#i would pick at my skin so roughly until i bled many many many times over and ive always been a self harm junkie so NOT GREAT

[postmortamore]

vent time. cw for abuse, bugs, self harm, blah blah blah blah

[undersero]

benefits

repost from my old blog :) 

pairing: toru oikawa x fem! reader [college AU, enemies with benefits]

warnings: hate sex, swearing, degradation, oral sex (female and male receiving), rough & unprotected vaginal sex, squirting.

word count: 2.9k

Everything about him made your skin crawl. He was cocky. Arrogant, childish, irritating, and too clever and cunning for his or anyone else’s own good. Feeling his brown eyes on you caused your blood to boil and bubble with annoyance and rage. His taunting, sly smirk, one reserved for those special times when he was preparing to fuck you, really put you off more than anything else. 

But it’s what turned you on the most. He was good at fucking you- his strokes were always long and languid and powerful, dragging along every spongey little spot inside; this was something you could live with, something you could tolerate. What you couldn’t deal with, though, was the fact that he knew he was good at it- that he knew he could get you to cream on his cock or his fingers or his mouth in no time at all. 

Don’t get it confused, though; this wasn’t completely one sided. He loathed you with every ounce of his being. Your haughtiness when you knew the outcome of something, or knew the answer to something he didn’t. The way your eyes bore into him, seeing through his carefully constructed facade as if it was as easy as opening curtains to a window to see outside. You were headstrong, confident in yourself and your actions, very rarely backing down and constantly, without fail, standing up for everything you thought was right. It pissed him off. How could you have all the confidence that he desperately wished he could possess? Just a bit… if only a drop. 

If pressed, neither of you could commit a guess towards when this all started- when the irritation bubbled up and over both of your control, when the only way you could soothe anything was to fuck it out, to kiss so hard that it made for sore lips. At this point, even if you wanted to stop, even if he wanted to stop… you couldn't. He couldn’t. You two were almost like sharks now; you’d smelled blood in the water and couldn’t pull away from it, couldn’t leave. It was like survival, only it was more potent than that, almost uglier… it seeped into your skin, near where his fingertips held your cheeks so forcefully, and absorbed into your pores, into your cells, into every atom of your entire being until all you knew was that you hated Oikawa, but the only thing you hated more than his stupid handsome face was when he wasn’t fucking you. 

And that’s how you ended up here. 

[text]: are you busy?

You hated, fucking hated, texting him first. And more than that, you absolutely detested how desperate you sounded. You knew he would pick up on it too, and tease you about it in that mocking way of his when he was railing you with your legs tossed over his shoulder. 

School pressure was mounting, expectations and stress piling up like mountains of trash at a garbage dump. You were mad, pissed, about a deadline that wasn’t communicated properly to you; and you were livid that you were the only one seeming to do any work for your club. Bullshit. All of it. 

And like you’d done so many times before, you reached out to Toru, the bastard, with the hopes that he’d fuck all that irritation out of you, because he was good at it. 

To anyone on the outside looking in, this was...weird. You had his number, and he had yours. You texted more than would be expected- most of it was jabs at one another to poke and prod at raw nerves, but the rest were messages like this.

Are you busy? Are you up? Come over. Door’s unlocked. 

As usual Toru’s answer came back relatively quickly. 

[text]: no. come over. iwa’s out.

Because Oikawa lived on the bottom floor of his building, he didn’t often leave his door unlocked. He watched from the window instead, and opened the door when you approached. He didn’t say anything to you, nor you to him, and in silence, you dropped your bag in the entryway of the apartment and kicked your shoes off. 

When you caught a glance of Oikawa’s face….you knew something was off with him too. 

His deep, doe eyes weren’t sparkly or warm. They were dark, but with exhaustion, not lust. He had bags under his eyes, which was unusual for him- somehow, usually, he managed to keep his skin clear and unblemished even from lack of sleep. His hair was slightly frazzled, not styled in the adorably messy way you hated but were so fond of. 

No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be. Oikawa turned and led you through the darkened apartment to his room, which was lit with the dim glow of his desk lamp. As his text indicated, Iwaizumi was out- his room dark. 

Oikawa’s mental state bled through into the state of his room. Papers were scattered over his desk, laundry piled up against the closet door. Several pairs of shoes were haphazardly strewn about and the remnants of his volleyball bag were piled sloppily at the foot of the bed. 

Before you even registered the click of the door shutting behind you, Oikawa’s hands were on your face. Roughly. Firmly. Harshly. He wrapped his fingers around your chin and turned your head to face him. His mouth pressed against yours with no grace or care- almost like he was trying to push your own teeth down your throat with his mouth. There was an urgency there that you weren’t used to, and it almost scared you before you felt a deep hum of satisfaction in your core. You needed this too. There didn’t need to be words or teasing or mocking. There could just be this, and it would be fine. 

Your hands flew into Oikawa’s hair, raking through the waves and trusses, messing it up more than it already was. Though the mood tonight was quite different, this action made Oikawa growl in distaste- he hated when you messed up his hair like that. And this fact was exactly why you continued to do so, and why you didn’t foresee yourself stopping anytime soon. 

He forced his tongue into your mouth, your kiss breaking down into a series of possessive licks into your mouth before he took your bottom lip between his teeth and sucked-hard enough to make your knees go weak and make you mewl. In retaliation, of course, you tugged harder on his hair and he released your lip from his teeth. 

Your heart was pounding as you pulled him back down for another kiss. It throbbed against your ribcage, and your blood felt like it was boiling from arousal and from your general dislike of the man you were currently swapping spit with. But he got you going, there was always that. 

Oikawa’s body was running hot too. He felt his body flush the more he touched you and felt your body move and whine under his capable fingers. The body that he hated and loved and hated how much he loved in equal measure. 

You pulled away for a moment, tearing Toru’s shirt up over his head and raking your fingernails down his front, leaving angry red lines in your wake. He moaned when you did this, fisting his hand in your hair and pushing you back against the bed, hard enough that your knees hit the mattress and buckled. 

He released your hair as you fell onto the bed. His chest felt like fire, but it got him going like nothing else. As his pants began to tent with arousal, he hovered over you, one hand on the bed at your side, pulling your shirt off over your head with the other.

And then, you saw it. That sly little smirk. That irritating little face he makes right before he says something that will inevitably turn you on and piss you off more than you could have imagined. 

“Oh,” he cooed down at you condescendingly, “you’re looking a little bit flushed there,” he noted how red your chest was from the arousal. 

“Pretty sure your ears were red before I even got to the door, asshole,” you shot back at him, and he laughed, but didn’t say anything, instead opting to pull down your leggings and panties. 

“Guess you won’t mind me seeing how wet you are,” he said in that mocking singsong voice. You glared at him, scratching your nails down his arm and feeling so satisfied with yourself when he hissed in surprise and pain. 

“Bitch.”

His eyes were dark as he pulled your pants off fully, dropping to his knees. Toru pulled your legs apart, seeing how sopping wet you were, he smirked again and cast an enraging, knowing look up at you…

And then all you could see was his forehead and the top of his head. He lapped at your folds, spreading them open with long, practiced, soft fingers. His tongue felt like heaven, a soft, wet muscle prodding you against your most sensitive, delicate parts. 

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan as your head fell back onto soft, blue-green sheets. Oikawa’s scent surrounded you, and it was too late for you to realize just what a comfort it was. 

Your silence did not please Oikawa, though. In fact, it pissed him off. He wanted to hear you, to make you scream and cry and writhe on the bed, at the mercy of him and his tongue. Toru wanted nothing more than to hear you beg, it sounded so pretty on the rare occasions you’d actually begged for him in the past. Music to his ears. 

With ease, Oikawa pulled your hips closer to the end of the bed, hands moving to the inside of your thigh so he could spread you open more effectively. He shuddered in delight upon seeing your gorgeous, glossy, pink cunt at eye level.

Now, he took his time. Patiently, he swirled his tongue around your clit, finally eliciting a moan from you that sounded like heaven. Already, you felt your toes curling, body humming with pleasure and clit throbbing with the need for more. You threaded your hand back into his hair and gave a little tug, a desperate and silent plea for more. 

And, for once, Oikawa gave you what you asked for. He slid his lips around your throbbing, aching little nub, and sucked hard, causing your back to arch so far off the bed that he idly wondered if it would snap in half like a pretzel. A needy, throaty moan left your body when you felt his mouth on you like that- it was genuinely one of your favorite feelings. 

Next, he lapped at your folds sloppily, effectively getting his drool all over your skin and his own chin. And then...those long setter’s fingers, perfectly manicured, were sliding into your hole one at a time. 

At first, he was agonizingly slow, sliding his index finger in, then out. In halfway, and then out. Repeat. He must have sensed the complaint ready to fall from your lips because next, he slid his finger entirely into your greedy, drooling hole. His fingers were so long, you found them so perfect yet so irritating because they broke you each and every time. 

You were whining, writhing as he fucked you with his pointer finger before adding his middle, scissoring them against your soaking, anticipating walls. Again, sensing you were about to ask for more, Oiakwa curled both fingers upwards, the pads of his fingers brushing against your g-spot and making you see stars. 

A strangled, needy moan fell from your lips, and in about two seconds, you were creaming around his fingers. This made him chuckle, and once you’d finished, he removed his fingers from you and licked them clean of the milky cum that covered them. You opened your bleary eyes to see him gazing down at you with a smirk on his stupid handsome face. His eyes were dark as he licked and lapped at his fingers, before he tsked at you, shaking his head and sighing. 

“You’re just so easy. You know that, don’t you?” 

Anger flared through your veins. 

“Shut up and fuck me,” you demanded, no longer bleary from your orgasm as you sat up and pulled his shorts down to see his cock, leaking and hard, spring free from the confines of fabric. 

“It’s not like you’re hard to get riled up either,” you commented, sliding your hand around his length and pumping gently. Oikawa pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, moaning softly as his cock got some attention. 

You leaned forward,a gob of spit falling from your mouth and onto his cock, thumb swiping it along his head. Toru hissed through his teeth and clutched your hair, pushing your head down toward the leaking, wet tip. 

Easily, you opened your mouth and took the tip in your mouth. Suckling gently, easily, the way that you knew Oikawa absolutely hated because it wasn’t enough, wasn’t ever enough. It was the least you could do after he called out your need so harshly moments before. 

But it didn’t last long. It never did. Oikawa’s need was stronger than your resolve to tease him, each and every time. He pushed your head down more, cock sliding up into your yielding mouth. 

“Atta girl,” he breathed out, cheeks rosy, some strands of hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead. 

His hand guided you up and down the length of his cock, and he sighed in pleasurable enjoyment as you took more and more of him with each pass over the length. You pulled away before he could start fucking your mouth. 

“Are you gonna fuck me, Oikawa?” you questioned, ignoring how absolutely wrecked your voice sounded, “or are you scared your cock isn’t gonna make me cum like your fingers did?” 

Sometimes, obviously, you liked playing with fire. 

Your face was pushed into the pillows, your ass in the air, knees spread obscenely apart. Oikawa pressed into your cunt with no warning or preparation, knowing you loved and hated how he stretched you like this, knowing he loved making you feel the pain and pleasure mix. 

One hand was on your hip, the other was gripping the back of your neck, pressing you down into the sheets, ensuring you wouldn’t move even if you wanted to. Then, he just started pounding. 

His hips snapped against your ass with ferocity you were sure you’d never experienced before. Each stroke had his cock, long and pretty like his fingers were, brushing up against the little bundles of nerves deep inside that your fingers could never hope to reach. It took about three of these thrusts before you were drooling on his bed. 

This fucker always made you drool. 

Oikawa’s volleyball conditioning came into play with his stamina here. He was able to thrust into you viciously, almost animalistically, for minutes on end, only grunts and puffs of air leaving his body. 

His cock kept hitting a spot inside, deeper than your g-spot, maybe your cervix, that made you see stars. It made your vision go blurry. Electricity thrummed through your veins whenever he did, and it made you feel hazy, like you were at risk of leaving your body from the sheer goodness of it. 

When his thrusts slowed down slightly, Oikawa started talking. He slapped your ass and your thighs, laughing when you whined at the sting. 

“You talk such a big game, little girl,” he mocked you. That stupid fucking singsong voice. “But look at you, getting drunk on my cock. Drooling on my bed like you’re too dumb to do anything but let me fuck you.”

His words broke through your fog just enough to piss you off.

“Fuck you,” you whimpered. Weak. He laughed again. 

“I don’t think you’d be able to,” he said after a moment, “Look how stupid you get just from my cock. Creaming for my fingers. You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You wouldn’t be able to do it.” 

His words, the degradation, had you feeling a different warmth than anger, and the small mewl that escaped your mouth alerted Oikawa to just how close you were. 

He reached around, his hand finally releasing your neck, and swiped his expert fingers at your clit a few times, circling it. 

And then he drove his hips back into you, hitting that deep spot that made your brain gummy. You dry sobbed into the blanket, squealing as you came, squirting on the bedspread underneath you and all over Oikawa’s hand. 

“Oh, that’s new!” he grunted, growling, his hips snapping into you even harder before stilling, and filling you with hot, sticky cum. It took you a moment, through your haze and the drool on your face and the wetness sliding down your thighs, for you to get used to not being thrust forward at such a brutal pace.

Suddenly, everything in the room was still. Oikawa’s hands on your body were soft, and he gently rubbed them over your back. You fell forward onto the bed with a soft whine, thinking your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Oikawa laid next to you, on his side, toying with a strand of your hair before giving it a tug. 

“I should make you clean my sheets for getting them so wet,” he sighed, teasing. 

“I hate you.”

[221bshrlocked]

Holding onto the Comandante's vest as you ride him or he rails you against the wall. Take your pick.

I had a feeling one of you ✨whores✨ was going to send me some unsolicited fucking message like that and I shouldn’t be surprised but then you had to bring the goddamn vest into this conversation and I’ve literally just been talking about that last night with Javier and-

There was no time to react as you felt the strong grip tighten around your neck and push you back until your back violently hit the wall.

“What did I tell you about questioning me?” You should have been afraid of the anger and forced control of his tone. You’ve heard it many times when someone disobeyed him, saw what happened immediately after it went back to normal. The question was, how was he going to kill you tonight?

“I- I didn’t mean to...” Your voice broke and you vaguely felt his hold loosen a bit before his lips skimmed over your cheeks. You barely held back from smiling at the man above you because even after all this time, he still held back. You’ve lost track of how often you told him he could do his worse but he still managed to control that last bit of him and you weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t trust himself to not crush you or if he cared too much about you to show you that side of him.

“Hmm, te puedo oler señorita.” The Comandante grinned at you as he licked your neck before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your skin. You hissed at him and felt his vest dig uncomfortably into your chest. He kissed the teeth mark forming on your lower neck before pulling away, not bothering to waste any time as he held the top of your shirt between his fingers and roughly pulled it apart, the sound of buttons flying everywhere letting you know there was no way you were leaving this room tonight.

Veracruz shamelessly let his eyes roam down your skin, feeling carnal pride when he saw how hard you were heaving from the simplest of touches. He didn’t care that his men were standing right outside or that anyone could walk in and watch him fucking you into the next country over. All he cared about was having you bending to his will, sinking into the sweet cunt that’s been on his mind all day long, feeling the drag of your nails across his neck until he bled.

He met your eyes again before reaching down and undoing your pants, losing his patience when he tried to rip them off of you and your shoes got in the way. You barely managed to kick the pants away from one foot but your boss had decided already that he didn’t care for the other side. Veracruz bent down and squeezed your ass, slamming you against the wall as his other hand worked the zipper of his pants down.

“W-wait please...your vest- it...it hurts.” You tried to push him away but he snarled at you, biting the wrist of the hand on his cheek until you screamed his name and wrapped your arms around him instead.

“You’ll take what I fucking give you señorita.” The Comandante chuckled at your whines and moans, knowing very well how much you secretly loved that nickname even though you told him a million times to stop calling you that. As soon as you made eye contact with him, Veracruz sheathed himself completely inside you, growling when he felt your cunt spasm around him, almost as if he hadn’t fucked the breath out of you the previous night.

“Mierda,” his head fell against your shoulder and you combed your fingers through his damp hair, trying your hardest to not scream as he pounded into you. Veracruz was not a man that made love, no, he fucked. He fucked and took what he wanted every time. You swore beneath your breath when you felt the harsh material of the vest scratching your skin, feeling tears already rolling down your cheek when the vest caught against your nipples and continued to push into them until they were painfully hard.

He shut his eyes, losing all control of his movement as he fucked you against the wall and felt your cunt sucking him in more easily as your juices flowed down his cock and stuck to his balls. He could smell your arousal, wanting to fuck you with his tongue even, but he needed to relax a bit first or else he was sure he was going to bite every inch of your skin. His grip on your ass cheeks tightened before he smacked both of them as hard as he could.

“Ahh gahd- please...”

“Pinche tu puta madre...could fucking stay in this cunt for ages. Always so good for me señorita, so ready and wet for me. Soaking my uniform baby...making everyone know who fucked you numb.” He whispered in your ears as he took you over and over again, and you wished you could tell him to ease up a bit, maybe at least take the vest off. But this wasn’t the time. You knew your skin would be as red as a rose once he was done with you and both you hated and loved it.

“Fucking shit, you’re so tight. H-how are you always so goddamn tight baby? Shit ah shit, no matter how many times I fuck this pretty little cunt...fill it up every night...you always squeeze the shit out of me.” You spasmed in his arms, thankful that he was able to hold you up against the wall as he brutally thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm and groaning into your ears as you scratched his neck and cried out his name. He didn’t let up once, driving his dick in and out of you as if this was the last time he’d get to have you.

You almost went limp in his arms, unable to hold your neck up as it fell against his shoulders. He sighed your name like a sweet benediction and you bit into his vest when you felt his arms tighten around you. You weren’t sure why he was always so adamant on leaving bruises on your skin, well, that wasn’t true. You knew why, but it felt weird at times because he’d make sure his handprints were on the parts of you that remained hidden. Call it desperation or the primal need to make you his, you didn’t complain once.

“Ah fuck fuck I’m so close señorita...so fucking close, shit fuck fuck ahh I’m c-comning fuuuckk.” He pushed you into the wall with a few more thrusts, and you bit harder into his vest as you felt him shoot hot spurts of cum deep inside you, shivering against him as he bucked his hips to make sure that not a single drop went to waste. You stayed unmoving for a few short moments, vaguely feeling the man in between your thighs kissing your neck and shushing you.

Your eyes began to shut slowly and you smiled at him as he carried you to the couch. As gently as he could, he laid you down on the soft furniture, hissing when he pulled out of the warmth of your cunt and watched as a few drops threatened to trickle down. He couldn’t hold back from pushing two fingers past your wet folds, his eyes snapping to your face when he heard you moan at the actions.

His chest tightened when he saw your teary face scrunching at the sensation.

Fuck.

The Comandante should have felt bad for how rough he was being with you. He should have tried to wake you up instantly and apologized. But as his eyes trailed down your exposed skin and saw the dark reddened patches forming on your breasts, around your nipples, and across your stomach, he found that there wasn’t a single cell in his body that regretted how he took you. You were bearing his marks, the mean touches he thought he was holding back, and my god did he feel primal at the thought of you waking up and touching your skin to smooth it.

He wanted to be certain you knew who owned you. And he hoped you would understand, without him saying anything, that he didn’t do that with anyone. Only you.

He only wanted you.

And he was amazed that you didn’t once yell at him what the two of you agreed upon ever since the first time. You’d taken everything that he’d given you without so much as a complaint. Maybe you secretly liked him fucking you like an animal. Lord knew that was the only thing he ever thought about every minute of every day.

Leaning down, Veracruz kissed your forehead before fixing himself and looking around the room for something to cover you with. His eyes landed on a blanket at the end of the couch and he smiled when he remembered how you brought it in once and laid it on his shoulders when he slept at his desk. Without waking you up, he pushed the other shoe and the pants off of you before bringing the blanket and throwing it on your shaking form, kissing your temples one more time before shutting the lights and walking out before he did something he regretted.

[seeuonadarknite]

one of the boys — yandere overhaul x f. reader

apparently woman are looked down upon in the yakuza,, shame on y'all ;( forgive me for my poor smut writing skills, i might write longer smut in the future if y’all want it 😳

warnings: dubcon, stalking, gore (overhaul's quirk), explicit smut.

All it took was a dramatic wardrobe change, a short haircut, extensive vocal practice, and the removal of all of your files to worm your way into the Shie Hassaikai.

That's right, you were a woman that was a part of the Yakuza. It wasn't a simple task on your end; you had to let go of everything you knew in order to live this dangerous life.

You believed it was unfortunate how women were looked down upon in the underground world. It took months of preparations to prepare yourself for this role, not even including your extensive quirk training.

Finally, after months of trying to remove all personal and medical files on yourself, you had successfully managed to fake your identity and wow the Shie Hassaikai with your unique quirk.

You had an informational quirk that allowed you to solve any case within seconds. The only downside to this quirk was how you needed the names of the people involved in the case. Your quirk also didn't give you any sort of super intuition, so you still needed to be on guard most of the time.

This quirk was honestly quite useful when it came down to it, so why did you decide use it in the way that you did? Why not become a hero, or an assistant, or even a villain for that matter? Why give your life away and allow yourself to become a slave to the underground world?

It was simple, really. It was all because of the boss of the Shie Hassaikai; Chisaki Kai. Also known as Overhaul.

This man ridded you of the only parental figure you had in your life. Your father. It was only one year ago when you arrived to an empty house and a note on the counter left by your father. It was a warning, telling you to stay away from the mob boss that went by Chisaki Kai.

Just his name was enough information to use your quirk, allowing you to crack the case in a matter of 5 seconds. He had blown your father up. All because he was beginning to figure out the secrets on who he really was.

This was enough to encourage you to avenge your father, and finish the job. It was a miracle that you were recruited, and no one had further questioned your mysterious backstory.

Well, almost no one.

The mob boss himself had questioned your presence the second you become apart of Shie Hassaikai. Why were your files almost completely nonexistent? Why did you seem so on edge around the other members? Why did you seem so interested in the name of the past leader?

Oh. Oh.

Now he got it. He pieced your suspiciousness and your quirk together. You were trying to get the dirt on him, weren't you? Why else would you willingly join the Yakuza with your useful quirk with open arms?

Two could play at that game, then. Kai began discreetly following you around, keeping tabs on important things like who you talked to, what you did on your phone or laptop, what times you'd leave the vicinity, and other things of the sort. Perhaps he could admit it was getting a little bit obsessive.

But he swore to himself that he was just trying to protect his status and not allow any traitors to get away with anything. That's why he took it upon himself to follow you home one night. He needed to make sure that you weren't spreading information or doing anything suspicious.

But boy, did he not expect to see what he saw through your bedroom window. You had taken your uniform off, along with layers of binding clothing to hide any type of curvature. What really surprised him, was the fact that you had breasts and what looked to be laced panties covering your womanhood.

One would assume that this would infuriate the mob boss, knowing that he had been betrayed and lied to by one of his men. But the tent growing in his pants proved otherwise.

Oh, he would have fun with this one.

—

You had been summoned to the boss's private office. Odd, on normal circumstances if the boss wanted to meet with you, it'd be planned out and in a meeting room. But you had received the order on one of your night shifts by a tall, hooded, masked man.

Shaking off any paranoid thoughts, you gently knocked on the large mahogany door, almost hoping you wouldn't receive an answer. To your dismay, you heard the monotone voice of your boss. "Come in."

As soon as you stepped foot into the office, you almost gasped at the sight before you. His office was huge. It was probably the size of the first floor of your house. Before you could gawk at the nicely furnished office any longer, Kai cleared his throat, successfully gaining your undivided attention.

"Boss! Sorry, it's just that your office is so nice, I've never seen anything l—" Your ramblings were cut short by the masked man before you.

"Quiet. I want you to come here." He curled his gloved finger a few times, indicating that he wanted you to meet him behind his desk.

Okay, now things were getting really weird. You didn't question his orders in fear of getting your body blown into nothing. Reluctantly, you made your way over behind the large, polished desk. As soon as you were standing next to Kai's sitting form, he shot up from his seat and slammed you onto the desk, causing a few items to fall onto the floor.

"Did you really think you could get away with deceiving me like this? Pretending to be a man just to get the dirt on me? Pathetic." Your eyes were as wide as saucers as you trembled in fear. This only caused Kai's pants to tighten around his cock, feeling an immense power trip.

You should've looked into this meeting before you carelessly walked into the clutches of the devil himself. Here you were, getting your uniform quite literally ripped off of your body.

Kai clicked his tongue at the bindings that covered your chest. "Your body must be in constant agony because of that poor binding job." He slipped his gloves off with ease, allowing his quirk to destroy the bindings and free your breasts.

What you didn't notice, was the shocked expression that covered Kai's features. As he touched you, he didn't receive a single hive. He wanted to savor the feeling of your soft skin, knowing it wouldn't have any negative effects on his.

Before you could retaliate, you felt smooth, large hands begin to roughly palm at your breasts. Kai wasted no time and leaned his head down to swirl his tongue around the hardened bud on one of your breasts, while the other one was being fondled and pinched by Kai's hand. You whimpered as his teeth began leaving bite marks all over your soft mounds.

As much as you wanted to scream and shout, you couldn't help but feel a pool begin to form between your legs. He was just so good and seemed to know exactly what he was doing, even if he had never touched a female in such a way.

"Aren't you a little slut? I've barely even touched you and you're already soaking wet." The smug man pulled away from your breasts, opting to slide his hand under your panties. You couldn't help the moans that escaped your lips as he practically shoved a finger inside of you, feeling your tightened cunt squeeze around it.

He grinned, gradually slipping in two more fingers while rubbing your clit with the palm of his hand. It was quite the show for him, seeing you shamelessly grind yourself onto his hand. He could only imagine how you felt around his swelling cock.

And before you knew it, you had been clenching around his fingers and twitching in place, allowing yourself to cum all over his hand.

On any normal circumstances, Kai would find this act utterly repulsive. He would feel the need to scrub his hands until they bled. But for some ungodly reason, he felt the urge to fuck you until you couldn't form coherent words.

Hastily pushing your panties to the side, Kai wasted no time in pulling his lengthy cock out. Before you had the chance to even ask about protection, you felt your insides being stretched by Kai's massive cock.

He didn't even give you a chance to adjust to his length. "O-Overhaul, wait! You're gonna rip me apart at this rate..!" You stuttered, silently cursing yourself out for appearing so pathetic to your superior. Your pitiful attempt at retaliation only caused Kai's thrusts to pick up in speed, rivaling the movements of a wild animal.

You wanted to hate it, you really did. You were allowing yourself to get ravaged by the man that killed your father. But he pleasured you in a way that your mere left hand would never be able to accomplish. It almost felt like his cock was meant to be inside of you.

"Good. I want your body to become accustomed to mine. Only I'll be allowed to fuck you like this." You hadn't even realized he had taken his mask off before he leaned in and attacked your lips with his. Your mouth had moved on its own, as you allowed his tongue to ravage your oral cavity.

After pulling away with a light string of saliva separating the two of you, Kai forcefully folded your legs into your chest. This action allowed him to bury his cock deep inside of you; deep enough to hit your cervix.

Now this had you going. You couldn't even contain yourself as you clenched around his cock, feeling you near your climax. Kai soon interrupted the sound of grunts, moans, and slapping by leaning forward and whispering in your ear.

"I want you to pledge that you'll keep your dirty secret, that you won't let the others know that you're not a sophisticated detective, but dirty little cock slut. Only I'm allowed to fuck you like this. Only I'm allowed to touch you. Come on. Say it!" He grunted, raising his voice towards the end of his command.

"I-I promise not to tell a soul..! You're the only one who knows my secret and the only one allowed to relish in it!" You couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were basically allowing the man who ruined your life to be the only person in your life that knew your true identity. To be the only person allowed to touch you.

It was wrong in so many ways, but you couldn't help but submit to him. The way his lengthy cock slammed against your cervix was enough to make you fall for his spell.

"Good girl. Good.." He grunted, feeling you clench around him and practically milk the semen right out of him as you also reached your limit. Your moans rivaled with ones of a pornstar's as you felt him release his warm, sticky seed into your womb.

He found himself reluctantly pulling his dick out of the warmth of your hole, almost cringing at the feeling of the cool air as soon as he pulled out. Meanwhile, you were finally beginning to come to your senses and realize how fucked up all of this was. The now masked man simply just sighed, walking away from the desk that you laid atop.

"I'm going off to take a shower. If I come back and you're not changed and cleaned up, there will be further punishments."

This was not how you expected this to play out.

[laudedliar]

♠: One character adjusting the other’s jewelry/neck tie/ etc.

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

Cullrian, but i couldnt pick just one prompt so you're welcome to pick your fave or do both or whatever works for you :)

This is the falling asleep.

The adjustment will be happier, I promise. :)

Dunno why I like angst.  But I sure seem to.  Awkward.

~*~*~*~*~

Adamant.  Once a bastion against the dark evils from the underbelly of the world, was now a ruined shell of it’s once glorious past.  Cullen walked along the broken battlements and stone walkways, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stepped over more dead Warden’s and Inquisition soldiers.  If what Solas said was true, their memory would forever be locked in a ferocious battle between the two.  To be enacted again and again by spirits of the Fade.  It was a tragedy that would be written and retold for millennia henceforth.

Cullen knelt at the side of an unblinking, lifeless Corporal.  He reached down and let his fingers close the woman’s eyes, so she may rest peacefully in the next life.

“May the Maker take you by his side.”  He murmured, pressing a kiss to his fingertips before laying them gently along the woman’s cold brow.  Slowly standing from where he knelt, Cullen continued his weary walk, kneeling at each of the dead he passed (Warden and Inquisition alike) and sent his pleading prayer for their souls to the Maker.

He was tired.  Exhausted.  Physically, mentally, emotionally.

He hadn’t noticed he was weeping until a Chantry Sister approached him, her own robes reddened along the bottom hem from the gore she waded through as she blessed the dead in turn.

“Please, Commander.  Go see a healer and take some rest.”  The young woman reached out to touch his cheek, a thumb running along the dark circle under his eye.  “We shall see these poor souls to the Maker’s side.”

Cullen nodded and stepped away from the woman, one hand roughly wiping at the cooling tear tracks along his cheeks.  “Thank you, sister.  Please, if you can save anything that we could send back to families...”

“Of course, Commander.”  The Sister walked with him down the stairs until she was certain he was stumbling through the rubble back to the camp that dotted the open expanse in front of the large, crumbling keep of yore.  Their large battering rams and trebuchets stood stark against the eve darkened horizon.  Soldiers were already put to task to begin dismantling the war machines for use in the funeral pyres.

Funeral pyres that would undoubtedly burn from dawn to dusk and on until the morning broke once more.

He was tired.  So tired he could feel it in his core.  A bone deep weariness.  The healer’s tents were collected nearest the keep.  People rushing too and fro, cries from the wounded and dying filled the air with a melancholy chorus.  It sent shivers rushing down Cullen’s spine and his feet detoured away from the wailing howls.

His wounds were minor, a few scrapes and cuts, a couple bruises.  Nothing that wouldn’t heal on it’s own given time and a little care.

The camp was somber.  Eerily quiet for a victorious army.  A few gathered soldiers shared skins of wine but most sat in silent contemplation of their hearth fires.  Many of the soldiers were Ferelden.  And Ferelden’s remembered the bravery of the Grey Wardens.  They remembered the horrors of the blight.

And they felt the loss of Warden Alistair Theirin acutely.  The man, after all, had been with the Hero of Ferelden.  Had fought beside him.  Had been there when the Hero died to save them all.  And the Warden had, in turn, sacrificed himself as well.

Heroes.

His throat tightened painfully and Cullen turned away from the fires of his subordinates to walk the lonely path up to the Inner Circle’s tents.  Inquisitor Cadash sat quietly, staring into the fire before her own tent.  Blackwall sat beside the small dwarven warrior, holding her hand and whispering soft sentiments to the stout woman.  Leliana was nowhere to be seen and he could not fault her.  She had known Warden Alistair.  Had fought and bled with him.  She had been in love with the Hero of Ferelden and the two had spent many nights in SkyHold laughing and reminiscing about their lost friend.

He skirted around the Inquisitor’s fire pit as well, not wishing to speak with either warrior pondering the flickering flames.  The rest of the companions were interspersed through the tents.  Most were weary from battle and huddled around their own fires or already in their tents.  The Chargers were softly singing dirges for the lives lost that day, Iron Bull drinking from a large skin as he hummed along with his companies melancholy songs.

Cole was perched upon a chair just outside of the circle of light, watching them all drink and sing.  His curious blue eyes flickered towards Cullen as the ex-Templar shuffled past to his own tent.

“Everyone is sad.  I cannot help them all.”  The boy said, drawing the blonde’s attention to him.

“It is impossible to help everyone, Cole.”  He answered, shoulders slumping at the admission.

“But it is possible to help some.”  The boy whispered as his eyes searched Cullen’s haggard face.

“Yes.”

“I want to help.”

Cullen watched the boy as his distant gaze slowly moved back out over the sprawling army camp.  “Good night, Cole.”  He muttered when the boy didn’t continue his thoughts out loud.

“Good night.  Commander Cullen.”  Cole replied, his tone distant.

A raised chorus of singing followed in his wake as he stepped into his tent.  The heavy fabric dampened the mournful chorus as it fell closed and Cullen brushed a hand over his face, wiping away a flaking crust of sweat, dirt, and blood.  He paused, hand resting over his mouth, as he noticed a hunched form on the edge of his sleeping roll in the dim candle light.

“Dorian.”  He called softly, surprised to see the mage sitting in his tent.  He would have expected the man to be with the Charger’s or the Inquisitor.  Not here.  Not inside the Commander’s personal accommodations.

Red rimmed grey eyes blinked up at him and the mage nodded slightly.  “Commander.”

“What are you doing?”  Cullen asked, a hint of anger on the edge of his words.

The Tevinter wrapped his arms around his chest and shrugged, glancing away to the far corner of the tent.  “I am... Hiding.  I figured no one would look for me here.  And had not expected you to return for some time.”

“I see.”  Cullen murmured softly, unsure exactly how to approach the situation.  He shifted foot to foot for a moment before sighing.  “And why are you hiding, exactly?”  He asked as he began to toe off his blood soaked boots.

“Mostly to be alone.”

Cullen kicked the discarded footwear to the side and began to unbuckle his cuirass.  “Well, I’m afraid this is my tent.  If you wish privacy, perhaps your own would be better suited?”

Dorian’s hands clutched at his upper arms and the mage shivered as if chilled.  He didn’t answer Cullen’s sharp retort straight away, instead remaining huddled on the edge of the sleeping roll as the blonde removed his armor with a groan.  When the Tevinter still hadn’t moved by the time Cullen stood in his shirt and pants, the ex-Templar considered the man.

“Dorian.”  He began, curious to the glazed far off gaze upon his counterpart’s face.

“Would you have made me Tranquil?”  The other asked suddenly.

“I - What?”  Cullen asked, eyebrows drawing together in concern.

“Do you believe me weak?  Susceptible to - to temptations?”  Grey eyes shadowed by a furrowed brow looked up.  There was fear plainly written in the creases marring Dorian’s face.

Cullen frowned, pondering the man’s questions.  No one had spoken yet of what had taken place when they’d fallen into the Fade.  His teeth worried the inside of his cheek as he considered his answer.  There had been a time he would have absolutely argued for Dorian’s tranquility.  The man was brash, far too intelligent for his own good, and had a cutting tongue.

But time had tempered Cullen’s anger and impetuous desire to see any mage in shackles.  He knew the ultimate price of such enmity.  And he had vowed to see more than just a mage’s abilities.  To see them for the people they were.

Carefully he stepped towards the man and knelt down to sit on the bedroll next to the mage.  “No.  I do not believe you are any of those things.”  He finally answered.

Dorian seemed to relax with his assurance.  The man let out a shaky breath and nodded carefully, as if the motion would cause his head to roll from his shoulders if he moved too quickly.  They sat in silence for a while, each absorbed in their own thoughts.

Cullen once more found himself reflecting on Kirkwall.  Thinking of all the Rites of Tranquility he had personally overseen.  Thinking of the pleading, helpless men and women.  Remembering as their struggles against their binds would suddenly... Cease.  How they would stare cow-eyed at the surrounding Templars afterward, awaiting their orders.

No.  No he could not imagine Dorian in such a state.  Not without feeling the crushing weight of guilt at all those who were.

“You may stay here.  If you wish.”  He murmured, fingers plucking at the bottom of his shirt.  In part because the mage was right in that no one would think to look for him in Cullen’s tent.  But also because the ex-Templar himself did not wish to be alone with only his memories for company.

A soft hiccuping sigh was his only answer and Cullen did his best to look the other way when the mage sniffed lightly, a hand sweeping quickly across his eyes.  He removed his sweat and blood stained shirt before crawling to lay behind Dorian on the soft bedroll.  He waited a moment, eyes lingering on the back of the mage’s head before he reached up and gently patted the other’s quivering shoulder.

Dorian turned his head, his face dark in the dim candlelight.  A soft squeeze on the man’s shoulder and wordlessly the mage rolled to lay beside him.  The solitary lit candle flickered out as it’s wick burned down to near nothing.

Cullen rolled to his side, grimacing when he disturbed a growing bruise upon his ribs.  He looked at his companion, the other’s eyes glimmering in the darkness of the tent.  The mage’s profile shadowed as he contemplated the ceiling of the tent.  The dampened sound of the Charger’s mournful melodies lent a haunting air to the mage’s brooding.

They lay beside one another, Cullen observing his unexpected visitor.  He wondered about the other’s question.  What had made him ask such a thing.  What could possibly have driven the normally sharp witted Altus to his tent to hide of all things.

“What happened?  In the Fade?”  He asked, genuinely curious.

“A great many things.  I wouldn’t know exactly where to start.”  Dorian’s voice was tight, as if he were walking along a razors edge and barely keeping upright.  The man’s breath came in shallow pants, and Cullen waited.  He could hear words gathering along the back of Dorian’s breath, could practically feel them gaining substance as the mage collected them together.  The way one can feel the roll of thunder just before the crackling rumble.  “Tell me, Commander, does a Lion feel fear?”

A sharp hiss as he drew in a breath between shuttered teeth.  “Of course.”

“What are they?  A Lion’s fears.”  Dorian asked, his head turning to face Cullen in the darkness.

Lips moved silently as he considered the other’s question.  The bared vulnerability in the Tevinter’s voice and actions eased any suspicion.  His throat tightened as he examined the answers to the inquiry.

“I fear not being strong enough.  Of failing again.  Of not giving enough of - of -” His throat flexed painfully and Cullen released a heavy sigh.  “That I am inadequate.”

Darkened eyes flickered across his face and Cullen lurched in surprise when a soft touch brushed across his brow, smoothing a stray lock of hair back.  “Thank you.”  Dorian hushed.

They lay side by side, each considering the other.  The smell of battle permeated the air between them, but underneath it all the scent of Dorian’s perfume tinted the air.  And Cullen drew a deep breath, trying to place the faint spiced scent lingering beneath.  He didn’t jolt away when another brushing finger traced the outline of his face.  And when Dorian rolled to his side and slid closer, body warmly pressing against his own, Cullen allowed his hand to rest gently upon the mage’s waist.

The need to be near a <i>living</I> being after the horror of battle was heavy between the two men and they in turn answered that desire for the other.  The closeness helping to push away the open dread each man gave voice to only minutes prior.  The human hunger for touch pulling them closer in their open vulnerability.

“You are the strongest man I know.”  Dorian whispered, the words brushing faint across Cullen’s skin with their proximity.  “Would you make me a promise?”

“What is it?”

“Promise you will not let me - that you - that I -”

Cullen lifted his hand from Dorian’s waist and pressed his fingertips against the other’s lips.  “I need not make that promise.  You are more than what you fear.  You have proven so again and again.”

A slight nod and those dark, shining eyes squeezed shut as a shuddering breath shivered through the Tevinter.  His hand fell to lay upon Dorian’s rib cage, squeezing gently in assurance.  They remained that way, Dorian’s fingers curling along his neck, his own resting on the man’s side.  Weary exhaustion and an easy solidarity between the two beckoned them into sleep.  Arms weaving around each other, as if their closeness could keep the nightmares at bay.  Even if just for a short time.  Keeping each other safe from the fears that crept through the shadows, bidding time until morning saw them part.

[dabisangel]

Hey boo you write Dabi beautifully! You deserve lots of love💖 if I may, can I please request an angsty fic where Dabi has a near death experience, really thinks it's his end and civilian!reader somehow saves him (right place right time) he think he dreamt her up before he almost dies and they some how cross paths again and becomes infactuated with her ? (Sorry it's super long) if you're not feeling this it's all good 💖💖

OMg thank you for sending this ask. I kind of went out of control and wrote 4k words for it. I hope I did your idea justice! 💖

“Infatuated”

Pairing: Dabi X Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Near-death experience, stalking.

Word Count: 4619

——————————————————————————————————

Dabi was no stranger to being in dangerous situations, but then again life comes at you fast.

His body laid on the cold pavement. Heaving sounds leaving his lips as his chest rose and fell quickly.

‘Is this really how I meet my end?’ his mind began to swirl and every alarm for survival was blaring in his head. 

 He knew that it was only a matter of time before he bled out. 

The bastards that ambushed him made sure of that. 

They’d followed him after recognizing him at the infamous “Blue Flame”, wanting to see if he was as strong as they’d heard he was. 

As he laid on the pavement he retraced the moments in the alley just moments before. He had already been tired before they attacked, and he was nearing his limit with his quirk. Under the dull ache of his stab wound, he could still feel the burning sensation on his skin. They’d attacked him relentlessly, and he couldn’t manage to defend himself. Much to Dabi’s surprise, when it came to the final blow, the tallest of the 3 men stopped suddenly. 

“It looks like you’re not nearly as strong as the media makes it out to be.” The men loomed over his body, making eye contact before crouching close to him. 

“And now…..” he grinned widely. “You’ll die in the street. Like a dog.”

Dabi didn’t have the energy to respond, and he clutched at the deep stab wound in his side. 

The men kicked at him a few times before leaving, snickering as they sauntered away from the alley. 

It had been 10 minutes since then. And he was in absolute agony.

Tears pricked his eyes as he stared up at the night sky. ‘There are so many’ he’d thought to himself as he stared at the stars.  Suddenly he regretted never looking up at the sky like this before. He regretted that he took so many small things for granted. He regretted everything. 

He wheezed more as he heard footsteps approaching. 

———————————————————————————————————

You turned the corner while tapping at your phone tiredly. Your other hand held onto a few grocery bags, which held the ingredients for your dinner. 

As you turned into your usual shortcut alley, you froze. 

Your eyes met the man on the ground, and the pool of blood next to him.

Your whole body froze before something clicked in you, causing you to drop your grocery bags and sprint over to him. As you kneeled next to him you breathed heavily, waving your hands frantically “oh my god are you okay. Jesus. I’ll call an ambulance oh my god.”

His eyes stared blankly at the sky, not budging to look over at you. “D-Don’t.” He struggled to speak.

You ripped a piece of your shirt, pressing it to his wound. From his lack of reaction and the way he laid limp on the concrete, you could tell he’d lost a lot of blood. “Don’t!? Are you crazy? You’re going to di-“

“I never realized.” 

Your eyes moved from his wound and up to his face for the first time. 

“The night sky is so beautiful.”  His words were slurred, and you could tell that he was becoming delirious. 

After a few moments of staring at his bloodied face, you recognized him. His eyes were a clear blue that were all too familiar. You had seen those eyes. Many times on the news, accompanied by flickering cerulean flames. Instantly you recognized him as one of the members of the LOV.

The reality of the situation in front of you set in as you began to shake. A villain was dying in this alley.

And you had no idea how to navigate this situation. 

You hesitated to speak, as you pressed onto his wound. You winced as you felt the warm liquid soaked through the piece of cloth, and you repositioned yourself next to him.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Dabi.”The name came out so quiet that it was nearly a whisper. You began to worry he would lose consciousness. Studying his eyes you noticed that were dangerously low and his breathing was becoming increasingly more shallow. The stab wound in his side certainly wasn’t doing him any favors either. 

“Dabi?” You spoke uncertainty

He didn’t respond.

“If I don’t help you. You’re going to die.”

A small smile painted his lips as he hummed gently, closing his eyes completely. “I feel so light. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Can you feel it too?” His words turned into rambling before he wheezed again. 

“Dabi keep your eyes open.” You spoke softly. Fear began to collect in your chest as he didn’t.

He was clearly very delirious. 

You weren’t sure what you should do. You knew that he was a villain, but he was no threat here now. You knew that if you called an ambulance, the police wouldn’t be too far behind to take him away. And as you stared at his broken state your heart panged with sadness. 

“Dabi. Look at me.”

His eyes fluttered open at your words, clearly struggling to keep them open. He glanced over to you, his azure eyes staring straight into yours. 

 “Wow.” He breathed raggedly. “You are an angel”

He continued to stare at your face for a few more moments, studying each feature carefully. “Are you taking me to heaven or hell?” You watched as his eyes flicked up to the sky again.

You were taken aback as he spoke. An angel? A blink was the only response you could muster. 

“You belong up there, you know.” His eyes watered a bit, up towards the sky. “Do you think I do, too?”

He coughed roughly, and you continued to apply pressure, your mind racing.

“I’m…. I’m gonna die here, huh?” He squeezed his eyes shut. 

“No, you’re not. I promise you.” You pulled out your phone and dialed a number frantically, shaking as it rang. Hoping that the number was still in order. Praying they would pick up.

When you heard her voice over the phone you sighed in relief, finally relaxing a bit.

“Hey, it’s y/n.  I need a favor. And I need you not to judge me for it.”

———————————————————————————————————

One month later

He woke from his sleep in a cold sweat, gripping at his side. Slim fingers ghosting over his stitches as small pants left his lips. 

Eventually, he gathered the energy to swing his feet over the side of the bed, as he raked his fingers through his hair. 

Every night since then he had the same dream. Over and over. He was dying in that alley, shrouded in misery and darkness. Until eventually, an angel descended from the sky, taking him into her arms and saved him. She was so beautiful. He was certain he’d never seen the woman in his dreams before, but he couldn’t get the face out of his head. Every feature was so clear as if he’d seen it a million times in person. 

He couldn’t remember if you were real or not. 

Shaking it off and he made his way into the bathroom. The soles of his feet pressed against the cold tile, as he looked into the mirror. That day truly haunted him.

Getting his revenge on the men that attacked him was the first step he took when he regained his strength. It was a spectacle. One that placed a newfound fear into the hearts of anyone that dared to think of harming him in the same way. 

Remembering the way it felt as he laid on the concrete, and the feeling that washed over him in that alleyway confused him. The moments replayed it in his mind more times than he could count. He remembered staring into the sky and feeling absolutely at peace. It sent a shiver down his spine.

The entire situation was something he truly wished that he could forget about.

After shaking his head again, he studied himself in the mirror. 

All he could do was think back to that face. The one that graced his dreams, and how he longed to see it again. He longed to thank you. But he couldn’t tell reality from his dreams anymore. 

He remembered being attacked, and the horrifyingly calming feeling of bleeding out on the pavement. He remembered the delirium. And then nothing. A blank slate, before waking in his bed with toga watching over him nearby. A groan left his lips as he remembered her taunting him and saying something about “it’s about time you woke up.”

The entire time he was out, all he could dream of was your face. And your eyes. And your voice. 

But everyone in the league convinced him that there was no girl that fit the description he gave. And that he was alone in that alley until Toga stumbled upon him. 

He thought he was going mad.

Deciding against more self-reflection he left the bathroom and began to get dressed. 

As usual, he planned on spending his night outside of the hideout, hating the claustrophobic feeling it gave him. He went into town, with his hood up, walking the cold street at night. 

It had been about 20 minutes since he’d departed from the hideout, and he made his way to the only part of town he could stand. It was a small section of the city that contained bars, restaurants, and shops. Tons of things to look at, and keep his mind busy. As he walked toward his usual bar, he stopped in his tracks as he heard your voice. It sounded so familiar. 

Moving to hide behind the corner he brought his hand to the cold stone of the side of the building. His eyes widened as he saw you, and his heart began to race. An unexplainable feeling filled his chest. Happiness, relief, fear? He couldn’t tell. 

As he watched you speak and laugh with your friend he held his position and began to shake. He couldn’t begin to explain the feeling, but one thing he knew for sure was that he was elated.

He watched you for about half an hour in complete awe. His memories of you began to come back slowly, the real ones. Not distorted dreams.

Remembering how you tended to his wound. How you said his name. How you saved his life. 

Some things were still foggy, but one thing that was certain was that he owed you his life. 

Tearing his eyes away from you he decided that he needed to get home. As a wanted villain, he didn’t like staying in one place for too long. But he didn’t want to lose sight of you, in fear of never seeing you again. 

Thoughts jumbled in his head for what felt like an eternity before deciding to stay. 

He watched as your friend left you for the night, and you said your goodbyes. 

He watched you as you left the bar.

He watched you as you walked home. 

He almost felt wrong as he followed behind you, aware that you were oblivious to the fact you were being followed. He hated that you took no precautions, and put yourself into danger this late at night. He wanted to protect you. 

After he saw to it that you were safe and sound in your apartment a smile graced his lips and he walked home. 

———————————————————————————————————

One Week Later

When he saw you again, chatting at the bar with your friend he didn’t hesitate. His mind went blank as his legs carried him over to the bar quickly.

“We need to talk.” He interrupted 

You looked up in response to the intrusion and a gasp left your lips as you met his eyes. 

It took you by surprise that he was here, and seemingly recovered. 

He looked different this time. Fully alive and well, and that made you smile. 

You excused yourself from your table and went to the front of the bar with him. 

Neither of you said a word for a while, you figured there was something he wanted to say.

You weren’t sure if you could trust him.

“You saved my life.” He stared down at you with a look you couldn’t decipher. He looked confused. “I thought I was crazy.”

“I’m glad to see that you’re okay.

“Why did you save me?” He furrowed his brows.

You swallowed hard as you remembered the sight of him in the alley, and his continuous ramblings as you stitched him up. You were certain he wouldn’t make it. But you didn’t give up. And here he was. 

“I-I couldn’t let you die.” You spoke honestly.

“I remember you saying my name. You knew who I was. Why would you do something like that for a villain.” 

You gave a half shrug. “You were…” you took a breath “fading in and out.” Your eyes met his.

“In that moment. Things were…different.”

He blinked, waiting for you to finish.

“We were just two people.”

He blinked again.

“In that moment you weren’t the big bad villain they write headlines about. You were a man. And you were dying.”

He felt numb.

“And what about know.” He asked

You blinked and took in a raspy breath.

“You’re still a man. And we’re still just two people. And I’m glad that I was able to save you.”

His heart skipped a beat.

 “Why aren’t you scared of me.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You said with a laugh “I’m just…not? Do you want me to be?”

He stared ahead. “That’s your choice.”

Silence lingered over the two of you for a few moments too long.

“I can’t really remember what happened.”

It felt odd to speak to him so casually. 

Your eyes flicked to the stars above you. “You were pretty fond of the sky.” You looked over at him “you asked if I thought you’d go to heaven.”

He grimaced. 

“I thought of you a lot after that.” You said honestly, which gained his attention. 

“I kept looking at the news. Over and over and over.” A small laugh left your lips. “I kept looking for you.”

His mouth went dry. “I’ve been looking for you too.”

It warmed his heart a bit that you had been looking for him all of this time. It made him feel better about the fact that he had been thinking of you nonstop. At least the feeling was mutual.

“I wanted to….” he shifted uncomfortably “I wanted to thank you.”

You smiled sweetly

“I kept having this dream. Over and over.” He frowned. “Everyone kept telling me I was crazy. And that you weren’t real. But I couldn’t get your face out of my head.”

“You dreamt of me?”

He ignored your question

“I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

You couldn’t believe how honest he was being.

His eyes met yours intensely which caused you to shudder. 

“I owe you my life.”

Your eyes widened, and you raised your hands in protest, “Hey hey. No, you don’t.”

His stare didn’t falter. 

“I do. I would’ve died in that alley if it weren’t for you.”

You were flattered honestly, but you were no hero. In your heart, you felt it was just the right thing to do. What kind of person would you be if you let a man die in the streets?

“What is your name.” His voice snapped you away from your thoughts, causing your attention to turn back to him. 

“It’s y/n.”

At that moment he remembered fully and everything clicked into place for him. Every memory of that night flooded in as he remembered you calling someone on the phone, frantically trying to save his life. He remembered as you told him your name, and applied pressure to his wound. He remembered Toga coming to your aid. And he pondered how you knew her in the first place. But above all, he imagined The risk it must have took.

He pulled a box from his pocket and held it out to you. It was a blue velvet jewelry box. His eyes flicked up to yours. 

“This doesn’t even begin to repay you. But I feel like it’s a start.” He pushed the box towards you.

In the past week, he had seen you stare at it in the window of a department store. You groaned to your friends about how expensive it was, and how you would kill to get your hands on one for yourself.

Taking the box into your hands you eyed him curiously. “What is it?”

He nodded at the box “open it.”

You followed directions and slowly lifted the lid. Your heart seemed to stop in your chest as you looked down at the necklace. It was a dainty silver chain, with a beautiful teardrop diamond pendant hanging at the bottom of it. You admired the way it shined in the night lights, your mouth agape. No one had ever gotten you anything like this.

“Y-you got me this?”

He nodded, “I happened to see you staring at it.”

You ignored his mentions of stalking.

“I-I…it’s beautiful. But… I can’t take this. It’s too expensive.”

Your eyes flicked up at him as you remembered the price tag “This was at least $1000.”

“Take it.” He said plainly “I need to repay you somehow.”

You asked him to hold the box as you began to put it on, you caught your reflection in one of the shop windows near you.

He admired you silently. You really were just as beautiful as he’d dreamt. 

He gave you the box back and began to say his goodbyes. You stopped him, grabbing onto his wrist as he turned away. He froze and stared back at you, which caused you to let go quickly. 

“Will I ever see you again?” You asked. You also hadn’t been able to get him out of your head. Since Toga had shown up to the alley and taken him away, you wondered what had happened to him. You really hoped that he would make it. 

And here he was. Standing in front of you.

The corners of his lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “You will.” 

Watching as he disappeared your heart panged. 

Days passed and you never saw him, no matter how hard you searched. There wasn’t even anything on the news.

Days later, when you returned to your apartment, you noticed a box at your front door. You brought it inside and inspected it. Inside was a top that you had admired in a store a few days ago. It was obvious that he had been watching you, which made you feel uneasy. Although you felt as if it didn’t creep you out nearly as much as it should’ve.

Your head immediately snapped up and you rushed to your window, peeking outside. He had to be out there somewhere. 

On one hand, you’d realized how creepy this was. The feeling of being watched, and receiving gifts. It was a textbook creepy stalker. On the other hand, you felt as if you had bonded with Dabi, regardless of his unconventional method of ‘repaying’ you. When someone is in their dying moments, they tend to get very personal. Sharing things that they’d never shared with anyone. You didn’t fear him, though. Even though you realized you probably should. 

This carried on for weeks

Random gifts placed delicately outside of your apartment door. A dress here. A necklace there. Always something.

You had a strange feeling about it, and you knew that you should probably be afraid. 

But as time went on you could tell that these gifts weren’t of creepy infatuation, but rather endless gratitude. They weren’t strange ransom notes covered in blood or a doll made from human hair. Instead, they were expensive. Really expensive.  Thoughtfully picked out gifts, colors of each one complimenting the other. Matching earrings for the necklace he’d given you. Shoes that matched the color of the satin dress you’d received earlier that week. 

You felt guilty that he kept leaving you such nice things. You didn’t feel like he owed his life to you. 

But you could tell he did.

You headed out that night, on a mission. You wanted to put an end to this game of never-ending cat and mouse. And for some inexplicable reason, you just really wanted to check up on him. The plan was already set in motion as you headed to the bar that he’d approached you at the first time. You ordered a drink, sat, and waited hoping that he would show up.

———————————————————————————————————

He felt indebted to you in a way that he had never felt for anyone. 

Knowing that this infatuation was probably unhealthy he knew that he should stop. 

But he couldn’t.

He left you present after present, hoping that he could fill the hole of debt he felt for you. But he couldn’t. 

It would never be enough. 

He headed out to the bar, hoping to drink enough to wash away all of his feelings. The trauma of a near-death experience and his fixation with you were two things that weighed at him like nothing else ever had. 

Taking a seat at the bar he quickly ordered a drink, downing it as soon as it was given to him. 

He groaned as he felt someone slip into the barstool next to him. 

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you greeted him.

He looked at you in disbelief before giving a wry smile. 

“I’ve got quite the stalker, don’t I?” 

His comment caused you to roll your eyes as you settled onto the barstool. 

“I think I could say the same”

He took a sip of his second drink and raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘touché’.

“Where have you been?” your voice came out a little angrier than you had anticipated.

Taking another shot he ignored you, tapping his fingers on the bar steadily. 

“You told me I would see you again and you disappeared.”

You thought back to all of the gifts he’d left for you. And how he knew where you lived, and how he watched you. Your ears began to heat with a mixture of emotions. Anger? Frustration? You couldn’t tell. You couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just come to see you, rather than leaving ominous packages.

“And what’s with you giving me all of this stuff?” 

“I told you.” He said taking yet another shot. “I need to repay you somehow.”

Truly, he was struggling. And it was very apparent. He couldn’t begin to wrap his head around the fact that material things wouldn’t be enough to dig him out of this hole. To get rid of this feeling. To wash away his debt.

He knew that drinking probably wouldn’t help either.

“You’ve already repaid me.” Your voice was soft as you broke the silence.

“And not with all of the gifts.” You lowered your voice. “You repaid me by pulling through. By living.”

He turned to you. His eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“I don’t know why. But I feel close to you. Like I understand you.” You trailed off, as you fondled the necklace that rested on your collar bone, instantly feeling guilty. “But please…. stop giving me gifts.”

He didn’t know what to say. He pondered saying thank you again, but he was sure that’s not what you wanted to hear.

“Okay.” He spoke plainly, staring ahead

Both of you stayed quiet 

His hands gripped the glass cup before he spoke low enough for only you to hear. “That night. Was my darkest moment ever.” He took a breath. “It haunts me.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched his eyes and the despair that floated inside of them.

You didn’t initially peg him as someone that even had a weakness or would be afraid of anything. But it dawned on you just how deeply a near-death experience could affect someone and the way that they live their life. 

You realized just how traumatic it was for him.

He continued to speak, not daring to look at you. “And out of that darkness, and trauma… the worst experience of my life….” He looked up, and into your eyes. “Came you.”

You felt an emotion that you couldn’t quite explain crawl into your chest.

“I don’t know what fuckin endorphins you triggered in my head but I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Watching as he fumbled over his words you bit your lip nervously. You had never had someone express such deep emotions for you. 

“Every time I see you. It’s. I don’t know.” 

You watched him carefully, in awe. While you weren’t sure you felt as intensely, you certainly felt the same way. Then again, you weren’t the one that almost died. 

His alluring mystery definitely added to the fact you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The fact that no one really seemed to know much about him, including the internet. You knew because you’d spent hours showering the net for the slightest bit of information on him, but of course, not much turned up. 

“I think about you all the time too, you know.” You tapped your fingers on the bar. “You worry me to death.” You cringed at your choice of words, but it didn’t seem to sway Dabi. 

“I watch the news all the time. Just looking for a hint of flames anywhere.” You whispered to him, careful that no one overheard you. “I don’t know. Seeing you like that, it just made me afraid it would happen again. That I might find you like that again. It was really scary.”

He looked over at you. 

”And I know we barely know each other but I think it’s pretty clear that we’re bonded already.”

You stopped your rambling and studied his face. You could tell he was tired. He probably wasn’t getting much sleep these days. 

“Can we just. I don’t know. Stick together?” You blurted, placing your palms onto the cold countertop.

He lifted his eyebrows at the suggestion. 

“Well, clearly you follow me around. And I’m pulling my hair out daily, trying to find you, hoping that you’re still okay.”

He continued to stare.

Realizing that you were rambling, you wondered if he’d ever speak up.

Your words were teetering on the line of desperate. Not really knowing if you could convince him. “So can we at least just stay in contact. Please? No more sneaking around, or gifts.” 

Again, he said nothing. 

“I just want to know you, and to know that you’re okay.” You shifted uncomfortably and began to worry that this was all a mistake in the first place. 

He didn’t speak for a while longer, processing everything that you’d said. He couldn’t help but agree with you. He wanted to stay close. He wanted to keep you in his sight. 

“If you want to give me anything, this is what I want.” You spoke cautiously, hoping that he would finally speak.

He blinked before reaching out for your hand and giving it a light squeeze. 

“Okay,” he replied with a small smile, staring into your eyes. “God, you sure do talk a lot.”

You squeezed back and laughed a bit.

“You have to swear.” You spoke seriously making sure that you didn’t waver

He’d never say it out loud, but there was truly nothing in the world that he wanted more than to stay close to you.

“I swear.” he squeezed your hand again before staring into your eyes seriously. “You have my word.” 

[salacious-mlm-snowbird]

Rage and Spite

Kieran Duffy x Male!Reader

Rating: SFW, tags: murdèr, torturé and fluff, word count: 2036

A/N: this was requested by @agaycowboi and btw I’m so sorry it took this long, I was being trained by my manager at my new job plus I was behind in school so apologies for that!! Otherwise enjoy :)

You were furious, seething with fuckin’ rage, tonight you wanted to treat Kieran to a couple of drinks in Rhodes as a present for being accepted into the gang. You two are in the saloon drinking and having a fun time when you went to the bar to get more drinks, but when you turned around you saw a sight you thought you’d never have the displeasure of seeing in a lifetime.

 Kieran Duffy had his scrawny arms wrapped around the waist of a fuckin’ harlot who works in the saloon as a public ledger, he was kissing her in a way he’s only ever kissed you, so much passion was hidden behind the drunk blush across his cheeks. You dropped the bottle of whiskey to the floor and stomped over to him before grabbing the woman by the hair, pulling her off of Kieran, “What the hell?!” she shouted as you shoved her to the floor. “W-Wait, Y/n! I didn’t mean it!” Kieran squeaks as you grab him by the collar of his blue shirt, you reared your fist back and launched it at his cheek, pain exploded in the side of Kieran’s face as he fell to the ground.

You huff and walk out of the saloon with a growl, Kieran tried calling after you but you didn’t listen as you climbed onto your horse before you raced out of Rhodes with no destination in mind, how could he do that to you? You were his goddamn lover! You felt tears threaten to spill but you only frowned and wiped them away before they could fall. It felt like a couple hours before you pulled off the road and trotted through the grass for a moment before pulling on the reigns to make your horse come to a halt.

“Good job, darlin’, I know I pushed you a little too hard. Sorry about that.” You said to your horse, patting the side of the neck of your mount as an apology and appreciation, pulling out a carrot you lean over and present it to the large animal, s/he takes it with a snort and gobbled up the carrot with a soft chuff of happiness. You dismount your darling horse with a sigh before grabbing your bedroll, placing it a couple feet from the big horse, you then begin to gather loose dry brush along with some twigs and sticks from the surrounding woody area. 

Satisfied with the amount you had gathered, you go back towards your makeshift camp and start to try and set up a small fire; it took you a couple of tries but you got it on the fourth attempt of lighting the damn thing and keeping it lit. You didn’t even realize that it had been hours since you ran away from Rhodes, here you sat in front of a small fire while you hugged your knees, soft whimpers escape your lips as tears fell down your face. Everyone treated Kieran like absolute shit, in the beginning, even you but that soon changed when you saw that he was innocent and that he didn’t know a damn thing about Colm and his boys.

Kieran warmed up to you quickly and he soon became attached to you, leaving you poems and pressed flowers on your bedroll every couple of nights. Unfortunately, you had to hide the presents from everyone, so you kept them in your leather journal for safekeeping and such, since Kieran began to gift you things of that nature you felt you had to give him something in return the only way you knew how.

You started by leaving pretty bird feathers in the strap on his hat, then you started gifting him bigger things like raccoon skulls and muskrat skins before giving him a bearskin at some point. The items you had scavenged and hunted were a lot harder to hide but the only thing the others did was look at you two weirdly, given your ruthless reputation in the gang they left you guys alone for the most part.

You were so busy sifting through pleasant memories, you never heard the footsteps sneaking up on you, eyes widening in shock when a hand clamped over your mouth and the smooth barrel of a gun pressing against your temple. You reluctantly complied with the hands of the men who had captured you as they roughly tied your hands behind your back, you growled softly when the sight of agent Ross and agent Milton came into your view.

“Surprised to see you without your rut mate, Mr. L/n. A man of your caliber should be more aware of his surroundings seeing as we just found you on our way to your camp. We thought maybe it would be better and more effective to capture a high ranking member like yourself and use you as our informant instead of massacring your whole gang. If you’re willing to participate, if not, we’ll just have to kill you and your friends anyway.” Agent Milton said with a smirk, you growl against the firm hand that held your mouth.

Agent Milton laughs before using the butt of his revolver to knock you out, you fell limp against Agent Ross but only for a moment as they let you fall onto your face so that they could tie your ankles together as well. Agent Ross holstered his gun and slung you over his shoulder before settling you on his horse’s rump, the group of Pinkertons mounted up and left your horse alone as they rode away, your mount not really knowing what to do so s/he just began trotting towards home.

When you woke up, you were tied to a chair with your shirt and guns missing, a litany of scratches and bruises cascades all across your back, arms, chest, and stomach. No doubt even more was below the belt, luckily no Pinkerton decided to have a look for themselves. You were slumped over in the chair, mumbling incoherently to yourself, blood and spit dripped from your mouth after numerous fists previously landed harshly on your face as a way to try and pry information from you.

“Just cooperate with us, Y/n. you’ll then be set free, well, under certain conditions.” Agent Milton said as his hand glides over various tools of torture, “Fuck… you.” You manage to growl as you lift your head to glare daggers into the back of his head, he smirked to himself before he grabbed a knife and turned toward you. Milton wordlessly steps forward and slashed at your chest with the knife, blood spilled freely from the wide laceration, your vocal cords bled a little as you screamed in pain while Milton continued to carve into your chest until the word, ‘R A T’ was legible.

“You’re a pathetic little rat, Y/n, thinking that you’ll make it outta here alive. That you’ll ever see your whore again-.” Milton went on and on about you but as soon as he mentioned Kieran your mind fractured in two, the leather straps that held down your arms and legs snapped in half as you forced your limps upwards with a broken yell. Milton tried reaching for his gun but was stopped as you grabbed a bloody throwing knife and shoved it into the side of his neck, blood spurting out of the man’s jugular, a series of growls and grunts escaped your bloodied mouth as you repeatedly stabbed Milton in the face and neck. 

You saw red as you grabbed his gun and shot your way out of what looks to be Van Horn, you found your guns stashed in a run-down building and grabbed them before continuing to shoot and kill your way through the countless bounty hunters and Pinkertons. After you determine the coast is clear enough, you grab a dead Pinkerton’s horse and make your way back to Clemens Point, many thoughts were filling your mind as if anything Milton said was true but what if it was? 

You shook your head and continued to head through Lemoyne, using your spurs to make the Tennessee Walker pick up speed, racing through the swamps before coming across the torn down cobblestone building, you slow down the speed of your current mount and trot down the small pathway. “Holy shit! It’s Y/n! Dutch, he’s back!” Lenny shouted as he jogged over to you from his spot on guard duty, you began leaning forward in exhaustion and ultimately fell off of the horse to the dirt.

“Jesus! Son, what the hell happened to you?!”

You growled softly as you tried to get up with the help of Dutch and Miss Grimshaw, they questioned you about what happened and you answered as many as you could as they walked you over to your tent to lay you down, Miss Grimshaw quickly walked over to the medical caravan to grab some supplies before returning to your side. She started to patch you up while saying reassuring things to you. You half-listened as you were really out of it by the time she got the bleeding to stop, you fell asleep shortly after Miss Grimshaw dressed your various wounds, Swanson even gave you some morphine to help with the pain.

Kieran returned to camp after he had sobered up enough to ride back, he felt embarrassed and terrified that he had lost you because of some stupid bullshit at the saloon. As soon as he walked past the tree line he saw the various camp members by your tent, ‘Something’s wrong…’ he thought to himself, he rushed over to your tent but was stopped by Arthur walking out of your tent, “Hold it, O’Driscoll, you can’t see him right now. Y/n was kidnapped by Pinkertons and was tortured for most of the night, he ain’t doin’ too well. You can see him in the morning. Plus, you need to sober up some, I can smell you from here.” The blonde man said while lighting a cigarette, Kieran’s eyes welled up with tears immediately following the news of what happened to you. 

Arthur looked down at Kieran with a somber look before stepping aside and motioning for him to go inside your tent, he does so quickly but stops mid-stride when he saw the state you were in. Tears spilled down the sides of his face, his lip quivered as he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now, “Y-Y/n, I’m-m so sorry, I sh-should’ve been w-with you! Oh god, please let him recover from this… fuck, I’m s-so ‘hic’ sorry.” Kieran said as he knelt beside you, gently resting his forehead on your bare shoulder.

“It’s okay, Kieran, I’ll be fine. I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have left the saloon like I did. Forgive me?” You mumble, he gasped when you spoke, listening intently to your words. “N-No, I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who kissed her. I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Y/n, it’ll never happen again. I promise.” Kieran said as he grasped your uninjured hand, softly rubbing your knuckles with his thumbs, “Good, can I have a drink of water?” You say as you look over at the small bucket of water and a metal tin cup that sat next to it on a crate.

Kieran grabbed the cup and dunked it into the water to get a good amount of cool water, you try to sit up a little so you could drink, leaning back on your elbows you wait for him to bring the cup to you. Kieran presents the cup to your lips and you drink like you never have had water before, “S-Slow down, you’re gonna choke.” The brunette man said as he rubbed his hand on your shoulder. You gasp softly when you stopped gulping down the water, with a deep sigh you lay back down, the thick layer of gauze on your chest peeled a little, showing the edges of a large laceration to Kieran.

“I’ll be ok, doll, don’t worry about me too much.” You said with a pained grin, he smiles softly before carefully leaning over to kiss your lips, “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too, doll.”

[shadowofthelamp]

Year in Review: Writing

So, I can’t do the ‘year in review’ for art because... yeah, I didn’t really draw that much this year. So I decided to trawl through my writing tag for one favorite piece per month, and a pulled few paragraphs from each! Basically everything here is Zim except for the one tendershipping week thing, lmao, oops.

Some months had slim pickings but I still do like every one of these and it was a nice reflection.

January: Arrival

Her skin was tinted a sickly green, more like decomposing flesh than irken or human. Dib swallowed, but her breathing seemed to be even when he placed a hand to her kind of chubby chest, so that was probably just how their skin colors mixed, right? Besides, the lighting in the lab was always weird. Her mouth was gummy with no teeth yet, but her vocal cords were functioning perfectly. He was going to need hearing aids by his twenties, between her and Zim.

She had four fingers and three toes, which he kind of expected, as well as a nose but no ears. That made sense, if she had antennae, but it was still strange to run his fingers along the sides of her head and just feel smooth skin.

Her eyes… they were Zim’s through and through, deep ruby with the color filling the sclera. Did irkens even have sclera if they only had one color? Under the lab’s lights and mixed with the way everything on her slightly shimmered from the sticky goo she'd been coated in, she was like a section of space stolen into the little room and it took his breath away. The water blurring his vision didn’t help as he wiped it away with his sleeve, shifting her to one arm. She was so small...

__________

February: WLOD Dib meets Twix, alt version

It’s fascinating, to see what could have gone right. The 1001 here had gangly, underdeveloped limbs, and wispy hair that never quite got clean from the showers. This version wasn’t fat or anything, but definitely had more meat on its bones.

He examined the goggles- peering through them, they altered its vision because they made the lab beyond the ‘glass’ blurry. Curious, very curious. He was about to pop the lens out when it began to stir, tugging at the metal restraints with a clatter.

_________

March: Zibvoid

He talked to himself.

He talked to himself.

He talked to Zim, who hadn’t said a word since he’d died, but maybe he was just giving him the silent treatment.

Round and round, the generator buzzed like a bee and a hospital and a bug zapper that would draw in prey like flies to a web, except he was the spider now and the Zims were the moths.

Dib. Dib Dib Dib Dib Zim Dibdibdibdibzimdibdibzimdib. The names popped off his tongue as he rolled them both in his mouth, over and over until they didn’t seem like names at all anymore.

__________

April: Sturdy Branches (I know the date’s different on ao3 but it was first posted April)

Her dad is either singing or talking to himself as he vacuumed inside the house with a sway in his hips. At least you’re pretty sure it’s her dad? You haven’t seen a picture of him or anything, but he’s about the same age as your dad, so he’s too old to be a brother and too young to be a grandpa, and she hasn’t mentioned any uncles. A babysitter, maybe, but that doesn’t really make sense since Tulip isn’t home yet- ah!

She’s talking to someone as she turns the corner, bouncing her backpack. It’s lilac and circular, as well as covered in buttons. The Ranger helmet is in her backpack or still in her locker, but either way, she’s not wearing it anymore. She’s got the boots on, though. You adjust the binoculars a bit, but you aren’t good enough at lip-reading yet to tell what she’s saying. Whatever it is, it’s making the girl she’s talking to laugh. Maybe she’ll tell you tomorrow in class or at lunch if you pull her to sit at your table again. She has more friends at the middle table, but they don’t like sitting next to you after the beetle incident, and she doesn’t seem to mind. She always has a big smile when you start talking, and she’d say something if she didn’t like you, right? Pretty much everybody else does.

_________

May: Do Something For You (TD spoilers!)

Dib had never really thought ahead to having a family, but she was pretty much everything she’d want in one. She was an assistant and a partner, she was invested in the paranormal, she hated Zim- but on the other hand, she didn’t want him hurt? She seemed weirdly invested in making sure he didn’t get caught, actually. Eh, she’d hit him pretty hard, so it wasn’t like she was opposed to him getting his rightful dues for being an evil space monster.

It was relatively simple- she was just worried if he died then her timeline would be destabilized, which was a decent enough concern. Zim had to be important to his life for years to come, in one way or another. But whatever they were dealing with in the future, it had to be better with Zim out of the way earlier, right?

__________

June: Unnamed capture au drabble

“Why do you even give me these stupid scripts if you don’t like me doing them?” Dib folded his arms, kneading the ball in his palm. “Just get a robot or something.” He snorted. “I mean, it’d probably break, like half the stuff you touch.”

Zim’s hands curled into fists. “Take that back, you- you- worm!”

Dib quirked an eyebrow. “What, touched a nerve? When I was a kid, half the stuff you made broke, it’s just a fact. You only conquered Earth because this place is a trash heap and your garbage is slightly better than ours.” Over a year in Zim’s presence without too many galling injuries and a lifetime of not being able to keep his mouth shut made him bold. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re probably broken yoursel-” He was cut off with a Pak leg aimed directly at his throat, prodding in just deep enough to draw a drop of blood down the alien metal.

Zim’s eyes were narrowed, but something was watering on the edges, and Dib swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing just below the leg’s tip.

“Zim. Is. Not. Broken.”

___________

July: Laughter

Ryou couldn't stand the lights on one minute and then hated having them off the next. The shadows bled from the way the light reflected off the couch, how it seemed to devour the wall behind it, and he swore he could still hear the voice in his mind. (Was that himself? Had he started thinking of himself as a separate voice? It had been ages since he'd really been alone, even though anyone outside him would have wondered about the boy who talked to his reflection like it was an old friend.)

He wished he could talk to Ryou. Ryou who had seemed so pliable as a child but had proved entertaining, a match for the fire, (heh, fire, even though it wasn't that funny, in fact, it wasn't funny at all, but what did he have but jokes? it wasn't like he could cry anymore) who carved out rules for use of the body with gritted teeth and tugged at the rope of the Ring so hard it had chafed his neck. He'd respected him. From a soft child, he'd hardened and grown firm, grown powerful, grown to be worthy. What were the odds fate had given him a chance at the same time someone had handed a young Yugi the box with the Puzzle? A roll of the dice. (The Gods having a last laugh, perhaps..)

Ryou dug his nails into the wood of the desk so hard that it made crescents, tiny moons in the umber that dug splinters into his pale fingers. The little model of the Thief King sat, as he always did, half-hidden on his shelf behind the pieces of Zorc. He'd never bothered to glue the monster back together but felt oddly reluctant to just incinerate the figures and be done with them. Both of them. Either of them. Maybe he just didn't want to pretend it had never happened. (Maybe he was worried he'd forget, thoughts and memories swept away by the sands of time, trickling down the hourglass, minute by minute, day by day, as he aged the way the Spirit had never been allowed to.)

___________

August: New Mission

It had been a month.

Nebula Twix had survived. She’d had to be popped into the healing pod when she had an allergic reaction to the oatmeal Dib had tried to feed her when it had inflamed her spooch, and Gir had tried to eat her head the one second Zim’s back had been turned, and she made goo from both ends a lot, but otherwise, she was perfectly fine!

And with that, Zim had come to a crossroads. It seemed that he was, indeed, in this for the long heel. (He was pretty sure that was the phrase. Humans liked large feet and large boots, so it made sense.) He could either continue to keep her a secret, or he could pass on his success to the Tallests.

Creating slaves out of the species marked for invasion was pretty common- something like 85% of invaders did it. But creating hybrids? That number was much lower. (Besides, they were usually disposed of as soon as the invasion was complete.) And irkens having those hybrids from their own bodies, and not just mixing them out of genetic slurry and quickly aging them up in time-fields? Almost completely unheard of. Zim was the pioneer in that area.

Also, having smeets from one’s body may have been a tad illegal, considering how hard it had been to find good information and judging from the fact that all irkens found to do it were brought in for experimentation. But no matter! Zim was nothing if not very, very good at things few other irkens dared to do, ready to drive the Empire forward by any means possible. They would have to appreciate that!

__________

September: Twix finds out she’s pregnant

Secondary life-form detected, the chamber chimed.

“Oh, gross, I’ve got a tapeworm? Well, flush it out.” Twix rolled her eyes, going back to the computer.

Lifeform has elements of Pak user.

Her finger froze on the ‘b’ key. “It… what? Analyze species origin.”

The chamber hummed around Twix as sweat dripped down the skin of her neck. There was a tiny 'ding!’ like a kitchen timer.

Lifeform is too underdeveloped to make more than approximations, but is roughly 25% irken and 75% Dominant Earth Species.

Her scream rattled the walls.

__________

October: Best-Laid Plans

“Of course, Number One.” Two turned his head slightly, and Dib jolted- he hadn’t directly commanded him to do that. “Your plan is perfect.” He blinked slowly- much slower than most Zims. Most Zims were utterly manic, back and forth and back and forth, loud and brutal and dangerous, but Two- Two had always worshiped him. Maybe even more than the rest. It had been nice, to be admired so heavily. Two had adored the personal attention when he was turned into an errand boy.

Dib might miss him.

He shook that thought out of his head, gripping both sides of Two’s face with his index finger and thumb, nails (not claws, they weren’t claws) digging into the cheeks.

“You belong to me.” Two didn’t respond, and Dib dug in a little further.  Irken skin was thicker than a human’s, with a single drop of pink blood oozing over Dib’s fingernail and leaving a barely-perceptible damp trail. “Respond. Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you, Number One.”

___________

November: Desperation (warning if you click through for impalement)

Dib’s lips were on Zim’s before he even knew what he was doing. “You’re not dying on me, you little bastard,” he hissed, fumbling to hold up the body as Zim nearly coughed blood directly into Dib’s mouth. It was salty and sweet all in one, but Dib couldn’t linger on the taste. Zim’s fingers grasped at his shirt, and Dib took that as a sign that it was working, pressing their lips together hard enough to bruise the capillaries.  

There was a click. Dib breathed in blood and out carbon dioxide, sputtering and swallowing it down so Zim wouldn’t die like this-

Something red-hot and metallic climbed over his arm before digging into his spine, and he realized that the body had gone entirely limp before there was electricity and then there was nothing.

____________

December: Freak

Twix grit her teeth. “How am I supposed to trust you if you’ll just- just do that?”

“How am I supposed to drop my whole social life because you can’t help being the weirdest person in school?” Tulip shot back. “I do care about you, but it’s so, so hard sometimes, because you just don’t know how to act, and sometimes I’m sick of waiting for you to play catchup just because your parents are the town freaks!” She slapped her hands over her mouth and took a step back.

Twix’s eye twitched under her goggles. “At least they’re freaks that love me. I’ll see you tomorrow, third period.”

“Twix-”

“I said,” Twix said through gritted teeth, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get out before I reactivate the security.”

Tulip got out, and Twix buried her face in a couch pillow and screamed.

[get-your-fics]

Violent Delights - Chapter Seven

Alone in the World

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER SIX

Brant Jones’s funeral was beautiful.

It was held at one of the most extravagant cathedrals in Gotham City, though I wouldn’t expect any less from a family of such a high stature as his. Sunlight refracted through the large stained glass windows and cast colored light on the marble archways. Classical music bounced off of the vaulted ceiling and echoed throughout the spacey room. Everything was aged and ornately carved and made out of old, dark oak.

He didn’t deserve any of it.

I sat at the very back pew, dressed in all black so I would fit in. There were so many people here, they hadn’t even noticed that I had slipped inside the building. I watched as people filed in, some with tear-stained cheeks and others with sorrowful expressions. At the very front of the room was a blown up, heavily edited photo of Brant and a sleek, black coffin. It was closed; I guess I had done that much of a job on him.

There had been a few mentions of him on the news right after his death, but they had faded away after a couple of days. The GCPD had tried the best they could, but with no DNA evidence, it was hard to place anyone at the scene of the crime. They had questioned all of the people at the birthday party, but no one had anything valuable to say except Emma, and even then all she had said was that she had last seen him in the alley. It was a pretty open and shut case: multiple stab wounds, bled out in an alley, missing wallet. It was easy to write it off as a mugging and call it a day.

You were upset. I mean, of course you were. He had been your boyfriend after all. I had watched you on the cameras in your penthouse when you had gotten the news. But you don't understand, this all has a purpose. He was in the way, and now that he’s not, we can finally be together.

Eventually, a hush fell over the cathedral, and you stood up. You were seated in the very front pew next to your mom. She stood up with you and wrapped her arms around you in a bone-crushing hug. You hugged her back, and when you pulled away, she took out a handkerchief and wiped away a single tear streaking down her wrinkled cheek.

You walked up to the podium next to the picture of Brant, your shiny black heels clicking against the wooden floor. You wore a knee-length dress that covered your skin but still fit your figure. Your hair was in an updo, and you wore minimal makeup that still accentuated your features. You looked put together even when you were falling apart. Even in mourning, you never failed to look anything less than gorgeous.

“Hi. My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You shuffled your index cards against the podium and swallowed roughly. I had never heard you sound so insecure or nervous before. “As many of you know, Brant Jones was my stepbrother.”

My heart stopped beating in my chest. Stepbrother? Brant had been your stepbrother? But that didn’t make any sense. He had been your boyfriend. He had to have been.

“My mother passed away from cancer when I was a child. It was really tough on me and my dad. We thought there was always going to be this giant hole in our family. But then, my dad met Maria Jones.” You smiled at your mom in the front pew. “And she welcomed us into her family with open arms. She was everything I could ask for as a mother figure and more.”

Your mom, Maria, beamed up at you in the front pew. So she was actually Brant’s mom? Shit. It all clicked into place. That was why you had said you were an orphan.

Your smile vanished, and you stared down at your hands. “And then my dad died from a heart attack.” You picked at your french manicure. “I thought I had no one. I thought I was alone in the world.” You looked up. “I know Brant wasn’t always a perfect angel. He was constantly struggling with addiction and mental illness. He was in and out of mental hospitals for years, but he was the most determined person I knew. He never let anything get the better of him. He knew how to persevere, and that was something he taught me.” Your chin started to wobble, and your eyes shined with tears. “But now he’s gone. And I once again feel like I’m alone in the world. I once again feel like I have no one.”

You clasped a hand over your mouth as you struggled to maintain your composure. Your face turned red from the sobs you were holding back, and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep in the tears. My pulse was rising, like my blood was replaced with gun powder and I was going to explode at any moment. I didn’t mean to take another family member from you. I didn’t want to scar you for life. I just wanted to protect you from people that wanted to use your kindness against you, to keep you all to myself. What was I thinking? How could I have acted so irrationally?

Maria rose from her seat and started to approach you, but you held up a hand. She backed down, and you smoothed out the fabric of your dress with your hands, sucking in a shaky breath. “I don’t know who killed Brant. I may never who did, but I love him. And I’ll miss him for the rest of my life.” Your cheeks were shiny with tears, and the tip of your nose was red. “Thank you.”

You stepped down from the podium, and Maria immediately rushed to you. She gave you another suffocating hug before moving to the podium herself. You sat down in your pew as she began her speech, but I was too transfixed on you to listen to her words. After Maria, several other friends and family members gave eulogies that ranged from tearful to mournful to sentimental. Even Emma made one, revealing herself to have been his real girlfriend. But all the words swam around me; they never really reached my ears.

After all that was over, everyone started milling about. A good amount of people approached you and offered their condolences. I waited behind them, my hands shoved deep in my pockets and my head hanging low. Finally, they dispersed, and I slowly shuffled over to you, your back facing me.

It took me a second, as if your name got stuck in my throat. “(Y/N).” My voice cracked.

You turned around, and your lips parted in shock. “Bruce.” The skin around your eyes was swollen and puffy. “What are you doing here?”

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around you, pulling you into my chest. Your body stiffened at first, but eventually you relaxed in my embrace. The feeling of your body against mine and the warmth radiating off of your skin calmed my nerves, set all of my worries at ease. I buried my nose in your hair and inhaled the scent of your shampoo mixed with your body wash and your perfume.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I whispered into your ear.

“Thanks, Bruce. That means a lot.” You pulled away from me, and I resisted a frown. I wanted to hold you against me for as long as I possibly could and never let go. I felt like I had to be touching you every second or I would burst. “You knew Brant, didn’t you?”

“I did.” I slowly nodded. “We weren’t always on the best of terms.”

“Yeah, he told me.” You let out the slightest laugh, and even though it was forced, it was nice to see you smile.

I raised a brow. “He talked about me? What did he say?”

“Oh, all good things,” you insisted. “He was mainly just remorseful about teasing you when you first met. He felt guilty ‘cause he knew you had been through a lot.” Your countenance shifted as you looked down at your feet.

“It’s okay.” My tone was soft. “I knew he was a good person underneath.”

“He had a really rough childhood. His father abused him and his mom until he left when he was a kid, so it led him down a really bad path.” You wrung your hands together. “He was in such a good place when I last saw him. He had so much going for him. He told me that I shouldn’t work so much and see him more often. Now, I’m wishing I had listened to him and spent more time with him before he...” You trailed off. Your mouth hung open, but no words came out. You emitted a squeak as tears poured from the corners of your eyes and spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s all right.” I cupped your face in my hands and swiped your tears away with my thumbs. “Don’t cry. Brant knew how much you loved him.” You stared up at me, stunned, but too overcome with emotion to speak. If it wasn’t totally inappropriate in this setting, I would’ve licked your cheeks dry and kissed you where you stood. “Did you really mean it when you said you felt alone, like you had no one?” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you have me.”

You came to your senses and stepped back, pushing my hand away gently. “It was probably a little dramatic of me to say that. I didn’t mean to make anyone worry, it was just how I was feeling in the moment.” You rubbed your arm anxiously.

“Well, I can’t help but worry about you.” I flashed you a smile, and you shivered slightly. “How’s the investigation going? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“No leads. It’s a hopeless case. They caught someone on the cameras who looked like he was waiting for Brant to go into the alley, but it’s impossible to identify him. I’m pretty sure the GCPD is just a little short of giving up entirely.” Your shoulders slumped. Of course, I had already known the answer.

“I’m so sorry.” I attempted to sound as sympathetic as possible. “I hope they find whoever did it soon.” “Thanks, Bruce. And thanks for stopping by.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I’m sure it would mean a lot to Brant, if he was still here...”

“Of course. Anything for you.” I placed my hand on your shoulder, and you glanced at it wearily. I looked over my shoulder to see more people waiting around for you, shooting me impatient glares. “I think some other people want to talk to you. I’ll see you around.” “Okay. Bye, Bruce.” You gave me a shy, little wave, and it made my heart flutter. I walked away and looked back to see you surrounded by a sea of black. People were talking to you and offering you words of comfort. You nodded and tried to smile, but there was no hiding the unhappiness in your eyes. It fueled me with a new fire just seeing it.

There was no reason for me to stick around after talking to you, so I had my town car take me home. The whole ride, my head was spinning. All of the pieces were in front of me, if I had just looked: your mom, saying I love you, Emma. If I had just not acted on my impulses right away, I wouldn’t have made you so heartbroken. I didn’t like seeing you upset, at least not like this. I could handle it before if it was a part of something greater, but now? Now, I didn’t know anymore.

“We’re here, Mr. Wayne.” My chauffeur brought me out of my thoughts, and I turned my head to see the steps leading up to Wayne Manor out of the window.

“Thanks.” I shoved the door open with my shoulder and climbed out of the car. I closed the door with a click behind me and stomped up the steps. I pushed the door open so hard the doorknob rammed into the wall, making an indent in the plaster. I’d get someone to fix that later. I slammed the door shut firmly and stormed into the living room.

Alfred looked up from where he was sitting on the tufted, velvet sofa, reading a book. “Oh, Master Bruce! You’re home early-”

“Why didn’t you tell me Brant Jones was (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s step brother?” I stood in front of him, back rigid, fists clenched, teeth gritted.

He furrowed his gray brows. “Because I didn’t know? What is this about, Master Bruce?”

“Brant Jones died, Alfred. He was murdered in an alley. The GCPD think it was a mugging.”

“I know. I saw it on the news.” He tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think this has to do with your parents’ death, do you?”

“No, but... but...” I started to pace back and forth in front of the glass coffee table. “You had to have known he was her step brother. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just told you why, Master Bruce. I had no idea her father remarried.” He slowly rose to his feet.

“Yeah, well her dad died, too. And now Brant’s dead, and she has no one left.” I fell to my knees. “She’s all alone, and it’s all my fault! All because I...” I ran my shaky hand through my curls so hard I thought I would tear my hair out. My breathing came in short, shallow gasps, and I felt like I was hyperventilating.

“Because you what?” I looked up at Alfred to see him staring down at me with concern written all over his face. I could tell by his posture that he felt threatened, but I was too in my own head to do anything about it. “What did you do, Master Bruce?”

“I... I don’t know.” I fell back and hugged my knees to my chest. I felt something hit my cheek, and reached up to wipe away a tear. I hadn’t even realized I had started crying. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not so sure. I just don’t know what to do anymore, Alfred.”

“It’s okay, Master Bruce.” He walked around the coffee table to me. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.” He squatted down so he was on the same level as me. “Why don’t you go back to Wayne Enterprises? I’m sure everyone would be so pleased to have you back there.”

My grief turned to rage in a split second. “You mean you would be pleased to have me back there. Stop seizing the moment to push your fucking agenda on me!” I jumped to my feet. “I know you think you’re doing what my parents would’ve wanted you to, but newsflash, Alfred! You’re my butler, not some guardian angel my parents left to take care of me when they died.”

“You’re wrong, Master Bruce.” He stood up. “I am your legal guardian.”

“You were my legal guardian. Need I remind you, I’m an adult now?” I walked past him, knocking my shoulder into his as I did so. “The only thing keeping you here is that you work for me, and I just don’t think that’s cutting it anymore.”

He whirled around to face me. “What are you saying, Master Bruce?”

“I’m saying you’re fired, Alfred. I thought that would’ve been obvious.” I put my hands on my hips, keeping my anger at bay. “I want you packed and out of the manor within the next hour.”

He cracked a smile, and a laugh escaped his lips. “Master Bruce, you can’t be serious. After everything we’ve been through-”

I brought my fist down on the coffee table, smashing the glass to bits. The sound as the shards clattered to the wooden floor was deafening to my ears, but the sting as some pieces sliced my skin and embedded themselves in my flesh hurt worse. I bit back any yelps that wanted to slip out, and tears stung my eyes. I raised my hand and stared, mesmerized, at the ruby red blood that seeped out of the cuts in my skin. No doubt that was going to leave some scars.

I raised my head to meet Alfred’s gaze. He looked absolutely terrified, but it wasn’t of me. It was for me. “I am serious.” I stared him straight in the eye. “Have your stuff packed, or I’ll call the police.”

He swallowed roughly. “Fine, Master Bruce,” he shook a finger at me, “but if you know what’s good for you, what’s good for everyone else, you’ll stay away from that girl and get yourself some help.”

“I’m done taking advice from you.”  I dismissed him with a wave of my bloody hand. “Get out.”

He let out a sigh filled with so much sympathy and so much pity that it physically made me sick before turning around and marching out of the room. My stature slightly relaxed when he was gone, and I walked over to the desk that was previously my father’s but now belonged to me. I pulled out one of the bottom drawers with my good hand and dug out a mini first aid kit. I dropped it onto the desk and sank into the comfy, office chair behind me. I took out a pair of tweezers and, cradling my hand, started to pluck out the shards of glass stuck in my skin. I winced and flinched as each piece came out, but I didn’t stop until there was a pile of bloodstained glass on the desk. I stretched my fingers and let out a low groan as a dull ache ran through my sore muscles.

I grasped for a bottle of whiskey on the desk. I twisted the cap off and poured the dark brown liquid over my hand. It dripped into the open wounds, and it felt like my skin was burning all over. I bit into my lip to keep in my howls so hard I thought it would bleed. I took a swig from the bottle before setting it back down on the desk. I rummaged through the first aid kit and found some white bandages. I started wrapping up my hand when I spotted my iPad resting on the desk. I reached for it, but my hand hovered over it hesitantly for a second. Could Alfred be right? Should I leave you alone?

My curiosity got the better of me, and I gave in, switching on the device. The screen filled with live surveillance footage of each of the rooms in your penthouse. I noticed two figures in the one situated in your living room and clicked on it. It enlarged so I could see you and Maria hugging by the door to your home.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” She asked, pushing hair out of your face. “You’re sure you don’t want to come stay with me in the manor? You know you’re always more than welcome.”

“I know, Mom, I know.” You sniffled. “But I’ll be okay. You go home.” “Okay, but get some rest, sweetie.” She placed a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the door. “I better not hear anything about any donations for at least a week.” She pointed at you.

You laughed. “Okay, Mom. Bye!”

She let herself out, and once the door closed shut, your polite demeanor fell. You took some unstable steps towards your couch, but you collapsed to the ground before you could make it there. Your chest wracked with sobs, and tears ran down your red face. You sucked in desperate gasps of air in between cries so much that it sounded like you were choking on your own tears.

My heart broke at seeing you so absolutely devastated, and all at my hand, too. I didn't mean for things to end up this way. This wasn’t what I had planned. But now, I had to make it up to you. I had to make things better. I had to fill the hole in your life and make you feel complete again.

No matter what. I promise, gorgeous. I won’t let you down.

CHAPTER EIGHT

[dreamsinthefoxhollow]

Resident Evil vs Super Soldier

It was night in the city. I had joined a group of around fifty. They were just regular people who lived in the city, but who were now the survivors. We had taken shelter in a low-level apartment. It was a good place, lots of concrete and few ways in. While they were upstairs doing their scared people thing I was out in the courtyard. There were some lights off in the distance, maybe 3-4 blocks out. That's where the things were at. They weren't making the light. They were just in the part of the city that was still well-lit. It was safer here, in the dark. The light from the stars overhead, and the glow in the sky from the city lights, were more than enough for me to see by. It wasn’t that I had especially good vision at the moment, it was just good enough that I could see (with that old fake night filter from cheap movies). I could also see that there were little things crawling about in the grass. At least one was nearby, probably a few more out of sight. I could hear them rustling. Then I caught one trying to sneak into the building. I chased it down and caught before it could get in the doors. It was silvery and thin, like some kind of worm with dozens of short legs. It was a mean little thing. If it got ahold of anyone it would have easily ripped them up and infected them. It was also very crunchy when I squeezed it to death in my hand. That was kind of gross and messy. It bled blue slime. This was bad, though. If those little things were here, and found the people in the building, which it seemed they had since they were headed that way, it meant ... Damnit. Couldn't even wait for me to finish my Snake Pliskin monologue. Other things were running across the courtyard. They could have been dogs, but without skin, and with heads larger than their torso, and lots more eyes than needed. There was someone else there, watching from a balcony. He kind of reminded me of Bucky, the Winter Soldier. He had apparently been watching me skulk about the courtyard, and was now standing at alert, ready to start defending the building. I shouted that he needed to get the people out. I'd handle this while he got them to safety. I would create a distraction! It sounded good, and he apparently went along with it. I drew a weapon, some kind of oversize automatic pistol firing in short burst mode. It didn't take many shots to take down the four-legged things scampering through the grass. But that was just the beginning. After a few seconds more were running across the dark courtyard. I shot them, too, but there were a lot more this time. Dozens. And they were getting bigger. At first, I was brave, and foolish, and heroic. I ran towards them, shooting, shooting more, shooting even more, making sure I was giving the herd a good rout. But when they started to get bigger and faster and meaner I had to change tactics. Well, I had to but I really didn't. I felt around in my backpack/hammerspace for a good rifle, while still firing with my other hand. Problem was, I couldn't seem to get a rifle. It was just empty 5th dimensional bag. Then things got worse. Now there were things easily the size and shape of hogs, and maybe even hippos. These were crazy fast, highly muscled, red, dripping slime, skinned beasts. They circled me as I circled them. I was trying to stay out of a straight attack line, while dodging others that were jumping in from the sides, while shooting at everything that was moving, while still feeling around for the missing rifle. I imagined in a moment I'd have to resort to pointing my finger and making "pew pew" noises. The pistol ran out of its bottomless ammo cache as I found a stubby rifle in my other hand. I whipped that out and ... oh so nice. That thing was devastating. While those big things were absorbing my pistol fire until they had too many holes to function, this rifle was tearing them apart with bursts of explosive round. I couldn't help but give a wild laugh.I managed to break through the wild rush of beasts and make my way to the lit city area. But the things were flooding the area, and I swear they were somehow getting as large elephants, but much faster ... and leaping ... along with things that may have been humans, but were also skinned and red and oozing slimy stuff. Worse still, they were all increasing substantially in numbers. Even my superhuman abilities were getting to the limit as the piles of bodies grew and waves of things sprang in from all sides. Retreating was a good plan. I had given the people enough time to get out of the building, I hoped. It really was only just a few seconds, maybe 30 or a full minute, since this had all started with those first few running hound things. It was hard to tell time while in the middle of a heated battle. Maybe it was more like five minutes. Regardless, I was out of time. I managed to clear a space enough to dodge closer to some pillars of a building. The massive wave of things was coming from only one direction, swarming along the avenue in a red wave of disgusting fleshy red bodies. I fished around in the bag again and pulled out some kind of really large shotgun. Not like just large, but like huge and stubby. Like a cartoon version of a hand cannon. I fired it just above the seething horde of things still charging at me. It had a heck of a recoil, and in a moment dozens of streaks were filling the air as the canister shell opened over the crowd, and then there was a nonstop rumble of explosions as all of the released mini-shells carpet bombed the area. I dropped the single use weapon and ran while the bodyparts were flying. We were going to meet at the city center, where there was a delegation of higher beings, the keepers of this place. I caught up to the crowd of regular people, still being led by that one guy, just as they got to the base of the central towers. I picked up what looked like a large cat and tucked it under one arm. The cat seemed to both be pissed at me and grateful. The central towers were monolithic black walls curved to form a broken circle around some more curved monolithic walls, which ... It just kept going in layers, each a taller set, with the center roughly some kind of spire reaching up into the night sky and out of sight. We didn't make it much past the third set of walls when there was a really ugly noise from out in the city. It was screaming monsters mixed with screaming sirens. These sirens were the kind only used for really bad things, like tsunami, earthquakes, or the city blowing up with nuclear-level weaponry... The higher beings glided down and plucked all of us from our feet and flew up to the higher reaches of the spire. I had the uncomfortable honor to be one of the last to be picked up so I got to watch as explosions the size of full skyscraper buildings were going off just a few blocks away, getting closer, one every second or so. I could see flames and debris in between buildings. It was an uncomfortable sight. We all were safely spread out among the tops of the spires. The tops of these things were flat and huge, like an entire city block. They were also a dull red, almost rust colored. Most everyone was clinging together and staying far away from the sheer dropoff edges. I was speaking to one of the beings, an androgynous, tall humanoid with angelic wings of something that looked like glowing mist behind it. We knew each other and were on good terms. I was told the things we escaped from were not yet done. They would be coming up to where we were, eventually. We couldn't stay there. The beings could help us relocate to another part of the world, as soon as they figured out what was the best place. But things went really bad really fast. Some of the larger beasts had managed to climb the spire and were clawing over the edges. I whipped out the rifle and let loose a full auto attack on the nearest to me. The beings flicked others away with psionic shoves, like flicking ants off the rim of a cup. But the beasts were too many. In sheer numbers they were closing in, despite being flung away or turned into shredded burger by my rifle. Even that other guy was in the fray, with a sort mini-gun looking thing that was dealing even more damage than I was. Then we were suddenly zooming through the night air. I couldn't tell if we were unceremoniously dumped into some kind of teleporter, wormhole, or just carried really fast through the air. I just knew that things had gone very wrong and very bad, because the higher being who had carried me (and the cat) was telling me we had to seek shelter because the higher beings themselves were under attack from something else far greater than we had seen, something far worse, and threatening to even them. Not only did my angelic ride give me bad news, they had apparently been unable to get me to the intended destination. I was dropped on a mountain top maybe 200km outside the city. I was separated from the others. The mountain was all black rock. It was cold. I could see the city still lit up with little glowing searchlights and a little blob of citylight aura. Then it was just a large blob of blinding light. Ah yes. The nuclear option. Wait. The blob was getting way too big. It looked more like a molten bubble than a nuke. It was getting way too big, way too fast. Did some nutcase overload the antimatter power generator under the city? I backed away and scrambled off the rocks and onto a dark path carved in the solid stone on the sheltered side of the mountain. The air around me shifted from a nearly still, cold mountain breeze to a warm draft. The sky overhead turned orange and silver. I heard voices in my head. Not those of the higher beings, though they were still present at the moment, urging in multiplicity of tone to get to safety, and not just for us but for themselves. These new voices were microwave broadcast voices coming from something orbiting above the planet. I was being instructed to head to a military launch facility less than half a km away, but kind of straight down the side of the mountain. The higher being voices were snuffed out suddenly. The air around me started to glow, and the ground began vibrating uncomfortably. I knew there were other survivors dumped all around me, out of sight, but the new voices kept urging me to not worry about them and get to the facility. I scrambled straight down the side of the mountain like a drunken barbarian running through a cornfield that happened to be growing on a near-sheer cliff. The facility was a collection of black buildings with trusses and armored walls. I ran under some kind of archway and slammed against a metal-truss-lined wall. I was sheltered from the glowing air. There was a pipe there and I grabbed it and held tightly to it. I mean, it looked like a pipe, but it was actually a teleportation interlock lever. The archway was a teleportation site. The voices in my head said to remain calm and hold on tight because it was going to be close. At the same time the glowing around me had turned the night in a sun-like mid-day, and the heat in the air was causing steam to evaporate off the scratched armored sleeve on my arm. I could see parts of the building bathed in the light start to glow red and yellow as they were superheated. Oh, this wasn't just some large nuke, or even an antimatter reactor overload from the city power station. This was an orbital planetary sterilization wave. It swept over the facility, turning the air into charged plasma. The cat still tucked protectively under my arm yowled in words I could understand. "We are so fucked, you f-"

We both were laying on the floor of a brightly lit room. The walls were scratched and silvery-white. I sat up. I was steaming, and parts of my armored outfit (of course in black) which weren't scratched, dented, bloodied, or shredded, were burned like torched rubber. The cindered edges were still glowing in fading oranges and reds. Smoke trails were curling up in the still air from ... well, from me. The cat sat up beside me, completely silent and seemingly stunned, unburned, uninjured, but stained with all manner of grime. I picked the cat up again and we exited the room through an armored airlock. I set the cat on the ground as several uniformed soldiers checked us with some instruments. They referred to the cat as Kaiht, or 'A Kaiht,' as in that was one of what it was. It sure wasn't just a large cat, and was treated, and talked to, like a person. Kaiht was led out and the soldiers helped peel off the armored parts I was wearing. Thankfully I had some leathers underneath so I didn't need a change of clothing, at least not right away. Once out of the room I marched straight towards a very specific area. The hallways were clean and bright and would have looked like a very modern and upscale office building, if it were built using the layout plans of a submarine. The halls were narrow with exposed boxes or conduits at random. I reached the location in the maze of halls with the lone soldier escort having to double-time to keep up with me. I had reached an observation deck. This was a rather large ship, and I wanted to see out the back. There were several other people there, all survivors from the catastrophe, just as myself. There was only a dozen or so of us. I didn't see the other guy among them. We gathered on a balcony-like platform and gazed into a sea of pure, blinding white. That ... wasn't exactly supposed to be that way. Someone pointed into the sea of white. I had to squint and blink several times before it changed into the familiar black of orbital space. There was the planet we had been on, slowly receding. I could have covered my view of it with an outstretched hand. It was very indistinct and fuzzy, out of focus. The lower ¾ was a hazy mix of blue and brown, while a crescent covering the upper ¼ was a glowing haze of hellfire. It was spreading. From our vantage point we were looking at the unburned side of the planet, and the crescent was the sterilization wave coming around from the far side. Another few minutes and that wave would fully engulf the surface. Everything would be more or less a molten sea of lava and slag. Then, the process would repeat. The planet would glow brighter. Then again. And again. It wouldn't stop until the entire ball of planet was around the temperature of a small sun. That would take a few hours. The group and I went separate ways when we walked back into the ship. They were solemn and comforting each other, or in shock. Civilians. They'd probably never heard of such a thing, much less seen it, or lived through being in it. Lucky bastards. Also, the billions of unlucky bastards still on the planet, right now, inside that glowing crescent, or a few minutes away from being turned into carbon dust. That was a lot of death on someone's hands. I marched again, this time without an escort, since that guy stayed with the shellshocked people. I made it to a dining area/meeting room. There was food set out on large plates, one at each of a dozen or so seating places. A few people were already there and nodded to me as I entered. I recognized one as one of the higher beings, now gracing us with a more corporeal presence instead of straight-up godlike visage. They poked at the food with an amused tilt of their head. Kaiht - I think that was her name as well as her species - walked over and hopped onto a nearby chair. She was big enough to look down at the plate, but still looked like a huge, white housecat sitting in a chair at a table. I recognized two others as pure, secret-handshake-club military. Others were part of the ship's crew. Someone else walked in from a doorway next to what looked like a projection screen. She was a tall black woman in a slightly different uniform, and had that air about her that said she was more than 100 percent in charge of this entire rescue, and planet destruction, and more than just this ship we were on. She sat at the head end of the table. I sat beside Kaiht. We both picked at the food with disinterest, but Kaiht tore into it after a moment of cautions sniffing. I was busy staring at that woman. Oh yes, that woman. We knew each other quite well. We were not on the best of terms, but still on terms that meant we wouldn't be actively shooting at each other without due cause. She nodded and gave me a very curt and short version of "hello" worded more like, "Glad you could join us. Sorry about the last second teleport. I hope you weren't cooked too badly." She was snide, but I knew her enough to know she meant it literally, and would not have waited until the last millisecond if it hadn't been necessary. I also knew that planetary sterilization wasn't something she could just order on a whim, no matter how high up in the relative food chain she was. She picked at the food on her plate and turned toward the screen. It lit up with a little flickering of scintillating light pinpoints, before forming a holographic image next to the table. Ah yes. Here would be the real higher-ups who gave the orders to murder billions of civilians, and who would have explanations about the sea of monsters, and probably new orders for all of us.

Then I woke up.

[dedrickskull]

Colm O Driscoll x reader

You were a regular woman, young, knew how to handle a gun, and you happened to be in a gang who had a rivalry against the Van Der Linde gang. You first joined the gang at the age of 17, Colm found you at a saloon in Valentine. You were a simple waitress there.

Colm wasn’t the nicest, and he definitely wasn’t the brightest either. He had his good and bad times, just like everyone else. Lately you’ve been taking a lot of shit from him, and you just couldn’t stand how he’s been treating you. You often brushed it off, until Colm threw a shirt back at you. “You didn’t scrub this shit right!” He yelled, and walked away. You sighed frustrated, throwing the shirt into the hot water and scrubbing it. “Asshole.” You muttered, one of the ladies heard you, but said nothing. What you did was not enough for him, and you finished up the shirt and hanged it up to dry. To get everything off your mind, you went to pick apples at a nearby apple tree. You later came back and saw the same woman that was sitting there talking to Colm, Colm had his face scrunched in a way that it didn’t look pleasing at all.

You raised a brow, but shrugged it off. While you were feeding the horses, you suddenly got grabbed by your arm, and dragged into the house by none other than Colm himself. Once you were inside, he locked the door. He picked you up and threw you against the wall, “Calling me names, huh?” He spit out and smacked you. You hissed, “Fucking tell me!” He smacked you again, you hissed again. “I-I called you an asshole...” You said, looking down and holding your cheek. “Look at me!” He yelled, gripping your chin roughly and smacked your cheek again. He gripped your hair and pulled it roughly, “You useless piece of shit.” He spat. “Call me that again and you’ll be in the goddamn ground.” He said. His hand snaked around your neck and held you against the wall, blocking off your air supply. You choked, his hand running up your thigh under your skirt. He stared into your fear-filled eyes. This was a huge turn on for him, his gaze turning into a lustful one alongside with hate. He pulled out a knife, cutting off your shirt and pulling it off. He released your neck, you coughed. “C-Colm-“ He cut you off by his lips landing on your neck and roughly sucking, he literally tore off your skirt. You lightly whined at the cool air now reaching your cunt. “Shut up!” He said, you gulped. Not wanting to anger him further. He used his knife to cut off your underwear, his knife was dangerously close to your most precious parts. But he didn’t care, he knew what he was doing. He brought his knife back up to your neck, pressing it at the dull side. You looked at him in fear, he stared at your breasts and smirked, leaning in and taking one into his mouth and gently sucking. You moaned, his knife pressed more harder against your neck. His tongue swirled around your nipple one last time before he pulled away. You thought he was done until he dragged you over to his bed, pushing you down onto it and him crawling on top of you. “So innocent~” He purred, you couldn’t escape, there was no way out. His knife grazed against your soft skin, and around your nipples. He created a small slit of blood on your chest, he quickly licked it up. He trailed it down further, creating another slit of blood on your stomach. You pretended it didn’t hurt, but it did. You didn’t dare to make a sound. He stopped at your pussy, leaning in and teasingly licking. Your cunt ached for attention, until he began sucking on your clit driving you crazy. “Fuck!” You moaned out, he continued to eat you out. He held your legs open, shoving his tongue into your cunt over and over again, pleasure was overflowing in you. Your whole body was radiating in pleasure. He began to finger you, making you arch your back. He chuckled evilly, “Such a naughty whore~” He licked your clit, “Moan for daddy~” He inserted another finger and began pumping fast. You moaned again, panting as his fingers worked you. Your mouth agape as you were under his touch, knowing he could kill you any second. But that’s what made it so hot. He unzipped himself, taking off his belt. “Now, why don’t you be a good girl and please me.” He whispered seductively, you obliged. Getting up, he laid on the bed stroking himself. He was big, bigger than you’d expect. And he was also very thick, it curved slightly and the tip leaked with precum. You licked your lips, leaning down and taking him into your mouth. Closing your eyes as you closed in on him further, his hips bucked up into your mouth as you gently gagged. But it wouldn’t stop you, you continued to swirl your tongue around his shaft and tip, sucking around him. He ran his hands through your hair, “Ah, fuck, yes~” He moaned, “That’s a good girl, huh?~” You nodded. “Look up at me, look up at your daddy~” You shifted your eyes into his own, he nearly melted then and there. “Look at you, so beautiful~ Looking at me with those beautiful eyes~” His cock twitched in your throat, “I’m gonna mount ya, and make you drip with my seed” He said sternly, he pulled you off his cock.

He flipped you so you were on the bottom. Without warning, he thrusted into you, making you whimper. He started slow, “Ah, such a good whore!” He then picked up his pace. You bled around him, you decided to tolerate the pain. A few moments passed and the pain passed, and all you felt was pleasure from this man. The way his anger showed through his thrusts, his hair hung in his face as he panted and moaned. ‘Is this from me?’ You asked yourself. His head buried in your neck as he continuously thrusted into you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, you craved for him to be deeper. “Yes! Yes!~” You moaned, “Fuck me!” You shouted. Drops of sweat ran down his chest down to his abdomen and eventually falling onto you. He thrusted in a steady pace, going faster with each thrust. He held onto your hips tightly, to the point his fingers would make marks on your hips. Your skin slapped against one another, his balls slapped against your ass. He was actually surprisingly tidy down there, you could tell he trimmed regularly. That smell, that musky scent you smelled on him. ‘That cologne’ You thought, it was your favourite. You inhaled the scent, it was almost intoxicating. You sighed, the smell was so glorious. It made you fall for this man even more. He deeply moaned, you felt his cock twitch inside you. You knew he was approaching the faster he thrusted into you, you also felt yourself getting closer to your finish. You felt your stomach tighten up, looking up into his eyes as he thrusted a few more times. His grip on your hair got tighter, pulling your face close to his. He leaned in and shoved his tongue into your mouth, you swirled your tongue around his. The production of testosterone increasing by the second. One last buck into your hips was all he needed before releasing his hot sticky seed into you. “Colm!” You moaned out, he groaned loudly as he shot his seed deep into your womb. You also clasped around his cock, cumming also. He rested his forehead against yours, both panting. You’ve never felt something so pleasing in your entire life. You felt something dripping out of you, but you could care less as Colm hugged you. Stroking your still red cheeks and hair, he looked into your eyes as if he saw through you. He pulled you into a kiss, a rather slow and romantic one. This was unusual, but this would do. Colm was never like this, so why was he doing this? You don’t mind it, right? This was the first time any man has ever showed you affection before, or any physical contact really. But with Colm O’Driscoll, the meanest man in the West. Perhaps he wasn’t what people said he was, perhaps he was just one big sweetheart that nobody’s seen. In the moment, you accepted it. You accepted him. He cleared his throat. “(Y/n), I’d like you to be my partner. My significant other, so to say.” He said, you smiled. “Of course, Colm.” You said. He got up off you, helping you up. You wanted to believe him, you weren’t sure. After being thrown to the side so many times you decided to give this man a chance. “Say, ready for another round?” He asked, you smirked. Nodding.

[randombtsprincessa]

Absinthe || 9

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Chapters:  01  02  03  04  05  06  07  08

Warning: Mentions of Abusive childhood, Domestic Abuse, Mugging.

The first memory that Hoseok had of his childhood when he knew things were going wrong, was a Christmas. Of course, he wasn’t really all that familiar with the concept. He had seen images in his measly school texts of kids smiling and joyously opening gifts, sat around a large spiked tree decorated with lights and other baubles.

He had seen similar trees when he would walk on the streets, shivering as cold wind seeped through his too thin clothes and biting at his soft skin. He would press his cheeks against the glass of the shops, watching in awe as the star atop the trees gleamed and beckoned him closer.

He could never get closer though.

That year, his mother had painstakingly brought together enough cash to give her son a Christmas. A small triangular tree she decorated with pieces of shiny metals she could find and a gift that she would have to scavenge for, his next birthday.

Hoseok had been jubilant, of course. Laughing and running around to show off his joy like the children in the books did.

That was until his father came home.

One look at the man had confused the child and panicked the mother, ushering him upstairs with whispered words of it being too late and how he had school the next day.

From that day on, things were worse. His father stayed home more, his mother went out more, cried silently more, hid her face more.

There were no more Christmases.

Hoseok grew up then, learning the harsher ways of the world, he began to understand his family more.

His father had lost his job…and lost his will to work to support his family as well, it seemed. Instead, his mother worked two jobs, brought in what wages she could and his father had the gall to demand more, saying she barely did anything. His mother was stick thin, giving up her own meals to feed her son and husband.

Hoseok learnt hate at that point.

He hated his father; he hated what he did to his poor mother. He hated that his mother died on her way home out of sheer exhaustion and that he wasn’t anywhere around. He hadn’t even made it to the hospital.

He learnt the true nature of the Christmas tree. He understood how it mocked him.

That night, before his father could even return from having buried his mother, Hoseok ran.

He ran through streets and alleys, eyes and mind fixed on one thing: Money would’ve saved them. He needed money to survive, to be saved.

What he didn’t bear in mind was just how cruel the world can be.

A lost child in a back alley caught between two men who wanted cash that Hoseok didn’t have took other things, his jacket for one; ripped and shredded, his shoes, and then they took out their frustrations on the boy, beating him nearly half dead before they were done.

On those streets, Hoseok wept his heart out, cursing his life until the backdoors of the alleyway opened and a smaller boy emerged, eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

Yoongi had been his only friend, over the years; the two grew so close that they were inseparable. Yoongi saved his life and in turn Hoseok took flight under his manipulative wings. He always had a knack of talking, he put it into use.

He learnt that together Yoongi and he put up a countenance that many weren’t able to crack. Brother, orphans, needy, that was easy to comply to and they prospered on the streets until they were picked up from the streets and brought in front of the Master himself.

Hoseok now had what he wanted, a job to do, a luxurious roof over his head, his best friend by his side. He had been doing well for years now.

So, why was it that as he drove towards his set up apartment that he could only think of you?

His hand went to retrieve his phone from his pocket, eyes scanning the ID before raising it to his ear. Probably, Yoongi just wanted to tell him off for something again, but when he heard his voice it wasn’t anywhere near reassuring.

“Did you see her?” Yoongi asked.

“What?” Hoseok asked.

“Y/N, did you get to talk to her or something? She left in a hurry and I just received a call from her maid, asking where she is and if she’s coming in for dinner.”

Hoseok’s hand tightened around the phone.

“Why would you have seen her?” He asked.

The silence was definitely not what he wanted.

“Yoongi, what happened? Did she come over? What did you do?” he barked into the receiver.

“She knows, Hoseok. About us, about you, about why we came into her life in the first place…she knows and I caught her snooping. I didn’t do anything to her but she just took off and I didn’t stop her. I have no idea where she is.”

If there was something that could’ve passed off as a heart in Hoseok’s chest, it had long since stopped and stuttered with each word Yoongi spoke.

She knew…she knew about him…

She knew why he was with her…

Hoseok’s knuckles were starting to ache with the force of his grip on the wheel but he couldn’t get one thought out of his head. He felt like the time when he was a child.

She was never going to want him again…

“Hoseok?” Yoongi’s voice was hard. “If she isn’t home…there must be a chance that…”

“He has her. They have her.” Hoseok said and hung up, his eyes flying around to the intersection and he made a hard turn, the back of his car almost skidding as he began to drive the way he came back.

Hoseok had never been in the head office in anything but a pristine suit, always honed by his boss to present his best but now he marched through the corridors in clothes from the stupid college, looking like a kid and not one of the best workers in the department as he moved without any precedent to his boss’s office.

He wasn’t concerned with the eyes that glanced up at him; he was only concerned that he should leave here knowing where she was being kept. If he couldn’t back out of this life, he would at least make sure she walked away with no scratches to her body.

He argued with himself as to what this would mean for him but it didn’t matter. His own feelings didn’t matter at that moment.

His knock sounded rushed and hasty, even to his own ears but it didn’t matter, he told himself roughly.

The muffled come in made his feet walk in and the Master frowned, a keen eye running down his figure.

“Hoseok, what is it?” he asked.

Hoseok took a moment to compose him before giving his boss an easy smile. “I just wondered when we already put the other plan to action. At least the fielding officer should’ve been notified about the change.” He said.

The Master’s frown deepened. “What change? I haven’t officiated any change in the last twenty four hours.” He said.

Hoseok froze.

“Y/N Y/L/N, nothing changed?” he asked again.

The Master leaned back in his chair. “No, you are still expected to turn her around.” He said slowly before realization dawned on his smooth yet aged face. “Something has happened.” He said slowly.

“She is missing, it seems.” Hoseok said.

His boss sighed, bringing his fingers together. “It seems Mr. Tuan took matters into his own hands.” He said before returning his attention to his protégé. “I suppose you want to go and bring her back?” he asked wryly.

“I…” Hoseok stilted, eyes turning down.

“Yoongi is not the only one who knows your tells, son. You have been obvious for a while now.” The Master said.

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok gritted.

It didn’t cross his mind that he had nothing to be sorry for. He was after all human.

“Don’t be sorry now. I can only let you do what you want. I will tell you where he might have her but I’m afraid I cannot help you with forces. I cannot risk this organization in case she does happen to tell the police or her father. Check the old warehouses where Tuan worked.”

Hoseok nodded before turning to leave only to be stopped by the Master’s words again.

“Just remember Hoseok, as kind as I am to you, life is anything but. You are the closest thing I have to an heir. Do not lose what you have for what will probably never be yours.”

There was a pause before Hoseok swung the door shut after him.

“This is not going to be good.” Yoongi said pessimism on point as usual but this time, Hoseok had to agree. There was no way he was going to leave this encounter with his face intact, that was unless over the years, he had learnt to control his impulsive lashes.

He had suggested a neutral meet-up spot, out of the public eye and secluded. Sunglasses hid the shifty look in his eyes and Yoongi could only guess so much. “I don’t want to have my nose broken, Hoseok.” He said again as their eyes fixed on the sleek black car that winded up the drive way to come to a smooth stop in front of theirs.

“Shh,” he hissed to his best friend before standing up straight, eyes fixed on the way the door opened and the black shoe stepped out, followed by a long leg and then a much too broad shoulder.

By the time the dark head emerged, his companion had already gotten out, a stony look on his face.

“Namjoon; it’s been a while.” Hoseok muttered, hoping the ice that exuded from his ex friend’s face would break a little as his eyes went back to the other man.

What he wasn’t prepared for was the resounding crack as a fist flew towards his face; landing squarely mid his cheekbone and flinging him back.

Well, guess that answered his question about the impulse control.

Yoongi yelled out something as Hoseok heaved, his hand managing to brace against the car door as his other hand came to his face, rubbing around to see if he had bled.

“Don’t worry, you bloody pretty face is fine.” The calmed voice said and he glanced up at Kim Seokjin with something of a wild smirk. It was so hard to beat old practices.

“I’d say you were the pretty one out of all of us, Hyung.” He said, making Jin’s eyes flash but he didn’t come in for another punch, instead choosing to clear his throat and just eyeing him warily.

“I don’t have time for this. Say your piece then fuck off.” Jin said.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Namjoon joining his partner, gait slower and unsure. “I must say I was surprised to receive your call, Jung. Any special reason as to why you sought me our instead of Jin?”

“That punch didn’t tell you?” Hoseok rubbed at his face, ignoring the subtle scoff of both Yoongi and Jin.

He shrugged. “You were always more calm.”

Namjoon didn’t look impressed. “Like Hyung said, we don’t have time for this. Move it along.” He griped.

“Alright, I’ll get to it. I have been dating Y/N for past some time now and she may have found out about…my actual occupation and she may have been kidnapped.” Hoseok said in one breath.

He was pretty sure Jin was going to hit him again, the way his muscles bunched but he was also pretty sure Namjoon gripped the back of his suit jacket. That didn’t stop Hoseok from taking a cautionary step back.

“You…you fucking…bastard…” Namjoon spit out.

“Relax, Namjoon, no need for names now. What’s been done is done.” Yoongi grumbled…from behind the car.

“How dare you? She’s not nearly close enough to be used like this!” Jin muttered.

“Not close enough, she’s an heiress. I thought you believed in keeping your clients in the loop.” Hoseok threw back.

“Yes, because of you and what you did to me.”

“Don’t cry over spilt milk now.”

“Enough!”

Jin and Hoseok both turned to look around at Namjoon. “Can we get back to the topic where you said she’s been kidnapped?”

“Yes please,” Hoseok exchanged a glance with Jin. “I had nothing to do with this. It was Tuan. Mark Tuan and his father,” He explained.

“The same one who threw that party we got her from?” Jin asked.

“Yeah, I saw you there.” Hoseok grinned.

“Stop goading us, Jung.” Namjoon warned before turning to his partner. “We need to get her back then.”

“Yeah, you’ll need me to come with you.” Hoseok said immediately.

“Give me one good reason.” Jin laughed.

“The place is going to be locked up tight. You need someone to get in before you infiltrate it so we can see where she is. If not, they’ll just take her somewhere else.” Hoseok said angrily.

Namjoon shot him an inquisitive look before muttering into Jin’s ear. Jin looked at Namjoon disbelievingly before sighing.

“Fine, meet us there.”

To say Hoseok was nervous would’ve been an understatement, considering he just wanted this to be done with already so he could see where and how you were.

It hadn’t taken him long to pass the guards outside, a simple mention of his name and affiliation enough to be let inside.

Inside however…

“So, your ‘so called’ Master just agreed to our plan?” Mr. Tuan asked.

“Well, when you capture the subject of my mission, it becomes kind of hard to actually…you know…do the mission.” Hoseok said easily, throwing in an eye roll to further hassle the man.

To his delight, it worked.

“So, what do you want now anyway? We are not paying you anything more, nor do we expect a refund of any kind. We are done here.” he barked, cigarette ash falling to the floor as he flicked his fingers towards the younger man.

“Yes, but you see, she has seen my face. We just need to make a convincing get away for my side. Its protocol you see. From one aspiring criminal to another one,” Hoseok chuckled but Mr. Tuan didn’t.

“Why should I let you anywhere near her?” he asked.

“Because if I say one word, an entire battalion will be crawling up your ass in ways you won’t find pleasant. Sir, I’m being polite here. Let me do my work and I’ll let you get on with yours.”

Hoseok liked to think of himself as intimidating enough to get through to someone like Mr. Tuan and thankfully, he was right because Tuan jerked his head to the side towards his son, who had been quiet for the duration of the talk to lead him inside.

His eyes sought out the one thing he was here for and widened when they found her. She was tied and gagged, eyes covered with a black soiled cloth and he was sure she was whimpering.

Without a care towards Mark, he rushed towards her, palm resting on her knees and she stiffened before trying to jerk away, muffled yells falling from her gagged mouth.

“It’s me, relax, it’s just me,” he mumbled, fingers fiddling with the cloth and he yanked it down to her neck.

“Hoseok?” she asked her voice hoarse and he mumbled out a yes before he was removing the blindfold.

“Wait…we aren’t…what are you doing?” Mark immediately moved forward before freezing as the sounds of sirens filled the small backroom and the sounds of orders to come out with hands raised sounded on loudspeakers.

Mark turned to look around wildly and Hoseok moved, his elbow connecting with the side of his head hard enough to knock the boy down to his knees where Hoseok kicked him back, all while Y/N watched with a gaping mouth.

Yells were already filling out the warehouse and Jin and Namjoon entered the room, wearing their normal bulletproof vests, looking over her as Hoseok moved behind her to undo the ties.

“How…how did you find me?” she asked.

“Hoseok…he…may have had a change of heart.” Jin said, offering a hand to her to stand up and she took it, shakily getting to her feet.

“You…know each other?” she asked.

Namjoon was the one who answered.

“We may have crossed paths a few times in our…respective careers.” He said, holstering his gun.

Y/N shivered, turning to look back at Hoseok. For a second, a long painful gaze settled between them before she was blinking, looking down.

“I can’t forgive what you did…but thank you.” she said.

Hoseok smiled sadly at Jin and Namjoon, hands digging in his pocket.

“I guess I’ll take that. You can either rat me out…or…”

“Just leave.” She whispered and for the first time in a long time, something ached in Hoseok’s chest.

No matter that he knew it was inevitable.

“I’ll do that. Thank you…you’ll never have to see me again.” He said, nodding towards Jin and Namjoon before he was slipping away, feet carrying him through the slivers of metal slats, blending into the foliage as he had been taught to do so many times.

Only, this time, he did it feeling as if he had left something behind.

[stealth-spiderr]

red // t.h.

wassup homies, here’s my thing for @fuckyou-imspiderman‘s writing challenge!! this took me ages to start bc i had a block but then i was flooded with an idea last night and here’s this. it’s inspired by youngblood by 5sos, more from the vibes i get listening to it than the actual lyrics but i managed to work some of them in

summary // you and Tom aren’t great at relationships and are always up for meaningless sex but maybe you both have feelings after all. and maybe you don’t know how to handle them properly and things don’t turn out the best.

pairing // tom holland x fem!reader ((bit of a fuckboi//fuckgirl thing))

warnings // swearing, angst, sexual references ((no actual smut tho))

word count // 2.9k

Red was the wine they drank the day they met.

Both you and Tom had no particular reason to be there, simply there to avoid boredom. Besides, everyone should go to a wine tasting at least once right? You’d ended up seated beside each other and spent the whole time snickering at the ridiculous adjectives used to describe the tastes and scents of various wines. The pair of you left together to grab coffee and talk a bit more over something you knew next to nothing about.

“I’m not even a big fan of wine, I just thought it’d be interesting,” you explained to Tom why you’d gone to the tasting in the first place.

“Well ‘interesting’ is one word for it, I s’pose,” Tom chuckled.

You talked for a couple of hours, both of you being overly flirty with each other, trying to lure the other in. When the tension became too much to bare, you got an uber to Tom’s place. His hand gripped your thigh as you kissed along his neck for half the drive, before Tom took your chin in his hand and titled your head away in order to return the favour for the rest of the trip.

Clothes came off as soon as you were inside his place, leaving a trail from the front door to his bed. Two rounds later, you were picking up your clothes and heading out. You’d barely walked five minutes when your phone buzzed with an incoming message from an unknown number.

I hope you enjoyed yourself, we should do this again -Tom

You smiled slightly to yourself as you typed your reply.

We should, keep your phone close 😉

As weeks went by booty calls turned into one of you staying the night, which bled into lazy days. Date nights with take out, the pair of you became the physical embodiment of ‘Netflix and chill’ and after a few months officially called yourselves a couple.

Red was the strawberries they ate when they promised forever.

It was a night-in date, a little picnic on the floor of Tom’s living room, a cheesy rom-com playing on the TV while you ate pizza. After cuddling up a while, Tom got up and ran into the kitchen, returning with a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Because what’s a picnic without chocolate covered strawberries?” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Did you steal that from High School Musical?”

“Maybe.”

You laughed fondly before tucking into the sweet treats.

“I love these so much,” you said.

“And I love you,” Tom replied.

You smiled at each other and Tom leaned in and captured your lips with his own. It held the magic of a first kiss. The first kiss that’s shown in movies and you just know that the characters are meant to be, you could just imagine the fireworks going off.

“I’ll love you until the day you die, baby,” you mumbled into his lips.

“That could be tomorrow, you know.”

“Okay, until I die.”

“Could also possibly happen tomorrow.”

“Forever, then. I’ll love you forever.”

A grin broke out on Tom’s face and he picked up another strawberry, took a small bite before holding the fruit just in front of your mouth. You took the final bite while looking into his eyes, and he looked back with lustful intensity. He flicked the leaves away before he closed the gap between you once again, his tongue swiping away strawberry juice that was still on your lips.

Red was the blood that dripped from his knuckles.

Your relationship had become bitter-sweet. Tom loved you, or at least he thought he did. You loved Tom, or at least he thought you did. From day one everyone around him said you were both playing a dangerous game, because you were both the same. Before you both started hooking up regularly, you both were no strangers to one night stands, meaningless sex was your endgame every time either of you went out.

But old habits die hard. Tom kept noticing you taking too long to get drinks in a bar, he’d catch you flirting with hot guys hoping they’d buy you drinks. You’d catch him with his hands on a girls hips as she grinded her ass into his crotch. Maybe, subconsciously, it turned into a game of trying to one-up the other every time you went out, and yet you’d always leave together, making out in the back of an uber, usually to Tom’s but sometimes your place.

But one night things escalated too far when you did body shots with someone else whilst Tom was getting felt up by someone else. You made eye contact and his eyes darkened as he pushed the woman’s hands off his body. He stormed out of the bar, something he had never done, so you raced after him.

“You can’t just do that!” he exclaimed after you’d asked what was wrong.

“As if you can talk, letting some random bitch rub her hands all over you,” you scoff.

“That’s a hell of a lot different than having your tongue all over some wanker’s six pack! What? I can’t even kill some time with someone who actually wants to be with me?” he retorted.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“We’re supposed to be out together, why the fuck would you go off someone else and do body shots of all things?”

“It’s just my fault! You go off on your own two, what am I supposed to do then? We’re supposed to love each other, right? What happened to that?”

Tom opened his mouth to spit back an answer but stopped. What had happened? The way you both behaved hadn’t really changed, while your drunk flirting had increased to annoy each other, the only big difference was that neither of you were sleeping around. When he thinks about love, Tom believes that you become your best self when you’re with the person you love and who loves you. He looked at you, where there should have been betrayal in your features there wasn’t any, just frustration. You weren’t your best self with him, that was clear. He thought back to everything that happened on your nights out, he wasn’t his best self with you either.

“I don’t think you care,” Tom said, voice lowered and thick with oncoming tears.

He wanted to love you, when sex wasn’t involved you were amazing and fun to be around. But it wasn’t often when sex wasn’t involved in one way or another.

“Excuse me?” you scoffed.

“Tell me that if I pissed off right now, you wouldn’t walk back in there and take someone else back to your place.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re being an idiot, Tom.”

Tom. You hadn’t called him Tom in a long time, it was always ‘baby’. He smiled but there was no happiness behind it, you’d told him without saying the words but he needed to hear them. He stepped forward and cupped your face.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.”

You shrug slightly. “You don’t wanna hear it.”

“Just fucking tell me.”

“If you left right now, I’d go back in there and I’d find someone to help me forget you.”

It didn’t hurt him like he thought it would but he still felt shattered, although he didn’t show it. It almost scared you how calm he stayed one you’d spoken. He let go of your face and pressed an open mouthed kiss on your cheek, you could feel the anger from it seep into your skin.

“Fuck you, too,” he growled into your ear before walking past you, roughly bumping your shoulder.

You turned sharply to glare at his retreating back. “You weren’t that good a fuck anyway!”

He turns around, a smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, darling, I have plenty of memories that say otherwise, you can’t have faked it that many times. I hope you think of me when you fuck someone else, hell, when you fuck yourself I hope you imagine my fingers instead of your own. I hope every single person that makes you cum gets to hear you moan my name when you do.”

“Fuck you.”

“You won’t ever again.”

You both glared at each other for a minute before you stormed back into the bar. Tom let out a deep sigh before walking to the wall and throwing his fist at it until his knuckles were raw and scratched.

Red was her lipstick the first time her saw her again.

“Tom, there’s a perfectly good bar about ten minutes from your house, why are we going all the way into the city? It’s just gonna be more expensive,” Harrison whined, despite the fact they’d already made the longer journey without a complaint from him.

“Well, I’m not gonna run in into her here, am I?” Tom replied.

“And you’re trying to say you didn’t love her.”

“Maybe I loved her but I wasn’t in love with her, I don’t know. Still fucked me up, if I can avoid seeing her then I will.”

Harrison rolled his eyes but kept quiet, having said ‘I told you so’ already so there was no sense in pissing him off. The two entered a bar that was bustling with people but not overly crowded, Haz had caught sight of the pretty bartender so he clapped his hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“I’ll grab the first round, just want a beer, mate?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Tom answered.

He watched Haz begin to flirt with bartender for a few seconds before he headed to the other side of the room, picking a table in the corner. He pulled his phone out, trying to look busy whilst sitting alone. It was a full seven minutes before Harrison finally showed up with two beers and sat opposite Tom at the table. He rambled about how he’d got her to laugh with an intentionally shitty pick-up line and she’d actually flirted back a little. Harrison went to get drinks every time, alternating between taking money from Tom and using his own, he’d take ten minutes at least. It wasn’t busy which allowed him to actually chat with the bartender, and they hadn’t even been there for two hours before Tom was sick of it. He’d been sitting alone at the table for half the time, and the place had emptied a little, the bar wasn’t lively enough for Tom. He was itching to let loose and this just wasn’t the place for it so he walked up to Harrison at the bar.

“H, I’m gonna hit up or club or something for a bit. Meet you later?” he interrupted.

Harrison eyed him wearily, he looked sober enough but given how he’d been before you and this being his first time out after you, Harrison knew Tom had nothing to lose. And that was dangerous.

“Nah, I’ll come with, it’s fine.”

Harrison turned back to the bartender to say goodbye, she gave him a napkin with her number written on it, and then he followed Tom out onto the street. They walked a few blocks in silence until they found a place that looked okay. Harrison double checked if Tom was fine, he assured him he was and they entered the club.

It felt like the whole room was shaking with the bass of the music and Tom made a beeline for the bar.

“Shots?” he asked Haz.

“Just one, I think, mate.”

Tom put on an exaggerated frown before ordering three tequila shots and two bourbon and cokes. Once all the drinks were ready, he slid one of the shots towards Haz and clinked another against it.

“Cheers,” he mumbled before downing both his shots back to back, and quickly taking a swig of the bourbon and coke. “I’m gonna go dance or something.”

He claps Harrison’s shoulder and walks off to the crowd of sweaty bodies. He dances his way through multiple people, returning to the bar whenever he found his cup empty. He’d been avoiding Harrison, who would have stopped him from getting more drinks by this point, his head was fuzzy and he felt like he was stuck in a dream. He had no clue what the time was but he realised he hadn’t been to the bathroom all night. He rushed off, without a word to the woman who’d been all over him, to the bathrooms.

He almost fell into the door as he shoved it open and didn’t waste a second undoing his jeans as he slid to a stop at a urinal. It felt like the longest piss of his life. He washed his hands and quickly splashed his face with cold water before heading back out. He collided with another guy as he left before he froze in place just away from the door.

There you were. In all your smokey-eyed, cherry red lipsticked glory.

You looked just as surprised to see him as he was to see you. Both of you were staring at each other, slack jawed and unsure of what to do. Once you had time to calm down the night you broke up, you’d regretted your parting words somewhat. It had barely been two weeks but you’d found yourself missing him, but it wasn’t like you could text him, not after what you said or what he said. He’d been right, of course. You’d gone home with the first guy that gave you a second of attention once you went back inside. You didn’t remember his name, or if you even learned it, because you sure as hell weren’t moaning it when he pounded into you. You weren’t moaning anything, because Tom was more than right. You were thinking of him, not the guy kissing your neck and collarbones, so much that you couldn’t even get in the mood enough for one fuck with someone that wasn’t him.

You took a step forward, trying to work your mouth enough to speak but Tom snapped his mouth shut, cast his eyes behind you and walked straight passed without a word.

Red was what he saw when she rocked up to his place unannounced.

“Just a second!” Tom called out, as the knocking persisted.

It was late, he’d been in the bathroom, cleaning up after a shower when he faintly heard the knocking over the music he had playing. He jogged to the door, yanking it open whilst running his hand through his damp hair, which dropped to his side in anger when he saw you.

“Fuck do you want?”

“To talk, maybe? If that’s alright?”

“Fine.”

You went to step inside but Tom made no move to let you pass, instead crossing his arms over his chest.

“I mean, I’d rather not do this in the doorway,” you said quietly.

“That’s too bad. You have ten seconds to start talking or I’m shutting the door on you.”

“Listen, I keep thinking about you. I get drunk to forget but it doesn’t work and I call you, and I call and call and call but you never fucking answer. I know I hurt you and what I did was shitty and you didn’t deserve it, you really didn’t and I’m sorry for putting you through it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are. Who’re you calling baby these days, huh?”

“Nobody, Tom.”

“Right, ‘cause no one could take my place, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Oh, my fucking god, you have to be joking. How many people have you slept with since we broke up? Where was this effort when we were actually something?”

“Just give me a chance to be better, please.”

Your voice was pleading, you wanted him back in any way he would give himself to you. Your heart leaped when he sighed and moved to the side to let you in. You hurried past him in case he changed his mind but loitered awkwardly behind him as he shut the door.

Tom didn’t know exactly what he wanted, maybe it was you, maybe he was just sexually frustrated. But hearing you almost begging for him to take you back made something stir in him. He walked up to you without stopping until he’d backed you into a wall, your chest rising and falling rapidly, his mouth barely an inch from yours.

“Say you want me,” he said quietly but strongly.

You gulped, unable to take your eyes off his. “I want you,” you whispered, your hands finding his waist.

He quickly grabbed them and pinned them to the wall by your sides.

“Say you want me back in your life.”

“I want you back in my life.”

He kept the gap between your faces but ground his hips onto yours, causing you to let out a quiet moan.

“Say you need it.” he commanded, grinding his hips harder.

“I need it, baby, please.”

He smirked and leaned in slightly so your lips were brushing.

“Such a good girl begging for me. What do you want, love?”

“You. You touching me, fucking me, anything.”

“Keep going.”

He started trailing kisses down your neck, stopping every couple of inches to suck and bite your skin.

“I want you to leave bruises from gripping my hips so tight. I want you to hear me moan your name. I want to decorate your collarbones with hickies. I need you to make me yours.”

“Then mine you shall be,” Tom growled, smashing his lips to yours.

Red was the scratches she left on his back.

let me know if you do or don’t wanna be tagged!! taglist // @tomsfireheart // @tomhoellandb // @laucontrerasv // @spidey-pal // @paper-goonie // @hottrashformarvel // @biuchima // @webfluihd // @starksparker // @h-osterfield // @upsidedownparker // @sergeantbxrnxs // @spideymood // @thewiseandfree // @stephie-senpai // @bi-writes// @peters-vlogs // @noneighborhood // @caloe-vera // @starlightfound // @lafayettes-baguettes-1 // @lemirabitur// @lilleone // @yoinksholland​ // @ablogbypeteparker​ // @iaiabear​ // @rainbow-marvel​ // @rumoured-whispers​ // @bookishpeter​ // @elentiya02​ 

tom taglist // @assumeimapenguin​ // @idontlooklikereginageorge​

[homogrimoire-archive]

The Remnant Branches

CH. 2 - Vile Toxic Intent

Part 2: In the Name of My God(ess)!

The murderous duo proceed to the facility where they will find what they desire. However, they run into a major problem, one whose might they will not even begin to comprehend. As a result, Tyrian is winds up in another world.

“Here we are!” Tyrann singsonged. The two vicious killers stood in front of a surprisingly neat looking building. However, it was only the size of a small market. It held no markings indicating what the building once was or what it now holds.

“This is the place we’re looking for?” Tyrian said, doubtful that this mere thing could be the key to his mission.

“Looks can be deceiving. This place goes underground so far, even a nuclear bomb couldn’t destroy it all!” They walked through the automatic doors and headed to a nearby elevator.

“The hell is a nuclear bomb?” Tyian said, confused. Tyrann looked at him as if he should know, though it was difficult to tell because of the lack of distinguishable facial features. The sterile white light buzzed and the elevator hummed as it descended.

“You’re world is fuckin’ weird. How do you all have bitchin’ weapons like that, but no nuclear bombs?” Tyrann would have killed to get some insane weapon like Tyrian’s. Though, that wouldn't be saying much. He would have not killed to get some insane weapon like Tyrian’s.

“How the fuck do you have nuclear bombs but no fucking awesome weapons like this?” Tyrian retorted as he caressed the weapon that had ended the lives of countless people.

“Good point good point. Damn, I would have taken shit like that over nuclear any day though. It can cause some weird and downright disgusting side effects. Ugh.”

“Like?”

“Like… you know, I’ve forgotten… Don’t give me that look, its been a couple of centuries. What I do remember is that it doesn’t discriminate and leaves a place totally fucking destroyed and uninhabitable for a long time.”

“Sounds like a pretty nice weapon to me.” Tyrian replied. The elevator doors opened and the two noticed that rudimentary defensive machines lay ahead. They were more advanced than those at the junk heap, but still much less powerful than anything Remnant could offer. The hall held many doors and had many other hallways connecting to it. “I take it you know where we’re going?”

“Hmmm… more or less. But yeah,” They began their way down the hall, slashing and destroying the machines that stood on their way, “they’re nice until everyone bombs the whole world to shit and you have to live in some cramped underground bunker for the rest of your life. Trust me, I had to do it for a month and it was not fun. Well, not for long. Muder is a lot harder to get away with in a hellhole like that you know.”

“Sounds like prison.” Another round of bullets incapacitated a few machines, a wave of magic destroys a couple more.

“Yeah, pretty much. Oh, I just remembered. People used to think nuclear bombs could cause weird mutations in animals, like two heads, six legs instead of four or make ‘em giant. Real crazy shit.” Tyrann said, shifting his focus to Tyrian. His tail slashed through a machine, and then acted as a balance as another group of machines was pumped full of lead “I’m just gonna say it. Is your tail a common kinda thing in your world? Cause it sure as hell ain’t a thing around here.”

“Those of us with some animalistic characteristics are called Faunus. Some get a useless little rabbit tail, some get alligator skin, and some of us get a scorpion’s tail, with poison perfect for killing.” A slash of his tail disarmed a machine

“Tell me more about your world. I need something to keep me from dying of boredom.” Tyrann requested. Machine after machine fell as jagged swords tore into them, spilling fluids everywhere. and sending wires and metal scraps flying.

“Sure, it isn’t too different from here though. The only other major difference is that people can have an aura and a semblance. Aura is our soul, and its basically armor. We can also extend it to items, like our weapons. And those of us who’ve unlocked our aur aura, can have a semblance. What a semblance can do varies. Some people get super speed, some get an ability to ignore pain, and others,” Tyrian said as his eyes changed purple and his aura manifested around his weapons, “can ignore aura, and go in straight for the kill!” He slashed at a machine, rending it in two. “But, my semblance isn’t really useful here.”

“Damn, you were just born for murder weren’t you.”

“What can I say? Doing anything else just wouldn’t be right. I remember my first kill. It was some guy in a random alley when I was a teenager, around fourteen, I think. This huntsman was being an annoying little bitch, so I-” Tyrian brought his tail up to his neck and imitated his first killing blow. It was a jab to the neck, his eyes a powerful purple as the tail pierced through aura, and ruthless poison ran its course. “After watching him die a slow, painful death, I knew that it was only the beginning.” He smiled a crazed, joyous smile.

“Ahh, the look on a man’s face as he dies is the best, isn’t it? The fear. The remorse. The hatred. I had my first kill at around nineteen. It was some guy who had been getting on my nerves for some time. He was a higher rank than me, but dumb as shit. One day, I had enough. His plan was suicide, but he was too far up his ass to see that, so I shot him and took the lead instead. Everyone in my squad looked at me in fear and shock. ‘If you don’t wanna end up like him, follow me.’ I told ‘em. There was only one casualty that day: him. I won’t ever forget the look on his face as he bled out.” Tyrann sweetly reminisced.

They continued chatting all while they lay machines to rust. They talked about their favorite ways to kill, favorite kinds of victims, and other things lovers of killing would talk about. In the middle of a story about the recent murder of a woman in white who was a thorn in the side of his Godess, they were interrupted by something new to their surroundings: an android. It was a dilapidated thing, and rather out of place. Its entire body creaked as it moved to them. It was made of a dark metal.

“I― think― I― can― I― think― I― can―” it cackled out of a barely functioning voice box. “I― think― I― can― I―” It was cut off with a slash of a jagged sword. The sound of the metal being roughly cleaved was one both hoped they wouldn’t have to hear again. They enjoyed the sound of flesh being sliced, blood splattering, bones breaking, and screams and cries piercing the air. The cacophony that was born from tearing through metal wasn’t something they found beauty in.

“I think it can fucking die. God, fucking robots. I’m getting real fucking tired of them.” Tyrann said with malice. He punted the severed head into the wall, embedding it at eye level. Just them, its eyes glowed red.

“I― THINK― I― CAN― I― THINK― I― CAN―”

“I― THINK― I― CAN― I― THINK― I― CAN―”

“I― THINK― I― CAN― I― THINK― I― CAN―”

“I― THINK― I― CAN― I― THINK― I― CAN―”

“I― THINK― I― CAN― I― THINK― I― CAN―”

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! FUCK!” Tyrann screamed in anger as he stabbed the decapitated hunk of metal.

“I take it that’s not a good thing?” Tyrian asked, knowing full well the answer.

“Hell no it isn’t! That bitch just alerted the rest of the androids in its network! You better pray to your goddess the rest of ‘em are just as shitty!”

Back to back, they prepared themselves for what was to come. The android’s mantra could be heard around every corner. The footsteps echoed as metal creaked. They could tell that the android’s numbers were great. They first to round a corner looked pristine. It had white hair, and red eyes. It was tall and slender, but minimally clothed. As it walked towards them, more followed behind it. Then it tripped over its own feet, causing those that followed to stop, look down, and imitate their fallen brethren. Tyrann and Tyrian both laughed and laughed.

“This, this is the thing we were scared of!” Tyrian burst out. “I could kill them all in my sleep!”

“Damn, look at their ass though! These things are about to make me act up...” Tyrann said as he eyed one.

“Damn! These things do have a fat ass!” Tyrian exclaimed as he smacked one’s ass. “Ow.” he murmured as he frantically shook his hand in the air. Slapping hard, cold metal was not one of his best ideas.

“Ehh, its probably best that we just kill them all though.”

“What? Why? Can’t we have a little fun?”

“Trust me, you won’t have much fun. You’ll only want the ones made for fucking. I learned that the hard way a long time ago.” Tyrian was grateful that he only broke a finger. He’d take a broken finger over a broken dick any day.

“Well, at least they look human. It’s better than those plain old hunks of iron back there.”

“Agreed. Now, let’s get to killing!”

-

I know I can, I know I can.

-

I pick up one of the flowers. I love their pretty white glow. I place it in my hair. I can’t see how it looks, but I like it. Oh how I wish I could leave this place! I want to see all the pretty flowers of the world!

But, I also don’t want to leave. I love these flowers too much, and they love me. I notice that our numbers are dropping at an alarming rate. That’s alright. It doesn’t really matter anyways. They’ll all be replaced soon enough. As long as I have these flowers, I’ll be content.

-

I walk lightly as to not harm the flowers. They’ve done a lot for me. When my synthetic skin decayed away, these petals made me glow as beautifully as them. When all my hair fell out, their stems formed into beautiful, dark hair for me. Now they grow in my hair as well.

-

These flowers are my god. From what I’ve gathered, a god holds great power, and creates. They must be loved, for they are powerful, and kind to their believers. I loved these flowers, ever since I saw them. A glitch in my code allowed me to linger for a second too long when I saw them. So, they developed into a curiosity, then a hobby, then a love. I made the right choice in loving them.

Because of them, I know I can. I know I can change my code, and change the world around me. I know I can love. I know I can leave. I know I can do anything! But, I know that I only want these flowers. It’s the least I can do for them after all they’ve done for me. They created me, after all.

-

Odd, their numbers are falling more than they have in centuries. No matter, I know that I have all that I want, and all that I need. I’m happy, and so is my god.

Speak not the Watchers,

Draw not the Watchers,

Write not the Watchers,

Sculpt not the Watchers,

Sing not the Watchers,

Call not the Watchers' name.

For some reason, this keeps popping in my head. I know that it is the will of my god, so I pay no mind to it.

-

As I admire a flower that just bloomed, I hear a loud sound. Banging and shooting. Its coming from where the door was, but it’s been covered by vegetation for so long I can’t even see it. No matter. Whatever may be, I know it is the will of my god.

Finally, two people break through. One is a man with a tail. Odd. Another is a female Replicant, although she speaks with a male voice. I realize that this poor replicant girl was possessed by a mean male Gestalt. She somehow seems familiar. Poor thing. Perhaps I should tell her of my god. Maybe they could help free this poor girl. And perhaps they could heal this man of his wretched tail. What am I saying? I know my god can help them. I hope my god can forgive me for that sliver of doubt.

“Hello.” I say as I arise. “You two look like you could use some help.”

You are a Watcher.

“Huh?” I look at the two in confusion, thinking the words came from one of them

“Is this guy dumber than the others or something? We didn’t even say anything!” The tailed man said. The two laughed.

You must carry the will of the Watchers.

“What? Who are the watchers exactly? What is their will?” I look around, but do not see the source of the voice.

I am a Watcher, you are a Watcher, a servant of God, a creation of God! Our goal is to exterminate everything not created by our God!

“Really? I’m a watcher?” I say happily. I really couldn’t be happier. There is nothing greater than serving my god!

Yes, you are. Now, exterminate those two! Exterminate everything that is not the will of our god! Kill! Kill! Kill!

“Yes. I am a Watcher! And you two will perish! That is the will of my god.” I shout with a smile. This is my first time in combat, but I know I can kill these two. I will kill these two. It is the will of my god! It is my will!

“Oh? You think your god will help you against me? They are NOTHING compared to my great goddess!” The tailed man laughs happily. I understand how he feels. I laugh too.

“You should know your goddess is nothing compared to my god. Here, let me show you.” Out of instinct, I open my mouth, and begin singing. “Oooooohhhhhhhhhhhh.” I feel power surge through me, the power of my god.

“Oh fuck no. I’m out of here! That thing, it’s like the damned beast! No way am I dealing with this shit! See ya!” the gestalt says, and quickly leaves. I don’t care. I know his destruction will come eventually, one way or another, just like all the other things not of my god’s will.

“Whatever.” the tailed man says as he shrugs. “More fun for me!” He readies his weapons, and I sing louder. Power flows through the area, enveloping it in a red force field. Rings of the script of my god circle the barrier. Its beautiful, all so beautiful. He looks a bit scared. He should be. I know it is the will of the watchers, it is the will of my god.

He makes the first move. I sense another presence, another android with powerful magic and strong technology of their own. No matter. It is not of my concern. They will meet their end eventually too, one way, or another. Right now, this man is my focus. He will serve as a good measure of my newfound abilities. I dodge the first strike with ease, but fail to dodge the follow up. I know now. He fights with a berserker-like style. He swiftly slashes and attacks in every direction surrounding him, thus leaving very little openings for his opponents to counter him safely.

However, I am a Watcher! And I will not fall to him! I move in towards him, and grab one leg. It sends him off balance, and he falls. I toss him, but he is quick to react and latches onto my arm with a hand. He sets off his weapon and sprays my face with bullets. It doesn’t hurt. There isn’t anything that can hurt me. Especially not anymore. So I slam him into the ground, and do so again. I feel bad that I crush some of the flowers, but it can’t be helped. I know my god forgives me though.

I noticed that the surroundings around us have changed. We seem to be at a deserted fortress. The sun above is made ruthless by magic, but the barrier protects him from it. I know its heat wont harm me, so I remove the barrier. I know I could summon monsters here, but most of them won’t do much against him. I will give him that much credit. He gets up and puts some distance between us. A futile effort, irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I fail to see why he cannot understand this.

“Can’t you see that you are outmatched, that your goddess has failed you? That she is weak?” I tell him. Anger fills his eyes. They’re a striking purple now. Odd.

“How DARE you speak of my goddess like that!? You WILL speak of her with respect!” he shouts as he lunges at me. An expected reaction of a delusional man, or perhaps he believes in his goddess as much as I believe in my god. Well, all will end the same, one way or another. Although, I have a feeling it could take longer to reach that ending for some reason. No matter. It can’t be helped. Whatever happens, happens, for it is the will of my god.

He fights much more wildly than before, but has since run out of ammunition to fire his weapon. And his blades, they slash through my petals, unlike before. I tread more carefully now, dodging his blows and getting a punch, or kick, or a wave of magic in when I can. It is almost as if we are dancing together, a tribute to the one we hold above all else.

We back off from each other after another exchange. A fourth of my petals have been severely damaged, and it will take some time for them to repair. I also see a wave of purple spread across his body. With a crazed, joyous smile, we both move in for the deciding blow. I know he will be the one to die. He lost his ability to even scratch my petals. It is a miracle he was able to even harm them in the first place. Hmm… Perhaps his goddess has some power afterall, though obviously nothing that compares to the might of my god! Its time to end the life of this affront to my god!

But then, I sense someone. Their presence is one that far surpasses mine, yet, it is not entirely different. That could only mean one thing.

“My god!” I turn away from the man who follows his goddess, and I run towards the entrance why my god is. I don’t even look back to see what happened to him. I don’t care! “My god is here!” I throw open the gates and gaze upon a beautiful woman. My god is far more beautiful than I ever could have imagined.

Her hair and clothes are a pure white, though there is some black in her clothing. My, it could mean so much I could go on about it for days, but I know I will go on about it sooner or later. She has such a beautiful body, one worthy of an eternity of worship. And her eyes! Or rather, eye. It is a vibrant pink, accentuating her elegant femininity. The other eye is a beautiful flower, almost exactly like the ones that made me. This is my god. I fall to my knees in awe of her, and I begin to cry tears of incomprehensible emotions. I don’t even care as to why she seems shocked at first.

“That’s right, I’m you god.” She tells me in a sweet voice, one I would crawl across mountains on my hands and knees just to hear. She softly cups my face and motions for me to rise, and so I do. Behind me, I hear the man screaming. How dare he scream like an animal in the presence of my god, and how dare he interrupt us?!

“Excuse me, my god. I will take care of this pest.” She nods her head, and I turn to face him, ready to kill him. I feel so joyous as I wait to strike. I am serving my god! But, I feel pain in my abdomen. I look down to see that a white sword has impaled me. Its the one my god was holding. Why?

“My god, why? I―” I slump over and fall to my knees once more. She yanks the blade out of me. The look on her face hurts me more than anything. It is a face of hate. Why would she hate me? I love her more than anything.

“I thought I could― I thought I could― I―”

“Shut up.” She commands me with a smile on her face as she stabs the swords into the center on my neck. It doesn’t kill me. It doesn’t hurt. Then, I hear her struggle for a moment as he tries to take her sword.

“Don't, touch my god!” I weakly tell the tailed man. He jams it into me over and over again, laughing wildly. It doesn’t hurt, but I know death is coming for me. I thought I could live forever though. That was the will of my god, wasn’t it?

“Some goddess you have! She doesn’t even love you! My goddess! My goddess loves me! She is powerful! And! That’s! Why! You! Lost!” the guy sneers as he stabs me. That hurts. I thought I could not be hurt. She just stands back and lets him destroy my body. I hear more people arrive, but I don’t care.

“Looks like someone is having fun.” one of them says. I try to get up, to reach my god, to try to reason with her, but I can’t. Perhaps my death is her will. If it is her will, then it is my will. My vision fades, the sounds turn to silence, and I no longer feel the sword. Then, it returns. I am looking down at my lifeless body. The petals have been stained red, and the black stems that were once my hair have been chopped up finely into mush.

She is not your god. I hear a voice state. It is the one that spoke to me earlier.

“You again. Please then! Show me my god. Please let me serve my god! I thought I could kill him! I thought I could do what my god wanted of me! Please, let me redeem myself! I’ll do anything!”

Oh, you will serve our god. Us Watchers always serve our god, one way, or another. And you, you are no different. We all serve our god. Our god has great plans for you.

Then, I see my god. I truly see my god. My god is far greater than that sham of a goddess the scorpion-man believes in. I walk towards my god, ready to serve my purpose, whatever it may be, whenever it may be. My god’s will is my will, and it will be fulfilled.

Speak not the Watchers!

Draw not the Watchers!

Write not the Watchers!

Sculpt not the Watchers!

Sing not the Watchers!

Call not the Watchers' name!

Our god’s will is to exterminate humanity! Our god’s will is our will! I see now! Even in stagnation, the Watchers’ mission progresses!

Speak not the Watchers!

Draw not the Watchers!

Write not the Watchers!

Sculpt not the Watchers!

Sing not the Watchers!

Call not the Watchers' name!

The nature of the universe is destruction! The nature of humanity is the universe!

Ha Ha. Ha Ha Ha. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!

I will do what my god wanted me to do! I’ve always been doing what my god wanted me to do!

Ha ha ha ha haa! La la la la laa!

I thought I could! I knew I could!

La la la la laa! La la la la laa!

[lustwatch-blog]

Please please do something with Hanzo going through almost a emperor's new groove style bride picking, a touch of the wedding, then the first night together as a finale?

T/N**Husband and Master are the same in japanese, the honoraries however will dictate a different relationship, Goshujin-Sama is more formal, Goshujin-Chan is more playful and lovey

“They all look alike, Genji!” He growled loudly as the women shook and winced at the dragon king of the Shimada family bellowed angrily.

“Brother, they are the most beautiful and lovely women in our ranks, fit for a prince.” He smirked as he eyed a few, their faces burning at the indirect compliments.

“I am no prince.” He growled, “I’ve earned my rank as commander, being eldest is just a perk. I don’t want a spoiled wench who has no idea what hard work is!” He yelled louder, “Bring me the servant girls tonight, all of those whom are presentable by age and have had an exam from the high doctor for being a wholesome female may be judged by me.” He growled simply as he stormed off, Genji sighing.

“Father won’t like this much, will he mochi?” He frowned to the little dragon that slept on his shoulder as he dismissed the girls, handing several his personal card.

You sighed softly as you spread your legs for the doctor who gave you a quick examination to ensure your virginity, ‘His pompous ass highness thinks marrying help like me will make him any better, it’ll bring shame upon his legacy and disgrace to my character to marry such an ass.’ you sighed as you thanked the doctor and pulled back on your robes. In the evening you sat among the only other girls qualified to wed Hanzo Shimada. As he walked in it was as if the air went cold, the master glaring at the pitiful selection as each of you bowed in unison.

“Okaeri Hanzo goshujin sama.” You would all say softly as he walked past each of you, commanding you one by one to stand.

“Her hands are soft, she must be lazy.” He sighed as he nodded to have her taken away, “Her hair is too short, she must be wild…” he continued until he finally came across you, your eyes slightly furrowed at his arrogance expecting his crude remarks before he simply nodded, Genji glancing up as if to say, ‘Are you sure’?

Hanzo nodded once more before walking off, the door closing quietly behind him.

“You are no longer a servant girl, but the future wife of the shimada head. You will bare his sons, and be loyal, this is not up for debate, we shall notify your family and compensate them for this honor.” Genji sighed before smiling and bowing, “Welcome to the family, onee-chan.” he smiled charmingly.

At dinner you and Hanzo sat alone, his face was surprisingly pink, perhaps it was the sake he drank like a child with a fizzy drink.

“Master-“

“H..Husband.” He blushed softly, “Use a playful honorary.”**

“Goshujin-Chan…I thank you for choosing me, but I ask why a servant girl with nothing but the silk on her back.”

“I easily bore of the elite…” He sighed, “Genji has no problem dating celebrities, daughters of gang elites, heiresses, the more stupid a bimbo the more he gets off…I felt I needed a woman who would challenge me, scold me, play with me…” He smiled, “I did not have a long time to choose, I put it off for so many years I’ve reached my deadline as a man.” He sighed, “So I picked the loveliest among he servants, someone I knew who would understand a struggle, know what it is to feel pain or go without yet maintain grace as a woman, and charm as a wife. Someone I would love to mother my child someday.” He said, it was so out of character you couldn’t help but blush and fall for him. Love at first sight is not something of this world, but impression, just maybe.

He spent two weeks courting you before the wedding, getting you accustom to his way of life, you showing him your old ways, it was somewhat of a bliss, something out of a fairy tail as he swept you off your feet.

“I do…” You bowed to your husband on that faithful day as he smiled and lifted your chin to kiss you softly, soft music playing in the background as Genji cheered loudly above the mundane applause of the stuffy aristocracy. Their mother couldn’t help but do the same as Hanzo for once in his life finally looked happy, and as the photographer snapped the picture of you two, Hanzo holding your face and you gazing at him lovingly it was the first any had ever captured Hanzo happy on camera.

The wedding night while beautiful and elegant had both of you in a dreamlike state, it was as if it flowed by like a feather in the breeze, bringing you two to the big moment. Consummating the union. Hanzo sat on the bed as you walked in, your face burning as you sat across from him, removing your robe gently to expose your breasts, his face burning as his eyes widened at the size, Kimonos weren’t the best to compliment figures and the slender size of your waist was often hidden by thick obi, you caught him completely by surprise as he felt himself throbbing, his eyes lidding into a gaze as he pulled you onto his lap to kiss you eagerly, your body melting against him as his tongue pressed against yours, his rock hard erection grinding against you with each growl as his brown eyes began to glow a soft blue, his tattoo doing the same as he leaned down, lips parting before biting down onto your neck roughly, newly exposed fangs digging in as you whimpered under him.

This was how all Shiimada women had to be marked, the male would bare his crest and his inner dragon would forever make her part of him so she could one day bare his sons to be future dragon. When he finished he leaned up to kiss you again, forcing the taste of your own blood against your lips as his feral instinct kicked in, pushing you into the bed as he tore apart your robes to kiss down your ample breasts, taking in a nipple to lick before panting against you with a hot breath.

“H..Hanzo…” You blushed as he kissed lower, your stomach covered in a thin trail from his tongue. “S..stop it’s embarrassing..” You panted as he spread your legs, inhaling your scent with a growl before leaning in to stroke his tongue against you eagerly, licking up and down with an eager groan while his hand began to jerk himself off until he could wait no longer. In an instant he was above you, pressing in without hesitation as your eyes teared up and your lip bled from biting down, he was too big and you were a virgin.

“Don’t cry…” He finally spoke as he kissed your cheek before wiping your tears. He almost looked demonic, horns protruding from his head and fangs from his mouth as he leaned down and continued to kiss you gently before thrusting in. The heat from your body causing him to groan with impatience before he finally lost it, holding you down and fucking you senseless, the expressions of being fucked silly on your face causing him to get more and more rough until he finally slammed in, releasing his seed deep inside you with a loud growl.

In the morning you awoke to the warmth of your husband’s chest and a pain between your legs as he slept angelically. You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek with a content sigh before looking down at the pink crest on your rib, you were a Shimada now, a pale white dragon etched into your skin with lotus blossoms decorating it’s body.

Several weeks later Genji and their mother smiled and peeked through the window as Hanzo lifted you happily to the news that you were carrying his child.

[cherriesfalling]

this feels like falling (and flying is just falling up)

I’m back with another character study! This one is about Sana. And it. Is. Long. So if you guys read all of it, I’m going to be hella impressed. A big shout out to @storiesfromtheden for helping me out with this one, she’s the best y’all. 

I hope you enjoy! (ps, you can find my Yousef character study here)

Later, after all is said and done and the world is right side up again, Sana will realize that they have never once asked each other to stay.

Not that first time, at Maghreb, when he'd handed her the bowl of soup and the soft brush of his hands against her own had felt warmer than any comfort she'd ever known; not when he'd spoken to her in that quiet voice about all the things she held dear to her heart; not when he'd finally put his arms around her and pressed her into his warm chest and whispered to her "I can feel myself falling in love with you". She did not ask him to stay.

And he'd come back from Turkey as he'd promised, his skin a little darker and his cheeks a little rounder and it was all she could do to not press her own face to his and feel that same warmth she'd felt months ago. Because he is softer now, and the planes of his hurt do not protrude from his skin as much as they used to. She thanks Even for this--he is no longer skittish among the balloon boys and they in turn no longer treat him like spun spider web glass. Even is human now, and he does not immediately move from his place on the sofa when Yousef comes back. Not with malice, but with the conviction of knowing where he belongs. And Yousef smiles that crooked, perfect smile of his and joins Elias on the floor.

The next time she sees him is at the mosque. She’s surprised. He enters and exits within the span of 15 minutes and it is not without a pang in her heart that she watches him leave with fear evident in his eyes. He does not see her. She does not ask him to stay. He is not hers after all.

But she sees him again at the mosque for a common lecture that her mother had enlisted her help in dragging Elias along as well. This time he’s wearing a white kurta, collar stiff with starch. He looks like he is suffocating. Before she can turn away, he sees her and his features soften. He tells her he feels like he's suffocating. She tells him she knows. He turns his head and she tries not to dwell on the pale skin there as she reaches up to unclasp the first clip. He looks down at her with a smile again, and as her heart swells with the words she cannot bring herself say—What does this mean? For you? For us?— his father calls his name from across the hall and he bids her goodbye. She still does not ask him to stay. She has no right to.

The next month, she is poring over the dozens of papers she has spread over the table from colleges all across Europe. A chemistry program here, a biology course there, a biochemistry program that seems much too good to be true. Everything runs together in her mind and she rises to get herself a glass of water, more as an excuse to do something else than actual thirst. Elias, that bastard, has put all the glasses on the highest shelf and Sana is so ingrained in her struggle to stretch that she does not notice Yousef until his hand reaches past hers and brings down a glass. She almost yelps in surprise but he is already moving away to perch on the table.

He notes the papers on the table with an eyebrow quirked. "You have a system?"

From anyone else, it would be a taunt. Still, she draws herself up and raises her chin slightly. "Of course I have a system."

He smirks, but something draws his eye and he turns back to the table. He places a finger on the brochure about the biochemistry program that she’d been drawn to first. She shivers, remembering Noora’s words. Soulmates. She shakes her head to chase away the thought, but it is Yousef that breaks her out of her reverie.

“I have a friend who went to this program.”

“Really?” Sana had not expected this from him. Sometimes she forgets that he has a life outside her brother’s balloon boys. Silly of her.

“Yes, I can give you her number if you want to talk to her about it. She always says it’s the best decision she's ever made.” He looks up from the table and there is something unreadable in his eyes.

“That would be great actually. I’ve been thinking about applying to that one, but…” she trails off, biting her lip sullenly.

“But what?” Yousef asks and Sana closes her eyes against the onslaught of reasons flooding her mind: Baba would never let me go to Germany, it is too far, I don’t know anybody there, nobody will help me if I am hurt, I don’t even know how to drive, I would miss my family too much, everyone I love here wouldn’t miss me enough, you wouldn’t miss me enough.

But she cannot say these things to him, so in the end she simply says, “I doubt I’m good enough for such a selective program.”

He scoffs, a strangely cynical sound to come from such a light boy. “Don’t say that. Any of these colleges would be lucky to have you.” It is a kind thing for him to say but the strangeness in his eyes has bled into his voice and before she knows it, she is alone in the kitchen with the papers askew on the table.

Later that night, he sends her his friend’s number. When Sana thanks him, he texts back promptly, “Alt for deg, girl” but it reads differently to her now, as if it is something he says simply because he must. She does not dwell on it.

At least, she tries not to.

The next three months pass in a blur. She has exchanged countless texts and calls with Yousef’s friend, Aisha, who Sana swears is a goddess among women. She decides not to tell her parents about the program unless she is accepted, but even as she sends her applications to other colleges across Norway, she practices her German, sometimes with Aisha, sometimes with Chris. Just in case, she tells herself. It is foolish to dream, but that has never stopped her before.

The letter comes addressed to her and she doesn’t recognize the name at first, the German consonants alien in her mind as she sounds it out. But comprehension comes like a tidal wave. Her heart pounds as she slowly tears open the envelope and carefully slides out the thin slip of paper. “Congratulations, Sana Bakkoush,” it reads and she feels like she is floating.

At dinner, amidst spoonfuls of couscous and green beans, Sana stops abruptly and says, “I got accepted into a biochemistry program in Germany.” She has never been one of subtlety. Rather the band-aid ripped off than coaxed.

She is greeted with shocked silence. Elias is the first to break it.

“Congrats, sis!” he exclaims, grin stretching from ear to ear. He gets up from his seat and rushes over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. She wants to beam back up at him, her sweet Elias, who has always planted himself firmly on her side; she remembers middle school when he’d bandaged her scraped knees and looked at her with fire in his eyes and whispered, “Us against the world, sis.” She wants to rejoice with him, run around the kitchen like a small child who has finally gotten what she wants, but she can’t because her parents haven’t yet moved.

Her mother has a soft smile on her face, at least, but her father is staring down at his plate. He clears his throat roughly. “Germany, you said?”

“Yes, Baba.”

He makes a noncommittal noise and Sana looks at him with desperation. “Please, Baba. This program is one of the most selective medical programs in all of Europe. People who graduate from here have won Nobel Prizes and Fields Medals, and they chose me! I want to save lives, Baba, just like you do! And this is the first step that gets me ready to do that!” she stops breathlessly just as her father raises his head. She almost flinches when she realizes that he has tears in his eyes.

He too gets up from the table and comes to her, cupping her face in his weathered palms. “Make me proud, Sana,” he says, and that is all there is.

Then her mother is fussing over her, smoothing back her hair and listing out all the people they know in Germany should she ever need help with a car or a plumber or homemade food. And Sana allows herself to lean back into her mother’s arms and float in the warm, happy circle of her family who loves her.

Another month passes, a kaleidoscope of a month, filled with tears and laughs and packing and presents. The girls all rush to embrace her with tears in their eyes when she breaks the news to them, and between promises to keep in touch and send them the numbers of every cute German boy she meets, Sana’s heart almost breaks with the overwhelming knowledge that she won’t ever find friends as lovely as the losers she is lucky to call her own. Telling Isak and Even is easier, simply because there aren’t as many tears. “Make sure you remember to thank your best bud when you win your Nobel Prize,” Isak grins, dodging the punch Sana sends his way. Even looks at them both fondly, then announces a brilliant idea to throw one last Kosegruppa party in their flat, as a send off for Sana. She agrees, albeit reluctantly.

The party is just like every other party Sana has ever attended. Loud, permeating with the sickly sweet stench of weed (Noora had insisted on forbidding drugs and alcohol, but Vilde had insisted that no party was complete without it), and couples hooking up in the corner. People come up to talk to her, which is different, but their booze-tinted conversations lack coherence and grammar, so Sana hugs her girls and bids Isak, Even and the rest of the boys goodbye and ducks out early.

She really doesn’t mind. It was more for her friend’s sake than hers anyway.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Yousef’s smiling face greets her on the screen, and she can’t help but grin like an idiot as she picks up. The night air is cool around her and as she breathes, its crisp bite makes her feel…enormous? Strong? Indomitable?

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sana. You busy right now?” He sounds nonchalant, but there’s something almost like worry tinging his voice.

“It’s 8 pm, Yousef. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but I’m also not 75 like you. You go to sleep at 8?” At least now, he chuckles.

Sana laughs back in response. “No, I’m not busy. Should I meet you at the pier?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

Night has definitely fallen when she reaches the pier, but the late summer sun throws up feeble rays of light that turn the clouds pink and purple near the horizon. Yousef sits on the dock, his long legs dangling below, almost touching the water. His hands are in his pockets and he stares directly at the last of the sunset. He looks peaceful.

"And beautiful," her mind reminds her. She shakes her head to dismiss the thought and clears her throat to alert him of her presence. He greets her with his sweet grin, toothy and crooked. She greets him with her own small smile, cursing herself for still being so subdued around him.

Now that the sun has set, the chill sets in and as she joins him on the dock, goose bumps erupt across her skin. She shivers when their shoulders touch and tries to ignore the fact that the goose bumps might be more his doing than the cold. He notices her slight shake and shrugs off his jacket, ignoring her refusal and draping it around her shoulders. He smiles at her again and again she notices the strangeness in his eyes. She doesn’t like it. It makes him a different person.

They sit in silence for awhile, the space between them comfortable but heavy. When Yousef finally breaks it, she’s surprised at the way his voice breaks.

“I’ve been going to the mosque more often.”

“I know. I saw you there, remember?” she says, turning to him but his eyes are downcast, staring at the slow waves lapping under their feet. His shoulders are taught and planes of his hurt that had retreated have surfaced again.

“Yousef,” she says, inching closer, “what’s wrong?”

He simply shakes his head and they are once again engulfed in a silence, this one deeper and more alien than the last. She wants so badly to break it—if she were Vilde or Chris she could've easily cut through the awkward tension with a joke or a quip about his moodiness. If she were Noora or Eva, she would’ve been blunt and told him, “Cut the crap and tell me what you’re feeling.” She is made of a different sort of material than her friends, though: her words do not come so easily to her when the people she’s aiming them at care for her. But the last few months have been an exercise in bravery for her so she musters up all the courage she has found within herself and takes his hand into her own. Yousef flinches away at first, surprised, but when she doesn’t move away, he relaxes, his own grip softly curled into hers.

They sit like this and Sana lets herself pretend that she is his and he is hers and there’s nothing beyond this moment that means anything to anyone. It’s such a sweet thought that when Yousef clears his throat, she’s a little annoyed at him for diffusing her thoughts.

“I told my grandfather about you in Turkey, you know?” he says, finally turning to her.

She returns his soft smile with her own. “Oh?” She’s only seen pictures of Yousef’s grandfather before, but he had always seemed like a sweet man, a prospect Sana had regarded with much jealousy because her own grandparents were so strict. “What did you say about me?”

“I said you were the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re being too flattering. You’ve met plenty of smarter people than me,” she says, ducking her head in embarrassment.

Yousef presses two fingers to her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him. “I would never lie to my grandfather.” His eyes are blazing and Sana almost backs away, but then Yousef is moving away and her hand is left colder than it had been. She sticks it into the pocket of her hoodie but the cold lingers still.

She’s tired, she realizes with a pang. This cat and mouse, push and pull game they’ve been playing for months is frustrating on the best of days and makes her want to tear out her hair at the roots on the worst of days. And now she’s leaving for Germany in a day and they both still can’t muster up the words they both want to say to each other. She would be furious at him if it weren’t for the rage boiling within herself at her own emotion inadequacy.

“Why did you ask me to meet you, Yousef?” she snaps at him, her words sharper they usually are around him. He doesn’t look surprised or scared, though, just hangs his head and rummages around in his pocket until he produces a small velvet-looking bag.

“My grandfather gave me this when I told him about you. He said that you were the only one he could imagine me giving it to. He’s crazy psychic like that.” He opens the little bag and turns it upside down so its contents fall into his hand.

“What is that?” she asks, as something like dread or fear or excitement pools in her stomach.

He continues his explanation as if he didn’t hear. “It wouldn’t fit you of course. My grandmother had the tiniest hands. My dad always said that they’d break if you held them for too long,” he chuckles, but the sound catches in his throat, more of a cough than a real laugh. He brings his hand closer to her and in the middle of his palm, impossibly tiny against the breadth of his hands, lies a small gold ring.

Sana sucks in a gasp with so much force that stars blink at the edge of her vision and before she can even exhale, Yousef starts chattering a mile a minute. “It doesn’t mean anything you’re thinking. Obviously, I don’t want to marry you. No wait, wait I do want to marry you but like, not now, because you have to go to college and be a doctor and I have to get a teaching degree and figure out all these things about Islam and it’s so hard Sana, I almost threw up the first time I went to the mosque because I was so sure that I wasn’t going to be welcome and that Allah would smite me or something because I wavered but none of that happened and that mosque in Turkey was so beautiful that I could only think about how much I would give to be married to you in a place like that because if there’s one thing I know for sure, Sana Bakkoush, it is that you make me believe.”

He gasps and inhales quickly but Sana beats him to it. “What does it mean then?”

“I…what?” The next part of whatever he was about to say dies in his throat as his eyes meet hers. There are tears in her eyes and she has her arms wrapped tightly around her torso as if to hold herself together, or hold herself away from him.

“You said it doesn’t mean that we would get married. So what does it mean?” Her shoulders shake as a shudder runs through her body and Yousef starts like he means to put his arms around her but the abrupt remembrance of who they are stops him in his tracks.

“It means…don’t forget about me in Germany. It means that I’ll call and I’ll text and I’ll FaceTime you and I’ll send you stupid memes on Facebook about badass doctors that show the world just how smart they are.” He isn’t breathing anymore.

“Yousef,” she sighs, and her voice wobbles with tears but it is still the most beautiful thing he has ever heard.

“It means that I’ll be waiting for you when you come home.”

And with that, she sobs and runs into his arms and it hurts when her chin knocks against his collarbone and her fists against the back of his head but his arms are the warmest comfort she’s ever known and there is not a thing in the world she is feeling right now except right.

He’ll be waiting for me.

He leads her home that night with their hands still tangled in each other's. The light outside her home is off; her parents are probably watching TV in their room and Elias is probably out. She unlocks the door and turns to find Yousef still grinning up at her, with his hands pushed deep into his pockets, shoulders up to his ears against the cold. The wind by the pier has thrown his hair in every direction. He looks like a little boy. Beautiful.

She blows him a kiss. It is a juvenile thing and he rolls his eyes but catches it and pretends to place it carefully in his pocket without fail. He’s an idiot. She definitely loves him.

It’s a thought she had feared would terrify her. Finally realizing how much space he’s managed to take up in her heart. But instead of fear, she only feels light. Untethered. Like she was a balloon bobbing on a string in the wind and he’s the needle that has cut her free.

She doesn’t see Elias in the kitchen until he clears his throat. She yelps and he laughs at her, shouldering away her half-hearted attempts to cuff the back of his head. “I assume you’re in such a good mood because he finally gave you that ring, huh?” her big brother asks, and she’s certain her mouth flops open and closed like a fish because he imitates her, exaggerating the wide open eyes and sucked in cheeks. “What? He had to ask somebody before he proposed?” He hops off the kitchen counter and disappears into his room before Sana can stop him and returns before Sana truly registers that he’s even gone. How he does this is a mystery to her. But then again, are oxygen supply has been cut off multiple times tonight so this doesn’t bother her as much as it should.

“Did you tell Mom and Baba?” she whispers.

“Of course not! Who do you think I am?” He sounds vaguely offended. “Besides you aren’t running off to elope or anything like that so I don’t think they even need to know.”

Sana lets out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding.

Elias simply chuckles at her and holds out his palm. “Consider this a going-away present. That tiny ring wouldn’t fit you anyways.” It is a silver chain, so delicate it looks as though it would be invisible against her neck. Elias doesn’t wait for her to thank him or even take it out of his hand, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so fucking happy for you, baby sister,” he whispers and for the second time that night, Sana cries into a boy’s shoulder.

And that night she dreams that she is floating away. She does not know where she is going but when she looks down he is there, her Yousef. He shields his eyes and smiles up at her and she feels a lightness burst through her body transforming her arms into wings. He had cut her strings and let her go but she knows where home is.

After all, he never asked her to stay. Only to come back.