So, with the news that they were each allowed a plus one, Spencer had asked his girlfriend to accompany him. 

Y/N had been ecstatic when he’d asked, grinning about how this was the perfect excuse for her to shop for a suitable dress in the adorable boutique that had opened in town. Despite how he’d been feeling, he found himself smiling without force. No matter how he felt, she always managed to make him feel better. They’d been together for just over a year and he was yet to grow tired of her optimistic outlook on life. She really was a ray of light that shone through the darkness of his life, a shadow that came so close to swallowing him whole before she held him tight and pulled him out.

As the days before the event dragged on, Spencer found the intrusive and self-conscious thoughts were only growing, his brain trying so desperately to convince him that Y/N was merely with him out of convenience. She was simply tolerating him until she could find someone better. The rational part of him argued that the was definitely not the case, but when has anyone ever been rational when it comes to love? 

These insecurities were unfortunately not new for Spencer. They’d been there since the beginning of the relationship, and he lived in fear that his relationship would fall victim to the BAU’s curse. With the exception of JJ and Will, all of the BAU’s relationships eventually crumbled under the pressure of the job that never stopped, never slowed down. There were always forgotten anniversaries and missed birthdays, late nights and early mornings and interruptions at times when Spencer wanted nothing more than a moment alone with the woman he loved. 

It was exhausting, really. But they made it work.

And Spencer cherished every moment they had together as though it was their last. As though she would wake up the next morning and decide she didn’t want him anymore, that the job was too much, that she couldn’t keep watching him leave without knowing if he’d ever come home. 

Y/N had noticed the slight shift in how Spencer acted around her. She was no expert profiler, but Spencer wasn’t exactly as subtle as he thought he was with his actions. When she asked about a case, he wouldn’t confide in her like he used to. He was never impolite, ever the gentleman, but simply shut her down with a kind smile before moving on to talk about a different topic. 

He still held her close to his chest at night, arms wrapped around her. Though she noticed how he’d tightened his once loose grip on her, caging her in his arms. It made her heart ache a little when she felt him hold onto her as though he was afraid to lose her, as though she was going to leave. Although she wanted to, Y/N didn’t comment on this change in behaviour. She allowed him to hold her as tightly as he pleased, hoping it brought him any sense of comfort or reassurance he might need. 

One night when she was deep in sleep, her head on his chest, Spencer stared up at the ceiling with his hands holding her as close to him as she could get. He listened to the sound of her gentle breaths that somewhat soothed him, until the invasive thoughts started up again. He blinked away the tears that burned his eyes as he thought about how she deserved so much better than what he could give her, how he was selfish. Against his better judgement, he refused to push her away. If the dreadful day came when she decided she didn’t want him anymore, he would let her go. But until then, he was desperate to cling to her for as long as he could. 

He didn’t register the tears slipping from his eyes until the girl on his chest shuffled. He was quick to wipe his tears, watching as her own eyes fluttered open, staring up at him in confusion.

“Baby? What’re you doing awake, what time is it?” She groaned quietly, her eyes landing on the clock across the room. 3:47am.

When Spencer didn’t answer, she blinked to adjust to the darkness of the room, shifting to sit up slightly so she could meet his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

He gave a small smile at that. She was evidently still so tired but was forcing herself to stay awake so she could check he was okay.

Her compassion was one of the many reasons he loved her so. 

He shook his head. “I’m okay, I promise.”

She titled her head the side, her eyes searching his for any hints of how he was really feeling. She came up empty. She wasn’t a profiler, after all.

She reached her hand up to cup his cheek, and he gave the most adorable little grin, turning his head to place a kiss on her palm.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” She whispered, the sincerity in her tone making the tears in his eyes well quicker.

He just nodded with a sniff, unsure how to respond. Of course, he knew he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him. But his insecurities felt like a bother, and he wouldn’t want to burden her with such petty concerns. 

Y/N was still unsure, though she accepted his answer, giving him a small smile before returning to her sleeping position, her head on his chest. She had to have faith that he would confide in her when he was ready. 

 This time, he had one arm wrapped around her, his other hand intertwined his fingers with hers, bringing him even more comfort. He pressed his lips to her forehead, whispering a small ‘I love you’ against her skin before finally allowing sleep to take him.

The event was on a Saturday evening, and Spencer had found himself throughout the week secretly wishing they’d be called away for a case; but no such call came. Funny, he thought, the one time it’d be great to get whisked away for work, serial killers seem to have taken the week off? He wasn’t really looking forward to it at all but knowing he’d have Y/N on his arm all night made him feel slightly more at ease. 

When the clock hit 6pm Spencer called out to her, his voice bouncing off the walls of the apartment. 

“You ready?”

Spencer had familiarised himself with Y/N’s outstanding beauty over the years, even before they were together and he’d found himself pining over her, watching how she moved and how she acted and falling in love just a little more each day. He recalled the words of poet Robert Burns, ‘But to see her was to love her, Love but her and love forever.’ He noted how extremely fitting they seemed. When she stepped out of the bedroom, shoving her belongings into her clutch, and flashing a grin at her boyfriend, he was reminded how she was just so effortlessly enamouring that even his eidetic memory wasn’t enough to perfectly capture her allure. 

What a privilege it was to love her. 

“You look-” His words caught in his throat, trying to find ones that could even begin to convey his thoughts. There simply weren’t words. He knew a thousand different ones, but none that were adequate enough to describe the woman before him. 

“You are so beautiful.”

Is what he settled for, and it still seemed to fall short but when her lips turned up in a bright grin, he knew she was grateful for the compliment.

“Thank you. Are you ready to go?” She asked and he swallowed nervously before he nodded, offering him her arm as they walked out of the apartment.

*

He watched from their seats as Y/N stood by the drinks table with JJ and Garcia, deep in conversation. She’d been dragged from his side to have what Garcia called a ‘girly catch-up’, and hence he was left at the teams designated table with Morgan. Morgan was talking about a topic Spencer hadn’t much interest in, and though he had initially attempted to listen, that had been thrown out the window as his gaze drifted to Y/N once again. 

“Kid? Hey, you listening?” Morgan asked, waving a hand in front of Spencer’s face to get his attention. 

Spencer’s gaze snapped away from Y/N, focusing back on his friend. “Sorry, what was that?” 

Morgan shook his head with a laugh, nodding his head in Y/N’s direction. “I’ll bet you’d much rather be at home with your lady, huh?” 

Spencer followed Morgan’s line of sight, finding Y/N across the room again. He watched in silent awe as she threw her head back in laughter at something Garcia said before taking a sip of her wine. 

“Yeah. It’s just- we’re away so much with work. I would’ve liked to have taken her out this evening or something. I don’t ever want her to forget how much she means to me.” Spencer blurted out in a moment of honesty, something that Morgan had always managed to get out of him. 

Morgan nodded in understanding. “You know you never have to worry about that with Y/N. You, my friend, are the definition of whipped.” He grinned, reaching out and placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. 

Spencer frowned at the comment. “Whipped?” 

“It just means you’d do anything for her. Anything she wanted, anything she asked for. Anything to make her happy.” Morgan explained. 

Spencer nodded in understanding, put his frown remained. “Is that a bad thing?”

Morgan smiled, shaking his head. “Not at all. It’s nice seeing you so happy. She’s good for you, you know.”

Spencer glanced back over to her and caught her eye. She was mid conversation, but still flashed a smile to him.

He gave a small grin back before responding to Morgan. “Yeah, she is. Too good.”

*

As the evening came to a close, Spencer watched as Y/N said goodbye to everyone. He didn’t miss how one of the guys from Sex Crimes placed his hands far too low on her waist as she hugged him goodbye. How this guy seemed reluctant to let Y/N go even after she’d pulled back from the friendly hug. It made Spencer’s heart ache, watching this guy’s eyes glisten as Y/N spoke, looking at her in a way that was reserved for only Spencer. 

That green-eyed monster reattached itself to Spencer, his brain flooding with the self-depreciative thoughts that had plagued his mind for weeks at that point. It was getting too much for him to handle. 

He’d never been more relieved than when the taxi dropped them off outside their apartment, their home. 

Y/N had noticed her boyfriend’s silence on the journey home. It was even more confusing because he still held her hand tightly in his own, intertwined and resting on the middle seat between them. Spencer faced looking out the window, not paying much attention to Y/N, and she’d think he was ignoring her if it wasn’t for his vice-like grip on her hand. 

She figured he’d speak when they were back in their home, an environment he was the most comfortable in. Though he remained silent. When they stepped over the threshold of the apartment, he raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a faint kiss on the back of hers, before dropping her hand and quietly heading for the bedroom. Y/N stood in the hallway, hand dangling by her side as she pondered over what could be wrong. 

She waited to approach the topic until they were getting ready to sleep. Y/N had just finished washing her face and brushing her teeth in the bathroom, flicking off the light and making her way back to the bed. Spencer, who had still not said a word, was staring at a page of his book. She could tell he wasn’t reading, as he hadn’t flipped a page in a few minutes. She climbed in next to him, sitting up against the headboard as she looked over at him. 

“Spence, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes trained on the hundreds of words on the pages before him. 

She cleared her throat, her voice small. “You gotta talk to me. I need you to tell me what’s got you so worried. If it’s something I did then-“

“Why are you with me?”

Y/N blinked in shock. Those were the first words he’d spoken to her in hours, and she had no idea where they’d come from or how to respond to them. 

“What?”

“Why did you choose me? I mean, y-you could’ve had anyone you wanted, and you chose me?” His tone of voice was pained, and Y/N could tell that these words were the sum of self-doubt and malicious thoughts. 

Her eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand.”

“I just don’t get why you’d want me. I’m weird, I don’t always pick up on social cues and I don’t understand pop culture references and there are just so many other people you would probably be better suited to and- and you want me?” His eyes flicked up to meet hers and only then did she see the tears that brimmed in them. 

Y/N took a moment to mull over the words, realising that what she chose to respond with would be incredibly important to Spencer. She gave a small sigh and smiled slightly, reaching over to grasp his hands in hers. 

“You always go out of your way to bring me a blueberry muffin in the morning, even though my favourite bakery is the next town over. You give up your favourite cardigans because you know how much I love to wear them. You watched the whole of Stranger Things just because I spoke about it so much and you wanted to be able to talk about it with me. Despite how much you hate the logical inconsistencies.” She chuckled and he gave her a smile too, looking down at their joined hands. “When I go on and on about how the eleventh Doctor is my favourite you agree despite how I know for a fact that your favourite is the fifth. You always know when I’m upset without me even having to say a word. You dance with me on rainy days and read to me when I can’t sleep, and I am so in love with you.” She whimpered out the last bit with a smile, and his head shot up, eyes meeting hers. “You do not ever need to worry about whether you or not you ‘deserve’ me.” 

He nodded, but she could see he was still not entirely convinced.

So, she tried one more thing, something she was sure would get through to him. 

“Who was it that said, ‘We accept the love we think we deserve.’?” She asked, and he knew she knew the answer but still gave her the response she was looking for. 

“Stephen Chbosky.” 

She hummed in agreement, releasing one of his hands so she could cup his cheek, wiping away trembling tears with her thumb. “You deserve everything good in life, Spencer. You deserve to be loved.” 

He nodded again, having been convinced. 

For the first time in weeks, Spencer felt the weight of that green-eyed monster leave his shoulders. His constantly overworking brain seemed to grant him a single moment of clarity, enough for him to force away the thoughts that had hounded him for too long. He knew they may never really go away, but Y/N’s affections were certainly enough to quieten them down. 

“Okay.” He murmured, still smiling as his cheeks flushed.

She chuckled quietly, using her other hand to brush back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes in a tender move. “You’re my everything, the love of my life. Please don’t forget that.”

Spencer nodded, leaning forward. His arms enveloped around her, pulling her close to his chest in a tight hug.

“I’m yours.” He whispered. “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

She smiled and spoke the words as though they were the simplest thing in the world. 

“I’ll always want you.”

taglist: - @beyonces-breastmilk @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @thelovelyrose @averyhotchner @cynbx @calm-and-doctor

[spenciebabie]

When ever you have time can I get a sub spencer where the reader was involved in a case (not the unsub or anything someone they briefly interviewed like a bartender) and she hears Derek call him “pretty boy” and she hooks up with him and calls him pretty boy and rides him and chokes him/her fingers in his mouth. Uhg I love Sub!Spencer

“i adore your writings!! if you're down, would you be able to write smnth about sub spencer and reader? nothing specific, i just read a lot of the same stuff and am looking for some new amazing writings if you know what i mean. <3”

-- --

You know instantly that you want him. His doe eyes, his messy hair, his awkward little smile when he says hello. All if it is just combines with his nervous disposition in an inexplicably endearing way. He almost looks too scared to speak, it takes a nudge from his partner to get him to open his mouth.

“Hi miss, your manager told us- um that- uh- you were working the bar on Friday night?” he asks, fidgeting with his fingers and barely maintaining eye contact. “Oh! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid by the way!”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Reid, I’m Y/N. And that’s right, I was here till about 4am″ you respond and he nods

“Well- um, can you tell us if you saw anyone that looked like this in here that night?” he places a police sketch on the bar and slides it towards you. You study it for a moment but it doesn’t look familiar. And as stupid as it sounds you really wish that it did, maybe then you’d have a reason to keep talking to this guy. 

“No, I’m sorry, he doesn’t ring any bells, I wish I could be more of a help” you say, sliding the picture back.

“Well that’s- um, that’s fine! Don’t worry, but uh- if you do maybe see someone, or anything suspicious, or anything at all” he rambles, fumbling with his satchel and pulling something out, “maybe you could give me a call?” he finishes, placing his business card down on the bar.

“Thank you for your time miss.” his partner says, turning to Spencer “C’mon Pretty Boy, we gotta head back to the station” he says it quiet enough that it’s clear it wasn’t intended for your ears, but you register it anyway. And for a split second you’re jealous. You wanted to call him Pretty Boy too, what an apt nickname.

-- --

Several days go by when you finally pluck up the courage to call the number in Spencer’s card. You’ve got no information but the card’s been burning a hole in your pocket all weekend. So you call against your better judgement.

“Dr. Spencer Reid” he answers on the second ring and you’re almost flustered yourself.

“Hi, it’s Y/N, from the bar the other day?” you respond, and there’s a slight pause.

“Y/N? Did you see something? We- he shouldn’t- we actually closed that case earlier today? Did you have any new information?” he rushes out, clearly dumbfounded, but his nervous tone only makes you want to put him at ease, so you cut right to it.

“No! Nothing like that, I just thought that you might’ve given me your number for another reason too? And I wanted to know if you were free for a drink this evening?” you ask, a lot calmer than intended, and there’s yet another pause.

“Me? You- you want to go- as like- wait, is this a date?” he asks, and you can practically see the shocked expression through the receiver. 

“Well I was hoping it would be a date, if you’re comfortable with that Spencer? I get off in an hour?”

“YES! I mean- yeah! Yeah, that works for me, that’s cool, that’s no problem. An hour? An hour from now?” he rushes out and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Yup, an hour from now. How about you stop by the bar then?”

“I’ll see you then!” 

-- -- 

The date itself is short and to the point. It’s not that Spencer’s personality wasn’t endearing, but there was something about seeing him in the flesh again that lit a fire in you. Before he showed up you had all but convinced yourself that you were remembering him a lot more pretty than he must’ve been. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was every bit as perfect and more. And this time he walked in in a cardigan, a fucking cardigan. 

So it was only a waiting game from there, what was an acceptable amount of time to spend in public before you rushed him back to your place. And that ended up being roughly 90 minutes. When you asked him if he’d like to go back to yours he clammed up a little before nodding profusely. 

Once you made it in the door you wasted no time. Your lips were on his every second that they could be, only detaching for the occasional breath or to get clothes off until you’re left in nothing at all. You manage to lead him to the bed, pushing him down against it, just a little rough, and then you’re straddling his lap. 

His cock was as pretty as he was, flushed a delicate shade of pink, hard and leaking were it rested against his stomach. 

“Tell me what you want Spencer” you ask, taking his cock in your hand and pumping it gently, teasing more than anything, but his eyelids still flutter and his breathing stutters. 

“I don’t know- I don’t like to be in charge- I just- ah” he manages to force out between little gasps.

“That’s okay. Do you want me to be in charge baby?” you whisper against the shell of his ear as you lean in close, sucking a little bruise beneath it while you wait for a response which comes in the form of a pathetic little ‘please’.

So you sit up again, pumping his cock once or twice more before rising up and lining it up between your legs. 

“I want you to watch Spencer” you command, but his head stays flat on the bed, his eyes shut at the feeling of your fingers tight around him. So you lean forward, grabbing his jaw with your other hand and pulling it up. 

“I said, watch” you breathe, and his eyes shoot open right as you start to slide down his cock, taking it in inch by inch until it’s disappeared inside you.

“Does that feel good?” you ask.

He manages to nod and moans out a breathy “So good” 

So you finally start to move, rocking your hips up and down along his length, all the time watching him. Transfixed by his features, the way he bites his lips, and how they already looked so full and pink before they were swollen like this. And the matching hue that coats his neck and chest as his breathing grows shakier.

The more you move the louder he seems to grow. Moans and whines tumbling from his lips with each rise and fall of your hips. 

“Such a loud boy” you tease, leaning forward and wrapping one hand around his throat in a loose grip, “Such a Pretty Boy too” you moan as your fingers begin to squeeze at the sides of his neck. Cutting off just enough air to have his chest heaving and his eyes softly closing with a raspy moan.

“You like it when I call you Pretty Boy?” you ask and he nods as best he can in your grip.

“Well it’s true, every part of you is pretty. Your bone structure, your body, your cock, the little noises you make while you’re inside me” you list off, as your hips continue to move, albeit shakier now.

“You know what Spencer, I bet you even cum pretty? Do you wanna show me baby?” you release your grip on his throat and the moans start up again, desperate and loud, but still so melodic.

“I’m- oh god- uh- I’m so close- I’m gonna-” he whimpers as his eyes screw shut and his grip on your hips clenches tight. Your own release is only a moment behind as you continue to ride him, and soon enough your collapsing down onto his chest. Both of your chests rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm as you come down in silence.

“You really are the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen” you breathe once you get your breathing back under control.

[yn-ymn-yln]

Can i request a klaus mikaelson x reader where the reader is in hayleys place… a pregnant wolf but in the end klaus and her fall in love?

Okay lovie I got pretty carried away with this so it's kinda long... but thank you for the request! I hope you like it!

Clarification

Klaus Mikaelson x reader

*I didn't want to copy the show verbatim so I basically made this completely different from what happens to Hayley I hope that's okay!*

“Nik I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!”

“LIAR!” The pain in his voice has you recoiling. How had things gotten so fucked up?

“I swear, I love you! Please stop!” The hybrid’s furious gaze turns to your father who challenges him for what you all know is the last time.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” Your father’s corpse drops unceremoniously to the ground within seconds. You can’t take your eyes off of the man that had raised you, tears slipping down your face.

“Remember this day Y/f/n Y/l/n. This is what happens when you betray the original hybrid.”

Three years ago, to the day Klaus Mikaelson had slaughtered every remaining blood relative of your pack right before your eyes, leaving you the sole survivor of his man-made massacre.

Standing at the entrance to the compound you hoped today would go smoother than that day had all those years ago.

Klaus didn’t speak after you’d said your piece. Letting the shared history between the two of you cloud his judgement he’s on you in a second. His hand is wrapped around your throat, pinning you to the wall before you even have the chance to react. Instantly your own hands fly to his wrists pulling harshly to try and free yourself and continue the conversation without conflict.

Klaus doesn’t let up though. His grip gets tighter with each passing second. As his eyes begin to glow, the veins beneath them appear in a show of dominance.

Problem was, you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Growling lowly, you refuse to submit to the hybrid before you. With all rational thoughts out the window you sink your teeth into the arm of the man holding you. His unrelenting choke hold falters offering you your only chance to slip free. You push past him and take shelter behind his oldest living brother.

“Please do tell, what exactly is going on here?” Ever the noble gentleman, Elijah tries to diffuse the rather abrupt display of aggression.

“I’m pregnant.” The words fall past your lips without warning. Elijah didn’t know who you were, none of the Mikaelson’s did except for Klaus.

“Pardon?” Turning towards you, you can already see the look of disbelief color his features.

“She’s a liar! I’LL KILL HER!” The threat did little to scare you off. If he had really wanted you dead, he would have killed you three years ago when he had the chance.

“I’m not lying and we both fucking know it!” Lunging at you Klaus tries to maneuver around Elijah only to be stopped with a hand to his chest.

“I think that’s quite enough. What is your name?” He addresses the hybrid, then you.

“Y/n.”

“I find it hard to believe a woman I’ve never met harbors the child of my brother.” You chuckle humorlessly then.

“I do know him, have for years. He just doesn’t want you to know that.” Admittedly you had wounded more than Klaus’ pride when things had gone south between the two of you.

“Niklaus?” Elijah gives his younger brother a look that reads don’t fucking try lying to me. He doesn’t offer Elijah an explanation, opting instead to leave the room in a huff.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but I promise it’s his.”

“Very well, make yourself comfortable, we’ll find a witch in the morning.” You don’t ask him to elaborate, you knew they all needed proof, he needed proof. Without a word more you trudge up the stairs, Elijah following closely behind you. “If you’re lying about this, I’ll rip your heart out myself, you have my word.” hastily leaving the room you both had entered, he quietly shuts the door behind him.

There was nothing left to do now but wait.

Klaus Mikaelson should have been the last person you wanted to see. The remaining hatred you had for him should have been simmering but it wasn’t. You had never gotten a proper goodbye from the man that had stolen your heart. Your alcohol fogged mind told you there was no better time for a good bye than right now, and what better way to say it then to fall into the bed of the man you had once loved?

Klaus had eyed you suspiciously, his heart locked behind the walls he had built that fateful day.

You hadn’t even spoken, words had never been your winning feature. You had grabbed him by the collar pressing your lips to his.

It was heaven

He didn’t ask questions, choosing instead to lead you out of the bar hand in hand to the only safe place he knew.

His bed.

The months that had followed had been nothing short of chaotic. The witches of New Orleans had “officially” confirmed that you were in fact carrying the child of Klaus Mikaelson. He had taken the news rather poorly. Disappearing for weeks before finally surfacing at the compound again. Though he had returned, his icy demeanor towards you had stayed ever present. So, you kept as far away from him as you could. Until you didn’t.

You had been passing his study when the door had opened quickly causing you to stumble. You were sure your face was about to become very acquainted with the hardwood floor of the hall way when a pair of strong arms hand wrapped around your waist. You hadn’t meant to grip his wrist desperately, one hand flying to your barely showing baby bump.

“Your alright, I’ve got you.” His sentence was clipped, but that had been the most he had said to you since you stepped foot in the compound all those weeks ago.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure what had possessed you to bury your face in his chest but the warmth and comfort was worth the ire you were about to face. You’re surprised to look up and see him peering at you through confused eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t- It won’t happen again.” You leave before he has the chance to yell.

After your bout of clumsiness Klaus had laid off his harsh temper with you. You were sure it had been Elijah’s doing, probably some speech about stress being bad for the baby, but you didn’t mind. The somewhat calm atmosphere had brightened your mood considerably and gave you the tiniest shred of hope that maybe this wouldn’t be such a nightmare.

“ELIJAH!!!” You had never seen a thousand-year-old vampire move so fast in your life.

“What is it?! What’s wrong?!” His panic laced tone has a sheepish smile spreading on your face before you feel the tiny flutter again. Grabbing the originals hand, you place it on your stomach and wait.

“Come on little bean, you can do it.” The look of utter surprise that spreads across his face as a tiny thump reaches his hand is priceless.

“KLAUS COME HERE!” Elijah doesn’t move his hand, the wonder of human life making his undead heart melt. Klaus rushes into the room in much the same manor, the only difference being the glowing eyes and raised fist.

“Come feel!” You don’t hesitate to place his hand over your ever moving child. Elijah leaves the room then, wanting to give you and the father of said child a moment. “Do you feel it? Feel her?” A small smile spreads across the hybrids face his hand pressing slightly harder to the fading kick.

“I do. It’s amazing.” Silence fell upon the two of you, with it your doubts grew.

“What if I can’t do this?” The vulnerability in your words has Klaus looking at you in shock. He had never seen you so unsure of yourself.

“You can love, you are going to be a great mother.”

“No, I’m not, this baby is screwed and we both know it. Fuck, you can’t even look at me half the time. What kind of a family is she going to have?”

“This family isn’t perfect but it’s hers.” His words do little to comfort the growing fear inside your heart.

“I wish my dad was here.” The sob that rips from your throat is deafening, not for the first time Klaus wishes things had happened differently between the two of you.

“I’m sorry love.” You don’t let him finish, far too hormonal to not hug the father of your bastard kid. Klaus holds you tightly letting you release the built-up emotion, kissing your forehead every so often. “We will get through this, I promise.” Nodding your head, you stay firmly planted against the hybrid’s chest.

You hope he’s right.

Things weren’t perfect between you and Klaus, but with each passing day you saw the tension leave his shoulders and felt your anger slip through the cracks.

You loved him. It was simple, but none of it mattered if he didn’t love you back.

Sitting on the couch watching T.V. you traced patterns onto your stomach, mindlessly humming a melody that lived rent free in your mind. Klaus made his way into the living room, lifting your feet before placing them in his lap.

“What are you watching love?” The nickname had become a staple in the conversations between the two of you as of late.

“I’m not sure, I’m not really paying attention.”

“Why? Are you feeling alright?” Rubbing his hand up and down your leg you watch the man before you. Things had been so corrupt between you both, at one point you were sure you could never go back. Now though? You weren’t sure what to believe.

Nodding lightly, you try to defuse his worry.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Us.” The word hangs heavily in the air.

“What about us?” Inhaling a lengthy breath, you burst the perfect bubble you had been living in.

“I’m in love with you.” Klaus pauses his movement on your leg shifting his gaze to stare into yours.

“What?”

“I know a lot of shit happened between us Nik, and I know you don’t trust me but I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped. I know you might not feel the same” Your sentence is cut short by the hybrids lips connecting with your own.

“I thought I would never hear you say that again.” Closing the gap again, you press your forehead to his.

“We both made mistakes. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

“I forgave you a long time ago.” At his words you feel the moisture begin to pool in the corner of your eyes.

“Me too.”

The love you and the hybrid shared had never faded, you both just needed a little clarification to see it.

[shadowsinger11]

Insomniacs In Love

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Description: Wrote this ficlet for @wand3ringr0s3 's writing challenge. Congrats on your milestone, Haley!! I'm so proud of ya and ily so much girl💕💕

Warnings: Brief descriptions of war

Tags: @spilled-prose @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @elf-punk @heart-of-tempered-steel @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads

Message me to be added!

Masterlist

The white ceiling was staring right back at you.

Your tired eyes had no strength to fight back the hot trail of bitter tears rolling down your cheeks and falling on your pillow. The heavy, cold sheets, tangled between your legs, shrivelled even more under you as you struggled to ease your anxious mind into sleep, but every blink would bring images of explosions and unmoving bodies. The intrusive smell of blood and rotting flesh had been ingrained into your brain for years; the earsplitting, violent screams of terror had become nothing more than a background noise.

Adults and children were fighting side by side, desperately holding onto whatever hope for a future they might have had. The fresh summer soil was soaked in blood, old and young; with a burning passion, you prayed to whoever could hear you, that you wouldn't spot the faces of your loved ones in the sea of corpses that stretched out far into the distance.

There was chaos, and in between - grim visions of morning light.

You couldn't fall asleep, not when you could still vividly picture that night as though it had just been yesterday. Years later, the memory didn't fail to turn you into its slave every time you'd close your eyes.

The moon was wide awake. The air seemed to not be enough for you and the buzzing silence had nearly driven you to the point of insanity when you finally jumped out of your bed. The sharp moonlight caused your silhouette to dance as you walked barefoot out of your bedroom.

It was eerily unsettling to be strolling down the hallway of Fred and George's apartment without being bombarded by cheerful laughter and occasional explosions - there was only creaking of wooden stairs as you walked down to the kitchen. You poured yourself a full glass of cold water and immediately downed it entirely, hoping it would shake off the anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

You took a refill for just in case and sat beside the small kitchen table. You let out a deep breath and rested your head in your palms, shoulders heavy as if the carried the world.

A gentle voice nearly caused you to knock over the glass.

"Trouble sleeping?"

You looked up from your lap to see George standing by the doorway, hands in the pockets of his pajamas. His spiky hair and sleepy gaze let you know he had just woken up, but his expression immediately softened when he noticed your tearful eyes.

You smiled as best as you could, "You have no idea."

George approached you and sat beside you. He moved closer to try to take a better look at your distressed face; he didn't miss the stiffness of your body and the puffiness of your bloodshot eyes. The sight sent an electric shock through him and his heart began to ache.

"You're pretty shaken up, darling. What's wrong?" He asked just above a whisper, as though he was afraid he'd scare you away. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and you leaned into his touch, seeking some kind of warmth.

How could you explain to him you were still being haunted by the past? It had been years, why were you still chained by sorrow? You hated yourself for letting it settle in your bones, for not being able to return to the person you once used to be.

George was unharmed and so was his family. You were too. There was no logical reason for you to be thinking about it. Nevertheless, your nightmares were the reason you'd wake up every night in cold sweat, limbs of lead. Yet George didn't know a thing.

"It's nothing to worry about," you assured him despite your stomach twisting at the lie you had just spat out. "Just bad dreams."

"You seem to get a lot of those lately," George stated sympathetically; he could always read you so effortlessly. The sudden vulnerability caused you to shrink further into your chair, a fresh tear rolling down your cheek.

Your friend wiped it away with the pad of his thumb and hummed.

"That's alright. So do I."

"How do you know this about me?" you questioned, more confused rather than embarrassed.

His lips curled up in a tiny, sad smile, "You're not the only one wandering the house at night, sweetheart."

"I didn't know you still dream of… of it," you let out in a moment of realization. You didn't have to say what exactly you were referring to - you shared the same tragic memory.

"Yes, I do," he murmured. "Every night."

Your eyes met his dark brown ones and your heart sank; they were just as tortured as yours, and lacked the spark they once possessed. Never had you believed George would have to feign joy in his lifetime, he was the source of joy to everyone around him. But how could you expect flowers to bloom in a garden that's been burned to the ground?

Silence fell over you. Your eyes burned again.

"You should try to get some sleep," George advised, attempting to mask his hoarse voice, shaking ever so slightly. Your face fell. "I know it might be hard, but you can't risk getting a headache in the morning, you know."

The moon was still shining brightly through the window, illuminating his concerned face and the tears that had already formed in his eyes.

You swallowed hard.

"You're right. But I don't really want to go. It's just…" you sighed. Your hands were trembling. "It feels kinda lonely up there."

George nodded in understanding; there was no judgement in the way he observed you. He himself had spent way too many cold, sleepless nights. Fighting the same demons as you. 

It hurt him beyond measure to know you too were being held hostage by the weight of the past; the past which was robbing you both of your future. But what hurt him more was his inability to help you. He desperately yearned to heal you of your misery and hear your laughter, the laughter that had made him fall for you long before he even knew what love was.

The redhead was suddenly struck by an idea and his shoulders relaxed, a small smile causing his dimple to appear.

"I can go to bed with you, if that's okay with you, of course. Only until you fall asleep, that is. Then I'll go back to my room."

Your instinctive reaction was to refuse, but you stopped yourself before you could respond. Surely it wouldn't be so bad to have company, would it? It didn't seem like George was only doing it out of pity either; he genuinely cared about you and had your best interest in mind.

"You can say no, it's fine," said George when he didn't receive a reply. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay with me, I promise," you mirrored his smile. "Shall we go?"

You rose to your feet and headed towards your bedroom upstairs, George following closely behind. He couldn't recall a previous time when he had been in there, and he was pleasantly surprised to see how you had changed the design to your liking after you had moved in to live with the twins. The room looked cozy and truly felt like... you.

You were the first to climb into the bed and scooted over to make room for George's long legs. The mattress sank under his weight and he pulled the covers over the two of you, making sure he didn't take too much of them. George then rolled over to the opposite side, not wishing to invade your personal space.

Despite being taken aback by his action, you did the same - if that was the closest you'd get to being together with him, so be it.

You pulled the blanket over your shoulder and closed your eyes, but alas, your lungs constricted with anxiety. The intrusive silence let your mind wander back to memories you had been trying so hard to push away. The empty space behind your back was cold.

Less than an hour later, you were still as awake as you could be. Your friend was a quiet sleeper and thus you had no idea if he was asleep yet or if he was about to drift off. Nevertheless, you still felt guilty for whispering.

"Georgie?"

Rustling in the bedsheets.

"Hm?"

You wettened your lips and timidly asked, "Can I hold your hand?... For just a bit?"

George turned around and you expected to see him scowl for being woken up like that, especially for a thing as silly as your request. But you were met with such a fond expression, immense care swimming in his eyes.

Any sleepiness was nonexistent on his features; he couldn't fall asleep either.

"Of course," he smiled and lifted your hand to press a tender kiss to your wrist. His soft lips stayed there, pulse racing madly underneath, and the warmth lingered on the skin long after George pulled away and placed your hand on his chest. You let out a quiet gasp when you felt his own heart hammering against his ribs.

His other hand slid down to your waist and pulled you closer. You buried your face in his neck.

You could finally breathe.

He began tracing lazy patterns on your lower back. "Better?"

"Better."

George's fingers lightly grazed your skin, slow and gentle touch never once stopping its loving path. Drowsiness welcomed you much sooner than you had expected and your eyes fluttered closed. The last thing you remembered was George's lips on your eyelids.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep your demons at bay at least for just one night. George gave into slumber as well, both of you engulfed by divine serenity until the bright moon hid behind the horizon.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[bloody-bee-tea]

OMG! 13 and 16 for surprise!

13) “How do you just find a baby?!”

(The fic for 16 is still in the works, also you didn't clarify the pairing so I just went wild with Mingcheng)

Jiang Cheng is panicking. Nie Mingjue wasn’t scheduled to come to Lotus Pier for at least another week and Jiang Cheng doesn’t have an excuse ready.

He’s not sure he would have one ready in a weeks’ time, either, but he certainly doesn’t have one now.

“Do you want us to send him away?” Jiang Cheng’s second in command asks, warily eyeing the two toddlers currently playing together and Jiang Cheng debates for a quick second if he could get away with simply telling him yes.

He doubts that Nie Mingjue can be sent away, though, and so he simply sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Alright then,” his second says, clearly knowing him well enough to understand and promptly leaves the room.

Jiang Cheng anxiously walks up and down in the room, but he can’t calm himself down and so he simply picks up one of the toddlers. Maybe this will help him.

It’s not long before Nie Mingjue comes into the room, and by then it’s hard to say who is more anxious: the toddler or Jiang Cheng himself.

Nie Mingjue stops dead in his tracks when his eyes fall on the toddler in Jiang Cheng’s arms and Jiang Cheng looks helplessly at him.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue greets him, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the kid. “What is this?”

“Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he thinks now might not be the best time to go over there and ask for his greeting kiss.

It looks like Nie Mingjue wouldn’t appreciate that much right now.

“What is going on here?” Nie Mingjue asks again when Jiang Cheng stays silent in a desperate hope to not have to answer any questions, but of course it’s futile.

You don’t just bring a second kid home and expect your boyfriend to simply accept that.

“I didn’t steal him!” is the first thing Jiang Cheng thinks to say and he can see how Nie Mingjue’s mouth twitches.

He can’t be too mad then, if his first instinct is to laugh at Jiang Cheng’s panic.

“Okay?” Nie Mingjue asks and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Paired with the stern look on his face it’s almost enough to make Jiang Cheng shrink back, but then Jin Ling pulls himself up on Nie Mingjue’s leg and Nie Mingjue immediately softens.

“Come here, my little chicken,” Nie Mingjue says and lifts Jin Ling up, throwing him in the air once to make him laugh, before he settles him on his hip.

“Do you want to try that again, now?” Nie Mingjue then asks and Jiang Cheng can’t say that he wants to, no.

Still, he tries.

“He’s an orphan,” Jiang Cheng says, because that is technically true and is probably the thing Nie Mingjue cares most about right now.

“I should hope so, because otherwise you would have been stealing that kid away,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod, but he dutifully lowers his head when Jin Ling indicates that he wants to slobber a kiss over his cheek.

Jiang Cheng’s heart still does a funny little thing in his chest when he sees that and he hopes that will never stop.

“I found him?” Jiang Cheng tries next, thought that is not the truth and Nie Mingjue gives him a very judging look.

“How do you just find a baby? You haven’t even been on any night hunts!”

“How would you know about that?” Jiang Cheng asks with a frown, because it’s been weeks since they saw each other.

“If you really think your second in command doesn’t keep me updated, then you’re mistaken,” Nie Mingjue says with a huff and drops a kiss onto the scrunched up face of Jin Ling. “He tells me every time you go on a night hunt, so I know you haven’t been on one. So please, do pray tell, where would you just find a random baby?”

“He’s not a random baby,” Jiang Cheng protest immediately, because it does sound kind of rude when Nie Mingjue says it like that and then he startles when Nie Mingjue comes closer.

Jiang Cheng moves as many steps back as Nie Mingjue takes forward, but it’s not long before his back hits the wall and then there’s nowhere for him to go.

“He’s not, is he?” Nie Mingjue thoughtfully says as he scrutinizes the toddler in Jiang Cheng’s arms. “Jiang Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says as he straightens up and Jiang Cheng immediately tenses. “Why do you have Lan Jingyi with you?”

Ah, damn. Of course Nie Mingjue would know him.

“Don’t sound so stern, you’re scaring him,” Jiang Cheng tries, even though Lan Jingyi seems anything but scared, as he reaches out for Nie Mingjue, who willingly takes him with his other arm.

“Big gege!” Lan Jingyi yells out and throws his arms around Nie Mingjue’s neck.

Jin Ling is not yet at the stage where he speaks—he brabbles, a lot—but Jiang Cheng hopes that he doesn’t get as loud as Lan Jingyi. He doesn’t know how he would get anything done if he has two loud kids to take care of.

“Small didi,” Nie Mingjue gives back with a laugh, but his eyes don’t leave Jiang Cheng and he knows he has to explain this now.

“Not here,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh, knowing when he’s defeated, and he signs for Nie Mingjue to follow him.

The kids stay behind, and Jiang Cheng nods to the disciple who is on babysitting duty for this afternoon. He trusts all his disciples with the kids, but he still doesn’t like leaving them behind.

This talk should be held without them though, because at least Lan Jingyi is old enough to understand more than Jiang Cheng really wants him to.

So he leads Nie Mingjue into his personal quarters and Jiang Cheng is glad that Nie Mingjue doesn’t ask any questions on the way there. Jiang Cheng is still not sure how to explain this properly and he really doesn’t want any of his disciples to overhear them.

As far as they are concerned, Lan Jingyi is really just a kid he picked up on the way back from the Cloud Recesses.

“So?” Nie Mingjue asks him when they have spent at least two minutes inside of Jiang Cheng’s quarters without talking and Jiang Cheng sighs as he scrubs a hand over his face.

“I did not steal him,” he reiterates again, because he still thinks that’s important.

“Good, because I don’t think Lan Qiren would like that. He has always been awfully fond of Jingyi.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because every time he was at the Cloud Recesses it was evident just how much Lan Qiren doted on Lan Jingyi. “It’s why he asked me to take him in,” he then goes on and Nie Mingjue raises an eyebrow.

“He asked you to?” he clarifies and Jiang Cheng wishes he still had the letter Lan Qiren sent him, because that explains everything a lot better than he could, but he burned it as soon as he read it, just like Lan Qiren requested.

“He invited me over and asked me if I could take Jingyi in.”

“He was well taken care of in the Cloud Recesses, was he not?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng is glad to hear no judgement in his voice. He’s just curious and Jiang Cheng could sob he’s so relieved about that.

“Apparently he’s loud,” Jiang Cheng says and nods towards the door. “He greets you like that always, right?”

Nie Mingjue nods.

“And he greets everyone like that. Lan Yuan already knows not to run and to yell, and he’s only a few months older than Jingyi, and Lan Qiren feared that Jingyi isn’t a good fit for the Lan Sect.” Jiang Cheng frowns, because that feels wrong. “That the rules don’t suit him,” he tries again, and that is better.

It’s not Lan Jingyi’s fault he’s a lively and loud kid and he shouldn’t be punished for it. Lan Qiren is obviously of the same mind and so he had asked Jiang Cheng if he could take Lan Jingyi in.

“So you took him in,” Nie Mingjue says and comes closer to pull Jiang Cheng into his side. “And you were worried.”

Jiang Cheng shrugs, because it’s true. He was so damn worried.

“About what?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng looks at the floor.

“You’re already putting up with so much with me,” he admits. “The rebuilding and Jin Ling—asking you to take care of yet another kid that isn’t even yours seems like too much.”

“But you’re taking care of yet another kid that isn’t even yours,” Nie Mingjue shoots back and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “I don’t seem why I should be any different.”

“It’s just—it was my decision. But you’re not obligated to stay—with me,” Jiang Cheng finishes with a whisper, because this is really what he is most afraid of.

Nie Mingjue has been so understanding and supportive of everything so far, and Jiang Cheng is just afraid to find that there’s an end to Nie Mingjue’s support and love. It would break Jiang Cheng’s heart if there was one, but it wouldn’t really come as a surprise.

Jiang Cheng has a whole bag of issues—Jin Ling and his still growing Sect the least of them—and it’s not fair to Nie Mingjue.

“Yeah, because I’m staying out of obligation,” Nie Mingjue says with an eyeroll. “And not because I love you and our little family.”

The last part is said in a soft whisper and it immediately brings tears to Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“I just wasn’t sure,” he mumbles but he also turns fully into Nie Mingjue and slings his arms around him.

“And that’s okay,” Nie Mingjue agrees, returning the gesture. “But know that you’re wrong. Jingyi will do a lot better here than in the Cloud Recesses, I’m sure of it. I was kind of worried for him, you know,” Nie Mingjue admits. “Their rules seem to go against everything he is, even at this age, and I’m glad he gets to grow up without them.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jiang Cheng gives back with a sigh. “Plus it’s good that A-Ling has someone his age around. I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to make many friends here, seeing as there are not many kids around.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Nie Mingjue says with a small laugh. “I hope you are aware that Jingyi and A-Yuan are already inseparable. Xichen will be over quite a lot, I reckon.”

Jiang Cheng freezes because he did not think about that yet, but then he relaxes again. It will be good for both Jin Ling and Lan Jingyi to have Lan Yuan over and it’s not like Jiang Cheng can fault Lan Yuan for the crimes of a family he never really got to know. It will be fine.

“Though, I guess there is one thing,” Nie Mingjue says and he pushes Jiang Cheng away from him, which instantly makes him panic.

“What?” he wearily asks, because he thought they were past the worst of it. He thought Nie Mingjue already said he would stay.

“He can’t be Lan Jingyi here,” Nie Mingjue says and flicks Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “You’ll have to formally adopt him, so he can take the Jiang name.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng whispers and is ashamed to feel tears spring to his eyes.

He never did thought of any kid wearing the Jiang name like that ever again but Nie Mingjue is right.

“Jiang Jingyi,” Jiang Cheng mutters. “You think he’ll like it?”

“I think he’ll love it,” Nie Mingjue says, and there is no hint of doubt in his voice. “Just like he’ll love you.”

“Like you love me?” Jiang Cheng dares to ask, because there is still that niggling doubt in him.

“Like I love you,” Nie Mingjue easily agrees and pulls him in for a soft kiss. “Now let’s get back to the kids, lest they forget who their dads are.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng breathes out because he didn’t dare to think about that yet.

He will make sure to tell Jin Ling about his real parents, but he guesses Nie Mingjue is right. They are going to be their parents.

Jiang Cheng never thought of himself as a father, but he finds that as terrifying a thought that is, he quite likes it.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng agrees with a smile and takes Nie Mingjue’s hand when he offers it to him.

It’s time to get back to their sons.

Dialogue Prompts

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[uwurakax]

boy, i need you ♡

pairing: akaashi x reader ♡

genre: angst // cheating // minimal swearing // suggestive (not explicit) ♡

summary: he knew it was wrong, every fibre of his being told him it needed to end with you. so why couldn’t he bring himself to do it? ♡

♡ sequel to ‘boy, i hate you’ - read the first part here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: warning, not proofread or anything! wasn’t planning on part 2, but then it was brought up and i thought “hey i can work w a 2nd pt”. reader has no gender mentioned - but again ig default fem if theres vibes here? idk. also have a note at the end so there’s no spoilers here haha. excuse the crappy writing as always - my 2am brain refuses to work at any other time ty for coming to my tedtalk that no one cares about ✌️ ♡

♡ (inspired by f.u by little mix) ♡

unfaithful

/ʌnˈfeɪθfʊl,ʌnˈfeɪθf(ə)l/

adjective

1. engaging in intimate relations with a person other than one’s regular partner in contravention of a previous promise or understanding

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Akaashi couldn’t say exactly why his infidelity started. Honestly there was nothing inherently wrong with your relationship. You were amazing, loyal, kind and everything he could ever want in a partner. He supposed at one point he was like that to you. Not anymore though. He could never be like that ever again. Not when he found comfort in the arms of another. Another that wasn’t you.

Akaashi knew it was wrong. Wholeheartedly he wanted to free you of the unforgivable. Did he take advantage of your sweet behaviour? Deep down inside, he knew he was. The cheap thrill of loving somebody else while you waited patiently for him back at home. Back at the home the both of you had made together. The home that he had inadvertently tainted with the presence of another. 

This is the last time.

How many times would he tell himself that? That the momentary pleasure he got from her was just that. That he’d stop before it went too far. 

Over a year later was already beyond what was classified as ‘too far’.

He couldn’t kid himself into thinking it was just a brief lapse in judgement anymore. Not when he didn’t stop. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you in the slightest. How could he do that? To the one he promised to love. The one to always be there for you, care for you. To do everything a good boyfriend should do. 

To never, ever be the reason for your tears.

He knew he didn’t have the right to feel this way. It was selfish. Completely and utterly selfish. But when he’d come home and find you there waiting for him, while he was whispering sweet nothings, words that should’ve only been reserved for you, to somebody else just minutes prior, he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache. Akaashi, ever so observant, noticed that you stopped faking your smile. He remembers the first time he saw it. 

5 months after his unfaithfulness began, something he swore that’d happen just once, he saw the look on your face. The warm smile you had greeted him with just earlier that morning before he left, was now gone. This smile wasn’t as bright, and the shine didn’t reach your eyes. He didn’t like this smile. It was beautiful of course, because it was from you, but he didn’t like how fake it was. You had given him some half-assed excuse.

“I’m just a little tired Keiji”

He knew you too well. Knew you were lying to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to press on further. Day after day, your smile continued to drop. Further and further, until it was some terrible imitation of the one he had fallen in love with years ago. No matter how much you tried to hide it, he would always notice the slight redness in the whites of your eyes. Dark and puffy under-eyes that you tried desperately to conceal. The tone of your voice, no longer lively and cheerful. He supposed after a year, you just didn’t want to pretend to be okay anymore. 

This will be the last time.

He’d break it off with you. His silent promises to spare you from anymore pain. The guilt ate away at him, feeling the nausea rise in his stomach. You deserved someone better than him, someone who would treat you the way you should be treated. He used to be that guy. Where did that man go? What happened to him? He supposed he didn’t have the right to be that person anymore.

He was always so tense thinking on what to say to you. On how to finally admit his wrongdoings. Whether you knew of his actions behind your back, finally voicing them out would be the nail in the coffin. The confirmation that he was indeed doing the things that you were suspecting him of. Perhaps thats why you could never ask or actually push forward with it.

Because even if you knew, with great certainty, you could deceive yourself into thinking he was still the boy you had fallen in love with all those years ago.

Akaashi only received a fleeting moment of peace from his thoughts of you when she was around. He absolutely despised it. It was despicable how he could find a sense of safety in her arms. It should’ve been you, only you. It was wrong. Completely and utterly wrong, and yet he couldn’t help but think it felt right. It was wicked and evil, there was no other way to put it. Her hands. Her kisses. Her touch. All the moments with her made him forget about you, if only for a brief period. The gentle feel and traces of her were like invisible tattoos, covering all the places you had marked, kissed and touched.

It was all just too intoxicating for him. From her silky smooth hair to the softness of her skin. However, when he ran his fingers all over her body, he couldn’t help but think of you. God he was pathetic. So, so badly he knew it was wrong. He already had you, had your love, had everything you had to give. So why would he run for comfort to her, only to end up wishing it was you instead? It didn’t make sense, and he couldn’t understand it at all.

“Keiji, why don’t you stay the night?”

“I can’t, I’m sorry”

“It can’t keep going on like this. You guys should break up. Then you wouldn’t have to keep going back there, and then you can finally stay here with me. Isn’t that what you want?”

No, it wasn’t. It was probably the reason why he’d never stay over with her. Because he always wanted to come home to you. If he didn’t want to stay with her, if he didn’t sleep in the same bed with her, if he didn’t want to hold her hand - everything he wanted to do with you - why did he still do it? Why! Why! Why! It constantly plagued his mind. He was just selfish.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

And so, Akaashi sat in his car, with his grip on the steering wheel, thinking of the words to say. He knew he needed to be delicate, but firm. To the point, but not blunt. ‘This will be the last time’, he says to himself. The last time he thinks of the words to say. The last time he sits in his car contemplating about everything. The last time he has to hurt you. He’ll let you go, let you cry, even let you throw any object in reach to let out your frustrations on him. Just as long as he didn’t have to hurt you anymore. With a shaky breath, he unlocks the car door and steadies himself. He makes his way to house you both shared, hand on the handle as he closes his eyes. It’s time to face the music.

He quietly opens and closes the door behind him, setting his belongings on the dark oak table sat next to the door. He hears you in the kitchen, your feet padding around on the tiled floor. He makes his way there and freezes. You’re slaving away in a large t-shirt and shorts just a bit too big for you. They’re his without a doubt. You hear his shoes clicking against the floor and turn around to face him.

“Welcome home Keiji”

He hated that the gleam in your eyes was gone, and that your lips had to form a smile way too forced. He hated what he had done to you.

“I’m making your favourite, it should be ready in about 10 minutes”

With that, Akaashi loses all composure. He steps forward, his long legs carrying himself towards the stove top, situating himself behind you. He reaches around to turn it off, and moves the pot to the next hotplate. You turn around to question him, only to end up surprised at how close he was. You’re flustered, and he can easily tell how nervous you are at the way your eyes dart at anywhere else but him.

The temperatures rising in your body, and you swear that Akaashi can feel it steaming out of you. He closes the distance quickly, and soon enough your tongues are fighting for dominance against each other. He was in such bliss, it was like your lips were moulded to be with his. In moments like this he could forget. When your touch covered the traces of her. When your taste overwhelmed hers. He wanted you imprinted on him again. But he knew, knew that soon enough, he’d wash it away with his mistress. A continuous cycle of you and her. Disgustingly selfish.

This will be the last time.

The last time he takes your hand. The last time he has the pleasure of kissing you. The last time he undresses you. He takes his time, drinking in your form under the moonlight. Not even the darkness could overshadow your light. He knows you do the same, your eyes focused on him now. You push him forward so he falls back on the plush mattress. Why would he ever think about anyone else? He knew this had to be the last. The last time he’d let his eyes fall over you. He needed to save these moments in his head so he’d never forget.

The last luxury he’d have of you.

So he’d soak it all in, ingrain it forever. He needed to remember it vividly so he could look back. Look back at the idiot he was for ever hurting you in this way. He didn’t deserve you in the slightest. He thought that if he could capture every last detail, it could be the least of his karma. To miss what he took for granted.

How many times had he thought that himself?

And at the end of it all, he’ll just lay there. In the bittersweet afterglow of the love you two had shared. He’ll close his eyes and prepare himself to lose it all. Lose you. You think he’s asleep as he’s so still and his breathing so even. You’ll comb your fingers through his hair, just like you always do, and mumble quietly about your devotion to him.

“I love you, so much Keiji”

You pray he doesn’t hear you, but he does. As clear as day, you whisper confessions of love and admiration for him. He knows he doesn’t deserve it. Not in the slightest, not at all.

But the gentle kiss you place on his lips has him reeling, and his resolve cracks. He can’t do it, because he’s just that selfish. He knows that in the end, it won’t be the last time. He’ll go through it all again. The guilt will eat him alive. The feel of bile on the tip of his tongue no longer phasing him - he’s gotten used to the taste. He’ll break your trust, again and again, and then carelessly attempt to put the pieces back together, just to shatter them more. It’s cruel, he knows this. He wishes you’d just insult him. Cuss him out. Do anything, but show him love over and over. He loves you, he truly does, and he knows how horrific it is to do this to somebody you claim to love. He just wants you to hurt him, tell him what a disgusting asshole he is, how he’s a piece of shit, a waste of space. Any and everything you can think of.

But you don’t.

And while you continue to show him affection, he’ll drown in the abyss of despair that he, himself put him in. Because during these moments he could pretend that you actually loved him. That you didn’t know of his cheating ways. That he wasn’t touching you with the same hands that held someone else.

So tomorrow it’ll all start over, and the cycle will continue. He’ll keep on breaking your heart, and you’ll both pretend to be okay with it. No matter how many times he told himself it would be the last.

He hoped that one day he wouldn’t be such a coward. That he would finally cut the strings that tied you both together and just end it. Akaashi knew it was wrong, but he was just that selfish and hypocritical.

extra: IM SORRY! i know this probably wasn’t the part 2 that was wanted but 🤟😭 i couldn’t help myself! pls give any akaashi merch hugs and kithes 🥺🥺 my friend told me this mad him mad at him (i was going for sad, so im sorry if you get angry 😭) 💕✨ tysm if you read it 💝

[hearts-hunger]

half-cocked || javier peña x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Javi’s your boss, and he’s so damn stubborn. You’d have to be crazy to go off half-cocked twice in one night, right?

Pairings: Javier Peña x DEA Agent!Reader

Genre: smut, porn without plot (18+ only!)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: god uhhh filth, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, choking, praise kink, dirty talk, hand jobs, unprotected sex, dom javi, sub reader, fluff at the end bc i think smut always deserves some fluff ♡ also, totally unbeta-ed.

A/N: full disclosure i was drunk on vodka cran and listening to “drew barrymore” by bryce vine when i wrote this, so it might be terrible or it might be really good. i just want javi to lovingly & tenderly top the fuck out of me :) let me know what you think!

“I told you not to go near those guys.”

Javi crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for you to answer, to explain why you’d done the exact opposite of what he’d told you to do. You felt yourself blush, face heating with anger and embarrassment and something you refused to acknowledge.

“I thought I could get something out of them,” you said, going on the defensive. “They know something, Javi. It would have been stupid to pass up an opportunity to get some intel from them.”

You watched the way his jaw worked.

“No, what would have been stupid is if you had gotten hurt,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. You almost wished he would yell at you and get it over with; this cold anger was harder for you to bear.

He’d expressly told you to stay away from the group of narcos you’d been tagging for a week, and he was your boss. But you knew you could get something from them - they’d talk to you quicker than they would talk to Javi, and you both knew it. You never disobeyed a direct order, especially not from Javi, but he was being so stubborn. You went ahead and questioned them anyways, and Javi had caught you red-handed.

“You don’t think I can take care of myself?” you asked coldly.

He ran a hand over his face. “Of course you can take care of yourself,” he said. “But you’ve been here for two minutes, alright? Sometimes you have to trust my judgement. I’m not a complete idiot. If you fuck around with these guys and go off half-cocked, you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to say you’d done the job without getting hurt. You knew that was beside the point; you’d gotten lucky with these guys - you could have just as easily gotten shot for your trouble, and both you and Javi knew that.

He cut you off before you could say anything. 

“You answer to me,” he said. “Are we clear? I don’t care what kind of wild ideas you have in your head about catching fuckin’ Escobar all by yourself. If I say to steer clear of a bunch of narcos, you do what I say. Not whatever bullshit you come up with. Got it?”

God, you could have screamed.

“Yes,” you managed. You started to leave, but that wasn’t enough for him. He took your arm in a grip gentle enough not to hurt but firm enough to show you how deadly serious he was.

“Yes what?” he asked.

You felt your face heat again. “Yes sir.”

You could have sworn you felt a fucking switch flip. The air in the office was suddenly hot and constrictive; you met his eyes and felt like you were on fire.

He was so close to you, so close you could feel his warmth and smell his cologne. You could see where his pulse beat furiously under his jaw; his eyes were dark as they met yours.

He gave a hum of agreement. “That’s better.”

You couldn't think of anything to say; you were completely consumed with him, the way his hair fell across his brow, the way the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, the way his skin looked so sunkissed and warm.

For the second time that night, you went off half-cocked; you pressed your mouth to his and hoped against hope it wouldn’t cost you your job.

His response was immediate - he opened his mouth against yours and took your tongue, one hand still holding your arm and the other moving to hold your waist securely against him. You carded your free hand through his hair, whining a little; god, but he could kiss. Your breath came in sharp gasps as he hooked your leg over his thigh,  drawing your heat closer against him.

“You want this?” he asked, breathless.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, sir. Please.”

He sighed against your mouth. “Fuck. Alright.” He ran his fingers over the seam in your jeans. “What do you want?”

You could barely think straight; something you’d imagined countless times came to mind, and you decided to try your luck.

“Can I ride your thigh?” you asked, needy. “Please, sir.”

He groaned. “Yeah, pretty girl. Whatever you want.”

He stumbled backwards, one hand out to make sure you didn’t crash into anything; he found his desk chair and took a seat, looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Come on, baby girl,” he said, patting his thigh. “Right here.”

You did as he said, straddling his thigh, feeling a rush of heat before you’d even moved. You put your hands on his shoulders and let him kiss you, deep and hungry.

You started to move against his thigh; his hands roamed all over you, desperate, needy. You rocked your hips, pressing yourself against his thick, muscled thigh. Your breath started to catch in your chest; he put his hands on your hips and pressed you down against him, each movement of your hips dragging over his thigh. 

“Javi,” you breathed. You gripped his shoulders and pressed yourself against him. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” he said, kissing your neck.

“God - oh, fuck, feels so good,” you managed. “Oh, Javi - ”

“Such a good girl for me,” he said. “Getting yourself off on my thigh - what a good girl.”

“‘M close,” you whined. You were almost embarrassed with how quickly you’d come to the edge.

“That’s alright, baby,” he said. His big hands moved over your breasts. “Come on, honey. Take what you want from me.”

Your eyes fluttered open long enough to see his face, all flushed pink; he bit his lip when you moaned, his head leaning back like he was getting off on your whines.

“Oh, Javi, I’m gonna cum,” you said, desperate and a little panicked. Though you’d gotten yourself off thinking about him before, you’d never gotten off with him, much less while riding his thigh. Maybe this was crazy. Maybe this wasn’t - 

“Good girl,” he said, almost like a sigh. “Fucking gorgeous, getting yourself off on my thigh.” 

Your nerves faded and you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your hips sharply against his thigh; when he kissed you, it was surprisingly tender. He kept his mouth against yours as you reached your high.

“Javi,” you said desperately. “Fuck, fuck - oh, god - ”

He held you against him as you rode out your orgasm on his thigh, moans tumbling from both of you. He sucked right below your jaw, murmuring words of praise.

“Thank you, thank you,” you babbled, leaning against him as you came down from your high. You could feel how hard he was through his impossibly tight jeans; you palmed him and kissed at his neck, sloppy and sweet.

He couldn’t help a choked laugh. “You’re welcome, baby,” he said. “Anytime. But really, you did most of the work.”

He lifted you off his lap, ignoring your slight protest; he stood you up and fumbled with the button on your jeans.

“Let me taste you, baby,” he said. He knelt in front of you, looking up at you from under his long, dark lashes; you would never have guessed he could look this needy. You couldn’t do much but nod your head.

As he started to pull your jeans down, you had a sudden moment of clarity. “Javi, wait, wait.”

He stilled, looking up at you for direction. “What’s wrong?”

You fumbled with the words. “I didn’t - you haven’t - ” You swallowed. “Let me get you off.”

He chuckled, a wry grin spreading over his face. “Patience, baby girl. You’ll get your turn.”

God, your mouth practically watered at the thought. He quickly put any other thought out of your mind as he helped you shimmy out of your jeans, his ease and control only making you more flushed. He made quick work of your underwear, pausing only a moment to comment on how wet they were.

“Hmm, someone enjoyed themselves, I see,” he teased.

You blushed. “Shut up.”

He grinned up at you. “Make me.”

He didn’t wait for a response before he nosed at your heat, gently bringing your leg over his shoulder. You grabbed the corner of his desk, your whole body like a live wire with desire and overstimulation. You’d only just come down from your last orgasm, you couldn't possibly - 

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, tangling the fingers of your free hand in his curls as he went straight to business, eating you out like you were his last meal. The sounds he was making - god, they were downright sinful. You didn’t think you’d ever enjoyed a man going down on you with such pleasure or such skill.

“You taste so good, querida,” he rasped, catching his breath. “Fucking delicious, baby girl.”

You tugged a little on his hair, incoherent whines falling from your lips as he sucked on your clit. “Javi, fuck, oh, god, please - ”

“Gonna cum, beautiful?” he asked. “Gonna cum on my tongue?”

A sound came from your throat that almost sounded like a sob. “Yes, please, just - ”

You didn’t know what you were asking for, but evidently he did; within seconds, his tongue dipping into you and his nose nudging at your clit, you came so hard it made your legs shake.

“Javi, Javi, Javi,” you pleaded, like a prayer. He sucked your clit through your orgasm; when you finally came down, he grinned up at you and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said with feeling. “You sound so gorgeous when you cum, baby.”

You steadied yourself on his shoulder as he stood, shaking with residual waves of pleasure. He kissed you, salty with your own taste, pulling your hips against his.

“I wanna suck you off,” you said, almost begging. “Please, Javi.”

He groaned against your mouth. “If you want to, honey.”

You put your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down until he sat back in his desk chair, knees spread for you. You knelt in front of him like he had just done for you; your hands were shaking a little too much to easily undo his belt, and he did it for you. You pulled his cock out of his boxers and gave him a few quick strokes. 

“Fuck,” he bit out. You waited before you did any more; you wanted to be told what to do, but you were mortified to admit it. 

“What is it, baby girl?” he asked. You looked up at him, your hand wrapped around his cock, begging him to understand. 

He gave a quiet hum, seeming to realize what you wanted. He put his hand to your throat, just firm enough to let you feel the pressure of his fingertips. He met your eyes, looking for permission; you put your hand on his wrist and held his gaze.

“You like this, sweetheart?” he asked, giving you every chance to say no.

You looked up at him from under your lashes. “Yes, sir,” you said, incredibly coy for someone who still felt the pressure and heat of his tongue between your legs.

He studied your face. “You like to be controlled, huh, baby girl? Wanna be told what to do?”

You ran your hands up his thighs, just enough to tease, pushing him a little; he tightened his grip, just enough to make you still.

“Don’t be naughty,” he warned. He leaned forward and kissed you. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“Javi,” you managed. “Wanna suck your cock, sir.”

“I don’t know, dollface. Only good girls get what they want. You disobeyed me earlier, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you. Now you were getting down to it. You’d disobeyed him and, like it said on your DEA profile, Agent Peña was in charge of any disciplinary action that needed to be taken in your case.

“But you’ve been such a good girl,” he mused. His thumb ran under your jaw, caressing the place he’s put a love mark earlier. “You won’t disobey again, will you, baby?”

“No,” you breathed.

His grip tightened. “No what?”

“No sir,” you whined.

“Good girl,” he praised. He moved his hand from your neck to your hair, brushing it back with intentional tenderness. You took that as your permission and moved your hand up and down his cock, drinking in the sounds he made as you pleasured him.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. A string of Spanish curses fell from his mouth, somehow melodic; you took him as deeply as you could manage, swallowing around him, running your tongue up the underside of his cock. He tasted so good, and his breathy moans were like music; you put your hands on his thighs as he tangled his fingers in your hair.

“So good, baby, god - ” His voice pitched up sweetly. “You’re so good. Fuck.” He only just managed to keep himself from fucking his hips against your face, trembling under your hands.

“Wait, baby, hold on,” he gasped. You came off of him with a pop and looked up at him, waiting for direction; he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Don’t wanna come yet, sweetheart,” he said, his chest pumping. Sweat shone on his chest where his button-down was undone. “And if I let you go any more, I’d be done for.”

“Yes sir,” you said breathlessly, your voice hoarse.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Good girl.” He stood and brought you up with him.

“I want you,” you said petulantly, your hands roaming everywhere. “Please, Javi.”

“Hold on, honey.” He took both your wrists in one hand. “You’re gonna do as I say?”

You kissed him hungrily. “Yes. Please. I want to do what you say.”

He kissed you and bit your bottom lip. “Bend over my desk, baby girl.”

You did as he said, pushing files aside to brace yourself against his desk; you felt him draw close to you, giving himself a few strokes before he drew his cock between your legs.

“Easy, baby,” he soothed, putting one hand on your hip, holding you steady; his other hand gently brushed over your ass. “Can you be patient for me?”

You pushed back against his hips. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“I know, honey,” he said. He reached around to circle your clit with slow, deliberate movements, making you give a breathy little moan.

“You sound so pretty when you’re needy,” he praised.

“Please,” you said. You were confident he knew what you meant.

He leaned down to kiss the back of your neck. “Since you asked so sweetly.”

He pushed into you quickly, all the way to the hilt; you gasped as he filled you, warm and tight and almost too much.

“Alright, baby?” he asked gently. You knew he was being sincere, and he gave you a moment to settle. You took a deep breath and moved against him, desire and pleasure washing through you with even that small movement.

“Please, Javi,” you whined.

He started to move his hips against you, each stroke deep and intentional. His hips snapped against yours at a steady and delicious pace, filling you, dragging across the spot that made you moan and whimper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Javi said, his voice tight and heavy with desire. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Can’t believe I get to be with you like this.”

“Javi,” you keened. His fingers circled your clit, bringing you to the edge as your pleasure grew. “You’re so good, Javi, oh - fuck - ”

You tightened around him as you tried not to cum, wanting to finish with him. His grip on your hip tightened.

“‘M close, sweetheart,” he said.

“Fuck, me too,” you gasped. “Oh, please - ”

“Cum with me, baby,” he managed. “Come on my cock, sweetheart.”

He pushed into you and pressed deeply against your clit; your orgasm washed over you with blinding pleasure, and you called out his name like a prayer. As you tightened around him, he came too, groaning like you’d torn his heart out of his chest.

“Christ,” he breathed, leaning his head against your back. He kissed your neck and stood you up as he pulled out of you, steadying you as your legs shook with ebbing waves of pleasure.

“That was incredible, sweetheart,” he said breathlessly. He turned you around to face him, holding you close, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, Javi,” you said.

He gave a quiet laugh. “Anytime, querida.”

You wanted to kiss him again, but feared it might be too intimate; he pressed his mouth to yours and kissed you tenderly, slowly.

“Don’t disobey me again,” he said, though his warning was gentle and you knew it came from a place of worry and care for you.

You shook your head. “No, sir.”

You could feel his smile against your mouth. “Good girl. Such a good girl for me.”

tag list: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl​​, @punkgeekchic​​ ♡

let me know if you want to be added to my pedro pascal character taglist!

[ichorai]

cellmates ; five ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

themes ; fantasy, angst, slowburn, action, adventure, medieval, pirates, magic, elves, mermaids, royalty

words ; 8.9k

warnings / includes ; character death, blood and grime and injury and everything in between, reader being tied/chained up :(, vulgar cursing, crying, rowdy pirates, "keep the love interests away from each other" trope <3, ✨pure confusion✨, me torturing my characters once again yikes, ateez cameos !!, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; uhm. hi. first off, i apologize for taking so long with this series KWHJKSDFK and second, i am also so sorry for what you're about to read o.0 this one's a real angsty part folks :') i swear i swear it gets better don't be too upset :(( i love writing this series so much (it's prob my favorite original story) and im so excited to hear yalls thoughts :D

cellmates masterlist.

a map of this universe is included at the end of the chapter !!!

Cerulean beaches never quite looked like real beaches to you. The sand was as white as snow, the gentle lapping waters so bright they looked to be molten sapphires. It was all far too perfect to be naturally authentic. You were pleased to find that your boots left shallow imprints in the sand, disrupting the once pristine terrain.

Night was creeping upon you once again, and you were in desperate need for a good sleep. You were lucky that Yunho didn’t live very far off, also pleasantly surprised to find that you could even remember the way back (though admittedly, it took a considerable amount of backtracking).

The front of his little cottage was just as you remembered, albeit dark and somewhat dingy. None of the candles or oil lamps were lit and the curtains were drawn. The large expanse of his garden seemed somewhat unmaintained, weeds starting to sprout from between the wilting, once bright flowers.

You knocked against the door thrice, clasping your hands behind your back while you waited. How would Yunho react upon seeing you? What if he blamed you for losing Wooyoung? What if he didn’t believe you? What would you say then? Much like the first time you came to Yunho’s little cottage, tumultuous questions and irrational thoughts churned about in your mind.

It took a long while for you to realize that nobody had answered the door yet. You blinked, mystified, and raised a fist to rap on the wood again. You grew impatient rather quickly, knocks progressively becoming more frequent and hurried.

“Yunho?” You called out after about five minutes of waiting. By then, it was obvious that the man was either not home or avoiding you on purpose. And considering how friendly and sweet the pink-headed giant was the last you saw, you doubted it was the latter. “I’m coming in!”

The door opened in a fluid motion, knocking against the wall behind as you swung it open. You stepped inside tentatively, peering around with widened eyes. It was completely dark inside. So much so that it took you a few minutes for your eyes to properly adjust to the ill-lit hallway. Just as you had remembered, the small living room was to your left and quaint kitchen to your right, the winding staircase situated in the corner. The familiar scent of maple wood was still lingering in the air, although faint and almost imperceptible.

You shut the door behind you and toed off your boots, shuffling into the kitchen.

“Yunho?” Your voice eerily echoed in the empty cottage.

And so you made your way up the staircase, peering into the bedrooms. A heavy feeling gripped at your chest when you glanced into Yunho’s bedroom. That was where you and Wooyoung kissed… you could still remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, his warm breath on the back of your neck. You wondered what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped him. How far would the two of you have gone?

Shaking all thoughts of the past away, you bounded back down the stairs. There was no sign of Yunho at all. Just where could he be? You tried your best comforting yourself; perhaps he had gone out for a walk. Surely he’d be back soon.

Much to your dismay and gradually rising concern, Yunho didn’t show up at all. Not when the sun started to rise again, not when you passed out in sheer exhaustion on a kitchen stool (you couldn’t bring it in yourself to go back up to the bedrooms), and not even when you stirred back into consciousness, the late morning sun glaring at you harshly through the slivers between the curtains.

Your bones cracked and popped as you stood up and arched your back, rolling your stiff neck from side to side. From the pirate ship, you had brought little else than a knapsack full of gold you found in one of the cellars, food that could last you a couple days, water skins, and two sheathed daggers. Everything else on the ship was practically worthless, or too heavy to carry.

With a heavy sigh, you splashed water onto your face using the kitchen tap and patted your sleep-ruffled hair down. The skin around your wrists were still raw and stung when you rinsed away the crusted blood. You wished San had given you that coconut extract lotion; you couldn’t seem to find it anywhere on the ship. Guilt-stricken, you turned off the water and slung the knapsack over your good shoulder.

If Yunho was gone, then where else could you go? It seemed wrong to stay in his home without his knowing.

Air. You just needed air to clear up your mind.

Stepping outside felt like a mistake. Under the bright sunlight, you felt your head throb dully in agitation. The garden looked even more lamentable now than last night, the flowers drooping so far that their browning petals grazed the dry soil beneath. The air felt thick and heavy, and you huffed out several breaths to relax your tense muscles, shutting your eyes in the process.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was so sudden and unexpected, you couldn’t help but shriek, flinching back against the cottage door. You were met with an old man standing just shy of Yunho’s unkempt garden, his gaze confused and somewhat judgemental.

“W-What?” You muttered once regaining your scattered thoughts.

“I said,” the older man shot you an exasperated look. “What are you doing, waiting by that house? Nobody lives there.”

It felt as if cold water was dripping down your spine, and you crossed your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. “But… that can’t be true… Yunho lives here. He’s a, uhm, a baker, I think. This is his house.”

The old man regarded you like someone would look at a madman. There was something in his tone that told you that he wasn’t taking you seriously. “I’m sorry to say this, but nobody’s lived there for years and years. I’ve never heard of a baker named Yunho in this area.”

“No… but I was just here a few days ago with him…” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in thought. What was going on? Where could he have gone? What could’ve happened to him?

In your peripheral vision, you saw the old man hobble away, but not without stopping to glance back at you with narrowed eyes every few steps.

And then you remembered with a sharp intake of breath. You and Wooyoung were thrown into jail to fade away into nothing but legends… and now nobody believes you really exist… Wooyoung was thought to be dead by everybody… could the same be happening to his innocent, pink-haired friend? A dark, tar-slicked hand reached out into the confines of your chest and curled its slimy fingers around your palpitating heart in a steely grip.

They took Yunho. The realization had you slapping a palm to your mouth, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It all made sense; the untended garden, the old man saying nobody’s lived here for years… it sickened you to think that the only reason you could remember him was because you weren’t in Cerulea when he ‘disappeared’.

“Oh, no. Oh, god, no!” You leaned against the door, overwhelmed. If they took Yunho, would they have Wooyoung, too? Did Wooyoung even come back to Cerulea? If he wasn’t here, then he’d be the only other person who remembered Yunho.

Just what the hell are you going to do now?

It felt wrong to stay in Yunho’s empty little cottage with your newfound realization. The pirate ship was the second best option, but even that was much too far for your trembling legs; you doubted you’d even make it to the beaches, much less get in a small boat to row back to the anchored ship. Besides, the memory of San jumping off the side was one that you weren’t very keen on reliving.

And so, that was how you found yourself in front of an inn, only two cobbled roads away. The heavy door whined as you gently nudged it open, shuffling inside. Your heart was thumping against your ribcage so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. For once, you were glad that your name had faded into legend. To them, you were probably just another nobody.

The inn held the thick aroma of cheap alcohol and spritzer perfume. You glanced around curiously, noting the few people poking away at their breakfast and chugging down their frothy ales.

What looked to be the owner of the establishment was standing behind a counter, looking bored. He caught your eyes, and despite your head telling you to turn around and walk back to the pirate ship, you found yourself shuffling forward.

“What can I do for you?” The innkeeper asked, eyeing your haggard appearance.

Feebly, you pulled out a handful of gold coins and dropped them onto the wood of the counter. “Can I just get a room for the night? Will this be enough?”

The man across from you stared at you incredulously, his gaze flickering from the gold to your wide eyes. “Where’d you get all this money from? You didn’t steal it, did you?”

You blinked twice, shrugging your shoulders slightly. “They’re my savings.”

He looked upon you dubiously, but accepted the coins nonetheless. “You can have breakfast if you’d like. It comes with the room.”

Shaking your head slightly, you replied, “thanks, but I just want to get settled in for now. I’ll come down for luncheon.”

“Suit yourself,” the innkeeper quipped, sliding over a rusty key with eight engraved into its dull metal. “Head upstairs, turn left.”

And so that’s where you went, the wooden stairs creaking under your weight. You slotted the key into the lock of a door that had a large metal eight clearly displayed, and heaved the door open. By now, it felt as if your muscles were on fire. Everything seemed to be aching.

The first thing your eyes laid upon was a small bed, a thin, lavender-hued fleece wool blanket draped over the lumpy mattress and a single measly pillow propped up at its head. It took everything within you not to dive into the warmth of the woolen layer, but you managed to bide your time, even if it was just a couple minutes.

You toed off your boots, the soles of your feet practically numb. The pack that hung on your shoulder was next to come off, sliding down your arm and onto the bedside table. There was an unlit candle by the windowsill, but still more than enough light streaming in, seeing how it was still quite early in the morning.

The air smelled of breakfast from downstairs; consisting of, from what you saw, honeyed oatcakes and fruit tarts and rations of fried eggs and sausage. Your stomach was still quite empty, but you didn’t have the heart to go back. You needed time to think, time to rest.

After you nursed a few sips of water from a bottle in your knapsack, you finally allowed yourself to sink onto the bed, sighing out in contentment.

Everything felt so quiet, so still. This all felt like one of the stories you’d make up back when you were still in the cell. Perhaps it was all a bad dream, and you’d wake up in Wooyoung’s arms in Yunho’s little cottage, his lips littering soft kisses down the column of your throat until you stirred back into consciousness. A shiver ran through your spine and you sluggishly tucked the blanket up to your chin.

But since this wasn’t a dream, you found yourself at a loss.

“Oh, Wooyoung,” you whispered. “What should I do? Where are you?”

It was so quiet that you could imagine Wooyoung’s voice in your head saying, “Don’t worry about me. Just go. Get back on the ship and sail away and never look back.” You frowned at the thought, curling onto your side so that your knees were pressed up to your chest.

“I love you,” were the last words imaginary-Wooyoung murmured, before your mind grew blank. The silence that followed was what ultimately lulled you into a tranquil slumber.

You were awoken partly from the light from outside angling directly into your shut eyes, and partly from the agitated growl emitting from your stomach. Blearily blinking the sleep away, you glanced around the room, fumbling for the bottle in the knapsack. After gulping down enough to quench your thirst, you slid out from underneath the purple blankets.

And following digging your knuckles into your eye sockets, you stumbled towards your boots, shoving your still-sore feet in. You didn’t bother lacing up the loose threads. After all, you were just going down for lunch, anyway.

Downstairs, the inn seemed far more crowded than it had been in the morning. A twinge of paranoia sang its trill song in the back of your mind, but you pushed the thoughts away, moving to sit on a dark stool in the corner.

“Slept well, I presume?” The innkeeper grinned slightly, raising an eyebrow at the state of your rumpled hair. “What’ll you have for luncheon, then?”

“Anything you have, I suppose,” you replied in a raspy tone, clearing your throat slightly.

A bowl of steaming rice and battered fish cubes slid across the counter, along with a side of warm bread and a slab of light canary-hued butter melting off the top. You were quick to tuck in, eating at a pace that would most probably have your stomach complaining in the near future.

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask you something, but ultimately didn’t get the chance as an influx of customers poured through the doors. You barely glanced upwards, wanting nothing more than to finish up your meal and head back upstairs to properly plan out what you were going to do. The growing crowd’s noise was starting to make you feel a little antsy.

A solid five minutes later, your bowl was already empty, save for sticky rice kernels stuck to the bottom. You dropped a gold coin next to the half-eaten buttery bread as a token of thanks for the innkeeper.

And when you hopped off the stool and looked forwards, you could practically feel your heart lurch into your throat. The sight of him was one that you never thought you’d see again, nor did you want to. You’d recognize him anywhere. He looked unchanged, the same roughly-shaven beard covering the expanse of his squared jaw, the jagged scar that trailed over his sallow cheekbones. Those damned stormy eyes, the same color as the princess’ silver necklace.

The man that had guarded your cell for God knows how long surveyed the chatting crowd with an ugly scowl imprinted onto his features, nose upturned as if he misliked being amongst the common folk. He moved away from the door, shoving past the common civilians milling about. The innkeeper was the first to notice the burly man’s presence, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you today?”

Completely skipping over any need for niceties, the guard held up an unfurled scroll, “We’re searching all nearby premises for a dangerous criminal. Looks like this.”

From your position, you couldn’t see what he was showing the innkeeper, but it was quite obvious that it was some sort of rough artistic rendition of you. Dread trickled into you as you watched his face morph into one of slight recognition.

You needed to leave. Right now.

The busy throng of civilians were used to your advantage as you silently weaved through the crowded inn, people you bumped into ranging from deliriously drunk to slightly tipsy. Your heartbeat was thundering far too loudly, to the point where you couldn’t hear what the guard was growling out. You were a couple meters behind him now… if he so much as looked backwards, you would be a dead person standing.

Shit. The knapsack. It was still in your room. You probably wouldn’t last two days without it. And so, you set off for upstairs, pace steadily growing quicker, in tandem with your palpitating heart rate.

Grab your pack, leave from the window, repeated itself over and over in your head, a mantra of panic and dread. Downstairs was too much of a risk.

You were running so quickly that your boots caught onto the wood of the stair steps, and you just about face planted against the bunt of the hard surface. Pain blossomed across your nose bridge and temple. Slightly disoriented, you pushed yourself back onto your feet and rushed away. No time. There was no time at all to get hurt. You needed to leave. What good were you to Yunho, to Wooyoung, if you were thrown back into a cell?

Utter relief sank its greedy claws into you as you burst into your room. No time, no time, no time, your own voice echoed in your head. You grabbed the knapsack and pushed at the window and—

“Shit!” You cursed angrily when the window didn’t budge, the cold panes wedged tightly against the wooden slats. It was then that you noticed the bolted lock clipping the window pane and wooden framing together. “Oh, fuck.” Your breaths came out as tight, staggered pants.

Before you could decide on what to do next, you heard shrill screaming come from downstairs, the terrible sound of steel against flesh reaching your ears. There was nowhere to go from here. You were trapped.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, you scurried back to the door. Perhaps if you went downstairs and blended into the crowd, you could get out without anybody else noticing.

But alas, you never got the chance. Because just as you turned into the hall, you were met with the horrendous sight of the stormy-eyed guard, the very same one that you saw every single day you were in that rotten cell, an appalling look of triumph splayed across his rugged features.

A leering grin twisted his ugly features in such a horrid manner that it took all you had in you not to retch. You noticed the way his sword was unsheathed, a ripe shade of carmine trickling down its sleek blade. No doubt that’s the innkeeper’s blood, you thought solemnly.

Before you could react, the guard’s calloused hand shot out to grab your forearm, pulling you along with him so roughly that you stumbled onto the floor, hands and knees scraping against the wood in a manner that had your skin torn and bleeding. Feebly, you attempted to grab at anything to hit him with, to hold on to out of desperation. With no remaining patience, the monster of a man yanked you upwards by the throat. Choked gasps left you as your hands darted up to claw at his clenching fingers, but you immediately stiffened when he snarled out something that had your blood running cold.

“The Gods have been kind to you today, girl. I would have you speared right here… have you bleeding out until all the life has been drained right out of you.” His putrid breath fanned across your neck as you struggled in his iron-clad grip fruitlessly. “Lucky for you, the princess has personally requested you be brought back alive.”

It was dark outside when Wooyoung cracked his eyelids open for the second time. Through the window across from him, he could see a plethora of stars speckled across a blanket of raven black, glinting and winking at him through the glass. The room he was in was beautifully decorated, stone arches elegantly curving just below the ceiling and intricate flame holders spaced out on the pristine walls. The candles bathed the room in a gentle honey-like luminescence; calming and tranquil, almost a sedative. All of his previous aches and pains were now dulled to gentle numbness.

Where am I?

“Glad to see you’re back awake. You’re not going to pass out on me again, are you?”

Wooyoung nearly screamed at the sudden voice from beside him, flinching so hard that the crown of his skull knocked against the bed’s headboard. He hissed in pain, face contorting into a grimace.

The elf (Yeosang was his name, Wooyoung faintly recalled) muffled a snort underneath his breath before swiftly pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, “Does it still hurt anywhere? I tried to heal your wounds with sarcio essence, but seeing that you’re human, it’ll take a bit longer for you to recover. You took quite a beating, you know.”

Wooyoung tried to speak, but the dryness in his throat made it hard to speak.

“Oh, here.” The attentive elf poured cold water from a pitcher into a small cup, handing it over to Wooyoung. He gingerly drank, swallowing with great effort.

“Where… where am I?”

After pursing his lips in thought, Yeosang bowed his head slightly, glancing at the tight bandages wrapped around the dark-headed man’s torso. “You’re in Nymaeden.”

“Nymaeden?!” Wooyoung just about shrieked. His bruised features twisted in agony. Perhaps he shouldn’t have shouted. Then, in a much softer tone, he mumbled out, “how did I get here?”

He was, most likely, all the way across the world from you. Although his mind was still heavily clouded, you were still fresh and prominent in his mind. He hoped you were okay… left tied up on that pirate ship… Gods, this was all his fault… What a fool he was, thinking you’d be okay after all that you’d gone through. You probably thought that he was dead.

The blond elf arched an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?” When Wooyoung shook his head in hesitant denial, Yeosang continued on patiently, leaning forward.

“It was just three nights ago…”

The waters were cold, seeping into his flesh and bones, filling every one of his orifices, the salt trickling into him like sand down an hourglass. He could feel it drip into his lungs. Bubbles of his life slipped past his cracked-open lips and Wooyoung, with what little energy he had left to spare, lifted his fingers and tried to catch the small globules of air. The sticky blood that clung onto his skin like honey dissipated into the ocean, staining the waters a darker, sinister hue.

Wooyoung closed his eyes. His limp body sank further and further down. This was the end.

But was it?

Mermaids, being curious and spirited creatures they were, watched the injured handsome man drift across the ocean, crimson blood seeping out of his wounds. They had seen how he was thrown off the ship, how he had fought when he was onboard. They took pity on him. Even unconscious, a pain, far deeper-rooted than his physical cuts and gashes, was quite obviously splayed across his features. It was the face of a man with an utterly broken heart. He had just lost something very dear to him, that was made abundantly clear.

The small group of mermaids glanced at each other worriedly, almost immediately reaching a mutual consensus. In a swarm of colorful scales and wispy locks of hair, they swam towards the unmoving body.

One of them shamelessly prodded at him, ogling him with widened eyes, and they waited with baited breath. Wooyoung did not awaken. And so, two of the elegant creatures wrapped their arms around his leaking torso, and jolted into a brisk swim, carrying him across the oceans. Wooyoung’s raven hair pulled away from his face, revealing the deep gashes across his paling skin. A thinning trail of his blood followed them. They had to be quick; this man was just on the verge of greeting death.

They were taking him to Nymaeden, the land of the Elves. The elvish folk were the best healers they knew, and they were rather fond of the mermaids. Perhaps they would be willing to heal this unfortunate soul.

“We found you on the beaches,” Yeosang said in a discolored tone. “You were… you were practically dead. It was a miracle we got your heart rate back up, really. You’re either an incredibly thick-skulled fighter or… you’re just a coward afraid of death.”

Wooyoung winced at the elf’s stinging remark. Which was it? Was he running away from what was inevitable? What was he fighting for?

Y/N, the small voice in his head chimed. Wooyoung swallowed heavily.

“These mermaids… could I speak to them? Maybe they saw where the pirate ship went!”

Almost immediately, Yeosang shook his head. “I’m sorry, the mermaids are long gone now. They’re due up North, and I doubt they’d come back anytime soon.” There was a whicker of sympathy hidden behind his molten hazel irises. “Do you have any other plans? We can’t exactly keep you here in the medbay for all eternity.”

For a second, Wooyoung’s ragged breathing stilled.

“Pirates,” he murmured under his breath unsurely, just loud enough for the elf to pick up. “Where can I find them?”

Rearing back, Yeosang hissed out, “you must’ve hit your head harder one too many times, human. You were almost in death’s bony grasp, and now you want to go back?”

“I don’t care!” Wooyoung erupted, flinging his hands upward, despite his muscles screeching in agony. “It’s not about me anymore. I left her on that ship… and I have to get her back. Please, Yeosang. Please.”

There was a beat of tense silence. Yeosang was no longer looking at the pleading injured man, but his head angled towards the window, gazing at the pale moon that decorated the night’s horizon in deep thought.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” the blonde elf warned, narrowing his eyes. Wooyoung nodded vehemently. “Elves and pirates don’t mesh well together, I’m sure you know. Pirates are nowhere to be found in this country, they know well enough to steer clear of our waters. However… if you head westward past our nation’s border, you’ll find yourself in Cinisia. It might look like a small, harmless country, but I’m afraid you’d be gravely mistaken. Cinisia is perhaps the most dangerous country on the maps. Along their west coast, there’s an illegal trading market. Pirates swarm the coast like ants would spilt honey. If you’re looking for pirates, I’d bet all my silvers they’re there.”

Wooyoung took a moment to contemplate this. “How do you know of this market?”

“I’ve got into muddy territory with pirates myself,” he uttered with a stormy expression. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I have said this before. Elves and pirates? Not the best of friends, I can tell you that.”

Releasing a shuddering sigh, Wooyoung asked one final question. “Do you think I’ll find them? Do you think I’ll get Y/N back?”

Yeosang leveled a cold gaze with the dark-haired man, before gracefully rising to his feet and striding towards the door. “I’ll get you a map and traveling clothes and rations. You can leave at first light, so get some sleep. You’ll be needing it.”

A sinking feeling weighed heavily in Wooyoung’s stomach. He hadn’t answered the question.

Right before he left, Yeosang paused by the arched doorway and spoke once more without even turning to look at him. “And just so you know… if you make it out of that market alive and empty handed… I want you back here in Nymaeden. There’s something I want to offer you.”

The elf left in a blur of sage fabrics and soft flaxen locks. The honeyed flames of the candles withered inwards with his departure, faint tails of smoke dissipated into the air. The room faded into darkness, but Wooyoung was far too afraid to shut his eyes.

He was scared of dreaming of you.

That morning was one of the toughest he’s ever had. Yeosang had handed him a pack of traveling rations and equipment, bidding him adieu with a stout nod of his angular face. His muscles groaned and screamed with agony with his every step. The trek to Cinisia took hours upon hours, with hardly a break. Wooyoung was far too jittery to stop. He had to keep going. Creeks babbled with glowing water and the trees whispered poems in the wind, their alluring shadows offering a tempting sanctuary.

The contrast between Nymaeden and Cinisia was startling. Whilst the former was a luscious country of opals and forestry and pale elegant fortresses climbing to the sky, the latter was… well, it was quite hard to tell what anything looked like past the thick red smog lacing the horizon. The air stank of ale and smoke.

Definitely pirate territory, Wooyoung surmised grimly.

The shrill noises of whistling and hollering was a telltale sign that he was close. Wooyoung stepped over weather-beaten rocks, peering around the rocky cliff ledge to see hundreds, perhaps even thousands of ruffians gathered together in a colorful flurry of stolen fabrics, foods, and riches that seemed all the more glorious under the sweltering sun. Now, it smelled strongly of stale fruitcakes and gunpowder and sweat. Not the best of aromas, that was for sure. There were also pirates yelling out indiscernible prices that seemed to climb with every shout. He was pretty sure he saw a couple of them scuffling in a fight, some landing a couple square punches (most missed because they seemed to be too drunk to aim properly) on the nose before brushing their injuries off as if it were nothing.

What an awful place. Wooyoung could only hope you weren’t here. Well, no, that was a blatant lie. He’d do anything to see you again.

After digging his knuckles into his eye sockets to wipe his weariness away, he blinked the colored spots away from his vision with a melancholic sigh. Gods, he was tired. Unfortunately, he had little time to lament, so he pushed himself onwards.

Wooyoung seemed to blend in just perfectly; he was thankful Yeosang decided to pack in a tattered cloak. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to bat an eye. Standing in the middle of a throng of filthy seamen, it was hard for Wooyoung not to double over and retch. His roiling stomach didn’t aid his precarious state one bit.

Though everything seemed to be a cacophony of rowdy pirates and the clattering of illegal trade, Wooyoung picked up on a particular chunk of dialogue exchanged between a gaggle of men.

“Have you heard of the siren incident? Yeah, it happened near the Isles of Odralle! Can you believe? Ship was fuckin’ headed to the capital of Odralle, but they had a sudden change of plans; suddenly wanted to go to Aurecia. Cocky bastards think they can sell anything to anyone nowadays, yeah? Good thing the sirens took them. Wonder if they were tasty, though. Stupidity fouls the meat, my father used to say,” one of the pirates rambled as he slurped on his ale.

“Your father was a jackass,” another snorted, pounding on his chest with laughter. “What the fuck is a ‘siren incident’? I swear you lot gossip ten times more than me wife does.”

A third pirate shoved at his shoulder, a look of incredulity painting across his tanned features. “How have you not heard? A famous pirate ship - maybe one of the most famous ones in history - got lured into siren territory! The whole crew’s gone. Ship wreckage hasn’t been found. Nobody’s heard or seen them at all. My guess is that they made a calculation mistake and went off navigation charts once switching from Odralle to Aurecia. Then the sirens… got the best of ‘em.”

This elicited a gasp from the fourth in the group. “Wait! The big ship with the peg-leg captain with just one eye? Damn, just hearing stories about him gives me the creeps. Legend had it that he defeated not one, but two fuckin’ krakens during a storm! His ship flag is, er, the red and gold one… with a skull, right? And the skull’s laying in blood and swords?”

Wooyoung felt his blood run cold.

He knew that flag. The flag they were describing… was exactly the one he saw before they took you… before they threw him out for the sharks…

And before Wooyoung could even think it through, he found his body jerking forward, pushing past the bystanders and throwing himself into the gossip circle with all but a mangled growl escaping his throat. He yanked the last pirate to speak forward by the collar until the tanned man’s face was so close, his nose brushed against Wooyoung’s. The rest of the gang immediately quelled their incessant yammering, eyes growing wide in interest. Some placed their hands onto the hilts of their curved swords as a precaution, but they didn’t want to do anything hasty. After all, they loved a good fight.

“WHEN WAS THIS?” Wooyoung was glad his voice didn’t crack as he yelled, shaking the stricken pirate by the collar. “There was… there was a woman on that boat. She can’t be gone! She can’t be dead!”

They all looked at him as if he were crazy.

And after a second longer, Wooyoung’s grip loosened. It seemed he was a little rougher than first anticipated, because the fabric around the tanned pirate’s neck was crumpled and one of the pearly buttons came loose, dangling by a thin thread. He staggered backwards two steps, painfully sucking in lungfuls of rancid air.

Were you… were you gone? Was that it? Had you succumbed to the siren’s sweet song of death?

“Mate,” the tanned pirate spoke up with a lilt of sympathy in his tone. “There was never any woman on that ship. And besides, the ship hasn’t actually been found yet.”

The fire of hope that once burned brightly within the hearth of Wooyoung’s chest, was now but a dying ember. However, the man’s words gently blew on the warm ash until a new flame ignited. This was a different kind of hope. Who knows, maybe you had managed to escape the sirens. For all that was good on this planet, Wooyoung hoped you were still alive.

It was then that the most peculiar thing happened.

A man (if he could even be considered a man) - perhaps one of the ethereal beings he’s ever set his eyes upon - strode up to the circle of pirates, leveling his stormy gaze with Wooyoung. His hair was a shocking shade of pink, laying in loose strands across his forehead. A dirtied tunic hung over his shoulders in tatters, ripped and frayed in too many places to count. The belt that cinched around his waist was lopsided and unbuckled, dangling to the floor. The trousers he was wearing, a dusted shade of raven’s wing, was in the same state of disarray as his tunic. He was a mess, and Wooyoung could see a thick film of distraught glazing his eyes.

“My name is San,” he rasped. “And I was on that pirate ship.”

The marble was cold beneath your scraped knees. Your eyes studied the golden rivets decorating the pale white floor, splintering off into branches of aureate, though it was quite difficult to see through the bruises and unyielding blood obscuring your vision. If your hands weren’t bound behind your back, you would’ve at least tried to staunch the crimson seeping out of the fresh cut you sported across your temple. The guards had thrown kicks and punches everywhere they could reach until you had stopped struggling, every fibre of your being felt nothing but raw pain and the kind of anger that left you completely and utterly exhausted.

You just… you wanted it to all be over.

However, with the King and Queen sitting tall and proud just meters in front of you, you highly doubted things would be resolved at the snap of a finger. Beside their majesties sat the rest of the royal bloodline, dainty crowns of lustrous tawny and glinting silvers resting upon their regal heads.

They made you sick.

“I must say,” the Queen purred at last, placing her chin on her palm while gazing at you with a malevolent smile, irises of amethysts glinting in the cold light. “It’s impressive how you managed to escape the dungeons in your condition. Even got yourself a pretty little boat and everything.”

You could feel yourself blanching. How did she know about the pirate ship you left by the beaches?

“As I’m sure you’re aware by now, Y/N is only but a legend. Though nobody truly believes you’re real, you are still very much respected throughout the nation. And since you’re regarded so highly amongst the common folk,” the King rumbled, clasping his hands together with a smug leer tracing his lips. “You’ll be made a lowly servant for the lovely Princess, Amarelia.” He gestured further down the line, to a sweet young girl barely of age. The Princess was a frail thing, with skin of dove’s wings and lips of sweet peaches and lashes that kissed the apples of her cheeks. She somewhat resembled a fawn, what with her large eyes and innocently placant features. Her curled sienna locks were gathered into an elegant updo, showcasing the glimmering silver laces on her dainty neck.

The very ones that you tried to steal so long ago, and the entire reason you were even here. That necklace was what made you a well-known myth in Cerulea.

Anger broiled deep within you, but you kept your mouth clamped shut. There were guards ready to strike if you moved even a centimeter, and you decided to play it safe for now.

There was something you were practically dying to ask, though.

What did you do to Yunho?

“To welcome you into servitude,” the Queen surveyed you with hooded eyes. “Crawl to Amarelia and kiss her shoes. Thank us for not having you executed on the spot. Perhaps it shall give you an idea of your rank in this castle. You are nothing to us.”

“Mother!” The Princess gasped in protest with something akin to pity and horror melding into her soft complexion. It was clear that the sweet dove wanted nothing to do with this. In a way, you felt sorry for her as well.

Nobody paid her any mind.

With a heavy heart, you started shuffling towards the Princess. Pain and humiliation blossomed across your skin like flames crawling over oiled wood. A part of you considered standing your ground, lifting your head high, refusing to obey any of her commands. And you would’ve, truly. But… Yunho. If there was even the slightest chance he was alive and kept hostage because of you, you needed to remain on your best behavior. For his sake and even perhaps for your own.

Once in front of her, you dipped your head to quickly brush your lips against her fine cream flats, immediately straightening your spine with a grimace afterwards. Amarelia regarded you with a sympathetic look.

The guards stepped forward to roughly drag you back to your original spot. Your mind barely registered the cold sensation of metal clamping around your neck, the rattling of chains a ghostly echo in your ears. The Queen was grinning so widely it was a wonder her face didn’t split in half. It took everything you had in you not to spit onto the floor in defiance.

When they started tugging you towards the grand double doors, you realized that you couldn’t just sit around and allow them to throw you around like a ragdoll. You kicked out your feet in resistance, ignoring the cinching pain of the metal around your neck, boots thudding against the smooth marble surface. The guards swore under their breath, pulling you along ever harder.

“WHERE’S YUNHO?” Your hoarse voice ripped across the throne room. “DID YOU KILL HIM? DID YOU KILL YUNHO?! LET GO OF ME! YOU MURDERER!” The small quirk of the Queen’s perfect eyebrows had you spouting out obscenities, rage bubbling over your struggling form.

Double-doors swung open, and with that action brought the largest crowd you’ve ever seen in your life. There must’ve been thousands - no, hundreds of thousands of people out there. And they’ve all come for you. The myth and the legend. Y/N L/N.

It was all so sudden. You didn’t even remember how you got to the front of the highrise platform, being forced back onto your knees with a grunt. There were common folk and wealthy lords alike littered about the ocean of heads. Some looked to be terrified, others watching on with hanging lips of awe.

You swallowed heavily.

“Behold!” The King bellowed from somewhere behind you. There was a sneering lilt to his tone that made you want to spring upwards and knock his teeth out. “Your beloved Y/N!”

The crowd in front of you erupted into pandemonium. It was a strange and overwhelming cacophony of displeased boos and excited screams.

“A legend and a hero to some of you, I’m sure,” the Queen hummed, somehow instantaneously quieting the buzzing mass of people. “Now diminished to a mere servant. Y/N L/N is nothing, and acting like they are worth any bit more than scum will lead to treason. I’m truly sorry to disappoint some of you.”

She didn’t seem sorry at all. The crowd practically roared at that, most especially the commoners at the back, yelling curses until their throats were raw as they threw moldy apple cores at the guards.

You hung your head in shame, gaze trained to the wood slants of the stage. Hushed murmurs travelled about the rest of the crowd like waves gently crashing against shore. You were alone on this beach, it seemed.

Truly, utterly alone.

You must’ve had the worst luck in the world.

No matter how much you’ve fought, struggled, resisted, it always ended up the same. With you kept captive. That musty jail cell because of a damned necklace, then bound on the pirate ship to be sold off in Aurecia (a part of your heart sunk at the memory of the friendly fairy-pirate San jumping overboard)… and now a different cell, your wrists chained to the cobbled wall behind you. Your arms were sore yet numb, almost having lost any feeling in them, but that was the least of your concerns.

It was bright here, unlike your first cell. Back then it was always dark, and always cold. There was a crackling fire across the room, licking hungrily at the burning wood, casting amber phantoms across the expanse of your place of confinement. It wouldn’t be long until the fire died out and you’d be shivering once more. There was also a small window, but it was far away from your reach, and you wouldn’t even bother to try, considering your arms were laced above your head.

Being back in the castle had your mind racing. Everything had been so loud outside. But now that you were alone with only your own thoughts to accompany you, it almost felt suffocatingly quiet. The silence was deafening, roaring awful things into your ears.

You missed Wooyoung. What would he do in your position? You hoped he wasn’t here, truly. He deserved to be happy elsewhere. But you couldn’t deny that a small part of you wished he was back here with you.

Face it, he’s not coming to save you, the snarky voice in your head spat out. Nobody is. You’re on your own. You have to save yourself.

It was at that moment the door creaked open. A man with silver hair slid in, grimness splayed across his defined features, like the wiry shadows of tree branches marring the warm light of the room. You spotted the medical kit he clutched in his sure hands.

He was the royal healer. It somewhat surprised you that the King and Queen sent him. Perhaps it was Princess Amarelia’s doing; she seemed to have a pure enough heart. Her parents, on the other hand…

“Are you alright?” His voice was a soft thing, a mere whisper, almost lost to the loud snapping of the fireplace. Hesitance was evident in his tone, accompanied with stinging sympathy. “I apologize, that was a foolish question. Of course you’re not, that’s why I’m here. My name is Seonghwa, I’m the royal healer for this castle. May I?” He brandished a bottle of strange blue ointment and cotton patches. You had just been humiliated and degraded in front of thousands of people, and now a royal healer was apologizing to you? He was certainly giving you whiplash.

After pausing for the slightest of moments, you dipped your head just slightly, still waiting for something bad to happen.

“Sarcio essence,” Seonghwa murmured gently as he doused the patch with the blue liquid. “Ceruleans steal it from the elves of Nymaeden. Its healing abilities are unlike anything we’ve ever seen. Ever since magic, of course. But that’s a thing of the past now. Magic is illegal in Cerulea. Not sure if you heard while you were down there in your cell.”

That made a frown flicker across your face. Cerulea, the ever-perfect country, needing to steal things from other kingdoms?

And with another stout nod, Seonghwa leaned forward to swipe at your fresh wounds and bruises, cleaning away the dried blood with nimble movements. It stung at first, restrained hisses escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like your skin was burning, and everything was on fire and the silent monsters were screaming your name.

“It’s a good thing if it stings a little. That’s your body working to put itself together.”

It was silent for a long time. You had to clamp your teeth down on your bottom lip so as to not let him hear your pathetic winces of pain.

The healer seemed to notice this, brows furrowing. “You don’t have to try to be strong around me, Y/N. You’re hurting, and it’s okay to show that. I won’t think any less of you.”

You eyed him with somewhat of a dubious aura, before bobbing your head for the last time. “Thank you,” you muttered brokenly.

Seonghwa hummed softly in response, screwing the cap back onto the sarcio essence.

The familiar creak of the door swinging open floated across the rooms, and you snapped your head upwards. Even the healer appeared to be surprised, bowing his head low at the newcomers. Also known as, if you had to put it eloquently, the true and utter banes of your existence. If you were the single flickering candle, they would be the tornados constantly whispering your flame good night.

It was the King and the Queen, draped in a waterfall of golden lace, diaphanous silver silks, and striking tones of mauve matching the hue of their angry irises. They held their heads high, looking at you as if you were the shit stuck on the bottom of their fine shoes.

“Leave us,” the Queen commanded Seonghwa without even glancing in the direction of the medic. She kept her gaze trained on you, and only you. Silently, he left the room with not another word, shuffling out of the door, unable to spare you one last sympathetic glimpse.

After surveying you, the Queen graced you with what seemed to be a smirk, and beckoned towards the guards behind her.

“Bring him in,” she said, practically dripping with delighted malice.

What happened next had you choking on your own gasps, tears immediately rimming your eyes like frost sitting atop tree branches on a harsh wintry morning. It had your stomach curling into itself, nausea climbing up your throat, begging to escape. A scream, so disgustingly raw and broken that it didn’t sound like your own voice echoed throughout the room.

They threw a peach-haired man in front of you, and he crumpled to the ground as if he were nothing more than a stringless puppet. If you thought that you were hurt, it was absolutely nothing in comparison to the sweet baker that you were so very fond of. He looked to be half dead already, bruises mapping the expanse of his pallid skin as abundant as there were stars in the sky. His once-bright pink strands of hair now looked a sullen grey, as if all the life had been seeped out of him. Dried blood crusted his cuts and gashes, littered all over his shivering form. You swore, with every fiber of your being, you were going to kill whoever hurt him.

“YUNHO!” You cried, heart lodged in your throat. The soft giant who had once been so boisterous, laid unmoving on the cobblestone floor. Kicking against the wall, you yanked away at your manacles fruitlessly until your wrists grew raw, wanting nothing more than to fall to your knees and crawl to him and ask if he was alright. It didn’t matter that you were hurting yourself in the process, you just… you wanted to get out of these chains, out of here, away from everything.

How dare they?

Tears were rolling down the apples of your cheeks, conjoining at your jaw and dripping mercilessly onto the ground. A constant drip, drip, drip of your pain made loud and clear to everybody else in the room.

You were so furious, so heartbroken, that you had forgotten anybody else existed for a short second. It was a shame that you were only reminded when one of the guards stalked up with the King’s nod of approval, gripping Yunho by his faded locks and yanking him upwards. His face didn’t seem to even flinch, numb and desensitized.

Was Yunho gone? No… no, he couldn’t possibly be…

A confusing concoction of sobs and desperate pleas and hiccups tumbled past your lips far too quickly for even you to understand yourself

The events that transpired rushed by in an indecipherable blur. You could barely pick up what the Queen murmured.

“This beloved baker friend of yours…” she cocked her head to the side in mock-thought, purple eyes flashing dangerously. “He is strong, I’ll give you that. However, he seems quite adamant not to give us any information about the other prisoner, Wooyoung. They were childhood best friends, no? I’m sure you remember him, don’t you?”

Your heart stopped at the sound of his name.

How dare you? How dare you? How dare you? The mantra reverberated in your skull until it was all you could think, staining your mind with an inky, poisonous black.

The mocking sympathy evident in her tone had you thrashing against your bonds all the more. “And alas… I’m afraid we no longer have any use for him.”

Just like that, the guard holding Yunho upwards drove his longsword clean through the gentle baker’s abdomen, dropping him to the floor. An ungodly wail tore from your vocal chords, resonating across the room and painting wicked smiles across the two royal leaders of Cerulea. Much to your horror, Yunho uttered no sound, merely dropping onto the stone with a thud. Crimson pooled at his wound so quickly, that the rose-hued ichor grazed against your feet in a matter of seconds. You stopped struggling, the drumming of your heart loud in your ears.

Since your gaze hadn’t left Yunho’s unmoving body, you didn’t even noticed the Queen sidestepping the puddle of blood, forcing your eyes away by gripping your slick face with one of her cold hands. You tried to pull your cheeks away, but it was as if her fingers were steel. Her purple eyes were so close to yours, you could see the flecks of aureate gold embedded within the enticing lilac. The Queen flashed you a charming smile, as if she hadn’t just murdered your friend in cold blood. It seemed she noticed your pounding heart rate, because she murmured an incantation in old Cerulean that you couldn’t quite pick up. In an instant, you could feel yourself relaxing in her grip, wrists going slack in the cuffs, the muscle in your chest thumping slower and slower. A part of you was afraid it would grind to a stop.

Her pearly whites flashed as she grinned evilly. The lavender in her eyes darkened drastically, to the point where any trace of gold disappeared completely.

“We didn’t kill Yunho,” she leaned closer and whispered into your ear, her tawny locks tickling the side of your face. “Killing is barbaric.”

There was an old story of a gingerbread man and a fox crossing a river you often heard retellings of during your childhood. The fox swore up and down that he wouldn’t eat the gingerbread man whilst helping him cross the river. As suspicious as the gingerbread man was at first, he eventually climbed onto the sly fox’s back, naive with hope. The fox arrived at the other side of the river alone and with a full stomach.

It seemed you were the foolish gingerbread man and the Queen was the fox. The Queen’s magic seeped into your being, clouding your mind in a dangerous haze you could no longer fight.

You believed her.