#i wouldn't die drowning I'd die of embarrassment!!

[diminuel]

Ace confessing he was thinking about using Edward hit me hard in the feels because yeah, that is on one hand funny and on the other angsty:

🔥: Nearly used your name, glad that I didn't now because that's embarrassing.

WB: no no, please feel free to use it, you're my son now, we can tell everyone Rocks was you being a rebelling teenager

🔥: 😦

But on the other hand I can see that revelation about Crocodile considering him at one point as a father/family bringing up guilt. When going with Rocks D. Crocodile, I headcanon that Whitebeard either assumed him dead and felt guilty about it, or that maybe Big Mom took him because she's big about family/that's a bloodline she would be interested in keeping. Either way, years later Crocodile hunts him down and confronts him about how he claims all these people as his children but abandoned him when he was a literal child that grew up with him, and they fight and Crocodile looses a hand due to that tho I think that would be either an accident or because of other circumstances surrounding the situation (I read a story once in which he lost his hand because he tied himself to something so he wouldn't drown but consequently killed the blood flow after leaving the Moby). Ace being on the Moby could maybe lead to him tentatively seeking out Croc again to see if they can finally reconcile or at least find some closure.

And yeah, Marineford is really weird when you get more information later on, like Sengoku is confirmed to have cared for Rosinante so it's weird that he should care that much about parentage with Ace. I think the WG basically forced the Marine's hand and ordered the public execution to eradicate the Roger bloodline and display their might while also hoping to get rid of WB. And they had to announce Ace's parentage because they needed a reason for this kind of spectacle, especially when we see who else just gets thrown into Impel Down, executions in the One Piece world seem kinda rare, either the criminals die before they're caught, they end up in Impel Down, or the WG just Buster Calls everything but executions by the Marines? Can't remember any besides Roger's and Ace's.

There's a lot of potential to give Crocodile a sad/ traumatic backstory when it gets to his loss to Whitebeard. I like pretty much everything! No idea what I'd go for (though in my Rocks D. Crocodile post I suggested that Crocodile reached out once for help but WB denied him - it would still fit in with Croc's potential rage that WB takes on everyone needing help, a home, a family. Everyone but him.)

And a Whitebeard and Crocodile reconciliation via Ace does sound very nice ;w;

Yeah, Marineford was a trap for WB and a display of their might but it seemed like a pretty foolish decision on the Marine's side because so many things could have gone wrong. And since it was broadcast - but only selectively (they conveniently cut out the parts of it that would show the marine's less than savory actions), they clearly wanted to tell a particular narrative. Still. Hmm. *squints at Sengoku*

[bearinabandana]

@thirteenmyspacegirl

I have no idea hahahahahahaha help

[justlemmeadoreyou]

babee, could you write an angst about Harry being bullied but he kept it a secret from his girlfriend and one day she ended up seeing him being bullied by his colleagues? and then she helps him and when they get home she asks "why didn't you tell me before?" but then she comforts him and helps him

words: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of bullying, cursing, kissing.

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"Babe, I'm heading out for work. Love you!" Y/N called out cheerfully as she grabbed her bag.

Harry poked his head out of the kitchen, a strained smile on his face. "Love you too. Have a good day."

Y/N leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips before heading out the door. As soon as it clicked shut behind her, Harry's smile faded. He sighed deeply, dreading going into the office again.

For the past few months, Harry had been dealing with a group of co-workers who seemed to have it out for him. It started with little things - hiding his stapler, moving his desk supplies, that kind of thing. Harmless pranks that Harry tried to laugh off. But it quickly escalated into verbal taunts and nasty rumors being spread about him around the office.

"Hey Styles, where'd you get that ratty tie? The dumpster behind the Chinese buffet?" Andy, the ringleader, would sneer as Harry walked by.

His buddies Marc and Kyle would then chime in with cruel laughter and childish nicknames like "hairy" or "wanker"

At first, Harry tried his best to ignore it, not wanting to come across as weak or overly sensitive. But as the bullying persisted and intensified, it began to really wear him down. He started dreading going into work each day, feeling anxious and depressed.

The worst part was, he couldn't even vent to his loving girlfriend Y/N about what was happening. He was too ashamed and embarrassed to admit he was being bullied at his age. So he kept it all bottled up inside, putting on a brave face whenever he was around her.

Y/N, meanwhile, had no idea about the turmoil her boyfriend was going through at the office…

"Well, well, if it isn't the Idiot," Andy's grating voice rang out as soon as Harry stepped through the door.

Here we go again, Harry thought miserably as he made his way to his desk, avoiding eye contact.

"Having another bad hair day, Hairy?" Kyle taunted, sticking a foot out to try and trip Harry as he passed.

Marc joined in, making exaggerated gestures of tripping and falling down. "Oooh, better be careful! Wouldn't want to take a tumble and mess up that ridiculous mop!"

The three bullies cackled amongst themselves as Harry silently seethed, keeping his head down and continuing on to his workspace. He tried to focus on his computer and drown out their irritating voices, but it was difficult.

A few hours later, Andy sauntered over, Marc and Kyle in tow. He leaned obnoxiously on Harry's desk.

"So Idiot, word around the office is you've been putting in some long hours," Andy said with a nasty grin. "Trying to make up for being such an incompetent pretty boy?"

Harry felt his face flush but didn't respond, staring stoically at his monitor.

Andy continued his taunting. "What, cat got your tongue? Or are you just too stupid to form a decent comeback?"

"Hey babe!"

Harry's head snapped up at the familiar voice. To his horror, he saw Y/N walking towards his desk, holding a bagged lunch with a bright smile.

"Thought I'd stop by and have a cute little lunch date with my hardworking man," she said happily.

Andy, Marc and Kyle immediately stopped their jeering, putting on fake polite smiles as Y/N approached. Harry wanted to die right there on the spot.

"Oh hey Y/N, didn't realize you were stopping in today," Andy said in a saccharine tone. "Always a pleasure to see you."

He threw a conspicuous wink at Harry, whose face was burning red with humiliation. Y/N remained oblivious to the tension, giving the three men a friendly wave.

"Hi guys! I hope you don't mind if I steal Harry away for a half hour or so?" she said brightly.

"Not at all, not at all!" Marc replied jovially. "You two lovebirds have fun now."

Y/N looped her arm through Harry's and began leading him away towards the breakroom, completely missing the obscene hand gestures and mouthed taunts the three bullies were directing at her boyfriend.

Once they were alone, Y/N beamed up at Harry. "Surpriiiise! I know how hard you've been working lately, so I wanted to bring you a little pick-me-up."

She held up the bagged lunch enticingly. Harry felt a rush of love for his sweet, caring girlfriend…immediately followed by another wave of shame for not being honest with her.

"Babe, you're the best," he mumbled, forcing a smile as they sat down at a small table. "Thank you for this."

"Of course!" Y/N replied happily, unpacking the lunch she'd prepared. "Now eat up, I don't want those jerks working you too hard. Oh, speaking of which…"

Harry tensed, worried she was about to reveal that she'd picked up on Andy, Marc and Kyle's cruel behavior. But Y/N just laughed lightly and waved a dismissive hand.

"Kyle was going on about how he pulled a muscle in his back this weekend, such a drama queen. Anyway, enough boring office gossip! How's your day been so far?"

"Fine," Harry lied quickly, keeping his eyes down. "Just…y'know, the usual grind."

And so their "lunch date" continued, with Harry putting on an increasingly strained front as Y/N cheerfully chatted away, oblivious to his inner anguish. All too soon, it was time for her to leave.

"Thanks again for the amazing lunch, babe," Harry said, pulling her in for a loving hug and kiss. "I needed that."

"I'm glad I could provide a little light in your day," Y/N murmured, hugging him tightly. "I love you so much, Harry."

"Love you too," Harry replied softly, dreading having to return to his desk and face his tormentors once again.

After Y/N departed, Harry took a deep, steadying breath and made his way back out to the main office area. He had just sat down at his desk, trying to seem focused on his work, when he was roughly bumped from behind.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Princess herself," Andy's mocking voice rang out.

Spinning around, Harry saw the trio smirking at him, clearly intent on resuming their bullying now that Y/N was gone.

"Can't step away from your little girlfriend for even an hour without getting misted eyes," Kyle taunted. "So pathetic."

"Yeah, we were taking it easy before because the lady was around," Marc chimed in. "But now that she's gone…"

The three closed in on Harry menacingly until he felt backed into his desk, heart pounding with dread. This was not going to end well.

But to Harry's shock and the bullies' surprise, a familiar voice suddenly rang out.

"That's enough!"

They all whipped around to see Y/N marching back over to Harry's desk, fire flashing in her eyes. She had returned after forgetting her thermos, only to stumble upon the confrontation.

"Leave him alone, you jerks!" Y/N shouted angrily, storming up to the stunned trio before Harry could stop her. "I saw and heard everything! How dare you treat my boyfriend that way?"

Andy, Marc and Kyle exchanged uncomfortable looks, clearly not anticipating being called out by Harry's girlfriend. They quickly tried to regroup and reassert control.

"Listen sweetheart, this is just a bit of guy humor," Andy said in a patronizing tone, putting on an unconvincing smile. "You know how it is, we were just razzing Harry a little, all in good fun."

"Oh yeah, shoving him and calling him pathetic names? That's just real hilarious banter!" Y/N shot back, furious. She stepped protectively in front of Harry, staring the three bullies down defiantly.

Though his heart had leapt at her fierce defense of him, Harry also felt a surge of dread and embarrassment that she'd witnessed him being tormented like that.

But there was no deterring Y/N once her protective instincts kicked in. She jabbed an accusatory finger squarely into Andy's chest.

"How about this, asshole? From now on you treat MY boyfriend with respect, or you'll have me to answer to. Got it?"

The three men looked taken aback by Y/N's unexpected anger, exchanging uneasy glances. Andy quickly regained his bravado, puffing out his chest in an attempt to seem intimidating.

"Listen little lady, this doesn't concern you-"

"The hell it doesn't!" Y/N shot back, not backing down an inch. "Harry is the love of my life, which means anyone who messes with him messes with me. You got that?"

There was a tense silence as the confrontation reached a boiling point. Harry could only watch in amazed disbelief as his normally sweet girlfriend transformed into a fierce protector before his eyes.

Finally, Andy seemed to think better of prolonging the confrontation any further. With a snort, he shrugged and turned to walk away, motioning for Marc and Kyle to follow.

"Whatever, it was just a laugh. No need to get your panties in a twist, lady," he muttered in a feeble last attempt to save face.

As the three bullies skulked off, Y/N remained rooted in place, chest heaving with anger and adrenaline. It wasn't until they disappeared around a corner that she allowed some of the tension to finally leave her body.

She immediately whirled around to face Harry, grabbing his hands in hers as concern flooded her features.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you at all?" she asked urgently, searching his face.

Harry could only mutely shake his head, speechless at the ocean of emotions swirling within him - shame, humiliation, but also love and gratitude for the woman before him.

Y/N studied him briefly before speaking again, her voice taking on a softer edge.

"Babe…why didn't you tell me this was happening? That those jerks were bullying you like that?"

Harry's gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet the caring worry in her eyes. He shrugged helplessly.

"I…I don't know," he mumbled. "I guess I was just too embarrassed. Letting a bunch of immature pricks get to me like that…"

He trailed off, unsure how to properly  put into words the complicated emotions he'd been dealing with. How could he admit that their cruel taunting and harassment had left him feeling utterly powerless and insignificant? Like he was a useless joke not worthy of basic human respect?

Y/N seemed to sense the complicated inner turmoil raging inside her boyfriend. Gently, she reached up and cradled his face in her soft hands, forcing Harry to meet her tender gaze.

"Hey, listen to me," she said, "There is nothing, absolutely nothing, to be embarrassed about. You were being bullied and tormented by cowards who get their sad kicks out of tearing people down."

She paused, searching his eyes intently to make sure he was absorbing her words.

"You are the kindest, most caring, respectful man I know," Y/N continued. "And I'll be damned if I just stand by while some pathetic losers try to make you feel less than that."

Harry felt his throat constrict with emotion at her passionate defense of him. He blinked rapidly to stave off the burn of shameful tears threatening to fall.

"I…I should have told you," he croaked out remorsefully. "I just…I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me like that. So weak and…"

"Hey." Y/N cut him off by gently pressing her fingers to his lips. "You are anything but weak, Harry Styles. Keeping something like that bottled up, dealing with harassment and staying strong through it all? That's not weakness, babe. That's courage."

She stroked his cheek tenderly, her loving gaze never wavering.

"I'm just sorry you felt like you had to go through any of that alone," Y/N said softly. "From now on, I need you to promise me - if anything like that ever happens again, you tell me right away so I can be there for you. So I can fight those assholes off and put them in their place." Y/N said this fiercely, protectiveness blazing in her eyes.

Harry couldn't help but crack a small smile at her ferocity, his heart swelling with love for this amazing woman. He nodded slowly. "I promise. No more secrets, no more hiding it. Although…" He raised an eyebrow teasingly. "I have to admit, watching you take those jerks down a few notches was pretty hot."

Y/N tried to maintain a stern expression, but her lips twitched with amusement. "Oh, you liked that, did you? Should I invest in a tight leather bodysuit then? Really play up the whole avenging girlfriend superhero vibe?"

Harry threw his head back with a loud laugh at the imagery, finally allowing the last lingering traces of shame and tension to bleed out of him. He pulled Y/N close, holding her tenderly as he nuzzled against her hair.

"You're my hero, no matter what you wear," he murmured, utterly sincere. "Just…please don't storm any buildings in a cape or anything. I don't think my poor nerves could take it."

Y/N giggled, tilting her face up to brush her nose against his affectionately. "No capes, got it. But I make no promises about keeping those bullies in line if they try anything again."

She punctuated her teasing vow with a slow, heated kiss that left Harry's head spinning. When they finally parted, he was looking at his girlfriend with unmeasurable adoration.

"What did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as you?" Harry asked

Y/N smirked and poked his chest playfully. "Well, for starters, you can take me out for a fancy dinner to make it up to me. I did just save your scrawny ass from those jerks, after all."

"Whatever you want, my angel," Harry replied. He looped his arm through hers, guiding them towards the exit with a renewed sense of confidence. "I'll even let you pick the fanciest place in town - on one condition."

Y/N eyed him suspiciously, "What's the condition?" she asked.

Harry leaned in until his lips were brushing her ear, voice dropping to a murmur. "You have to wear that leather bodysuit you mentioned…"

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p.s. : if you ever get bullied, please stand up for yourself! bullies are just jerks, they're insecure people who thrive off on calling other people out. please never feel like you're alone, talk to someone.

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tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[xxlady-lunaxx]

I love you; I don't | {SaneGiyuu}

Theme: Angst? It's not bad but there's no fluff lmfao

Note: Spoilers<33

A little UzuRen mention

Idk but when I tell people my oneshot ideas somehow they always make me get angst ideas from what they say abt it, my sister told me i should end this in angst 🫡

btw the part 2:

part 2

×××

"Tomioka."

Giyuu turned at his name, tilting his head at the Wind Hashira who stood there, his arms cross and eyes averted.

"Yes?" 

Sanemi bit his lip, as if contemplating his life choices. "I like you. Romantically."

Giyuu gave a start, his eyes widening and cheeks flushing. "What?!"

"That's what I said," Sanemi snapped, embarrassed. He looked up, glaring at Giyuu through his bangs. "Do... you want to go out??"

"I... I-" Giyuu was at loss for words and his mouth opened and closed several times.

"Take your time," Sanemi said, rolling his eyes.

Giyuu looked down. He wanted to say yes, really, he did. But. But, if he dated Sanemi, he would end up losing him. It wasn't like he could protect Sanemi—one, Sanemi was at the same level (if maybe less or more) of strength as him, and two, he would never let himself be protected, really. Which just increased the chance of losing him, paired with the fact that they were both Hashira and were always sent on missions that were considerably harder. Dating Sanemi would only make Giyuu grow fonder and closer to him, which would make the loss... a thousand times more devestating. So...

"I'm... sorry, Shinazugawa," Giyuu whispered. "I... can't."

Sanemi blinked, speechless for a second, before nodding rapidly. "It's fine. Alright. See you around." Then he turned and seemingly disappeared.

Giyuu sighed, raking a hand through his hair. He felt bad but... he'd feel worse if he lost Sanemi. Which was practically destined to happen if he had accepted, given his luck. People seemed to die away like flower petals on a picked rose when they got close to Giyuu.

×××

"I don't fucking know! It's like... I was getting mixed signals, it's just... Fuck," Sanemi groaned, banging his head on the table. "But he said no. And now there's not fucking way I can show my face to him again."

Obanai sighed. "We should go somewhere else, people are staring," he said. 

"Right..." Sanemi grumbled, standing. "Let's go to an ocean so I can drown myself."

Obanai rolled his eyes and stood, grabbing Sanemi by the wrist and pulling him down a road. "Walk, bitch. We'll go find a place we can train so you can let off some steam."

"Mm."

After Sanemi got ahold of himself, the two walked down the path side by side in silence. Obanai spoke up after a couple minutes.

"Just forget about Tomioka. It won't happen in a flash but... try? If he said no he probably means no and he's just stupid for acting like he likes you then rejecting you. For all we know he might not be into men. I don't know, just try leveling your own feelings with his and see what you can get from it. But... yeah, I would ignore Tomioka too," Obanai said, glancing at Sanemi. "It's not like you two talk much in the first place, so it'll be fine."

Sanemi rolled his eyes. "Comforting. But, I guess. I'd prefer just to not think about him, to be honest."

"That too," the ravenette said, nodding. "Anyways, relationship are tedious things when you're a Hashira. Or just in the Demon Slayer Corps, period."

"Mm. And yet we have Uzui—in the Demon Slayer Corps, a Hashira—somehow married. To three people. And you can't convince me otherwise that he doesn't have his eyes set on Rengoku too," Sanemi said, scoffing.

Obanai laughed. "He's just built like that. The little fuck is more interested in romance than saving people's lives."

"Eh, wouldn't we be too if demons didn't exist?" Sanemi asked, crossing his arms. 

"Fair point. Or not. I don't know if I'd exist if demons didnt," Obanai murmured thoughtfully.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"...Right."

"...Back to Tomioka," Obanai said, quickening his pace.

"No, not back to him. There should be a clearing up ahead, wanna spar?" Sanemi offered, unsheathing his katana.

"Bet. Loser has to buy the other something?" Obanai proposed, grinning. 

"Count your money, I want ohagi," Sanemi said, racing ahead of him.

"HEY-"

×××

Years had past—yes, years—and Muzan was killed and Hashira were lost. Amongst the living Hashira were Giyuu and Sanemi. Tengen, as well, although he had retired a couple months before. And now that there was no obvious constant threat on their lives, they could live more freely, think more freely.

Paired with the knowledge of when they would die, Giyuu felt as if he could act upon whatever he wanted to. Befriend whom he liked, grow closer to those he wanted to. Somehow, throughout the years, he had loved Sanemi all the same. The feeling had wavered sometimes, but would come back in full bloom only a few weeks later. Since he no longer felt as if he would lose someone immediately because of himself, he decided to tell Sanemi of this. 

So, one day, he sent a crow to Sanemi, asking if they could meet together, maybe eat lunch. The letter was messily written as his dominant(is he right-handed?) hand was gone, but he hoped that Sanemi would be able to read it alright.

Luckily, he seemed to have been able to, as he arrived at noon at the park Giyuu had invited him to. The two had both brought their own lunches and quickly found a place to sit and eat. It was quiet for a moment as the two got their bearings together. The weather was nice, warm with a light breeze, and there was a soft scent of sakura flowers in the air.

Giyuu ate clumsily, not yet used to using his left hand as he struggled with his chopsticks.

Sanemi tilted his head towards him, an amused smirk growing on his face. "You eat messier than Rengoku."

Giyuu huffed. "I'm trying!"

"Mhm. What did you me to come here for? Just to eat?" Sanemi asked, putting down his chopsticks. 

"Ah. You know when... you said that you liked me?" Giyuu said hesitantly.

"Well fuck, going right in. Yes. I don't want to remember that," Sanemi said pointedly, sighing. 

Giyuu gave him a small, lopsided smile. "Alright. Well, I told you 'no,' not because I didn't like you, but because I didn't want to lose you. You understand, yes? I'm sorry... for that. And for not explaining. I just... panicked. I didn't want to risk losing you, then blaming myself forever," he murmured. 

Sanemi stared at him. "That's... Fuck you," he said, grumbling. 

Giyuu sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you telling me this now, though??" Sanemi asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's really out of the blue."

"Ah... About that," Giyuu said, his voice lowering. "So..."

"Hm?"

"About what I said, that I said no, not because I disliked you? Well. Well, I did like you. I... do," Giyuu mumbled. "I like you." He cast his eyes down as he waited for a response. When he didn't get any, he looked back up at Sanemi.

Sanemi looked hesitant, his eyes down at his food on his lap. 

"What's wrong?" Giyuu asked curiously.

"I just..." He trailed off, his eyes meeting Giyuu's. "I don't like you like that anymore. I stopped, after a while. I figured I had no chance, so..."

Giyuu blinked. God. Of course. He should've expected this. "Oh."

"Sorry," Sanemi murmured. 

Giyuu shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, no, like you said before, it's alright. It's fine. You don't have to apologize, it's completely my fault. Uhm... I have to go now, I just remembered I promised to meet Tanjiro later, see you around..." he said, fumbling with his food and standing, quickly rushing off.

"TOMIOKA-" Sanemi shouted, his food falling to the floor as he stood.

Giyuu didn't look back, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop a sob that threatened to spill out. He should've expected this. There was no way in hell Sanemi would've stayed in love after years, it was a miracle he'd loved him in the first place. Of course.

×××

« Word count: 1380 »

[leatherbookmark]

☁️🐚🍄🍓(all, or any combination you want) for the fanfiction author ask meme

kissing your hand reverently for the ask etc

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

i just like leather bookmarks!! originally lb was a non-kpop sideblog, and i wanted something that wouldn't be fandom-specific (i don't really like changing usernames) but that at the same time would fit my current fandom (the hobbit hehe). so, leatherbookmark!!

as for my ao3 username, oenanthe is a name of two genera: birds and plants, but i took mine from the bird one. specifically, this little guy. i love that the latin name is so pretty (wine+flower) but both english and polish taxonomers went "this bird has a white ass. alright then here you go"

by the way, huh, these arrows are fun! they're not -> but ⇢. they're dashed. cute

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

oh boy i really don't... i used to when i was a kid, but at this point it's just a source of stress. though like -- depends, because if someone gets me a little postcard or a souvenir that's right up my alley, it's great and i'm happy they thought of me!, but if it's a big expensive gift... yeag

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

fascinated by the separation of ship and pairing here, btw

ohhhh my god i gotta get my fandom brain back in order.

xiyao. what do i think about xiyao? i like to think that in a better world they'd love to Eat. try out different stuff, ranging from "drowning in grease and made by a 78yo uncle who spits into his hands spiritedly before kneading the dough" to... hm. would they go for the "lick the citrus foam out of the plaster cast of the chef's mouth" dining, uh, experience? probably not, but lxc would be amazed and interested, half sincerely and half because he wants to check at what point jgy will go beloved, what the fuck.

but ALSO i think they'd just enjoy meals as a way of spending time together! so whether it's a modern au or not, they whip out the nice tableware, make sure there's a nice plantly being/something decorative on the table, etc. (they don't play music/put on tv in the background because they don't believe in that.)

(all of the above also means their meals take WAY longer than you'd expect, or rather -- as long as they can make them. breakfasts come with dessert now icydk)

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

hm!! i think i just... started doing it? when i was a kid and browsing blogs about the witch comic series, i stumbled upon some blogs that weren't like, character profiles and comic arc summaries, but instead basically chaptered fanfiction. and since that, i kind of seeked out people's fics, often more than canon material like scans, databases and such lol.

iirc i started out making comics about my OCs, weird little AUs (like... utena characters, but magical girls/boys lmfao), or "original" comics obviously were just crazy mixes of whatever i was into at the moment. i only started writing fic when i was, idk, ten? and even then it was more like "ough i have a certain scene/image/mood/feeling in my brain and i need to get it Out" than actual stories :')

another thing that hasn't changed until sort-of-very-recently was me just.... starting anew every new fandom. i'd be into fandom X for years, produce tons of fics, and then once i got into fandom Y i was like oh fuck this is all so embarrassing, STARTING A NEW ACCOUNT RIGHT AWAY OR WE DIE. 👍 on one hand cool, on the other i sometimes envy writers who don't have to log into three separate accounts to see all their stats ='D

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade Chapter 8 Sneak Peek!

Enjoy your pick guys 😅👀😊

🛁

"Are you okay with this?" Peter asked softly. "Patrick or I can take care of him."

"I've got it Pete," I assured him with a smile.

Patrick ruffled my hair. "We're one holler away if you need us, little sister."

I combed my hair down and lovingly flipped them off before turning and closing the door. My bed was empty. "Jake?" The bathroom door creaked slightly and there was a light commotion echoing in the bathroom. I carefully pushed it open to find Jake laying in the bathtub, his eyes screamed shut as he tried to steady his breathing. "Jake?"

"I just need a minute," he said breathlessly. Frustrated and embarrassed, his face tightened.

"That's okay," I said slowly, moving to stand next to the tub. "There any room for one more?"

Jake looked up at me for a minute before silently sitting up and making space for me to climb into the tub with him. It was tight, uncomfortable but I could tell that having me close helped him relax. "This is fucking ridiculous."

"Yeah, I've always said they need to make bathtubs bigger."

He chuckled. "Not that." Gesturing to himself he scoffed. "Me. I'm… I'm being fucking stupid."

"No you aren't," I assured him, resting my chin on my knees. "If it works it's not stupid."

I thought he was going to laugh again, but instead, he made a strange noise. "You know, I used to lay in the bathtub at Simone's parent's house and hold my breath until I felt like I was going to pass out." The confession was quiet but focused. His tense posture didn't shift as he continued, "I wanted to feel what she did… Wanted to know if my mom suffered when she drowned." He shook his head as if he was trying to keep certain memories from taking root. "When I was a bit older I actually added water. Almost drowned myself by accident before Simone found me. She was livid. Dragged me out of the bath and screamed at me for being selfish and stupid. And that was when she told me the truth." He took deep breaths as his face twisted into an expression of anger and guilt. "It wasn't an accident. My mom… She walked into the water and she chose to die."

I forced myself to stay calm, though the new information made my own guilt about Jake's involvement with my trauma rage inside me. This isn't about me. This is about him. I reminded myself. I wouldn't force my guilt on him, not when it wasn't his fault I felt that way, not when he needed me at this moment. "I'm sorry Jake. That… That doesn't sound like it was easy."

His eyes met mine as a tear escaped his tight hold. "What did I do? What did I do to make her do that?" Oh, Jake… He shook his head, laughing quietly. "I know I'm an insufferable asshole… I know I'm annoying and selfish and manipulative… But I just…" All I could hear was Simone. This was her voice in his head, her voice telling him it was his fault, that he was the problem.

"Listen to me," I instructed softly as I moved in the small tub, practically laying on top of him as I took hold of his face. "It wasn't your fault. None of it." He started to shake his head again, but I held firm. "You are not annoying or selfish or manipulative. You are a human being… One that is kind of an asshole sometimes, but you just so happen to be one of the nicest assholes I've ever met."

"You don't really think that," he insisted.

"I told you about my mom," I countered. "I told you about my very impressive criminal record. If I wanted to lie to you Jake, I would've done it by now."

He closed his eyes, leaning into my hands for a minute before quietly asking, "Why is it so easy with you?"

"Must be my unparalleled charisma."

Jake laughed, bright blue eyes staring up at me free of  his usual restrictions. I could see everything he felt and realized why he always forced himself to look so grumpy. Those blue eyes studied my face before moving to my hair as he lifted a hand to run his fingers through it. "I never thought I'd get this attached to you." He shook his head. "You were supposed to be easy… A quick fling to make me feel better."

I refrained from laughing. "Do I not make you feel better?"

"You do," he admitted. "You make me feel like myself."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

Another tear rolled down his cheek. "It's been a long time since I've been me."

[waiting-on-a-dream]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦

Haruto: Noa-san.

Noa: Good afternoon, Haruto.

Haruto: How are things between the prisoners?

Noa: We're all getting along well considering the circumstances.

Haruto: Besides Ichiro, no one else has caused any trouble, right?

Noa: No, we would have notified you otherwise.

Haruto: Alright, just checking. How are you coping with your verdict by the way?

Noa: I'm not sure what to make of it. I still think I deserve to be punished but...maybe it wouldn't be too hard to keep living.

Haruto: I'm sure you can find many things to live for.

Noa: Maybe...

Haruto: Now, would you like to talk about your victim?

Noa: ...There's nothing worth hiding anymore, I suppose.

Haruto: You said it was an accident. Was that true?

Noa: In a way, yes.

Haruto: What happened?

Noa: ...

Haruto: If you're not ready to talk about it yet, that's fine.

Noa: No, I... I can talk about it.

Haruto: Take your time.

Noa: It...It was suicide.

Haruto: Huh?

Noa: I tried to commit suicide, by jumping off the cliff by my favourite beach in the middle of a stormy night. I've had previous attempts, so my husband must have been on alert. I hadn't noticed that he followed me all the way to the beach.

Haruto: You walked there?

Noa: I didn't want to take his car and leave it there. It was only a 20 minute walk...

Haruto: What did he do when you reached the cliff?

Noa: He called my name...and tried to get me to go home with him. But I was so embarrassed and upset that he'd followed me all the way to the cliff, I was more adamant on getting it done. I had written letters to him and my family and everything.

Haruto: Did you both end up falling into the water?

Noa: Yes... He tried to pull me away from the edge, and we struggled for a bit until I slipped. It was raining and the rocks were slippery.

Haruto: And you both fell in. Only you made it out.

Noa: I think he hit some rocks below. He had trouble swimming, and I could only keep us both afloat for so long. If he hadn't been in the water, I would have simply allowed myself to drown.

Haruto: You know, I've been meaning to ask. Why drowning?

Noa: Eh? I...was hoping they'd never find my body. Maybe it would have been better for them not to see it.

Haruto: Some people agonize over never being able to see their loved one one last time.

Noa: I guess so...

Haruto: Your husband. What was he like?

Noa: Ah. His name in Benjiro. He was a painter. His best works were flowers, though he often wasted time sketching me. He loved animals, jellyfish being his favourite. He loved, loved, loved omurice. He would always insist that I draw him a ketchup heart or else he'd whine about me not loving him enough.

Haruto: He sounds like a keeper.

Noa: He is... He was.

Haruto: If you loved him so much, why did you want to die so badly?

Noa: Hah! Do you think I don't ask myself the same thing? On some days, I would feel so empty I wouldn't have the will to get out of bed. Benjiro would call my workplace for me and ask for sick leave, then spend the day by my side and feed me soup as if there was something physically wrong with me!

Haruto: ...I see. You must have had a really tough time.

Noa: Some days, I wouldn't be empty, I'd be devastated. The littlest things would tick me off. I would want nothing more than to die.

Haruto: ...I'm sorry.

[Bell rings, mechanical sounds in the back.]

Noa: I wonder what my music video will show you this time.

Haruto: Let's find out then. Prisoner 008, sing your sins.

[casspurrjoybell-32]

Taken - Blue Moon Series - Chapter 11b

*Warning Adult Content*

Elder Cyrus

'Something was off,' I thought as I watched Lakota sleep.

I looked at his hands as the middle of his palms were scabbed over with the wounds that he made with his fingers nails.

"What happened?" Gale demanded as he rushed forward, instantly noticing the wounds.

"I really couldn't tell you," I muttered.

I watched Gale grab Lakota's hands gently and inspect them closely.

"He did this," it wasn't a question but a statement.

I didn't even have to answer as he sighed and kissed our mates palms.

He growled.

"When I get my hands on that bitch... I'm going kill her."

Even though he sounded threatening I glanced up to see the sorrow in his soft brown eyes.

It wasn't like the night she stole Lakota's wolf.

He had been seething with rage then, his eyes a sharp silver.

Those fangs he kept hidden had extended to lethal points.

But I knew from personal experience that they weren't always dangerous.

They could bring you uncontrollable pleasure.

"What do we do?" Gale asked softly, bringing Lakota's hand up against his cheek.

The compassion he expressed for Lakota was heartwarming.

He was never embarrassed to show how he felt to those he cared about... I was starting to learn.

Everything he did or said was genuine, when he was angry, he got his vengeance, when he was happy he laughed with you and when he loved he did it wholeheartedly.

I didn't want to notice these things but they were hard to miss, even when your around him for only a few minutes you could tell.

Gale was as transparent as glass and it was his most endearing quality.

"We take care of him. We love him," I said, looking him deep in his brown eyes.

Slowly I watched them widen before closing and he nuzzled Lakota's hand again.

"Yes."

********

It has been almost a week and my soul is being crushed.

I stood in the door way of the sitting room watching Lakota as he sat in the window seat staring outside, with his knees drawn in and his arms wrapped around them.

He'd been like this for days.

Not saying a word, barely moving or eating.

No matter what Gale and I did he didn't respond.

It was beyond frustrating.

It tore me apart to see him like this.

And from the pained expression on Gale's face I see every time he looked at our mate I knew he felt the same.

Sighing, I dropped my head for a moment, before taking a deep breath and walking towards him.

Quietly I sat on the seat next to him, he showed no signs of acknowledgement.

Reaching out, I caressed my hand down his soft brown hair.

"Lakota?" I said softly.

"Hmm?"

"You can talk to me, you know that?" I whispered leaning down and nuzzling his neck.

"Tell me how you feel, complain, do something... please," I begged.

Lakota rubbed his cheek against my temple.

"I don't know how I feel... no... I don't know how to explain how I feel," he rasped.

Slowly I felt him move his cheek lower causing me to frown and move away to look at him.

It was then I felt his warm lips touch my skin.

They traveled down my cheek.

"Try," I gasped.

There were soft sparks following his lips down my skin.

"I feel.." he paused as his hand reached out towards my chest.

"I feel lonely Cyrus. I feel like I'm drowning."

"Drowning?" I questioned, with concern.

Lakota didn't answer he just shifted up to his knees and continued to caress his lips across my skin till he reached the corner of my mouth.

"I feel like if I don't feel something real and something good, I'll die."

"You won't die, I'd never let that happen," I growled.

"I feel like if you or Gale leave me, I'll drift away and become the nothing that I am," he breathed.

"Lakota, you're not nothing."

Quickly I pulled him to my chest and hugged him tight.

His face resting against my shoulder.

"You're everything to me. To Gale. You are my life, the air that I breathe. I can't live with out you. I wouldn't be able to function without you. So please don't talk about yourself like that."

I pulled away, so I could look into his big beautiful golden eyes.

"I can't take it," I finished.

"I'm not alright, Cyrus," he said suddenly.

"I know, sweetheart."

"No. I mean... I'm not alright... up here," he tapped the side of his head and I frown.

Slowly I watched him look down at his palms that were still scabbed over.

His wolf was gone and it just struck me that if he got hurt he would be just like a human, vulnerable and easily wounded.

"I think, I'm losing it."

My gaze traveled from his shaking hands to his scared eyes and my heart broke yet again.

My poor mate, he was so lost. What do I do?

"Come here," I gasp and quickly pull him all the way into my lap and held him tight.

"I'm here and I'm not going let anything happen to you ever again. You know that, right? You believe me?"

He nodded softly.

"Good," my voice wavered and I buried my face in his soft brown hair.

"Good."

"How about we get out of here? Just out of this room and anywhere else."

I stood suddenly still holding him to me.

He wrapped his legs around my waist a sign he didn't want me to let go either and I smiled.

"I know, let's go find Gale. I bet that will make you happy."

I started walking out of the sitting room.

"Let's go mess with fang boy."

Lakota's arms tightened around my neck.

"I'd like that," he muffled into my shoulder

"I knew you would," I told him softly.

[doctorveranair]

She caught him as his eye lingered briefly on her ring, but didn't say anything until after the waiter had gone. Then, in a voice quiet enough she was certain wouldn't be overhead, Vera spoke carefully as her hands drew focus away from her mouth by cutting a few gnocchi. Laramie might still notice. The others would not. 

“We've talked about it. We work in a field where marriage is highly uncommon. Lasting ones even less so. We love each other.” That much ought to be clear, given that Vera was willing to die for Tom. “When you're separated for extended periods, it helps to be open. We allow for separate romantic lives on the rare occasion the matter arises.”

“As for my gentlemen, I'm fine having them believe that I'm having some tawdry affair as long as they never get the impression that I'd have one with any of them. Not that we are having a tawdry affair,” she added smoothly. “We are having dinner.” She took a bite of gnocchi and grinned. “This is wonderful. Would you like to try it?” 

“Quite a striking amount in common. Why are you saying you wouldn't like to admit how much?” She sat back and teased, “Gareth, are you embarrassed to be seen with me in front of all these tourists and my merry band?”

She quieted again, softly biting her lower lip as Gareth told her what had become of his brother at the lake. It sounded like a drowning, but there was uncertainty in the way he phrased it. “Like losing half your soul. Sometimes, I think back on those first years after the accident and it feels Ella took my whole soul with her to the nursing home to keep her company while my husk worked through my fellowship and clinic hours. I just stood there for years and let the days move past me. The years.”

“I'm sorry about Arthur,” Vera added, briefly intertwining their fingers before Laramie claimed her attention by dropping his fork and staring straight at her under the table. She tensed and drew away. “There's never enough time.” Again, a response with two meanings.

His gaze dropped to their joined hands on the table again. Her fingers perfectly manicuared. Actually...everything about Vera was impeccable. She was taking good care of her entire body, and from her hair to her shoes, everything was sitting neatly. He liked it. Perhaps too much for his own good, he was reminded when his gaze flickered over to her other hand, catching the wedding ring again for a brief moment.

He only reluctantly pulled his hand away when their dishes came, and Gareth leaned a bit back, looking down at his plate. "I will tell you, of course, but...you are not overstepping." He offered her a small smile again, still not picking up his fork. "I suppose we have more in common than we'd like to admit, don't we? Though...my brother didn't live long." He shook his head, swallowing. "I was eleven when he died, he was...seventeen. He had just joined Sandhurst - the military academy - and...he was home for a bit." Gareth stared at his plate, pursing his lips. "We were always close, we stuck together, and yet...he wanted to go to the lake with his friends. Not me. I was mad at him, I...rode after him, but he stopped me and yelled at me and...told me to go home because he didn't want me to come with them." He swallowed again; harder this time. "I never saw him again. He drowned that day. We never found out what really happened, how...how he actually died." Finally he picked up the fork and knife, raising his brow. "It's like...losing half of your soul, isn't it?"

[diaco1968]

Altair x Reader

Warnings! Smut, lemon, unprotected, a bit of choking, bit of humiliation, sounds a little dub/non con in the end

Note: I just realized I've written nothing for my first and longest crush, none other than the arrogant grumpy assassin! Sorry for the slight ooc-ness, I get weird writing about him...

Also amazing art! It's thanks to this, I've been visually crushing over this man for the longest time! *^*

Artist

"Wanna blow off some steam, Assassin?"

He could still feel your hands all over him, the feeling of your touch;

Your fingers running up his abs, tracing his chest, running over his shoulders, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck before they carded through his hair finally coming to a rest in a tight demanding grip on the back of his head.

It was unlike whatever he was used to.

The girls in the garden. They just did what they were assigned to do. Though they were obedient and submissive, they didn't claw at him like they desired him.

It was unusual.

It was exhilarating.

It was wrong.

It had been one of the rare occasions where there was a brief pause in the conflict between the assassins and the templars. A moment of peace that kept you all from jumping at each other's throats while their mentors and your commanders talked out their differences for a mutually beneficial truce. And of course they both had the option of having their choice of bodyguards accompanying them.

That was how he first met you. In person and eye to eye. With a distance of less than a rooftop, even less than a swords lenght, apart.

He couldn't get it off his mind now.

You had heard of him, seen the havoc he had caused in your ranks without even being seen. And he had seen you before as you barked orders at your little pawns and cut through his less experienced brethren with no mercy.

Always from afar.

Maybe that was the reason you colided hard the moment those roles were gone and out of the way. Attracted by the differences like day and night.

So when you cornered him alone with that very suggestion you were met with little to no resistance as you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips onto his. You demanded and you took as you pleased, making him bend to your will and despite his arrogant self, he liked that. He liked being wanted. The way you had him on his back in moments, straddling him so full of confidence. You were quite a skilled rider too.

Had him wondering if he had finally met his match?

Now as he stalked in the shadows waiting for you to make a wrong move, he wanted to take back. He wanted you. He had spent weeks being distracted time and again by the memories of your little encounter, now that he was so close to you again he couldn't help but drown deeper and deeper in his inner conflict. Thess were slightly different times, what if you rejected him? It would be so embarrassing... and he couldn't just kill you off if you did, that would harm the truce...

He shook his head as he caught himself thinking nonsense again.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

You were a templar though... did you count?-

He didn't have time to measure your innocence as your pawns left to do something you ordered them to and finally you were all alone. All his. Easy prey.

A hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it behind you as he pulled you into the alleyway and slammed you front first into the wall.

"You've become too dull."

"Have I really?"

That was when he noticed you didn't use your other hand to brace yourself on the wall. The little sharp pain in his side from the blade threateningly pressing into him was proof enough.

"You'd still die anyway. So, yes, you have."

He let go of your arm and you turned around to face him in the very little space provided by his arms caging you to the wall, teasingly grinding your ass back onto him. He of course suppressed the little hiss in response, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

"You think I dismissed my men because I'm dull and not because I saw a certain assassin lurking around in the shadows?"

He narrowed his glinting golden eyes at you.

"You are bluffing."

You chuckled as you wiped at your scraped cheek to ease the stinging.

"What ever helps your ego."

You could see his scowl even from under the hood casting shadows over his face that complimented his features, as he loomed over you, completely silent. His sunkissed skin, sharp bones, haunting eyes, defined scar over his lips.

"You are in templar territory, what do you want, bird?"

His grimace at the nickname had you smirking triumphantly. Why did you have to know their language... it was annoying.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name."

You looked smug and he didn't like that but you didn't have all day for the yarn of his ego to untangle on it's own. You reached up, slipping your hand inside the hood and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to you so you could whisper in his ear.

"Or do you prefer, Eagle? Am I your poor little prey this time?"

He could feel the goosebumps rise over his arms as he growled in annoyance, your voice rolled over his skin smoothly.

"If you were, you wouldn't live long enough to mock me."

"Flattering."

Your smirk widened, nipping the side of his jaw and pushing him off a whole step before he could react.

"Come, boy."

"... tch..."

Clicking his tongue he wondered if this was all worth it any way as he watched your form striding down the alley, taking his time before he decided to follow you.

To an abandoned building, top floors almost burnt away, leading to a giant hole in the roof opening up to the skies. At the entrance you grabbed his hand cause he was hesitating to step in.

He would have preferred more hospitality... like your own quarters maybe...

He didn't have time to ponder as you pushed him back on one of the few surviving furniture, before straddling his lap.

... a long wooden bench... in a burnt building with cold stone wallls...

"We're in a church!-"

You were already half way through his robes, heavily dropping the weapon belt on the ground as you looked up at his anxious expression, scoffing.

"And? Are you a religious man, Assassin?"

He glared at you but you had a point. He just didn't expect such disrespect from you. Were you not fighting as part of Richard's army?...

"You're shameless."

"Shame is a weakness. You didn't seek me out beacuse I am a weakling now, did you?"

You plopped down on his now not dangerously armed crotch and his hands shot up to grab your hips and steady you.

"Who said I seeked you out? I was just in the area for a job."

"Ouch... you mean you killed off one of my men and came to add insult to the injury?"

He paused as you paused staring down at him. Well maybe he didn't choose his words right. He wasn't good at lying on the spot.

"That's hot."

At this point he had no idea if you meant the things you said or if you were being sarcastic. But he didnt care as you started grinding down over him.

Like last time.

Oh hell no.

He flipped you, so now you were lying on your back looking up at him surprised.

"Not this time. You are mine now."

"Oh? Fine then, show me what you've got."

You almost immediately regretted that as the pit in your stomach deepened not only from excitement but from fear as his fingers wrapped around your throat tightly, nudging your legs apart to settle between them. As you let him discard your clothes, it was probably the first time it downed on you. The danger you were in. He could actually kill you. And no one would know. Kill you and leave you there disgraced and dishonored with no one to know where to look for you.

You wheezed loudly, clutching the wrist of the hand he had wrapped around your neck, your train of thoughts derailed as he unceremoniously thrusted himself into you.

His fingers left your neck, to fist in your hair instead, arching your neck so he had more room as his lips met the delicate skin, his stubble scratching you pleasantly. You grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck and he didn't mind endulging you, sucking and nipping on the skin, combined with shallow slow thrusts had you arching and twisting under him, trying desperately to get more friction out of him. He gripped your hips tightly, pinning you down and restraining your movements.

"I said you'll be good and do as I tell you to."

"That is not what you said."

"Don't test me, (y/n)."

He growled in your ear, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest and you were not about to argue with that as you hummed in response and decided to oblige.

He briefly pulled out of you, only to pull you up and dropping you on your knees on the stoney ground. With a hand on the back of your neck he had you face down, arse up and he plunged himself back into you groaning at the way you twitched around him eagerly with a loud wanton moan.

His other hand grabbed your hip to keep you from jerking forward while he drilled into you, completely different from his earlier pace.

"This is what you want after all. To be fucked like a little bitch with an important audience."

Between your moans and scratching at the ground in pleasure mixed with pain you didnt have time to wonder who, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back against him so you were facing  the old crushed cross behind the altar.

"...you fucking basta-geh!"

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, deep enough to make you choke and gag around them.

"I'd watch my mouth, if I were you."

He resumed kissing your abused neck, fingers thrusting in your mouth, creating lewd wet noises and heavy moans.

You were close, he could tell. You were constricting around him so tight he almost released a few times if not for the way you bit his fingers angrily. But he wanted you to finish first. Wanted you to whimper and beg as you just couldn't anymore.

He sunk his teeth in your shoulder and that was it for you. A high pitched mewl and you were clamping down on him violently as your release shook you to your core, slumping over him as he slowed down ever so slightly.

Then he let you drop on your front and resumed his brutal pace, seeking his own release now, disregarding your half hearted protesting sobs.

It didn't take him long and he finished over your ass, panting heavily as he watched your shaky body, get used to the abuse way too quickly as you rolled over underneath him to shoot him a glare.

Awkward silence engulfed you both as he got on his feet and even helped you up with a hand and you both started fixing up your clothes and putting your weapons back in place.

This was not how it ended last time. The silenece made him wonder if he did something very wrong. If your little forbidden rendezvous had come to an end because of him. If it had, it was probably for the best but... he felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. Oh how he wished for you to open your smug mouth and say something. Anything.

"I think we can both agree, I am better off in charge."

"You wish, Templar."

"...well... yes, I do. That's the whole reason behind our ancient conflict, Assassin."

[ceescedasticity]

perspectives on the first kinslaying, xxiii

(you might want to check out the other parts first)

(and/or read what’s on AO3)

Telperin Glavarion:

Grandmother and Grandfather had recovered just enough that Aunt Eärwen was explaining the developments since Uncle Elulindo died, and then Uncle Volue died.

If he'd lasted ten more minutes Grandfather could at least have told us what his preferred general strategy was.

I know that's a terrible thing to say. But it was… I have to make a joke or I'll scream.

Just — the timing.

With all the storm shutters closed we didn't see Aunt Bellewen arrive on the King's Wharf. But we heard her, when she started yelling for Fëanáro to come back and face her.

I didn't know what to do. Aunt Eärwen tried to reach her by ósanwë, I think, then ran up to the third floor and opened one of the windows there and yelled for Bellewen to stop being a fool. Bellewen ignored her.

She might have listened to Grandfather, but he… couldn't.

Duinipen Elulindion:

I didn't find Mom in time. Obviously.

If I'd gone back to the mansions when I probably should have, I might have beaten her there. I would have wanted to go out and help her, which wouldn't have made any difference, but Aunt Eärwen might have convinced me to try to get her to stop and come back. That might have made a difference? I think it would have made a difference.

Bellewen:

After we all came back, I had to have a — difficult conversation with my children, and admit I had not believed I would defeat Curufinwë Fëanáro in combat. I had a chance, it was possible, but I knew probably I would die. Probably I would die even if I succeeded in killing him, his followers wouldn't let that stand.

So, yes: I abandoned everyone for a long shot attempt to take down the one responsible for my grief.

I'm not ashamed of that, and I don't regret it, but I'm sorry for the pain it caused.

But to the point.

I didn't want to fight my way down the quay or have to deal with all Fëanáro's escorts first, so I had to get him to agree to fight me. I had a plan for that: I shouted that I challenged him in the name of all mothers, for his mother had died and fled to Mandos because she was afraid to see the monster he would become.

(That was the point at which Eärwen stopped trying to get me to come inside and closed the shutters again, I believe.)

It worked like a charm; he made this noise which I understand some people found frightening but which I would describe as embarrassing, and started back up the quay, shoving his own people out of the way. At least one went into the harbor. I don't know whether they drowned.

[herstarburststories]

I'd die for you, come kill me

Kinktober Day 11: restrained

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

A/N: This one goes for my good friend followers celebration. So happy for your milestone, @msmarvelouswinchester! Divider by @talesmaniac89.

@stillintheimpala said: i have a fic idea. demon!dean stuck in a chair on handcuffed to a bed with those demon proof handcuffs. he's completely at your mercy. you get to dom him. (I put ropes instead of handcuffs because of the gif)

Prompt: Remember how I said I'd die for you.

Warnings: angry sex, p in v, riding, restraints, power play, smangst, angst, kind of hopefully ending (?), demon!dean acts like demon!dean

“Where is he?”

Sam sucked in a breath, moving his shoulder uncomfortably as he straightened his posture. The youngest Winchester's features contorted into a grimace, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the look on your face or him jarring his dislocated arm. “He's in the dungeon, but Y/N-”

“He isn't himself. I know that. Kinda noticed when he threw me against the wall and said he couldn't wait to rip my throat out with his teeth.” You gave Sam a humorless grin before you gestured to the wound on your shoulder. “This is a good reminder as well.”

“We'll cure him.” Sammy nodded at you, wrapping his words with faith and determination; he was always a believer.

You arched your eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You two were still standing in the living room as Dean's howl rushed through the air. He sounded more like a beast than a man, yet he was smack dab in the middle of those polarized states. He was human enough to know where to strike and animal enough to relish in the attack.

Sam's gaze softened on yours.

“I know he hurt you. He hurt both of us, but Dean is my brother. I can do it alone. You don't need to-”

“Sam, he ran away once, and you just got your arm yanked out of your socket. You won't be able to fight him. You need backup,” you interrupted him. Despite your conclusion being completely rational, there was more to it than that, but Sam didn't need to know about it yet. “Besides, it's Dean.”

The hunter glanced at you. Gentle eyes watching your jaw harden, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”

Dean's demonic self had been throwing insults like a man feeding his dog shattered glass. He was full of them, not caring about hiding his satisfaction when he hits yours and Sam's weak spots.

A couple of seconds ago, he had called you an easy pussy that saved him the job of having to go out and get some. That display rewarded him with a thicker needle that pierced much deeper than it needed to. The pure human blood spread into his veins as a holy wash, like soap over a flesh wound. Dean growled in pain and went quiet for a while.

Your eyes abandoned the demon for once, directed now to his brother. Sam's earthy brown eyes were drawn in concern, mouth sketched into a frown. His healthy arm was onto his shoulder, obviously physically hurting.

“Sam, go. I can do it. It’s just two more needles. He'll probably pass out once it's done,” you pleaded in an attempt to catch Sam's rational side that always saw the order in chaos. His hazel orbs settled on you, and you knew he didn't want to leave his brother. You can't blame him for that. You didn’t either, but if Dean was in his right mind, he'd want that. And you needed some time alone with this demon version of your boyfriend. “Please.”

You didn’t know if it was something in your cracking voice or if the fact his brother regaining control meant he’d have even harsher words to spit, but when the tall man’s eyes swept from you to his brother and back, he sighed. In that moment, you knew he accepted it. 

“If he doesn't pass out…”

“I call you right away. Don't worry, and please take some meds for your pain.” You offered some tenderness to him in the middle of the violence through a lovingly smile. In a matter of seconds, the only traces of Sammy in the room were the boot-clad clamor of his footsteps growing quieter and quieter.

“Now you have me all to yourself, sweetheart. What are you planning to do?”

The lopsided grin was still attached to his face, and those were still his teeth. Still, something about Dean's smile made you want to rip him apart with your nails. How did he let this happen? How did the situation escalate like this? How did everything get so bad so fast?

“Shut up,” you hissed through your teeth, boots clicking on the floor as you approached him. Dean glanced at you shamelessly; the pretty little bruise on your skin proving that he had succeeded in breaking you. It twisted his guts in both good and bad ways — the bittersweet contradiction among lovers. 

“Feisty, huh? I always liked that on you. Who would guess that you were a bottom in bed?” Dean appeared to find your fury entertaining as if he relished any emotion he could instigate inside you.

“I said shut up.”

“Or what? You are gonna sting me with a flimsy syringe needle like I did to you with my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart.”

The idiotic nickname burned your insides. As your and Dean's relationship got more serious, he'd stop calling you that. You weren't just a fling or a woman he'd leave the next day, and the Winchester only called you that either sarcastically or during an argument now. Was this how the demon saw you? Just another sweetheart?

Dean smirked at your quietude, poking the bear once again. “What? Demon got that smart tongue of yours? It's embarrassing, really. You get all worked up, pretending to be that tough gal, but you can't hurt me. You didn't even fight back when I tried to kill you. How weak is that? You’ve always been a liability. Just another woman I had to protect to get inside her.”

You warned him, the words coming out more like a groan than anything else: “Shut up!”

Yet, Dean persisted. He had discovered your weakness, and he couldn't wait to see how much you could take. You'd end up giving in to him, thrashing headfirst into a fight, and he'd escape again. The demon was counting on that. “A waste of time, really. At least you had a nice pussy, but I scratched it open. It's useless now, just like you.”

The dismissal in his words laced with the cynical chuckle that left his mouth made you hit your breaking point. 

“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You grabbed a syringe and stung Dean like a scorpion, right in the jugular. He wanted to set you on fire? Good, you'd make sure he got burnt too. “I said I'd die for you. Remember how I said I'd die for you? And you tried to kill me.” You grunted, throwing the empty needle away. Dean's normally forest green eyes went black as howls of outrage escaped his mouth. The blood of saints that coursed through his body was a good way to either turn the beast into a man again or kill him completely. Knowing this, he screamed and struggled in the chair, as desperate as a rat stuck in a mousetrap. It made you doubt the cure. Perhaps a good thing couldn't save him now, the whispers of sulfur that colored his heart black too intrinsic to eradicate without killing the host. You couldn't bring yourself to care about it now. The demon was suffering, and he deserved it. You wanted your own hurt ricochet back to where it came from: him. “Now you are sitting there talking about me like I'm your bitch or something like that, but I'm not. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you. I chose to stay here.”

Dean blinked, and suddenly everything was in place again. His face softened like it usually did when you two were alone, and an actual smile conquered his features. All the oxygen in your body caught in your throat.

“You're right. You are a strong, independent woman, and I should feel lucky to get myself a keeper like you.” His voice filled the dungeon with light-hearted relief. Your cheeks were hurting as you scooted closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He was saying all you wanted to tell him the minute he left. Your eyes got glossy, and you threw yourself on his lap, clutching to him like devout patron to her bible. Dean was here. He came back to you.

A quiet gasp of praise left your mouth: “Dean-”

He interrupted whatever you were about to say, replacing your words with a kiss. A sweet one — sweeter than anything you might imagine. It was the kind of kiss shared for two lovers in the dark, recognizing each other’s bodies by touch alone. You, of course, allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of belonging. You shouldn't have. You should never just jump into someone, or you might drown. It's hard to find corpses in a black river.

Yet, your soul was tied to the righteous sinner, so you kept pressing your lips to his while he devoured your mouth softly.

“Sammy doesn't understand, Y/N,” he said. When he pulled away, you nuzzled into his neck. The heated tang to his murmured sentiments remained there, but his voice, less gruff than usual, fooled you. “I finally don't have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm free. I never thought I'd be happy after that night…” Dean wore the façade, even gulping at the thought. He didn't know if it was because the human blood was slowly coursing into the core of his being, but he wouldn't waste time on it. “But I can now. We can run away together, leave Sam behind. Just me and you.”

What did you expect? He was a demon. The blame was on you for expecting repentance from the ashes of hellfire. This isn't a fairytale where the hero suddenly is hit by true love and everything is solved with the ultimate kiss. This is a hunter’s tale, and there's just one ending for those stories: the prey dying.

You lifted your head. “Dean would never leave Sam behind.”

Dean burst into laughter as if your hope was some sort of funny joke. He adjusted his hips in the chair, smirking at you with cruelty.

“Bet it almost got you. I could see your eyes shining with hope. You were ready to get on your knees and suck my cock. You’d be screaming Dean, Dean, Dean, and inevitably fall for some stupid lies.” He shook his head with disappointment. “You're too easy, Y/N.”

“Who do you think you are?” The indignancy in your tone only drew a malicious grin out of Dean. This was too good. He could feel his cock hardened in his pants. He might fuck you before killing you only to make good use of his time.

“I'm a demon. What about you? Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one.” He licked his lips, savoring the moment. “You're a little-”

Smack.

The palm of your hand met Dean's cheek harshly, transferring some of your anger into a red mark on his right cheek. The eldest Winchester's head was tilted to the side from the impact. He clenched his jaw before turning his glare at you, eyes back in black as he spoke: “You shouldn't have done that.”

Every syllable that left his tongue was imbued with a threatening crimson rage, but you didn't care. Not now.

You weren't scared of him.

“You shouldn't be a demon, but here we are,” you remarked, summoning a smarmy leer and wearing it like one of his flannels. “Shut up. I know you're not my Dean. You are just all he hates in himself wrapped with his skin. You're disgusting, cruel, and selfish.” It didn’t make any sense for your body to be as heated up as it was, but it was. And Dean didn’t care. Fuck him. “You’ve spent so long aiming at our Achilles’ heel that you forgot you have yours too. Stupid.” You chortled, grinding your hips on his. At this point, both your panties and emotional stability were ruined. “Look at you, all hard for the girl basically torturing you with poison, huh?”

“You-” He attempted to speak, to put you down so he can climb over you. You stopped him with a hand inside his pants.

“Language, Dean,” you groaned at him. It wasn't unusual for you and Dean to blow off some steam with sex, either after a fight or a hunt, but, this? It’s a whole new level of fucked. Yet somehow, your pussy didn't seem to mind, and neither did his cock. You got his length free, and his stiffened cock slapped his clothed belly. “I don't wanna hear something that makes me angry because if I get mad, then I won't let you come inside my pretty pussy. Understood?”

He groaned in response, trying to move his hands to show you who the real alpha was here, but the rope kept him in place. Silence lanced through the air because you knew you didn't want to waste time on something as exciting as foreplay; he did not deserve that, and you didn't want this. You just lifted your red skirt and slid your panties to the side. Your pussy swallowed his cock painfully slow.

The demon that ate your lover didn't offer mumbled protests at the fact you were still wearing clothes. Your Dean always tried to get any piece of fabric away because he liked to see all of you. This Dean, though, gulped and glared at you. Pleasure flushed his cheeks only he can’t deny the physical pleasure. It’s clear that, even as a demon, he could never reject the carnal appeal of your body and your sweet, soaked pussy. Hands pinned behind his back with the restraints, you two in the middle of a big demon symbols on the ground, he was completely at your mercy. He was helpless.

Dean bucked his hips to get all of his hardness inside you right way, to show both you and himself that he still had the power here. You barely blinked before moving your hips up, restricting him further entrance into your cunt. Dean was always eager when it came to sex, but you knew this wasn't about just fucking you anymore. You were in control.

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you murmured in an increasingly sultry bite: “I'm the one making the rules here. Take it or leave it.”

“Fucking a demon? That's why you told Sammy to go with all the crap about caring for his arm?” the former hunter remarked. You and he both knew Dean wouldn't — couldn’t, not with half his cock being squeezed by your tightness — leave your pussy, but he still very much had the capacity to bite.

“Unlike you, I worry about the people I love.”

“I don't love,” he snarled, watching you swallow the malcontented lump in your throat. “Hear that? I don't love you.”

“Then at least be useful and fuck me,” you groaned, finally resting wholly in his lap with all of his dick inside of you. Dean whimpered, overthrown by the sensation of your heady tightness encompassing his cock. He tried to break free again, starved to grab your thighs, your ass, any part of you he could get his hands on, but the rope limited his range of motion. The raw polyester and nylon mix around his wrists was a contrast to the warmth of his lap. His eyes closed, blinking only back into wakeful blackness because of your promise disguised as a hissed threat: “No, forget it. I'll be the one fucking you.”

There was something delightfully mercurial about the way you rode Dean. The dungeon once filled by his pained screams had now become the perfect studio for your flexing thighs slapping against his, your breathless moans camouflaging the raw hurt of your heart, and the unique sound of Dean's cock sunk to impossible degrees inside your needy cunt. He leaned in for more.

This was no longer about the sexual release for him. It was for the tiny part of Dean that always craved an order to follow. It was the small piece of him that craved carrying the weight of responsibility heavy on his back like the burden Atlas had to bear. It was the liberation of the heavy chains that held him down since he was a child, even if his hands were — appropriately enough — tied behind his back. As a demon, he didn’t have to worry, and neither did he when submissive to you. For you, it was expelling your revenge on this devilish version of the man you loved. He had it coming.

“I hate you. I hate having to save you. I hate caring about you.” You huffed, nails sinking in his clothed shoulder. The ghost of your touch was enough to make his dick twitch inside you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the goosebumps rose your spine, and every time you sunk on his cock brought you closer to collapse. All Dean did was to praise your name with a moan. “I hate how good you feel inside me.” You sobbed, increasing your rhythmic and going fast and rougher on his cock. Your walls were tightening around his dick. Your untouched clit rubbed against the fabric, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about pleasure. “I hate that it’s you and not him.” That's not my Dean.

That caught his attention. Dean’s shoulders grew rigid. He was ready to catch a glimpse of warring emotions of hatred and disgust on your face, but he wasn't prepared for the crushingly forlorn refraction of loss and dispair he found there. 

The knight of hell should feel satisfied. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Destroying you, turning the woman the human version of himself loved into a walking catastrophe so you wouldn't dare bring him back.

Apparently, the priorities changed. Maybe the blood was really effective, slowly disintegrating his armor into flesh again. It was the only explanation for all the humanly emotions he was experiencing.

Dean felt the conflict building as if hurting you was physically tearing him apart. His eyes contracted into livid green again, shining like the moon with tears he didn't dare drop. He was still a demon, bratty heart or not.

Yet, there was only so far a man could control himself. His lips were treacherous for your name, echoed more like a plea than anything: “Y/N-”

“Shut up! I don't wanna hear your voice. You said I'm your little bitch, nothing but a whore to you, huh? Guess what, asshole. You are my bitch now, and you’re gonna like it.” The little monster in you hummed happily to your authority, glad to finally punish someone for the incitement of agony inside your guts. You closed your eyes, riding Dean ferociously.

Dean Winchester might have been a cage to your feelings, but at least it was golden.

You said you'd be here. You said you wouldn't leave me. Your thoughts corroded your wearied heart as you tried to fuck them away with Dean's weeping cock. You could feel he was close, and you were constantly hitting your G-spot with eagerness, your sweat and harrowed feelings gushing over. You said I didn't need to leave. You said we'd find a way through this. You lied, you lied, you lied. 

I trusted you, and you destroyed me. You hurt me and Sam, and I can't even blame you for it. He knew all your enemies started out as friends. He knew how much it would hurt you if he got the mark. He knew how it would break you if he said those words, demon or not. And you know you can't put this blame on Dean’s shoulders, but you were suffocating and needed fresh air. The sacrificial game wasn’t always a virtuous act. So, you dropped yourself down hard, appreciating the way his cock hit the right spot over and over again. It forced your body to feel good despite your restless mind. I hate you. You made me go crazy. And I miss you.

What was the saying? Man makes the promise, and the demon makes him break it.

Dean's fixated you. He wanted to get free of his cuffs and cup your cheeks, see you lean into his touch so he could wipe away the tears that started to fall and haven't stopped in minutes. He wanted to tell you he was here, not completely, but he was here. He wanted to apologize and make it better, but he didn't. His white skin was burning red because of how hard he was trying to move his hands, hair moving by your movements and his. The semi-human groaned like the remainder of the beast clutching his strings when he hit his orgasm and spread his seed inside you. You whined like a broken toy as you came all over his cock.

It felt good, for a while. It was nice, feeling good.

You stayed there a little more, gaining control over yourself while he softened inside of you. Dean was doing the same in an attempt to stifle his human emotions from surfacing. He wasn't going to be weak anymore. He couldn't be because for once in his life, he hadn’t hated himself. 

You coughed, using the chair to hoist yourself to your feet. His cum dripped from your pussy, dampening his still-clothed thigh. You sniffed, grimacing a little when you noticed that your face wasn't wet with sweat. You’d been crying. 

That only made you madder at yourself.

“Fuck it,” you groaned, putting his dick back into his pants before zipping him up.

Dean smirked in a final attempt to turn the table and get on your nerves again. “That's what we just did.”

You didn't waste more of your heart on him. Taking the last needle, you sunk the devil into his sharp skin and pressed the plunger with all the fervor of pulling a gun's trigger. He screamed like the rush of humanity flowing into him was a shot to the heart.

Your legs were trembling when you threw the object away and hugged yourself, focused on Dean's fragile body in front of you. 

He looked down, eyes shutting a few times as if he was waking up before lifting his head to look at you. 

“Y/N?” His voice was back to its gruff drag, but it was carrying a strand of vulnerability and care that he had only ever directed at you. Dean frowned, confusedly watching you and the place around you both, not to mention himself. “Y/N, what happened?”

He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the terrible things he’d done. He didn't remember the words said.

You gulped, the back of your hand pressed against your wet cheeks. “I'm going to get Sam.”

The demon may have gotten teary-eyed, but the human Dean was the one letting the tears slide down his cheeks as you turned around and left, almost running to get away from him. He didn't even know why.

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[soc-characters-as-songs]

Phoebe bridgers?

ivy: garden song ("and when I grow up, I'm gonna look up/from my phone and see my life/and it's gonna be just like my recurring dream/I'm at the movies, I don't remember what I'm seeing/the screen turns into a tidal wave/then it's a dorm room, like a hedge maze/and when I find you/you touch my leg, and I insist/but I wake up before we do it/I don't know how, but I'm taller/it must be something in the water/everything's growing in our garden/you don't have to know that it's haunted")

meredith: graceland too ("no longer a danger to herself or others/she made up her mind and laced up her shoes/yelled down the hall but nobody answered/so she walked outside without an excuse/she could do anything she wants to/she could do whatever she wants to do/she could go home, but she's not going to")

diana: you missed my heart ("broke into her house, saw her sitting there/drinking coke and whiskey in her bra and underwear/saw him in the kitchen hanging up the phone/I asked him nicely once to pack his things and go/he gave her a reassuring look, said he wouldn't leave/but I asked him one more time, this time pulled out my sheath/stuck him in the back and I pulled it out slow/and I watch him fall down as the morning sun rose/he looked at me/he said "You missed my heart")

alassie: savior complex ("for sure, wake up and start a big fire/in our one room apartment/but I'm too tired/to have a pissing contest/all the bad dreams that you hide/show me yours, I'll show you mine/call me when you land/I'll drive around again/one hand on the wheel/one in your mouth/turn me on and turn me down")

ramona: motion sickness ("I'm on the outside looking through/you're throwing rocks around your room/and while you're bleeding on your back in the glass/I'll be glad that I made it out and sorry that it all went down like it did/I have emotional motion sickness/somebody roll the windows down/there are no words in the english language/I could scream to drown you out")

rhea: funeral ("I have a friend I call/when I've bored myself to tears/and we talk until we think we might just kill ourselves/but then we laugh until it disappears/and last night I blacked out in my car/and I woke up in my childhood bed/wishing I was someone else, feeling sorry for myself/when I remembered someone's kid is dead")

cornelia: chelsea ("you are somebody's baby/some mother held you near/no, it's not important/they're just pretty words, my dear/there is no distraction/that can make me disappear/no, there's nothin' that won't remind you/I will always be right here")

kaden: chinese satellite ("you were screaming at the evangelicals/they were screaming right back from what I remember/when you said I will never be your vegetable/because I think when you're gone it's forever/but you know I'd stand on the corner/embarrassed with a picket sign/if it meant I would see you/when I die")

andreia: moon song ("now I'm dreaming/and you're singing at my birthday/I've never seen you smiling so big/it's nautical themed/and there's something I'm supposed to say/but can't for the life of me remember what it is/and if I could give you the moon/I would give you the moon")

suzy: punisher ("the drugstores are open all night/the only real reason I moved to the east side/I love a good place to hide in plain sight/what if I told you I feel like I know you/but we never met?/and here everyone knows you're the way to my heart/hear so many stories of you at the bar/most times alone, and some looking your worst/but never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers")

samuel: killer ("but I can't sleep next to a body/even harmless in death/plus I'm pretty sure I'd miss you/and faking sleep to count your breath/can the killer in me/tame the fire in you?/oh, is there nothing left to do for us?/I am sick of the chase/but I'm hungry for blood/and there's nothing I can do")

bianca: scott street ("walking scott street, feeling like a stranger/with an open heart, open container/I've got a stack of mail and a tall can/it's a shower beer, it's a payment plan/there's helicopters over my head/every night when I go to bed/spending money and I earned it/when I'm lonely, that's when I'll burn it")

archibald: icu ("I've been playing dead/my whole life/and I get this feeling/whenever I feel good/it'll be the last time/but I feel something/when I see you now/I feel something/when I see you/if you're a work of art/I'm standing too close/I can see the brush strokes")

raphael: halloween ("I hate living by the hospital/the sirens go all night/I used to joke that if they woke you up/somebody better be dying/sick of the questions I keep asking you/they make you live in the past/but I can count on you to tell me the truth")

[straydawg]

when the rain stopped.

summary: killua's tears are the rain that falls. (or, a short fic where killua can't live on with gon dead.)

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Rain was falling.

You didn't know what moved you to come so far out, only to lay with your back saturated against the cold concrete as the rain washed over your body.  It bruised your face with every shard of ice-like rain. There was something so violent, so excruciatingly heart-rending about the downpour. The sky was thundering in wails of misery. Raindrops surged from the sky, crashing into one another, plunging onto roofs and cars. They held no consideration for where they would land. They only poured down.

It had been like this for hours now.

Your hair was matted and soaked. You reached your hand up to the sky, feeling the pounding rain crush it. Tears, indistinguishable from the rain, streamed down the sides of your face and mingled with the rising puddle beneath you.  'Were those your tears? When had you begun crying?'

You could no longer see the sky above you, as the rain kept falling down with such fervent and passionate intensity you were forced to squeeze your eyes shut. There was no reason to cry or even be there at all, but you could feel the sky mourning.

No.

Someone was grieving.

This had to be a real person. This was desperation, heartbreak, and loss all in one.

A deep cry of thunder lamented around you, so deafening the buildings shook. Perhaps you would drown here- if you didn't die beneath the sheer pressure of the storm first.

Just what happened to cause a thunderstorm charged with this much grief?

The cries turned into whimpers, short bursts of lightning illuminating the black sky.

It was radiant.

With every fluoresce of lightning, you saw another's life flash before your eyes.

"Gon!" He shook the lifeless boy in front of him.

"No no no no NO! Please Gon," Killua screamed, holding Gon to his chest and rocking the both of them.

Tears splashed onto Gon's eyelids, but they weren't his.

"Idiot, wake up! You can't die here. You can't die yet."

"You're meeting your dad for breakfast tomorrow. Mito is planning for you to come back home in the summertime. You're just a kid...we're just kids..."

Killua clung onto him tighter with every word, but Gon fell limp in his arms. He clenched his fist into the dirt, shoving sharp debris underneath his fingernails.

Killua refused to believe it. The person he had spent years adventuring with, the one who had helped him see his worth, the one who had saved him. He couldn't be gone, just like that. No, Gon was not the type to give up, and he would never back down in a fight even if he were outmatched. He would always come out with a smile and a, "hey don't worry about me! We did it, didn't we?"

But not this time.

Killua's sweat was sticking to Gon as he tore himself away to gaze at his friend. The bright moonlight shined on Gon's face, wet with Killua's tears. It was too bright for a night like tonight. He smudged the dirt off the boy's cheeks.

"Gon. Please wake up. D-Don't be so selfish. I.. you're the most precious thing to me. You're my dearest friend. The world.. it can't turn if you aren't there." He sniffed.

A tear escaped from the corner of Gon's eye.

"K..K.."

"Gon!"

"Killua.. thank you..." Gon coughed, cracking open his eyes. "From the day I met you and everyday I've been alive since...I knew I'd never find someone else like you. You made me li-"

Killua couldn't hold back the hailstorm of sobs that wracked his body as he heard Gon's words. He was still alive. He wouldn't let him die.

"Gon, don't talk like this is the end! I'm going to save you," he began scooping up Gon's body, ready to take him somewhere- anywhere that wasn't there.

"Let me finish. I want to hold onto this last moment...with you. Please."

Killua reluctantly set him back down on the dirt, laying him gently against a wall. He never let go of his hand, in fear that Gon would fade away from him in front of his very eyes.

"You made my life worth it. Ging said.. He said to enjoy the little detours in life because those are the moments you treasure the most. You never were just a detour, Killua. You became my purpose," Gon's eyes glistened. His light was fading fast.

Those few words were apparently too much for him, as it sent him into a violent fit of coughing. There was blood oozing out from his mouth. Killua quickly wiped off the redness with his fingers and grabbed onto his friend again.

He held Gon's forehead to his.

"Don't leave me."

No response.

Killua felt an exhale of breath touch his face. He didn't dare move.

After a few moments had passed, Killua found the strength to lay Gon onto the ground, and place his own longsleeve shirt over the boy for warmth.

Gon only wore a tank top. He'd be chilly without it.

Taking some steps back, Killua stared at the boy laying on the floor. Gon looked like he had shrunk, so weak and devoid of life.

There was nothing left in Killua, but a throbbing pain and emptiness.

Falling to his knees, he let out a series of gut-wrenching screams. His sobs filled the night just as much as the stars in the sky did. He beat the floor until his hands were bloodied and mangled, unleashing strikes of lightning to the earth with every devastating blow. Hopefully, the lightning would ruin him too.

What even was the point anymore? There was no longer any light left to illuminate the dark.

Once Killua had bled himself dry of all tears and every emotion there was, he weakly looked upon Gon's form.

Hadn't he said that the world would not turn if Gon wasn't there? But why was it still going? Why was he the only one suffering this cruel loss? Why were there people who were going about their lives right at this very moment, not knowing Gon had just died?

His world could not go on without Gon, smiling him on. Pushing him on. So— he had made his decision.

Memories of all their priceless times together played in Killua's mind like a movie, as if he were experiencing each one of them again for the first time.

The time they first met—

Gon hadn't even questioned Killua's line of work. He had become his first ever friend without a second thought. No one had ever put that much faith in him before.

The time Gon brought him to Whale Island—

Killua had been shocked at Mito's generous hospitality. He had learned what a real home was like, and Gon had asked him to continue travelling with him. It made him feel special, although he had never admitted it out loud before.

The time they began Greed Island together—

He never did tell Gon the real reason he followed him there. It wasn't just to find his dad. Maybe he was embarrassed, or scared too, but the truth was obvious. He loved Gon. That's why he stayed.

The time he saw Gon lying in that stupid hospital bed—

Killua wasn't sure if he felt hurt, angry or betrayed, but the one thing he knew is that he was being torn apart. He was breaking to pieces seeing Gon dying slowly in front of him. He swore he would save him, and he did.

But he couldn't save him today.

Sitting up a little straighter, Killua took a deep breath. Turning his nen against himself, he sent the electricity force of 900,000 volts straight to his heart. Enough to kill a tortured assassin like himself.

Killua fell to the ground next to Gon, and shakily reached for his hand. Once he had made contact, he sighed and closed his eyes.

He hoped and prayed that this would count as Lover's Suicide. Maybe, if the universe cared at all, and if some force out there pitied these tormented children enough— they could have a chance at life together. Souls forever intertwined in the afterlife.

Then the rain stopped.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

❝ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪᴛꜱ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ

ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ɪꜱ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴇᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟʟʏ

ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴜɴᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴏʀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴇᴀʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰᴀʟʟ

ꜰʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ

ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴍʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ

ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴏʀɴ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ

ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ❞

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author's notes: hello! i'm new to tumblr and hoping to improve my writing here and make new friends! :) this blog will be multifandom, (bsd, hxh, aot, etc.)

requests are open!

[smileyoongle]

Let Me Love You (Soft Yandere Mafia! BTS) // Members 2/7

Requested by @kpopgirlbtssvt

Summary: You certainly weren't expecting to be caught up in the middle of a mafia deal going wrong while dealing with you own life's mess.

So I tweaked the request a little. Not all members will have the plotline of mafia deal going wrong. You'll figure it out better when you read the Namjoon scenario. Also, I apologize for being so late with this. The other members will be updated shortly, please be patient!

Kim Seokjin:

The lights in the huge bathroom flickered, your heavy breathing and whimpers evading your senses and making you feel suffocated. The cubicle in which you had locked yourself was at the end, the white door having a number of words scribbled on it. Unfortunately, there was no window for you to escape. And if you tried to leave the bathroom to make a run for the exit, you would definitely die. You didn't have any choice but to sit quietly and pray. Pray that no one finds you.

Flashback

You huffed and gathered all the sheets scattered in front of you. You hated how much you procrastinated things but it was now a deadly habit that you couldn't get rid of, no matter what you did. And especially college assignments. Who even worked on them before the deadline was announced. Absolutely not you.

You rubbed your eyes in frustration and opened your laptop while searching for your pen. It was pretty late at night and your favourite cafe was absolutely empty. But the owner knew you very well so she let you stay. 

You let out a small 'ah' when you found your pen and just then, your bag started to fall off the seat. In order to hold your bag, you ended up letting go of the pen and it fell to the floor. You cursed as it rolled ahead towards the entrance of the cafe, a loud thud echoing through the quiet cafe when your foot hit the leg of the table. You winced and got out of your seat, stumbling to get your pen back. You were such a mess, it was almost embarrassing.

You sighed and bent down to grab your pen, your fingers meeting with someone else's. You frowned and looked up at the person who you had made contact with, a soft gasp leaving your lips on seeing a very very handsome stranger. He had black hair which were pushed away from his forehead and his dark eyes that stared into yours as if you were a painting at the Louvre. He was a lot more attractive than any boy you had ever met before. 

Snapping out of your dreamland, you cleared your throat and stood up straight, looking at the floor as he picked up your pen and stretched out his hand towards you. With a soft smile, you took the silver pen from him and mumbled a 'thank you', oblivious to what you were doing to him.

"What are you doing here so late, doll?" His voice startled you as your eyes momentarily widened upon hearing the nickname before you calmed yourself down. You saw the men standing behind him, shivers running down your spine due to the dangerous aura they carried with them. 

"Uh...just college stuff. I'll probably be staying up all night." You replied, smiling sadly at him. He hummed, his stare on your body going unnoticed by you. Your hands felt clammy all of a sudden and your body told you to run away. No matter how good looking this person was, he made you feel weird. He scared you. But he also made you feel warm. 

Suddenly, he stretched his hand out to you, a gentle smile on his face to let you know that he wasn't gonna hurt you. "Kim Seokjin." He stated as you hesitantly placed your hand in his. 

"Y/N Y/L/N." 

He brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it softly, sending your heart into a spiral. Your cheeks felt warm as you harshly bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling. This was definitely the first time that a man was being so gentlemanly. Otherwise, all males that you met were mostly assholes.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Let's talk more after I finish this small meeting that I have. Is that okay with you?" 

You thought for a moment, realising that you should definitely try to socialize. Being a foreign student was not very easy and you didn't have many friends yet. Your teachers always pressed everyone to make acquaintances with different people. They said your life would be easier. And you didn't have anything to lose either, right?

With a grin, you nodded your head and pulled your hand away, quickly gripping the hem of your top anxiously. 

"I'd like that."

"Great. I'll see you in a bit then." And with that, he walked away towards a table at the corner of the cafe. With a deep breath, you got back to your seat and drowned yourself in your assignments.

You had ended up sleeping on the table with your head resting upon your papers. If you had known what was going to happen then you wouldn't have opened your eyes at all.

There was a loud yell and you flinched, your head immediately turning to see the table where Jin sat. But he wasn't sitting anymore, he was standing. Actually, everyone that came with him was standing and a man dressed in a red suit was doing the yelling. You frowned and hissed, his voice was too sharp and you didn't like it. It was giving you a headache. Jin's eyes flickered to you, a wave of sadness passing over his features. Something was very wrong. He looked apologetic. As if he had committed a crime.

Or was going to.

"I didn't wanna do this in front of her but you've given me no choice." You heard him say. You narrowed your eyes when you saw him holding something which was glinting in the dim lights. The air in the cafe was dense and once you figured out the object in seokjin's hand, you immediately regretted your decision to study in Korea. 

Your dinner was begging to be let out, your stomach churning in fear as your heart pounded in your chest. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you felt dizzy. With all your strength, you pushed yourself on your feet and looked around the cafe. Your throat ran dry on seeing the two men standing by the entrance. You were trapped. There was no way you could leave.

Your eyes lit up with hope when you saw the door to the bathroom, your lips quivering as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. You harshly wiped your eyes to get rid of the tears pooling in them and dashed towards the bathroom, praying mentally when no one followed you. 

But what you didn't know was that Jin didn't want you to witness it. He didn't want you to see him at his worst. Unfortunately, you had already done that. You had seen the gun clenched in his fingers and you had seen the murderous look on his face. As much as he wanted to treat you right, he couldn't. Because there was no way you were gonna trust him anymore. He could only kidnap you if you rejected him. But he wasn't sure of that either. 

End of Flashback

You placed the back of your hand on your mouth to stop your cries. But it was of no use. Your entire body was shaking since you heard the gunshot. What was supposed to be a tiring but peaceful night, ended up being a nightmare. A nightmare that you never thought you would have to witness. 

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the flickering lights but that wasn't helpful either. You heard the door to the bathroom being thrown open followed by heavy footsteps. You noted the murmurs. It wasn't just one person. There were two. You pressed yourself against the wall and tightly clamped your mouth shut. You didn't wanna die. Not today.

But the universe seemed to be against you. As if on cue, the door to your cubicle was pushed open. You closed your eyes and screamed at the top of your lungs as two rough hands dragged you out. You thrashed in their arms, their hissing and curses making you more scared. You didn't wanna get on their nerves but what else could you do. You were probably gonna die anyway.

You opened your eyes to see him standing in front of you. His hands were still wrapped around that gun and you found yourself shivering on seeing the pool of blood in which a dead body lay. Tears were streaming down your cheeks continuously and there was no way to stop them. Your cried turned into whimpers under Jin's powerful gaze. He made you feel small. As if you were a prey and he was your predator. 

"Please. Please don't kill me. I won't say a word. I'll forget that this night even happened. Just-just don't kill me…" you begged, your knees giving away when the two men left your arms. You absentmindedly rubbed your arms to try and soothe the pain that their fingers had left. Your eyes were fixed on the floor and you could do nothing but cry and beg. Hopefully, he'll pity you.

You saw his black boots come into your line of sight, your breath hitching when he placed his finger under your chin. You closed your eyes when he pushed your chin up so that he could see your face, his warm breath giving you some kind of relief.

"Let me see those eyes, doll." He mumbled, your eyes immediately obeying. You breathed heavily, his faint smile making you feel hopeful. 

"I'll leave Korea if you want. But don't hurt me." You whispered, your voice cracking in the middle. Jin's eyes showed nothing but guilt and affection. His forehead creased as he frowned upon hearing your words. Why would you say that?

He gently shook his head and placed the gun on the floor before kneeling down in front of you. You were so fragile. He was afraid he'd hurt you. Jin didn't know why but he found himself infatuated with you. The second he laid eyes on you, his heart fluttered and he knew that you were the one. He had to have you. 

You were shocked when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a warm hug. You inhaled his scent and found yourself relaxing on hearing his steady heartbeats. Your hands slowly held the lapel of his overcoat as he caressed your hair.

"If I wanted to hurt you, doll, don't you think I would have done that already?" He asked, rocking you back and forth in his arms. You bit your lip and nodded, realising that what he was saying was completely right.

"So there's your answer. I do not want to hurt you. I want to take care of you. Do you think you'll let me do that?" He questioned, pulling away from you and cupping your cheeks. You gulped, not knowing what to say. 

Take care of you?

Why? 

He didn't even know you. 

When you didn't reply, he sighed and wiped away the tears that were drying on your cheeks. He pursed his lips and leaned closer to you. 

"I promise I won't lay a finger on you. All you have to do is come home with me. I just need you to give me a chance to show you that I truly care." He said, his voice dripping with desperation that made your heart flutter. No one had showed so much interest in you. Even though this situation was drastic, you couldn't help but think that maybe he wasn't such a bad person. You hesitantly nodded at him.

"I-I'll go with you." You stated, blushing when he smiled at you. Without another word, he kissed your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a second longer. If you thought you had the right to change your mind later, you were wrong. The minute you had said those words, your fate was sealed. Kim Seokjin never gave away anything that he owned. And he owned you now.

Kim Namjoon:

You were relieved when you were asked to serve in the VIP lounge again, the tray of liquor steady in your hand. If you said you weren't traumatised by the man who kept catcalling you, you'd be lying. Him being sat at the bar was even worse, his hands always finding their way to your ass. There was a limit to how much you could tolerate, even if you were just a part time worker at the club. You sniffled, inhaling deeply and making sure there were no traces of the tears that you had been shedding in the bathroom a few minutes ago. You needed the job to support your studies. It paid well, even though you had to compromise.

Pushing open the heavy lounge door with your hip, you entered the room, your eyes immediately meeting his as he glanced at you upon your arrival. This was probably the seventh time you were being asked to serve him whiskey, the untouched glasses from before indicating that he wasn't really interested in the alcohol. You bit your lip harshly, slowly walking towards him as he sat on the big plush leather couch, trying his best to listen to the man sitting in front of him. You assumed it was a meeting of some sort since the air in the room was serious. Quickly placing the glass on the table, you turned around to leave, only to have his fingers wrapped around your wrist. Your heart skipped a beat, your body freezing in place but refusing to turn. Your eyes widened, his breath hitting the back of your neck and you knew he was now standing. Your fingers tightened around the empty tray in your hand, your wrist burning under his touch. It was weirdly safe and relaxing. 

"You've been crying. Why?"

His voice was gentle and smooth, his tone telling you that he demanded an answer. You wondered how he even figured it out, but then again, you were no good at hiding things. You swallowed thickly, his hand pulling at yours to turn you around. "Just- just an intrusive customer." You answered, your eyes looking everywhere but him. He was too handsome and you knew if you stared at him longer, you'd end up fantasizing about him. He hummed, his other hand coming to rest on your neck, fingers wrapping around the skin as delicately as possible. This made you look up at him. "If it made you cry, it's not okay." He stated, abruptly letting go of you only to turn and bark orders at his men to go and bring the culprit. Your heart thudded in your chest, your breath hitching on thinking about what was going to happen. You didn't want anything to happen to anyone because of you. "Exc-"

"Kim Namjoon, darling. And if you can't tell, you have had all my attention since I walked in." 

You were too stunned to say anything, his lips stretching into a fond smile at your wide eyes. If you really thought about it, it was absurd and impossible. The affection in his eyes was too deep for someone who you had just met. Your body told you to turn around and run but his smile made you stand still. You had never had such a bad internal conflict before. You froze in your place, drowning out all the voices and the people. You didn't even notice when that man had been brought in and pushed onto his knees. All you could remember was the way you had felt powerless your entire life. There were many factors contributing to that, but you couldn't recall the last time you felt like you were in charge. 

Fingers brushed against your arm, snapping you back into reality. You found yourself staring at the drunk man who now looked terrified. His eyes were already red and watery, lips quivering as his hands were tied behind him. You looked away, focusing your attention on Namjoon who stood beside you. "Tell me, darling, do you want to punish him for making you feel threatened?" He asked, your eyes widening in curiosity. Punish? What does that include? At your lack of response, Namjoon glanced at you, the heavy metal in his hands catching your attention. Your breath hitched as he took your hand in his and placed the silver gun in your palm. You realized how cold and heavy it felt between your fingers, absolutely alien. You were supposed to be running for your life but you didn't. Because you felt in charge. That's what you had always wanted. Namjoon's hands came to rest on your shoulders, his fingers rubbing circles to calm you down. You felt his breath on your neck, his hands now making their way to hold yours. "Don't be scared. I'm here." He comforted, strangely making you feel better about the situation. Your fingers wrapped around the trigger as Namjoon lifted your hand up, pointing the barrel at the man who now seemed completely sober. You took a second to observe all the others in the room, noticing how nobody seemed bothered by this. At that point, you had come to realise that this was more than just a business meeting. A low whimper had you looking at the kneeling male, his begs going unheard by you as Namjoon tried to distract you. He whispered nice things to you, about how you didn't deserve to be treated this way at all. That if it were up to him, he would never disrespect you like that. 

Your heart raced, your mind screaming at you to stop. This wasn't you. You weren't just going to kill anyone. That was just heartless, but something was much more wrong and twisted. Maybe it was the way Namjoon had you pressed against him or the look of fear in your victim's eyes, you didn't know which one. All you knew was that you were very willing to blow his brains out. 

"Pull the trigger and I'll take care of everything."

Your heart fluttered at the gentle tone of Namjoon's voice, his hands continuing to steady yours as you struggled to make a decision. 

Get over with it.

You breathed shakily, closing your eyes shut before reluctantly pulling the trigger. It took you a couple seconds to recover, wondering why all you heard was a click. You managed to open your eyes, peeking at the man who was still alive. Namjoon's lips brushed against your neck, shivers running down your spine as his hands now wrapped around your waist. Your eyes began to water, not being able to believe what you were about to do. Your hands started shaking, the gun falling on the floor with a clatter. 

"Wasn't going to let my angel get tainted now, was I?" You gasped at Namjoon's words, feeling partially grateful that he had handed you an empty gun. You leaned back into his chest, your legs feeling like jelly every time you looked at the helpless man before you. Namjoon tightened his hold around you, relishing in the way you fit so perfectly in his arms. He had kept an eye on you since you had come in to take his order. He had also seen how that man had touched you inappropriately, anger coursing through his veins at the very sight. Just because he hadn't let you kill him, didn't mean he was going to let that asshole live. 

"I'm not a bad person." You mumbled, trying to convince yourself that what you were saying was true. But were you good? Was it justifiable to want to murder another human being? Your eyes stared blankly at the glass separating the VIP lounge from the rest of the club. 

"I know, darling. Sadly, you were unfortunate enough to attract someone like me."

A subtle frown took over your features, your mind registering the words that had just been spoken to you. Namjoon's voice was like a lullaby, you could get lost in it's melancholy any day. You inhaled deeply, knowing that there was a very clear meaning behind his words. "Will you hurt me?" 

Your question seemed to amuse him for he chuckled softly, the vibrations from his chest spreading through your body. You could see his faint reflection in the clean glass, catching sight of the dimples that dug into his cheeks when he laughed.

"Why don't you answer that question for me, darling?"

Your skin burned when Namjoon's lips pressed against your neck, your eyes closing in ecstasy. You had never been this intimate with anyone before, mainly because you never had the time to get to know anyone. Alone in a foreign country, you were a little too cautious when it came to things like these. And about his question, you really didn't have to answer. It was clear as crystal, if Namjoon wanted to harm you, he would have done that by now. "What do you want from me, then?"

At your question, Namjoon turned you around abruptly, your hands on his chest as you steadied yourself on your heels. You stared at him, biting your lip when his fingers came to brush against your cheek. Namjoon lowered his head, making you avert your gaze to his chest. You felt his breath fanning your face, one of his hands resting on your waist. 

"I want you. All of you."

Your eyes widened, looking back up at him in surprise. Did you hear him right? You heard your heart beating faster than usual in your ears, everything else being drowned out in a second. The only thing you knew to be real was Namjoon and his hold on you, his eyes studying your expression and trying to fathom what your next words were gonna be. You only met him today. And from what you had gathered, he was a person with a dangerous status. He obviously didn't care who he hurt or who he killed, since he was the one urging you to shoot that man. The most rational thing to do was to decline and try to leave. But you being you, felt like this was special. You liked this affection oozing out of Namjoon, having been depraved of it your entire life. This was a good thing, wasn't it? Namjoon could give you a secure future.

Namjoon frowned, still caressing your cheek and waiting for you to answer him. He had a hunch that you were gonna say no. But Namjoon was a simple man. He wanted what he wanted. Assuming that things could go south, he decided to lay down his words before you.

"I won't take no for an answer, angel. Just say you'll let me take you home and we'll be alright." He cooed, shaking his head as he played with your hair. Your eyes wandered around the lounge, thinking how there was too much room for you two to be standing so close. But even if you wanted, Namjoon's hold was firm around you. He really had no intentions of letting you leave, whether it be from his touch or his words. 

"I- I wasn't going to say no." You answered, Namjoon's eyebrows raising in shock. You inhaled slowly, standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his cheek. "Please take care of me." 

Namjoon grinned, placing both his arms around your back and pulling you into a hug. He inhaled your scent, burying his face in your neck. 

"Oh trust me, darling. I'll take good care of you."

Happy birthday to this beautiful, talented and soft human, he truly deserves this entire world. I hope every day keeps going better and better for him! Kim Namjoon will forever be my leader and role model 🥺💖

[ghostyprince]

And also, for @trashy-artist-here because you prompted something similar. I hope you both like this!!💕

On AO3

The building they're visiting this time isn't such a scary place in Shane's opinion, but then again, anything they have visited so far was tipping towards the gross, dusty, and way too old end of the scale rather than the spooky one.

Sure, it's a long-closed down prison. And sure, the may have tortured and treated the people there like absolute garbage back in the '30s but it's more heartbreaking than anything in Shane's opinion.

But of course, Ryan doesn't think so, he gets lost in his head, psyching himself up, until every shadow, every little scratching sound is making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Not that Shane was looking at Ryan's neck. (Alright, maybe he was looking a little.)

The point is, he's jumpy as all hell, and Shane finds it terribly amusing as always. His shoe scrapes over some debris, and the sound is ear piercing in the quiet, bouncing off of the bare walls.

Ryan cries out, his whole body jerks and Shane can't help himself, he throws his head back, letting out a surprised laugh, although he may feel a little bad about it.

"You're such a piece of shit, Shane!" Ryan groans and Shane loves the way his face heats up, from embarrassment. "I bet you did that on purpose, stop freaking me out, jackass!"

"Stop freaking out then!" Shane wheezes, and pats Ryan on the back, he lets out a little snort when Ryan flinches again, just slightly.

"You're as tense as a stick, man. Or like the stick is stuck up your ass."

"Shane! Fucking can't you just—" Ryan cuts himself off abruptly and he freezes. It's enough for Shane's smile to fall too and morph into actual concern.

He looks in the direction Ryan is staring at, but all he sees is a bunch of dust flying everywhere like someone just rushed through the hallway that's across the one they're standing in.

Huh.

Maybe someone left a window open, his brain supplies. Yeah, that must be it. And that's the simple thought process that goes through Shane's head every time something "unexplainable" happens.

His brain explains it perfectly well.

Ryan's, on the other hand, it seemed to shut down and reboot again.

"Dude, did you see that?" He asks and Shane would laugh at the fact that they're slowly becoming one of those fake ghost hunters on TV. If only Ryan wouldn't look so genuinely terrified.

"It was a guy, he looked like a doctor. He was— he was fucking terrifying. Holy shit I hope the chest cam—" he starts fidgeting with it right away, and Shane takes note of how much his hand is shaking. "It must've recorded it, right? He was fucking covered in blood, please tell me you saw it! Shane!"

The rushed and panicked sound of his name snaps Shane out if his thoughts and he's reaching forward without thinking. His hands land on Ryan's shoulders, gently squeezing.

Shane feels how tense his muscles are under his fingertips but for once he doesn't think about what else those muscles could do with him. He tucks that away for later when it's less inappropriate.

"I didn't see anything Ryan, calm down," he says gently and that definitely doesn't have the desired effect. But Shane's stupid mouth keeps running because of course he never knows when to shut the hell up. "It must've been just—"

"No, shut up! You always fucking do this," Ryan interrupts him abruptly and the words die in Shane's throat. "Don't try to explain it away, I know— I know what I saw, I'm not crazy, Shane."

His voice cracks and Shane realizes he damn stepped in it now. He needs to fix this as soon as possible.

"Hey, I believe, you, of course, I do. But you need to breathe, alright?" He tries and Ryan snorts like he doubts that. Like he doubts Shane would ever see eye to eye with him on the subject of ghosts.

"Tell me that you consider the possibility of it being a ghost then," Ryan asks and Shane wonders when things went so wrong. Was he really such an asshole about the whole ghost stuff?

He must be quiet for too long because Ryan shakes his head slightly.

"Whatever let's just go back to the crew," Ryan says quietly, and he looks so disappointed, Shane wants to slap himself for being such an idiot. Before he could say something, however, there is a set of loud footsteps coming from behind them.

Like someone is running towards them.

Shane spins around, but he doesn't see anything, and he gets distracted anyway because Ryan's loud yelp drowns out the last of the footsteps.

Moments later, a solid body is pressing against Shane's, and he needs a few seconds to process that it's Ryan's.

Normally, he would find it funny, the fact that Ryan is trying to climb him like a fucking tree. But he's not laughing now, because the warm, firm press of Ryan's muscles sends his heart flying up to his throat.

Ryan's arms wound around Shane's waist, and their bodies are lined up from knee to shoulders, with Ryan's face buried into the dip of Shane's shoulder. And Shane feels very hot all of a sudden.

He does wrap his arms around Ryan's shoulders when his brain comes back online again, and Ryan lets out a soft little laugh, breathing right into Shane's neck. It does not help whatsoever.

"I'm sorry. That scared me so fucking much, I think I physically can't move."

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here  alright?" Shane asks, voice nothing but a scratchy whisper. He's proud he could get that out at the very least and extremely grateful for Ryan's face being tucked into his shoulder because Shane would surely die from embarrassment if Ryan would notice how red he has gotten.

"I know," Ryan laughs, it's a shaky sound, and Shane's hold tightens around him instinctively. They stand there for a heartbeat or two in a tangle of limbs, before Ryan starts slowly extracting himself from the hug.

Shane thinks that's that. They had a nice little moment of comfort and they'll never talk about it again, right? It's how they seemed to do things lately. Get sappy and tender and never speak of it again.

Well, Ryan had something else in mind entirely.

He doesn't go too far, and before Shane could realize that, he's already reaching up, having to stand on his tippy toes to effectively bury his fingers into Shane's hair. And then he tugs.

He tugs Shane all the way down to his eye level and when their lips meet in long, undoubtedly sloppy but fucking wonderful kiss, Shane thinks he might just be possessed or dreaming or both.

The kiss is a mess of tongues and teeth and Shane's back is dangerously close to cramping and he can't fucking breathe.

And yet, he still dives back for more and an embarrassingly whiny sound founds its way out from the back of his throat when Ryan's fingers tighten in his hair briefly.

They're both trying to catch their breath when they finally pull away and Shane is glad he's not the only one affected.

The sight of Ryan's flushed cheeks and kiss bitten lips, not to mention how dark his eyes appear to be even in the shitty lighting of the hallway.

That sight alone almost gets him to start kissing Ryan again but Shane can muster up some sort of self-control eventually.

Another make out session might be what they want right now, but it's most certainly not what they need.

The kiss doesn't get talked about, not even when they arrive back at their shared hotel room and take their respective showers to wash off the grime of the ancient building.

They exchange nothing more but quiet words about Unsolved, the shoot, about Watcher. Shane glances over at Ryan, watches him text their friends, and then stare at his chest camera — now discarded on top of Ryan's suitcase — like it personally offended him.

"Are you thinking about looking at the footage?" Shane asks, and Ryan is seemingly grateful he didn't have to be the one to break the awkward silence.

"Yeah, maybe," Ryan hums and then looks away with a sigh, right at Shane, unfortunately. Shane squirms under his gaze, slightly, but probably just enough for Ryan to notice. "I don't want to deal with it right now. I'm exhausted, this was just too much for today.

Shane only lets out a little noise of agreement, and he wonders if what they had done was too much, if Ryan has meant to include that also.

"Do you want to, maybe...?" Ryan trails off, nodding towards his bed and probably hoping that Shane will get what he means.

And well, Shane can be infuriatingly oblivious, but this, he understands. His mouth feels paper dry when he speaks. "Yeah, sure."

He stands, rubbing a hand down his face because he doesn't know what to do with them otherwise. He's already dressed in his pajamas — they both are, actually — soft sweatpants and worn-out cotton shirts; so it's not difficult to grab his pillow and climb into Ryan's bed, right next to him.

And that's when trouble begins because Ryan is taking his shirt off and Shane's heart surges so hard in his chest he almost thinks it will fall right out. Is it not enough to have to sleep with the possibly not-so-unrequited love of his life, but he has to be shirtless too?

Shane got cursed by whatever was or wasn't at that damn place he's sure of it.

"Uhh, if you mind I can put it back on," Ryan tells him because Shane had been staring like it's nobody's business.

"No, no you're fine. I mean it's fine." Shane chokes out and he's a little bit mad at himself for getting so flustered when it comes to guys he thinks are cute. Especially when it's Ryan.

Luckily, Ryan laughs, and even if it's kind of annoying, Shane happily takes that over the awkwardness.

Shane speaks, quietly, after they turned the lights off, and got under the covers. The bed is fairly small, so Shane really had to huddle more close to Ryan than what they would've been comfortable with years ago.

"For the record, I don't think you're crazy."

"Well, that's good to know." Ryan laughs softly, but there is an uncomfortable undertone to it and Shane doesn't like it one bit.

"I'm serious, Ryan. I might not have the opinion it was a ghost, but you know I'd never think you're crazy. And if you think I would, well— I'm a shitty friend then, and I'm sorry about that."

"No, you're not, Shane. I think I'm just insecure. It's a whole other issue." Ryan admits and Shane is too curious for his own good.

"What other issue?"

"Do you think we should talk about what happened in the prison?" Ryan asks instead, not even being subtle about changing the subject and Shane decides to let it go for now.

"The kiss?"

"No, the fucking ghost— yeah the kiss, dude!" Ryan scoffs, and Shane has no brain to mouth filter apparently.

"It wasn't a ghost—"

"Shane, don't fucking start this again I swear—"

"Look I'm just saying—"

"Shut up, Shane!" Ryan wheezes, because they keep talking over each other and they're being so stupid. Shane wheezes with him and he suddenly feels like being bold. It's dark and Ryan can't see him too well, so fuck it.

"Shut me up then."

There is a beat of silence and then the rustling of sheets as Ryan is sliding closer to press his mouth hotly over Shane's again. Shane's hands find their way up on Ryan's back and there is a slight tremble to the movement when Ryan swipes his tongue over his. Shane is almost dizzy with it all, the available skin he's allowed to touch now, the smell of Ryan's shower gel. He almost feels like he's dreaming.

"We really should be talking about this," Ryan murmurs muffled by Shane's lips, minutes or hours later, none of them truly know at this point.

"S'fine, nothing to talk about." Shane rasps, trying to tug him back into another mind-melting kiss but Ryan snorts against his lips and it should be a little gross but Shane adores him too much to care.

"Shane, come on, we gotta. We're adults." Ryan reasons and nips at Shane's chin as he kisses his way down from his lips.

"Fuck being an adult," Shane scoffs but pulls away just enough to take in Ryan's flushed cheeks and bright eyes. And that smile, the sunshine smile Shane loves the most.

"Hard same but seriously. Is this just a hookup? What are we doing?" Ryan asks sheepishly and he looks so open, Shane wants to hide, to avoid being as open as Ryan is with him. Because ghosts might not spook him, but emotional vulnerability sure fucking does.

He has nowhere to hide though, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe if he throws all caution to the wind, things might turn out okay. He does it all the time, he did it when he agreed to do Unsolved with Ryan, and he did it when they were making Watcher.

"I really like you, Ryan. I don't know how not to sound like a teenager when I say this, but— well it's true." Shane says eventually, forcing himself to keep eye contact as his hold tightens in the fabric of Ryan's shirt. This is just about the most difficult thing he's ever done and look at him, he's powering through it like a champ.

"How about breaking the rules we established in the podcast and say I love you? What do you say to that, big guy?" Ryan suggests, softly, and Shane gladly watches the fear and anxiety dissolve from his eyes when he answers. They're both taking leaps of fate today it seems like.

"Fuck the rules, also."

Shane flips them over, making Ryan laugh and let out an exaggerated oof sound and then he's kissing Ryan again, Shane murmuring I love you back against Ryan's lips.