#i remember i was certain something bad would happen to me (and it did but not as tragic as what i was scared of)

[maxdibert]

Personal view, as someone who grew up in an abusive environment and is hyper-reactive to seeing children in distress or being mistreated by adults, including in fictional depictions, I never felt the kids in Harry Potter were in any danger from Snape. He’s bitchy and snarky, yes. But no more so than other teachers in Hogwarts. And from what I’ve experienced in the fandom, a lot of Snape fans are abuse survivors in some shape or form. He’s a complex character, and unlike a lot of fictional abuse survivors, he can actually be angry and rage. It’s very cathartic for people who have had to mask and suppress their negative emotions in real life.

It's curious how most Severus fans tend to be survivors of bullying or people who see themselves reflected in him because they went through similar experiences in school, or people who have experienced violence at home. Meanwhile, the haters are simply kids who have a terrible teacher and project that onto Snape, so they hate him.

If we're going to play the "I had terrible teachers, so I know how it feels" card, then I can use that too. Not only did I have terrible teachers—so bad that what they did was absolutely reportable and punishable—but in university, I even had professors who LITERALLY made students cry with their critiques. And yes, I’m very angry with those teachers. Even though I wasn’t always a direct victim, thinking about the teachers from my old school fills me with rage. And yes, whenever I’ve run into some of them on the street, I’ve made sure to say something to them in a super passive-aggressive way.

But the thing is, I don’t see any of them in Severus. Not a single one.

Severus has always reminded me of a literature teacher I had in my last years of school. He was a guy who taught classes to make some money while finishing his university doctorate—clearly, his goal was to be a researcher or teach at a university level. And you could tell from a mile away that he HATED having to teach teenagers. But hey, the school paycheck was good, right? I’m not going to blame him for that. The thing is, he had a degree in Philosophy and Literature and had a level way above that of a regular high school teacher.

I remember he was young. At the time, he seemed like an old man to me because when you're 16, anyone over 20 seems ancient, but he probably wasn’t even 35 yet. The thing is, he had no patience for nonsense. He hated childish antics in class, got annoyed by dumb questions, and if he explained something and someone asked the exact same thing two minutes later, he would clearly get irritated. I remember once a kid told him he had just read the latest Dan Brown novel, and this guy, with the most cunty smirk, said, "Well, I wouldn't know about that, Mr. X. I don't read mass-market literature." And it was like… lol why so mean? But I found it hilarious.

He was the only teacher who called us by our last names and never used informal speech, which was shocking to us because it never happened with other teachers. He rarely attended staff meetings or team dinners (a teacher who was actually abusive and spent entire classes physically humiliating 15-year-olds used to complain about that a lot). You almost never saw him interacting with other teachers because, honestly, I’ve always had the feeling that he thought his colleagues were idiots—and I don’t blame him. If I worked with that bunch today, I’d think they were idiots too.

Now, this guy was strict. Very strict. If you got a 4.9, he wasn’t giving you a 5, because you didn’t get a 5. He wasn’t going to be nice to you unless he thought it was strictly necessary. He wasn’t going to be warm, he wasn’t going to be friendly, he wasn’t going to be funny. He despised mainstream literature and bestsellers, believed certain books were absolute garbage, and thought people who only read that kind of stuff didn’t actually understand literature and lacked the braincells for it. You could agree or disagree with him, but his behavior wasn’t abusive.

Was he sometimes too blunt? Did he have incredibly sharp, sometimes unpleasant responses? Yes. And, funnily enough, this teacher was widely disliked precisely because he was one of the strictest ones. He was hated even more than the guy who groped female students or the one who called kids fat, gave them weight-loss tips, and told girls they dressed like prostitutes if they wore certain tops. But those guys used informal speech, gave you a 5 if you got a 4.6, and weren’t that strict, so people didn’t hate them as much.

That’s why Severus always reminded me of this guy. Ironically, I really liked him because I appreciated his sardonic, sharp humor, and he appreciated that I had read One Hundred Years of Solitude at 12 lol. But above all, he liked that, even though I never paid attention in his classes because I physically couldn’t focus on a lecture for more than 10 minutes, I never disrupted anything. I never got caught talking, never caused trouble—I was just drawing my stuff or reading things unrelated to the lesson, but I wasn’t bothering anyone.

And honestly, I think that’s all Severus wanted from his students: for them not to be a pain in his ass. And if he was an even bigger jerk to some, it was precisely because they got on his nerves the most.

The Weasley twins were total chaos and constantly acting like fools, yet they never have a bad word to say about Snape throughout the saga besides that he was kinda mean sometimes. Why is that? Maybe because they didn’t put the whole class in danger? Maybe because, while they were insufferable in the hallways, they knew they had to tone it down in Potions?

Only two people have a real problem with Severus as a teacher throughout the saga: one is Harry, who disrespects him from day one, constantly challenges him, talks back, breaks the rules, and does exactly the opposite of what Severus tells him. The other is Neville, who basically exists to give Severus seven consecutive nervous breakdowns in a single class.

That doesn’t make you an abuser—it makes you an adult who is sick to death of two pain-in-the-ass kids.

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

Sorry it took so long to respond I've been occupied all day-

It's not a spoiler for me to tell you that Heniroksoo can use Kim Rok Soo's abilities! We learn it in part of the side stories and you will love it once you read it, trust me. As far as we know Heniroksoo doesn't have abilities of his own but some fandom theories (including my own) have begun to think maybe there's still more to learn about the character Cale!KRS yet. We don't know what abilities are, or really even what ancient powers are. It's all still up in the air.

My turn to put a read more...

Now! AHSHHHHSIGE YOURE AMAZING, I love it, oh my god. I love that the closer to the edge he gets, the safer and better he feels. I already feel bad for his teammates. Imagine when they're in a 3 story building and they enter a room to see their coworker, see krs, sat with his legs hanging out of a window, peering off the edge, just staring at the ground below. He's never done that before- is the situation getting to him? Is he a danger to himself? Im sure he's great a balancing because of his life in the tower but they don't know that!

If the walls were slightly concave that would be even better because it psychologically fucks with you into thinking that you're not on a tower, you're on a ledge. It also really shows how paranoid Brother is about Cale being able to leave. He wants to trap Cale forever in a small prison and never let him out, but if he gets depression that could lead to suicide: bad for hair. So Brother has to go through all this emotional manipulation in order to keep Cale from choosing the way down.

It's dangerous, it's risky, it's not worth it, you should just stay inside with me and we can brush your hair and eat candy and read books and be happy, okay? Stop looking out the window. Don't be interested in the outside past a certain extent. Stay with me (or rot alone).

I think it'd be cool if Cale was trapped in the tower in a similar way that in canon he trapped himself in his trash persona to protect Basen and Violan and Lily from the nobles scrutiny

OOOH my god what if he remembers being taken?

What if Brother entered the mansion to kidnap Cale, and Cale and Basen were in the same room, and Brother offered to Cale, "I can take you, or I can take your brother." (He doesn't know it was set from the start.) So Cale willingly takes Brothers hand. Brother tells him, "I'm your secret brother that you never learned about. We're going to go somewhere happy, and you'll never be left alone again." So little 8 year old Cale takes Brothers hand and lives in the tower and eventually it's been long enough that he doesn't question why he's there, just that he had to go. Then he dreams of krs and he has to confront the idea that, maybe, he shouldn't be kept in this tower- and, if he shouldn't be here, why did Brother take him? For what reason?

If he asks... would he get an answer?

The fact that he knows Brother would never tell him isn't assuring.

And with the added hallucinations? Major manipulation opportunity.

So, when, he was a kid, Brother would tell him that he's sick. He needs to stay or he'll hurt himself. Then he possesses krs and the hallucinations stop. He gets better- only one day for krs to shut him out entirely. Krs knew Cale and Cale knew krs, he wouldn't just cut him out without an explanation. Something bad must have happened. It's excruciating. Krs knows that isolation gets to Cale really bad, especially after that 4 week period where krs refused to let him in. So why couldn't Cale get in?

My idea is that when the towers appeared, certain people were automatically sent into the tower to climb. The closest ones, perhaps. Krs being one of them. So since krs wasn't on earth but inside the tower, Cale's wandering consciousness wasn't able to find and enter it. The rejection he was feeling wasn't krs shutting him out, but the world being devoid of people who could let him in. Krs turns out to be the only one with room for two in his body. Maybe that's the GoD's doing.

Krs finally makes it out of the tower, whatever qualification that requires, and he finds Cale's consciousness on the edge of his, waiting. He lets him in. Cale is teetering on the edge of a breakdown as Krs fills him in. He sees the walls torn down... something fits. He's meant to be on the ground, he's meant to be here, in this place. He turns to look at KRS's floating soul... but it's not there.

His stomach drops.

Also the apocalypse being a magic tower climbing scenario is AWESOME because Cale has been in a tower his whole life, and now these people or whatever want him to go back into a tower? One he can't leave of his own accord? Absolutely not!! He did that for so long already!!!

I think Cale, once he gets permanently stuck in krs's body, is able to use krs's abilities and his own. To everyone outside, his personality suddenly changed and he got new abilities. But, like you said, the apocalypse does crazy things to people.

I really like the idea that Cale and Kim Rok Soo are drawn to each other. Cale feels at home in krs's body but he knows that they're supposed to share. Kim Rok Soo is fine in Cale's body, but he needs to know how Cale is doing. What happened?

They both end up feeling conflicted when they deeply prefer being in the other's body than their own because they understand that it doesn't belong to them. Though, they both also understand that the other didn't like their situation- so what are they to do?

At least once, they need to talk to each other and communicate. I think that's one of the big Missions, something the main characters are working towards. Saying, "hey, are you cool with me living as you?" to each other. Just once, nothing big. If they check the other's living status, well, that's just a coincidence.

They were friends for years, too, there's no way they wouldn't be concerned for the other.

"The apocalypse started 6 months ago and the isolated princess who has lived in a tower his whole life just has to deal with that."

"My brother literally trapped me in a tower my entire life and now that wannabe slacker orphan has to deal with all my drama."

These are my thoughts though.

I like the idea that as soon as Cale gets an ability in krs's body, that's when the switch happens.

I think Cale!krs's ability should be something that makes his strength towards his weaknesses stronger. For krs, he got Record and Instant. Record because he remembered all of his tragedies too well- but it was that great memory that helped him survive in the apocalypse, and later Instant because he would time and time again break his limits to save what matters to him. So Cale!KRS would be similar.

Maybe it'd be like an ability to calm himself in the midst of chaos, a grounding method that would help immensely in group coordination. Or an ability like Observe, where he can see everything that's going on in an area from an aerial view- it'd help him become a scout. Perhaps something even more complex, like Wander, an ability that untethers his soul and allows him to walk around invisible and undetectable, while his body remains unconscious and safe.

Okay finally I'm done. I've been writing intermittently throughout the day and I finally covered the things you said...

But then we've gotta ask the bigger question... now that there's a rough idea for Cale in KRS's body, what is KRS gonna get up to in Cale's body?

Rapunzel AU!

Cale has been inside of the tower for his entire life. His hair is long, much longer than his brother's. His brother doesn't have a name. Cale knows they're brothers though- because they both have red hair, even if Brother has short hair and Cale does not.

Ever since Cale was 12, he'd been dreaming of a different world. He went to sleep and woke up as someone named Kim Roksu. This Kim Roksu was not in a similar situation as he was- Kim Roksu wandered the streets and ate food from the floor and hid in the small cabinet in his uncle's house. Kim Roksu was weak and strong.

Kim Roksu is a friend to Cale. When Cale wants to see the outside, he sleeps, and he dreams.

Kim Roksu figured out how to communicate with Cale after several years of simple body swapping.

Somehow, they are similar! They both agree that being trash is the best. Kim Roksu because it's easier being a bad person than a good person, and Cale because Brother won't let him be trashy and he wishes he could throw a fit without Brother punishing him.

"Your brother keeps you in a tower?" Roksu asks when he learns.

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who stays in a tower." Cale kicks a rock on the sidewalk with his barefoot, sending it skidding across the dirt road. "Ow, my toe." Roksu complains blandly.

Sharing a body, they also share the same sensations.

"You barely felt that and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up." Cale retorts. He wants to say more, but he swallows those words and tucks them into his chest.

'The bruise over your eye hurts more but you don't complain about that.'

He bites his lip and looks down.

"Do you think," he asks quietly, "if I asked Brother to let me out, he would?"

Roksu, disembodied and floating over his body, frowns. "You haven't asked before?"

Cale smiles bitterly in Roksu's body. "... I did, once." After, Brother said he was going to be leaving for two weeks, and told Cale to ration his food well. Cale knew better than to think it was a coincidence. He didn't have Roksu yet. It was very lonely for a long time.

Roksu doesn't say anything.

"If," his voice trembles, "If I got out. If I left..."

"Cale." Roksu stops him. Cale winces, expecting to be reprimanded.

"You are trash. Trash does whatever they want, no matter what anyone says. If you want to leave, then leave." Roksu's translucent body floats over to stand in front of Cale. Sternly, he says, "Don't worry about useless things. Worry about making a plan and executing it."

Then, abruptly, Roksu turns and ignores him. Cale laughs and folds in half, a childish grin splitting his malnourished cheeks. How can someone be so blunt but so shy? Kim Roksu frowns, but it looks like a pout. Cale rubs away a tear and looks up at the back of his friend. No, the person who sometimes feels more like a brother to him than his real brother.

"And will you help me?"

Roksu rolls his eyes. "Don't ask something so obvious."

Cale smiles and looks down. "Right. Obvious, isn't it?"

Something like receiving help wasn't obvious to either of them. Yet, when it came to the two of them together, it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious with Brother, who he shared blood with. But Kim Roksu, who was abused and beaten down at every turn, chose to welcome a wandering soul into his body and share everything with him.

'You're the one who shouldn't want to be here,' Kim Roksu said when they first started talking and Cale asked why he didn't try to force Cale out. 'When you're in control, I can relax. Why would I want you to leave? That's so difficult.'

They learned that Kim Roksu really could force Cale out when his uncle kicked Cale, sending Kim Roksu's body sprawling onto the floor, then stomped on his arm so hard they heard a clear snap. For Cale it only hurt for a short moment. Roksu threw him out so fast you could imagine that he had practiced beforehand.

Every day and night, Cale slept to try and enter Roksu's body, check on him, share the pain, but Roksu kicked him out every time. It wasn't until four weeks later that Roksu let Cale back in.

Even that much pain was a lot for being four weeks after the incident, but while Cale was struggling to keep his cool, Roksu floated around him and spoke as if nothing was wrong. When Cale started sweating a few hours later Roksu kicked him out again.

'Don't be stubborn,' he said when Cale returned the next night. 'Just say that it hurts. If you still want to stay after you admit that it hurts then I won't kick you out.'

It was a very Kim Roksu thing to do.

"Brother," Cale asks one day at 15, impatiently brushing his hair. He gets scolded lightly, and Brother takes the brush from him. "I read in a book about something called a phone. Do you have one?"

Brother gives him a blank look. Then, as if it had been a lie, his expression changes into something kind and gentle. "Fone? Can you show me the book?"

Cale and Brother roughly root around in every book for anything like the so-called 'Fone,' coming up short.

"Maybe it was a dream," Cale excuses it like that, rubbing his neck. Brother looks at him, worried.

"It must have been. Get some rest, Cale." A kiss to the top of Cale's head, Brother hugs him and promises to bring him more paint. "I'll be gone for a few days this time. Do you want something?"

"Ah," Cale smiles, pressing his face into his Brothers neck to hide his face. "Could you bring me -------?" Brother freezes.

"... you-"

"I learned it from the books! This time I really did, Brother. Please?"

Slowly, Brother releases the tension in his body. "... If that's what you want. But you have to close the window if you're going to mess around with alcohol."

"Yes!" Cale jumps with joy. Then he suddenly runs to a bookshelf, changing the topic by talking about a book Brother brought to him last time. "-and I'd like to know if the sequel is out yet."

"I'll do that." Brother smiles. "You've been asking for more things recently, Cale." Brother settles a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

"It's because of my reliable older brother!" He grabs onto that hand, keeping it there, resembling a naive little brother who only has his role model in his eyes.

He sends his brother down the tower using his hair, and watches that spot of red disappear in the distance.

His face drops.

"... Bastard."

Cale turns on his foot. It's time to see Roksu.

[sailforvalinor]

Val Is Pretty Sure She Might Be Losing Her Mind, more at 11

[sudokuplayer]

i'm so angry and heartbroken and i think this is all i will ever be

[erinwantstowrite]

Halloween AU!!!

hey so. i put SOOOOO much effort into this au and for what? at least it ended up looking cool? anyways Halloween is my favorite holiday and i just HAD to make something for them!

i had a LOT of ideas for what everyone would be, but i really wanted to stick to a certain theme cause it's based around Halloween. i knew i had to have a vampire, werewolf, and a witch. cause like... obviously. iconic Halloween stuff!! but i took some liberties with everyone else and i think they turned out pretty cool!!

Jason was originally a fox shifter (which i still love and might draw art for some day) but i went with a bear in the end. is that because i thought about tiny bear cub Jaybin and wanted to cry? yeah. yeah it is. i KNEW Steph was going to be my werewolf though i started doubting myself when i went to draw her. turned out to be my favorite drawing on here which makes sense cause she is my light my love my daughter my will to live and all that jazz

Tim was actually gonna be a harpy but thank god i didn't go for that in the end. Duke was the one that was a bitch and a half trying to figure out BUT!! comments on the post asking what y'all thought led me towards Psychic so THANK YOUUUU everybody that commented!! (specifically those who thought of ghost!! Duke and Tim ended up being a perfect duo in this au)

Babs was pretty easy to figure out what I wanted for her. I read somewhere that they are seen as protectors of forests/ are considered spiritual authority figures and also.... she looks cool as fuck. Did not expect how easy it was to find a ref for a deer in a wheelchair though? I can never find the right hand or face angle reference but that was super easy???

For Bruce there was literally no question he HAD to be human. it's literally so funny that everyone who knows Batman thinks he's a spooky vampire but he's human. his first son, however?????? THAT'S the vampire. I knew Dick had to be a vampire too. A little nod towards that one comic run but in my au nothing bad happens ever 🥰 Damian also being a bat shifter is very on purpose because how funny is it that he's a bat man. Literally not a single person in the League thinks that Bruce is telling the truth about being human. Bruce you are NOT beating the secretly a vampire allegations.

adding in Jay's hilarious joke it's so fucking funny:

Alfred is actually a demon. I CAN NOT remember who made this post so if someone can help me find it, it would be appreciated!! because this was inspired by them!!! but somewhere i saw someone talk about Alfred being a demon that Thomas and Martha made a deal with (i think it was for an au idea?) and I just HAD to put it here. Alfred looks so human and everyone expects it, but he's definitely not. I put the ??? because it's so fucking funny. see if you can spot the 1 hint i put on his drawing that something is amiss!!

Peter is from an alternate dimension still, but it is not a world of creatures like him, it's just the same as LoF canon except Peter grew some extra limbs and eyes. He finds that it's actually pretty easy to fit in with the Waynes. Hard to feel like a freak when a guy can turn into a fucking bear, or your dad is a vampire, and the teenagers in the family are trying to summon ghosts or make potions.

additional doodles for this au:

i am still debating whether i am going to draw something for this au or write a oneshot, but i DO want to do something with these for Halloween

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[milkis-deepspace]

sylus x reader - period pains

a/n: this is very self-indulgent^^ features established relationship and just fluffy goodness

being on your period is never fun. for around a week you have insane cravings, unbearable cramps and some major mood swings. truly horrible in all honesty. but the most embarrassing part was how needy you were especially now since you were in a relationship.

sylus is prepared for anything when it comes to you. ever since you've stayed over at onychinus' head quarters - he has made sure that anything you would ever want or need, would be at your disposal.

heating blanket? bought already.

pads and tampons? they’re placed in the cabinet under the sink, right besides sylus' skincare.

medicine? you knew where they were.

a massage? that... that was unexplored territory. while you and sylus were in a relationship and were quite touchy-touchy, asking for a massage seemed intimate. but then again, this might be the hormones talking. but would he think you were weird for requesting that? probably not, sylus would without a shadow of a doubt accept (almost) any of your requests. but would you really ask the mr. sylus qin - the already extremely busy leader of onychinus who had mephisto track your every move? speaking of the damn bird...

“i got a call from a little birdie saying a certain person has been in pain all day and didn't want to quote unquote bother me,” sylus enters the bedroom and takes off his jacket.

tsk, of course mephisto had tattled on you! that damn crow, someday you would make the crow heed under your command but today was not that day…

“sometimes it isn’t this bad, so i thought it would be okay,” you mumbled, curled up on sylus’ bed. it seemed as if the cramps intensified and sylus went over to sit beside you, his eyes filled with worry.

"tell me, how can i be of help to you?”

you glanced at him and shyly considered your answer. “well, uhmm, do you mind if- uh could you maybe give me a little massage…?”

sylus chuckels and easily complies to your request.

with a heating blanket placed under you to relieve the stomach cramps and sylus' warm hand massaging your back, you couldn’t help but to feel so immensely content. his big hands were perfect to warm you and his soothing voice was an anchor to keep you sane.

“you tell me if it’s too hard alright? i don’t want to unintentionally hurt you,” his thumbs pressed into your lower back, making sure to focus his strength on the tip of his fingers. his thumbs worked in circles, hands moving up and down, getting every tense spot.

his fingers worked like magic on your back. every touch, every caress made you fall into a state of heavenly bliss. just how did he learn to massage that well?

"do you want me to go harder? or softer? you need to remember to tell me, sweetie,"

"mngh, it's good. keep going," you replied with your eyes closed. you didn't want to break this moment - and you almost felt tempted to stay in sylus' bed forever - as long as every worry you had dissappeared.

"shh, just relax. i got you,"

his hands move up to your upper back and massages between your shoulder blades. a couple of days ago, you had remarked about how sore you were - it was meant as a fleeting comment - but it was something sylus was determined to remember. who was he if not the person to take away your pain? just mention whatever you want and sylus would make sure it would happen.

your pain eased away and pleasure replaced it. he noticed how much more relaxed you were now, and proceeded to lie down besides you. while you had fallen asleep, sylus gently played with your hair. it was still a wonder to him that you were here, in his bed, just making yourself at home.

after what felt like 9 hours were merely half an hour and you were still cuddled up with him and as the pain subsided you noticed how tired you truly were. a yawn escaped from you - and sylus' chuckle almost brought you back to reality.

“you’re welcome to fall asleep again sweetie,”

sylus saw the pure look of exhaustion and adorned your face with kisses and gentle touches. from your forehead to your jawline, sylus adorned your every feature with careful, loving pecks.

you fell victim to the lullaby that was sylus' heartbeat and when your breathing turned even, sylus too decided to join you in dreamland.

[pinkberrytea]

He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable.

Little death—a gift he bestowed upon her, and which she bestows upon him in turn. As her lifeblood touches his lips, Astarion reminisces about the fateful eve when he first sank his fangs into her pretty neck.

Come, gentle night; and when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars.

Astarion x Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 3.1k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: i can't be the only one who is convinced my man is down bad since the very first bite, right? he is so interesting to me! i wanted to explore this idea further, hopefully i did it justice. thank you for reading!

( part 2 here )

tags: blood drinking; fluff & smut; possessive behavior; masturbation; body worship; mildly dubious consent; dry humping; somnophilia

“Later on, when we are at rest, I will eat you right up. Just enough to give me strength, and just enough to leave you wishing for more.”

Footsteps. You hear them approaching, although in your half-unconscious torpor, you can’t tell if they’re near or far. You’re likewise unsure of what has disturbed your sleep, even if as of late, nights have been restless and plagued by nightmares, the worm etched in the recesses of your brain a constant, unforgiving reminder of your plight. Your mind is still hazy, fragments of your dreams clouding your thoughts, so you rely on your primal instincts instead—you smell nothing but the crisp evening air, feel nothing but the cool breeze caressing your warm body, see nothing but endless darkness from behind your closed eyelids, but your ears don’t fail you. You instinctively hold your breath, muscles tensed, staying as still as possible as if playing dead; the footsteps are now almost upon you, the crunching of leaves growing louder and muffling the noise of the crickets singing, and your skin becomes covered in goosebumps in anticipation, the pit of your stomach twisting and turning. Whoever it is, you seem to be their intended target.

Suppressing the mounting panic rising within your chest, you try to gather your bearings and make sense of the situation. You know where you are—Elturgard, or more specifically, a camp in the wilderness, somewhere between Elturel and Baldur’s Gate. Finding a cure for the parasite wriggling in your head is the reason you’re here, and the companions with whom you’re sharing your camp are afflicted by the same condition. Ah, your companions—the footsteps must belong to one of them, surely. The soothing heat of the campfire has significantly dwindled compared to how it was when you turned in, its crackling so low you can barely hear it, and the night is sufficiently chilly that your bedroll fails to offer enough shelter, so you wonder if they are about to tend to the dying flames, or maybe ask you to help them do so. You wait expectantly, pricking up your ears, but suddenly, the crunching sounds come to a halt, and you sense a presence looming over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and your heart starts beating faster, thumping so loudly you’re afraid it may give away your awakened state. The presence silently kneels down beside you, crawling even closer, too close for comfort; and then, you feel it—cold digits ghosting over your cheek, their featherlight touch almost tentatively soft.

Astarion.

Now you remember. You offered to let him feed on you earlier, a habit which you’ve unexpectedly picked up in recent days, although the reason for such eludes you. Perhaps it was his pained expression when he asked you the first time, or maybe something else—you’re not entirely certain, but the fact of the matter is, he is here, except unlike other nights, you are fully aware of your surroundings. Not only that, it has been no more than a fortnight since your little tryst in that pretty clearing, which it seems both of you are intent on pretending never happened. You more so than him—it would be insincere of you to claim you haven’t noticed the dangerous glint in his eyes, how he leans closer when you talk, the cunning smirks and wistful glances. Truth be told, you’re still unsure what to make of it all; none of it is how you expected it would be, not your time together, and certainly not the aftermath. Him, too—though it may be bold of you to assume so, you can’t help but think that his show of vulnerability, however brief, had not been intentional. Ever so often you idly muse over the raw perplexity etched across his face when you invited him to drink from you then, how he looked at you in utter disbelief, letting the mask of a debonair lover slip for a split second; how his kisses became more fervent, his touches less calculated, the confusion never truly seeming to leave him until you were done. And then, the morning after—the hurt in his voice, the complex feelings he appeared to be trying to suppress seeping from every word, as if he had been prepared for anything and everything but genuine yearning, and you ruined it all for him.

“This isn’t about hunger. It’s about pleasure.”

The digits on your cheek slide downwards, gliding across the curve of your jaw and towards your slender neck, where they stop for a brief moment, only to then press down on it, feeling around as if searching for something—an artery, pulsing so very tantalizingly with your precious crimson, a feast set out entirely for him. With his other hand, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and brushes it behind your shoulder, exposing his prize, and repositioning himself to straddle you, he lowers his head until his mouth is hovering right above it. He stays like this for a while, and your blood runs cold as it dawns on you that he may have noticed you are not asleep, but before long, his skin finally comes into contact with yours—however, rather than the sharp pain you’d been expecting, you feel only the pillowy softness of his lips; a tender kiss, which is then followed by another, and then another. One of his hands stays tangled in your hair, cradling your head, and he splays the other on the ground beside you to support himself. His fangs lightly graze the throbbing vein with each peck, almost teasingly, until finally, he sinks them into the sensitive flesh, carefully and steadily so as not to wake you. The uncomfortable sensation is not foreign to you, although it is clear he has become more accustomed to this, even if you have not; his technique has significantly improved, and after the initial stab, it hardly hurts anymore, other than a dull ache every time he swallows, which he does quite enthusiastically.

“Just you and me and—well, maybe a little death?”

Letting out low grunts and guttural moans as he drinks, Astarion sucks ever so vigorously, seemingly more at ease due to your apparent lack of consciousness. Your face gradually grows warmer as you notice tension building up low in your stomach, the noises he makes and the feeling of his plush lips and wet tongue against your skin causing your body to react with pathetic wantonness. You try to stifle the impending arousal, doing your best to remind yourself that he is only feeding, nothing more, nothing less; until you notice the hand on which he had been leaning make its way from its place on the ground to rest on your waist, gingerly moving upwards until his long fingers brush against the plump of one of your breasts, almost as if by accident—it is, however, no accident when two of them then pinch a pebbling nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt, delicately massaging the pert nub while the others knead the squishy surrounding flesh. The ache between your legs swells with desire, and you flusteredly bite back the whimper threatening to escape the confines of your closed mouth; believing you to be deep in slumber, he has no reason for such restraint, and his vocalizations increase in frequency and volume alike. 

Having to now use his upper body strength to keep himself propped up, he decides to instead gently fall on top of you, momentarily unlatching from your neck to then slightly push you to the side and press his strong chest flush against your back, one hand woven in your hair and the other cupping your breast still. With almost desperate keenness, he hooks one of his legs over yours, shoving his crotch against your rear, and immediately you notice the rock hard bulge nudging the space between your buttocks. The tips of your ears burn bright red at this realization, making you wonder how common of an occurrence this must be; as your mind wanders to the night when he first bit you, he sinks his fangs back into the bruised vein, and your eyes water a little due to the sudden pain, which you quickly forget about once you feel his hips start almost imperceptibly grinding against your own. Wedging the bulge deeper within the valley of your ass, he moves it to and fro, almost in rhythm with his sucking of your blood, the digits on your bosom earnestly playing with your nipple and those in your hair tenderly caressing the tousled tresses. 

“Hm—hnng…” Astarion groans lewdly, lasciviously, making suggestive wet sounds while sensually lapping at your crimson. No longer satisfied to feel you up through your clothes, he sticks his hand under your shirt, and his cold fingers quickly resume fondling the soft skin of your breast, in response to which shock waves shoot up your legs and arms. Freeing the digits tangled in your hair, he brings them to your ribs, sliding their pads along your navel and down towards your groin, where he then firmly grabs one of your supple thighs. That’s when it occurs to you how unlike your night together he seems to be acting—eagerly exploring your body with almost adolescent clumsiness, his movements sloppy and impulsive, he appears to be entirely focused on taking rather than giving; having no reason to try to impress you, he acts greedily instead, intent on achieving his own personal ecstasy above all else, a fact that doesn’t bother so much as instill in you a puzzling sense of relief.

Increasing the pace of his thrusts, he tightens the grip of his leg around yours, and for a short while you all but forget that your crimson is running down his throat still, unable to focus on anything but the heat irradiating from his skin as it becomes ever warmer the more he feeds. When you notice you can no longer feel the tips of your toes, it is far too late—a tingling sensation spreads across your heavy limbs due to the loss of blood, and holding onto a single thought proves far too difficult, your mind now a messy whirlwind of memories and abstractions. Your arousal persists even as your conscience starts to wane; slick soaks through your underpants, the sweet scent of which causes Astarion to immediately stop moving, freezing as if caught with his fingers inside the cookie jar. After what seems like an eternity, both his hands and fangs leave your helpless form, and he shuffles behind you, presumably looking for something—before you can even begin to wonder what, you feel him press a soft piece of fabric against the fresh set of bite marks on your neck, which he uses to gently wipe the thick red blooming from the small wounds. 

Worried that any further stimulation might disturb your sleep, he decides to attempt a less bold approach instead, pulling away slightly, although your legs remain twisted together. Barely awake now, the echoes of the forest reach your ears in hushed, distant hums, but you can still hear him as he brings the bloodstained cloth to his nose, taking in your scent deeply, eyes closed and a libidinous moan falling from his pretty lips. One of his now freed hands hastily makes its way to the waistband of his pants, only to then slip under it, and as soon as his elegant digits brush against the velvety crown of his cock, he wraps them around its engorged girth, squeezing lightly and drawing pearly droplets of precome from the weeping slit. 

“Mngh…” he croaks, his voice raspy and hoarse, and you can’t tell for sure, but a whisper that vaguely sounds like your own name wafts through the air and vanishes into the evening sky as he starts sliding his hand up and down his length, smearing the clear liquid seeping from the leaking tip all over himself. Prior to your night of passion, this is how he would choose to relieve the painful erection inevitably provoked by his daily feedings, only he would retreat to his tent then; once you became more intimate, things changed, and raw eroticism would percolate into every session, images of your moments together sweeping through his mind and springing his aching sex to life with each gulpful of your lifeblood. The instant you offered him your neck, all he had ever known suddenly came into question—drinking from you while balls-deep into your tight cunt was an experience unlike any other, to the point of almost completely resignifying the concept of pleasure for him. By owning your body, he had made you his, even if only temporarily; your blind trust was something he had never before experienced, and not once had he felt so powerful as with you squirming under him, completely submitting to his whims. 

“Astarion, please…” he recalls you whimpering, the sound of his name on your pink tongue so enticingly sultry, stirring up in him all sorts of conflicting feelings; lust, infatuation, guilt, anger, all blended together and indistinguishable from one another. How beautiful a vision you had made then—such a pretty, luscious thing, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes glinting with coquettish longing. The more he finds himself caring, the more he hates you for it; the more his hatred for you grows, the more he wants you by his side. Choosing to manipulate you into a tactical alliance was the culmination of careful and meticulous deliberation—at once deadly and most pleasing to the eye, yet seemingly unaware of either fact; a naive, kind fool, lost and alone, his perfect target from every angle, you were the obvious candidate. He had no way of knowing at the time—how you would unwittingly beat him at his own game and steal your way into his undead heart, without even really trying. 

While pumping his now glistening cock, your precious face is all Astarion can think of, every detail of it perpetually burned onto his retinas—long, thick lashes, curtaining doe-like eyes; sweet little freckles speckling the bridge of your nose; smooth skin and plump rosy lips, so soft and kissable. And your scent, oh, your scent—delicious and intoxicating, such a lovely, delectable bouquet. Although now warm, his hand could never compare to the feeling of your slickened walls clenching and fluttering around him, and no amount of pressure would ever be able to replicate the sensation of stretching them open, coaxing yelps and cute whiny pants out of you with each nudge of your cervix. He wonders for a moment what other expressions he has yet to witness you make; in what other manners he has yet to take you, in what other positions he has yet to watch you come undone. Maybe on all fours, that round ass of yours sticking out so very invitingly, begging to be devoured; maybe on your knees, darkened lips wrapped tightly around his cock, eyes watering and drool dripping down onto the swollen peaks of your perky breasts as you accommodate all of him like the good girl you are. Each idea is more enticing than the one before, and the very thought of acquainting himself with all the ins and outs of your body makes him feel alive, bulging veins and tumid cockhead pulsating madly against his sweaty palm as he goes over the endless possibilities. He had tasted you once; now, he craves every inch of your being, his hunger insatiable. 

“Mine…” he growls possessively, picturing your tits bouncing and the rouged knot atop your dripping core throbbing for him as he feels his climax draw nearer, rubbing the cloth sullied with your crimson against his nose, your taste still fresh in his mouth and a trail of red running down his chin. You are not his, not yet, but although he curses himself for it, he would bring his simple plan to fruition, for all the wrong reasons; he wants you, he needs you—his own little bundle of joy, his light in the darkness, his glimmer of solace, his, his, his, and his alone. He won’t share your kindness, not with your companions, not with anyone, and he cares not if his greediness makes him unworthy, for he never deserved any of it in the first place; regardless, you’d still extend a hand to the wretch who put a knife to your throat, toyed with your emotions and sucked you dry, in more ways than one. You may not realize it, but in sharing your life essence with him, you breathed color into his world, roused within his soul a vital spark he’d long forgotten had once ever been there. He may not be entitled to it, but he’d still have it all—he’d still have you, to the bone and beyond.

“Oh, gods…” With one last stroke, Astarion empties himself on his hand and stomach, legs convulsing and hips stuttering, letting go of the cloth to then nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, lips pressed against the bloodied gashes maculating your otherwise flawless skin. The inside of his pants is now covered in come, yet even as the thick fluid runs uncomfortably down his thighs, he feels strangely at peace—happy, even. His softening cock twitches and jerks still, but fearing that his luck may soon run out, he lets go of it and wipes his fingers on the hem of his shirt, which he learns is also stained with his seed; once they’re sufficiently clean, he wraps both of his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, focusing on the gentle raising of your chest as you inhale ever so softly, finally at rest. 

“This is a gift, you know.”

He won’t forget it. Regardless of what may lie ahead, he won’t. Warm flesh, beating heart; as your crimson courses through his veins, the thread of life now connects you both, your fates forever intertwined. When morning comes, all will be back to normal, but for now, he shall hold you, cradle you, as he would a lover. A true lover—though what would that be, if not prey that wakes by his side once the dawn breaks? Disturbing as that thought may be, it is of little import for now; basking in the clarity of death, he allows himself a moment of reprieve, for your time together is far from over. What treasures will the future bestow? Why—finding out is but a matter of waiting.

[thatonetargaryen]

Our Tears Ricochet

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Part 2 of: My Tears Ricochet

Synopsis: After walking in on a sight that you’d remember for endless nights to come—you mourn what is now seemingly the end of your marriage. However, Ambessa is determined not to let that happen—even if she had to get on her hands and knees.

cw; afab!reader; infidelity; heavy angst but happy ending; smut; more smut; Hex-strap; fingering ; did I mention smut? Ambessa being a bad wife but trying to fix it; not proofread; men and minors dni

Special thanks to @hell0-ki55y for original prompt and @fruitfulfashion for ending idea. Hope both of you enjoy (I’m not too good at writing smut so bear with me). 🎀

……

Your sobs were muffled by Mel’s chest as you leaned into her hold. Her slim fingers made her way through your now loose, frizzled hair. Your hands clenched onto her like a lifeline and right now—she was.

For a moment, she had a sense of deja vu. She remembered when she had first gotten her period when she was 13—the first step to becoming a woman, and instead of running to her real mother, she ran to you. You held her in your arms and the harder she cried, the tighter you hugged. The two of you rocked back and forth as she told you how scared she was, a vulnerability she couldn’t even share with her mother, and how you reassured her and cleared all doubts from her mind.

To you, the act may have thought to be necessary. An act of kindness any mother would show for their daughter. But to her, it was so much more. Every time the breeze blew in a certain way or the sun sat low in the sky—it reminded her of the warmth of your embrace. The warmth of your heart.

And now, she held you in her arms. She rocked you back and forth. And she let you cry out.

When your sobs finally died down, the two of you stayed silent for a moment. But there was a silent question in the air that had yet to be spoken, ‘What are you gonna do now?’.

Mel soothingly rubbed your arm as she looked down at you. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head. What you needed was something she wasn’t able to give.

She took a shaky breath. “I know this is hard for you. She wasn’t always the most loving, but I never thought she would—”

She stopped as she closed her eyes and scrunched her nose. She shook her head. “I thought she loved you.”

You finally looked up at her through red and puffy eyes. You licked your chapped lips as your hoarse voice spoke, “Your mother does love me. We..wouldn’t have gotten married if she didn’t. I…”

Mel turned to you with an angry look. “Tsk. She doesn’t love you. She can’t. How do you explain what you just saw? You’ve been loyal to her for the entirety of your marriage and have stood by her when no one else did. You gave up so much for her. How can you sit here and say—”

You held Mel’s face in your hands as her own tears of frustration ran down her cheeks. You wiped them away as you spoke softly. “Mel, what your mother has done has hurt me in ways I hope you never experience. But I don’t want this to be another crack in your relationship. It’s already strained as it is. In no way am I justifying her actions but please…don’t let this affect you as much as it has me. A connection between mother and daughter is unlike any other—even one between spouses.”

Mel stared dumbfounded at your words, but stayed silent as you continued. “I love you Mel. Never forget that. Even if this causes a rift between your mother and I—I will love you no less.”

Mel fought back tears in her eyes as she held your gaze. She nodded at your words and leaned into your shoulder. You held her hands in your own. She spoke, barely above a whisper, but it was as loud as any shout—“I love you too, Mom.”

After a moment of silence, there was a vibration felt on the bed. She looked over at her phone with a mixture of annoyance and confusion.

As she checked to see whoever had messaged her, a look of realization crossed her features. “Shit!”

You looked at her, surprised at her language—but ultimately ignored it. “What’s going on?”

“I set up plans with Jayce a while back before you told me you were coming to Piltover. I totally forgot to reschedule…Now he’s on his way.”

She shook her head, “I’ll tell him to cancel and we can do it some other time. I know you need me right now.”

You shook your head, “No, no. I’ll be fine. Please, go enjoy yourself with this….Jayce.”

She looked at you softly, “Are you sure? I mean, we can always do it another time….”

You nodded, “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

She smiled as she kicked on her shoes as straightened up her hair and makeup. She threw on a robe as she changed out of her previous dress. She didn’t get the chance to choose one before she turned back to you.

You stared out the window in a pool of your own thoughts before you felt a tug on your arm.

“Come on, you’re coming with.”

“What?”, you said, surprised.

“You’re coming with Jayce and I. You said you wanted to meet him.”

You looked at her, considering her offer. “Look at me. I can’t go out like…this. I look and feel like I just had an emotional breakdown.”

She looked at you in silent agreement and ordered one of the maids outside to prepare a shower. She ushered you into the shower and said she’d be right outside if you needed her. You wanted to under the hot water, but you know you were on a tight schedule.

After you got out and dried your body and hair, she rushed over to her large vanity, pulling out a plethora of hair supplies. She ushered you over, and you sat in front of the mirror.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as she practically pampered you. She detangled, brushed, and curled your once frazzled hair. She pinned it back as she applied your preferred makeup from the bag you brought with you abroad.

The makeup was simple—yet it complimented your features. You hadn’t known Mel was so good at this. When she was small, she was gotten her first makeup kit that she begged to have for practically a year. You had been her first test subject. The looks you got from the nobles when you kept on the makeup throughout the day did little to dampen the wide smile of little Mel’s face.

When she was finally satisfied, she turned away from the vanity and started to put the things away. “Do you like it?”.

You nodded as a smile graced your features. You ran your fingers through your loose curls, careful not to mess them up. You felt prettier than you had in a long time.

“Good. Now we just need to pick an outfit.”

She went over to her closet as she raked through her many dresses. After a moment of indecisiveness, she picked a white satin off-shoulder dress that fell just above her knees, showing off her long legs. Her braids were done in a tight low bun as she let two frame the sides of her face.

Meanwhile, you were still struggling to find something to wear. You didn’t want anything too provocative since you were married despite the circumstances but you didn’t want to cover too much because of the relentless heat of Piltover.

You ended up choosing a sleeveless sage green dress with a heart neckline. It reached your ankles, being modest and flowy at the same time. You threw on a gold necklace and small diamond earrings.

Mel approached you as she took in your appearance. “You look…amazing, Mom.”

You smiled bashfully at her compliment. You threw on a purse as you both exited the room.

It was time for you to unwind.

….

The three of you ended up going to a nice restaurant not too far away. The sun was still high in the sky as the three of you looked outside the window at the beautiful view.

“So, how’d you meet my Mel?”, you asked—going into interrogation mode now that you all were seated.

The boy turned his attention to you, his charismatic personality slightly cracking under your gaze, “Well, uh—I’m actually working on a project here in Piltover. It was way before I became a council member. I was stationed in the main building and she just so happened to be there. We’ve been together ever since.”

Mel smiled, “I heard about him through the grape vine. One of the prodigies behind the Hextech. It was only a matter of time before the two of us met.”

The two were deeply in love—heart achingly so. It reminded you of when Ambessa first introduced herself to your own parents. She refused to crack under their scrutinizing gazes and answered every question as if she had meticulously prepared beforehand—which she probably did. It didn’t take long before your parents were nagging the two of you to get married.

“I take it you’ve met my wife?”, you asked.

Jayce visibly tensed at the mention of Ambessa. He took a sip of his fruit drink before clearing his throat, “I have. She was, uh….she definitely let an impression.”

The silence was loud as Mel took a French fry from Jayce’s plate.

“But if I may speak freely, Mrs.Medarda—”

You nodded towards him, curious at what he had to say.

“The two of you are so….different. From the way you look down to the aura you exude. I-I’ve heard stories as a boy detailing how you brought peace to Noxus and many other lands they once butt-heads with. They always said you were soft and kind. But you had a firm hand and possessed the political knowledge to end wars before they could they were even declared. You’ve saved the lives of so many people—soldiers, citizens, and nobles alike, and yet—”

He stopped, realizing he was rambling—a habit he picked up in his early years. “What I mean to say is, the two of you are basically the Sun and the Moon. Polar opposites.”

You smiled softly as you mindlessly toyed with the straw in your drink. “The Sun and the Moon complement each other. But if the Moon were to disappear without a trace—the Sun wouldn’t bat an eye. It would keep thriving as it always has. Yet, if the Sun were the disappear—the Moon would mourn its death for endless nights to come.”

A silence overtook the three of you, and Jayce seemed confused at the comparison. Mel spoke softly, extending the metaphor, “And yet…the world would notice if either disappeared.”

You nodded your head at her words as you pushed your plate forward. “Yes, yes it would.”

…..

As the sun started to set, the three of you headed to a nearby bar for drinks. It was getting slightly chilly, and Jayce through his jacket over Mel’s shoulders to shield her from the cold.

You simply held yourself tighter, cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket.

You sighed in contempt as you finally entered the bar and took a seat. The two lovebirds sat a few seats away from you, but not too far.

The bartender made his way to you first. He wore an all black button down shirt and pants, and his jet black hair complemented his piercing blue eyes. He smiled warmly, “What can I get for you?”

You took a glimpse at the menu as you spoke tiredly, “Just a Daiquiri, please. Chilled.”

He nodded. But he stood there for just another moment, “Rough day?”

You gave him a small smile, “You could say that…”

He began to talk out the necessary ingredients for your drink at an impressive pace, “In that case, first drink’s on me then.”

You smiled at him gratefully as you gave him a ‘Thank you’. You reminded yourself to give him a generous tip before you left.

You brought the drink to your lips and took a generous sip. The taste of sugar, rum, and citrus made its way onto your tongue, and you hummed in satisfaction. You set down your glass as you looked around the bar.

You saw people smiling and laughing as they shared drinks. You saw couples giggling and holding each other tight. You saw people sitting alone—yet even they looked content. They were all happy.

Why couldn’t you just be happy?

Over the years, Ambessa started to bury herself more and more. She pulled herself away from you, often leaving you in a cold bed and practically engulfed your small frame. She wouldn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and even then, she wouldn’t greet you. Wouldn’t touch you. Wouldn’t even spare you a glance.

I should’ve seen the signs sooner, you told yourself. I should’ve went away before it got too far, should’ve filed for divorce the moment she became distant.

But you didn’t. You stuck by her side. Waited endless nights in a cold bed hoping she’d come home and be normal again. Notice you. Love you.

Yet the moment never came. You had waited for something that was never going to come.

Before you knew it, you lost count of the number of shots you ordered and downed in come take. You ignored the look concern the bartender gave you as you stared down at your fingers. You trailed shaped across your thighs—something Ambessa used to do—and, fuck—

You just couldn’t get her off your mind. No matter how hard you tried. No matter how much you desperately wanted to.

Your eyes drew heavy, and you practically tumbled out of your seat. You made your way over to Mel—who was practically sitting on Jayce’s lap—and let her know you were going home. Her once carefree gaze turned into one of concern.

“Did you need me to call you a ride? Give me one second and I’ll—”

You shook your head, “Mel, really, I’ll be fine. My place isn’t far from here. Enjoy your night, don’t worry about me.”

She sighed, “Alright…call me when you get home.”

You nodded at her words, gave the cashier a wad of cash and told him to ‘keep the change’, and stumbled out of the bar on two left feet.

…….

You stumbled towards the door of the apartment you were renting out while in Piltover. It was luxurious—one of the most expensive of its kind. Though, you hadn’t spent much time in it.

You shuffled through your purse as you searched for your keys in the dark. You sighed in victory as you finally found them, and clumsily put your key in the doorknob.

You opened the door and stumbled through your apartment with low eyes. You threw your purse somewhere are you walked up the glass stairs.

You heard slight shuffling upstairs, but your drunk, hazed mind decided to ignore it. Big mistake.

You walked through the hall and towards your room—only to freeze at the door way.

In less than five seconds—you swore you were now sober.

There she was. Your wife. Ambessa. She sat faced away from you on the far side of the bed. Her shoulders were stiff and her back was rigid. She looked down into her lap, and without even looking at her face, you could tell she was in deep thought.

You slowly started to walk backwards, but at the absolute worse time possible, your left heel decided to break, and you stumbled backwards. With a thud, you were brought to your knees on the floor.

Shit.

She spinner around and her gray coils moved with her. She scrambled to her feet as she went to help you up, but you snatched your arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

You scurried into the room and sat on the bed as you rubbed your ankle. That was definitely going to bruise in the morning.

“Y/N…”, you heard Ambessa whisper. You’d never heard her speak so softly.

You tried to ignore her presence, but that was impossible to do. She stood where she was—yet her gaze enveloped the whole room.

You shook your head as you held back tears, “I—I don’t ever ask for much….”

She stayed silent as you spoke.

“I don’t ever ask for much. All the presents and gifts you gave me…All the houses and land you bought me…All the jewels and diamonds you gave me….”

You shook your head harder as your tears fell harder, “I ain’t ask for none of that. All I asked is you give your kids the light of day. That you give me the love and attention I give you non-conditionally. That you stay loyal to me—as your wife—and show me that our marriage wasn’t out of infatuation—but genuine love for one another.”

You sobbed harder as you fought to breathe. “You think I don’t have wants and needs too? You think I don’t imagine myself being able to have a stable relationship with someone else? You think I don’t want to have sex and have somebody fell up on my body? To whisper sweet nothings in my ear? To show me that I matter to them? But I would never go behind your back and do that to you because I love you. I love you so much it hurts, Ambessa. I wish I could just let you go. Rip you out of my life and run far,far away. But I can’t. I just can’t…..”

You grew frustrated at her silence and wiped your snotty nose. “Why’d you do it, Ambessa? Why you have to do me like that?”

Ambessa’s own’s tears clouded her vision as she fought to find the right words. Her breath hitched, and she could tell you were becoming impatient. So she spoke her mind, and didn’t hold back.

“I—I thought….you made me weak. I thought if I allowed when I allowed myself to get close to you, I weakened the walls I fought so hard to built around myself. I’ve fought so hard to become the woman I am today, and I couldn’t let anyone take that away from me—not even my own family. So I distanced myself. From Mel. From Kino. And from you. I thought I was doing us both a favor. It allowed me to make the necessary decisions to keep us safe, and for you….I thought it would allow you the satisfaction of knowing you weren’t sleeping next to a monster.”

Surprise crossed your features as she continued to speak, “I have the blood of thousands—if not millions—on my hands. Women, children, and men alike. The thought of it haunts me every night, and yet, and I have brush it aside. I opt to spend most nights asleep in the very same chair I spend hours reviewing and signing papers in because I can’t bear to sleep beside you knowing what I have done. What I will do.”

Tears started to spill onto her scarred cheeks as she approached you. You didn’t move, and simply stared.

She knelt before you, and grabbed both of your small hands in hers, “What I have done is unforgivable. And I will accept any punishment you give me. I—I’ll build you a new estate for you to stay in. I’ll have it done before winter, but please—”

You grabbed her face in your hands, halting her words. The two of you met eyes, and a thousand words were spoken before either of you could say anything. Your mind betrayed your anger as you looked down at your wife. Your wife. Not the war general, not the most powerful figure in Piltover, not the formidable warlord, but your wife. A woman. With a mind, and a soul, and a deep, aching heart confined in the thickest of chains. Chains only you could break.

What she did hurt you deeply. But you could see the regret in her eyes. How it spread throughout her body. How it seemed to age her face even more.

You took your thumb and wiped a stray tear on her face, and she closed her eyes as she leaned into your touch.

You brought her head into your bosom, and for a moment, the two of you were silent. You laid your cheek on her head as you embraced her. Years of regret seemed to radiate off her. She spoke softly into your chest, “I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I want you to know….I’m sorry. For everything. And I will spend the rest of my life working for your forgiveness. I swear it.”

You took in your words as you shook your head. “While I certainly can’t forgive you now, I’ll give you a chance. Prove to me that our marriage is worth keeping. Show me that you can change, for us.”

Her head shot up, and a look of relief like none other crossed her features. A genuine smile—one you hadn’t seen in a long time, but adored—graced her features as she held you tighter.

“I’ll change—for us.”

……

The next few weeks brought you happiness that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. The two of you finally traveled back to Noxus.

You hugged Mel tightly on the dock while the guards and servants prepared the ship. However, the tension between her and her mother could be cut with a knife as they shared brief goodbyes.

The morning after you came home drunk to Ambessa in your apartments, you called Mel and told her about the apology. She was taken aback, not believing a word you said. She had asked why she did it in the first place, yet you didn’t want to share too much on the private conversation. You gave a brief summary, leaving out some stuff, and she simply hummed. You could tell you were holding back something through the screen.

The ride back home wasn’t what you expected, and for a moment, you doubted Ambessa would stay true to her word. That quickly changed when the two of you arrived home.

It was like a switch flipped inside her. Instead of lingering behind after meetings, she spent the rest of her free time with you. She no longer spent countless hours hunched over a desk looking over papers, and finally got a trusted assistant to help her. She invested more time in the things you enjoyed and even found out things about herself. Her side of the bed was finally warm as she held you in her arms at night and shared hot baths with you in the morning.

Your wife—the woman you fell head over heels for—was finally back. You couldn’t be happier. However, despite how much your relationship has improved….she had yet to touch you.

The thought lingered in your mind as you fought to push it away. Instead, you stared at Ambessa’s back as she undressed and got ready for bed. That didn’t help.

You continued to look at her as she switched off the lamp and climbed into bed beside you. You heard her breathe a sigh of relief before she reached over to give you a ‘goodnight’ kiss.

However, as she leaned in, you took her by her shoulders and gave her a deep,passionate kiss.

You could tell she had an initial reaction of surprise, but quickly recovered and leaned into the kiss. Your tongues and mouths collided as her large hands roamed your body.

Being the impatient woman she was, she started to undo the bralette you wore to bed. Her hands immediately began to knead your breast, and you moaned into her touch.

She buried her head into the crook of your neck and planted hard kissed onto the soft flesh as she practically rubbed herself against you. The heat in the room seemed to increase by the minute.

She pulled herself of you after a moment as she started to plant kissed on your chest and stomach. The redness in your cheeks spread throughout your body. She threw off the lacey underwear she wore and held your legs on either side of her head.

She pressed kissed into the insides of your thigh, and your heat was practically pulsing just as hard as your heart.

You moaned as she pressed a tantalizing kiss to your pussy, and practically came right there when she sent a lick to your slit.

Without any warning, she began to feast on your heat. Every lick, suck, and bite elicited a new sound from your lips, and every one was music to Ambessa’s ears.

You weaved your hands through her hair as you grind yourself against her face. Your toes curled as you recognized a familiar coil inside your stomach. And with a shout, it finally snapped.

You should feel Ambessa’s smile as she continued to lap at you through your orgasm.

You breathed heavily, trying to come down from your high. You heard Ambessa shuffling around through the drawer—and you already knew what she was looking for.

A soft blue glow radiated from her hand as she adjusted the Hex-strap on her hips.

You vividly remember receiving the strap on an anniversary. She never told you where she got it—or how she got it—but she put it to good use the same night.

“I can’t remember the last time we used this….”, she said more to herself than to you.

You were brought back to reality as she took you by the forearm and flipped you over as if you weighed nothing—and you didn’t to her. Your face was stuffed into a pillow as she arched your back, and you could already feel yourself clenching around nothing.

She rested one hand on your thigh as she spread you open and roughly inserted two fingers into your wet entrance. She pumped them in and out at a steady pace and you moaned into the pillow beneath you. You took your hand and started rubbing small circles over your clit—but Ambessa’s hand quickly replaced yours as she nipped your ear.

Your second climax that night soon came to you in waves as you relaxed against Ambessa’s shoulder. She didn’t give you much time to collect yourself as she aimed the strap at your dripping cunt. You took in a shaky breath as you felt her slide in. She leaned over your shoulder as she whispered sweet nothings in your ear and held both of your hands in hers. When she was finally in, she slid halfway out, and drove herself into you again—rougher this time.

She continued this act a few more times before she had a steady rhythm of going out and roughly driving back into you. You could feel her hips collide with your thighs and ass and her rough hands gripping your soft love handles. If not for her tight grip on your hips—your head would’ve collided with the intricately carved wooden headboard.

She continued this until you were both moaning and panting—sweat pooling on your brow. Her grip on your hands loosened as her own groans filled the room. Her hips lost its steady rhythm and became to more at a sloppy and frantic pace. You knew she was close, and you reached back to run your fingers through her hair and tug at it. She groaned at the action—but made no move to stop you. With one deep thrust, she came undone. She practically fell on top of you as you both panted, exhausted. She carefully pulled out the strap and threw it on the end of the bed. The two of you rolled over on one side and sighed in content.

You could tell she was tired as her breathing became heavier. She held you from behind and tightened her large hands around your waist. You looked over your shoulder was low eyes, “Tired already?”

She chuckled at your dig. “I’m getting old, y’know.”

In your younger days, the two of you would go at from moon up to sun up—only stopping because she had a meeting scheduled that morning. Then, when she was finished with the meeting—you’d go again just for the hell of it.

If she were a man, the two of you would’ve had an army of babies together.

You smiled, reminiscing in the past. You came back to the moment as she buried her head in your shoulder. You leaned back into her touch as your own eyes fell to a close, and sleep enveloped you like a warm blanket.

While your marriage wasn’t perfect—it was definitely improving.

One kiss at a time.

…….

Taglist: @maaaaaaaaaaari

A/N; Pretty in Pink coming soon…See you in 2025 🎀

[wonderjanga]

*slides an idea under your door*

Captain Marvel accidentaly convincing people that he's a widowers

*runs away*

Captain Marvel is a widower. It makes sense. He wears a ring(ref to my Accessories post), he always gets sad on a certain day, and anytime romance is offered he immediately shies away from it. Now, the JL or civilians don’t know this but the ring thing is just a memento to his father, he just gets sad on that day cause it’s their death day, and he thinks romance is icky. But Billy’s not going to tell them any of that. Not because he doesn’t want to. No, he just doesn’t even know they think he’s a widower. Even if Billy did know though, after the amount of certain things he’s said, he doesn’t think he could convince him that isn’t a widower.

Marvel and Junior: *arguing*

Junior: “Yeah, well boo-hoo you’re motherless!”

Supes: *nearby, gasps because he thinks Junior just reminded his father of his dead mother*

Marvel: “Wha- You’re motherless too?!”

Supes: *double gasps because he thinks Marvel just confirmed his wife was dead because everyone thinks Junior is his kid*

He told everyone that the Widower Marvel theory was true and now confirmed.

or

On the anniversary of their parents’ deaths, Mary’s feeling a little upset.

Marvel: “Oh, I’m sorry Mary. I… know today is tough especially considering it’s the anniversary of that day.”

Mary: *tearing up slightly but trying to hide it*

Marvel: *kneels down looking like a proper father* “But, I want you to know that if you feel upset, you can always come to me. We can mourn together. That’s better than doing it alone, isn’t it?

Mary: *getting flashbacks from how their dad would also kneel down to comfort them which only makes her wanna cry more* “Yeah, okay.”

Wondy: *just happened to see this happening and thinks this is both simultaneously adorable and heartbreaking*

or

Junior and Marvel were in a rec room looking at a dress they’d placed on a table. They were arguing which one of them should wear it because they needed one of them needed to shapeshift into a girl for something stupid they planned to do later.

Marvel and Junior: *still arguing*

Flash: *walked in and sees the dress* “Who’s dress is that?”

Marvel: *startles and is trying to come up with an excuse for why a grown man and a somewhat little boy have a dress* “This uh…”

Junior: *wants to stir up some drama* “His wife. This dress belonged to his wife.”

Marvel: “Yeah, my wife- WAIT MY WHAT?”

Junior: “Me and Mary’s mom remember? The woman you married?” *does a little winky wink to convey that he wants him to go along with it*

Marvel: *gives him the most scandalized look*

Flash: *thinks the scandal is just him being upset that Junior is sharing something about their civilian lives* “Oh I see… uh my bad for intruding on your mourning…?”

Marvel and Junior: *in unison* “What?”

[zorosangell]

I LOVE INN!!! I love devoted pathetic men! I need to see them during the time skip tho! What if during the two year training arc (idk who or what she trains under, you can make that up) she happens to stop by the same island zoro and mihawk where stopping by on their way back to Gloom island. It’s been well over a year since they’ve seen each other, and it’s been pure torture for them both (and also the inconvenience of zoro relearning how to properly shine his own swords and fold his laundry the special way he likes it). I’d like to see your take on this!

⛥ﾟ・。 bento

synopsis: part two of inn -- you and zoro have a heartfelt reunion on the sabaody archipelago... with the help of a kindly fisherman.

cw: fluffy fluff, comfort, zoro is DOWN BAD for reader, reader's a cutie, fools pining pretty much.

a/n: i love writing zoro like this

"Hey, gramps," Zoro started, yanking open the flap and entering Isamu's Fresh Fish tent, his eye snapping over to the old man hunched in the corner. "I'm lookin' to do some fishing."

Confused, Old Man Isamu halted his movement, looking up from his basket of lures to find the infamous, three-sword wielding pirate hunter.

Roronoa Zoro.

Of course, being a lonely old man who lived on the outskirts of Sabaody Archipelago, he had no idea who he was.

I mean, why would he need to know?

But even still, he couldn't help the shiver that rolled down his spine at the sight of the moss-head's scowl, its intensity sending a slight pang of fear through the man's old heart.

"No offense, young man, but I wouldn't exactly peg you as the fishing type..."

Zoro sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Normally, you'd be right... I'm supposed to be meeting some friends on this island, but they haven't made it yet, so I'm bored out of my skull."

Scratching the side of his face, he glanced out to sea, a certain sense of homesickness plaguing his chest.

"I used to have someone to do this for me... but she's not around right now. So I need something to keep me entertained while I wait."

It felt odd offering to do the fishing himself, as he could barely even remember the last time he picked up a fishing rod.

But the feeling was nothing new, as for the last two years the swordsman had been forced to take up the tasks that you had been so insistent on doing for him.

Fishing... Laundry... Shining his swords...

Even dressing his wounds, which, although Perona did for him, still didn't feel the same as when you did it.

It wasn't long before he realized how much he took you for granted, and how subpar his domestic skills were in comparison to yours.

He bristled, annoyed with the aching throb of his heart.

God, he felt pathetic...

A measly two years apart, and all of a sudden he was a ship without a rudder.

"So, you think you can help me out or not?" he asked, snapping himself out of his thoughts.

"Sure. I'll finish getting everything we need ready and then meet you on my boat right over there," Isamu nodded with a warm smile, standing to his full height and pointing toward a small fishing boat moored to the shore. "We'll have to wait a moment, though. A young woman is supposed to be joining me."

Zoro's brow raised, intrigued.

"Young woman?" he asked, expecting some elaboration.

"Why yes! She's been fishing with me for the past two days and is just such a sweetheart!" the old man gushed. "She went into town to go grab us some lunch before we left. Said something about picking up some polishing equipment, too."

That caught the swordsman's attention.

"Polishing equipment?"

"Yeah, for swords," Isamu nodded, leaning in a little closer to the swordsman and lowering his voice. "Between you and me... I think her boyfriend's a pirate. I always catch her lookin' out at the sea, like she's waitin' for something."

He gave Zoro a pat on the back with a small chuckle, a little sorry.

"It's a shame. If I hadn't known, I would've introduced you two. Y'look like her type."

Intrigued, Zoro looked down at himself, fighting off the thunder in his chest.

'Could it be...?'

"What'd she look like?" Zoro asked, straight to the point. "About this tall? (h/l), (h/c) hair? (s/c) skin? Nice (e/c) eyes? Pretty smile?"

Quickly, he shoved his hand into his robe, hurriedly rummaging around until his fingers locked on a piece of crumbled paper.

"Like this?" he asked, hopefully, pulling out your wanted poster and holding it up for the old man to see.

He'd managed to get his hands on it when he joined Mihawk on a grocery run and found it posted up on a fruit stall.

When no one was looking, he shoved it in his pocket, and kept it with him ever since.

Sure, it was a little stalker-ish, but when it came to you he didn't really care.

"Yes! That's her!" Isamu nodded, turning to the man. "She said she's been waiting for some friends to show, too!"

Instantly, the pieces clicked, the old man suddenly realizing your relationship with the swordsman.

He was he thing you were looking out to sea for.

With a knowing smirk, he gave Zoro a slight nudge, amused.

"Oh, ho ho! You must be the fella she's been searchin' for..." he grinned, almost as a congratulations. "You're a lucky guy! She reminds me of my Emi."

With a faint roll of his eyes, Zoro sighed, trying to muffle the burn of his cheeks by turning away.

That is... until a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Hey, watch it, asshole! That bento's for the old man!" you spat, the sound of a scuffle occurring in a nearby alleyway.

'(y/n)!'

An embarrassing amount of excitement soared through his chest, a certain glimmer returning to his eye at the sound of your voice.

Springing into action, he sprinted toward the noise, quickly drawing his sword.

Whoever was on the other side of the altercation wasn't going to be standing by the end of it.

"Wait, young man!"

But Isamu was too late, as the swordsman was already at the mouth of the alley.

Bring his feet to a screeching halt, Zoro lowered himself into an offensive stance, taking a gauge of the situation as he prepped his attack.

You were standing off with a large man, who was about five times your size, huge with muscles and practically cracked out on testosterone.

An opponent like him would've sent you running for the hills two years ago.

But you stared him down with conviction, a small smirk quirking on your lips.

And without warning, you broke into a sprint, charging the man head on.

You had to calculate this just right, or you were going to get squashed like a bug.

Zoro watched with surprise as you used your running start to slide between the thug's legs, nimbly scaling his body like a tree and swirling yourself around to pull him off balance.

"The hell?!"

He tried to grab at you, but your movements were too quick and it wasn't long before you were sat right on his shoulders, your thighs locking tightly around his neck.

"Gimme back the damn bento, you bastard!"

Effortlessly, you threw around your body weight, flipping both of you over and slamming his head into the ground, creating a small crater.

But you weren't done.

With a soft grunt, and a small jerk of your legs, you twisted his neck with a sickening crack—the action sending a warm tingle through Zoro's stomach.

He'd be a liar if he said he didn't find your demonstration incredibly hot.

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a chuckle, using your foot to poke the man, who was down for the count, before snatching the lunchbox back from his grasp.

"Have a nice nap," you wished, cheekily, pulling down your eyelid and sticking out your tongue.

But, when you turned your attention to the alley's exit, your eyes landed on a certain green-haired swordsman—the star of a multitude of different daydreams you'd enjoyed throughout your two years apart.

Time seemed to slow down as your eyes met, him having been staring at you since he entered the alley.

'Gods...'

He was huge, way more muscular than what he once was, and now donned a scar on his left eye, which was permanently shut.

His chest was exposed in his robe, showing off his big pecs, and his hair was still just as green and unruly as you remembered.

Lighting up like the world's brightest Christmas tree, you let out a loud, dramatic gasp, dropping the lunchbox in shock.

"Zoro!" you cheesed, completely forgetting about the bento as you rushed toward him.

"(y/n)! You made it!" Zoro broke into a wide grin, utterly relieved to see you were okay.

Launching yourself into his arms, you tackled him to the ground, pulling him into you as he let out a few laughs at your enthusiasm.

"Ah! Look at you! Those muscles! That hair! You look great! I missed you!" you squealed, ecstatic to see your favorite guy in the flesh.

Though, in your excitement, you had failed to realize you were suffocating the swordsman with your breasts.

"Mished you, twoo!" he nodded, muffled, frantically patting your back. "But yer killin' me!"

Finally noticing, you quickly pulled back, flashing him a sheepish smile.

Relieved, he took in an aggressive gasp, before turning to you with his grin once again.

"That was a new special move, huh? I've never seen you do something like that before!" he asked, eagerly.

"You noticed, eh?" you raised a brow. "Yeah, it's a maneuver my master taught me back on Kibi, a martial arts island."

A proud smirk rose to your lips, having waited to tell him of your success for so long.

"It was hard work... and I got knocked on my ass a bunch... but the monks at my temple managed to beat some kung fu techniques into me," you cheesed, cheekily. "I might not be on par with you yet... but it's only a matter of time."

His eyes found yours, and the way you were looking at him made his chest roar.

You were making it a bit hard for him to focus.

He was already holding himself back on a thread of sanity, and now he had to deal with the fact that you looked like a goddess in human form, and smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Your curves were curvier, your hips were dippier, and you now had an unspoken confidence that could bring any man to his knees.

Literally and figuratively.

You had him like a hook on a line, only he didn't want to be set free.

You found his eyes, slightly confused, as his expression morphed into one you'd never seen.

"I. Love. You." he stated, firm and breathless.

Your eyes shot wide, a sharp tinge of red burning onto your cheeks.

The floodgates were opened.

There was no going back.

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours, hard, unloading well over two years worth of pining.

You sank into it almost immediately, matching his fervor as you rested your hands on his chest, grabbing him by this robe and pulling him even closer.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, fitting like puzzle pieces, as you kept up with his rhythm.

He grasped you by the small of your back, pressing you further into him and giving your hips a little squeeze, earning a quiet squeak.

Close wasn't close enough.

He wanted you even closer than that.

He wanted you so much, every part of him in contact with you was on fire.

But, alas, you two were human, and air would need eventually.

The two of you separated with a gasp, cheeks flushed and foreheads resting on each other.

"I don't think you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do that," he smirked, catching his breath.

You smiled, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders.

"I think I do," you confessed, looking up at him with those sparkling, (e/c) eyes of yours.

'Fuuuuuuck...'

He leaned in closer, about to say something else when, of course, he was interrupted.

"Hate to break up a touchin' moment, kids..." Old Man Isamu chimed with a knowing smirk, the two of you snapping your heads up with surprise. "But might I suggest the inn across the street?"

You both separated, for real this time, and stood up, you straightening out the wrinkles in your clothes as you glanced at the building.

Without warning, Zoro scooped you up and tossed you over his shoulder, forcing you to yelp in surprise as he turned around to walk across the street.

"Zoro!"

"Thanks, old man!" Zoro waved with his free-hand, unable to fight the pep in his step as his grip tightened around your thighs.

He cracked a smile, glancing at you on his shoulder with an expression Isamu could only attribute to a man in love.

"Your bento's somewhere over there, sir!" you called, limp, and horribly embarrassed as your swordsman dragged you away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Don't worry, dear!" Isamu assured, waving back. "You kids be safe!"

It made his day to see two young people so utterly smitten with each other, as that seemed to be slowly becoming a rarity.

You both reminded him so much of how he and Emi used to be...

Even still, he couldn't help but dreamily sigh, watching as you two entered the inn, playfully bickering like an old, married couple.

'Ah, young love...'

[inseobts]

Time Travel

trafalgar law x reader

what would happen if law finds himself back in the past where the person he secretly loved for years is still alive?

word count: 5.6k

tags: d3ath, time travel, angst, romance

masterlist // ko-fi

The battle had been hard fought, but victory was theirs. The crew of the Polar Tang had emerged victorious against a powerful enemy, though not without their wounds. Law stood at the bow of the ship, his eyes scanning the horizon, his mind too tangled with thoughts to focus on the quiet after the storm.

He wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

The sharp crackle of energy, a distortion in the very air around him. Before he could even react, the world around him swirled into a blur. His ship, his crew, the ocean—all of it seemed to twist and bend in on itself, until everything went silent.

Law staggered back, the strange sensation of time ripping apart around him leaving him disoriented. He couldn’t even register the shock of it before the world shifted again, and suddenly—

He was back.

But not back where he expected. Not where he was, not on the Polar Tang with his crew.

No.

He was on a ship—but not the one he’d been aboard moments ago. The crew around him was… different. Younger.

He looked around, taking in the familiar faces of his old crew. The same crew, but so much younger than he remembered. Shachi, Bepo, Penguin, and… his younger self.

He swallowed hard, his heart pounding. This wasn’t just an ordinary flashback. This was something else entirely. The situation was surreal...impossible, even. But there they were.

He was back in the past. The year when you were still alive.

The crew sense someone behind them and they all turn alarmed and see him, a familiar but different face. They gather on deck, buzzing with questions. Law stands with them, trying to appear composed despite his inner turmoil. His younger self stares at him with wide eyes, as confused as the rest.

“So… what exactly is going on here?” Younger Law demands, still clutching his sword, his eyes darting between the older version of himself and the others “You… You’re me, aren’t you?”

Law rubs his temples, trying to gather his thoughts. He can’t reveal too much, he doesn't know what happened and why he was there, but one thing he knows is that he can’t change anything that would affect the timeline.

“You could say that” he replies quietly “But I can’t tell you everything. It could alter the future in ways I can’t predict”

The crew watches, sit all around him, eager, full of questions. But Law can’t answer them. Not really.

"You don't look good Captain. It looks like something happened that changed you" Bepo says with a worried face "you look sad and dull"

"Yeah" Penguin nods looking between Law and his younger-form "did something bad happened? To us?"

"I can't say anything, I'm sorry" Law answers.

“Why are you here, then?” Shachi asks, his eyes suspicious but full of curiosity. “If you can’t tell us about the future, why show up? And you keep looking around like you're searching for something”

“I… I didn’t have a choice” Law’s voice is low, strained “I was brought here by someone or something. I can’t explain it. But I’m trying to make sure certain things… stay the same. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you"

Law clenches his fists at his side, wishing he could just tell them everything. But the risks were too high. There was no way to undo the damage if he did.

He shifts uncomfortably “Some things… are better left unknown. It's for your own good too”

Penguin watches him for a moment before lowering his head in understanding “I get it. It’s a lot.”

You, meanwhile, looked at the scene from afar. You were in the usual spot you used to hide in, watching quietly. You’re studying Law with an odd curiosity, but you’re noticing how different he looks from the man you knew.

Eventually, the questions begin to fade away, and the crew starts to break apart for the evening, everyone heading off in different directions.

Law feels a presence behind him and turns, seeing you walking toward him.

As you walk toward him, you see his face completely change expression, becoming one full of sadness and regrets.

He stands up abruptly.

“You’re not gonna run off, are you?” you ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

He blinks at you, surprised “I wasn’t planning to”

You tilt your head, studying him closely “It’s a little… overwhelming, isn’t it? All these questions, all these things you can’t talk about”

He stares at you, unsure how to answer. The weight of seeing you alive again is heavier than he could’ve imagined. Your smile is just as he remembers. Your eyes—the same ones he fell for so long ago—hold a curious warmth.

You break the silence again, your voice softer now “So… I promise I won't tell anyone. What happens to us in the future?”

It’s like a punch to the gut. Law wants to tell you. He wants to share everything with you... to make sure you know how much he loves you, how much he regrets never telling you before. But the words stick in his throat. He can’t risk changing anything. If he tells you too much, it could cause a ripple that would undo everything.

“You know I can’t say anything” Law says, his voice quiet, almost strained “I wish I could. But I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to change anything.”

You nod, almost as if you knew that would be his answer. You glance down at your hands, your expression thoughtful.

“Right… So I guess I won’t get any answers” You look up at him again, eyes searching his face for something “Well, there’s one thing I can ask that’s… probably safe.”

Law blinks, confused “What?”

You hesitate for a moment before asking softly, “Are we together? In the future, I mean. Are we… together?”

The question hits him like a bolt of lightning. His heart races, the truth weighing on him like a ton of bricks.

He realizes, suddenly, painfully, that he never really knew for sure if you felt the same. He never got the chance to know because he lost you before he could even confess his true feelings. And now, here you are, asking him, and he can’t give you the answer you deserve.

It was always a mutual love, but he never knew it. Not until now.

Law opens his mouth, but no words come out. He’s too caught up in the truth of it, in the painful realization that he should have said something sooner.

You smile, regret in your face for asking him that. You look down to avoid his eyes "I take it as a no..."

“I… I don’t know” he mutters finally, his voice barely above a whisper “I don’t know what happens.”

You smile faintly, as if you believe his lie “It’s okay. I guess… I guess I’ll just have to live to find out later on, right?”

He watches you for a moment longer, the pain of it all almost unbearable. You smile again, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Later that evening Law walks quietly through the ship, his mind racing. He stops at the railing and looks out at the ocean, his thoughts heavy.

He wishes that you could survive, that you don't have to die the way you did. But how can he change the past without destroying everything else? Is it selfish of him if he is actually thinking about destrying the whole future to let you live?

Then he sees it—his younger self, standing on the deck, staring at you from a distance. The longing in his eyes is so clear, so painfully obvious.

Young Law’s gaze lingers on you, a soft expression on his face. He’s too scared, too silent, too unsure to say anything.

Now that Law knows about your feelings he wants to push his young-self into doing what he's so scared to do. Even if he can't change the future he wants the two of you to talk your hearts out so that in the future you won't die with the regret, so that he himself don't have to live with the same regret. Maybe the time you two have together isn't a lot but it's enough for living your love just a bit.

Law approaches him quietly, careful not to interrupt his thoughts. “You need to tell her,” he says softly “Before it’s too late.”

The younger Law turns, surprised, but doesn’t ask for clarification. He just looks back at you, still holding back, unsure.

“I can’t make you do anything, but if you wait, you might lose your chance forever” Law continues, his voice low, filled with the pain of his own unspoken words.

The younger Law says nothing, his gaze still focused on you. But after a long pause, he nods, a soft resolve settling in his eyes.

The next few days pass in a haze for Law. He tries to focus on the mission at hand, hoe to go back to his timeline and on the reason he was sent back in time—something about the crew’s safety and preventing a dangerous chain of events. But all he can think about is you, and the heartbreaking truth that he can’t tell you.

The most painful part is knowing that he’s already seen your death. He’s already lived through the pain of losing you, but now, seeing you alive again—alive in this timeline—he feels a gnawing desperation. He doesn't want that future to happen.

Later, on deck Law finds himself standing near the railing, staring out at the vast ocean as the crew moves around the ship. His thoughts are dark, clouded with regret, and he can’t seem to shake the image of you from his mind.

That push on his younger self wan't enough, but he can't risk more. His younger self, as always, is keeping to himself, sitting off to the side, hands on his sword. He’s quieter than usual, his eyes often drifting toward you—toward the woman he loves but hasn’t yet realized if and how to confess.

Law can’t help the sigh that escapes his lips. It’s a sharp, frustrated exhale, the weight of all the things he wants to say but can’t. It’s a constant battle in his head, fighting against the rules of time and destiny.

“Everything okay, Captain?” Shachi’s voice breaks through his thoughts.

Law turns to him, forcing a tight smile “Yeah. Just thinking”

Shachi looks at him, clearly sensing the tension, but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he glances toward where younger Law is sitting, looking at you from a distance.

“Hey, what’s up with the kid?” Shachi asks “He’s been acting kind of… strange, lately.”

Law looks over, his gaze following Shachi’s. His younger self is staring at you, his expression distant but soft. There’s something in the way he watches you, something that Law recognizes all too well—longing, fear, hesitation.

“He’s… figuring things out” Law mutters, his voice heavy. He’s been hoping that his younger self would listen to him—that he would understand, act before it’s too late. But part of him still feels a lingering doubt.

“You think he’s gonna do something about it?” Shachi continues, raising an eyebrow “It’s kind of obvious he, or you for what it can mean, is in love with her”

“I actually don't know but I hope so” Law says, more to himself than to anyone else “I hope so”

Shachi nods and is about to leave when Law stops him "Tell me... was I always so obvious?"

He looks shocked to hear is Captain asking this but compose himself into a soft smile "We all knew from the beginning that you love her, you started acting different as soon as she arrived here. On the other hand y/n is more difficult to read"

This makes Law lose himself in thoughts again. The whole crew knew, this means they have a lot of regrets as well for what happened to you, to the both of you.

Later that nigh, the crew sits around the table, sharing a quiet meal. You’re there, of course, laughing with the others, the familiar warmth of your presence filling the room. Law can’t help but glance at you from time to time. He’s only allowed to watch you from a distance now, but it’s a sharp, painful reminder of everything he never said.

He catches sight of his younger self, who’s watching you too. This time, however, there’s something different in his expression. His eyes aren’t just filled with longing, they’re filled with determination.

His younger self stands suddenly, pushing his chair back and leave the crew confused. For a moment, Law feels a surge of hope. His younger self is acting on it. He’s going to do something.

On deck, under the stars, Young Law walks toward you, the weight of what he’s about to do heavy on his shoulders. You’re sitting by the edge of the ship, looking out at the night sky, lost in thoughts. When you hear him approach, you turn, offering him a warm, friendly smile.

“You sure you should be out here alone?” he asks, his voice hesitant “It’s a bit… quiet.”

You tilt your head, a teasing glint in your eyes “Isn’t that the point of being alone? You should try it sometime.”

He pauses, taking in your words, your smile. His heart beats harder in his chest, unsure of how to proceed. He’s always been like this—silent, holding back, afraid to say the things he really feels.

But now, after hearing Law’s advice, he knows what he needs to do.

“I… I need to tell you something” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued “What’s that?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He’s scared, but the truth has to come out “I… I like you. I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve always… I’ve always liked you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. But then, you smile, and it’s so bright, so genuine, that his chest aches with relief.

“I’m glad you finally said something” you reply softly “I… I’ve always felt the same way.”

His heart stops. The words hit him like a wave crashing over him, drowning him in warmth and hope “Wait… you do?”

You laugh softly, your eyes glimmering in the moonlight “Of course. It was pretty obvious, don’t you think?”

Young Law smiles, a small but relieved smile. He’s never felt this light before, this certain. For the first time, he’s no longer holding back.

Present-Law watching the scene from afar with the crew. Tears in his eyes because now he knows you got the chance to love each other even if for a short time.

Suddenly there's a blinding light and a few moments later when Law opens his eyes again he finds himself laying in a bed in the nurse of the Polar Tang. His mind is spinning..

He returns to the Polar Tang, to his crew, to the present. Was is all a dream? What actually happened?

Bepo at his side, sleeping.

He gets up waking him up and confused, the first thing Law asks "Did I ever got the chance to confess my feelings to y/n?"

"Captain are you okay? Why suddenly ask that?" Bepo says panicking.

Law sigh and firmly add "Just answer".

He's scared, he's scared it was all just a dream. Scared you died without knowing about his feelings just has it actually happened. Scared that maybe you actually never reciprocated his feelings, his love.

"Of course you did"

Law's eyes widened, his heart beating fast as never before. It wasn't a dream. He was actually able to change that small but important part of the past. You died knowing about his love. He lost you but not without giving you his full love.

He gets up and steps onto the deck.

There you are. Standing right in front of him, alive, vibrant, and here.

He stops, unable to breathe for a moment. His mind races. This can’t be right. He’s seen you die. He’s seen your body fall—he’s seen everything. But now you’re here, smiling at him like nothing ever happened.

“y/n?” He barely manages to choke out your name, his voice filled with disbelief.

You smile at him, a familiar, gentle smile “You finally woke up. What’s wrong, Captain? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Law’s world tilts on its axis. He can’t understand it. He doesn’t know how this is possible—how you’re alive in front of him now.

But there’s only one explanation: the confession. His younger self’s confession. Somehow, it saved you.

He watches you, stunned, his chest tightening as emotions flood him.

“I—I thought I… I thought you…” he stammers.

You tilt your head, noticing his confusion “What’s the matter?”

The weight of it all is too much for him. He can’t speak, can’t form the words. But deep inside, he knows this is it—the moment when everything changed. The future he thought was set in stone, the future that broke him, had shifted. And you… you were still alive.

He shakes his head, trying to collect himself. He knows he’s seeing you right in front of him, alive, as if the death he witnessed in the past never happened. He swallows, his throat tight, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming rush of emotions.

“You… You’re…” He struggles to speak, but the confusion weighs him down. It’s not just the shock of seeing you alive—it’s everything that led to this moment, everything that shouldn’t have happened.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping closer to him “What happened? Is something wrong?”

“No” Law says finally, his voice hoarse “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just… I don’t understand.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice soft with concern, breaking through the tangle of thoughts in his head.

Law doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know what to say to you, not when everything feels like it’s slipping through his fingers. He’s terrified that this shift in fate—this small change—could lead to something even worse.

“I’m fine” he says, forcing a smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. His mind is still racing, trying to process what’s happened. He doesn’t know how this happened—how the timeline could have been altered so drastically—but he knows one thing for sure.

“You’re here” he repeats, as if the words will make sense of the situation “You’re alive.”

You blink, a little confused by his intensity “Well, of course I’m alive, Captain. Why wouldn’t I be?”

A sharp pain stabs at Law’s chest as he recalls the past—the version of the future where you were dead. It had been so final, so irreversible. The pain of losing you had been one of the deepest regrets of his life. But now? Now, there’s a chance, maybe a small one, but still a chance, that things could be different.

The realization crashes over him like a tidal wave.

He looks at you again, this time with a weight that wasn’t there before. You’re alive. You’re here. And he didn’t have to lose you, not like before. His younger self had given him a second chance, and now… he has to hold on to that. He has to protect it.

He runs to close the distance between you two and hugs you like he never has. You're too schocked to move at first but then you put your hands around him.

Later, in the crew’s quarters, Law lies awake in his hammock, his thoughts spinning out of control. How could things change so quickly, so drastically? He can’t understand it. He should have never interfered, never given that advice to his younger self. But then again, he couldn’t let you die "again" without knowing that you were loved.

A soft knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t need to ask who it is.

“Come in” he says quietly.

The door creaks open, and there you are, standing in the doorway. You look at him with a slight frown, your arms crossed over your chest.

“You’re still awake” you say, your voice gentle “Everything okay? You’ve been acting… different.”

Law sits up slightly in his hammock, his heart racing again. He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, and right now, his emotions are a whirlwind. How could he explain to you what he’s feeling? How could he tell you what’s going on in his head when he barely understands it himself?

“I’m… fine” he says, though it feels like a lie. He’s anything but fine. “Just thinking.”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you, and sit down on the chair across from him. “About what?”

“About… everything” he mutters “About how things are different now.”

You look at him, studying him closely. You can tell something’s weighing on him “Different how?” you ask, your voice soft but insistent.

He looks at you, torn between the need to protect you and the crushing urge to be honest. But he’s afraid of what that honesty might cost him. He’s afraid that if he tells you too much, it will change everything again.

“You wouldn’t understand” he says, his voice low. He can’t bring himself to explain the truth, at least not now.

You fake to be offended with a funny expression, and he loves when you do that because it makes you even cuter. You study him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding something, you stand and walk over to him. Without a word, you reach out and gently place your hand on his arm.

“I understand more than you think” you say quietly, your fingers warm against his skin “You don’t have to carry all this on your own. You don’t have to hide from me.”

The softness in your voice, the warmth of your touch, cracks something deep inside him. His chest tightens, his breath catching in his throat. How could he have been so blind to what was right in front of him all this time?

He looks at you, really looks at you for the first time since he arrived in this timeline, and suddenly, he sees it all... the way you care for him, the way you’ve always been there, despite the unspoken distance between you. He realizes that he never really understood the depth of your feelings until now, and maybe that’s what changed. Maybe that’s the gift he was given, a second chance to finally get it.

“You’re right" he whispers, his voice thick with emotion “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

You look at him in surprise, your eyes widening slightly “What do you mean?”

He swallows hard, gathering the courage to say the words that have been buried deep inside him for so long.

“I… I love you” he says quietly, but with absolute certainty. The words feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the truth finally out in the open.

You smile, a small but genuine smile, and take a step closer to him “I think I’ve known that for a while”

You both sit in silence for a moment, you studying him while he's still lost in his thoughts. The weight of the admission must hit you differently, given all the strange tension and confusion his behavior has caused since his return to the present. But then you speak, and your words pull him back from the edge of his spiraling thoughts.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, I love you too” you say, your tone light but sincere “I mean, you’re kind of an idiot sometimes, and you’ve got this whole ‘broody loner’ thing that’s exhausting to keep up with, but… yeah. I love you, idiot”

The way you say it, so unguarded, so natural, he didn't realise how much he needed to hear those words until now, even though they come from you here, in this altered present.

He exhales a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair “You really don’t make things easy, do you?”

You smirk, stepping closer to him, your arms crossing over your chest “That’s part of my charm”

Law shakes his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward despite the heaviness still clinging to him. For the first time since he returned to this timeline, he feels lighter—like the crushing weight of regret and grief that had followed him for years is finally lifting.

But there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind. Did he truly rewrite the future, or is this just a fleeting moment of borrowed time? And if things really have changed, how much has been altered?

You notice him deep in thought again, so you lean in and press a quick, gentle kiss to his cheek. The sudden gesture pulls him out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at you, his expression of surprise. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Captain, why the shocked face? We’ve done worse than this” you tease, offering him a playful wink as you start walking towards the door “Sleep well now.”

On the Polar Tang, it doesn’t take long for the crew to notice the shift between you and Law.

“Uh, are you two… okay?” Shachi asks, looking back and forth between the two of you as you stand side by side on the deck.

You raise an eyebrow “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Dunno. Maybe because since the day he fainted, Captain here looks like he saw the ghost of his past mistakes?” Penguin says.

“Enough” Law snaps, his voice low but firm. He doesn’t need the crew making a spectacle of this, not when he’s still trying to make sense of everything himself.

You, on the other hand, seem entirely unfazed by their reactions. You smirk, leaning against the railing with an air of casual confidence. “What’s the matter, Captain? Wanna give them something to really talk about?”

Law groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin, but somehow, it feels different now, lighter, even.

“Don’t you all have work to do?” he mutters, turning his back to them and stalking off toward the ship’s interior.

But as he walks away, he catches the faint sound of your laughter behind him, and for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t sting.

Later that evening, Law finds himself alone in his quarters, staring down at a stack of charts and papers he’s been meaning to sort through. But his mind isn’t on his work, it’s on you, on the way your presence has started to fill the cracks in his carefully constructed walls.

He still doesn’t know how this timeline shift works. Did his advice to his younger self truly rewrite everything? And if so, how much of the past is still the same? Did your future really change or is it just temporary?

His thoughts spiral as he recalls the moment his younger self finally confessed to you. It was a subtle nudge, a small push in the right direction, but it had changed everything. If his younger self hadn’t listened, if he hadn’t acted, would you still be gone? Would you have died with regrets, with unspoken feelings left between you?

A knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see you standing there, leaning casually against the frame.

“Captain” you say, your tone light but teasing “You’re brooding again.”

He sighs, gesturing for you to come in “What do you want?”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you “Just checking on you. You’ve been acting really weird lately”

Law leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest “I’m fine now”

“You always say that” you reply, walking over to stand in front of his desk “But we both know it’s not true. So what’s really going on?”

For a moment, he considers brushing you off, keeping the truth locked away like he always does. But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and he sees the concern in your eyes, the genuine care that you’ve always shown him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

And he realizes that maybe, just this once, he doesn’t have to carry the weight alone.

“I…” he hesitates, the words catching in his throat “I was afraid I’d lost you.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his admission, but you don’t interrupt, giving him the space to continue.

“There was a time when you weren’t here” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion “And it was… unbearable. I didn’t know how to fix it, how to stop it. And now…” He looks down at his hands, his fingers curling into fists. “Now, you’re here, and I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s just another cruel trick.”

You take a step closer to him, reaching out to place a hand on his arm “I’m here, Law,” you say softly “I was always here with you and I'll always be. Whatever happened, whatever you went through… I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all he sees is the same fierce determination that he’s always admired in you.

For the first time since his return to the present, he feels a flicker of hope, hope that maybe, just maybe, this new future is something he can hold on to.

Most of the crew is asleep, leaving Law in the solitude of his quarters. He stares out of the small circular window, his mind a battlefield of thoughts. He knows he should be relieved, grateful, that you’re alive, but a part of him can’t let go of the fear. The fear that this could all slip away in an instant.

The soft creak of the door pulls him from his thoughts. He doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s you.

“You’re still awake... again” you say, your voice quiet but firm.

He sighs, his back still to you “I could say the same to you.”

“Touché.” You step further into the room, and the door clicks softly shut behind you “You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite himself.

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see it “Funny. But seriously, I’ve been thinking about… us.”

That makes him turn. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he feels his breath catch in his throat.

“What about us?” he asks, his voice low.

You take a deep breath, stepping closer to him “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. About how you were afraid you’d lost me.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away “I shouldn’t have said that. It was selfish.”

“No, it wasn’t” you say firmly, closing the distance between you “It was honest. And I don’t want you to think you have to keep all of that to yourself anymore.”

Law exhales, running a hand through his hair “You don’t understand,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper “I’ve seen what it’s like to lose you. I’ve lived with it. And I don’t know if I can do that again.”

Your heart aches at the raw vulnerability in his voice. Without thinking, you reach out and place a hand on his chest, right over his heart.

“You won’t lose me” you say softly “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He looks down at you, his eyes searching yours. There’s so much he wants to say, so much he wants to explain, but the words catch in his throat. Instead, he reaches up, his hand covering yours where it rests against his chest.

The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken emotions. And then, almost imperceptibly, he leans down, his forehead brushing against yours.

“y/n…” he murmurs, his voice trembling.

You close your eyes, leaning into him. “I’m here, Law. I’m right here. We chose a life that’s unpredictable as pirates. I know that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t allow ourselves to love. Do you think it would hurt less if we didn’t use the time we have together to love each other? Because I don’t think so. In fact, I think the opposite.”

Something inside him breaks at your words, the walls he’s so carefully constructed over the years crumbling in an instant. He tilts his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, almost hesitant kiss.

The contact sends a jolt through both of you, and for a moment, neither of you moves. But then you press closer, your hand sliding up to cup his face, deepening the kiss. It’s not hurried or frantic, it’s soft and deliberate, a silent promise that neither of you is willing to let go of this moment.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads still pressed together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits, a small, nervous laugh escaping.

You chuckle softly as his thumb brushing against your cheek.

You smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like the weight of the world isn’t resting on his shoulders.

“I mean it, Law” you say, your voice serious now. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He nods, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Thank you” he murmurs against your hair.

For the first time in years, he allows himself to hope, for you, for him, for a future that no longer feels so uncertain.

[house-of-angst]

Y'all mind if I talk about Present Mic's quirk for a second? Great.

So, my partner and I have been having Erasermic brainrot lately, and while we were binging content with them, I became interested in Hizashi's voice quirk. I began searching stuff about how sound/volume works, and linking it to his canon stuff.

I'll just say, the info I found makes him a pretty scary guy. It's a shame he's so underused in both canon and fanon.

Frequency

First of all, I want to talk about something everyone knows about him: his quirk is potent enough to shatter glass. Now, when it comes to decibels, it's always important to consider the time and distance a certain note is held for, since these can impact the "hit" a certain sound wave can have when influenced by effects such as the air or vibrations.

(Please keep this in mind for the reminder of this post)

When it comes to glass, however, it breaks almost instantly under the pressure of his voice. Our most constant example of this is the man's poor lenses, but there is a scene I'd like to talk about the most, it being he one where he completely shatters Shigaraki's tank.

One might argue that the glass was already weakened from Mirko's kicks, but that's honestly part of something that makes this so impressive to me; Mirko's legs are strong enough to straight-up rip a high-end Nomu's head clean off, yet this tank was tough enough to withstand two attacks from her - including her ultimate move - before starting to leak; and the fact she was heavily injured doesn't fly here, as we very clearly could see she wasn't holding back one bit.

Now, let's get technical.

According to Google, a normal tone of voice would be around 50 decibels, while the required to shatter glass would be a minimum of 105. For comparison, that's roughly the same volume as a jackhammer. Now, you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not so bad! Some singers can do that!" and you'd be right, but there's also some other things to consider. Allow me to explain.

Some singers can reach a pitch that can make glass vibrate enough for it to break, but I've personally only heard of this happening if the person has their mouth close to a smaller, empty cup, and even then the volume would be distributed around. Hizashi, on the other hand, was standing several feet away from this reinforced tank and was able to shatter it immediately, using the directional speaker around his neck to aim the volume. This would naturally require for him to hit even higher decibels, specially when you take into consideration that one's frequency must match the glass' for it to vibrate, which drastically increases when it's dampened. (Read next topic for more info on this)

And then there's his glasses which, like I've stated before, are the most common thing he breaks with his voice. Obviously, this is not directed and it's not a total shatter, but there is something to be observed; say, did you know the necessary volume for lenses to crack, when not being directly aimed at, would be that of a nearby shot from a highcaliber gun? That's roughly 140-170 decibels.

Harm factor

Boy, oh boy! I'm betting most of you were looking for this part when you clicked the read more, right? Look no further, I've got you covered, you just better remember what I mentioned before about distance and duration.

Hizashi's parents were unfortunate enough to have a mutant child that was born with his quirk already active, and I'm willing to bet a newborn doesn't have the slightest bit of control over a power as destructive as a sonic-powered voice, which immediately resulted in everyone in the room bleeding from the ears.

Sound-related ear bleeding is most commonly associated with a ruptured eardrum, which can happen at around 150 decibels and is about the same as a jet engine taking off. While a baby most likely unleashed his maximum voice power on the first breath, I believe something like that would, thankfully, only develop fully after puberty, just like with non-powered people like us, since his quirk is a drastic intensification of a common function and not a new ability altogether.

With that being said... The Finals Exam.

In this, Hizashi was standing very far and, even with the directional speakers, there were many obstacles in the way that kept him from landing direct soundwaves on the students. Regardless, Jirou's ears bled in less than 30 minutes being exposed to this.

This could have happened due to the fact that she has a hearing quirk, which would make hers much more sensitive, but let's study this, shall we? We don't have the exacts of what happened there, but the students are visibly uncomfortable upon the first soundwave, which would suggest it was at about 120 decibels upon impact (with 85 already being enough to cause damage to your ears) and being emitted even higher by him, considering distance muffles volume. Still, I think all that would be nothing compared to the scream he let out after those bugs started crawling on him, with how unfiltered that was.

With Jirou, it comes to no surprise this volume at this distance and time almost rendered her deaf, and realistically would take several months of healing time. How much do you want to bet Hizashi got a solid scolding from Shouta? I mean, it was supposed to be a challenge, but homeboy came this close to breaking her quirk.

Another thing I want to point out is that his voice is powerful enough to actually fucking launch people, and this only happens due to an event called acoustic trauma, basically meaning Hizashi can surpass supersonic levels. Although, it's important to note that this effect is caused mostly due to pressure and not so much as sound, so while it's not freakishly loud (about the same as thunder), it can still cause hearing and psychological damage.

! WARNING !

The following part contains graphic mentions of injury, and death. Do not proceed if these are sensitive topics for you.

Now, we look at the disturbing side of Hizashi's quirk. Buckle in, because it's a wild ride.

Remember what I commented earlier, about him having to hit even higher frequencies to be able to shatter Shigaraki's tank? First of all, as the doctor was sent flying, this qualifies as supersonic, but that's not all. To shatter such a protected tank, with liquid inside increasing the density, he'd have to hit over 200 decibels; which is considered extremely dangerous and most definitely fatal, as the threshold of pain is of 115-140 - this can cause damage such as crushed ear bones, ruptured lungs, or embolism. For comparison, this would come close to standing right next to a Saturn V Moon Rocket during launch, and is no longer considered a "sound" due to the vacuum.

With that being said, the man came very close to dying by Hizashi's hands (voice?) twice. Not only was he so close during the lens incident, literally being inches away from his face and in risk of getting his eardrums ruptured already, but if Mic had decided to raise his voice even more during his rage, it'd be possible for the frequency to make the doctor's inner organs malfunction, or straight-up burst from the pressure.

But that's not the worst part.

After establishing that the lethal amount of over 200 decibels would be necessary to shatter the tank given the circumstances, if he exceeded 240 and the doctor happened to be in the way of this, it would be enough to cause his head to explode upon impact. That old man better be grateful that he was standing a feet few away, and that the supersonic blast blew him away a bit more, or it'd be an immediate game over.

With all this being said, how devastating would it be for this guy to scream his rage out?

(Please keep in mind that many of the extreme cases in this are actually impossible to happen in a real-life scenario and are purely speculation!)

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[kingkat12]

prom night (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, mature/dark themes, Roman adores reader so much aghhhh<33, fluff, Roman is bad with words lol, blood, mentions of death, attempted kidnapping, amnesia, Dr. Pryce is scary omg, dead dove do not eat tbh, silly bf Roman because why tf not

summary: going to prom with Roman Godfrey had been a dream of yours for longer than you could remember-- but suddenly, that was the only thing you could remember. seriously. what the fuck happened last weekend, and why is Roman keeping you in the dark about it?

word count: 16,708 (oh my fucking god)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

a/n: celebrating 900 followers (??? WHAT) with the biggest chapter yet!!! I've spent a month preparing it, and this has been the chapter I've been building up to ever since I started this series... I suggest you read it in one sitting because I intended it to be read that way, (although I know that is a lot to ask!!! not necessary boo), and I'm sorry about everything in advance aghhh😭 I would also like to give special thanks to @mentallyscreamingsincebirth for being such a great support and for guiding my brain through this enormous chapter, THANK YOU LYNDI<3 much much love, ENJOY, and read at ur own risk!!!<333 MWAH

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

Have you felt it lingering in your forearms, like you're pressing them up against a flaming stove? Have you felt it pressing at the sides of your head, waiting for it to cave in on itself? I always thought it would feel like going to sleep; that no matter how you pass, you reach a point where your mind flips over into delirium, and then you feel drowsy until it's over. Yet somehow, I was suddenly convinced it was nothing like that. I was sure that it felt like nothing but pure panic, accompanied by a crippling fear unlike any other. Because it hurt, everything hurt, and I was sure I'd be stuck in an endless loop of hell where I would forever be semi-conscious and in excruciating pain. 

And why?

Because right now, I was sure I was dead. 

That I was done. Deceased. Expired. I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, or why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe. 

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, like someone had grabbed hold of my tongue and tugged me forward-- a bright light shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the bed with a shriek. It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, and I clawed at my chest as my nails dug into the fabric of my shirt, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

"Pryce, do something!" 

"Mr. Godfrey, sit down!--"

"Do something!" 

I was still screaming when my hands were pried off my skin with an annoyed groan, still heaving for air as a man in a white coat now hovered over me. He forced my left eye to open wider with his cold, bony fingers, shining the light directly at my pupil. He was searching for any lack of reaction as I emptied my lungs, crying out in fear; it wasn't until I felt the scent of a familiar cologne fill my body that I started to fight my screams of panic. 

I was sure it was Roman who was now pinning my hands down to the bed-- his indexes were pressing against my wrists, checking my pulse, the classic Godfrey move. He usually only did that when he was trying to make a point about him making my heart race, and that's how I was certain it was him.

Once the doctor finished, my cries had largely quieted down. All that was left was a series of whimpers and shaky breaths. "What's happening?" I struggled to ask, my voice cracking. I saw the doctor scowl at Roman, clearly frustrated by something. My lower lip quivered; why was I here? What was happening? 

Why couldn't I remember anything?

When the doctor spoke, he was still not looking at me; "You're at the Godfrey Institute, getting what is considerably the best care in the world," He moved away, tutting as he sat down on the chair opposite the bed I was lying on. Coming to my senses, my eyes traced the room. The walls were painted an uncomfortably bright hue of white, and I was afraid I'd go blind looking at them for too long. However, the doctor's voice caught my attention once more; "You don't seem to be concussed, but I'll check your reflexes. Have you exhausted your lungs, or must I put you under as well? If you keep screaming and resisting, you will only make things harder for yourself."

"She'll be fine!" Roman barked, letting go of my hands. With swift, nervous steps, he now stood by my side as he stroked through my hair. I could sense his anxiety through the slight tremble in his fingers, and he squeezed my shoulder with his free hand as he spoke to the doctor with a lowered voice, as though I wouldn't hear him if he softened his tone; "She will be, right? Pryce?"

Doctor Pryce rolled his eyes as he looked over at the metal tray beside him, scanning the neat display of medical instruments. "Did you bring this girl to me to question my care, or because you trust that I'm the best?"

"I'm!--"

"I was the one that delivered you into the world, Roman, don't forget that. Your mother trusted me with your life, so you have all the reason to exert some patience and trust me with this very simple task," Pryce picked out his preferred instrument and leaned forward, pressing on a button that made the back of my bed raise. 

I yelped, still trying to catch my breath; "What's happening?" I breathed, hoping to contain the wave of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. It felt like I had died and come back to earth. "Please, why-- why am I here?"

With one final anxious glance at Pryce, Roman finally looked down at me. It was the first time I had been properly acknowledged. "Hey, you," he said, gently running his fingers through my hair. "We were in a car crash, and you passed out. This is Doctor Pryce, and he's just making sure you didn't faint because of anything serious. You could've also lost consciousness because of shock, fear... Many factors. This is just a precaution."

"Car crash?" I echoed. "What-- Why can't I remember?-- Ow!" 

A panicked cry escaped me, and I looked down to see Pryce with what looked like a hammer, striking the supple area beneath my knee socket. My leg jumped up automatically, and the doctor let out a satisfied hum before he moved on to my other leg. "Miss, do you get enough sleep?" he asked. "On the regular, that is?"

I had never been this disoriented in my life. "I don't-- I don't know?"

With an exasperated sigh, Pryce muttered a simple alright. He sat back down in his chair, now gazing at me with a blank, neutral look. Something told me he had practiced that exact expression for his patients. "You seem to have experienced what is called a situational syncope. You must've gone into a deep state of shock, which caused your blood pressure to drop, ultimately knocking you out. Based on the tests we got done on you when you were unconscious, there seems to be nothing wrong with you," 

I forced down a sob as I squeezed my eyes shut. My body was still frozen with panic. Despite my efforts, I couldn't conjure the memory of the supposed car crash; what was happening to me? "There has to be something wrong!" I cried. "I can't-- I can't remember anything!"

Sighing, Pryce got up, but not without glaring at Roman once more. "You might have a minor case of amnesia. It's most likely short-term and will resolve in twenty-four hours, or it might not," He moved to a nearby table, writing down something on a computer. "It might be time to lay off the nocturnal activities, Roman. It's important that she sleeps."

My face had never been redder. Never. To be told to lay off sex in front of your boyfriend's family doctor? Awful. Not something I recommend anyone else go through. 

However, in true Godfrey fashion, Roman didn't seem to care about that part. "Thank fuck," he said, letting out a relieved breath as he bent down to kiss my forehead. I could sense the ease settling in his body, and it made me wonder when it could transmit to mine as well. "So she's completely fine?"

"Yes," Pryce grumbled, absentmindedly tapping away on his keyboard.

"No internal bleeding, no injuries?--"

"She's fine,"

Roman nodded, and I thought that would be the end of it until he spoke again; "Will she remember... everything?"

My blood ran cold. Something about the way he said those words made me feel like it was ominous. I blinked, staring up at Roman as my heart beat hard in my chest. 

Pryce's clacking stilled. He turned, moving sharply, as his eyes narrowed; "For your sake, I hope not,"

It only took me a second to reach for Roman's hand, grabbing it as fear ran through my veins. "Rome," I echoed, begging him to look at me. I needed to know. It didn't feel like a simple car crash; why was I still shaking? Was this normal? I was terrified that I wouldn't remember anything. "Please, you have to-- you have to tell me what!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman cooed, wiping that terrified look off his face in an instant. "Everything is fine, see? The nice doctor says you just need to sleep, so what do you say I drop you off at your place and make sure you sleep well tonight?" 

I could hear Pryce snicker as he got up, gathering what he needed from the room. "The nice doctor," he echoed, shaking his head. Everything he did felt oddly sterile. Everything from the smile to the polite tilt of his head. "Sleep would be the best remedy, yes. And maybe some shopping."

Roman scrunched his nose-- "Shopping?"

Pryce nodded, pointing to my shirt which I had partially clawed up. "Shopping,"

I couldn't imagine I would ever get any redder than this. Why couldn't amnesia take this memory too? I wanted to disappear-- however, when I thought about the black void I had been thrust into before I awoke, I changed my mind. I was happier than ever to be alive. When Pryce left the room, I let out a shaky breath as I locked eyes with Roman; "Rome, please tell me how the fuck we ended up in a!--"

My words were stolen as two large hands grabbed my face, and my favorite pair of lips came crashing down onto mine. Roman was now partially on my bed, rushing his kisses as he pulled me close in sheer desperation. "You had me so scared," he breathed. "So, so--"

Grabbing onto Roman's hair for support, I could only yelp as he practically toppled me, kissing me with urgency. "You can't do that," he begged. "You can't, you-- you can't--" 

I was beyond overwhelmed. Exhausted. Still, I could sense that Roman had almost been as scared as me. "Please, Rome!--"

"What would I have done if you got hurt?" He grabbed my face harder, forcing me to look into his teary eyes when he relented his attack on my lips. "It would've killed me. It would've killed me." The desperation, the panic, was evident in his big, green eyes as they searched mine. 

When would this be over? "I don't even know what happened!" I cried. "I don't remember, and it scares me! What if I won't-- won't remember it?" 

I hoped he would tell me. I hoped Roman would sit me down and tell me in excruciating detail. However, his brows came together and drew upwards in a look of pure pity; "It doesn't matter. Look at it like it's mercy,"

"Mercy?" 

"I'm glad you don't remember," Roman breathed, pressing a passionate kiss to my lips before he leaned his forehead against mine. "I don't want you to remember it... I'm kinda glad you don't. You don't need to remember the bad stuff, right? I only want you to be happy. Happy, safe, and with me. Forever."

Forever. 

I let out a shaky breath which fell against Roman's lips, defeated. It still lingered in my body-- death. Like something really, really bad had happened. 

... Had it?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The air smelled like freshly mown grass although it was growing freely all around us, untamed. The long branches of the willow tree kneeling above us swayed with the breeze, and the leaves rustled with a gentle buzz; it was beautiful to look up at, even in the dark of the night. 

Roman was lying next to me, eyes shut in peace that had only recently settled in his body. His chest rose and fell in slow, calm motions as his brown hair wove into the long strands of the grass. I had an inkling that he was getting comfortable with it now-- with the idea of forever. That I was his for as long as he'd have me. That he had someone to go through life with, after all this time finding solace in fleeting moments of intimacy with the girls that were lucky to be near him at the right moment. 

Roman was unbelievably beautiful. Unreal. 

I still had no idea what happened that day I woke up at the Godfrey Institute a week ago, convinced I had died. It was hard not to think about it, but sleep had done me good-- Doctor Pryce had been right. My memory of the incident hadn't returned, and I had a feeling it never would. Every so often, I would get specs of it when I heard a particularly loud car, or whenever the smell of diesel got very strong from Roman's red jag, but that was the end of it.

However, the whole car crash incident had set Roman off into a weird state of possessiveness. Not one night had passed without him sneaking in through my bedroom window, lying next to me to make sure I wasn't on my phone until three a.m., and that I was getting enough sleep. I had watched Roman doze off into slumber countless times, both next to me and on top of me, and I had loved to stroke his hair and watch him sleep every time. It was the only time I felt he ever got to rest properly. Never ever during the day. Which is why, now that Roman was doing the same for me, I started to feel more at peace with what had happened. With the crash. With what I didn't know. As long as I had Roman, I would be fine, right? I was sure of it now.

Not only had the car crash left Roman and I in a weird state, but my parents as well. They were wary of me needing to get enough sleep and rest, so they had given me a rather strict curfew up until prom night. This curfew also involved not having Roman over as much, meaning we had to get creative-- so here we were, lying next to each other in the grass at his secret hiding place around midnight, where we had previously exchanged our blood. 

"Rome," I whispered, watching the swaying willow branch above me. "You put on an alarm, right? I can't be out for too long, I'm scared my parents will find the pillow concoction we put on my bed and know I'm not home..."

He hummed, his eyes remaining closed-- "We have about thirty minutes until I have to take you back. I'm keeping track of it,"

"You don't seem to be keeping track of anything right now,"

"Nonsense,"

"... You look like you're sleeping,"

"But I'm not, am I?" Roman's eyes met mine, his lashes hanging heavy over the green color of his irises. With a tug at the corners of his lips, he sung a short, mocking line; "I don't want to close my eyes!--"

Oh no. "Rome, don't!--"

"-- I don't want to fall asleep, 'cause I miss you, baby!" His laugh was as melodious as his half-assed attempt at serenading me. 

I snorted, no longer sleepy. This was beyond cringe. "You're an idiot,"

"And yet you're crazy about me," Roman purred, moving closer to me on the grass. The tips of his fingers, which had barely grazed mine a minute ago, were now running along the back of my hand in soft motions. "That says more about you than it says about me."

I turned my hand as I smiled to myself, feeling my chest burn with the warmth I got from being near him. If only he knew I was more than crazy about him. If only he knew. "Yeah, you're right," I mumbled, intertwining our fingers with a content sigh. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I didn't deem my words to be as heavy as Roman suddenly made them seem-- it was as though the leaves stopped rustling. As though the air no longer smelled like grass, and the only thing I could smell was suddenly only Roman's heavy, expensive perfume. Something stilled. Was it the waves of the water nearby? His eyes softened with his next exhale, pupils rounding out. It was almost as though I could see the pounding of his heart as his chest fell. "I don't know how I ever lived without you in the first place," he confessed. "It kills me that you were so close all this time, and... I didn't notice."

Thinking back at the time when Roman would barely look my way was excruciating, even now. "It doesn't matter--"

"We had chemistry together," he breathed. "You were so close." Roman no longer looked at me, and instead turned his gaze to the hanging branches of the willow tree we were lying beneath. "I used to think I was the center of the universe, y'know? That the world was mine, along with everyone living in it. I thought I was everything I ever needed, that no one else truly mattered except for me, but then..." He cleared his throat, an empty look in his eyes. "This is getting cheesy, isn't it?"

Silly, silly boy. "You were literally singing at me a minute ago, I think I can take you being sweet,"

The small upward tug of Roman's lips lifted an ache in my heart. "The past doesn't matter. But the future does, as long as you're in it with me,"

I love you, I love you, I love you. It was echoing in my head. "Grow old with me, Roman?" I hoped it would come off as a joke. I hoped he'd sense the smile in my words, the lightness in which I proposed the hypothetical. 

But he was so serious. So, so serious, as he turned to meet my eyes. And just for a second, I was scared he'd open his mouth and tell me he couldn't get old-- I had read too much of that upir book. "I don't want to get old," he mumbled. "Old people don't have a lot of sex."

It was impossible not to laugh. "They probably do,"

"... Gross,"

Rolling my eyes, I gave his hand a squeeze. "I'd have sex with you. You'd still be the Roman I lo--" 

Fuck.

Oh, fuck. 

I choked my words with a cough; "This damn grass," I cursed. "I might be allergic..." Gathering courage, I glanced over at Roman as I held my breath. 

He seemed to be holding his too. 

It took longer than expected for any of us to say anything. With small movements, Roman slid his hand up to my wrist, pressing his index against my pulse. 

I cleared my throat, breaking out into a nervous laugh. "Okay, let me clear that up. The coughing made it sound like I was saying something that I wasn't saying."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Why was my throat so dry? "I was gonna say that you'd still be the same Roman I long for."

"Oh..." He seemed both relieved and disappointed. I couldn't read him. It was too dark. "Okay. I'll hold you to it when we're eighty, then."

My heart was still racing. Had I gotten away with that or was he letting me? "So you're basically saying you won't be jumping me when we're old? I'm disappointed. And on top of that, I think you'd still be yourself at eighty, no? Or will you no longer be so nympho when you reach a certain age?"

"... You have a point," Roman's classic smirk was back-- I had never been happier to see it. "I'll always want you, I'm afraid."

"No matter what?"

"No matter what,"

"Are you a hundred percent sure about that, Rome?"

"I'll do you one better. Hundred and one,"

It was impossible not to smile. I loved him so much it hurt; I needed to mend it. "... Even if I turn into a worm?"

The groan he let out blended in with the ringing of the alarm he had put on.

As Roman pulled me up from the grass, I realized how much I loved everything about this night. I loved that he wanted to see me so bad that he was sneaking me out of my room. I loved the feeling of my hand in his, loved the sight of his smile, loved every inch of him. I only wished we could stay this happy for an eternity-- an eternity with him would be so unbelievably nice.

And if Roman loved me too, I'd let him love me forever. 

I'd love him till the day I died, tirelessly, endlessly.

... Even if he was a worm.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

There was a lingering warmth in my body, yet I waited for the other thing to leave. The feeling. The doom. The terror I didn't remember.

And while I waited, prom was a wonderful distraction.

My parents were out of town for the weekend, which allowed us to skip the awkward photos in the hallway that were usually customary for prom. I was sure Roman would've rather died than go through that.

Actually, I was half convinced someone else had told Roman to man up and ask me to go with him, because it seemed like I was getting too much of the good thing recently. It didn't make sense to me that he wanted anything to do with something like this. And for a second, I was convinced I had been right about it all along; when I walked down the stairs of my porch, it was impossible not to smile from ear to ear at the sight of Roman in his tux. He was sitting on the bonnet of his car, smoking a cigarette as always-- 

... Without so much as a reaction to me in my dress?

It felt like my whole body was on fire, like I was one of Roman's cigarettes. My smile faltered as I approached, not saying a word. I held my breath, watching the green of his eyes pierce mine. He didn't blink. He didn't budge. He simply held his cigarette to his lips, exhaling the smoke through his nose. 

Something felt off. I should've known Roman Godfrey wasn't the classic prom-man. "Do you not like it?" I breathed, feeling my confidence collapse as I toyed with the fabric of my dress.

Roman's eyes immediately darted down to my fingers-- "Don't tear at it. I know you like doing that," He held out his cigarette as he scanned me. It took a few seconds too long. With quick steps, he got off of his car; "Get in."

What? "No,"

Roman turned to me, cocking a brow. "No?"

"No," This was nerve-wracking. "You're being weird. Tell me what's wrong, or I turn around and go right back in again."

Visibly taken aback, Roman let his cigarette fall to the ground before he pressed his heel to it. In our moments of intense eye-contact and silence, I could see the way he had styled his hair differently tonight. It wasn't slicked back or messy, which were the two alternatives he always alternated between-- no, it looked like he had put effort into giving it a bit more volume, like something out of an old Hollywood film with James Dean as the lead. I couldn't understand him, where he stood in front of me in his ridiculously expensive tuxedo; it was obvious that he cared about this, so what was happening here?

"Nothing is wrong," Roman finally answered. "I just don't have the words."

"Words for what? What's going on?"

"Nothing is going on," he muttered under his breath. "It just makes me feel stupid."

"What does, Rome?" 

"I... have never been good at finding the right words. I always screw these things up," Frustrated, Roman put his hands in his pockets as he no longer met my gaze. "Saying you look good doesn't feel like enough... and telling you that you look beautiful feels weird, because I don't use that word for anything and that makes it sound rehearsed, so... I'm screwed. I'm looking at you, and I'm blanking. My heart is beating too fast."

Oh.

Oh.

"Take your time," was all I managed to say. I love you regardless was the thing I would have loved to add. 

Roman chewed on his lip, sitting down on the bonnet of his car again. He dared to meet my eyes as he reached for my hand; I took it, ready to take a step forward, before I caught Roman shaking his head. "You'd help me if you did a twirl," he said, a smirk nudging at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, now."

My heart lightened with the giggle that escaped me, and I could only blush as I did as told. 

"There you go," Roman cooed, warmth dotting his cheeks when I faced him again. "I like your dress. You kinda look like a cupcake."

"What? I do not! This is a-line!"

"A what line?"

"No, it's!-- Oh, forget it," Men.

Roman laughed, reaching for my waist to pull me in between his long legs. Softening his grin, he glanced down at my dress; had I not been watching him so intently, I wouldn't have caught the way his eyes subtly rounded out when they met mine. "I never realized how unfair it is,"

I frowned; "What's unfair?"

"You. Looking like this. Making every other girl on the planet look like an afterthought," Roman paused, his smirk softening with something genuine; "And it's not just tonight, y'know? It's everything about you. It's the way you laugh, it's the way you think, it's all that is you, along with how you look at me like I'm not completely messed up. You're just perfect." Roman stilled, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric around my waist as his smile turned self-conscious. "Sorry, that probably sounds cheesy as hell... What the fuck is up with me these days?"

If only he knew. If only he saw that I was fighting the welling of tears in my eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you. "As long as you don't start singing again, I'll be fine,"

Roman's smile was soft, and so was the kiss he gently pressed to my collarbone. Everything about the way he was holding me made me blush. "Come on," Roman cooed, a mischievous look shimmering in his eyes. "I can't wait to arrive with the prettiest girl in town. Everyone's gonna hate us even more than they already do, and I need the fuel of their spite and fear to survive."

I rolled my eyes, muffling my laugh against the following kiss. "Okay, Pennywise. Just keep the carnage to a minimum tonight, alright?"

"Deal,"

Just as Roman was about to lean in to kiss me, I remembered something important-- I grabbed his shoulders, watching his eyes widen as I pinned him to his place. "And we need to keep you far away from Brooke Bluebell tonight, by the way,"

"Uh, not that she was on the agenda, but... why?"

"Rumour says she's bought a needle. For revenge, and all,"

Roman let out a laugh of disbelief before it dawned on him that I wasn't joking. "Oh," he breathed, frowning. "Seems like there might be some carnage after all, then."

"No, that's not funny!--"

"Come on, it kinda is!"

"Roman-- ugh, fuck it, let's just go!" I placed a soft kiss to his lips; "Don't say I didn't warn you."

After more back and forth banter, it was finally time to get going. However, as Roman opened the car door for me and I sat down in the seat, I was hit with a major deja vu when he started checking out his hair in the rearview mirror. I knew that he did that every time before starting the car, this wasn't something out of the ordinary-- but for the first time since the incident, I remembered something clearly. 

I remembered just a fragment. A feeling. I had been upset the day of the crash, and so had Roman. Had we fought? 

It was at the tip of my tongue, there was a faint taste of exactly what had happened, and I was about to roll right into the memory when Roman put his hand on my thigh. I looked over at him, my breath high in my chest; he noticed it immediately. "You okay?" he tried.

It was lingering in my forearms, like I was pressing them up against a flaming stove. It pressed at the sides of my head, waiting for it to cave in on itself; death. It felt like a countdown.

Counting down.

Tick.

Tick tick.

I will know soon.

I put my burning hand over Roman's, forcing a smile;

"Never been better," ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Walking around at prom, hand in hand with Roman Godfrey as he talked to a couple of his friends, was only something I had imagined in my wildest dreams. I used to bury my face in my pillow and blush just at the thought of him even looking at me.

Back in those days, I had a specific image in my mind; since I hadn't ever thought I would go to prom with Roman, I imagined I'd be there with someone like Daniel. Someone I didn't like. I don't know, it wasn't too important. However, my date would be the type to not want to dance, and I would be left sitting with him by some table while everyone danced. And this would (of course) be the point where I'd imagine Roman walking up to me, charming, cocky, and high on his sky-high self-esteem, to reach for my hand. He'd ask if I'd like to dance, and I would glare at my date before giving Roman an affirmative yes.

Then we'd dance. Slow. Close. 

And in my dreams, Roman would look me in the eyes and tell me that he had loved me all along, that he would love me and only me for the rest of his life, that he had secretly been pining for me since the day he first saw me, that he was actually planning to propose right now actually, and then the whole prom would stop and gasp in jealousy as he got down on one knee, and then!--

I bit down on my lip, suppressing a laugh at the memory. It seemed so childish, now more than ever. I told myself to excuse my old, stupid daydreams; the mind wanders when you're crazy about someone.

Roman squeezed my hand; "What are you laughing about?"

Fuck. "Oh, just..." I glanced up at him, smiling uncontrollably. Alas, now that Roman was my boyfriend, I didn't need all of that ridiculous stuff. I only needed him by my side, and that'd be enough for me forever. "I just remembered something stupid."

Roman cocked a brow, the green of his eyes shining down on me despite the darkness of the room. "Keen on sharing?"

"Not so much,"

"Alright," he said, tsking. "Pervert."

"Hey!" My cheeks turned a peculiar shade of pink which I hoped wasn't visible beneath the dim lights. Why did he have to say stuff like that while standing next to his friends? Not that they were listening, anyway. Nonetheless, the cheeky look on Roman's face told me everything I needed to know about it. "It's nothing like that!" I tried. "It was actually kind of sweet..."

"Oh, yeah?" Nodding, Roman's hand went to the small of my back, excusing us before he started leading us away from his circle of friends. "Tell me, then."

"It's stupid!" I giggled, my blush deepening with the kiss he pressed to the top of my head as we walked. Giant man. 

Roman rolled his eyes; "Tell me before I spike the punch and get us kicked out," We had now reached the other side of the room, and he turned me around to press my back against the wall. Like this, he was towering over me as always. Just the sight of it made my heart beat harder. 

"It should be illegal," I muttered under my breath, reaching for his tie. Sweet-talking him would hopefully be distraction enough. "You in a suit--"

"Tux,"

"Tux," I didn't want to tell him about my childish dreams about prom. I was aware how stupid it sounded, anyway. I didn't need to give Roman more things to tease me about, did I? "You're very, very handsome."

"Aha," he hummed, unimpressed. "How long would my sentence to be, then?"

"If it was illegal?"

"If it was illegal,"

"Hmm... I was thinking six years and nine months."

Roman bit down on a grin. "Do I spot a subtle sixty-nine reference?"

Yes. "Pervert,"

We shared a laugh as my hands slid down his tie, but my brows drew together when I felt something hard between the top and second button of his shirt. My mind flared red lights-- "Is this what I think it is?" I asked, gazing up at Roman as my eyes rounded out. 

He didn't seem to understand my reaction. "I always wear it," he said, shrugging. "Didn't want to take it off."

"Ah," I suppose it was sweet. That's all it was. It most certainly didn't remind me of my least favorite passage from The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

... Certainly not. 

"I like feeling you close," Roman murmured, his long fingers now running past my waist as the sound of his voice pulled me back into the moment. "I don't like being apart from you, and having your blood with me at all times... feels like I'm carrying a piece of you, which I technically am." He bent down, his soft lips brushing against my ear-- it made my breath hitch. "What do you say we get as close as we can later tonight?" he whispered, a small kiss to my ear following. "Just you and me... And me in you?"

I could only smile. Especially as I spotted Brooke Bluebell and her cheerleader friends by the punch a little further away from us. I was sure my smile started to look rather sinister as my hand went into Roman's hair, pulling him closer as my eyes locked on Brooke's. 

Fucking cheerleader whore. I hated her. I hated everything she represented. And honestly? I couldn't quite remember why. All I knew, was that seeing the jealous look on her face made my heart race with pride and joy.

... Something told me that Roman and I deserved each other. We were both evil in our own ways. 

"That sounds perfect," I purred, leaning my head against the wall as Roman pressed soft kisses to my neck. "My parents aren't home, so..." I could feel him smiling against my skin at the reminder. It was such an exhilarating feeling. Especially when I knew Brooke was watching. 

"Great," Roman murmured, pulling away to look down at me with a mischievous look shimmering in his green eyes. "Can't wait to fold you and hear you whimper."

My blush deepened in record time; "Pervert,"

Roman only grinned. I was sure he was gonna say something much, much worse, something that would've made my toes curl on the spot if they weren't currently pressed against the front of my slightly uncomfortable heels, if one of the prom chaperones hadn't started walking towards us with hasty steps and a grumpy look on his face. It hit me that we were probably standing too close for his liking, and that he was there to make sure the students were being appropriate, which... let's face it, we weren't. 

I shook my head with panic as Roman opened his mouth to speak, and he seemed to catch onto what was happening rather quickly. With a quick nod, he took a long step away from me and held his hands up with a cheeky grin as the strict-looking chaperone approached. "Yes, officer?"

The chaperone sighed, passing fed-up glances between the two of us. I wondered where I had seen this man before. He was certainly someone's father who I had seen around drop-off hours. "I'm not the police," he grumbled. "You can put your hands down, Godfrey--"

"I invoke the fourth amendment!" Roman chimed in, winking at me. It was impossible not to smile.

The chaperone proceeded to groan, shaking his head; "Just-- no touching, okay?"

"Of... anything?"

"You can hold her hand, Godfrey, but anything else--"

"Oh, so it applies to things like... if I touch the wall?" Comically slow, Roman pressed his finger to the wall, hissing as though he was being burned by the law. "I'm a man of many crimes, as you see, officer!" He lowered his voice to a whisper; "I even touched the punch earlier! Actually, now that I think about it, I think I deserve to be kicked out... Can't believe I have allowed myself to commit such atrocities." With one last pout, Roman held his hands out to the chaperone, bowing his head in defeat. "Take me, oh, lead me away, kind sir! I will serve my time, and I will do my due diligence!--"

"Enough!" The chaperone barked. "As long as you didn't spike the goddamn punch, you're free to go!"

And with that, Roman's gig was up. He bit down hard on his lip to suppress his smirk, not to great success. "I wouldn't dare to, officer," he cooed, reaching for my hand in the smoothest manner known to man. 

The chaperone rolled his eyes, probably rethinking all his life choices, as Roman led me away with the both of us trying not to topple over from the laughter we were suppressing. 

"You're crazy," I said, squeezing his hand. I was worried my eyes had formed hearts. 

Roman shrugged, glancing down at me with a knowing smile. "And you're crazy about me," he murmured. "But, speaking of crazy..." He raised our hands, making me do a little twirl as I giggled. When I faced him again, Roman wrapped his arms around me as he glanced over at the punch not too far away from us; "What do you say actually spike it?"

"... What?" 

"It could be smart," he purred, swaying with me a little on the dance floor. "Brooke and her girls have been drinking it all night, and they just walked away... Maybe if they all get drunk off their asses when they come back, they won't be able to take their needle-revenge on me?" 

Roman was right. We had kept a bit of an eye on them all night, just to make sure they were at a safe distance at all times. It was a fun game, if I were to be honest, but... Roman was right. It was an unusual occurrence that he was, so I couldn't help but smile as I felt myself get convinced. 

"Fuck it,"

What ensued, were three nerve-wracking minutes at the table with the large punch-bowl. I stood in front of Roman, blocking the view of any possible chaperones as he skillfully got a silver flask out of the pocket of his jacket, and we spent a good amount of time positioning ourselves to make it all look casual, as though we weren't pouring straight vodka into the punch. Why Roman had any on him in the first place was a conversation for another time.

The second we saw Brooke and the cheerleaders approaching again, I felt my breath hitch-- had we made it or were we about to get caught?

However, Roman's timing was impeccable. With a smooth slither of his hand down to mine, he pulled me back to the dance floor, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to be escaping the scene of the crime at this pace. 

And suddenly, it felt like I had entered that silly dream of mine. Cause now, we were dancing. Slow. Close. The remnants of our silly escapade were visible across our lips, corners pulling up into knowing smiles as we held each other close. Roman's cologne was alluring as always, and so were his big, green eyes; I could see everything now. The scar on his right cheek, the way his pupils practically pulsated at the sight of me, the way he was drinking me in, the beautiful upturn of his nose, all to the way his warm breath fell against my cheek.

Roman's long, slender fingers intertwined with mine as his other hand rested at the small of my back; it was perfect. Better than I could've ever imagined it. It was intoxicating. Deadly, in the best of ways. 

If I were to say anything, now would be the moment. If I were to say the words that I had longed to say, now was the time. All I could hear was the sweet sound of Roman's breath, the dimmed shuffling of the tulle of my dress, and the mellow remnants of the slow song playing in the background. "Rome," I breathed. "There's something I need to tell you." My heart had never beat harder in my life, I was sure of it now.

I was sure of it.

Roman let out a short hum, lovingly nudging his nose against mine. "I need to tell you something too,"

The more I thought about the beating of my heart, the more I was sure it was going to beat its way up my throat. "Yeah?" I tried. Breathless. Breathless. 

"Yeah," Roman closed his eyes, gently pulling me closer. "But this might not be the place to tell you."

"I beg to differ," Something told me all my dreams were coming true in one go. If he was gonna say what I thought he was gonna say-- "There might never be a better moment than right here, right now." Please. Please. I wanted to beg him to say it first, if he wanted to say those three words at all. 

It felt like the air was a tissue. A tissue falling into me, which was pulled out with Roman's next intake of air. Every breath felt sharp, yet exhilarating, yet draining, yet filling, yet emptying.

"Not here," he whispered. "You'd have a heart attack."

It felt like I was about to have one anyway. "I doubt it," God, I was about to spill, wasn't I? "What if I go first?"

Roman's brows drew together as he pulled away just a centimeter or two, looking more confused than ever. "What?"

My mouth pulled into a line. Was I reading this wrong or was this one of those situations where I just had to grow a pair of balls on the spot and walk on the burning charcoal? "Like... if you're saying what I think you want to say?"

"And what do you think I want to say?"

"... Uhm," It hit me that my mouth had never been drier. Could I do this? Should I do this? "The... thing?"

"What thing?"

"That you, y'know... That you--"

"That I what?" Roman's words were insistent, rushed. It almost scared me into silence. "Baby?"

My lower lip trembled as I gathered the courage to let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. This was my sign to retreat. With a defeated sigh, my eyes shied away from his as my cheeks burned. "Forget it,"

"But..." Roman looked beyond lost. "Okay, I feel like I'm messing things up here. Let's start again."

"Start again?--"

"Start again," he insisted, his green eyes burning into mine as I dared to meet them again. "You were gonna tell me something."

Fuck no. Now, I was sure that'd be a fate worse than death. "I-- I don't know, I'm a little lost now, could we just forget?--"

My nervous ramble was interrupted by a loud groan from Roman. At first, my eyes widened at his weird reaction to me stumbling over my words, all until I realized his phone was vibrating in his pocket. Thankfully, the song in the background wasn't so quiet and slow anymore, and nobody around us seemed to mind. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, letting go of my hand to fish out his phone. "This is fucking ridiculous, who in their right mind is calling at this time of night?!--" 

Roman's anger came to a halt as he saw who was calling him. I was praying to all the Gods I could think of at the moment that it wasn't Letha. 

"It's Peter," he said, eyes rounding out. "I haven't gotten a hold of him in a while, I-- will you kill me if I take this?"

I let out a sigh. Typical. I suppose some things simply remain a dream. "No problem," My ass. 

"I'm sorry," Roman tried, placing two fingers beneath my chin to tilt my head up, placing an apologetic kiss to my lips. It was quick, hurried-- something told me I'd remember it. "I will be right back, and then you're gonna tell me that thing, okay? I'm dying to know. Dying."

"Sure," 

"Just-- meet me by the door leading to the hallway, okay? Not the exit, not the one leading outside, but the--"

"Hallway, yeah. I got it,"

The look on Roman's face told me he was genuinely sorry. That was a consolation, at least. "We're gonna talk, I promise. I really need to tell you what I wanted to say,"

I swear, if he ended up telling me he was getting a new car instead of telling me he was in love with me, I'd wack him with the first heavy purse I'd find. "Go, Rome,"

Roman disappeared from the crowd rather quickly, making his way outside with hurried steps, leaving me alone and frustrated on the dance floor. Muttering curse words under my breath, I waddled to the door leading to the hallway, leaning against the wall next to it with a disappointed sigh. The momentum of that whole conversation had left me a bit of a panting mess, and my heart had yet to slow down. I wondered how I was supposed to get out of telling him that I loved him. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!

However, as I scoured my brain for something else to say, I felt the familiar smell of overly-sweet perfume fill my nostrils.

I stiffened in fear. 

Oh no.

My mouth dried in record time as Daniel approached me, his stride calm and calculated. It was odd to see him out of his blue varsity jacket, yet he hadn't disappointed; his tux was blue too. The more I kept thinking about the color blue, the more I thought about the ocean, and the more I thought about the ocean, the more clearly I saw myself holding Daniel's head underwater until he drowned. 

Daniel's smirk was nastier than ever. I couldn't believe I ever thought it was cute. "There you are," he purred, getting too close for my comfort. "You look like you're having the time of your life, as always."

I snorted. "Well, what do you expect of a brainless slut, as you so poetically called me? You've always had a way with words,"

"Damn," Daniel mumbled, pulling his hands into his pockets as he chuckled. "Did I really say that?"

"Yep," Asshole.

He nodded; "Ah... It seems you remember that night more than I do, then," Daniel's perfume had now infiltrated both my nose and my will to live. If only I could melt into a puddle on the floor and become immaterial-- that would've been mercy enough. 

"I bet you haven't come here to apologize, am I correct?" I asked. 

Daniel shrugged, amused. "I was actually coming here to ask you for an apology,"

"Me?! For what?" He never failed to say outrageous things, I could give him credit for that much. 

However, Daniel seemed taken aback by my response. "Are you really going to act like nothing happened?" 

"What?! Are you talking about you and I those thousands of years ago?--"

"No," Daniel's face fell. "I'm talking about what happened last weekend." 

Something was awfully wrong. My intuition made the hair at the back of my neck stand up to the sky, and I realized I was pressing myself up against the wall. "Last weekend?" I mumbled. What did I do last weekend? I couldn't remember. All I could remember from last weekend was waking up at the Godfrey Institute because of the car crash--

Wait.

Daniel took a step forward; "I've been waiting for you to get away from that boyfriend of yours for a while," he said, his words low and threatening. "Cause you and I are gonna go have a little talk, aren't we?"

"About what?" My voice came out frail, scared, as my breath continued to catch in my throat. For a second, my attention darted to the person coming out through the door to the hallway, and it reminded me that I was in a room filled with people. Roman was coming back any time now, too. Nothing could happen to me. "I don't know what you're--" 

And then it happened. Daniel stepped forward with speed I didn't know he had in him, and he jammed his foot between the door as he grabbed me with strength I couldn't fight. He clasped his hand over my mouth as I tried to fight him off, yet to no avail-- it didn't take many seconds before he managed to get me through the door, dragging me down the hallway and away from the party. 

I let out a cry against Daniel's palm as my heart raced. Biting him didn't work, as my teeth barely grazed his skin-- I tried to dig my nails into him, yet I didn't manage to reach any exposed skin. The grip he had around me was crushing, and I knew my ribs would ache for days to come. 

"We're gonna have a real nice talk," Daniel hissed into my ear. It was disgusting to have him so near, repulsing. His breath was unsteady as he spat his words, yet there was an exhilarated tone to his voice, like he was getting the biggest kick in the world out of this. "And I'm gonna let you go in one piece if you stop-- stop resisting!" 

Daniel managed to drag me down the hall and around the corner before he threw me down. I hit the ground with a hard thud, wincing as I tried to get up with my heart threatening to beat out of my ears. However, Daniel bent down and grabbed a fistful of my hair, twisting me to look at him as I cried out in pain, eyes watery with tears as I met his angry blue eyes. I tried to drive my nails into his hand, yet he only tightened his fist in my hair-- the pain was blinding. 

"Your spoiled brat of a boyfriend won't even pay for the damages," Daniel hissed in my face. His breath was warm, but in the most unpleasant way; it made me squirm as a tear spilled down my cheek. "Not a cent! The fucking Godfrey lawyers are blocking everything my family could've ever gotten as a compensation!"

I didn't manage to kick him away, no matter how hard I tried. "For a car?!" I yelled. "For a fucking car, Daniel?! Let me go!--"

"It's not about the car!" Daniel shouted, a few drops of spit landing on my face as I grimaced. "It's about the person driving it, you psycho!" 

"I don't-- Fuck!" It was impossible not to curse at the agony. It didn't help that he was now dragging my head backwards, making me wonder whether he'd snap my neck. Would he? Would he actually? "I don't remember anything! I don't-- I don't fucking know! Were you in it?!"

This only seemed to anger him further, and Daniel proceeded to bend down next to me to properly get up in my face. I wondered whether he saw how clumpy my mascara was getting from the heavy tears weighing down on my lashes. I wondered whether he perhaps was hard right now from staring at the terrified look on my face. I wondered if he'd be sadistic enough to shove his dick down my throat if he was. These thoughts only made me panic more, yet I felt my body going limp from the pain; my hands were still fighting. I was still trying. There was no way I'd give up, but it also felt like there was no way for me to win.

"Not a single thing?" Daniel hissed, fury burning in his eyes. "You don't remember how you and your prick boyfriend left my father bleeding in his car? You don't remember how he swerved off the road and got the front of his car completely smashed in?!"

The more I tried to conjure the image, the more the feeling of all-taking panic and dread infiltrated my veins. I tried to claw his hands out of my hair, my nails digging into his skin, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how?--

My current state unlocked the one I had been in on the day of the crash. 

And with the panic, I remembered everything. 

Tick. 

Tick tick.

I could almost hear Roman's voice. 

Tick tick tick.

Right now, I was there.

I was living through it again.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The sun was blinding, although the air was cold. I hurried down the steps of the school that day, running to Roman.

"Where were you?"

I was confused. "I was just!--"

"I've been waiting here for, like, ten minutes!" Roman hissed, getting up from the bonnet of his car. He was in the middle of what I could only call a fit of fury, and his hands were flying as he marched towards me with heavy, angry steps; "Get in the fucking car!" He grabbed a hold of my arm, forcefully pulling me toward him.

I let out a squeal of shock, yet I didn't resist. It was impossible not to jump when he put me in the passenger seat and slammed the door behind me. "What the hell, Roman? What's gotten into you today?!" 

When he got in the driver's seat, he didn't waste any time turning the engine on. "I don't like you lingering in math class," he grumbled, fixing his hair in the rearview mirror. Typical. If Roman had been a woman, he'd have been the type to get extensions and acrylic nails; I was sure of it, with how obsessed he was with his looks. "I don't need you fraternizing any more with the enemy than you already have."

"The enemy?-- Are we talking about Letha?!"

"Yes!" he barked, driving out of the school parking lot with a little too much speed. Had he not been the son of Olivia Godfrey, I was convinced he'd have about a dozen parking tickets for this type of driving. 

"Roman, are you serious right now?!"

"Dead serious,"

"You're being crazy!"

That was it for Roman, who immediately started yelling; "Don't fucking talk to me about crazy! You wanna see real crazy?! Let me crash the car and laugh as we bleed out on the side of the road, then you'll see that I'm acting more than reasonably!"

Instinctively, I reached for the handle of the car door. My breath was stuck in a loop in my chest, too thick to pass my trachea. "Please stop shouting," I echoed. "You're scaring me."

Roman's ears were red with anger. I used to think it was a cute trait of his, all until he threatened to kill us both in this vehicle. However, at the frail sound of my voice, he glanced at me for a second or two as he leaned one arm on the rolled-down car window; his big, green eyes rounded out with the realization, with the weight of his words. "I'm not--" He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the road. "I'm not being serious. I wouldn't actually do that, you know me."

I could see the guilt settling in the lines of his brows coming together, yet my breath had yet to escape me; it was hard to think while being suffocated. "Stop the car,"

"Baby, I'm about to get on the highway!--"

"-- Stop the fucking car!"

Roman's anger returned as he struck the steering wheel, ignoring the way I jumped; "Fine!" With the speed he was driving at, it didn't take long before he managed to park by the road. He turned to me with a fed-up look in his eyes, one that brought my blood to a boil. It only got worse with the next words rolling off his tongue; "Christ, woman, what is it?" 

For the first time in my life, I hoped I'd get superpowers and lazer-blast his stupid head off. Watch it blow and fly away in chunks, with his blood splattering all over the car. I bet it was the same dark-red color as his beloved Jaguar. Without saying a word, knowing I'd only spew profanities at him if I stayed, I made my way out of the car despite there not being a walkable road in sight.

"Hey-- Come on!" Roman yelled, watching as I started walking away on the side of the road. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

I shivered with the incoming breeze. "Far away from you!" Pissed out of my mind, I wrapped myself tightly in my jacket and ignored the sight of a car passing by me at full speed. 

Roman got out of the car with haste, following me with urgency in his steps. "I'm not gonna drive us into a tree, I was just trying to make a point!" he yelled, dragging his hands through his hair to make sure his hairstyle was preserved in the wind. "Baby, please, come back here!--"

"It's not about that!" I yelled back, turning around to face him. Now, there were only a couple of meters between us as we gazed at each other, one with remorse, one with fury. "You say that you trust me, and then you explode when I come back a few minutes late from my class with Letha!"

"Well, of course I'm!--"

"No!" I barked, clenching my fists. "You've been acting so damn weird ever since the day we exchanged the ancient blood capsules, or whatever the fuck they are! You're being erratic! Are you still on cocaine, maybe? Have you relapsed?"

Roman's mouth opened and closed, offended. "I'm not on drugs!" he shouted, flailing his hands to make his point. "I'm not crazy!" 

"Rome, you can tell me!" It felt as though my heart was beating out of my chest, and I pressed my hands to the thumping motions of it. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes; this whole week with Roman had been so weird, intense, and it had all come down to this. All this pain, all these emotions. "I'm your girlfriend, I care about you more than anything else in the world, you can tell me if you're back to!--"

"I'm not on drugs! I'm not crazy!" He was chanting it to himself now. 

"I can get you the help you need, Rome, please!--"

"I'm not!" With the last boom of his voice, Roman seemed to grow taller on the spot. I was sure I was imagining the way his pupils dilated, the way his jaw twitched, and how he genuinely seemed to be growing an inch or two on the spot, as though he was about to pounce on me. 

Was I maybe tired? That had to be it. After math class, my brain was always fried, anyway. Nonetheless, my breath hitched in my chest as I took a step back in blinding fear-- yet what I thought was a step back, was more of a step to the left. I didn't have much control over my body as my hands trembled, paralyzed at the sight before me. Roman didn't look like himself. It was him, I was sure it was the man I loved, yet something was so terribly off. 

I hadn't realized I was standing in the road.

I was frozen to my spot.

I couldn't move. 

And as the sound of a car honking repeatedly hit my ears, I saw nothing but the way Roman's pupils shrunk in an instant. Sheer panic filled his eyes. I barely registered how he got to me, but it took him less than a second when it should've taken him at least three. 

Roman was too late, yet exactly on time-- it felt like a breeze wrapped itself around me with the swiftness of light, and before I knew it, I screamed as I was lifted off the ground and swept up in his arms. Too scared to register where we were, I only felt the prickling of grass in my hair as I soon heard a crash, a bang, and an alarm going off. 

I held onto Roman's strong body for dear life as my high-pitched screams refused to subside, and tears welled up in my eyes which were squeezed shut in fear. He had wrapped himself around me in a protective hold and made sure I had landed on top of him in the grass by the road, a little too far from where we should've naturally landed, and Roman clutched onto the fabric of my jacket as he tried to shake me out of my shock. 

It didn't work. My throat was getting sore, and I was trembling like a wet, abandoned kitten. 

"Are you hurt?" Roman called out. "Hey, are you hurt?!"

With my next sob, the words came rushing out; "N-No!" 

He let out a sigh of relief as he pressed me tighter to his chest, now stroking the back of my head and kissing my teary cheeks. "You're alright. It's okay, I'm here, you're alright," he cooed, gently rolling me down to the grass beside him. 

I didn't want to let him go. I held onto his hair like a newborn, sobbing. "I'm sorry! I-I'm so, so-- so sorry!--"

"Shh, it's okay," Roman kissed my lips which were salty with tears. "It's not your fault, it's okay. Try to breathe, alright?"

I would've stayed like that, horrified and shell-shocked at our near meet with death, had I not heard pained groans in the distance. I dared to open my eyes, and immediately saw the cloud of smoke coming from the car with the peeping noise. There was a man groaning in pain, and his body was splayed over the steering wheel. And just as I didn't think it could get any worse, I saw the indent of a footprint in the car door-- 

My shaking subsided as I rose from the grass, sitting up in a zombie-like state. My eyes refused to leave the image before me. 

Had Roman... kicked the car away?

Had he kicked a car coming our way at about a hundred kilometers an hour?

Before I could ponder it any longer, Roman grabbed my chin with the gentlest touch known to man and turned me to him. He didn't have a single scratch on him. Shouldn't he be gasping in pain at the blow of landing on his back with me on top of him? His eyes were round, worried, as he scanned me for any injuries. "How does your head feel? Are you dizzy? You didn't hit your head, did you?"

"No," I breathed. "Roman, the car--"

"Fuck that for a second, do I need to take you to a hospital?" The look in his eyes quickly went from worried to crazed, like he was angry that I was choosing to have sympathy for the person in the car instead of caring about myself first. 

I blinked. Once. Twice. "Roman?"

"Yes?"

"The guy in there might be dead. Or dying," 

"I know," he echoed. "But he might also be bleeding."

"Exactly," With shaky steps, I tried to raise myself to the ground. The beeping of the car was driving me mad with guilt and worry. "He might be bleeding, so we need to--"

"Call an ambulance, I know," 

"No, we need to check if he's!--"

"Bleeding? Dying? Yeah, I can't," Roman grabbed my hand, forcing me to look into his eyes. They were round with a look I hadn't seen before, like he was trying to convey something I'd hopefully understand. "I shouldn't go near it when it's that much fresh blood." He squeezed my fingers before he brought them to his lips, kissing my knuckles. "And you're about to faint."

"... What?" 

"You have about five seconds,"

"How do you?--"

"I'm not crazy," Roman said, an end statement. "I'll make sure you won't remember most of this, but trust me. I'll take care of it."

The worst thing was that he was right. I couldn't do anything to stop it when I started seeing white spots, and I let out a panicked yell. It felt like my head was caving into itself; that was a feeling that would stay with me. I covered my ears before I realized I couldn't feel my toes, and just as I went down, Roman went up to catch me in his arms.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

And as I faded out of the memory, it took longer than expected to snap out of it.

I was done.

Done.

I was so, so sure, and I had no idea why everything was black, why I couldn't move, why I felt my lungs freeze over with the inability to breathe.

It lasted for too long. Way too long. An eternity. 

Again.

Up until it felt like a scream was being dragged out of me by force, again, like someone had grabbed a hold of my tongue and tugged me forward, again-- the bright lights of the school hallway shone through my lids before they sprung open in pure panic, and I arched off the ground with a gasp for air.

It felt like I was taking my first breaths again, or like I had been drowning, all over again. I clawed at my hands, my nails digging into the fabric of my dress, suffocating, suffocating, dying, tearing, tearing, panic, panic, why, where, how, again?—

There was a release. I no longer felt like my neck was about to snap, and there was no longer pressure on my scalp as I was released from Daniel's grip on my hair. My body fell limp against the floor as I heard a loud thud to my right along with a shrill cry of pain. 

As I slowly came back to my senses, I realized that Daniel was being repeatedly punched against the lockers by none other than Roman Godfrey. There was no way for him to fight off the repeated attacks, no way at all, as Roman's fist landed blow after blow with no mercy.

"Rome," I wheezed, coughing and wincing as I tried to get up from the floor. I barely had any power in my body anymore-- it didn't work.

The sound of his nickname had Roman letting go of Daniel in an instant, who fell limp to the floor with a cry of pain. Roman looked completely out of it; his green eyes were wild with fury, worry, and an untameable thirst for revenge. I hadn't seen him like this before, so possessed. 

He opened his mouth to say something, yet Daniel let out a wail; "He can't even walk anymore, Godfrey! You fuckers left my father in a coma, and when he woke up, he was fucking paralyzed from the neck down!" 

My head was pounding. This couldn't be true. This was a nightmare.

"You ruined his life!" Daniel yelled, tears spilling down his cheeks as he tried to get up. "And you ruined mine! You took my father from me, and he will never be the same again!"

Roman took several deep breaths. It was clear that he wanted to beat Daniel to a pulp, yet he was holding back. "You think I wanted any of that?" he tried, balling his fists. "Accidents happen all the fucking time!--"

"He says you kicked the car!" Daniel shouted. His voice was shaking. Profusely. It dawned on me how scared he truly looked. "That you-- you kicked it off the road!"

Roman's fists remained clenched. "Did you maybe have too much of the punch?" he asked, attempting to incorporate a calm tone. "You can't possibly be hearing yourself now, Goldman. Explain how I'm supposed to have kicked away a car coming at me at full speed?"

Daniel's lower lip trembled as it caught a few of his tears. "Everyone knows something's wrong with you, Godfrey. It's just a matter of time until someone figures out your secret," A beat. A snarl. "You're a freak."

There was a long pause. Roman was so furious that he could only glare. I could see the way his jaw clenched and how his hands were now balled so tightly they were shaking. 

Daniel caught onto it. Despite looking scared out of his mind, tears still staining his cheeks, he conjured a victorious smile which only confused me further. "You gonna hit me again? You gonna beat me to a pulp in front of your girl?" He nodded towards me, a mocking laugh following as his eyes shone with evil glee.

Roman's eye twitched. I held my breath. 

"You think she'll stay with you once she knows what you're capable of? You think she'll still be yours?" Daniel wiped his nose, staring up at Roman through his brows with his vicious eyes. "You and I are one and the same. The way she looks at me, the hate, the disgust? You're going to know exactly how I feel."

"No," Roman hissed, breathless. "I'm nothing like you," 

"Oh yeah? Do you really believe that?" 

"You're scum!--"

"And you're a fucking sadist, just like me!" Daniel didn't even try to wipe the grin off his beaten face. He simply sighed as he rested his head against the lockers, closing his eyes as though he was reliving his best day; "Bet you would've killed to see the look she had in her eyes when I nearly snapped her neck in half, just before you came... The tears, the fear. She has these pretty whimpers when she's in pain, y'know?" Daniel opened his eyes, staring up at Roman through his brows. "Are you going to let me get away with that?"

I couldn't stay quiet anymore; the panicked cry I let out was unlike anything I ever had before. "No, don't listen to him!--"

"I would've left her here for you to find, just like what you two did to my father!" Daniel chanted. "I would've ruined her, and it would've been all your fault, Godfrey!"

That was it. It was over. I knew it the second those words filled the hallway. His fault. 

Roman snapped. He yelled out in fury, and his hands flew to Daniel's neck where he was on the floor, crushing his windpipes along with any hope for breaths or protests. The look in Roman's eyes was too wild, too uncontrolled, too unstable for my liking-- he looked like he was two seconds away from snapping his neck like a twig, just like what Daniel would've done to me.

"Stop it!" I screamed, terror freezing me to my spot. "Stop it, Roman, stop!--"

"Do-- it!" Daniel wheezed, grinning. "Show her-- what a monster you are!"

My heart was pounding in my ears. No, no, no!

Roman's voice boomed throughout the hallway; "I will break your fucking hands if you touch her again, do you hear me?!"

The amusement in Daniel's eyes quickly disintegrated into abject horror. It was the lack of air. This was the moment he realized one very crucial detail; that all his taunting, all his encouragement, could actually get him very, very badly hurt. "W-Wait--"

"Do you hear me?!"

"Y-Yes!--"

"I will tear you apart!" Roman yelled, tightening his grip. "Is that what you want?!"

Daniel's face was turning a peculiar shade of purple as panic settled in his body. His hands went to Roman's, clawing at them, but to no avail. It was essentially a match he couldn't ever hope to win. It would've been impossible. Roman was too strong, too quick, too sharp-- Daniel didn't stand a chance.

I didn't think it could yet worse, yet somehow it did. In a moment which shouldn't have been possible, not so easily, Roman dragged Daniel's sputtering body up along the locker, lifting him from the ground with no exertion or effort. It made me gasp as I propped myself up from the floor, tears rushing down my cheeks as I watched the scene before me, scared into silence.

When Daniel's legs were dangling off the floor, I knew he had a few seconds before he was out. It was clear in the way his eyes started bulging and how his hands fell limp by his sides. 

Roman's last words were chilling; "Let me show you how much of a monster I can be,"

Daniel let out a short, defeated wheeze. Had he not been choking, it would've been a laugh. He had won, but now he had to pay the price. He squeezed his eyes shut with his last efforts, ready for the beating of his life, all until--

"No, that's enough!" I cried, exhausted by the terror. "Roman, enough!"

It was as though something changed in Roman at the sound of my voice, and the veins were no longer bulging from his hands as he realized the weight of what he had been about to do. With that, he let go of Daniel, who collapsed down along the lockers for the second time tonight; air rushed to his lungs with massive gulps, and his face was no longer purple from the blood rushing to his face.

Now that I remembered everything from the day of the crash, I saw the similarities. The way Roman seemed somewhat taller, how unnaturally wide his pupils dilated, and the way his jaw twitched. 

For the first time, I was seeing him for what he truly might be.

For what he... was. 

Upirism lives beneath their skin, scratches at their teeth, and corrupts their minds through dark urges in constant attempts to drive them to the edge of genesis. Do you suspect you are a upir, or do you recognize a darkness in your loved ones? 

I do.

I do.

Gulping, I finally found the courage and strength to get off the floor. My hands were shaking, and so were my knees-- I was sure my mascara had stained my cheeks at this point, and I felt more breathless than ever as I faced the man I loved. 

What made everything worse, was that Roman looked more beautiful than ever. Hair disheveled, broad shoulders raising with every shaky breath, lips parted. The tux only added to the sight-- he was perfect. Despite the sleeves of his jacket being rolled up, and a part of his shirt being untucked from his pants, he was perfect, and he always would be. His round, green eyes were barely green with how big his pupils were, pulsing with adrenaline; "Are you okay?" he asked, taking a step forward and away from Daniel. "Are you hurt? You were practically unconscious when I came--" 

Roman's words came to a halt when he saw how quickly I took a step back.

My breath was stuck in my chest. I couldn't speak. 

"You look scared. Don't be," he tried. "He's fine, see?" Roman turned around to face Daniel's body, where he lay limp and barely conscious, and proceeded to shortly kick him. 

It made me gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth as Daniel let out a pained whimper. My stomach felt uneasy-- I really didn't want to throw up here.

When Roman saw my horror, he immediately took a step away from Daniel. It hadn't yet dawned on him why I was so scared. "I'm so sorry about this," he said. "I'm sorry I stepped away. I should've never left your side."

I tried to speak, yet nothing would come out. Only tears rushed from my system, peaking at my chin before dripping down to the floor. 

Suddenly, there was a loud cheer from down the hall, a reminder of the prom going on just a door away. It made me jump, frozen in fear.

It was clear that Roman found it to be ironic, and he alternated between glancing down the hall and looking at me. "You still look good," he mumbled, a trying smile tugging at the corners of his perfect lips. Those perfect, plush lips that used to softly press against mine. Was he hoping we could go back inside and act like nothing had happened? "I have a comb you can use, if you want? The mascara is easy to wipe away, I think, and I bet there'll be no one in the restroom, so we can both go and fix ourselves and--"

When he took another step forward, I took another step back.

Roman stilled. His eyes softened with hurt. "Baby,"

I shook my head. That was the only thing I could do.

"Didn't you hear what he was saying? He wanted to-- wanted to do all these awful things to you, I had to do this,"

I couldn't breathe. 

Roman insisted; "I was just protecting you," Despite his calm tone, I spotted the slight shake he had to his hands. "Don't think about all that bullshit he said, okay? He's not in his right mind, he's clearly insane!--"

"His dad, Roman!" My ability to speak returned to me with my growing frustration.

"-- Was a very sad, tragic thing, yes! I'm not denying it!" With the next step Roman took, I stayed in place. He let out a string of controlled, short breaths, trying to calm himself down. "But he didn't have to come after you. I would've given him the money he needed, but it's my mom who controls the assets. All our dear Daniel had to do, was to talk to me. No one had to get hurt."

I squeezed my eyes shut, yet my tears still fell past my lashes. 

Roman let out a sigh which resembled a soft hum. "All that matters is that you're okay. That's all that matters. To me, you're all that matters,"

As his big hands framed my face, holding me when he finally got close enough, I still didn't open my eyes. I couldn't. I was scared out of my mind. Roman's touch was no longer a comfort-- it was chilling to know that they were choking someone less than a minute ago. 

"Are you scared?" he whispered, worry coating his deep voice. "You don't have to be scared of me, I'm not-- I'm not some monster."

I couldn't believe him. His words echoed in my head. Let me show you how much of a monster I can be. 

Let me show you.

"I'm not," Roman insisted. He didn't sound like he believed it much himself. "I'm all yours, only yours. That's all I am, and that's all that I ever will be. You need to know that."

Let me show you.

"Please look at me," 

Let me show you.

"Please," he begged. "I-- I've made some mistakes, but I'm still your Roman. Can't you stomach it anymore? Is me wanting to protect you repulsive to you?" 

I shook my head; not at all. My hands found his chest, feeling it raise against my palms. I used to lay there. Fall asleep there, listening to his beating heart. 

"What did you want me to do, then?" Roman whispered. "You're my everything. You're everything. I couldn't let him get away with doing all of that, I-- I couldn't. I'm sorry if it scared you, I'm sorry you had to see me like that, and I'm so sorry I ever left... I should've stayed with you. I'm a fool. I should've stayed and heard what you wanted to tell me."

I didn't need to look at him to know he was crying, now. His voice was breaking. Actively. It shattered me. 

"Cause... you still want to tell me, right?" 

Something told me he knew what I had wanted to tell him.

My hand crept further up Roman's broad chest as I quietly sobbed, my whole body shaking. My fingers were at his neck, tracing his soft skin.

Roman's grip on my face tightened in desperation, yet his voice came out in a frail, low murmur; "Please-- Please tell me," 

I love you. I love you. If only Roman could read minds. I couldn't conjure the words, not in this state. 

My silence only broke him further. Hopeless, he pressed his tear-stained lips to mine in a sheer cry for mercy. "Please," he whispered between repeated kisses I couldn't reciprocate. "Please-- Please--"

My fingers had managed to slip between the two top buttons of his shirt, and they now grazed the vial of my blood around his neck. As Roman continued to kiss me, desperately pressing my body up against his, I let out a sob as I twisted the capsule, just like I had once practiced; his breath hitched as I wrapped my hand around the vial, clutching it as I pulled it away from him without a word.

Roman's hold on my face disappeared as his hands floated an inch away from my face, his big eyes watery with hurt and confusion. 

I told myself it was for the best. The blood had poisoned his thoughts for too long. 

My first step away was slow, trying.

Tick.

Tick tick.

My second was quickly followed by a sprint down the hallway, away from Roman, away from Daniel, away from everything.

Tick tick tick.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Have you ever thought about death? Of course you have, everyone has-- but have you ever felt it?

It felt like I was dying for the hundredth time this week. The agony was pressing at the sides of my head, and it made me hope it would finally cave in on itself just to spare me the torture of being awake. 

It was the fear that brought me to Letha's doorstep. The thing I didn't want to be true. Everything had balled up into a ginormous travesty of a boulder, and I could no longer try to push it over the side of the mountain-- I was no Sisyphus. 

I couldn't begin to comprehend how shocked Letha must've been when she opened the door. She opened and closed her mouth, scanning the mascara which had stained my cheeks, and the state of the top of my hair. "What the fuck?" she cursed under her breath, grabbing my hand to pull me inside. "What are you doing here? What happened?"

I felt like a shell of the person I used to be. Like I had been cracked open like a lobster, with someone actively scooping out my insides. Letha's house smelled of expensive fragrance sticks you'd buy from Rituals-- I recognized the one she had in her house at the moment, the ritual of hammam. It was her favorite, I remembered that much. I felt at home. It was an odd feeling.

"Your dress," Unsure what to do, Letha bent down to fix the way my dress fell. "Seriously, what happened?--"

"A while ago, you said you wanted to tell me the truth about Roman," My voice was sharp, hollow, as I stared at the girl who was once my best friend. I had cried into her shoulder before, we had shared countless laughs-- what had I done? "What was it?"

Letha stilled with shock when she straightened up, meeting my troubled gaze. "Shouldn't you be at prom?"

"Letha, I need!--"

"Where even is, Roman, actually?"

"You need to tell me!" I cried. "You need-- I need to know, I need to hear it from you, because I need someone to tell me that I've gone crazy!"

With slow motions, Letha stretched out her hands to place them gently on my shoulders. "Let's take some deep breaths, okay? Whatever this is, I bet you and Roman will get through this. Did you have a fight? It can be painful to argue with your boyfriend, and it really can feel like you're going crazy. I get it, and--"

"-- I have this book," I interrupted, feeling my tears press up against my lashes once more. "It's really long and dreadful, but I've read the whole thing over and over about five times now."

The worry streaking across Letha's face turned into a look of confusion. "Okay...? As long as it's not Fifty Shades again, I'm listening,"

It was odd to speak to someone that knew me so well. She knew I had read that stupid book several times, despite how ridiculous it could be at times. It almost threw me off. "The more I read the book, the more I saw the... similarities with Roman,"

Letha grimaced; "Fifty Shades?"

"No! The other one!"

"Oh, alright. Phew,"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. I was exhausted. "You said I deserved to know the truth about him, so I'm begging you, Letha, to put everything aside," My breath struggled to steady. "What was it?"

Her palms lifted from my shoulders. "I-- I don't know how to say it, or whether I should tell you at all. I only ever mentioned it because I thought you were in danger, but--" Letha stilled. It was clear on her face that she knew she had said too much.

"Danger?" I echoed. "Letha?"

With a quick hitch of her breath, Letha made her way past me with hasty steps and disappeared into the living room.

"Please!" I followed her, watching as she paced back and forth in the big room, anxiously biting her nails. "Letha, I need to hear it from you, I need to know that I'm wrong, I need to hear that it's something else than what I think it is!"

"I-- I don't, I can't!--"

"Tell me!"  I needed to hear it out loud. I burned to hear it from someone else than the voice in my head.

"N-No, I!--"

"Letha!"

"It's too-- I can't!--"

"Say it!" 

Letha stilled with the boom of my voice. She stared back at me from across the room, no longer pacing as she finally dared to face the crazed look in my eyes. There was a long pause, a silence that laid itself over us like a cold blanket-- "What book was it?" she breathed.

"The--" I hated this title. "The avoidable vampirism, the--" I couldn't say the word. I couldn't.

Letha nodded. It was barely noticeable, and it resembled an involuntary tic. "Yes,"

Yes?

"Yes, he is,"

"Say it," I whispered. "Please."

Letha closed her eyes, resigning;

"Roman's a upir,"

The house was dead silent. You could've heard a pin drop. There were faint remnants of the wind brushing past the large tree outside the property, with the rustling of the leaves filling the sonic void. Letha wasn't moving. Neither was I. How does one process such news? It was a peculiar feeling-- I felt like I had already known for a long time. There was no shockwave, as I had expected there to be. 

"Ah," was all I said. It left Letha to raise a brow, visibly off-put by my reaction. 

I nodded to myself a couple times, glancing around the living room I used to know better than the back of my hand. A small huff escaped me, similarly to a laugh; I wondered whether my brain was melting. It surely felt like it. 

For a second, I thought that was it. That there would be no blow to the reveal. That I was handling it surprisingly well, and that it'd be the end of it. However, the more breaths I took, the less I felt like I was breathing. The less I felt I was breathing, the more I could feel the painful thumping of my heart against my ribs, every beat serving as a reminder that I was still alive, still in this moment, still processing. 

My breath got stuck in my throat with the next heave-- my hands flew to my necklace, trying to find the clasp. It was too tight, too tight. With shaking fingers, I tried to get it off, needed it off, right now. It didn't work, no matter how hard I tried, and my eyes welled with tears as I ripped my necklace off with a gasp, hoping I'd finally be able to breathe. The beads rolled along the hardwood floors as I clutched at my chest, hitting my chest in hopes that air would fill it.

Letha's big, green eyes were filled with worry as she rushed to me, unsure how to help. "Hey, hey, breathe, okay?--"

The corset of my dress was suddenly an agonizing pressure around my waist, and my fingers went to the ribbons at the back to slacken it. It didn't work, no matter what I tried, and the sob I let out was followed by a broken plea; "Help-- H-Help!--" 

Letha hurried to get behind me as I slowly sank to the floor, choking on my tears as she untied the ribbons at full speed. My hands were tearing at my dress, choking with my last breaths as I descended into the heap of tulle around me-- I tried to scream, yet no sound would come. 

In a last attempt, Letha grabbed the ribbons with full force and pulled them apart, ripping the fabric in half as my corset finally came apart. 

What followed was a mix of a sob and a heave, a choked sound filling the room as I leaned forward into the tulle, taking sharp breaths of release. I could finally breathe. I was breathing again. I wept into my hands as Letha's soft hands stroked my exposed back, sitting down on the floor next to me as she brought my body as close to hers as she could. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm so, so sorry."

I shook in her arms, drowning in tears. It was true. Roman was a upir. I had been right all along, yet I had also been stupid enough to suppress it. The sadness, the heartbreak, that hit me felt like a death-sentence, and I held onto Letha as my whole body trembled with the realization; "I love him," I cried. "I love-- I love him!"

"I know," Letha stroked my hair, sighing. "I tried to get to you before you got that far, but there always comes a point when you can no longer do anything. I've learned that the hard way, now."

This was worse than death. "What do I do?" I breathed. "I don't-- I don't know what to do!"

"... You know what you have to do," 

It only made me clutch onto her harder, and I squeezed my eyes shut in hopes of stopping the stream of tears. I wondered how I had any more of them in my system. "I don't-- think I can!"

"I only want what's best for you," Letha cooed, patting away my fallen tears. "And I know that Roman can be charming, and he can be very nice when he wants to be, but... now that you know what he is, how are you going to believe him ever again? He's lied to you all this time, and he would've never told you himself. You're aware that he's putting you in danger every time he's near you?"

I shook my head; "N-No, Roman would never!--"

"If you read a whole book about upirs, you probably know what he's capable of?"

"He'd never-- never hurt me!--"

"Maybe he wouldn't hurt you, but you know he can control people, right?" Letha sighed once more, tilting my head upwards so that I would meet her eyes. "He did that to me our whole childhood. His favorite thing to do in the winter was to make me stick my tongue on metal poles and watch me cry when I couldn't detach it."

What? "But!--"

"How can you ever be sure that your actions are yours?" Letha's eyes were so intense, so desperate to get her point across. "How can you ever trust him again?"

How many times hadn't I thought he was mesmerizing me? I could count them on my fingers, but the thought was still unsettling. "I... don't know,"

Letha shifted to sit on her knees, watching my mascara paint my cheeks with long, black streaks. "I'm glad you came to me," she murmured, softening her look. "I'm glad you see that I'm the only one that can help you. We should put everything behind us and stick together again, and we have to. I'm all you have now. Roman... he's dangerous. You're safe with me."

I was so, so tired. I didn't have the energy to fight the free help coming my way, yet... something felt off. "He's not dangerous," I tried, in denial. "He's--"

"He's what?" Letha insisted, hardening her gaze. This was giving me whiplash. "Seriously! He could snap any day, can't you see?! And who would be closest to him the day he's overcome with thirst?" 

"No!--"

"It'd be you!" Letha grabbed my face, and it only made my tears flow faster, hanging from my quivering chin. "It'd be you, and I can't lose you again, not in that way!"

The more my vision blurred, the weaker I felt. "I love him,"

"I know,"

"I-- I love him,"

"But you need to love yourself more," she whispered. Letha let go of my face, wrapping her arms around me in a warm embrace. She smelled just like she did all those months ago. My best friend, Letha. I missed her more than anything. 

How could I ever love anything or anyone more than I loved Roman? I didn't have space for that in my body. I didn't have the capacity. 

"Do it for your life," Letha pleaded, her voice smooth as honey. It felt like she was talking me to sleep. "Please."

A life without Roman? I couldn't imagine it. Not when we had promised each other forever.

But... forever for him probably meant forever. 

Roman is a upir. 

Roman is a upir.

I let out another cry into Letha's shoulder; this was a nightmare I wouldn't ever wake up from.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

When you get devastating news, you never think of what happens afterward. It's similar to when someone dies-- you get the news, in comes the shock, and then you get handed the papers on what to do with the body. No one ever thinks about having to design the flyer for the funeral, right? 

There is a certain weight in your body as you go through the motions you know you have to go through. Your hands feel heavy as you hold your next meal before your mouth, realizing that life moves on, whether you want it to or not. You still need to drink water, eat, wake up, and function. 

And just as I opened the door to my empty home, I felt all of that at once. I wanted to freak out and sob in despair to the end of my days, yet I had to get back home. I had to get out of the clothes Letha had given me after I ruined my dress, I had to eat something to fill my rumbling stomach, and I had to sleep. How was I supposed to do any of that when it felt like my world was crashing down on me?

It felt like someone had pressed a button at the top of my head, putting me on auto-pilot. I didn't even notice that I was still wearing my jacket as I made my way to the kitchen with heavy steps, mindlessly opening the fridge and taking a... cucumber?

Why was I holding a cucumber?

Fuck it.

I couldn't think. I didn't even close the fridge. My mind was empty as I put it down on the kitchen island, not even bothering to find a cutting board. I didn't want to think. The more I thought, the more I thought about Roman. Roman and his perfect lips, Roman and his beautiful laugh, Roman and his green, green, green eyes. Roman, the man I loved. Roman, the upir. 

Involuntary tears rushed down my cheeks as my face remained stoic. I was exhausted. I had no idea how I was still moving. My hands were mindlessly tapping the kitchen surfaces around me, hoping I'd somehow find a knife that way. Not that I'd be particularly successful, but maybe I didn't want to be? I wasn't even planning on washing the cucumber. Maybe I hoped the germs would kill me. Could you die from an unwashed cucumber? I had no idea. There was probably a higher possibility that Roman would kill me first. 

... I hated that thought. 

I wish I didn't have to have it.

However, as my hands found the selection of knives, I heard a sound coming from behind me. It came from the other side of the kitchen island, the one I had my back turned to. I didn't think much of it first; houses creak all the time, surely. But then came the scrape-- a deliberate, jarring screech of a chair being pulled out from the kitchen island.

My parents were out of town. 

Someone was in my house.

Someone was pulling out a chair.

I froze, every muscle in my body locking up, my breath catching in my throat.  The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps sent a chill crawling down my spine. They weren’t hurried or hesitant-- they were purposeful, unhurried, as though whoever was there wanted me to hear.

I gripped the counter with trembling fingers, my pulse hammering in my ears. I didn’t dare look back, but every inch of me screamed to run. My fingers brushed the cold handle of the biggest knife I could find, finally. The familiar fight-or-flight surged through me, but I couldn’t choose. All I could do was grip the knife and hold it as though it were a lifeline.

When the footsteps stopped, I thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, I had imagined it. 

But then-- the breath.

A low, soft exhale just inches behind me.

Now or never. I spun around with a panicked yell, the knife held high, ready to plunge it into whoever had invaded my home-- My scream got stuck in my throat when the blade pointed at the chest of a tall figure standing in the dark, his face barely illuminated by the faint glow of the refrigerator light.

Roman.

Roman didn't even bother to stop me, didn't jump away, nothing. The tip of my knife was barely dipping into his solar plexus, yet I was sure it would've been enough to draw blood on any other person; it didn't even pierce his skin. 

I couldn't believe what was happening. He somehow didn't look like himself-- it was Roman like I’d never seen him before. His expression was blank, too blank, the kind of blank that made my stomach churn. He didn’t flinch at the blade hovering just below his sternum. His green eyes locked onto mine with a kind of detachment, as though I wasn’t holding a weapon to his chest at all.

“You done?” he said, his voice carrying an eerie stillness.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. My knuckles whitened around the handle.

Roman’s eyes flickered down to the blade, then back to me. “Put it down,” he said, his tone measured but firm.

“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

Roman took a quiet step back, glancing down at the large knife I was holding at him with an unreadable emotion shimmering in his big, green eyes. "Right..." he huffed, sucking in a sharp breath. His gaze darted up to meet mine in the dark of the kitchen. "Is that how you want to do this?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. There was no other way, not when I knew the truth. 

Roman’s lips parted, and the breath that escaped wasn’t human—it was low, steady, and calculating, like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze locked onto the knife, then slowly dragged up to meet mine. His pupils were darker now, swallowing the green of his eyes, and the silence between us stretched too long.

“If you’re gonna do it, don't hesitate,” Roman's voice was soft, yet laced with something cold and merciless. He took a single step forward, the tip of the knife now pressing harder against his chest. “You won’t get another chance.”

I gasped, stumbling back, but Roman didn’t follow. He stayed in the shadows, his figure looming over me like some unholy force. “Fine. This is how it's gonna go,” he continued, his tone so calm it made my blood run cold. “You’re going to put that down and listen. No running, no screaming. I deserve that much."

I tightened my grip on the knife, my chest heaving. “Why should I listen to you?"

A huff-- Roman was pissed. "Cause I'm really not in the mood for chasing you. It'd be over in less than three seconds, and that's never fun," Roman's voice dropped to a near whisper; "You wanna fight me, or do you want to be smart about this?"

I didn't lower my knife. I couldn't. "Alright," I breathed. "Talk, then."

Roman tilted his head, studying me, his lips curving into the faintest ghost of a smirk-- it didn't reach his eyes. "There you go," he said. 

"Good girl."

(a/n: ... are u still breathing? cause I'm not!!!! AGHHH😭 thank you for reading this if you got this far, this is so so much lore so if your brain is overheating pls pls go grab an icecream, you deserve it, and I LOVE YOUUU MWAHHH CAN'T WAIT TO SHOW Y'ALL THE REST OF THIS STORY!!)

here are all the chapters!<3: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12

loveliest taglist of all time:

@mentallyscreamingsincebirth @putherup @corawithfanfiction @vladsgirlxx

@iamaslytherin0 @sexualparkour @the-universe-is-complicated @heavenly-bratt

@lafemme-nk @namiusedbubble @useyourwandbro @strmborns @literally-lani

@virgosapphire79 @star-girl-04 @veyzus @ddipotassium @pecxiebu

@mil88691 @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @katifefe @sn0wybowie-blog

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@taintandviolent

[worstgenerationloser]

,, First time? '' (2)

Shanks x GN! Reader

Summary... how does your first time with Shanks go?

Contains... Shanks is sickeningly horny, Shanks has a filthy tongue, penetrative sex, creampie, shanks may or may not have developed a certain kink at the end… he WILL NOT stop talking either

Word count... 0.8k

A/N: oneshot for shanks taken from "Indulgence" read here! Not proofread!

Shanks grunted, plowing his hips forward, driving them deeper into your body, his entire weight shifted ontop of you, his red hair had fallen across the back of your neck, and his arm was wrapping itself around your waist, his heavy, wet breath more than hastened after each lewd plap of his hips meeting your ass. He had barely had anything to drink, for once, he was just a little tipsy, was all.

"You want this so bad— Fuck yeah, you want me?"

Those words whispered in your ear, in a tone of voice that sounded as if he were trying to convince you, as if he wasn't spot on with his accusations. Another string of erotic lines spilled through his teeth, cramming their way into your brain. Oh, how dirty he was, managing something like this could only be achieved by him and him alone, his voice was just so sweet, slipping your shirt off to give you a simple massage, and that was supposed to be it! A massage? Well, technically he was massaging something... Your insides, that was. A filthy mewl escaped your lips with every breath you took, the scent of sex was almost sickening as it was being carried through the air.

Because your voice was so quiet, he could barely make out the soft words of confirmation from you, but he was entirely sure he heard them when you practically screamed them when he adjusted himself, spreading his legs a little wider, his throat bobbing as he swallowed the pooling saliva in his mouth. He pushed himself deeper into you, so deep it practically burned, but it was a pleasant one, atleast.

"Come on... A little more, babe."

Had it been an hour? You sure it has, the evidence of your previous orgasms was splattered in liquid form across the sheets, a pout dawning on his face when he realized he couldn't taste you when he was balls deep inside of you, Shanks compromised by fucking you for as long as he could until you couldn't handle it. Shanks couldn't believe himself, falling in love like this, and maybe he felt a little bad for allowing his hand to go somewhere it definitely shouldn't have, but with such a heavenly result, he was overjoyed.

He panted, hand desperately pawing at you to hold onto something, upon finding your throat a momentary panic settled in, before being washed away by the loud sob of pleasure elicited from your lips. An easy grin took over his face, the grip on your throat firm but not tight, he wouldn't be able to do that with you for just your first time.

"Shit– Gonna cum. Want me to cum inside you? Or should I pull out?"

Although he wasn't gonna disobey you if it just so happened that you, in fact, did not want him to paint your insides white, he was silently begging you to let him, and with a few more deep thrusts he was sure he would start growling like an animal in heat. There wasn't a moment of hesitation in his movements, and he felt like he was on fire, the same adrenaline rush he got during his legendary duels which many had remembered as horrifying to see was eminent now more than ever, a new rush coursing through his veins. A breathy chuckle escaped his lips upon hearing your words of confirmation which you screamed, and now he was really fucking you.

A string of incoherent words which you think were curses somehow managed to slip out of your brain, you couldn't feel anything other than your bare skin pressed into the mattress, a white overtook your brain, sounds you weren't sure you would have ever made echoed into the room, the wet squelching of his cock sliding into your hole with a bit of your own cum smeared across your thighs was practically humiliating, but not necessarily in a bad way. Did it hurt? It stung, you think, he was impossibly deep inside of you and he was already raring for more; the way he was digging inside of you was despicable.

"Wanna be pumped full already, don't ya? Are you getting off on the fact that you got me wrapped around your finger, huh? I waited so, so long for this... Fuck— I'm not stopping after cumming just once; I spoiled you so much already..."

Runny and sticky cum flooded inside of you, both of your thighs shaking. Shanks pushed deeper into you, savoring the feeling of your hole; He didn't care much that his wasted semen was spilling out from where you two were connected, he was just gonna fuck it back into you, anyways.

He couldn't wait until next time, he wondered if he could get even deeper next time he came inside you?