#i react like a rabid dog the their fics

[k4nd1-c0rn]

ME WHEN @sewerkingcharlie RELEASED A NEW FIC!!!!

(i don’t feel like finding a picture but imagine me curled on my bed in the fetal position frothing at the mouth)

[almostwisegalaxy]

Hey, hope you're having a wonderful day.

Could you maybe write a few fics for Geum Seong-Je from Weak Hero Class 2? Fluff and *soft only for her* trope.

Thank you so much and its okay if you don't wanna.

I totally get it, I'm a writer too.

Love,

Anon

You can't fix me

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader

Cause... I love villains without a sob story, just psycho

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

The first day Y/N saw him, he was bleeding from the corner of his lip and sneering like a rabid dog.

Ganghak High School was far from a stable place, but this boy… this Geum Seong-je, he reeked of instability from miles away. Chaos lived within him. He was the type to destroy a room because someone had sneezed too loudly. Y/N was supposed to watch him.

It was one fight too many.

The hallways trembled, the windows exploded. He had his fist in the mouth of another kid already on the ground and he kept going, methodical, his eyebrows furrowed as if hitting helped him breathe. Three supervisors hadn't been able to do anything. So she had entered. Silent at first.

Then:

"Are you done with your circus act, or do I need to train you like a mutt?"

He hadn't even looked at her. Just a hoarse breath, another blow. She had approached. A hand on his shoulder. He had growled. She had reacted: a knee strike, then two. He had thrown a chair. She had teased him.

He had collapsed, his muscles contracted in a brutal spasm.

When he woke up in the principal's office, still groggy, she was waiting for him. Arms crossed, back straight.

"What are you, some genetic waste?"

She had looked at him with an almost chilling calm.

"Did you think you were a hero today? Do you believe that hitting harder erases your shitty life?"

Pause. A silence.

"You're pathetic. Even dogs know when to stop."

He had wanted to smile. But there was this crack in his chest, this short breath he couldn't expel. She wasn't yelling. She was cutting. And it was worse.

She had hit him again, another time, another week. Because he had strangled a student against the lockers. Because he had smashed a cell phone against a wall. Because he had looked at her, her, with that look full of defiance, filth, and darkness.

And yet.

He always came back to her. Sat on the bench near the supervisors' room, his back torn by blows, a poorly stuck bandage, his eyes fixed on her with a morbid intensity. He followed her in the hallways, provoked her in class, insulted her sometimes, coldly, softly, almost tenderly.

"Ms. Y/N."

He murmured her name like a reproach. Like a burn.

"Are you stalking me, or is it the other way around?"

She never answered. She took notes, wrote words in her notebook, read his old files. And sometimes… sometimes, when his back was turned, she looked at his scars. The angle of his jaw, clenched. The tremors in his fingers. The way he would break when he no longer knew how to breathe.

He wasn't crazy. Just fractured. And in his cracks, he had lodged her, her. He stared at her like a mystery he had to dissect, like a living enigma he hated not being able to silence.

He said nothing, but in his eyes, it was obvious:

Y/N lived in his head.

And he had decided that as long as she was there, he wouldn't let anyone else breathe.

---

He always came back.

Sometimes at dawn, eyes red-rimmed, a piece of chewing gum stuck under his tongue, fists bandaged. Other times at the last hour, dragging his feet, but his gaze sharp. He didn't miss any of her rounds. He waited for the click of her heels in the deserted hallways, the rustle of her files against her hip, that clinical way she had of ignoring him.

And it drove him crazy.

"Sleeping in your office now, ma'am?" He had sat on the table, head tilted.

"Don't you have a life? Or are you waiting for me to give you one?"

She hadn't looked up.

"Do you want me to take away your right to speak, or do you want your jaw to last until tomorrow?"

He had laughed. A real laugh, hoarse, short. No provocation, just… a release. As if, with her, the mask fell without him realizing it.

But he hated her for it. For that way of seeing through him. Of walking through his shattered pieces without ever getting cut.

So, he tested her.

He wrote stupid things on the walls: "Madam is a cold witch. She punishes without heart."

He sat in her chair when she wasn't there. Rummaged through her papers. Watched her from afar.

And when she entered a room, he spoke loudly, always too loudly, so she would hear his name amidst the laughter.

But never, never did he touch her.

There was a line. He didn't know why. Maybe because she had already put him on the ground. Maybe because she was the only one who had never backed down from him. No fear, no false respect. Just… contempt. Pure and precise.

And that obsessed him.

He had started dreaming about her. Not in a gentle way, no. Suffocating, sweaty dreams, where she held him down with her foot, where she slapped him silently while he laughed. He would wake up, heart pounding, unable to understand if he loved her, hated her, or both.

He bought drinks that he left on her desk without a word. She threw them away. He started again. Out of habit. Out of defiance. Out of need.

One day, she had called him into her office. He sat down, provocative.

"Another punishment, ma'am?"

"Do you think I enjoy seeing you all the time?"

She had stepped forward, thrown a file onto his lap. His file.

"Do you think I haven't read it? You're pathetic, Geum Seong-je. You cling to violence like a kid to his teddy bear. It's your only way to exist. But you don't impress me. You just waste my time."

She had said that without raising her voice. He had smiled. Slowly.

"It's crazy how much you like to talk about me. Haven't you noticed? It's always me in your mouth."

She had almost slapped him. But she hadn't. And he had known: that, that was the real trap.

That day, he had gone home. He hadn't slept. He had punched the walls. He had clenched his teeth until they bled. And he had sworn, not out loud, just to himself:

Y/N would look at him. Even if it meant burning everything he touched.

---

It was hot that day. A sticky, stifling heat that the school walls couldn't contain. The air reeked of teenage sweat, cheap deodorants, and something electric—a premonition, perhaps. As if something was about to break.

Geum Seong-je, however, seemed unusually calm. Too calm.

He loitered in the courtyard, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-empty water bottle. He had the kind of look that you couldn't hold: empty but sharp, like a polished abyss. That day, no one dared approach him. Even his own guys kept their distance. He had beaten up a kid that morning for asking him for a cigarette. Just that. One sentence too many, and he had seen red.

But when he saw Y/N, her straight back, her determined walk, the way she seemed to cut through the air around her, he straightened up. Something within him readjusted, like a broken compass suddenly finding north again.

She was coming out of a meeting with a student. She looked tired. No makeup. A few strands of hair stuck to her forehead. And above all, she seemed elsewhere.

He followed her, silently.

When she entered her office, she felt it. A sensation at the nape of her neck, almost animalistic. She turned around.

He was there. Leaning against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on her, not mocking for once. Almost… attentive.

"You look dead."

He moved closer. Slowly.

"Didn't you sleep?"

She groaned, irritated, and threw her file onto the desk.

"What's it to you?"

He smiled. Not his usual smile. Not the one that preceded blows. Another one, rarer. Soft. And dangerous.

"I'm meddling in what belongs to me."

She raised her head, eyes dark, ready to strike him. But he was already there, very close, hands in his pockets, his chest almost touching hers. And he wasn't looking at her in defiance. He was looking at her as if he were listening. As if he could hear her heart beating.

"Step back."

"No."

A silence. Too long. Too charged. The slightest movement would have shattered everything.

Then she made the mistake. A human error, certainly. Fatigue. Loneliness. A slight crack in the mask.

She didn't hit him.

She didn't run away.

She sighed. Just that. A sigh. A release.

And he saw the flaw.

He sensed the weakness, the whisper of a possible attachment.

And it was worse than pity. Worse than hate.

He raised his hand. Slowly. Gently. And his fingers brushed her cheek. Not roughly. With an awkward, almost sacred tenderness.

"You should sleep, ma'am."

She let him. Just a few seconds. She could have broken his wrist. She didn't.

And that's when he knew. That she was no longer invulnerable. That she had opened, even just a centimeter, the door. And in that gap, he rushed in.

**

Since that day, everything changed.

He no longer just followed her. He waited for her. At the metro exit, sometimes. In front of the teachers' lounge. He left things on her desk: a lighter, an annotated book he had stolen from the library, a peach-flavored chewing gum she liked. He didn't always speak. But he watched. For a long time. Obsessively.

And she… she said nothing.

She should have. She knew it. Every step towards him chipped away at her a little more. She saw his gaze change—more fixed, more serious. He no longer called her just "ma'am." Sometimes, it was Y/N. Pronounced slowly. As if he were chewing each letter. As if it were an incantation.

She should have set boundaries. She should have re-established the distance. But she had found herself waiting for his gaze. Watching for his silhouette. And feeling something bitter when he wasn't there.

One day, she had hurt her hand—a stupid cut with a piece of cardboard. She hadn't noticed him watching her from afar. That evening, he had entered her office without knocking, a first-aid kit in his hand.

"You're incapable of taking care of yourself, huh."

He had taken her hand without waiting. She could have slapped him. She should have. But he was already gently cleaning the wound. Without brutality. His fingers were warm, calloused, but precise.

She said nothing. He wrapped the gauze around her palm. Then, he kept her hand in his for a few seconds too long.

"I can't get you out of my head."

She wanted to answer. He interrupted her.

"I don't want you to be like the others. You're not. And I'm not stupid, Y/N. You think I'm just a wild animal, but I see what you're trying to hide. You furrow your brow when you're worried. You're afraid of getting attached, and you always look at me like I'm a time bomb. Maybe I am one, yeah. But you activated me. And now, it's too late."

She stepped back, finally. But gently. He didn't try to hold her.

She closed her eyes. For a second. Just one. And he saw her breathe faster. He saw that what she was holding back wasn't anger. It was something else. Something more painful.

"You'd better leave."

"Not until you understand what you've unleashed."

He left the room. Slowly. He didn't need to kiss her. Not yet. Not right away. He had seen what he wanted to see: the mistake.

She had looked at him differently. She had trembled, even slightly.

And that crack, he would never let it close again.

---

The rain had fallen all night. It hammered against the windows of Y/N's car, punctuating the tension that tightened her throat. She hadn't stopped staring at the police station door, her eyes fixed in a blur, her jaw clenched. She knew these kinds of calls. Too well. Violent kids, repeat offenders, desperate cases left to drift in a soulless system. But tonight, it wasn't a "case," it wasn't a student.

It was him.

Geum Seong-je.

When she had walked through the doors, the smell of disinfectant mixed with stale coffee and dampness had hit her. A familiar smell. Too familiar. And the police officers had greeted her with a vague air, as if it were just another detail in their night.

"He can leave," one of them said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, frowning.

"Orders from above."

"Meaning?"

He shrugged, offering no further explanation.

"Release him to the supervisor. That's what we were told."

Y/N felt her temples throb. She wasn't stupid. "Orders from above" didn't exist without a reason. Even less so when it involved a teenager implicated in a violent fight with another school. There had been serious injuries. One of the boys had a fractured jaw. And Seong-je? He was going to walk out, as if nothing had happened.

It smelled like bullshit. Real bullshit.

And not a single answer. Nothing.

When she entered the small back room, she saw him. Sitting on a metal chair, slumped against the wall, legs spread apart, face turned to the floor. He looked… drained. Arms crossed over his chest, forehead pressed against the wall. Disarmed.

A dirty bandage covered his right foot, which he held half-raised, without even paying attention to it. Dried blood stained his temple. His knuckles were split open, scraped down to the bone.

But it wasn't the sight of his injuries that struck her. It was the absence of fire in his eyes. The absence of that fierce rage he wore like a second skin.

"Seong-je?"

He slowly raised his head. He blinked. Then a small, painful grimace stretched across his split lips.

"Ma'am..."

His voice was hoarse. Slowly, he straightened up, swayed, but remained standing.

But this time, there was nothing provocative about that "ma'am."

There was no more irony. No more game.

He had said it like an oath. Like a sacred whisper.

"Let's go home." She took his arm. He didn't protest. But she felt his whole body stiffen when she put an arm around his waist to help him walk.

**

She settled him in her home. Not out of weakness. Not out of pity. But because she knew. Instinctively.

He didn't want to go back. He had no one.

He hadn't said it. He hadn't even tried to make excuses. He had just let himself be guided, silent.

In her small living room, she sat him down on the sofa. She got what she needed: first-aid kit, compresses, hydrogen peroxide. He watched her, his dark gaze fixed on her every move as if he never wanted to lose sight of her again.

And when she laid her hands on him…

When she gently cleaned the blood from his temple, when she brushed her fingertips over his swollen cheek, when she bandaged his ribs without even raising her voice…

He broke.

Not in sobs. Not in screams. Inwardly. Silently. Devastated.

Because no one had ever touched him like that.

No one had ever cared for him without making him feel like a beast, a problem, a mistake. She, she placed her hands with an almost… frightening delicacy. As if he had value. As if he were fragile.

And the more she touched him, the more something inside him melted.

The more his obsession with her became visceral, devouring, uncontrollable.

He looked at her like one looks at a vision. Like a miracle in a world of filth.

Y/N, for her part, focused on her actions. But she felt it. She felt his eyes following her, scrutinizing her. As if he wanted to engrave her into his flesh.

She tried to remain upright. Hard. But it was too late.

In a corner of her mind, she admitted it: she hurt for him.

And she hated that crack within herself.

"You're going to have to stay off that foot for a few days. It's pierced."

"They stomped on me with a metal bar," he replied without emotion.

She froze. He said it as if he were talking about the rain. As if it were normal.

And this time, she couldn't help but look up at him. He was staring at her. Intense. Obsessed.

"Why are you like this with me?" he murmured.

She hesitated. Her hands trembled almost imperceptibly.

"Because you're still standing despite everything."

"You still think I'm just a kid, huh."

She didn't answer. He licked his lips, painfully. Then, he leaned in slightly. He was still sitting, she kneeling in front of him. And slowly, he placed his hand on her cheek.

"Y/N..."

She felt her throat tighten.

He wasn't trying to provoke her. Or seduce her. Not really.

He was just trying to maintain that contact. That link. That small, invisible thread that now connected them.

And in an almost unreal moment, she closed her eyes.

Just for a moment.

She felt his warm palm against her skin. Understood. Accepted.

But as she was about to straighten up, he spoke. His voice was deeper. Slower. Trembling.

"Even if you were to love me one day… you'd refuse. Because I'm still a minor. Because you have too many principles. Because you're strong. And me… I'm everything you've learned to run from."

She opened her eyes. Their gazes met.

Brutally.

And she understood. That this boy, this damn broken, unstable, twisted boy… had just realized that he was falling.

That he was falling for her.

And she… she wasn't sure she wanted to stop him anymore.

She placed her hand on his. Withdrew it almost immediately.

But it was too late.

He had felt it.

And in his eyes, in that uncontrollable flame, she read the promise of an obsession with no way out.

"I'm going to disappear for a while," he finally said.

She raised her head.

"Where?"

"You don't want to know."

She wanted to protest. He shook his head.

"Not now. But I'll be back."

He stood up with difficulty. She helped him. He rested his forehead against hers. Just for a second.

"You see… you left a crack, ma'am. And me? I'm going to make it open until you belong to me."

**

And she let him go.

Not because she wanted to.

But because she knew that when he returned, nothing would ever be the same.

---

I’ve kept a low profile.

No more fighting. No more staring. Nothing. Like a ghost in these damn hallways. Not because I’ve changed. No. I’m the same. I just understood. Baek Jin, that dog, that parasite… he used me. I was a tool. A pit bull he’d unleash when he needed to. Nothing else.

So I backed off. I waited. I watched.

And during that time, I thought about her.

Ms. Y/N.

Fucking hell. Just her name in my head and my nerves ignite.

I remember her fingers on my face that night. It was nothing. An almost professional gesture. Cold. Calculated. But damn it… I got hard as a rock that night. I clenched the sheets between my teeth. I touched myself like a dog in heat. And it was her. It’s always her. It’s always her hand I imagine between my legs.

I’m sick.

I know it. I don’t care.

I want her to touch me again. Not just my face. No. I want her hand everywhere. I want her mouth on my skin. Her nails in my back. Her breath in my ear. Her saliva. Her fucking scent—that mix between clean and fire. Between discipline and hell.

I want to see her crumble. See her lose that mask.

I want to be the one who makes her tremble. Not from fear. From need.

I want her to tell me I’m hers. Even if it’s not true. Even if she’s lying. Even if she hates me.

Because me… I love her.

Not that bullshit love they sing about in dramas.

Me, I love her to the bone.

I love her like you burn.

I dream of her. And in my dreams, she doesn’t scream. She moans.

She tells me no, at first. Always. Because it’s her. Because she’s proud. Fucking upright. But I see her body betray her words. I see her thighs part, slowly. I see her mouth slightly open. I see her breathing quicken.

And I grab her by the nape of the neck. I look at her. I say nothing. And she understands.

And I take her.

I devour her.

I want her to feel that I’m there. Inside her. Everywhere. That even after, when she washes herself, when she tries to forget, I’ll still be there. Under her fingernails. In her nightmares. In her scent.

I’m obsessed.

I could spend hours staring at her without speaking. Just watching her walk. Her swaying hips. Her dark gaze. That contempt she wears like perfume.

Even when she insulted me, I got hard.

Even when she threw me to the ground, tased me like a dog, I would have thanked her.

It was her.

She calmed me down. She hurt me. She looked at me like I was a monster. And damn it… I want her to continue.

I want her to tell me I’m fucked up. That I’m a lost cause.

But I want her to tell me that while moaning. Between two sighs.

I want her to scratch me. Make me bleed. Reject me while I take her. I want her hate, her fear, her confusion. I want her damn mind.

I want to crush her beneath me and whisper in her ear:

“You’re mine now, ma’am.”

And she won’t say anything. Because she’ll know it’s true.

Even if she denies it. Even if she runs.

I’ll always find her.

Because I’m not in love like other people.

I’m not a nice guy. I’m not made for happiness.

I’m made to destroy her softly.

To show her that she never really controlled her heart.

I stole it, little by little.

And one day, she’ll see it.

One day, she’ll feel that she can no longer breathe without thinking of me.

That day… I’ll be there. With my hands around her hips.

With my mouth against her throat.

And she won’t say anything.

Because it will be too late.

---

She’d been warned he was back, in a fearful whisper from a student with a tongue that wagged too freely.

He hadn’t returned to school. Of course not. Too obvious. Too risky. He was hanging around the construction site of the old shopping center, the one no one watched. Walls covered in graffiti, windows blown out, rats making their kingdom out of the debris.

That’s where she found him.

He hadn’t hidden. He was sitting on the cracked steps, one arm bloody beneath his torn sleeve. His eyes were vacant. An expression she’d never seen on him before.

And it drove her mad.

Mad with rage. With pain. With not knowing. With not understanding. With having believed him to be different, perhaps. A dangerous, unstable guy, but not this. Not a fucking rapist.

She approached. The sound of her footsteps echoed on the concrete.

He looked up, slowly.

And without warning, the first slap landed.

A sharp crack in the cold air. Seong-je’s head snapped violently to the side. He didn’t react. He blinked. That was all.

“Tell me it’s not true,” Y/N breathed. Her voice was low. Strangled.

Not a scream. A warning.

He looked at her, silent.

She slapped him a second time, harder, backhanded this time. He swayed slightly but remained seated. Still without a word.

“Tell me it’s not true, damn it!”

He inhaled. Closed his eyes.

“It’s not true,” he said.

But it was too late.

The third slap was brutal. Stinging. He placed a hand on his cheek this time. Not to protect himself. Just… to feel.

As if the pain was the only proof he was still there.

Y/N was trembling. Her whole body. Not with fear. With rage. She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up brutally.

“Then why did you hide?! Huh?! Why did you disappear?! What did you think?! That by leaving me in the dark, I’d… forget?! Defend you without knowing?!”

He kept his eyes locked on hers.

“Because I knew you’d do exactly that. Hit me. Judge me. Look at me like them.”

She gritted her teeth. And then, without thinking, the fourth slap came. And this time, she screamed.

“I protected you! I covered for you for months! And you leave me with a fucking accusation like that?! What do you want?! For me to abandon you?!”

He flinched.

He hadn’t said anything.

But his eyes had clouded over. A shadow had passed.

“I didn’t want you to see that. Me, like that.”

She shoved him violently; he fell back onto the steps, his hands scraped by the concrete.

He didn’t get up.

She remained standing, panting. Broken.

“They have photos, Seong-je. Blurry, yes, but usable. Your black hoodie. Your profile. Your scar on your temple.”

He murmured:

“I wasn’t there. I was somewhere else. I was…”

He hesitated.

“I was hiding out at an old acquaintance’s place. I didn’t call you. I… I was scared.”

“Scared of what?! Of me?!”

He finally looked up at her, and this time, she saw it.

She saw the distress. The real kind.

“Scared that you wouldn’t believe me. That you’d look at the evidence and hesitate. That you’d doubt. Even for a second.”

She didn’t answer. She approached slowly. Squatted down in front of him.

And she hit him one last time, not a slap this time, a punch to the chest, with a closed fist.

“Bastard,” she breathed.

But he looked at her as if she were the last beautiful thing he had left.

And maybe she was.

He coughed, a trace of blood on his lips.

“I’m not a good guy, ma’am. But I never touched that girl. I never wanted that. And I never wanted you to see me like this. Weak. Accused. Falsely accused.”

She closed her eyes. For a long time. Then, gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He shivered under her touch.

“Who?��

“Nabaek-jin. Or the guys behind him. They want to take me down. Shut me up. Make me disappear. And there’s no better way than this kind of accusation.”

She nodded.

And for a long moment, they said nothing.

His lips were split. His gaze was lost. He looked worn out. Damaged. Younger than ever. Just a kid. A kid who had been hit too much, dirtied too much.

She stood up.

“You’re coming with me. We’re going to prove you weren’t there that night. We’re going to flip the script. And if you’re lying…”

He nodded.

“I’m not lying.”

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t touch him again.

But as she left, she murmured:

“Don’t run from me again. Because if you do… I’ll hunt you down myself.”

He offered a broken smile.

And in his head, a single thought returned, insistent:

She’s still here. Even after all that. She’s here. She touches him. She hits him. She yells at him. But she’s here.

And that presence was worth all the pain.

Even the pain she inflicted.

---

He was there, leaning against the damp wall of the fire escape behind the school, his gaze fixed on the empty alleyway. He knew she was close. He could feel it. He didn’t need to see her to anticipate her steps – that cold, steady, almost military rhythm. Y/N never did anything halfway.

And she arrived, straight as a knife, her fists clenched in the pockets of her too-thin coat.

She shot him a dark look. He didn’t flinch.

“You have bruises.”

He smiled. An empty smile.

“I don’t fight, Ma’am. I fall.”

She hated that smile. Because it made her want to believe him. And she refused.

“Why do you insist on doing this alone?”

He looked at her for a long time. Too long. And in his eyes, there was that fever she dreaded. That uncontrollable thing, that unhealthy fire that simmered beneath his skin.

“Because it’s my mess. Not yours.”

“And if you get killed? If you fall?”

He approached. Slowly. One step after another. Until he was close enough to feel her breath on his face.

“Then I fall alone. But I refuse to let you dirty your hands for this. I refuse to let them see you, associate you with me, touch you from afar or up close.”

She raised her voice.

“You think I’m some fucking porcelain doll?! You think I—"

He cut her off sharply.

“Let me be a man for once, Y/N.”

She stopped.

He continued, lower. His voice hoarse. And full of that muffled crack he only showed her.

“You want to do everything, carry everything. You’re used to people relying on you. Me, I want… I want to be the one who isn’t saved. I want that at least once in my life, I can say: ‘I handled it. Me.’

He looked up at her. He was burning. Literally.

“You brought me to my knees with your gaze, Y/N. And I don’t want the rats in this city to know you exist. You’re mine. And I’m your dirt to hide.”

She tried to answer. But the words didn’t come. Not right away.

So he left. And this time, she didn’t stop him.

**

Three hours later, in a deserted bowling alley with a broken neon sign, Geum Seong-je retrieved what he had carefully hidden.

An old sports bag, stashed under a false ceiling in the utility room. Inside, papers, hard drives, photos. He had kept it all, just in case. Not because he was careful. Because deep down, he knew that one day, he would have to betray.

He wasn’t afraid of Na Baek-jin.

Not like before.

What he feared was no longer being worthy of Y/N’s gaze. She had slapped him as if she wanted him to become real again. And she had succeeded.

So that night, he walked to the hill where Yeon Si-eun and his two war dogs, baku, gotak and jun-tae. sometimes hung out.

They were there.

He handed the bag to Si-eun, without speaking.

Yeon Si-eun didn’t ask questions. He opened it. Scanned it. Understood. And looked up.

“Why?”

Seong-je ran a hand through his hair, his gaze elsewhere.

“You want to demolish their fucking syndicate? Here’s your bomb. Me, I have something else to protect.”

Si-eun nodded. He didn’t add anything. No need.

**

The next day, Seong-je returned to his hole. He didn’t plan on being a hero. He let others destroy. He just wanted to survive.

But in his head, Y/N.

Always Y/N.

Her voice, her slaps, her silences, her scent.

He thought of her as he went to bed. As he breathed. As he walked. As he washed his hands like a maniac so as not to contaminate what he might one day offer her.

He wanted her. Physically. Yes.

But it wasn’t just that.

He wanted her to see him and think: he’s changed.

He wanted her to offer him a hand one day. Not to save him. Just to touch him.

And every step he took in this fucking rotten world, he took for her.

Not for love. Not for forgiveness.

For the possibility.

The tiny, painful, terribly uncertain possibility… that one day, she would look at him without rage.

Without fear.

Just… with something a little soft.

And for that, he was ready to betray everything he had been.

Even himself.

---

CHAPTER 10 – STORIES ARE WRITTEN TOGETHER

Two months. That’s all it had taken for the dust to settle over the city. Two months of voluntary isolation. Of self-imposed exile.

Geum Seongje hadn’t returned right away. No. He had been a shadow, a figure hidden in the underbelly, where people like him hid, where wounds half-healed, and where time seemed to have forgotten to pass.

The war was over, but he still bore its scars. His name was no longer whispered in the dark alleys with disgust or fear. The syndicate had fallen. The accusations against him had crumbled with the collapse of that underworld. He was cleared, or almost.

But not yet rehabilitated. Not yet returned to who he had been.

The two months had passed. And here he stood before the school, in the middle of the school holidays, in the shade of a tree. He had grown, changed. He was now a man. Of age. And, more importantly, he was there for her.

A cold gaze settled on the entrance of the building. It wasn’t the first time he had returned here. But this time, he had a reason beyond mere rage to reappear in the life of the one who had marked him with fire.

Y/N.

She was there. In the shadow of the gate, talking to a group of students, like a guardian figure. When she turned her head, her eyes met his. A shiver pierced the warm summer air. She recognized him immediately, even after those two months.

She hadn’t changed. But he… He was something else entirely. Harder, more mature, more enigmatic. Far from the teenager she had had to watch, control, sometimes insult. He was no longer the one she had slapped. He was no longer the one she had tried to help, with her icy and closed heart. No, he was a man. A man she knew by heart… and who, yet, was no longer the same at all.

Seongje approached her, his gaze scrutinizing every movement. It wasn't just the desire to possess her. It was deeper. It was a visceral need. A need to connect, to give meaning back to his existence. An obsession, of course, but tinged with that nuance he had never thought possible.

“You know, I can’t call you ‘ma’am’ anymore. I’m no longer under your supervision,” he said with a wry smile, a smile that was both teasing and unhealthy. But his voice was softer, more confident. It was more than a provocation. It was… almost an attempt to get closer.

She stared at him. She was no longer as implacable, but her expression remained distant.

“You’ve changed,” she finally said. Not a question, just a statement.

He didn’t answer immediately, preferring to look her in the eyes. And in that gaze, she could almost feel what he was feeling. The buried pain, the shame, the rage, but also an insatiable need to be seen. To be accepted. To be chosen.

“I’m an adult now, aren’t I?” His voice was tinged with that childish arrogance he had always had, but this time, it wasn’t empty. There was something more in the way he addressed her. A plea for recognition.

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze lost in a mixture of confusion and curiosity. The situation was too unclear for her to embrace with a simple look.

He moved closer slowly, each step heavy with unspoken meanings. Everything he had lived through, everything he had endured… He had gone through it all to be there, in front of her. He was ready for anything. Even that dull ache that resonated in his gut with every movement he made.

“If I follow you… it’s not for school, you know.”

His words were simple, but they struck her heart like a hammer blow.

“You want to follow me away from all this?” she asked, surprised, but also slightly amused. She had remained calm, but he could feel the tension in her gestures.

“Maybe,” he said, a mischievous smile in his eyes. Then he added, lower, almost to himself, “I’ve always had this kind of connection with you. I want more than silences. More than furtive glances.”

She looked at him then, and for the first time in a long time, her gaze softened. Perhaps because she understood now. Perhaps because she knew.

“I’m going to another school… I’m getting transferred,” she murmured. “You know, the distance…”

He leaned a little closer to her, and this time, it wasn’t an enraged look, or the look of a badly behaved child. No, it was a conscious look, the look of someone who knew what he wanted.

“Then I’ll call you ‘noona’ now,” he said in a warm, sensual breath. The word slipped from his lips, and he pronounced it in an almost intimate way, a way that made all the difference. Because he had never pronounced that word that way before, not to her, not ever.

She froze for a moment before relaxing slightly. An almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. But he could see it. She saw it too, that small crack in the wall she had built around herself. She felt an electric tension, a dull pulse, as palpable as the air between them.

Their gazes locked.

It wasn’t a kiss yet, no. But there was something even stronger. It was a silent promise, a profound change. He, the child who had tormented her, now ready to be the one who would follow her. She, the woman ready to accept him, but not without her own fears.

Seongje’s fingers slid onto Y/N’s skin, brushing her wrist. The touch was soft, almost fragile, as if he were afraid of breaking what had just been created. And Y/N, this time, didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she leaned in slightly, like an invitation.

“Noona…” he repeated, in a heavier tone, almost a whisper. And this time, it was the beginning of something real, something vulnerable. It was no longer an obsession.

It was hope.

And then, he did it. He crossed that boundary that, until then, had seemed like an insurmountable chasm. He kissed her. Not brutally, not violently. But gently, gently, as if each movement was a revelation, as if he were discovering himself through her. He had no expectations. Just this desire to feel her close, even closer, more real than ever.

She recoiled slightly, her eyes wide open, shocked by the gesture, but he didn’t move away. Not this time. He waited for a reaction. He didn’t want her words. He just wanted… her to see him. To really see him.

And for the first time since he had met her, Seongje felt at peace. Not because the battle was over, not because he had won anything. But because this time, he had taken his future into his own hands. And that future, he wanted to share with her. No matter how twisted, difficult, or uncertain it might be.

She placed her hand on his cheek, caressing it gently. He had never thought that simple gesture could have such an impact. That tenderness… he received it like a precious, fragile gift. And perhaps, deep down, he was beginning to believe that he could build something real with her. Perhaps, finally, he could exist beyond his mistakes.

She leaned slightly towards him.

“Seongje…”

She said nothing more. Words were unnecessary. But in her eyes, there was what he had always sought: a promise. A promise he had waited for. That he would now build with her.

He smiled, without a word.

Things weren’t perfect. They never would be.

But for the first time, there was an “us.” And that was all he had ever wanted.

Their hands trembled. The air between them was saturated with desire and tension, but also with that fragility that now bound them. No further words were needed. No grander gestures. They understood each other. And for the first time, Seongje felt that he wasn’t alone in being obsessed with the other.

Y/N was there, ready to accept who he had become. But the question remained: would they be able to repair what had been broken before? Or would it all consume them even more?

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

[lsunstreakerl]

I was re-reading Dad- I mean, GP- (love all your fics btw) and noticed a line about Max calling Christian Dad when he was high on painkillers after Silverstone. How did Christian react and do you think that Max even remembers it? Keep up the amazing writing!

okay, in my defense I think I mentioned somewhere that it wasn't soft or fluffy at all and I stand by that. here you go! (no, max doesn't remember it. christian will never tell him.)

Search History APOV, christian, set in the hospital room after Silverstone. 1.3k words <3

"Okay, out, out- clear the room, please."

Christian feels more like an usher than a team principal as he directs people out of the hospital room. Max deserves better than being treated like some kind of zoo animal.

Christian knows he's not supposed to get attached to his drivers, but-

He can't help it. They crawl into his heart, carving out their own little space.

Redbull's children. His children.

Seb, Daniel, Max.

Strong, proud, defiant Max. He looks tiny where he's unconscious in the hospital bed, and Christian's heart twists. He hasn't felt fear like that in long time, sitting on the pitwall, waiting for Max to come over the radio. It was the longest few seconds of his life, but what's haunting him-

Gianpiero, normally so collected and calm, a man Christian has never once seen agitated- his hand had gripped Christian's wrist so hard there are purpling bruises in the shape of his fingers. He's back with the team right now, but Christian knows he'll be on his way soon. If Max has carved a space into Christian's heart, he's taken up complete residence in GP's.

There's footsteps at the doorway, and Christian turns his head, meeting hard blue eyes with his own.

"Kind of you to finally show up, Jos."

Jos is frowning, the way he always is, but there's no fear in his eyes- he's not even looking at Max in the hospital bed. Christian has barely been able to take his eyes off of him.

"He should not have left without me."

Christian feels a muscle in his jaw twitch.

"He's a legal adult. We weren't exactly thinking about it when they airlifted him."

He can hear the strain in his voice, but he can't help it with Jos. It creeps out of him, makes it hard to think straight.

Jos sneers, finally looking at the bed. There's no sorrow on his face- just a complicated cocktail of emotions. He looks more disappointed than anything.

"He is fine, yes?"

Christian takes a deep breath, forces himself to stay civil.

"The medical team wants to take a deeper look at his brain, see if there's any damage hiding they might've missed. That kind of thing can get worse over time- we'd rather get ahead of it now."

Jos raises an eyebrow, and Christian continues.

"But otherwise, they just have him under observation at the moment. He's got a nasty concussion."

Jos hums, and the sound is so startlingly Max that Christian feels his gut churn.

"Skip the additional tests. They just want money. He has had concussions before, he knows how to handle them. I want him out sooner, not later."

Christian opens his mouth to protest, but Jos doesn't budge.

"I am his father, and his medical proxy."

Christian bites his tongue.

"I'll let the nurse know."

Jos looks back down at Max, and for a split second there's a flash of something across his face.

Christian isn't sure if it's guilt or rage.

"He will be fine."

It almost sounds like Jos is trying to convince himself. He turns back to Christian, and now he looks pissed off.

"I am going to handle media. The Dutch media, where they will not twist the situation. To behave that way, when a competitor is here- it is disrespectful. I will not stand for it."

A competitor. Jos disgusts him.

Max is supposed to be his son.

Jos leaves, and part of Christian feels a bit like he's just set a rabid dog loose on the press, frothing at the mouth. It's not out of a genuine care for Max though- it's about the way Lewis is behaving. Jos won't stand for it.

Normally Christian wouldn't either, but.

He's needed more here.

He settles in one of the armchairs with his laptop up. He has messages from GP, keeping him updated on the team meeting, and a personal message from John telling him the garage is chomping at the bit, furious and protective.

He's neck deep in emails when Max stirs a bit, eyes blinking open slowly. One pupil is larger than the other, and he seems like he's looking through Christian, rather than at him.

"Max?"

Max takes a shaky breath, and Christian is alarmed to see the way his eyes start watering.

"Papa-"

Oh shit.

Christian does not get paid enough for this. Really, he doesn't get paid enough for most of his Max related responsibilities, but especially not this.

He reaches an arm for Max's hand, intending to reassure him, but Max jerks away from him, eyes widening.

"No- no, I'm sorry, I did not-"

Max takes another breath as Christian backs up, bile in his throat.

"Max, hey it's okay-"

"I will- it will be better, next time, I won't- I won't slide, I'll make the turn, I'm sorry-"

Christian feels helpless at the way Max is pressed back into the bed away from him, eyes hazy with medication, blown from the concussion.

Redbull's children. His children.

He takes a breath and steps forward, pushes past the way his heart squeezes as Max tries to get away from him.

One of his hands lands gently on Max's shoulder, running up his back to settle in his hair. Christian leans down to wrap Max in a hug, gentle even as he's shaking in his arms.

"I'm- papa, I'm sorry."

Max says it desperate and panicked, like he knows the words won't do him any good.

Christian shushes him like he does his own children, even as his own heart twists. He's not supposed to get attached to his drivers.

Redbull's children. His children.

"It's okay, Max. You did a good job, and I'm glad you're okay."

Max chokes on a half sob.

"No, no I missed, I fucked it up-"

"Max, I don't care about that. I care that you're okay. That's what matters right now."

Christian lets Max cry it out, palm running up and down his spine as Max settles, finally nodding off against his shoulder.

Max is asleep, but-

Christian stays, holding him in his arms. Their golden boy. The garage is ready to go on a warpath, every single one of them. Max is fiercely loyal, but Christian is fairly confident he doesn't realize how devoted their loyalty is in return. He's theirs. To be crashed out, deep into the heart of Silverstone, to see the celebrations from Mercedes afterwards-

There's a vile, rabid taste in all of their mouths. They'll come back stronger, hit harder. They won't let him get away with it.

There's shuffling by the doorway, and Christian looks over as GP steps in. He looks haggard, still in his Redbull polo, jacket thrown hastily over his shoulders. He's pretty sure it's not even Gianpiero's jacket- normally he sees it across the back of Helmut's chair.

"How is he?"

GP settles on the other side of the bed, flipping through the paperwork from the table with one hand while the other rests over Max's.

Christian sighs.

"Concussed. They don't think there's any additional damage, but they wanted to do some extra testing to make sure. Jos said no."

"Cunt."

Christian raises an eyebrow. GP is normally much better about keeping his feelings internalized.

"Mhm."

"Sorry, Christian. I just-"

"I know."

Gianpiero helps Christian settle Max back against the bed.

"I'll stay with him if you need to leave."

Christian looks over at him, assessing.

"Do I need to leave?"

GP winces.

"I think the team needs some guidance. John is with them, but a more... direct reminder should probably be given. Maybe a reminder that sabotage and unsportsmanlike conduct won't do Max any good."

Christian snorts. He feels more like a babysitter than anything, but he understands where GP is coming from.

"I hear you. Message me if anything changes with him, okay? And- he was a little bit confused earlier."

GP nods, thumb brushing over the back of Max's hand.

"I will. Thank you for being here."

Christian gives him a thin smile.

Redbull's children. His children.

"All part of the job, isn't it?"

[muzzlemouths]

ok for like the past week(s) i've been checking your blog to see if a new chapter has been released so i could read and participate in poll as soon as possible. and uh. GOD i just wanna say. the new chapter. RRRRRRRRRRRR BITING AND RIPPING AND CHEWING LIKE A RABID DOG "run rabbit run" will forever be on my mind now. as well as the whole chapter and fic. the way you write and reveal all these things with subtle wording is immaculate! incredible! delicious! PLEASE I WANNA KNOW WHAT MOON WAS THINKING FOR THE MAJORITY OF EVERYTHING. ESPECIALLY if we agree. what would his reaction be. like "oh, so you can actually help us?... hmmm" or something like that idk BUT YALL. PLEASE VOTE REFUSE. i wanna help the counselors but also see how sun reacts. he would not be pleased lmao. but like. people change. and obviously sun wont. so like. yeah. but hey, i dont know! ;) Also. i bet you made heather die because no one was dying with our choices and you wanted to spice things up. but WHY HER? She was one of my favs!! ToT

Glad to hear you're enjoying it! :D

In regards to Heather, I would never kill off a character for shock value alone. Sun has an order of doing things and so do I. That said, Heather's death is different from the rest in that it breaks that order.

After all, you hardly had a say in the matter, didn't you?

[whxtedreams]

Chapter Three: Do you trust me?

The Depths we Devour, a gothic horror detective!joel fic

Summary

You struggle with new and overwheming emotions about The Detective while danger lurks around the corner.

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags: Reader POV, mentions of loss, reader is conflicted, blood, joel calls reader sweetheart/honey, anxiety, comfort, death, violence behind closed doors, joel shoots someone, joel comforts reader. // as always, if i miss any let me know

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

The Sweetheart

Day Two

5:16pm

The ghost of his hands is the first thing you feel as you slowly wake up alone in your bed. His touch, his skin, the way it felt as you wrapped yourself around him as you moulded seamlessly against his body. The way the heat of his touch and his body warmed your own and brought a sense of security, a sense of comfort. The way he would play with your hair, gently toying with the strands as you felt your fear melt away, your worries easing into nothingness as he stroked at your hair.

The fingers that had done all that, the same ones that pulled the trigger on your friend.

But was she really your friend if she tried to kill you?

The hands of your palms press and dig deeply into the closed eyes, trying to wipe away the image that haunts you, that torments you, and that keeps playing repeatedly in the deepest parts of your mind. The gurgles and screeches of Mia as she attempted to hurt you, kill you, haunt your mind as you slowly wake up.

You can’t wrap your head around why she would ever want to hurt you. Had you upset her?

Your mind travels back to her skin, once so smooth, now almost rotten and sunken in, the color of life replaced by a sickly tone that looks more appropriate for death. Of those sharp and long nails that scratched and clawed at your skin as she tried to hurt you with every bit of energy and life that she had left.

The detective was not the first to show up, the first to hear you. That honour went to Alex, screaming at her to stop, pleading with her to calm down as she had become a rabid dog, a vicious beast that would not stop attempting to tear you to pieces. But nothing could have stopped her, nothing until the detective stormed into the room. Until he fired three shots at her and she fell to the ground, her body limp and lifeless.

You don't know why you reacted the way that you did, the screams stuck in your throat, trapped as though you were in a nightmare, a horrible dream that wouldn't stop unless you gave in to the fear that had overtaken you. How you felt so small and frail under the detective's embrace, held firmly and safely in his strong arms, his warmth providing strength and protection. How you felt so broken as he carried you back to your room, your safety net.

How your bones felt so heavy as he dressed you.

He was gentle with you, oh so gentle, as if you were a porcelain sculpture that would crack or shatter at one touch too tough, that could crumble into a thousand pieces with one wrong move. It made your heart skip just remembering the care, the softness of his touch and how safe you felt. Knowing that he was taking care of you, watching over you like a guardian angel. Making sure that you were okay, safe.

The late afternoon sun breaks through the window and the sheer curtains sway in the soft breeze of the wind that flows through the open window. The rays of light pierce through the air and cast a warm glow on the room, the light reflecting off the wall and the floor.

You look across at where he had laid beside you and you frown, feeling an emotion sink within you. The feelings within you twisted and confusing. You hardly knew the man and you shouldn’t want him to be beside you in bed as you woke and saw the world once again, but you found yourself wishing it anyway. Hoping that he would be there beside you when you awoke, his presence a warm safety net for you to latch on to when you felt the world spinning around you.

The movement of his hands last night, the gentle touch and the way his fingers swirled over the curve of your body, was something that sent a tingling sensation up your spine. A tingle that started in your stomach and ended in your heart, a feeling that made your body shiver.

You had left from his room so quickly, as it was all so new, so scary, the way he made you feel things you had never felt before. Emotions you’ve only ever written about. His eyes were transfixed on you, a look you had never seen before as he touched your bare skin. Your eyes too, wide and locked on his hands as he moved your shirt.

And then there was this morning as he dressed you, the look in his eyes that was softer, kinder. No longer with that slight edge of lust, but with something that spoke to you in a different way. Something that made you feel something more, that made your heart ache in a different way. All you wanted then was to crawl into his arms and never let go. To find a safe place where the madness of the world couldn't touch you and to feel the warmth of his embrace. His arms around you as he held you tight to protect you. 

He is so much older than you but you don’t find the will to care, not when he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You reach for a note, one that has been left on your bedside table that you hadn't noticed until now. You sit up against the pillows and stuffed animals scattered around you, grabbing the letter and reading it with eager eyes, hoping or imagining that it was from him, that it had his name signed at the bottom.

I didn’t want to wake you or leave you alone after what happened to Mia, but I have to get back to work finding your father. I’m heading into the forest but should be back before dinner. I’ve asked Alexander to make your favourite comfort meal, so if you need anything, you’ll find him in the kitchen. Stay safe. Joel

Your heart sinks when you realise he's not in the house anymore, that he’s out in the dark forest that surrounds the manor. You feel a tinge of fear at the thought of him being so distant, alone, out there in the vast forest. But you comfort yourself with the fact that he is strong, that he can handle himself out there and that he will come back safely unlike your father.

You want him here, close. So close that you could reach out a hand to him and know that he would catch you if you were to fall. Even so, you understand the silliness of your own emotions, how you're feeling this way about someone that you barely know after all, and yet, you can't help but feel these feelings. With a soft groan, you get out of bed, shaking your head at yourself before heading over to your computer on your desk, turning it on and opening a document to write.

If you can’t have him here, you’ll write a version that is.

And oh, are you inspired to write.

6:13pm.

"I'm sure he's fine," Alex attempts to assure you as he takes a seat beside you at the dining table. His voice soft and gentle, full of reassurance, trying his best to soothe your worries and calm the storm of emotion that threatens to overtake you.

You shake your head, shrugging off his gentle touch on your shoulder as he reaches out to comfort you. You feel your stomach churn as anxiety starts to settle in once more, a wave of unease and worry washing over you as your body tenses up in response to your inner emotions.

“You don’t know that. He said he would be back before dinner. What if something happened to him out there, like my father?” 

“I’m sure your father is fine-”

The words of reassurance are lost on you as you hear the front door open and then close with a loud slam, echoing off the walls of the manor. It must be Joel, you think to yourself, it has to be. Eliza is upstairs and has been cleaning the floor for at least two hours now, even though the floor was already clean after the police left. Alex is with you and Mia is, well not here anymore.

Your stomach knots and tenses up as you wait, hoping that it really is him who has come back, who will come through those doors, his presence providing you with relief from your anxiety.

You rise from the table as the dining room door opens, and the room goes silent as he slowly walks in, the smile that had crept onto your face when you heard the door opening disappearing when you see the ghastly sight of him. There's no joy in his face as he enters the room, no warm smile, no hint of mirth. Instead, there's nothing but a deadly stare, the look of someone who has been through hell and back.

Joel shrugs his backpack off his shoulder, letting it drop to the ground with a grunt, the stain of blood trickling down his white sleeve, his face bruised and his knuckles bloody. The sight of him like this sends a chill through you, the sight of his wounds making you worry and your heart sink as you see that he's hurt, his body bruised.

Your feet move without conscious thought, moving you in front of him before you even have a chance to process the action. Your hands hover above him, hesitant to touch him, afraid that you might just hurt him even more than he already is. You ask him what had happened, your voice gentle and concerned, genuine worry evident in your tone.

The detective takes your hovering hands in his own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hands, a comforting touch that almost makes you feel as if it's you who needs the reassurance and comfort. The detective's touch is gentle, his eyes filled with concern and empathy as he seems to try to comfort you even though he's the one who is wounded.

"Pack your things, it's not safe here." The detective's voice is not as soft and gentle as it has been, now a gruff, harsh tone that makes you pause for a moment as you look back up at him, confusion taking root in your expression. This was a side of him that you hadn't seen before, this darker side that has now made an appearance.

You shake your head in confusion as Alex stands from the table behind you, his chair scraping on the floor.

“What the hell happened to you?” Alex suddenly pipes up, his voice just as confused and bewildered as your own.

The detective drops your hands and runs his bloody hand over his bruised face, a simple but visible gesture that speaks volumes by itself. A quiet sigh escapes his mouth, one of exhaustion, one of resignation, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he speaks.

"Just go pack a bag." The detective says, his voice a low rumble, full of a certain authority that you had not heard before. His hands rest on his hip as he straightens back up to his full height, his eyes softening as he looks down at you.

You quickly nod in response as Alex takes hold of your hand and pulls you from the room, a gentle but firm grip that doesn't allow for any sort of hesitation or protest from your part. You go along with him as a look of concern settles on your face, your thoughts filled with questions and concerns for the detective.

You go into your room and immediately start packing some clothes and essentials into your overnight bag, not wanting to waste any time as an overwhelming feeling of concern starts to fill you. Your emotions get the better of you as your eyes grow damp and tears start to run down your face. You rub your eyes and wipe away the evidence of your emotions, trying to seem as though nothing is wrong at all. Once you've got your bag over your shoulder, you move to go back out of your room.

The hallway is quiet as you walk back down to Alex's room, the footsteps of your shoes on the floor the only noise that fills the space. You try to call out for him, wondering where he might have gone, but there's no response, no answer to your call. You push open the door to his room but find it empty, completely vacant, silent, and deserted as the door hangs open.

He must have already gone back downstairs, you decide.

The hallway lights flicker as you walk back towards the stairs, the sudden change in lighting throwing you off, as though it's just another thing to add to the confusion and worry that is filling you. Your hands grip onto your bag straps, and your eyes are glued to your shoes, and you don't dare look up.

You just want your father back, Mia back.

But one is missing, the other dead.

Your feet stop in their tracks and your head snaps back up as you hear a grunt from the room to your left.

Eliza’s room.

You wonder if anyone has told her that it's not safe here, that the detective has demanded that everyone leave at once. And with that, you open her door, the hinges creaking a bit as you push the door open. The air inside the room feeling a bit stale and cold as it hasn't been used in a while.

Eliza stands hunched over in the middle of her room, seemingly frozen in place and a bit like a statue. Soft grunts echo in the room and you tilt your head. Your eyes move away from her and glance around the room, taking it in as you notice that it's destroyed, as though there had been some sort of struggle or fight that had taken place here. Your eyes widen at the sight, your mind racing with questions.

A hand slams over your mouth, stopping you before you can call out to Eliza and making you jump with surprise. You suddenly feel the warm touch of another body pressed against your back, a strong arm that makes you gasp and pulls you back as you try to steady yourself by gripping onto his arm when you feel the blood-stained white sleeves.

Joel.

He slowly pulls you backwards, away from the room, almost silently hushing you in your ear. His voice low and calm as he guides you backwards out of the room. You can barely keep balanced as your heart beats out of control, struggling to calm at the fright of his sudden movements. His stubble scratches the side of your face making it itch, your skin suddenly prickling with heat at the close proximity of his body against yours, his arms still holding you firmly in place.

He detaches himself from you once you are out of the room, turning you around. He bends down so that he's at eye level with you. He raises up his finger to his lips as he stares into your eyes, his eyes searching yours just as heavily as your wide ones are searching his, making sure that you understand his gesture. You nod in response, knowing that he is trying to keep you quiet for whatever reason.

He enters the room you were just in and silently closes the door behind him.

You stand there in the hallway, still as a statue as you stare at the closed door in front of you. You listen to the silence around you and feeling the stillness of the air, suddenly disrupted by the screeches that erupt and the gunshots that follow.

You flinch at the noise, but despite the sudden outburst of sound, your feet don't move. Your eyes still glued to the door in front of you, listening and focusing on the noises and sounds coming from behind the closed door.

You feel like you should move, that you should run, and yet you're stuck. Unable to move, unable to react, unable to do anything but stand there in one place.

The room falls silent once more as you stand there, your breathing becoming uneven as you wait and watch the door, waiting for it to open. Joel steps out of the room, his face and chest splattered with blood. He closes the door behind him once more before you're able to see what you know happened. Your throat is dry and you can barely catch your breath as your mind races with the thought of what had occurred in that room.

Your eyes remain stuck on the door as Joel steps back in front of you, his hand gently holding the side of your face. He urges you to look up at him, and you finally do. Your eyes are watery as you look up into his eyes, the tears threatening to fall from your cheeks as you stare up at him.

“Why-” Your voice breaks as you stare up at him.

He shoves his gun back into his holster, his gaze steady and intense as he stares at you. His other hand comes to hold your face, taking it in both of his hands, a gentle grip that's almost comforting in its softness.

“I need you to listen to me now, okay sweetheart? We need to get outta here. Whatever business your father was dealing in, is bad news.”

You shake your head in his grip, not understanding the words that are coming out of his mouth. Your father isn’t someone who wouldn't deal with shady people, wouldn't hurt people, would never be involved in anything defined as bad news.

You frown, your hands rising to grip onto his bloody shirt, your mind working overtime to deny and contradict what he's saying. "No. You're wrong." You say forcefully, your voice filled with certainty as you insist that he's wrong.

“You killed Mia, Eliza-”

“I know I did honey, but they would have torn you apart. They weren’t themselves anymore. I’ll explain what I know in the car, alright? But we have to go now. Please.”

He's almost begging now, his eyes pleading as they stare at you. You look at his blood-stained face and clothes, the wounds on his body bringing you pain and conflicting feelings as your heart wants to believe him. Your mind wants to trust him. Your doubts and the events of the last few hours are tearing you apart, leaving you unable to make sense of anything or come to any conclusions about what you should do or believe.

“Do you trust me?”

But something about his eyes, the look of desperation and the firm and gentle grip of his fingers against the side of your face makes you nod your head. The uncertainty is still there but diminished, your mind slowly starting to lean towards belief and trust as you accept his words. “Yeah.” 

He nods, his hand reaching down to your hands and gripping it in a vice-like hold as he tugs you towards him. He holds onto your hand with a tight grip, as though he's terrified of losing your trust and belief, as if any moment you might reconsider and let go. But you know that you won't now, you don't think that you can. Your hand remains firmly gripped by his as he pulls you close to him, holding you tight. As if he cannot bear to let go, as if he needs you as close as possible.

Joel Miller has a death grip on you, and you don’t seem to mind it one bit.

Chapter four - coming soon

Notes

First Reader POV. a shorter chapter, just introducing your own feelings and emotions. Next chapter will have what happened to Joel in the forest, I won't skip over that DW!

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @jupiter-soups @lollabear @withasideofmeg

[mrsgreenworld]

I know that I'm supposed to be working on my other fic but there's an idea that just won't leave my head. In the ideal world and maybe on Netflix this is how I'd like Aslaz bathroom scene to go in the next episode.

I don't own the show or the characters, they all belong to the Yabani writers, producers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.

The Matter Of Friendship

Asi pulls away all too soon, muttering:

"No, stop".

She tugs at his hands that are framing her face, forcing him to let go and when he doesn't, she takes a few steps away from him. Alaz is left frozen in place, with the hands holding onto thin air.

"You can't do that. I promised you that I'd be by your side, I'd help you get through everything. And I'll keep my promise. I'll be there for you but only as a friend".

Alaz feels completely dumbfounded and thinks that if she headbutted him it wouldn't hurt as much as her uttering the word "friend". Is she for real?

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"You must be kidding because there's no way you've just called yourself my friend".

Alaz puts a special stress on the word, spitting it out like it's an insult. And it actually is. Her thinking they could be friends is so damn insulting. It's worse than her hating him. Let them be enemies but not friends.

"Why? What's wrong with us being friends? We couldn't be more, maybe we can at least have this".

Oh god ... She is serious.

Alaz squeezes his eyes shut and runs his fingers through his hair.

"No, you most definitely are losing your goddamn mind and want me to completely lose what's left of mine" he mutters with the eyes still closed, pulling at his hair.

And then she drops a nonchalant comment:

"I don't understand why you're being so dramatic. What the hell is the problem?"

That makes him open his eyes and freaking yell, making her jump:

"You wanna know the problem with your genius idea??? I FUCKING LOVE YOU!!! And you love me!!!"

He feels - and probably looks as well - like a rabid dog but he doesn't care. He eats up all the space between them in one step and doesn't give her a chance to take an instinctive step back. He sneaks his right arm possessively around her middle and pulls their bodies together, hard. Then he puts his left hand on her neck, only to feel the mad staccato of her pulse under his fingers. He doesn't give her time to react, to think or even breathe, he just attacks her mouth. It's so different from a tender and timid kiss they'd shared just before she dropped the friendship bomb on him. This kiss is primal and pulls a surprised moan from her, giving him the access inside her mouth. He wants to make this so dirty that by the time he's done with her, the freaking "friendship" and "friends" vanish from her vocabulary entirely.

He turns and walks them blindly, only stopping to hoist her up on the granite countertop at the sinks. Then steps between her legs that part for him reflectively. Alaz pulls her roughly to the edge, smacking his hips right into her. He stops his assault on Asi's mouth only to whisper into her used lips:

"Do you feel that, friend?"

He thrusts shallowly to make his point, earning a whimper from Asi. Alaz's hands slide up her bare thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps, and dive under the ridiculously short dress. Just when Alaz's fingers brush Asi's underwear, she catches his wrists and yanks his hands from under her dress. But Alaz has felt everything he needed to feel.

"As long as you're like this for me and I'm like this for you, there's no universe where we can be friends".

Asi looks ready to murder him when she pushes at his chest and jumps from the granite counter. She tugs at her dress and hisses at him:

"The only thing you proved is that you're an animal".

Alaz just smirks.

"Okay, fine, I'm an animal. I'd rather be an animal than your friend".

Asi lets out a noisy breath and suddenly just looks tired.

"Why do you have to make this hard?"

"Because we love each other".

Asi throws up her hands in frustration.

"And what difference does it make?"

"All the difference in the world".

Alaz tries to get closer again but she won't allow it, pushing him and taking a few steps back, to the only escape route - the door.

"If it made all the difference in the world, it wouldn't be this hard, don't you think?"

With these words she pulls the door and slips out, leaving Alaz in the charged little room alone.

[axolotlwrites]

"Built to be Worshiped and Loved"

Maru x M!reader

"Sometimes it's just the thought that maybe those pants don't fit as well as they used to, or maybe that shirt feels tighter than the last time you wore it, for it to make you look far too hard at the person in the mirror. "

CW: Maru has body image issues, lil angsty, reader worships Maru's body, cunnilingus, no penetrative sex, reader does have a penis

This one took a bit, but I'm glad I'm finally finished with it. Possibly my most emotionally invested fic so far, because hating my own body go brrrr. As usual, feedback is requested and encouraged, and I hope you enjoy.

It wasn't often that Maru was self-conscious to the point that it affected her mood. She was far too invested in her own work to focus on it, and often far too confident in herself to care. But you understood all too well, that all it takes is a glance and a single thought to send someone spiraling.

Sometimes it's just the thought that maybe those pants don't fit as well as they used to, or maybe that shirt feels tighter than the last time you wore it, for it to make you look far too hard at the person in the mirror.

Today was one of those days for Maru. She was playing it off to you, telling you that she was fine, but it nipped at the back of her brain like a rabid dog without a leash. But you knew her tells.

She'd been avoiding looking at the mirror in the bedroom, like looking at it would turn her to stone. She'd been quiet, only ever speaking when you said something first, and not once ranting to you about sciency stuff that you couldn't really comprehend, but listened intently for anyways. You knew what was wrong, but you needed a way to fix it.

"Maru? Are you… alright?" You questioned, the words more akin to a courtesy, an invitation to talk about it, rather than an actual question. She was slumped over papers, schematics for a machine that you didn't recognize. A new machine, born of her mind trying to distract itself from its anguish and self-loathing.

She started to talk, the words coming out slow and without the usual fire. "I'm fine, I'm just…" She stutters, mouth moving faster than the words themselves. "I don't want you to worry." She finally finishes, moving to turn to you, a sad little smile on her face.

You lean down closer to her face, looking down into her eyes. "I'm already worried." You whisper, voice pleading for her to let you help her.

Maru stands up slowly, legs unsteady. She'd been sitting at the desk, staring at those blueprints for what felt like hours now. She walks over to the mirror, her hands crossed against her chest as she glares into it. You follow close behind her, sliding up to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She looks like she's trying to destroy it with her mind, smash the woman in the mirror into a thousand little slices of reflective glass. Her hand trembles a little as you grasp hers, rubbing your thumb against the back of her hand. You try to find the words to comfort her, desperately try to come up with all the magic words to make her forget how much she hates that mirror right now, and make Maru smile again.

But you can't. So you do the next best thing. You walk around in front of her, blocking the mirror, and looking back into her eyes. Slowly, you wrap your arms around Maru, pulling her into a hug that she practically falls into. You kiss the top of her scalp as she trembles in your arms, tears staining your shirt as you hold her close.

"I love you, Maru." You say, gathering her attention as she looks back up at you. Your hand moves to her cheek, wiping a tear from it as you hold her face in your hand. The words were simple, nothing you wouldn't say a thousand times over any other day.

But as she was now?

The weight of your words was almost crushing. You loved her. Loved her body. Her mind. You loved HER.

Maru pulls you down to kiss her faster than you can react, lips clashing together with teeth and tongue. It's rough, primal, even.

It's perfect. Your lips lock together, your hand still on her cheek as your other pulls her closer by her waist. You loved her body, her curves and soft skin. You couldn't bear to see her hate herself so much.

You pulled back from the kiss, breaths quick and shallow, "I love your body, and I love you. And I will do anything to make you love it just as much as I do."

You don't give her any time to respond as you lean back in to kiss her cheek, then her jaw, until you finally reach your target: her neck. You don't spare her then either, attacking it with the most passion you can muster.

Maru gasps and holds back a small moan as you begin to kiss her neck, sucking on them to leave little hickies on her skin. "Please…" She moans, her hands resting in your hair as your mouth sends small shivers up her spine. Her skin feels even softer against your lips, even more delicate under your teeth as you nibble on the skin a little.

At this point she's sitting on the edge of the bed, hands still in your hair as you finally start to move on. You look up at her, eyes pleading as you whisper, "May I?"

Maru nods, a grin running across her face as she slips the overalls straps down her shoulders. However, as she went to pull up her shirt, her grin fell into a small frown, and she hesitated. But she looked at you, looked into your kind, loving eyes.

Right then, her resolve strengthened.

Maru grips the hem of her shirt again, pulling it up slowly over her body, letting you take in her glory. Yoba, it's like she's built to be worshiped and loved. She hasn't even taken her bra off yet, and you already want your lips on her again.

But you wait patiently. You don't want to ruin this for her.

She reaches behind her back, slowly slipping off the bra as her breasts relax against her skin.

You move slowly, placing kisses along her neckline again, slowly making your way to her chest as you kneel in front of her. Small things, planted against warm, soft skin. You reach her breasts, looking back up at her for approval as you lean ever closer.

Maru nods, waiting with bated breaths as she feels your warm breath on her tits.

Tentatively, softly, and more than a little gently, you take her left nipple into your mouth and start to lick and suck on it, while moving a hand to caress and grope her right boob. Her hands run through your hair as her breaths quicken, her heartbeat quickening under your ministrations.

She doesn't even realize that this isn't even the main event. Doesn't realize it as you press your clothed body against hers, pleasuring her tits with sloppy kisses and just a little bit of teeth. "Keep… fuck…" She moans out, stuttery and heavy, like she's out of breath.

"Please keep going!" She praises, words spitting out of her mouth as another loud moan escapes with them. You chuckle slightly as you pop her titty out of your mouth, looking up at her as her hand runs across your cheek.

You palm your own crotch, your hard cock throbbing in your pants. You love making her feel good like this, even if you have to "neglect" yourself a little. You grope at yourself a little, looking up at Maru, eyes half lidded with lust and need. "Let me make you feel good, love. Get the rest of these pesky clothes out of the way, and let me make you feel good."

To her credit, she doesn't fumble over her words or stumble over herself trying to get the overalls and the pants underneath off. However, she is doing it remarkably slowly. She peels off the overalls slowly, almost teasingly, leaning over as she- oh Yoba, she IS teasing you! You didn't expect it, not with how seemingly nervous she's been, but it's a nice change of pace. What is even better, however, is when she finally gets her pants off, leaving her only in a beautiful pair of black panties.

You don't waste any time, moving back in to lay kisses on her stomach. You take your time with each kiss, emphasizing your love for every part of her, even when you eventually move on. You do so slowly, taking in the sight of the thin piece of cloth covering her pussy, and the glossy sheen that covered it. All of this was doing something exhilarating to her, having you worshiping her body made Maru feel divine.

Looking back up one more time for approval, of which she gives, you dive in. Slowly, you start to pull the panties down her legs, taking in the sight and scent of her cunt. Her scent was heady, heavy, but not unpleasant at all. There was just a bit of curly hair above it, but it wouldn't have bothered you either way. She was perfect, and all she had to be was herself.

There was only one thing to do now. As you leaned in to plant your mouth on Maru's pussy, her hand glided through your hair once more, beckoning you to the main event.

She tasted like heaven. Your tongue was assaulted with the sweet tang of her juices, your moans rippling through her cunt. She tasted like strawberries, in an odd way, and you needed more of it. Her pubes tickled your nose as you delved deeper with your tongue, her moans sending shockwaves through your bodies as her thighs wrapped around your skull.

Your face and hair were a mess, but you didn't even care. You wrapped your hand around your cock, the organ trembling and throbbing, her moans and the feeling of giving her pleasure driving you wild in turn. You could only imagine how you would look, head between her thighs as you delved into her cunt with your tongue, rubbing her clit slowly with your hand.

You looked so focused on her, barely even thinking of anything but making her feel worshiped and loved, even as you violently stroked your own dick. Her legs were shaking, moans going from long, drawn out symphonies to short, gasping, and breathy. She sounds close, feels close, and with how she is humping your face, it seems like she's chasing the orgasm that you plan on bringing.

Honestly, you weren't doing much better. Your cock was engorged, covered in pre-cum, throbbing almost painfully as you desperately tried to stave off your orgasm as you thrust into your own hand. You wouldn't let yourself cum before Maru, but you were so close…

You wouldn't need to wait long. Your ministrations on her clit, your tongue deep inside her, and your moans tearing through her cunt drove her over the edge. Maru's legs kicked out quickly as she screamed out, "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!", before clamping around your head. Her body shuddered violently, shivering as her hand painfully gripped your hair and held your face in her cunt. With her own orgasm flying high, yours had started, cum pouring out onto your hand and onto the floor in spurts. As you moved away from her cunt, you took a look at yourselves.

Maru was laying on the bed now, her legs still dangling off the bed. She was breathing heavily, hand on her forehead as she rested off the aftershock. You were kneeling, your hair and face covered in sweat and juices, breathing for air like a man underwater. You could barely stand, your legs unsteady as you got up and flopped on the bed next to her.

"Hug me," was all Maru said, moving fully onto the bed, "please." You obliged, bringing your naked bodies together as you held her in your arms from behind. Her hand snaked into yours, holding it as she drifted off into sleep. You weren't too far off, your vision dulling as you murmur out one last "Love you…" before passing out completely.

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter Six

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: angry Col, swearing, M*gan F*x but she goes away soon, emotional Col, Presley being an angel, golden retriever/zero brain cell having Cash, a mushy surprise ending

There's a lot going on in this one, y'all, so buckle up. Hope you enjoy! The smut is returning soon, I promise!

Colson

As I drive, I can’t for the life of me figure out why Cash would ever give Megan Presley’s number.

I was originally planning on going home, but I change my mind and take the exit to Cash’s place instead. I pull up and search for his car, parking when I spot it. I hop out quickly and storm up to the door. Whereas last night I waited until I was calmer to reach out to Megan, there’s not a patient bone in my body.

I pound on the door and when Cash opens it, he flashes that goofy smile of his. But when he sees me, the smile falls. “Kells?”

“I’m coming in,” I tell him, and push my way inside.

Cash shuts the door behind himself and cautiously approaches me. “What’s going on?” he asks worriedly.

“Why are you giving people your sister’s number?” I snap. I’m breathing hard and seeing red. I’m furious.

Cash’s brow furrows, his eyes filling with confusion. “Huh?”

I stare at him like he’s dumb. “Megan Fox?”

Cash looks confused and then realization washes over his face. “Ohhh,” he says with a slow nod. “Yeah. Ran into her at a restaurant and she was chatting with me. Said she likes my sister’s look and wanted to reach out to her about some modeling.”

I go still for a long few moments. Then, I let out a breathless laugh. Fucking Megan. Always the lying manipulator. The fight goes out of me and I completely deflate, going to sit on Cash’s couch. I drop my head into my hands and rub my eyes. He follows me, keeping his distance like I’m a rabid dog.

“Why…why is that bad?” he asks slowly.

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I totally forgot: he doesn’t know about me and Megan. Our relationship began and ended before he joined us on tour. 

“Cash, I’m sorry,” I say, full of remorse. “I’m an asshole.”

Cash frowns and sits on the other leg of the couch. “I’m so confused,” he says.

“Megan is my ex,” I say. 

Cash blinks and then nods. “Oh. Got it.”

“She isn’t actually interested in Presley’s modeling skills,” I say.

Cash slumps. “She was trying to get to you. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Kells,” he says, brown eyes filled with guilt.

I shake my head. “Don’t be,” I say. “If I had been in your shoes, I would've done the same thing.”

“So what did she want?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “She texted Pres some bullshit trying to convince me to talk to her. It worked,” I mutter. “She wants me back. Obviously I turned her ass down.”

Cash winces. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t know.”

“Exactly, so there’s no need to be sorry,” I assure him. “I’m sorry for barging in here making accusations.”

“You’re all good, brother,” Cash says cheerfully, and just like that, all is well again.

“I gotta go talk to Presley,” I sigh, and Cash nods, walking me to the door. “Love you, man. Sorry again.”

“It’s all good,” Cash assures me. “You and my sister doing okay?”

I can’t help but smile. “Yeah,” I reply. “We’re great.”

There are many reasons that I love Presley Carver. 

Her sense of humor and her laugh. Her compassion. Her creativity. Her gentleness. The way she listens and understands me. The way she just gets me. 

But I fall in love with her even more when instead of reacting to my confession with anger, she gets up and hugs me. 

I’m completely shocked when her arms slide around my neck, but I’m not going to fight it. I wrap my arms around her waist in a fierce hug, holding her to me so tightly that my arms tremble a little. Suddenly, I’m overcome with emotion. I can’t even really process it right now.

“Are you okay?” she asks, playing gently with the hair at the nape of my neck.

“I…I’m not sure,” I admit, closing my eyes, comforted by her touch.

Presley sighs and snuggles me closer. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“You’re not mad?” I ask.

“No,” she says, rubbing my back. “You did what you had to do to figure out who betrayed you. It makes sense. Do you feel better knowing no one actually did?”

“Much better,” I say. “I should’ve never believed a word Megan said.”

“It’s okay. It’s over now,” Presley soothes. “How can I make you feel better?”

I can think of a few ways, but for now, I just need to be close to her. I bend to wrap her legs around my waist, scooping her into my arms. She clings to me as I carry us upstairs to our room and settle her on the bed. She reaches for me and I let her pull my head to her chest, her long nails gliding against my scalp in a way that makes me shiver with pleasure. 

“You know I would never go back to her, right?” I mumble into her chest.

“Of course.” Presley’s voice is quiet. Even and calm. It soothes me even more. “I know you love me, Col. You do a perfect job of showing it.”

I relax even more, most of the tension now gone from my body. I close my eyes and hold my girlfriend close. “How did I get so lucky?” I ask.

Presley’s fingers continue moving in my hair, slow and soothing. “I ask myself that same question every day,” she admits.

I look up at her. She smiles at me, those green eyes so beautiful and full of love, and I know all at once that I want to marry her. There’s no more fear or doubt. This girl is my future wife. I lift my face to hers and kiss her, trying to convey all my love with the gesture. My heart pounds at the thought of putting a ring on her finger, giving her my last name. I just hope I’m lucky enough for her to say yes. 

Presley

Colson has been weird ever since the Megan thing, and it’s making me sick.

He’s been at the studio way more often, sometimes leaving before I’m even awake. When he gets home, he avoids me. I have no idea what I did wrong, but my mind is moving a million miles a minute. Does he want Megan back? Is he regretting moving so fast with me? 

I’ve been an anxious mess all fucking day, so when Colson finally texts me, my hands tremble so hard that my phone clatters to the ground. When I pick it up, I curse. A huge crack runs right down the center of the screen. My lip trembles and I sink to the ground, taking deep breaths as my eyes burn. I will not cry right now. I won’t. 

After composing myself, I carefully open up Colson’s message. Sophie’s on her way over. I frown in confusion, liking the message. I don’t respond otherwise. His coldness is scaring me and I don’t want to reply in case it triggers a conversation about him ending things. I’m glad, at least, that I won’t have to be alone anymore. 

Sure enough, Sophie arrives quickly. I let her in and immediately, she can tell I’m upset. “Oh, pet,” she says, wrapping me in a hug. Her touch is what finally breaks me and the tears well over. “Shhh, you’re okay, love,” she soothes.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I admit miserably. “Colson has been so distant. What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m sure,” Sophie says softly. She pulls back from the hug. “You know what? Let’s go out.”

I blink at her. “Yeah?”

Sophie nods. “Yeah. Can I borrow a dress?”

“Of course,” I say.

Upstairs, Sophie and I take our time getting dressed, doing our hair and makeup, and making ourselves look pretty. Sophie insists on going somewhere nice, so I decide on a blue satin dress that hugs my curves and makes my legs look even longer than they already are. I slide into a pair of heels and look at myself in the mirror. My long hair is swept up into a pretty updo and my makeup is flawless. It feels good to dress up again. It just sucks knowing this isn’t for Colson.

“You look amazing,” Sophie says, coming to stand beside me in front of the mirror. “Let’s go out. Forget about Colson being weird.”

I nod, determined to have a good night. “Let’s go.”

Sophie and I have dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in the city, and we end up having a great time. We each have a glass of wine and the food is incredible. Once we’re finished eating, I feel so much better. I don’t even care if Colson wants to act weird. He can do whatever he wants.

“Ready to go?” Sophie asks after we pay the bill. I nod and get to my feet.

“Let me just freshen up quickly,” I say. Sophie nods and I make a detour to the bathroom. I touch up my lipgloss and fluff my hair. When I get home, I want Colson to see what he’s been missing out on for days of weirdness. 

Sophie and I go to her car and take off towards home. I busy myself with checking notifications on my phone and I’m so distracted that I don’t notice we’ve gone a different way until Sophie is pulling the car to the side of the road. My brow furrows.

“Where are we?” I ask.

Sophie hands me an envelope that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Her expression is a perfect poker face. “Hop out and open it, babe,” she says. I do as I’m told, tearing open the envelope while I wait for Sophie to join me, but instead, she speeds off. My eyes widen in shock.

“Hey!” I call after her, so confused. What the hell is going on? It’s then that I notice where I am. I look up in awe. 

It’s dark outside, so the twinkling lights are even more noticeable. I’m at some sort of greenhouse with plants and fairy lights twinkling everywhere. It’s stunning. I tear my eyes away to pull the card out of the envelope. I blink slowly before reading it.

Meet me in the middle of the greenhouse. Xo colson 

Startled, I tuck the note back into its envelope and step into the greenhouse. I swallow hard and wander towards the middle, looking around as I do. This place is absolutely stunning with all its greenery, flowers, and sparkling lights. It smells beautiful, too, like fragrant flowers. Finally, I look forward and that’s when I spot my boyfriend.

I think, for not the first time, that Colson is pure wonder.

He’s the most stunning person I’ve ever seen, of any gender. His cheekbones and eyelashes should be illegal. His lips are soft and his eyes are twinkling and warm. However he wears his hair he looks amazing, but I love it just like this, slightly shaggy and long. He’s wearing a suit that hugs his body perfectly, and fleetingly, I want to ask him to turn around so I can see his butt. An almost hysterical giggle bubbles out of me. 

“What the hell is going on?” I ask as I stop a few feet in front of him.

Colson’s eyes slowly wander my body. “You look stunning,” he says.

“Col,” I say, shaking my head. “What is happening here?”

Colson’s throat bobs and he steps a little closer to me. “Pres,” he says.

“Yeah?” I ask skeptically, taking in his nervous body language. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been weird the past couple of days,” he says, eyes meeting mine. “I didn’t mean to.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart starting to race. I’m lost. 

Colson wets his lips and steps closer, taking my hands. His thumbs rub over my knuckles and just his touch is enough to soothe me slightly. “Presley.” His voice is a little croaky and he clears his throat. “We’ve been through a lot together. I still can’t believe I fell in love with my guitarist’s sister.”

I can’t help but smile, squeezing his hands. “Me neither.”

Colson grins and kisses my knuckles. “I’ve never been so happy,” he admits. “You make me better, baby. You make me want to be happy. You make me want to take care of myself. You inspire me every single day.”

My heart starts to race as I listen to him, and my ears start to ring. Oh my god. Is this really happening? Is he going to–

Colson drops onto a knee in front of me.

I gasp, bringing my hands to my mouth. “Colson,” I squeak.

He smiles and flicks his hair out of his eyes. He fishes into his pocket and comes out with a black box the size of a ring. My breath completely leaves me and my eyes start to sting. “Oh my god. Oh my god,” I whisper into my hands.

Colson laughs and meets my eyes. “Presley Maeve Carver,” he says. “I’ve never loved anything more than I love you. I don’t want to live without you, baby. Please don’t make me.” He bites his lip as he pops open the box and my eyes go huge. The ring is massive and stunning and so perfect. “Will you marry me?” he asks.

My tears spill over and my knees buckle, and I fall to my knees in front of him, grabbing his face. I can barely speak through my tears but I nod adamantly. “Yes,” I say tightly. Colson beams and hugs my waist, pulling me close. We kiss deeply and slowly, my hands glued to his face, unable to stop touching him and feeling him and breathing him in. Holy shit. Colson just proposed. 

When we finally pull back from the kiss, we’re both breathing hard and my heart is pounding so hard it’s making me a little dizzy. Colson takes my shaking left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. I gasp when it’s on my hand and I stare at it in awe. “Cols,” I say. “You just proposed.”

Colson laughs and holds my face, kissing me gently. “I did.”

“You just asked me to marry you.”

“Yes, that’s what proposing means,” he teases and I lean in to nip at his lip. He laughs, eyes twinkling. 

“Colson,” I say. “You’re my fiance.” 

Colson grins widely. “And you’re mine. I love you, Pres.”

“I love you, too, holy shit,” I say, lunging forward to kiss him again. Colson chuckles into the kiss and holds me close, and that’s when I hear the cheers. We pull apart and I look around. There’s Sam with his camera. The entire band is here and Cash’s eyes look wet as he holds up his phone, snapping pictures. 

“This is why you’ve been acting so weird!” I exclaim and Colson laughs, nodding. I turn to Sophie. “You knew!”

Sophie snickers. “I sure did. That’s why I insisted we dress up.”

“Oh my god,” I say. I’m so overwhelmed but I’ve never felt joy like this before. I’m shaking hard and I look down at my ring again. I can’t even believe this is real life. I’m marrying Colson. I’m going to be his wife. Presley Baker. I’m going to have a husband. Holy shit. 

Surrounded by the people I love, I kiss my fiance again. I can’t believe how quickly life went from feeling meaningless to this. I’m never, ever going to let this man go. I pour all my life into our kisses and hold him close, hoping he knows just how much I love him, knows that I’ll do anything for him. That I’ll be with him until our time on this earth is over. 

Taglist:@triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @anonymousme86 @whiteleoqueen @feroniakutenpuu @hxllywoodwhxree

[latetothegameds]

Idk if you still feel like chatting and getting ask but i want to say I just absolutely adore your fics so much. Like I have reread them so many time and yet I still can not get bored like HOW DO YOU DO IT. Be it the characterisation and interactions ( my fav part ngl) or the porn it's just great all around LIKE OMG I am a DOG and I am FEASTING upon your writing everytime you upload something and EVEN THE THINGS I THINK I WONT ENJOY I END UP ENJOYING. HOW DO YOU DO THAAT

My favorite fic of yours HAS to be "All I Refuse" but i love all your fics in general. Your interpretation of the characters is god tier and your maxwil is even higher than!

I love your maxwil so much, you portray them so fucking well and it makes me go rabid each and every time. ITS JUST SO PERFECT. You write them the perfect amount of always fighting but still knowing theres a moment to be serious and a moment to be arguing, you can actually make them have some real fights and yet still get back together, you manage to portray the deep trust they have in each other in a way that doesnt make them just immediatly fluffy 24/7 because they still struggle with so many things and its just so normal to them they stil manage to me enamoured in each other your maxwil is probably amongst the first things that got me to fall in love with the ship.

And it's not just how you write characters that is genius, the way you write in general is. I love how you can manage to make the characters still speak into other languages without throwing me out of the story, the way other characters will answer to what was said in english so that even if you dont know exactly what was said you still have enough of the idea to not need to go to google translate for each and every sentence, the way you manage to know exactly when to and when not to translate in brackets, your clever use of words! English is not my first language and S&M is clearly not the easiest to read at all times due to the complicated language used sometimes and yet your writing makes it so easy to read it without needing to go to google search up what each and every single word means ( be it thanks to the way other characters react to the word or willow or some other character asking what it means )

I love your writing so much I'm really happy you decided to do shaking off the rust because I don't need to wait months upon months to see more of your stories anymore LOL ( this is a joke, take your time with s&m because I know it will be amazing each time! (But not too long! I need to know what happens next LOL!) )

But yeah love your stuff, too bad s&m is too tangled up with tickle porn for me to share it with any of my friends lmao ( they're just cowards who can't accept fine porn smh )

-Clam ( Sorry no pun this time!)

-Coconuts Live And Mine inthecaves

IT'S CLAM IT'S CLAM IT'S CLAM

Thank you so much for all your kind words! Honestly, I just kind of. . .write and see where it goes, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing. I'm truly grateful for everyone that likes my writing - I never imagined people would actually enjoy it!

All I Refuse is actually one of my favorite fics, and I'm really proud of it. Not gonna lie, I love a good sappy wedding fic (even though it's less sappy and more just Maxwil arguing the whole time).

I didn't realize you weren't a native English speaker - could've fooled me! I'm always impressed by the amount of international readers I have, it makes me wish I actually spoke more languages so I could better communicate with you all. All of you are so good at English! I could never be that fluent.

Yeeeeeah. . .Smoke and Mirrors was supposed to be a self-indulgent one-shot, hence why it's so raunchy. It's kind of embarrassing to be honest 😅 But people seem to like it, so I guess I'm doing something right? I hope?

Thank you again, Clam! Hope to keep seeing you around ❤

[quitesins]

Hair as Pink as his Cheeks

Masterlist

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Tags: Sfw, fluff, drabble, early stages of the relationship tings, disgustingly sappy, Kirishima is there- at the start I mean, I’ll come back and edit dis later

A short drabble- that I’ll probably recycle for an actual fic I’m writing- where Bakugou accidentally dyes his hair pink!

“What the fuck shitty hair?!” Bakugou emerges from the bathroom, a bottle gripped tightly in his hands. And his hair. It’s pink.

“Holy shit.” Kirishima looks at him, wide eyed and evidently about to laugh. “What did you do man?”

Bakugou just dashes the bottle towards Kirishima- which the red head narrowly misses- and stomps over. “This is your doing, why the fuck is the shampoo full of dye.”

Kirishima just shrugs and pushes his hands through the wet hair, looking closely. Even at the roots, where his hair darkens, it’s pink.

“Wow, you really got it in there.” Kirishima notes, going to study another section of hair, before Bakugou pulls back and shoves at him lightly.

“Will this shit wash out,” Bakugou grumbles, glaring at his roommate. Kirishima looks sheepish and Bakugou already knows his answer. He groans.

“Hey, man, it looks good on you.” Kirishima tries to comfort. “Plus your hair grows fast, no? Give it a few weeks, you’ll be fine.”

Bakugou almost decks his- soon to be ex- best friend, best friend in question noticing and raising his hands in playful surrender.

“I need it gone now!” He huffs.

“Like now-now?” Kirishima inquires, looking at him suspiciously. “What for?”

“I have a fucking date with [Name]!” Bakugou finally shouts, sighing heavily as the words leave him.

The relationship is new. Still soft and stuttered. In its early stages of romance. It’s warm with the need to take the love in his hands, hold it gentle and nurture it. There’s a pressure to keep it close, nerves that force perfection. But most of all, it’s a simple childish urge. He wants to impress you. He wants you to like him.

Kirishima nods his head, looking solemn as he thinks. Then he finally speaks.

“Maybe a hat will do-” But before he can finish, Bakugou is on him like a rabid dog…

He’s nervous. Hat tucked over his hair and hoodie atop that for good measure. The air is hot and it only serves to make him dizzy. He dislikes the stickiness of his own skin and how his quirk threatens to go off. He waits for you in the shade but doesn’t spot you in the crowd.

“Kats’?” Your voice comes from behind, startling him, and he whips around quickly.

There you stand, in a flowing, summery dress, looking pretty in the sun.

“Yeah.” He turns, letting you greet him with a hug. The smell of your perfume is familiar and settles his nerves a little.

“What’s with the disguise,” you joke, and his nerves return.

“It’s not a fuckin’- it’s not a disguise.” He pulls off the hoodie but keeps the hat on. The pink of his hair does not stay hidden.

When he sees you and the way your eyes go wide, he groans, wanting the ground to swallow him whole.

“Wow,” you speak, almost like a question. “You’re pink?”

He isn’t quite sure how to respond, instead shoving the hood back on and grabbing your hand. He ignores your light protests and pulls you along with him to take seat at a cafe nearby.

With orders placed, he finally lets the hood and cap fall off, showing off the entirety of his now pink mane. He mumbles out a quick explanation, something about stupid roommates and ex best friends, and waits for you to react. You don’t respond immediately, so he prompts you, wanting to get it over with.

“So? What do you think?”

Your face shows you’re thinking, and after a moment you speak, “Well, it’s not quite Dynamight-”

He cuts you off. “I fucking know.” It’s like his walls draw up without his order. Ready to fight rejection before it arrives.

You bend over the table slightly, to sift your hands through his hair. You words are light, soft, and hold a sincerity even he can’t deny. “But I like it.”

That’s unexpected.

That’s really unexpected. So unexpected that his walls drop with a sudden thud and his face heats instantly.

“You’re as pink as your hair, Kats’” You laugh, moving back to you seat. He almost instinctively reaches out to keep your hands in his hair, but stops himself at the last second.

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, trying hard to keep his lips from tugging. He knows he probably looks a little insane, the way his teeth are bared, but he’s too embarrassed to let the smile free.

“Like candy floss.” You look at him dreamily. And God, he wants to squish the expression off your face.

“Are you just hungry.” He retorts, with an even more dramatic eye roll.

“A little bit.” You smile cheekily and he regrets his tease for he can see your next words coming clearly. “Maybe I should just eat you up.”

You’re unbelievable.

“Shut the fuck uppp.” He groans with his head turned. This time the he can’t keep the smile to himself, so he doesn’t.

Even you have a slight sickly grimace on your face. “Okay yeah, that was bad, even for me.”

The food arrives shortly, your half is mainly cakes and treats while he chooses something more nutritious. Doesn’t matter as he finds himself giving you half his meal anyways, liking the way you’re so free with how you express your delight. He frowns when you raise a cupcake with icing of an annoyingly familiar colour to him and snap a picture. He lets you keep the picture of course, playfully threatening that of it gets anywhere, that’d be your head. You reply with your own light hearted jabs, and the quick back and forth becomes something that could only be considered flirting.

“I really like it you know.” The sun sets on the two of you nicely. You speak to keep the day longer.

“I won’t keep it.” He establishes. “But I’m glad.”

“Aww not even for me.” You joke, smiling at him, like you’re trying to replace the sun. To him, you do.

If you asked seriously, he probably would. Anything even. He’d give it to you in a heartbeat.

“Nah.” To accept would have the discussion taper. So he lies, although he knows you know otherwise. “Not even you.”

Defo gonna snag bits and pieces of this for an actual fic. A pick n mix of my own writing with the sentences as sweets. Anyways I wasn’t sure how to end this at all and was tempted to simply go “the end” but i somewhat pulled through, hopefully… also also sorry for the random pacing and pov switching. Also also also, I used the word even too much. Okay long and drawn out authors note OVER! GOODBYE!

[seijorhi]

Reading Scion (AAAHH) made me want to reread through your seijoh fics and while I was reading Rabid (faaav) I experienced A Thought

I've always felt like Seijoh would be more of a business-like yakuza, they've taken control of the corporate districts and they've got the politicians in their pockets, while Bonten runs the seedier underground of the city, but their worlds cross for whatever reason and they're working on a deal. Bonten brought their girl out to the club that night and Kyoutani starts locking in on her and oikawa starts being such a pleasant asshole about it like 😌 why don't you let my mad dog have her for a night 😌 as a show of good faith 😌 and judging from how kakucho and mikey reacted to dock incident I'm inclined to think they'd be against it however a business arrangement is on the line 🧐

But anyways!! your fics live in my mind rent free rhi, amazing as always 💕

that....w ould not go down well

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White Part 13

[see all chapters]

read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

General Warning: From this point on this fic is going to deal with reoccurring themes that may be triggering to some. Please check out the ao3 tags if you’re unsure.

---

Muffled voices pulled him from the comfort of unconsciousness, shaking his mind awake despite his feeble attempts to brush them off. For a moment, he thought about trying to tell the voices to keep it down, but that would have been too much effort, and he was so comfortable in this blanket and pillow…

…

…

...the voices rose in volume, this time gaining clarity, shape. Almost words. Close, but not quite. Not yet. Danny wasn’t ready. Five more minutes, he was so tired…

“...Danny…”

Wait.

What was that?

His eyes fluttered open, and he immediately took stock of his unfamiliar surroundings. He was...not in his bedroom. He was in his living room, on the couch where he must have fallen asleep after his almost mental breakdown over a glass of water.

How embarrassing. Danny hoped that no one spotted the water glass on the rug. Or, if they had, they hadn’t thought anything about it. Hadn’t figured out that it was on the floor because Danny tried to get water from the sink without using his wheelchair.

Maybe they wouldn’t connect the dots. Honestly, the thought of seeing that pitying expression on their faces as they watched him fail to do a stupidly simple task made him want to fall into a coma.

Oh well. He was awake now. Might as well go get something to eat to make his family and therapists proud.

Just as he was about to toss the blanket off his body, Jazz’s quiet voice sounded from the kitchen. “You can’t keep the truth from him forever.”

“We can, at least for now,” his dad said.

“It’s not going to work.”

Danny froze, the last of his fatigue zapped from his brain.

What truth? What were they talking about? What was going on in there?

He debated standing up and announcing his presence, but the blossoming sense of dread in his gut kept him still.

Whatever was going on, he had a sinking feeling that it was about him.

His mother spoke up. “We have to. It’s for his own safety.”

“It’s wrong,” Jazz countered. “It’s wrong to keep secrets like this.”

“I know, Jazz. But if we told Danny, he…”

His eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

Tell him what? 

“Jazz, you have to understand. With Danny in the position that he’s in right now, there are just certain limitations that we need in this house in order to stay on top of his recovery,” Jack explained.

“But cutting him off from his core?”

It was as if he were punched in the gut. He clenched the blanket, balling the edges in his fists. His instincts were screaming at him to jump up and demand the truth, but he buried that part of him back down inside his mind.

They would never tell him. They didn’t trust him enough. He wasn’t human enough.

But they always trusted Jazz. They favored her. She was the ideal child with her perfect grades, perfect ambitions, perfect brain.

Even if they wouldn’t tell him, of course they would tell her. 

“We have to do it, honey. We have no choice,” Maddie said.

“You see how he’s reacting to this though, right? He’s not himself.”

“We know, but it’s what needs to be done. He can’t be given access to his core, not right now.”

Why though, Dad? Tell me why...

“This is cruel,” Jazz said.

There was a brief pause, each second like a knife in Danny’s chest. He wanted so badly to snap, but he forced himself to stay still. To stay silent.

To listen.

There was a sigh, and Maddie broke the silence. “You have no idea how much it hurts us to see him like this. We know it isn’t right to keep a ghost from its core but...at the school that day. Jazz, I’ve never seen him like that. And it terrified me.”

Danny felt his blood drain from his face. His body turned ice cold.

He knew what they were talking about, and he assumed that that day was a distant memory in the past, something that would never be talked about again. And yet, here his parents were, digging up the most humiliating moment in Danny’s life, throwing it at his face like a weapon of why he couldn’t possibly be allowed his ghost half, why he needed to be shut off from himself.

“He’s come a long way since then.”

“Not long enough.”

They didn’t know. They didn’t understand what it was like. They weren’t there, they weren’t the ones who were cut open, who were beaten, who spent all day in and out looking at white walls, white floors, white suits, white ceilings, white equipment.

He hadn’t been himself that day at the school. He’d just come home from the hospital, he was coming off of a cocktail of heavy pain medication, he was physically exhausted from the PT and mentally exhausted from everything else. 

Okay, so he snapped in the locker room. He’d been pushed back into school, pushed into being around people, pushed into acting normal, like nothing was wrong, and the world was warping around him and he just fell apart. He freaked out, he broke a mirror, Dash and Kwan found him, and he paid the consequences for it.

“I don’t think he’d do that again.”

“You don’t know that, Jazz.”

“But his Obsession—”

“It’s protection. Phantom will make him do whatever it can in order to protect itself. Even if that means…”

It. 

The word echoed in Danny’s head.

You’re an it.

Something inside him cracked.

His vision glazed over, and suddenly the two students in Casper he’d hoped to never cross paths with again were standing over him, approaching cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal.

“Give me the glass, Danny,” Dash had said. “You don’t need it. Just give it to me, I’ll hang onto it for you. I’ll keep it safe.”

He looked down, and blood trickled through his fingers, splattering onto the white tile.

It was red. Why was it red?

Crack.

Maddie’s voice faded back into his consciousness. “We just can’t risk it.”

“So what, your genius idea is to keep lying to him about why you won’t take the chip out? Feed him some bullshit excuse about the lab? Danny’s a human but he’s also a ghost! You can’t keep him from his core and expect him to turn out okay!”

“We know that.”

“No, you clearly don’t!”

“Keep your voice down, hun. He’s asleep.”

“Then stop lying to him. Tell him the real reason why you won’t give him Phantom back.”

Danny couldn’t breathe.

His parents. The people who had gone to court for him, who fought so hard to get him home, who assured him that they’d go to the moon and back if it meant keeping him safe. 

He trusted them.

And they...they just…

Crack.

“You know we can’t do that,” his father said. “You said it yourself, Danny’s just as much human as he is ghost. Ghosts don’t have the capacity to think rationally about something like that.”

They just…

“Kwan, get Lancer.”

He didn’t understand. Why were those two here?

“Please, give me the mirror, Danny.”

No, they didn’t get it. He needed this. This was the only thing he could do, it was the only way out. He couldn’t let Operative O take his body again.

“Danny...”

They were afraid, he realized. They thought he was going to hurt them. He was a rabid animal, wasn’t he? And they thought he would attack them?

Another drop of blood splashed onto the tile.

Crack.

Jazz scoffed. “I cannot believe you would just—”

“He’s fragile, Jazz!” Maddie protested. “Whatever happened in the government facility changed him. He’s not the same boy he used to be, something inside him is fundamentally different now. Frankly, we have no idea how that has affected his Obsession.”

His head spun.

They lied to him.

“What, so the better option is to just cut him off from his core altogether and force him to play human all day? Great plan, Mom.”

“If that’s what we need to do to keep him safe, then yes, that is the better option.”

The mirror shattered, the pieces raining down, echoing as they bounced against the tiles. He watched with unfocused eyes as everything around him crumbled.

His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the arguing voices in the kitchen. He fell to the floor and clutched a broken shard. 

He needed...he needed to...

Protect.

Danny saw red. 

His lips moved before he could stop them. “I thought you’d accepted me.”

The argument from the kitchen came to a screeching halt. 

“Danny! I didn’t—”

“No!” Danny pushed himself to a seated position. 

They kept him from his core on purpose. 

His parents, after all those painstaking hours in family therapy, all that talk about how they were a team and how they needed to work together, had lied to him.

They weren’t a team. They had never been a team. Danny was just…

He was just a ghost to them.

An irrational, stupid, ectoplasmic creature. 

They scrambled from the kitchen, moving into the living room with fear strewn across their faces. 

They hate ghosts. You know this, Fenturd. They hate you.

“We do accept you, Danno. We love you.”

They didn’t love him.

“We were just trying to protect you. Please understand, Danny,” Maddie begged.

They’re scared of you. They don’t know what it means to protect. They’re lying.

“Danny, you need to understand—”

“SHUT UP!” Danny gripped his hair with his hands, covering his ears to quiet the hurricane of emotions devastating his mind. “Shut up, shut up!” 

He didn’t know whether to laugh, scream, or cry. After all this talk, his parents had never accepted him as a ghost at all.

“I’m so sorry, son,” Jack said.

“I can’t—I can’t!” Danny spat out. He had a thousand different responses swirling through his brain, so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His brain wasn’t working, his voice wasn’t working, and everything he saw was painted in blood.

They lied to him.

“I—you—”

“Danny, you need to breathe,” Jazz said, but Danny could recognize that tone. That was the same voice she used when trying to calm down the neighbor’s hyperactive dog that had a bad habit of finding ways out of its fence.

Danny ripped his head out of his arms, swiveling up to meet the concerned gazes of his family. “Shut up! I’m not a fucking dog!”

“Danny, I never—”

“Stop treating me like a fucking animal! I’m not—I’m not!” Danny attempted to grip the coffee table to push himself up, but he only succeeded in falling back onto the couch. He cursed and blinked away the mist that clouded his vision because he was not crying right now. His parents did not get to see that.

Maddie jumped forward. “Careful!”

“No, shut the fuck up!” Danny yelled. “You don’t get to—to be concerned! You don’t get that!”

Maddie stepped back, looking as if someone slapped her across the face.

“Danny, please, calm down,” Jack tried.

If anything, the red lining in his vision only deepened. “No! I won’t, and you don’t—don’t—ah!” Danny hit his forehead with his hand, frustration clawing at his throat.

There was so much he wanted to say, but he physically couldn’t get it out. He couldn’t stand, he couldn’t talk, he could only sit here drowning in rage.

His body was betraying him.

His parents could fix this right now if they wanted to. They could take him down to the lab, remove the chip, give Danny any semblance of freedom back. They could do that.

But they stood there doing nothing. 

They like you like this. Helpless. Grounded. Easy to control.

“You lied to me! You knew—you fucking—my core isn’t even damaged, is it?”

Jack wrapped his arm around Maddie, who hadn’t even bothered to wipe away the tears that had spilled on her cheeks.

Because of him.

They hate you. 

“Is it?” Danny pressed, but he didn’t need a response. He knew the answer. He knew the truth.

It was written all over his parents' faces.

“Was my core ever damaged? At all?”

“It was, but—”

Danny shook his head in disbelief. “Cores are self-re—self-regenerating. I—I knew that. I knew that! It—it was healed before I left the hospital, right?”

His parents refused to meet his eyes.

“You lied to me. All this time, and—and you...you just…” Danny tried to stand up again, but failed. “I’m so fucking sick of this!”

“Danny, please understand. We only did it because we needed to protect you.”

“Protect me?” He let out a sardonic laugh. “You thought—you seriously thought you were—you were fucking protecting me? Do you not...even see? I can’t—I can’t even fucking stand up! I can’t stand! I can’t do anything! And you thought you were protecting me? Are you serious?”

Jack’s lips thinned. “Danny, do you not realize how close we were to losing you? And I don’t mean to the government. You blasted a school mirror and then tried to use one of the pieces to kill yourself! I mean, come on, son!”

Danny lurched back, stunned. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself!”

“Then what were you trying to do, huh?” Jack shouted back. “Because not even a few hours after we dropped you off back at school, we get a call from Mr. Lancer saying a few students found you in the locker room threatening suicide because you thought you were back with the government! What do you expect us to think, Danny? We’re your parents.”

“Shut up!” Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the flashes of memory that threatened to surface.

“Jack—”

“No, Maddie—”

They hate you. 

His throat burned. “Shut up!” 

It wasn’t fair. His parents weren’t being fair. That incident—that was a fluke. An anomaly. And yet they were punishing Danny for something that happened weeks ago, before he went through the painstaking ordeal of inpatient and psychiatry and the PHP and the whole other host of therapies he’d been forced into.

“What was the point in sending me to—to inpatient then? If you were just going to keep treating me like a stupid animal?”

“Danny, we’re not treating you like an animal.”

“You sure as hell got me caged up like one!”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way!”

“Jack, honey—”

“Everyone, please calm down!”

“Stay out of this, Jazz!”

“Danny, I think—”

“I don’t care what you think!”

“Guys—”

“I NEED MY CORE!” Danny screamed, the sob finally tearing its way out of his throat.

His family fell into a deafening silence, and Danny could feel their stares as ugly sobs overtook him, ripping down any semblance of an emotional wall he’d managed to construct over these weeks.

His tears boiled on his skin, and he dug his hands in his hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it didn’t matter, his body shook uncontrollably, his emotions burning through his throat leaving him gasping for air.

All while his parents stood there ten feet away from him. Frozen, unwilling to approach. Because he was a halfa, a monster, broken, unstable, trapped, feared. He was the demon that parents warned their children about, the thing that his parents had dedicated their careers to developing weapons against, a creature so dangerous that the government had funded an entire group to research and exterminate.

And up until two months ago, it was legal for him to be vivisected, to be experimented on, to be tortured to the point of paralysis.

He rocked back and forth, struggling to piece himself back together. And when he could make it through a shuddering breath without breaking down again, all he could do was croak out, “Why…”

His parents remained unmoving, faces pale, arms by their sides. Tears streaked his mother’s and sister’s cheeks, and his father’s unblinking gaze bore down on him.

But their silence wasn’t good enough, their sorrow and tears weren’t good enough. An invisible wall was growing between them with each passing second and they couldn’t even see it.

They know. They’re doing it on purpose. They don’t care about you.

“Why?” Danny insisted. “How could—how could you...how could you do this to me? I’m...I just…”

“We had to, son,” his father said. The moonlight cast a shadow over his face. “It was for your own safety.”

No. Danny was done with the lies. Done with the excuses. 

He was done.

Flaring his eyes, he bit back, “My safety, or yours?” 

His parents flinched, and Danny couldn’t find himself to care. They’d lied to him, they’d dug their hole, so now they had to live in it.

“Danny, please…” Jazz stepped forward. “Don’t do this.”

“No! You—don’t you get it?” Danny pleaded. “I can’t—Mom, Dad, I feel like a prisoner. I’m trapped in my body. I can’t—I can’t live like this anymore! I can’t fucking do it! You have no idea...and you don’t even care!”

“Of course we care, Danno.”

“Then why? Tell me the truth! Please, tell me why because—” His voice broke, and his head fell back into his hands. “Please...tell me why…”

Jack sighed. “It was just the decision we felt we needed to make. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t something we did because we wanted to hurt you. We love you, son. And we just wanted to know that you were safe.”

“We love you so much, sweetie.”

But they were blind because he wasn’t safe. And he was never going to be safe again. There would always be someone out there who had power over him, who wanted to control and erase him.

If they loved you, they would have listened.

They’re scared of you.

He glanced up to see Jack putting his arm around Maddie, pulling her in close. Jazz stood behind them, allowing their shadows to overtake her body.

Jazz said something, but Danny wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He was trapped and completely alone. There would be no protests, no online petitions, and no jury on his side. No one to rescue him.

“Then give it—give me my core back.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m sorry son. We’ve made our decision.”

“I’ll find a way,” Danny insisted. “I know some ghosts. I’ll get them to—to take it out. You can’t...you—you can’t stop me.”

“Danny, I don’t think even Frostbite could—”

“You don’t know that, Jazz! He could—he could do it. He would figure it out if I asked.” 

His parents exchanged a look, one reminiscent of the exasperation when Danny would tell them that the detention hadn’t been his fault, that he did try to do the homework assignment, that he would try harder next time.

They didn’t believe him.

“He’ll do it,” he reiterated. 

“Danny, we’re not going to let any ghosts near you right now.”

“Like that ever worked before,” he retorted.

There was a pregnant pause, and Danny looked away. He felt nauseous, and anxiety speared through his chest.

“Please, I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t…” 

He knew how desperate he sounded, but for once he didn’t care. His parents were going to kill him by keeping his core locked up. 

Right now it was about self-preservation. If he couldn’t protect himself, it was over.

“Graduate from the PHP program first,” Maddie finally said. “Once you’re back in school, then we can talk, alright? We’ll talk about...about removing the chip.”

Danny whipped his head up, his eyes searching for any signs that she was lying, that she was going to pull the rug out from under him again.

But her face betrayed nothing.

“Graduate?” Danny breathed. “I just have to...graduate?”

“Yes. Show us that you’re okay enough to go back to school, and you can have your ghost half back.”

“I…” He tugged at his hair. “But that’s...that’s weeks…’

Maddie crossed her arms. “Those are my terms.”

Time slowed, and the distance between them only seemed to grow. He knew he was already behind leaving the PHP center that he was almost certain there was talk of shoving him back into inpatient.

But they didn’t get it. It wasn’t his fault, it was the government stalking him. It was Vlad. He had no choice, and he would never be able to graduate PHP. Not without his core.

“I—but—but, Mom. I need—”

“Son,” his dad said sharply. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but you’re not in a place where we can trust you right now. This is our compromise. Show us we can trust you, and you can have your freedom back.”

His eyes stung, and his throat was starting to squeeze shut.

No…

“Do we have a deal?”

This was impossible.

Even if Frostbite had a way of removing the chip, Danny had no way of finding him. Not without Clockwork’s interference, who didn’t seem to have any interest in contacting Danny as of late. 

The thought of Clockwork left a sour taste in Danny’s mouth. He hadn’t thought of the ancient ghost since his nights in the government compound, his body splayed out like a rag doll, shivering from shock. He remembered staring into the pitch black abyss around him begging for Clockwork to come help him.

But his calls were never answered.

Danny knew Clockwork could have freed him whenever he wanted, government ghost shields be damned. But he didn’t. And that made him just as guilty as everyone else.

And now Danny was alone, bound by his human physiology and his ghost hunter parents.

He had no choice.

“Okay. It’s—it’s a deal.”

---

His body was cold, dead, with waves of trembling coming in and out in spurts. Every breath hurt, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the burning in his chest, the soreness in his throat, or the way the alien warmth in his core seemed more overbearing than ever. 

He could feel it, the hand reaching between his ribs, gripping his core with its warm, gloved fingers. It was revolting, violating, how the hands invaded his body, tearing off his skin and ribs as if he were nothing but a rotting carcass.

He felt dizzy. Lightheaded. He put a hand on his chest, crinkling his shirt in his fist. It was his core, he needed to protect it. 

But he was useless. Nothing. He was at the mercy of his parents who were all but holding a loaded gun to his head while telling him to trust them. Who lied to him that they accepted him, that they were there for him. 

That they loved him.

He was stupid, so stupid. After all the months of hearing them enthusiastically discuss the ways they’d love to rip him apart, what made him think they’d love him just like that? 

Their acceptance was conditional, and their conditions were impossible for him to meet. How the hell did they expect him to graduate from PHP and reenter society like a normal person while they were drowning his core like this? Did they not see how badly he was suffocating? How much he was screaming, thrashing in the ocean for air, desperately trying to fight the undertow pulling him further and further away from his sanity?

He wasn’t going to make it. He was going to fail, he was going to drown. He couldn’t do this.

But there’s one way, a small voice in his head whispered. You’ve done it before and you were fine. It helped you.

His eyes trailed over to his nightstand with his old model rocket sitting proudly on top. He had never flushed the oxycodone. 

Maybe…maybe…

It can help you again.

He just needed to graduate the PHP program and he would get his core back and then everything would be okay. He could work on his problems the right way later. The way he was supposed to be doing it, that he couldn’t do right now because he was still missing half of himself.

Two weeks. That was all he needed. Just two weeks worth of medication, and then he’d be on his way.

You need this.

He pushed himself up as if he were a puppet on strings. Everything was bleak, gray-washed and oppressive. Nausea rolled over him in waves and a hand gripped his throat, pulling the oxygen from his body.

The nightstand glowed in the moonlight, and like a moth Danny felt himself drawn closer to it. Tunnel vision took over, and the world morphed into a series of photos in a time lapse. Snapshot after snapshot flickered past his eyes until a hand—his hand—was pulling the drawer open to reveal an orange bottle inside.

You’re ready.

He couldn’t live like this anymore.

The fear, the anxiety, his core. It was all so much easier before, back in the hospital. Back when the only thing he had to worry about was what constellation he was going to draw that day. Back before he had to face the public, his family, or Vlad. Back before he knew that the government had his phone tapped and was watching his every move.

Back before he knew that his freedom was only temporary.

He was a sitting duck, a kid trapped in no man’s land with no weapon, no armor, nothing to keep him alive.

“Two weeks,” he whispered. Two weeks and then he would be okay. He would graduate from PHP, he would get to go back to school, he would become a regular person again. He just needed to get there first.

He opened the bottle and shook out a small white pill into the palm of his hand.

Two weeks.

Tilting his head back, he tossed the pill into his mouth, took a sip of water, and swallowed.

There. 

It was done.

---

Thank you @imekitty for beta-ing the fic as well as helping me organize my plot better!

Thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

[stillebesat]

Beneath the Moon -part 3

Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman…Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the…supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk, Gun Mention, Shapeshifting/Transformation, Brief Sensory Overload,  Taglist in Reblog.

To Catch Up: Part 1  Part 2 

The one key detail that had been consistent in every source Logan had looked up about werewolves was the change. 

While the imagery used in each had varied, the descriptions overall had remained the same. Changing into a wolf would hurt. He would feel like he was on fire. Burning as his body was forcibly changed from one form to another.

Heat. 

Because everything became more malleable when it was warm. Ice would melt. Plastic would bend. Metal would pool. 

Heat was the source of change. 

So to become a wolf. He would have to burn.

And yet.

All Logan felt was cold. Frozen really. Like he was stuck in a glacier, his heart slowly pounding, fighting against the tidal wave of ice that threatened to engulf him. Pounding like the waves of the ocean beating against the shore. The pull of the cool tide dragging at him, beckoning him to fall into the moon. To get lost in the never ending white light as it filled his entire vision. Filled his vision despite him knowing that only the top sliver of it had appeared. That the whole moon shouldn’t be visible just yet. That there was no way for him to be able to reach the moon from here.

There was a roaring in his ears as his breath caught in his throat, his body going rigid even as his feet shifted to run away, to hide from this empty void of space that called to him as the moon rose higher, beckoning him to let go of the earth and float into the sky with it. To free himself from the restraints of gravity and just---

Accept it.

The faint thought echoed distantly in his head as a soft whimper left his throat.

You said you would accept it.

The moon filled his vision. Pulsating. Like a beacon, it called to him. Called to him in a way that it shouldn’t. The moon had never held such an allure before now and his mind frantically fought against the impossibility. How could an object in space hold such power? How could it force him to be anything than what he was. 

Human.

Accept it.

Werewolves shouldn’t exist!

But research had shown. The bite on his hand--he--he---

Like a lonely foghorn sounding over the misty shores at night, a single howl broke through his turbulent thoughts, echoing in the night, overtaking any other sound, demanding his attention. 

Demanding an answer.

That answer was wedged in his throat. The urge to--to--but--he--he couldn’t-- 

Accept it. 

The howl echoed again and Logan could have sworn he saw a shadowy form flit across the surface of the moon. 

A shadow that looked like a wolf.

Logan shuddered, the shadow growing bigger in his vision, the eyes within glowing bright like the sun as it turned to face him, staring him down, the ice in his body threatening to drown freeze him, feeling the need to cry out to--to--

Howl. 

You said--

Accept it.

He had to--there was no denying with how the moon was calling to him. He had to if he wanted any chance of keeping his human mind.

Shuddering from the ice that seemed to flow through his veins, Logan threw his head back and let out an answering howl, calling for--for--he didn’t know. For the wolf? For it to come to him?

His voice still echoing in his ears, the shadow on the moon pounced, despite the impossibility of it all, wrapping around him like a warm current, heating the frozen ache that held his muscles captive like a warm wind on a hot summer day.

He couldn’t help but melt into that warmth as it massaged the ice away, falling to his hands and knees as a soft lilting voice whispered in his ear.

Welcome brother. 

His heart skipped a beat at those two very simple words. 

Simple words that he hadn’t felt applied to him either singly or together in a very very long time.

“Logan?” 

A chill ran down his spine as the warmth vanished as quickly as it had engulfed him, leaving him to stagger in place, his body feeling--feeling--

Not human.

Definitely not human.

His eyes flashed open and he flinched back at the not--at the--his eyes---he wasn’t seeing how he was used to seeing! It was too...clear? He knew it was night. The colors--He shook his head, heart pounding painfully quick as a snarl left his lips before he could stop it, his other senses going into overdrive as everything began to twitch. His ears, his nose, his--his--

He whirled in a circle, paws slipping on the grass as he caught sight of a long black--A whimper of disbelief sounding in his ears as he stared at--at--

A Tail. 

He. Had. A. TAIL. 

It was nothing like the one he’d tried to create before. Of course he’d known that. But still. It was--it was moving and he wasn’t sure if he was controlling it or not and he couldn’t get it to stop moving and with his ears twitching at every sound demanding to know what that noise was and his nose twitching as it filled with smells that were both familiar and yet totally unfamiliar at the same time that demanded he needed to investigate so he could figure out just what he was sensing and--he--he---

It was too much.

All that preparation had been for nothing. It was like that nightmare of walking into a final and realizing you hadn’t studied for it at all. He couldn’t do this! This was--

“Whoa, Lo. It’s okay. Breathe, Buddy. You’re okay. You’re doing great.” 

Logan shuddered at how his ears flicked towards the voice and away, another soft whine leaving him as he looked up to Roman.

Roman, who’s eyes were glowing as bright gold as any wolf’s in the moonlight as he stood tall, head held high, staring him down, one hand outstretched in a pacifying gesture despite the display of dominance. “You’re okay, Lo.” He said in a low voice, maintaining eye contact, his breath steady despite how quickly Logan could hear his heart beating. 

Because he doesn’t know if you’re a threat. 

And Roman had been trained to kill threats.

Logan lowered his head, ears laying back as he found himself reacting to instinct, crouching down so that his belly brushed the ground, to appear as small as possible in this...this shape. 

The golden light in Roman’s eyes softened as he took a careful step closer.

It took all that he had to stay in place, to not retreat against Ro’s advancement. Not that Logan was confident he could run at this point. As uncoordinated and off kilter as he felt he’d probably end up face planting into the ground after two steps.

Another whine left his throat as Roman crouched within lunging distance, his hand still outstretched. 

“I know it’s a lot to take in.” He said with a faint smile. “A lot to get used to. But I know you can handle this, Brainiac. You’re gonna be just fine. I know you won’t hurt me.” 

Such Trust. 

Such trust for a high school enemy.

And yet---Logan found himself cautiously creeping forward, belly still to the ground as he stretched out his head, instinctively sniffing Roman’s proffered hand. 

His ears perked as he tried to place the multitude of scents he found there, far more than should have been on a human’s hands. It was intriguing. So much he could sense with a bare sniff and yet he couldn’t place those smells. It was--He licked Roman’s fingers to get a better idea of just what was on--

Wait. 

Logan recoiled, mouth feeling like it was on fire as he gagged, his tail twisting down to hide between his legs. Had he seriously just licked Roman’s hand?! 

Laughter rang through the air as Roman reached out, scratching Logan’s ears with warm fingers. “Do I taste that bad?” 

He stiffened under the touch, his chest rumbling with a suppressed growl of disagreement. No. He hadn’t tasted...unpleasant. Just the fact that Logan had licked him in the first place was...disquieting. 

He closed his eyes, leaning into Roman’s warm hand. He’d been so focused on having the tail that he’d overlooked all other canine behavior he could exhibit with these...extra senses in this unfamiliar shape. 

 Roman huffed, dragging his fingers down to scritch underneath Logan’s chin before pulling back. “You’re overthinking this.”

His ears laid back, eyes flashing open to glare at him. What did Roman expect? Him to be a crazy rabid feral--he flinched, remembering too late just why he had Roman bring a gun out here. 

Because he should be feral. Wild. Aggressive. He was a freaking wolf now. And while he was thankfully thinking more human at the moment, unlike the mindless beast he’d feared he’d become, he was still in a wolf’s body until the moon set and he had no idea how was he supposed to figure this out on his own--

Roman exhaled, shaking his head, his eyes glowing a brighter gold in the darkness as he slipped his gun, still in its holster, from around his waist, tossing it into a nearby bush before Logan could react. “Instinct, Lo.” 

Logan stiffened, looking between the bush and his childhood friend before taking a cautious step away from where the gun had fallen. What was he doing?! That was Ro’s only protection against--

Roman’s heart rate slowed as he pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side as he stared Logan down with a half smile. “The wolf won’t remain tethered beneath the human forever. They’re equals within you now. You just have to take a breath. Relax. And--” He rippled like a mirage on a hot summer day before a wolf with reddish brown fur stepped forward to rub his head against Logan’s. ~Trust yourself.~

To Be Continued

[theincompetentgenius]

Edgar Reacts to Lowborn Alice HCs

anon:  headcanons for how you think edgar bright would react to alice having a hard time with snobby nobles who make fun of her for being lowborn at those official parties Lancelot throws? edgar never comments on it (he's golden hearted) but he's technically a noble bloodline so alice might face some discrimination.

Hey anon, I really liked this ask (so much that it almost turned into a fic at the end yikes). I hope you enjoy it!

Edgar Bright

Edgar himself has never cared for one’s status. If he’s learned anything in his life, it’s that some of the highest-ranking officials can also be the most corrupt. So when he learns that dear Alice is a lowborn, it doesn’t matter to him. 

However, he does notice all the gossip around them. It’s not widespread in the Red Army Headquarters, but it does create a stir at the royal balls hosted by the King of Hearts. The worst had occurred during Alice’s first ball, where all the nobles had gathered to see them. They expected a direct descendant of Alice the First, hoping that the next Alice would be covered in gold and silver. But when they emerged in something more simple and true to themselves, many of them wrinkled their nose in disgust. Is that really Alice the Second? They must be from a poor family, What a waste.

The whispers grew louder and the bright smile on Alice’s face began to fade. They were trying so hard to keep a happy face, but no one knew how to detect a fake smile better than Edgar. While he didn’t comment on Alice’s heritage, he did make a point to throw a snide remark at the snotty nobles. If they were being extra bratty, he made it a point to verbally humiliate them while donning the prettiest smile.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees a heartbroken Alice rushing towards the balcony. Although their hands cover their face, the dazzling lights reflect a bright twinkle on their face streaking down their chin: a tear. The Jack of Hearts quickly finished his conversation and follows after them. “Ignore them. They have the mental capabilities of a rabid dog.”

“Ignore them? How can I possibly ignore them? That’s all they’ve been talking about, that’s all I can hear when someone talks to me!” The tears begin to pour.  He places his hand on their back, reaching out to wipe the tear from their face.

But they pull back. “Don’t you dare touch me! You think that you’re any different from them? Sure you wear a pretty smile and give me your sweetest words, but I know better than that! You’re just like everyone else in this goddamn hellhole. You think wouldn't understand because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. You’re a noble.”

They didn’t mean it. They were just mad and hurt by everyone in the room and Edgar was their ragdoll. But even though he knew that, their words didn’t sting any less because it was true. He was born to one of the wealthiest families in the Cradle, but at what cost? He’d lost everything that made him human.

For a moment, his feet are made of stone. He wasn’t sure whether he should leave them alone or try to console them any further. It was clear they didn’t want to see him, but there’s no greater pain than suffering alone. So he stayed, leaning against the the balcony’s railing. 

“You’re right. My family had all the luxuries they could ask for. They could buy anything they wanted. Yet with all the money in the world, they couldn’t buy humanity. Just look at how I turned out.” Edgar gave a bitter laugh. And with that, he returned to the party.

[dessarious]

Broken Harmony Pt1

Shout out to @ozmav for the Maribat rabbit hole I’ve been completely sucked into.

 This is the first part of I don’t know how log of a fic. I’m hoping putting it up in parts will keep me writing.

Also shout out to the Maribat discord peeps for encouragement. 

  Master List 1   Master List 2   Prologue   Next

Broken Harmony

Ever since Damian’s soulmate song had changed he’d been traveling with his father on business. That song had always been the one bright spot in his life. Sure there were moments when it faltered with anxiety or a touch of sadness, but on the whole it was always a strong, positive, and happy tune. Then three months ago it changed. It almost felt like it had shattered and was replaced by worry, sadness, and despair. 

He’d been worried at first that his own song had finally gotten to be too much for her. He’d always felt sorry for whoever his soulmate was. His song had to be something akin to a dirge or funeral march. He had felt her worry for him on several occasions, which shouldn’t have been possible given the distance between them, and it always gave him hope. 

He quickly discounted that theory though. He’d felt the moment it changed. Like the old song came to a screeching halt only to be replaced with pain and suffering. If he had been the cause it likely would have been gradual. No something had happened. He didn’t know what, all he knew was that he would find her and destroy whatever had caused his bright spot to dim.

Damian was just getting used to the new song when it changed again. If the first time had felt like glass breaking this one felt more like being body slammed into a wall. It knocked the wind out of him and left him gasping for air as the tune turned even more heartbreaking than before. He hadn’t thought that was possible.

His family were all eyeing him like he was a rabid dog, just waiting for him to turn and attack them. He hadn’t explained what was going on but his mood obviously worried them. When they went on patrol he was paired with either his father or Grayson and both felt the need to reiterate the no kill policy almost hourly. To say it was grating on his nerves was an understatement. It was no surprise that his brothers let out a collective sigh of relief when two months later, Bruce announced that he’d be taking Damian to tour the European offices. 

That was how he ended up waking two weeks later as his plane touched down in Paris with only one thought cycling through his head. He felt a new resonance in the song. His soulmate was here.

Marinette’s entire world had fallen apart. She’d like to say it started and ended with Lila, but that was only in her civilian life. As Ladybug, Lila was annoying yes, but it was only a mild problem compared to her partner. And then there was the Guardian issue.

As if all that wasn’t enough, she felt her soulmate song shift. Whoever he was, wherever he was, his song had become enraged. The anger coming through the bond almost made her feel as though her body was on fire. She knew she shouldn’t feel that at a distance and it only worried her more. Her song must have changed. With everything that had happened there was no question about that. Was he mad at her for it? It was the only reason she could think of for why it was affecting her so much. 

She spent her days at school trying to act normal as her skin tingled from her own frustration mixed with her soulmates rage. It was difficult and she wasn’t always successful which just widened the rift between her and her former friends. The more she was isolated the worse the burning got.

When she was around Chat… it was so much worse. She had no clue what her own song sounded like but it had to be different around her partner for her soulmate to react so strongly. She was almost happy when Chat delivered his ultimatum: I won’t be there for Akuma attacks unless you date me. Granted there was a lot more to the discussion but that’s what it boiled down to. 

It was a relief to be able to focus on a fight completely rather than worry about what ridiculous stunt Chat might pull or the fire that ran through her veins whenever he was near her. Unfortunately Paris didn’t see it the same way. Everyone assumed that without Chat there the fights took longer causing more damage and time lost. Even though her cure fixed everything people started to resent the ‘extra hours’ they lost. Public opinion was slowly turning and it was just one more stressor she didn’t need.

So when she woke up late as usual one morning, Marinette was already near her breaking point when she felt the resonance. He was here and his rage burned brighter than ever.

Master List 1   Master List 2    Prologue   Next

[maxineswritingcenter]

Bray Road - Fox Mulder x reader

So I have definitely been binge watching the X-Files and season one Fox? Oh what a babe. Sarcastic and has a problem with authority, WOO! Let go, kids! Using they/them pronouns.

“Oh he can’t be that bad.” (Y/N) brushed off their coworker’s words. Agent Jamison was referring to Special Agent Fox Mulder. An Oxford graduate, graduate with honors from the academy, and an excellent profiler.

 "He’s so bad that he turned Dana Scully- The Dana Scully, top of our class Dana Scully into one of his followers.“ He said. 

(Y/N) rolled their eyes, "I wasn’t aware we were in the presence of Christ himself, Jamison.” Chief Blevins assigned Scully to watch over Mulder and shut the X Files down. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case. “Make’s you wonder.” They muttered to themselves.

 "Just don’t get spooky on me, alright?“ Jamison stopped just short of the annex that held the X Files and the agent inside. They knocked on the door. 

“Nobody’s home!” A voice called from inside. 

(Y/N) made their way inside, closing the door behind them. Sitting at a desk, piled high with files was a man with brown scruffy hair and bright green eyes. The next thing they noticed with the ufo poster on the wall with bold black letters saying I want to Believe. They weren't kidding about this guy.

"Special agent Mulder, my name is (Y/N)(Y/L/N). I'm your temporary partner while agent Scully undergoes treatment." They smiled. Agent Mulder looking up at them over his glasses, shook his head.

"I only work with Scully, so tell whoever sent you here that if they're trying to spy on me they should get a little more creative." He went back to reading his file.

They shook their head, "AD Skinner said you would react like this."

That seemed to get his attention, "Skinner sent you?" He said the name like he was recalling an old friend. It was no secret that Assistant director Skinner had favorites, whether he liked it or not.

"Yes, he said we would get along." They smiled.

"And why's that?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Because I believe I have a case that fits your criteria.” 

- 

After setting up the photo projector, They began their presentation. 

“In nineteen-thirty six on a rural road outside of Elkhorn, Wisconsin there were sightings of a creature that has been described as a bear or wolf-like creature that stood up to seven feet tall on its hindlegs, a brown or grey color. Similar sightings appear through the years and also into neighboring Michigan, calling it the Michigan Dog man. In Wisconsin, however, they refer to as the Beast of Bray Road, the namesake of the road where it was first sighted.” They took a deep breathe before continuing, “In nineteen-seventy four, a couple and their child were driving down the road after a late night movie when they hit something on the road. They stop, husband gets out and sees what it was. The wife watches him get dragged away. She gets out of the car, gets dragged away. The kid was found the next day a police cruiser passing through the area.The first kill associated with the beast.” 

“Alright, where’s this going?” Agent Mulder asked. (Y/N) clicked the remote of the projector showing photos of the crime scene photos from the most recent crime. 

“Yesterday evening, the beast seems to have attacked again except this time in broad daylight. A group of college students were drinking and trying to find the beast when it seems that the beast found them. In the pieces they could find, it appears that they were mauled by a very large animal. The local fish and wildlife is puzzeled and local PD has no idea how to handle the deaths. The populous is in a uproar.” 

“And rightfully so.” He said, standing from his chair where he had been reading the file that (Y/N) had put together. 

“Well, looks like we’re going to Wisconsin, Agent (Y/L/N).” He closed the file, “I’ll go get us travel papers.” When he left the room, they took a deep breathe. Filled with a new hope for the case and getting justice. 

- 

After a plane ride and renting a car, the agents began the long drive towards the crime scene. As they got closer, Mulder couldn’t help but notice that his partner was fiddling with their hands nervously and staring out the window like they were in their own little world. 

“Everything alright, (Y/L/N)?” This startled them out of their trace. 

“Oh! Uh, yeah. Fine.” They said, giving Mulder a soft smile. 

Mulder nodded, “Is this your first xfile?” 

They looked at him for a moment and then nodded, “Yeah.” They were relieved. 

“If it makes you feel better, I’ve been working these cases for years now, agent Scully as well, and everything turned out alright. We find the evidence, catch whatever this is.” 

(Y/N) laughed it off, “You’re right. It’s probably just a rabid bear anyway.” They reasoned. 

“I don’t know about that. Globally, there are only forty bear attacks per year, only eleven of those attacks happen in North America.” He paused, “If you’re so nervous about this case then why did you take the assignment. How did you even hear about it?” 

(Y/N) gulped, “Friend of mine works in wildlife service, he heard it through the grapevine. He told me about the deaths before it. I put it together and brought it to the attention of the Assistant Director and he told me to come to you. That’s all.” They knew that Mulder had reason to be suspect because of their behavior. But he only nodded and the rest of the drive was silent.

- 

They made it to the crime scene that afternoon, meeting with the sheriff outside the yellow crime scene tape. The agents made their way towards the cop. 

“Can I help you folks?” The sheriff asked. 

“Agents Mulder and (Y/L/N),” They brought out their badges. showing the cop. 

“No disrespect, agents, but we didn’t call in the feds.” The sheriff said. 

“Yes, sir, we were made aware of the situation by fish and wildlife.” (Y/N) spoke up. 

“Well, you can ask the kid at the hospital what he saw and he’ll tell you what it was.” The sheriff shrugged. 

“There was a survivor?” Mulder asked. 

“Yes, sir. We found him a little ways down the road. He was barely alive when we found him.” 

“Can you show me where?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into the file in their hand. The sheriff led the two agents to the scene where the boy had been found. It was also marked off with yellow tape. 

Mulder looked over their shoulder as (Y/N) held up a black and white photograph. 

“What is it?” he asked. It was a moment before they spoke. 

“This is the exact spot where the car was found.” A sense of dread passed over them. 

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Alright! So I have found that there is a lack of Fox Mulder fics which is a damn shame. I’m adding to the few. Of these include some of the best fics I’ve ever read. I’m excited for this story, I hope you are too! 

Read part 2 here!

Reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated!

Please shoot me a message if you would like to be tagged in the series!