#i’ve seen so many and they all make my skin crawl why do people think it’s cute to unabashedly make fun of others for no reason

[ilostyou]

i’ve seen far too many tiktoks made purely with the intention of making fun of other people at tour (for their outfits, for how excited they got, for what songs they did or didn’t know…i could go on) and i just want to say i wish every single person who feels the need to not only make fun of someone but to do it on the internet a very fuck you. leave your mean girl energy at home idc

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.13

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: No smut in this chapter... but don't worry! Chapter 14; we will be returning to our regular smut programming.

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"So, Anakin Skywalker took you to Lothal?" Hunter was trying to make sense of Echo’s wild story.

"When Ahsoka was still barely a pup, he took her on a tour of all the known Jedi temples in the known regions," Echo recounted. "It was to show her the generations of Jedi history. We had taken that Venator all over the galaxy. Lothal was one of them, and I think it’s far enough away from Empire jurisdiction that we could get there unnoticed."

"And why are we bothering with a Jedi temple? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but none of us are Jedi," Tech remarked, knelt on the ground, holding you to his chest, running comforting hands over your trembling form. The boys took turns trying to keep you warm as your temperature dropped for reasons Tech and you couldn’t understand.

"You said it wasn’t medical. This is a soul bond issue; that's the spiritual world," Echo reasoned. "We might not understand it, but I’ve seen some pretty crazy stuff with the Jedi. All of it's real, even though it sounds like mumbo jumbo to people like us."

"It’s real," you whispered. "I’ve seen it."

"You've seen what?" Tech looked down at you.

"The mumbo jumbo… Ahsoka showed me many things when we were younger." You nuzzled into Tech for comfort.

"She’s someone we could actually use right about now, assuming she survived the order," Echo said, shaking his head.

You bit back your emotions, too exhausted to cry anymore. You didn’t want to think about that. Not now, anyways. You and Echo had spent too many nights talking about Ahsoka leaving the pack. 

"We’re approaching," Echo said, taking control of the Marauder. Tech stood up, passing you to Wrecker for a snuggle before returning to his seat to land the ship.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Tech asked as they entered the planet’s atmosphere.

"I was actually hoping Hunter could help us with that," Echo said, punching a few buttons above his head making the engines rumble.

"And what exactly do you want me to look for?" Hunter said.

"I kind of remember the general location Skywalker had been. I’ll land us there, but you can use your electromagnetic senses to find the temple," Echo explained.

"Ahsoka told me that all living things have the Force flowing through us. It’s how she and Ani could feel where we all were and that everything is connected. Everything flows through each other, which I’m thinking is what Echo is talking about.” You lifted your head to explain, “Ani said the Force is pure light energy," you remembered, recalling all the times you had caught the two Jedi meditating before battle.

"If it’s electro currents, I should be able to pick up on it, but I don’t exactly know what I’m looking for," Hunter said, watching as Echo guided the ship to an open field with rolling grasses.

"Anything that feels strange, I would assume," Tech said as the ship touched down with a gentle thud.

You tried to stand, but you were feeling too weak. Wrecker caught you before you stumbled. You groaned as he lifted you up, even though he was as gentle as could be, it didn’t change the fact your bones ached like your heart did… it craved one thing… Crosshair.

"Okay, let’s get our things and let Hunter get to work," Echo said, standing up and grabbing his pack and weapon. Wrecker carried you out of the ship like a just-married bride and into the waist high grass. Hunter knelt down, taking off his glove to touch the earth. He placed his palm to the soil, looking up over the grasses.

"There are animals everywhere," he said, looking around, but the grasses camouflaged them. He raised his gun up in the air, firing a single shot into the sky. The blast startled all of the loth cats, which picked their heads up to stare before scampering off with a meow.

"Tookas!" you said excitedly, seeing all of the different colors fleeing the area.

"They’re all over this place," Hunter confirmed, choosing the best direction. "I’m wanting to head this way," he said, pointing towards a mountain range. "There’s something with a deeper energetic vibration in that direction I think it’s a good place to start."

"Alright, here we go," Wrecker said, following behind Hunter, carrying you like you weighed nothing.

The trek felt like it had gone on forever. Even though you weren’t putting in any effort, the body chills and aches were making you miserable. This was truly hell. You honestly would have taken Hunter’s blade to the shoulder again if it meant you were cured. 

"Almost there, little tooka," Wrecker said, sensing your discomfort.

"Just a little further," Hunter added, feeling their journey was coming to an end. The vibrations were becoming more tangible. 

"Does any of this feel familiar, Echo?" Tech asked, pulling out his scanners as they approached the egg-shaped rock formations ahead.

"It all looks the same to me, but General Skywalker had us stay back with the ship. All I remember is the mountain range and the fields," Echo replied.

"I don’t see a temple," Hunter said, leading them into a narrow crevice. Everyone squeezed between the smooth rocks, following the sergeant. You watched Hunter as he kept switching his directions. 

You clung onto Wrecker as he stepped up and over various rocks. Hunter kept bending down to touch and feel the rocks, seemingly guiding you somewhere.

You lulled your head to the side, sensing something was watching you. When you looked, all you saw was more stones. You closed your eyes and leaned back into Wrecker’s chest, ignoring the sensations. It was probably all the spirits Soka would tell you about. 

"What are you feeling, Hunter?" Tech asked, raising his scanner in the air, trying to get a better picture of where they were in case he missed something.

"It’s just like a storm of electrodes," he said, looking around. "This place is like nowhere else I’ve ever been."

"Not even on Mimban?" Echo asked.

"No, this is different… it’s…" He raised his head in the air, sniffing, and shook his head. "Ugh… Just more tookas," he shook his head, "Echo, are you sure this is the place?"

"I wouldn’t forget something like this. Anakin took Ahsoka here. I’m certain."

"I miss Soka," you mumbled, thinking about the little Togruta you thought of as a sister.

"Whoa!" Tech stopped in his tracks and pointed to a ridge above their heads. "A rare albino tooka," he exclaimed, pulling down his helmet, leans to snap a photo.

"Sightseeing later, vod," Hunter said, continuing to walk. Wrecker sighed and adjusted his grip on you before trudging on.

Once Hunter got frustrated enough, he halted the group so Echo and Tech could get some water and food into you. You curled up on a flat rock, tucking into yourself for warmth against the sun-warmed stone.

"This would be a really good time for someone to have secret Jedi powers," Echo joked.

"Pip?" Hunter raised a brow at you.

"Sorry, Sarge," you weakly laughed, "Just a normy nat born."

"How unfortunate," he smiled trying to hide his worry ay seeing you like this. It was obvious you health was deteriorating quickly the longer this dragged on. 

"Well, we’re not entirely sure about that," Tech joked. "Seems to be pretty abnormal if you ask me," he referred to the current situation.

"What if it was something the Imperials did to me while I was out?" you rolled onto your back, liking the warm stone, "We can’t know for sure."

"Bonds can’t be manufactured," Echo shook his head.

"While I do have special bonds with all of you, I didn’t think I had developed a mate bond with Crosshair… at least not yet. It hasn’t been long enough," you looked up at the puffy clouds in the sky.

"Stranger things have happened," Hunter shrugged.

"Have they?" Wrecker petted your hair, looking around, "This seems pretty strange to me."

Tech snorted in agreement, "Should we keep going?"

"No," you pouted, "I like this rock, it’s warm."

"We can stay a little longer," Hunter leaned against one of the egg-shaped stones, "Warm up, Pip."

You purred in content, rolling back onto your side, absorbing the heat.

Wrecker continued to run his fingers through your hair as you felt yourself start to drift off into a little nap.

Just as you were drifting off into blissful sleep, you heard a whisper.

"Pip," Hunter said so quietly you almost mistook it for the wind.

You blinked open your eyes, feeling Wrecker’s fingers stilled in your hair. When you opened your eyes, you saw the same albino tooka sitting just next to your head, staring right at you with its beaming azure eyes.

Everyone remained deathly still, scared to scare off the creature.

You watched Tech hit record on his helmet, capturing the rare moment.

You slowly lifted your head, trying to sit up. The tooka sat on its haunches, watching you. You tilted your head to the side, and it mimicked you. You gasped quietly, looking at the tiny creature. It stepped forwards, rubbing its cheek and side against your leather boots before sauntering off again. This time, you stood up, suddenly feeling well enough to walk, and followed the creature without a word to the others.

Tech was about to interject, but Echo put a hand on his chest, silencing his brother. The Alphas watched curiously as you trailed after the small creature.

"The Force," Echo whispered, jumping over a stone to catch up to you.

"There’s no way you know this is the Force," Tech grumbled.

"Why did it choose her?" Echo retorted.

"Because she’s the least threatening," Tech argued. "It is known animals prefer human females."

"No, idiot," Echo shook his head, "This is how the Force works."

"That is yet to be determined," the pilot shook his head… mumbo jumbo.

They watched you follow the tooka in a trance-like state as you squeezed between narrow passageways that they struggled to get through.

"Adi’ka," Hunter whispered, not wanting to scare off the animal.

You didn’t respond, just continued to follow the animal.

The boys shared a look of concern at your lack of acknowledgement . Echo, however, wasn’t put off. He was confident you had found what you were all looking for. He continued staying close. He had definitely seen stranger things serving under Anakin.

It wasn’t lost on him that your energy magically restored in the presence of the little creature along with your unusual attire matching the feline. The Force works in strange ways, but he was so sure. 

You eventually reached a clearing surrounded by stones. The ground was covered in swirling ancient carvings spanning the entire clearing. The tooka led you to the center where the swirls stopped. Your body came to a halt, and the boys slowly inched inside, keeping to the walls.

You plopped down onto the ground, kneeling at the center and hitting back on your haunches, mirroring the tooka.

“What is she doing?” Wrecker whispered. The others didn’t answer; they just watched as you remained still, seemingly meditating.

“I don’t like this,” Hunter said, moving to step forward, but a ferocious growl halted his movements. Wrecker gasped, seeing the absolutely monumental wolf appear from between the surrounding rocks. It was a couple of feet taller than himself, which made him even more uneasy.

It snarled, baring its teeth at the boys as it began to circle you. Hunter grabbed his gun on reflex, but when he went to shoot the wolf, the gun jammed.

“What the?” He pulled the trigger again, but no blast came.

The wolf stared at him as another appeared, and then another! Five wolves in total began to walk in circles around you as you sat with the tooka almost unaware of their presence.

Then, to everyone’s utter shock, the wolf spoke, “I know why you have come to this place.”

“Holy Kark,” Wrecker shook his head, thinking he was imagining things.

“I know why you have brought this female here,” he said, looking in your direction, seeing you still in the trance. The wolf’s baritone voice sent chills down Hunter’s spine.

“We just want to know if she’s okay,” Hunter stepped forward pleadingly.

“Very few Jedi have found this place,” the wolf growled, “How is it you have found this place?”

“I’ve been here before,” Echo offered, “My General was a Jedi; he brought his Padawan here many years ago.”

“The Force has led you here,” the wolf continued his prowl, “This female is much more connected to the Force than you may have believed.”

“She’s Jedi?” Hunter asked.

“No,” the Wolf shook his head.

You felt your body grow weak, and you slumped to your side before lying down in the center of the rock monument.

“Y/N!” Hunter wanted to rush to your side, but the Wolves snapped at him, forcing him back or else he’d be met with sharp white fangs.

“Please! She’s sick!” The Sergeant was starting to feel himself get sick from worry. Watching you lay there was sending his instincts into overdrive… he felt helpless for the first time in his life.

“Young Y/N is not sick,” the wolf halted his prowl, and the others followed suit. They took a seat on their haunches, facing you like guardian angels.

“Then what’s wrong with her?” Tech demanded.

“Your people call her Ori’Sol,” the wolf rumbled.

They looked to Tech, “It’s Mando’a for many.” The pilot informed.

“We weren’t raised with our kind,” Hunter shook his head, “We don’t know who Ori’Sol is.”

The wolf stared at him with deep piercing eyes, “The first Ori’Sol was an ancient Jedi named Kaj. She was an omega, such as your mate. While omegas and alphas desire monogamy, her Jedi ways forced her to detach from these desires, and she split her soul bond into many pieces. Through her mastery of the Force, she accomplished this,” the wolf looked down at your small frame, “Thus the ancient line of Ori’Sol was born. This female is a descendant of Kaj, ten thousand generations later.”

“So what does that mean?” Hunter shook his head, trying to understand how this relates.

“Ori’Sol have the ability to have many mates, as did Kaj. It would seem her soul has already chosen before her mind and body.”

“Our brother, Crosshair?” Hunter clarified.

“He is one,” the wolf tilted his head, “But there appears to be more.”

“What do we have to do to help her?” Hunter’s worry was growing.

“We will help her now,” the wolf looked to the others surrounding her, “Sever this premature bond, but be warned, this female has a tumultuous story filled with many trials and tribulations.”

“Will it hurt her or Crosshair?” Tech asked.

“No harm will come to your mate,” the wolves all lowered themselves down onto their elbows and paws. They bowed their heads, and you rolled onto your back, looking up at the sky.

Then the brightest of white light appeared overhead, and your lithe form began to hover in the air with the power of the force. 

The boys all stared in pure astonishment. Wrecker let out an audible gasp. 

The wolves continued their Force magic, lifting your body higher as more and more light flooded in. Then all of the ancient carvings lit up with that same light, causing the boys to close their eyes or risk going blind. They shielded themselves from the brightness, flinching as it peaked.

Then in a blink, the light vanished.

The boys opened their eyes, adjusting to the sudden darkness. When they looked around, it was no longer mid-day; overhead, the night sky shone bright with twinkling stars, and your form lay alone in the center of the clearing still on your side.

There were no longer any wolves or tookas, just the five of you alone in the Lothal wilderness.

“Y/N!” Hunter ran forward, kneeling down at your side, rolling you over onto your back, and feeling for a pulse. You groaned, feeling his hands poking around your neck frantically.

Hunter sighed with relief.

Tech pulled out his datapad to scan your temp, “Back to normal.”

“Did they do it?” Wrecker asked, leaning over you, “They fixed Pip?”

“Hold on, Wrecker, let her wake up first,” Echo urged.

You blinked open your eyes slowly, adjusting to the fact it was now nighttime. You took a deep gasp in, sitting upright suddenly.

“You okay?” Echo knelt in front of you.

“What was that?” You touched your chest, feeling slightly… empty? It was a strange feeling. Where the agonizing pain was, there was just… nothing. It felt kind of like a hole in your chest.

“The Force,” Echo nodded, “Good enough for you?” He looked at Tech.

“Fine, I concede. Next time we see a white tooka, we follow it,” Tech rolled his eyes.

“A white tooka?” You asked, using Hunter’s shoulder to help you stand up, getting used to standing up again on your own two feet.

“Yeah, Pip,” Wrecker scratched the back of his head, “There was a white tooka that brought us here, and then these massive talking wolves healed you.”

You just looked at Wrecker like he had grown three heads before looking at the others.

“He’s telling the truth,” Hunter shrugged.

“No kriffin' way,” you swatted at your white torn clothes, trying to dust yourself off.

“No shit,” Echo laughed, “Now that has to be the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” He punched Wrecker, “I told you guys.”

“You were, in fact, correct, Echo,” Tech nodded.

“Hah!” Echo jeered, “Write that down!”

“Ugh,” Tech groaned before pulling out his datapad, trying to retrace their steps.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” Hunter turned back the way they came.

“You feeling better?” Wrecker nudged you.

You smiled, “Yeah. I feel normal again.”

“Good!” He smiled, ushering for you to walk first.

“And we know you’re not a Jedi!” Echo laughed.

You scrunched your brows, “What?”

“We’ll tell you about it back on the ship,” Hunter shook his head, leading the expedition.

“I feel like I missed a lot,” you sighed, stepping over a large rock.

“Oh yeah,” Echo replied, pushing you up onto a rock that was a little too tall.

“Ugh why can’t things ever just go smoothly?” You growled, hauling yourself up to swing your leg up.

“Because that’s not the way our lives are written,” Echo joked.

“Then I need to speak to the author,” you slid down the other side, almost plummeting into Hunter.

“Alright, it’s a quick walk once we hit the grasslands,” Hunter said, squeezing through a narrow pass.

“Sounds good,” you sighed, “I’m hungry.”

“You and me both!” Wrecker’s boisterous voice echoed between the rocks.

You trailed after Hunter, following him back the same way they came. Reaching out, you ran your fingers through the dancing grasses, feeling the smooth leaves stroke your hands. Looking out around you, there was nothing but rolling hills and the Marauder in sight. Even under the night sky, Lothal’s moon lit up the land with silvery white light. It was beautiful, you thought. You heard the chittering of wild loth cats in the distance, settling in for the night while you finally could see the ship getting closer.

Feeling a particularly strong gust of wind blow past your face, you briefly looked behind you back at the rocky mountains. Wrecker, Tech, and Echo turned to look at what you were looking at, but like you, saw nothing but grey rocks.

“Let’s make some dinner,” Hunter said, opening the hatch and allowing you to climb in first. You stepped inside, smelling the lingering scent of your distress from earlier and turned up your nose.

“I’ll start dinner, but someone explain to me what just happened out there,” you grabbed a pan off the wire rack and set it down on the electro burner.

“Well…” Hunter looked to the others, “You fell asleep on that sun stone. Then that white tooka appeared. You followed it for a while all the way to a clearing in the stones. Then five giant wolves appeared. They told us why you were experiencing that sickness, and then they healed you.”

“It was like a giant ball of light!” Wrecker waved his hands around, “Like a small sun! And you were floating in the air! And the wolves could talk!”

You looked at him with wide eyes, “I floated?”

They nodded their heads.

“Anything else?” You asked, ripping open the ration pack and putting the contents into the pan to heat it up.

“No… that pretty much covers it,” Echo set his helmet down and started peeling his armor off.

“Fascinating,” you said, still in a bit of disbelief, “So what was the reasoning for the sickness in the first place?”

You watched them look at each other, exchanging looks of trepidation. It seemed like they were trying their best to choose their words carefully.

“Mesh’la,” Hunter began, “It would seem your lineage is very, very old. On Mandalore, our people have a word for those in your line…”

You raised a brow.

“Ori’Sol,” he said, sitting down at the table bench, “The loth wolves told us that they knew why we had brought you to them. They told us you were Ori’Sol. Your lineage goes back to ancient Jedi. They didn’t seem surprised you were feeling this sickness.”

“What is Ori’Sol? Am I Mandalorian like you?” You asked, setting down your stirring spoon.

“No, well, I don’t think you are,” Tech corrected, “Ori’Sol is an old legend from our people. It’s a story about an ancient Jedi who had many alphas and many pups. She had started many lines of omegas with the same ability. They spread all throughout the galaxy over many generations.” He had been researching on your walk back, you realized.

You were still confused, “So what? Am I part of this lineage?”

“It would seem, you’re an Ori’Sol Omega. Very rare in our designations,” Tech explained, “It means you can have many mates.”

“The wolves said you were sick because your soul had already chosen Crosshair as a mate despite no bite,” Echo said.

“What?” You shook your head with a laugh, “That doesn’t make any sense. Crosshair isn’t my mate.”

“It doesn’t really seem to make a difference. It’s more like your soul chose him as a mate,” Hunter explained, “Which also means that if the same rules apply, so did he.”

"That's why you felt the pain of the betrayal after Order 66," Tech pointed out. You just stood there, confused, jaw hanging open, flabbergasted. "How is that even possible?"

"I'm assuming that's why Crosshair had to be tortured. He was fighting the clone programming, trying to save you," Tech nodded.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. Quickly wiping them away, you took a deep breath to center yourself. "Okay, but I know he's not my mate... he doesn't smell any different like everyone says a mate does."

"I think it's one-sided with an Ori'Sol," Hunter thought. "That makes the most sense as you smell very unique to us."

"Fives said even you smelled good to him," Tech typed into his datapad, looking for an answer. "What if an Ori'Sol carries the unique scent to attract many different alphas instead of just the fated singular partner?"

"Uh, this is getting more confusing," Wrecker plopped down next to you while you continued to cook.

"This is just a hypothesis," you shook your head. "I've never even heard of Ori'Sol Omegas before."

"Not many have," Tech said, scrolling through information. "It seems a lot of them have historically been executed."

"Oh, great," you sighed, picking up a plate to dump the steaming contents of food onto for Wrecker.

"Except on Mandalore," Tech showed you his datapad.

You read through the explanation. Since Mandalore had many matriarchal practices, Ori'Sol omegas were considered great gifts to society. Their unique nature was seen as a blessing from the gods.

"Hmm," you ripped open a packet of freeze-dried vegetables and started rehydrating them.

"Pip is a blessing," Wrecker crushed you into a hug. You squeaked before going limp. Wrecker smiled and put you back down on your feet with a kiss to your head. You looked at them as they stayed standing there, looking like they still had something else to say.

"Spill it before I make Echo tell me," you pointed a spoon in their direction.

Hunter swallowed and looked to Tech.

Tech pushed up his goggles. "The last part of the interaction with the loth wolves revealed that you also view... us," he gestured to his brothers, "as your mates."

You felt the blush creeping up on your cheeks then looked down to the food, continuing to turn them over in the sizzling pan.

"Anything else?" you coughed, feeling Wrecker staring into your soul.

"And the wolf told us to take care of you," Hunter whispered. "To take care of our mate."

You looked up at him. Did that mean... no...

"Your soul chose us mesh'la, but it seems ours chose yours too," Hunter crossed his arms over his broad chest.

You turned off the burner and set down the spoon starting to feel your heart race. Hunter perked up hearing the change in speed.

"I don't even know what to say," you sat down, running a hand through your hair, feeling stress flooding your system. "That means we're mated? I don't understand… If I leave your sides, am I going to, like, die? What if something happens to one of you? Oh my god. Is that why they had to put me into stasis while you were off-planet? Oh my god... oh my god!" You stood up abruptly, "Crosshair's never going to stop searching for me... He's going to go fucking feral!" You squeaked. "He's probably coming right now!”

Echo stood up. "Relax, there's no way he knows where we are."

"But I've seen him track his targets. He's almost as good at it as Hunter," you whined. "It's only a matter of time!”

"Y/N, please calm down," Tech sighed. "You're going to faint again."

You let out a stressed cry before starting to pace in a circle. "What exactly did the wolves do to fix the bond?” You touched your sternum, “It feels empty in here.” 

Hunter looked down at the ground, knowing you weren't going to like the answer. "They severed it," he said with an exhale.

You shrieked. "He's going to think I'm dead! If there's a bond, he would have felt it! He's going to hunt you all down to the ends of the galaxy!" This was so royally bad. Crosshair was definitely losing his damn mind right now. Probably tearing apart Tapoca city and murdering everyone in sight as we speak.

"We can handle Crosshair," Hunter reassured. "You need to try to calm down or you'll faint like Tech said."

You forced yourself to sit back down.

"What about the Empire?" you looked at them frantically. "They know! And they wanted me for something. They let Crosshair be around me... and Tarkin! They know exactly what I am."

"We still need to figure out what that might be, but maybe it won't matter if we just lay low and stay out of the way of the Empire," Wrecker suggested.

"And where could we possibly do that?" you growled, pushing your palms to your forehead. "They're everywhere. You guys don't even have any credits!"

They blanked, realizing this might be a little more difficult than they had realized.

"Oh my god! My credits!" you stood up. "We have to go to a banking system right now! I have to pull out all my credits before the Empire seizes them." You stole Tech's datapad from his hand to start searching for places. "If they're coming after me, or if Crosshair is, they'll know where I am when I pull the money. We'll have to leave quickly and hide somewhere fast."

"Assuming they haven't changed the currency," Tech noted. "If that's the case, then I think your credits may not be as valuable."

"Regardless, we have to do this fast," you nodded to the ship console. "Get it going or whatever Hunter says."

They looked to Hunter, who repeated the same gesture, and they sprung into action.

"What system has your same banking union?" Tech asked, taking back his datapad. "Ord Mantel?" He scowled.

"It's the closest, and yeah, my bank is a little sus. That's what happens when you grow up dirt-poor on Coruscant," you crossed your arms defensively.

"Ord Mantel it is," Tech punched in the coordinate codes.

Hunter wrapped a hand around your bicep, guiding you into the bunks. You allowed him to drag you through the ship before stepping aside away from his brothers. "Don't think I'm just going to let you gloss over the fact that we're mates," he cornered you, pressing you against the wall of his bunk. 

You pressed your hands to his chest and looked up at him as he caged you in. Your heart continued to race but the adoring look in his eyes started to dull the panic. 

"I don't even know what to say or think, Hunter..." you looked down suddenly, too overwhelmed by his intense eyes. "This is just happening so fast."

"I literally witnessed the craziest shit of my life today, only to confirm that you are, in fact, made for me," he gently gripped your chin, lifting it to force you to look at him. "We can take it at whatever pace you want, mesh'la, but I'm never, ever letting you go.” He vowed.

You struggled to breathe; he was making you feel warm and tingly. "I just want it all to happen naturally. There isn't exactly a handbook for this particular situation."

He chuckled. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"The universe is changing so fast... and—" you croaked, "and Cross..." Your heart ached just a tinge, "This isn't the situation I imagined when picturing my future with my husband."

"I don't think it was for any of us," he agreed, "We kind of just came to terms with the fact we'd probably die on the battlefield. I never thought we'd be here now, but as shitty as it is, I wouldn't change it for the world as long as I get to have met you." He nuzzled the side of your head.

"I wouldn't change it either, Hunter," you sighed, "I just don't even know how to handle this. Like, are you all okay with this? This is kind of crazy."

"I think my vod are fine with it," he let out a breathy laugh, "We've wanted you for much longer than all of this."

"Do you think the Ori'Sol thing is why you were all more inclined to share?" you wondered.

"Maybe," he nodded, "Clones have a tendency to share everything... even women," he smirked, "But this always felt a bit deeper, I think."

"You think the Force bonded our souls earlier than all of this?" you asked.

"Yeah," he smiled, "I do."

"I'd like to think that too," you smiled up at him. He returned the expression before leaning forwards to bring his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, letting him guide you.

This kiss was so much more different than the ones before. It was filled with so much love and emotion, you felt yourself flutter with excitement.

"Hey… Hey!" Wrecker burst into the room pouting as you two broke apart smiling.

"I want pip time," he reached for you, but Hunter shoved him away.

"She's not a toy, Wrek," he growled.

"I know," he crossed his arms, "She's our mate."

You shivered from the conviction in his voice. It felt so right to hear him call you that. It felt like you belonged. And you hadn't felt like that in a long while.

You felt the ship rumble as it lifted into the air. The trip to Ord Mantel wouldn't take long, according to Tech, which you were glad for. Time was of the essence.

You looked between Hunter and Wrecker, "So how does this work? How do I make sure you're all happy?"

Hunter crossed his arms, "We can make a schedule, so everyone gets their fair time with you on their own. We can start building relationships that way."

"Works for me," Wrecker agreed.

"And what about…" you pointed to your neck, specifically the gland there, "How does that work?"

"One bridge at a time," Hunter smiled, "Plus, I don't think we're ready for that big step yet, huh?"

You nodded, glad that was his answer. You were a little intimidated by a lifelong commitment like that, but then again, you didn't know if that even would apply to you in this circumstance.

An omega with multiple alphas? That's insane. This whole thing is insane...

"Can I have the first night?" Wrecker asked, making you smile at the lovey eyes he was giving you.

"We draw straws," Hunter rolled his eyes.

Wrecker groaned but relented. Fair is fair.

~~~

"You're seriously drawing straws?" Echo shook his head.

"Well, what else do you suggest?" Hunter held out his fist with the straws.

Echo just shut his mouth to let the sergeant carry on.

"Longest gets the first night, shortest gets third," he said, holding out his fist.

Tech drew, then Wrecker, leaving Hunter with the last one.

They all flipped over their palms, revealing the stick lengths.

Wrecker groaned; his was third.

You stifled a giggle at his forlorn expression.

Tech revealed his, then Hunter.

Hunter had the longest, and Tech had the middle.

So that was the order... eldest to youngest, how coincidental.

"So that's settled," you smirked, leaning into Echo. He just threw his scomp arm around your shoulder, watching Wrecker grovel for Tech's night instead. You laughed, feeling the first semblance of normalcy again... even the nagging reminder of Crosshair settled in the back of your mind giving you a moment of peace.

Echo then whipped around, hearing the telltale chime that you were exiting hyperspace, "On approach," he said, sitting back down in his chair with Tech.

"Ord Mantel, everyone," Echo said, directing Tech to the nearest empty spaceport.

The Marauder was set down gently, and the five of you exited the ship. You threw the last few remaining credits you had at the port owner before taking off into the unfamiliar city.

"The bank should be just up here," Tech directed everyone to a seedy-looking building.

"That doesn't look like a bank," you raised a brow.

"It would appear to be a local dive bar, but it says here that the owner has a money transfer machine inside," Tech replied.

"Whatever works," you dug around in your bag, pulling your bank card out. Hunter entered first with Wrecker, while you followed behind with Echo and Tech.

The bar was dark and dingy, with two locals playing sabacc at a table, but other than that, the place was empty. You saw the money transfer machine in the back corner and made a beeline while the others checked out the bar.

While you were plugging in your banking info, Echo and Hunter settled at the counter.

“You know her credits won't hold us for long. The Republic doesn’t pay anyone very well,” Echo pointed out.

“It will be enough to get us on our feet. We’ll pick a low-key planet on the outer rim and find some land to keep her safe,” Hunter rested an elbow on the table, watching you carefully.

“You know he’ll come after you,” Echo said lowly. “She’s right, it’s only a matter of time. Especially if he thinks she’s dead.”

“He won’t be able to find us. We won’t leave a trail,” Hunter replied.

“What happens if she needs him?” Echo asked honestly. He was still worried you’d eventually turn sick again.

Hunter stared at his vod. “Then we’ll find him.”

“You make everything sound simple,” Echo shook his head. “Nothing about this is simple. What if this new empire decides they want her?”

“Then we’ll disappear,” Hunter stared at you. “I won't lose her, Echo. I can’t.”

Echo sighed as you came trotting over. You gave them a solemn shake of the head. “It didn’t work,” you groaned, “They already changed the currency.” 

Echo looked to Hunter.

“I hear you need some work,” a smiley voice caught all of your attention.

“And you are?” Echo deadpanned.

“The owner of this fine establishment,” the Trandoshan waved around. “I’m Cid,” she narrowed her yellow eyes. “You’re clones.”

Hunter furrowed his brow.

“I’m in need of some muscle. You guys complete this job for me, I’ll split the earnings 60% - $40,” she offered.

“What do we get out of this?” Tech asked. “We seem to be doing all the heavy lifting.”

“I don’t tell the Empire sweet-cheeks is here,” she pointed at you with her gangly claw, “and we both get paid.”

Hunter tensed. She must have overheard him talking to Echo at the bar. Kark.

“What’s the job?” Hunter asked skeptically knowing they are going to be in desperate need of some credits. 

“A rescue,” she pulled out a bar stool to sit. “I need you to find a kid named Muchi…”

Get ready for the smut.... its... coming 😏

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

[tennessoui]

I'm begging on my hands and knees for more Twilight au, and those are words I never thought I'd say! Anakin being able to resist compulsion, and Obi-Wan seeming instantly obsessed, and poor Shmi! Pretty please 🥺🙏

hey!! sure! here's some more!

(2.5k)

Having a sheriff for a mom sucked a lot when he was a kid growing up in a small town. There was probably nothing Anakin was rebelling against more at eleven, at thirteen, at seventeen than the rule of law his mother represented. 

All things considered, she was pretty good at separating her home life from her worklife. It was Anakin who was bad at respecting the separation, Anakin who couldn’t keep son out of delinquent.  There’s only so many times he could be pulled out of wreckage and bars and buildings with Keep Out No Trespassing signs on them before he got The Sheriff at home and out in public.

He’d hated it growing up and had come to grudgingly respect it later and in fits and starts. His dad dying had, terribly and ironically, helped a lot. His mother had had a stroke just before and then Anakin had been faced with the possibility of being an orphan, and the terror of that had mellowed him out.

Sorta.

He still hates a lot of things about his mother’s job. Especially the fact that she’s the sheriff of a very small town.

And when people talk, she listens.

The thing about small towns is that everyone’s always fucking talking. And other people are always fucking lsitening so they can talk later. One big fucking community, which means when Anakin comes home from his weird doctor’s appointment with Dr. Kenobi, a few hours later because he took a detour biking along the edge of the seaside cliffs just to spit in the good doctor’s metaphorical face, Shmi Skywalker already knows more than Anakin ever planned to tell her.

Like, for instance, “Sheila says that Dr. Kenobi thought it would behoove you to spend some time at the local library volunteering.”

Anakin pauses, backpack half-slung off his shoulders. He hangs his stuff up slowly, careful to keep his tone very light. “Did Sheila say what I told him after he said that?” 

His mom’s silence is very loud.

“I don’t want to do i—”

“I asked the new librarian about it on my way home from the station. She thinks it’s a wonderful idea. Apparently we used to have a program like that in the forties but it died out during the war.”

“Mom, come on—”

“It’ll look good on resumes, saying you created and supported a local reading program.”

“Yeah, but I’m a bit too old to be applying for babysitting positio—”

“It’ll look good for me as well,” Shmi says in her sheriff voice. “Elections are coming up soon. It’ll be good, if my kid was involved in the community.”

Anakin’s glad that his back is still turned to the living room, where his mom is sitting. “Are you gonna run again?” he asks, paying special attention to his tone this time.

“Why wouldn’t I?” his mom replies. “I’ve been sheriff for a decade and a half.”

Anakin lets his eyes fall closed for a second, knowing that his face can’t be seen. This is how they end up half the time: Shmi’s ardent belief that she is invincible, going up against Anakin’s desperate desire for her to be so.

And they just don’t talk about it. As if they’re actually in agreement.

He knows how this is going to shake out.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” His mother asks.

Anakin’s eyes remain closed. “I guess so,” he says.

—--------

Mrs. Kenobi—call me Satine—is sort of scary up close. She’s tall. She glides between bookshelves. Anakin’s never met someone who glides before. And she’s so intensely, incredibly, blindingly perfect that Anakin would rather be anywhere but in her vicinity. There’s something incredibly unnerving about the symmetry of her face, the sharpness of her cheekbones. She’s obviously an absolute knock-out, just drop-dead gorgeous, but it makes Anakin’s skin crawl and his heart beat fast, but not in a good way or a normal teenage boy way.

Anakin tries to keep the unease off his face as Satine leads him through a tour of the library, a gentle hand on his forearm. That’s another thing Anakin doesn’t really like. She’s wearing satin gloves. He doesn’t know anyone who wears gloves anymore.

It’s just all a bit…unsettling.

“I put in a few words around the school yesterday afternoon,” Satine tells him. They pass by the mystery section, the fantasy section, and take a hard right into the young adult section. The shelves are smaller here, and Anakin feels rather stupidly gigantic as he and Satine walk through them. “To some parents picking their children up after school. They agreed it would be good exposure to bring them to the library for an hour or so of reading before supper.”

Anakin highly doubts it will be, but Satine hasn’t really asked him.

She sweeps past his figure and pushes open a pair of double doors with a flourish better suited for a Russian tsarina hosting an elaborate ball than a small town librarian showing off a small, cramped, and dusty room filled with padded seats and threadbare rugs.

And then, as if she has been waiting to put the last nail in the proverbial coffin, Satine adds, “A few students from the local high school will be here as well.”

“Sorry,” Anakin says, “are you saying I’m going to be reading to high school students? Can’t they do that themselves?”

After all, Anakin went to high school here. Academics hadn’t been too rigorously challenging, but they’d taught the fucking basics.

Satine raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow in his direction. “They’ll be volunteering as well.”

Oh. Right.

“It looks good on their college applications,” Satine waves a hand through the air and the words linger there. Anakin looks out the rather dirty window, jaw clenching. “I’ve already chosen a handful of books I think the young ones will enjoy.”

Anakin, committed to his fate, pads over to the titles placed carefully ontop of a short, stout side table. 

“Peter the Rabbit,” he reads off the top. “Peter Pan. Alice in Wonderland. Treasure Island. The Prince and the Pauper—look, you’re the librarian here, but don’t you have anything written this century maybe? Harry Potter, even.”

“These are classics,” Satine tells him, her nose raised into the air as if she has encountered something particularly foul-smelling. She turns away, presumably to return to the front desk so she can welcome half the fucking town inside the library so Anakin can read them fucking Anne of Green Gables and become a better person.

“These are fucking boring,” he mutters to himself, flicking the cover of the first book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz open. Publication date: 1900. “I’d rather be in Kenobi’s office getting lectured at.”

There’s a sharp noise of disapproval from the doorway, and Anakin’s head snaps up to see the tail end of a very heated look from the librarian before the door closes behind her.

He shivers, alone in the emply room, and it takes several long minutes for his heart to settle back into its normal pace. 

—----------

After the fourth kid sneezes, Anakin closes his book with a snap and stands from the very small chair they’ve got him sitting on. “Come on,” he tells the cluster of children he’s been assigned to. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Are you kidnapping us?” One of them, a snot-nosed kid who’d started the sneezing says, rubbing at her cheek beneath her glasses. “Cause mommy says that’s not allowed.”

“I’m not kidnapping you,” Anakin snaps back, barely holding in his natural follow-up to the sentence which is of course, I don’t want to be around any of you in the first place. “Also, just for future reference, you shouldn’t ask if someone’s kidnapping you after you already start following them.”

The girl scowls and reaches up her hand to hold onto Anakin’s. 

For the love of Christ.

“We’re just going to go into the main part of the library,” Anakin tells his children, all six of them. “They have windows out there.”

They have windows out there and they also have parents. Parents who absolutely should be doing other things with their lives and precious hour of extra freetime.

Parents who are clustered instead around the library’s front desk as the town’s newest librarian holds court.

“Is reading time over?” one of the kids asks him, turning his head to look up at Anakin.

Anakin thinks about it. “Do you want reading time to be over?”

The kid thinks about it back. “Yeah,” he decides. “You don’t do the voices good.”

“It’s a boring book,” Anakin tells the kid. “Voices aren’t going to make it better.”

“Voices always make it better,” another kid says. “They make everything better.”

“Oh look,” Anakin says. “Is that your father?”

He gestures vaguely towards the cluster of drooling middle-aged somethings focused on Satine.

The kid peeks around his thigh and then shakes his head. “No,” he says. “That’s Dr. Obi.”

“Dr. Obi!” The kid holding Anakin’s hand says, and she lets go.

Anakin gets a bad feeling about this, a feeling that only doubles when he turns around to see Dr. Kenobi sauntering towards him, hands tucked into the pockets of a long dark jacket that makes him look even more pale than he already is.

He scowls automatically as the man gets closer. “Dr. Obi.”

Dr. Kenobi spares him a look that’s far too amused for Anakin’s pleasure before he crouches down to the level of the kids. “Hello there, young ones,” he says, opening his arms to accept a hug from the traitor of a girl Anakin’s just spent thirty minutes reading to. “Are you eating all your vegetables? Even the brussel sprouts?”

“I like brussel sprouts,” one of the kids reports sounding proud, and that starts a cacophony of opinions about brussel sprouts from all around Anakin.

“Wow! One of mine just absolutely hates them,” Dr. Kenobi says. “She refuses to eat them, so you’re very brave, Michele.” He lets go of the girl and turns his golden-brown gaze up to Anakin. “And what does Mr. Skywalker think?” he asks, raising a hand for Anakin to take. It’s very obvious he’s asking for a hand up and Anakin is obeying before he thinks about it. He snatches his hand free almost too soon, but Dr. Kenobi doesn’t even have the grace to lose his balance and fall over. 

His hand is like ice in Anakin’s, and Anakin stuffs his fingers into the pocket of his jacket automatically a second later.

“Do brussel sprouts help with circulation?” he’s biting out before he can stop himself. “Cause you may need some then.”

Kenobi’s head tilts very slightly to the side as his eyes catch and hold onto Anakin’s. “Oh?” he asks lightly. 

“You’re cold,” is all Anakin mutters in return. He swipes his other hand against the back of his neck. “”S poor circlutation, isn’t it? Something in your diet maybe?” Dr. Kenobi blinks at him and then breaks into a wide smile. “I can assure my diet is very…circulation-mindful,” he says. “Blood health positive.”

Anakin’s mouth thins into a line. He guesses that’s what he gets for trying to give health advice to a doctor, especially a doctor like Kenobi who just so happens to be devastatingly attractive and also smart.

And also an asshole. And also married.

Speaking of which. “Are you here to fend off your wife’s admirers with a scalpel?” Kenobi’s eyebrows raise. “Young ones,” he turns his head away from Anakin, down to the children.

The strangest feeling breaks of Anakin the second Kenobi looks away, almost as if a strange pressure he hadn’t even realized had been building was suddenly dissolved.

The very small beginnings of a headache begin to thrum in his temples.

“Young ones, it’s time to find your parents, isn’t it?” Kenobi says, and like fucking magic, the crowd of six children around Anakin disperse, children swarming away from him towards the group of adults surrounding the front desk.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Anakin blurts out, even though he’d meant to ignore Kenobi now that he doesn’t have to make nice in front of small kids. Not that he was really making nice in the first place. But now he definitely doesn’t have to.

Kenobi gives him a half-smile, eyes heavy-lidded. “It’s a special sort of skill that takes, above all else, much practice.”

Anakin scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Does Kenobi think he can’t commit himself to something even as mundane as a fucking commanding persona? Does he think he doesn’t have it in him to be–-

Kenobi’s eyebrows go up again. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly defensive?” 

“You’re extremely nosey,” Anakin snaps back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have better things to focus on right now anyway?”

He gestures loosely towards Satine, who has started playing with one of the mother’s bracelets as the other woman stands and looks at her rather dumbfounded.

Kenobi follows his gaze and then lets out a huff of laughter. “Satine can take care of herself,” he says, even though it hadn’t really been Satine that Anakin was worried about.

He’s about to open his mouth to say so when Kenobi turns back to him. His eyes are piercing, a dark, captivating sort of gold. 

“Do you find my wife beautiful, Anakin?” he asks.

Anakin blinks. His headache is getting worse, which is probably down to what can only be a trick-question fashioned to look like a grenade lobbed at his feet. “I don’t think there’s a good answer to that,” he mutters, rubbing absently at his forehead. “What the fuck.”

“An honest answer is a good one,” Kenobi says lightly. “Tell me honestly.”

The words feel pulled from Anakin’s stomach, and he’s opening his mouth before he realizes it. “No,” he says. 

Kenobi’s eyebrows crinkle together. “No?”

Anakin curses his stupid impulse control. “She’s beautiful,” he adds quickly. “Really. But…it makes me uncomfortable.”

Kenobi’s lips purse, and then there’s something like disappointment in his eyes as he examines Anakin. “Ah yes,” he murmurs. “I’ve been told my wife can make countless young men feel rather uncomfortable. It’s normal in men your age, Anakin. Sexual ar—”

“Uncanny,” Anakin blurts out. He doesn’t mean to, but he also doesn’t want to listen to  Kenobi trying to lecture him on fucking arousal in the public library. When it’s not even relevant. “She’s so beautiful, it’s uncanny.”

“Uncanny.”

“Yeah, like. Monstrous.”

Kenobi’s mouth falls open, pink lips parted in what looks like honest surprise.

Anakin’s own eyes widen as it hits him that he’s just called Kenobi’s wife a monster to Kenobi’s face.

“Shit,” he says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m going to go.” 

He throws a look at Kenobi, whose eyes are lit with something a lot like interest and then across the library to where Satine’s head is turned, cocked, and eyebrows up high on her forehead, as if she’s just heard everything he’s said.

He decides rather immediately that he’s going to take the backdoor exit.

[eco15]

Is sjm racist?

I’ve seen hella posts saying that her portrayal of the Illyrians is her racist side coming out because they embody the stereotype of brown uncivilized men crawling after white women.

It made me question why people have been saying this. There are other POC in Acotar that are the opposite of this stereotype, are very educated, non-abusive and, all in all, are beautiful souls. For example, Tarquin and his cousins, Helion, Thesan and his entourage and Lucien.

So why do people call SJM racist when it comes to the Illyrians?

My first thought was, people actually don’t want Illyrians to be poc because that would mean the main men of the series are, and woah, we don’t want that!Kind of a reflection of our own racist views, perhaps?

I mean, you can argue that “omg of course she makes the brown ppl barbaric and white women lovers with backward minds, just makes so much sense she’s racist!”

But to me, it gives off the vibe that you actually believe in this stereotype.

My second thought, including all the above, being that it just doesn’t make sense. We have many other cruel, misogynistic and abusive characters who are WHITE. So why is it so bad when it comes to Illyrians, why is it all of a sudden a gateway to the author not having enough diversity in their books and harmful stereotypes placed on brown ppl. If every POC in this series was like that then yes, I would be side eyeing Tf out of SJM.

And if you argue that all the POC are portrayed as sexually untamed, my dear friend did we completely skip past the part where Tamlin has this annual sex ritual?? No? Ok. Guys, I think it’s just a Fae thing, they do tend to get a bit wild🫣.

As a brown person myself, I don’t think some of you actually care about racial stereotypes within modern day literature, I think the issue is you don’t want the main love interests to be POC.

I feel like ppl have to say this too much but it’s canon Illyrians are brown skinned, I can’t believe I have to do this but pg 386 from Acosf “she watched his LIGHT BROWN fingers play against her pale skin” nesta referring to cassian. Anybody with common sense can full well acknowledge that light brown is not just tan. And there are many other times where Illyrians are described to have golden-BROWN skin. Search the skin tones up on google if you’re having that much trouble comprehending it.

Thank you I rest my case. Cant argue with book itself babes not gna work out🤷🏽‍♀️

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Collecting Identity Shards

Previous Work

Chapter one: Time for Therapy.

"Are you seriously, honestly, trying to bribe me into being your therapist in exchange for three antique clocks, a gemma’s ring, and a pack of tarot cards?" Clockwork crossed his arms as he saw the halfa arrive at the tower with the said objects in hand.

"I was told they were things you liked? Or at least were amused by…" He muttered that last bit before clearing his throat. "Look, I’m trying, but the therapist hunt isn’t going too well and I’m getting a *little* desperate here. I can’t tell human ones about the ghost-stuff and trying to find a ghost one is a nightmare; The only licensed one is a literal emotion-vampire… putting that aside she told me to lock myself in an abandoned asylum and never reproduce for the good of humanity. Some, if not all of the ghosts I know would skin me alive the second I show vulnerability of any kind, let alone figure out that I faked my death. I'm sure Frostbite would betray me and my secrets to Danny in a heartbeat if I talk about my experiences and views that don’t align with his moral codes. And to be honest, I think that you’re pretty shady yourself."

Clockwork’s eyes narrowed at the halfa’s statement about him.

"-But Danny trusts you and I respect that he does." He attempted to backtrack. "And I know for a fact I can trust you with any secret because technically speaking: you’ve already seen my life, right? You already know everything I can possibly hide from someone, you probably already know secrets about me that even I don’t know about myself!"

"I know *of* your life and what you’re capable of doing with it, yes, but I’m not a mind reader." The ghost with the eternally shifting form replied.

"Yes, but you’ve seen my life, the actions I’ve taken, you know that I lied about losing my memories right?"

"No, that’s news to me as in some timelines you *did* genuinely lose your memories from that accident. How am I supposed to tell lies apart from truth when in cases like this, they can be the truth? Again: Seeing the future does not make me the other type of Psychic."

"...Right."

"But continue." Clockwork waved his staff dismissively.

"Well, the thing about me lying was… At the time, I did it because it felt like the only option to ensure my own survival. I did it because why would they help me if they knew I remembered who I was? But… apparently, there are things about myself that I genuinely don’t remember."

"I’m guessing you mean the hospital being burned down?"

"Yes, I can’t remember the fire Jack was talking about at all. But I looked it up and sure enough, I wasn’t transferred from that hospital to a new one, it burned down. I swear I remember every single surgery it took to fix my face, the names of every single speech therapist I went to over the years, I remember how humiliating and horrifying it felt to crawl out of that pit I was abandoned in, how many times I almost…"

He trailed off as he noticed the two statues; grim reapers with sharp scythes, looming over both of them.

While his life didn’t flash before his eyes while looking at them, the twin symbols of death were a reminder of the fact that he had only ‘changed’ because the only other option was a permanent death. And when he thought of that, a question came to mind; If he had only snapped out of the path he was going down because it was a dead end, did he really change at all?

"So, I guess it’s worth asking, is all of this just… hopeless? Is it too late for me to be a better person..?"

"Zero." The titan of time’s expression softened and he put his hand on the halfa’s shoulder. "It is never too late for anyone to try to be a better person. In fact, everybody already has the potential to change for the better, just like how everybody has the potential to change for the worse. While there are going to be people who forgive you and ones who don't, them not forgiving you does not change the fact that you are striving to be a better person."

He took his hand off, turning his back to the halfa with his staff intertwined with his fingers.

"However, do not take this to mean that redemption is an easy, liner path. You will still think in the ways you are used to thinking, both in good ways and bad, you WILL continue to doubt yourself, you may even relapse, and those relapses can have the potential to bring out the absolute worst in you that you once considered as 'going too far'. The desire to change is important for doing it, but wanting to change and actually changing, while intertwined, are still separate things."

The hospital halfa couldn't think of anything to say as he thought back on Clockwork's words. He couldn't help but feel like the Titan was speaking from a place of experience, but he didn't know the spirit's past...

"Zero?" He waved his hand in front of the teen's face as he noticed he was spacing out to check that he didn't unknowingly freeze time.

"Oh! Uh... Same time again next Tuesday? I could bring you anything you want! (within reason...)"

"Yes, that does sound nice I suppose." The master of time gave the boy an amused smile. "I would like you to bring me this."

He handed him a sticky note with the words 'That limited edition holiday cookie dough' on it.

"Thanks Clockwork" He returned a relieved smile as he pocketed the note.

"Oh, and Zero?"

"Yes?"

"This is more of a physical thing than a mental one, but keep an eye on your core. In fact I recommend doing a check up on it when you return. While you possess a strange level of durability, that thing's as stable as a house of cards and that is NOT helped by the fact you currently didn't get rid of the metallic irritant inside it."

"...Will do!"

Clockwork nodded in acknowledgement as his guest left his home.

Once the time titan was assured that Patient Zero was too far away to eavesdrop, he powered up the screens to show different futures from ten years, he mused out loud as he browsed them.

"Still in college, still in college, still in college, accidentally started a ghostly plague, intentionally started a ghostly plague, became an eldritch abomination, traveling the world to find himself, committed murder, another ghostly plague- Wait, this one's from the timeline Frostbite peeled his core like an orange, that doesn't count. Fentonworks Wisconsin Branch, Ghost Doctor... Ironic, but strangely fitting."

While Clockwork himself was both pleased and amused by this variety of outcomes, he knew that his bosses would be on his case sooner or later if half or more of them were 'evil outcomes' and unfortunately, at this point of time, half of them were.

Granted, he and the Observants had different ideas on what 'evil' was. In his mind, botched regeneration attempts turned medical-flavored nightmares don't count as 'a sign he's going to destroy the world' but he wasn't the one in charge here.

He needed something to tip the scales in Zero's favor, give him a little extra motivation, help keep him on the right track, maybe an example..? He knew that Danny meeting Dan helped cut down a LOT of futures where the boy went down a dark path...

As he moved a screen out of his way, he noticed the still trapped ghost in the thermos. While he was more Phantom than Plasmius, surely there had to be just enough of Plasmius in there to relate to Zero and vice-versa-

"No, no, that's a stupid and reckless idea." he shook his head at the thought of it and turned his back to it. "He'll target Danny and the rest of the Fentons immediately before-"

He paused his rant as he saw the screen of the immediate future following Danny: 'Fenton Family Vacation Plans'.

His charge and family would be safely out of the way by the time Dan got there while Zero would remain, meaning that they would HAVE to confront each other first.

It would still have its fair share of risks. The hospital halfa was in a vulnerable state of mind right now, while his anger was defused, his fear remained undealt with and Dan could easily use that to his advantage.

On the other hand, IF this worked, both Dan would get the second chance the fate denied him with a fresh start, and Zero could feel more understood with someone in his corner who truly, fully, knew what he had gone through.

Clockwork nonchalantly whistled while shooing away all the screens with his staff and 'Accidentally' knocking the thermos over.

"Oops!" The time spirit proclaimed just before turning invisible.

The container only opened a by a small crack when it hit the floor, but that small crack was all Dan needed to claw his way out of the prison he was kept in for so long.

"CLOCKWORK!" He shouted as he frantically looked around the tower. "I KNOW YOU'RE IN HERE!"

_____

Meanwhile in Fentonworks, Jazz waited in the basement watching the ghost portal swirl and spiral in its typical ominous fashion as she waited for her 'cousin' to get back.

Sure, there were still thirty minutes left in the 'If I'm not back by x, send someone to save my skin' timer, but after the last three 'therapist' incidents, she was a little worried about Jack Masters' ability to tell the difference between red flags and green flags in people.

And while she could understand why he wanted to go to a ghost about this, she was good at therapy! She could help him too!

She checked her phone for new texts to find that Danny and Dani had discovered four secret rooms, two safes, and three mini-fridges in their 'surprise renovation' work so far and promised to keep her updated in their findings. And a cut of the spoils if they took anything in exchange for her silence.

[Remember not to take any medication from anything you find. There's a fine line between moving something for a laugh and putting him in real danger.]

[Don't worry, so far we've only taken food from the fridges. I think this some kind of rich-person tuna with gravy. Kinda like caviar.]

He sent in a picture of the open can with a fork in it before the following text popped up.

[So far I think it's just.. meh? Maybe you're supposed to mix it with something else but unless it's some kind of stew base I don't know what the appeal is.]

A second text popped up before she could respond.

[...I have just been told that this is wet cat food.] [He has two different fridges dedicated to his cats but he doesn't keep them near their food bowls.] [What is wrong with that guy?]

[Well I hope you learned a valuable lesson, little brother.]

[Why did he take the labels off these things?] [Shoot, how old where they?] [Did he try to train his cats only for it to backfire on him?] [Its times like this I wish he wasn't an amnesiac so I could ask him directly and get a clear answer.]

[Maybe he could recall some things in therapy? I'll ask.]

[He's about to walk through, nobody needs to pick him up.]

As she was about to type to ask how he knew that, their cousin walked through the portal with a sigh that sounded both emotionally exhausted but relieved as he switched back to his human form.

"Oh hey J, how did the therapy session go?"

"Good news is that I can finally call off the hunt."

"That's great! So what's your new therapist like?"

"If my Greek Mythology and my current theory is correct, he's probably eaten babies before but at least he gives good advice."

He resisted the urge to collapse on the workshop desk while Jazz noticeably bit her lip and faked a smile.

"I... See... So how do you think it's working out?"

"Well he cares about my health more than the other ones' did, so he's got that going for him." He shrugged while taking his core out of his chest and opening it with a scalpel.

"...What are you doing?"

"Removing metal shrapnel I think, Clockwork warned me about it."

"OH! Your therapist is Clockwork..." She was so relieved that she *didn't* have to text Danny about 'Another red flag Therapist' that her brain ALMOST glossed over that he had the master of time as a therapist. "...How did that happen?"

The older teen shrugged again, making an 'idk' noise before redirecting his focus back on the core.

Jazz was quick to secretly take notes of her current hypotheses on her cousin's mental state.

[psalacanthea]

Dissonance and Debauchery: The Drama of an Ill-Fated Bard- Chapter 20

New chapter in the Astarion x Tav fic! In which Zynatheri has a bad case of the morbs, and Astarion happily plays the devil on her shoulder. Sometimes you don't need to be cheered up. Sometimes you just need to be sad as indulgently as possible.

...

Zyn took one last look at the night sky,  eyes scanning the glittering lights that rippled across the canvas of darkness.  A beautiful vista.  So vast and mysterious, full of worlds and wonders never beheld by the ignorant creatures of Toril.  Somewhere, out among those pinprick lights that chased the moon across the teeming sky, where spelljammers and astral ships moored, githyanki were fucking.

Just up there in the sky somewhere, going at it, all snarling and writhing, insulting each other.  They wouldn’t just have sex, though, it would be a fight for dominance.  Claws and teeth and maybe some insults. Dick-biting. If you–

Wyll’s abrupt, coughing laugh interrupted her mental tangent, Zyn’s head whipping around as he bent forward.  Utterly lost, she stared at him, surprised by the vehemence of his laughter. She usually knew when she’d made a joke.  

Zyn was actually very good at them, but, “what did I say?”

“I’ve…never felt your mind before,” Wyll admitted, straightening up with a broad grin still on his face.  “That was beautiful…until the last bit there, obviously.  Truly, to be in the mind of a bard is a lyrical experience.”

Oh gods.

Feeling violated, but tamping it down because she didn’t know why she’d done that, Zyn stared at Wyll in fear.  This was her fault, and she’d done it.  She tried to push back the dismay quickly, glancing away, but she knew he’d seen it.

“I'm not upset with you, I just don't like that.”

“Haven’t you figured out how to do it on purpose by now?  I apologize.  If I’d known it was accidental I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Shit.  She’d just been ignoring it, erasing it from the narrative because it made her so profoundly uncomfortable, but she couldn’t any more.  They were in each other’s heads.

The sheer violation of it made her skin crawl.

Zyn needed to know how bad it was.  “You all mentioned it…happening before, like it was normal.  But eventually you stopped talking about it, and…well, it’s only happened to me once, with Lae’zel, and it scared the shit out of me.  You really do it all the time?”

“On purpose?  Some of us more than others.  It can be useful,”  Wyll said, red eye peering down at her as he tilted his head.  “I’d  assumed you had stronger walls ‘round your mind than the rest of us.”

“I do.  I don’t like things in my head,” she said, grimacing.  “When you play tricks on other people you don’t want them to be played on you!” And she knew people who scried, of course.  And read minds.  Gods, if only she could afford an anti-scrying amulet– well, maybe this unwanted venture would yield some benefits.

If she didn’t die.

“Well, I hope that I didn’t make you uncomfortable, and it was nice to see you open up a little.”

Zyn stared at him in frank disbelief.

Wyll's eyes crinkled as he turned to face her, leaning down a little.  “What?”

“How are you this good in so many ways?  Aren’t you exhausted?  I would be!  I accidentally think…and sorry by the way, for that mental image of Lae’zel and that Voss person having sex.”

Wyll folded his arms.  “Why was that your choice, I wonder?”

“I don’t know a lot of githyanki?” she replied, shrugging at his understanding nod.  “But seriously, what is wrong with you?  Genuinely.  It has to be something really bad.  Like eating babies.”

“Are you lobbing accusations at Gale’s cooking?"

[xxxdegenerate]

Love is Crazy // Douma x reader.

❥This is the first time i’m posting any of my works on this site. I’ve posted this on wattpad, quotev, and soon ao3. ❥Demon Slayer characters are not mine. ❥Warnings: Sexual themes, strong language, depressive thoughts and actions, gore and blood. ❥italics are thoughts and memories

They're pretty aren't they? They come in different shapes and sizes. White, the color of purity. Falling from the heavens. 

But what happens if something warm were to meet snowflakes? Maybe something like fire. 

They melt. 

.

.

You walked alongside Rengoku on a warm day. He was your trainer, you followed the same flame breathing style. "Say Y/n, why are your eyes two different colors?" Rengoku suddenly questioned you. 

"I never questioned it." You stated. You had two different colored eyes. One was all black, and the other was e/c. For this your parents wanted to disown you. Calling you the devils child. They wanted to marry you off just to get rid of you. That didn't work though. No one wanted someone as 'crazy' as you. Especially with the rumors already floating around the village. That you were the devils child. Because of this you didn't have many friends, before you met Rengoku. 

You lived in a village most of your life. You played pranks on people, and caused trouble. It was fun to you, life was good like that. Until one night you had a bad encounter. 

.

.

You walked the forest, mainly to get away from your parents arguing over why they couldn't find you a husband. You didn't care, you told them many times you were fine being alone, but they just didn't listen. The argument this night got really bad though. Your father had shouted at mother at how it was her fault you were weird. This made your heart tighten. Feeling like it was your fault you left. 

And now you were lost in a forest. You didn't really mind though. You kicked some dirt before you heard a hissing noise. Upon looking up and around at your surroundings you didn't find anything. You sighed loudly. 

"Are you lossst?" You turned around and met the most UGLIEST man you have ever seen. His hair was shaggy and dirty, as was his face. He had blood dripping off his lips. He wiped it off before speaking once more. "Well?" His voice was horrendous and like sandpaper. 

"Uhm.. not really." You lied, feeling like you should. "I was just heading home, which is just ahead." You pointed towards a house a little further up the dirt road. 

"Oh? I don't think that'ss very true... you know it's not nice to lie to people." You glared at the man. You were beginning to feel unsafe. You looked behind you, you were going to make a run for it. "How do you know I'm lying?" 

"Well I've been following you." He smirked at you and you shivered. You decided to run for it right now. You turned on your heel and ran. You were quite fast, only because you ran away from the law so many times, and others you pranked. You giggled to yourself. Even in this situation your adrenaline ran hot. You looked behind you and no longer saw the beast. 

You ran into something and fell on your ass. You looked up terrified. All you saw were glowing eyes and fangs. You were going to die. You blinked before shoving him, causing him to also fall. You crawled away from him until your ankle was grabbed and you were dragged backwards. 

"Ssstop trying to run." You were suddenly flipped around and pinned on the ground. You kicked your legs and his hand went up to your thigh, squeezing with his nails. You hissed in pain as you felt warm beads drip. He brought his hand up to his face and his tongue grazed his fingers. 

"You taste scrumptious." You frowned at him, taking another look you noticed his skin was scale like. His eyes held slits and he blinked owlishly. You felt like throwing up. "You're so ugly." Suddenly to slip out between your lips, you couldn't help but almost let out a loud laugh at the face he gave you. 

"Me? Ugly look at you." His hand snaked up towards your neck. Giving it a harsh squeeze you gasp trying to catch a breath. "As-as."

"What was that?" He looked amused at you being unable to breath. You kick your leg up once more, hitting him right in his groin. 

He groans but does not budge. Fuck you thought. 

"Hey look a bird!" You pointed up and he looked up. You broke your hand free at his surprise and punched him, causing him to loosen his grips. You pushed out and began to run once more. FUCK FUCK FUCK. 

You hid behind a tree. "Where did you go?" His voice sounded like venom. "Come out now." He sounded impatient. You breathed heavily, holding your chest trying to calm down. You tried to find where he was. "Boo." He was above you. You froze and tried to dash once again before you were pulled back. "You aren't very nice you know..." He frowned at you. 

He held your neck once more, squeezing it harder. "I'll just have to break every bone you have." You gasped loudly and closed your eyes. 

Suddenly the pressure on your neck was gone, you thought you had died. "Are you alright?" A bright voice suddenly said. Your eyes snapped open and you looked in front of you. Seeing a flame haired man, with owl like eyes. 

You glanced around trying to find the man from before. You see his head and gag. "What-" 

"That was a demon." The man answered you before you could even question. Your nose twitched at the horrible smell of blood and gagged again. "I think it's time to throw up." You turn towards the side and gag, nothing coming out. A warm hand starts rubbing circles in your back. 

.

.

And thus that was how you met Rengoku. He ended up staying in town for a few more days after and you guys become close. This made your parents somewhat happy for you. Although that didn't last long, as soon as he left everything went back to how it was. You continued your pranks and causing trouble. People still found you weird and what was even weirder to them when the opened eye man was with you. This caused more issues. 

You didn't know what to do besides go to Kyojuro, who told you how to find him.

.

.

It was storming, hailing and rain poured on your head. You knocked on the door of the Rengoku estate. "Kyojuro!" 

The door was swung open and you met with a.. smaller version of Rengoku. "Hello?" 

"Is Kyojuro here?"

"Not currently..?" The young boy eyed you up and down before remembering it was pouring. "Oh where are my manners, come in please!" He rushes you in and tells you to wait. You looked around and noticed pictures of Kyojuro, the young boy, and some older man with a woman. Must be his family. 

"Here you go miss.." 

"L/n F/n" You said and took the towel he was holding out for you. "Uh, my brother will be back soon! He went out for our father." You nodded at him and he lead you to another room, which seemed to be the dinning area. 

A few hours have passed when the door was slid open. "She's right here." The younger boy motioned to you and you hurriedly stood up. "Kyojuro." 

"Y/n? What's wrong." 

"I want you to train me." 

And so he did, years have went past and you were now 19. You were a demon slayer along side Kyojuro. You watched him become a hashira and followed him. 

.

.

And that brings you to where you are now. You two were on the way to a mission site. In the mountains. They had complaints about woman going missing randomly. The two of you split up for the time being and decided to question some of the people around the town. 

"Excuse me, have you heard about the disappearing's around here?" You tried to question someone but they just waved you off. You frowned and kept trying. 

After many failed attempts you decided to meet at the spot Kyojuro and you had decided to meet at later on. The sun was starting to set and him and you were going to keep watch tonight. 

"Y/n!" You look up and see him and another guy? "He said his wife went missing last night, so I assume we should go towards the forest behind his house." Kyojuro smiled at you. He had always managed to brighten the moods up. You returned the smile and nodded. "That sounds good."

.

.

For the next few hours you and Kyojuro walked around the forest. It was eerily quiet. You felt a sense of anxiety rushing up your body at this. There were no sounds, no trees rustling, no insects, nothing. It was weird and you didn't like it. "Isn't it a bit too quiet." You looked over at Kyojuro who seemed to be peering around. 

"Yeah, something is off about this place." He nods and continues to look around. "Be careful." He stood in front of you and held his hand out in front of you. "I can hold my own ground Kyojuro." You rolled your eyes and stepped in front of his hand. You walked a little further ahead until something cold hit your nose. You looked up and saw.. snowflakes? 

"it's snowing?" You questioned stopping in your tracks. Kyojuro stopped next to you. "That's weird, it's not even cold." 

You heard a crash and both of your heads snapped towards the noise. "Who's there?" You called out, your hand on the hilt of your blade, prepared for anything. After no response was said the two of you decided to continue forwards. You held your hand out and caught snowflakes, that just melted in a matter of minutes in your hands.

You scoffed. "It was probably an animal or something, maybe we should hea-" Suddenly an icicle flew past your face and your eyes widen. "Kyojuro watch you!" You pulled out your sword and held your stance. Your eyes darting around looking for the culprit. 

"My my~ You two know how to cause a ruckus!" A voice cheerfully said, surrounding the two of you. 

"Who are you." Kyojuro demanded. 

"See I would tell you, but let's play a little first shall we?" His voice sharp and sinister, yet lying with a cool undertone. Was he the reason for the snowflakes. A million questions roamed in your brain, but you stood tall. "Y/n duck!" I ducked quickly and felt something swish past me. More ice. "That's no fun!"

You had no idea where the voice was coming from. It sounded above you, behind you, and in front of you all at once. "Show yourself coward!" You call out. 

"Coward..?" You heard the voice come from behind you. "If you want to see me that badly you could have just asked." 

"Careful Y/n." Kyojuro pushed you behind him. The voice was now coming out of a part of the forest that was dark. Slowly two eyes appeared. Rainbow, colorful, and glowing. Then his light blonde hair with a splat of blood? He was tall and well built. Your eyes traveled down and noticed he wore a red turtle neck with the same design that was on his hair, with hakima pants. 

His smile was crazy, it held motives behind it. You clenched your jaw. "My~ Aren't you two a lovely pair!" His lips curled up more, turning into a smirk. "Why can't we just have fun hm?" His hand waved and more ice came crashing towards the two of us. 

You jumped back and Kyojuro ran towards him. "Flame breathing fifth form, flame tiger!" You watched as he dashed forwards, slashing his sword. A tiger enveloped his body as he ran towards the demon. He just backed up as Kyojuro kept going towards him. "Ah fire?" 

Kyojuro got close enough to where the demon pulled out two fans. Curving his fans towards Kyojuro hitting him with a gust of snow. 

"Kyojuro!" It was your turn to run forward, holding your sword. "Third form, Blazing universe!" You slashed vertically at the man as soon as you were close enough behind him. You caught him off guard as you managed to get a slice in. He looked at you rather annoyed. He stances up and hold his fans out towards you. 

Suddenly a sword goes through him and you see Kyojuro behind him. "I told you to be careful Y/n" He grunts as he pushes the sword forward one more time before pulling it out. The demon just laughs manically. "Oh this is fun~" He stands up and the hold in his chest is already healed. 

"Kyojuro.. he healed pretty fast." You say jumping and standing next to him once more. 

"I noticed.. this is no regular demon." You breathed heavily before you ran towards the demon once more. Kyojuro also followed along. You went right and he went left. You glance over and nod at him. The demon watches the two of you amused as to what you were both planning. You run behind the demon and so does Kyojuro. Switching sides you both go to slice his neck. When suddenly your blade was knocked out of your hand. Looking to the side you noticed an icicle had pinned it to a tree.

"Fuck." You mutter under your breath. Feeling rage slowly envelope you. "Stop playing games!" You yelled out angrily at the demon.

"Oh I'm not! I'm waiting for the two of you to stop messing around." Upon swinging around you see he had Kyojuro wrapped up. Your eyes widen at this. "Let him go." 

"I don't feel like it." He started to squeeze his neck and you bolted towards the man punching at his chest. This did nothing as he looked down at you and cooed. "Oh my~ You're so strong." Tears began to weld up and you dashed back towards your sword. More ice flew past you, hitting your leg and arm in the process. You wince and run towards him with your sword.

"First form unknowing fire!" You zoomed towards the man in quick speeds, stopping and slashing at his neck. He dropped Kyojuro who grabbed a hold of his neck gasping for air. The man jumped back and fanned his fans towards you. Snow suddenly hitting you causing you to stumble back. 

"Kyo. KYO! I think we need to leave." You mumbled out looking at him lean over gasping for air. 

"No we mustn't we need to protect the others." You frowned. You knew this fight was not either of yours. "Kyo.." He suddenly got up and ran towards the demon once again. 

"You're really going to keep trying? Fun!" He smiled amused, slashing his fans downwards causing Kyojuro to struggle. You ran at him once again as well. Two was better then one. 

"Double teaming is rude y'know!" He threw one of his fans towards me. My eyes widen as it came towards me at fast speeds. "Y/n!" Kyojuro called out focusing on me. When he should have focused on the enemy, because he did the same thing he did to me. He threw his other fan, hitting Kyojuro right in the chest. 

"STOP!" you yelled, flames suddenly bursting out of me. You ran towards Kyojuro, pulling the fan out and throwing it on the ground a couple inches away. You hear a laugh behind you and you look up. Meeting the cold rainbow eyes from the demon. He tilted his head. 

"My~ Getting a better look you are quite the looker!" His hand reached for your face and you leaned back. "Watch it bitch." You spat out. 

"Fiery!" 

"Y/n- please get out of here." 

"Without you? Hell no." You frowned at Kyojuro and stood up once more. "I'm going to finish the job." You looked at the demon seriously. You needed to save Kyojuro. 

You sprang towards the demon and his lips curled up. He was enjoying this. He was having fun. 

The two of you fought like you were for an hour. Kyojuro was laying in the snow, most likely freezing. You breathed heavily, feeling worn out, but the demon seemed no where near how you were. You had cuts and scratches all over. Your body felt bruised and battered. "Enough." You said glaring at the demon. 

"Oh? I was just getting started!" You coughed. Your eyes started to go blurry. You looked up and noticed the sun was going to be up soon. If only you could keep the demon occupied long enough. What if you held him down. With the newfound plan you ran towards him with the last strength you had. 

You surprised him by tossing your sword to the side and jumping on the man. Causing the two of you to fall. You land on top of him with a thud. You pin his arms down with your hands and his legs with your knees. You huff and wheeze for air. He just watched you amused. His fans were knocked away and you looked at him. 

"What a position little snowflake!" You choked.

"Shut up." You seethed and held him down for a second. It was your mistake, though. You thought you had overpowered him. He flips the two of you over and now you were the one pinned to the ground. 

"Get off of her." Kyojuro calls out. 

"My my~ The sun is coming up, I think it's time for me to go.. although this was really fun!" You almost let out a sigh of relief. "But... I think I'll take a trophy for not being decapitated today!" He claps his hands and smiles widely. "Trophy?" You glared at him. 

"Yes." He sounded too happy, and you didn't like that. No you didn't, not one bit. He suddenly blows in your face and you feel cold. You furrow your eyebrows together and try to push him off. "Fuck off, prick." You struggled underneath him and he just laughs in your face. 

"Why are you trying to leave?" You grumble out a reply as you try your best to shove him off. Your body started slowing down though. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you felt you couldn't breathe. 

"What did you do." 

"Oh nothing~ Just a little snow, darling." He licks his lips as he looks down at you. Your uniform had holes and your collarbone showed. You shifted uncomfortably, not just from his eyes checking you up and down, but from the uncomfortable feeling that was now in your chest. You felt as if your heart was stopping.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you try to take a deep breath, only causing the pain to worsen. "Why... why can't I breathe." At this point you gave up hitting and swinging all your might at the demon on top of you and tried to control your breathing. 

"Just the snow, it's nice isn't it? Your insides are slowly freezing!" Your eyes widen in fear. You were going to die, and you were going to be this mans breakfast. You tilted your head to get a look at Kyojuro who seemed to be out of it. Please stay safe. You had hoped the demon only would take you. You blinked slowly as you started to lose breath. 

You looked up towards the man who watched your every move amused. You tried your best to glare at the man who just smiled brightly at you. You made eye contact for a second, peering into his rainbow eyes once more. You sensed nothing but excitement in them. This really was just a game to him and you were just playing along. It was his game.

You started to blink slower as you started to lose feeling in your body. First your legs, and up into your arms and chest. "Why don't you rest little slayer?" You attempted to glare at him once more. You felt his finger caress your cheek softly. His cold finger touching your warm cheek. You began to fade in and out of consciousness. 

"Bitch."

.

.

Snowflakes are beautiful aren't they?

[luvshse]

i was thinking i should post some of my fics from ao3 over here… so:

kill the director - luvshse

I’ve met someone that makes me feel seasick!

Oh what a skill to have, oh what a skill

—————

Suho doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. His immune system is great, and he feels in tip-top shape mostly all the time. The last time he got sick was when he was ten. So then why did he feel like this all the time now? Like he was seasick; stomach churning uncomfortably inside of him. His heart was all weird too. It would either beat wildly inside his ribcage, or give up entirely, coming to an abrupt halt.

It all got worse whenever he looked at Sieun. Or when he was close to Sieun. Or when he was thinking about Sieun. So maybe he was the problem. But it wasn’t always like this, when had it started?

Was it perhaps that time when he’d seen Sieun on the bus? Or the time he accidentally came to Sieun’s apartment for a delivery? Or maybe it was that time at the hospital. When Sieun plopped that beautiful bag of ox bone soup in front of him, then gave Suho the most beautiful smile.

Suho remembers feeling like he was going to implode. Like fire ants were crawling up his skin, like his brain was going to melt and spill out of his ears. ( “What’s this emotion?” it was most definitely love.)

That must’ve been it. The moment he fell.

It’s a hell of an inconvenience now. He can barely look Sieun in the eye. Whenever he does, he has to look away, afraid to be burned by the sun. His heart does that dumb thing, and he feels like he’s going to throw up.

And Sieun is so much more than Suho is. He’s smart, witty, and always has something to say. He’s more resourceful and a better fighter than people give him credit for. He’s so much and Suho, despite being taller and bigger than Sieun physically, feels small next to him.

(To have so many skills that make her distinctive

But they're not mine to have, no, they're not mine )

Is that really what a crush feels like? Like you’re going to die? Suho decidedly doesn’t like it. It’s nothing like those soap operas his grandma watches. The cheesy ones he hates (or pretends to).

Well, he has to say that some parts of his life are feeling like a rom-com. Mostly the com part. The comedy. Suho always feels like the butt of the joke, though.

Sieun will do all these things that drive Suho up the wall. And Suho doesn’t even think he realizes.

The way he pouts when Suho kicks his ass in video games, the way he looks up at Suho and blinks slowly after studying late into the night, the way he’s so defensive about the music he listens to (and the way he opens up only to Suho).

It’s pure madness, and it’ll surely be the death of him. Why was this happening to him? How could he function like a normal person anymore? How could anyone, after being exposed to the perfect angel that was Yeon Sieun?

Whenever she looks, I read the nearest paper

Though I don't care about the soaps;

No, I don't care about the soaps...

Though I'm acting like I'm in an EastEnders episode!

—————

There must be something Seriously Wrong with Suho. Yes, it’s already been established, he’s crazy, insane, loco, all of that. But seriously.

He can barely even talk to Sieun! He could have everything he wants to say perfectly planned in his head, but as soon as he goes to say it… goodness.

Take this, for example.

Suho and Sieun are sitting in the park. The weather is nice, and Sieun is studying, because of course he is. Suho doesn’t mind, as long as he can spend time with him. But it’s too quiet. Suho needs to make conversation, because lord knows Sieun won’t.

Wow, the weather’s really warming up, He’ll say. It’s gonna be sweltering hot soon, though. Let’s try not to melt, Yeon Sieun.

Cute and simple, right? How could anyone mess that up?

Suho found a way.

“Hey, Sieun-ah.”

“Huh?” Sieun responds, not looking up from his math sheets (what even is a polynomial?)

“It’s sunny. That’s nice, right? Well, not if you’re a vampire,” He doesn’t miss Sieun finally looking up, expression incredulous at best, judgemental at worst. “Not that you’re a vampire… Well you stay inside all day and hiss at the sun but…”

“What are you talking about?” Sieun asks, face blank as always. Suho turns beet red. What was he talking about?

“Huh, oh, I don’t know.” Suho laughs sheepishly.

“Weirdo,” Sieun mumbles, going back to his math (how does one factor??)

And this is my head and this is my spout

But they work together; they can't figure anything out

—————

Suho thinks that if his life really is a rom-com, someone should really just kill the director. Maybe then he’d be able to make sense of himself, maybe tell Sieun how he feels? He feels like he’s not the one writing this story, that it’s some cruel, money milking old man who wants the show to run as long as possible.

Just his luck.

This is truly, truly, miserable. When, oh when, would he get a beautiful fairytale ending with Sieun? One where they hold hands and run off into the sunset like a coming-of-age movie?

If this is a rom-com, kill the director!

—————

Suho might just be dead. Or sleeping. One of those. Because something is happening that only seems plausible in his dreams, or heaven.

Sieun’s lips. On his. They’re kissing. What?

How did they get here again? What was Suho’s name? Is he having a stroke? Did he get concussed? What’s happening?

“Shut up,” Sieun says, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Suho must have said that out loud.

“Yes sir,” Suho replies dutifully, wide eyed and in awe.

If this is a rom-com, he needs to thank the director.

[mykneeshurt]

Haunted part 10

Don’t know if I dig this chapter. Feels rushed to me, tried to pace it right but I’m not sure! Wrote it while the other half had the World Cup on lmao.

Da Vosk Docta - Gentrify - heavily inspired the smut in this chapter, give it a listen and pay attention to the beat and breathing lmfao. I’ve had it on repeat, makes me feel like a villain.

Warnings - gore, character death, cod typical violence, smut upon smut, NSFW

This is what he looks like in this chapter btw, no skull today! I don’t own this gif or characters.

Part 11

Slowly opening your eyes the early morning sun seeped in through the high openings of the safe house. Turning your head slowly as you stretched you were met with a pair of deep umber eyes watching you intently. ‘Fuck Simon. You’re doing my head in with this creeping round bullshit’ you gasped. Desperately trying to calm your thumping heart. ‘What time is it? Is anyone even up yet?’

‘05:00. No one’s up yet, Price asked me to get everyone up in half hour. Seein’ as I never sleep.’

‘Then why are you lurking and watching me sleep?’

He cocked his head. ‘Why do you call me Simon rather than Ghost like everyone else?’ He asked, eyes ablaze with wonder. You’d been awake all of 10 seconds and he’s asking you this? Now? Fuck sake. Sighing you rubbed your eyes and sat up. ‘Because I want to talk to you rather than Ghost. You use Ghost as some form of protector, to shield you from your past. To separate the two. Ghost is an enigma, cold, calculating, a killer who is only focused on the task at hand. Simon is the one who kept Johnny calm when he was alone, who cares about me and makes me feel safe. Not Ghost.’

He watched you intently, how your lips moved saying his name, how you softened your voice to show you weren’t a threat. ‘You like to hide Simon, disconnect what he went through. But he’s more visible than you think’ you continued, ‘I’ve seen you and Johnny, you care about him and I know that’s scary for you. You try not to get attached to people because you’re scared you’ll lose them. What you went through wasn’t your fault and it changed you, but it doesn’t define to. You can’t let it stop you from allowing yourself to care about people. Because you clearly do.’ you shrugged.

He didn’t expect you to have an answer ready, how you read him so clearly and confidently. Not many people could read him, which is something he prided himself on. To remain a Ghost amongst the living. He slowly sank to his knees in-front of you, the ultimate position of submission. You crawled over to him and kissed his masked cheek, ‘your secrets safe with me … Simon.’ He felt his cock twitch at the way you drawled his name. They way your eyes lit up as you looked at him. Your soft lips dripped with desire and want.

You knelt up over him and placed your hands at the junction of his neck and broad shoulders. He brought his hands to your hips and rested them there. Watching you attentively his eyes traced the shape of your lips, your jaw, your neck. Everywhere he wanted to devour and savour. Working your thumbs under the rim of his balaclava you worked it up his neck. You could feel his stoic pulse just beneath the surface, never giving anything away. Your soft hands caressed his warm skin, sending ripples of pleasure through him. The mask finally laid to rest just below his nose, his plump lips fully on show.

You cupped his strong jaw and tilted his head up to look at you. Leaning in he could taste your smile as your lips touched. He craved your kisses, the way your lips fit together so … perfectly. While emotionally he struggled to give himself to you, physically he had no issue. Your touch made him feel wanted, validated and gave him brief solace from the torment in his mind. He returned your kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as his grasp on your waist tightened. Pulling you in closer to him your pelvis rested against his chest, your panties already becoming soaked.

A small moan escaped your lips into his mouth causing him to thrust his hips upwards. ‘Fuckin’ hell. Steady’ he whispered. Completely ignoring him you clutched at his hair under the mask pulling him away from you, forcing him to look up once again. ‘You’re gonna fuck me till all I can say is your name’ you demanded. A small growl left his throat, there was nothing he wanted more. ‘Are you gonna be a good boy and fuck me?’ Your grip tightened as he hissed through his teeth. He couldn’t even find the words to answer, for once he had nothing to say.

Glancing at your watch you bit your lip ‘looks like we got 20 minutes Lt. What you wanna do?’ He wanted more than 20 minutes with you, 20 minutes was a quick fuck. Wham bam thank you ma’am. No. He wanted to drag his tongue through your folds, feel your silk like skin beneath his fingers, mark you, savour you. 20 minutes was nothing. It wasn’t enough for what he wanted to do to you.

Instead he silently cocked his head and rose up onto his knees, thighs tensing. ‘Negative. Got summin else in mind.’ You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He popped open your cargo trousers and slipped his hands into your panties, his middle finger made sharp contact with your clit. You let out a surprised gasp at the sudden feeling against the firm bundle of nerves. As quickly as he had reached in he pulled out again, your arousal plan as day on his finger. Keeping eye contact with you his sucked his finger clean, slowly, ‘fuck.’

He sat on a box behind him pulling you by your trousers so you were straddling his thigh. ‘Ride my thigh till you fukin’ cum’ he barked. Needing no encouragement you began to grind your hips on his thigh. You placed your arms around his neck, he entangled his hand in your hair pulling it taught. ‘20 minutes eh? I suggest you make yourself fuckin cum.’ Small shaky gasps of breath left your open mouth, trying your best to keep quiet. Your hips rocked back and forth chasing your orgasm. ‘That’s it’ he cooed, spurring you on. He placed his other hand in the small of your back feeling the ripples of your spine.

Hearing your moans grow louder with desperation he pulled your head into his neck, trying to muffle them. You clawed at his chest, the pleasure building, your muscles tightening. He whispered filthy praises into your ear, urging you to cum on his thigh. Your body grew desperate yearning for its release, you were right in the edge. He yanked your head back ‘fucking cum’ he growled as he increased his grip on your hair further. ‘Fuck … fuck … fu … I’m gonna … Simon’ you pleaded. Your dripping cunt clenched over his thigh, your juices soaking through onto his trousers. ‘I can feel you, good girl, that’s it, keep going.’

You peeled your head back from his neck your pupils blown wide, a small grin danced along your lips. He let out a satisfied grunt before helping you stand, clearly pleased with himself. He did your trousers up and placed his forehead against yours, ‘head up and focus today.’

‘Yes sir.’

————————-

The vans pulled up to the HQ, it was crawling with Shadows. ‘What’s the plan Lt?’ Soap asked. You shifted in your seat, triple checking your gun, ammo and knives. Always carry two. ‘Alejandro, Gaz and Price are gonna get a helo, sort this gate for us and we’re gonna work our way to the main buildin. Gaz and Alejandro will get to Valeria. We’re goin’ after Graves.’ He shot you a look, a warning not to get a head of yourself. You nodded back, fully understanding.

‘Ghost 0-1. Got a helo, on my way to you now. Soap get the marker, mark where you need the fire power.’ Soap moved and marked the main gate ready for Price. Within seconds an explosion rang out, shards of glass and metal flew around the van as the driver made way into the compound. The doors of the van opened and everyone piled out, Ghost flashed you a look again. He was worried.

Filing through the yard Los Vaqueros took point, their rage made them even more deadly. They glanced around at their base, their home eager to win it back. Shots rang out all around you, you kept to the back. Not that you weren’t capable, you just didn’t want to get under their feet, you weren’t usually on the front line. You managed to take down a few Shadows that lined the roof tops. ‘Good shots Doc!’ Soap yelled out over the chaos. Deciding to offer cover from above rather than the floor you climbed on top of a building mounting your gun on the wall. ‘I’ve got clear sights of the buildings, get a move on. I’ve got you!’

‘Rog.’ Ghost replied. They moved through the buildings clearing them one by one. You offered cover from the sky, taking out stragglers as they weaved their way through to the HQ building. ‘Ghost 0-5 to Ghost 0-1, TAC-V pulling into court yard outside main building. Boys are busy, gonna need your assistance.’

‘Copy Ghost 0-5. Good spot. Takin em out now’ Price’s gruff voice replied.

Climbing down you cleared some more Shadows before finding your way back to the team. ‘Nice shootin there Doc. Need t’get you out with us more often.’

‘In your dreams Soap.’ You smiled back at him. You once again found Ghosts eyes, he scanned you to make sure you were ok. Meeting his gaze you offered him a look of reassurance.

He knew you were more than capable of looking after yourself, but he found himself beginning to care. He was finally letting you in, with that thought scaring him he snapped back to the here and now. Reprimanding himself. He saw flashes of his family, killed in cold blood. ‘That’s what happens when you care about people’ he told himself. They die. Everyone around you dies sooner or later. He struggled so much with the voice inside his head, bullying him not to get close to you. But needed you, you haunted his mind, creeping into every thought he has.

‘Ready Lt?’ Soap asked over the radio, raring to get going. ‘Let’s go Johnny.’ With that you ran across the courtyard and to the main doors. ‘Locked, got anything Rudy?’

Rudolfo placed C-4 on the doors and signalled for everyone to back up. Taking cover behind Ghosts frame he placed a hand on your bare arm. Your t-shirt shredded to pieces, only a tactical vest covering you. Covered in blood from your injuries from the last few days.

Rudolfo blew the C-4, the doors disintegrating beneath the force. ‘Graves! First floor!’ Soap shouted as he took point, ascending the stairs and taking out some Shadows. The rest followed behind him, making their way into the comms room. Looking around Soap sighed‘Fuckers not here!’

‘Down the back!’ Ghost yelled back. Following suit you descended the stairs coming out into another courtyard. A helicopter was heard in the background, you stood helpless watching as Graves took off.

‘Be seein you!’ Graves taunted over the tannoy.

‘Gah! FUCK SAKE!’ Soap groaned throwing his gun in pure frustration. ‘Hey hermano! It’s ok’ Alejandro comforted ‘we’ll find him.’

Little did they know you’d been lining up a shot from the balcony as the helicopter took off. As the boys tried to come to terms with what they thought was a loss you squeezed the trigger. A single shot echoed in the courtyard.

Bullseye.

Graves lifeless body slumped out of the helicopter and fell to the ground. Dropping the rifle you’d found you saw they boys looking up at you. Mouths agape with awe. ‘Steamin bloody Jesus’ Soap whispered. Alejandro and Rudolfo had shit eating grins on their faces, and Ghost. Well, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Shrugging you made your way down the steps and met up with them. ‘Not just a pretty face’ you teased. Soap brought you into a tight hug ‘god I could kiss yah!’

‘Shut up Soap, fuckin’ hell’ Ghost snapped. Snorting you hugged Soap back before Alejandro and Rudolfo patted you firmly on the shoulder.

Alejandro sighed, ‘Valeria said the missiles are headed for Chicago. More than likely where Hassan is.’ Gaz and Price joined the group, they were both impressed that it was you who took down Graves. Price hinted at you getting a medal for this making you blush. ‘Right. Laswell can get a plane here in 4 hours. Rest up till then, you’re gonna need it.’

Acknowledging your captain you headed straight for the showers. Covered in blood, dirt, sweat you felt disgusting. Dusk approached quickly, Alejandro, Rudolfo and the rest of Los Vaqueros went to the main building to take stock of the damage caused. Soap and Gaz went to find a free bed in the barracks eager to get their heads down. Price went to make some calls to Laswell and fill her in on your extraordinary accomplishment.

Swinging by the bunk you were using before Graves captured you, you found your bag untouched. Grabbing some clean clothes you sauntered over to the showers. Stripping off your shoulder still stiff and tender you inspected your battered body. Bruises and abrasions littered your skin, tutting you stepped into the shower hissing at the water making contact with your skin. You stood under the shower head and let the water fall over you, massaging your tight and aching muscles. Your hair stuck to your skin, slightly matted from the sweat and blood.

Over the sound of the water you heard the curtain move. Your heart pounding you went to turn around, fighting to find energy to fight off your assailant. ‘Don’t turn around’ Ghosts voice ricocheted through the empty bathroom. He placed his hands on your hips, pulling you against him. Falling back against his naked body you let out a groan, your hands fell against his thighs for balance. As your fingers encapsulated his muscular legs you could feel every ripple, every crevice and layer of his muscles. So tight against the surface of his skin.

He held you for a while, allowing you to explore his body from behind. Slowly he moved one hand and trailed it up your body until he found your neck. Gripping it he used his long fingers to coax your jaw upwards, lengthening your neck. A shaky gasp left your throat as you grasped desperately at his thighs. His erection pressed firmly into your back, you parted your lips in anticipation. He directed your face to his ‘keep your eyes closed.’ Doing as you were told you snapped them shut as his lips found yours. You let out a muffled squeal realising he’d taken his mask off.

His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, eagerly you welcomed him into you. Kissing him back you brought your hand to cup the back of his head, pulling him in closer to you. His hand still on your hip slowly moved down to your slit, he coaxed your legs open with a firm push. He then caressed your lips, coating his fingers in your arousal. Groaning into your mouth he inserted a finger, then another. Bucking your hips you eagerly begged him to finger fuck you. Setting up a firm rhythm his middle and ring finger fucked your cunt. His palm pressing against your clit as he thrusted in and out of you, you smiled into his mouth moaning at his touch. He pressed against your neck, gaining complete control over you, he could feel your pulse rising under his fingertips.

Your walls tightened around his fingers as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach tightening. He broke away from the kiss, your face screwed up with pleasure. ‘Please Simon, keep going’ you begged. He increased his pace curling his fingers into you. Quiet murmurs of adoration left your lips, pleading with him to let you cum. Just as you were about to fall off the edge he removed his fingers. Feeling the sudden emptiness tears pricked at your eyes from the denied orgasm. A choked sob left you as you tried to ground yourself from the feeling of being edged.

‘Back against the wall’ he ordered. Keeping your eyes shut you turned around and found the cold tile behind you. He knelt on the floor and lifted a leg over his shoulder, placing light kisses in the inside of your thigh. As he grew closer to your cunt he bit at the sensitive skin, eliciting a guttural moan from you. Smirking to himself he buried his face into your dripping pussy. He nipped at your clit and he lazily licked your folds. Savouring the taste of you on his lips. Sliding your hand into his hair you subconsciously pulled him deeper into you, causing a moan to escape him. His moans felt like velvet on your cunt.

As he enveloped your clit with him tongue he inserted two fingers again, this time matching the pace of his tongue. Your walls began to tighten again, as did the cool in your stomach. He stared up at you, studying every dip and blemish on your skin, your stretch marks, the glow on your skin from the water. You looked ethereal to him, your plump lips exuding his name is a slurred flurry of pleasure. Just as the coil was about to snap he pulled away, again.

You couldn’t take much more of this ‘fuck Simon please. Pleaseee’ you begged, and you begged hard. Slowly standing up his kissed your stomach, onto your torso and back onto your neck. ‘Shhh. I want you to cum so hard you’ll only know my name’ he whispered to you. Tears slowly starting to fall, he gripped your thigh and pulled you up so you could wrap yourself around his waist. As you wrapped your legs around him he lined himself up at your entrance and pushed himself in. His thick cock stretched you out in the most intense way. You threw your head back and arched your back, pushing your breasts into him. He slammed his hips into you, his cock hit every spot as he built up his pace.

Fast pathetic moans and whimpers filled the space between you. It felt incredible, his calloused fingers gripped at your fleshy hips keeping you pressed against the wall. ‘Fuck, good girl’ he drawled ‘… cunt feels so good.’ Completely cock drunk you couldn’t even answer, completely blissed out as he fucked you. Leaning forward you kissed him again as he ate the noises coming from you. ‘You feel so good Simon. Shit … shit … oh God!’

‘There is no God, just me’ he smirked. You smiled lazily at that, you loved it when he acted cocky. The coil built up for the third time and you snaked your hand down to your clit. Your walls tightened again around his cock and this time he granted you permission to cum. With no one around you moaned his name over and over as you rode out your pulsating orgasm on his cock.

‘Fill me Simon, please … fuck.’ Losing his rhythm gradually you knew he was nearing his release. Choked whimpers came from him at his cock throbbed inside your still pulsating cunt. You felt his cum line your walls, biting your lip you smirked, him filling you was your favourite. You loved nothing more than him filling you with his cum. Both riding out your orgasms he loved a tender kiss on your lips before letting you down. Your legs were weak beneath you, he held you close to offer support as he grabbed the body wash and began tentatively washing you. Letting out a small giggle you regained your bearings, ‘so domestic Simon.’ He grunted behind you clearly not amused at your comment. He slapped your ass, leaving a red handprint on your skin.

You both washed in silence, both completely satisfied and content. He pulled you in from behind again and kissed your neck before leaving to get dressed. Smiling to yourself you but your lip and remained under the shower, trying to process the most incredible sex you’ve ever had.

[webbywatcheshorror]

Webby Reviews Horror: Necromentia (2009)

[WARNING- THIS MOVIE IS UNRATED AND CONTAINS INSTANCES OF GORE, VIOLENCE, AND TOPICS THAT MAY BE CONSIDERED DISTURBING]

Prefacing this one with some content warnings since it’s a pretty messed up little movie. For more specifics, please visit this DoesTheDogDie.com entry.

(It does seem like the DtDD entry is incomplete, so if you choose to watch this one, do note that there’s a decent amount of mutilation in it, lots of blood, drug use, and an instance of necrophilia.)

Necromentia is a dark, grungy film about love, revenge, and really, really bad choices. It’s also about pain and its many forms, and what people do to free themselves of it. I’ve seen this one multiple times, and it still makes my skin crawl each time, which is quite a feat at this point tbh.

Review under the cut, and as always, SPOILERS.

I’d describe this one as being inspired by both Hellraiser and Saw- it’s one of the grimiest movies I think I’ve ever seen, and there’s a big, big emphasis on pain and has what’s basically a Cenobite. It’s also one of the first movies I remember watching that’s told basically in reverse, much like Terrified.

Also like Terrified, I’ll be splitting this one into parts to talk about, but only three, and each one will focus on a different character. Hagen, Travis, and Morbius.

The first segment of this movie is about a guy named Hagen, who is in Hell. Which is represented by a dirty maintenance hall full of pipes and dust and a figure wearing a gas mask who tells him ‘Bad Decision, Hagen’. Hagen’s story is that he’s been taking care of his girlfriend Elizabeth’s corpse with the expectation that she’ll come back to it- and she’s been dead at least a month, maybe even two or more. Hagen meets (a word which here means, is accosted by) two men, Travis and an unnamed guy wearing a shirt that says Fubar; Travis tells him they know what he’s been up to, his disgusting daily rituals, and they’re here to offer him a deal. They can bring people back from the dead, but they need his help to do it.

He agrees, and Travis lures him into the trap- he’s going to use Hagen as a key to open a gate to Hell, so he can go find his brother and Hagen can go find Elizabeth. When Hagen gets to Hell, however, all he finds is punishment- a Cenobite mutilates him with some eye horror that squicks me out, then drags him off into the darkness presumably for all eternity.

Hagen’s part in the story is fairly short to start with, and we don’t really learn much about him other than he’s a deeply disturbed, desperate man with less sense than morals (and the bar is on the floor, beasties, you’ll know what I mean later.). He’s so eager to bring back his girlfriend that he ignores the clear signs that Travis was manipulating him from the start.

11 months prior to Hagen’s demise, Travis is a young(ish?) man struggling to take care of himself and his younger brother, who has unspecified mental illness and is confined to a wheelchair most of the time, unable to really communicate. They also own the weirdest TV set known to man- it’s got a big, gnarly looking pig face framing the screen, and apparently only shows static, but Thomas loves it.

I’m pretty sure the TV is fucking possessed, because the second Travis leaves for work, we meet a man? Demon? named Mr. Skinny, wearing a pig mask and wrapped in barbed wire and tubes, singing about suicide in a high pitched voice. It’s incredibly morbid, but I inexplicably like the one line ‘wake up in the morning with shotgun mouth’. I have no idea why, as it’s certainly NOT the subject matter. Thomas seems enchanted by him and I believe this is supposed to imply that he’s been suicidal for some time but unable to express it in a way that others can understand.

The scene of Travis at work is the one that really gives me the heebies and/or jeebies- he erotically mutilates people. This ranges from cutting, sticking needles into gums, even chopping off digits, if that’s what the customer wants. It’s a scene I have a hard time watching, possibly due to the intimate feeling of it, or maybe just because I can’t stop myself from wondering how it might feel and the answer is always: BAD. The music is great though.

Moving on. Travis shoots up with some unidentified clear liquid, hoping it will help him get off the heroin, but he probably shoulda just stuck with the heroin, seeing as whatever advanced form of drug this is transports him to a different dimension where a demon greets him. Despite being warned that Thomas is in danger, Travis refuses to grant the demon his help, and a few days later, Mr. Skinny influences Thomas to murder his babysitter and supposedly commit suicide, but Travis doesn’t seem to ever find his body. (side note- the guy fell asleep reading a fetish magazine featuring ‘the wheelchair experience’. While babysitting a young man who is wheelchair bound and UNABLE TO SPEAK. Now I don’t know if that’s supposed to imply anything, but he gave me the creeps, so I’m not particularly sad to see him go.)

The demon promises to help Travis bring Thomas back, so they make a deal and the demon, Morbius, teaches Travis necromancy. Morbius takes over the body of dead babysitter, Fubar, and they start their hunt for Hagen- Morbius hates the shit out of the guy and wants him in Hell like, yesterday. When he’s finally carved up like a turkey and dropped into the Hell Hall, Travis follows him and discovers that oops! Maybe making a deal with a demon was a bad idea! He’s attacked by the Cenobite and dragged off into the darkness, just like Hagen.

Travis’s story is much sadder to me personally, and I wish he had been successful, if only for Thomas’s sake. Morbius had warned him that his weakness (self mutilation and drugs) was what drew him to the guy in the first place, and that other demons were drawn to him, too- he tells him that it’s Travis’s fault that Mr. Skinny ever found his brother in the first place. Travis was trying, struggling, being failed by the system that was supposed to help him and Thomas. All for nothing. Worse than nothing, really. 

The final portion of the movie tells us Morbius’ story and why he hates Hagen so, so much- Morbs used to be human. He was searching for answers in every way he could, including the occult, going so far as to carve sigils into his torso on his quest for meaning. He tries to show affection to his girlfriend- Elizabeth. You know, the corpse from the beginning of the movie? Yeah, her again. She refuses to look at him, cutting him off from any attempts at communication, as he is mute. All she gives him is snide remarks about working late hours.

I already hated her the moment this scene happened. I cannot stand this woman and I like her way better as a corpse. It’s already fucked up that she effectively denies Morbius the ability to ‘speak’, but later we find out she’s been cheating on him with Hagen, is apparently pregnant, and then admits she doesn’t want to leave Morbius because she likes having what is essentially a slave to her every whim. 

Then she says she’d rather Morbius be dead than have to dump him. Girl, get some fucking help. What the fuck is wrong with you.

She begs Hagen to help her murder him so they can be together, and after some half hearted protest, he gives in. Hagen is a pushover, clearly. “Help me open a hell gate, Hagen. Help me murder my boyfriend, Hagen. Fuckin’, tie my shoes, Hagen.” Just does whatever anyone asks, I guess. 

While his beloved and her future bodykeeper are plotting his death, Morbius is working as a bartender where he serves Travis and other nameless patrons. On his way home, he finds Travis passed out in the alley, freshly mugged, and discovers he, too, apparently just carries a small vial of blood on him??? And his inner monologue mentions that pain binds us all, even if we don’t know it. Probably referring to how everyone’s story is intertwined or whatever. Honestly it sounds kind of pretentious imo.

Anyway, Hagen and Elizabeth attempt to murder Morbius by putting herbicide in his drink that night, but it’s kind of a slow death and Elizabeth, impatiently, tries to hasten it by taunting him??? With news of her pregnancy?????? This pushes Morbs over the edge and he manages to strangle the life out of her before Hagen brutalizes his face with a folding chair.

Morbius wakes up in the Hell Hall, discovers he can speak, and immediately dials into the fact that he’s dead. Gas Mask demon calls him daddy in a non sexual way and tells him he’s created this Hell through sheer will, and invites him to leave behind the world of the living. When Morbius demands revenge, Gas Mask tries to warn him that to pursue this path will turn him into a monster.

And so it does. Once Hagen lands in Hell, Morbius becomes the Cenobite, twisted and blind, warped by his revenge, cursed to roam the endless Hell of his own creation. Nobody is happy and everyone is dead.

Everyone in this movie is supremely fucked up in one way or another, whether by circumstances breaking them or just by being a huge fucking bitch, Elizabeth. Hagen, Morbius, Travis, Fubar, even Thomas was fucked up, though not his fault. It’s a tragic chain of events that dooms each person unlucky enough to touch it, and hard to say whether or not things could have gone differently had they made different choices. Were they doomed from the start, or could they have avoided their fate? Who knows. 

The moral of the story could be don’t do drugs. Or it could be don’t fuck with demons. Or that revenge will consume you and make you into a monster. Or maybe just break up instead of considering murder. Seriously Elizabeth wtf.

6 out of 10 ghosts, for being an interesting story and making me uncomfortable, which I enjoy in horror. It’s a movie I revisit every several years, but not one I’d say is my favorite- just a weird little romp into a miserable, filthy world. Like seriously not a single scene took place in a clean room. Everything looked disgusting all the time. It ruled. Gross horror rules.

[blooming-violets]

Imminent: Part Three || TASM

Finale || TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

[A Completed Three Part Story]: [Part One] [Part Two]

Summary: Every time you close your eyes to sleep, you’re tormented by visions of future deaths. Sometimes it’s of people close to you and sometimes it’s of strangers. Yet, each time, you know it’s inevitable. There’s nothing you can do to stop death from finding their victims. But when a beautiful, sad, brown eyed man keeps pushing his way into your visions, you can’t help but try.

Warnings: violence, blood, use of knives and guns, mention of a needle 

A/N: Thanks for coming along on this weird, little ride with me. It feels nice to have an idea, write it in snippets (the lore in my head goes deep but I just did not have the time or energy to fully bring it to conception), and get it out into the world. I had fun. I hope you did too. -xoKatie

You blinked at him with disbelief, your mouth agape in shock, “You’re Spider-Man?!”

Peter’s eyes widened in shock and an impressed grin grew across his lips, “Holy shit...You really do see stuff in your dreams.” 

You sat up, your head suddenly spinning as your body tried to shake off the effects of the Ambien, and you punched his shoulder in frustration, “I thought I was the weird one! You’re Spider-Man! You’re more of a freak than me.” 

Peter held up his hands in defense, “Alright, alright. Don’t go screaming it. That defeats the purpose of secret identities.”

It was no wonder he accepted your visions so easily. He'd probably seen much crazier things than you in the past. You had about a million and ten questions buzzing around in your head for him. 

“How do you make the webs? How do you stick to walls? What’s it like to swing through the city? Who made your costume? What’s the craziest thing you ever fought? Do you really have Spidey Senses like the media says you do? How many people have you killed? Are you-”

Peter cupped his hands over you mouth to silence you, “We’re getting off track. You’re supposed to tell me how I die, remember? Do you understand why it’s so important now? If I die, Spider-Man dies. I can’t let that happen.” 

You swatted his hand away from your mouth and flopped onto your back, staring up at your ceiling. You held Spider-Man’s fate in the palm of your hands. You suddenly felt a lot more pressure than you had before. Maybe your visions weren’t such a burden after all? 

He crawled into bed beside you and stifled a yawn. The moon was high in the sky and Peter must have turned on your bedside lamp while you were dreaming for some soft light. A good few hours had passed since you had fallen asleep. You still felt tired and drugged. It was hard to formulate full thoughts. All you knew was that you had a new found desire to save Peter from his fate. 

“Do you know any shadow men?” You asked him. 

He shook his head ‘no’ and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t think so but, this past month, I’ve felt like I’m being watched. It’s always by different people. The other day, when you said if felt like his appearance wasn’t set in stone, it got me thinking. I keep running into these weird people. The pizza man who showed up at my house, the lady I get coffee from, random people on the subway, even a cop I spoke to after catching a petty thief. I get a weird feeling when I look at them like there’s something wrong. Like they’re not who they claim to be.”

The memory of watching your own body transform into the black shadow floated through your vision. “Like they’re wearing someone else’s skin?” 

Peter shifted his head to stare across the mattress at you, “Exactly.”

“I think that’s the shadow man! That’s who kills you. In the vision, I saw myself. I stabbed you. Then I turned into the shadowy thing. It was as if he had camouflaged himself as me. Do you think he can morph into other people?” It was a strange idea but after finding out your new friend is New York’s famous hero, not much surprised you anymore. “On any other day, I’d say that sounds absolutely absurd, but I can see the future and you’re Spider-Man...so, having someone be able to disguise themselves as another person doesn’t seem that crazy of an idea at this point.”

“He can camouflage himself...like a chameleon,” Peter whispered. He suddenly sat up and looked at you with excitement. “Maybe that’s why you can’t see what he actually looks like? Because he can be anything! If he can take the shape of whoever he wants then he can be anyone when he finally kills me.” The excitement faded from his face and his smile fell as he realized what he had just said. A heavy silence fell over the room. You could see Peter’s mind working a mile a minute behind the hollow, uneasy look in his eye. He swallowed. “...Am I going to die?” His voice was nothing more a heartbroken whisper. 

The burdensome feeling of guilt settled in your stomach as you watched him finally realize the reality of his situation. This was why your grandfather didn’t want to know about his death before it happened. The knowledge carried too much weight. 

You sat up, afraid to give him false hope, but wanting to soothe his worries, “I’ve predicted a lot of death before but I’ve never predicted Spider-Man’s. If anyone can change the future, it’s you. You’re a real superhero, Peter. I’m just some recluse who drinks too much and desperately needs to sleep. Just because I never successfully saved anyone, doesn’t mean it can never happen.” You paused and let out a quiet sight, “I think after I watched my parents die, I sort of gave up. I tried to save them and I failed. Maybe I just took that at face value and assumed no one was able to be saved. Maybe I was afraid to keep failing so I just never tried.” 

How many lives had been lost because you refused to do anything? What if your visions weren’t a curse? What if they were gift and you were the one who was wasting them? Peter had been given powers and look what he used them to do. He became a hero. You became a scared, little nobody. 

Peter chewed on the inside of his lip while he got lost in his thoughts. He had gone quiet. You could tell he was building walls up around him with each passing second. The air around your bed felt thick with unsaid emotions. The finality of death and one’s own mortality hung like a cloud over your heads. 

“If I die, I need you to do something for me.” His voice cut through the silence and made you jump as you were pulled away from your own spiraling thoughts.  He reached into the back pocket of his dark, ripped jeans and handed you a folded piece of paper. “This is the name and address of my Aunt May. After I die, I need you to go to her house and tell her to look under my bed. There’s a shoe box under there. I wrote her a letter. It should be in there. I need you to make sure that she reads it.” 

You started to shake your head, trying to tell him that he wasn’t going to die, but Peter interrupted you, “No! I need you to promise me that you’ll do this. You’re the only person who will know.” He was starting to sound desperate. “She’ll be confused as to why you’re there but, promise me, that you’ll make her look under my bed. I can’t leave her in the dark. She needs to know the truth. She needs to understand. I can’t leave her alone with no answers. She doesn’t deserve that.” His voice cracked and he quickly got off the bed, turning his back to you. You could hear him try to hide a sniffle, his shoulders tensing, and he leaned against your window to stare up at the night sky. 

Tenderly, you slipped off the bed and quietly padded after him. You weren’t very good at comforting people. Taking care of others certainly wasn’t your strong suit but Peter made you push aside your own uncomfortable emotions. In five years, he was the first person you actually felt like you could trust. He was the first person you wanted to keep around. 

And soon he might be dead. 

You patted a stiff hand awkwardly against his back and cleared your throat, “I promise I’ll tell her.” You knew it wasn’t much but it was the best you could think of the help ease his pain. 

Peter looked down at you, a few tears had escaped the confines of his eyes and were rolling down his cheek, “Thank you.” He gave you a somber smile and let out a morbid, dark laugh. “I’ve been around a lot death. I thought when my time came, I’d be more content to meet it head on. Apparently I was wrong. I don’t want to die. Not yet.”

“Then don’t,” you whispered. “We can think of a plan. Let me tell you all about my vision. You can be prepared when the time comes.” 

You carefully took his hand and pulled him back to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress pressed close against his side, his hand still gripped in yours. 

“It’s starts off in a nightclub lounge...” 

Two days had past and Peter was still very much alive. 

Every evening, he’d stop by your window to check in, let you know all was well, then be off again. It felt like you were doing nothing but sitting around and waiting for a bomb to drop. Peter had been searching for the man he had dubbed The Chameleon but was coming up empty handed. It was hard to search for someone who had the ability to change their form at will. He knew to be wary of any messages depicting you captured which lured him to a nightclub. The plan was, if he received anything of the sort, he would immediately call you. If you didn’t answer your phone then he would swing by your apartment to check you were okay. If someone was posing as you, chances are, the real you would be hanging out at home without any knowledge of the impostor. Once he saw you were safe, he would enter the nightclub having the upper hand and with a new plan of attack.

Your dreams of him had stopped and had gone back to random folks in other parts of the world. You took that as a sign maybe you had already changed the future. As long as Peter knew how his death occurred, he wouldn’t do those things, and thus a change would happen. A simple butterfly effect. A small change and the entire future gets rewritten. 

“Do you think it’ll be like Final Destination?” Peter had asked one night while he devoured deli meat straight out of your fridge. “If I don’t die this time, I’ll end up fried inside of a tanning bed later on?”

You had laughed at his absurdity. You were fairly certain that wasn’t how this worked. Your mindset was changing the more you hung around him. The future wasn’t always prewritten. You alone had the power to change it. It was because of Peter you could feel a new found confidence settling in thanks to your power.

“That depends, how often do you go tanning?” 

You were beginning to have hope that maybe you could have a real future with Peter. Even if it was just as friends, you’d love to keep him your life. He was extremely intelligent and resourceful. He had spent hours one morning eagerly explaining the ins and outs of his Spider-Man costume to you. He had notebooks full of science equations you couldn’t even begin to understand and mentioned that he access to some of the top scientists while he was studying to get a doctorate in biochemistry. Peter promised that once The Chameleon was dealt with, he would do everything he could to help you learn about your powers. Even claiming that he already had a series of experiments lined up to watch your brain waves while you slept. With his presence in your life, you were starting to feel less like an outcast and more like someone with a particular gift. Maybe you and Spider-Man could even team up some day. You could tell him who needed saving and he could be the hero. 

Having a friend felt warm and hopeful. 

The familiar buzz rang out through your apartment indicating someone was waiting down at the front door for you. You hadn’t ordered any food recently and it wasn’t like you had many friends besides Peter who sprung by for unannounced visits. There had been times people had buzzed your room by mistake. You wouldn’t be surprised if this was one of those times. 

You hit the button to talk, “If you’re looking for Mrs. Gratey, she’s the button above mine.”

Peter’s voice echoed through the speaker, “Hey! It’s me. Can I come in?” 

“Oh...yeah, sure.” You pressed the button to unlock to front door. You had gotten so used to him showing up at the window that you hadn’t expected him to use the door like a civilized human. He was also a few hours earlier than he normally showed up. Peter usually liked to time his arrival right as the sun was beginning to set. 

You waited until you heard the knock on your apartment door before opening it with a smile, “Hi, you’re early. Did you get sick of window hopping and finally decide to try the elevator?” 

Peter stepped inside and smiled back with a shrug, “There were too many people around. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by climbing up the side of a wall today.” 

“Well, I’m glad you got the elevator experience then. I was just finishing up the laundry. Mind if I fold clothes while you’re here?” You wandered into your bedroom where a pile of half folded clothes lay scattered over your bed. He followed behind you, clearly opting to skip his typical fridge raid this afternoon. 

“I won’t be here for long. I have a favor to ask,” he leaned against the end of your bed and bounced on the balls of his feet like he was anxious about something. 

You picked up some leggings and started to fold them, giving him an expecting look. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his smashed phone. The screen was completely unusable as it was filled with a spider web of thick, white cracks. You let out a low whistle, “Damn. What, did you throw it off the Empire State Building?”

Peter chuckled, “Something like that. It slipped out of my pocket about 50 stories up. Do you think I could borrow yours? Just for tonight! I’ll swing it back before sunrise.” 

“What does Spider-Man need a phone for?” You asked him. You placed the folded leggings down and picked up a shirt. Something in your stomach flipped and you carefully studied his face while you mindlessly worked. 

He chucked again, his smile not quite reaching not eyes, “I’ve almost figured this case out. I need the gps and to make a few calls. I promise I won’t drop yours. Please. Just for a few hours.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Anxiety stirred in your stomach as you looked over his face. Something seemed off. His eyes were different. Darker. They lacked the warmth and safety you usually felt when you looked in them. If you gave him your phone, you’d be left without a means of communication. You didn’t think Peter would ask that of you especially with what he knew was coming. 

“Yeah, sure, of course.” You muttered. You shuffled over to your bedside table, keeping him in your sights, and grabbed it from the charger. Alarm bells were ringing in your ears, yelling at you to not hand over your phone. Peter never used the front door...

He smiled. It was a little too wide, a little too toothy. You held your phone tighter in your hand and cleared your throat. 

“Hey, remember the night we met?” You asked him, trying to keep your voice light. “I was coming out of the bookstore and you bumped into me? You said you were interested in that book I had bought. I finished it if you’d like to give it a go.” You subtly ran your thumb across the lock screen to your phone and tried to search for Peter’s name without shifting your eyes downwards too draw attention to the act. 

Peter raised his eyebrows and nodded, “Oh? Yeah, that’s right. That’d be awesome. After this is over, I’d love to read it. I’m really busy tonight though. Can I just have your phone and I’ll be out of your hair?”

This was not Peter Parker. 

Despite trying to keep your face neutral, both you and the impostor Peter realized the truth at the same time. He dove for your phone just as you leap onto the bed to escape his reach. 

He grabbed at your ankle, pulling you back towards him, “You bitch!” His voice shifted between Peter’s cool tones and that deepness of the shadow man.  

“Peter and I met at a bar, you fucker!” You rolled onto your back, your freshly folded clothes flying to the ground, and aimed a kick directly at your friends face. The moment your foot made contact, Peter’s face disappeared into a puff of black smoke and congealed as a white, skull-like, nearly featureless face. You recoiled back in disgust. “Get away from me, you Voldemort looking freak!” You had the sudden realization that if this man actually captured you, Peter was not going to believe it was the real you. He was going to think you were the fake. 

You had to warn him.

You aimed another kick at Chameleon and rolled off the other side of the bed, sinking to the ground and hitting Peter’s contact. As you heard your intruder stomp around the edge of the bed, you quickly flattened yourself and shuffled underneath it, holding the phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” Peter answered. 

“Peter!” You screamed. “My vision! I think it’s changing! He’s in my apartment. He disguised himself like you. He’s trying to-” You’re cut shot as an arm reached under the bed and pulled you out. “It’s not going to be a fake! It’s me! It’s really me, Peter!” 

Chameleon kicked the phone out of your hand and crunched it under his foot. He leaned down to sneer at you with a lipless grin, “Nighty night, sweetheart.” He pulled a needle from his pocket and injected it into your squirming body. 

Almost immediately, you felt the blackness take you. 

The thick smell of cigars and alcohol filled your nose. 

You forced your heavy eyes to open. You had been here before. You recognized the smell but it wasn’t the familiar, open room you had been in previously. It was dark and small. Probably a closet. 

Hefty ropes tangled around your body. The more you tried to struggle against them, the tighter they felt. You were trapped. 

Except that you weren’t really here. 

No. No, this wasn’t happening. Not yet. 

This was a vision. You could feel it. If it was vision, you weren’t really trapped. The ropes weren’t real. This is a dream. You’re dreaming. You were in control. You tried to focus your breathing.

Slowly, you lifted your arm away from your side. Then the other. You shook out your legs. The ropes no longer existed to restrain you. You pushed yourself to your feet and felt around the dark room for the door. The second your hand collided with the handle, you pushed open the door and stumbled into the room with the neon purple lights. 

It was quiet except for the two men standing in front of the bar. One of them was the round, red faced man you saw die in a vision previously and, the other, was Chameleon. His bald, skull-like head contrasted against his nicely tailored blue suit. He was tapping his pale white fingers against the bar while his sidekick spoke.

“But Spider-Man is so strong. How are you going to overpower him? I’ve seen him dodge bullets easily. I think you might be underestimating his abilities, sir. He’s got-”

“Shut up, Harold.” Chameleon commanded. “I told you. I have a plan.”

The last time you witnessed this, he had put a bullet through Harold’s skull right then. Peter’s death wasn’t the only thing that was changing. 

Chameleon pointed towards the closet you had come out of, “We have the girl. Spider-Man is going to come save his damsel in distress and we’ll kill him.” 

The small man, who was apparently named Harold, took a nervous breath, “Yes but, sir? I still don’t see how this will help. Who’s to say he won’t save her and kill us in the process?” 

Chameleon took a deep, annoyed breath. Harold had no idea how close to death he was skirting right now. “I told you. The girl is knocked out and hidden away. She already called him. He knows about me and what I can do. He’s not going to believe that it was really her at first. I bet, he’ll swing his way over to her apartment to double check that she’s alright. When he gets there, he’s going to see the struggle that went down. I made sure to leave him a nice pool of her blood for good measure. He’ll realize it was actually her in trouble and run his sorry, little ass over here to come rescue her.” 

He tapped his knuckles against the bar and gave a wicked smile. “When he gets here, I’ll transform myself into her. He’ll crawl in, expecting me to be the real her, come to my rescue instead...and bam! I stab him with the paralyzing agent. Once he’s lost control of his extremities. He’ll be easy to overtake. Harry Osborn’s theory is that his famous Spidey Senses are dulled when he’s around people he trusts. He won’t expect the knife coming from her.” 

Harold wrung his hands together and glanced towards the closet your body was supposed to be hidden behind, “What if she gets out?” 

“You tied her down and gagged her, didn’t you? She shouldn’t make any noise. When we’re done with Spider-Man, we can kill her too. He should be here any minute now. Get upstairs before you fuck up my plans and keep a low profile.” Chameleon watched Harold with a look of utter disdain as he scampered out of the room and up the stairs. 

He walked over to the closet and pulled it open. Inside, your unconscious body lay slumped against the wall. A large cut ran over your eyebrow and drying blood caked the right half of your face. He tilted your chin to study your appearance. When he turned back around, he now resembled an exact replica of you, down to the bleeding wound on your forehead. He closed the closet door, patted at the knife hidden in his back pocket, walked over to the front of the bar and draped himself over the floor. He stayed perfectly motionless as if he had been hastily dumped there. 

Just a few moments later, Spider-Man came crawling across the ceiling towards, what he presumed to be, your unconscious body. 

No, no, no, no. In trying to help Peter, you had effectively put him straight back into danger. The future might have changed slightly but the result was still going to be the same. 

“That’s not me!” You screamed at him as he crawled closer to Chameleon. “I’m in the closet! That’s not the real me!” 

Peter paused. His masked head turned towards your cries just as he had in visions previously. It was like he could still sense you there. Yet, just like before, he shook his head and ignored whatever he thought he heard. 

He called out your name once he had crawled directly over the fake you. Chameleon moaned and rolled onto his back, “...Peter?” He sounded weak and shockingly like you. It was uncanny to see someone else wearing you skin and stealing your voice. “Peter...he showed up at my window. He was disguised at you. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He forced himself to sit up, placing a hand limply over the cut on his forehead as if it was causing him great pain. Tears even brimmed behind his, well your, eyes. “He’s going to come back soon. Please. Help me.”

You had to give it to him. He was good at what he did. If you hadn’t witnessed everything prior, you might even be convinced that it was actually you. Peter didn’t leave his spot on the ceiling. 

“Prove it,” he growled. 

You silently cursed yourself that you and Peter hadn’t thought of a code word before all this to help recognize each other. It would have saved you both a lot of trouble. 

Chameleon frowned, “Don’t you recognize me, Peter?” 

He shook his masked head, “Prove it!”

“Okay, okay!” His voice had gone shrill exactly like yours did when you were getting too stressed. “We met a bar, remember? You always use my window to get inside. You never use the elevator even though I told you that you should. You like to come over later in the evening after the sun has set.” 

You took an inhale of breath. He had managed to pick all that up in the few seconds you were alone together. He was smart. Observant. 

But Peter was smarter, “Shut up for a second.” 

His held tilted like he was picking up something only he could hear. He turned to stare directly at the closet your body was inside of. Your heart skipped a beat. 

Yes, yes go to the closet. That’s where I am.

You watched Chameleon’s eye twitch in rage and he staggered to his feet, still keeping up the pained, hopeless tone in your voice, “Peter? We should get going. Quickly. He’s coming back soon.”

Peter ignored him, crawling quickly over to the closet. He dropped to his feet and pulled open the door. You heard his breath catch in his throat when he saw your bloody face and ropes tied around your unconscious body. He ripped his mask off to get a better look at you, bent forward, and easily loosened he ropes from around you. He called out your name as he gently tried to shake you awake. 

He wasn’t paying attention. 

He was distracted. 

Chameleon had shifted back into his normal form. He was quietly stalking over to Peter, the knife raised in his hand, the purple glow of the lights reflecting off the shiny blade. 

“No!” You screamed. 

He turned around at the last second but it was too late. The knife buried into the front of his shoulder. 

Chameleon laughed. 

You watched in horror as the paralyzing agent quickly flowed through his blood stream. His body twitched and jerked, desperately trying to move and fight through the drugs, but ultimately he slumped to the floor in front of your unconscious body tucked away inside the closet. 

“Bet you weren’t expecting that, Spidey,” he boasted.

Chameleon descended over the hero. His large, white hand grabbing at his chest and tossing his across the room with an unfound feat of strength. 

“I can be anyone!” He yelled. “I can be the strongest man alive. I can pick you up with ease and toss you around like a rag doll.” The muscles in his arm grew, ripping through his suit, and he grabbed Peter by the neck. He lifted him into the air so his toes were scarcely scraping against the ground. Peter’s warm, velvet eyes bulged out of his head as he gasped for air. His arms twitched at his sides in a rash attempt to reach for his tormentor but remained useless to him. 

The little spasms of his limbs didn’t phase Chameleon as he continued to taunt your friend, “I can be anyone.” He threw Peter across the room, his body crashing into the back wall of alcohol behind the bar. The glass shattered, cutting his skin, and he let out a pained yell as the alcohol seeped into the fresh wounds. “Anyone! Should I be your dead mother?” 

Chameleon’s form shifted into a brown haired, kind looking woman. She sauntered over to Peter as he stared up at her in horror. “What about your sweet, old aunt?” He changed again into a frail, tired, but charming woman. “Or how about your dead Uncle Ben?” He shifted once more into a gentle, white haired man. 

Peter let out an angry scream. He struggled against the paralysis. You could see his arms start to move. His legs gave out a little kick. His anger was fueling him to overpower the drugs in his system. 

Chameleon hardly noticed. He was too busy enjoying the torment. The foot of Peter’s uncle reared back and kicked him hard in the face. Over and over. Blood spurted from Peter’s mouth as he tried to roll away. The second he moved, Chameleon resorted to kicking him in the chest until he was curled up into the fetal position surrounded by a growing pool of his own blood. 

“How about the big finale?” His form shifted once more into a young, beautiful, blonde hair woman. “Mr. Osborne told me this would be the real kicker. To be killed by the one you let die. What was her name again? Future scientist, Ms. Gwen Stacey?” 

A pained whimper fell from his lips. You watched as Peter’s eye filled with tears at the woman standing above him. He slumped onto his back, the tears rolling freely down his temple and soaking into his sweaty hair. 

His body was beaten and broken. All his fight had left him at the sight of this woman...Gwen. His bottom lip quivered. 

He was giving up. 

His slashed open face leaked a waterfall of thick, ruby blood down over his skin. His mouth agape. Gasping. Desperately inhaling for any air to soothe his shriveled lungs. Tears reflect the purple neon lights casting an eerie glow over his paling skin. His body slumped to a rest. There was no more fight left him. His head lolled to the side. His eyes met with yours. Pleading. He was fading fast and somehow he was able to see you standing there watching him about to die just as you had done many times before. 

“Help me,” he mouthed as the blonde woman stepped over him. 

A gun pressed against Peter’s forehead. His spirit broken. He didn’t move to stop it.

This was it.

This was his end.

“No!” The scream ripped out of you. 

Your eyes flung open. 

The pile of ropes lay pooled around your waist. The closet door was open. You could hear the fight going on outside. 

You struggled to your side, shimmying your way out of the ropes, and fell out the open door into the main lounge. You rolled onto your back and pushed yourself up to your shaky feet. 

Your eyesight was spinning as you tried to fight the drugs Chameleon had injected you with to knock you out. You stumbled forward. 

The blonde woman, Gwen, was standing over Peter. She had a gun in her hand. You had just seen this exact scene mere seconds ago. This was all so familiar like terrible deja vu. You shook your head to clear your thoughts. It was hard to distinguish between reality and your dreams. For almost two weeks, you had seen this play out. Two weeks you had watched different variations of Peter’s death. 

Now was the time. This was real. 

It was happening. 

You had to change Peter’s future. 

As the barrel of the gun rested against his head, you charged forward. You threw the entire weight of your body against Chameleon. He was disguised as the young, teen girl. She was skinny and small. Easy to overtake. The two of you toppled to the ground just as the gun went off. The bullet ricocheting off the hardwood floor and shattering into a light bulb. 

Chameleon let out an angry yell, his body changing back into his featureless white skull, “You little shit!” He wrapped his arms around your waist and threw you hard onto your back. The back of your head bounced against the floor and blurry stars burst into your vision. “I’m going to fucking kill you for that!”

He fell on top of you, big, cold hands wrapping around your neck, his thumbs pressing hard into your throat. You tried to grab at his suit, punch him, hit him, anything in an attempt to get your off but he was too strong. 

Suddenly, he froze. His hands loosened around your neck and you gasped for air.

“Get off of her,” a deadly voice filled the room. 

Chameleon gave a low laugh of defeat as the barrel of his own gun was pressed against the back of his head, “I see the Spider-Man is stronger than he looks.”

“Back up slowly,” Peter commanded. 

Chameleon did as he was told, raising his hands in surrender, and backing away from you. You stayed still on the ground, not sure if you could even move if wanted to while you tried to catch your breath, and watched Peter keep the gun pointed at his foe. “Stand against the wall. I called the cops before I came here. They should be arriving soon to take you away.” 

Chameleon pressed his back to the wall and Peter proceeded to shower him with flurry of webs until he was completely satisfied there was no way for him to escape. Once he was sure the man was secure, Peter dropped the gun. He stumbled backwards into the edge of bar and crumpled to the ground. A quiet groan fell from his bloody, split lips. 

You struggled to roll over and crawled to him. His eyes were closed but a fraction of a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. You brushed back his hair and rested your hands on either side of his face to turn his attention to you. 

“Peter?” You whispered. 

He smiled, his eyes half open, “You did it. You saved me.” 

The linger effects of paralysis were still coursing through his blood stream. Now that his adrenaline was wearing off, it was becoming harder for him to move again. His overpowering will to fight it was no longer needed now that you were both safe. He slumped his body against your chest and you cradled his head protectively to your shoulder.

���You should go.” He muttered. “The police will be here soon. They’ll want to bring you in. Question you. I don’t want that. You should leave before they get here. I’ll keep an eye on this asshole.”  

“What about you?” You asked.

He lifted his heavy head and rested his forehead to yours, “I’m Spider-Man. They see me all the time. Don’t worry about me. If you could put my mask on before you leave, thought, that would be a big help.” 

You closed your eyes at his closeness and nodded, “I think we make me pretty good team.” It felt so right having him in your arms like he was destined to be there all along. 

He gave a breathy, tired laugh, “The best team. If I could move my arms, I think I’d pull you in for a kiss right about now.”

Your stomach exploded with butterflies. You cupped his bloody cheeks in your hands and placed a soft kiss to his lips, afraid to cause him any more pain than he was already in. 

“Mm,” he hummed against your mouth. “That was nice. Now go get my mask mask and get out of here. I’ll come find you once I’m able to move my limbs again and see that this jerk is placed behind bars.” 

You did as he said, grabbing his mask and carefully placing it over his broken face. He nodded a thanks and you felt his watchful, protective eyes stay on you until you had disappeared up the stairs. 

Peter was safe. 

You had saved him. 

You had changed his future. 

Spider-Man was no longer the only hero New York City had to offer. 

Reread from the start: [Part One] [Part Two]

Tag List: @ongreenergrasses  @captaindanvxrs @liz-allyn @coolchick333 @mrshipsmcgee  @holyheadharpies99 @aphrodites-perfume @agnesamarantheastwood​ @todaywasafairytale07 @edgycatx @kdatthecastle @aestheticpisces @malar-region @saltedcoffeescotch​ @magnitude101999​

[Chapter Index]

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

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*

You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

[sukirichi]

hey!! congrats on 500!! could i get breakfast: ingredient 33 + sugar 7 for nanami kento? thanks!!

VIOLET

violet; a flower that symbolizes faith and affection — this was simply one of your promises to Nanami.

meal order: 🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (no warnings, other than this fic is unedited.)

notes: thank you so much for joining the event and requesting! i honestly loved this idea so much, i still remember how happy i was when i first saw it and i looked forward to writing it. i hope this was what you were looking for! i may or may not have been too deep in the feels with this one. anyways, enjoy and thank you so much! breakfast has been served!

word count: 7k+ 

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You looked up from under the golden roof, a small smile on your face. The sun shone down brightly, the calm, gentle air making the flowers in your royal garden dance side by the side, almost as if encouraged by the soft kiss of nature. In this lightning, all the colors popped out vibrantly, a wide array of splashes of life laid out before you. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Nanami, your bodyguard, followed your line of sight. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Stiff and straightforward as ever, you connoted with a hidden smile. “Perfect,” you announced, lifting your gloved hands in a beckoning gesture. “Come with me. I must inspect the garden. I heard from the staff last night that my new flowers have arrived. I shall see to it that it came in perfect condition,” Nanami nodded beside you and followed you as you trudged all the way out in broad daylight, your hair shining from the sun’s rays.

As if noticing the harsh glare of heat on your skin, Nanami was quick to open your parasol, standing at least a foot behind you. Trained to be obedient flawless in their duties, his footsteps were silent behind you, nothing but the tapping of your heels against the ground heard from the open space.

You were shielded from the heat, but you weren’t satisfied.

With a faux, distressed clicking of your tongue, you stopped in your tracks, whipping around to face your black-suit clad bodyguard. His gaze immediately fell down to your feet, back tilted in a perfect bow. You sighed, “Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Do you want to be fired?”

He froze at your words, momentarily looking up at you for a moment before turning to the ground again. “Of course not, Your Highness,” although monotonous, you could detect the slight tinge of worry in his voice, and you felt a smile crossing on your lips when you saw his brows furrow. “I extremely apologize if I’ve done something wrong. I must repent for it and assess my worth as your—”

“You’re not holding the parasol properly,” you cut him off and stepped forward, reaching to his extended arm and placing yourself right next to him until your shoulders were close enough to brush against each other.

Nanami’s jaw clenched at the lack of space, probably worrying that this was disrespectful, completely unaware you enjoyed every single moment of it, especially now that your senses were clouded with both his masculine scent and the calming aroma of flowers.

“If you keep such a distance from me and extend your arm to hold this, you’d tire your arm, and when your arm is strained, then you won’t be able to be fast enough to protect me from whatever harm comes my way. Plus, holding it in this manner leaves my nose to be burnt under the harsh sun! You wouldn’t want your princess to have sunburn, would you?”

“Definitely not, Your Highness. I would not want any harm or trouble your way.”

“So then step close to me. Like this,” you gestured to the both of you, and underneath the parasol, the hesitance swirled all over those pretty blue eyes of his. It made you want to sigh; he worried too much sometimes. “See? Your arm won’t be tired and my nose is perfectly safe under this shade.”

“But Your Highness – this distance—”

“I shall permit it for now. The situation calls for it,” you waved a hand nonchalantly, moving to where you wanted to see the new flowers. Although you couldn’t see him, the lack of warmth beside you was a telltale Nanami was too stunned to move, and you turned around, head tilted challengingly. “Or you’re still questioning the judgment of your princess?”

Nanami frowned, “I am not, Your Highness.”

“Good. Let’s see the flowers then,” You chirped with a clap.

It was the perfect day for a stroll, a rare day where you basked in not having to worry about your princess duties. The sun was out, the skies were clear, and was that a butterfly happily flying in your garden? Now that Nanami had grown comfortable after mentally reassuring himself it was fine to stick close to you, it honestly couldn’t have been better. But you being the sneaky little princess you were, you still had other plans in mind.

Three maids appeared out of nowhere, carrying a basket, a blanket, and a bottle of wine. They all strolled your way with their heads duck down, wordlessly setting out the white and red plaid patterned blanket on the soft, freshly trimmed grass.

You clapped your hands in sheer enthusiasm, “Oh, how perfect timing! It is quite tiring to stroll around this massive garden, don’t you think, Nanami? We should take a break.”

“A...picnic, Your Highness? Out here? Would you not be more comfortable inside—”

“The dining halls are boring and all the staff would be staring at me as I eat,” you plopped down rather ungraciously on the ground, taking off your heels and planting your sock clad feet on the blanket. On any other normal day, your dear Mother would’ve smacked you with her fan had she seen you act this way, but your parents were out of town, and Nanami was the last person who’d ever judge you. You had every right to be free. “It’s not a very comfortable thing, as you must know, and I’d like to enjoy my temporary freedom.”

A few beats passed as Nanami processed your words. A frown still on his handsome face, he studied the comfort of your body on the ground, already moving to open the basket with a cheerful hum. He supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to let you be this way.

“I will follow whatever pleases you then, Your Highness.”

You hid a smile through sucked in cheeks, pulling out the cake and acting surprised even though you’d ordered this days ago, randomly dragging a servant aside to shyly ask her to get you Nanami’s rumored favorite cake from when he went with you on a trip overseas.

“Oh, look! Fondant Cake from the Kingdom of Cherie. Fine, fine wine too, the best from His Majesty’s collection, if I heard it correctly,” you could barely contain your glee when the slightest light glimmered through his guarded eyes, hands reaching down to pat the empty space beside you. “Sit down. I need you to eat this for me.”

“But Your Highness—”

“Lest you want me to be poisoned, Nanami?” you reeled your hand back, gloved hands placed above your chest as horror filled your gaze. Nanami – bless his sweet soul – quickly bent his knees in half. Slowly, with disbelief still crossing his mind, he allowed you to spoon feed him, the chocolate sauce of the cake staining the tips of his lips. “Well? How is it? Is it safe to eat?”

Nanami moaned; pride swelling up on your chest because finally, you could do something for him. He was still too cautious though, and he concealed his delight with a slight clearing of his throat, palms flat on his muscular thighs as he nodded your way. “It is extremely delicious, Your Highness. I believe it is safe to eat.”

“Did you like it?” You already knew the answer, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it straight from him.

“Yes.”

Thankful that your ears were covered by a frilly bonnet so he wouldn’t see how warmth crawled up at the tips of your ears, you beamed at him, proudly presenting more of the surprised you had in store.

“I have fresh milk cheese from the city of Lein too. Do you know that people travel from all over the world just to visit Lein and have a taste of this cheese? If it were not for our good connections to them, we would never be able to taste this,” you felt Nanami’s curious gaze fall on the delicacy on your hands, a smirk tilting your lips because cheese as quite rare where you were from. Setting it down on a plate, you cut a piece of the dairy, the fork nearly shoved in Nanami’s face. “But just to make sure, of course. We never know people’s intentions – I could be poisoned. You know very well there are plenty of people after the throne and my head.”

Nanami’s eyes widened at your implications, “Princess, please do not speak so lightly of the threats over your life.”

“Why, does it worry you?”

Nanami looked at you like you’d grown two heads. “Of course it does. It is my duty to protect and worry about you.”

“Is it really just a duty?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing the plate towards him again before Nanami could comprehend whatever went on in your head. “Pair it with the cake. Maybe there could be a chemical reaction that is life threatening. Oh, how I fear for my life, Nanami.”

Obediently, Nanami swallowed the food, eyes closed from the flavors bursting through his mouth. It wasn’t too much of a reaction, but there were hardly any when it came to Nanami to begin with, so it was enough for you, and your giggles were stifled beside him. “I believe this one is safe too.”

And so began your spontaneous picnic, with Nanami being flustered the whole time because you insisted on feeding him. He refused many times, claiming that a royal shouldn’t feed a servant, much less spend their time with him this way. Even though you didn’t mean it, you rolled your eyes just to dissipate his worries, lying through your teeth that you were full and you didn’t want to be suffocated in your corset.

You proceeded to tell him of the different ways his precious princess could die of asphyxiation. The more grotesque your storytelling began; Nanami ate everything quietly, still oblivious that you had your eyes on him the whole time.

He ate quickly, not wanting to be rude and take up too much of your time, but you insisted that you didn’t want him to choke and ordered him to slow down. As your lovely and dutiful servant, who was he to defy your orders? So he took his time, and you closed your eyes, leaning back onto his firm shoulders that grew rigid under the contact.

Soon though, Nanami relaxed, and you were about ready to fall asleep when Nanami quietly announced he’d finished his food, thanking you for the meal.

“That was a lovely picnic,” you grinned at him, even if you’d barely eaten anything.

After all, you only asked for servings for one person, lying to your staff that you wanted it for yourself. Should the higher-ups ever hear about you ordering two servants to share it with someone else when it was painfully clear to everyone in the kingdom you had no prince, it would cause chaos.

Nanami followed you as you stood up, the servants taking it upon themselves to clear up the dishes before they left you to your own devices. You walked all the way near the back of the garden, a place private only for the royal members for this was where they kept their most precious flowers. Upon seeing that the ones you’ve ordered had arrived and they were blooming beautifully beside the white roses, you ran to it, gesturing for Nanami to come closer. He leant down to inspect it, watching the way it twirled around your elegant fingers.

“This is called a Violet. It symbolizes faith and affection.”

“It is beautiful,” he commented quietly, his cool gaze sliding over to yours. “It suits you very much, Your Highness.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sudden attention, which was ironic, since wasn’t that what you always wanted? “I think it suits someone else better, if I were to be honest,” you admitted mysteriously, leaving your bodyguard confused for the nth time that day, but as always, he kept silent unless spoken to. Nanami’s eyes drifted to the flowers again, the rule of never looking in the eyes of royals burned right through his head.

Deep down in your heart, you knew it was a bit too early, but you’d always been impatient. You wouldn’t wait for the right time or the perfect opportunity – you preferred to grab moments and create them yourself.

Squeezing the hem of your dress under bundled fists, you finally gained the courage to be as upfront with him. “Nanami, can you promise me something?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Never forget this flower. When you are feeling down, I want you to remember this lives and blooms here, that it was the Princess’ favorite, and she wants nothing more than to have this whole garden bloom with it,” You knew, you knew painfully that Nanami may never understand your garden referred to your heart and that it bloomed with your affection for him, but was it so bad to hope that one day you may show your adoration for him?

You’d prepared for this – for the possibility that maybe you never could – so you ordered these flowers, wishing silently that someday Nanami might understand the things you could never say.

“When the right time comes, I shall pluck a flower and give it to the person that receives my faith affection, and I’ll create an entire garden for them.”

Nanami absorbed your words, processing them seriously just as a servant should when it comes to their master’s words. A moment later, Nanami nodded once, head bowed in respect. “I’m sure whoever Prince is lucky enough to get your hand in marriage will be absolutely delighted, Your Highness.”

“The person I long for is not a prince,” you hinted, “He sure is charming, however, much to his ignorance.”

Nanami peeked at you under his blond lashes, the confused pout on his face worrisome yet adorable. It made you want to step forward and capture those red lips in a kiss, but you were still his Princess, and he your bodyguard. You couldn’t do it – not now, at least – for his sake. “I am not sure it would be ideal that you marry a non-royal, Your Highness.”

“Tell me, Nanami,” you began, voice turning serious that his ears perked up at the sudden firmness compared to your usually lilted self. “Do you believe love should be constrained by rules and traditions?”

His answer came in an instant, making you wonder if he would still keep to his words if he found out everything. “No, Your Highness.”

You smiled at his answer – longingly, proudly, and at the same time sadly. “And I wholeheartedly agree with you on that.” Without another word, you turned your back on him and walked back inside the large castle, his footsteps finally audible as he followed you.

Funny it was, that you, a royal-blooded woman found so much comfort in the sound of someone’s breathing and footsteps.

“Nanami.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

You sighed and placed your book down your lap, playfully glaring at the stiff bodyguard who hadn’t moved a muscle ever since he accompanied you in your private library. “You are causing me an uncomfortable amount of stress. I do not like it.”

“What have I done wrong, Your Highness?” his voice trembled again, his back forming that straight, perfect bow that you knew took him years to practice. It probably caused him a lot of pain if his head guard slapped the other servants’ backs just to straighten their spine, and you winced at the idea of it. No one had ever even dared laid a finger on your hair; not without your permission, anyway.

“I sincerely apologize for my shortcomings. I hereby vow to do better in my duties to serve you.”

“As you should. Now come here,” you beckoned him to come closer, sighing louder when Nanami sat a foot away from you, lips pressed into a tight line. “Closer, Nanami.”

Biting his lip – and you nearly couldn’t tear your gaze away from the sight – Nanami inched closer to you, his back still perfectly straight, eyes staring straight ahead, and he was so rigid you wondered if he even breathed at all.

You shook your head with a stifled smile, soft, tireless hands bunching up to release the tight knots of his firm, broad shoulders. You weren’t surprised he felt this hard under your touch; he was a bodyguard, after all, the Princess’ personal one, at that. It made sense he kept himself trimmed, but it didn’t stop the heat spreading all over your skin anyway as you imagined just how firm he was under his clothes.

Eager to get rid of such inappropriate thoughts, you huffed through your nose, continuing to roll your fingers over his back.

“You look so stiff that I cannot focus on this novel I’m reading. Heavens know how shameful it must be that we are getting scholars to study with me this weekend and I am not even halfway done with this classic. It truly bothers me, Nanami.”

“Your Highness,” Nanami’s voice was hushed, his eyes staring directly into yours. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you a massage. If you keep up being this rigid around me, I will lose focus because it makes me uncomfortable, and if I lose focus, I can’t perform my duty well as the princess, and if I am unable to do that, I lose respect, then my title stripped away from me. Terrifying, Nanami. Terrifying, indeed.”

Nanami was silent for a while, his gaze not leaving your focused face. Then, he turned away, his shoulders deflating as he gave in to the pleasure of your surprisingly expert hands. “I am extremely sorry.”

“As you should be,” you commented sarcastically, “Now relax. Pick up a book you like and have some of the biscuits, tea. I cannot focus with you standing around me like a statue. The stone gargoyles do that for us already,” when Nanami didn’t budge a muscle even after you’d finished massaging him, you waved a hand in the air, brow raised challengingly. “Well? Are you defying my orders?”

Nanami shot up from his seat in an instant, “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You pulled the book up higher to hide the wide grin on your lips, watching his curious and slightly dazed staring at the walls upon walls of books stacked upon one another. His wonder of the sight left you wondering just how you managed not to kiss every part of him senseless, for he was so fascinating and far more intriguing than any other universe written beyond these pages.

Nanami’s long, slender fingers finally plucked out a rather thick novel he seemed to find interesting, making his way back to you. He still sat on the other end of the couch to respect your space, and you kept silent this time, not wanting to cross the line.

He may be comfortable around you now, but you knew Nanami better than anyone, and he still held his orders and duties close to his heart that he would never break them no matter what.

It was a compelling quality of his – one you had no idea whether to admire or be irritated of.

Your twinkling eyes studied his stunning features; from his slicked back hair, to his sunken cheeks, all the way down to the sharp point of his nose and to the plumpness of his lips. He was too beautiful that you wondered how he hadn’t managed to be snagged away yet when you were reminded that Nanami was too busy in his duties of protecting you to have time for romance – and for the first time, you felt thankful for the fact you were a royal.

“That is a good one,” you piped up as you read the title of the classic novel. It was a classic about the variegated realms between dreams and reality, one you haven’t read but always wanted to. “Do you mind reading it to me someday? I love the sound of your voice.”

Nanami’s cheeks flushed a bright red at your unexpected compliment, but he nodded anyway, clearing his throat before he spoke. “S-someday, Your Highness, if your schedule allows it so.”

It sounded so much like a promise – and you looked forward eagerly to it.

Finally gaining your focus and determination to study and perform your royal duties now that Nanami had finally taken some time to relax, you did the same, leaning back onto the velvet couch and crossing your legs over the other. “Someday it is.”

“You have to be prepared for your coronation ball,” Rubine, one of the assistants of your dancing tutor made known, snapping her fingers in front of your face when you’d unknowinfly spaced out the window. “Now, up on those toes, back straight and head held high, Your Highness. Let us see if you’ve mastered your dance routine. You must understand it is the most crucial part of the ball and all eyes will be watching you. You cannot afford to make a single mistake.”

Suddenly remembering of why you were spacing out, you winced at the previous phone call prior to Rubine’s arrival. “I am well aware of that, Rubine, but...”

“But?”

“My dance partner, Philippe, just called to say he’s fallen ill and cannot make it today.”

“Ah, Philippe!” Rubine tugged at her hair, dramatically bending forwards to groan, “This is the final rehearsal! Your coronation is so near!” She sat up straight and paced back and forth, her long locks jumping and bouncing as she chewed at her nails. “Well, what shall we do now? We don’t have anyone else to practice with you and I’m only here to substitute for Madam Tee. She’d kill me if she finds out you didn’t rehearse, and I doubt any of the boy servants would know anything about the dance.”

“If I may,” Nanami suddenly spoke up from the corner, tentatively approaching the both of you with one of his hands laid flat on his abdomen. You and Rubine fell silent, his eyes flitting over yours for a moment. “I’ve been with the Princess from all of her dance classes. I know the routine very well,” his tongue darted out to lick at his lips, sending both your mind and heart into a frenzy overdrive. “If Her Highness is comfortable with it, I may be her dance partner for now.”

“That works, I suppose.”

“I’d like to see you dance, Nanamin,” you teased confidently, but no mistake, your heart drummed wildly in your chest at the idea of dancing with the man who’d unknowingly captured both your eye and heart the moment you met him. “Let’s see how good you are then. I warn you though; I’m a very skilled dancer. But please, don’t fret, I won’t criticize you.”

You expected Nanami to at least go along with your lighthearted teasing, but he was Nanami Kento; a very dutiful servant who lived to please and serve his master.

He simply pressed a polite kiss to the pads of your knuckled when you offered it, his eyes still unreadable as he praised, “You are a very good dancer indeed, Your Highness.”

You already knew that, but hearing it fall from his lips hit differently. It suddenly got harder and harder to remember the routine, your confidence slipping into thin air the moment his warm hands wound around the curve of your waist, flattening at the small of your back.

Your breath hitched as you looped your fingers through his larger, calloused ones, and your heart absolutely melted because you fit just perfectly in his hands. Considering that you’d taken off your gloves, you could feel ever callous and scar in his hands, a huge contrast to your soft ones that had never known a day of manual labor.

Nanami was close enough you could feel his breath warm your cheeks, with you staring up at him with wide, blown out eyes. He was still expressionless as ever, jaw tight and brows dipped low, but you could see the softness in his gaze – nearly bordering on adoration.

In that moment, you felt yourself falling harder, and soon, you were both lost in the music.

Nanami was right – he did know the dance. For such an unyielding protector, Nanami danced extremely well, his turns and guidance to your twists flawless.

He caught you in his arms each time, his hands slipping back to hold your waist as if it was second nature for him to hold you like this, to dance with you like this. Everything faded into nothingness at the background, both your gazes captured and enamored by one another. Somewhere in the climax of the dance, your chest pressed flush against his a little tighter, your hands squeezing his a little harder, and you both danced like you were the only ones that mattered in each other’s world.

And in that moment, it felt like you did.

When the music slowly faded out to its ending, you and Nanami were both breathing hard from the strenuous performance that required the utmost elegant execution. Still, his hands remained on your waist, your hand holding him in such a manner that you almost refused to let him go.

But you had to – you knew you had to – and with a broken smile, you pulled away from Nanami.

“Wow,” breathed out Rubine “Princess, I am blown away. You’ve danced better than you ever did with Philippe. You two have got amazing chemistry,” she rubbed her chin at the observation, but you and Nanami were turned away from each other, both of your hearts more conflicted than ever. Rubine, however, remained unknowing of this all. “I guess being around each other all the time adds in to that fact too. That was a very mesmerizing and intimate performance – I actually felt a little guilty that I’m witnessing such moment.”

“I am glad I could be of service to Her Highness.”

Your gaze cut through his, the heat in your eyes loud enough that he was compelled to hold your stare. You immediately softened at his expression; giving in to the pleads of your heart that you were and always will be, utterly and hopelessly in love with him – even if it was impossible he’d ever feel the same way.

Surely, though, it wouldn’t be so much of a sin for a princess to be selfish in a while. “I look forward to dancing with you on the ball, Nanamin.”

“I highly doubt that, Your Highness,” Nanami’s eyes blanked out into an unfathomable expression again, making you wonder if the fondness he held you with when you danced ever existed. “You would be swarmed and surrounded by royals and elites – and I shall be watching out for you from the distance, as always. It’s going to be a crucial event and you have duties to fulfil; a dance with your bodyguard would only ruin the importance of the event,” he reminded you, his words like a slap to your face.

You didn’t have to be scholarly enough to interpret the meaning of his words; Nanami was reminding you that he was servant as you were master, and it simply would not happen. “Who knows what people would say...I only worry about your reputation, Your Highness. Words cut deeper than a knife.”

“I know that,” you agreed with a shattered heart, “I guess I’ll just dream then.”

The coronation went smoother than expected. Until it wasn’t. People from all over the world came, chatting with you about the latest political trends and plans on how you wished to broaden your territories and expand trading systems.

Everything went fine and accordingly to plan until the marriage talk was brought up. Before you knew it, princes and dukes, along with equally socially powerful men came flooding left and right, pressing kisses to your (thankfully) gloved hands and spewing out poetry as if it would impress you. In a way, it did, at least most of them had good taste in literature and were actually well-read, but your eyes kept searching for a certain blond in the crowd, that sinking feeling only growing in the pit of your stomach.

Eventually, it became too much for you.

A neighboring prince asked for your marriage and announced he was good friends with your family, and that about crossed the line and tipped you over the edge until you excused yourself. Growing too tired with all this unnecessary “royal duties”, you disappeared from the crowd, running to the nearest desolated terrace and crying your eyes out.

You never wanted to be a princess.

You never wanted to be born with such luxury, only to pay a price that you couldn’t even choose your own future.

You lost track of time and you no longer questioned why no one looked for you. With each passing second, the crown above your braided hair grew a lot heavier and you slumped across the pillar, burying your tear-streaked face behind your arms. You just felt so tired you wanted to rest – wanted to see Nanami, to run away, to tell him that you loved him.

But he wasn’t there. You hadn’t even seen him the moment you woke up, servants flocking you at every corner as they prepared you for the event.

Your heart ached and you called out for him in broken whispers, wishing that he’d be there to comfort you. “Nanami,” you cried out softly. It was pathetic, really, that the newly crowned queen was crying like a child who lost their toy as you hid from the crowd. “Nanami, where are you, Nanami—”

A pair of arms tugged you into a solid chest, your cheek pressing on top of a rapid heartbeat that raced to no end. Warm, strong arms engulfed you in a hug, a heavy head with a familiar scent falling on the sides of your head that was free from the tips of the crown.

“I thought I lost you, Queen,” Nanami panted, his hold on you growing tighter. Your tears stopped flowing as you fisted his shirt, weakening in his arms and he let you – he knew even the Queen of this prosperous kingdom was still a person and you allowed yourself to grow vulnerable, because this was Nanami and Nanami always caught you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned up and pressed your lips to his, the salt of your tears passing to his cheeks.

Nanami stood frozen solid for a second before he kissed you back, taking your breath away because his lips held the same wanting as yours did. Soon, his large hands cupped your face as he pulled you closer to him, sighing into your mouth as if he’s dreamed of this moment as long as you had. Nanami kissed you with so much love pouring from his lips that he didn’t have to tell you for you to know, prompting the dam within you to break.

You were crying – the happy tears flowing endlessly – while his thumbs wiped the tears away.

“I love you,” you confessed as you both pulled away, foreheads pressed against each other. This time, there was no more fear or worry as love shone in both your eyes, your hands still helplessly clinging on to him for dear life. “I love you, Nanami, I’ve always loved you. Please don’t leave me – please don’t.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Your Majesty,” he addressed you according to your new title, but nothing has changed for him. “I have loved you too long before, and I’ll still keep loving you if you’ll let me.”

That night, you both shared a plethora of first. The first kiss. The first dance. The first I love you’s that wouldn’t stop spilling from your lips, the confessions accompanied with laughter. It was only the beginning of a wonderful yet unforgettable memory, and you abandoned all the riches and gold in the world because this, right here was your real treasure, and you sealed your promise of your faith affection to him with one last kiss.

Ever since you and Nanami had established your relationship, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

Being Queen didn’t seem too much of a grueling task anymore, not when Nanami was grazing his thumb over your knuckles under the table when you were doing paperwork, not when work days and boring, dreadful meetings always ended with him pulling you aside as everyone left for a quick kiss that soon turned into a heated lip-locking.

This was bliss – to have him right here, to finally be able to express how much you loved him – and you couldn’t get enough it.

You still had no king despite the number of suitors that visited every week, so much so that the maids have grown weary of cleaning up your trash bin filled with unopened love letters. Quite frankly, you couldn’t care less because you already had the love of your life within your arms. You turned everyone down, and it wasn’t a huge deal because you were just crowned Queen and surely you had far better things to do than worry about bringing about an heir, but it had already been a year and your advisors were mad.

They’ve informed you that several cities and kingdoms were losing trust over your reclusiveness, the diplomatic relationship turning strained thanks to your eagerness to deny everyone.

Your tongue slipped inside Nanami’s, his hands crawling under your night gown as his body crawled between your legs, with you sighing romantically into his mouth.

“Your Majesty,” he mumbled through stuttering kisses, his fingers deftly pressing into your curves. Despite your insistence that he addressed you by your name, Nanami requested that he still keep his duty as your bodyguard, and you were too soft to deny him this. “Your Majesty…I think we should put an end to this.”

You stopped kissing him.

Hands falling from his neck, you pulled away from him, eyes hardened into a glare. “What do you mean we should put an end to this? Are you suggesting we break up?”

“Yes.”

You gritted your teeth at how he said this so easily. Before you could open your mouth to retort, Nanami beat you to it, distracting you by pressing soft kisses on the column of your neck, always so gentle and careful to not leave marks where the maids could see.

“I’m only worried about you,” he whispered, “I am ruining your reputation because I am in love with you. Your Majesty, I promise to still serve you and be loyal to you,” Nanami pulled away after leaving one last kiss to the sensitive area of your neck that always had you whining in his arms, but this time, you whined out of desperation, nails digging into his bicep as he stared at you apologetically. “We cannot keep doing this, Your Majesty. We both cannot be selfish enough to abandon the future of our people.”

“Well, what about my future?” you banged your fist on your chest, “What about my happiness, Nanami, ever think about that?”

Nanami wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks, pulling you into the comfort of his arms instead. He understood your pain better than anyone for he, too, shared your longing.

“I don’t want you to go,” you cried into his shoulder, gripping his shirt tightly that it crumbled beneath your grip. “It’s not a life if it’s not with you and just tell me what I have to do, I’ll abandon my title and I’ll stay with you, we don’t have to—”

Nanami silenced you with a kiss, this one more ardent than the others.

He whispered sweet nothings into yours, broken promises that he’d stay, that you didn’t have to change anything and that you could work it out. You believed him, or at least you fooled yourself that you did, because your hold on him was regretful, angry, begging.

The next morning, Nanami was gone from your chambers.

The next night, Nanami was gone from the servant chambers.

The next week, you were married to Prince Satoru from a Kingdom you’d never even heard of.

Nanami resigned. As per rule of the kingdom, staff didn’t need the monarch’s permission to be dismissed from their post. He wasn’t there in your wedding, and he wasn’t there for the next few days to come. These days stretched into weeks, and two months have already passed before you were silently staring out at your window, wondering what Nanami was doing.

The last thing you heard from him was that he went back to his family’s warm, living a peaceful life and bowing one last time to you before he completely disappeared.

His letter remained in your drawers, his neat cursive informing you that he was a lowly servant, and didn’t deserve you, that he didn’t want to ruin your future and only wanted the best for you. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to curse him for it – but you only tossed and turned in your bed, staring at the ceilings as you pictured his rare smile over and over again.

You wondered how he was doing.

Was he happy? Was he okay? Did he think of you night before he slept? Did he miss you the same way you craved his touch, his voice, his laugh – everything about him and himself?

A loud rattling caught your attention, your head turning to see Prince, or rather, King Satoru saunter in. He was popular in his kingdom and even rumored to have a harem, which you could see happening because he was flirty and shameless.

It was clear that this was a loveless marriage and he only agreed because he had good ties with your family, also adding in to the fact he was the richest and most powerful out of all your suitors. You weren’t too friendly with him, but you weren’t treating each other like strangers too. You both acknowledged each other according to the title, but it never stretched to the fact he was man and you his wife.

Satoru had never talked to you before other than the common pleasantries, so it surprised you when he sat across you, mirroring that familiar torn and forlorn feeling as he stared at your kingdom.

“You and I,” he began quietly, “We both want what we cannot have, don’t we?”

“Hmm.”

“I know you’re in love with someone else,” Satoru smiled, and your eyes widened when he only chuckled knowingly. “It’s okay, Queen, I promise I don’t mind. In fact, I’m just the same as you – I’m madly in love with my butler you won’t understand.”

You nearly toppled over your seat at the sudden confession that Satoru laughed as he helped pull you up, but it didn’t stop you from blabbering.

“You-you’re in love with Geto Suguru?”

“That I am. I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, to be honest, but people had different expectations and plans for me, as you can see.”

“I,” your throat ran dry, your palms growing sweaty. Surely…you could trust him with this, right? “I’m also in love with my bodyguard, or former bodyguard, anyway. His name is Nanami Kento and he’s currently at his farm and I-I—”

“You want to see him and break this marriage?” Satoru didn’t even have to hear the words come from your mouth before he’s pulling you up to your feet, crystalline blue eyes as vivid as the sky. “Well, what’s holding you back, Queen? Let’s go look for him.”

Satoru dragged you along the hallways, liberated laughter echoing in the large space of the castle before you two saddle up your respective horses, shouting for the gate guards to move away. You’ve never felt this free – and Satoru shared the same glee as yours when he stretched his arms beyond the sky, whooping as he smacked his horse to go faster.

By the time you’ve made it into Nanami’s farm, it was nearly sunset, and both you and Satoru were drained from the long journey.

Nanami was dressed in a plain shirt and worn-out sweatpants, dirt caked on his sunken cheeks when he turned at the sounds of horses galloping, you perched on top of your white stallion proudly. “Nanami!” his eyes widened and he dropped the bucket he was holding, the breath taken away from his chest when you jumped off your horse, crashing him into a huge hug.

“Your Majesty,” he spoke breathily, hands coming up to caress the back of your head. “What are you doing here? And King Satoru? What’s going on?”

You answered him by dragging his collar down until his lips danced with yours. Just like that, all your worries and previous sorrows washed away into nothing as his hands gripped tightly at your hips, kissing you back just as eagerly that even he was crying. This time around, you reached to swipe your thumb over the warm tears, kissing him over and over again to remind him your feelings hadn’t changed.

“Let’s go home, Nanami. I promise I’ll do everything right this time around – just please, come home with me.”

You’ve lost count of the times you’ve prayed to the divine beings over and over again to give you one last chance, fearful that maybe Nanami would still be firm in his belief that he wasn’t good enough for you when he was perfect the way he is.

But then he kissed the crown of your head as a silent form of affection, staring deep into your eyes as he smiled, “Your wish has always been my command, Your Majesty.”

Nanami had his back turned to you, his slender hands plucking the violet flower. Upon hearing your not so sneaky footsteps, he whipped around and laughed just as you roared, making the little girl in his arms giggle, copying your greeting as she hissed her fangs.

“Rawr!”

“Aw, you’re so adorable!” you pinched her little cheeks before peppering them with kisses, your precious daughter laughing at the sudden shower of affection. Nanami laughed, too, the deep sound vibrating from deep within his chest. He held up your baby to kiss the left side of her cheeks while you squished her right, your baby’s cheeks smushed between the adoration of her parents. “You’re so cute – just like Daddy!”

“I am not cute,” he protested dejectedly, although the small smile on his face told a different story.

It wasn’t easy – none of this ever was, but you didn’t regret a single moment of it. The old school traditions of your kingdoms were abolished due to a long, hefty process of appealing to the public and proving that love should never be constrained by rules and traditions, and now Satoru was also happily married with his husband, Geto Suguru. The last letter you got from him informed you they adopted a two baby boys named Megumi and a feisty little girl called Nobara, and you were excited for the children to meet and play again.

Safe to say, it was all worth it. All the moments led up to this were painful and filled with longing, but you’d do it all over again if you could.

Because this was what you promised him – endless faith and affection – and you sealed this lifelong promise with a kiss.

“I love you, King,” you mumbled through his lips, and he laughed as he rocked the baby side to side. The kiss was slightly awkward since her grubby hands were trying to clutch both of your chins, sending you both into fits of laughter.

“I love you too, Queen,” he kissed the top of your head and your crown with it – for you were his woman, his wife, and the Queen who ruled all of his heart – leaning down to kiss his baby’s cheeks before he pulled you both in for a hug. The atmosphere that day was similar from when you first forced him to have a picnic with you; warm, sunny, with the wind encouraging the flowers to dance in sync like how you danced with Nanami when you were younger. Your baby gurgled nonsensically, Nanami smiling to himself as you both stared at the bundle of joy in his arms. “I love you too, Violet. Mommy and Daddy loves you a lot.”

To love him, to hold him, to cherish him – it was a promise you held deep within your soul.

[undercoveravenger]

To Be With You

Pairing: Cato x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Being from the Capitol after Cato wins the Games and "purchasing a night with him" - at first he thinks it's for sex but you just want someone real and honest and strong to hold you and he's confused but interested”

-----

Winning the Hunger Games hadn’t been what Cato had expected it to be. He’d anticipated the parades and the celebrations, but he hadn’t expected the behind the scenes dealings. He hadn’t expected to be sold off to the highest bidder at all those parties like some low-life harlot.

It was another such night when his handler approached him and told him that it was time to go. He sighed, squaring his shoulders to present the same confident facade he’d used in the Arena despite the crawling sensation creeping across his skin.

His handler escorted him out of the bustling party and out into the shining silver car that would take him to his purchaser’s home. At one time he had admired the Capitol’s technology, but now he understood the truth; that this was just another cage built to make a lion into something about as dangerous as a kitten.

The vehicle came to a stop outside a rather nondescript building and his handler slipped him a small slip of paper with the apartment number on it. Cato sighed, but took it and exited the car. He made his way into the building and upstairs until he was face to face with the door of his new temporary owner. He heaved a breath and steeled his nerves, before lifting his hand to knock, knowing that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could go home and pretend it hadn’t happened.

He never knew what to anticipate when this sort of thing happened; he’d been met with people with dyed skin and those with scales or feathers. But when the door opened, he found himself surprised.

You were not strange or grotesque the way that many people from the Capitol were. A part of his mind registered that you were handsome, but mostly he was glad that you looked… human.

You cleared your throat and stepped aside, holding the door open for Cato.

“So,” Cato said, crossing his arms over his chest as he stopped in the middle of the room. “Shall we get started?”

“That’s not why I called you here, actually,” you said, closing and locking the door before making your way further into the living room and then settling onto the couch. You hesitated for a moment as you thought, looking up at him consideringly from your seat, “I’ve seen your interviews and been at some of the parties you’ve made appearances at. I can tell that you’re unhappy.”

Cato was confused. In the months since he won the Games, no one had thought to check in with him on more than a surface level, and now some stranger could see through his mask? “What do you mean?”

You sighed softly, cocking your head to the side, “You’re not the first Victor that I’ve been around, y’know? I’m more familiar with the nightmares than I’d like to be.”

In that moment, Cato recognized you. It had been a long time and you’d been much younger then, but he was sure that you’d been the victorious tribute from the Hunger Games several years before his own. “It’s not- it’s not what I was anticipating,” he said after a long moment.

“It would’ve been easier if being a Tribute stayed in the Arena, wouldn’t it?” You said, a knowing glint in your eyes.

Cato nodded, moving to sit beside you, finally relaxing a little now that he’d found someone who understood him. “How do you cope?”

“I had someone to help me,” you smiled softly at him. “And if you’ll let me, I’d like to do the same for you.”

Cato was stunned. Through his whole life, he had always been treated like a warrior. Like, he’d been infallible and indestructible. But now, with you looking at him like that, he felt more seen than he ever had. “I think I’d like that.” He felt his chest tighten a little when your smile widened a little.

“Look,” you started, “They’re expecting you to be here for a while, so if you want to rest, my room is through there; take as long as you want.”

The blond blinked, momentarily confused. Eventually he nodded, pushing himself to his feet and heading toward the door you’d indicated. He paused in the doorframe, turning to look back over his shoulder at you. “Are you not coming?”

You looked startled, mouth falling open for a second as your gaze turned from the book you’d just picked up back to him. “Did you want me to?”

Cato hesitated, but eventually found himself nodding. “I sleep better when I’m with someone I trust.”

“You trust me?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded slowly, a little uncertain now that his judgement had been called into question. “You’ve done more for me in a few minutes then most of my allies did in the Arena.”

“Okay,” you murmur quietly, setting your book aside and following after Cato as he leads you back into your room.

He hesitated next to your bed as you laid down, but settled down next to you after a long moment.

As time passed and you drifted off to sleep, Cato tried to will himself after you, but the sight of you this close to him has his mind reeling now more than ever. He hadn’t ever really allowed himself to consider attraction, but now, with the faint light of the moon seeping through the massive window and casting over your face, he could feel his heart thundering in his chest and a light blush rising in his cheeks. “...Why would you want to help me?” he murmured, reaching out to trail his fingertips over your jawline.

You shifted at his touch, nose scrunching in a way that he’d never admit that he found adorable and your hands reaching out toward him. His breath caught in his chest, but he slowly moved closer to you until you were able to wrap your arms around him and curl close to his chest, tucking your face against his shoulder.

He watched you sleep for a while longer until his eyes grew heavy and his breathing slowed, finally slipping into the most peaceful sleep he’d had since the Reaping. The last thought that he could recall was that he wouldn’t mind staying in the Capitol longer, as long as it meant that he’d get to be with you.

[captnjacksparrow]

I just saw a post making fun of the fact Sasuke’s never had another kiss besides Naruto, but then someone else replied (this is just paraphrasing cause I don’t want to repeat the entire thing. Just go into the anti Orochimaru tag and you’ll find the post I’m talking about) “anything could’ve happened with Orochimaru…”

Okay, if I got put in a room with them, and Danzo Shimura, and I had a GUN, AND THE GUN HAD THREE BULLETS-

LOL. Unpopular Answer... Please ignore me if you don't want to.

Am not all saying that Sasuke was being abused in that way... Nor did I ever felt like that on my first and second watches.

But Don't you want to blame the Real mastermind behind that view being passed onto the readers???

Yeah, I am talking about Kishimoto here.

Let me tell you something... Sasuke always always always (and he still does) made me uncomfortable during that time when he was parading around several different places with that Shit costume.

Yeah, I hated it vehemently and it creeped me out for no fucking reason. My reasoning was, Either cover your Body or Go full-on exposing it... What the fuck is that useless shirt anyway???

Whenever he appears on screen, I feel like yelling "Just Go away... Why are you appearing at all??".

My face would always be like how Naruto is here.... A Complete Disgust in a funny way.

Believe me, Sasuke is the only male character with whom I felt like this... And sole the reason being his costume. Creeeeep!!!!

Atleast, this was how I felt until I decided to read Manga.

Oh Man!!!!

This poster made my skin crawling for very obvious reason... Was this poster even necessary??? Is it relevant to plot in any way???

Because Orochimaru was standing from behind, crawling his tongue over Sasuke, touching his chest and Sasuke was wearing that Hoe costume and on top of that he was letting Oro to do whatever the fuck he wants, all the while Sasuke was closing his eyes. Ewwwww!!!!

And now compare Sasuke and Oro's poster with this following poster which portrays another Master and Student pair in a much more cute and pleasant way...

Can you be honest and tell me Oro & Sasuke’s poster doesn't give you the vibe of what that Reddit commenter said??? "Anything could've happened with Orochimaru"

Of Course, the creep factor reached a new height and it became unbearable because Oro was shouting, "Sasuke-kun, Give me your Body!!!". Because of the Homoerotic factor.

It’s also not helping that Anime did many damage from their side by making Sasuke naked... And we see Snakes entangle his body... Eeeekkkkk🤢🤢

Aand insert that scene where Naruto goes feral when Oro said "My Sasuke-kun"... LOL.

What gives????

I know chronologically this scene happened much before Sasuke's face reveal... But I find this just hilarious.

And I've seen even some old Narutoforum joke (goes way back to 2012) which says Sasuke sold his virginity to Orochimaru in order to get Moaaarrr Power🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ and there are so many jokes like this.

Again, I am telling you... I don't think Oro is a pedophile neither Sasuke let him abuse in that way... But you can't deny the vibe that poster emits... I do agree that Oro is an Abuser who has no concern for Human values. He simply acquires any body that deems to serve his Experimentation purpose... Be it a child or grown man or woman. 

So, I think people are making that kind of ugly comments because the Art they saw in the manga forced them to. The Author could've simply drawn them in a much more different way but for some God-Only-Knows-For-Whatever reason... He chose to draw in that way... 

Yeah, I’ve said many times to not blame the Author if you hate something he has written... But my point was for the things where the Author has a reason as to why he did what he did. For Example, Sakura’s characterization. But this Oro and Sasuke shit has no fucking reason and it didn’t lead anywhere... 

Probably, you should shoot Kishimoto, Anon.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Omg can I please get a hannibal x a shy girl reader ? Like he’s really possessive of her and she doesn’t know how to handle it but she likes him so they date??

Sorry this took so long, anon. I’ve been bouncing ideas around and this one in particular, I believe, fits your request. Y/n feels out of place among Hannibal’s fancy friends and it becomes even more obvious when he abandons her at a party. 

Trigger warnings: social anxiety, sexual harassment, overstimulation

You and Hannibal had an agreement about large gatherings. He could only bring you to a party if you had a week's notice and at least three uninterrupted hours of gaming time prior to the event.

For this event, you needed a solid six.

One of the major Maryland universities was awarding a lucrative research grant to a student of clinical psychology, and every influential name in the industry was expected to be there. As a recent college grad with a bachelor's in business you didn't know what to do with, you couldn't imagine a less welcoming environment if you tried. You couldn't fit into their world and more importantly, you didn't want to. But the thought of being noticeably different in any situation was twice as terrifying. So you spent the whole week repeating your mantra; blend in, be quiet and make it through the night.

But Hannibal had different plans for you.

Halfway through the week, just when you'd pushed the party out of your mind, Hannibal presented you with a gift.

"What's the occasion?" You asked. You hoped that if you pretended not to know, it would just magically go away.

"I brought you something to wear on Friday." Hannibal answered, hanging the garment bag up on the bureau. "You know I'll take any excuse to dress you up."

He unzipped the bag and placed a black silk dress into your arms. "Try it on so I have time to get it altered if it needs it."

The material was cool to the touch and outlined your figure so perfectly, you felt even a little naked. Hannibal, of course, loved this. You were his own personal Venus de Milo. His goddess and his muse. 

“Yes, that will do nicely.” He observed, looking at you hungrily. 

“Seems a little short for a such a sophisticated event, doesn’t it?” You raised an eyebrow. The answer was yes and he knew it. He was very deliberate in everything he did. “I don’t want to come off the wrong way.” 

“And what way would that be, darling?” He asked, not taking his eyes off your figure. 

“I mean--” You searched for the right words. “It’s a gathering of the Mid-Atlantic’s most esteemed academics, I feel like, in a dress like this, I might be seen as, well, a...” 

“A prostitute?” Hannibal finished, choosing a much nicer word than you would have.

You looked down. “Yeah. It just doesn’t seem all that appropriate.” 

Hannibal approached you and lifted your chin slightly to look into his eyes. “Many Christian denominations believe that Mary Magdalene was a prostitute, yet she was Christ’s right-hand woman. She was first to see him crucified and first to witness his resurrection.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” You smirked. “I never would have taken you for a religious man.” 

“Goodness, no.” He shook his head. “But any reputable academic is expected to be familiar with biblical literature and its many contradictions and impossibilities.” 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“You are my divine feminine, Miss [L/N].” Hannibal said in a low whisper. “And I want everyone to see it. If they see a common whore, it would only be a reflection of their own jealousy.” 

Hannibal's rationalization almost made you forget about your fear of being noticed. Almost. It all came rushing back when you arrived at the event. Not one person your age was in attendance. The women wore long, flowing evening gowns that reached the floor. The length of your skirt alone guaranteed that all eyes were on you. In a simple black silk dress, you looked the very model of high society. Silk was a sign of luxury, and Hannibal wanted everyone to know that you were a woman of means. His woman, to be precise. That was why he brought you to these functions in the first place. To put you in a dress short enough for any wandering eyes so see the smattering of love bites running up your inner thighs. He wanted everyone in his field to know that you were completely and entirely his.

You realized too late that this was all his little exercise in showing you off.

Everyone seemed to know him. He only knew a handful of people by name, and you didn't know anyone.

"And who is this delightful young woman?" A woman with a light southern twang in her voice asked, looking at you as if you were a caged animal on display.

"I wasn't aware you had a daughter, Dr. Lecter." The young man beside her laughed. "Or is she your side piece?"

Your eyes scanned the room for the nearest exit. It would be unbecoming to make a scene, so you plotted a way to slip out quietly.

“Darling, meet Dr. Charlotte Ramset and her TA, David.” Hannibal introduced, notably ignoring the young man. “Dr. Ramset, this is my intended, [F/N] [L/N].”

"I didn't realize she was also a ventriloquist!" The lady, presumably Dr. Ramset, joked. You'd heard that one a million times. She looked at you. "Tell me about yourself, sweetie. What are you studying?"

The lady was old enough to be your grandmother and reeked of too much perfume.

"I graduated last year." You said, quietly. "With a BA in business."

"See, there's a good woman." David added. "Only speaks when spoken to. They don't make ’em like you anymore, baby."

Hannibal tightened his grip on your hand. "On the contrary, David. See, Miss [L/N] is quite a bit like myself. She only dignifies those she deems worthy with a response. There's nothing wrong with being selective."

The lady laughed at David's expense and smiled at you. "Good for you."

You smiled back just a little, not ready to bring your guard down yet. "I've had to deal with more than enough. It's best not to engage."

"Oh, I know, I know." The lady said, shaking her head. "That's how it is for us educated gals. Always having to put up with pigs. See, I went to college in the sixties, so I can tell you some real stories."

This was a new experience. Talking to Hannibal's friends and having them listen to you was something you never considered possible. Now, you were one of the educated gals. You were just about to strike up a conversation with this woman, when the man next to her decided someone desperately needed to play devil’s advocate.

“I find that sexist, actually.” He cut in. “Not all men are pigs.” 

The silence following his comment was deafening and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Whatever progress Hannibal and Dr. Ramset made breaking down your defenses was completely reversed and you were ready to retreat.

Dr. Ramset took a long sip of wine and adjusted her shawl. “David, none of us said anything about men, you drew that conclusion yourself.”

“I mean, look at you.” David gestured to your dress. You knew exactly where this was going and you wished you could just disappear. “You’re basically asking for it.” 

Dr. Ramset glared at him. “David, that’s enough.” 

“I’m just stating facts.” David crossed his arms. “If you dress like a slut, what do you expect?”

Dr. Ramset and Hannibal seemed to have an entire conversation through prolonged eye contact before one of them broke the silence. 

"Charlotte, I hate to have to excuse myself so soon, but the president of the university is expecting me." Hannibal said, dropping your hand. Your heart hit the floor when you realized that he would be throwing you to the wolves.

"Of course, Dr. Lecter." She nodded. "Duty calls."

"I trust you'll keep an eye on my beloved [F/N] in my absence?" His voice hardened. The severity in his tone frightened you.

Dr. Ramset didn't seem disturbed or even surprised in the slightest by his gently threatening demand. "Of course."

"Thank you. And [F/N]?" He said, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. "I won't be going far. Please, try to have fun."

You tried not to look affronted, but you were going to have a long talk with Hannibal when you got home. 

"I'm just saying what everyone is thinking." David continued, his inability to take a hint positively astounding. "Why don't you respect yourself enough to cover up, [F/N]? You have a boyfriend!"

Your eyes scrolled across the room looking for any sign of Hannibal, but he was gone. Dr. Ramset finished her wine and stared at her TA with the resigned disgust of a death row jailer.

"Any other thoughts?" She said, snatching a fresh glass of wine. You looked at her with a clear expression of discomfort.

"Come on, do you see any other woman in the room dressed so provocatively?" David's voice broke mid-sentence. "No. Because they're educated enough to know that real men don't care about their bodies."

The hotel clerk approached the group. "Mr. Hosmer, there's a call for you."

David narrowed his eyes. "Uh, what?"

"Someone is on the phone asking for you." The clerk repeated. "Says it's an emergency."

David shrugged. "Fine."

Just when you thought you would be rid of him, at least for a moment, he planted his hands on your hips in attempt to "get by" you. His touch was like that of an insect crawling across your skin; unexpected, filthy and leaving you squeamish.

"I'm so sorry about that." Dr. Ramset's words echoed in your ears, but you didn't really hear them. You were too focused on grounding yourself to process what she was saying. 

“Dr. Ramset?” You said, quietly. “Which one is the president of the university?” 

She glanced at a tall woman in a dark blue suit, surrounded by equally important looking businesspeople. You followed her eyes. “That’s Dr. Mary Hosmer.”

Your ounce of righteous fury was squelched in two seconds when the reality of having to talk to someone, especially someone of stature, set in. You looked sheepishly back at Dr. Ramset. 

“Could you please ask her where Hannibal went?” You whispered. “I’d really like him to take me home now.” 

Her face turned sympathetic. “Of course, [F/N]. Stay right there.” 

You nodded. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Ramset crossed the floor and politely greeted the president. You took a few slow, calculated steps closer, just to get in earshot.

“Pardon me, but, have you seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter?” Dr. Ramset said, casually. 

“I wasn’t aware Hannibal had even arrived yet.” The president answered. “I haven’t seen him.” 

Your eyes widened. You fought the urge to freeze, but you had to move back before Dr. Ramset knew you’d been eavesdropping. You heard everything you needed and rushed back to where she’d left you.

“Dr. Hosmer said he stepped out.” She told you upon her return. “He should be back soon.” 

You tried not to show that you knew she was lying. “...oh.” 

“Would you like me to stay with you until he comes back?” 

You knew you were completely on your own. You didn’t know what was going on, but you had an inkling that it had to do with the president and David sharing a last name. All you knew for certain was that you couldn’t trust anybody. 

“Don’t bother.” You shook your head. You took off for the door, but Dr. Ramset grabbed your wrist. 

“I’m sorry, [F/N].” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. She didn’t look mad, but afraid. “But Dr. Lecter told me to stay with you. Please. Don’t make this harder for me.”

You recalled how seriously threatening Hannibal’s request was. She wasn’t answering to the president of the university. She was answering to Hannibal. You didn’t know whether to be scared or relieved. 

“Right.” You conceded, stepping back in. “I’m sorry.” 

The actual award ceremony was much longer than it needed to be, and it dragged on even longer knowing there was no reason for you to be there. Other than that, you awkwardly followed Dr. Ramset around the party like a lost puppy the whole time. You were back to your original plan: blend in, be quiet and make it through the night. 

Just when you thought the party would never end, someone tapped you on the arm. You turned around, hoping with every fiber of your being that it was Hannibal, but it wasn’t. A tall woman in a dark blue suit stared back at you. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, miss.” She said, apologetically. “But have you seen my son? I saw him talking to you and Dr. Charlotte earlier, perhaps he told you where he was going?” 

You’d pushed that man completely out of your mind. You shook your head. “He left to take a phone call and I haven’t seen him since.” 

A hand found your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Hosmer, but I believe I saw the boy on his phone out in the lobby.” 

“Dr. Lecter!” The president’s eyes widened. “How nice of you to finally join us.” 

“...Yes, I believe he left right after making unwarranted comments towards my intended here.” Hannibal ran his hand down your arm lovingly. 

“Well, boys will be boys.” The president chuckled. “Maybe you should teach your girlfriend not to wear such revealing clothes.” 

Hannibal smiled and pulled you in protectively. “Whatever the case, I hope you find him very soon.” 

Her phone chimed in her back pocket. “Oh, that’s him right now.” 

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. “[F/N] and I will be taking our leave.” 

He hurried you towards the door, his hand tight around yours. A blood-curdling scream came from behind you. You looked back for just a moment and found the president hollering in pain and falling to her knees. 

“Let’s go, darling.” Hannibal tugged at your arm. “They don’t deserve your presence.” 

“Hannibal, I swear.” You said, once you were in the safety of the car. “If you killed every man who looked at me like a piece of meat, sooner or later, there won’t be any men left.” 

Hannibal smirked and reached for his seatbelt. “Wonderful.”