#dying light 2 oneshot

[winchesterszvonecek]

Sunrise - [ Hakon ]

Summary: Before he met you, Hakon didn’t think something as simple as the sunrise could ever feel so perfect

Word Count: 6492

Warnings: unfortunate uses of y/n, a little angst, fluff

A/N: this is my first one-shot in a while/my first ever DL one so please be nice

Masterlist | Hakon Masterlist

The sun had set rather early in Old Villedor that cool summer’s night, lulling the town into a dreaded sense of silence that no one around would ever dare try to break.

It would be suicide if they did. If they so much as let out a peep above a whisper or accidentally alerted a nearby sleeping beauty, then it would be utter hell on Earth for whatever poor son of a bitch found themselves trapped outside beneath the heavy cover of the clouds. They were extra thick this late hour. Dark and blanketing the sky in a deep, near void-like state which shielded those below from the radiant light of the crescent moon.

On any other occasion it wouldn’t normally be that hard for Hakon, being out in such darkness like he was tonight. He was a former nightrunner, after all. Well versed in the art of stealth and not exactly scared to traverse the city despite the constant danger that often filled the once quiet streets beneath him. He usually kept to the high ground, vaulting, leaping and grappling his way across dangerous distances before eventually settling himself on the highest rooftop he could find in order to watch the sunrise.

It had become one of his favourite pastimes these last few years, simply sitting in silence and watching the morning rear its bountiful head. It always brought him a sense of peace when he did and oftentimes he’d be quick to remove his jacket as the night fell around him, allowing him the chance to bask in the heat of the sun's golden rays as they cast out across the town, filling the streets with the most glorious and volatile free light. 

However tonight… Tonight was far more different than he ever would have expected and honestly, deep down in the very pit of his stomach, Hakon didn’t know if he’d still be alive to see the next morning's sun rise. For starters, and for the first time in years, Hakon wasn’t travelling alone through that treacherous cover of darkness. He was with Aiden, having barely escaped the streets around the Bazaar after they’d shut off the UV lights and sent them packing. The bastards. As if trying to hang Aiden for not having a biomarker wasn’t bad enough, they just had to go and sentence them both to death by denying them entry. 

Though, in hindsight, it had been somewhat of a fool's hope that they would let them in without that comforting green band around Aiden’s wrist. They were awfully strict about it, and rightfully so, but to go so far as to switch off the light? To deny them that one measly little thing that might help them survive the chaos erupting around them? Well… that was a new low even for the Bazaar and if by some minor miracle he lived to see the next day, Hakon would be thinking twice before he delivered goods from dark zones to any of those traitors inside.  

“Hakon!” Aiden’s hushed, yet stern, voice easily drew Hakon from the deep depths of his mind, snapping him right back into reality as the kid's worried face came into view before him. “We need to move!”

“Let me think,” Hakon hissed, catching the subtle way in which Aiden’s jaw tensed as he bit his tongue. He wanted to argue back, that much Hakon was sure of, but thankfully the kid managed to swallow back his sharpened words, allowing Hakon that brief moment of peaceful silence in order to try and think about their next move. 

Not that that would even do much good, however, as right in that moment… As the pungent air around them erupted with the spine-chilling howls of waking volatiles, Hakon’s brain didn’t seem to want to work properly. Figures. The one time he needed to be on his game and he couldn’t even manage to fucking think straight. He knew they had to move. The firefly filled grass wouldn’t hide them for long should one of those ravaging beasts find its way up onto the rooftop — which, knowing his luck, was almost guaranteed to happen. 

These days both the streets and the rooftops were littered with all kinds of infected. Virals. Howlers. Spitters. There was even a fucking Banshee two buildings away from them and former nightrunner or not, Hakon wasn’t fit to deal with one of those right now. Nor was he particularly up to dealing with the wrath of a few dozen Volatiles that would come running from the screams, either. 

And neither was Aiden. The kid was barely able to stay on his feet for more than a few minutes and the time until he, himself, turned into a ravenous creature was quickly counting down right in front of him. They needed to get to some light. To find somewhere safe to wait out the night and since the Bazaar was once again showing its true colours, there weren’t many places left around the city that could offer them that. The windmills were inactive. Trading posts had closed their doors and all of the old nightrunner hideouts were likely to be out of commission after so many years abandoned, as the last one Hakon had come across in his travels needed to be repaired and given the situation they didn’t exactly have time to stand around and figure out how to fix the generator. 

The only other place he could think of right now was Sarah and Jana’s. But honestly, it was likely to be a useless venture hauling their asses back to their workshop. The girls had already shown their strong distrust of Aiden and chances are they’d simply remain quiet behind the safety of their door as the two men pounded on it before being eaten by volatiles. But if not them, then who could they go to? The Peacekeepers wouldn’t help them, that much Hakon was sure of. Aiden didn’t have a biomarker and if he thought the Bazaar was bad with how they treated unmarked civilians then just wait until the PK’s get ahold of him. 

“Hakon, they’re coming!”

Fuck. 

Aiden was right. There was now a lone volatile skulking across the rooftop just off to their right and if it happened to look in the exact right place it was going to see them. It’s meal. It would devour them in a matter of seconds and yet Hakon still made no move to start running, as he had no idea where the hell they even could run to. 

Well, that was a lie, honestly. He actually had a fair idea of where they could go from here but did he really want to reopen that wound by showing up at Cillian’s? It had been a while since he saw his old friend and even though he could see Cillian's home — his secure and no doubt well lit home — from where they crouched, there was a strong part of him that greatly wanted to stay away from it. Of course, he knew he’d have to see Cillian at some point to get Aiden a biomarker but he’d much rather do that in the daylight, that way if Cillian wasn’t too happy to see him then there wouldn’t be other vicious creatures roaming around to add to his misery.

“Hakon, we can’t stay here forever.”

“I know. I know. I just…” Hakon took a breath, swallowing it thickly as he closed his eyes. Fucking shit. Where could they go? Where could they get to safely without running the risk of having to do too much, well… running?

“Hakon.”

The underlying fear in Aiden’s voice had Hakon open his eyes, his worried gaze then drifting to the right on its own curious accord. He squinted in the darkness, trying his best to discern how long they had before that gargantuan volatile on the neighbouring roof made its way towards them. But no matter how hard he tried, Hakon couldn’t make out anything amidst the darkness. Not a wrinkle of red, nor a flicker of its bright white eyes could he see and for a moment… A split second where some relief flowed through him, he thought the creature had vanished. 

That was, until the unmistakable sound of ragged breathing came from a spot directly behind where the two men hid. Fuck. No wonder Aiden sounded more scared than he ever expected a pilgrim to be, there was a fucking volatile no further than a few feet away from them, snarling and grunting in such an eerie tone that it caused even Hakon’s blood to run cold. Shit. It was going to find them. If they didn’t move within the next ten seconds there was no doubt in his mind that that giant, flesh eating monster was going to come across them and rip them both to shreds.

And it was a pity, really. Hakon would have quite liked to see one last sunset before he died. To feel those comforting rays cast over his body and envelop him in a sense of comfort that, for a brief moment, filled that dark and dreary hole in his chest just long enough to allow him to breathe. He always treasured it, that feeling. Though lately, he never could replicate the true feeling of his first ever sunrise. Not really. It was never the same and it barely lasted longer than a few miraculous seconds without the added warmth of…

Shit… Had it not been for the added company, Hakon could have laughed as the thought hit him like a train. Of course. How stupid could he be not thinking of you? He did so every day of his life. Every single second of his miserable existence he spent thinking of you and yet in the one moment he was so desperate for a solution, he’d seemingly forgotten that you lived no more than fifteen rooftops away from them.

And of course, he knew he had more chance of the fucking Peacekeepers letting them him in than he did with you, but still… The mere thought of getting to safety and of getting to see you after so long with nothing but the memory of your face to keep him going, meant Hakon simply couldn’t stop himself from setting off in your direction. He’d all but jumped to his feet at the chance, having tossed his last decoy in the opposite direction before hoisting Aiden up and dragging him roughly along the grassy surface of the rooftop — all whilst silently praying that some small part of you still felt the same way about him as you once did.

“Where are we going?” Aiden asked, hoisting himself up a small, brick chimney after Hakon — who, if he was being honest, he was having a little trouble keeping up with. “Hakon?” 

“Some place safe,” was all Hakon said, leaving a sense of mystery in the air as he leapt across the not-so-short distance between two neighbouring buildings. He landed near effortlessly on the slanted roof trim, his foot slipping a little on loose tile as Aiden landed gracefully beside him. 

As he did, that moss covered slate loosened even more from the added impact and slid slowly from the edge, landing with a faint clatter on the empty street below. And thank God for that little detail, Hakon thought to himself. Had there been so much as one shambling infected lingering down there then the rest of their ascent up your building wouldn’t have gone so smoothly and chances are you’d have easily refused them any sort of entry had they brought any company. 

But that was one of the best things about your home: the desertion. The streets, the rooftops, every single inch of the land that surrounded you was always entirely empty given the copious amount of traps, UV protection and daily clearing you did of all things infected. You always hated having them close by, especially at night. It didn’t matter how many precautions you took or that you had enough UV lights to open a tanning salon, you still never felt fully at ease inside that cosy space you called home — which meant that the likelihood of you being awake to let them both in was even higher than the VNC Tower they could see in the distance. 

“This is a nice place,” Aiden said quietly, drawing Hakon’s attention briefly towards him as he trailed his fingertip along the twinkling fairy lights that dangled along the exterior fence of your roof. “Who lives here?” 

“An old friend,” Hakon replied, a fond, yet inherently sad, smile tugging on his lips as his eyes glistened in the ambient glow of those fairy lights. He’d never forget the look on your face when he surprised you with them, after having spent the entire two days beforehand building the very fence on which they still hung. 

Hakon still remembered how easily you had talked him into building it. You hadn’t been sleeping great, you couldn’t. The mere thought of a volatile making its way onto the rooftop and busting down your door seemed all too plausible and oftentimes you’d spent the entire night wide awake, curled up against him with your face buried in the crook of his neck as he slept soundly next to you. 

You had almost envied him, with how at ease he often felt. And even with him right beside you, you still hadn’t managed to feel safe in the home you both worked so hard to build together. It didn’t matter that he was always with you. That he’d never let anything or anyone touch a single hair on your head, you just couldn’t stop yourself from growing scared each night the sun set and that wasn’t exactly something Hakon was going to let keep happening. 

Thus, after a single plea from you paired with the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, the fence was born — made from a rundown old shack you’d both dismantled from the nearby park and still standing tall as a reminder of the lengths Hakon would go to to keep you comfortable.

“Hakon?” A gentle hand landed on his shoulder, pulling Hakon’s eyes back into focus as they came to land on Aiden’s partially concerned face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Hakon gave him a reassuring smile, despite how false that statement was. He then shrugged out from under his touch before the kid could press any further, instead making his way past the small crop plot his very own hands had built as he approached your door. His hand went absently to the handle, about to pull it down and simply walk inside before he froze. Right. He wasn’t in a position where he could do that anymore, even if the door was unlocked. And so, he knocked, “Y/N?”

Nothing but a thick silence greeted them in return, causing Aiden to believe that whoever it was that seemed to have such an effect on Hakon that he kept zoning out, was probably curled up in bed asleep. But Hakon knew better. He knew that even now you wouldn’t allow yourself to close your eyes until early morning, and so he knocked again. This time a little louder as he called your name through the door once more, “I know you’re in there.” 

There was a gentle clatter from inside the house before you finally replied, “Fuck off.” 

Hakon flinched at the coldness of your tone, his heart all but sinking to the lower level of the building on which he stood. He should have guessed that would be your response, and if anything, he was starting to regret not going straight to Cillian’s as at least then those two words reaching his ears wouldn’t slice right through his chest like a knife through butter. 

Aiden, however, got a great deal of amusement from your response, already deciding he liked you as he struggled to hold back his chuckles, “I see you’ve got a lot of friends in this town, huh?” 

“Shut up, Aiden,” Hakon hissed, catching the slight roll of Aiden’s lips from the corner of his eye. Fucking pilgrim. He then knocked again, this time using the side of his fist for some added emphasis. “Open the door, Y/N, please.” 

“No,” You replied sharply, “Just…” 

There was a brief pause in your words — or rather, your lack of. Then, as a faint shudder from your breath catching in your throat drifted painfully through the door, a quiet creak met Hakon’s ears. They perked up as it did, as… he knew that sound. He’d been responsible for that sound all those times he’d tried to sneak out at night in order to find nice things for you. You had stepped forward. You had actually approached the door, and honestly, that was more than Hakon ever fully expected you to, what with your blunt greeting and obvious want for him to go as far away from you as possible. 

“I know you’re there,” Hakon said softly, raising his hand and placing it against the cool metal of the door — which at this point was the only thing standing in his way from finally getting to see you again. “Please let me in.” 

“No,” You said again, only this time you weren’t nearly as firm in your tone as you’d been before. The creak then met his ears again, indicating your retreat away from the door that Hakon was very tempted to kick down. “Now just… Go away and bother someone else. Before I switch off the light.” 

Even though he knew you probably would turn off the lights, Hakon still knocked again, hearing the faint rattle of the door’s bolts with how much pressure he seemed to use. He thought it might get through to you, his desperation. But no matter how truly real it sounded or how very tempted to open the door you were, it still remained closed between you. And the longer it did… The more seconds that ticked silently by, the less faith Hakon had that it might ever move from that space.

Sighing in defeat, he then leaned his forehead against the barrier that so cruelly kept him from you. He didn’t know what else he could do to convince you to open up. He always thought you just would. That perhaps simply hearing him pleading outside your door in the dark cover of night would have made you forget everything he ever did to make you hate him. 

But apparently he was wrong. 

Apparently he’d hurt you far worse than he originally thought as within seconds of his forehead colliding with your door once again, each and every UV light around him flickered off, throwing both men right back into a familiar sense of darkness. Wonderful. Not only was his likelihood of never seeing you, or the sunrise, again growing higher and higher, but now so was his possibility of being eaten alive by a freshly turned Aiden. 

Wait… Hakon lifted his head. Aiden. Fuck. How could he be so stupid? 

“I’m not alone, Y/N,” Hakon said, and almost instantly, like his voice were the very switch on the generator inside the house, that comforting glow of the purple lights around them quickly flickered on again. 

“Fucking hell.” 

The faint mutter of your inherently annoyed sounding voice had a smile rise on his face as Hakon stepped back, feeling the pure sense of excitement slowly rise in his chest again as the relieving sound of deadbolts unlatching echoed throughout the air around them. 

It took a moment, after the door unlocked, for you to finally open it but when you did… When your face appeared before him, even with its clear and obvious anger towards the situation, Hakon still felt those waves of comfort he’d so dearly missed flow through him. Oh, how it truly thawed his frozen heart to finally see you again. He never thought he would. He always thought he’d only ever get to see you in his dreams and yet here you were, standing so close to him that he could reach out and touch you. 

You still looked exactly the same as you did when he left. Perfect. You were always so utterly beautiful it pained him to have ever let you go, and you still sported that ice-cold resting bitch face. The one he’d missed… honestly even more than he ever truly thought, and the very same one that could give even Aitor a proper run for his money.  

“Damn, I didn’t think that would work,” Hakon said, a small touch of humour riding the waves of his triumph. 

“Shut up,” You snapped, though you couldn’t deny that his lackadaisical attempt at remaining serious in important situations still caused a vicious flutter to erupt in your chest. “Just get inside.” 

You didn’t even allow Hakon a chance to move on his own before you grabbed him by the front of his coat, yanking him forward and into the warmth of your home before motioning to his friend to do the same. Aiden did so without hesitation, a small shiver slipping from his lips at the sudden change in temperature. 

You closed the door behind him, quickly sliding the bolts back into place before double checking they were secure — as God knows what was now lurking outside after hearing Hakon pound on your door for five whole minutes. You then checked the generator, making sure it was working properly before you eventually turned back around to the two men who now stood awkwardly inside the wooden walls of your home.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, getting right to it and doing your best to remain collected despite the fact that the love of your life… the one who had hurt you so much that you still couldn’t fully look at him, was so suddenly back in your life. “I thought I told you once before to leave me alone.” 

“And I had every intention of honouring that,” Hakon admitted, the subtle hints of his accent thickening somewhat as he did, which easily sparked chills right down your spine. “But we had no place else to go.”

Your brow furrowed, “What about the Bazaar?”

“They wouldn’t let us in,” Hakon replied, taking off his backpack as he all but began to make himself at home. “We…”

“It’s my fault,” Aiden interrupted, gaining your attention. “I don’t have a biomarker and apparently that’s cause enough for them to leave us out in the dark.” 

“You a pilgrim?” You asked, and Aiden nodded. “The one they wanted to hang?” 

“How did you know about that?” Hakon asked, drawing your gaze which instantly hardened. 

“News travels fast here,” You replied, and that was all you intended to say before a soft sigh involuntarily left your lips at the subtle way in which he flinched. You then allowed your shoulders to sink, your body slouching as you leaned back against the makeshift kitchen counter. Fuck. You really couldn’t bring yourself to keep this ice-cold act going. You were tired. Sore. And just having Hakon back in your space with that sad look in his eyes was making it seem impossible for you to keep up that shield. And so you sighed again, “Vincenzo told me, when he came to pick up the medication for his father.” 

Hakon couldn’t help but chuckle at that, “Still giving Alberto placebos, I see?”

You folded your arms, “There’s no harm in it.” 

“True,” Hakon nodded, mirroring your stance as he leaned back against the wall, “But I never would have taken you for the type to charge extortionate prices for something that doesn’t do anything.” 

“I don’t charge him anything,” You said, to which Hakon raised his brow and even Aiden seemed curious. “Vincenzo knows they’re fake. But according to him, Alberto thinks they’re helping him. Says he hasn’t seen his father so spritely in years.” 

“That’s nice of you,” Aiden chimed in, drawing your eyes and seeing the first real smile to form on your face. “There aren’t many decent people left in the world who would do something like that.” 

“I help where I can,” You exhaled, pushing yourself off the counter to check on the water you were boiling. You lifted the pot from the stove when you saw enough bubbles, pouring it into an even bigger pot that was filled to the brim with greenery. “And besides, I owe Vincenzo for all the weapons he helped me with… And the gossip he brings. I’m not really welcome around the Bazaar, so it’s handy having someone around to keep me updated on things.” 

“Wait, why aren’t you welcome?” Aiden asked, his brow dipping as he exchanged glances between the distant couple. But he couldn’t read them. Hakon was as closed off as he expected and you… You were even more stone-faced than Spike could be and if anything, that peaked his curiosity further. “I mean, you do have a biomarker, don’t you?” 

“I do. But that doesn’t really make a difference to the people of the Bazaar given that I’m a healer,” You explained, gesturing briefly to the wall of planters that stood behind him. You watched intently as he turned, his eyes widening as they grazed across the rows upon rows of bright, bushey greenery that overflowed from each colourfully painted wooden box. “Have you ever come across a healer before?” 

“I have,” Aiden said, lightly running his fingertips along the edge of a partially serrated leaf. “But back there, most people seemed to worship them.” 

“If only we could be so lucky, as here… People don’t take too kindly to us. It doesn’t matter how often we save their lives, or that of their loved ones, they still treat us like dirt. They call us witches. Scammers. Some people even try to hurt us, which is exactly why I decided to live so far from the majority of the population,” You told him, focusing your attention back to the large pot behind you. You lifted a wooden spoon, stirring the mixture slowly as a brief, yet tense, silence erupted throughout the room. “You’re welcome to stay here for the night, but come sunrise… I want both of you gone.” 

“Understood,” Aiden replied, and you couldn’t help but be thankful for Hakon having had the decency to bring someone with manners. “Thank you.” 

You gave Aiden a welcome nod before redirecting your attention to back your work once again, hearing the quiet whispers of Hakon as he told his new friend exactly where he could rest up for the night. You hoped Hakon would go with him. To perhaps get some rest himself and leave you be, but after a quick mumble from Aiden in response, you could only make out one set of retreating footsteps. Instead, the other pair began to slowly make their way towards you, forcing your body to grow tense as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up like soldiers.

“What are you making?” Hakon asked curiously, acting as though he were simply returning home from a run to find you cooking dinner. “It smells… Interesting.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at the, completely contradictory to his words, tone in which Hakon used, “It’s fennel.” 

“Ah, I see,” Hakon mused, edging his way even closer into your peripheral vision. “Is that another placebo?” 

“No,” You shook your head, continuing to focus on the swirling mixture in front of you. “It’s used for digestive issues.” 

“Oh,” Hakon rolled his lips, his cheeks flushing red. “Sorry for asking.” 

At that, you let out a quiet laugh, a sound so sweet that Hakon could have fallen to his knees and cried. 

“It’s not for me, you idiot…” — said affectionately — “It’s for the PK’s… Aitor asked me if I could cook something up as apparently a few of his men have had some unfortunate run-ins with a dodgy batch of sausages.” 

Hakon blinked, “You know… I really can’t tell if you’re joking.” 

“Trust me,” You turned to him, allowing him to read the near trauma that was written all over your face from the entirely new, and nearly unbelievable, odours you had smelled. “I wish I was joking.” 

With a genuine chuckle leaving his lips, Hakon could already feel as the tension in the air slowly began to chip away at itself. It had been a while since he last spoke to you. He had bumped into you at the metro station a good few… God, he didn’t even know how long it had been. All he could really remember was how you were both forced to make awkward small talk with each other whilst you waited for Aitor. 

It had been rough that day. Painful. You had both practically pretended like you were strangers and to this day, it still remains one of the worst moments of Hakon’s life — with letting you go being the first, obviously. He hadn’t wanted to. Not one bit. But after everything that happened with the TV station and the rumours that began to spread, it just wasn’t safe for him to be around you anymore. So he left. And ever since that day neither of you have ever fully been able to talk freely with each other. 

Until now, it seems. 

“There’s some leftovers in the cooler if you’re hungry,” You said quietly, forcing Hakon’s distant gaze back towards the hurt that still lingered deep in your eyes. “I need to gather some more herbs but I won’t be long.” 

“Wait,” Hakon’s hand gently hooked around your arm before you could move, drawing your eyes to the shock that riddled every single line that was present on his face. “You’re going outside? At night?”

“Yes,” You said simply, as if it were no big deal for you to be doing so. You then shrugged your arm out from beneath his hold, ignoring the pain that bubbled deep in your stomach. “A lot has changed since you left, Hakon. Since I learned that I couldn’t rely on anyone else to look out for me… I had to teach myself: how not to be scared anymore. It didn’t take long, though. Not really. I was already so used to the pain you caused when you left that when I came face to face with my first night out, there really wasn’t much else that it could throw at me.” 

And with that you pushed past him, knocking his shoulder a little rougher than you meant as you made your way towards your escape. You slipped out quickly, leaving the door partially open as Hakon simply stood there, staring absentmindedly into the pot you had left simmering atop the old camp stove you’d both found in a nearby house. He guessed he should have expected that: your bitterness. He hadn’t exactly done a very good job when he left you — if there even was a thing such as that. He’d been blunt. Brutal. He’d said some things he hadn’t truly meant and now it was all coming back to bite him in the ass. 

And hell, maybe he deserved it. He hasn’t exactly led what you would call a respectful life, but he really thought he was making up for that ever since he met you. He knew it sounded corny, but you really had changed him. You’d shown him there was a lot more to life than simply being angry at it and with each day he spent with you, the more he’d begun to feel like a whole new man. 

Until the TV station came along, anyway. That fucked-up mission had really thrown a spanner into the works of… Well, pretty much every aspect of his life and ever since that fateful day, things had never been the same for Hakon. He fell back into his old ways. His cruel ways. He’d hurt you more than he ever wished to do and yet, despite his dire want to be with you once again, he knew it was simply too late for him to do anything about it. 

You clearly hated him, otherwise why else would you have been willing to leave him outside without so much as a single beam of UV light? You may be talking to him now, but if it hadn’t been for Aiden you never would have let him inside in the first place. You’d have left him to die. To be eaten by the dead, or even potentially turn into one himself, and it was all because of his own stupid mistakes. He already knew there was no part of you that could ever learn to love him again, but in that moment… As he wallowed in the regret of his own actions, he desperately needed to know if perhaps one day… You could at least find it in your heart to forgive him. 

Therefore, after a moment of thought about whether or not this conversation would play out in his favour, Hakon slipped out of the house in hopes of catching you. But he was too late. He’d lingered, neck deep, in his own thoughts for far too long that by the time he made it outside the safety of your UV lights, you had already disappeared into the darkness of the city surrounding him. He had no idea where you’d gone. Or where you could be. He knew the likelihood of you being close by was strong, but he didn’t want to take the risk of venturing out and getting lost in the shadows — not when at any moment he could step headfirst into one of the many traps you and Vincenzo had laid out. 

And so instead, he waited. 

Until the sun was nearly on the rise again, Hakon waited (im)patiently for your gracious return. He honestly hadn’t expected you to take this long. To leave him hanging. There were a few times he’d almost been tempted to head out in search of you in case you’d somehow gotten lost. Or worse: hurt. But thankfully, after a few more minutes of frantically pacing the front of your house with all sorts of nightmarish thoughts seeping into his mind, Hakon’s ears finally picked up on another all too familiar sounding creak. Without even thinking, he went to it. He swung himself effortlessly up and over the railing above him and came to land on the very balcony responsible. 

“I should have guessed you’d be up here,” Hakon said softly, watching as you rid yourself of the coat that would only shield you from the warm rays of the early morning. He heard you sigh quietly as you did, tossing the heavy material over the edge of the railing before finally turning to face him. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you here?” 

“No,” You said sharply, drawing your gaze away from him and casting it out towards the horizon. You couldn’t look at him. Not now. Not when the moment you had once shared together for years loomed so close. “I guess I just hoped you’d have the decency not to follow me.” 

“Mon amour,” Hakon whispered, reaching out to lightly graze his knuckles down the side of your face. You closed your eyes as he did, your breath hitching in your throat as you were unable to stop yourself from leaning your head into him. He opened his palm as you did, allowing you the chance to slip perfectly into it. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N, I need you to know that.” 

“Then why did you?” You asked, the pure innocence to your tone breaking Hakon’s heart for a second… third… maybe even a fourth time this night, “Why did you leave me?” 

“I had to,” Hakon told you, gently wiping away the first tear to slip past your lashes. “After what happened with the TV station, it wasn’t safe for you to be with me anymore.” 

“Don’t you think that’s something I should have decided for myself?” You asked defensively, trying your hardest to bite back your bark. “Don’t you think that that’s maybe something we should have discussed? Together? As a couple?” 

“I do now,” Hakon admitted, feeling the guilt rise thickly in this throat. “But back then, I was lost… I was so scared of the possibility of losing you that I wasn’t in a place where I could think clearly about my decisions.” 

“And what about now?” You murmured, catching the first spark of hope that filled Hakon’s eyes as his brows raised above them. “Are you in a place where you can think clearly now?” 

Hakon nodded, “I am.” 

“And?” 

“And…” 

Hakon lifted his other hand, ghosting it along the side of your face which was slowly beginning to shimmer in the first rays of the rising sun. He had fully intended to talk to you. To properly voice his further intentions but as he looked at you… As he gazed deep into the love that still lingered behind the sparkles of your eyes, he figured his actions would be far better suited at voicing how he felt for you. He never was any good at it, even back then. He always struggled to find the right words to say and so instead, he simply decided it would be best if he let his lips do the talking for him.

And so he kissed you. With such a tenderness to his motion, Hakon pressed his lips ever so lightly against yours, as though he were testing the waters. Waiting for any spark of uncertainty to arise from your reaction. But instead of pushing him away, like he once feared, you only pulled him closer, sending the chaos of the world around him into a faded blur of amber light as he fixated solely on the comforting warmth, and slight roughness, of your lips on his. 

“That was well said,” You exhaled humorously, yet you were deeply struggling to open your eyes as the lingering tingle of his lips slowly faded from your own. “But I uh… I think you could probably word it a little better.”  

With a chuckle Hakon pulled back into him, kissing you ever harder… Even deeper as you slid your arms tightly around the sturdy frame of his body. Hell, you were all but melting into him at this stage. Your hands had already worked their way up the length of his muscular back and your fingers were slowly but surely delving deep into the short strands of his hair. 

Hakon never truly thought he’d experience a moment better than his very first morning with you but as he stood there… As he drowned in the taste of your lips with the clouds clearing overhead and the sky growing golden, he couldn’t but think that the sunrise… would never feel so damn perfect again.

Like my work? Consider buying me a coffee!

[spanishsenpai]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 1

Hey all! I'm steering a little of course from what I usually write lol! I'll update Daycare Attendant soon! I've just gotta write out this sudden obsession with Aitor from Dying Light 2. He's so bb gurl frfr.

What if Aitor had given any sign of life before Aiden bolted for the car factory?

Read it on AO3 if you'd rather! :D

“What the hell…?”

Aiden’s knees felt weak as he struggled to his feet. 

“My head … it's pounding …” He grit out. “What’s happening to me?” 

His throat was sore like he'd been screaming for hours. His body felt like one big bruise.

He lifted his head, looking around in a daze at the bodies on the floor. 

“What happened here?”

His thoughts were cut off with the static of a walkie talkie on the body in front of him. He stumbled to it, searching the pockets until he found the radio. “We’re about to start. Where are you?” 

Aiden’s eyes narrowed. Waltz.

“I’m almost to the car factory…”

Before Aiden could hear the rest, a groan sounded from further in the tunnel. His gaze snapped to the sound, barely processing the blue of a PK body struggling to get its arms under it. His eyes widened. Not just any PK body; Aitor.

His aches seemed to disappear as he stepped closer. How many times had he woken up surrounded by bodies and one was still alive? 

Never it felt like.

“Aitor… ?” He called, a small note of panic in his voice leftover from the adrenaline of whatever the fuck just happened. 

He’d rolled his limp body off his legs. He’d been sure Aitor was dead.

“Aitor?” He called again, sounding a little more confident.

“... Aiden?” Aitor coughed out, the word barely more than a wheeze. He grunted, falling limp on the concrete, speaking the one word seemingly taking all his energy.

Aiden could see his face now. Aitor’s eyes were just barely cracked open. Blood stained his teeth as he grimaced in obvious pain. Aiden knelt down next to him, hands hovering over his body. Should he turn him on his back? What if his neck was hurt?

The walkie buzzed again as someone spoke though Aiden was too caught up in his worry to hear the words. Immediately he was reminded of the stakes though.

“Fuck! Waltz has the key!” he snarled. Aitor didn’t react to this news. He was barely conscious. 

Desperation ran through Aiden. That key was the only way he was going to find Mia. He couldn’t let Waltz get away with it. 

Guilt filled him as he looked down at Aitor’s limp body. He was still awake, just barely though. Aiden had to go. He didn’t have time to get Aitor somewhere safe. 

This tunnel was surrounded by natural light and it was midday. He’d … He’d have to be okay until Aiden got the key back. “I’m sorry Aitor. Hang tight! I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

Aitor didn’t react to this other than to slowly close his eyes as he went slack again. 

There wasn’t time! Aiden growled, hesitating a moment longer before bolting to the tunnel entrance.

Aitor was tough. He’d be okay until Aiden got back.

Well shit, that was a mess.

“Run!” The sniper screamed, bolting for a building in ankle deep water.

Aiden almost went to follow her but even through the delirium of being nearly choked to death, he remembered Aitor. 

“No! I have to go back!” Aiden turned, bolting for the broken freeway. He was sure he could get back across. 

“Go back? Are you crazy?! He’s transforming!” She stopped going for the building and, seeing he wasn’t turning around, began to chase after him.

“The sun will buy me time!” He was at the edge of the solar panels, scrambling up what little footholds he could find. He didn’t expect to hear footsteps following him, especially after a familiar roar echoed from the factory. 

“Waltz will kill us!”

“A good man needs help!” Aiden yelled back, breathing hard as he climbed the asphalt. “I promised to come back for him.”

He heard a faint “Shit” behind him before the sniper was climbing after him. 

Just as he’d hoped, the sun stopped Waltz from being able to follow them. Even with his terrifying agility and immunity to the UV rays, midday was no joke on a volatile. 

Aiden’s hands shook, nearly making him fall a couple times. Aitor could be dead. He could be risking himself and the sniper for a dead man. It would be dark in only a few hours though and if Aitor was alive, if there was even a chance, Aiden wouldn’t leave him to die like that. He’d taken bigger gambles than this anyway.

His eyes widened as the tunnel entrance came into view. Almost there!

He was gasping for breath as his feet hit solid ground. He vaulted over the few cars and sprinted into the tunnel. The bodies were still here, undisturbed, making Aiden breathe a sigh of relief. No zombies had gotten in then. 

“Aitor!” He called, quickly spotting the group of blue bodies. He slid to kneel next to Aitor’s body, shaking hands reaching for his neck. He hadn’t moved from where Aiden had left him. 

His heart was pounding too hard to tell if Aitor’s heart was beating. He hesitated for only a moment before he carefully began to roll Aitor over onto his back. He nearly had a heart attack when Aitor jolted with a sharp cough as Aiden got him on his side. 

“Oh thank god. Aitor? Can you hear me?”

He didn’t fully process the sniper kneeling next to them. He did look up as she hissed though.

“He’s bleeding. There’s a puddle over here. Not a big one so probably not that serious,” she said, poking careful fingers along Aitor’s spine. “Keep him on his side. If he’s on his back he might choke on his blood.”

Aitor only wheezed as he was poked and prodded. When the sniper gently pressed a palm to the center of his vest, Aitor cried out, trying to flinch away from the pressure.

“His ribs are probably fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Aiden finally said. “Waltz got him pretty good.”

“Fighting Waltz and living? He’ll have serious bragging rights if he makes it.”

“Hear that Aitor? I’d say you’re keeping that promotion,” Aiden called, hoping that Aitor was going to respond. 

He got a huff. He’d call that a win.

“Where are we taking him?” She asked, done with her inspection for now.

“There’s a safe house near here. It’s too close to dark to take him anywhere else.”

“Alright, we’ll have to get him to wake up more if we want the best chance though. Think you can do that?”

“Yeah… yeah I can do that.”

Could he though? He’d try at the very least. 

“Aitor, hey, you need to wake up.” Aiden patted his cheek, wincing when Aitor wheezed a little louder. A few more calls for him to wake up did nothing. The sniper was starting to look impatient and Aiden wasn’t sure he could get Aitor to the safe house on his own. 

Fuck, sorry Aitor. He pressed a little harder on Aitor’s ribs. Hopefully not enough to knock him out fully, but just enough to wake him up. 

Aitor gasped, hands finally moving to weakly push at Aiden’s arm. 

“F-Fu… St-Stop…” he ground out, eyes fluttering open. Aiden felt one of his legs bump him from behind but Aitor was too weak to really do anything. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You have to stay awake though Aitor.”

Aitor’s eyes seemed to focus on the face above him. Aiden happened to notice the nasty bruise on his jaw and the blood soaking into his hair from his temple. 

“Yeah, just like that. Come on Aitor.”

“Wha... What… hap-pened?” He gasped out. 

“Waltz nearly killed you.”

“... My… s-squad… ?”

“I’m sorry. They… They didn’t make it.”

Aitor looked like he wanted to give up on being awake as he processed the words. 

“No, no! Stay with me Aitor!” Aiden frantically patted Aitor’s cheek as his eyes threatened to close. “Come on!”

Aitor’s eyes opened again.

“There you go. How… How many fingers am I holding up?” When he didn’t answer for a moment, Aiden repeated himself. “Aitor? How many fingers?”

“... F-Fo-ur…”

No, that was wrong. Aiden curled his two fingers back into a fist. That was fine. He could fix that later. For now, thinking was waking Aitor up again. Which was good. Great in fact. Just a little more and they might be able to walk him out of here. 

“Aitor, we need to get up. There’s a safe house we can go to but you have to walk.”

Aitor let out a weak cough that sounded like an “Okay”. 

“Puddle’s a little bigger back here,” the sniper interrupted. “We gotta get moving.”

Aiden swallowed thickly, “Alright. Aitor, get ready to sit up.”

Aitor huffed. 

“I’ve got him back here,” the sniper said.

“Okay, I’m lifting in one, two, three.”

They slowly brought Aitor’s torso off the ground. No matter how slow they went though, it wouldn’t have felt any less painful. Aitor let out a strangled cry, legs weakly shuffling as a hand came up to grip Aiden’s wrist as hard as he could, which wasn’t much. Internally, Aiden winced but didn't stop until Aitor was almost fully vertical. The pain seemed to wake him up further though. His eyes were a little clearer as they darted around, taking in the situation. 

“You with us?” Aiden asked. 

“Y-Yeah-” Aitor gasped out. “My… ri-ribs.” His words were halted and stuttering as his lungs desperately tried to avoid even grazing his ribs. Of course, the effort was futile.

“We know. We’ll take care of it once we get to the safe house.” Aiden brought one of his hands in front of Aitor. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“T-Two.”

Aiden let out a breath of relief. “Head damage must not be that bad then.”

“Getting to his feet’s gonna be worse,” the sniper piped up. “He might pass out.”

Aitor jolted at her voice, immediately trying to twist around to see who was behind him. He froze mid motion though as his body practically seized from the sudden movement.

“Hey! Don’t do that,” Aiden barked, using his free hand to steady Aitor.

“Wh-o… ?”

“She’s a friend. Don’t worry about it right now.”

A quiet growl was his response. No one would be happy in this situation, least of all Aitor, but he seemed to accept there was little he could do about it. Already, Aiden could feel him starting to tremble. Hopefully it was from pain and not shock.

The sniper had already shifted to a crouch to lift Aitor up. Aiden quickly followed suit. 

“Are you ready to get up?”

Aitor nodded stiffly. Aiden felt him tense up in preparation for the pain that would surely follow.

“Three, two, one, and- up!”

Aitor cried out as they brought him up to his feet. He would have immediately toppled over if the two hadn’t secured their grip on him. He gasped raggedly as he fought to get his jellied knees to hold him. He stumbled before he got them to lock up. 

They gave him a moment to breathe. His body was trembling worse now. God, Aiden hoped that wasn’t shock.

“L-Let’s go,” he gasped out, taking a shaking step forward.

“Wait. Wait a second.” Aiden carefully put Aitor’s arm around the back of his neck, the sniper doing the same before they started forward.

The tunnel entrance, the one leading back to Old Villedor, was a short distance away, yet Aitor’s brow was already shining with sweat. His steps were slow and he practically tripped over his own feet. The only thing keeping him up was Aiden and the sniper. 

Aiden prayed the power to the door was working now. A breath escaped him as the metal creaked with rust but lifted all the same. The zombies he’d cleared out before he’d come in here hadn’t replaced themselves, leaving them a semi straight shot to the closest rooftop. 

Walking was one thing, climbing was another. Aiden hadn’t even thought about how they’d get Aitor up to a roof yet.

“Judging by how walking’s going, I’d say climbing is out of the question,” the sniper said, like she was reading his mind. “We’ll probably have to clear out a few floors in this apartment to get him up there.”

Aiden looked between her and the apartment building they’d stopped in front of, nodding finally. Four floors. Usually he only had to clear out one but he could work with this.

“Can you stay out here with him?” She’d come this far with them, surely she wouldn’t turn on them and kill Aitor now.

She nodded and they set to getting Aitor on the sidewalk. He choked down any cries, but his breath still came out in harsh pants as he was settled with his back against the building.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Aiden assured before he quickly slipped into the front door. 

Clearing out the building wasn’t hard. The zombies here were feeble from being locked away with no food for so long. A few molotov’s and one shattered tire iron and the place was clear from the ground floor to the roof.

Back outside, the sniper was collecting an arrow from a zombie’s chest across the street. Aitor looked like he was on the verge of passing out, face pale and eyes barely open. They needed to hurry. 

“Hey!” He called as loud as he dared, “It’s clear now.”

She jogged back over to them. Together they crouched and lifted Aitor up far less carefully than they had the first time. Aitor didn’t complain, just let out a sharp huff. Somehow he was even worse on his feet than before. They had to practically lift him up each step of the stairs as his legs fumbled with lifting that short distance. Whether Aitor was aware of it or not, he had started to grip the shoulder of Aiden’s jacket with an iron grip as they went. Aiden didn’t mention it.

He also didn’t mention how the shiny red spot on the front of Aitor’s shirt was growing. He wasn’t sure where the cut had come from but it couldn’t be helping Aitor’s already feeble balance.

“We’re almost there. There’s a bridge connecting this roof to the one with the safe house.”

“Good. Your friend’s starting to get heavy.”

She was right. Aitor was slowly putting more weight on them as his steps grew sloppier.

“Hear that Aitor? Almost there,” Aiden huffed as they lifted him up the last step. Thank god. The sun was close to setting and Aiden’s own body was protesting that fight from earlier.

“Y-Yeah.” Aitor’s voice came out more like a whisper.

The ramp wasn’t wide enough for them to walk side by side, so they opted to crab shuffle across. Aitor tried but his legs were basically only able to hold him up at this point.

“This is not how I saw my day going,” the sniper huffed as she stepped onto the other roof.

“I don’t think anyone did.”

Aitor didn’t respond.

“There it is, Aitor. Almost th- !” 

Aitor’s leg buckled, almost taking them all to the ground. They righted themselves but the movement was sharp enough for Aitor to cry out again. Aiden and the sniper’s heads snapped to the right as a couple growls responded to the sound.

Unfortunately, while the bridge had been helpful for them to get to the safehouse, another bridge leading to the neighboring zombie infested roof was less so. The zombies stumbled for them. Towards the back, one looked like it was about to start sprinting. 

“Shit! We gotta move,” she snapped.

Aitor seemed to understand as his grip on Aiden’s sleeve tightened. His steps were a little more solid as they dragged him along faster, shaky pained sounds spilling out of him. Aiden’s watch beeped, signaling that it was officially nighttime and they were still several yards from the safe glow of the UV lamps.

“Take him! I’ll hold them off,” she ordered, sliding Aitor’s arm off her shoulders. 

Aitor nearly crumpled to the ground as his arm flopped down and smacked him in the side. “No, no, no, come on Aitor.”

“Sh-Shit,” he wheezed, feet scrambling to keep up with Aiden’s too fast steps. Damn those heavy PK boots. 

A shriek to his right made Aiden jump. A decayed face climbed over the side of the building and bolted right for them. Aiden kicked it in the chest, nearly losing his grip on Aitor as the lieutenant let out a choked cry. His once limp arm grabbed Aiden’s jacket with trembling fingers to keep from falling completely. The sniper was back then, pushing the zombie the rest of the way off the roof. 

As soon as the purple light enveloped Aitor’s face, Aiden breathed out a sigh of relief. The sun was down and zombies were coming but they had made it. Quickly, the sniper came around and flung open the door, allowing them all to shuffle inside. His back was screaming from supporting Aitor for so long, yet as he went to set Aitor down on the pile of blankets called a bed, she came over to help, just as slow and careful as he was.

Aitor groaned as he nearly went boneless once his legs weren’t supporting him. Aiden had to quickly grab his shoulders to keep him up. “Can’t lay down just yet Aitor. Hey,” he called, raising his voice so the sniper would know he was talking to her, “can you-”

“Already on it.” 

She had gathered every soft thing in the little safe house and begun stacking them behind Aitor. The pile was just high enough to keep him elevated. Now he could lay on his back without choking. They eased him down. As Aitor’s body registered something even semi comfortable, he went limp and passed out.

Before Aiden could freak out about it, the sniper spoke. “Well I guess it's time to doctor him up while he’s out.”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you… for helping me get him here.”

“I’d say no problem but it was. Favors are good to have though.” They worked in silence for a moment, carefully undressing Aitor’s upper half to reveal the dark bruises and cut on his front. Even with how gently Aiden was wrapping bandages around his ribs, Aitor’s breath still hitched with pain at any pressure. 

“Hey, since we’re stuck here for the night, you can call me Lawan.”

Aiden’s hand jerked, making Aitor gasp even when unconscious. “Shit!” He cursed, resuming his careful wrapping as he glanced up at Lawan. “I’ve been looking for you for weeks. Dylan sent me with this-”

They talked through the night about Dylan, the GRE, Waltz, all while they checked that Aitor was still alive. A couple hours before morning, Aitor groaned as he slowly became aware again, eyes blinking rapidly to try and clear away his fuzzy vision. 

Almost immediately, Aiden was by his side. “Hey, careful. You’re not even close to being ready to move yet.”

“What,” he took in a sharp breath at the return of the pain in his chest and his face and his back and everywhere really, “What happened?”

“Waltz.”

Aitor had to think for a moment, struggling to remember. His eyes widened and he tried to sit up fully as he gasped out, “My squad.”

Aiden quickly stopped him from sitting up, though his face was somber. “I’m sorry. Waltz killed them all. I’m sure you’re lucky to even be alive right now.”

Aitor coughed out a ruthful chuckle, settling back into the soft pile, “Yeah… lucky.”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say. 

“Where’s my armor?” He asked after a minute. He’d looked down and found himself only in his unbuttoned brown shirt. Bandages covered his chest while a blanket had been put over his legs. 

“Over here. I don’t think you should put it on for a while though. Your ribs are busted up.”

“Yeah. Could tell that from how they feel,” he coughed out. 

“Is there anywhere we missed? Any other place that hurts?”

Aitor squinted up at him. “We?”

“You don’t remember me and her carrying you up here?” Aiden asked, shuffling to the side so he could point out Lawan. 

He was quiet for another moment before slowly nodding. “F-Faintly.” He sighed, relaxing fully into the pile of various pillows and backpacks behind him. 

“I think my ribs are the worst. Nothing is really screaming at me other than that.”

“You’ve also got a cut down here.” He pointed to just above Aitor’s pant line where another bandage and gauze were placed. “One of your knives probably got you when Waltz knocked them out of your hands.” He didn’t say, when Waltz kneed you so hard you passed out. If Aitor didn't have a memory of that, Aiden didn’t want to be the one to give it to him. 

“This is a real shit show,” Aitor breathed out. He brought a stiff arm up to rub over his eyes. 

Aiden didn’t comment on that and neither did Lawan. The former Pilgrim sighed, “As soon as morning comes, we’ll walkie the Peacekeepers to come get you.”

Aitor let out a huff, closing his eyes for a moment. Aiden didn’t envy how he was likely feeling. 

“Thank you Aiden. You’ve helped me out again.”

Aiden gave him a small smile. “No problem at all.”

[wtfaniii]

oneshot in-ho x reader whos a player not bc of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun? in-ho falls in love w her and protects her during the games (he knew abt her as he had stalked gi hun and his team duh)

thank u🙏🏻

Just when I read this I had just uploaded a one-shot more or less with that theme of the researcher girl.

I love it, thanks for reading🤎

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Paparazzi

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warnings: Just some harassment from this sexy man, violence and inappropriate language. Also, I made a modification to one of the games so that the reader could be with them

Note: Your wishes are my command! Orders will remain open and I will try to respond as soon as possible.

Her job was supposed to be just to do some research, collect names, dates and addresses, but fate had other things in store for she.

—Form lines to advance! It will be harder for the puppet to detect you that way —Gi-hun shouted to the players who were still alive after that massacre.

The girl was shaking uncontrollably. Unfortunately, she hadn't managed to get behind someone and now the doll was in her sights. Her hands didn't stop moving and clearly noticed how one of the weapons from heaven was pointing at her.

—Please... —She whispered shakily, yeah... maybe she was a coward but it's only because survival is not his specialty.

"Player 455" heard one of the guards through his communicator, he aimed directly at the head of the trembling girl but before pulling the trigger he heard the voice of his leader "Don't shoot, let her continue" and without protest he obeyed him order.

In a gilded room, with a huge screen in front of a single sofa and a small table next to it, rested the man who led and maintained order in these games.

Drinking a little more whiskey, In-ho kept his eyes on the screen and with the remote control he focused on player 455, the poor girl was terrified, it was not the first impression he expected from her after having read her entire file.

He had read that she was a great detective, top of her class, she was cunning, intelligent, and had a couple of master's degrees completed, but seeing her afraid of dying almost made him laugh.

It was amazing how being face to face with death changed people.

—Nobody shoot her —he added over the radio without taking his eyes off the screen.

He could see the girl's confusion at seeing thatwas still alive despite moving very slightly.

In-ho knew everything about her, he knew what she was weak on, her strengths, weaknesses, her way of operating, he even knew about that beloved cat she had in his childhood and died of old age.

He had taken the time and dedication to investigate even the smallest details about her, it was the least he could do after almost discovering his identity.

The detective was so close to discovering the entire empire of these games that he had to be her brought together with Gi-hun by force so as not to let her finish the task.

He twisted his lips as the whiskey vanished and the first game, green light, red light, was over.

He didn't want her dead, or at least not for now, until he knew a little more about her, one could almost say that she had the potential to be part of this if she weren't so correct.

He put on his mask and went to the control center.

[...]

Just as she thought, some players approached Gi-hun for advice for the next game, there were only those who believed in his words because some others called him a 'liar'.

Among them was player 001, whose name was claimed to be Young-il. He was no fool, he wouldn't say his real name without being sure how much information she had about all of this.

As night fell in the bedroom everyone was sleeping peacefully, except for the girl who was sitting in the middle of her bed playing with his pillowcase, folding it over and over again and then unfolding it and repeating the same act.

—Are you having trouble sleeping? –001 asked, approaching her, who shifted a little and made room on the bed for him to sit next to her.

—My head works better at night... —She murmured, looking at him and smiling friendly.

He looked down at her hands and how the moved on the pillowcase, her were precise and firm. —You know how to tie good knots.

She had many talents and In-ho knew them all.

Or well, almost all of them.

Her ability to tie excellent knots was developed by her father, who was captain of a fishing boat that she also sailed on from time to time.

They locked gazes again in silence. In-ho considered that long-distance photos were nothing compared to being face to face with her. For two years he had been investigating her, he had sent several guards to follow her closely for one reason only. At first considered her a threat. Her intelligence and curiosity could have unmasked him, but then he started following her out of routine.

Afterwards he just kept his gaze on her out of habit and finally he had her face to face.

—What's wrong? —She asked with a frown as noticed the intense gaze on his person.

—Nothing, you should rest, we must have energy for tomorrow's games.

When he was about to stand up and go to his respective bed but she stopped him by holding his hand. The girl, seeing his inappropriate act and with more confidence than she should have, quickly let him go. —Can we keep talking? Honestly... I'm too distressed to sleep right now.

—Of course...

The two continued to talk about trivial matters for a couple more hours, they tried to keep it low so as not to wake up the other players but every now and then they received an annoying 'shhh' from someone nearby who longed to be able to sleep peacefully.

Until she finally fell asleep with head resting on In-ho's shoulder, he didn't move, instead, he let her sleep and settled down so they could both rest better.

The next day, during the next game, they formed teams of six people.

Once they were all together, along with a pregnant woman named Jun-hee with the number 222, they sat on the floor as ordered and shared the games.

The activity was to play a series of games and each time they won they could advance, all this with their feet tied together.

It would be simple, each one was good at something and that made it easier for them to continue, they were the last players to participate which was good for the girl, so she wouldn't get nervous under the gaze of the other participants and as if heaven conspired in his favor one of the games was about making a rhombus with a rope.

—I did it! —She shouted euphorically showing the perfect rhombus in her hands made with rope and on the first try, the guard made a circle and the voice said "pass"

The others celebrated with her as they advanced, until now they achieved the games at the first opportunity and had plenty of time but when they reached the part where they had to spin a top on the ground Young-il lost his sanity after so many failed attempts.

As she bent down to pick up the top once more and wrap it in the string 001 began to curse and beat himself.

—What the hell is happening to me? I can't do anything right! I'm useless —She looked at him startled every time he hit himself, until she interrupted him by slapping on the left cheek, managing to silence him and making his head turn just a little.

In-ho's fake drama to scare them was going great until this sudden blow happened, he didn't expect it but there he was, looking at her with surprise and astonishment.

—You have to calm down! —She shouted, handing him the already finished top. —Try it again and if we die I swear I'll kill you.

He nodded and took the toy, she used those words to lighten the mood and try to give him confidence (which of course she did) but eyes don't lie and her gaze begged him to do it, she didn't want to die.

Miraculously he managed to spin the top and they moved on to the last game which Gi-hun was about to lose if it hadn't been for In-ho, although the last move was not correct he shouted "he did it" this being a small order camouflaged for the guard to give the affirmative signal.

They didn't know it but at that moment they would have died.

She was ignorant of this, she didn't know that if it weren't for In-ho she would already be dead since "green light, red light"

Unwittingly, In-ho saved her at every opportunity, protecting her life without realizing that perhaps following her had already become more than just a routine.

Little by little she got under him skin, first it was in his mind and now...

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know we're all focused on Satyr/Faun König but that bull comment... I'm quite partial to minotaur's and whats better than a darling who isn't from the area. Oh yes she's innocent of the crimes against König because she was not raised there.

Some foreign little creature just running blind in a maze trying to see where there might be a way out. It's been days after all and the screaming has gotten quieter and she wonders if she's the last one left alive. He takes his time eating his meals... this can be stretched out for such a long time as she hides herself in a dead end just a short rest... the darling is so tired unaware of the horrifyingly silent steps moving closer to her little haven. It's just her left now.

@kit-williams I've wanted to write for Minotaur!König for ages!

Minotaur!König x Ariadne!Reader Word count: 5 k oneshot Tags/warnings: Sexual tension, threats of violence and rape, implied cannibalism, power imbalance, moral ambiguity. Predator/prey dynamic, Beauty and the Beast elements, Ancient Greek religion & lore. 18+ MDNI A/N: The Minotaur in this story is not an actual hybrid. Reader is Hecate’s initiate. Merry Christmas y'all! <3

EDIT: PART 2 HERE

The screams are the worst part.

They echo through the Labyrinth while you wait and wait and wait.

Even the very stones seem to cry and wail as you place your hope on Theseus who descended to this hell along with you and the human cattle. Seven young men and seven unwed women, meant to satisfy a beast...

And judging by the screams alone, it sounds like the monster is satisfied. It sounds like it's having a ball.

Fourteen lives have been lost, their blood swallowed by the earth as if Hades himself is drinking the crimson of Athenian youth in His feast. The flesh is the beast’s to devour: an underworld demon born of tainted lust.

Half bull, half man, you always thought the stories were only tales told by the fire to scare children. Turns out that the stories, for once, are true. There's something even worse in this maze, something cursed and foul... Hecate herself would shiver if She were here, in the womb of the earth, witnessing what you’re witnessing now.

You don’t actually see the Bull of Crete cut or hack or slash anyone, and you can only imagine what the monster does to the bloody, gutted corpses of the young. The only thing you see are the hollow, dark walls carved out of soil, sand, and clay, the intestine-like route dug deep into the earth. And you don't have to see the massacre: the screams tell you enough. The silence that follows betrays even more.

Your only light is flickering, waning: the candle will hardly last an hour. If the hero from Athens won’t arrive soon, you will have to leave this place. 

And oh, how you want to leave… You were a fool to follow him here. Blinded by love and hope, you thought Theseus of Athens would be your way out of Crete, but it’s clear that the only thing the young hero is capable of loving is fame. The only time his eyes turned to yours was when you said you might be able to help him with a small bundle of yarn.

Red as the setting sun or spilling blood, the thin woollen string is your only way out now. It’s ironic how a heap of twine is the only thing that can help you out of this hellhole, but the Fates always did possess a cruel sense of humour. Your silly daydreams might’ve cost your life, and even if you’re sworn to the dark goddess, you would rather die anywhere but here. In the darkness, all alone, with nothing but eyeless worms to keep company to your decaying bones.

The sudden draft from the outside world is warm but threatens to blow out your candle. It’s a sign from Apollo: if you don’t leave now, you’re dead. Theseus has to manage without you because you’re not dying in this underworld prison because of some man’s stupid lust for fame.

There's only deafening silence in the maze as you scurry up, taking support from the wall as your sight darkens for a moment. You rose too soon: you can’t even remember the last time you ate. And it appears that even the sun god has abandoned you because there's a faint echo of steps in the tunnel, and they don’t belong to a man. They’re too thick, unduly heavy, and it’s not a pair of sandals that are thumping against the soil.

So, Theseus is dead...

So much for the legend, the myth, the demigod.

Heart thumping in your chest and in the hollow of your throat, it threatens to drown the sound of approaching footsteps. They’re all dead, the people who descended here with you. The only thing you are right now is prey. You're being hunted; whether the Minotaur knows you're here or not, you know you're being hunted. You can feel it in your gut.

You cover the candle with one hand, hoping that the flickering light doesn’t reach around the bend. The falling thump of the footsteps stops, and you still your breath, hoping that the beast would turn around and search the other way.

You hear it sniffing behind the wall. It's trying to catch your scent in the air, the smell of dread and terror, sweat so thick it must reach his nostrils and make them flare with lust. Your heart is thundering in your chest, and the tunnel is so quiet that that you’re certain the creature will hear that, too. (Your heart always betrays you.)

And your luck is cursed.

The beast shifts. 

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear it: the scraping sound underneath his feet as he aligns himself anew, choosing the path that leads straight down to you.

“Hecate save me,” you whisper into the air that seems to grow denser as he approaches, loud thumps of feet now accompanied by metal grating against clay. 

“Hear me, flame-bearing guide... Darkness, protect me…”

He’s dragging bronze against the wall, announcing that he’s carrying a weapon with him, the strength of a bull apparently not satisfying enough if he wants to break your bones with metal.

Don’t blow out the candle... 

If you blow it out, you’ll die.

It’s a clear message, a knowing voice in your head that says it. It’s not young, it’s not old: just knowing. Alert. Wise beyond ages. 

So you still your breath and wait.

Shadows fill the curve of the tunnel just before he emerges: thick like thunder, a darkness so deep that even the name of the twilight goddess escapes your tongue. 

And he’s big. Bigger than the bulls you used to dance with, bigger than kings, or heroes, bigger than even Theseus, the man you thought was a myth walking. His head is enormous, bigger than the rest of him, awkward and rough like it’s not quite part of him even though he’s supposed to be half ox. 

The gigantic, horned figure stops when it sees you. Vast shoulders tense; the fat, double-edged sword falls to his side when he settles to loom between you and your only way to escape this place. You’re oddly thankful that the horrible screeching stopped, but then you notice that his blade is drenched in blood: actually, his torso, thighs, even the buckskin loincloth – the only garment this monster has chosen to wear – is spattered with red dots. 

The bronze tip drips with crimson, and the earth drinks it all. Hades is never satisfied: this beast is never full. Everyone who was sent down here is dead: everyone else has met their doom except you. You wonder if your mother would cry if she heard her only daughter died because she fell in love with a fool.

“I killed your hero,” the walls of hell boom. 

His voice is thick like tar, dark and foul like it’s the God of Earth himself speaking.

The flame in your hand quivers from fear, and you slowly remove your palm, the tiny candle illuminating the beast with warm homely yellow, making the prominent muscles of his chest even bigger. 

He’s carved like the statues in Athens, only, this giant is far hairier than the painted marble heroes of the city. The hair on his chest is thick and wild; it shoots down his abdomen and disappears underneath the loincloth, spreads over his inner thighs, even covers his shins in dark mats. He looks like a wild man, a beast indeed: sweaty, filthy and thick. But you never knew a beast like him could talk…

“A coward, that one,” he snarls, the voice reverberating oddly like it’s a human man speaking from under a wooden mask or inside a clay jug.

And you believe every word he says.

Theseus was strong and able-bodied, but he had built his strength just to show it off. This man’s body speaks of pure, ripe survival.

A hulking shadow with shoulders that barely fit the tunnels of the Labyrinth, with palms nearly twice the size of yours, he’s the myth walking instead of the hero whose blood now adorns that dull bronze blade. The Minotaur who survived his father’s wrath, his mother’s absence, these bleak surroundings, and all the heroes sent down to get his head… His weapon isn’t even sharp anymore, and still, he managed to cut through the sacrificial humans like butter. And what a horrific death it must’ve been to be hacked to pieces by a dull blade.

Is it evil of you to hope that the death of your “hero” wasn’t a quick one…?

Theseus was a fool and a coward, rotten to the core, but you saw all of that too late. He never cared about the human sacrifices or the king’s wrath; he never cared about digging into Pasiphae’s sorrow. He only cared about getting his face depicted on a pot or having his deeds played out in amphitheatres, his name uttered in song, accompanied by harp and flute.

“I know.”  

Your voice gets sucked into the earth: it doesn’t echo from the walls like his. It’s thin, damp, and frail, just like everything else meant to walk under the sun instead of stand buried under the earth.

But the beast before you tilts its head a little. It’s curious. 

Why would you say that? 

Why don’t you cry from hearing the news...? Why don’t you howl out your hero’s name and beg the gods to heed your grief? Why don’t you run away from a monster?

The candlelight is puny and weak, but it’s bright enough to bring out the eyes of an animal. You draw breath in the dampness of the earth when you finally see it: the bull’s head is devoid of eyes, and yet, the beast still has them. Blue as the summer sky, stern as the death grip of winter just before spring.

There’s nothing but ripped shreds of skin where the eyes should be, and instead of looking at you from the sides, they’re greeting you from the front. The horns are sturdy, but otherwise, the colossal head is a bit skewed... Thick patches of fur sticking out as if it was years and years old, and then – you realize it’s not his head; it’s only an illusion. 

There’s a man under there. A full, grown man who’s made himself a terrible helmet out of a bull’s carcass. 

“You’re a man,” you say out loud, earning yourself another shift of the colossal head.

“...What?”

The muffled echo confirms it: he’s speaking from inside the bull, moving only slightly to get a better look at you. 

“You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

His eyes are wild but intelligent; they pierce you from inside the inanimate shield. The large chest heaves, his ribs flare like sails as he draws air through what must be the foul stench of a long-dead animal.

He takes a step, and you shrink, almost dropping your candle and the roll of red yarn.

“You think talking will save you, female?”

He speaks like a man, walks like a man, but his moves are an animal’s. Shoulders slightly hunched like he’s a bull about to attack, you recognize the way his muscles quiver from the times when you used to do bull leaping. You don’t dance with Rhea’s oxen anymore: your tasks at Hecate’s temple are more suitable and less wild for a maiden your age. Back when you were younger and more agile, you used to jump from the back of one bull to the next, clouds of dust swirling around you as you showed your prowess to the priests.

But you can’t charm this ox by dancing. This one can’t be tricked or fooled: he will pierce you with those horns or his brazen sword if you take even a step.

“I can get you out of here,” you wet your lips, noticing that the blue eyes shoot straight to your mouth when you do that. “I know the way out.”

“What makes you think I want out,” he says, so tight and tense that you fear he’s either about to leap at your throat or plunge his sword into your chest.

And you should be concerned about your own safety, not about his sensibilities – if he even has such things – but hearing this beast man’s reply is like drinking bile. 

Why would anyone want to stay here?

You don’t know if he eats human flesh; you don’t know if he had to in order to survive. Everyone knows why his father threw him down here, but no one knows he’s not half the things the people above say he is. And if half of it isn’t true, what other lies have been told about the Minotaur? 

Even most prisoners see the sun, yet this man has been deprived of that, too. He’s been robbed of mother’s love, of father’s mercy, of friends and foes, of mentors and guides. He’s been robbed of life, of stars, of fires and summer skies, of women’s giggles, of fistfights with fellow men. Of songs and plays, of festivals and games, of bull dances, and maidens that leap…

“Have you ever been up there…? On the surface?”

You turn your voice into soft water on pebbles, a soothing pour of persuasion and goodwill. His pecs contract, strong abs under thin hair and body fat bunch like you’re about to hit him there. You take a step, and now it’s his turn to shun away. It’s only half an inch, but he actually moves away from you. 

“I can take you there,” you offer gently. “Have you ever seen the sun…?”

It’s like talking to a starved predator, trying to entice them to follow you with a fresh steak in hand, hoping that the fanged mouth won’t take more than was promised if it decides to accept the offering.

And the beast accepts. 

“As a boy,” he grunts, a tad more softly. 

Those eyes are fixed on you, reminding you of horses when they’re slightly afraid. The glint of white and blue behind the carcass is fiercely alive, quite unlike the hollow, disinterested stare of the Athenian hero who was only interested in himself.

But this beast is interested. Oh, the Bull Man of Crete is wildly, fiercely curious about you. 

“You’ll take me to the sun,” he repeats, an affirmation rather than a question.

“Yes. To the surface. I promise.”

He moves. Like an animal who learned long ago to drive others into the corner so that he wouldn’t get forced there himself, he’s primal, sensual in the way that oracles in a trance are sensual.

Approaching you in silence that’s almost eerie, the hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end by the time he’s only an arm’s length away. Why announce his coming earlier if he can move so quietly?

“You’ll lead me to my father.” 

His gaze bores into you, and not even the warm draft from the tunnels can prevent you from shivering. He’s distrustful, and it’s no wonder. It must be odd that some girl with a candle and a bundle of yarn is suddenly waiting for him around the bend, and doesn’t even flee. He’s a behemoth, but he’s not stupid. A stupid man would not have been able to survive, let alone thrive in this place.

And why should he trust you? Who is he supposed to trust in this maze when every person he has seen has either run away from him or tried to kill him? His father will slaughter him if he ever escapes the Labyrinth, so what else is a priestess in his kingdom but a squealing mouse, trying to feed him lies and then guide him to the surface and into a forest of spears? 

“No,” you shake your head slowly. “No, I promise I know the way. There will be no soldiers–”

You shut your mouth just before a huge palm closes around your throat. 

Gods, but he moves fast when he wants to… 

The candle and the yarn drop the instant his hand seizes your neck, strong fingers nearly meeting at the back as he squeezes your windpipe ever so slowly.

And he’s so close now. The carcass reeks of death, but the man underneath stinks of plain human sweat. His musk is a peculiar mix of blood, earth and soil, something both stale and invigorating, the thin sheen of sweat and dirt covering his muscles making him look like a common builder. It’s strange that the bull’s head hasn’t yet decayed in this place, that the man doesn’t reek of bodies and bones that must be scattered around like debris further down the tunnels. 

Another thing that’s strange is that he doesn’t seem to want to simply silence you.

He also wants to touch you.

A wide thumb strokes the underside of your jaw as he studies you. It slides down the column of your throat, the blue eyes gleaming with fascination when you swallow against him.

He drinks in the sight of you: the lips that part with fear, the frail collarbones that breathe against the side of his palm. The promising crevice between your breasts, the enticing softness of your teats. 

You can hear his breath grow heavy under ox skin and bone, the rugged, vicious helmet he has chosen to wear. What lies under, you can only imagine, wherein he has little left to the imagination when taking in the curve of your breasts, your nipples rising to peaks under the thin white linen only temple virgins use. 

Seeing your reaction to his touch makes him growl -- he actually growls like an animal, a deep, low rumble of approval rising up his throat when he sees how different your body is from his. How supple and cushy it is, soft and plump like a peach, covered only barely as if to tease a best like him. You wonder if he ever took pleasure in the maidens sent here by the king… If he ever thrust the sword between his legs into their weak bodies before giving them the mercy of his actual blade. Would he even know what to do with a woman, having lived here for so long?

“Please,” you whisper, bringing his eyes back to yours, the ice in them now liquid sapphire of pure want. 

Gods… You need to bring his attention back to your offer of help before he sees it more compelling to just stay here and play with his new, plump little mouse. Virgin or not, you wouldn’t survive a mating with this man. 

“I swear on Hecate’s torch that it’s not a trap. You have my word: I’m a priestess soon to be.”

He’s entranced. Hypnotized by your lips. You lick them to confirm your fears true: the man grunts with pleasure, out of instinct, absentmindedly like an animal who reacts to the sight of a fat, meaty bone. 

Oh, he might not know what to do with a woman… But he would try his best to find out. 

“Priestess…?” He rasps.

“It’s a holy woman,” you explain. “I serve the Goddess of the Crossroads.”

He snorts, either because he’s not impressed or because he’s downright amused by your vocation. The eyes, warmer, more demanding now, are far from the eyes of a bewildered beast.

“Little female of the crossroads... You will take me to the king. And then, I will kill him.”

He puts weight into his words, tries to make you understand. 

He wants you to guide him to his father. 

To the King who claims his son is half bull, to the husband who claims his wife was adulterous with an ox. To the King who demands tribute as virgins so that he can send them down to hell. The dark goddess screams justice, but you're at a horrible stalemate.

The gods will curse you for this… They will smite you with a bolt of lightning or drown you next time you cross the great sea if they see you’ve helped this half-beast escape. If you guide him to Minos, you’re a participant in kingslaying, and the gods never forget things like that.

“He’s your father and the king of Crete,” you whisper in fear. “The gods will strike you down–”

“Gods?” He spits. “I piss on the gods. I fuck their corpses and leave them to rot.”

You almost choke on the blasphemy levelled at you. The shadows creep closer, the stare behind the black fur is dark and amused, burning with the crooked wrath of a thousand years. 

“Perhaps I’ll fuck you too.”

It’s unnerving that you don’t find the threat wholly unappealing.

If anything, your eyes drift down to the hairs of his chest, to the two big muscles that resemble the work of the best sculptors in Athens. 

“Are you a virgin, female of the crossroads?”

His eyes search for your response: they want to see your fear and disgust. You swallow again, arduously against his hand, both caressing and testing you. 

The beast leans forward, as if weighing if he could somehow insult the gods by pillaging you. The rough hair of his chest meets the white cloth, it brushes against your nipples as he bends down to have a good sniff of you.

“You smell like a virgin,” he growls.

The hand leaves your throat, only to travel down your sternum. He grabs your breast nonchalantly, a little too roughly, the hot palm closing around the teat and squeezing it like it’s a toy. When you don’t react, he squeezes it again, this time hard enough to coax a whimper out of you.

“Sound like a virgin…”

Without warning, the hand dives straight between your legs next, palm forcing its way through your thighs and curving to cup your sex, moulding around it with barbaric thirst.

“Feel like a virgin, too.”

It’s thick, hot, and heavy, how he simply tries you through your dress. Fingers testing your folds, he’s clearly enjoying the subtle wetness he finds down there. You can hear another hitched grunt pushing up his throat, rugged and whiny this time, a broken groan that dissipates because of how dry his throat is. 

No man has ever dared to lay his hands on you... Many have wanted, but none have tried. Even drunkards and fools respect women who belong to the dark goddess.

But he doesn’t care about the wrath of Hecate. He doesn’t give a shit about the gods. He simply takes what he wants, what falls into his lap. The fifteenth offering, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in devouring your flesh. 

How easily he could simply yank that loincloth aside and drag your dress up. Force his cock into your tight, wet heat without uttering a word. You doubt that he would even take the trouble of laying you down on the ground for taking... Beasts rut when they want to: this man could fuck you against this wall if his loins demanded so, guttural groans being the last thing you hear before the candle goes out. 

You don’t know if you have to spread your legs for him before this is over, but you reckon you will do even that if it means you’ll see the sun again. You’ll endure every thick thrust, and gods be cursed, you wouldn’t even be solely disgusted if this half-animal chose to breed you... As shameful as it is, you would somewhat enjoy having him rut you like an animal in heat.

And you’ve gone mad, surely. 

You want to touch him too, just to test another theory. 

Deciding that it's a good idea to stick your hand into the maw of hell, your fingers lift. They meet his bicep, and the lewd panting stops.

He’s not even breathing… He’s just drowsy and drunk, looking at you with a mixture of soft sleepiness and awe in his stare. Like a dog who has never been petted, even his eyes drift half closed when he forgets to threaten you, now focusing solely on your hand. 

And you start to caress him, slowly, so slowly… Tracing the muscle all the way up where it meets the shoulder, you stroke even the thick cord that leads to his neck. The rest of him disappears under the bull, but the man behind it already shivers under your touch. He even bends his head a little in hopes that you would go under the mask and touch him there, and the gesture reminds you of an animal exposing its vulnerable areas, baring its very throat in submission. 

Braving a quick peek down, you notice that the buckskin cloth is stretched high and wide. His whole body is tense and immobile: you could cup him through the soft animal skin and he would probably shoot his seed from a single stroke of your palm. 

If this is not a virgin, you don’t know what is...

In a way, it would perhaps be wise to shove your hand down and disarm this man. That way, you would be safe for a few more minutes. Instead, you lay your palm over his chest, right over where his heart should be. 

“So do you, Bull of Crete...”

His gaze flickers.

The darkness hesitates, widens, nearly swallows the azure pools whole. But he doesn’t look irate or wild... Only shocked.

It’s an impasse. A thicket. His hand on you, your hand on him.

He surrenders first: the underworld budges before the utterly pure. You bless him with grace the instant he withdraws his hand from between your legs – slowly, reluctantly, like leaving a place that belongs to him. Or to which he belongs…

“I promise I’ll help you, Minos Tauros. But I need you to give me something in return.”

You remove your hand too. Softly, slowly, like a horse master who trains and tames wild things. All words seem to have escaped his tongue: he only grunts, unsure of what a beast like him could give you in return for your help.

“You must promise to be kind to me.”

“Kind...?”

“I need you to behave,” you explain. “No bad things on the way up... No fucking.”

Everything else, he seems to accept, but during the last sentence the Minotaur blinks at you, utterly confused.

“But... You smell like you want to fuck.” 

Your jaw drops open a tiny bit. Then you remember that a priestess of Hecate doesn’t gawk.

“I don’t–How would you know that…?”

The beast only shrugs. Then he leans forward and takes another sniff as if to prove it’s true that you want his cock inside you.

“You smell good,” he grunts. “Different... Female, not afraid.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to…”

He even raises his hand to inspect the slight wetness there. Fascinated by the thin film on his fingers, he rubs his thumb in it, probably thinking about bringing it under his mask to get a good sniff of your juices too.

You grab his wrist without thinking, mortified to your core by the prospect of him getting high on your slick. 

“Look. We need to leave before the candle burns out.”

The obsessive stare threatens to swallow you once more, so you let go of his wrist and steel your resolve. Scooting down to grab your things, you try to ignore the violent erection still pointing straight at you.

Hecate keep you from offering yourself to this man out of your own free will...

And you don’t have a torch, only a candle and a skein of blood-red yarn, but you know the way out, so there’s hope. There’s always hope.

“I need you to promise me,” you turn at the mouth of the tunnel, seeing that he’s still standing there, in the place where he almost took you like his first whore. As if waking up from a thrall, he straightens to his full height, picks up his sword and looks like a half-human, half-bull once more.

“I promise,” comes a booming voice from under the animal skull. “No fucking… I’ll behave.” 

You nod. There's a sense of trust in the air. A promise of hope... It's mutual, invigorating -- life-giving, like the sun and blood in your hands.

You don't know if the son of Minos has ever smiled in here, but from the quick glint in his eyes, you suspect that he's smiling right now, the man under that animal mask. Somehow, it reminds you of the stars in the sky.

“Lead the way, maiden.”

[tylerxrbtwhp]

Personal Favourite Fanfics | Genshin Impact

Huh.. I truly was depressed when I did Pierro's fanfic list 😭

Zhongli Unraveled Pretenses https://www.tumblr.com/osmanthus-wine-addiction/754168046440038400/zhongli-x-fox-spirit-reader?source=share Borrowed Time https://www.tumblr.com/komorim/754157109187330048/borrowed-time?source=share

Terror https://www.tumblr.com/xu-ren/661630647451975680/terror?source=share

Every Lifetime https://www.tumblr.com/missjuno/684692317765009408/%E0%AD%A8%E0%AD%A7-%EF%BE%9F-every-lifetime-%C9%9E-zhongli-x-gn?source=share

Your Neighbour https://www.tumblr.com/qingxin-s/667012062627741696/%CA%8F%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%9C%CA%80-%C9%B4%E1%B4%87%C9%AA%C9%A2%CA%9C%CA%99%E1%B4%8F%E1%B4%9C%CA%80%E1%B4%A2%CA%9C%E1%B4%8F%C9%B4%C9%A2%CA%9F%C9%AA?source=share

Hatred https://www.tumblr.com/xu-ren/669512511465357312/hatred?source=share

Sleep Well, My Love https://www.tumblr.com/genshin-impact-writings/647725397741633536/sleep-well-my-love-zhongli-x-gnreader-summary?source=share

Remembrance https://www.tumblr.com/thedandelion-writer/643545014955376640/remembrance?source=share

A Christmas Miracle https://haitaniapologist.tumblr.com/post/706266727557840896/a-christmas-miracle-zhongli-x-reader-you

Embrace https://favoniuscodex.tumblr.com/post/645854119108771840/embrace-zhongli-x-reader

Seasonal Difficulties https://ddarker-dreams.tumblr.com/post/655092669545152513/seasonal-difficulties-yan-zhongli-x-f-reader

Breeding Kink https://snowpeawritings.tumblr.com/post/637188117904916480/pairing-zhongli-x-femreader-genre

Dying Light https://yandere-romanticaa.tumblr.com/post/656790318694481920/dying-light-a-yandere-zhongli-x-reader-oneshot

Lovesick https://solarisensun.tumblr.com/post/674949545660121088?is_related_post=1

Neuvillitte

A Dance With The Dragon I - The Tides Beckon (1) https://yandere-romanticaa.tumblr.com/post/743591699580846080

A Dance With The Dragon II - Mates (2) https://www.tumblr.com/draconic-desire/742969723686387712/a-dance-with-the-dragon-ii-mates

A Dance With The Dragon III - Opera (3) https://www.tumblr.com/draconic-desire/742996062973902848/a-dance-with-the-dragon-iii-opera?source=share

A Dance With The Dragon IV - Escape (4) https://www.tumblr.com/draconic-desire/745259544400281600/a-dance-with-the-dragon-iv-escape?source=share

Do Not Weep Hydro Dragon https://yandere-wishes.tumblr.com/post/726284980190396416/do-not-weep-hydro-dragon

Legally Binding https://wri0thesley.tumblr.com/post/733011751175700480/legally-binding-neuvillette-x-reader-84k

Anything For You https://itadorey.tumblr.com/post/729030992816422912/pairing-neuvillette-x-freader-notes-just-fluff

[No Name {?}] (Platonic) https://www.tumblr.com/spadecentral/751595204687134720/hes-your-father-neuvillette-reader?source=share

Plushie Shenanigans https://www.tumblr.com/mermaidfanficlibrary/734598424681414656/plushie-shenanigans-neuivillette-x-male-reader?source=share

Wipe Away All The Muck And Foolish Dreams https://www.tumblr.com/lumierexfics/739307430172819456/chat-log-name-wipe-away-all-the-muck-and-foolish?source=share

Miracle Aligners https://silkjade.tumblr.com/post/726454570046390272/miracle-aligners-featuring-neuvillette-x-reader

Water Tasting https://genshin-obsessed.tumblr.com/post/729288707737370624/water-tasting-neuvillette-x-reader

Justice https://manias-wordcount.tumblr.com/post/732575476632240128/justice-neuvillette-h-hes-been-distracted

Eyes https://wri0thesley.tumblr.com/post/749310399866863616/eyes-neuvillette-x-reader-85k

Quiet Perception https://diorsbrando.tumblr.com/post/726429744694951936/quiet-perception-neuvillette

Taste Of You https://crystalflygeo.tumblr.com/post/729641045834579968/taste-of-you-ft-neuvillette-femreader-cwtags

Zhongli x Reader x Neuvillette

[No Name] https://kiwicopia.tumblr.com/post/738998525813309440/mdni-neuvillette-x-gnreader-x-zhongli-blurb

[poetryandfluffycats]

Quiz time!

A/N: took a small break but im back and im writing bungo fics. hope you enjoy

Pairing: Kidnapper!Nikolai Gogol x fem!reader

Warnings: dark content, kidnapping, mentions of animal violence, mentions of human violence, implied abuse

Content: Nikolais been keeping you trapped in his basement for 3 weeks now. What does he have in store for you today? You have no idea

Words: 1.0k

Oneshot under cut!

"Oh darling! I'm home!"

The infamous voice of Nikolai Gogol shot through the basement, followed by the sound of his leather shoes creaking against the stairs. My head snapped up from its place on the pillow, watching him with wide eyes as he descended to the bottom of the staircase. The jester had a smile on his face, seeming all too giddy about... something. What that something was, I had no idea.

He was quick to skip over to me, looming over my curled up form under the covers, a hand buried deep into the abyss of his coat. He pulled out a bouquet of pink roses, shoving them under my nose. "For you, my dove" he purred, his voice dripping like sickly sweet honey.

I took them, albeit hesitantly, and examined them with a cautious eye. They were pretty, a light, pastel pink color with a white ribbon tied around the stems, and smelt like heaven. A sweet-but not too strong-floral scent that reminded me of the spring time. It was a nice gift, no one could deny that, but knowing Nikolai...

There had to be some type of ulterior motive.

"Pretty..." I murmured, holding the flowers close to my chest. "Thank you..."

I hadn't spoken much since I got here, only ever really muttering a word or two to keep him satisfied. He talked enough for the both of us, anyway, or at least that's what he had said when my lack of words first was noticed by him.

"Only the best for my sweetest dove! Now, come come, what shall we do today? You're probably just dying to have some fun, right? Aha! I know!" Before I could fully understand anything he had said, Nikolai pulled the covers back and lifted me in his arms, carrying me bridal style as he twirled around the basement.

"Quiz time!"

Quiz time. His way of asking personal questions on the justification that it was 'just a game' and 'there's no need to be shy". Sometimes he'd throw in random questions about Ukrainian literature, to which I almost never got right. I think that maybe he thought that asking a few general questions among all the pervy, personal ones would make me more comfortable, or less likely to catch on to the real meaning behind his game. It didn't.

I hated Quiz time.

Nikolai plopped me down on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of me. His teeth showed as his lips curled upwards into a toothy grin, head tilted to the side and eyes blown wide. Maybe that's just how he always looked.

"Question 1! What is your favorite color?"

It was such a simple question, childish even. Something a teacher would ask their preschoolers on the first day of school. Yet, it made my throat close up, heat beating faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. What was my favorite color? Did I even have one anymore? What was the point in having a favorite color if I was trapped down here?

"Uh..." I stuttered, eyes flickering around the room. Anywhere was better than Nikolais cold, mismatched eyes. "Purple... b-but I also like red"

Nikolai clapped his hands together, a high pitched squeal leaving his lips. "Wonderful! Gosh you are just too cute, I might simply combust! But then you'd be stuck cleaning my brains off the wall which I don't think you'd like very much, so I'll refrain for you, my darling"

Cleaning brains off the walls? He said it so casually, like it was a normal passtime for him. Was it? Probably.

"Question 2! What is your favorite animal?"

This one was easy enough, and a small smile creeped onto my face as I answered. "Kittys, I have a few at home. They're the best little guys"

My heart ached at the thought of my fur babies. How long had they gone without food or water? Without being pat or doted on? Did they miss me? Had someone taken them in or were they sitting at the window waiting for my return?

Would I return?

Nikolai squealed again, his smile growing impossibly wider, the tips of his lips nearly touching his ears. "Cats are adorable! So fluffy and cute and squishy! I would just love to squeeze them until their little heads popped off!"

He suddenly scooted closer to me, the space between us slowly decreasing until our knees knocked together. He brought his fingers up to my cheeks, pinching them as if I was a baby. "Just like you! Squish, squish, squish! So damn cute"

Our noses bumped together as he leaned in closer, those cold eyes hyper-focused on my lips. I felt like I might hurl as his hands trailed down from my cheeks to my waist, his fingernails digging into the flimsy fabric of the nightgown he forced me into my first day here. This was wrong. So, so wrong.

"Please" I whined, tears threatening to spill at any second. "Please don't"

I had been so lucky the past 3 weeks with him not touching me, not with sexual intent anyway. No kissing, no touching, no... sex. Nothing. He would ask his stupid questions, force me to play his stupid games, and lay with me in bed at night, but that was it. But now, it seemed my luck had finally run out.

"Question 3!" Nikolais voice dropped an octave, sending a shiver down my spine. "Now, dove, this is the last question, so make sure you pay extra attention, mkay?"

Not like I had a choice.

"Who do you love the most in this whole wide world?"

There was only answer to that question. Only one answer he wanted, anyway. I had learned the hard way what the consequences of getting it 'wrong' were. It was so degrading, humiliating, dehumanising even, the punishment he had given me for answering with the wrong person. I wasn't keen to go through that again.

"You, Nikolai. I love you the most" I sounded robotic, like a puppet. Which in reality, I kind of was. Just a little puppet in his clown show.

"Correct! 3 for 3, you're so smart! Now, for the reward"

And then, his chapped, cracked, messily painted lips were on mine. It wasn't recpirocated, it wasn't even pleasant. It was gross, slimy, wet like a fish. Maybe I could pretend I was making out with a fish. That would've been million times better than this bullshit.

I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated myself.

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

THREE WAY

AN NSFW RACEWAY AU ONESHOT

@spyderlondon

WARNING: ⚠️ NSFW,MDNI⚠️ VERY OOC, no plot, no lore, 2 on 1, monster tongues, rough sex, double penetration, PinV, oral, anal, choking, bulging, cum overflow, overstimulation, masterbation, dry humping

~~~

A/N: THIS WAS SO HORNY FROM THE START, I HAD TO PUT THE WHOLE THING UNDER THE CUT! ENJOY!

Pomni squirmed against her hand between her legs. She rubbed her groin harshly through her tracksuit, desperate for some semblance of friction. No matter how hard she pulled, the zipper down the center of her suit didn't budge. "Come on..." She whimpered.

Restless energy rippled through her like a race rush that wouldn't wear off. Her breaths came hot and heavy, her legs squirming with need. She felt hot waves of buzzing static in the code of her avatar, like she was on the verge of glitching, but never going over.

She couldn't take it. She lifted her red gloved hand and snapped. Her tightly closed eyes opened when she felt her bed shift. She was no longer in her room in the garage, she wasn't even in her own bed anymore. She has been teleported to a grand masterbedroom of bold reds and golds.

Caine was sitting in a high back armchair, smoking his pipe by a fireplace. "Evening, my dear. I was wondering when you'd call. Today's excitement really has you wound up. I can feel it from here." He looks over to her, his eyes smoldering.

"Caine, please. Help me take care of this. I need you. I really...need you."

"Hm. Begging will get you everywhere with me." He chuckles. "But this seems...bigger than a one man job. Don't you agree?"

Pomni shuddered. "More than you..?"

"Oh yes, and I do believe he's just been dying to sink his fangs into you. It should be an entertaining watch." Caine snapped his fingers and the shadow he cast grew. The shadow molded and took shape from the floor, stepping towards Pomni with purpose.

Pomni dug her fingers into the sheets as the shadow's details came into focus. "Seth."

Seth spreads her knees with his own as he leans over her. His leather gloves hands brace on either side of her head. His piercing silver eyes look Pomni over hungrily as his double forked tongues glide along his teeth. "Such a delicious sight. The greatest racer, reduced to mewling for a good fuck."

"Are you here to dance or talk? Because I'm already bored." Pomni sassed.

Caine snorted, leaning against his hand in amusement. He loosened his tie and pulled it off. "My, my, someone's feeling bratty today. Seth, I don't think we should take that."

Seth gripped Pomni's neck and pulled her up to his face. "We won't. Be careful what you wish for, racer." With his words, wisps of shadow seeped out from under his clothes and wormed their way under Pomni's.

Pomni squirmed against Seth's tight hold on her neck. The shadows mingled inside her avatar, slithering like snakes under static skin. The sensations lit up her body with unique waves of pleasure. "What...what are you doing?" She barely squeaks out.

"Rendering." Caine stood up and his coat slid off his shoulders. He neatly laid it over the arm of his chair. "I've been busy. Trying to make everything a bit more...real. Haven't you found it strange that you're struggling to breathe when you don't need air?"

Seth pressed the fingers of his free hand between Pomni's legs. She jumped, he smirked at her reaction. "So sensitive. It won't take much to make you whimper."

In a flash of silver Pomni found herself straddling Seth's lap, her back against his chest, his hand still on her neck, the other still between her legs. Pomni held onto Seth's forearms, not struggling against his hold. She was actually grinding into Seth's lap, eager for more.

Caine held the zipper of Pomni's tracksuit. Gold energy lit up his hand. "And like magic..." He drags down the zipper, revealing a pale white female body hiding behind the colorful tracksuit.

Pomni felt warm and light headed. The code of her avatar felt like real skin. Small breasts perked, exposed to the cool room. She looked longingly at Caine.

"Ease back, Seth. Wouldn't want the poor thing to pass out before we've even started." Caine cupped Pomni's breasts. Thumbs grazing over her nipples.

Seth loosened his grip and Pomni gasped for air. She barely got a breath when Caine leaned down and shoved his tongue into her mouth. Caine's disembodied eyes watched with glee as Pomni welcomed him in greedily. Seth's tongues flow over Pomni's collar bones and slide inside her suit.

Pomni dry humped against Seth, the friction sends her spiraling. Hands exploring and groping, tongues tasting her inside and out. Then teeth. A sharp pierce on her shoulder makes her groan against Caine. Seth has dug one of his fangs into her.

Pomni shook with pleasure as an unexpected orgasm took over her body. The multitude of sensations left her reeling, but they did not stop. Caine was now pinching and licking at her chest. Seth was taking a turn at her mouth and kept rubbing her soaked pussy.

"I need that mouth to swallow more than my tongue." Seth growled. "Take her."

Caine snapped and positions changed. Pomni was on her hands and knees on the bed. Seth was on his knees in front of her. Caine behind her. Seth unzipped his pants to reveal a shadowed phallis. It wasn't quite realistic, more stiff tentacle in appearance. He dug his fingers in her hair and thrust his dick against her cheek, he chuckled when she recoiled slightly. "What's the matter? I thought you were here to play." His voice arrogant.

Caine snapped away Pomni's tracksuit, leaving her naked and exposed. He gripped her hips, grinding his clothed hard on against Pomni's wet thighs. "Be careful what you wish for." He echoed Seth.

"Just don't poke my eye out, jerk." Pomni hissed and dragged her tongue along Seth's shaft. She only got one more stroke in before Seth was pushing her lips down on his length. Pomni tried to bring up one of her hands to brace against Seth but it was held down to the bed by a wisp of shadow. All four of her limbs were held down.

Pomni sucked and swallowed Seth down her throat. Looking up, she caught his glowing eyes watching her intently. Caine was moving in tandem with her movements.

Caine released his own phallic appendage with a groan, his pants uncomfortably tight. He spread Pomni's ass cheeks, taking her all in. "So many options...eeny meeny miney this one." He drove himself into her vagina in one strong thrust.

Pomni jerked forward on Seth, a moan muffled in her throat. The rough treatment made her eyes roll back, Caine burying himself inside her and moving with Seth. As she was moved back and forth, tongues slid around her body. They teased and tasted her abdomen and chest.

Pomni lost herself in the torrent of pleasure. It was overwhelming, drowning her. She let Caine and Seth move her, being stretched at both ends.

It was Caine touching her clit that sent her over the edge again. She shuddered, tightening around Caine. His thrusts went out of sync, chasing his high after hers. Seth kept his movements smooth until he was spilling down her throat, the only tell he was cumming was a husky sigh.

Pomni swallowed load after load, as Caine pumped himself into her from the bottom. There was so much of it. It spilled down her thigh and neck. Her thin body lightly distending from the volume of cum.

Seth finally let Pomni breathe. She coughed and gasped, cum dripping from her lips. He eyed Caine holding himself to Pomni's hips. "You done yet? It's my turn to stuff that pussy."

"So impatient." Caine rolled his eyes and snapped. Positions changed again. Pomni straddled Seth laying on the bed. He wasted no time sliding his cum and spilt covered dick inside her leaking vagina.

Pomni had no energy to move. "Forget it..."

"Are you calling for a red flag?" Caine stopped to ask.

"No, I'm just not moving. I don't care what you two do."

"Very well." Caine pushed Pomni forward, exposing her tight asshole. He kneeled down and his flexible tentacle of a dick wiggled inside, slowly stretching her out.

Pomni gasped and gripped Seth. His strong, gloved hands grabbed her hips and moved her against him. She felt so full, it was an indescribable amount of pleasure mixed with pain. She felt dizzy with overstimulation.

Seth and Caine fucked her holes harder than before, sinfully taking Pomni for all she was worth. Pomni panted against Seth's shoulder, holding onto him for dear life. Seth's head floated away from his shoulders and chomped down on one of Pomni's ass cheeks, his eyes watching it all from 3rd person.

For the third time, Pomni orgasmed hard enough to make her shake. She cried out in pleasure at full volume now that nothing was in her mouth. Her lower abdomen distended a little further as Seth filled her.

Seth got off on Pomni's scream. He thrust up and added his own cum to the dripping cream pie that was Pomni. He eyes lulled out of focus midair, rejoining with his teeth before they fell.

Caine has too much gusto this round. He kept going, moving Pomni against Seth. Both Seth and Pomni moaned, going along for the ride. Seth shamelessly made out with Pomni, tasting himself on her tongue.

Caine roughly thrust his rut into Pomni, surely ruining her ability to walk or sit for days to come. He came with a loud groan, painting her inside with hot strings of cum. "Holy-..." He trailed off, shaking with overstimulation.

Caine and Seth slid out, cum leaking from both of Pomni's holes. Caine snapped, Pomni curled up against chest as he relaxed back on the bed.

Seth stood, stretching and zipping his pants. He lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. "Not your worst idea, Caine."

"Heh, high praise, coming from you." Caine sighed and kissed the top of Pomni's head. "Did you have fun, dear?"

"Oh yeah...I'm going to need a double order from now on." Pomni hugged Caine's chest, burying her face into his shirt and sighing contently.

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

girls just wanna have fun | nash gold jr + younger sister!reader

for anon who asked “Since you did a Nash with a little brother headcanons, could you do Nash with a little sister? (Maybe like a 2 year difference)” … yeah so much for that. in my defence i did start writing hcs with a 2 year difference, but then i had a Vision and suddenly words started flowing through my head for the first time in weeks so i had to type at the speed of light to get them down before my phone died. then my phone died anyway so the second half of this was originally written on a napkin. being sat on a train floor writing fanfiction on a napkin is possibly the most loser-y thing i’ve ever done but hey, at least i had fun. you might still get some hcs - it depends on if i can be bothered / how well this au does, but i hope you like this oneshot anyway!

“Practice more next time,” is what 12-year-old Nash tells you, age seven, after you’re eliminated in the first round of the school’s spelling bee.

Then he sees your lip start to wobble.

He rolls his eyes and adds, “but they gave you the hardest word. Totally.”

As he listens to you complaining about how unfair life is, whilst knowing that, at your age, he could have spelt “rosette” backwards, Nash just keeps biting his tongue. Lets you rant and nods in agreement whenever you check to see if he’s still listening.

He’s a big brother now, that’s how his parents put it, he has to be a good role model. And - this is what Nash is thinking to himself - he has to be an extra good big brother to make up for the useless parents who should have been here for their daughter’s first spelling bee. He has to be the one promising he’ll take you to the ice cream shop round the corner so that, in years from now, it’ll be the vanilla that sticks in your memory, and not the two empty chairs with “reserved for the Golds” on the seats. He doesn’t want you to think of your childhood years like how he thinks of his.

Nash Gold tries hard to keep his little sister happy.

-

But once Nash goes into high school, and starts taking his basketball, water sports, boxing, and everything else more seriously, there’s less time for being the stand-in parent attending all your events.

The good news is that you start doing less anyway. The preteen years have made you shy away from the world, flitting from hobby to hobby without anything to really bury your soul in. There was the anime-inspired volleyball obsession that died as soon as you finished your binging the seasons; the brief craving to join the basketball club until you realised just how incompetent your teammates were compared to Nash, how boring and difficult everything was when it was not your big brother doing it; the desire to be the West End’s next star that was crushed by receiving the role of tree in the school play and tripping over in your only scene (how Nash had laughed! And then scowled at the people laughing at you next to him); and then the single-day infatuation with joining the chess club, the infatuation dying as soon as you realised your chess-playing crush already had a girlfriend.

To fill your time, you start accompanying Nash to Jabberwock’s practices. No one wants you there. Nash has forbidden them from swearing around you, and any sex jokes are an even bigger no: given these two things combined are 90% of the usual Jabberwock conversation, it’s not a surprise that there’s grumbling when they see you walking behind Nash.

But Nash silences any grumbling with a glare as cold as ice.

Because, sure, he doesn’t want his little sister following him around everywhere but he’d much rather you were doing your homework in the corner of a street ball court instead of sat alone in an empty house.

Nash’s priority is always that you finish your homework. Only then will he let you help out as the team’s mini manager: topping up water bottles, fetching balls, collecting the boy’s hoodies when they get too warm. And, over time, your place in the team feels more secure. You’re good in your role as the little helper. You crack a “that’s what she said” joke that gets everyone guffawing - everyone but Nash, that is, who scolds you the high heavens, demands to know where you’ve been hearing jokes like that, whilst, in his heart of hearts, being thrilled that you’re coming out of your shell. You sit down with Nick during breaks to ooh and aah over his Animal Crossing Island, trembling with excitement when he hands you the Nintendo and lets you design a room of your own. You beg Zack to teach you to spin a basketball on your finger, and hug him overjoyed when you manage it for the first time. You fetch fresh headbands for Allen while looking down at the ground, blushing frantically: your crush on the boy lasts several months, though you never notice how Nash burns holes in Allen’s head whenever the two of you are talking, or how awkward having a middle schooler crush on him makes Allen feel.

Then, one day, you decide you want to learn how to do a dunk. After spending an hour watching you struggle to jump even one foot up in the air, Jason lifts you up onto his shoulders. Tells you to “try now - just tell me where you want me to go and hold on tight.”

Looking around from over 7ft tall, you feel like you’re the queen of the world.

-

By the time you’re in high school, you’ve become more confident. You don’t come to Jabberwock’s practices as often. You’ve got friends to hang out with instead, a study group that you always attend, and, inspired by your brother’s prowess in everything fisticuffs, you’ve signed up to be member of the school’s taekwondo club.

Nash never makes you to come to practice. Though it hurts seeing your corner of the court empty, devoid of the rucksack and textbooks that used to fill it, he knows that this is for the best. A teen girl shouldn’t be living in her brother’s shadow. Hell, a guy shouldn’t have his little sister in his shadow either.

But Nash still finds it hard to hold back a grin when you see him grabbing his basketball bag and ask if you can “come with?” And when you’re at practice, it’s like nothing’s changed. You join in with everyone else teasing Zack over his newly shaven head; you still get a little shy when talking to Allen; and you whoop and gush over Nick’s high arc shots as if you’ve never seen them before.

“You’re my number two favourite basketball player ever,” you tell Nick, rushing over to him as he awkwardly runs his hand through his spiky blonde hair.

Overhearing, Allen says with a little hope, “he’s not number one?”

“Obviously not,” you roll your eyes, “Nash is my number one. Duh.”

No one loves Nash as much as you do, and no one loves you as much as he does.

-

It turns out Nash is an anomaly, and that combat sport skill does not run in the family. You are horrible at taekwondo: your kicks are accurate - surprisingly so given how bad your balance is - but, no matter how many drills you do, or how many times you insist Nash comes up with a workout routine for you, they never develop much power.

But you’re trying hard to improve, forever inspired by your brother, and you take any chance to kick that you’re given.

“Taekwondo?” asks Jason one morning, as practices a free throw. “They don’t have any good martial arts clubs at your school?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d felt the pain of my kicks,” you retort, hands on your hips.

Jason turns to you. “Go on then.”

You ready yourself, check your footing’s correct, and then swing your leg out. With a thud, your foot makes contact with Jason’s side.

He stares at you, almost in pity. “That’s it?”

But Nash is walking by and he’s glaring like he normally does whenever someone that’s not him makes him little sister look inadequate. So, dutifully, Jason falls backwards in slo-mo and pretends to roll on the floor in agony, crying out for his mother and claiming that he’s never known such pain, while you give him another kick in his side for being a jerk.

(Nash never scolds you for kicking his teammates, though, of course, he’d have a fit if any of them even looked at you wrong.)

Of course, you’re not an idiot; you know you’re not good at taekwondo. But, unlike all your previous school clubs, you’re not planning on leaving this one. After all, without the club, you’d have no opportunities to say good morning to star of the Taekwondo club, Ryuu. And you’d never get to feel his fingers brushing against your arm as he corrects your posture; you’d never get to see his grin and thumbs up as he tells you he’s sure your kicks are improving; and, more importantly, you would have never got the opportunity to wait for him outside the dojang, see him walk out looking more handsome than ever, and ask him if he’d ever think about going out with you.

“Think about it?” Ryuu replies. “Man, I dream of it!”

Smiling from ear to ear, he reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours, and he doesn’t let go of your hand until he’s walked you all the way home. The feeling of his touch lingers, the warmth flooding through your veins, and keeping your smile fixed on your face.

Nash is sitting on the sofa when you walk in. He looks up from his phone and frowns, “who was the guy?”

“I’m dating the coolest guy in the whole school,” you gush, racing to your brother’s side to tell him all about Ryuu, and you’re still talking about the boy - enthusing now about his Taekwondo prowess - by the time Nash starts preparing dinner.

Nash says he’s happy that you’re happy, grunts occasionally in agreement with your rambles, and accepts the fact that this is probably all he’ll be hearing for the next few hours.

“You’re not upset with me, are you?” you ask eventually, noticing how your brother’s gone quiet.

“Never” replies Nash. “Why would I have an issue with you dating a guy who’s made you this happy?”

But it’s funny how often you bump into him when you’re out with said boyfriend. And not just Nash: it’s like the whole team starts appearing out of nowhere at cafes, parks, funfairs. And these chance encounters always follow the same trend: the boys are happy to see you, chatty and joking, and then they look at Ryuu and their faces take on a cold sneer, every inch the vicious Jabberwock archetype they’re known for.

Nash tells him, “you look after my sister, yeah? Or else.” And if looks could kill…

Zack pretends to be polite, saying “well, I’ve got no problem with you - for now. You make sure to keep it that way.”

Nick has to hold back a snicker as he replies to your boyfriend with “yeah, nice to meet you man, whatever.” Then he turns to you and whispers, “you would have been better off with Allen.”

Allen wipes the sneer of his face when you ask him to be nice; he smiles at you, but then, as he meets your boyfriend’s gaze, he mumbles to you, “you’ve got my number if you ever need me to sort any problems out.”

Jason says, “this guy? Seriously? Shit, I could snap in two him like a twig.”

By the time he meets Jason, your boyfriend’s long fed up of the slander. He stands up from the bench, even though it only makes him look smaller against Jason’s muscular 6ft11 frame, looks up into the other man’s amused expression, and replies, “with all due respect, I was the Taekwondo state champion last year.”

Jason’s laugh is so loud and booming it practically triggers an earthquake.

-

Ryuu’s a good boyfriend. Nash never learns to genuinely like him, but he stops disliking him as much as time goes on. He orders pizza for the three of you when you and Ryuu are doing a study date at the Gold household; he drives you to Ryuu’s Taekwondo tournament and grudgingly claps when he wins; or he throws a couple condoms at Ryuu when you’re snuggling against your boyfriend on your bed, watching your favourite movie together.

“You should be grateful I’m such a good brother,” Nash laughs when you start punching him for embarrassing the two of you like this. “You know, when I was your age…”

“Go away, Nash!” you screech, pushing him out of the room, “God, you’re such a nuisance.”

“All I’m saying is use protection,” comes Nash’s sniggering voice as you slam the door shut behind him.

You walk back over to Ryuu. “I’m sorry about him. Honestly, he’s the worst.”

“Nah, your brother’s cool,” says Ryuu, but he’s still blushing a bit as he gives you that golden grin of his that makes you feel like you’re his entire world.

-

But all good things come to an end.

Ryuu moves to a new state where he’ll be able to get better Taekwondo instruction. His coach thinks he’s got Olympic potential - they don’t want him to be wasted in this city where nothing good ever happens - and his parents are in agreement.

“They said the sooner I leave, the better for my future,” quotes Ryuu as squeezes your hand, looking down at the ground beneath the swings you’re sharing. “But I wanted you to be my future.”

Nash had told you not to interfere - that you don’t want to be the person holding Ryuu back from his dreams - so you encourage Ryuu to go, tell him that you’ll still be his future, it’s just a few years of separation.

And it’s Nash who drives you to the airport and watches from a distance as the two of you hug for the final time, promising to say in contact, promising that you’ll be able to make long distance work.

When you walk back to Nash, your lip’s wobbling like it did back when you were seven. As soon as he wraps his arm around you, you burst into tears, sobbing into his shirt. Your brother hugs you tighter, like he’s the only thing in the world keeping you from falling into pieces. His voice is quiet and calm and betrays none of the pain he feels looking at your crying figure.

Into the top of your head, Nash mutters, “As soon as the season’s over, you and I will go on a road trip to go see him, alright? And you can call him every night if you want. And if he even thinks of looking at another girl, or ignoring a single text of yours, Jason and I will fly over and deal with him. Or we’ll kidnap him and bring him back to you if that’s what you want.”

You’re crying harder, fingers clutching onto Nash’s shirt even tighter.

“I’ll skip practice today if you want; we can do a movie night instead.”

Voice muffled by how your face is pressed into Nash’s chest, so none of the passersby might see you crying, you reply, “no. You should go to practice.”

“I’m not gonna leave you alone like this.”

“Can I come?”

“What - to practice? Yeah, ‘course. The boys are always happy to have you around.”

You look up and force a smile, biting on your tongue like it might stop you crying, as Nash matches your smile with a sad grin of his own.

“It’s gonna be rough, but you’ll get through it,” he says, “you’re the toughest kid I know.”

And he pulls you in for another hug.

fun fact: the original plan was for the boyfriend to cheat on reader who breaks up with him, and then for jabberwock to go teach him a lesson. but then i thought “why the need for all this violence?”, me of course being the admin of a blog dedicated to a team that’s known for their non-violent ways. but anyway i figured it was an overused trope and why not show nash being an actually good supportive brother, so here you go. (and if anyone enjoyed reading about the lesser known jabberwock members, then you might also like these hcs) (and if you wanna read the nash little brother hcs, you can find them here)

[look-a-yandere-fandom-blog]

Denial | Oneshot

_________________________________

The Obsessed / Gender Neutral Reader

Fandom: Middle Earth: Shadow of War 

_________________________________

Romantic Yandere.

PT 2 |

_________________________________

Content Warning: Violence, stalking, delusional/obsessive/possessive behaviour, blood.

(If there’s anything else I need to add to these warnings, please let me know.)

I once told myself that I'd never write anything LOTR-adjacent because of the huge amount of lore surrounding it and fear of messing something up...

Apparently, I lied XD

I'll admit, this one's kinda OC-ish, as the obsessed are randomly generated rather than fully fledged characters, but I tried to keep it close to their in-game personalities/dialog.

How well did that go? No idea. Enjoy anyways!

_________________________________

Watch.

That is all you are here to do.

To survey. To observe. To gather intel.

To listen in on grumbled conversations and examine strongholds for weaknesses.

To keep your distance, and stay out of sight.

Travelling in the lands of Mordor is a perilous task. The dangers of which you are well aware of. It's terrain harsh and unforgiving. It's inhabitants even more so. You know the risks of getting caught.

Which is why your heart stops at the glint of a weapon overhead.

"A scout, eh? You pinkskins can't help sneakin' around where ya don't belong."

Your hand lunges for the sword at your hip, conjuring it just in time to block the downward swing. An axe meets your blade, the cold clatter echoing in the dark.

You look up, and a pair of beady eyes meet yours. Vivid yellow, almost aglow in the dying light of a nearby fire, set behind a worn helmet, its once-shining gleam reduced to a dull grey.

With a sidestep, you pull your blade back. The orc's weapon charging to the floor, but hitting nothing in its journey.

You glance around, searching for the safest escape route, your peripheral vision impaired by your cloak's hood. Your best chance is to get away from this outpost. Staying to fight means that others may become involved. Already at a disadvantage here, you are in no hurry to worsen your predicament.

However, the orc is blocking your path. You have to make it past him first.

A grumble sounds from the orc as he works to dislodge his axe from the ground. Curses are hissed under his breath, before it is yanked up in a flurry of dirt and dust. Focused on regaining his footing, he is distracted.

Holding your sword firmly, you sprint as an opening is given. The wind whistles in your ears as your soles hit the earth.

Mid-stride, his claws snatch your cloak.

You yelp, suddenly jerked back. As the fabric tears, he grabs for your forearm instead.

Sharp nails dig into your flesh. Indents left in their wake. Your wrist is kept in place, to stop you from ramming your sword into him.

He raises his weapon but...

It does not fall.

He stares. Baring his teeth as his eyes waver. Chest rising and falling steadily.

In your terror, you cannot make sense of it. He should have struck by now. He should have buried that blood-stained steel into your skull. Why does he not? Why does he wait?

The axe moves down slowly, agonisingly. Only centimetres from your face. A few specks of dirt land on your skin. The point is hooked under the hem of your hood.

He nudges the axe forward, bit by bit, until your hood falls back, collapsing around your neck. The fire's light glazes your features, illuminating your bewilderment.

There is a quiet noise from beneath his helm, a hum, while his head tilts to the side. His eyes flicker back and forth, scanning what they have found. An animal analysing its catch.

Then, he leans in. With his weapon still so close, you do not dare to retaliate, should he be spurred to attack.

The orc's helmet bumps against your forehead; an icy contrast to the warmth of your skin. Nose to nose.

Seconds tick by in silence. He seems to be settling, nearly dazed in demeanour. A million thoughts hovering behind his distant gaze which you do not know. And you hope you never will.

A single word is mumbled, almost subconsciously, barely heard over your own panic.

"Mine..."

His axe lowers, hanging loosely by his side...

You take your opportunity.

A kick to the leg and his balance is shaken. You wrench your arm from his hold, drawing blood as his nails scrape across your flesh.

Without looking back, you run.

You run until you cannot breathe. Until you are far from that outpost. Until you are far from him.

In the days after, you shove the encounter out of your mind. Nothing new can be discovered by wondering. Recalling the experience over and over will not reveal any unknown truths.

Yet, as you set yourself back to work, something feels... different.

Wherever you venture, there is the sensation of something watching you. Hiding in the bushes, perching atop a tower, lurking in the dark.

Never free of it. Never a moment without it.

You chalk it up to nerves. Merely the weight of your post getting to you. Besides, if you were found, it would be more efficient to bluntly attempt to kill you. There is no need for an enemy to spy on a scout.

You tell yourself that it is naught but fear. Pathetic fear. Again and again. Till you almost believe it.

Thankfully, you soon need to report to your superiors. Leaving this place should give you a few days of freedom from the poisoning paranoia of Mordor's lands.

The world is quiet as you take cautious steps across the night, approaching the border into Gondor; staying far from every fortress and outpost you know.

It is not entirely silent. The sounds of unseen creatures and distant altercations resound in the shadows. Leaves rustle upon trees. Rocks crunch and clink under foot. Your torn cloak flutters like a bird's wings behind you.

There is an odd security in the isolation. A comfort in the solitude. You feel alone. For the first time in days, you feel completely and entirely alone.

Until you spot them...

Eyes. Yellow eyes. Watching you.

A shaky breath of disbelief leaves your lungs. The chance of encountering him again, all the way out here, is too small to be coincidence. He followed you. No doubt in your mind. But for what purpose, you have no clue.

The figure emerges as his lips curve up into a crinkled grin. Armour outlined by a dull sheen in the moonlight.

The confusion that filled his expression during your previous encounter has been replaced. His eyes flicker instead with an unnerving resolution. A determination that you cannot place the source of.

In a moment of déjà vu, you reach for your sword.

"Identify yourself, orc." Clutching your blade tightly, as though a lifeline, you demand an explanation, a name to the spectre that has haunted your every step.

"Ratak." The figure responds simply. No statement of purpose, nor who he serves. Only a name.

"And what do you seek?" You urge, refusing to let your guard down.

He giggles, as though you were silly for even asking.

"You o'course, love."

His voice is different. No longer the threatening sneer heard when you first met. Now, it is horrifyingly casual. As though what he speaks were common knowledge.

Your eyes narrow, angered.

"Do you think me a fool?" A hiss snaps from you, now glowering at him. "What are you here for? Why do you follow me?"

"I've told ya already, I'm here for you..."

He is insistent. Unchanging in his conviction. You refuse to believe it. You cannot. You do not want to.

Starting to feel uneasy, your words become sharper.

"Enough with the games, orc-!"

"Games? You're the one that's been toying with me, love... Makin' me chase you about... always runnin' off before I can get close..."

The orc treads forward, and you swiftly put more space between you and him. A growl-like noise seeps from his pointed teeth.

"Cruel thing... lettin' me catch you, hold you next to me... and then scurrying away..." Accusatory notes seep into his voice as he continues to step closer and closer.

Envy swirls in his ribs. Aching. Ratak's mind enveloped by this feeling. A bleeding ache, festering in your time apart. Every backward step you take sends his thoughts spiralling.

"Why d'ya run, hm? Is there someone else keepin' you from me? Another uruk? A bloody human?" His tone distorts, laced with a jealousy you never imagined that you would see in the flesh.

Ratak would be ashamed of himself, humiliated by how desperate he is acting, could he only think clearly. If his every thought was not preoccupied with that flittering encounter from nights before. If his fingertips were not still stained with your blood. If that pain in his ribs could only stop.

"I am tired of this, orc." You cut off his jilted questions, stuck in your denial. More willing to dismiss his delusional words than ponder the sincerity behind them. "Leave me be. I would rather not have to fight you."

The orc falls still. Hands twitching as he processes your words.

Leave. You want to leave? To scamper away from him again? To make him want to keep you and then cause this suffering in his chest and then... then..!

In a storm of rage, you plummet to the forest floor. The air is knocked out of your lungs as he lands atop you.

"You just won't bloody listen!" He yells, spittle falling into your face. "Your stupid 'duty' and all that's keeping you from stayin' with me, isn't it?"

The point of your sword is aimed to his torso as he looms over you, his hands pinning your shoulders. Ratak does not pay the blade any attention, as though oblivious to it, consumed by his fury.

"You're givin' your loyalty to those weak, worthless, human scum, when it should be mine! You should be mine!"

His frustration is beginning to break through to you. To crack through your guard of denial. Every word feels genuine, feels weighted; the emotion behind it far too strong to be an act.

"Can you not hear yourself?! Your claims are ludicrous-"

"Ludicrous? Ludicrous!" He cuts you off, indignant. "I don't care if I'm bein' ludicrous! You're the one who's makin' me feel like this, you can bloody deal with it!"

Ratak's breaths are heavy, ragged, his face contorted. He pushes himself closer, the sword starting to pierce his skin.

But, despite the weapon pointed to it, the pain in his chest dissipates. Slowly but steadily. He leans closer, it fades a little more.

Nervousness builds as you look up at him. Stunned as he leans in, drops of dark blood trailing down the blade and onto your fingers, the edge slicing his flesh.

Until, finally, the metal of his helm reaches your forehead once again.

Not enough.

He reluctantly removes a hand from your shoulder, tugging his helmet off and tossing it aside.

Returning to your skin, his hand coils around your throat. The action reminiscent of distorted affection, yet also an unspoken threat.

Now, the orc lays his head over yours. His thin, wiry, hair falls to either side of your face, his anger fizzling to a quiet rumble of thunder rather than a blazing hurricane.

"Love..." he mutters the nickname. Despite the word's unfamiliarity, it feels right to him.

"My love, we... we both know you're s'posed to be mine... they don't matter anymore, no one else does... it's you and me..."

Ratak's claws against your neck, your sword pressed to his heart. His fingertips stained red, and yours stained black.

Both trapped, held at each other's mercy.

"Just you and me... for ever..."

_________________________________

[emerxshiu]

i forgot it was april fools lol. i definitly did not end up sprinkling in a bunch of memes in there, nope, not at all.

I havent checked my dashboard until a few minutes earlier, but now im booping everyone i find in there, its just so damm fun! its kinda sad that its just for april fools, i wish the booping stayed forever like its way too silly i love it.

Oh yeah the drawing yep aight. So uh, i had the idea yesterday and this looks NOTHING like what i had planned, it was just going to be a plain white backgroung, and i was trying to make it look like a pencil sketch (kinda). and simple coloring. but i had a lot of problems and drawing this ended up being really frustrating but im kinda happy with the result even if it difers so much from the og idea.

also here is a clean version (aka no memes)

i tend to change my idea as im drawing so after i realized this was not going to look like i thought, i tried some effects and i came up with the idea of making it look...off.

Backgrounf with saturated colors consisting of red and blue and a fecto elfilis who looks rather dreamy, wich is totally not kinda inspired by isolated isles and high school musical 2 believe it or not (im confused as to how that was present in my mind as inspiration but i guess anything works as a reference) and contrasting with the darker background from how light and glowy i made him.

Fun fact: when i drew elfilis here, they were reminding me of a bunny, so you could kinda count this as a bit of an easter post since im probably going to forget to do something for that.

fun fact 2: this image is based on a fanfic im writing right now, i havent posted it yet, and when i do im pretty sure i'll put it into the Anonymous collection, since what im writing is very different from my usual, i tend to write about my splatoon ocs or sometimes about kirby characters, most of these fics tend to be general with not a lot of archieve warnings and stuff (save for one but that one was very very tame and just had an implication of a character dying at the end) and they're oneshots, most of them, this one is also a oneshot. i just enjoy writing that, but its a little bit....how to say it? bloody, i just have like the start made and its probably going to take me a while to finish, im also thinking of reading it multiple times since most of my works are usually just the first draft. but uh since its quite different and has that im quite scared of the reception it might have when i post it, in fact a lot of times i dont post stuff since even tho i know i shouldnt worry about others, i still do like an idiot, i just cant help caring about what other people think of me. and yeah basically its just not like the usual fluff i write.

next post might be splatoon related since im redesigning some ocs i had, or it might be princess peach showtime because my father got me the game and im loving it

Thank you for listening to my unnecesarily long rambles and Jambuhbye!

[vellaphoria]

for the ask game… 30?

(also I know this isn’t on the list but is there any WIP you’re super excited about?)

Thanks for the ask! (and for the freeform question giving me the opportunity to rant about my WIPs! <3 ) 30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? I have a different answer for this one here, but I wrote a second answer since it occurred to me a bit earlier lol The most surprising thing was that in the middle of writing a DickTim oneshot, some random implied BruDick UST got in there somehow?? Which was surprising because I've never written brudick and don't generally read it. But the fic is going to do what the fic is going to do, I suppose 😂 Is there any WIP you’re super excited about? Absolutely!! One that I've been actively stopping myself from publishing parts of is the slowburn DickTim fic that I'm working on. It started as a oneshot of the two of them being stuck in a snowstorm together post Red Robin and having to work their shit out (and there was only one bed lol). Then it became a 5 + 1 of times they had shared beds. Aaaaand then it became a slowburn covering the arc of their relationship from A Lonely Place of Dying to post-RR. It's completely gone off the rails lol. The exact number keeps changing, but this thing currently has 60 planned chapters. I've written 65k words of it and it's probably not even a quarter done. But!! As I've been writing, I've also been re-visiting post-crisis comics with the two of them in it, which is fun since I haven't really taken the time to do that chronologically before. Excerpt from Chapter 2:

For the hundredth time that night, Dick looks at the last picture ever taken of him and his parents. It had arrived at the manor a week after he’d been moved in, sent in the mail by the couple who’d asked to have it taken. The edges are a bit worn, but he’s kept it out of the light and done everything he could to make sure that the colors don’t fade.

What would they want him to do?

He’s been turning that question over in his mind for hours now and he still isn’t sure. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be sure…

They’d always told him that kids didn’t really run away to the circus anymore, but on the off-chance that one did, then the best thing to do was to be kind. Anyone running away like that was dealing with something serious in their life, and it was the right thing to do to try and find a way to help.

He can’t help but laugh a little, under his breath. From hypothetical runaway kids to whatever animals wandered through Haly’s looking for food and shelter, his parents had always had a soft spot for strays.

Not that this kid counts as a stray, exactly. Or that he ran away to join the circus.

Honestly it would be easier if he had.

The windows are a bit grimy from everyone who’s used this trailer over the years, but faint moonlight still shines through. Just enough of it to illuminate the rise and fall of the blankets on Dick’s bed.

A few days ago, he’d expected to spend most of his weekend helping out around Haly’s and prepping for the Saturday and Sunday night shows. Being ambushed by an over-eager kid from Gotham who looks like he weighs about ninety pounds soaking wet hadn’t been anywhere near his radar.

If he was in the Manor, he could have just relegated the kid to one of the many guest rooms. But if he was in the Manor, then the kid wouldn’t have felt the need to come looking for him, would he?

He sighs, letting his head fall back against the chair that he’d squeezed into the too-small space of the trailer. He tries not to wish Roy were here to offer him the strongest drink he could scare up.

On the bed, the kid shifts in his sleep, turning over. His face holds nothing of the frantic, intense expression he’d first come to Dick with, asking him to go back to Gotham.

And talk to Bruce. And be Robin again.

As if he hadn’t left that all behind him for good reasons.

As if Bruce hadn’t been very clear that he doesn’t need or want a partner ever again.

Maybe the kid would be less keen on the idea of Dick going back if he told him that Bruce erased every last trace of the last Robin from the Manor and Cave. Or if he told the kid that the large, dark bruise on his face was from Bruce’s fist. Then again… maybe he already knows? The little stalker broke into Dick’s apartment and rifled through his memories of better times. Despite being a teenager with no apparent training outside of what are probably judo lessons, he managed to take clear, distressingly up-close pictures of the goddamn Batman. He outright admitted that he knows who they are.

Dick’s not sure what to do about that. Anyone who knows their identities is a risk. And yet, this kid was able to figure it out… admittedly through means that wouldn’t be apparent to anyone who wasn’t as weirdly obsessed with his civilian persona as this kid seems to be. Even so, it’s dangerous to have people out there who know. What’s stopping some villain from snatching the kid off the street and making him talk?

He closes his eyes, one hand rubbing circles against his temple as he tries to will away the oncoming headache.

That’s reason enough to bring him to Bruce for questioning, even if he wasn’t right about Bruce going off the deep end. Even if every step Dick has taken to try and stop Bruce from spiraling has been rebuffed. Sometimes violently.

When his eyes open again, the kid is staring back at him. His blue irises are even harder to miss in the moonlight.

“I… um. Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” he asks. “I don’t mind sleeping in the chair…”

It’s not the first time tonight Dick has wondered if he should have just driven them directly to Gotham, despite the setting sun and the likelihood of catching Bruce in the volatile post-patrol fugue that has become all too common with the man these days.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

The kid’s eyes get a little wider. A little brighter.

“Because of N-”

“Yes,” Dick says, cutting him off a bit more sharply than he intended.

If the kid notices, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he nods solemnly, as if Dick had just confirmed every suspicion he ever had about the way the world works.

His eyes are still wide though. Dick remembers them being the first thing he clocked about the kid. Blue eyes. Lighter than his, but darker than Bruce’s. More of a grey-blue, compared to the near-teal that Jason’s had been.

Blue eyes. Black hair. Asking about Batman.

The kid’s a walking bad omen. And Dick doesn’t need to be a detective to see the pattern here. If he brings this kid to Bruce and they actually manage to get him out of his funk, then…

“Hey, kid,” he says.

“Tim,” the kid says back to him. He doesn’t look particularly put out by Dick not remembering his name.

“Okay, Tim. Where are your parents?”

Tim blinks at him. “Somewhere in the Gobi Desert. Or, they were there last week, at least.”

Dick is so distracted by the fact that the kid has living parents, and thus no need for a new guardian, that it takes him a moment to register what the kid actually said.

“Wait, if they’re in the Gobi Desert…”

“I’m in boarding school,” Tim volunteers. “We’re on break right now, so I was able to sneak out.”

“And come… here?”

Tim nods.

“Because someone had to tell you that Ba-” he jumps at Dick narrowing his eyes, “that Bruce has been getting worse. He needs help. He needs Robin.”

As if Dick doesn’t know. Then again, maybe his inaction looks like ignorance to this kid who traveled to another state at the drop of a hat to help someone he met once as a toddler. He’s not sure if the kid’s rose-colored glasses are because of his age or because he doesn’t know Bruce personally. Or, more likely, both.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he says. “I can’t be Robin again.”

Tim stares back at him guilelessly. “Why not?”

Now that’s a question.

“You think I’d still fit in those scaly panties?” Dick says, smiling humorlessly and side-stepping anything resembling a real answer.

Tim flushes. “Um… no. I guess not.”

“Exactly.”

“But… someone has to do something.”

“I’m going to do something, but it has nothing to do with being Robin.” Dick says. “I’m going to try to talk him down. Again. If even people outside the community are starting to notice Bruce’s… coping mechanisms, then we’ve got a problem. Hopefully he’ll be able to see that.”

Tim smiles, though just a little.

“Thank you,” he says, as if Dick is doing him a personal favor.

Part of him wants to tell the kid not to get his hopes up. But… he’ll know soon enough. And far be it from Dick to crush what little optimism the kid’s likely to have about the situation.

[just2bubbly]

I had an fluff request for a gen 2 oneshot but I have got a knack for bringing angst everywhere, so yea :)

Masterlist

Where Family Begins

Ship: Kaider

Words: 2.5k

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Cinder's Perspective:

“Miss Selene, what do you want to say over the fact that you manipulated the Emperor into marrying you?”

Why avoid getting Linh’s device? Is it because this will prevent you from controlling—“ 

“Will the prosthetics provide a hindrance in producing an heir?”

“Are you planning on covering your hand using skin grafting? Is that going to make you feel less ugly?”

“Lunars are back- you’re no less than your tyrant aunt!”

People bombarded her with all these questions and remarks as soon as she left the hall. The flashes were so bright that she closed her eyes in retaliation - the harsh glare of it made her turn around. 

“The press conference is over. Please make way for Her Majesty," the media chairperson behind her announced. 

The reporters were forced to take down the lights, but his words had little impact as the cameras continued to be on. Cinder opened her eyes, and it took a while to adjust to the bright lightning of the room, which was the contrast to the dark nothingness that lay behind her closed eyes. 

Her retina scanner looked at the faces of individuals around her and gave unnecessary databases.

“Miss Blackburn-“ someone yelled, sticking the recorder in her face. Her infographics gave her name ‘Alayan Chein‘ along with basic information and a title that read “The Lunar Queen will kill us “. He seemed to ask a question, but Cinder was too lost to pay attention to it. 

It was clear that her lunar or cyborg identity, or perhaps both, made them despise her deeply. She noted how there wasn’t the comforting blinking of an orange light at the corner of her eye. She was reeling. She was supposed to focus, put her steps forward and get out of this place. 

“We hate you stuck-up Lunars!”

“-the ugly prosthetics make you so unloveable.”

“Show us your true face, Empress. Tell us about your greed.”

She shut her eyes, compelling herself to breathe through a nose.

In. Out. In. Out. 

It didn’t help any, and the voices kept growing louder. Unsure if voices were in her head or from reporters. She could not hear the beating of her heart- breathe breathe b r e a t h e 

Stars! She couldn’t have a panic attack in the middle of the paparazzi! 

“Enough!“

Someone shouted and what followed was a much-needed silence. She wasn’t sure that the person shouting was herself or the media chairperson. She couldn’t remember his name- 

“All of you out now or I will suspend each of your broadcasting rights tonight,“ someone ordered.

This voice was calmer, controlled. Familiar, yet somehow distant. She wanted to open her eyes and look for herself, but she was beyond scared to do it. 

“You have just a minute,” the voice echoed. 

The voices were getting so loud inside her head that she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs felt like being squeezed as the air slowly left her.  She felt like she was dying.

Stars, she couldn’t die here, this would make headlines. She couldn’t leave Kai with the aftermath of this- 

“Cinder, can you hear me?“ someone asked. 

Was someone talking to her? Has she forgotten to answer a question- the voices kept getting louder repeating something again and again. It was getting on her nerves.

She couldn’t find her voice because if she did then she would be screaming her throat sore. And then everyone would be talking about how she mishandled this situation, how Kai made a mistake- no they adored Kai! They would never say that about him. It was always Cinder they hated. They might make up a story of how she was trying to be a victim, while she continues to toy with the Commonwealth.

She had to open her eyes and get up– when did she fall down?!

“Cinder, can you hear me?“ they asked again.

“Yes,“ she cried, “Yes, I can hear you well. Stop screaming in my face- I can’t breathe,“ she sobbed. 

“Calm down, it’s Kai. Listen to me-,“ he said. 

That was Kai, now that the Emperor was here, it was awfully quiet and she was forced to remember how they never bombarded Kai with stupid questions about his fertility, lineage or any blunt comments. With him, it was always about policies, diplomacy events and whatnot.

She felt envious of him. Hated his picture-perfect smile, and charming attitude that read the room right and politely changed conversations in his favour.

Stars, she hated him for having things easy- NO, SHE LOVED KAI, LOVES HIM. She is married to him, how can she even hate this man. She felt someone shake her body, the action pushing her thoughts away. 

“Love, can you open your eyes for me?“ Kai said, so softly that it willed her to follow his command, but the panic buzz in her head and the loud thudding of her heart inside the bony cage, like it was trying to move out to find some fresh air, compelled her to shake her head vigorously, eyes squeezed tightly. 

“There’s no one here, I promise. No cameras or people.“

He held her hand, warm palms drawn against hers, and kept saying assuring words that helped ground her. She opened her eyes, the room swirling around, as she blinked it into focus and when the white walls of the press room glared back at her, she could feel her panic settle down. There was no one around, and it was a miracle how he got so many people to move out so fast, and she couldn’t thank him enough for it. 

“You have to stop thinking-  I’m going to draw circles on your arm and you are going to focus on it or do we want to do the counting exercise?“ He asked, staring into her brown orbs, she mumbled in circles. 

Kai went on to draw circles of various shapes on her arm and she put all of her thoughts into imagining them- one the size of a bangle, another like a well, the rim of a wheel, like her wedding band and that helped soothe her heartbeat. She could breathe and relief washed over her as oxygen around her filled in her lungs driving out the stress-induced blackout from her head. She blinked away the sign of ‘improved breeding pattern‘ hovering in her left corner.

“I feel so embarrassed,“ she sighed, choosing not to meet his eyes.

“Cinder, it’s not your fault and there’s nothing to feel embarrassed over,“ he said still drawing circles on her arm, “- are you feeling better?“ he asked later, tilting her head so she looked at him.

She nodded in a rather unconvincing way but Kai didn’t push.  He pulled her in his sides, such that they were sprawled on the floor, and kissed her on the forehead. For now, his presence was enough.

She hugged him, seeking comfort, “Do you think the reporters are out?“ 

“Do you want me to parade you so that I can show how much I love you?”

“Will you do that?”

And he looked at her incredulously, rolling as he picked her up, muttering a ‘you wound me‘ under his breath and before she could blink, he was standing with her in his arms, staring at her with an abased smile. 

“Kai,“ she hissed, “Put me down.”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“Now I don’t, besides it would look too orchestrated,“ her words seemed to diminish the glee from his face as he put her down on the large table. 

“I don’t know what they said but I don’t want you to be affected. I love you and you love me and no matter what those buffoons say- this fact won’t change,“ he said and she could sense the sentiment behind his voice. 

“I‘m not– well I don’t doubt it. I don’t think what happened—“ she couldn’t fathom how to complete that thought. Kai didn’t say anything about it, holding her hand as she tried to find words to confide in him. 

“They asked questions– about an heir and it was some casual thing and then all of them went into a full-blown interrogation and when we concluded with no questions about a child answered- they went wild and I know it’s a stupid reason to panic over but I did and it feels ridiculous.“ She admitted, face covered.

Kai moved between her thighs and pushed them away, “Do you want to tell me what all this is about?“ 

“I’m scared,“ she admitted.

“And?“ 

“Someone from the Council asked if we planned on having a child a few days ago. They talked about how a lot of things could be solved with it. I know we aren’t trying for a baby but we aren’t opposed to the idea of it as well and I have failed to conceive or maybe have even a pregnancy scare and that’s alarming. I’m just worried, thinking I’m not human enough to have a child,“ she confessed, her ears tumbling. 

The confession hung between the two, Kai didn’t say anything. The silence was more haunting than any argument they could possibly have. They had been married for a few years, and everyone expected a child. She and Kai were considerably young to be parents, in their late 20s, most people their age hadn’t married yet. This was one of the reasons, she didn’t fret much, but with the media and their ministers throwing questions about an heir and her fertility every now and then, a probable fear got to her.

She saw kids of officials and council members playing around on Event Days, their small feet running around in the long corridors of The Palace. Recently, Scarlet had a baby and although it was unplanned, Cinder could see the happiness a child brought into life, she desired that.

A child to fuss over, something that looked like a mini version of Kai and her- with his eyes and her hair, crawling everywhere and having the two wrapped around its requests.

Sometimes the joy of motherhood overwhelmed her so much that she wondered if she would ever be able to be a good mother- her mother although fond of her wasn’t very good, and her aunt never became a mother. That thought always worried her, for however evil they were she didn’t want to be the last of Blackburn.

On those days, Cinder feels inferior. All these other women could do something, she might not be able to. The thought sears into her mind and a wave of heat washes over her. 

“Cinder,“ he muttered, voice laced with worry, “I don’t know which asshole asked that of you but you shouldn’t worry about such things. Not to mention, a child won’t solve our problems and I thought we agreed we weren’t ready.“

“But what if I won’t ever be ready and I can’t give you an heir?“ She asks, her fears of the past few months overtaking logic.

“Love, you don’t know that and the medic did mention that your reproductive parts are intact. You are just letting the people get to you-“ he explained, trying to ease away her fear.

“Kai, but what if I can’t carry it to full term or I keep los-“ she argued, to which Kai pulled her by her shoulders, squeezing them, “Selene Blackburn, you listen to me! I don’t care if we can’t have a natural heir, it might be that I’m infertile- for all I know, my parents struggled to conceive too. I don’t want you to be mentally disturbed over a hypothetical situation that might not even exist in the first place.“

She nodded, his words trying to persuade her, however her vulnerability was more deeprooted than that, “What are you going to do if I can’t have kids?“

“This isn’t really about having kids, is it?“ He asked, quietly, moving away to sit beside her, Cinder felt the absence of his warmth, longing for it. The question leads to a conversation that was long time coming, she knew Kai loved her. But people could be disappointed with their loved ones. She couldn't fathom what would happen if she couldn't do the most basic of human activities: to procreate.

She decided to sit cross-legged, facing him before she answered, “They might have said how you would be encouraged to remarry.“

People talked a lot of things and even if she wasn’t someone to listen to gossip, sometimes it did get to her. She couldn’t imagine the possibility of seeing Kai with anyone else, convinced herself that Kai wouldn’t ever do such cruel things to him- but then there are only a few liberties a monarch can have and remarrying for an heir isn’t one of them.

He sighs, hands drawing across his hair, “I didn’t marry you to produce an heir, Cinder. I married you because I love you and that isn't going to stop. I will never marry anyone else, especially not for something so useless.“

His hand rub up and down her back, but he doesn’t add anything, giving her time to collect herself as he pulls her against his chest. She can hear the quiet thud of his heart, beating against her ear.

“But the Commonwealth needs an heir,“ she stated.

“It does. And I need you, so we figure something out. We try adoption, surrogacy or anything else. And if God forbid a child of our blood, we’ll think of something. But for now and always, I want you to know, that you are all the family I need.“

His words elicit a sob, enveloped in his pine and fresh sheets smell and thinks he smells like home.

“I love you,“ she whispers, placing kisses against the crook of his neck.

“I love you too, Cindy.“

“I‘m sorry- I felt so scared. I didn’t want to fail you.“ She admitted.

“And you won’t fail me. Ever.“

She wonders how she could have thought of Kai abandoning her- the idea seems foolish and baseless, anyone who knows Kai would rebuke it. She stays in his arms longer, pressed against his calf, and leans in.

“I know my speech was very moving but we aren’t trying to make a baby now,“ he jokes, causing her to laugh loudly, head pushed back.

“I had to try,“ she says, getting off the table, her inner messenger, showed varying lengths of texts from her secretary and Torin and others, “- I think I have a meeting to attend.“

“Very well, I’d get going myself,“ he adds, looking lost in thought as he sits still. She turns to catch his glance, he is almost gloomy, head bent low.

“You okay?“ She asks, drawing closer to him.

“Oh, yes- I was thinking,“ she hmms in reply, as he continues, “-I was just wondering if I ever made you feel like, well, replaceable.“

“Oh Kai, you are- you never made me feel like that. You make me feel like the most loved person on Earth and Luna and- I was scared and the Council was being increasingly mean without you there. I’m sorry I let it get to me.”

“Cinder, would you tell me soemthing?“ He asks, “-like something to make it right.“

She is confused over his words, but still nods in affirmation.

“-tell me who made you feel like that,“ he says and now Cinder understands his meaning and responds, “Kai, you can’t punish them for being realistic.“

“Making you feel weak isn’t realistic, Cinder.“ He points out.

“I don’t want to antagonise you-“

“I‘m the Emperor, I don’t plan to be friends with everyone,“ he returned.

She sighed, not able to figure a way out of this situation.

“If you don’t want to speak, it’s fine. I will ask Torin to look into it.“ He announces, hopping off the table and arranging his suit, before walking.

“What will you do?“ She asks, following up behind him.

“Nothing evil, I assure you.“

“I don’t want you to pick my fights,“ she tells him, making him stop in his tracks, as he turns to face her.

“I‘m not picking up your fights, I’m just trying to ensure that I don’t have officials that question your authority. That’s why I just need you to tell me names,“ he requested.

“Kai, I know it’s foolish but I want you to let it go,“ she asks of him, a tight-lipped smile that conveys her plead.

He sighs, pulling her body against his as they start walking down the corridor, “Just this time, however, you have to promise that you would come to me if you ever feel like that.“

She nods instantly, he rolls his eyes at her action, “You’re too soft at times.“

Chuckling at the words, she changes the conversation, talking about other things. Later that day, when the said officials approach her with tail between their legs, Cinder knows.

--

tagging: @gingerale2017 @impossiblesuitcase @fangirlforever0704 @slmkaider

[amidnight--dreary]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks so much for the tag @zsparz !!!💖

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

166!

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

2.013.111. I write when I‘m stressed, can you tell?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly the MCU. Frostiron my beloved 💕 I recently posted a Huskerdust fic, though, and a couple years ago I posted some Good Omens stuff! I have another Good Omens wip brewing, but I haven‘t worked on it in a while.

4. Top five fics by kudos

First one up would be Your Call, a multi-chaptered ABO Frostiron thing that‘s sadly unfinished because I‘m not happy with where it was going somehow. Then Corners of Reality, my baby, Yes or No, Dereliktion and last but not least Vita Nova!

5. Do you respond to comments?

God I try. I’m so bad at it though. On long fics I always answer comments on the last chapter when I post the new one, but I keep forgetting to reply to comments on older chapters or oneshots😭 They all mean the world to me though.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ohh I wrote a few angsty oneshots but it‘s been a while. Maybe Here, that‘s the most recent one. Of the older ones I remember all my light most clearly. Tony is dead or dying in both of these lol, poor Loki.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I like to think the happiest endings in stories are ones you had to fight for a little bit, so maybe Dereliktion. That was a long ride filled with angst and messed up relationships lol. I think Haywire (my first and so far only Sentinel/Guide fic, I love that trope a lot akfj) also has a pretty fluffy ending, and I have some oneshots that are pretty much all fluff!!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Occasionally? Just the other day I got another anon ask on here complaining about my recent stories. Makes me extra thankful for everyone who takes the time to tell me they enjoy my stuff!!💖

9. Do you write smut?

I do! Pretty much all the time lol. I love writing Dom/sub relationships!

10. Craziest crossover?

I don‘t think I‘ve ever written one before?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yesss. I‘m not sure if they just didn’t know any better though, they deleted the copied parts as soon as I told them.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!! I‘m always so happy when that happens!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Also yes. One year I did a whole Frostiron Advent calendar with @rabentochter (do you remember this????? How did we have the time??????? Insane) and we wrote a few more collabs beyond that.

14. All time favorite ship?

Frostiron!!!!!!!!!!!! I love my sassy messed up geniuses lol

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Uhhh I‘ve got a few. I‘d like to finish/rewrite Your Call. Once I also had the cracky fever dream of Loki doing random standup comedy shows in New York because he‘d KILL that. Can you imagine the sarcasm. The gallow‘s humor. Anyway I started that and then realized I Cannot Write Standup Routines at all. So there‘s that.

16. What are your writing strengths?

What I like to write the most is character and relationship development, so hopefully I‘m decent at that? Also dialogue, I hope, but that kinda comes and goes depending on the conversation.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I kinda suck thinking of longish plot that goes beyond “will they kiss?? Will they FUCK???” so I’ve been trying to practice that. Also scenes with lots of action😭

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I like it. I’ve been wanting to write a fic where Tony can properly show off his language skills but I don’t know enough languages to pull that off lol

19. First fandom you wrote in?

The VERY first was Dracula, back when I was 13 or so. I had a big thing for van Helsing back then. My first fandom on ao3 was Once Upon a Time!!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Ooohhh. That would be Corners of Reality, because I worked on it for years before I even started posting it and I love how it turned out. It’s a slow burn time travel enemies to friends to almost lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to allies to lovers fic. I had SO much fun writing it I still think about it all the time😭😭

I’m just gonna tag some writers I know are on here: @endlessstairway @xottan @izhunny @arabesqueangel @bouncydragon no pressure though!! And if you see this and you’re a writer please consider yourself tagged!!💖

[quaranmine]

The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Masterpost)

Cocoabats' gorgeous cover art!

Freedom of Recursive Content Opinion/Permissions

TUMBLR CHAPTERS AND OFFICIAL ART:

Chapter One | Chapter One Art

Chapter Two | Chapter Two Art

Chapter Three | Chapter Three Art

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six | Chapter Six Art

Chapter Seven | Chapter Seven Art

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

OFFICIAL SECONDARY WORKS:

on loss, loneliness, and the woods (web-weave)

Only...Jellie can prevent forest fires? (art)

Letters from the Lookout #1: Leave No Trace (side ficlet)

Letters from the Lookout #2: Last Seen (side ficlet)

Letters from the Lookout #3: Losing, Looking, Finding, Losing (side ficlet)

Letters from the Lookout #4: Letters Unsent (side ficlet)

FANART:

Scar meets Grian (chapter one) by t4tcelios

Honeylashofficial's Animatic

Scar's Everyday Life by crazypercheron

Cub visiting Thorofare by crazypercheron

RECURSIVE WORKS:

From Embers by honeylashofficial (recursive fanfic oneshot!! with Imp and Skizz)

I Waved Goodbye to The End of Beginning by crazypercheron/Princess_JennieO_of_Hyrule4 (ongoing multi-chapter fanfic with Cub visiting Scar post main story)

The Phosphorescence of a Glimmer in Extrimis by TotallyNotAPlant (crack au oneshot version where Mumbo is a cryptid)

The Evergreens Enfold the Shrine by darkaviarymc/Dark_Aviary (a group of campers in 1995 tell a ghost story about Mumbo)

OFFICIAL TAG AND RELEVANT POSTS:

#hc_firewatch_au

Amatonormativity

Lights in the Distance

Suicide? No.

Themes of Isolation

Wildfire experiences from followers: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

Devil's Head Lookout

AutoCAD and 80s Tech

Shoshone National Forest Lookouts Compared to Game

Fire Lookouts I Visited

Scar + Mobility Aids

Grian's Vehicle

VHF Radios, Frequencies, and Story Accuracy

Absent Characters, Idealism, and Unreliable Narrators

Art Symbolism in The Incandescence of a Dying Light (minor spoilers)

The Background People of Firewatch AU (minor spoilers)

Scrapped Plot Ideas in Firewatch AU (minor spoilers)

What Happened to Mumbo/Mumbo's Timeline with Darkaviarymc (spoilers)

The Backcountry Permit Situation Clarification/Analysis (spoilers)

Subjectivity of "Experience"

"I would never lie to you G-man"

Grian's parents

What does Scar do on his time off?

Camp Showers?

Supply Drop?

[bittercape]

2023 fanfic roundup

perhaps the fact that I dreaded writing this roundup really says it all. because this year's stats:

81 fics

176,665 words

Completed projects:

Year of the OTP: 12 works, 30k

Year of Jason and Slade: 12 works, 28k

Whump-/monsterfuck-/winterhawkhoodtober: 31 works, 33k

Exchanges: I don't even know, so many

I've sorted chronologically by fandom, and listed my favourites at the start in case you're looking for a teaspoon rather than a whole bathtub.

author's favourites:

how to get ahead in Gotham

the DC/Discworld crossover someone actually asked for. I'm really happy with this one - it's one of the few fics I took my time with this year, and it's all the better for it. It's a murder mystery (sort of) with Vimes, Sybil and Vetinari in Gotham, and more than anything it's funny. or at least I think it is.

fandoms: DC/Discworld

rating: M

wordcount: 16858

ships: Sybil/Sam, Jason/Slade

it's a horrible morning in Gotham

the soulmate goose fic. I personally thing my writing is best when it's fun, and this one very much is that. it's also a little sad in places, but not more than absolutely necessary.

rating: M

wordcount: 7537

ship: Jason/Slade

the unbearable lightness of bedding

the IKEA fic. this is just comedy from beginning to end, but it was the fic where I figured out Dick's voice and I had a lot of fun with it. also outsider POV on the ship, which I always love to write (and read).

rating: T

wordcount: 2045

ship: Jason/Slade

a bird on the edge of a blade

this one is not all that funny, but I am very pleased with it. featuring my favourite trope murder as a love language. it's what Jason deserves.

rating: T

wordcount: 1261 words

ship: Tim/Jason

cornucopia

back to the comedy, or possibly porn-comedy. in which Jason gets cursed to sprout horns whenever he's horny. it's exactly as silly as it sounds.

rating: E

wordcount: 3078

ship: Jason/Slade

go wherever you go today

I was going to stop at five, but I really am very fond of this tiny little slip of a thing. A slow morning for Natasha.

rating: G

wordcount: 601

ships: none

so! over to the full list:

DC -- series

tell it slant

works: 4

complete: yes

ship: Jason/Slade

with fingers and teeth

works: 2

complete: no

ship: Jason/Slade

blackbird

works: 13

complete: yes

ship: Jason/Slade

(has a little bit of Winter Soldier, but not enough to be a crossover imo)

the kamakura job

works: 3

complete: yes

ship: Jason/Slade

windows of opportunity

works: 7

complete: no

ships: Jason/Slade, Dick/Tim

DC -- oneshots

stuck on a winning streak

rating: T

wordcount: 512

ship: Jason/Slade

paradise at my fingertips

rating: T

wordcount: 1559

ships: Jason/Slade, background Dick/Tim

under your skin (over the moon)

rating: T

wordcount: 1044

ships: Jason/Slade, background Dick/Tim

the unbearable lightness of bedding

rating: T

wordcount: 2045

ship: Jason/Slade

a bird on the edge of a blade

rating: T

wordcount: 1261 words

ship: Tim/Jason

say I'm wrong, make me right

rating: E

wordcount: 3180

ship: Jason/Slade

it's a horrible morning in Gotham

rating: M

wordcount: 7537

ship: Jason/Slade

dulce y fatal

rating: M

wordcount: 1792

ship: Jason/Slade

like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass

rating: E

wordcount: 3357

ship: Jason/Slade

headed straight into the fire

rating: E

wordcount: 1925 words

ship: Jason/Slade

you're how I pray

rating: E

wordcount: 1396 words

ship: Jason/Slade

(choke this love) 'til the veins start to shiver

rating: E

wordcount: 2126

ship: Jason/Slade

that hunger in you

rating: T

wordcount: 1702 words

ship: Jason/Slade

eggs eggs eggs

rating: E

wordcount: 3969

ship: Jason/Slade

living and dying and the stories that are true

rating: T

wordcount: 954

ships: Tim/Dick, Jason/Slade

feel me, completer (down to my core)

rating: E

wordcount: 1546

ships: Jason/Slade

sink your claws in

rating: E

wordcount: 2160

ship: Jason/Slade

cornucopia

rating: E

wordcount: 3078

ship: Jason/Slade

just a shot away from you

rating: E

wordcount: 2649

ship: Jason/Slade

poured a drink all over my wiring

rating: T

wordcount: 910

ship: Jason/Slade

cookies & communication

rating: E

wordcount: 2218

ship: Jason/Slade

the snowball effect

rating: E

wordcount: 1428

ship: Dick/Jason

warm like a gun

rating: E

wordcount: 1690

ship: Jason/Slade

Marvel

sub rosa

rating: T

wordcount: 2542

ship: Bucky/Clint

make you feel whole

rating: G

wordcount: 574

ship: Bucky/Clint

the path, it just ain't clear

rating: T

wordcount: 4937

ship: Bucky/Clint

winterhawk bingo drabbles

rating: M

wordcount: 596

ship: Bucky/Clint

go wherever you go today

rating: G

wordcount: 601

ships: none

the Berlin exception

rating: T

wordcount: 3021

ship: Bucky/Clint

Crossovers -- series

barter economy

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

works: 2

ships: Jason/Slade, Dick/Tim, Bucky/Clint

complete: no

snow on the beach

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

works: 15

ships: Bucky/Clint/Jason

complete: no (missing a rather crucial bit of porn)

marvelbats

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating:

works: 2

ships: Tony/Roy, Steve/Jason

complete: no

Crossovers -- oneshots

of people wrapped up tight in things that will kill them

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating:

wordcount:

ships: Bucky/Clint/Jason, complete (strictly speaking whumptober 2022, but was completed in march 23

how to get ahead in Gotham

fandoms: DC/Discworld

rating: M

wordcount: 16858

ships: Sybil/Sam, Jason/Slade

coming night

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

wordcount: 4790

ships: Tim/Venom, Roy/Jason, Clint/Dick

coddled, not shirred

fandoms: Marvel/DC

rating: E

wordcount: 4790

ship: Eddie/Jason/Venom

Others

effanineffable

fandom: Discworld

rating: G

wordcount: 1433

ships: none

This madness has only been possible thanks to my magnificent beta and partner in crime @mightymightygnomepriest, who genuinely has the patience of a saint. Thank you so much, darling Rach. I promise I will slow down next year.

[thexsanctuaryx]

{ i’m not even afraid of dying }

Summary: Emma is feeling insecure and goes to Jake about it. Based on the song "Phobia" by Savannah Sgro { 2 of 3 } Pairing: Original Character { Emma Harper } x Jake Lockley { implied } Emma Harper x Marc Spector && Emma Harper x Steven Grant Contents: fluffy angst, hurt/comfort, insecurity, happyish ending Warnings: none really Author's Note: I got really stuck on this song that reminded me so much of how Emma feels about the Boys, and so I decided to do a trilogy of "oneshots" based around the lyrics where each Moon Boy got a different lyric from Emma. This is Jake's. Word Count: 376 Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

Her intrusive thoughts had gotten the better of her again. Intrusive thoughts and the trauma of her history. All of it had culminated into the certainty that this wouldn’t—even couldn’t last.

And it had become more than she could bear.

She’d promised herself that they’d just ‘talk’ about it, but her fears had quickly won out.

He’d been patient. He was always patient. That is, until he got to the point of putting his foot down.

“Jake I’m not even afraid of dying—but what I am afraid of is losing you—that somehow—you’ll—grow out of me or—”

“Nena—listen—that’s not gonna happen...ever…”

“You can’t know that—”

“But I do.” He says it with such certainty, as if there’s no further need to argue about it.

“But—”

“It’s not up for debate, mi alma…end of discussion…”

Her lips wobble, rolling them in, in an effort to steady them. Likewise, she wrings her hands together trying to find any way to keep from falling apart further.

Jake’s hands rise to her jaw, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. He searches her eyes out refusing to let her think that anything else is true.

She fights against meeting his gaze as her eyes pool with tears, sucking in a shaky breath through her teeth.

“Look at me…” He gently demands.

She immediately obeys, releasing the breath in a light sob as the tears spill over.

“I can’t—”

“You won’t…”

“How can you be sure?” She asks weakly.

“Because there will never be another you…”

She chokes back another sob and he immediately pulls her snugly into his arms, cradling her safely against him as she ceases to hold it in, falling into quiet tears against him.

She clings to him, feeling as though her legs will give out any moment.

He presses a firm kiss to her temple just before lifting her into his arms.

She continues to cry against him even as he carries her back toward their bedroom.

He doesn’t stop until she’s safely situated in his lap, curled up against him, softly quieting her as he combs his fingers through her hair.

“We’re gonna be okay…” He warmly whispers against her.

“Promise?” She whispers back.

“I promise…”