#if they don’t end up fine my anger will be unparalleled

[skoulsons]

I’m clinically insane it’s true.

BONUSES BECAUSE-

“They’re gonna take care of her, right? Good people?”

“I got what I wanted. Ginny is safe. She’s comfortable”

“When this is all over, will you look after Ginny for me? Please… look after her for me”

“All I have been doing for months is trying to find a safe place for you”

“I call out for you, you call back. You’re in trouble, you say so”

“It doesn’t matter what people say. Only what they do” *proceeds to find and fix her dinosaur for her*

AND ??? FINDING COMFORT IN HIS FLANNEL ???

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship. 

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

           “That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

           So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

           Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

           It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

           Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

           It was the best decision he would ever make.

           So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.  

           Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

           In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Until it wasn’t.

           Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

           That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

           The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

           It makes Spencer sick.

           His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

           “There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

           “Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

           “Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

           This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

           “You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

           “Not exactly.”

           The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

           Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

           “Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

           “There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

           He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

           “The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

           “Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

           “Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

           Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

--

           The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

           Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

           “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

           “I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

           “Busy?”

           JJ nods.

           “Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

           Of fucking course.

           Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

           He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

           “– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

           You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

           “She’s not interested.”

           The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

           “What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

           Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

           Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

           “I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,” Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

           “Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

           Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

           “What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

           Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

           When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

           “I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

           “Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

           “Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

           “M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

           “I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

           Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

           “Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

--

           As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

           “Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

           You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

           “What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

           “You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

           You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

           “Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

           “Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

           Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

           He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he’s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

           “You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

           You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

           “Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

           Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

           “That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

           “You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

           “Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

           “God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

           By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

           Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

           Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

           “M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

           Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

           “Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

           Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

           “Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

           “Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

           Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

           “Open.”

           You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

           “Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

           You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

           “D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

           “So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

           You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

           You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

           “Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

           “S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

           Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

           “Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

           And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

           “Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

           “So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

           “F-Fuck, Spencer!”

           “Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

           You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

           “Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

           “Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

           Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

           “C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

           “I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

           Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

           “How many do you think you deserve?”

           You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

           “However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

           Spencer returns your smile.

           “Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

           “Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

           You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

           “T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

           It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

           “Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

          “Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

           The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

          Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

          “You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds. 

          “Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips. 

          Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

           “Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

           “I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

           You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

           Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

           “So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

           “S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

           “Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

           “P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

           “Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

           It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

           Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

          “You okay, princess?”

           You give a weak nod.

           “M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

            Spencer is the first to pull away.

           “Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

           You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

           You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

           “S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

           “Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

            Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

           “Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

            You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

           “Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

           You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

           “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

           “Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

           Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

           “You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

           He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

           Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

           “Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

           “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

           “Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

           And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

           After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

           “You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

           It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

           “You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

           “We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

           “Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

           “You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

           “Only for you.”

           A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

           “We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

           “Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

           “Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

          “Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

          “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

          “Is that a no?”

          “... Look up the number.”

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin​ @moon-light-jukebox​ @thebookamongmen​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @eldahae​

[eyeless-cunt]

taking advantage of the fact that the request are open haha, how would the creepypastas react if they killed their s/o accidentally? thnks love, much love 4 u

you woke up and and chose enternal suffering

TW: Death of the reader, blood, gore, angst, depressive thoughts, hintings of panic attacks, mentions of suicide,....necrophilia....?, mentions of pills, paranoia, delusions :), ect.

Jeffery:

I'm Honestly not even sure how he could have accidentally killed you? He never takes you with him when he goes out to...do his things. He certainly never raised a knife towards you and he would never kill you out of anger. So how did this even happen?

He blacked out. He was just sitting with you, laughing about nothing important. That's all he can remember. So where are you? And whose blood is he covered in right now? It's brown and crumbly, signiling that it's been a good few hours since he came into contact with it. Where are you? He wants to see you, ask what happened. He never even noticed he was holding a knife washed in blood until he stood up, the object falling from his loose hand. Did he kill someone? When? Where? Where's the body? Where are you? Is this a dream? Where are you? He turns in circles, looking for a body. Where are you? He smells that familair scent in the air--that smell that arises from the corpses he mutilates. Where are you? He peeks behind a close by tree, expecting to see a random stranger of whom may have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where are you?

THERE YOU ARE

Wobbiling legs, vacant eyes, a shaky hand outstretched towards an all too familar body. Why are you here? What's wrong with you? Shaky breaths, his heart that seems to stop for a whole few seconds--and suddenly—all too suddenly, the realization of what he's done hits him so hard he loses the feeling in his legs, falling beside your weeping corpse as you stare him in the eyes, filling him with a sense of glorified dread. The emotions that his brain can't seem to comprehend are flooding in all at once and far too fast, crippiling him with something that escaped him the night he killed his family. How did this happen? Why? What? Confusion and horror seeps into his bones and shoots him down, peircing his lungs in a way that leaves him gasping for air that he just can't seem to hold onto.

Jane:

She was just too obsessed. She went too far without looking around at her surroundings. Her hunt for Jeffery pushed her too hard. Before she knew it, she was standing over a body that she shouldn’t have been. As soon as she did it, her spiked anger flushed out of her system, a cold bucket of realization and horror washing over her. Immediately, apologies spew out of her mouth from behind her mask. She hurt her s/o out of pure anger of which she didn’t try hard enough to control. She’s so sure that you’ve just been knocked unconscious—she’s positive that your bleeding head wound isn’t fatal. No, you’ll be fine. Huh? Where’s your pulse? What?

Her nerves flare up, horror spiking back up again; as if it never went down in the first place. She’s not a delusional idiot. She doesn’t try to shake you awake. She won’t call out for you, expecting a response. Jane doesn’t pray to a dead god in the hope that you’ll awaken and smile at her, saying that you forgive her. That you know it was an accident. That you still love her. No. What she does is bury your body. She reflects the blame onto someone else. Jeffery. You were arguing with her about her continuous hunt for him. You told her that you wanted her to stop—you wanted her to forget. Jeffery caused this. He was the subject of the argument. He’s taken yet another person from her.

BEN:

How did this happen to him? To you? He should have been more careful. He should have known this would happen sooner or later. He should have stayed away from you. Why was he like this? Of course this happened to him, to you; the person he loved most. It was fine. It was alright. You were having fun. He was so happy just to be able to spend time with you. Why would he let you put in the plug? So close to him? He naturally collects electricity. He knows that. So why would he let himself stand so close to you as you plugged in the controller.

A lapse in judgement. He forgot. He was too focused on the way you looked today. You had only woken up an hour ago, a messy appearance still making his dead heart race. That’s no excuse. How did this happen to him? He knows how. So why can’t he feel anything? Why can’t he move his limbs? Why does he feel worse now than he had when he was drowning at the bottom of a lake? Why is he feeling like that but also simultaneously feeling nothing at the same time? Did he break? Yeah. Staring down at this body, he starts to think he might have broke. He might have just died again. He wants to die again. Please let him die again.

EJ:

He was careful with you for years. He had to be. He could break a hand just by holding it so easily. He could lose to his cravings and sink his teeth into your neck at any time. He could rip your head off with no effort at all if he were to brush your hair with anything other than small, fleeting and gentle touches. So how did this happen? He’s always been so careful. His eating schedule always revolved around you. He would have to leave for a few days so he could eat away from you, so he usually held off on leaving for months if he could.

He knew he shouldn’t have. Spending more time with you at the cost of your own life wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t logical. If the hunger got too persistent he could go feral, accidentally killing you in the process. It wasn’t logical. He knew it wasn’t logical to stay with you longer if he was hungry. So why did he do it? How could he let this happen? The cold realization that he really did lose control hits him, the feeling in his limbs quickly leaving. Static. That’s all he could feel. Numb static. You’re everywhere. He wasn’t careful enough. He lost out to his feelings for the first time in hundreds of years. And you paid the price. It was his fault. It’s his fault. It’s his fault. HE DID THIS TO YOU.

He can’t function. The control he’s been holding over himself for a good thousand years breaks. He regresses back into what he was before he gained control. He no longer wants to have control if it leads to him falling in love with someone only to kill them later when he loses it again.

LJ:

He can’t even remember how this happened. The trauma blocking the horrible memories works fast. All he knows is that you’re leaking blood all over a table he doesn’t remember being here yesterday. All he knows is that you’re dead and he did this. He did this. No. No he didn’t. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He would never hurt you. Who did this? He didn’t. Events take a morbid turn when his abandonment issues take a turn for the worse.

He won’t let the body go. Your body. He won’t let you leave him. So he holds you forever, just like he promised you he would when you first met all those years ago. He holds you through the decomposition process, he holds you until you’re only scattered bones. He holds you until your bones are dust and you’ve been gone longer than he can remember. He says to not worry. He likes holding you. He’ll hold you like this forever. Don’t worry. He’s sure you were so scared. Don’t worry. He’s got you. Don’t worry.

Masky:

He ran out of pills at the worst possible time. The paranoia hit him all at once, making him tape the windows and glue them shut, block the door, place a camera in all the doorways. He keeps seeing things. He keeps seeing the tall man in the darkest corner of his room. He needs more pills. But he can’t leave or the tall man will get him. He’s sure of it.

You just chose the wrong time to come over. You couldn’t have known. He didn’t even realize it was you. It was so dark. The pipe in his hand was slick with sweat. All too suddenly you’re on the floor bleeding out and his chest is heaving, air seemingly desperate to avoid him. The lights get turned on. Huh? Why are you—why? Why are you on the floor? Where is that blood coming from...? Like coffee to a drunk person, the sight of your bleeding out form sobers him—paranoia and hallucinatory visions seeping out of his veins. An almost unparalleled confusion makes him back away from you, making him trip over his steps. He can’t grasp what’s exactly happening at the moment. It takes him a few minutes to realize that his s/o is indeed bleeding out on his floor—and by then it’s far too late. He’s incompetent. His incompetency was the cause of your death. His cowardice. He was so weak it ended your life. That’s how he sees it.

Hoodie:

He can’t even believe he let you get into this situation with him. He was supposed to protect you. He was supposed to be strong enough—stable enough, to protect you. He was supposed to be able to keep his sanity so that he could keep you safe. He took his pills. He stayed away from the woods when he was with you. He stayed in public places with you, and never met at night. He always had a tape recording—so how did it go so wrong? He tried so hard. He tried so fucking hard to keep you safe. So fucking hard.

He thought it was okay to take a short walk with you. You weren’t even close to the woods, it was still a semi-public place. No one was out, and while that made him uneasy, he didn’t question it. He should have. He should have grabbed your hand and taken you to fucking McDonalds or some shit. Maybe a nice stroll through Walmart. Just not here. Not alone and outside. He put you in this situation. It was his fault. He didn’t mean it. He’s never been angrier in his whole existence. He doesn’t worry, he doesn’t fear. Hoodie isn’t scared of anything. But looking down at a corpse that once belonged to you, he finds that he does indeed fear one thing. The end of your life.

Toby:

As far as he’s concerned you never died. What? What do you mean you’re holding a funeral? For who? What? What do you mean? My significant other is sitting right beside me? Is this a joke? It’s not very funny. Can you please stop calling me delusional? Hallucinating? What the fuck are you on? Do you want me set you on fire?

No. You never died. In fact, he’s looking at your smiling face right now. You’re like the sun. So bright it hurts, but so pretty. You’re telling him about your day, although he finds it odd that you’re talking about work again even though you’ve been sitting in this field with him all day. You’re a bit inconsistent and confused these days, but that’s okay. We’ll get through it together. Just like we always have. You promised, remember? Together forever, even through death. <3

[sly-merlin]

killing me- 9

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au , smut

warnings of this chapter : smut, drinking ,mention of weapons

words :: 7k

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or              

                    “  curiousity got the cat hitched”

taglist :: (not tagging the old ones because they have read it already bt if u want , lemme know! )  @yiyi4657​ @sorrywonwoo​ @sillywinnergladiator​​ @suhweo​​ @exfolitae​ @minejungwoo​ @leesalts​  @mal-nakamoto23​ @ro2424​

@kafenetwork​​​​ @neowritingsnet​​​​

K.M masterlist

K.M 8  next

note:: unedited! i’m a bit busy so i’ll try to edit it before sleep!

“yuta.”

“bake up.”

Yuta groaned at the foreign force shaking him repeatedly. He moved, crashing his face further into the sheets, swatting the alien hands away from himself.

“wake up you horse!” this time yuta heard the gurgling voice a bit more clearly. Someone was trying to disturb his sleep. Staying on his stomach and titling his half body to face the uninvited guest, he made out a face that matched johnnys. His face fell flat on the mattress again until he realised what or whom he has seen! He jolted upright, squatting, to face johnny.

“what are you doing here.” He mumbled with eyes still closed, stretching his arms on the sheets.

“it’s 1p.m!why you still sleeping dude?” johnny’s exasperated voice sounded too loud to yuta’s morning self. Or afternoon!

“It’s m-” a long yawn stretched his mouth into an oval shape, that he didn’t mind covering “its my house. I’ll do whatever I want but what are you even doing here?” he completed quietly.

“why are you still sleeping. You weren’t even drunk. Get up and tell me where is y/n!”

“so you are not here for me!” yuta pouted at johnny before throwing himself on the bed again, covering himself with sheets.

“what the fuck yuta! You are not a baby and tell me where is she? Did you even drive her back?” johnny asked sternly, removing his layer of protection.

“the only thing I can assure is that I wanna sleep more. And about your big fat crush! She certainly came back with me but she was crying so I won’t be surprised if she left already.” As soon as yuta’s almost inaudible words reached johnny’s ears, he jogged outside the room, checking the lock of your room. He sighed in relief at the secured lock. You didn’t leave and he was glad.

Johnny noticed your movements when you signed those papers. He was cursing at himself for not interfering but not like it’d have made any difference! The best he could do was to make sure you were fine at the end. Regardless of the fact that your phone was switched off, he was trying it continuously since yesterday night. Countless phone calls and messages but all were futile. His anger on taeyong was just fuelling by your ignorance.

Annoyingly, he fisted his hair before going for yuta’s room again.

“is she in university right now?” he asked yuta, who was looking like a dead body with an open mouth.

“bloody hell nakamoto! Wake up!” he shouted at him, this time the sheets were tossed on the floor.

“johnny babes, just track her. Don’t shout at me. I didn’t do anything this time.”

“you seriously ate your ethics yuta. I’m not needed there so I’m staying until she’s back.” Johnny declared, making his way outside on the couches.

“not needed my ass john suh. Ate my ethics! Says the one who’s seducing his own sister-in-law.” He only muttered before drifting back into paradise.

johnny just sat there in front of the t.v, mindlessly waiting for you, unknown guilt corroding his mind and heart.

***************

Doyeon and mingi’s whispering felt like a hammer to your head. The incessant pounding was the result of some expensive alcohol and the stupid tears. If exams were not approaching in two weeks, you’d have stayed longer to sulk but their future was as important as yours and only one more week was left so you just sucked it up. Now you were eating the lunch brought by mingi while testing them for exam.

“civil laws suck.” Mingi exclaimed, hitting doyeon on the arm.

“no! your brain sucks.” Doyeon reiterated, poking his head with her pencil.

“wtf doyie! My brain is totally packed up to the brim. if you love it so much, then tell me the answer of question 6!” a smug smile made its way to mingi’s lips.

“what’s wrong with no.6 mingi?” you questioned, perplexed as there was no difficulty in the paper yet he was still looking here and there.

“umm. Non bis in idem! It’s not given anywhere. Right?” he hesitantly asked for he knew he was wrong, somewhere.

“what was the paper you wrote last time?” you tried not to unleash your anger on them, so you kept your voice as low as possible.

“double jeopardy!”

“and?”

“and?”

“what the heck mingi! Didn’t you mention the legal maxim of dj?”

“maybe not!”

“what kind of law student forgets about legal maxims duffus! Non bis in idem means double jeopardy.” You reprimanded him tiredly, not in the mood to put up much fight with him.

“sorry” he said, head hung low.

“don’t be mingi. I won’t gain anything from this. you need to study for yourself. now complete this before I give you a subjective test. Double prep is always good. Hurry up!”

A collective musical groan leaves them both, as they tend to their paper again, you drowning yourself in your own books.

*******************

Johnny and yuta were engrossed in a football match when you entered the hallway. Upon noticing you, johnny sighed in disbelief, before making his way to you.

“why is your phone switched off?” he fumed at you, hands on his waist as you poured water for yourself.

“It wasn’t charged so I left it here.” he knew he wasn’t doing his utmost in containing his irritation and your casual tone just took him off guard.

“you jus- you should have charged it dammit. I was fucking worried that something happened to you and what kind of girl travels without a phone these days!” his hand ruined his already messy hair as he ranted, the reason of which was beyond your understanding.

“it’s not that big of an issue besides I’m not clearly out of reach right!” you scoffed at him, pointing to your arm where the bracelet was hidden, under the sleeves. You didn’t mean to sound rude at his concern but his position was no better .You had every right to be querulous!

“i-you don’t understand. i just wanted a reply from you. it’s the least I deserve! Or don’t i?” his voice went down as his face lost the previous stern expression.

“I saw my phone only this morning and I was getting late so didn’t bother!” you shrugged your shoulders at him, making your way for the room.

“where are you going?” his voice rose a bit as he held onto your arm.

“in my room!” you replied, matter of factly.

“yeah! I thought you were going to greet your dear husband!” he joked, tilting his head towards the couches where yuta sat previously but he was not there anymore.

“I don’t wanna talk johnny!” you said curtly, jerking your hand away. But he was quicker as he pulled you into him, backing you into a counter.

“just leav-

“no tell me what’s the matter with you. what have I even done?” his voice was barely above a whisper, meant only to be heard by you. the rise and fall in his speech was already shaking your resolution.

“nothing! just turned a normal student into a deadly underground member. But it’s nothing big so yeah!” you replied, mock evident in your words. As you tried to leave again, his hands caught your waist as he picked you up, stationing you on the counter. He secured you against his body, restricting your movements. His hard orbs found yours as he hands tightened around your waist, making you gulp in the process. You stared back with same intensity, as if reading his next step. He lowered his front, demanding eyes never leaving yours,

“this is the first and last time I’ll be explaining myself. I don’t know a shit about why he did that. But those papers won’t be used against you. I won’t let that happen. Ever. I promise that with my life. Just have some faith in me” He whispered. Besides it being the precise validation you sought, suspicion couldn’t be helped!

“and why would you do that. Do you also have some hidden agen-

his lips felt soft as they collided with yours with urgent need to shut you up. You froze, so did he. The only movement in your control was of your hands that were tightly gripped to the counter. The silence in the air being tense, his lips stayed still and contrary to yours, his eyes were completely shut. Johnny’s light breaths fanned your upper lip as his chest heaved up and down. Neither of you made any effort to further it nor any to pull apart. Few more seconds passed and he finally detached himself, the bodies still connected. Your lashes fluttered as he palmed your left cheek, speaking in a low husky whisper.

“I promise. Just believe me and when I say taeyong won’t hurt you, I mean it. With all my heart. Can you trust me on this please?”

He was insisting yet pleading and you merely nodded, lowering your head. His delicate fingers brushed the line formed between your brows, smiling softly.

“you have nothing to worry about. with unparalleled record that we have! You ain’t getting rid of me anytime soon. Yeah?”

His breathy laugh tingled your insides and something like awe transformed his face as he felt the warmness of your cheeks under his hand.

“by any chance, are you flustered?” your face went blank at his shameless comment when he was the very reason for your current state.

“n-no!” you pushed him hard while standing straight. He staggered a bit, giggling uncontrollably at you.

“lying suits you y/n. just like your soulmate jaehyun.” You scrunched your nose at the mention.

“don’t talk about him! He’s so annoying, i’m gonna hang him upside down someday o-or turn him into a stew!”

“and feed him to yuta!” he completed. You gawked at him for a moment before joining him in his laughing session.

“there is food?” yuta entered the kitchen, dimming the commotion.

“not for you!” you snarked.

“we have food y/n?” it was johnny this time. you had almost forgot about the sandwiches that were now probably rotting in your bag. As realisation dawned, you hurriedly retrieved your bag from counter, opening the plastics from the sandwiches with a last hope to save them.

“do you know that you don’t have to be ramsey to stuff cucumber and tomatoes in a bread?” johnny shifted, taking the packages to heat them up.

“I was out of bread. So I just took the easy route.”

“lame excuse! Work better!”

“not everyone got time john!”

You strolled for your room, passing yuta in the way, totally missing the frown and cute smile on yuta and johnny respectively. Though yuta’s internals were screaming at him to open his shitty mouth, his main focus was on his empty stomach that was growling like never before.

“pass me one john!” he whisper yelled to johnny, purposely stretching the last word to satisfy himself.

“no! it’s her lunch or snack or whatever it is.” He warned, hiding the oven with his front.

“oh so you have turned a part time servant for her!” he spewed, crossing his arms against his chest.

“no dude. She’s actual-

he was about to tell yuta but he halted his train of words for he was not in the place to tell any of your secrets to anyone , especially yuta.

“she’s what? Your girlfriend?”

“I swear I’m gonna fry you someday!”

“whatever. Now give me a sandwich before she comes out. Hurry up!” yuta looked over johnny’s shoulders to count the stacked portion in the device.

“one, two-

“three. They are just three yuta! Fuck off.” Johnny knew throwing abuses wouldn’t work but hitting him with his shoulder wasn’t either! He glanced at yuta and he seriously looked miserable. Hungry miserable!

“come on-

“are you done john?” your voice echoed from the hall as you approached wearing your famous tank top and cotton shorts. Yuta cursed under his breath, opening the fridge to get himself something.

“here” johnny handed you the plate. He hit yuta’s arm to grab his attention who was practically trying to sit in the fridge.

“renjun and jaemin are cooking their special ramyeon. We’ll eat there, come on!”

“huh!” he excitedly passed johnny to pick his things up.

With yuta out of sight, his focus shifted again on you. “don’t you get sick after eating takeouts?”

“yup I do! My gut is not the healthiest one in the world. But I’ve fewer options and I do check their health certificates so no need to worry.” Your humorous reply didn’t get more than a shit face from him. He leaned again causing you to take a step backwards.

“your hair!” He pointed and you rolled your eyes like you’d see what was happening up there.

“what my hair?”

“umm. Nothing kiddo!” he said before ruffling your hair.

“aah. I’m not a kid johnny!” you shouted at him though he was just standing by your shoulder.

“oh yes you are!” he pouted dramatically and ran but not forgetting to throw a flying kiss your way. “charge your phone, I’ll call again.”

“eww!” you snapped your head to catch yuta standing behind, making faces at johnny who was standing at the front of hallway.

“oh come on you shit.”

At johnny’s comment , yuta just followed and you totally missed the way he scoffed at both of you.

****************

You were truly jumbled by johnny’s actions, innocent yet calculated. You had maintained your calm but he was aware that you were not blind towards his growing attraction. why didn’t you push him away! What was he aiming at? Questions, questions! From the very first day, all you have are questions with no concrete answers.

But Johnny was not the sole occupier of your worries, taeyong held a significant part of it. If what johnny said was true, if his intentions were not so malafide then he’d easily have skipped it. Despite johnny’s assurance, you couldn’t afford trusting him anymore. Not like you could protect yourself from losing anything but your walls would always be enclosed for him.

Your wandering mind was pulled back into reality by a message from your classmate. The date of thesis topic submission was moved to an earlier one, a week earlier to be specific. In reality, you were all starting it a few months earlier just so the pressure could be minimised but it instead felt like a strategy for your doom. You all were supposed to submit the topic and a little introduction even before the qualification exam! And obviously you were behind the so called ahead-of-time schedule. You could have wrote a ph.d worthy book on mafia and their ploys but sadly criminal law was not the option available for it. So that’s how you ended up in the small balcony, sitting on the cold floor, enjoying the evening cool breeze. Search results on both naver and google had varied from “50 best topics of dissertation in international law” to “how to know what is my area of interest?” but every try had gone to a blank page.

************

By late evening, you got bored of sitting in the balcony and room, so you decided to study with a change of setting and the only place available apart from your room was the hall. After computing various possibilities, you dragged the single seater towards the hall windows and angling the book on the window still, a much comfy makeshift study space was ready. With the newfound determination to complete the task at hand, your eyes browsed every means of information to stumble upon anything you missed earlier, ignoring the blue skies switching to the darker ones.

***********

Yuta noticed the way he was experiencing more fatigue as the days passed by. He never trained this much until he was suspended. He looked forward for it to end so he could feel the same thrill again but two weeks wouldn’t just pass in a blink! He claimed the basement as his new home trying to ignore the activities transpiring upstairs. The desire to stay with his dear roommate jungwoo was irrepressible but his ego didn’t allow him to give in so easily. He wanted to show his anger to taeyong and that was the only reason he found himself coming back to the new home more often.

He languidly passed the kitchen to use the washroom. Only when he was about to enter his room, he noticed the lightening in the kitchen and living room. He groaned at the thought of your imprudent habit of multiplying the electricity bill which eventually he had to pay! Or maybe you were just trying to instigate him! When he was about to put out the lights, he spotted the sofa and a pair of legs perched on the widow still. He took light steps to reach your sleeping figure and suddenly he felt his annoyance melting into astonishment. Your face was covered with the open, visibly heavy hardcover book whilst your half body was on the seat and half in the air with feet placed on the window still for balance that was clearly very very comfortable place for napping at midnight. unconsciously, his hand extended for the book and as he picked it up, you stirred. Panic took over him as he lost the hold leading the book to fell on your face instead. He ducked, cupping his mouth with both hands to stifle the laugh that was about to escape. Luckily you were dead to the world. Hearing no movement, he crawled for the room , getting up only when he was at a safe distance. Without wasting another moment, he did what he was there for in the first place and went to sleep, with a thumping heart that was probably due to the initial dread he felt or that’s what he thought!

**********

The bus stop being far away, you began the long trudge for neos’ house. Taeil had requested your presence two days ago , but being too busy with studying on the first few days of the week ,it was delayed. You’d have never accepted the offer if it was taeyong but taeil suggested you to take your time even though what he wanted to ask or said was important. His readiness to prioritise your convenience warmed you and it were the emotions of the moment that you agreed to him. And now the heat was burning your exposed legs and you were cursing his sweet tongue.

You knocked on the opened door to announce your arrival despite the fact that the main door had automatically detected you to lead you in. you stood there like a statue, moving your neck like an owl, waiting for an invitation but nothing. you banged it again only to hear someone’s cursing from inside.

“who the fuck knocks when it’s op-

A screeched scream met your ears as a man came into your sight. He abruptly started bowing, apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry noona. I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry. This won’t happen again. I-

“hey, it’s totally fine. I didn’t even hear you in the first place.” You lied, saving him the mortification.

“can I come in?”

“this is your own place. You don’t need to ask or knock noona!” you entered as he gestured you to sit.

“can you call tae-

But before you could say it, he ran inside. You didn’t know or remembered his name but his face looked familiar. Maybe he was sicheng or hyuck or someone else cause you were sure you had met hyuck before!

“I was making coffee for taeil hyung. But he’s late so it’s yours now!” he exclaimed with his eye smile. it was cute and friendly.

“what was your name again?” you asked smiling back at him, noticing the little red on his neck.

“jeno.” He immediately settled on a seat, his focus fixed on you. “I’m making snacks. Do you wanna join?”

You chuckled at his innocent suggestion, “If you meant joining for eating, then I’m all in but if you want my help in actual process, then you’d die hungry today!”

“I’m aware of that but you are never late to learn anything right!”

“wow. Your enthusiasm is admirable but I don’t wanna burn your kitchen.” Your eyes were blessed with another series of his eye smile. it was contagious.

“you are here!” you saw taeil sprinting towards you.

“I’m sorry. I got caught up in the office.” His words came out breathy as he was still panting from the jog.

“no worries but I don’t have much time. I have to study for exams.”

“yes, studying is important.” He nodded before requesting jeno to get him the coffee and water, to which the boy grumpily complied.

“why the fuck is air con off! I’m gonna roast!” He whined and got up again to close the front door.

“now. I’ve two things to tell you or rather order you. you wanna eat first orr-

“no I’m fine really. Just tell me what taeyong ordered this time!” you had no doubt that it was taeyong’s doing.

“forget about that shit. Here, veto power is mine. JENO, STOP MELTING THE ICE AND GIVE ME SOME WATER!” he screamed at jeno who came out hurriedly with both water and coffee.

Jeno took a seat beside taeil but his one glare made him go back. Sighing in relief after quenching his thirst, he continued in a polite voice. “yuta told me about the card. Why didn’t you take it?”

“because I don’t want his money. I’m good with what I have. Besides every transaction related to him would lead me in trouble so why take the risk!” you sounded harsher than you intended but it wasn’t in your control anymore. Mention yuta and you’ll obviously bite!

“the account is already open. Yuta’s gonna transfer same amount of money every month so why don’t spend his money or better, give him a heart attack by paying everything with the card. He’s gonna pay and I promise, he has no say in this so he won’t even scold you!” he sounded quite cheerful which clearly indicated that none of them understood your language.

“no thanks taeil. staying away from his shadow is much safer.”

“shadow runs with the man y/n.”

“the man himself avoids me like a plague so it’s a win win here.”

“what you see is present. Nobody can ever escape a tomorrow! You are evading it today, but one day you’ll eventually face it.”

“I don’t speak quotes!”

“simple! You both collide only to cause harm to each other. For how long do you think this can work. You’ll get tired and I suppose he’d too. when you’ll stop to rest, you’d find him there but at that time you won’t have enough energy to fight off anymore. Placebo is deadly y/n!”

You absorbed his vague statement full of philosophy but your mind couldn’t harmonise with what he meant!

“honestly, I stopped hearing the moment you mentioned yuta so can we continue!”

“yeah sure. Take the card, keep it for emergencies and I’m not taking no anymore. You aren’t hearing me so I’m doing the same. and secondly, can you defend yourself?”

“defend from who exactly?”

“drunken bastards, thieves, goons or whoever comes at you with a knife!” you were puzzled at the sudden mention.

“my personality repels violence and I’ve two strong best friends.” You declared the obvious. The only drunkards you met were outside the clubs and you never went alone so the thought never crossed your mind.

“first is a lie and second is insignificant here. I need you to learn some basics so you won’t need anyone else or just to hold until help comes.”

“what the! Are you actually recruiting me or something? I don’t wanna be a party in your gang wars.” you announced, now clearly understanding what he meant in the first place.

“I’m not telling you to fight with us. You don’t have an ounce of brain do you? it’s for your own safety.”

“safety from what? I live in a rich and peaceful neighbourhood, my dear husband is a corporate of first class, I myself never even go for a simple stroll in a park then who would I even fight?”

“here ,we all are used to the danger that we face everyday. Each and every man you see here is able to dodge anything that comes their way but you.are.not. Just because they are acting like school kids with no care in life doesn’t mean they are any safer. Jeno was making coffee a few minutes ago but after dinner, he’d be going for protection fee collection with others. If shit goes down, you might not even see him again but we won’t let that happen in the first place. It’s not same with you though. god forbid if you attract the attention of wrong people for all the reasons you stated, then how are we going to help you. even if you press the bracelet , it’d take us some time to get there. till then what would you do? You can’t even probably run for more than a mile! can you?”

You just shook your head at him, too baffled to form any words.

“do you devote any time to exercise?”

“I walk enough I guess and some planks when my stomach is out too much.”

“you are no better than these boys seriously.” She rolled his eyes at your statement.

“but despite the exercise or whatever, my strength is nothing against jeno or johhny. I’ll never b-

“if you fail in strength , atleast you can be swift. Or better you can learn to handle a gun or a knife. When do you get free?”

So, that’s why he called you!

“I don’t have a minute to spare for the next 15 days. Prep and exams are more important for me.”

“no worries. We can start after that. But don’t remove the bracelet band under any condition. Some rival mafia has hired a contract killer for you. so run fast if you notice someone following you, press it and we’ll be there. till then just hang on.” Nervousness got hold of your senses as you heard his warning.

“you are fucking kidding right! was I being followe-

“yes, I’m kidding.” he chuckled dryly. “You should see your face. If it was outside the parameters of the room, you’d have passed out already. Panic only leads to death and I don’t want you to die. so do it just for my peace of mind.” You released the breath you were holding till now, feeling relaxed again.

You just nodded at his words. He sounded like some motivational speaker luring you into his lifetime guarantee program but you knew he was right somewhere. you couldn’t depend on the boys to save you from creeps for whole life.

he was good at reading minds, you thought but despite that you wanted to pour the coffee on his head for the heart attack he’d gave you a minute ago.

“it’s risk free and beneficial. What you say?”

“ok. but I don’t wanna spar with the 6 feet ones. I’ll rather learn from you.” it was your turn to cackle!

“we’ll see about that.” He rolled his eyes to the back at your obvious attempt of poking fun at his short stature

JENO, I DIDN’T ASK FOR A COLD COFFEE. MAKE ME A NEW ONE.”

********

Meeting with taeil had benefitted you in every way. The most useful presently was the topic of the thesis he randomly suggested you. “ effect and consequences of veto power in relation to international peace and human rights”.  even mr. kwang, your thesis mentor liked it as it was almost near original. Now you were just left with exams that were just a week away. Fortune was playing in your favour as yuta had been missing from past few days that saved you some extra energy and headaches that you got with his repulsive energy towards you. then there was your newfound love for the sofa that you had permanently dragged by the windows. It helped a lot in relaxing and studying and you ended up sleeping on it, nearly getting used to the cramped neck.

Unbeknownst to you, he did come back, daily. But you were just so occupied that you never noticed the slight shuffling in the midnight. it went on for days until you woke up with a blanket covering your bare legs, evidently not yours!

****************

How to start the finals? By getting wasted? No. certainly not. But birthdays are important, sometimes more than those stupid grades!

The venue for yeong’s b’day celebration was a night club, as expected from yugyeom! He need no reason to get drunk and when his s/o was herself cutting the chains, then it’s the finest deal one could get!

Loaded with university students, the party at the first floor was thundering. The hoots and roars of slightly drunk adults became deafening as soon as the cake was consumed.

“why your classmates are so fucking loud” you screamed in yeong’s ear. You both were seated at the corner on leather seats, drinking away the reality.

“with your dolphin voice, you are in no place to judge them bitch!”

“lets blame this on your drunkard mumbo jumbo!” she jumped in joy at your lame attempt, alcohol speaking out for you.

“btw where’s your boyfriend?” she questioned leaning into your ear.

“who?” you wondered who she was referring to.

“wonwoo! Who else dumbo. His whole army was invited by gyeom but I haven’t seen him yet!”

You just shrugged in response, not wanting to face him. The farther, the better. His possessiveness only elevated your fears. Now that you were bound on taeyong’s mercy, wonwoo would be calling for a danger by being with you, especially when you were incapable of returning his love.

But fate had some cruel plans stored for you. when you were ordering another drink, strong hands gripped your waist. Though beyond tipsy, the moment you touched the protective hold, you knew it was wonwoo. It was always him afterall.

“you could burn me while wearing white and I’d say thank you baby” He whispered, nibbling on your ear, shivers running down to your bare thighs at the sudden action. everyone knew how much you loved white and that’s why yeong had designed this short white satin dress which just screamed “you” and barely left anything to the imagination of the viewer. “and nothing turns me on more than your covered arms.” He continued as his fingers slowly traced the collarbones down to the cleavage, your drunken self melting into his chest. His hands worked swiftly and he guided you into a secluded part to drown the excessive noise. Your back hit a wall as his nose brushed against yours, his slender fingers siding your sling bag to hook at your hips. He bent into your lips, love filled kisses slowly smoothening into hungry ones. The taste he left on yours was of the infamous vodka that he sure had consumed in plenty of amount ,leading him to you. the pledge to keep yourself away from him broke down in figures as he rolled his hips into yours, lips syncing with the movements. His grip bruised your body, hunger lowering from lips to the bare neck. Throwing your head back, savouring his touch, you clutched his shoulders for some control. Scheduled moans became more filthy as his one hand gripped your thigh in a try to hike up your dress. He didn’t do much work as it was already climbing up your hips. A Single move and his fingers graced against your core, tingling sensation burning your whole body. The open mouthed kisses left marks on your cleavage and neck as he fingers fucked you mercilessly.

“I missed you so much baby.”  His wavering yet soft tone met your ears but everything seemed hazy as he drove in and out of you. you felt euphoria in your stomach hitting you once again as he rambled on. “ don’t ever leave me again. you are my only lu-luxury. Don’t you ever dare snatch away the only hope I have! I love you. i fucking love you!” his sped up his actions under the dress but before he could provide you the final pleasure, you came back to the reality he  had divorced you from. you didn’t love him and never would. To his disbelief, you separated yourself from his body, him staggering back with the push.

“wha-

“I don’t love you woo. This-

Your hands filled the space between you two.

“this was never about love. We need to stop. I don’t love you woo. And don’t expect anything better from me. We are over. This is over.”

Your drunken slurs made evident that though you were loaded, the senses were still intact somehow.

“no y/n. don’t do this to me. I’ll wait more if you want. A lifetime if you say. But don’t say you are done with us. I’d die without you.” his words rang like a bell as you attempted to corrected the panties and dress, waving slightly.

You jumped away from him as his words got registered in your head. Ignoring him completely, you turned to enter the blast again but his strong hold on your arm stopped you. you squirmed under him, requesting him to let you go but his confession never halted.

“let go of her wonwoo!” you circled to see jungkook standing there , anger clear in his eyes. “I am not gonna repeat.” Jungkook was indeed dangerous when he was boiling.

“why was he enough and NOT ME!” you shuddered at the raise in his voice as he jerked you away. Timely, jungkook caught you and instructed you to go inside to wait for him. And you complied but not completely.

you were hot, bothered, angry and helpless at the same time so you did what you felt like. It felt like eternity when jungkook found you gulping some shorts in the bar. His brain went haywire for he realised you would’ve reached your peak by now. He cautiously approached you, checking the level of warmness on your cheeks. You were gone and so was he.

“what did you do with woo?” you asked him in the delightfully lovable voice that he found nothing but scary. You acting cute meant it was end of the life for anyone who would witness it. He had tried to record you a few times before in the said condition but it never ended up well with the screen of his phone meeting your wrath everytime. He helplessly dragged you from the bar towards the parking area, ignoring your initial question and the urge to scold you for the whole ruckus with wonwoo.

“I’ll drop you home cutie” he exclaimed, checking the level.

“I’m no cutie! And what about minjunie. And I don’t wanna go with you. I wanna be alone.” He giggled as you pouted at him, a rare sight to behold.

“yeah yeah I know you wanna be alone and blah blah but its past 11 already -

“soooooo. The protocol shall be followed despite the severi-

“shut up! You are not in a class dude. N hurry up, I’ve to pick minjun’s drunk ass as well!”

The discontent in his tone was apparent while he showed you the way forward. continuously wrestling against his strong hands, he finally gave up when you almost tripped over nothing.  

“stop annoying me y/n!”

“am i?” you pouted at him. “I don’t wanna go with you. don’t you understand!” he rubbed his temples in desperation.

“fine I’ll call someone else. But you can’t go alone.” But as he was fishing out his phone, you were gone.

After five minutes he spotted you outside, waving for a taxi.

“why are you so difficult?” his words fell to deaf ears. Watching you continue your frolics, he thought about giving up as a scheme formed in his head. Stopping a taxi , he ushered you in the back seat, moving to talk to the driver instead.

“no you aren’t coming!” you cried, showing your head out of the window. He grabbed his hair in annoyance, narrowing his eyes at you, “I’m not coming with you my mother! Let me give the address to the driver or else you’ll end up nowhere.” He pleaded, clasping his hands, bowing at you.

You giggled pleasantly at his gesture, hands flailing at him. “I don’t live in campus. I’ll give you the address. Wait!” after searching for your phone, you showed him the address saved in the notes app. That indeed surprised him for he wasn’t aware that you changed but decided against asking you. if it was not your new address, it could be trusted enough to be safer as it was saved under “my home”. Commanding the driver with an extreme firmness, he went away. Even in the drunk state, you were sure to some extent that maybe car was not moving.

“let’s go uncle!”

“your friend told me to wait.” you threw your head back realising that kook was upto something. A loud horn heightened your senses as the car moved.

Asshole, you muttered, grasping that he was clearly following you.

***************

“bop bop!” an eternity has passed for you in a futile try of remembering the password. The digits were changing their positions, as you regarded them.

“bop bop!” you tried again, mumbling to yourself, not knowing that you were not even banging the door in the first place. Standing still in your intoxicated state, arms crossed, the daggers you were throwing at the door would give any passer by a food to laugh but unluckily, there was noone there.

Bobbing your head from side to side, you started walking down the corridor, coming back at the your own door every few minutes. Curiously you pressed random button near the keypad. It was a bell, that you didn’t noticed earlier.

“wh- noona! You are here!” it was jaemin. He hugged you tightly before letting you in.

“duh! I’m waiting from last ten years but you won’t open.” Another giggle let jaemin known that you were in inebriated state.

“you are drunk.” He whispered.

“shhhh” you said , throwing your heels.

With jelly legs, you wobbled to the kitchen, catching attention of each and every presence in the living room and there were many of them.

“oh hiya! Home tweet home.” You chanted, hands waving like the wipers of a car. Hyuck and mark greeted you while jaehyun just sat down again, shaking his head in disbelief. However yuta was stunned and hooked to his place. He saw you navigating to the fridge, dropping the bottle, picking it up again, gulping it down, jaemin snatching it from you, apparently for you own benefit.

Jaemin guided you for your room before you got distracted by yuta’s figure staring you down.

“moshi moshi. Don’t you have any Japanese to throw at me today.” Yuta heard jaemin and others snickering as you slurred, walking unsteadily to him. He simply rolled his eyes, waiting for you to complete your attack.

“oh hi hyuck. I heard you don’t change your underwear for years. Go and take a bath right now. Asap” the liquid jaehyun was drinking, came out as a spray from his nose at the insult. Everyone was laughing at your antics except yuta. He scanned you up and down, eyes fixating on the fresh hickies on your visible neck.

“and you moshi moshi. You a-act like an angry young man all the damn ti-time,” hiccups started in between, “ but answer me with your half braincell- what kind of criminal you are! Atleast hid your face while shooting people dude.”

Yuta’s jaw cletched at your use of words, tension rising in the room. His neutral face changed into an angry one as you went on and on, all while poking his chest with your forefinger. “and that knife of yours! What are you? a street goon who hires little kids to scan cctvs for the-

And your body lunged forward, head resting where your finger was, passed out. Yuta’s red eyes didn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Anger radiated his body as he removed hands from his pockets to push you off but mark scooped your sleeping figure in his arms, signalling jaemin to open the door. After finding the key in your purse, mark laid you on the bed, rolling you to the side as jaemin placed a pillow behind to save you from falling.

They arrived in the hall only to find yuta already waiting for them.

“what was the need to baby her? She’s an adult and got drunk at her own expense. Didn’-

“so what hyung? Why are you making it a big deal!” mark replied.

“she is the one who makes everything a big deal. Didn’t you just hear how she was just trash talking about you all! She never fucking leaves a chance to spit at my face that I am a criminal –

“that’s what we are! We are damn criminals and she doesn’t know anything about us”

“but she says it like we are not even humans-

“I don’t understand why are you always throwing her under the bus hyung! Drunk people speak shit and she was totally hammered. Just let it go! Your punishment is over after two days, don’t spoil your mood over something so silly.”

“you can’t ord-

“yes I can and will order you because I agree with her. You do own just a half braincell that is not letting you think properly. Now don’t you dare mention all this to her in the morning.” Several pairs of eyes wandered between yuta and mark as the air became more pressured.

“so you do admit she is in wrong here hmm”

“she was just acting with her pure conscious. She saw a man dying and went to police. Tae hyung just made sure that she isn’t leaving anytime soon. She is trapped with criminals. What else do you expect from her? I know exactly what you want.” Suddenly mark’s eyes softened as he went on.  “You are craving empathy hyung. This is what I have seen in your eyes from the first day. You want everyone to realise that you are also wounded. You don’t despise her in actual but just the sympathy that wasn’t given to you in the first place. Stop acting like a stone. While blaming her you shouldn’t be forgetting that it was supposed to be me. You filled my spot as the killer. It started with me-

“no ma-

“it all started coz I was dammit feeling too sleepy to finish that contract killer. It was supposed to be a sniper attack but you had to go instead-

“I forgot my cover mark. How are you the cause when the problem was my own stupidity in the first place!” yuta shouted, tense silence following. Mark smiled a bit at him before continuing.

“then why do you hate her so much. shouldn’t you be hating me for sending you there or yourself for being careless. We should be compromising, not her. Just stop fighting with running water.”

He quietly said before picking up his jacket, going out. Everyone took that as a cue for leaving as well. Nobody uttered anything. The house was empty but mark’s words echoed in the space for entirety of the night, squeezing yuta into the reality he wasn’t ready to face.

*************

Your head felt like it was carrying all the weight of the world. Light harmed your vision, footsteps made you dizzy as you treaded for the door. Kitchen was suddenly too far away, everything looking too large for the squinted eyes. Water and sugar! two things circled in your head like a mantra, only until you felt a sharp pain in your waist. You slightly cursed the counter for bumping into you and stepped further to get water. the water soothed only your throat, stomach still craved sugar so you placed the large bottle on the counter, returning to open the fridge.

Some shuffling around the corner woke up yuta, who was resting on the couch. It hasn’t been more than few hours that he finally let himself immersed into the dreamland. His night and half of the day was spent in unearthing the deep hole that mark had thrown him into. He got annoyed at himself for failing in reaching a conclusion that would led to mark being wrong and it was the result of this constant thought provoking activity that he was having a persistent headache. He grumbled at the stiff neck as he got up. 13:03. Another sound came from somewhere, stimulating his body to check. With droopy eyes, he noticed you. actually half of you as the other half was searching for gold in the fridge. The hiked up dress was enough to give a free show of your bare legs without any strain. The thought of you eating his food wiped up all the drowsiness, making him go to kitchen.

“its not your bedroom. Close it.” He criticised, yawns escaping simultaneously. You didn’t move for his voice didn’t reach you in the first place. He tsked at your lack of senses as he neared you. but as soon as your figure got larger, his body met the floor brutally, several groans of pain leaving him. You turned around at the noise to see yuta struggling as his knee hit the polished hardwood. His other hand went to the counter for some support but it slipped causing his elbow to hit the cabinet handle more violently. His shout of anguish striked through your sensitive ears, making you swear in irritation.

Your eyes slowly traced the liquid under his body to the top of the counter. the water bottle. It was tilted and empty by the time you noticed and the water was what made yuta slipped in first place.

“fuck it!” he growled, discomfort contorting his features.

Slowly he moved himself to the other side, bruised elbow secured in his hand, grunts exiting him. You knew you were fucked up as soon as his cold eyes fell upon you.

“I guess it’s my time to call taeyong.”

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirits - zuko x fem!reader (pt.6)

SUMMARY: Y/n has been tailing Azula since Omashu and struggles to carry out her mission while protecting what matters most (AHAHAH THIS WAS THE WORST SUMMARY EVER IM SORRY)

WORD COUNT: 4k (uh wow this is my longest piece ever and i- AHAHA)

WARNINGS: panic attacks, fighting, swearing, angst? Tbh if you’ve made it this far in the series nothing new I think (lmk if I forgot anything)

KEY: *** = flashback && italic = internal dialogue

PREVIOUS PARTS: part 1  /   part 2   /  part 3  /  part 4  /  part 5

MASTERLIST: Here!

The cool breeze swept through the palanquin as Azula sat assuredly, ruling everything she passed. “Okay girls, Father has sent word that the machinery and our wonderful new pets will meet up with us soon to chase down the Avatar until he’s too exhausted to even think anymore! Then, we’ll be off to capture Zuzu and Uncle! Victory will be ours.”

“That sounds extremely boring.” Grumbling as if Mai had so much more better things to do with her time.

“Hmm, I have to disagree Mai. What would be more fun than making them feel like there’s no escape but having to fight which they would inevitably fail at trying to win because they’re tired beyond repair!! It will be such a sweet victory.” Letting out a small laugh that sounded nothing but maniacal to you, Mai didn’t say another word as Ty Lee giddily nodded in approval.

Now, that is a tragic sight to see despite how understandably so.

Azula, Ty Lee and Mai have been planning how to hunt down the additional target from the moment they all stepped out of Omashu. Yet, based on that recent encounter, it was more so Azula rather than anyone else. Luckily enough, you were able to stay out of sight the entire time, and nothing requiring you to intervene has occurred. It was only a matter of time before that lucky streak broke.

After much contemplation and sleepless nights since the third anniversary, along with recent events, Zuko finally came to a conclusion. Approaching his uncle with great certainty, he finally let out what has been on his mind.

“Uncle, I thought a lot about what you said.”

“You did? Good, good.”

“It’s helped me realise something.” Letting out a deep breath, getting to the point came quite easily to him, especially since Iroh’s back was still faced towards him.

“We no longer have anything to gain by travelling together. I need to find my own way.”

Not wanting to stay for any of Iroh’s possible rebuttals, he silently reached for his belongings that he had pre-packed for the occasion and turned to make his solo journey into the forest. As he began to walk further into the woods on his own, Iroh knew he wouldn’t turn back for him, so he did the first thing he could think of to aid his nephew if he couldn’t physically be there for him.

“Wait!” Rushing over Iroh grabbed the Ostrich Horse and gave him to Zuko- for someone who has barely been exposed to the real world, he knew his nephew couldn’t do entirely on his own. Even if the animal couldn’t properly speak with him.

Accepting his uncles’ gesture, he climbed on top ready to get on with his own mission of sorts. On his own, Zuko would finally have the chance to do something he never had time to consider until now; find you.

Looking out onto the horizon, the giant, ugly piece of machinery continued to charge its way towards a hopeless group of young teenagers. “Despite how much I hate that girl, I will admit, her determination is unparalleled.”

“Eerrnngggghhhhh!”

“You can say that again.”

It had been approximately three days since Azula received her new toy, and she spent every single minute catching up with the Avatar. To your relief, she seems to have finally caught sight of him, and hopefully, this would also mean that you might finally be able to stop tailing her. In the past three days, you haven’t managed to catch a single minute of sleep or a break, and while this was something you have experienced before, you were sure that your ride was more than ready to collapse at any second.

In all honesty, when a Fire Nation hawk landed near your campsite four days earlier, the last thing you expected was word that you would be receiving assistance for your mission. Not once before had this occurred since you’ve been entirely left to your own devices. You supposed it was because the stakes were too high this round.

***

Y/N.

I am pleased to hear that my daughter is able to catch sight of the Avatar and his assistants in crime against my great nation. While I am sure you are clearly focused on your task with ensuring Azula succeeds in bringing my disgraceful relatives back to the palace, you must extend your attention towards the new targets as well. Regarding my son and brother, I was disappointed when I heard word that they got away since I made it perfectly clear that you must finish the job. On this occasion, I will take the benefit of the doubt since it would be too suspicious if you completed the mission on Azula’s first attempt.

I have dispatched 3 mongoose lizards for Azula and her company. A fourth will be on its way for your use, as it is paramount that you do not let her fail whatsoever.

I have taken the precious and personal time out of my day to write and send this letter so that word does not reach my daughter of your mission. Let this also be a reminder of the possible bounty on your head if you choose to fail. I am sure the pitiful state of your body is enough of a reminder of what I can do to you.

Regardless of your past services to me, remember this is the ultimate test of your loyalty to your nation and me.

Your Fire Lord, Ozai.

Despite informing you that help that was on its way, you spent the rest of the night in a state of turmoil. Talk about having a way with words.

How in Spirits name did that stupid bird find me?! It flew away quickly too so I guess I don’t need to send anything back but… What am I really doing here?

Ozai seems to have some way of finding me so clearly, I can’t run away. Yet, I’m not going to allow him to take anyone back to the Capital…

Frozen in your thoughts, your focus stayed fixated on the fire you ignited earlier in the night.

Fuck I wish I could talk to her. She’d know the right thing to say, and everything would be okay again.

Roughly tugging at your braided hair, you held your legs to your chest desperately trying to clear your head. Stop, don’t think about her too.

Oblivious to any concept of time, when the first rays of yellow and orange peak over the horizon, your mind instantly enters a state of calm. Almost as if it were able to strengthen you from your core. Although while the problem remained, with a stronger mindset, you forced yourself to accept that you were just going to have to work it out further down the line. At this rate with Azula’s split focus, you weren’t even sure if you would have to take care of the Avatar or Zuko first.

***

Funnily enough, it seemed that fate decided you would have to deal with both at the same time since Zuko has caught sight of Azula and friends and now you were tailing both him and his sister. How convenient.

I wonder where Iroh is? Didn’t he get away with Zuko when they ran off the ship?

After keeping out of sight through every moment Azula came even remotely close to Aang, you decided to follow her when she separated from Mai and Ty Lee. But before you entered the area to keep an eye on everything from afar, you noticed Zuko on his Ostrich Horse as if he was waiting for the right moment to interfere.

“Be careful Zuko.”

Whipping around at a speed that could give him whiplash, his face instantly turned into nothing short of a scowl when he recognised your voice.

“You again?! Whoever you are, you need to get away from me. Leave. Me. Alone!”

Attempting and failing to take a step closer to him as he steers his horse a few steps back. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just trying to protect you, that’s all I want to do. If I could have it my way, you’d be far away from this place; away from Azula. You can’t trust her. This isn’t right, and you should be somewhere that could give you a fresh start, like Ba Sing Se.”

“As if you would know anything about Azula or why I’m here! I need to regain my honour, and I’m doing the right thing! Stop trying to meddle with my life when your role in it is completely insignificant!”

An indignant sigh passes through your lips. “Fine. Just be careful. Please.”

Scowling at you once more Zuko tugs the reigns on his ostrich horse to take him further into the abandoned village. You try not to let his anger get to you, but at this point, you’re unsure if you’re more upset or annoyed with his attitude. Sighing under your mask, you do a quick check that all of your weapons are strapped in place since it seems that this interaction isn’t about to end peacefully.

“Let’s do this.”

Hopping off your new lizard friend, you stealthy broke through one of the broken windows of a nearby building, ensuring that you were staying out of sight.

Ah, it seems he wasn’t wasting any time.

“Back off Azula. He’s mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

As the three of them got into their fighting stances, you almost wanted to jump in right then and there to help Aang. The sight of his painfully dark under circles was too much of an indicator that this fight wasn’t going to be an easy one.

Making the first move, Azula strikes her blue fire towards Zuko. Luckily enough for him, he was able to deflect it with his own. Observing the fight take place before you, it eventually gravitates further away, leaving you to only listen to what is occurring from your hidden spot.

I wonder how long until I’ll have to step in. With both Zuko and Azula on the offence, it’s clear that one of them is going to get hurt. Something tells me it’s not going to be Azula either. If only he fought smarter rather than harder.

What. A. Pity.

Soon enough, your suspicions were confirmed when you heard Zuko let out an angered scream, followed by a loud crash. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let out a small snicker at that.

As Aang comes back into view, you scan around for an exit knowing that if you stay where you are, you’ll get caught. Yet when you make your move to run, half of the roof is swiped off clean, causing him to plummet towards the ground. Abandoning any thought, you sprint back to where he’s about to land, quickly catching him.

Stunned that there was another person in a building, Aang frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was that caught him. Eventually, he noticed your eyes peering through some of the broken wooden ceiling around him, your black mask confirming that it was you. “Woah! What…? Oh spirits, it’s you!”

Eye’s widening at how fast he managed to work out that it was you, you desperately tried to dig yourself into the wreckage as you felt Azulas fire coming closer. “Shhh! She’s coming.”

“What? How do you know-?”

As Azula saunters into the building, her infamous smirk adorning her face. Wordlessly lighting up the room's perimeter in flames, Aang begins to struggle against the piece of wood on top of him, consequently crushing you further from under him.

Letting out a small grunt, you scold him under your breath, “stay calm.”

Your inner peace y/n.

Just as Azula raised her right hand to strike, you closed your eyes, imagining a moment you felt at peace. A moment that made you forget all of the chaos your created in the world.

***

Cold, smooth fingertips tenderly reached out towards you, instinctively making your lungs tightly squeeze together as she brushed the hair out of your eyes. The delicate giggle emitting from her pink stained lips was enough for you to lose all sense of constraint as you take a small step towards her. Hesitantly as you stare that the ground, you take her hand in yours, stroking the back of it with your thumb. The action is so small yet feels so loud in your chest because this is as close as its ever gotten.

Just when you’re about to pull it away completely, terrified that you’ve gone too far, her other hand reaches up, lifting your chin ever so softly as she makes you look at her.

“It’s funny y/n, because even though I’ve lived here my whole life, I’ve never seen snow look quite as beautiful as it does in your hair.”

***

When you reopen them, the heat of your fire runs its way through your veins and your fingertips. The fallen remains all around you burst away, freeing yourself and Aang from its constrains. Seeing your golden fire of pure energy light up the room, Azula is stunned into place, instantly recognising it from the day she visited your cell all those years ago. Glowing golden, eyes peering into the deepest parts of her, it's unnerving how the unusual feeling sinks into her bones. Yet, her moments of distraction leave her as Katara reaches the entryway whipping her arm with water.

Complete rage fills Azula’s body. Not only had she been wholly blindsided by your presence, but she also lost focus. And Azula never loses focus.

Whirling around, she strikes at Katara, sending her running out into the open. Needing to make up for her prior incompetence, Azula runs after her.

“Woah! How did you do that?! That was so cool.”

“There’s no time; you need to go out there and help your friends. Never underestimate that princess.”

Aang’s amazement towards how you freed both of you from the crushing weight of the ceiling faltered as he noticed your choice of words.

“Come with me. Please. I need you.”

Sensing the certainty of his decision, you brushed off some ash from your clothing, wordlessly making your way out of the building.

I’m going to regret this.

With Aang following closely behind, you both join Sokka and Katara, and they face Azula, ready to corner her. Yet she wasn’t giving up just yet. Sending her fire with precision, she takes turns in having a shot at each of you. Luckily enough, you were all able to hold your own.

Backing away slowly, you can tell she thinks that she’s almost about to get a proper hold of the entire situation. But to your greatest joy, she falls flat on her face.

“I thought you guys could use a little help.”

This must be Aangs new earth bending teacher.

“Thanks.” Did Katara just smile?!

Not wasting the opportunity that came with their small distraction, she makes a run for an ally as an escape. Although, once again, she is faced with another hurdle being Iroh, ultimately allowing all seven of you to finally corner her.

In true fashion, she doesn’t allow it to bother her one bit, “well, look at this. Enemies and traitors all working together.”

Taking in everyone one by one, she pauses when her eyes lock with yours. “Even you. Pathetic scum, it seems you still haven’t learnt your lesson. I always told father we should have disposed of you from the moment we caught you.” With that comment, you see Zuko glance towards you in your peripheral vision. This is nowhere near the time right now coal brain.

“I’m done.” Raising her arms in surrender, you almost want to laugh. Do these people seriously believe Azula right now?

“I know when I’m beaten. You got me. A princess surrenders with honour.” Standing before everyone, you instinctively fixate yourself on her, searching for a microexpression to indicate what she’s really about to do.  Her smug smile clearly shows that she’ll most likely attack. But who?

By the time she decides on her target, it’s too late. Sending a direct stream of fire towards Iroh, Zuko lets out a horrified scream, instinctively setting off everyone to attack with their element, or weapon in Sokkas case. You on the other hand, rushed to Iroh’s side knowing that the others were more than capable on their own.

As he lays passed out on the ground, panic slowly swarms in your chest. Fuck, another person is dying because of me! I literally saw her focus on him!

Placing your hands on his chest, you let out a deep breath trying to remember a trick you learned on a mission a while back when you got a deep cut to your side. Focusing on him and his faint heartbeat, despite being a bit shaky, you were able to use your fire, providing him with enough energy to bring his breathing to a steady rate. But the moment was short-lived when you heard an explosion go off, giving Zuko the opportunity to get to his uncle's side, and in turn, shove you away from him.

“Get off him! You’re always in the way! Arghhhh!”

Haistly scrambling to your feet, you stand beside Sokka, understanding that it’s best you try not to help him right now. Katara, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share those feelings with you.

“Zuko, I can help.”

“LEAVE!” as he strikes towards you and everyone else, you stumbled backwards. Memories of a similar flame being struck towards you by his father felt like something inside you snapped. While not directly hitting you, the heat radiating down upon you caused your head to spin, and vision to blur.

It seemed that despite training with fire for the past three years, the action coming from him sent you down a spiral incomparable to anything else.

i-I can’t... I’m…

The earth bender girl immediately sensing what was happening to you didn’t hesitate, “Sokka! Grab her! Quickly, we need to go to Appa.”

“What?! Why me!”

“Shut up!! Her heart rate is literally through the roof right now. We need to help her! Can’t you see her shaking right in front of you?!”

Finally taking a good look at your trembling form, Sokka was too stunned to move.

Aang immediately agreeing with Toph, nudges him before setting off in the direction of Appa. “Sokka, NOW!”

Snapping out of his panicked, frozen state, he rushes towards you, scooping you up into his arms.

“Oh Spirits, I am so so sorry if I’m invading your personal space right now. Please, I’m so sorry. It’ll only be until we reach Appa, okay? I’m so…”

Fisting the cloth of his shirt, you shake your head. “It’s o-okay.” Pushing your face into his chest, you try to regulate your breathing in time with his heartbeat. Something was so unexplainably comfortable about having someone hold you that all of the memories of Ozai burning you, began to make its way back into the depths of your mind. So comforting, that at some point between the village and Appa, you passed out.

When you awoke again, you were high up in the clouds with the sun high in the air. How long was I out?

Deciding to sit upright, the first thing you see is the Water Tribe siblings and the earth kingdom girl facing you.

At first, you thought Toph was about to speak up, yet it seemed that Katara’s suspicions of you beat her to the punch. “Don’t think of moving too fast or trying anything! You're cornered now.”

Your eyebrows raised at that. “Alright, then. How would you like me?”

Upon, hearing your voice Aang physically perked up, completely beaming that you were awake. Without a second thought, he trusted that Appa would be able to fly for a bit on his own, making his way to all of you.

“I’m so glad that you’re okay! I was really worried about you.” Taking his place next to Katara, you were shocked at the stark contrast between his attitude towards you, and hers. It’s like he genuinely cares. Well… I guess that makes sense considering he’s an Air Nomad. Oh spirits, does this mean he’s going to pay even more attention to me than when we first met?!

“Uh… thanks. I appreciate it, but you really didn’t have to.”

“No, of course I did! Plus, I’m grateful that you helped me out with Azula! It’s the least we could do. Right guys?” Still having his glowing smile, he turns to his friends, and it seemed that the only one who truly looked indifferent with the entire matter was the earth kingdom girl who just nodded.

“Thanks, Toph!” Finally, a name.

Once again, Katara was displeased, “yeah whatever. If she’s going to stay with us, she’s going to have to tell us who she is. Don’t think we didn’t hear what Azula said back there about you. You need to explain what she meant by that. How does she know you, and what do you have to do with the Fire Lord?!”

At those questions, you weren’t too happy either, “I don’t want to stay with you! I just need to leave and find Azula again.”

For the first time since you woke up, Sokka decided to say something. “Why would you ever want to do that?! Why do you keep wanting to go back to her when you keep getting separated?! If you ask me it’s clearly a sign that you should stay away because she’s completely insane! She even knows you followed her and everything, so she’s going to have her guard up.”

“You don’t understand. If I don’t get back to Azula, people are going to get hurt. I’ve literally saved your lives on two occasions just by tailing her. Now, think about all of the people she can harm when no one’s watching. I’m also a threat to all of your destinies by being here.”

Uncomfortable with the tension that’s been building at an alarming rate, Aang moves so that he’s sitting in between you and the other three. “Okay, I understand, but could you please explain why you’re a threat by being here? You need to stay safe too, your life matters just as much as everyone else’s and even though you’ve proven yourself more than capable of protecting yourself, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’ll be safe if you go to her and I can't let you go knowing your life is at risk.”

“Aang, there are always risks. Spirits, all four of you are at risk, but you know that it's for the greater good to end this war.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not the same. We have each other; we look after each other. You don’t have that. Please. You don’t have to tell us everything now. I understand since we’ve only met once before, but I promise no matter what it will all be okay and you can be apart of our team. Our family.”

On that note, you hesitated. A family?

No. The spirits have made it clear enough that a family is not in my cards.

“That sounds great, but I don’t think it’ll work out.”

Sokka lets out a frustrated groan, “What? Of course, it will! I know I’m not your biggest fan, but it's clear you’re just as against the Fire Nation as the rest of us!”

Looking around at all of their faces, you can tell that even though Sokka and mainly Katara, still clearly have their reservations about you, they understand where Aang is coming from. Heck, if it meant that they had another person on their side and against Azula and the Fire Nation, that was already a win. You almost felt guilty when you saw their horrified faces as you revealed the truth.

“It won’t work because I’m the Fire Lords personal assassin.”

 taglist: @slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​​​ @kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​ @ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​ @nnon-it-up​ @lozzybowe​ @scarletemeterio​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @simpinforsukka​ @chewymoustachio​ @tiffy119​ @sokkassuki​ @spearbatty​

a/n: hehe hiya friends!! Thanks for reading hehe I hope you enjoyed!! Lelel lmk your thoughts or any predictions for what you think is guna happen next hehe

alsoooo did anyone spot my lil inserts for our second lead? AHAHAHAHAHA

don’t fear either!! Zuko will learn eventually hehehe

but anyway i would love to hear from all of you if you have any feedback as well :))

[rxmanticdevil]

One Shot #1 - Magicians for Sport, Trelawny’s side

Characters: Josiah Trelawny, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith Spoilers: Through Ch. 3 Words: ~3142 Trigger warnings: Kidnapping, violence, choking Explanation for this abomination: The story mission “Magicians for Sport” from the perspective of what happened to Trelawny. Josiah is minding his own business, bounty hunters decide they want a chat. Things get better from there (just kidding, they don’t get better). This has most likely been written before but tbh I didn’t look because I wanted to write it and I’ve just done research for my degree and I don’t want to research anymore.))

Trelawny was hardly registering his actions as he placed the two small slices of bread on a plate, a small meal for the early morning. His mind was distracted, his thoughts with the gang he had grown so fond of. Those bounty hunters were quite determined to get a hold of Dutch. And Arthur. The whole gang was in danger, which wasn’t really out of the norm. But this time it felt different, those bounty hunters seemed determined in a way that put Josiah’s hair on end.

The sound of hooves on dirt caught his already heightened attention, and he glanced out his window to see familiar figures coming up the path to the small collection of caravans full of the unsavory people he had found to blend into.

Those were the bounty hunters he had spoken to by the state line. Without wasting any time he pulled the curtains closed, locking the doors as he could. His caravan only had two rectangular rooms, but two doors – two areas of vulnerability.

He held his breath, they were getting closer, there were voices: We’re looking for a guy.

Another voice. The fence who operated out of the next caravan over. He pressed his ear against his front door, straining to hear. But he couldn’t make out what was being said, there was no loyalty here and he knew what the bounty hunters wanted. He was familiar enough with people like them – he knew what they’d do to get it.

The seconds ticked by but felt like hours until he heard the sound of horses trotting away. He took a deep breath, nearly collapsing to his knees from relief.

“Thank God….” – and the fence too. It seemed he would be escaping this scenario unharmed.

He went back to his plate of food but was once more unable to focus on it, his hands trembling too violently to be useful whenever he attempted to spread the raspberry jam over the bread. His mind raced. The bounty hunters were here, in Rhodes. While Josiah didn’t know where Dutch and the others were holed up now, he did know they would be coming back this way. It was imperative that he tracked them down, any of the gang down, at least to deliver the message –stay low, for God’s sake your lives are at stake. Stay. Alert.

Advice he should have heeded himself, it seemed.

The back door was kicked open with an unparalleled violent force at the same time as the front door. The sudden actions causing Josiah’s heart to jump, near pounding out of his chest, and his body escaped to the farthest point from the most immediate intruder at his front doorway. Unfortunately, that was the edge of his bed and it was hardly any more distance at all.

“Good morning, sir,” the bounty hunter coming from the front stood in his doorway, his body filling up the door frame as he held a gun in his hand, “We just got a few questions for you, we won’t be long.”

It was one of the first times in a long time that Trelawny felt genuine fear. Trapped, his revolver by the door where the man stood– there was no way he could get it without being grabbed – or shot. He could only wait for what would happen next. A fact that the man before him seemed to savor, drinking in Trelawny’s paled face and white knuckles clinging to the edge of his bed.

The man’s face melted into a cruel grin as he neared, “You remember me, right? We spoke at the state line?” he waited a moment, taunting Josiah to respond. “You remember we were talking – about Dutch Van der Linde? My colleagues and I seem to think you left out some details.”

“You must have me confused with someone else. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh?” a fist went to the framed photograph on his wall, shattering the glass as it fell to the ground. The sharp action, the threat, caused Trelawny to jump. If these men didn’t kill him soon his heart would surely do him in.

“I told you, I just got here from Oregon-” It wasn’t acting this time, how his voice pitched up, squeaking out the story he had threaded during their earlier encounter.

A hand grabbed his neck and threw him onto the ground, into the glass. His attacker wasted no time looming over him, leaning down to grab him once more by the throat, pulling Josiah up close to his face.

“Try again.”

“I don’t know anything-”

The fist came at him once. And then twice. He was seeing stars, trying to regain any sense of equilibrium before he was picked up and thrown once more, like a ragdoll, from one side of his caravan to the other. His back hit his counter, knocking the shelves down.

“I said try again.”

Trelawny felt blood coming from his wounds, and an anger building inside him. Fear dissipating for a moment – how dare these men come into his home and cause such a mess. His hand balled into a fist, and he took the moment to throw a punch.

“And I said I don’t know anything, now leave.” He swung his fist, shocking the attacker just long enough to clip the man’s cheek. But before he could follow up, he felt two arms grab him tight from behind. The other bounty hunter. But Trelawny was determined: They had made it clear that he wasn’t getting out of this unscathed whether he cooperated or not.

He brought his elbow up and swung it back in a short, sharp motion- aiming to do as much damage as possible to the gut before he used his elbow and upper arm as the pendulum to swing his fist down into a more sensitive area. The bounty hunter yelped, releasing him.

A glint in the light caught his eye, his cane! A weapon he could get! He made a move for it, pulling it up and swinging down hard with the intent to end this quickly against the man who was doubled over in pain.

Then, there was nothing.

_______

“Then the idiot went after Davey and I grabbed one of the vases and smashed it over his head,” the bounty hunter lit his cigarette and brought it to his lips, “Dropped like a rock.”

“But he didn’t say anything?”

“Not a damn thing,” the man grumbled.

Well, that all certainly explained his splitting headache. He felt the dirt on his cheek, from his face having been in it for who knew how long. But the rest of his body didn’t seem to be responding. Not wanting to alert his new… friends that he was awake, but needing to check his situation, he slowly tried to move his limbs. All he found though was his wrists bound tight together as well as his ankles. Oh, if there was ever a time he wished for the gang to show up from one of their misadventures it would be now.

“Hey, George,” a third bounty hunter spoke to the first, “Look, your friend.”

And then all eyes were on him, and he knew he couldn’t play dead any longer. The bounty hunters eyeing him from their lean-to as he struggled in vain on the ground. ‘George’ gave him a grin, a sickening grin that told Trelawny nothing good was in his future. However futile struggling was, that look made Trelawny only try to free himself faster. It was no use of course, the man stepped over him, straddling him as he pulled his head up off the ground by the throat.

“Good morning, partner,” he said, cruelty in every line on the man’s face.

“I’d brush my teeth if I were you, good sir. You might scare children like that-”

A hand came sharp across his face, “Shut up, fool. You’re in no place to talk to anyone like that.” His throat was gripped even tighter, and Josiah’s body began to panic for air. He could barely register as the man above him spoke.

“Where. Are. They? Where. Is. Dutch?”

“I don’t know any Dutch fellows.” If he wasn’t going to tell them before he certainly wasn’t going to now after they had been so rude and rough.

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, “Dammit! I know you know!” The hand squeezed his throat tighter, and he felt himself gasping – fighting for air.

“Don’t kill him, George, or we’ll never get our answer. He just needs some more persuasion. Or maybe to be kept with us a little longer. If they find out we have him, they might send someone to get him back.”

“Think he’s worth somethin’ as bait?”

The hand relaxed on his throat and he gasped for air. Trelawny was less than soothed by that idea no matter that it bought him a few more minutes (hours? Days?) of life. He despised the thought of being bait for the Van der Linde gang. Sure, they exchanged favors of bailing each other out of sticky situations, but surely this would cross a line.

“So I can’t kill him but I can….”

Trelawny realized in that moment that he had let himself get distracted by thought, George had returned to his side. His eyes read nothing less than sadistic desire.

Whack! “Ahhh!” His legs dulled with the ache of great pain.

Whack! Pain shot through his side.

Whack! His shoulder screamed.

Each hit pulled a gasp from his lips. He caught a glimpse of the weapon – his cane. It came down on him again, and again.

“Hey, George! What’d we say? You’re going to kill him!”

“Fine by me!”

And then he saw the shine from the metal head of the cane as the shaft was swung down on him. He was out again.

_____

This time when he gained consciousness, he was sitting up. His arms tied still, his legs remained bound, and his vision blurred.

“There he is, good morning sunshine,” it was that George fellow again. Trelawny realized he didn’t have much voice left at all. His body weak, pain aching through every bone and every joint.

It was a time he could genuinely say he wished they would just kill him instead of continuing this treatment.

“Look, friend,” Davey knelt next to him, “We can let you go. Just tell us where they are. We can even give you some of the money. You know how much those guys are worth. You’d never have to work a day in your life again.”

Give him some of the money? Trelawny knew Dutch’s bounty was high. That would be no small sum but- no, how could he even entertain the idea? He might not have many morals, but he certainly had friends.

“I don’t… I don’t know… who you- you’re talking about-”

“BULLSHIT,” George was back in the scene. He kicked over Trelawny’s chair and the man fell to the hard, filthy cabin floor with a hard thud. Before he could gather his bearings once more a sharp foot made contact with his gut. The foot pulled back to go at him again.

“Whoa, George! Relax. We’ll make him talk yet. C’mon, I got an idea,” and Davey gave George a glance. A knowing glance. One that Trelawny was not happy to see them exchanging. He felt himself being yanked up by his arms, each touch hitting a point of injury sending shockwaves through his body and eliciting a cry from his lips. “Let’s get you out of here, come on boy.”

“The thing is,” George spoke as they began to pull the man out of the small cabin and down the steps, “after that shack, this will be remembered like a good time.”

“Put the man down, gentleman.” And then there was the click of two guns.

Trelawny could barely focus long enough to feel the relief wash over him in a tidal wave. That voice. Oh, that dear voice. That sweet voice. George left his side, and then Davey dropped him to the ground. It was another hard fall, but he was so filled with that joyous relief that he barely registered the pain. He wasn’t even sure if the tears in his eyes were from pain or relief – most likely both.

Feet entered his field of vision, a knife too – but any fear was dissipated when he realized it was none other than Charles. Another of Dutch’s loyal knights.

“That the lot of them?”

“I… I think so.” His hands were freed in an instant. His wrists red from chafing as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“So, you’re alive.” Arthur knelt by him with another knife, getting to work on the binds on his ankles.

“Allegedly.”

“Well, don’t worry. They won’t be for much longer.” Those words sparked that desire for revenge in Trelawny’s heart. Those bastards who broke into his home, kidnapped him, tortured him, and threatened his friends. He had no strength left but he had enough anger to help himself out of his own leg binding.

“Go get them, Arthur. I can handle this.”

Arthur met his eyes, and Trelawny took the second to drink in that familiar, gentle face. The man who was ruthless when necessary, but who had always been a kind – if a little sad – soul to Trelawny. Arthur seemed to be checking with Trelawny, to make sure he would sincerely be alright should he go off to stop the bounty hunters. In response, Trelawny waved his hand – urging Arthur onward. Not just for that desire of revenge either, should those bounty hunters escape they would escape with far too much information. They had to be dealt with accordingly.

In the next moment, Arthur had taken off to the fields. Gunshots rang out. Arthur and Charles will both be fine, he kept telling himself as he struggled to free his ankles. It would be easier if his hands weren’t having such trouble gripping things. Each movement made his body cry in pain, but at least… at least he was safe.

The rope around his ankles became slack after another moment of finicking. The gunshots were still echoing and Trelawny could only hope his friends were not on the receiving end.

Well, he couldn’t just wait here on the ground. In the dirt. His clothes were already filthy, his white shirt had blood stains on it, his beautiful vest simply torn to shreds. Lord only knew what his face looked like. His hair must be an utter mess. He would simply die of embarrassment should they return to him whining on the ground.

He tried to put a hand on the ground to push himself up to his feet, but his elbow buckled under his weight. Pain shot through the arm. His legs told him too we’re not standing. There was a chair on the patio of the small cabin, if he could just make it there he could take a seat like somewhat of a refined gentleman as opposed to a dirt dweller like he was now.

It took him longer than he’d like, and he had more crawled over the dirt than walked, but he found himself able to climb into the chair, letting himself finally take in a moment of peace despite the pain. Arthur is here. Charles is here. And because he had kept his mouth shut this time, he could look them in the face with dignity.

“Mr. Trelawny, where are you?”

He nearly felt the tears threaten again. That voice brought with it so much relief, he wasn’t sure he could ever explain to Arthur just how much it meant to him. Especially in that moment. And that was for no lack of intelligence on the other man’s part, Trelawny knew the man was quite prolific. Dutch and Hosea would have it no other way. “Over here, dear boy!”

“Put your feet up, why don’t you?” Arthur came into view on the hill, the words harsh and teasing but nothing that Trelawny would imagine taking offense to. And as Arthur approached, he could see his face soften and he could hear that kindness in his voice, “You okay?”

“Never finer.” Yes, this outlaw had probably just killed a small handful of other men. However, he had done it out of desire to protect his friends. And Trelawny was just glad that he was in that category. Trelawny tried to stand up, but pain brought him back into his chair.

“So, who was they?” The important question. Josiah couldn’t blame him for wanting to cut right to the chase. The man’s hand was gentle on his back, the other at his arm in quiet support.

“They were bounty hunters, ah, attached to Cole Stoudemire,” that was what they had told him at that camp long ago.

“Okay.”

“They weren’t looking for me, per se.”

“No…” Arthur quietly confirmed the unsaid part. They wanted you, Arthur. They wanted Dutch. “What you tell ‘em?”

Another important question. And one Josiah was glad he could answer with pride, “Not much. I… told them I was an intellectual come down here from Oregon…” He let Arthur steer him towards the horse, accepting his and Charles’ help to mount. He tried to grip the saddle, tried to pull himself up, but he knew he was fooling none of them: he had no energy, no strength left. “…looking for a job at the university. Course, they didn’t believe me. Seems you stirred up quite a hornet’s nest in Blackwater.”

“So I keep hearing.” Arthur backed slowly away from the horse, as though making sure that Trelawny could remain upright.

Josiah met his eyes once more, a little embarrassed by his own need to request yet even more from the gang. But it was how things had to be. “It might be best if I stay with you gentlemen for a while. Can’t go back to that caravan now.”

Not even a moment to think about it passed before Arthur nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Charles, you take Trelawny back to camp. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Okay.” And Charles moved his horse on, Trelawny following close behind. Their previous rides together had been full of Josiah’s stories, thoughts, and ideas. But this ride was different, it was quiet. Trelawny was lost in thought, energy spent with none to spare on a façade. And Charles’ silence was reassuring in its own right.

The bounty hunters had been dealt with. Josiah had been rescued. There would be time to worry about everything else, time to tell Dutch everything he had learned. Time to pay back the gang for saving his life. For now though, the hooves of the horses and the whistling of birds the only sound for miles, there was just time enough for peace.

[matchasprouts]

The Walls - Chapter 4

[ holy SHIT it took forever for me to finish this chapter but here it is! sorry for the wait y'all, i just moved into my dorm and my brain has been scrampled egg bc of it. anyway!!!! enjoy some more Felix brain <3 ]

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Felix stayed in his room until he heard the shower turn on, followed by the attic door opening and the ladder coming down. The attic was never unlocked, not in all the time he had been there. So he opened his door and peeked out, unsurprised to find the hall empty but worried about the open attic.

Until he realized that this would be Greta’s punishment, and there was no way in hell he was going to hurt in trying to stop it.

He considered just closing his door and ignoring it, but he was too close to the attic. So, he instead went downstairs to the parlour and sat down at the piano. He wouldn’t play it- he didn’t want Greta to hear and come down, or for Malcolm to hear him when he got here- instead just waiting.

At some point, he became vaguely aware of the shuffling in the wall nearest to him, before it stopped relatively close to him. The thing probably wanted reassurance that he wouldn’t try to stop it. To some extent, this was a threat.

“I won’t do anything,” he promised, voice loud enough for it to hear but still soft enough that Greta couldn’t. The shower turned off as he turned his head to the wall. “You know me better than that. I don’t want to be punished alongside her.”

It seemed satisfied with that, giving him three gentle knocks on the wall and a boyish giggle. He hated the child voice it used, like it was mocking him. It sent uncomfortable shivers down his spine- he loathed being scared.

But he kept his promise. When he heard Greta call out for him upstairs, he stayed put. The closing of the attic wasn’t very loud, but he could faintly hear it, and Greta’s scream from fright. He still stayed put.

Six years. Six years without him breaking a rule or personally facing the thing’s wrath. There was no way in hell he would change that now, no matter how nice Greta seemed.

He turned to the covered window when he heard Malcolm’s car pull up. So, the thing locked her in the attic so she couldn’t go with him? That was the most extreme he’d seen from it thus far, the worst he’d seen it do was lock him in his own bedroom once when he’d talked about meeting a friend in town.

He’d honestly just thought it was a fright tactic at first, but this made sense. It would probably let her out in the morning.

…. He decided to sleep downstairs that night, only staying in the house because someone would need to wake up Brahms.

---

Felix ended up falling asleep on the couch that night, after listening for hours to Greta banging around in the attic and Malcolm continuously ringing the doorbell for a good fifteen to twenty minutes before finally leaving.

He was surprised enough when he woke up to the doll sitting right in front of him that he jolted up into a sitting position and grabbed the nearest weapon- a book. It took only half a second for him to realize it was just Brahms and let out a heavy sigh.

“Suppose you didn’t want to wait until I came and woke you up, huh?” he asked the doll, surprised to see that it was about an hour before he was supposed to be woken up. Whatever. He was probably just impatient.

Felix could accept that a little boy wouldn’t want to wait for his nanny to be let out of the attic, or for the groundskeeper to come wake him up, so he didn’t question it. Instead, he just picked the doll up and moved over into the kitchen to make breakfast.

He glanced at the door when Greta appeared downstairs, looking frazzled and panicked with her clothes messy and looking like they were thrown on in two seconds flat.

It locked her in still in the towel? He felt a little bad now, giving Greta a sympathetic look that immediately outed him as “in on” the plan.

“You knew!?” she snapped at him, and he was lucky he didn’t flinch. “And- and you just let it happen!? What’s wrong with you! I thought I was going to be stuck in there forever!! A whole fucking night, locked in that awful attic!”

Felix had tuned her out at that point, watching as she went off on him in a frenzied state. When she finally calmed down enough to fall quiet, he spoke up.

“You broke the rules, Greta,” he said, his voice much softer than it had been last night when he snapped at her. “I warned you. I told you that you would be punished. You were the one who chose not to listen.

Greta stared at him for a few moments, before replying in a shaky voice. “So you did nothing? You could have helped me, at least a little bit.”

Felix shook his head. As much as he loathed admitting it, he was terrified of the thing in the walls. He’d seen it leave an entire room trashed in two minutes flat, once found a dead rat hanging from the ceiling as a warning, and knew that it watched him at night while he slept.

It reminded him of his mother.

So, he stayed out of its way. And he would continue to do so. “You don’t understand. That thing… it’s not human, Greta. If it wanted me dead it could make that wish come true in an instant. I wouldn’t even see it coming.”

After standing there for a long, silent moment, Greta sat down at the dining room table, in front of the plate Felix had made for her. “So there’s nothing we can do…?” she asked, sounding broken and tired.

“Unfortunately,” Felix replied, deciding to forgo breakfast when Greta began to softly cry. “Just follow the rules, and you’ll be alright. It likes when you’re nice to Brahms- I would suggest treating him like a real child from now on. Like I do.”

He gave her one last look over before heading outside to get to work. As he grabbed his gloves, he really wished he hadn’t glanced at the hole in the wall.

Because he did not like the eye staring back at him.

---

After his encounter with the all-too human eye of the thing that lived in the Heelshire’s walls, Felix spent the whole rest of his day outside, even when there was no longer any gardening to be done.

When he was close enough to windows, he could see Greta carrying the doll around, taking care of him as she was supposed to. He supposed he was grateful for that, no longer having to take care of Brahms himself, but a little sad that she only stepped up out of fear.

He also, at some point, saw Malcolm pull up. He was likely here to check on Greta and see why she never showed up last night and, when he was in there for much longer than expected, he knew that Greta was telling him everything that happened.

And then the car left, and it was just the three of them again. He stayed out until the sun went down, only going inside the mansion when Greta called him for dinner. Even then, he still considered staying out for the rest of the night. Hell, he thought about going back to his cabin.

But then he remembered that Greta’s sudden change may not last, and he needed to be there if it didn’t. The Heelshire’s relied on him for that, and he couldn’t just let them down.

So he came inside and ate dinner with her, allowing silence to reign over them. They weren’t friends, they were never going to be friends, and while he was perfectly fine with it, he would admit that it was making things a little awkward.

He let her shower first, promising to “stand guard” outside of the bathroom when she practically begged him to, just to put her mind at ease. Apparently, she’d lost a dress and a necklace to the thing while she’d been showering the night before, and she didn’t want it coming in again.

When she was done, she thanked him for standing there, and he took his quick, scalding shower. He stayed in a little longer than usual, turning his skin a bit more red than he was used to.

Normally, Felix didn’t feel guilt. But Greta was nice enough, and Brahms liked her, so he genuinely felt bad for just letting her punishment happen. So, he stood there, under the water, burning.

Burning.

When he closed his eyes under the heated water, he saw flames in the darkness against his eyelids. Literal, red hot flames. Engulfing the building in front of him, killing any all living things that dared to be inside of it, screaming for the pain to stop-

He opened his eyes and shut off the water without a second thought. He stood there for a long few minutes, breathing heavily and trying to pull himself together.

Sights like that weren’t uncommon to Felix. He saw the burning house every time he closed his eyes. It haunted his nightmares, even his waking hours. It was an accident.

The other five were not.

Finally, he stepped out of the shower, dried off, and got dressed. Without realizing it, he went through his entire routine on autopilot, only snapping out of it when he was laying down in bed, and only because there was a note on his pillow.

An apology, from the thing it seemed. Telling him that it was sorry for scaring him earlier when he had seen it in the wall.

The gesture was sweet, and something Felix was used to, but now it made him uncomfortable. Still, not wanting to anger it, he added it to the drawer where he kept all the notes he received from it.

And then he went to bed, passing out from the sheer exhaustion he’d gained from working all day without a break. And since he was out so fast, he didn’t see it.

He didn’t see the tall, muscular figure that slowly and quietly came out of his closet, from the opening in the wall inside of it. It made its way over to him, the light just barely illuminating it’s porcelain white mask.

It tilted its head at the sight of him, sprawled out on his back. He didn’t usually sleep this way, but it chalked it up to exhaustion.

Most nights, it would spend about twenty minutes to an hour watching Felix as he slept. It was when he looked the most peaceful, and it liked to see him when he wasn’t all tense. Sure, it was fun to watch his muscles bunch up in anger, or fear, but this was unparalleled.

Slowly it reached out to him, brushing a strand of short hair out of his face. He didn’t react much, other than his face scrunching up for a second and relaxing again. It made it smile under the mask.

Felix was a very dear friend to the thing in the walls, having watched him work for the Heelshires day in and day out for six years, never once breaking a single rule. It sometimes wondered if he had any friends outside of the Heelshire family, due to the lack of visits, and felt rather… special that he didn’t.

It was his only friend, and it was the only friend he would ever need.

It watched him for a little while longer, entranced by the serene look on his face, before hearing Greta outside the door telling Brahms that it was time for bed. Before leaving, it leaned down and pressed a gentle, masked kiss to Felix’s forehead.

And then it was gone, leaving no trace of its presence, as if it never existed, leaving his dear friend to his fiery nightmares.

[3laxx]

When the Dream ends - Chapter 1

Amity changed in the little bathroom that was attached to the room, before emerging and deadpanning at Luz giggling. “This isn’t funny.” “It’s a little funny!”

---

After the grudgby accident, Luz begins her recovery, Amity gets a bad case of the Gay Panic TM and everyone adjusts to the grueling reality of how badly accidents can actually go.

Read "In Your Dreams" first as Part 1, since this is Part 2!

I decided to cut the short story "In Your Dreams" where I originally intended to and finish it off there, and just put it into a series and put all following headcanons in here! This story is also rated mature because I will write flashbacks of the accident, so I'll eventually even change it to explicit. But yeah! Have fun reading!

Ao3 / FF.net

---

The next day, Amity and Luz only woke up late.

But Amity wouldn’t care. She only snuggled closer to the other girl and felt Luz nuzzling her nose into her hair, smiling. She didn’t know if humans usually kept friendships as physically close, but she didn’t mind as well. After all, she was just glad that she could snuggle with Luz that way. It felt so different than when the twins messed with her or took her into hugs.

Snuggling.

She had never done that yet, honestly. She had never snuggled like that. This was completely new for her, especially for a few hours. The longest she had touched someone was for a few minutes, maybe ten at most. She didn’t even think she had touched anyone for that long when she had been a baby witchling.

Luz slowly moved around a little, then she looked up to her friend and smiled when their eyes met.

“Hey, slept well?”

“Better than ever.”, Amity admitted before sitting up and stretching, earning a jealous gaze from Luz. She had been told not to move too much yet, so she had to stay put and wasn’t allowed to stretch. Amity gave her a sympathetic glance but Luz quickly brightened up again. And lifted her hand.

“Poke!”, she exclaimed and bopped Amity’s exposed tummy with her finger, causing the young witchling to immediately turn bright red again and topple backward and off the bed, yelping loudly before a loud thud sounded.

Luz winced and rolled over to look where Amity had fallen, meeting the witch’s tomato face and her arms frozen all over the place when she furrowed her eyebrows.

“… Sorry… I didn’t think you’d react so extremely. Are you okay?”

“Yep!”, Amity responded a little too loudly, laughing nervously, “I’m alright, everything is okay!”

Luz smiled as Amity got back up, but when the witchling’s gaze fell back on the clock she yelped again.

“My parents are going to kill me! I can’t even go to school late now, I’m in my pajamas!! What do I do?!”

Luz, still lying on the bed, groaned when she rolled back over and looked up to the panicking girl, grimacing.

“You could text Eda and ask her to sneak you into the manor?”

Amity switched from panic to planning and nodded, “Right, right. I can do that.”

“Or you could just skip.”, Luz grinned, then Amity looked up at her.

“But I never skip.”, the girl furrowed her eyebrows and summoned her scroll phone, huffing, “And Boscha is returning today, I wanna talk to her.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s valid.”, Luz began and tried to sit up but quickly, a short pain rippled through her back and she fell back into the sheets with a grimace, causing Amity to look up and make the scroll phone vanish with a poof.

“Luz! Are you okay? Eda told me not to let you get up!”, she quickly exclaimed and rushed to her friend’s side, putting a hand on Luz’s shoulder to keep her down, “Are you insane?! The healers said your spine was severely injured and you try to sit up?!”

Maybe her tone was a little too harsh, or the pain overwhelmed Luz, but Amity stopped immediately when tears appeared in the Latina’s eyes. She hesitated.

Oh no.

“Luz, I didn’t mean-…”, she started, but her friend shook her head, effectively cutting her off, “I-I’m sorry…”

The teenager took some time to breathe again, then she placed a soft hand on hers that Amity still kept on her shoulder, not wanting her to move again.

“I-It’s fine-… Just let me breathe for a moment…”, she finally winced and kept her eyes closed, her breath coming in pants, “D-Don’t be sorry. I’ll be okay.”

She slowly calmed down again, then she sighed. Amity knew immediately that school was off for her today. Luz was in pain and needed her, and she wouldn’t just go.

With one hand she summoned her scroll phone again and texted Boscha to let her know that Luz was awake and would be okay with her visiting, and Willow and Gus to invite them over for the afternoon. Eda was probably already on her way.

“Just keep it down for now, Luz. It’ll get better again. You just need some time.”

The girl slowly felt the pain subsiding and nodded once more, then Amity focused back on her phone to ask the twins to send her some clothes, and sure enough, their skills in Illusions were unparalleled. A few clothes were immediately delivered to her by an illusion of a delivery boy by Emira, who had snuck into the manor, grabbed some of her clothes, and ran to the Healer’s Coven unseen by her parents.

Amity changed in the little bathroom that was attached to the room, before emerging and deadpanning at Luz giggling.

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny!”

The witchling rolled her eyes when she sat back down on the chair next to Luz’s bed, trying to slump so Luz wouldn’t be able to mock her but the girl gestured for her to straighten up again, “No, no, lemme see!”

She should’ve never trusted Ed and Em with getting her new clothes. Of course, they’d pick the most embarrassing stuff they could find. In this case, it was an old hoodie Ed had given her as a present for her 12th birthday. At least they had picked some normal orchid leggings.

Amity groaned when she straightened up again and pulled the hoodie so that Luz could read what was on there. Ed had gone all the way to make a print of a very badly drawn Amity holding a peace sign.

“Simply be witchling?!”, Luz giggled and Amity couldn’t deny the tiny blush she felt when she looked away and pursed her lips, “Whose idea was that? That is horrible!”

Groaning, she slumped again and rolled her eyes.

“Ed’s. He’s been bugging me to wear that hoodie for almost 3 years now.”, Luz still grinned, making Amity’s face go completely red, “Another word and I’ll leave right now!”

Luz didn’t need any words, though, making the girl squirm and sigh exasperatedly, crossing her arms.

“Stop. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”, Luz smirked at her, the grin still not having left her face. She couldn’t deny Luz being extra adorable right now.

“Don’t stare at my hoodie. You’re just being mean right now.”

Before Luz could say something soothing, though, Eda barged in and the playful banter was forgotten.

“Hey, kid! I’m glad you’re feeling better!”

King hurried after Eda and jumped on Luz’s bed, before curling in on Luz’s stomach.

“I didn’t worry about you at all.”, he stated and Luz laughed, ruffling his fur.

“Of course not, King.”

It wasn’t long until Willow and Gus came to visit as well, telling them that Boscha had looked a little tired in school but was okay otherwise. She just didn’t want to visit yet. They assured Luz, though, that Boscha was going to be fine and that she just didn’t want to rush things.

After all, she had taken it pretty bad that she had hurt Luz that way.

 After Willow and Gus had left, Amity was just finishing up her homework that Willow and Gus had picked up from a classmate, and Eda and King packed their things up as well.

Luz’s eyes went wide at that, and she almost sat up again but remembered the pain before, so she stayed put.

“Eda, are you going back to the Owl House?”

Her mentor grimaced at that and shrugged, nodding.

“I wanna sleep in my nest, kid. I’ve been here for the last few days, I really need my house back now, especially since you’re awake and okay again.”

The human pouted at that and shook her head, “But Eda, I don’t wanna be alone tonight!”

The older witch deadpanned at that, but the two teenagers could see she was struggling to leave her apprentice alone.

“Kid, you’ll be fine for the night, I’m sure.”, Eda began, then a sinister look snuck into her eyes, “You could ask the Blight kid to stay.”

In an instant, Amity blushed hard again.

“I-I already stayed a night! My parents will kill me anyway, for skipping school! I shouldn’t, really.”

Luz’s puppy eyes weren’t enough to make her reconsider, her parents’ wrath was scarier than Luz was cute. In fact, she should call the twins right now to be picked up.

While Eda and Luz continued discussing, she summoned her scroll phone and called Edric’s phone. Shortly after, her brother picked up.

“Hi, Edric. Could you come to pick me up at the Healer’s Coven? It’s already after dark…”

Her brother lightly chuckled at that, then he seemed to whisper something with Emira, before answering.

“What do you mean, Mittens? You’re already home.”

“Hah hah, very funny.”, Amity rolled her eyes at her sibling’s antics, “Come pick me up now, mother and father will be furious enough that I skipped school today.”

Again, her brother’s voice seemed too innocent for her liking when he replied.

“But you went to school today, Mittens, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

This was getting on her nerves.

“Edric, I’m serious, you doofus. Hand the phone to Em.”

He did as she had instructed him to, but Emira sounded just like their brother, making Amity’s anger boil.

“Hey Mittens, I’d say a thank you would be fitting now, don’t you think?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. What did you two do?”, Emira and Edric chuckled again in the background and Amity growled.

“We only saved your nerd butt, little sister! Thank us tomorrow when you’re done flirting with Luz. Oh, and greet that cutie from us! We’re very glad she’s okay.”

Suddenly, she understood her siblings’ smugness. Oh no, that’d be expensive for her.

“… What do you want for the Illusion spell?”

Again, the twins laughed at each other, as if they had a sinister plan. In fact, they sounded exactly like Eda had looked.

“For you to become cool and bring home a girlfriend. And now be a dear and go to bed, like your Illusion just did.”

A click later, Amity almost felt like fainting from all the blood shooting into her face. These smug demons. She turned back to Eda and Luz who were still arguing about whether to leave King here or not when they noticed her having stopped calling. For some reason, Eda smirked.

“My siblings are little snakes and make me stay here.”

“How come?”, Luz asked, looking surprised. She was so sweet and naïve, Amity almost had to sigh.

“They created an Illusion of me so mother and father wouldn’t find out about me sneaking out last night. They kept it up the whole day and it’s in my bed right now.”

Eda chuckled.

“Your siblings are geniuses. I would’ve liked to be able to do that in school.”, she finally admitted and Amity only blushed in a deeper shade of red, while Luz lightened up.

“That means you can stay the whole night?”, she already smiled and Amity just couldn’t stay mad at her siblings. She knew they were just helping in their own, smug way.

“Yea, I suppose it means exactly that.”, she exchanged a small smile with Luz. This was going to be fine, right? She would be fine. She had done one night already! She could do a second!

Eda put all the stuff she had needed to stay here for an extended time in a bag and swung it on Owlbert who was ready in the air.

“Well then, you kids stay out of trouble. Don’t have any fun without me. And you-”, she glared at Luz, “Stay in bed.”

Both of them nodded and waited until Eda had finally wrestled King onto her staff and flown away, then Amity turned back to Luz who was already grinning in excitement.

“Azura Book Club?”, she asked and Amity had to smile at that.

“I forgot Book 5 here when I visited yesterday, we can read that!”

Luz pumped a fist in the air but immediately yelped and let it sink slowly again, causing Amity to drop her small bag that she had originally packed to be picked up, and rush to her side.

“Are you okay?”, she asked, her eyes filling with worry, “Luz, you gotta mind how you move, we want you to get better…”

The Latina nodded slowly, then she sighed and rubbed her shoulder, before testing her toes again. She could still feel them, it had just been a little scare.

“Yeah, I know… Still, I’d like to sit up.”

Amity deadpanned.

“Did you even listen to what I literally just said?”, she asked exasperatedly, spreading her arms in a gesture as if to ask why. Luz managed a strained smile.

“I’ve been on my back the entire time since I woke up… Amity, I just wanna sit for a moment, otherwise I’ll die here. Can you help me?”

Amity flinched at the phrasing and bit her lip. She didn’t know enough about humans. Did they really die when lying on their bed for too long?

“W-Would you-… Really die?”

Luz rolled her eyes at that but smiled, then she shook her head, not wanting to upset her.

“No, I wouldn’t actually die. It’s just an expression. But I’d still like to sit up. Can you prop up your frame here, like back home?”

Amity nodded and got behind the bed, then she grabbed the lever to unhinge the frame so she could prop it up, but hesitated to pull it.

“Are you sure that you can’t get more hurt through that? Like, 100%, absolutely positively sure?”

Luz nodded and looked at her upside down.

“I am otterly sure.”, then she grinned.

Amity shook her head at that, sighing, “You’re unbelievable. Okay, you stay on the mattress until I propped you up as far as it goes, and then you wait for me to help you sit, okay?”

Luz nodded again, this time staying silent at her words. She seemed to concentrate.

“As soon as you feel pain, let me know.”

With that, Amity pulled the lever to unhinge the bedframe and slowly propped it up before clicking it into place at the highest option, then she secured the lever again and walked to Luz’s side to see the girl leaning against the propped-up mattress with a smile.

“That’s already way better. And technically, I’ll do what Eda said, stay in bed.”

Then she slowly lifted her hands, asking Amity to come closer with grabby hands.

“And now help me up.”

The young witchling sighed, then she let her eyes wander over the human’s face. There were no signs of hidden pain. She didn’t seem to be in pain. Apparently, as far as moving her body carefully was concerned, she was okay. But Amity wasn’t too sure about Luz using her own muscles yet.

On the other hand, she had already rolled over without feeling pain.

“Okay. But we do this slowly and as soon as you feel bad, we stop, you got that?”, Luz still made the grabby hands and Amity sighed then, nodding.

She sat down by Luz’s side to carefully wrap an arm around her waist, careful to squish the mattress and not move Luz’s spine too much, before feeling Luz gingerly wrap her arm around her shoulders and them joining their free hands in front of them. It almost felt like when Luz and she had danced at Grom.

“Okay, slowly, on three. One… Two… Three.”

Amity softly pressed her up with her shoulder, taking care not to move or bend her spine too much and minding her back to stay straight, and she pulled with her hand in Luz’s.

Luz panted and sweat formed on her forehead, but she didn’t make a sound when she sat up and finally let their arms sink, still leaning heavily onto Amity but managing to keep her straight back by herself.

For a moment, Luz looked around, then she turned back to Amity, who only then noticed how close they were to each other. Spluttering, she blushed deeply, before coughing and blinking a little too fast.

“A-Are you in pain?”, she finally managed and Luz made a wavy hand. She didn’t know what that meant.

“A little. But it’s fine! That’s just how it feels like to sit after some time of lying in bed. Wow, I am so glad to be sitting right now, I really need that.”, Luz immediately brabbled and the witchling couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Are you sure you wanna stay like that?”

Luz began sweating. So, she was in more pain than she would’ve liked to admit. Amity frowned and brought her free hand up to Luz’s shoulder to get her attention as Luz rested her head on hers.

“Luz, I really think you should lie down.”, she began but the girl groaned and shook her head.

“Just another moment. I-… I’ve been so sick of not moving, I just wanna-…”, another groan. That was the end of the line for Amity.

“Hold on, I’m helping you back down.”

Luz whined at that but she wouldn’t let her talk her out of this. She had to lie back down since her body wasn’t ready for moving too much yet.

Her face was a little more ashen when she sank into the covers and Amity wanted to pull her arm out but Luz kept her close.

“Just-… Just for right now. Stay. Just for this moment.”, the human panted, the sweat slowly subsiding, leaving her skin cooling out.

“Luz-”

“… Just a moment.”, the girl interrupted her and began breathing slower again, much to Amity’s relief. The color slowly returned to her face and she leaned against her friend, completely exhausted, “I just want this moment.”

Amity sighed and let her head rest against her cheek, then she slowly brushed a moist strand of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead.

In an instant, she froze up, while Luz hummed.

She had not just done that. After watching so many teen romances with Luz, the gesture had stuck with her, but she never thought it’d come to her so naturally. While sitting next to Luz, her arm trapped beneath the girl’s back, half lying, leaning against the mattress, holding her exhausted friend. This had been completely reflexive. Amity slowly pulled back when Luz frowned, huffing.

“Why’d you stop, I liked that-…”, she drawled, more asleep than she was awake by now. Amity, her face now a blaring red, merely gave her a neutral hum and then carefully pulled her arm out to lower the bed back down. By the time Luz was horizontal again, she had regained some of her consciousness to look at Amity.

“Can I get a goodnight kiss like that every night now?”, she asked, her eyes dazed and her words slurring. Amity wordlessly sat down on the chair, opened Azura Book 5, and cleared her throat to begin reading, still shocked from her action and desperately trying to ignore that ever happened but Luz made it clear that she was not interested in making her life easy, “Please?”

Amity concealed another splutter with a cough, then she nodded at her lap, not daring to look up. The book was right in front of her eyes. She could just start reading as she read to the kids, and everything would be forgotten, but once again when she breathed in, Luz picked that exact moment to make her life even harder.

“Thank you…”

Amity finally looked up to meet her gaze and her friend genuinely smiled. The young witchling shyly smiled back before starting to read Chapter 12.

“But the good witch Azura wouldn’t stand down. She had her ally Hecate by her side and she would fight for the good. ‘So be it!’, she called out, ‘If you refuse to leave, we wi-”

“‘If you refuse to leave, we will make you regret that decision!’, and Hecate nodded in agreement.”, Amity rolled her eyes softly, smiling. Luz could recite the book word by word.

“If you want to read?”

But as she had asked that question, Luz had already fallen asleep. Shaking her head, Amity leaned back, adjusted the book, and started anew.

“‘If you refuse to leave, we will make you regret that decision’, and Hecate nodded in agreement. They readied their staffs and-”

---

Let me know if you liked the continuation!

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas: {{ December 24 }}

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69340716 Christmas Eve is a lot more pleasurable this year.

Rating increased to Explicit for smut this chapter. If you would like to skip it, end the chapter at the grilled cheese.

Entire chapter under the cut.

When Joey rolled over to look at his cellphone, he was startled to see it was almost 10:30 am.  How did he sleep in, until mid-morning, on Christmas Eve?  It was impossible that the kids hadn’t awoken with the dawn, and absolutely impossible that they didn’t need some form of attention by now.

Maybe they’ve been kidnapped, Joey wondered to himself.  That would be just his luck—the second Kaiba’s back, loved ones get kidnapped.

He looked out the French doors that lead to the master bedroom’s balcony.  It wasn’t a bad view at all, and the snow was wafting down.  It was soft, fluffy, powdery stuff, already accumulating on the handrail of the deck.  Joey considered fighting the temptation to wander out, but decided to just take a peek outside.

He was instantly rewarded with the sight of Alexis braining Atticus with a snowball.

They were dressed warmly, if a bit mismatching.  From the bright red glove on one of Atticus’ hands, and the black mitten on the other, someone wasn’t able to find the right counterpart in time.

That someone was looming a bit off to the side, like he always did.  Kaiba was crouching in the snow too, busy at work making something.  Joey couldn’t tell at this distance, and it would be pretty harsh of him to join in the snowball fight.  Joey knew from experience that Kaiba didn’t half-ass snowball fights and had killer aim.

Joey had only managed to keep up because he thought shoving snow down the back of Kaiba’s shirt was the funniest thing in the world.  The full body shiver and searing rage it inspired were unparalleled.

Instead, today it looked more like he was on hand to intervene if Alexis got too invested and owned her older brother too hard.  And like he was doing something of his own, playing with the snow.

Was Seto Kaia building a snow man? Joey squinted, but the white snow was too bright and the packed snow was too indistinguishable from the freshly fallen drifts for him to actually be able to tell.

Joey felt some snowflakes collecting in his own fluffy hair, and with a shake of his head decided he could do a better job spectating from downstairs.

A latte was sitting on the kitchen counter.  The foam had somewhat disintegrated, melting back into the coffee and milk mixture.  At first, Joey assumed Kaiba had just left it behind for himself when he had been probably unceremoniously dragged into the falling snow by their little miscreants.

But upon close inspection, the foam had a sort of heart pattern on the top, made from pouring the steamed milk just so.  Latte art had been an interest of Kaiba’s for about a day several years back—he had been convinced that he could replicate the delicate pouring in a robotic attachment added to the espresso machine, which could be repurposed to replace certain precision work in the Duel Disk manufacturing line.  In the process, he had gotten very good at making them by hand as well.

Could the mug actually be for Joey?  It didn’t look like Kaiba had sipped from it.

Kaiba was probably just showing off to the kids, Joey thought to himself.  Even so, it melted his heart in his chest just a little bit.  Even if it wasn’t for him, Joey was going to taste it.  It was on Joey’s counter now, right?

The milk foam was soft against his lips, sweet little bubbles popping on his tongue as he sipped, and the coffee was still warm.  He could feel the heat of it course down his throat.

He took another long drink of it, and it really was that good.  If Kaiba had a love language, Joey pondered midway through another gulp, it probably would be fancy coffee.

Joey took the mug out with him, the warmth of the mug soothing in his hands as he wandered to the backyard.  The chill in the air hit him in the face, instantly, and he wished he was wearing more than night clothes, his bathrobe, and slippers.

The family hadn’t really moved since he’d seen them from the master bedroom balcony.

Watching Seto play was always a source of fascination.  Sure, it had been infuriating back in the day.  The seriousness and anger he took to Duel Monsters, even when it wasn’t him dueling, was unpleasant at the time.  But over the years, it had become endearing and intriguing.  Sometimes, early on, Joey would even sit near Kaiba, during Yugi’s duels especially, just to hear the commentary.  Kaiba was thoughtful and smart as hell, and his take on the game was as insightful as it was overly intense.

When Kaiba played other games, it was even more fun.  Before they had met, Joey had never fathomed that someone could be completely engrossed in Operation!, or bring complete vitriol to Connect Four.  Discovering that Guess Who could be played through carefully crafted insults to each figure’s appearance was delightful.

It had been one of the things Joey had kind of been looking forward to seeing in Kaiba when they had kids.

But… things don’t always pan out the way you want them to.

Joey took another sip from the coffee—Kaiba had put some sugar in it too, to Joey’s surprise.  It had to be for him.  Just that thought lit a spark in his chest that warmed him in a way that his bathrobe and flannel pajamas couldn’t.

Joey refocused on Kaiba, trying to discern exactly what the other man was doing in the snow.  He was almost on his knees in the snow, and using his black-gloved hands to shape something.  The packed snow was rather elegantly shaped, and even if it had been years since he had seen one in person, those white scales were incredibly iconic.

“Ay, Kaiba, is that?!”

With a finishing touch of black pebble eyes on the modestly-sized snow-dragon, Kaiba turned to face him dead-on.

Kaiba’s smirk was almost as haughty as it had been when he was a teen.  He stood proudly in his winter coat, hands on his hips before the three-foot snow-dragon and pointed back at Joey with a flourish.  “Attack with white lightning!”

Like magic, the kids turned on Joey.  Snowballs were launched in his general direction and the kids made what Joey assumed were supposed to be dragon noises.

Joey was fortunate—the deck was pretty far from where they were playing, and the snowballs exploded harmlessly on the bannister or the porch in front of him.  Alexis’s little screech was especially precious, even if her throw wasn’t.

Joey laughed so naturally that he didn’t realize he was doing it.  When he composed himself again, he dramatically raised one hand, and pointed back.  “I play my trap card,” Joey shouted into the fray, revolving enough to point at the kitchen behind him.  “I’m making pancakes!”

Indeed, the promise of pancakes was more powerful than the lure of pretending to be dragons, and the kids cheered as they headed in.

Kaiba trailed the kids, looking oddly contemplative.  Joey was about to leave and make good on his promise, but he was struck by the way Seto had his lips pressed together.  He really looked like he was trying not to say something.

Joey gave him an expectant look, the space to say whatever it was that he was thinking.

“I never knew it could be this way.”

Joey tilted his head, blond hair flopping to the side.  “What do you mean?”

Kaiba walked closer, within a few inches of Joey.  With his thumb, Kaiba brushed a few snowflakes from the shorter man’s cheek.  “I… didn’t realize that life could be this free.”  And without any other comment or discussion, Kaiba composed himself and brushed past Joey.  Leaving Joey with his now-chilly latte and distant thoughts.  

…

Time slipped by quickly, the sands of the holiday magic hourglass rushing down as the finale approached.

The family had a holographic call with Mokuba and Yui, who expressed again how grateful they were to have the kids at their wedding.  If Mokuba was surprised to see Joey and Kaiba alongside each other, not fighting, he didn’t show it.  

After three years away from the high technology, Joey kind of saw the appeal of the holograms with fresh eyes.  It was pretty neat to see Mokuba again, in three dimensions, glowing just a little in his living room.  While Mokuba was patiently listening to Atticus explain how they were playing dragons this morning, Joey was just taking it in.

Then they sat down for another round of Christmas movies—this time all the classics.  First was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which Kaiba insisted had an overly mature message, that being unique is respected only when someone else can profit off of it.  Then was Frosty the Snowman, which Kaiba objected to on the grounds that it sent mixed messages about mortality.  “It is like watching ‘All Dogs Go to Heaven’ if you actually had to watch the dog—”

“Kaiba, it’s fine, he’s a snowman.”  Joey interrupted.

“He’s clearly sentient.  He’s aware of his surroundings.  Do you think he cannot feel his body melt—”

“Next movie!” Joey announced, clicking away.  

Kaiba completely left the room for Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, which was a pity, given how much of the runtime was dedicated to business decisions.

Kaiba only returned later, to poke his head around the corner and say that he had finished making dinner.

Joey wasn’t sure what to expect from Kaiba for a holiday dinner.  Frankly, the times he had seen Kaiba cook were few and far between—he had helped out yesterday, but otherwise it was something of an informed ability.  Kaiba said he could cook, but Joey supposed the proof would be in the literal pudding.

When they were dating, Kaiba was usually working and they would get take out or go out to dinner far more frequently than doing dinner at home.  Joey couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the expectation of family meals had appeared—maybe after Atticus was born?  Whenever it had happened, the family chef had appeared like magic.

Joey realized that maybe Kaiba had no idea what Joey’s cooking was like outside of this week either.  That was a disturbing thought.  How long could you spend with someone without ever learning what their cooking tasted like.

Joey was in for a pleasant surprise.  It certainly wasn’t fancy, but tomato soup from a can—garnished with a basil leaf—and a decent stack of not-burnt grilled cheese sandwiches were waiting.  With the snow falling gently outside, and the reflection of a few twinkling Christmas lights draped around the kitchen, it was a very pleasant scene.

It felt like too much to demand, but Joey bit into a perfectly buttery sandwich—crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside—and thought maybe he would like it if Kaiba cooked every night.

…

Finally, the kids were instructed that they needed to have an early bed time, as part of the last ditch efforts to convince Santa that they were good kids.

With certain designated cookies set out and carrots left for the reindeer, the kids were headed to bed.

“So… we didn’t wrap the presents last night,” Joey announced.  Kaiba nodded, and they grimly turned toward the master bedroom to contemplate their fate.

The present pile was absolutely not representative of what Joey had purchased on his singular trip to the mall.  At some point, quite deviously, Kaiba must have procured another thirty presents, through some assistant or something—Joey really could account for most of the time, and had them hidden in Joey’s secret present hiding place (unsurprisingly the master bedroom’s closet).

As a result, even with the two of them working to wrap presents, it had been almost three hours and they were still at it.  Kaiba was frustratingly slow: he was both meticulous about straight edges and perfect tape amounts, and just slightly terrible at wrapping.  It was brutally obvious he had never had to do it before, so even though the theory was easy for him, his long fingers struggled slightly with execution.  It made the process even slower because Joey kept getting distracted, watching Kaiba’s long fingers fiddle with the paper and the tape.

“We can take a five minute break, we’ve been pretty busy this week,” Joey announced, stepping away from the supplies covered desk and flopping back on the bed.

Seto walked over and sat on the edge of pensively before curling into the fluffy duvet.  “It’s true.  Whatever doesn’t get wrapped can be saved for birthday presents.”

Joey graced him with a skeptical look.

“What?! You said you wanted it to be lower key,” Kaiba snapped back, offended.  Kaiba looked down at his hands, tape resting on his pinky as he tried to get the fold just so on a small packet that was obviously a Duel Monsters cards booster pack.

The bags that were omnipresent under Kaiba’s eyes were etched just a little deeper than before.  “A five minute break… sounds wise.”

Joey flopped backward onto the bed, avoiding the wrapping paper.  Kaiba relaxed backwards as well.

Five minutes passed, and then another five.  The bed was really soft and cozy.  Joey knew it was much more comfortable than the guest room bed, and Kaiba was burrowing in somewhat.

The other man really did look peaceful, brown hair falling into his glasses, eyes finally closed and relaxed.

Two hours later, a quick glance at the bedside clock warned Joey that it was almost eleven at night.  The lights had been extinguished, but the curtains hadn’t been drawn, leaving the room with a hazy glow from the bright snowscape and moon beyond the French doors.

Joey had dozed off on the bed and like magnets, Seto had ended up so close to him.  Joey really hadn’t expected to wake up to the other man clinging to him for dear life, but it felt so nice.  A pleasant weight, holding him, making him feel treasured.  God only knew where his glasses had ended up.

Seto’s breath ghosted across Joey’s collarbone.  “I missed you.”  It was soft, sleep addled, and entirely sincere.  His breaths were deep and warm, as if he was taking in everything about the situation that he could, inhaling the sleepy cozy scent of his partner, the soft detergent smell the dryer had left on Joey’s pajamas, the pine scented holiday candle that had been inadvertently left to burn for the last two hours.

Cuddling again felt so magical, after so long.  Joey’s hand caught in Seto’s hair, soft brown strands running across his rougher fingers.  His nails scraped lightly across Seto’s scalp, and Seto practically purred.  It was enough to make the heat rise in Joey’s cheeks.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Seto admitted to Joey.  Seto looked up from where he was snuggled into Joey’s chest, eyes softer than Joey remembered them.

“Then don’t,” Joey answered, pulling Seto up so that their faces were perfectly aligned.

Staring into Kaiba’s eyes was always like this.  It hit so deep, struck Joey right on the inside of his sternum.  Something in the blue depths broke his heart every single time.

And Joey pulled him into a kiss.  Seto’s mouth tasted the way that it always had.  With his large hands grabbing at Joey’s back, clutching at the fabric, it felt the same way that it did before.  When Seto deepened the kiss, when his tongue plunged into his mouth, nothing had changed.

But Seto pulled away, marking that Joey hadn’t truly time traveled.  “I… are you sure you want to do this?  I’m leaving tomorrow, Jounouchi.”  Seto was so serious.  The flush in his cheeks was just painted onto his ex-husband, the rest of his face was schooled into a business-like countenance.  It almost made Joey forget the familiar hand on his hip, thumb stroking over his side.

Joey smiled, but he could feel the pinpricks behind his own eyes.  “Then you better not ruin tonight, huh?”

Kaiba smirked, falling back into his role.  “As you should well know,” Kaiba dived into Joey’s neck, sucking and biting something fierce, “I always rise to a challenge.”

Kaiba’s hand drifted up, grasping for Joey’s shirt and tearing it off.  “If I remember correctly,” Kaiba continued, crawling down his body and quickly arriving at his cock, “and I always do,” Kaiba’s eyes flashed up to meet Joey’s, devious and dirty be fore pulling down Joey’s pajama pants, exposing his dick to the tense air of their bedroom, “I have some reliable methods for ensuring this is worth your time.”

“You talk too—” Joey attempted to complain, but Kaiba’s mouth on his hardening penis cut him off.  A shock of lust zapped through is body, reaching the ache in his chest.

As Seto sucked gently—cheeks hollow and eyes closed in focus, Joey felt the lust course through him.  But also a sense of comfort, of safety, and of loss. Each jolt of pleasure also triggered something cruel and bittersweet.

Joey tried to hold off, knowing that the sooner he came, the sooner it would end.  The fantasy of having his husband back, adoring him in the most intimate way, would be over, even as the pangs of pleasure rippled through him.

But it was hard.  Kaiba was an obsessive man, and when pleasuring Joey was his focus, he was meticulous in mastering its intricacies.  One of Kaiba’s hands was caressing his inner thigh, alternating worshipful touches and soft, stinging scratches that dragged needy whines from Joey’s lips.

Just when Joey was certain he wouldn’t be able to hold on for any longer, the pressure building inside, threatening to spill out, Kaiba disengaged.  A bit of pre-cum mixed with spit bridged between his plush lips and Joey’s rock hard cock.  The light glinted off of the dew on Kaiba’s mouth, and accentuated the way that his lips were trembling.

Kaiba slid up, rolling over far enough to reach the top drawer of the night stand.  And, just as if no time had passed, a bottle of lube was waiting for him.  Joey’s eyes lingered on the way Kaiba poured it along his hands, leaving them glistening in the reflection of the moonlight off of the freshly fallen snow.

Kaiba removed his own sweatpants, and Joey’s eyes could see how devastatingly hard Kaiba was.  The full body shiver that ran through him just touching himself in order to lube his own cock.  And when he looked back over at Joey, the determination in his eyes was so intense, it was almost scary.

Kaiba crawled over, hands framing Joey’s head, heat radiating off of his body in hot waves, cocks threatening to touch.  “I want you so bad, Jounouchi,” he whispered, voice husky from sucking him off.

“Then take me, Kaiba. You never had a problem taking what you want before,” Joey issued the challenge with a hint more menace than he had realized was there.

And the restraint was lifted.  Joey hadn’t really realized there ever was any restraint, but with Kaiba’s fingers plunged into his tight opening, searching and quickly finding the familiar magic spot, maybe his partner had been holding back.

With only so many desperate thrusts of his fingers, Kaiba withdrew them.  Joey almost moaned at the loss, wanting to tell his partner there was no rush.  That they had enough time for everything, make love like they used to—languid and peaceful, wasteful of time.

Any complaints were silenced as he felt Kaiba’s thick cock enter him.  Joey was lost in the sensations, swimming in the lust. The only things he could keep track of were the thrusts, the feeling of Seto’s hips and thighs rhythmically moving against his own.  The white hot pulse of Kaiba coming inside of him, and that perfect moment, when he felt full and complete.  Finally coming himself, untouched, semen spilling over his own stomach.

Even though it was sticky, and would soon be uncomfortable, he hated when Kaiba withdrew.  His heart ached when he handed him a damp towel from the in suite, and when Kaiba gathered his pajamas, prepared to walk to the guest room.

Joey had to go back in his memory all the way to their earliest days to remember Kaiba getting up immediately after sex.  Once their relationship was, well, a relationship and not a duel to see who could keep the connection more casual, Kaiba loved to be close afterwards.  Even if he didn’t necessarily snuggle, he was usually present, sharing small smiles and holding Joey until he fell asleep.

“Don’t.”

Kaiba froze.  And then he looked back, more surprised than he should have been.

The look on his face sent Joey to the early days of their courtship, when Kaiba would wear that same expression as he gathered up arm-belts as he bailed from Joey’s shit apartment back in Domino.

But that they had shared this exact bedroom for six years.  

Joey hadn’t even changed up the pictures on the walls—shamefully enough, a wedding photo still sat on the dresser.  Their trapped smiling faces judging the messy entanglement that their romance had become.

“Don’t leave me,” Joey choked out.  Don’t leave me again went unspoken. He didn’t have that bad of a time saying how he felt, but Kaiba always tested the limits, made him want to withdraw into himself.  It took some kind of bravery to be open with his feelings now, and it swelled in his chest.  “I want you to stay the night, here.”

Kaiba nodded slowly, and dressed in his pajamas.  He sat down on the bed carefully, cautious, like he hadn’t slept there a thousand times before.  It almost seemed like he didn’t trust the mattress not to turn to dust beneath him.

And then he laid in bed like a corpse in a coffin, careful to bind his arms to his waist.

With a deep sigh, Joey said, “Ah come on. We just fucked, Kaiba.  You can uh… you can touch me, if you wanna.”

Kaiba looked over.  In the darkness, the glow of the moon-touched snow glinted in his eyes, sparking something mysterious.  “We… did.”  He looked a little bit like a cryptid, something not quite of this world, trapped in a reality he couldn’t totally understand.

“I don’t regret it,” Joey said, though his voice betrayed a bit of his uncertainty.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hn.” Kaiba scoffed.

“Yeah, I shoulda seen that one coming,” Joey said, leaning back against his pillow.  It was somehow entirely foreign to have another man in his bed, and yet also familiar.  Like Kaiba had never been there before, but also like he had never left.

The warmth was almost that of a phantom sensation—almost close enough to touch, just far enough away to feel like a figment of his imagination.

And then, somewhat suddenly, Joey felt the familiar hands of his ex-husband wrap around his arm.  Just like that, Kaiba crept back into his space, foreheads almost touching, straight brown hair entangling in unruly blond strands.  Joey could feel each exhale of Kaiba’s against his cheek.  They were soft and rhythmic, pantomiming sleep.

Joey was surprised when he didn’t tense up at the contact.  When they both melted into the shared cozy warmth under the quilt.  When his own breathing turned more evenly paced.

He was falling asleep in that most literal sense, the experience of complete relaxation where one sinks through the mattress and into the dream world.

Somewhere in that sinking, the purgatory between sleeping and wakefulness, Joey could have sworn he heard Kaiba whisper “I still love you” in his gravelly tone.

But it could have been just a dream.

[house-of-void]

End of an Empire

(Days after the battle at Jaku city and the country going to Hell)

It poured over the broken city, the sky so clouded it was hard to tell what time of the day it was. Buildings torn down, roads destroyed, only scavengers dared to come out, searching the wreckage for something to shield them from the rain and cold, for something to eat. But there was nothing, nothing but misery and pain and fear, so much fear from the villains freed from the prisons, from the street gangs that took the chaos as an opportunity to run wild and do as they wished. 

There were no Heroes around. Not anymore. 

On top of one of the few buildings that were still standing, two figures watched the horizon, taking in the destruction before them. Both had seen a lot in their lives but never such unparalleled destruction, such rampaging madness. It was still hard to believe it all had happened in a matter of days. 

The man, tall and broad, stood straight holding an umbrella. The woman sat by the edge of the building, unbothered by the rain that had soaked her clothes, red hair falling freely over her shoulders, long wet bangs obscuring her face. There was a long silence as they simply watched. A few yards away stood what looked like a traditional Japanese mansion, a place clearly meant for a rich family to live. The woman watched with indifference while the man let out a tired sigh and looked away, the sight paining him deeply. It was clear the place had been broken into, ransacked, everything inside was either destroyed or had people squatting in there. 

“Nae matter how long ago Ah left home, it still saddens me tae see th' house we grew up in like this.” 

“Did ye manage tae get Dad’s things outta there?” 

“Ayeh, they’re all safe” his gaze fell on the woman “Aoi and uncle Hidaka  managed tae leave th' country” he cleared his throat “…Mother managed tae leave safely too, in case ye’re wonderin’.” 

“I was not” she replied dryly “I don’t give a rat’s arse about what happens tae that woman, Duncan.” 

“Ye hauld too many grudges. Dad's gone, she's by herself, couldn’t ye at leest let all that hate go? C’mon Bo-” 

“No!” she turned to look up at him, emerald eyes filled with bitter anger as she pointed a finger at him “ye don’t have the right tae call me by my real name every time ye want tae appeal tae my “better nature”. Just cuz everythin’s fucked it doesn’t mean I have to forgive what she did tae me” she turned away, fuming “b’sides, what’s the fuckin’ point? As far as she knows, I’m dead.” 

Duncan, or as he was better known, Nox shook his head and groaned, slightly frustrated. Stubborn, she was just impossible. Then again she was right. It was over ten years too late to try fix their family. He regretted having taken part in the lie that convinced everyone his sister was dead but now it was beyond late to backpedal. He heard her move again and watched as she stood up, pulling the wet hair from her face and putting an old beanie on her head as if it would help shelter her from the rain. 

“How’s business?” 

Switching topic? Fine with him. 

“Heh… can’t complain. Th' demaind fur support items is big an' now that law enforcement is inefficient an' overwhelmed it’s become easy tae smuggle my products intae th' country” he stood on the balls of his feet then on the tips “an' wi' Detnerat gone, business has bloomed fur me. Still, th' black market’s a bloody mess, th' usual lines of communication are mostly gone.” 

“What about that guy that was taking care of intel for ya?” 

“No idea” he looked down at his shoes “heard fraem a contact that he was at Gunga Villa when th' heroes raided th' place but nae word after that. Probably died” shrug “or got arrested. Shame, he was a true professional” he paused, watching a small group walking along the road and looking into cars “…sometimes Ah wonder if Ah should be addin’ tae all this shite…” he looked at her for a moment before resting his hand on her shoulder “th' Hero society is dead, Umbra. Th’ folk responsible fur whit happened tae Dad are gone. Why don’t ye come wi' me, tae Scotland? They’ve been askin' about ye, they’re worried.” 

“No… it’s not over” she turned her head to look at him again and only then did Nox realise how tired she looked “the corrupt ones, they might have quit their jobs, but they’re still guilty. They still have tae pay for what they did” she smiled weakly “don’t feel bad for these people. It’s time they reap what they sow. They’re just as guilty as the Heroes, putting them on pedestals and becoming selfish and complacent…” 

It had darkened and it kept raining as if the sky had been torn asunder. Umbra stepped away from Nox, standing at the very edge of the building. Yes, society had to pay the price, learn their lesson so they could have a chance at being reborn better and stronger. But that was taking care of itself. She only wanted the bastards that thought they were safe just because they had run away like the cowards they were. 

Nox watched her in silence. In truth, he knew she wouldn’t leave. He had hoped, now that things were upside down, but… this was her life. The few times she spent with their father’s side of the family were nothing but fleeting dreams she quickly forgot about. 

“...Ah’ll be back wi' supplies next time. Call me if ye need me, ye hear?” 

As if. He turned around and walked towards the door that gave access to the roof. Before he even reached for the handle, he could tell his sister was already gone, back to her hunt. 

The rain fell harder.

[the-black-dragons-den]

living with depression and borderline personality disorder, a very personal rant

please consider

with the boom of awareness of mental health issues, people are much more familiar with the symptoms of depression, and are much more inclined than they used to be to be compassionate and understanding when it comes to these symptoms. more and more people are understanding the importance of taking “mental health” days, understanding that depression can make it hard to get out of bed and take care of yourself, understanding that sometimes provisions need to be made for people who suffer with depression. depression is fairly commonly understood, and fairly easy to explain, and fairly appropriate to mention in casual conversation. the stigma is lessening! that’s not to say that everyone everywhere is doing a good job accepting and talking about mental health issues, and I’m not saying that this makes everything easier all the time for people with depression. Depression can be debilitating and fatal. But I’m saying that we’re moving towards compassion when it comes to this particular mental health issue.

Now, please consider...

You have depression which creates all of aforementioned struggle and turmoil. Additionally you have Borderline Personality Disorder, which most people haven’t heard of, many people confuse with Bipolar Disorder, and which psychologists may take years or prefer not to diagnose at all because there’s not really an effective targeted pill you can take to “fix” the problem. Being Borderline means when you feel your emotions, you feel them strongly, instantly, right at the surface. Yes, you feel joy incredibly strongly, but you feel anger and sadness to the same degree. When someone is rude in the store, you’re enraged and it ruins your whole day because you can’t stop thinking about it. When someone cancels plans, you’re devastated and start spiraling about why they must not like you. When someone you care for is hurt, your terror is unparalleled and you can’t stop panicking even when the person is fine again. When you’re hurt, or in a rut, or struggling, it feels like it’s never going to end or get better, and the dark thoughts are right there to tell you why it would be better if you just took yourself out of the equation altogether. Tears and yelling are your body’s preferred method of communication. As a child, you are told to stop “throwing tantrums” and “being a drama queen”. As a teen, you are accused of being manipulative because of your rapidly changing emotions. People think you’re using your tears and anger to get what you want. The reality is, what you want is to not have all your emotions on display to everyone around you at all times. The reality is, you don’t know HOW to quell the violent storm of emotions that bubble just below the surface at all times. The reality is, you KNOW you’re overreacting – maybe in the moment, or maybe later you realize, but you KNOW and you will always feel like the guilty party after a confrontation. As an adult, looking for help on how to be a better and more tolerable romantic partner, you will find hundreds of resources for your partner: “How to Leave Your Abusive Borderline Partner”. There is help out there – but not for you, it’s for the people that have to deal with you. There are conferences, huge talks, events where families can go to learn how to “deal” with their Borderline relative. Maybe your family tells you, years later, that they all flew out of state to go to one of these events when you were estranged from them. You know you’re hard to deal with, you know your emotions make people uncomfortable, you know that people have to work hard to not set you off. You know being in a relationship with you is a commitment, a job, and it’s hard. “I’m sorry” is your mantra as you start to feel like your emotions are the thing that are causing all the problems.

Compound this with severe depression. Compound it with severe, treatment-resistant depression. Imagine you’ve been on every imaginable class of antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, and anti-psychotics (despite how that particular type of medication made you think of yourself). Imagine you’ve had electromagnets pulsed against your head and tranquilizer shot into your veins, and yet all of these things have only provided a tiny fraction of the relief or help that they were intended to. Imagine knowing you’ve been running up medicals bills with no answers, no help, no success. Imagine knowing there’s no magic bullet, no pill to take to calm the waves, no way to make sure you don’t lash out at the people who care about you because of the constant, immeasurable flood of feeling that you feel all the time, constantly. Imagine knowing how much pain, and hurt, and struggle you cause of the people you love just because you can’t keep your emotions under control. Imagine feeling like that bad guy 99% of the time, even though you’re doing your best.

And people just… don’t know. They don’t know you’ve got all this going on in your head and even if you said that words Borderline Personality Disorder, they wouldn’t understand it. Imagine trying to explain a lifetime of outbursts. Imagine trying to defend yourself when people just see you as immature, emotional, “a woman”. Imagine working tirelessly on yourself, blaming every fight on yourself because you feel like you overreacted, feeling like it is only up to you to fix the “problems” that are your over-present feelings. Imagine trying to walk through life and keep all of that inside. So that you can be normal. Or socially acceptable. Or wanted.

 There’s not really a point to this other than that I needed to vent. This has been in my head for weeks. This is my life. This is my fucking life. That’s not to say everything is terrible – I’ve fought hard to get where I am. I told a doctor at 13 years old that I thought I had BPD, and he LAUGHED at me. I waited more than 10 years to get the diagnosis. My therapist was nervous that he’d offend me when he told me, but I cried with relief. I still want to sob when I think of that moment. Finding out that I had BPD helped me realize that I wasn’t a terrible, horrible, manipulative person who was taking advantage of and hurting the ones I loved on purpose. Finding out that I had BPD helped me realize that everything wasn’t all my fault. Finding out that I had BPD helped save my life, because until then, I truly thought I was a horrible person that did not deserve to live. I have survived two suicide attempts, I’ve got over a decade of self-harming behaviors under my belt and have been clean for years. I’m doing okay right now. My partner is amazing and compassionate and understanding and kind, he’s the reason I’ve been able to work on reactivity and communication. We’re financially stable (for the moment), we’re housed and fed, and generally life if on the upswing right now. But I just…. Really wanted to explain. That depression is a horrible illness to deal with on its own. But when you add BPD, it makes like into this… unimaginable battleground every day. And people have vastly grown out of blaming depression on the people who suffer from it. But if you have BPD, you’re seen as a temperamental, emotional, tantrum-prone child, unless you keep that shit on lock constantly. You’re accused of being manipulative, dramatic, and overreacting constantly.

I honestly wanted to put this on Facebook for the people who know me IRL to read. But it’s long and I’m… scared. To complain there or to be too real there. There’s no button, nothing clever to wrap it up. I just. Wanted to explain. Even if it’s to the void. That I am doing my best, always doing my fucking best, and sometimes my best isn’t that great. I know that. I’m still trying though.

[akutagawasbitch]

Memories: Chapter Two

Hey guys this is the next chapter in my OC fic I hope you enjoy! As usual feedback is greatly appreciated! Love you all <3 

Chuuya groaned, kneeling next to Yukiche, gently prodding her. “Great she passed out. What did you do Akutagawa?”

Akutagawa coughed and stiffly replied. “I was following orders. I don’t understand why you are interfering.”

Chuuya was silent and stared at Yukiche’s unconscious body. “I owe her a favour.” He replied coolly, his thoughts drifting back to the night they met…

“shit Shit SHIT!”

Gunshots were heard in all directions with bullets flying everywhere. This normally wasn’t an issue for him, but he’d been stabbed so he was in no state to use his ability. “FUCK” he yelled, thinking he was utterly and truly fucked. But he wasn’t going to hide and die like a chicken, that’s not who he is so with a deep breath in, he ran out and threw the bullets back at them killing the whole lot of them. Panting he gripped his side and started the walk back to base, slowly and painfully. Each step was agonising, blood seeping through his shirt. Finally, he collapsed in the alleyway behind a bar, knocking over a bin. Lying there his eyesight became more and blurry, a figure coming out of the bar yelling something he couldn’t quite hear until finally his vison turned black.

“Why am I wet?” he thought to himself groggily.

Slowly opening his eyes, his eyesight natural started to refocus. Looking down he saw he was sitting in a puddle of water and blood. He went to push himself up, but he couldn’t move. Frantically looking around he noticed his hands were cuffed to the pipe. “Fuck this is bad” he thought to himself when noticed the handcuffs were slightly loose. “What idiot doesn’t properly handcuff someone?” he silently thought to himself.  Carefully, he yanked the handcuffs and they snapped in half, freeing him. Rubbing his raw wrists, he planned his captors murder. He was pissed. “Whoever did this is going have their skull bashed in and pulverised into a pulp” he muttered to himself.  He quietly explored trying to find them and punish them for being ballsy enough to try restraining him.

He heard a loud yell of “FUCK” and cautiously wandered over to the source of the voice. He saw a young woman, about 20 years old with raven black hair tied up in a messy bun. She was running into the bathroom. Since the room was getting flooded, he could assume she left the tap on or something like that. “What a fucking idiot” he thought to himself and quietly crept behind the bar to watch her. From his view, he could see her features much clearer.  Her raven hair was curly, with an undercut underneath. Her eyes were hazel brown with flecks of green, and she had a scar underneath her right eye.  She was cleaning up the water and blood all over the floor. “Blood? Why is there blood?” he frowned. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Looking down he saw stiches across a wound, which was still bleeding a little.

“Fuck. She fucking stabbed me. I am going to fucking pulverise her!” He hissed quietly, trying not to alert her to his whereabouts. He couldn’t help it though; he was seething with anger. His ability started to activate, but a sharp pang of pain stopped him. Fuck. He couldn’t use his ability.

Chuuya’s mind was racing, thinking of all the possibilities. Was she an enemy from one of the lower gangs sent to attack him so he’d be vulnerable? Was she a kidnapper trying to hold him for hostage money? The answer didn’t matter. In the end, she’ll still be a puddle of blood and gore on the floor since she was going to pay for this. No one stabs and handcuffs Chuuya Nakahara and gets away with it. After all, he was an executive for a reason. His power and strength was unparalleled, and his short temper was renowned.

“She stopped cleaning” he thought to himself, watching her. She looked panicked, frantically looking around. “She must have noticed I’m gone” he smiled to himself. This was his chance. With her guard down, he snuck up behind her and grabbed her by the neck slamming her into the wall choking her while pointing a knife at her throat.

“You have some fucking nerve pulling this kind of shit on me.” He spits out, squeezing her neck.

Gasping for breath she grabs his hands and tries to pry his hands off her throat. He laughs and just applies more pressure, crushing her windpipe lightly.

“Nice try but I’m not letting you go that easily. You’re going to fucking pay.” Chuuya snickers, his blazing blue eyes burning holes into her hazel ones.  “You are going to tell me who the fuck you work for and why my blood was all over your floor. Then I’ll repay you with making you bleed all over your floor. For each drop of my blood you shed, I’ll make you bleed twice as much.” He spits out, lighting digging the knife into her neck. Her eyes filled with fear and a tear rolled down her cheek.  She hangs her head and he lets go but still points the knife in her direction. Rubbing her neck, she swallows and winces from the pain.

“I don’t work for anyone. I found you passed out in a pool of your own blood outside my bar. I took you in and cleaned your wound. I see it was against my better judgement. I should’ve left you to bleed out in the trash.” She whispers viciously, her voice hoarse.

Chuuya blinks at her comment and growls, punching her in the stomach. She yelped in pain and doubled over, eyes watering.

“False lies won’t do anything but piss me off and prolong your suffering. Tell me the truth.” He snaps angrily. His patience was already thin from the pain he was in but her snide comment pissed him off.  Shakily pushing herself off the ground with her arms, she sits up.

Looking directly into his eyes, she repeated what she said. “I don’t work for anyone. I found you passed out in a pool of your own blood outside my bar. I took you in and cleaned your wound.” Chuuya punched her again. “Stop lying!” he yells getting even more annoyed. She cries out from the pain but just repeats the same phrase again and again. Even after he’s nearly broken her jaw, she repeats. No matter what he does, how much pain he inflicts: she always repeats that exact phrase.

Chuuya’s rationale began to falter a little. “No matter what I do, she repeats that fucking sentence. Maybe she is telling the truth…” he mutters to himself. He stood there quietly, thinking about what his next move should be. He studied the woman’s figure in front of him.  She was breathing heavily, blood trickling from her nose, she certainly was at least bruised. Perhaps a few broken bones. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Chuuya walked off. She learned her lesson anyways even if she wasn’t telling the truth. He began to walk towards the door when the pain in his abdomen flared up, causing him to collapse due to the excruciating pain. Hissing in pain, he tried to get up but collapsed again. Fuck this was bad. He thought to himself.

“You shouldn’t try to move. All that punching tore your stiches. You’ve exasperated your wound and now its bleeding. If you’d like to live, I’d recommend not moving.” The woman croaked out, her voice still hoarse from being choked. She shakily stood up, clutching her bruised stomach. She knelt next to him and examined his wound.

“Hmm it’s deeper than I originally noticed. I used the wrong type of stitch, so it’s reopened.” She muttered to herself, now sitting next to Chuuya.

“It appears you’re in a lot of pain. As I said I wouldn’t move. Since I did such a hasty job and used the wrong type of stitch, your wound has reopened. I can re-stitch it properly for you and also cauterize the wound, so it heals quicker. But that’s only if you trust me. I can’t do it if you keep trying to attack me” She calmly said, while examining the wound.

Chuuya winced from the pain. He weighed his options. He could either trust her and let her stitch him up or he could pummel her into a pulp and try get back to headquarters or call for backup. The latter option would take too long, besides backup is useless if he’d already bled out. So, it looks like his only option was to trust her. Besides if she tried anything funny, he could just crush her.

“Fine. Do it. But I’m watching you. Any funny movements or any odd behaviour and I’ll crush you like a piece of candy.” He responded; his tone rather curt.

“Interesting analogy. Anyways let’s get started since you’ve decided to make the smart decision and trust me. Now you’re going to need something to numb the wound.” She commented, getting up and walking over to the bar. She grabbed a bottle of vodka and a bottle of whiskey. Pouring the two into a shot glass, she walked over after also grabbing the medical kit.

“Drink this. It will numb the pain. It’s the two strongest types I have so it will numb you pretty quickly.”

“Don’t you have anything made for pain relief?” Chuuya asked apprehensively.

“This is a bar not a hospital. The only pain relief I serve is alcohol. Now drink” She said, pushing the shot into his hand.

Grimacing he took the shot. It burned the back of his throat and hit him like a brick wall. Immediately he began to feel warm inside. She pinched his hand

“OW! What was that for?” He snapped.

“Checking if it limiting your pain response. It is slightly but there’s no time to wait. So, you’re going to have to bite on his.” Before he could protest, she shoved a rag into his mouth. “Bite down this is going to hurt.” She instructed him; her face slightly contorted into a frown from concentrating.

She began to clean the wound with ethanol once more since it had been bleeding. Chuuya raised his eyebrow.

“This doesn’t hu- FUCK” he yelled out in pain as she pierced his skin with the needle. She ignored his yell of pain and started stitching, doing much tighter and neater stitches than before. After five minutes of him sitting in pain, using all his strength not to scream out in pain, she finished. She rubbed some cauterizing ointment on the wound and then wrapped bandages around the now closed wound.

“You can take that rag out now. I’m done.” She commented, putting away all her medical supplies back into her kit.

Breathing heavily, Chuuya propped himself up and looked her. She did it. She helped him without any ulterior motive. If she had helped him then… she must have helped him before. “She really was telling the truth.” He thought to himself.  He watched her, curious as she placed back the bottles and tided up around him.

“Thank you. For helping me. I apologise for my demeanour earlier.” He said quietly, half hoping she didn’t hear him.

“I accept your apology. If I woke up shirtless and handcuffed, I’d panic too. It’s a perfectly natural response.” She responded, not looking up from what she was doing. “Just next time don’t pull a knife on them and crush their windpipe. Some people might not be so inclined to help you again after that.“  She smiled at him, her eyes twinkling with a hint of cheekiness.

Chuuya laughs light “Yeah I suppose so. What even is this place?” he asked looking around.

“It’s the bar I work at. I take care of it for my mentor while he’s gone.” She replied, her voice had a slight sad tone to it though

“While he’s gone? So, what do you do when he’s here?” He asked curious.

“Oh. He’s always gone. He’s dead you see.” She said looking at him with a sad smile. “But I won’t leave this place. I will continue to care for it and run it just like I promised him. You see he saved my life just like I saved yours. He found me outside in a puddle of my own blood, just like I found you. So, I owe him my life. I never got to pay him back though, so I’ll forever be in his debt. All I can do is take care of the bar and try fulfil his dream to honour his memory and help his soul rest.” She explained, her voice filled with sadness. A singular tear rolled down her cheek as she reminisced about her mentor Haru. He loved her like his own child.

“I miss him terribly, so I suppose me working here is my selfish way of holding onto him.” She laughed lightly; her eyes still filled with sadness.

Chuuya observed her. What an intriguing woman. Someone who continued to follow through on a debt to a dead person and even go as far to fulfil their dream for them just purely so their spirit can rest. He hadn’t seen that kind of empathy and humanity before.

Intrigued he asked, “What is your name?”

She blinked a few times, clearly surprised by his question. After a few moments she smiled softly. “My name is Yukiche.”

“Thank you Yukiche. For saving my life. Twice.” Chuuya replied with geinue gratitude in his voice.

“I appreciate your gratitude, but it was more a business move. I can’t have a Port Mafia executive dying on the doorstep of my bar. I don’t think it would end particularly well for me.” She said in a light cheery tone.

“Y-You knew I’m part of the Port Mafia?” Chuuya asked, taken aback by her knowledge.

“Well its pretty obvious. Your face is plastered all over Yokohama on wanted posters. It would pretty hard not to recognise you.” She replied coolly.

Chuuya blinked a couple of times before asking “It doesn’t bother you that I’m Port Mafia? You’d show kindness to even the most violent organisation in Yokohama?”. He was genuinely confused. Everyone either hated or feared the Port Mafia. Most people felt both anger and fear. Yet she didn’t… it was confusing.

“Well as I said, it was a business move. Besides….” She paused for a moment, staring at the glass in her hand. “Who am I to judge someone for their decisions and actions. Everyone has a story. Everyone has reasons. I’ve committed great acts of violence and hurt many. Thus, it would be hypocritical of me to act like I despise you purely for the Port Mafia and its past actions.” She replied, her voice soft yet strangely harsh at the same time.

Chuuya stood up and walked over to where Yukiche was standing. “You said this was a bar? Can I get a drink? After all I was stabbed.” He asked, with a cheeky smile on his face. He couldn’t lie. She intrigued him and he wanted to learn more about her. She smiled and started to speak when Chuuya’s phone began to ring interrupting her. He sighed and answered the phone

“Hello? What is it? … I see. I’ll come by and deal with it now.” He hung up the phone.  Looking down, he suddenly was a lot more aware of his lack of a shirt. “Can I have my shirt? I need to do executive business and I need a shirt for that.” He asked.

“Oh right your shirt… It’s in the bathroom. It may still be a little wet. I tried to wash the blood out of it.” Yukiche replied, sheepishly. She was rubbing her back of her neck and slightly blushing.

Chuuya raised his eyebrow. He did not want to wear a wet shirt and sit through an executive meeting wet and uncomfortable. “Do you have a dry shirt I can borrow?” He asked, slightly annoyed that his shirt was wet.

“Yes, I do” Yukiche walked off to the storage cupboard and pulled out a white shirt. “There you go, see if it fits.”

Chuuya gave her a grateful smile and took the shirt out of her hands and quickly put the shirt on. It fit perfectly well for its purpose. Not as fitted as he usually liked but it would do. Putting his coat on over the borrowed shirt, he adjusted his hat and walked to the bar’s exit door.

“Thank you again Yukiche. I owe you a favour. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” He say waving his hand as he left. He stopped in his tracks and turned around with a devilish smile. “Oh, I’ll be back for my shirt by the way.” After that he left, the bar’s door swinging shut behind him.

Chuuya's trip down memory lane was interrupted by Akutagawa's coughing. Sighing, Chuuya knelt down next to Yukiche’s unconscious body and checked her pulse. She was alive. He assumed such but still. Worth checking.

“What do you mean you owed her a favour Nakahara-san?” Aku asked stiffy but there was a slight hint of curiosity in his voice.

“That’s none of your business Akutagawa. Now go complete your other mission. That’s an order.” Chuuya replied coolly. Akutagawa scoffed slightly and turned on his heel, walking out grumbling to himself.

Sighing slightly, he commented to Yukiche’s sleeping body. “You sure have a habit of attracting trouble. Consider this your favour.” Standing up, he walked out after leaving a note next to Yukiche.

The note simply said, “Consider your favour completed.”

[chiefnooniensingh]

it’s in our blood, in our veins (a The Old Guard one-shot)

Rating: G Pairings: JoexNicky and Joe&Booker Characters: Joe, Booker, Nicky, Nile Summary: Over the shared worry for one of their own, Booker and Joe hash it out, a year after the Merrick debacle. A/n: I need this family back together so I fucking wrote it. Also on: ao3

This had never happened before, to any of them. The team was huddled in a hospital waiting room, looking around nervously, aware of the cameras that were hung up everywhere, but they’d be damned if they were leaving. Nile was the only one who looked remotely put together, her immortality still so new that she hasn’t forgotten what it was like to be wounded, in need of professional care.

Nicky was handling it the worst of them all. He was pacing through the waiting room, continually running his hands through his hair as he muttered about what if’s and we should have’s. For once, Joe was unable to get him to calm down. Because Andy was in the hospital, gravely injured and fighting for her increasingly shortening life, and there was nothing any of them could do.

Joe knew his love and Andy had an incredibly special relationship, not unlike brother and sister. She and Nicky were the most attuned to each other of all, barring Joe himself. In battle, Andy and Nicky were the level-headed strategists (until it became time to bring hellfire), while Joe and Booker had always been the rash, impulsive ones. Andy and Nicky shared a love for baklava unparalleled even by Joe’s own. When Joe and Booker would split off to watch a game, Andy and Nicky would sit together, pouring over books, laughing over tv shows they would watch together, or sparring.

Joe was worried as hell but seeing his love so distraught brought him even more pain than his worry did. He felt absolutely useless, unable to soothe his Nicky and unable to heal Andy. Joe kept flexing his hands, which were itching to do something, anything. “Nicky, please,” he tried once again. “Nicolò, amore mio…”

“It’s Andy,” Nicky croaked, sounding for all the world as if it had been him who got shot in the chest.

Joe stood up and halted Nicky’s frantic pacing by taking hold of his arms. “I know, my heart, I know,” he said, then hugged him close to his chest. “But, sweetheart, you are driving me absolutely insane with your pacing.” He kept his tone just shy of teasing, knowing that Nicky would pick up on the lack of heat behind his words.

Nicky sighed and wrapped his arms around Joe’s frame, burying his nose in his shoulder. “Scusi,” he said softly, “I’m just so worried.”

“So am I, Nicky, so am I,” Joe muttered, then pulled back to kiss his Nicky’s forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

“Yes, it will,” Nile said, from her spot against the wall. She looked worried and anxious but had the most faith in Andy’s chances of survival. “She’s strong, guys. And this hospital is the best at what they do. She’ll pull through, I’m sure of it.” Nicky and Joe smiled at her, but while Joe took his seat again, Nicky still couldn’t stand still, and he went over to the coffee machine to get them more terrible hospital coffee.

Joe looked across from him and felt a surge of emotion as his eyes locked with the man who had brought them here. Booker. It had been nigh on a year since they’d last seen each other, since they’d banished him, but here he was, looking apprehensive and scared and worried. He’d been too late to warn them of the attack but had helped them fight their way out of it. The revelation that Quynh was not only alive and freed from the bottom of the ocean, but also hell-bent on destroying as much of Andy’s life as she possibly could, had shook the entire team. Andy had gotten a glimpse of her during the fight, and in that moment of distraction, had taken a bullet straight to the chest.

And now here they were. Joe and Booker in an intense stare-off while also worried out of their minds for their oldest friend.

A year was nothing to them. Like an hour to mortals. Joe was still pissed off as hell at the man whom he used to call his brother, the man who had betrayed them, had put Nicky in danger. If Joe hadn’t been strapped to a medical bed, he was sure he would’ve ended Booker’s life right there when he first learned of the betrayal. Their exhaustion, both physical and emotional, had prevented him from doing it after they’d reached a safe house. Joe now felt that urge to snap Booker’s goddamn neck again.

“Just say what you want to say, man,” Booker said, breaking Joe from his thoughts. Nile looked up from staring at her knees and Nicky turned sharply, his eyes on Joe. Joe read the warning in his eyes but knew he wouldn’t be able to heed it.

For a moment, Joe said nothing. Then the dam burst. “I am so angry at you, Booker,” he said in a low voice, and Nicky closed his eyes briefly. But Joe focused his attention on Booker instead, who looked miserable as hell. “Why?”

Booker shook his head. “I never meant for it to get so far, I just wanted…”

“You just wanted it to end!” Joe spit, jumping up, too charged to sit down any longer. Booker stayed in his chair and couldn’t meet his eyes. “So you sold us out to a sadistic maniac for the chance of relief, knowing full well how much pain you were going to put us through!”

“You don’t know what it’s like, Joe!” Booker said, and Joe could hear tears threatening in his voice. Joe would feel sorry, but he could still hear Nicky’s pained groans as that woman did her sick experiments on him. “You and Nicky, you always had each other, meanwhile I just had the memories of those who loved me, dead, while I continued to live!”

“But you had us, Booker! We were your family, too! We loved you, too! You threw us away like we were nothing!” Joe yelled.

Booker rose now, too. Apparently Joe had struck a chord. “And what would happen if Nicky were to die right now, huh? Would you stick around?”

It was a thought too horrible to process, and Joe shook his head to clear the image from his brain. The thought of Nicky dying without him… “I wouldn’t betray my family,” he said quietly. At that moment, he felt Nicky come up beside him, squeeze his hand for a second, then moved off to the side. Joe felt a rush of absolute love for this man, who knew Joe had been on the bring of absolutely falling apart and gave him the reassurance that they were both alive.

Booker shook his head, tears now visible in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” Booker said, and it startled Joe. This hadn’t been a conversation heading anywhere near an apology, yet the Frenchman was looking more miserable than ever. “I never meant for any of you to get hurt, I swear. I was so blinded by my grief and pain that I didn’t see…didn’t know…”

“What,” Joe said, almost astonished, “that we love you?”

Booker nodded, tears falling in earnest now, and he fell back in his seat, burying his head in his hands. Nile was about to get up, join him and comfort him, but Nicky put a hand on her shoulder. This was something Booker and Joe had to work through themselves. Joe stared at Booker, mouth agape as the weight of what Booker had just said crashed over him. He hadn’t known… Stumbling backwards, Joe’s back hit the wall and he slid down it, still trying to process. “How could I have been so blind…” Joe muttered, and Booker looked up, surprised to see all the anger having drained out of Joe. “All those times you made those self-depreciating jokes, jokes about ‘misery loves company’…I thought you were just joking, but it was real, wasn’t it?” He looked up at Book, his best friend, his brother, who he was now seeing in a completely different light. It was like the last 200 years were being rewritten in his mind. “Book, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there for you…”

Booker shrugged, wiping furiously at his eyes, trying to stem the flow. “I didn’t want to come between you and Nicky, you two were always so happy…”

“So you let us believe you were fine, meanwhile you were just dying a little bit more inside every day?” Joe put his head in his hands and felt tears burning in his own eyes now as well. “How did I miss it, Book? What did I do wrong?”

“What?” Booker said, his head snapping up to look straight into Joe’s eyes. The Frenchman and the Egyptian stared at each other, seeing each other differently, but really seeing each other for the first time. “Joe, you couldn’t have done anything…”

Joe shook his head and jumped up, starting to pace, trying to understand the new host of emotions he was feeling. Anger was there, sure, but it wasn’t directed at Booker anymore. It was directed at himself. “Jesus, I’ve been so blind. I considered you my best friend, my brother, even. What Nicky and Andy have, that’s what I thought you and I had…but now I see that I have been the worst brother you could’ve had. I should’ve seen, I should’ve known!” Joe dropped to his knees in front of Booker, who looked like he was about to either laugh or cry uncontrollably. “Book, I am so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

Booker let out a watery laugh. “Me forgive you?”

“I called you my brother, considered myself yours, yet I completely ignored all the signs that you were in pain. I missed every part of it. And somehow I made you belief you couldn’t come to me, couldn’t confide in me, with your pain, your loneliness. I should’ve been the one to be there for you, but instead I was the one who made you think you were alone…that is a crime far worse than yours.” Joe felt the tears spilling over and could feel Nicky restraining himself from coming over and either hugging or punching the pair of them. Nile was staring at them, open-mouthed.

“Can you ever forgive me for betraying you?”

“It is already done,” Joe said, and simultaneously the two men stood up and wrapped each other in a bear hug. Joe felt his anger drain away as the bond the two of them had had, seemed to mend between them. Joe still felt the pang of anger, but he understood now. And pushing Booker away now would only result in more pain for both of them.

“Y’all need some therapy,” Nile said, which broke the silence as Nicky burst into laughter, and even Joe and Booker managed to laugh. “No, seriously, nobody noticing Booker was clinically depressed for 200 years is a problem.”

Joe laughed, but nodded his head as well, because he knew. He knew it was a problem, a problem they needed to fix very soon. Booker released Joe and went over to Nicky. Joe watched, intrigued, as his other half watched with open and kind eyes as Booker stood in front of him. “Nicky, I’ve apologized to Joe, and I feel like I also owe you an apology. What that woman did to you, and Joe…I never thought they would go that far. I am so sorry, and I’ll do whatever it takes to win back your trust.”

Nicky gave him a small smile. “It might take a while to win back all of my trust, but saving our asses today has brought you a lot closer. I just hope in the future you will tell us when you are in pain.”

Booker nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Then I forgive you,” Nicky said, and he wrapped Booker in one of his signature hugs that would solve all the world’s problems, Joe knew, if he could just hug everyone.

“Nile,” Booker continued, but Nile cut across him, “Nah, I don’t need your apology, I need your ass in therapy.” Then she hugged him, too, because she’d never been that angry at him to begin with. They all laughed, and soon they were wrapped in a group hug, Joe and Nicky holding hands on Booker’s back. Joe felt something in him heal that he hadn’t realized was broken. His family was back together.

“Family of Andy Smith?”

They all broke apart hastily as a doctor entered the waiting room, who looked slightly bemused at the touching scene in front of her. She had no idea the amount of pain and anger had been worked through in the past half hour, and Joe smirked slightly, revelling once again in the fact that there was so much information they all held, without anybody knowing it. It gave him a sense of power. “Yes,” Booker said quickly, stepping forward, “that’s us.”

“She’s out of surgery, awake, and asking for you.”

A feeling of absolute relief washed over them all, and they hugged again before following the doctor out of the waiting room. Before they left, Nicky grabbed Joe’s arm and held him back. Joe looked at his love questioningly, but Nicky just pressed his lips to Joe’s in a tender, loving kiss, into which Joe immediately melted. “I’m proud of you,” Nicky said softly, touching his forehead to Joe’s. Joe brushed his nose against Nicky’s and kissed him again, because one kiss was just never enough for him. “Let’s go see Andy.”

Joe nodded, linked his hand with Nicky’s and together they walked to Andy’s room.

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Thank you PB (Kamilah Character Development)

Okay so this is going to be a long post but I don’t care because I think we should give PB a round of applause for Kamilahs character development. This will take 2 parts so bear with me. I CANNOT STRESS THAT THIS IS 100% MY OPINION OF KAMILAH AND if you don’t agree that’s perfectly fine, I’d love to hear what others think of her. 😄 This is also taken from a LI point of view so please bear with me and keep in mind that she does some of these things as a friend, some of it will differ obviously. While I think the paywall was a shitty, jerk move on their part we cannot deny that Kamilahs growth and changes are unparalleled (at least from my experience with characters). Let’s start from the very beginning of book 1.

So, one of the first interactions between Kamilah and MC is that she’s furious for what she believes is an endangerment to her last brother like figure, it’s an understandable view. She threatens MC and treats her coldly in the start.

A little bit later, in book 1, we see Kamilah begin to “soften” for MC. She begins to show a softer, vulerable side. In this garden scene there’s an option where MC says that Kamilah “isn’t totally jaded” which allows us as readers to see that her walls do protect something inside.

Here at the end of book 1, we find out (within the book) that Kamilah cares for us. (While we knew it because of the LI context seeing her say it kind of affects the weight of it in my opinion). Considering the first interaction with her, this opening to MC really shows that she’s already softened herself for MC in a way I personally didn’t think she would.

I’m skipping the Solstice book because I felt like it didn’t necessarily show as much character development as the other three books, please don’t be offended or angered by this. :(

Ignoring my MCs name, we see Kamilah once again open up her vulnerability to MC. I know that I struggle to put my feelings into words about people, it can be mortifying, and after 2000 years of an abusive piece of shit, Id be scared to care for someone again too. Knowing that Kamilah now has someone to worry about is a weight I know I don’t understand so I thought that her opening up and telling us she’s apprehensive for us was a sweet and brave thing of her.

While this scene personally wasn’t one of my favorites, I still thought it was encouraging to have Kamilah keep opening up. I know some people thought it became repetitive but I always admire people who tell me they value me. Kamilah showing true, genuine concern for MC warmed my heart. She continues to openly accept her feelings for MC, slowly breaking down the walls she spent a century building.

This scene. This scene. I cannot express how much this scene meant (again in my opinion). Kamilah has an obvious sore spot where her brother used to be, that’s so understandable. For her to open up to us, to let us HOLD the wooden horse, was not only a sign on vulnerability and trust, but a sign of almost wanting us to be included in that. I don’t know if anyone has ever talked about the death of emptiness of missing a loved one but it’s so fucking difficult. I will always think of this as one of the strongest points in Kamilahs development with MC and as a character. Pt.2 will be posted shortly.

[inkribbon796]

The King of Spades

Summary: Janus and Spade have an actual discussion.

A/N: Requested by DorkSpader on AO3

<= Back to the Deck

Date Archived: April 4, X

Uploading information

Starting sequence

“You’re not Logan! Who are you?”

“I can’t afford to have you running around and ruining things.”

“Dee!”

. . . . . .

Janus came in and out of consciousness while he was trapped in his own staff. Which he didn’t even know had been possible.

Being awake, he felt every second and tried to escape. He couldn’t see or feel but he could hear. The deceitful Side was locked behind a glass case and there was nothing he could use to either break the cane or rip off whatever was adhering him to the cane.

Being asleep was blissful. He felt nothing, and it relieved every migraine he felt while being conscious. At this point whenever he woke up, he tried to get back to that unconscious state, but each time he woke up it was getting harder.

Janus only knew that Orange and Remus were nearby. Orange because of the ticking of the metronome, which only gave Janus more of a migraine when he was conscious. And Remus because Spade had told him. A worry while conscious was that he couldn’t feel or hear Remus. It was just Spade, one of the Suits walking in to talk with him, and Orange’s incessant ticking!

The deceitful Side was unconscious when he was jarred back to wakefulness. He actually felt something, in that he was shaken before he felt the rush of air into his lungs and a sensation of feeling at his fingertips.

It was so reliving and so overwhelming that it stunned Janus long enough for Spade to tighten magic chains, binding Janus to a chair in the center of an enchanted circle that kept him from shapeshifting.

“Enjoy your nap?” Spade’s distorted voice greeted him.

Janus hissed at Spade, his spit turning venomous in his anger.

Spade just laughed at him, waving his hand and the chain glowed before giving Janus a warning jolt of electricity. It hurt, but nowhere enough to kill him.

Janus was reflexively coughing when it was done as Spade walked back to his desk. The Side looked up at his kidnapper, “What do you want? I would already be dead if you meant to kill me.”

“You are right on that count,” Spade answered. “You are far more useful to me alive, than dead.”

“And what use do I have for you then?” Janus hissed.

Spade was watching him as he spoke, the mask keeping Janus from getting a read on his mood.

“You’ve made things exceedingly difficult for me,” Spade commented instead of directly answering. “But that’s alright, you didn’t know. I’m here to fix it.”

Janus fell silent at that. There were too many variables. Too much he didn’t know about the situation. He couldn’t see a door. He didn’t know where the other Dark Sides were. Even if Orange had tried to kill Logan, he had left all of them alone for months, he didn’t deserve to be left behind.

Once he was confident in his tone, Janus asked, “Where’s the Duke?”

“Oh, Remus?” Spade corrected and he walked around Janus. The deceitful Side saw a tall, thin, glass cabinet with three items in it: a ticking metronome, his cane, and Remus’s belt buckle.

He also saw a door. Janus didn’t know where it led to, or if it was just a closet, but it was a door!

Spade took out the buckle and closed the cabinet door. He slowly, too slowly, walked back and held the buckle in front of Janus. “I wouldn’t worry about your boyfriend, he’s sleeping. Took a bit to get him to go to sleep, but I figured it would be better. That you would appreciate it.”

“Why would I appreciate anything you do?” Janus dared.

The Suit waved his hand and chains shot out of the floor and ceiling to suspend Remus’s buckle right in front of Janus’s face. “Because I could torture him in front of you. I know the Duke has a high tolerance for pain, I even know that he finds personal pleasure in it. But I could wake him up, I could show him things and do things to him that he would not enjoy. Things he wouldn’t find pleasure in.”

“Enough!” Janus cried out, trying to keep a tone of desperation out of his voice. He could envision Remus’s peacefully sleeping face in his mind. “You haven’t told me what you want.”

Spade took the buckle out of its hold, but kept it in his hands. “I’m going to say some words, and you are going to answer them, I don’t care if you’re being truthful or not, my scans and readings will give me the answer I want anyways.”

Janus looked at the buckle in his hand and swallowed his barbed comment. “Fine.”

“Excellent,” Spade praised, the word almost feeling like a slap across his face. “Now what color is the sky?”

The deceitful Side wanted this person dead. “Blue.”

“That was a little bit of a muddied question,” Spade remarked. “Your birthday is February 3?”

“No,” Janus lied.

Spade seemed to hum noncommittally.

“Your name is Janus.” Spade’s head tilted to the left ever so slightly.

“No.” Janus felt distinctly like he was being mentally picked apart.

“Who would you say is the most powerful Side?” Spade asked. “Not in terms of leadership skills or the power that Patton and Roman have to make the public love them. I mean raw, magical potential. Which is it?”

Red flags went up in Janus’s mind. He managed a sly smile. “I am. My illusions are unparalleled.”

The Suit’s fingers started tapping dangerously on Remus’s buckle. “You and I know that’s not true. Remus is Remus, and Orange squanders his magic on his own laziness and apathy. So it leaves the other four. Is it Patton’s infectious empathy? Roman’s sense of imagination? Virgil’s fear powers? Or did you all lie to Logan and tell him his superpower was his intelligence and not something more powerful?”

“The others have no drive to make their powers any stronger,” Janus reminded. The answer lodged in his throat, and he desperately hoped it would stay there, or he could figuratively swallow it down further from Spade’s insidious grasp. “They’re not willing to do what it takes to make themselves stronger.”

Spade observed him for a bit, the tapping on the buckle stopping.

“I suppose you are right on that front,” Spade allowed, walking back to the case and putting Remus’s buckle back inside.

Janus held in his sigh of relief. None of them were safe yet. Spade took the staff out.

“Deceit is quite the interesting title,” Spade walked back to stand in front of him. “Did you come up with it yourself?”

“Of course,” Janus answered, “really rolls off the tongue.”

“Of course,” Spade parroted. Then he leaned close to Janus’s human side ear, as if to whisper a secret. “I already know it’s Virgil.”

Before the alarm could set in, the flat of his staff was pressed to Janus’s back and with a flash of magic Janus was gone and the chains cascaded to the ground with a loud CLINK.

Spade quickly applied some tape with some writing around the pole of the staff and then casually placed it back in its case.

The cabinet gave an angry shake, for a bit as Spade walked over to his computer and turned onto a news feed and began looking for recent stories of the Sides. In the first one he found was of Patton. The Side was talking energetically to some reporter as Virgil hid behind him.

Spade was watching news streams of the Sides as he was working on one of his many projects. In the background he had a program analyzing everything the Sides did. Virgil was the hardest for the program to read since he tended to use the other Sides or his hood as a protective shield. So Spade had to go in and personally take those notes.

The only sounds that accompanied the streams was the clatter of the glass cabinet, the ticking of a metronome, and a light hiss of a solder iron.

End of Sequence

Conclusion: Janus is easier to bait than predicted.

[rxmanticdevil]

One-shot #2 Magicians for Sport, the Aftermath

Characters: Josiah Trelawny, Dutch Van der Linde, briefly: Susan Grimshaw, Charles Smith Rating: PG/PG-13 Spoilers: Through Ch. 3 Words: ~2336 Trigger warnings: Mentions of torture and injuries Shipping: Yes - minor Vanderlawny Summary: Trelawny has just been rescued from the bounty hunters who kidnapped him. Dutch takes it upon himself to clean up the mess that is Trelawny.  Explanation for this abomination: I wanted hurt/comfort. I wrote myself hurt/comfort. It’s here if you want to read it :D 

 ~*~*~

He knew he should have been paying closer attention to their path if he ever wanted to recreate it later. The ride had been more an easy trot, a slow lope, than anything quick. But his body ached, his mind empty of all save for one, ever present, thought: I’ve been saved.

There was a point in that whole ordeal that he was completely convinced he was going to die on the cold ground, at the mercy of some halfwit bounty hunters. And there would be people in his life who would be none the wiser: one day he was there, the next – he was not.

But for whatever reason, Arthur and Charles had been there. Whether they had been sent by Dutch to find him, or they had happened on the scene, or they had learned of his disappearance. It didn’t really matter why it happened. What did matter was that he was alive. In pain, entirely disheveled – looking like nothing more than a complete disaster – but he was alive.

“We’re here,” the voice brought him out of his head, and he looked out at the camp. People were walking from one point to another. Talking amongst each other. Enjoying their days. Josiah could only inhale sharp in an attempt to hold back his own emotions at a sight he had believed, if just for a moment, that he would never see again.

Oh, but he was being rather dramatic – wasn’t he? Didn’t half the folk here experience such a situation on the daily themselves? Who was he, who lived an all-things-considered blessed life, to bring attention to his situation?

“Mr. Trelawny?” The sharp, admonishing gasp caught his attention, “Whatever happened to you?”

“Just, ah, a spot of bother my dear Miss Grimshaw,” one by one, he noticed those at camp glancing over. At first a casual look, and then a second quick stare. He thought he noticed young Miss Mary-Beth with her hands over her mouth. He’d have to reassure her he was fine. His voice was low and gravelly, everything spent, “Not a worry, not a worry.”

“Some bounty hunters got a hold of him,” Charles had already dismounted his steed and come around to help Trelawny off his horse. It might be a bit embarrassing, accepting help off one’s horse. But it would be more embarrassing to fall on the ground, and with how weak he felt he was convinced a fall from the horse would certainly kill him. “Wanted him to talk. About Dutch. About us.”

“Did you?” and Trelawny found himself meeting the eyes of Mr. Dutch Van der Linde. The reason he had bit his tongue when his life was on the line.

“No,” he was able to answer with honesty, for once.

“They’re dead now anyway,” Charles was by Trelawny’s side, gingerly handing him and his care over to Susan. The woman giving him her own shoulder to lean on.

“You’re a good friend, Josiah,” Dutch looked over his face, and Trelawny could feel Dutch taking in each injury. The cuts on his nose and under his eye. The bruises on his cheeks. Dark eyes focused on the blood on his shirt and the markings on his neck where he was nearly strangled more than once. “Miss Grimshaw, can you escort Mr. Trelawny to my tent? I don’t want him sleeping on the ground like this. I’ll be by once I talk to Charles about a few things.”

“Of course, this way,” she steered him through the camp and for the first time since he had been in the Van der Linde gang, he avoided the eyes of the other people. Whether it be due to the shame for his appearance, feeling vulnerable being seen in such a state, or uncomfortable about the attention unintentionally bought upon himself, he found moving through camp to be a task in itself.

It was also a bit of a task physically, his legs still wobbly from the abuse and from being bound together for so long. It didn’t take long though until he was in the tent, being laid gently on a bed.

“I’ll be right back, Josiah. I just need to fetch some supplies,” she adjusted him so he was fully on the bed and removed his shoes for his comfort.

“Thank you, my dear,” he felt his body finally relaxing into the sheets on the small bed. His guard dropped – he was safe. However embarrassed he was for how he appeared; Dutch’s camp was a safe place. No one here was going to harm him. Hurt him. Demand answers. His eyelids felt so heavy, and in the next moment, they closed.

“Still with us, Josiah?”

He wasn’t sure how long he had been out when a voice and the sound of a chair being pulled up beside him brought him out of his slumber. He cracked his eyes open, realizing that the tent itself had been closed off from the outside. There was only one person inside with him, “Despite their best efforts, it seems I am, Dutch.”

A cool, wet cloth was pressed against the cut on his cheek, tenderly cleaning the wound. “It seems like they did quite a number on you. Charles said you’re planning on staying with us?” Another cloth was brought to his face as Dutch wiped away the dirt, the grime, the blood that had stained his skin. “I think that’s a good idea. I sent Charles back to your caravan to get your things. Until then….”

The wet cloth went onto to the small end table at the head of the bed, next to a small bowl that contained a couple of more clean rags and water. Dutch reached over to yet another small table and held up a pristine white nightgown, “Hosea volunteered one of his nightshirts. A man like yourself can’t be comfortable in, well, that.”

It was a blunt reminder of his disheveled and dirty clothes. His opulent vest once vibrant and unparalleled in beauty now dulled with dirt, stained with his blood, “No… I can’t say I am.”

“Can you sit up?” Dutch’s motions were similar to Arthur’s – large, careful hands decorated with rings made of valuable metals and jewels guided him up from where he laid. Josiah’s body screamed in pain as he helped to lift himself into a sitting position, and though he tried to hide it, Dutch’s eyes on him told him the man read him like one of Evelyn Miller’s books. “Those sons of bitches are lucky they’re dead.”

The comment caught him off-guard. There was a low anger rolling in Dutch’s voice. It was almost as though he was taking the harm that had befallen Josiah personally. “It appears they may be.”

Josiah could feel the rage in Dutch’s silence as the outlaw leader reached for Josiah’s forearm, picking it up with calculated calm. Dutch was using another wet cloth to wipe the blood and grime away in measured motions, looking over each bruise and remnant of the torture Josiah had endured. It was as though he were caught in a trance, placing one forearm down in exchange for the other.

The gang leader’s hand slid down Josiah’s arm, carefully supporting his wrist as his other hand went to hold his fingers. Dutch’s gaze went to the red chafing from the rope, the red knuckles from his attempts to fight back. Each mark, Josiah realized, was telling Dutch more of the story. His hand left Josiah’s in favor of taking the cloth over the wounded knuckles as he returned to ridding the body of filth. It was almost a marvel in itself. The hands that had ended so many lives were now treating his own life as though it were made of porcelain.

Fingertips brushed against Josiah’s collarbone as his filthy shirt was pulled away to expose more bruising. More cuts. More injuries. Another clean cloth was brought to his skin causing a small shiver.

“Dutch,” Josiah spoke and Dutch stopped his motions, as though awakened from deep meditation. His hand and the cloth were still resting on Josiah’s chest. “You’ve got more important things to tend to, I can handle this.”

“Nonsense. You protected me. I owe you at least this.” Once again, Trelawny found himself stunned into silence. It almost as though Dutch was taking responsibility for everything. Like he felt the cause of the entire ordeal fell on his shoulders. Sure, the bounty hunters had wanted Dutch. But it was Trelawny who spoke so vibrantly of the outlaw, had been so careless in his own poking around that provided the link between himself and the Dutch Van der Linde.

Before Trelawny could question him or alleviate the man’s concerns, however, Dutch stood up, guiding him to do the same. “You can’t lift your arms to get your shirt off, can you?”

Even though he knew the answer, he tried anyway. His arms made it half-way before refusing to move any further – and Josiah found himself looking away in what he could only describe as that same shame from earlier. The one that kept him from looking at those in camp.

“I thought so,” Dutch’s hands went to the opened placket on Trelawny’s ruined white shirt, “Forgive me, for my… uncouth,” his voice pitched up in its signature cracking, "behavior.” And in the next instant, he pulled the shirt apart – ripping down from where the last button had been undone to the bottom of the shirt. The fabric hung limp on Trelawny’s body, leaving him feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he would have had the shirt been removed in its traditional, rightful manner.

But this meant the shirt and the vest could slip right off. And despite the sudden ripping of what was left of his top, Dutch was treating him so carefully. It was though he saw Josiah as some fragile glass that would shatter should he move too quickly. The nightgown came on, fitting him decently and falling well below his knees. Dutch averted his gaze as Trelawny removed the last of his filthy clothes from under the gown.

Was it so obvious how uncomfortable Josiah was at this moment? Being so weak. So unable to perform a trick and vanish as he normally would. He had no control anymore over where he was – being at the mercy of those around him. He wasn’t even sure if it made things better or worse, how tenderly the leader of the Van der Linde gang was caring for him.

At least he felt clean now. The filth from the ordeal scrubbed from his body for the most part, his tattered clothes in a heap on the ground to be disposed of. Dutch’s attention was on him once more, helping to lower him onto the bed, laying him down while Dutch sat in the chair next to him.

“I’m very lucky,” Trelawny finally spoke after his long silence.

But Dutch was distracted again. This time by the bright red marking on Trelawny’s throat. The man’s calloused fingers went to Josiah’s jaw, holding it firm but with care, pushing his chin up with his thumb to get a better look. It was impossible to know what Dutch was thinking, the man’s poker face almost near as good as Josiah’s (when he hadn’t been near beaten to death earlier in the day).

He hadn’t realized how close Dutch’s face had gotten to his own. Almost tantalizing. The hand on his jaw moved to his neck. An act that hours ago had brought fear, but now the touch brought an inexplicable comfort. Perhaps he was foolish, trusting a man like Dutch so completely. Not perhaps. Josiah was plenty a fool. But not when it came to where he put his trust. Dutch’s thumb brushed over the part of his neck that was raw and red. The damaged skin bristled at the touch but Trelawny didn’t want to show that on his face.

And in the next moment he felt lips on his. The wanted man’s body leaned over the fallen magician, the kiss itself firm. Protective. Dominating. And for just this time in their charade together, Josiah let himself accept without competing. He was far too tired to offer anything more than a return of the kiss with approval and light appreciation.

Dutch pulled away in the next moment, “Thank you.”

Josiah wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for. For accepting the kiss? That hardly needed a ‘thank you.’ They had gone back and forth with their trysts before. For not revealing information about him to the bounty hunters? Perhaps. But Dutch should know, the man might not have Josiah’s honesty – but he had his loyalty.  

“Get some rest. There will be time for more later,” Dutch’s hand made a last trip up Trelawny’s neck, cupping his injured cheek before moving on to some light grooming of Trelawny’s hair – fixing stray strands that had drifted too far from their rightful place.

He then stood and made his way to the front of his tent.

“Dutch?”

The outlaw worth far more than Trelawny could even imagine stopped in his tracks, giving his full attention to Josiah.

“Please, let sweet Miss Mary-Beth know I will be right as rain in just a day or so. The dear seemed quite concerned. I’d hate for anyone to lose sleep over a fool like me.”

“I’ll let her and everyone know you’ll be okay,” and he reached for the flap at the tent’s entrance, “Glad you’re safe, Josiah. We’d miss you. I’d miss you.”

With that, he slipped out of the tent and Trelawny let himself breathe in deep once again. The breath caused his body to ache but it only served to prove what he had been telling himself since he had gotten to camp: everything may hurt, but he was alive.

His eyes shut and in barely a moment’s time, the cunning magician hobbled by the greed and desires of others had fallen into a deep sleep. As Dutch had said, there would be plenty time for more later.