#inky is not putting on socks out of his own free will

[veloonia]

More babu ink!!

That moment when you have an inky child that hates socks and boots 🤣 it's hard beeing a dadster!

I used a stockphoto as a reference. It's under the cut!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hue and Cry

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You notice a sudden change in Lord Barnes.

Note: This is just me being self-indulgent. I start a new job on Monday and yesterday, someone close to me passed. I’m trying to distract myself but I’m too stressed to work on an standing series. This will have at least one other part.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You scattered fresh herbs over the rushes carefully as you backed down the hall. The woven mats would absorb the scent and keep the floors tidy until the next sweep. When you reached the corner, you tied up the sachet and gathered up your bucket and broom. The corridors were already smelling fresher though the task had kept you well past the evening meal. 

Your usual chores you assigned to Marjorie. As the years piled on her crooked back, she wasn’t as suited to the more physical tasks. Sweeping would have been too hard on her and you didn’t mind the solitary of the work.

You turned past the kitchens and stopped. Your footsteps seemed to echo behind you. You looked back but saw nothing in the shadows. It was late and most of the castle was asleep already, the torches were snuffed but for a few and you could find you way through the dark easily in the familiar castle.

You went to the rear door of the castle on the lower green, just beside the stables, and dumped the dirt. You heard the horses snoring and nicking as the moon shone down on the wood roofs. You basked for a moment in the silver light and the brisk night air. The harvest season was coming to an end and it would soon be cold.

You dropped the bar as you went back inside and returned your broom and bucket to the cellar. Again you heard a step that did not quite align with your own as you came into the corridor. You spun slowly and glanced around. Some of the younger servants were known to sneak around after hours and there was the odd mouse that skittered over the stone. You saw nothing and went on, more than ready to retire to your straw mattress beside Elsa.

“You sent the old lady,” the voice had your heart in your throat and you stopped short to bow to your liege.

“My lord, I was occupied elsewhere. Harold approved the reassignment,” you said shakily. It was unlike him to traverse the lower floors.

“She spilled wine on my tunic,” Lord Barnes said, “and she can barely see her own crooked nose.”

“My lord, she is old, we did not want her to tax herself--”

“She is a servant. Like you. You have your work and she has hers,” he stepped forward out of the dark shadows though there was no lantern or torch to limn his features, “I bid you to bring my meals and tidy my chambers, no one else. There are far too many covetous servants.”

You were put off by his confrontation. You replaced his former chambermaid several years back but Lord Barnes hardly seemed to warm to the change. He never offered more than an obligatory courtesy and when he was present during your tasks, he rarely spoke at all. Your service had been one of complacency on both sides, so you wondered why he would come to the lower floors to search you out after dark.

“I will be there tomorrow, my lord,” you said, “I apologise for my negligence.”

“And every day thus,” he demanded as he got closer.

“Yes, my lord,” you lowered your chin, “as you wish.”

He stopped only an inch from you and you felt him staring down at you. You didn’t dare look back, that would be an affront to any noble. He let out a long breath and slowly backed away.

“Go, you must be worn out from your hard work,” he retreated, “and there is as much to do on the morrow.”

“My lord,” you bent again and listened to his footsteps fade.

When you dared to look up, he was gone. The man was always particular, even those of his own standing were not guaranteed an audience, even as they visited his estate. He stayed far from court since his injury and on those occasions he did travel to the capital, it was not for more than a fortnight. 

You did not take the encounter lightly. He had dismissed labour for less and you did not relish a job outside the castle, there wasn’t much to be had in the village. As dull as the work was, it provided you a place to sleep and comforts not known to many others of your breeding.

🏰

When you went to the lord’s chambers the next morning, he was away. His horse had been saddled for an early ride and you did not expect him until his evening meal. After your tasks, you kept busy until you were due with his supper. When you arrived with the tray, he was not there. You waited but he did not appear. You left the tray covered to keep the food warm and went to attend the last of your nightly duties.

You retired without seeing the lord once. The next day passed in kind, and the next, and the next. You wondered for a moment if it was due to his ire with you but quickly shrugged away the notion. Lord Barnes did not think so much of you and his absence was not so unusual. He was a reticent man even if he was willful.

The first you saw him again was with his supper. He sat at his large carved desk as you entered with the tray and you crossed to the round painted table. He raised a hand and tutted as he didn’t look up from the parchment before him.

“Bring it here,” he ordered.

You went to him and set down the tray on the left flank of his desk. You filled his goblet and he blindly reached over to take it. He gulped and kept his head down as he picked the chicken to pieces and chewed over the inky words.

You retraced your steps to the door, usually he ate alone, as he did most things. You only returned to clear his scraps.

“Do you not see the mess?” he asked without looking up. You turned and followed his sharp point to the shelves along the wall. “It is difficult to focus in the chaos.”

“My lord,” you nodded and went to the oaken shelves. You rearranged the crooked spines and tidied the stack of loose leaves. You took the cloth from your apron and wiped down the line of inkwells. You could hear him chewing quietly behind you as he shifted in his chair.

“And you will ready my bed for the night,” he demanded as you finished up, “pull back the covers, it’s been a tiresome day.”

He lifted the parchment and leaned back as he wiped his fingers on his breeches. You acquiesced with a “yes, my lord,” and went to his bedchamber. 

You folded down the heavy blankets and linen and fluffed the pillows. You took the brick from the foot of the bed and set it in the hearth. The fall slipped in through the windows and the chill of the castle was no longer so welcomed.

“I won’t need that,” Barnes said as he entered. He was so quiet, you jumped and stood straight. You spun and bowed your head.

“Will that be all, my lord?” you asked as he unbuttoned his overcoat with one hand.

“My footman has been stricken with an ague after we were caught in the rain,” he said evenly, “you can aid with my wardrobe.”

“My lord?”

“Here,” he pointed in front of him and pulled his jacket free of his left arm, “you will take these,” he handed you the garment as you neared, “to the laundries.”

You kept your eyes on the plain grey fabric as he shoved his boots aside and added his socks to your armful, then lifted his tunic as you peered at the floor. He pulled of the leather glove that hid his iron hand, the metal forged to the mirror of his real extremity. You resisted the yen to look higher up the artificial appendage.

You were unprepared to act as his footman and as he stripped away his layers it made you squirm. He rolled down his breeches and slung them over the rest of his clothes.

He stood in only in his undershorts and bent your head lower, “my lord.” You backed away and he caught your elbow. He stopped you and you hugged the pile of clothes with your other arm.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he asked.

The question struck you. You were unsure how to answer. You were used to the silent, brooding lord, not this pensive, prodding master.

“My lord?” you frowned.

“You didn’t?” he urged, “do you not enjoy your duties?”

“I am only… uncertain of what you mean, my lord. I apologise for my displeasing response but I do not know how to answer.”

You looked at his hand still on your elbow. He squeezed and slowly his palm glided up your sleeve. You shivered as he pushed his hand against your neck and his thumb tickled under your chin.

“I must confess I missed you,” he said, “I did stay away because I was upset at your absence and thought to punish you in kind but it seems, it hasn’t had the same effect.”

“What do-- my lord?” you kept your eyes down as his hand moved higher and he brushed along your lower lip.

“I know I shouldn’t let these… feelings persist but there are many lords who indulge without emotion. I assure you, I do not touch you in a meaningless manner.”

“My lord,” you took a step back and he stopped you again. This time his hand gripped your jaw. He pulled you flush to him.

“Look at me,” he hissed. Your lip trembled and you raised your eyes reluctantly, “you continue to deflect me; your lord.”

You stared at him, searched his deep blue eyes desperately, and shivered, “I only seek to fulfill my duties as your chambermaid.”

“And I offer you more. Offer you… privilege over duty,” he rasped, “I would not mistreat you.”

Your heart raced and you wiggled in his grasp. You peeked down at your armful, “I should get these to the laundries, as you bid, my lord.”

He was silent, just for a moment, then he let go of you and tore his clothes from your arm. “You would deny me?”

You stumbled back and watched him fearfully, “my lord, I only-- I am only a maid--”

“I have a dozen maids,” he growled, “I would have you as more. I would take care of you.”

He bore down on you again and you backed up until you were at the hearth, the mantle jutting out against your head. You turned your head as he loomed over you and his hot breath washed over you. His hand was again at your throat as his lips trailed along your cheek.

“A lord does not ask,” he sneered, “a servant obeys.”

“My lord--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he turned your head and pressed his lips to yours. He parted, his nose rubbing against yours as his hand stretched over your neck, “I can be kind or I can be cruel. Thus far, I’ve spent most of my patience on you.”

You quivered as he kissed you again. You were too afraid to resist as his hand descended to your bodice and he squeezed. You gasped into his mouth and he smiled against you. He grasped your waist and pressed himself to you.

Your blood went cold as the panic rose up your spine. As he tugged at your skirts, you were blinded by fear. You reached up along the mantle as he dipped his head to kiss your neck. You couldn’t think through your shock, your body seemed to move off instinct.

You grasped the beaten metal vase and swung it down on Lord Barnes’ head. He grunted and stumbled back as he touched his head and tried to shake away the pain of the impact. You tossed the vase and it bounced over the stone as you scurried for the door. You tripped as you reached the receiving chamber and heard him behind you, his steps slowly gaining strength.

“You little bitch,” his tone turned to fire.

You struggled to get the heavy door open and raced into the hall. You lifted your skirts as you barreled ahead of him on the stone. Your thin soles slapped the mats and you hurdled down the stairs as you heard his pants coupled with your own. Down and down and down and down.

You led him through the mazed corridors and flitted out through the lower doors behind the stables. You fell into the dirt and quickly climbed back to your feet. You tore off across the yard as he swore into the air and his steps came to a halt.

“I will find you!” he shouted as you head for the wall, your only hope was the tree winding up the east corner, “You won’t get far!” You reached the trunk of the towering oak and your hands scraped against the bark as you hopped and latched onto the lowest branch. You heard him calling to others, “saddle my horse! Rise and ready my horse, boy!”

You reached the top of the wall, weak and worn and hooked your leg over the stone. You carefully scaled the uneven brickwork and the tangled vines. As your feet met the dirt, you turned and fled towards the tree line, darkened with the myths of vengeful wraiths and wicked witches, driven by the threat of a worse monster behind you, the voices and hooves an omen of his intent.

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Why You Love Me

A/N: Okay so @gingerly-writing posted this prompt a while ago and it’s been sitting in my “I’ll write this later” pile since then😅. So here it is! Prompt is in bold!

Vigilante = Shadow | Hero = Gale.

Warnings: general talk of injury, healing, passing out

Shadow clutched her hand to her side. Her shoulders hunched as she staggered through the alleyways and stumbled over the abandoned train tracks. She was too weak to fade, to glide through the shadows she so loved and held power over. Bleary-eyed, she prayed her feet knew where to go because she sure as hell didn’t know anymore.

Through the thinning winter woods, Shadow could barely make out a back porch light thanks to the inky darkness encroaching on the edges of her vision.

So, this is what it was like to be smothered by shadows?

Shadow would have to remember that the next time—

“Oof!” Shadow barely managed to catch herself with her free hand before she could face plant in the twig and pine-needle infested floor of the woods. Groaning, she dragged herself to her feet, swaying. Just a few more yards… only a few more yards.

Grumbling, Gale fumbled in his jacket for his keys. His muscles ached, and he’d be lying if he said his jaw didn’t hurt from where Rellik socked him earlier.

But he was home and if he could just get the key in the stupid keyhole, he could strip out of the dirty uniform and put some ice on his bruised face.

Finally successful, Gale smiled weakly as the deadbolt slid back. Gale walked through his front door, paused at the all too familiar sight of the injured vigilante on his couch, and sighed. “Must you bleed on everything I own? Like, is it some kind of challenge to you?”

There was no answer, and he figured that the nuisance was only asleep, probably from whatever pain medication she’d inevitably helped herself to after she’d broken in.

Again.

He shrugged his jacket off and toed his boots off, leaving them in the corner on the mat. His lips pursed. Shadow never could take her damn shoes off, and she was always dragging mud and dirt in her wake.

Could be worse. It could be a trail of blood.

Locking the door behind him, Gale went into the kitchen. Flicking on the light, he reached for the freezer door when the sight of a bloody handprint on the counter caught his attention.

“Shit!” He hissed, his sore jaw completely forgotten.

He barely stopped long enough in his frantic haste to grab the trauma kit under the kitchen sink. Crashing to his knees in front of the couch, Gale slammed the kit on the coffee table and fumbled with the latch. His fingers had gone numb in his worry. He glanced hurriedly at Shadow.

This was a complete waste of time. Her face was ashen. Her chest rattled with shallow breaths that were almost nonexistent.

Sitting up on his knees, Gale placed his hands on Shadow’s torso. Warmth spread through his body and into his hands. A soft glow emanated from his hands. His magic dislodged frafments of the bullet that had pierced Shadow’s middle and ejected them from her body, stitching together shattered and sinew. Veins and skin were repaired with care, even as Gale slumped to the side.

As Shadow’s wound healed, Gale fought with every bit of his remaining strength to finish the task, but he’d grossly overextended his magic fighting Rellik earlier this evening.

Just as he could heal, he could make old injuries, illnesses, medical problems, etc., resurface. It wasn’t something he enjoyed, but the villain was one of the most wanted people in the city of New Haven right now. She’d killed three heroes and countless civilians, so it was almost warranted to use her own body against her.

Unfortunately, being the ruthless killer she was, Rellik hadn’t had much in the way of old injuries or illnesses to exploit.

Gale groaned, lurching to the side.

~ ~ ~

Shadow’s eyes fluttered open. Her back was stiff and the muscles in her legs were sore from being scrunched up. Licking her lips, her eyes flitted around the—

This was not her loft apartment. This wasn’t her couch, and neither were the rustic beams that definitely didn’t run across her ceiling at home. And the leaky faucet?

It wasn’t dripping in the kitchen.

Shadow shifted onto her side and pushed herself up onto one arm. Where was Gale? Glancing around the living room, she looked over at the recliner he usually occupied, only to see it was empty.

This wasn’t like him at all.

Making ready to drag her weary body off of the plush couch she’d endlessly made fun of while he’d stitched her up, her lips turned down into a perturbed frown.

Not that she made a habit of bleeding out on his couch. Sometimes it was one of the two kitchen chairs. She didn’t know why he had two when it was only him here, but whatever. Maybe it all came as a set, and Gale wasn’t the type of person to throw away something that was perfectly good.

Forcing herself to sit up, Shadow took in the early morning sunlight coming in through the skylight.

Just before she’d set her feet on the threadbare area rug, something whimpered. Furrowing her brow, Shadow glanced at her feet.

Gale.

She poked him with her foot. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Healed you,” he groaned.

Shadow started, patting herself down for any sign of injury and even went so far as to pull her shirt up. She poked at the tender flesh where the bullet had struck her and tore into her insides like a saw blade. She was completely healed, even though her bloody clothing said otherwise.

“But you—”

“Help me?”

Shadow softened, biting back the reprimand that threatened to spill from her lips. She’d known Gale was on patrol last night, that all the hero leagues and vigilantes were on the hunt for Rellik before she struck again.

“Yeah,” she sighed, leaning down to help get him to his feet. “C’mon.”

Gale leaned heavily on her for support as she steered the bumbling hero to his bed. His head lulled against hers. “Please stop trying to die in my house.”

“It’s why you love me,” she smiled.

Gale snorted. “Not… not l-love.”

He barely made it to his bed before he crashed down, curling into himself. Shadow struggled to keep him balanced on the bed and haul his legs over the side so he didn’t fall to the floor again. Satisfied he wouldn’t face plant on the floor, she went and rummaged through the cabin until she found another blanket and draped it over him.

Now all that was left to do was heal a healer…

Hopefully Gale had something she could microwave easily when he woke up, or else it was twenty- minutes to the nearest takeout place.

Related Reading: Electrifying End

These snippets are set in the same universe, but Why You Love Me kind of happens before the events of Electrifying End

[jiminstonic]

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Maybe you’ll get a box of cereal this time. You just hope it won’t make too much noise while in your bag.

You make the round of a few more aisles, grabbing a new toothbrush and a few pens. Some rash cream too maybe, just in case. You start to mindlessly grab items that you might need until you end up in the candy aisle.

Gummy bears. It’s the first thing to grab your attention, better with the nearly vacant shelves, and you refuse to leave without it.

Carefully, you pinch the corner of the bag, gently pulling it from the rack it hangs on. It’s a slow process, and you’re on the verge of regretting it as a scraping starts to sound when you continue to tug. Finally, the rack comes to an end and the bag slips off with no more than a split second of a crinkle. That’s when you decide that you have enough for today’s supply, not wanting to risk much more than that. With a swift spin, you turn to head out, one socked-up foot in front of the other when you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Right at the other end of the aisle, stands a ghoul. It’s as still as a statue, save for the twitch in its fingers.

The sight makes your heart drop and the bag of gummy bears slip from your grasp. The sound that emits when it hits the floor makes the ghoul jump, oddly enough, but it still doesn’t make a single move. It just stands there, watching you.

That’s when you finally snap out of it, stumbling backward and running as fast as you can to the back exit. Even with the machete strapped to your side, you like to avoid having to kill them because, once again, noise. It’s always noise. The same thing that caused a headache for you once upon a time, but is now sometimes caused by the lack thereof.

You can’t care enough to try slipping on your shoes, too busy running for your life down the road. Rocks jab at the bottom of your feet, but you can only tighten your jaw and force yourself to bear it. A bite hurts a lot worse, you remind yourself.

The entire road is bare, same as when you came and is the reason why you even went into the supermarket. No ghouls around. ‘Clear skies’, as you like to call it. So, why was it just that one ghoul there? And how did you not notice it before?

Your pants come out in a near wheeze as you push yourself through the heavy door. Once it’s shut behind you, you fall back onto it and slide down to the floor. The thick air of the high school locker room suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you’re gasping for breath.

With one last deep breath, you push yourself up with a huff. You sling the bag from off of your shoulder and let it drop to the ground, not very worried about its contents. With a tug on the strap around your torso, the velcro pulls apart and you place it on a metal table sticking from the brick wall, the machete only making a small thud.

Your mattress is in the deeper corner of the locker room with the rest of your stuff. The lockers in that spot hold more than you should probably keep, but you’re not very worried about anyone raiding the place. As far as you know, this town is abandoned.

Your feet drag across the tile as you make your way toward the showers, flicking on every one of the battery operated fans as you pass by. You don’t know how or why, but there’s still running water coming into the locker room. You’ve always tried not to question it, afraid of jinxing it just for the water not to work anymore. And you’re worried for when winter comes, since the water can only run cold. But you’re grateful for it. There’s no way you can’t be.

Usually, you’d pick a cd out of your stash to put into the battery operated player, but you don’t want to waste any time in washing off the sweat that sticks to your skin. With your clothes thrown to the floor at your feet, you turn the nozzle and immediately feel the cool water rush against your skin. You’re quick to grab the bar of soap, one of the many you’ve made sure to collect, and rub it against your skin.

You wake up randomly, not bothering to sit up and separate yourself from the warmth of the blanket, even if it is just a fireproof blanket. But the grumble of your stomach forces you to change your mind. Eating something before crashing on the mattress would’ve been a smart decision.

With a kick, you fling the blanket from your body, setting your feet onto the floor. As you stand, the faint breeze from the fans hit you, waking you further. You rummage through the lockers containing food, not being able to see much of anything—it’s still dark out. The moon is high in the inky sky, a tell-tale sign of the night’s peak. It casts its glowing rays through the high windows to beam down in sections on the tile.

Your hand finds a pack of crackers that you settle for; it’s only a late night snack anyways. Shutting the locker door, you practically jump out of your skin at seeing the dark figure that stands there. A shriek escapes you, feeling your heart drop far into your chest as you drop the crackers in favor of clumsily shuffling backward into the corner of the lockers. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of the figure if they’re here to hurt you, take everything you have left.

You can’t even see their face yet, the moonlight only illuminating their torso. Looking at what you’re able to actually see, you notice that they’re holding a bag, quickly recognizing the gummy bear logo. Your brow shoots up in question.

It isn’t until you shift your eyes back to their shadowed face that you realize they’re getting closer, the moonlight racing up their body. You push yourself further into the lockers pressed against your back, not thinking it was even possible to be any closer. Your breaths come out quicker, nostrils flaring as you begin to panic with every step the stranger makes toward you. Looking past them, you catch sight of your machete that sits on the table, useless on the other side of the room.

Maybe you can side step them, make a narrow escape and grab the weapon, impaling them with it before they can blink twice.

But that plan bursts into flames as you feel their presence just inches from you. They’re eerily quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard from them, only you. You slowly look at their face, the moonlight finally bringing it to light, and you panic further upon the sight.

They’re a ghoul. The ghoul. It’s the same one that you ran from earlier today in the store. It’s pale and delicate face, devoid of life and showcasing veins here and there, is surprisingly unscathed. It-...he must’ve been a gorgeous man when he was alive. His blue-ish violet lips stand out the most, especially with the dried blood that stains them. His eyes are the most unique you’ve seen for a ghoul. Usually, a ghoul’s irises were clouded over in a deathly white mist, but he only has one eye like that. The other is perfectly normal, it’s deep brown holding a single sparkle from the light. It’s captivating, to say the least.

Not once has his eyes drifted from you, and it’s starting to make you worry even more. You can already feel the sting of an impending bite everywhere he looked on your skin. It was torture, and he kept getting closer and closer, making you shut your eyes in fearful expectation. Yet, a bite never came. He didn’t fiercely tear away at your flesh with his teeth, making you his late night snack just as you were fearing. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Instead of a painful bite, you felt cold skin pressed against your chest. It has you feeling your own rapid heartbeat against your rib cage. Slowly, you open your eyes to look down, only to see him leaning his forehead against your chest. You’re beyond confused, but you don’t push him away in fear that it may trigger him to actually kill you. And so, you stay impossibly still as he has his...moment?

You watch as he slowly moves his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin until you feel his slightly parted lips do the same. He stays there with the tip of his nose and lips lightly touching you, right over your pounding heart. You have no idea what he might be thinking—if he can think. If there’s more to ghouls than what people know, then you are just as clueless.

Suddenly, you feel—as well as hear—him take a deep inhale. It makes you clench your fists that are pressed against the lockers since you’re still too afraid to squirm away from him. His exhale comes out as a small, soft whine, almost as if he were in pain, but still content. You’ve never heard anything so smooth and airy come from a ghoul before, most of them wasting what’s left of their voice boxes by incoherently yelling. He presses his free hand rather harshly against the locker next to your side, emitting a bang that has you flinching. With the same arm, he pushes himself upright to meet your eyes. Once again, he lets out a soft hum while you keep eye contact, and if he were still alive, you would’ve melted at the sweet sound.

It’s not until you feel a nudge at your hip that you look down, seeing him pushing the bag of gummy bears toward you. Hesitant, you glance back up at him, gauging his intentions only to be met with the same stare. He was waiting, wanting you to take it. So you did. With a shaking hand, you take the bag from him, and his arm immediately falls limp at his side as if he were carrying a large weight this entire time.

As he steps back, you take the only chance you have and run past him while dropping the bag, the machete being your only priority. You grab it, spinning around with it already raised high in the air and pointing at the ghoul, ready to bring it down into his chest. But you stop halfway, the sight in front of you completely catching you off guard. His eyes are wide, scared even, hands held in front of him to shield himself from your attack. They shake with the effort he puts into holding them up, and you slowly start to break at the dawning realization. Your grip on the weapon’s handle immediately disappears, the blade dropping to the floor with a resounding clang.

“What am I even doing?” You whisper, appalled by the aggression you didn’t think twice about. That’s not like you, it never was like you. Even if the one standing in front of you is a being that can rip your flesh and devour your organs in an instant, you were still disgusted with yourself.

Sure, his actions were confusing and you’ve never seen a ghoul act so...human. But that definitely doesn’t mean you should put a blade in his skull without a second thought, all because he confused you.

On the other hand, you’ve lived with the apocalypse for half of your lifetime, only ever knowing to kill or be killed. There weren’t many times you had to kill a ghoul, but when you did, there was never the satisfaction that others talked about after taking one down. You never felt victorious or powerful. Only guilty and despondent. Even if it was their fate, a fate that could’ve never been reversed.

So you stand there, tears blurring your vision as you’re unable to meet the eyes of the ghoul in front of you. All of your thoughts are like knives spearing your heart, and you’re unable to focus on anything else around you. Shutting your eyes, the tears flow freely as a sob erupts from you. Maybe this has been building up for weeks, months even. Leaving your makeshift family to go nomad, adjusting to being on your own, jumping from place to place, and never knowing where is truly safe. It was all piled up stress, and this was the peak of it, your breaking point.

Lost in those thoughts, the sudden feel of lips on your cheek make you still and blink until your vision was no longer blurred. He was kissing your tears. You can feel how the ghoul’s lips were pressed ever so gently on the salty trail, and it only made you feel worse to know that he was trying to comfort you only seconds after you tried to end his afterlife.

“I’m so sorry... I don’t deserve that...” Placing your hands against the ghoul’s cold chest, you softly push him away and make a beeline for the mattress. You were no longer worried about the possibility of him eating you alive—he would’ve done that already. He would’ve done it instead of giving you the gummy bears you had wanted today, instead of kissing your tears away. What a complex, lovely ghoul.

You curl yourself into a ball once wrapped up in the blanket and lay with your back towards him, not yet having the heart to face him any longer.

As for the ghoul, he never thought he could once again feel his motionless heart constrict so much. The sight of your tears made an indescribable feeling dwell within him.

He sits on the ground, leaning back against the lockers as he watches your balled up form. Oh, how he wants to hold you right now, feel you in his arms, even if they are still weak.

When he stumbled upon you today, he knew he had to have you. You were glowing under the flickering fluorescents and he swore he felt butterflies. But he was a coward, standing there as you sped off in fear, slipping through his fingers. For that split second, he had forgotten what he really is. How foolish.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened to him; all he knows is that he slowly turned into what he is now. He can’t quite recall his own name, although he knows for a fact that it starts with a J. He also knows for a fact that he is /not/ like all of the other ghouls. Yet, they all limp alongside him as if they see nothing wrong, because they can’t. He’s positive that maggots have eaten half of their brains already with the way they have no communication whatsoever, or sense of direction and coordination. Unless they’re after food, then it’s a one-track mind.

And he can’t lie, he’s done his fair share of flesh chewing, but he’s only ever felt as if he was going through the motions. It wasn’t as important to him as it was to the rest of the walking dead. He’s never tried talking, so he must’ve lost his voice from never using it, which explains why he had such a hard time speaking to you. That, and his body that never really decomposed, leaving him on the fence of death. He had tried so hard to tell you something, anything, but it just didn’t work out in his favor.

You also smell amazing. Your lingering scent was what led him to you, after all. If it wasn’t for the way you caught his attention, he might’ve taken a few bites of you. No doubt the urge is still there, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He could never.

He can still feel the vibrations of your heartbeat, it’s calming sound that put him at ease. His lips still tingle with the warmth of your skin. Sure, it was a bold move on his part, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’d do it over and over again. Even if you ended up nearly bashing his head in for a second time.

His mind was running wild with the visions of you, your warmth that is so close now, yet still so far away. But his serenity was interrupted as a bang resounded. His head snapped in the direction it came from, sadly taking his eyes off of your now sleeping form. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep, he muses, wishing you would’ve used his shoulder to let out your pain.

He’s met with the darkness of the rest of the locker room, silence returning, but he can’t take any chances. Shakily, he pushes himself up, trying to take on a protective stance and shielding you with his body, but ultimately failing when his spine slacks under his own weight. The damn zombie body, he internally curses.

With dragging feet, he makes his way around the corner, only to be met with the silhouette of a ghoul standing in the doorway that he broke off himself in order to get to you. He must’ve been so consumed with tracking you down that he missed any sign of other ghouls around. Oh, how distracting you are to him.

It was obvious that the other can smell you, trying to make its way toward where you sleep while foolishly ignoring him. Without hesitation, he snarls, lunging at the intruding ghoul. There’s no way he’s letting it get anywhere near you. Not without ripping it to unidentifiable pieces, anyways. The anger quickly boiling up within gives him the strength to knock down the ghoul, letting the thought of you push him further, far beyond self-control.

You woke up slower than usual, the weight of the night before still heavy on your chest. He was on your mind right when your eyes opened to the morning light beaming into the locker room. Your dreams were even plagued with him—dreams that are rather compromising to have with a ghoul. You aren’t even sure if you really want to remember it. And it’s sad to say, but you didn’t feel so lonely.

Looking over to the lockers, you find the spot empty of his presence, making you jump up from the mattress. He couldn’t have just up and left, not after last night.

You nearly laugh at your own thoughts. Who are you to act that way toward a ghoul? It isn’t as if you slept with him. Not in reality, anyways; his little moment last night must’ve really gotten to you. It all makes your brow furrow, not understanding your own mind and feelings.

You walk around the corner of the lockers, picking up a foul stench that makes you immediately cover your nose and mouth. Whatever it could be, you know it isn’t good. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were met with at the door.

There you found him, sitting on the floor with his back turned to you, hunched over a mutilated body. Not any human body, but another ghoul, or what once was. Its head, torn off at the shoulders, lays a foot away from its body, unfortunately facing you. Its foggy eyes wide and seemingly staring into your soul. Its jaw is hanging by a thread, pulled apart with the stretched flesh hanging like strings. Whether it was always that way or not, you’d rather not know.

Both arms were ripped from its torso, one of them laying in tact, the other in pieces at each joint. Discolored blood is smeared on the floor, most likely from the gaping hole in the torso.

You try to suppress a gag—because of both the smell and sight—but it was futile. The sound alerts the other to your presence, making his head snap toward you. The same discolored blood from the floor is slathered on and around his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his already dirty clothes. Something must’ve snapped him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in because upon seeing you standing there, visibly appalled, made his stomach churn. He pukes it all up right there, the disgusting taste of zombie organs finally registering with him.

You quickly look away, fighting off gags with your forearm pressed against your mouth. Never have you witnessed something like this. A ghoul eating another ghoul was just unheard of. It didn’t seem logical with what a ghoul’s diet really consists of: humans. He puked it all up as well, begging the question of whether he really wanted to or not. It would seem that way with how you walked up on him taking bites from the other’s intestines, but with him, you have to question everything you know.

Glancing back, you find him trying to wipe off the remnants of the other ghoul. He was struggling, even looked a little confused. So, you couldn’t help what you were about to do.

“Come on,” walking up to him, you hold your hand out toward him, “come with me.”

The look he gives you could’ve shattered your heart, his wide puppy-like eyes staring up at you coupled with the blood smeared on his face shouldn’t make you feel that way. It should make you feel disgusted, yet you only feel that way toward the mess and stench.

With a shaking, bloody hand, he takes yours, letting you lead him to wherever you were going. He wasn’t very focused on that, though. No, the sight of your hand grasping his is far too enthralling. The fact that you initiated it makes it feel even better.

Once at the showers, you pull him into the stall, making him stand just far enough to not be under the shower head. Letting go of his hand—much to his dismay—you reach past him and turn the nozzle, the sound of water smacking against the tiles echoing. You quickly take the opportunity to hold your hand under the water, washing off the blood that transferred onto your palm. You both watch as the dark substance flows on the floor and down the drain, getting stuck in creases along the way. He mimics your actions, surprising you when he skips waiting for the blood to wash off, immediately going to caress the lines of your palm.

“Why did you do it?”

Your voice is gentle to his ears, much like a soft caress. He did it for you. It was all for you. He would’ve killed anyone who walked through that door, not just a ghoul who wanted you for food. He could see no reason for anyone else to be in there anyways. He was protecting you. There’s no way he’d let anyone or anything touch you, not even come near you. He’d make sure of it even after you’re only his to keep. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

As for eating the other ghoul—that wasn’t planned. It was almost as if he blacked out. He can remember smelling you as he was ripping the limbs from the ghoul. It was too much to handle, so he bit into the ghouls thin, decaying flesh in an attempt to alleviate the hunger he felt for you.

He didn’t have the courage to confess it all to you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So, he ignored the question in favor of bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Please...”

His voice is unexpected, making you freeze completely and stare at him in shock. His eyes sparkle, staring at you pleadingly while you still try to comprehend the fact that he talked to you. There was a break in his voice that pulled at your heart, so you can’t stop yourself when you swipe your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter in bliss as you begin to wash the blood from his skin. The dark blood is like a waterfall on his skin, a contrast to his translucent and paling skin.

Your heart starts to beat faster as your fingers inch closer to his lips, yet they still dance across the bottom one ever so gently. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your fingertips upon feeling them, gliding his hands up your arm to hold your wrist in place. You didn’t expect the first kiss, and you definitely don’t expect when he continues to kiss different spots on your hand. It’s almost as if he’s lost in what he’s doing, his eyes shut as he concentrates on pressing his lips to your skin over and over again. You can feel the heat that rises to the tips of your ears while you watch him.

But the moment is short lived when you gently push him back, leaving him standing under the water. Hurt flashes across his features, a look that you force yourself to ignore.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up properly,” you’re unable to make eye contact with him, but you still hold your tingling hand to your chest. “...and I’ll get you my mouthwash. Must still have a bad taste in your mouth.”

He can only nod in agreement and watch you walk off, never sparing him a glance. His heart hurts, but swells simultaneously at you caring for him. You’re right, there’s still a bad taste in his mouth. And he highly doubts that you would’ve wanted his nasty throw up mouth on you. How inconsiderate of him, he scolds himself.

You do exactly as you told him you would, opening up your bag and grabbing the travel bottle of mouthwash. But you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you’re basically on autopilot. You’re well aware of your heart still going haywire in your chest. It’s a little embarrassing, a ghoul making you feel this way. Maybe if you could just get past that stigma...

No way. There’s no way you’re seriously contemplating being with a ghoul. But it’s so tempting when he’s so sweet to you, practically worshiping your body every chance he gets. It’s supposed to creep you out, scare you—you know that. Still, your thoughts are filled with what it might feel like to let yourself go to him. You just don’t think you could handle it if he went all ghoul-cannibal again.

Those thoughts come to a halt once you walk up to his stall. His bare back is turned to you, littered with dark veins that demand to be seen through his deathly skin. The dried blood in his light hair washes away as he holds his head under the water. He didn’t bother taking his pants off, something you’re not sure if you’re actually thankful for.

Stuck staring, you notice the marks on the back of his right bicep. A bite. The teeth marks are messy, but left visible holes in his skin nonetheless. That must be how he turned, you think, must be why the rest of his skin is barren of gashes and punctures. Black veins branch out from the old wound, leaving the surrounding skin dark. Though it makes you wonder...did he die alone? That possibility makes your heart fall.

“Hey...”

His voice pulls you from your melancholic reverie. It still surprises you, his small voice. It doesn’t waver this time though, most likely getting used to using his vocal chords. He’s turned to face you now, chest and stomach accentuating his lean stature. You force yourself to hand him the mouthwash before you get too lost while looking at him again.

“Hey. Here you go.”

He takes the bottle from you, trying to pull the cap off, ultimately cracking it. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he takes a swig, surprisingly not struggling to keep it all in his mouth as he swishes it around. He makes brief eye contact with you as he spits it out—well, more like letting it spill from his mouth, the minty liquid dripping from his bottom lip to flow into the drain. Eyes meeting once again, he stares at you with an almost menacing look while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight sends a shiver through you, not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

Still full of surprises, he drops both the bottle and cap, letting them bounce on the tile as he reaches for you. Panic shoots through you when he grasps your hips, pulling you into him and under the flow of water. Maybe this was his breaking point. Maybe he was finally going to kill you—eat you.

But he only wraps his arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace. His face fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, a fact that leaves him as elated as feeling you against his cold skin. He can hear the breaths you take right next to his ear, a sound that comes second to your heartbeat—his favorite. The pounding muscle, especially when it speeds up, sparks excitement within him. He can just imagine the rapid beating doubled with your quick breaths, how you would say his name...

Wait. His name.

In that split second, he remembers it perfectly. All it took was the thought of you. It’s always you. You are his complete motivation; he would do anything for you. Anything at all.

“Jimin...” He huffs out into your shoulder, still having a hard time getting any words out since he already doesn’t breathe. It’s the moment you realize that he’s just a human stuck in a ghoul’s body.

By now you can’t help but ghost your hands over his arms, your fingertips going against the water droplets gliding along his skin. You’re both soaked, but it’s the least of your worries when he speaks the single name to you.

“That’s your name...isn’t it?” You can feel him nod in affirmation, his cheek brushing against your shoulder almost in a shy manner. However, his brazen actions paint him as anything but shy.

“Mine’s ____,” you whisper directly into his ear, oblivious to the true effect it has on him. Your name is something that he will commit to the little memory he still has. He’ll chant it over and over again if that’s what it takes to never forget your name. Lifting his head up, he locks eyes with you. His hair, drenched with water dripping from the ends, almost covers his contrasting orbs. You feel his arms tighten around you with his next words.

“____...”—making your breath hitch—“say it...” You stare at him in confusion, not quite sure what he means. “Say my name.”

His once soft tone is suddenly demanding, throwing you off, but reeling you in all at once. You’re captivated, completely and utterly captivated by him.

“Jimin.”

And he doesn’t waste a second in connecting your lips, his hand holding you in place on the side of your neck. It surprises you, but you’re quick to melt into his lips. His grip borders on tight, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so focused on how his lips feel. Soft and plush against your own in a delicious dance. And now, you didn’t have to wonder anymore with his lips latched to yours.

Jimin turns you until your back is pushed against the stall, all while you feel his tongue peek out to graze your bottom lip. The action has you letting out a small gasp and he takes the chance to push his tongue into your mouth, leaving you even more breathless when you feel it glide against your own. You can feel his hand massaging and gripping your waist, in turn making you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. With his body pressed against your own and his tongue feeling like heaven, your mind turns to mush. You’re putty in his icy hands.

Jimin detaches from your lips and you finally take a breath of air. His kisses move further down your neck, his tongue swirling on your skin with every few press of his addicting lips. You’re practically seeing stars already, eyes drooping in bliss. With him so close to your ear, you can hear each and every hum from him that has warmth spreading throughout your body. As his lips travel higher on your neck, you lean your head back, baring your throat to him. Jimin’s practically ravaging your skin, his kisses getting fervent, making you sigh as you card your fingers through his drenched hair.

And then suddenly, with his mouth opening wider, a searing pain sparks on your neck. Your eyes shoot open to be greeted with the molded ceiling that has you crashing back to reality. A pained sound escapes your open mouth as the realization dawns on you. Jimin is biting your neck. You can feel each and every puncture of his teeth into your skin, and he only bites down harder when you try to move. With all of the strength you can muster, you push him away harshly, finally getting him to stop sinking his teeth into you.

With foggy vision, you watch as he stumbles back, hitting the stall behind him. Your blood coats his lips and stain his teeth, and you can see it on his tongue when he licks his lips. All sound fades until there’s just a constant ringing.

Clutching your neck, you can feel the thick and slimy liquid that coats your skin. Even though you already know what it is, you can’t help but look at your shaking palm, caked and dripping with your own blood. Looking back up, you find Jimin nearing you once again. Hastily, you move backward until you’re cornered like you were before with your back against the stall. He gets closer and closer, watching you carefully, especially the blood that gushes from your neck. You sob when he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, not letting you jerk away.

“Beautiful...perfect...” And he means it. The thick red dripping along your body is a divine sight. He hates that you have to hurt for this to happen, and he’d be furious if it were anyone else that had done it, but it needed to be done. How else were you going to stay with him? Surely not as a human. Of course, he loved the beating of your heart and the warmth that you held, but he knew it would get in the way of making you his. This was inevitable.

His bite will stay there long after you’ve become undead, a fact that had him even more excited. His mark on your skin would be visible forever, a constant reminder of who you belong to—who made you. It was perfect.

Jimin watches you carefully, and it seems you’ve lost the will fight, though you never stopped glaring at him through your tears. You were already bitten, it was inescapable. But little did you know this was your fate from the moment you saw him in that abandoned store. You foolishly put hope into being with him, the deceiving ghoul that he truly is.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head, legs giving out with Jimin catching you before you can hit the hard floor. Picking you up, he leaves the running shower behind to carry you over to the mattress. Your body is limp in his arms, either passed out or already dead. After all, he picked the perfect spot to bite you. With the wound on your neck, it’ll take no time for the infection to make its way to your brain. He’ll have you quicker that way.

He sets your body on the mattress, blood quickly pooling on the fabric. Already, he can see the bite mark start to take effect, slowly starting to look just like his. It’s a gorgeous sight to him, and he can’t wait until you finally awaken. Then, he’ll be able to keep you forever.

© jiminstonic 2020

tag list: @jikooksgirl19 @sicnesa @buzzyourgirlfriendwoof @deepdarkdelights @iamnamjoonsbxtch @4evahevah @moon8child

[starlightrows]

The Perfect Day

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Dangerously high levels of fluff!

Summary: Paz goes out of the way to make your birthday special!

AN: Second time posting this, the original got deleted by mistake! This was created to celebrate my birthday! Loosely inspired by @maybege soulmate!paz!

Your nose twitches at the sweet smell of cocoa and coffee as you begin the pull towards wakefulness. The heavy blankets and duvet that keep you warm is being pulled back, and you can feel gentle breath being puffed onto your cheeks. He places gentle pressure on your forehead, again on your temple trailing down to the apple of your cheek to the tip of your nose. By the time he reaches your lips you can’t contain your sleepy smile. His laugh is deep and hearty between gentle kisses, coaxing you into opening your eyes.

“Good morning birthday girl,” he smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your face up to his to nuzzle your nose against his, feeling extra cuddly from his wake up kisses.

“Good morning,” you reply

“Made you breakfast,” he says, you open your eyes and sit up with him.

“Oh! Thank you honey,” He brings a bread tray forward, loaded with a massive plate of what you correctly assume to be savory waffles, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. He sits on the bed cross legged in front of you, placing the tray between you.

You excitedly dig, enjoying the crispy exterior of the waffles and rich chocolate laced into the coffee. He sits back enjoying his coffee, and the fruits of his labor.

“Paz, there is so much of this. How early did you get up to pull all this off?” You ask, because even with both of you eating there is a lot of food.

“Not as early as you think, this is turning out to be more of a birthday brunch than a breakfast” he smiles sheepishly. You glance at the clock on his dresser. He’s right, it’s a quarter past 11. He let you sleep in well past your normal lazy day wake up time.

“I figured if I was going to make your favorite breakfast anyway, I might as well make a lot so we can save some for the next few days,” he explains

You can’t help but smile, it was a thoughtful gesture, but if he didn’t put them away soon you’d sit there and eat the whole platter full!

When the bunch was finished, you helped him take the dishes downstairs, despite his protests.

“It’s your day love, is there anything you’d like to do?” He asks while washing the utensils you’d used to eat.

“Well with all the fresh snow on the ground, I was thinking we could pull out the snow shoes and do a hike. We could try the lookout loop again,” you reply, peeking out the massive front window at the snowy driveway and dense forest just outside the cabin. While the ground may be covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky is free of heavy cloud cover “it’s pretty clear out today, hopefully we’ll be able to see the valley this time,”

“Yeah, sounds great. I can pack the hiking bag if you want to go pull the snow shoes out from the equipment closet,” he tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. You nod and slammer off to find the snow shoes.

Half an hour later, you and Paz are sitting on the bench under the covered back porch wearing snow pants, lightweight thermal jackets, beanies and gloves; strapping the snowshoe attachments to your heavy snow boots. Paz carries the big hiking bag that houses your emergency supplies and water for the wintertime hike, while you carry the smaller bag that has snacks and a blanket for the look out point.

He gives you a hand up, and lets you lead the way to start out the hike. You’d done this hike together many times before, once you started moving you almost didn’t need to think about it. He fell in step just behind you and the two of you shared easy, fun conversation as you hiked the familiar path up the mountain. Air was still and cold, but you felt amazing, kept warm by your insulating layers and the movement of your body. This hike was beautiful as it is in the summer months, but winter was its own kind of beauty.

The last mile or so to reach the lookout point was the hardest part, Paz’s long strides made it somewhat easier for him and you laughed as he passed you on the uphill climb. Just like he always did. He welcomed you at the top with a gentle hand, leading you to the lookout point. This place was special to the two of you. You’d come up here dozens of times together, he’d proposed to you on this spot, and a year later you’d gotten married at the top of this mountain.

“You were right,” he said, directing your attention out over the valley. It was pristine and perfect. The valley was like a bowl, fully surrounded on all sides by steep snow capped mountains. The lake in the center was a deep dark inky black, without so much as a ripple on the water. The lack of breeze in the chilled air made everything still. It was absolutely gorgeous and exactly what you had been hoping for.

Paz helped ease the pack off your back, and fished the blanket out from the bottom. He did his best to dust off one of the massive boulders you often sat on when coming up here, and spread the blanket out over it.

You sat together on the blanket enjoying crisp apples, sour gummy worms, salty jerky and of course passing a thermos full of cocoa back and forth. The only acceptable lunch for a day hike you claimed.

Before long you and Paz packed up your blanket and small amount of trash back into the bag, and triple checked to make sure everything was just the way you had found it. Together you set off back down the mountain, leading for home.

As the two of you neared the edge of the forest, Paz reached out and snagged your arm.

“Shhh, look!” He whispered pointing through the trees towards the cabin. You followed his gaze and the direction of his finger. Your eyes went wide, and your jaw slacked in elated shock.

Through the trees you could see it, a massive bull moose, leisurely strolling through your backyard about 30 yards away from where you and Paz stood. You had to cover your mouth to suppress your giddiness. Moose are your favorite animal, and one of the more rare animals to see on this side of the mountain. This was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and certainly the closest you’d ever been to one.

Of course you were well aware of how dangerous they are, so being protected from its view by the trees at this comfortable distance was the best and safest scenario for you. But this was also the coolest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to you! Eventually the Moose trotted along and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the property. You shared a look with Paz.

“Oh my god! That was a little intense,” you said following him towards the house

“I know. I’ve never seen one that close in my life. I almost wish we’d had a camera,” he replied.

You sat together on the back porch once more, removing your snowshoes, and kicking the remaining snow off the bottom of your boots. Once inside both of you stripped out of your snow pants and coats, leaving you in base layers and socks. You hung up the heavy gear in the entryway closet, and collected the extra bits that could go in the wash like socks.

Paz approaches you leaned down a bit and kissed the top of your head.

“If you let me rinse off real quick, you can take a bath while I work on dinner,” he offers

You hum at the attention of his kisses, “How can I say no to that. Its a deal babe,”

True to his word, Paz jumps in for a very quick shower just to get the sweat off of his body. He emerges from the bathroom with wet hair and warm skin. He gives you one more lingering kiss before letting you run off to draw a fancy bath for yourself.

Meanwhile he busies himself in the kitchen to make sure he’s got enough time to finish dinner, that he had secretly already started that morning, as well as the dessert he had planned.

By the time you’re coming back downstairs looking very cozy in an oversized knit sweater and leggings, dinner is on the table and dessert is just going into the oven. The table is set for the two of you with your favorite meal, and a nice candle in the middle. You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“This is so romantic, you did all this for me?” You gaze lovingly at the beautiful dinner awaiting you.

“Of course,” he wraps his arms around you too, giving you a loving squeeze. He pulls away, and invites you to sit. The food is delicious, perfectly cooked just the way you like it. As you finish a timer goes off back in the kitchen.

You look past him into the kitchen, then turn your eyes back to him. “Paz?”

He grins mischievously, and gets up to pull dessert from the oven. It’s a small chocolate cake, and from the looks of it he’s attempted to make a lava cake with a gooey fudgy center. He turns it out onto a dish, and pulls the mold up and off it. He looks rather proud of himself. He sticks a single delicate white candle in the middle and deftly lights it. He sits it down in front of you with the warmest most genuine smile.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says “Don’t forget to make a wish,”

You giggle and give him a gentle smile, “I don’t know what more I could possibly wish for,” He grins at you. You do know what to wish for. You wish to be this happy every day. To feel this loved and cherished every moment for the rest of your days. You wish he would feel the same love and devotion coming from you. And you blow out the candle.

He produces two spoons and you share the dessert, finding its rich spongey cake to be without a shadow of a doubt the best dessert you’ve ever had. And you make sure to tell him that.

“I must be the most spoiled woman in the world. Breakfast, dinner and dessert! Will you at least let me help you do the dishes?” You ask when the plate has been all but licked clean of his chocolatey confection.

“Not a chance. You’re gonna go pick a movie,” he tells you, taking the plates into the kitchen to be washed. You laugh and shake your head, but acquiesce.

He joins you in the living room, and tumbles onto the couch pulling you on top of him to snuggle. In the end you choose an old favorite movie of yours, one that still makes you laugh despite the obviously terrible jokes. You’re half heartedly paying attention, more just basking in the warmth of Paz’s chest and the nostalgia of the film. Paz is not paying attention to the movie at all. He’s stroking your hair, and memorizing every detail of your face looking so blissful and content. Despite having been married for two years now, and together for two more, he could still spend an eternity studying your face and find something new or cute or amusing.

Your gaze drifted up to meet Paz, and your smile seemed to melt into a wider sleepier smile as you exhaled deeply.

“Good birthday?” He asks

“Mhm...” you nod “Perfect,”

[imagine-loki]

Taking turns

TITLE: Taking turns

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki getting a touch of heatstroke while in Jotun form, and climbing into a bathtub full of ice cubes to cool down.

One slight hitch – his low Jotun body temperature makes the ice cubes stick and freeze together, trapping him in a block of ice

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: Started out as a comedy idea and ended something entirely different. Some language, suggestions of sex, and soft Loki. 

Forty minutes. Loki was forty minutes late. Loki was forty minutes late and they were all starving.

“Becks, you want to go check on the drama queen? Tell him he’s either here in five or we’re leaving without him!” Tony grumbled, looking a little worse for wear with his black eye.

The team had gotten back from a mission in South America. They were all sporting various colored bruises, cuts, and casts. They were all exhausted. Still, they had decided, as a group, that they would go and grab dinner to celebrate a successful expedition before they all crashed for a week. However, while everyone had showered, patched up, and returned to the common room within a half hour, Loki was still nowhere in sight forty minutes after their accorded meet time. While Loki was known to prod at Tony’s buttons just for the hell of it, he had never gone as far as dragging the full team down. And he was a stickler for a schedule.

Becca sighed, abandoning her spot on the couch with a groan. The angry cut on her side that Bruce had finished patching a few minutes prior screamed in protest. “He’s probably moving slow. He was kinda fading there, at the end of the mission. I hope nothing’s wrong.”

“There better be! If not, why the hell is he not here?”

“Jesus, Tony! Your pockets are filled with blueberries. Have a snack. Settle down.” She skirted around Wanda and Vision on the loveseat before taking off down the hall.

Loki’s rooms were at the end of the furthermost east wing. It was a nice enough area, but there wasn’t much more around. That was on purpose, both on Tony and Loki’s part. Though there was some semblance of mutual respect between them, they generally tried to be as far apart from each other as was physically possible. And Loki liked the silence. No one interrupted his odd sleeping patterns or quiet contemplation. It made it a little hard to make sure he was alive, though.

“FRIDAY, is Loki OK?” Becca asked when she reached his door, finding it locked.

“Er… define OK.”

A million thoughts raced through her mind. The mission had been intense, but it was mostly due to being in unfamiliar terrain and climate. It had been a full week of unbearable heat and dastardly humidity. Her own Caribbean countenance, well-versed in matters of heat, had swayed dangerously under the oppressive temperatures. Ever since Loki revealed the truth about his parentage to the team, Becca always made it a point to check in with him if they were under blistering sun or steamy foxholes. She clearly had not paid him enough mind this time around.

“Open the door.”

“Loki asked–”

“NOW.”

FRIDAY was not about to argue with her, it seemed. The lock clicked under her fingers and the door swung open easily.

The living room and kitchen were empty, as was the bedroom. She could see the door to the en suite slightly ajar and light spilling out into the shadowed bedroom. Her feet moved on their own accord towards the brightness.

“Loki?”

A handful of Asgardian curses accented the air. “Don’t!” He hissed, just as her hand met the wood of his bathroom door. “Just leave.”

He was promptly ignored. “Are you alright?” The door creaked open, but she did not enter.

“Please, just leave.” His voice sounded shaky. It didn’t give her much incentive to turn around.

“Tell me what’s wrong or I’m coming in.”

“Rebecca…” Without waiting for the rest of his excuse, she slipped through the doorway.

Loki’s bathroom was lovely. A large sunken bath took up most of the space that was paneled in dark woods and golden accents. There was the faint smell of sandalwood in the air, which seemed to hover at a perfect 75 degrees. The Asgardian was in the bath, covered in what Becca now noticed was ice. It disappointed her to know that she truly hadn’t paid enough mind to his propensity to heatstroke. Her concern was great enough that she had not even spared an extra thought to the fact that he was blue and his eyes were red orbs that ominously followed her around the room.

“Are you OK? What can I get you? Fuck.” Her right hand reached for her ear, activating her comms. “Tony–”

“No, don’t!” Loki’s instinct was to lunge in an effort to stop her, but succeeded only in moving the awkward lump of ice around his form to leave him slumped forward.

Various expressions flashed through Becca’ face–concern, alarm, confusion, amusement. Her comms buzzed in hear ear, prompting a follow-up. “Er, you guys are going to have to go on without us. Bring us something back, OK?” The hand in her ear lowered to cover her mouth. Loki didn’t need to see her mouth to know she was grinning or that the noise was trying to conceal was a snort of laughter and not a cough. “You, er–”

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

A giggle overcame her. “You OK there, buddy?”

The snarl from his curled mouth gave her a clear view of sharpened teeth and plum-colored gums. Her hand dropped, knowing it was no use to hide her amusement any longer. Bending at the waist, she pulled the laces off of her combat boots, toeing them off, before pulling her socks off after them. Her bare feet pounded tile until she was at the edge of the tub and was able to sink to her knees.

“Go. Away.” The growl that punctuated his words was lost in the shiver of his voice. Maybe Jotuns could get cold.

Becca tutted under her breath, holding her warm hand onto his cheek. Her thumb trailed distractedly over a raised line before sweeping inky black hair away from his eyes. “Loki, you’re stuck in an ice cube. I’m not leaving you here.” The whispered words held no jest or mockery and the warmth emanating from her digits seemed to be well-received, if the way he pressed lightly on them was any indication.

She carefully clambered over his form to reach for the extendable shower-head mounted in the wall behind him. “It’s going to have to be warm, OK?” Her hands fiddled at the taps and experimentally sprayed at her hands to gauge the temperature. “If you start not feeling well, tell me.” Her warm brown eyes maintained contact with his until he was forced to nod.

A hiss leaked through his clenched teeth as water trickled between the ice cubes and found its way onto his skin. By the time that happened, it would cool considerably, but it was still an uncomfortable sensation, nonetheless. Becca mumbled apologies as her hands turned pale, and then a chilled pink from shifting cubes away as they melted.

“This is taking forever,” Loki muttered, resting his head back against the wall, eyes clenched closed.

“I’m afraid of going any warmer when you’re like this, Lo. I don’t want to hurt you.” His brow pulled tightly in a frown before moving back to concern. It was as if he had forgotten he was in his other form, but the tight clench of his jaw told Becca that the detail was sure not to escape his notice ever again.

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but I do.”

Getting the bulk of the ice not stuck to his body to melt away was the biggest endeavor, but it was happening quickly enough. Once the bath was only about half-full, it was easier to start freeing Loki’s limbs. The problem was that steam was starting to fog up the room and his head lolled to the side every now and again as he became weaker. There was still a layer of ice, a few inches thick, preventing him from moving.

“Hey. How about you talk to me? To keep awake,” Becca urged, carding her fingers through his hair to clear his face. “Tell me a story.”

Loki groaned, eyes barely blinking open to look up at her. The noise of complaint only deepened at the genuine smile that greeted him on the other end. “Once upon a time, I was an idiot and got stuck in ice and a mortal too stubborn for her own good had to get me out of it. The end.”

Becca giggled. “I think you forgot to mention how cute the mortal was or how handy she was with a shower-head.”

“Oh, forget it. Just leave me here to die.”

“You should have just called me.”

“Why on Earth, would I willingly call you to free me of this embarrassment?” His scarlet eyes bore straight into her soul with annoyance and irritation, but couldn’t help but soften at her playful expression. “I don’t want to furnish you with anecdotes to tell Stark and the others.”

“I’m not telling them about this.” At his questioning stare, she continued. “I only need to tell them that you weren’t feeling well and I chose to stay behind. They don’t need details.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I wouldn’t want them to know if it had happened to me.” Most of the loose ice was now gone. Becca put the shower-head down and moved to the other side of the bath to activate the stopper and open the larger tap. “I’m going to fill the tub with warm water and that will probably melt the rest away without much issue.”

“I… I don’t think I can go much warmer without passing out.” Loki admitted, softly, eyes rounded and pleading.

She turned her face to him and smiled. “I’ll be here. I have you. I promise.”

The tub filled and the faint crackle of shifting ice could be heard over the sound of their breathing. Becca fished her cell phone out of her pocket and tossed it a few ways away from the tub, before slipping into the water, jeans, t-shirt and all. Loki was lolling again, so Becca thought the best course of action was to put a little force on the already fissured sheets and easing them off.

Her hands started at his legs, squeezing lightly at places where the ice seemed to give and breaking apart the pieces, watching absently as they bobbed up the surface before melting away completely. It wasn’t until she reached his thighs that it occurred to her that maybe feeling Loki up was not the of ideas. Still, he was drifting in an out and fading fast. She would risk a little awkward groping for the sake of getting him free before he drifted any further. She paused near mid thigh, her cheeks turning a deep pink before she pivoted and worked on his arms. His hands and wrists were already free, and it took little effort to slide off the ice off the rest of his arms. His back was mostly thawed and she could remove a large piece covering his chest. There was only the awkward bit to get through now. Biting the inside of her cheek, she prodded for any loose ice and broke the sheets as gently as she could while not wasting time.

Pulling the stopper, she gathered Loki into her chest, putting her arms under his and pulling him to the edge. He was deceptively heavy, Becca realized; a dense creature like a collapsing star. She struggled with the settings on the shower-head and gradually turned the water spray from warm to cool to frigid cold. She shivered heavily behind him, Loki only stirred, slowly coming back into himself.

Becca clambered out, clumsily. Her extremities were cold and numb and she was shivering heavily. Knowing she wasn’t going to clear walking for another moment, she pulled her knees up to her chest and folded into herself for warmth. Her eyes fell onto Loki who, now alert, was taking the steps out the tub with her zeroed in his sights. Despite the fact that she had just run her hands over every line, dot, and hash of his body, seeing it in plain display felt more intimate. He made no effort to cover himself or change back into his Asgardian form, though she suspected that was more so the fact that he was still weak. Not that she minded. In this form he was terrifying. He oozed brute strength and savagery–very different from his Asgardian counterpart–but she found that she liked it. It was akin to finding money in an old coat–you weren’t expecting it, but you’re glad you did.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes.” He sunk to his knees before her with a guarded look.

“I would, but my hands decided to stop working.” She forced a laugh. “It’s OK. Just let me warm a degree or two and I’ll get out of your hair.” He pressed a hand to her back, making wide circles to create friction. His touch made her shudder gratefully. “At least I’m not warm enough to make you uncomfortable.”

“I like you warm,” he offered after a long pause. His black talon-tipped hands slid under the back of her t-shirt and pulled the material away from her skin, easing it off gently. It took little prodding to make her unwind her arms from around her knees. He discarded the garment beside her before working on the clasp of her bra, which joined it a moment later. Pulling her jeans off her hips was a bit harder, as the denim adhered to her skin like it was another living layer, but he managed to tug them off and down her legs along with her underwear. Reaching behind her, he pulled a towel from the shelf, putting it around her shoulders and proceeding to rub her down. “Thank you, Rebecca.” She got the distinct feeling he didn’t just mean for freeing him of his ice prison.

“Not a problem. Just… maybe don’t do it again without supervision.” The words had left her mouth out of their own volition and the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks was all but impossible to hide. “That came out weird. I didn’t mean it like–not that I don’t find you stupidly attractive–I just–”

He slanted his lips against hers, cutting off whatever rambling rabbit hole she was fixing to throw herself down. “Let me warm you up in my bed,” he mumbled against her lips, his fingertips making sinful shapes against her naked skin.

“But–”

“You can cool me after. We’ll take turns.” With a half-suppressed moan, she threw her arms around his neck and allowed him to carry her off into the bedroom. She would worry about him overheating later.

[lolas-writings]

Hello loves!! I have an actual fic to share with you and not a few hundred word drabble like usual ^.^ 

I know y’all like rarepairs as much as I do so I’m introducing you to a new one today! I wrote a cute IidaCamie fic yesterday for Camie’s birthday as well as to celebrate the occasion for the @iidacamiebigbang that I’m a mod for hehe. You can find the fic on AO3 here or you can just read the fic below. And if you find this rarepair interesting, please feel free to check out our Tumblr or our Twitter. Enjoy! 

~~~~ 

“Babe?” Camie calls out as she walks through the front door of her and Iida’s shared apartment. The door clicks softly as it closes behind her, eliminating the light from outside and casting their apartment in a blanket of shadows. 

The lights are out, all except for the lamp edging the boundary between the foyer and the living room. Odd, because Iida should be home by now and he always complains about not seeing well when it’s dark. 

“Tenya?” Camie calls out again, letting out a huff when she gets no response. She pouts as she removes her shoes and sets them to the side, noticing Iida’s worn sneakers are in their usual space, perfectly symmetrical to each other and perpendicular to the wall. If his shoes are here, then where is he? 

The soft thud of socks on wood flooring echoes through the apartment as Camie ventures further inside. She passes the lamp and the lighting gradually grows dimmer, urging her to turn to the wall on her left and search for the light switch. Before she can flick it on, however, a blue piece of paper stuck on the wall beside the switch catches her eye. 

‘Look on the coffee table :)’ it reads, written in Iida’s distinct penmanship. Camie smiles at the note and takes it off the wall, folding it carefully and tucking it into her pocket before she turns around. The coffee table stands directly behind her, and after her eyes adjust to the low lighting, she can make out a perfectly wrapped yellow box resting on top. 

“Aw, babe, you shouldn’t have!” She calls out playfully as she approaches the present. She’s lying, of course, because it’s her birthday and she deserves to be spoiled. Something, luckily, Iida is surprisingly good at. 

The blue ribbon on top comes off first, followed by the tape holding the yellow wrapping paper around the box together. It comes apart easily, meticulously, a careful calculation on Iida’s part to leave the wrapping paper in one piece for reuse later. What a dork. 

After unwrapping the box, Camie carefully lifts the lid and immediately squeals when her eyes land on what’s inside. Soft black fabric, fuzzy and soft and two sizes too big, but that’s how Camie likes her sweaters. Hanging off of her shoulders and bunching up around her hips, just like how Iida’s sweaters fit. 

She reaches in and pulls the sweater out of the box, unfolding it and admiring the clothing more fully. She first saw this sweater four weeks ago in the window of her favorite mall store while on a date with Iida. Oversized, extremely fluffy, and with the word, “Baddie,” written in white across the front. Exactly her kind of style, and she would have dragged Iida into the store to get one for herself if they hadn’t been on their way to meet up with their friends. Iida really does pay attention. 

As she fawns over her new sweater and considers putting it on then and there, another blue note catches her eye, this time from the bottom of the box. ‘Now go check the kitchen :)’ this one reads, another silly smiley face signing the note. This note, too, gets folded and tucked into Camie’s pocket before she ventures to their kitchen, fluffy sweater in hand. 

This time, the box is blue with yellow ribbons. Similarly sized and wrapped, the only difference being the color swap. She sets the sweater on the counter beside the box before tearing, not literally, into this present. 

Inside is white, a stark contrast to her sweater. When she reaches in to pull the new article of clothing out it feels rougher, like denim, and sure enough, when the fabric unfolds she’s staring at a new pair of strategically ripped white skinny jeans. Something that’s been on her To-Buy list for ages. She squeals again and hugs the pair of jeans close to her chest. 

Just like the first box, at the bottom lies another blue note. ‘You know, your shoes look a bit cluttered. There’s a random box taking up their space…’ Camie can’t help but giggle at this particular note. Knowing Iida, he probably took this opportunity to subtly tell her to start organizing her shoes better. Maybe she will, after all the thought and time Iida spent arranging this birthday scavenger hunt. You know, for a day or two before the chaos resumes. 

Camie pushes that thought aside as she returns to the entryway of their apartment, opening the door to the closet where their shoes and heavy coats are kept. On the floor, in the midst of her mess of a shoe collection, is another box. Smaller than the previous two, but wrapped just like the first with yellow paper and blue ribbons. 

Camie sinks to the floor and sets the sweater and jeans on the ground beside her. She doesn’t even bother taking the time to sit properly before reaching into the closet and pulling the box out, making quiet work undoing the wrapping paper and ribbons. 

The box itself is not plain and wordless like its predecessors. This box clearly has the logo of Camie’s favorite designer shoe brand slapped on top, bold and proud. She wastes no time ripping the lid off to reveal what’s inside. 

Black ankle boots with a chunky heel and studs on either side of each shoe. The same shoes she saw a random woman wearing in line at the grocery store two weeks ago. Camie remembers enthusiastically asking the woman where she got them, how much they cost, are they comfortable, and all the important questions, but Iida had stood wordlessly beside her observing the different pastries that were on sale that day. At least, that’s what she assumed, she had no idea he was listening in on their conversation. 

This time, she doesn’t squeal; she laughs, wholeheartedly and unabashed, the sound echoing off the walls around her and surrounding her in her own disappointment. She really must stop secretly chastising Iida in her head for seemingly not paying attention. 

She sets the shoes on the floor beside the sweater and jeans, freeing up her hands and allowing her to pull the now empty shoebox completely from the closet and into her lap. Just as she suspected, there’s yet another small blue paper with a note written on it. ‘I hope you don’t mind, I tidied up your dresser and vanity.’ She smiles again and folds and tucks the note into her pocket with the other two. After replacing the lid on the box, she retrieves her clothing and shoes and makes her way to their bedroom. 

The room is dark just like the rest of the apartment, the only light source being the lights surrounding her vanity mirror. It’s enough to illuminate the single box resting perfectly centered on top, wrapped in blue paper and yellow ribbons. 

She approaches the vanity soundlessly, the carpet muffling the sound of her footsteps. When she’s standing just in front of the vanity, she sets the rest of her treasures delicately on the matching chair before setting her sights on the newest box. 

Just a few tugs on the ribbon here and a few flicks of her nail to the tape there is all it takes for the wrapping to fall away and reveal the box within. It’s plain again, like the first two boxes, but smaller like the third. And just like all of the previous boxes, the lid comes off easily and reveals another treasure inside. 

A sleek, shiny leather newsboy cap rests inside, a stripe of white across the bill standing out against the inky blackness of the rest of the cap. She’s never seen this item before, surprisingly, but it falls perfectly within her style choices and even matches the rest of the outfit… Oh. Oh, what an absolute dork her boyfriend is. 

“So?” A deep, familiar voice pipes up from behind her, startling her into dropping the hat back into the box. Camie huffs and turns around to glare at Iida, putting her hands on her hips. 

“You so need to stop doing that.” 

“Doing what?” Iida smiles and leans against the doorframe. “Giving you birthday gifts?” 

“Being a total stalker.” Camie tutts and crosses her arms, a pout on her lips that juxtaposes Iida’s poor confused expression. It’s almost funny how he’s remained too dense to recognize her jokes after all these years. “I’m kidding, Tenya.” 

Camie covers her mouth to suppress a giggle when Iida lets out a relieved sigh. He’s too serious sometimes but it never ceases to be absolutely adorable. After tapering down her short-lived giggle fit, Camie walks over to Iida and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him down just enough to give him a quick peck on the cheek. 

“You are superbly a dork.” 

Iida’s cheeks flare red at the attention, but he reciprocates Camie’s hug without a second thought, his arms wrapping soundly around her waist. “Maybe, but you love it.” 

“I love you, idiot.” Camie rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother pulling away from their hug. 

“Hm, that too.” Iida hums and places a matching kiss on Camie's cheek, causing them both to smile. “Happy birthday.” 

[1-800-roflmao]

Wash Day Delight Pt. 7

Rating:  General Audiences

WARNINGS:  None

Fandom:  Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships:  Papyri Harem.  

Characters:  Papyrus (UT!Pap), Reader, Blue (US!Sans), Willow (HT!Pap), Mutt (FSR!Pap), Red (UF!Sans), Coffee (FSG!Pap), Oak (HT!Sans), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

If you prefer reading on AO3

*Willow is here to save the Reader’s toes after that trip through the void.  She finally gets to have her shower and ponder.  Meanwhile, the guys discuss downstairs and Coffee reminds them Google is a thing.

*Bonus: Fluffy Willow moments.

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

Papyrus was never a fan of shortcuts and not just because his brother borderline abused them.  No, he didn’t enjoy the pervasive feel of the void around him.  The cold of Snowedin never bothered him, but the void’s cold always managed to sink and settle into his bones no matter how short their time was spent in the odd space.  By the way he could feel the human in his arms shivering lightly let him know she was feeling it as well.  Finally, the inky blackness of the void seemed to pull before snapping and his well lit home falling into place around him was almost blinding.  

“ALRIGHT, YOU CAN OPEN YOUR EYES,” Blue had yet to release his grip on Papyrus’s arm as he used it for leverage to check on their friend.  She was slowly unfurling from the fetal position she had curled into during their trip.  Had she been that cold?  His sockets took in her attire and he mentally kicked himself for not realizing how light her clothing was.  And humans were more sensitive to temperature to boot.

“APOLOGIES!  I SHOULD HAVE GRABBED A BLANKET FOR YOU.” Papyrus wanted to help rub some warmth into the bared skin of her arms and legs, but he doubted his frozen bones would do much good right now.  Even Blue was resisting touching her right now.  

She had unfurled as much as she dared and patted his chest before trying to speak.  Her teeth chattered shortly into her effort and she quickly closed her mouth with a little embarrassed huff.  He managed to stifle a giggle at the cute display as she took a moment to rub her hands together and blow hot air into her palms before pressing the warmed skin into her cheeks and rubbing more.  Blue didn’t bother hiding his chuckles and she sent him a pouty glare, “N-not f...f-f… fun-ny!” she pushed out.

Blue just grinned as he lifted a hand and made a show of removing his glove, “NOT FUNNY SHE SAYS!” he cackled as her glare quickly melted into horror and panic as the energetic skeleton hovered his hand over her bare leg.  

“D-don’t you d-are!”  she chattered, legs jerking slightly as she seemed to be holding back from moving too much.  Papyrus could feel her jump as Blue dropped his hand lower playfully.  

“OKAY, THAT’S EN-EH!!!” his statement was cut off as a new pair of skeletal hands came into view and plucked the shivering human from his arms swiftly.  It took a moment for his mind to catch up with what just happened as he snapped his head up to see who had stolen his friend.

“WILLOW!” It had been Blue calling his doppelganger’s nickname as they both watched the towering skeleton adjust his hold on her so she was pretty much sitting in the crook of his arm, tucked against his side, with his palm cupping her feet as his fingers gently rubbed at her toes.  She seemed to be shivering less and less, relaxing into Willow’s hold even as said skeleton fussed over and at her.  Papyrus and Blue weren’t exempt from a scolding though as Willow turned his attention to them and wasted no time falling into a lecture.

“I UNDERSTAND YOU TWO WERE EXCITED TO HAVE OUR FRIEND OVER TODAY, BUT THAT IS NO EXCUSE TO RUSH AND FORGET NECESSITIES LIKE SOCKS AND SHOES!  HUMANS LOSE MOST OF THEIR BODY HEAT THROUGH THEIR FEET!” Papyrus and Blue just resigned to their fate and bowed their heads guiltily. Thankfully, Willow’s scolding was halted by the human in his arms patting his chest.  

“That’s enough, Willow,” she hushed, for some reason looking guilty herself.  “Blue and Pap took real good care of me before the shortcut, so go easy on them, please?” The two she praised perked up.  “Plus, they weren’t the only ones excited to come over today,” she finished her plea and Willow took a moment to consider it before letting his shoulders and features relax.  

“FINE,” he gave in and sighs of relief resounded before a confused squeak escaped their guest as Willow turned around with her still cradled against his side and started making his way up the stairs.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

“Um… Willow?” she called, trying not to look down or around.  Willow was already tall… no, tall wasn’t enough to cover just how much airspace this particular skeleton cousin took up.  Now, they were on stairs… ascending said stairs steadily and just out of her view she knew the ground floor was getting further away and the ceiling was getting closer.  She knew he wouldn’t drop her, but lord, a fall from this height would do some damage and be extra painful today especially.  

He answered with an inquiring hum, not even glancing down at the human he had pretty much kidnapped.  “Where are you taking me?” she questioned, eyes focused on his face and nothing else.  Even the sound of rushed footfalls on the stairs behind them didn’t pull her attention.  It was most likely Papyrus or Blue trying to catch up.

“TO YOUR BATH, OF COURSE,” he answered like it was the most obvious answer.  A little “oh” fell from her lips before pouting a bit as she squinted up at him.  

“I could always walk?” she put out there.  They were literally going to have her spoiled if they kept carrying her this much.  Plus, she still had that nagging feeling that as an adult she shouldn’t have things this easy.  

Willow only hummed again, but made no move to put her down even as they reached the landing and took a left to go down the long hallway.  So, no walking for her.  Knowing Blue, he probably told the whole household Papyrus’s plan to pamper her today.  

“WILLOW!” Speak of the devil and he shall appear.  No longer on the stairs, she looked just in front of them to where Blue was pretty much jogging backwards in order to stay ahead of Willow’s long gate. And Willow wasn’t letting up, but did tip his skull down to acknowledge the small skeleton.  “YOU CAN’T JUST STEAL Y/N!” he scolded, “PLUS, ALL HER STUFF IS WITH ME.”  He gestured to the pack on his back.

“AND YOU’RE HERE WITH IT, I DON’T SEE THE PROBLEM,” was Willow’s sassy reply.  Blue opened his mouth to respond, but his teeth clacked shut as words failed him.  She giggled as Blue huffed and he sent a little glare her way.  He had to scramble out the way as they had finally reached the “master bath” and Willow wasn’t wasting any time as he pushed the door open with his free hand and stepped inside.  

This was only her second time in here and it still amazed her how extravagant and expensive a bathroom of all things could feel.  If she remembered correctly, it was Black’s insistence they have at least one bath like this.  She could see his tastes echoed in the dark marble countertops and black paneling along the walls.  Wine must have had a say as well from the cozy touches like the cypress wood flooring and cabinets, decorative towels and art pieces--she’d have to ask if Coffee made some of these.  She hadn’t asked last time whose decision it was to have not only a skylight, but a floor to ceiling glass panel next to the modern soaking tub.  Thankfully, their house was outside city limits and up in the hilly area, nestled on a cliff side.  They probably have a fantastic view of the stars come night time through that window.  Right now though, all she could see was blue skies with lazy, wispy clouds.  

“Oh, that’s new,” she commented, noticing all the new plants and even what looked like a moss mat placed before the tub.  

“HM, WHAT IS?” Willow questioned as he carried her closer to the shower.   Now able to see the just as extravagant shower, she could see another of the mats in front of it as well.   Now, that she looked more closely, the little organic mats made a cute stepping stone-like trail over to the tub.  

“That,” she pointed out, fingertip following the trail before twirling to indicate all the plants in general.

Willow’s sockets widened a fraction as he realized what she was talking about before smiling, no beaming proudly.  He straightened up as much as he could while carrying her, impressive considering his back wasn’t the best.  “THAT WOULD BE MY BROTHER’S DOING!” he proclaimed, practically glowing with pride, “HE’S RECENTLY GOTTEN INTO GARDENING AND BOTANY.  OH, YOU SHOULD SEE HIS GARDEN! I MEAN… IT’S NOT IN BLOOM RIGHT NOW, BUT IT’S STILL IMPRESSIVE AND HE’S THINKING ABOUT A GREENHOUSE ONE DAY SO HE CAN GROW FRUITS AND VEGETABLES ALL YEAR ROUND FOR US TO EAT.”  He was rambling, but that was fine.  It was touching seeing his enthusiasm for his brother’s new hobby… would it be considered a hobby?  She felt better thinking of it as a passion.  “OH! I’M SORRY, I GOT OFF TRACK,” he apologized but she just shrugged.

“I don’t mind, I actually like it,” she assured.  She adjusted her grip on him as she felt him starting to crouch down.  

“GREAT! BECAUSE I HAVE MORE TO SAY!” he chirped, sockets curving just a bit as she giggled in response.  Bent at the knees, he eased her onto her own feet which left her standing between his spread femurs with her hands on his shoulders for balance as she stretched and flexed her legs to wake them up.  He continued to chat with her throughout.  “BUT MY BROTHER’S FAVORITE IS TAKING IN RESCUES,” he started and gestured to the plants in the bathroom, “THESE ARE SOME HE’S REHABILITATED.”  He had dove into telling how Oak explained that these plants in particular thrived in more humid environments, plus how he had convinced the more bourgie of their housemates to allow the plants to be kept in this bathroom.  Apparently, it had been Wine who gave in first, but it took near half the household to convince Black.  What won him over was the moss being useful for soaking up water and the plants for their air purifying qualities.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

By the time he finished retelling the saga, she had taken a seat on one of the mats as she laughed along with him as he whispered how Black had been caught talking to one of the plants.  “HIS DEFENSE WAS THAT HE HEARD OAK TALKING TO THEM SEVERAL TIMES,” he completed his tale, his small sockets softening as he took in how even her eyes seemed to be shining with her mirth.  

“Well, I read somewhere that talking to plants actually can help them,” her words were still interrupted by cute little giggles.  Finally, she took a deep breath and held it before releasing slowly.  She had lifted a hand to fan herself and he could understand why considering the flush he could see on her cheeks and ears.  “I’m happy for Oak, it seems like he really found something he loves--aside from you, of course,” she remarked thoughtfully, “And I can hear how proud you are as well.”  

“I AM.” He had been ecstatic when his brother finally found something to focus on other than food and his condition.  All thanks to a sad little plant he had found left out to die and be thrown away with the trash one day.  It had been nothing more than a single stem with one big leaf that had shriveled and was turning brown at the edges.  

It had been confusing at first when his brother came home with it carefully cupped in his palm with soil he had dug up to cover its roots.  Oak had mumbled that he couldn’t find a pot or anything for it and he had forgotten his money at home, but it needed help, so he did what he could.  He hadn’t questioned it.  Now, that sad little plant was taller than him and outgrowing its current pot quickly, but they were waiting for the warmer months to plant it in the ground finally.  

“THE ROUTINE OF TAKING CARE OF THE PLANTS HELPS HIM TREMENDOUSLY. PLUS, TALKING TO THE PLANTS HELPS HIM AS WELL! IT STRENGTHENS HIS MEMORY,” he added, teeth quirked into a gentle smile.  She just hummed in response and he flushed a bit as he saw she was now gazing up at him with her chin resting on her braided fingers.    He wished she wouldn’t look at him like that.  So gentle, so warm, and so understanding.  It gave him hope when he knew damn well her feelings were just platonic.  Besides, he knew he didn’t stand a chance against his prime version.

Sighing, he stood up and rolled his shoulders and neck to ease the stiffness that had set in.  “WELL, I SHOULD LEAVE YOU TO IT,” he dismissed as he offered her a helping hand and pulled her to her feet; bare toes wiggling and pressing into the moss mat curiously.  He still couldn’t--no, he could believe it-- he simply couldn’t wrap his mind around how they had forgotten even shoes or socks for her.  

“Oh, I get to bathe myself?” she joked as she peeked around Willow to find Blue, but all she saw was her bag abandoned on the counter.  He must have run off while they were talking.  

Willow immediately lifted a hand to cover his now glowing cheekbones and nose ridge, “I BELIEVE THE AGREEMENT WAS THAT YOU BATHE YOURSELF.”  He heard her snort and looked down at the human as she now rummaged through her bag, pulling out a few containers, a bright colored netting of some sort, a change of clothes, and even a bath bomb.  “UNLESS YOU’VE CHANGED YOUR MIND OF COURSE,” he watched her freeze like a dear from the corner of his vision as he looked off to the side in feigned innocence, “IT IS DIFFICULT FOR YOU HUMANS TO REACH CERTAIN PLACES ON YOUR OWN, CORRECT?”  Oh, she was blushing something fierce right now.

“WILLOW!” she whined, now imitating an ostrich as she pressed her face into her bag to hide.  

“WOWIE, MY NAME SURE IS POPULAR TODAY!” he replied playfully as a muffled little scream came from the bag she was hunched over.  He chuckled and gently pushed the edge of the bag’s opening down enough so he could see her eyes peeking at him.  Well, glaring right now.  “WHY ARE YOU SO EMBARRASSED, HUMAN?  I WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT HELPING YOU WASH YOUR BACK IF YOU WANTED,” a crooked grin pulled at his teeth as her eyes narrowed further.

“Uh. Huh,” was her answer and somehow that sound carried so much attitude and meaning.  Yeah, she definitely didn’t buy it, but at least she was finally emerging from the bag and finishing unpacking what she needed.  He smiled as he saw her pull out a pair of cute fuzzy socks.  Those would have helped earlier, but at least he wouldn’t have to hunt down a pair… most of theirs wouldn’t fit anyway.  “So, how do y’ll want ta do this?” she asked him suddenly as she started zipping up the bag  again.

“DO WHAT EXACTLY?”

She was staring for a moment, looking for any indication that he was playing dumb before finally answering, “My hair?  I told Papi I’d let him help with it, but he’s off somewhere, so I can’t ask him.”  Oh?  She’s letting Papyrus touch her hair?  He really had no chance, huh?  “But I don’t mind if more of you want to help out, too.”

“YES,” the word had jumped from his teeth as soon as she finished speaking.  Taking a deep breath and recomposing himself as her now wide eyes just blinked up at him in shock.  “I MEAN I’D LOVE TO HELP OUT… WITH YOU HAIR I MEAN,” he tried again, volume and tone hopefully more casual.  He had his hands behind his back to hide his fidgeting fingers.  

One more blink before her expression, only for a second, twisted into suspicion and curiosity.  The look was gone and replaced with something neutral, but welcoming.  Just what had gone through her mind, he wondered.  “Okay…” she dragged out the vowel a bit, “So, once again, how are we going about this?  Do y’ll want me to wash my hair and you just get to do the styling, detangling, blah blah blah… oooor-”

She quieted as Willow held up his palms to her, “WE WANT TO DO EVERYTHING.”  

“Everything?” He nodded with an eager smile, fingers curling into happy fists that were shaking from tension as he withheld pumping them excitedly.  He watched her look up to the ceiling in thought before shrugging, “Alright, so I’ll just wash up for now and save my long soak for later.”  She was thinking aloud as she picked up her bag and held it out to him, “While I’m washing, why don’t y’ll pick out some products we’ll use?  Mainly focus on the scent for now.”  

He took the bag with a nod and a surprised little rep as he felt how hefty the bag still felt.  “Yeah, we probably went overboard, but Blue figured it’s better to be over prepared than under,” she explained and he could only nod in stunned silence as he turned and started to finally leave.  

“Oh!” He paused in the doorway and looked back at her.  She had only managed to turn on the shower to start warming it up and though she wasn’t looking at him kept speaking, “You guys also need to figure out how and where we’re going to wash my hair.”    

Willow’s skull tilted and he lifted a brow bone in question, “ARE WE NOT DOING IT IN HERE?” He thought the bathroom was where humans took care of all their hygiene needs.  And shouldn’t she know how to wash her hair?  She’s supposed to show them after all.  

She just hummed and took a long look around.  “I guess we could, but…” she trailed off.  

“BUT?” he pushed, genuinely curious.

“The tub is a bit tall for me to be leaning over for a long time and I know your back wouldn’t appreciate it either, plus it would require a cup or something to dump water over my head.”  She wasn’t wrong about his back.  So, that was out.  Plus, it didn’t sound pleasant to have water dumped over one’s head over and over.  “The sink in here is higher, but that would be difficult for me.  Plus, it’s a bit shallow and once again, we’d need a cup.”  Sink was out, too, then.  

“And last, the shower.  That’s usually where I wash my hair, but it’s a bit difficult with multiple people.. At least it is if you’re not comfortable being naked or in swimsuits together,” she laughed and he blushed a bit at the intimate, domestic scene it summoned in his mind.  “Other than that, the only ways I think we could make it work up here is if I leaned over into the shower or knelt down and we used the removable shower head,” she put out the idea, but he immediately knew it wouldn’t work out.

“THE WATER PRESSURE WOULD RESULT IN A VERY MESSY… WET EXPERIENCE,” he lamented and she just nodded sagely with a little shrug.  How would they get this done?  Was it even possible?

“If it helps,” she piped up, holding a hand under the spray and feeling the temperature of the water, “We usually use the kitchen sink or a utility sink.  Ylls is still tall, but I think if I stand on a chair, it might work.”  She sent him a confident smile as he perked up at the idea, “Y’ll have time to think it over.  Plus, I want to show you all something before that anyway.”  After that, she had shooed him out and he left with a promise to talk it over with the others.  He couldn’t help wondering what she wanted to show them. 

o0o0o0o0o0o0o 

Once the door closed behind Willow, she couldn’t get out her clothes fast enough.  This bath has been due for a bit and my god it already felt heavenly on just her palm from touching the water.  Leaving her clothes on the floor right where she shed them, she went to dive into the shower before remembering she needed her soap and other supplies to actually get clean.  One naked dash to the counter to scoop up what she needed and back again,plus she tossed a shower cap on at the last minute; finally, she was able to enjoy her shower.

She debated rushing as to not keep the boys waiting, but she rarely gets to experience a rain shower like this.  It was dampened-heh-by the plastic shower cap, but overall was pleasant.  She took a moment to just bask and relax, but her mind began to wander and shower thoughts filtered in.  

Namely how all the skeletons she had interacted with today had been surprised that she was letting them do anything with her hair.  Well, they hadn’t expressed their surprise with words, but their body language and facial expressions spoke volumes.   That had been genuine surprise and shock she had seen.  Add in their eagerness to help her with her hair--adorable--and it’s obvious they’ve wanted to possibly touch her hair or ask about it for a while.  

Had she done something to make it seem like she didn’t want anyone touching her hair?  At all?  She mulled over all the time she had known the skeletons and the only things she could think of is maybe they witnessed someone touching her hair without permission and she snapped on said person.  It happens less now, but it has happened.  Even that would only make sense if they didn’t hear everything she says to the person.  She always mentions consent when she gets on people with wandering, overcurious hands and fingers.  So, they would know they just need to ask? Right?

Brow scrunching, she sighed and stepped from under the rainfall to finally start actually cleaning up.  Going through the familiar motions, she continued to turn over and pick at the mystery.  It wasn’t until near the end of her shower when she was rinsing off the suds, something clicked… “Cash.”

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

“we were startin’ ta wonder if doll changed her mind, will o’ the wisp,” a skeleton dressed in mostly black with a fur lined hood and a single gold fang jeered from his seat on the living room sofa just as Willow reached the bottom of the staircase.  A disappointed grunt followed as the taller skeleton purposely ignored his comment.

“RED, I THOUGHT YOU HAD TO WORK TODAY?” Willow inquired as he stepped into the living room, only after hearing Blue and Papyrus’s voices reprimand the gold fanged sans.  Standing in the doorway, he could now see that the two were sitting on cushions on the floor before the tv.  From the characters running and bouncing around the screen, it looked like they were playing Smash.  Leaning over the arm of the couch opposite the one Red was sitting on was Coffee.  He spared a little wave to Willow, but went back to watching the other two play.  He was probably waiting to jump in and play whoever wins. Stretched across that same couch with his fur lined hood up and obscuring his face was Mutt.  His long legs hung over the remaining arm of the couch and his arms were crossed over his chest.  He truly slept like the dead as he didn’t budge or even twitch.  His chest didn’t fall and rise in simulated breath either.   The last skeleton in the room was Willow’s brother, Oak, and he was currently snoozing as well, leaned back against the couch with his skull lolling to the side.  

“wha’, i’m not invited ta y’lls lil’ wash day thing,” Red growled, but his crimson eyelights avoiding Willow’s gaze hinted he was simply dodging the question and not offended.

Before Willow could call him out on this, Mutt surprisingly beat him to it, “him n’ sansy had a lil’ lover’s spat.”  Ah, so he wasn’t sleeping.

“would ya’ quit callin’ it that!” Red barked, scowling as chuckles only rumbled from Mutt.      

Coffee’s soft voice just barely spoke above the noise of the other two, “Red wanted to test the machine…”

Willow just arched a brow bone as he set down his hefty load on the coffee table, “AND SANS, I’M GUESSING, DID NOT?”  He looked to Red for confirmation and said skeleton huffed, crossing his arms with a frustrated scowl marring his features.

“dun know how he expects us ta know if the damn t’ing works w’itout testing it!” he mumbled, “coward doesn’t even like ta turn it on most times…”  

“WELL, IN HIS DEFENSE, THAT MACHINE IS THE REASON ALL OF US ARE HERE RIGHT NOW,” Willow’s attempt to play mediator only resulted in Red grunting and sinking more into the cushions.

Blue had handed off his controller to Coffee who eagerly vacated his spot on the couch and took Blue’s place on the floor.  “HE’S GOING TO POUT (“m’not poutin’!”) FOR A WHILE,” he stated as he moved to kneel by the coffee table.  His eye lights were glued to the bag he remembered bringing upstairs not that long ago, “WHY DO YOU HAVE HER BAG?”  He hoped she had everything she needed upstairs.

His question had Papyrus perking up behind them, but the prime doppel refused to take his sockets off the tv, “I’D LIKE TO KNOW AS WELL!” He wished he could turn and investigate, but Coffee took his games seriously and he had yet to beat the younger skeleton at any.  Maybe today would be the day.

Willow sat in Coffee’s empty spot on the couch to ease his back so he wouldn’t be bent over as much.  His weight displaced the cushions more than Coffee had and resulted in Mutt slipping down a bit further, closer to his hip and pulling at his hood.  Said skeleton didn’t complain and just let it happen, opening his unscarred socket so a rusty blood orange eyelight swiveled to look at the bag in question.  “lil’ missy plannin’ ta stay fer while?” he inquired as he took in how full it seemed.

Blue laughed, “NEVER KNOW! WE JUST WANTED TO BE PREPARED!” he chirped.

“BETTER TO BE OVER PREPARED THAN UNDER!” Papyrus joined in before squawking in surprise and muttering a little curse.  Coffee could be heard giggling softly and whispering how Papyrus had to put money in the swear jar now, on top of his impending loss.

Mutt just nodded and Willow hummed as he unzipped the bag, “SHE WANTS US TO PICK OUT WHAT PRODUCTS TO USE.”  He plucked a jar from the bag to examine.

“why’?” Red had sat up and scooted to the edge of his seat so he could see the bag’s contents better.   “shouldn’t she be tellin’ us what ta use?” he mumbled as his eyelights expanded at the amount and variety of products in the bag, “she bought da’ whole store?!”  

Blue just snickered and those snickers were growing into laughter as Mutt finally gave in to his own curiosity and sat up.  Both sockets now open and eyelights mirroring Red’s own in shock, “never thought i’d be so thankful ta not have hair.”  He rubbed a hand over his skull, “exhausted just lookin’ at all this.  No wonder they got a whole day just for washin’ hair.”  

Willow shook his head at the two with a withered sigh as he could hear Papyrus joining Blue in poorly hidden laughter.  “THEY DON’T USE ALL OF IT,” he resisted burying his face in his hands in exasperation, “HENCE WHY SHE WANTS US TO HELP CHOOSE WHICH ONES TO USE TODAY.”  He lifted the product he had already taken from the bag and wiggled it for emphasis, “WE’LL JUST PICK OUT BASICS… SHAMPOO, CONDITIONER…”  he trailed off.  It hit him that he didn’t know what exactly could be considered basics beyond that.

“We could look up the rest…” Coffee spoke up, tilting his head towards the conversation, “...there should be something about this on the internet right?”  A harsh click of a button and snap of the joystick could be heard before an anguished cry belted from Papyrus as his character went flying to the edge of the edge of the screen.   A flash of light then the announcer chiming in loudly: GAME!  He had lost once again.  “Good game, Pap…” Coffee patted the defeated monster’s back as he dramatically sobbed into his hands.

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THAT FROM YOU!” Papyrus whined and they could practically hear him pouting as Coffee just giggled.  

“GREAT IDEA, COFFEE!” Blue wasted no time whipping out his phone and holding it up proudly as his eyelights formed to stars, “MWEHEHEH!  WITH THIS WE WILL PICK OUT THE PERFECT ASSORTMENT AND HELP HER HAVE THE BEST WASH DAY EVER!”  

Papyrus bounced back from his crestfallen state as heard Blue’s declaration.  He joined them at the coffee table and clapped for Blue who just beamed more.  Coffee offered his own shy clap of support as he wandered over as well and settled into an empty spot on the other side of Blue.

Red’s eyelights couldn’t roll any harder at their antics. A frown still pulled at his teeth as something wasn’t sitting right with him about this situation, “thought doll didn’t like anyone messin’ wit’ her hair?” Why the sudden change of heart? The others went quiet at his question and Mutt just hummed along, the sound giving way his curiosity about this as well.

Papyrus fiddled with his hands, braiding and unbraiding his fingers, before breaking the silence that had fallen on the room, “WELL, AS YOU KNOW--from the group text--WE CONVINCED HER TO LET ME-US TAKE CARE OF HER.”  He inhaled and looked up, looking at each skeleton in the room, “I ASKED IF WE COULD HELP WITH HER HAIR…”  A soft smile lifted the corners of his teeth, “AND SHE SAID YES.”  

Nothing was said for a bit as Papyrus’s words sank in before Mutt hummed once again, “well… let’s get ta pickin’ then.”  Nods were shared in agreement.  It didn’t answer why, but it would do for now.  

Willow started them off with the product he had already.  He read the label aloud, “HAIR HONEY?”  before unscrewing the lid.  He didn’t need to lean in to get a whiff of its scent.  Not only because his naturally more sensitive sense of smell, but it was potent and the others around perked in curiosity as well.  It was sweet and warm, but not floral.  Maybe a bit fruity?  It reminded him of a tropical drink… the color of it certainly looked like honey though.  Before he could even question what it was for, he could hear Blue’s distals tapping at his screen to look it up.

“HAIR HONEY IS A BALM FOR STYLING, MOISTURIZING, AND ADDING SHINE TO HAIR,” he read, along with a few details about ingredients.  Surprisingly, the product had very little to no actual honey in it.  

“WHY CALL IT HONEY IF IT HAS NO HONEY?” Papyrus voiced the question they were all thinking as Willow replaced the lid on the jar and set it aside.

“‘n they say monsters are bad at namin’,” Red grumbled before jumping as the cushions beside him shifted and sank.  He could hear a long, loud sniff and scowled at Oak as the larger skeleton was literally following his nasal cavity to the now closed jar. “Fuckin’ ell when did you wake up!” he griped.

Oak ignored him for picking up the jar and opening it again to take a deep sniff.  A moment later they could hear purring.  

“Missy might not be gettin’ that one back,” Mutt chuckled as he took his turn digging in the bag for a product.  They continued like this.  Taking turns picking a product, reading and looking it up, sniffing, and eventually sorting them into piles at Papyrus’s insistence.  They had started with two: YES and NO.  But the YES pile was now organized by scent.  The “tastier”--as Oak put it--scented products had been more or less hoarded by said skeleton.  It was obvious what his vote was for.

“is it really smart ta have her smellin’ all yummy and shit,” Red had scooted to the far side of the couch away from Oak.  It was too much being next to the giant while he was purring with the volume of a freight train. He swears the cushions were vibrating.  Willow’s sockets narrowed on the smaller skeleton, “I HOPE YOU ARE NOT INSINUATING WHAT I THINK YOU ARE.”  His still crooked teeth pulled into a frown.  His braces were slow to fix them.  

“THAT WAS VERY UNCOUTH, RED,” Papyrus agreed and Willow sent his duplicate an appreciative smile.  

Mutt shrugged as he watched Blue repacking the NO pile, “‘m fine wit her smellin’ like a snack~”  His gold fangs glinted as he smiled, a teasing lilt to his voice.  “‘sides it’s hard not to considerin’ half this stuff has some sort of ‘butter’ in it...” he muttered.  He had no clue what exactly cocoa or shea butter was or what it did, but it smelled amazing.  

Red agreed with the butter comment.  Hell, he was still trying to figure out how they got butter from something like olives, hempseed… MANGOES?  A god damned fruit… how?  Not too mention the different oils… it was like they were trying to purposely seasoning themselves.

Blue choked on a cut off laugh and Red had cracked a smile, snickering.  Willow had tilted his skull back with a far away, tired look to the ceiling, but couldn’t hide a light flush to his cheekbones.  Papyrus had slapped a hand to his forehead with an exasperated sigh.  

Coffee giggled quietly, “...I have a bit of a sweet tooth as well…”  That was an understatement.  He had the biggest sweet tooth out of all of them. A golden blush flushed his cheekbones as all attention had turned to him in mild shock that he had said something even slightly close to a double entendre.    

A barked laugh burst from Red and Mutt.  The taller of the two recovered first with a satisfied sigh, “well, now we really gotta go with Oak’s choice.”  

Red wiped a tear from his socket as he conceded with a shrug and amused huff, “fine, fine…”  Blue and Papyrus agreed since they were outvoted either way, but Willow had yet to speak.  He was staring down Red, frown still in place.  The skeleton currently under his harsh gaze began to sweat, eyelights wobbling and shrinking as he refused to make eye contact.  The trio on the floor shifted awkwardly and after a subtle glance between the two, they busied themselves with packing up the products they wouldn’t be using.  “what?!” he finally snapped, turning sharply and glaring up at the towering monster.

“ya still owe us an apology…” Oak rumbled, his bloated red eyelight focused on Red.  His brother crossed his arms over his chest and hummed in agreement.  

“seriously?” Red looked between the two in disbelief.  Neither held an expression that they were joking and Mutt was offering no support for him.  The trench coat clad skeleton instead was looking at the ceiling with the utmost concentration.  Traitor… Red tried holding out stubbornly and debated simply shortcutting away, but even he knew he had overstepped.  Maybe that therapist was worth the money.  “m’sorry…” he grumbled, scrunching up in an effort to hide further in the fluff of his hoodie.  

Oak looked to his brother to see if he approved of the apology.  It was a piss poor one even by his standards, but he knew they probably wouldn’t get much more than that right now.  Willow’s expression definitely said the apology wasn’t up to standard, but let his shoulders fall and his arms uncross.  It was enough of an acceptance for Red as the smaller skeleton sighed in relief at the tension easing in the room.  

Papyrus, Coffee, and Blue had finished packing by now and Papyrus clapped his hands, a bright smile lighting up his face.  “WITH THAT AND OUR CHOICE OF HAIR CARE PRODUCTS COMPLETED, I’D SAY WE’VE DONE GOOD!” he boasted and Blue nodded along.  Oak just hummed and purred happily; he turned his attention back to the products on his lap.  

“BUT WE’RE NOT DONE YET,” Willow interjected and confused, curious eyelights and sockets were aimed his way.  He was grateful the more prim and proper and strict of their household were not in for this particular conversation.  “YOU SEE, WE NEED TO FIGURE OUT HOW WE’RE GOING TO WASH HER HAIR…. OR RATHER, WHERE?” he continued on to explain that they had already scratched off the upstairs bathroom she was using, plus pretty much any other bathroom at that.  “ACCORDING TO HER, THE KITCHEN OR UTILITY SINK IS BEST FOR WHEN SOMEONE HAS TO ASSIST,” he finished.

Pensive, thoughtful looks adorned most of the occupants, except for Oak and Mutt.  Oak was distracted by his hoard and Mutt was still staring at the ceiling.

“USING THE UTILITY SINK WOULD APPEASE CERTAIN SOMEONES,” Blue noted, but he didn’t sound certain.

“it would, but knowin’ how many of you are gonna wanna hang around, it’ll get crowded real quick in that little room,” Red inputted and shot down the utility sink idea.  While his brother or Black might get huffy about the kitchen sink, it wouldn’t be anything worse than some harsh words.  Black was soft on the woman and his brother held a torch for her.  They’d be fine.  

Tipping could be heard and they half expected it to be Blue typing on his phone again, but instead it was Coffee.  A few more clicks and they could see the light of the screen shining off his pearly face and gold braces.  Blue leaned to peek over his shoulder and Papyrus followed suit.  The two sharing looks of awe and understanding.  

“ey!” Red snapped and two of the trio jerked their attention from the screen, “don’t just keep it ta yaself.  show us what ya found!”

Coffee was the only one still looking at his screen and he swiped his finger across the glass surface before turning his phone around for them to see.  On the screen was a video of a woman that had curly hair and skin like their friend.  She was leaning over a sink with a woman standing just beside her.  The other woman had short, dark coils and her skin was a deep, cool brown.  She was currently using the pull down sprayer to wet the other’s hair  and working the water into her curls with her other hand.  

“OH, WE HAVE A SPRAYER LIKE THAT!” Willow nodded, “IT WILL MAKE THIS SO MUCH EASIER THAN USING A CUP OR BOWL TO DUMP WATER OVER HER HEAD.”

“you were plannin’ ta waterboard doll?” Red joked as he continued to watch the video.  “only problem ya have left is that our kitchen sink is built fer the taller than average…” he pointed out.  It sparked new ideas to be put forth.  Suggestions that they could use a chair or stool for her to stand on.  This was shot down as Coffee reminded them that she was physically exhausted and her neck and back wouldn’t appreciate being bent over for so long after the workout Edge and Papyrus had put her through.

Papyrus sighed, “IT SEEMS MY ENTHUSIASM YESTERDAY HAS PRODUCED YET ANOTHER PROBLEM…”  

Blue patted his shoulder comfortingly,  “WE HAD NO CLUE ANY OF THIS WOULD HAPPEN.  PLUS, THINK HOW PROUD SHE’LL BE WHEN YOU SHOW HER THE CHARTS OF HER PROGRESS YOU MADE!”  It helped cheer up the positive skeleton and he nodded, mumbling a thank you to his ever supportive friend.

A deep rumble pervaded the living room and gradually morphed into amused, pleased chuckles.  All attention moved to Mutt, the source, with inquiring gazes.  Pushing his hood down and leaning forward, resting his elbow on his knee and his cheek against his knuckles, he grinned at his companions, “...think I have a solution fer that~”

[wordynerdygurl]

Lady In Waiting

Author Note:  Hiya everyone!  This one, man, I’ve thought about this for a long time!  I hope it entertains and delights you all!   Summary:  Loki calls you over for some fun with cuffs but an interruption leaves you a Lady In Waiting!

Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  So, SMUT.  Art House, Prose-y, SMUT... also restraints, in a committed relationship.

“Come over.  I need you.”

That was all it took for you to get yourself across town as quickly as your worn out canvas sneakers could carry you. Knocking on his door, breathless and heart racing, you bite into your bottom lip.  Already excited, you rocked on your heels, a bubble of giddiness rising inside you.

Hearing the locks turn, you’re expecting the door to open for you, Loki waiting on the other side but that doesn't happen.  Tentatively, twisting the knob, you push into the dimly lit room where your lover hides.  He is definitely here, you think in the clear moment before Loki’s hands find your shoulders, driving you into the solid wood of his front door.

Stopping his lips is not an option.  Cupping your chin, he has tipped your mouth into the perfect position, allowing him unchecked access to your soft, sweet mouth.  You’d moan, but Loki would just swallow it whole, so the sound you do make is a choked gasp of longing. His tongue is inside you, flicking over your teeth.  His tongue rubs against your own, tasting what you taste of.  

His tongue caresses your inner cheek, slick on slick, slipping further into the deep well of you.

His tongue traces the roof of your mouth, riding the ridges there, as if to conquer all of the flavors and words and songs that might be made in your carnal cave. Pulling away, dewy pink pout in place, “I came as soon as I could.” “It’s much appreciated.” Fingers grab his tight shoulders, enjoying the unbearable nearness of him, unwilling to break your embrace even if the kiss must end.  Searching his eyes for answers, “What’s your rush?” It’s innocent enough a question.  Loki’s call had sounded almost panicked.  But you knew nothing truly scared your God of Mischief.  No, there was something else at work here.   “I told you.  I need you.”  Pressing his hardening length against your belly, you could feel the agitation in him, the straight up desire that drove him to dial you up.  Still at the entryway, you flexed your hands, releasing your grip on him with great effort.  

But Loki didn’t yield an inch to you.  If anything he stepped closer, pinning you with his rigid body and his scorching gaze.  With a heaving sigh, “Loki…” “Go to the bedroom.  Take off these ridiculous pants… your silly sneakers… your stupid socks.”  

On you again, mumbling into your neck, mouth intent on marking you, “Kneel on the bed.  You know how I like to see you.  Feet tucked under you, head bowed, back straight… but with your knees spread, dove.  Wide open for only me to see.  Will you do this for me?” What could you say?  No?  Hardly.  

Loki pushed away from you then, leaving you behind as he moved further into his lair, his directions leaving your knees weak.  Inhaling a steadying breath, you moved quickly, struggling for calm.  Pulse racing, you throw your bag down with a thump once you're in Loki's room.  

Wasting no time, you shuck your clothes, heart pounding with anticipation.  You scramble onto the inky sheets, flushed with want, goosebumps breaking across your hypersensitive skin.  It seems like hours, but truthfully, in seconds you were waiting as requested, panting with pent up passion. 

You weren't left waiting long. Leaning into the door frame, Loki was without his shirt, a sight that made you writhe.  Black jeans, faded at the knee from wear, were unsnapped but hanging onto his hips in a way that made you salivate.  He was also barefoot, which probably shouldn’t be so sexy on a man like yours, but damn him… even his toes had the ability to excite.

And they did, actually, all of it did.  You couldn't recall a time when you had been so, so ready.  If Loki didn't touch you soon, you were certain your body would self ignite. “Put your hands behind your back, little one.”  Doling out commands in his honey hot voice had you complying without complaint. Forcing your chest out, bountiful bust barely contained by your flannel shirt, you felt the buttons tug tightly in your new position.  Lust lingered in Loki’s eyes at your shameless display.  “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, darling.  So much fun.” Deep down, you knew that the cuffs were coming out.  He wouldn’t have been so specific with his directions otherwise.  Still, when the cool steel snapped closed, trapping your wrists behind you, you keened softly, “Is this really necessary?” “Definitely.  Because, you see, you look so damn fetching with your body bent in the way I want.”  Pulling down on the chain between your shackles, back bending to relieve the pressure, Loki asserted his dominion over you.  

Long fingers plucked your straining buttons open.  Greedy fingers circled your nipples, the coarse lace of your bra offering no protection from the fantastic friction Loki was creating.  His palms squeezed, rough, fingers finding a hold on each of your glorious globes.   Tugging the frilly cups down, your breasts now heavy and free, Loki lowers his full lips to your tender bud.  At first it’s a lick, tentative, soft.  Soon he is sucking, precious pain pulling you closer to his tightly sealed kiss, perfect teeth biting into the gentle flesh. “Oh fuck… oh fuck… Loki…”  Whines tumble out of you, unbidden, unrehearsed.  

“Hush, dearest.  If you can’t quiet down, I’ll have to make you.”  Folding your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding with understanding, you silently agree.  Returning to his work, Loki focused on your opposite breast with the same erotic enthusiasm. Since you can’t speak, you hum.  But then your humming grows in volume.  Soon you’re moaning, unable to do more than bounce your bottom, needing the fullness that Loki offers to bring you some level of satisfaction.  Feeling him over the flimsy fabric of your panties, head thrown back in delirious desire, you want Loki to push inside of you.  You’re desperate to have him stretch you, open you up for his own amusement.  That eagerness makes Loki chuckle darkly.   

His hands find your hips, dipping under the elastic waist of your underwear.  Expecting Loki's lingering touch, a whine slides out of you at the sound of shredding satin.  “No, please, Loki!  I’ll be quiet.  I promise!” “Ah, it’s a bit late for that, unfortunately.  Open up.”  Loki expects your complete submission, never doubting that you’ll do what he’s asked.  Reluctantly you part your lips.  Loki takes his time, thumb caressing your mouth, before setting the ruined garment on your tongue. Kissing along your jaw, Loki husks, “Now you’re wet cunt is ready for me.”  Your eyes roll at his lewd language, a wave of euphoria coasting through your throbbing cleft, your stuffed mouth unable to do more than mumble.   His wicked words are still hanging there, floating in the air around you both, when there’s a knock at his door.  Freezing in place, his hand on your spread thigh, Loki’s head cocks to one side as if unsure that he’s heard the beckoning.

"Loki?  Are you there?” “Thor.  Fuck.  He's early.”  Shocked, you watch Loki push himself off the bed, buttoning up his pants.  Words form but are blocked by the fancy cloth stunting your speech.  Grazing his lips over your forehead, “Don’t move, darling.  I’ll be back.” Anger replaces arousal.  Loki can tell by the look on your face that you’re more than pissed off at the interruption.  “I know.  Just be a good girl.  Be quiet.  Be still.  And I won’t show my brother how incredibly sexy you look bound and gagged in my bed.” With one last look at your livid figure, Loki shut his bedroom door, leaving you as he described.  Wet, willing and now, waiting. You can’t hear what they’re talking about, all you can make out is tones.  It sounds rather serious, but without context, who’s to say what brings Thor here, unannounced.  He must ask after you, because Loki’s voice rises just a bit in order to offer a vague, “She’s tied up at the moment.”  And you really could scream with frustration and fury.   Internally debating your options, you realized that they were few, and of poor quality.  You could risk rising, near naked with your hands locked behind you, but how would you open the door?  Grunting, you sit back on your heels, giving your sore knees a break.  How long would Thor stay? Shortly you heard Loki’s footsteps coming closer.  Suddenly alert, your reverie broke in a flash, focused solely on the door.  Blushing hot, you watched the knob turn and Loki, finally, was there. He didn’t come closer, rather, Loki pulled a clean shirt from a drawer.  Tipping into near panic, you started talking even though you knew it was pointless.  Sensing your anxiety, Loki brought your face to his, kissing your cheek.   “Thor is still here, not a sound, kitten.”  His voice is rough.  Coarse.  But it also sends shivers shooting through your system.

The bed dips as he sits beside you.  Loki parts your opened shirt, hands drawn to your satin skin, palms skating over your belly.  Shivering, you can't help tilting towards him.  If you weren't so tense with need maybe you could afford to be angry with Loki.  As it is, just being near him is enough to reignite your ardor.

Whispering softly, calming you between chaste kisses to your chin, cheeks, the bridge of your nose, Loki calls you darling, sweetness, dear. His hands never stop exploring your tethered form, relishing your responsive whines, enjoying your trusting helplessness.  Mirroring your posture, sitting up on his knees, Loki grabs one of the pillows from his headboard.

Still adrift in the attention he affords you, his changing tone of voice jars you, "I only have a minute, pet."  His hands, aggressive now, slap your thigh.  The intention is clear.  Spread 'em.

"My sweet little kitten, so greedy, so ready for me… I am unable to attend to all your needs just now.  Regrettably."  His voice is a ragged husk.  

Arousal evident as he scrunches the pillow, "Come on… up on your knees." 

Unsure of Loki's objective, you're surprised when he tucks the cozy rectangle between you and the mattress.  The foam, pressing against your swollen sex, provides friction but not the satisfying stretch your body craves.  Using only your mumbled mewls as confirmation to continue, toying with you, Loki circles your hypersensitive clitoris.  Your hips jerk, surprised spasms sending you into the softness Loki has stuffed underneath you.

"That's it… keep going.  Gods, you are so beautiful."  His praise speeds up in time with your climbing desire.  Gasping behind your gag, once more on the edge of ecstasy, your thighs tremble around the cushion cradling your center.  Between Loki's dancing digit and the unlikely excitement caused by riding the downy pillow, you're seconds away from succumbing to a glorious finale.

And as fast as he began, Loki withdraws, leaving you drenched in unquenchable need.  Crying in frustration, muffled and desperate, your body is beyond the limits of begging.  At the moment Loki could ask anything of you and he would have your complete cooperation, if it meant that you could clench around his hard length.

Standing, those long legs carry him to the bureau.  Rustling around, Loki finds what he needs and faces you with a devious grin.  Crossing the floor in two strides, looming over you now, your tear streaked face lifts toward the man you love.  His hand tangles in your hair, forcing your back to bow, pushing your pelvis forward.

A familiar buzz fills the room.  He gives you no further warning.  One second you're open, ripe and ready.  The next you are overfilled, grateful for the gag muffling your cry, squeezing the toy stuffing your center.

“Loki?  Are you ready?”  Thor’s voice boomed from the other room breaking through the cloud of your nearing climax. “Nearly there, brother!  Give me just another minute!’  Turning his bright blue eyes to you, Loki flashed his finest smile, “He needs me to go with him.  I won’t be long… so you must cum.  Right now."

And it's the physically lethal combination of Loki's flashing glare, his wicked whispers, and false phallus that fight to free your feminine frenzy.  Humping his toy into you, the pillow giving you resistance, you feel the speculative shuddering start in your center.  Cresting in a wave of wonderment, your pleasure crashed over you, cries cut off by your full mouth.

Loki, holding onto you, cooing softly, caresses you through your release.  The toy stills inside of you, still filling, but no longer shaking against your tender walls.  Swiping the gag free, Loki forces a deep kiss on you, absorbing your aftershocks with his able mouth.  "That, my sweet, was worth every second."

Stretching your jaw, sighing softly, "Loki… undo these cuffs?"

Thoughtful for a moment, Loki looked over your flustered form, "I don't think I will.  I rather like having you here.  Knowing that you’re naked and needy, waiting for me.  Gods… I’ve been hard this entire time, dove.” Wasting no time, Loki picked up where he’d left you before, his hand finding your center as his tongue plundered you once more.  Slow, painfully slow, Loki dragged his fingers through your soaked slit, pressing the vibrator firmly into your velvet tunnel.  Soon, too soon, you were a mewling mess.  Sobbing softly into Loki’s ear, “Please… more, please.”

Shaking against him, body taunt, so ready to let go again, Loki’s fingers left you.  “I’ll be back in half an hour.”, his normally stoic voice streaked with desire. In a worried whisper, “What?  You’re really leaving me?”   “I am.  But once I get back, I’m going to ravage you soundly, so I need you to be ready.”

“Loki!  You can’t!”  It’s the loudest you can be while still whispering.  And it isn’t nearly forceful enough to change your troublemaking lover’s mind. “I can and I will.”  Walking around you, facing you full on, Loki stroked over your tummy.  Grabbing your bottom, fingers digging into your yielding flesh, you groaned.  “Oh yes, you’re staying right here, my pretty pet.” “Loki?  Are you ready yet?”  Thor sounded impatient, and more alarmingly, right outside the bedroom.  “Almost, dear brother.  Meet me downstairs, ok?” “Fine… but hurry up!  Jane’s expecting me!” “Oh, we don’t like to keep our ladies waiting, do we brother?”  Thor moves on, you hear his boots on the stairs.  Loki on the other hand, his look is sinful as he licks his lips, hungry for you.  Leaning into your ear, “I can smell you, kitten.  And I can hardly wait to have you.”  You lean into his strength, silently begging him to stop this game, hot skin abraded by his clothing.  “Please!  Don’t leave me hanging, Loki!” Laughing coldly, “Hanging?  Oh no.  You have so much to do, darling.  There are rules, you see…” Gritting your teeth, already on edge, you wanted to snap at your lover.  “Rules?  Loki, you’re really…”  But the rest of your words were lost as he manipulated the massager using some form of magic.  Arching away from him, your overstimulated body wanted to fly over the cliff into your next completion.   “Are you listening, love?  Because this is important.  You are not allowed to cum without me.”  

Rational thought was fleeting.  With every second of sensual overload Loki forced on you, all you knew for certain was that you worshiped the God in front of you, and because of this, your agreement was undeniable.  Nodding, voice useless, you let Loki kiss you again, his rhythm matching that of his tormenting toy.

"Do not cum, kitten. I will be back shortly."  Slapping your ass, Loki laughed at your shriek, shutting the door on you.  Could you hold out?  God, the thrumming vibrations were radiating through you.  Rocking your hips, fighting against the tide of your tension, your fragile nerves were rapidly fraying.  He had told you, commanded you, ordered you not to climax.   But how long would it take before your body broke Loki’s rule?  And just what would The God of Mischief do if you failed him?  Pulling against the steel bracelets holding your arms, snuggled into the cushion cradled against you, you laughed as a fresh release rolled over you.

You were going to be here awhile.  Loki was going to need a new pillow.  And paying him back was going to be so much fun.   

Tagging Team:  @just-random-obsessions​ @iamverity​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @archy3001​ @mizfit2​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @jamielea81​ @jessiejunebug​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​

[i-see-thevision]

When Sparks Fly (M)

Part of ‘Heaven or Hell’ my Stray Kids Demon/Angel!au Series

Name: Bang Chan

Status: Demon

Special Abilities: Electrokinesis; Teleportation

Summary: In which you’re just a girl who finds solace in sitting on her terrace. And Chan is just a demon who’s become infatuated with how your legs swing.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content; Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it kids!); Virgin!Reader; A tiny bit of violence; Technical stalking??; Chan being himself lmao

• • •

The world is a funny place.

At least that’s what you thought. 

Being a newly turned 21 year old, the world expected you to be out drinking and partying every night. But here you sat, on the railing of the terrace of your apartment. 

You had just barely moved in, and you have already spent more time out on the terrace than in your own home. But the beauty of fresh air couldn’t be compared to anything, not even the excitement of a new apartment. Which again, most would disagree with.

You sat watching the people below. Watching their interactions, their basic movements. You were high up enough that no one would bother looking up to see you but you could still see them clearly.

People nowadays were just so odd. Everyone was so self-indulgent and conceded, even if it was completely unintentional. You never really thought much of the saying “stop and smell the roses,” until you moved out on your own.

But it’s true. Getting lost in the big picture often prevents people from cherishing the small moments that make it all worthwhile. It’s appreciating those little things, those small moments, that make you a little different from most people.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing in your back pocket.

You pulled it out to see who it was. You rolled your eyes when you read your boss’s name. Not that you didn't like your boss, you did. She was very reasonable and quite sweet. But a call from her usually meant that someone called out last minute and you were going to have to fill in for them. And you were very much enjoying your quiet time out on the terrace. But despite your irritation, you slid your thumb across the screen.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Kwon.” Your voice sounding as cheery as ever.

“Good afternoon, Y/n! I hope you're liking your new apartment! I do have a favor to ask of you, Tess has called out sick and I need someone to cover her evening shift. Would you be able to come at six?”

“Sure thing, Ms. Kwon. I’ll cover for her.” You forcibly smiled even though she couldn't see you, listening to her words of thanks before hanging up.

As soon as the call ended you looked at the time. It was half past three. 

With a heavy sigh, you stood up to go back inside. A shower was in order before work and you would need time to dry your hair.

By the time 5:30 rolled around, you were were on the bus and headed to the movie theater in which you worked. 

• • •

Earth was a funny place.

At least that’s what Chan thought.

Chan was a demon, spending his days roaming around Earth because the whole ‘murdering humans for fun’ stereotype wasn't really his thing.

He was actually quite relaxed for a demon. Really only interacting with humans if he had to. He lived in an abandoned building just outside of Seoul, because generally, he wanted to stay away from humans.

Now from the outside, his place looked uninhabited and uninviting. Which was entirely his intention. But on the inside, he prided himself on making his place look like the inside of an Elle Decor magazine. It was quite modern but also had a retro flair to it. And despite him never having any guests, Chan still wanted his place to be impressive, even if it was just for him.

Chan’s desire to be isolated from humans but still near the closest big city was a bit contradictory, even to him. But the only reason he liked being so close to Seoul was his fascination for the city aesthetic.

He loved the city for its buildings, for its lights, for its bustling nature. He loved watching humans roam around the busy streets from the tops of buildings, wondering how one individual could live their life so entirely different from the next.

It puzzled him, how the strings of human lives could be so intertwined but still harbor the possibility of two never meeting. 

The sound of thunder booming in the distance brought Chan out of his deep contemplation. 

His gaze shifted upwards, holding his hand out to feel the oncoming rain drops. He pushed himself onto his feet, ready to make his escape from the down pour he could feel coming. 

Not that he minded the rain, thunder storms were probably his favorite thing in the world, being as he could create and manipulate lighting. He was quite fond of the bright flashes that came like a rip in the inky night sky, as if behind the dark canvas was a brilliant light just waiting to flood through any crack no matter how small.

He found cover from the rain under the umbrella of a nearby table, right outside one of his favorite restaurants. He sat down in one of the chairs, content washing over him as he listened to the sound of the rain and thunder crackling above him.

He peeked his head out from underneath the umbrella from time to time, tensing his body and watching the lightning stay in the sky just a little longer than normal. He then let the energy from the storm fuel him, cupping his hands in front of him and watching little sparks form between them. A content sigh left his lips.

It was probably time to head home.

• • •

By the time your shift ended, you were exhausted. Completely wiped and ready to collapse onto your bed.

You checked the time on your phone as you waited quietly for the bus to arrive at the bus stop. It was twenty after midnight, and completely down pouring. You felt a chill flow through your body at the lowering temperature along with the creepy vibe of the city at night.

You watched as the bus pulled up, making a run for it as you did not have an umbrella with you.

No one else got on with you, probably due to the time of night, and there was just one other person already on the bus. So you sat right up front, knowing the drive to your apartment wouldn't be too long.

You quietly hummed to yourself as you watched the lights of signs and people walking the sidewalk pass by at an accelerated pace. Before you could even finish the song you were humming, which albeit was probably prolonged due to lack of concentration, you were getting off the bus at the bus stop closest to your house.

You thanked the bus driver as you stepped onto the sidewalk, making sure to wave at him before he drove off. You would consider yourself to be more polite than most but that’s simply because you believe that you should make up in areas others lacked.

You had no other choice but the let the rain drench you, only adding to the chill you already felt flowing through you.

The only thing on your mind on your walk to your apartment was your terrace. Thankfully you had an awning over yours, so you could be free to sit out there whether it be rain or shine. The thought of listening to the rain with a book and a mug of hot tea in hand, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the city lights in full view, hearing the thunder boom and watching the lighting flash across the night sky, was all you could think of. A calmness washed over you at the thought. Keeping you collected even while walking past the creepy dark alleyways you had to pass on your way home.

Despite the peaceful feeling, you noticed yourself letting out a breath of relief when you enter your apartment and lock the door behind you.

“Finally, some me time.” You sighed out loud, putting your bag on the ground next to the couch and walking into your kitchen. Immediately, you filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. You opened your cabinet of many teas and decided on chamomile, feeling like getting a good nights sleep tonight. 

While waiting for the kettle to boil, you took a quick shower and changed into something more comfy and, quite frankly, less popcorn smelling. 

You settled on a pair of leggings, a sweatshirt, and some thick fuzzy socks before you heard the kettle make its incessant whistling. 

After turning the stove off, pouring the now boiling water in a mug and placing the tea bag in, you walked over to the sliding glass doors that stood between you and your terrace tea time.

Quickly grabbing a blanket from the couch, you slid open the door and stepped outside. The cool air immediately engulfed you, but you found the chill quite refreshing. 

You didn't have any furniture out here yet, but you were planning on getting a loveseat or some recliners or something. For now though, you were content with simply sitting on the concrete with a blanket wrapped around you.

You took several sips of your tea, overlooking the city. Silently wondering if anyone else was up this late as well.

• • •

Chan watched his feet scuffle along the sidewalk, the rain completely soaking him from head to toe. But he intentionally did this, enjoying the feeling of walking home, despite him not having to.

A quiet bark caught Chan’s attention. Turning his head to the right, he noticed a small dog wagging its tail playfully at him. There was no one around with the little pup, he deduced. Maybe it’s a stray.

“Hey little guy, where’s your owner?” He smiles softly at the cute little dog, bending down to pet him. Without any fear, the very wet dog ran up to Chan, licking the hand he tried to pet him with. Chan laughed, noticing the dog had a collar.

“So you do have an owner?” Chan says while reading the address on the dog’s collar tag. “We better get you home then, huh?”

Chan was familiar with that street name, at least he was pretty sure it was the next street over. So he bent down to pick up the dog in his arms, holding him close to his chest.

“Alright bud, hold on tight.” Chan smirked before teleporting to where he thought he remembered seeing that street’s sign.

To his delight, he was correct. And the dog didn't seem too freaked out either, which was a plus. A lot of times with teleportation, it can feel odd if you’re not used to it. And especially with animals it’s tough, but this little guy seemed to be perfectly fine with it.

With his attention back on the world, he noticed a young man yelling out for his dog. Catching on rather quickly, Chan put the dog on the ground and watched as its ears perked up and it ran toward its owner. A smile etched its way onto his face as he watched the two reunite in the rain. 

Chan turned to walk back to where he came from but stopped when he heard a soft, pretty voice humming from above him. 

He shifted his gaze further up the apartment building, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hand, to see a girl. A blanket delicately hanging from her shoulders, a mug in hand, and her eyes glued to the city lights. 

But specifically, he watched how her cute little legs were slid through the horizontal beams of the terrace she sat on, swinging softly.

It was long past midnight, and not at all warm outside. He wondered what exactly she was doing out in the rain this late at night. 

She was pretty high up, and for whatever reason, Chan found himself teleporting to the terrace above hers to try and get a better look at the girl he suddenly became so fascinated with.

• • •

You were humming absentmindedly, kicking your feet and feeling the cold air surround them. The beautiful city lights had captured your attention the moment you sat down.

But soon enough your attention was drawn to the barking of a dog below you.

You looked down to see a guy around your age with shaggy blonde hair place a small dog on the ground, watching as it ran towards its owner whom you recognized, he lived a couple floors below you. 

Your lips formed into a smile as the dog licked his owners already wet face, happy to be home. But then you looked at the guy who seemed to be responsible for reuniting the two. He was looking fondly at the two reuniting as well, just standing underneath the raindrops, a soft smile on his lips. You wondered why he didn't take credit for bringing the little guy back home, instead keeping his distance and turning to leave.

You then wondered what time it was, pulling your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and checking the time. 

1:14 AM

“Wow, I’ve been out here for quite a while now.” You then chuckled, “Guess I’m not the only one up so late.” Your gaze drifted back down to where the shaggy blonde stood, only to find him gone. 

You looked around to find him maybe heading off in another direction. You only looked at your phone for all of 3 seconds, he couldn’t have gotten that far. 

But no luck. He just... vanished.

An exaggerated sigh left your lips, irritated by the guy you suddenly found interesting and his sudden disappearance. 

But nevertheless, you focused your gaze once more on the city lights. Smiling at the serenity you felt flow through you at just the sight of them.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” You sighed, completely content. 

• • •

“Absolutely breathtaking.” Chan heard you sigh, feeling like you took the words right out of his mouth. However, you were referring to the city lights and well... he was referring to you.

The way the moon lit up your beautiful profile, your hair softly blowing in the stormy breeze. The way your soft voice would hum from time to time. The way your legs swung back and forth absentmindedly. You were mesmerizing.

Something emanated from you. A certain vibe, a certain aura. 

It was calming, it was peaceful. And Chan felt like he just wanted to be closer to it, closer to you.

This was odd for Chan, seeing as he usually stayed away from humans. Not only that, but he felt that this sudden attraction towards you developed rather fast. 

So he thought he should keep his distance from you, try to figure out if this was maybe just him feeling lonely and wanting some human interaction for whatever reason.

Infatuation doesn’t usually last very long, anyways.

• • •

“Sure, I can pick up Johnny’s shift tomorrow too.”

You said the words with a smile but felt agitation bubble inside you as you heard yourself say them. 

“You are a Saint! I have to get going, you don’t mind closing up for me do you?” Your manager said as she picked up her coat and bag, clearly that was a rhetorical question. 

You just smiled and nodded, “Of course not.”

You watched as she left, leaving you in the movie theater by yourself. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall beside you, sighing loudly at the fact that it was nearly midnight. These night shifts were doing a number on your sleep schedule. 

You finished cleaning up the counter before grabbing your jacket and slinging it onto your arms, along with your bag.

After locking up, you began your trek to the bus stop. Only to decide halfway there that it was a nice night and you actually wanted to walk home. The air was a comfortable temperature tonight, not warm but not too cold.

It wouldn't take you that long to walk all the way home, no longer than thirty minutes.

You liked that the city lights didn't pass by you in a blur when you decided to walk home, instead giving you time to admire them more. You chuckled at all the open signs that were turned off, reminding you how late it was. 

Though your chuckled died off as you noticed a familiar figure sitting on a bench not too far away from where you were walking. The same person that rescued your neighbor’s dog that one stormy night not too long ago. Since then you’ve seen him all around the city, more frequently on your walks home from work, only catching fleeting glimpses of him because he’d somehow be gone in the blink of an eye. 

And this time was no different.

The first few times you saw him, you thought he might be stalking you. Which horrified your because even though you saw him briefly, you could tell he was attractive and you didn't want that whole Stockholm syndrome thing to happen if he by chance kidnapped you. I mean, you literally give an obnoxious tip if the pizza delivery guy is cute. 

But as time went on, you noticed that he would never approach you. You would just see him standing off nearby, or sitting at an outside table or bench. He didn't stare at you or anything, didn't make you uncomfortable in any way, you just felt like it couldn't be a coincidence that you were seeing him everywhere. 

You got to a point where you began thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was all in your head. That your imagination had conjured him up and he wasn't actually real. Because how could a human being consistently disappear from sight in a matter of seconds? It was virtually impossible. So you reckoned that, for reasons you’re not quite sure of, your brain made him up.

You thought about this as you walked past him, waiting all of five seconds before turning around and only finding an empty bench. 

“Dammit.” You muttered under your breath, wanting this weird mystery to end. You just wanted to know if he was real or not. Which, albeit, is an odd thing to just casually want to know. But you were an odd person and it wouldn't surprise you if your mind had made up an attractive guy around your age who appeared on your walks alone from work. Considering his presence began to comfort you, the times you didn't see him made you feel more exposed and vulnerable to the nightly possibilities.

Sometimes you imagined him being a guardian angel that was sent to look over you. If only you could see the irony in that thought.

• • •

Chan knew he was being a bit of a creep. He knew that following you home after work, despite the reason being to make sure you get home safely, was pretty much stalking. But he couldn't help it. 

He also knew that letting you see him briefly before teleporting out of your line of sight was probably messing with your head a little. But he didn't want you to have the chance to approach him, because that would only end with you accusing him of being a stalker. But again, he couldn't help it.

Ever since that night he saw you on your terrace, he couldn't get you out of his head. He came to the conclusion that it wasn't just infatuation, he genuinely cared for you and your well being. But, he knew that you couldn't feel the same because you literally hadn't even met him. And sure, he hadn't formally met you either, but he knew you.

He watched you at work, on your walks around the city. He knew your voice from your conversations with other people. He knew you liked reading and tea and thunderstorms, just like him. He knew you constantly took nightshifts at the theater because your colleagues would always call out last minute. He knew you were free to do whatever you wanted on Tuesdays, not even picking up your supervisor’s calls on those days. But most importantly, he knew how much you loved your terrace. And he’s watched it develop now over time, it accumulating a little couch, some bean bag chairs, even fairy lights now lined the awning.

And yes, he was aware that all of this was super weird and if you ever actually formally met him, you would probably scream and call the cops. But, that didn't stop Chan from falling completely head over heels with you.

Even though he knew you would never love him.

• • •

Second to sitting on your terrace, you’d have to say you loved your days off. Which usually consisted of sitting on your terrace but still, you considered them separate entities.

Specifically, Tuesdays were your favorite because your manager was aware you would not be receiving any calls from her to come fill in. Tuesdays were your day to recuperate from Mondays and help you get through the rest of the week.

Today was your beloved Tuesday and you went on a bit of a shopping spree. After working consecutive double shifts the last two weeks, you had some extra money after paying bills and buying your necessities. So naturally, you decided to treat yourself. 

You didn't go crazy, only getting a few things. Some cute new outfits and a nice dinner to bring home because you were a bit of a lone wolf and definitely wasn't going to sit at a restaurant by yourself like a loser.

With your bags in hand, you opted for the bus since you didn't want to have to lug everything all the way home on foot.

“Huh, someones treating herself today.” The bus driver chuckled as you got on, noticing all your bags. You’ve come to know your usual bus driver quite well, as he’s come to know you.

“All those late night double shifts gotta count for something right?” You chuckled along with him, sitting down in the front seat to continue light conversation with him. 

The drive ended quickly and soon enough you were saying goodbye and getting of the bus, beginning your trek to your apartment building.

It was nearing dusk already, and you didn't want your food getting cold so you walked faster than usual.

But just as your apartment building came into view, a large hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the dark alleyways you passed everyday without a second thought.

You dropped your bags and were thrown against the alley’s exterior wall. A sound of surprise and fear leaving the back of your throat upon impact.

“Now that’s a lot of bags you got there, huh sweetheart?” The older man chuckled darkly. You felt tears beginning to spill out of your eyes and stream down your cheeks. Everything happening so fast. You were panicking. Your brain told you to offer your bags and beg the man to let you go, but you couldn't formulate any words. 

You could only cry out pathetic whimpers in complete desperation.

But just as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, his body began to convulse and he fell to the ground with a thump, completely unconscious. It was almost like he had been tased. 

Your mind was racing, your heart was racing, your eyes were shut tightly out of fear and your sleeve clad hands covered them. But you knew you had just been saved, right? Or was this possibly another man with ulterior motives? 

Your heart rate accelerated again.

Your vision was blurry due to the tears still apparent in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them with your sleeves and looked up to see your savior standing in front of you. And nothing in this world could have prepared you for who you saw. 

It was him.

“Please tell me you’re okay-”

• • •

Chan’s chest was heaving. The moment he saw that man tug you harshly into that alleyway, he just snapped. He ran in after you, drawing energy from around him as he placed both of his hands flat on the man’s back, sending all of the electricity he could muster through himself and into the man’s body.

He didn't even care if the man was dead or not as he watched his limp form slump onto the ground. All he cared about was you and your safety.

You were his priority.

“Please tell me you’re okay-” He rushed out as he was about to pull you out of the alleyway but you cut him off by immediately collapsing into his chest.

You couldn't handle everything that was happening, couldn’t comprehend it. Your brain was overwhelmed and it just kinda gave out, causing you to pass out. Luckily Chan was there to catch you.

He held you close to him, semi-reeling in the feeling of you in his arms. But he was mostly focused on getting you home. So he picked you up like a princess, held you tighter, and teleported you both to the terrace of your apartment, leaving the body of the man behind in the alleyway.

Upon arriving to your terrace, he opened the sliding glass door, figuring it was unlocked since who locks their terrace doors?

Chan took careful steps, walking you inside and into your living room. He laid you down on your couch, making sure you were flat on your back. He then grabbed a pillow from your bedroom and propped your feet up so they were above your heart level. He didn’t know how long you would be unconscious for so he wanted to be sure your blood would continue circulating properly.

After assessing that you were good for now, Chan took a seat on the chair across from where you now lay on your couch, waiting patiently for you to regain consciousness. 

It didn't take that long for you to finally come to, maybe ten minutes or so. But boy, when you woke up you were already in a panic. And despite Chan wanting to run over and comfort you, he knew that would only stress you out more and he definitely didn't want you to faint again.

You sat up abruptly, a headache immediately washing over you. Your left hand flew to your forehead, a pained groan leaving your lips.

“How are you feeling?” A concerned voice spoke from beside you.

Your head snapped to the right, all the memories of the dark alleyway flooded your head all at once. He was real. That’s all you could manage to think. You thought you would be afraid. Yet here you were... Just staring at the allusive boy you thought you had imagined all this time.

“You’re... you’re real?” You asked out loud, wondering if maybe you hit your head when you passed out and this is another figment of your imagination. Albeit, a very realistic figment of your imagination.

“Well that’s not the reaction I was expecting.” He chuckled, looking slightly confused himself. How was this even possible?

“You- I thought... how-?” You were struggling to find the right words, and Chan could tell you were becoming panicked again.

“I know you probably think I’m a stalker, but it’s not like that I swear.” He rushed out before you could freak out, holding his hands in front of him in defense.

He was right, you did think he was a stalker. But for whatever reason, you didn’t think he would harm you. If fact, you would go as far as saying you knew he wouldn't harm you. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, attempting you calm yourself. In order to figure what exactly was going on here, you need to ask the right questions.

When you opened your eyes finally, he still seemed genuinely concerned, which threw you. Your stare lingered on him for a couple more moments while you actually took in his appearance. 

He was quite handsome. He had on black from head to toe, and he pulled it off well. His jawline was like... chiseled by the Gods. And you found yourself staring at the way it tensed in concern. Which brought you back to your thoughts.

“I thought I made you up.” You finally admitted calmly.

This surprised Chan. He was almost certain you were going to accuse him of being a stalker. But you just sat there, completely unafraid of him. You didn’t even think he was real? Had he really disappeared in front of you so many times that you began to think you imagined him?

“Um... No... No I’m real.” Chan corrected, feeling a bit awkward now. This was not what he had prepped himself for when you woke up. He was planning on dealing with you calling the cops and chasing him out of your house. Not for you to calmly sit in front of him and tell him that all this time you thought he was a figment of your imagination.

“So like... what are you then? Cuz I’m pretty sure you’re not human. No human can just disappear in like five seconds.” You ask, wondering if maybe he was a vampire or something.

Chan had never been more confused in his life. How were you being so calm about this? How could you just calmly ask him what kind of supernatural being he was like that wasn't supposed to be a terrifying thing to be in the presence of? Should he just outright tell you? Would you take it as well as you are right now?

“You are so much more perceptive than I thought you’d be.” Chan sighed, out loud. Your calmness bringing out his clarity, despite how unexpected it was.

“So I’m right? You’re a vampire?” You say, and the slight excitement behind your eyes makes Chan laugh.

“No, definitely not a vampire. But good guess.” He wiped the tear from his left eye, his laughter dying down.

“Well then what are you?” You ask with a slight pout, disappointed you were wrong.

Something about your response gave Chan confidence. Confidence that you weren't going to be deterred so easily. And it’s that confidence that led him to voice his next words.

“I’m a demon.” He said seriously, his eyes running over every one of your facial features to gauge your reaction.

You didn't respond immediately, instead taking time to reflect on what he had just said.

The boy sitting in front of you right now was... a demon? But weren't demons supposed to be inherently evil? Why would he save you from that guy back in the alley then? He couldn’t be evil. He carried you back your place. He propped your feet up with a pillow so your blood would circulated properly while you remained unconscious. He was not evil.

“So you're like... a nice demon?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to sound stupid but this wasn't exactly your area of expertise.

Chan smiled at your words. He has never really put it into words like that but, he supposed you were right. He was a nice demon.

“I mean, I try to be.” He watches you chuckle and his smile widens, the earlier confusion and concern being replaced with the feeling of calm and serenity that normally emanated from you. He suddenly realizes that this is the first conversation he’s ever had with you, the cute little human he fell in love with. And he’s glad he can finally hear your voice speak directly to him, not just hear you talk to other people.

In that moment he’s come over with the sudden need to hear you say his name.

“I’m Chan.” He says softly.

Chan. To be honest you were expecting like ‘Gorgon The Terrible’ but Chan had a nice sound to it. It fit him well, you thought.

“Chan.” You smiled, holding out your hand. “I’m y/n.”

Chan nearly collapses at the sound of his name leaving your lips, your smile evident in your voice. He takes your tiny outstretched hand into his large one and shakes it softly, nearly saying ‘I know’ before deciding that would be super creepy.

From there, he goes into explaining why you see him around everywhere and how he could disappear as quick as he does. You learn that he has the ability to teleport and the ability to manipulate lightning. And you’re honestly flattered when he tells you that he simply found you more fascinating that any other human and that he wanted to make sure you got home safe every night. He even let it slip that he thought you were pretty that first night he saw you, both of you blushing in that moment.

• • •

You find yourself being totally cool with Chan being a demon.

In fact, you two became really close.

You discovered that you had so many things in common. From your love of the city aesthetic and stormy nights to your hatred for crowded places and loud people.

You got along so well, and you enjoyed being around him.

When he finally took you to his place you were stunned. He laughed at how you thought he would have lived in a dark cave or an eerie castle. There were so many misconceptions in your head about demons apparently. 

Eventually, you found yourself more than liking Chan. You had never dated anybody before, never really even felt feelings like this toward someone before. But your stomach did little flips every time he’d smile down at you with that look of complete adoration in his eyes. Every time he would smirk at you from across the table on the days you’d get lunch. They way he’d be leaning against his car when he came to pick you up from work.

You don’t know how he managed to look good literally always. Even in the morning when he’d pick you up to go get breakfast, he would somehow look completely put together in just sweatpants and a t-shirt.

And he was just so affectionate. You loved how he’d gently place his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the stairs of your apartment building. You loved how he would play with your hair and gently sing you to sleep when you were feeling restless, telling you that anytime you couldn't sleep, all you had to do was text him and he would immediately teleport to your side. You loved that made you feel safe.

Fuck... you loved him.

• • •

Chan knew you had started feeling more than friendship for him. He may not be telepathic, but he could sense the shift in your demeanor towards him.

Now, he didn't know exactly how strong the feelings were, but he definitely knew they were there. And he’d be lying if he said he didn't want to explore them.

Currently, you sat on his couch watching anime, the plushie he bought for you cradled loosely in your arms. It was a Tuesday, a day that you used to say was your favorite because you had it to yourself. Now, you said it was your favorite because you got to spend the day with him.

You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, his blue one. Probably his only colored one, but he absolutely adored how you looked in it. It was basically a dress on you, but he liked it that way.

He was silently admiring you from where he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Your shorts were hiding under the length of his sweatshirt, leaving your legs exposed. You had these little fuzzy socks on, the same ones you were wearing the night he first saw you, and your day old curls fell loosely just above your shoulders.

You were a little bundle of cuteness to Chan. His little bundle of cuteness.

And there was something in that moment that filled him with a sudden confidence.

He pushed himself off of the door frame and took swift long strides to your position on his couch. You looked away from the tv when you saw him come in, not expecting him to rest both his hands on the back of the couch on either side of your head, leaning down so his face was mere inches from yours. 

You leaned back further, but Chan followed your movements. Your cheeks were heating up the longer he stared at you. You knew he could see your cheeks getting pinker. Hell, from this close, he could probably feel the heat radiating off your face. 

“W-what are you doing?” You silently chided yourself for stuttering, not wanting to make it obvious how nervous he made you.

“You know you’re mine, right?” He suddenly said, a smirk coming to grace his lips. You made the mistake of glancing down at the way the one side tugged upwards, before bringing your gaze back up to his. His smirk deepened, his own eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

You watched him start leaning in, ever so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer and closer. Your eyes followed his movements until his lips were almost touching yours, then they fell shut in anticipation. 

But his lips didn't meet yours. Instead, they met your ear.

“You didn’t answer me, babygirl.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to control how fast your heart was beating right now.

“W-what?” You asked quietly, not remembering what question he asked.

“I said you know you’re mine, right?” Chan pulled back slightly to catch your gaze, noticing the blush forming on your cheeks. He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to devour you right then and there. 

But he needed to hear you say it first.

“You’re mine, y/n. No one else’s.” He continued, his voice becoming more serious now. “You know that, right?”

You couldn't help but nod, you knew he was right. You were his. You were absolutely his and his only. You wouldn't give yourself to anyone else, wouldn't love anyone the way you loved him. There was only him for you, only Chan.

“I need to hear you say it, babygirl.” Chan closed his eyes and he let out a sigh, holding himself back until the words he was looking for left those pretty lips of yours.

Everything about him was tempting, and you really wanted this go were it was heading despite your nerves. Because... You really did love this demon. 

“I’m yours, Chan.”

Immediately his lips were on yours.

Your lips moved hesitantly but in sync with his, your nerves being apparent. But you couldn't possibly want this anymore than you already did.

Chan could sense your nerves, knowing fully well that this was going to be your first time with someone. But he was going to make you feel the best you've ever felt.

Chan gently pushed you down on the couch, your back laying against the soft cushions while he hovered over you. One of his hands found purchase at your waist while the other softly cradled your face, his lips moving at a slow but sensual pace. Your heart swelled in your chest at how gentle and loving he was being with you, as you slid your arms around his neck.

His tongue carefully slipped past your lips, a quiet gasp escaping them. Chan smirked into to the kiss, his tongue caressing yours.

He moved in between your legs, his hands slowly sliding down your body and finding the backs of your knees. He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, loving the way you obeyed and locked your ankles around him.

His hands then move to your hips as he slowly grinds his against yours. His firm grip prevents you from being able to move yours with his. You get the idea, realizing that he doesn't want you doing any work tonight. He wants to be in complete control.

His lips part from yours, your chest heaving. He doesn't stop though, he continues dragging his soft lips gently across your jawline, down the expanse of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on the skin there. Chan pulled the collar of his sweatshirt on you down so he could drag his teeth across your collar bone biting down slightly, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

“That was beautiful, love. Do it again.” Chan bit down again, another whimper leaving your lips. He continued this, being fueled by the sounds that spilled out of your mouth, until your neck was littered in hickeys. Chan ran his tongue along the marks he made, pulling back to admire them.

“All mine.” You heard him say under his breath, his hands coming to grip the bottom of your sweatshirt. His eyes found yours, looking for any sort of opposition in them. After finding none, he pulled the material up and over your head, revealing the white lace bra you wore underneath. He dropped down to continue leaving kisses all over your chest, his hips still maintaining their slow grinding motion against your core.

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want Chan to just take you to his bedroom already. You needed him, more than you’ve ever needed him before.

“Chan~” You begged, your voice sounding foreign to you. You’ve never sounded this needy before.

Chan thrived on how needy you sounded. His name leaving your lips like that is all he wanted to hear tonight.

“Are you sure, babygirl?” He asked for confirmation, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You nodded, but Chan gave you a look, prompting you to voice your answer with a soft “please.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Without another word, Chan picked you up from the couch. He carried you to his bedroom, his eyes never breaking contact with yours as he laid you down on his bed.

He lifted his shift up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor before climbing onto the bed on top of you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He admitted in a breath, watching as your hands came up to touch his chest but stopped just before you could make contact.

“Can I touch you?” You asked him, his heart melting at how little you looked sprawled out underneath him like this. So small, so innocent.

“Of course you can, babygirl.” Chan smiled, loving the sound of your voice. Loving even more the feeling of your hands when they finally met his skin, running down his chest and incredibly toned torso. 

Chan’s eyes closed and his head hung down slightly. He just wanted to rip your shorts off and fuck you into the mattress but he couldn't, he needed to take things slow, guide his babygirl through her first time.

Chan’s eyes opened and he let out a breath, sliding his hands underneath you to unclip your bra. He threw it to the side, leaning down to press a kiss to each of your breasts before continuing on down your stomach. 

His lips stopped at the waistband of your shorts, pausing to pull them down your legs, dropping them onto the pile of clothes forming on the floor. He smiles at your white lace panties, the little bow on them causing a deep chuckle to leave his chest.

“What?” You asked, confused as to why he’s laughing.

“Nothing, you’re just cute.” Chan runs his hands up your thighs, taking your panties with his index finger and pulling them down and off of you, leaving you completely bare to him.

Before you have a chance to feel any feelings of self consciousness, Chan slips a finger into your already dripping core.

“Look at you, babygirl. We’ve barely even started and you’re already so wet for me.” Your head falls back, a loud moan escaping your lips. Immediately you bit down on your bottom lip in attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Ah ah, love. None of that.” Chan chided with a smirk, his finger now moving at a steady pace inside you. He wanted to hear every sound you could possibly make tonight. You let go of your lip, moaning out loud again. 

“Thatta girl.” He cooed, adding another finger, stretching your walls out for him. He kept it rather slow but steady, scissoring his fingers at times. He wanted you fully prepped, not wanting it to be too painful. Even though he knew that was going to be inevitable.

There was a coil in your stomach and you could feel it tightening the faster his fingers moved. You had only ever touched yourself before but it felt nothing like this. But before the coil could tighten any further, Chan pulled his fingers out of you.

The prettiest whine left your mouth at the loss of contact, Chan’s dick was impossibly hard at the sight of you already so fucked out and needy because of him.

“Are you ready, love?” Chan was beyond ready, but he was giving you a chance to back out now.

“Yes, Chan please~”

In a second, Chan’s sweatpants and boxers were off. 

He hovered over you, his hard on in one hand and his other resting by your head, positioning himself at your entrance. After one last look to make sure you were 100% okay, he pushed himself inside you, going slow to let you adjust. He groans and you moan, your eyes closed and your head falling backwards. The pain was definitely there, but for some reason it only added to the pleasure. The feeling was overwhelming and you couldn't stop the few tears the fell from your closed eyes.

Chan leaned down and kissed away the few tears that fell, whispering words of comfort and praise into your skin.

After you finally adjusted, you asked him to move. Quickly, he obliged, pulling out of you and pushing back in just as slow. This time it felt different, the pain subsided, the pleasure outshining the pain. He continued this, pulling out and pushing back into your sopping wet heat. 

The feeling of you around him was something Chan couldn't compare to anything else. Everything about you engulfed him, everything about you was perfect. And now you were his. Finally, officially his.

“Oh my god, Chan.” You moaned out breathily. His cock inside you hitting a spot you didn't know existed. Your head fell to the side, your mind going fuzzy. You’ve never felt this much pleasure before. And although it was overwhelming, it also felt really fucking good.

Chan’s pace picked up, knowing that the painful part was over. Now was his time to make you feel the greatest you've ever felt. One hand gripped your hip while the other rested on his elbow next to your head.

His groans were like music to your ears, pushing you further towards the edge. The sounds that came from where you were connected were lewd enough to bring a blush to your face, catching Chan’s attention.

“Is my babygirl blushing?” Chan’s wide smile contrasted with his lewd actions below.

“Shut up~” You whined, but it quickly turned into a moan as Chan hit that spot again. Hitting it consistently now, your hands grabbed his shoulders, needing something to keep you grounded, keep you sane.

Chan buried his face into your neck, muffling his own sounds as he pounded into you. You were on the brink of climax, you could feel it. And it was an incredible feeling.

Your whole body became hyperaware, aware of his death grip on your hip, aware of his breathing on your neck, aware of his cock bottoming out inside you with every thrust. 

Suddenly you felt Chan’s grip on your hip lift and instead his hand slid down to your clit, rubbing fast circles into the sensitive bud.

Your body began shaking and you had to warn him, but the words were caught amidst the pleasure.

“Chan I-I” “I know, babygirl. Cum for me.”

Immediately you came, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. You cried out Chan’s name in a repeated mantra like you were praying to him. It was easily the greatest feeling you have ever felt ever. Chan followed after you, releasing his load inside you with a groan of your name.

Chan rode out both of your highs, pressing his thumb down onto your clit to prolong yours a little more. 

Chan watched you come undone underneath him, in complete awe. Never in his life had he seen a sight as beautiful as you, so fucked out, so spent. Your hair lay messily against his mattress, some strands sticking to your forehead. Your neck and chest were littered in his pink and purple marks, your bottom lip swollen from biting it so much.

You were a masterpiece.

Chan collapsed beside you, his chest heaving. You curled up into his side, Chan pulling you even closer, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, Chan.” You sighed, feeling complete next to him.

“I love you more, babygirl.” He smiled to himself. Everything Chan’s ever wanted was curled up in his arms right now.

“We should get you cleaned up, love.” He pointed out, moving to stand. But you pulled him back down, resting your head on his chest.

“After a nap?” You nuzzled your head further into Chan, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“Alright, after a nap.” Chan chuckled, running his fingers through your hair and humming softly.

And with that, you fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

• • •

A/N: OH LOOK IT’S HERE PLZ ENJOY LMAO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.

[thetorturerwrites]

Puer Deus: Reputation

This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @faestae-writes​. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

***

Captured / Hurricane / Sustenance / Liar / Scars / Proof / Strings

Summary:  All manner of trouble

A/N:  18+ only.  Physical violence; sadism; references to abuse; smut

Word Count: 4.5k

Day Eight

You were back in Ren’s room for all of five minutes when the cycle shifted from day to night.  You’d lost an entire day to his diabolical plans, and you were exhausted to the bone. Hux had chided you about your nearly-crawling pace, and you’d contemplated stabbing him right there in the hall; but finally, you slumped across the threshold into what your heart kicked up as “home.”

Tension and disgust kept you from crawling into the bed. You knew your brain would loop this day, searing the way he’d looked at you into the gray matter until you wore a constant mask of mottled need.  You sunk down in the very center of the room, huddled in on yourself, and stared at the imbrued floor. You were beyond pain and tears, mired in this quagmire of hate and hunger.

He had humiliated you, wholly stripped you of all humanity and personhood.  And you had all but begged him for more. 

Under his sheer dehumanization, your body had been charged, technicolor and dynamic.  Ren had systematically consumed every part of you, continuously conjuring up new ways to crucify you to feed his black need.  And at every turn, you had given him the anguish he craved; you had yet to deny him exactly what he wanted.

Would you ever be able to deny him?

Pressing the heels of your hands into weary eye sockets, you leaned forward over crossed legs, bent in half from the burden of your inner war. You weren’t sure you could live with the creature he was unearthing, but you weren’t sure you could live without the feelings he evoked, without him.

Moments later, Ren stepped through the door, flushed red and heaving.  His eyes were furious and frantic, and you scrambled away, putting distance between you and the raving lunatic he looked to be.  

“Supreme Leader,” Hux’s voice crackled through the commlink. “The rebels have launched an attack, Sir.  The Supremacy has been compromised. We have lost the starboard side entirely.”

Ren’s gaze settled upon you and darkened immeasurably.  Teeth gnashing and erupting with a snarl, he crossed the room in three strides and hauled you into his arms. The warmth that had been building in your heart evaporated, escaping through your lungs on stuttered breath. 

You cried out and turned your gaze to the floor, the heat of his breath scorching your red cheek. You knew there was no placating him like this.  This was the Kylo Ren who would beat you for insolence, batter your body for daring to patronize him with any hint of gentle persuasion.

“Get command to the Steadfast,” he replied through his commlink. “I will be at the Night Buzzard and will rendez-vous with you there.”

Angry digits dug into your upper arms so fiercely you could feel your pulse hammering in your fingertips.  He had you lifted so high your toes barely scraped the dirty floor, and you clung to his shoulders, trying not to hang like a limp doll.

You could feel it, the accusation rolling off of him like steam, causing the very air around you to fluctuate and waver.  When had you come to know the different shades of his rage? You shook your head wildly because whatever he was about to say, you certainly hadn’t been able to do it.

“Yes, you fucking did.”

He was nose-to-nose, and his absolute disdain for you was crushing.  After everything you’d suffered at his hands, everything you’d endured for him, he still hated you, still regarded you as an object to be used and crushed, and it sucked the light from your soul.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

He passed his quaking hand over your face, stretched his great power into your cerebellum, and forced you into the inky void.

You dreamed of vast, blue skies and the sunlight on your face.  It was bright and crisp and vibrant. You turned into the wind and inhaled the deep, clean, briskness of it, feeling the wispy tendrils curl around your neck and shoulders.  You stretched up into the warmth, feeling the ache in your bones and joints ease, the tightness in your neck and back loosen, and the constriction of your ribs and lungs lessen under the blissful perfection of nature.

You lifted your face into a smattering of afternoon clouds, feeling free and weightless. No more walls. No more silent vacuum of space.  No more blinding, false light. This was life without Santcha, without your Master, without Ren. It was open and lustrous and beautiful.

And it wasn’t real.

As your senses came back into alignment, you smelled rust-tinged air mixing with the heavy remnants of oil and grease.  Instead of balmy sunlight, you felt only cold, recycled, stagnant output regulating the temperature. Curling fingers into the rough sheets where you’d dreamed freedom had been, you buried your face into the pillow and wept.

You weren’t free.  The universe had simply wrenched you from one sphere of suffering and delivered you to another. The only difference was that Ren made you respond in ways you never thought possible.  He was unique in his ability to make you want to suffer. But you were still his captive, his property, and he would never let you go.

“Quiet now,” the dulcet tone of his voice drew you further awake. “Sit up.”

You didn’t want to open your eyes upon this palpable, metal hell, but you complied, shifting so that you were facing him as he crouched at the foot of the dismal bed. You recognized the pattern playing out and didn’t object when he pushed a warm cup into your hands.  

He’d brutalized you yesterday; today, he would put you back together, mend the madness he'd rained upon you. 

“Your weapon,” he urged, turning his palm up to your lips.

Silent, you reached down to your thigh and the last swatch of surgical tape on your body.  Peeling the corner away, you uncovered the little scalpel blade hidden snug against the puckered skin.  You weren’t stupid enough to sleep with it in your mouth, but you hadn’t had any time to actually sleep before he burst in.

Ren huffed on an entertained smirk and tossed the blade away, reaching down to peel off that last strip of tape.  Over the last 2 days, you’d been discarding remnants as they frayed, but he’d been too busy dismantling you to notice.  

Your mostly-healed scars still looked fresh and bright, and he slid his fingers over the largest tracks, eyes lingering on the raised edges.

Ignoring the way he studied you and the gooseflesh his grazes produced, you sniffed the warm liquid questioningly.  You knew better than to object and swallowed down the soup, your upper lip curling at the stale, bland taste. When you finished one, he pushed a second into your hands, followed by a large cup of water. You hadn’t had solid food in two days, and he seemed to recall the doctor’s order that you not have it for at least 24 hours.

He didn’t speak, and the distorted closeness felt awkward, wrong.  He was doting on you like a partner, but you recalled the utter hatred he leveled at you earlier and the deep well of longing in your heart for the sunlight in your dreams.  Brow furrowed, you pushed his hands away and leaned out of his reach, preferring to brood alone.

Having never cared for what you wanted, Ren ignored the pained look on your face, discarded his light trousers, and sunk into the small mattress.  You were immediately crowded by his commanding frame and, unnerved, moved to escape his purview.

Too near his imposing incandescence, you would certainly burst aflame and beg for his touch.

You weren’t quick enough, however; and he slid a rigid arm around your middle, tugged you up into his lap, and mouthed at your jaw.  Fortified and fed, you tensed and worked to twist out of his control.

If he wanted to hate you, you wouldn’t argue, but you wouldn’t pretend to be his docile, doting slave.

“Time to be useful, puppet.”

His hold tightened at your curse and subsequent squirming, and you scratched at his arm, trying to contort your body into some strange shape that would jar his grip loose so you could crawl away.  You’d never felt so worthless in his captivity as being reduced to “useful.”

Ren pulled you back into the hard pillar of his chest, biting into your shoulder until you yelped and stopped fighting.  He was solid and strong, uncompromising and exacting, and you wondered when his unhinged demands started to feel safe. He brushed his nose into your hair, lips right at the shell of your ear, and he melted your resolve with that sensual inflection.

“You can sit; or, you can swallow, but I’m going to be inside you.”

His vulgar words set your core to clenching, and the idea of him burying himself into your body again socked you in the gut.  You yearned for that version of him, vibrant with the pleasure he found in you, and the satisfaction you’d seen in his features for just a moment. You ached for that feeling when you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, when pain and pleasure bled together.

You told yourself that you didn’t want to be that person, that whore, for him.  You wanted your autonomy, to make your own decisions and to live a free life away from ruthless men.  

He held you, stroking your stomach and dipping his finger into your belly button, while he waited, listening as your struggle unfolded.

You sagged against him, eyes closing in resignation.  Your body and your brain wanted very different things.

Forcing your jaw to relax, you shifted onto your knees and turned to face the demanding deity who now invaded your every waking moment.  You let your eyes roam his perfect arms, abs, hips, thighs, cock, trying to decide which part of yourself to sacrifice. 

If you gave him your face, maybe he’d blow out the bastard vocoder, and you’d drift back into blessed silence.  But if you gave him your pussy, he would definitely demolish any resistance lingering in your brain.

He reached for you, intent upon ending the debate, but you brushed his hand away and moved to kneel between his legs. You forced yourself to meet his dark, eager eyes, blatantly ignoring his standing, straining, far-too-pretty cock.

Raising an eyebrow, you nudged his knees apart wider by spreading your own and relished the quick intake of his breath.  You told yourself it was because you needed the balance, he needed to know how it fucking felt, and you needed him to not kick you or asphyxiate you with his thighs.

A satisfied rumble descended from on high as you bent forward, pressing your nose and lips into his bruised thigh, and you knew that the curve of your ass was the highest point of your body in this position.  

You inhaled the musky aroma of his skin and hummed against the fuzzy patch of hair.  Your eyes danced behind closed lids as you remembered the soft, colored flesh in your mouth and the way he’d looked down at you, ravenous himself and pleased with your hunger. Your hips loosened and your pussy warmed, readying to accept him.

Something started to tingle inside your belly, and you angrily shook it away. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go. 

You were waiting for him to thread demanding fingers into your hair, to lift your face and force you down onto his weeping dick, to take away your complicity in this act.  If he took it from you, as he had been doing for days, you could pretend that you didn’t want this.

But none of those things happened. He was silent and still, and you glanced up at him, irritated and troubled and uncertain.

“You’ve caused all manner of trouble, puppet." 

His voice was smooth, and he tapped your lower lip on every single word.  

“Show me you’re sorry.”

You snorted, anger suffusing your nose, ears, cheeks.  Shot up onto your knees, you completely abandoned what he’d instructed you to do because you had done no such fucking thing.  You’d spent mere moments in his room on the Supremacy; and, then, you’d been in this hole, right here, unconscious for what was likely hours. 

“When, exactly, did I have time to cause trouble?”

You practically shouted it, and the smug grin that played at the corners of his mouth only enraged you further.  He didn’t move to quash your tirade, though, and you jabbed a finger at him, losing your composure entirely at his amusement. 

You knew his condescension stemmed from the sound of your voice, modulated, just the right pitch, and fully on display.

“I’ve been here, blacked out by your own fucking hand.  Before that, I was pinned down to a surgical table while you had your blasted doctor force things into my body.”  

You jumped off the bed entirely, standing alongside his crooked, relaxed knee and positively fuming at the calm, arrogant look on his beautiful, infuriating face.

“And before that, I was unconscious because you slit me open from chin to toes.  So, Commander,” you spit the word out as though it was poison, “when have I made all of this trouble? Or would you like me to go back farther than the last three fucking days?”

Ren sat up slowly, and the absolute animosity in his eyes pushed you a step back, your ire faltering.  He slid from the bed, unfurling like a great, storied behemoth, and stalked forward at you. You held out a hand, but you didn’t know if it was to stop him or to touch him.

Unclothed, he looked even more deadly as there was no fabric, no weapon to draw away your stare, and every rippling, taut muscle was an exhibit in transcendence.  

He was what men aspired to be, godlike and mesmerizing.

If he killed you now, it would be the pinnacle of intimacy with nothing between his raw aggression and your abject fear. He would press his naked form against you and surely end your life by sucking the very marrow from your bones.

He was every inch the infernal predator, and you were the prey that just pissed him off. 

“Yesterday,” he sneered, “You threatened to murder Supreme Leader Snoke.”

Your mouth dried out completely, snapping shut with a clatter because you couldn’t argue.  In your rage and fright, you had absolutely threatened to murder Snoke and everyone on board the ship, and it was clear from Ren’s response that Snoke had heard you.  

Terror flooded your veins, pushed out all the blood that was supposed to be there and replaced it with adrenaline.  Your mind screamed at you to run, now, get away, but your body could only slink further back into the room, sweating and twitching.

“Before that,” he reached out, wrapped his giant hand around your throat, and drew you in close, tightening his ritual noose until you gulped and wheezed, “You wounded me in battle.”

You could feel the delicate bones bowing to his snapping grip, and you clawed at his arm.  Surely, Ren’s patience had run out. You had done all of those things and more.  

Just today, you had denied him the feel of your mouth, your body, and you shouted at him, challenged him, in front of the Knights of Ren, his troupe.  Animosity had so clouded your judgment that you’d shucked off every bit of common sense and self-preservation.

You could not possibly be more stupid.

“Shall I go back farther than the last three fucking days, puppet?”

You paled, remembering that he’d caught you trying to escape the day before that, and shook your head in defeat.  His fingernails cut into the tender flesh of your neck, and you whimpered, standing onto your toes in a vain attempt to lessen his grip.  Your lips drew into a tight line, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to whatever punishment he would inflict.

Maybe you did deserve it.

Ren shoved you away, and you collapsed into a pitiable heap on the dirty floor.  Tears sprang to your eyes because the internal conflict was never going to end. You were flooded with shame that he was disappointed in you and fuming that you fucking cared to begin with.  This contention inside your own body was becoming unbearable, and you were so incredibly tired. 

It was all too much.

Snoke surely wanted your head, and Ren would have no choice but to deliver you to the slaughter.  Just days ago, you had been ready to die, but that had been for Ren, not Snoke. Your lips would hardly work, the emotion bubbling over and shunting your idiotic bravery.

Kylo, I can’t do this anymore….

He looked down at you, eyes dark and haunted; and even though you knew he was incapable of feeling or compassion, you lifted pleading eyes to his.  There truly was no going back, and the way forward had just been shut to you. Snoke would hunt you. He would send the Knights of Ren, and their Master, to hunt you.

You only needed a day's headstart.  Just long enough to find a tall cliff or a blaster.

Could you convince him? 

“Please, Kylo,” your voice quaked, “Please, let me go.  Or make all of this go away.”

But what you were begging for was for him to make you go away.  To end this seemingly ceaseless back-and-forth between acceptance and survival. Your torso punched low to the ground, and you erupted into broken, wretched sobs.

“I just can’t.”  You whispered as he crouched down silently and lifted your face.  You shook your head from his touch. 

“This isn’t me,” you rallied and shouted, “You’ve taken everything! There isn’t anything else. Just let me go. Let me go or kill me.”

There was something else, another possibility dancing just beyond your trepidation.  You knew that he saw it, but you still weren’t ready to take that leap, to let the beast out of the mirror and allow her to consume you, to burn away the parts of you that weren’t his.  

Ren’s strong arms gathered you up, caging your shuddering sorrow and caressing your neck while you cried.  He smoothed down your hair and rubbed the length of your back, murmuring into your pulse that you needed to take a breath and then another and then one more.

His very demeanor was disarming, and you felt the fight ebbing out of every single pore. Resenting the ease with which he placated you, you clenched your fists again and batted at his chest, shifting and pulling away.  Lifting puffy, red eyes, you glared at him, willing there to be more malice in your gaze than there was in your heart.

“No,” your voice was all harsh edges and angst.  “You don’t get to be nice now.” 

You twisted in his arms, kicking at his shins, but he only held you tighter, his arms a vice around your middle.  You sniffled and sobbed and tried to not let your anger die away. You needed it now more than you needed to breathe.  It was the only thing that was yours, the only thing you had left.

“You’re not capable of being nice.  You’re a monster.”

Ren dipped his face to yours and traced the curve of your chin with his lips. When you abandoned your bitter tirade, he slid long fingers up the column of your throat and squeezed, the way you’d asked him to yesterday.  He turned your face so you had to look up at him with your shining, crestfallen eyes.

“Dammit, Kylo,” your lips trembled, the false voice he'd given you cracking with feeling, “I need you to be a monster.”

“Stop,” Ren shushed you, lifting his hand to your mouth and sliding his thumb in to hook at your teeth.  

The gesture, unique to you and he in all the Galaxy, silenced you, and he held tight to your throat as though to punctuate the notion that, in this moment, there was only you and him. 

You sniffled and pushed against his broad shoulders, but he didn’t chastise you further. He tugged you in by the jaw and nudged his nose through your tears.

“The Supreme Leader isn’t coming for you,” he crooned against your temple, "I killed him for daring to take what is mine." 

Your whole body went rigid at his admission, and you blinked, too shocked to speak. He stroked your hip soothingly, but you felt strung too tight. This knowledge should have eased you, but something was settling in your mind that you hadn’t considered before.  

Kylo Ren would never let you go.

Because he couldn’t.

“I will not make this go away,” he cupped your cheek and dipped his face down to press a kiss to the thumping heartbeat under his thumb. “You were made to suffer for me."

You sucked in a pained breath, caught between a gasp and a sob.  The kernel of realization was spreading, growing by the second, and you were drowning, keening, lost to the implications of it. It raised your panic and your longing at the same time and shot through your body like lightning. 

"You want me to break you, puppet."

He clutched at your back, obscuring all the world around him and folding you into his darkness. 

"Almost as much as I want to break you." 

There it was.

Ren came alive when he was hurting you. He spread out into the universe like it was meant for him, just waiting for him to conquer the very stars.  But only when you were bleeding and crying at his feet.  

This was not the same man you first met a week ago. Gone was the unconquerable rage and tantrum, the explosion of too much turmoil. Gone, too, was the leash that held Ren's potential in check.

The man before you was calculatingly cruel with clear intent. His viciousness was purposeful, and he existed without boundaries, without limitations. He had entirely cast off all inhibition and conscience.

Kylo Ren was now the most skilled, destructive, horrible weapon in the Galaxy. 

And you were his whetstone. 

“The next time I hurt you,” he licked at your earlobe and whispered, “It will be because you begged me for it."

The gavel crashed down, and all you could hear was the rushing of your blood.  He’d cemented it, practically carved it into your skin.  

He would chase you into oblivion because you were the only thing that made him feel alive. This whirlwind of terror and feeling you existed in together was the only thing that ignited fire in him.

And you would let him.

You would worship your Child God in any and every bloody way he wanted because he was the only thing that made you feel alive.

It was only a matter of time.

You dissolved into tears all over again, collapsing against all of his unyielding and letting him wrap you up into that otherworldly embrace.  He tucked you against his heart, rocking you from side to side and soothing you with his steady pulse. He pressed his lips into your temple and murmured there that you were so pretty when you cried.

You couldn’t stop the sobbing now for anything, so complete was your heartbreak. 

You mourned blue and purple skies, pink-tinted sunrises, and twinkling sunsets; rushing, clean water and a rainbow of flowers; the frenetic disarray of the workshop and the tools you had been collecting for years that you would never see again. You lamented that you would likely never again be able to set yourself to a task, to fixing a broken thing, and see it finished and made whole.

You would only ever be the broken thing.

Most of all, you grieved for yourself. Because you knew that you would relent.  You would give him what he wanted because the part of you straining to belong to him was expanding by the hour.  Soon, she would be strong enough, and your freedom would be gone. You would let him defile you day after day.

“You will ask me,” he instructed, tipping your face up to taste your tears on a kiss, “and I will drown you in the clearest water I can find.”

You whimpered against his mouth and curled fingers into his dark tresses. He chased the sound away with a nip to your lower lip, licking at the quiver. He purred at you like a lover, and you wondered if this was pillowtalk for a man whose base language was violence.

“I will make you bleed on forest floors, and I will listen to your screams echo off of mountains.”

His warm breath mingled with yours, lips barely touching, as he coaxed the tip of your tongue up to touch his before canting your head to one side and kissing you so deep you forgot to breathe. He licked at your teeth and sucked on your tongue.

“And I will fuck you so hard the only name you remember is mine,” his voice was lower, all gravel and demand and lust. 

“You just have to ask me, puppet.”

Teeming with uneasy arousal, your body flushed in response to his words, to the conviction with which he said them. You lifted onto your toes to better receive his kisses, and he hummed in satisfaction against your mouth.  

It was as though he had promised you moonlight, paradise, babies, and your heart responded to each threat as though they were professions of love. He knew your fears and was trying to assuage them, to paint you a pretty picture so you would give in to him. 

You knew this wasn’t love.  Neither of you were capable of such a fanciful notion.  This was obsession, and it would likely be just as fleeting. But it would be absolute.

“Stop crying,” he said into your neck, molding the length of your body to his.

Ren slid your limbs around his body in that familiar way, and you squeezed at his sides when he lifted you. You buried your face into his neck, shaking silently and trying to obey, to get yourself collected.  

The war inside of you wasn’t over, and you hadn’t gained any ground today.  But you understood the battlefield better than you ever had before.

Crawling into the little bed with you, he shifted you so that you were lying beside him, your tight, anxious back pressed into his calm, steady torso. He slid an arm around your rib cage, tucked his hot hand in at your breast, and snuggled his erection between your buttocks.

You clutched at his arm, sniffling and fighting adrenaline tremors. 

Ren nuzzled the back of your neck, and you marveled at how today was so much different than yesterday.  You’d just begged this man, this monster, to end your life, to rise up to his reputation. Instead, he had weaponized kindness and thrown you entirely off kilter, to the point where you were entertaining his offers to persecute you throughout the Galaxy.

“Sleep,” he commanded, his voice almost gentle. “We’ll be there by morning.”

[outroshooky]

Swim In Your Divine

⇢ genre: drabble (hogwarts!au, slytherinjimin!au, gryffindorreader!au) (fluff)

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: this is tooth-rottingly fluffy with a touch of angst; there’s brief swearing

⇢  a/n: i’ve wanted to write slytherin jimin for months now, but inspiration is a fickle bitch. i stared at my laptop for maybe an hour tonight, and all of a sudden  words came pouring out. to anyone right now who is on the verge of something unknown, who is doubting themselves and their abilities and feeling as though the world may very well come crashing down at any moment- this is for you. i hope, from my heart to yours, that it brings you comfort, even if only just for a moment.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breath soft on your temple, steady in its beat, paced.

It’s dark in the round room, a single window allowing a block of moonlight to cut across stone tile, fractured in its age. It’s a cloudless night and the sister planet sings her silvery praises across the mountains that arch over the foundations of the castle, keeping her snug and warm in their embrace. Lately, however, it is as if they do not cradle but cage, for better or worse, from the outside world.

For war, war is coming.

It beats in the very thrum of your blood, in the keenness of your senses.

Something is about to happen.

Something that has the potential to be catastrophic, to tip the hourglass that has so carefully held the sands of destiny, slipping by grain by grain into place, exactly where they’re meant to be. The glass walls were shattered on the night that the wizarding world was changed forever, tilted on its axis by the boy with fate incarnate cut in a bolt scar across the breadth of his forehead. They were put back together with the passage of time, tension draining out of the world’s own shoulders as she too adjusted to change.

Change. A force that, on its own, has the power to shift tides. She waxes and wanes, pushes and pulls with her own mind, and it can feel as though we are completely alone, forced to rock back and forth at the mercy of an unseen higher power. We grab at the walls of our measly little dinghy and we are reminded of our place in the universe. How, in the grand scheme of time and the flow of the cosmos, the predicament that occupies our waking hours and haunts the landscape of our dreams is merely a ripple in the flood. A stone may skip across the water, even fall face-first and sink to the bottom, but with a second or two, the undulations slow, taking pause until the next rock finds itself skimmed along the great river. It is like this that we are borne along the current of life, sometimes in control of the pace, sometimes clutching for the sides of the boat with every ounce of power in us.

Your head rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing, your ear resting comfortably above the constant, never failing drumbeat that is the pattern of life. One of his hands is loosely interlocked with yours, the other occupied with gentle caresses of your hip, your side- touches he needs not open his eyes for, because he knows your curves and your edges as well as he knows the flecked wood of his own wand.

Sometimes, our boat is spun in circles on the great tides. The water rushes and roars in our ears and below our pathetic little craft, threatening to spit and choke and overwhelm the sides. Like leaves we are caught in the eddies, but like leaves, we slip over the top of one current, spill into another, and then we are borne along our way just as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. It’s okay to go in circles, even if you need to rest for a while. It will not consume you forever.

Your frame is warm against his, the only blanket he needs. He’s in casual wear, the low cut of his shirt exposing honey-gold skin, and it’s here that you bury your face, nose the column of his neck. You could connect constellations with the freckles that dot his chest, run your knuckle along his throat to marvel at the radiance of him in simplistic, unadulterated adoration. He is beautiful, so beautiful that it hurts to think, to move, to breathe, to do anything other than savor this moment with him, the moonlight kissing the toes of your socked feet. You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, breathe deep the delicate notes of his body wash, but even with a faintly musky distraction, your mind still wanders. It lingers near the entrance to a shadowed labyrinth, trees of shade spearing a sickening inky-black twilight, and it is as if he can feel your internal trepidation through the way you shift against him. He hums, gritty and thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late,” you murmur, fingers sliding up his wrist to trace his forearm. “If we’re caught up here, Snape will string me up on his dungeon wall, right next to the newts we’re supposed to be skinning on Tuesday.”

Jimin chuckles softly, brushing your forehead with lips as delicate as falling petals. “Well, you’re lucky that you’re up here with me. He likes me too much to actually bother with giving me detention.”

“Speak for yourself, mister Slytherin prefect.” You curl into Jimin, legs slung across his thigh. “He’s just itching to give any other prefect, much less a Gryffindor, an ass-whooping.”

His arms tighten around you. “Ah, but you have McGonagall on your side. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me for failing her final last year.”

“She’s forgiven you, love. I don’t think you’ve forgiven yourself,” you tease, tapping his nose with one digit. 

Jimin whines lowly and buries his face in the top of your head; the butterfly’s wings in your heart unfold to beat with a renewed passion. However, with a glance out the intricately carved windowsill at the hills and valleys, lingering with promises of threats to come, the beautiful creations crumple.

“Jimin…”

The glow of night frames your face, a visage more stunning to him than any charm or hex. His entire life he’s been enchanted by the mystery of magic, the secret beauty it holds in the palm of his hand. Yet, for all of his passion towards the craft he aims to perfect, it pales in comparison to the candle wick that burns bright with his affections towards you. You, a star set so deeply into the wonderful framework of the universe that he fears a world in which he ever has to live without the unfailing steadiness of you. Jimin knows exactly what thoughts coil around themselves in your brain like a pile of seething snakes, his emotional intuition that nearly had him sorted into Hufflepuff reading you like an open book.

He cradles the back of your neck with one hand; the butterfly curls into its protector. “I know.”

“You can feel it too?”

He nods slowly, then all at once. “Something is different with the world out there. The mountains don’t smile like they used to. They hunch, like they’re hunkering down.”

“But for what?” Your question rings into the open air, an owl winging its way into the night-time. “What if we have war again, Jimin?”

“War?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s what happened the last time the world shifted like this. I don’t know-” You cradle yourself in his arms, rubbing furiously. “I don’t know, but god, I’m fucking terrified.”

He pauses one beat, two. “It’s okay to be terrified.” His hands rub over yours, doing a better job to warm you up than you ever could. “I’m terrified too.” Jimin’s confession, as quiet as it is in the dead of the Astronomy Tower, rings as loud as the clapper of a tower bell in the small room. “But if it is war again, then we’ll be prepared for it. We have to be, and we will be.”

“But how?” You beg, turning to face him. “How, when nothing is certain and everything is thrumming with this hint of danger and fuck, I just-” You ramble on.

Jimin presses a single finger to your lips, hand sliding to cup your jaw. His eyes meet yours, onyx embers glowing bright with feeling. “You beautiful, silly girl.”

You draw back. “What?”

“My dear, you are the most capable person that I have ever met. You are courageous and determined and god forbid anything stand in your way, because you will crush those who speak out against you to dust. You have a soul that sings a song of fire, but that doesn’t mean you are consumed by it.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek. “You are wonderful in your own way; you’re so genuinely good and I truly have no idea how I ended up in your boat as first-years on the way to the castle for the first time, but I am so glad that I did. It was the best choice I have ever made.” He emphasizes these things with a tenderness known to you, you alone, and with that the winged thing in your chest breaks free, the shackles on her wings shed in a flurry of movement.

“In a thousand universes, I will find you,” Jimin promises, the rawness of his words building brick after brick of reassurance. “In ten thousand stories, I will trip and fall into your timeline and stay by your side before I’m undoubtedly killed off in some majestic, knightly way. Change, war, whatever you want to call it- it will not tear you apart even if it tears us apart. The world does not deserve a soul like yours, breadcrumb, and she will be reluctant to let you slip the bonds of earth. She knows you’re a fighter; she sees that in you-” he wipes a tear from your cheek, spilling wet and hot. “-and she will not give up on you, even if you give up on yourself.”

“Jimin,” you choke, hands cupping his face. You say his name once, twice, over and over till it fades to a whisper on your lips. He’s crying too, you think, with the sheer honesty of it all; the threads of change are woven indeterminably, unchangingly, and there is nothing you can do to unravel the ethereal blanket. 

Change, war, whatever you want to call it, is coming.

But things will be okay.

You pull him closer, arms linked around the back of his neck, and he pulls you onto his lap, a girl with a soul that sings of fire and a heart that burns with the warmth of coals. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

A barn owl, perched atop the roof of the tower, hoots a low cry, and it echoes through the dark, ringing atop hill and treetop to settle on Hogwarts’ Great Lake, where a single leaf swirls atop a slow-moving current, the stem rippling the surface of the water.

[atths--twice]

Chapter Three 

A Walk on the Beach 

Walking on the beach leads to memories, stories, laughter, gazing, kissing.

As they leave the restaurant, they stop by the limo. They tell the driver they are going to walk on the beach and the pier, so it may be a while. He shrugs, smiles, and turns back to his paper. He’s paid through for the evening, time doesn’t matter to him.

The beach is not far, just past a few restaurants and down some stairs. There is a long pier with some rides and carnival games close by. When they get to the steps, Scully sits down and takes off her shoes.

“You should do the same, Mulder. It’s not any fun trying to get sand out of dress shoes,” she says matter of factly.

He doesn’t ask her how she knows this, but sits down next to her to take off his shoes and socks. He shoves his socks down inside and ties his laces together. Scully is sitting holding her shoes, waiting for him. He glances at her. She is staring at him, flicking her eyes to his lips, her breathing becoming fast. His heart pounds. He recognizes that look.

She licks her lips, drops her shoes and climbs into his lap-straddling him. She locks her arms around his neck and kisses him. He too drops his shoes, wraps his arms around her waist and grabs her ass. She moans and pushes her tongue in his mouth, slowly stroking her tongue over his. He groans into her mouth and pulls her closer as he thrusts his hips up. She rotates her pelvis against the beginning hardness she finds there and they both moan.

He brings a hand up to her neck, grabs a handful of hair and tugs. She gasps and pulls her mouth away from him. Her eyes are dilated and wide in surprise.

“The fuck are you trying to do to me, Scully?” He smiles as he strokes her neck, breathing hard, feeling the scar from her implant. “There is no way this,” he says with a thrust of his hips, “can be remedied out here. Jesus... Control yourself, woman.” He smiles and winks at her.

“Oh, but Mulder.. sometimes you make it so hard,” she purrs and then pouts when he moves her off his lap.

“No, Sister Spooky, you make it so hard,” he says as he stands up, adjusting his pants.

She laughs and grabs her shoes. Mulder takes them from her and puts them in his jacket pockets as he stands up. He throws his shoes across his shoulder and reaches for her hand. He loves the ease at which he can hold her hand or kiss her. Out here, away from the bureau, away from those who may be watching, he feels free.

Case in point, that limo ride. Christ on the holiest of crosses, he thinks with a chuckle, that was ballsy. He normally would have been able to control himself, but goddamn..she is pure sex sometimes. He never would have pegged Scully as one willing to have sex in a limo, but fucking hell.. She has surprised him with the things she is willing to do or let him do to her.

That mouth of hers..it should come with a warning. She makes him so hard with the things she says. Sometimes sitting in the office, after a night together, is pure torture. She is all business and all he can think is how she had begged him to fuck her until she exploded. How she wanted him behind her, under her, and in positions he had never tried before. As soon as she heard his breathing change, she would raise her eyes and grin. She knew exactly where his mind had gone.

God, he has to stop thinking this way. Walking around with an erection was understandably unavoidable when he was fourteen, but he’s a grown ass man. This is embarrassing and quite uncomfortable.

They reach the bottom of the stairs and Scully actually squeals as her feet hit the sand. Mulder looks at her and sees her childlike grin at putting her toes in the cold sand. She squeezes his hand and releases it, taking a few steps forward.

“God, I love the way the ocean smells, the sounds of it, the inky blackness of it at night. There is a poem I remember reading as a child that describes the ocean so perfectly. But, I can’t seem to recall all the words,” her brow furrows as she tries to think of them. “I used to say it to myself every night, the melody of it was so comforting. Hm.. the only thing left is the description of the color, inky black.”

She stands and stares at the ocean, breathing deeply, with a content smile on her lips. Mulder watches her watching the waves. He feels the huge dopey grin on his face and he doesn’t try to hide it. He is so happy right now. Standing in the cold sand, the smell of the ocean around him, watching her hair blow in the breeze, catching her scent mingled with the salt in the air. If he could choose where and when to die, it would be in this moment.

She looks over at him and sees his big grin. “What’s that smile about?” She asks with a wide smile of her own.

“Nothing,” he says and steps toward her and kisses her softly. She smiles at him and it is reminiscent of the kiss they shared on New Year’s Eve, chaste and sweet. He smiles again as he thinks of the many things they have done recently that are most definitely not chaste.

“Come on Scully, let’s go feel that cold Pacific Ocean,” he says as he reaches again for her hand. She laughs and locks her fingers with his as they trudge through the sand.

There are not many people out on the beach at this hour. A few stragglers here and there, but for the most part, they are on their own. The quiet of the beach is nice after the music of the restaurant.

The crashing of the waves is hypnotic. Scully remembers many trips to the beaches as a child; finding rocks, shells, sand crabs, and seaweed. Other than the rocks and shells, Melissa had never wanted to join her in finding those things. Unless the boys could be persuaded to stop playing in the water or digging huge holes, she was on her own. She did not mind her solitary play. Being on her own, she could dig and explore to her heart’s content.

They reach the waters edge and Mulder releases Scully’s hand, bending to roll up the legs of his pants. Scully takes his shoes from his shoulder and holds them for him. She steps forward and then jumps back at the coldness of the water.

“Christ, that’s cold!” She exclaims as she steps forward again. “That first feel of the water is always a shock. But, I love it.” She looks over at Mulder as he finishes with his pants and she grins.

He takes his shoes from her and reaches for her hand again. He pulls her a couple more steps into the water. He inhales sharply as the water hits his feet and she laughs. The water pulls back and they both feel the pebbles rush past them, their feet sinking deeper into the wet sand.

Scully lets Mulder’s hand drop. She raises her arms out and puts her head back, taking a deep breath. She smiles as the next wave crashes and her feet are submerged in water again.

She swears, if she turns around, she will catch a glimpse of her mother on a large blanket, under an umbrella. A big floppy hat on to keep her face protected from the hot sun. She will hear her calling out to all of her kids to be careful of the water. To respect its power. She will hear them all laugh as they brush her warnings off as mom just being worried.

Until Scully had a lifeguard swimming toward her one day, as she drifted too close to the pylons of the pier, did she learn to heed her mother’s words. She hadn’t even noticed she was close until it was almost too late.

The lifeguard had brought her out of the water, given her a talking to about paying attention, and brought her back to her mother-much farther down the beach than she remembered. Her mother had thanked the lifeguard and then looked at Scully. Cold, shaking, and embarrassed, she had sat down on one of the boogie boards the boys always brought.

“Dana,” her mother had begun. “How many times have I said to be careful and aware in the water? The ocean is not a docile creature. She is not forgiving. Today, Dana, today is a calm day and yet you drifted far away from where you began. You are a strong swimmer and able to look after yourself, but you cannot take chances or let your guard down. You love the sea, I know, but it will not love you back. You have to stay vigilant.”

Scully could still feel the way the water felt dripping off her body and her hair as she sat with her head bowed. The heat from the sun on her back, the sand on her toes, and the smell of the ocean all around her.

Her mother had leaned forward and tipped Scully’s chin up to look in her eyes. She gave her a small smile.

“I do not say these things to scare you from your fun Dana, I just want you to be safe,” she said as she pushed Scully’s wet hair back from her face and rubbed her cheek. “My darling girl, so much like your father. He respects the sea, my love, you need too as well.”

Scully had nodded. Her mother pulled her in for a quick hug and asked if she was hungry. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing there would be no punishment for not listening to her mother's words. Her father would not hear about this, for which she was extremely grateful. Her father’s disappointment was something she avoided at all costs. The look on his face was enough to make her feel shame for days.

Her mother had called all the kids to come back and eat. As they all grabbed for sandwiches and snacks, her mother had caught her eye and smiled. Scully felt her heart lighten, and joined in with the fun and laughter of her brothers and sister.

She turns around now almost expecting to see the ghosts of her mother and siblings sitting on the shore. The night wind blows and she could swear she hears the laughter of that day blowing across the beach. She feels a chill and feels Mulder touch her back.

“Cold?” he asks her as he rubs his hand up and down her back.

“No.. just thinking of old memories,” she says with a small smile, turning toward him. “Did I ever tell you about the time my father decided we should try to go to as many beaches as possible in two weeks' time?” She asks as she pushes her toes around in the sand and the water, grazing his toes at times.

He chuckles. “No, I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard that story.”

“Well, we were living here- well not here but in San Diego. Which, as you know, has beaches pretty much everywhere. But my father decided he wanted to see Manhattan, Redondo, Santa Monica. He thought it would be a good teaching moment for us, seeing as there is a lot of history in the beaches. Many Native Americans were the first people to live in those areas. My father never wanted us to just have a vacation, he also wanted us to learn something, you know?” She smiles at him and turns toward the shore.

She starts walking past the tide, her feet beginning to feel cold. When she finds a dry area past where the waves can't reach, she sits down.

Mulder sits down next to her and she puts her head on his shoulder. They sit looking at the waves for a few minutes before he gives her a nudge to continue her story.

She smiles and starts again.

“So, my father has this trip planned and my mother has been packing for it for weeks. We were going to be camping at campsites, so we had to be sure we had everything we needed. We were of no help to my mother, packing wise. I was eleven, Melissa was thirteen, Bill was fifteen and Charlie-“

“Whom I still don’t believe actually exists,” Mulder cuts in, his voice disbelieving. “I’ve met everyone else in your family, except him. What are you Scully’s hiding? Might have to open an X-File,” he says with a look of mock intrigue.

Scully laughs and shakes her head. They have had this discussion before. Mulder expressing his doubts that the youngest Scully member will ever make an appearance, therefore proving he does not exist.

“Anyway,” she continues with a smile. “Charlie was nine and he and Bill didn’t always get along. Bill was too cool for everything back then. He had a short fuse and it seemed to be directed at Charlie the most. They fought constantly, about everything. So, we’re all piled into this old station wagon we had. It’s laden down with suitcases, tents, cookware, pillows, blankets.. so many things. All of us kids are on the bench seat in the back. All of us, Mulder,” she tells him with a look of incredulity before continuing on. “The car has no air conditioning and it’s hot as hell. Oh, and the car had leather seats. So it was that hot where your skin is wet with sweat and also sticks to the seat at the same time. It’s disgusting,” she shakes her head again lost in the thought of that trip.

Mulder can picture them all, squished in, ready for an adventure, but with that little bastard Bill likely to explode. Mulder had been on the receiving end of the rudeness of Bill as an adult. As a teenage boy, he must have been an outright shit to everyone in the family.

“So, we’re in this hot car, loaded down, about forty five minutes into our two and a half hour drive, when Melissa starts to feel carsick.”

Mulder bursts out laughing.

“Oh, did I not mention that she got carsick? Oh god, Mulder, it was always horrible. She would sometimes get carsick going to the grocery store. She had a bucket that stayed in the car permanently, in case she needed to vomit. So here we are, Melissa by the window, me next to her, and the boys next to each other, with Bill by the window. As she says she’s feeling sick, Bill gets mad at Charlie for touching “his side.” Usually I tried to sit between them so that didn’t happen, but I didn’t get there in time.”

Mulder is still chucking, picturing the scene of the Scully kids packed in like sardines. Scully, the peacemaker, trying to calm her brothers and also help her sister. He puts his left hand on her knee and gives it a squeeze. He could envision her fierce look as she tries to appease everyone, he has seen it enough times himself.

She takes his hand from her knee and stands up.  She wants to walk the beach a bit before they head back to the hotel. She looks down at Mulder and reaches for his hands. He grabs hold and together they pull him up. He stands and brushes off his pants. He smiles at her as he reaches for her hand again. He locks their fingers and she looks at him and grins. They start to walk down the beach as she continues the story.

“So, Melissa actually starts dry heaving, Bill punches Charlie, my mom is trying to calm Melissa and I am trying to punch Bill because Charlie is crying.”

Mulder laughs even harder at the thought of scrappy eleven year old Scully taking on her tough older brother. She hasn’t changed much. He’s watched her take down criminals twice or sometimes three times her size. Anyone who looks at her might see a petite pretty woman, but she is tough as nails and scary as hell at times.

“My mother is telling Melissa to grab her bucket and I had just gotten a hold of Bill’s hair and I was pulling hard. He was screaming at me to let him go, Charlie was still crying, my sister started actually vomiting, and then I called my brother a son of a bitch.”

Mulder is howling with laughter, actually holding his stomach as he laughs from deep inside. He stops walking, lets go of her hand, throws his head back and he laughs and laughs. He has tears in his eyes as he pictures the shock on everyone’s faces. How quiet it must have gotten. He looks at Scully and she is laughing too, a huge grin on her face, as she looks at him. Hearing him laugh is like a drug. She loves his laugh and she doesn’t get to hear it often enough. He may chuckle here and there, but a deep gut clenching laugh like this-those are few and far between. His eyes are sparkling and his whole face is lit up. God, she loves him.

“God, Scully,” he says, coughing and laughing still, wiping tears from his eyes. “How have I never heard this story before? It has everything. The happy family going on vacation, the unpredictability of carsickness, the antagonist picking on the weak, the protagonist saving the day by avenging the weak and also dropping some swear words in the family car. A god fearing Catholic family car no less. Ah.. It’s a home run of a hit. Classic comedy. God.. so what happened? What did they say to you? I can’t imagine your mom was too pleased,” he chuckles again as he looks at her.

“Well,” she says smiling, turning her head to look out at the ocean, then back at him. “My sister was still vomiting, so that took precedence. I still had a firm grasp on Bill’s hair, and I wasn’t letting go. My mother looked at my father and he nodded. He caught my eye in the rear view mirror and I knew I was in trouble. I let go of Bill’s hair and put my hands in my lap, so worried about what was going to happen..”

As she continues the story, she remembers how she felt that day. How her father’s eyes had burned into hers. The nervousness she felt, her cheeks burning. When her father had started to pull over at the nearest rest area, her heart was pounding.

Her mother had jumped out of the car as soon as they stopped, to take care of Melissa and Charlie went crying with them. She and Bill sat in the car, while her father started rifling for something in the back of the car. He walked past her door and told her to come with him. Her heart dropped into her stomach and her legs felt like they were made of lead.

When she started to walk away, she had looked back at Bill. He was out of the car and leaning against the hood. He had given her such a condescending smirk, she almost flew at him. But, she had kept walking. Her father had walked past the view of the car. He sat on the curb and patted the space next to him. She knew this was it and she had to face the music. When she sat down, he didn’t look at her, but kept his head turned away.

She had felt sweat dripping down her back, her palms sweating, and her heart pounding. When her dad finally turned toward her, he had a huge grin on his face. She knew hers showed puzzlement. What was happening?

“Mrs. O’Malley, Dana?” he had said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Mrs. O’Malley?” Mulder asks, bringing her back to the present. Lost in her thoughts of that warm day, she shivers slightly in the chill ocean breeze. He sees her body give an almost imperceptible shake. He hands her his shoes and takes off his jacket. As he wraps it around her shoulders, she smiles so tenderly at him, he feels his heart turn over. God, he loves her.

“You’ll be cold now,” she says, feeling his fingers brush her neck when he fixes the collar. She shivers and he pulls her toward him. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. He rubs his hands up and down her back, loving the feel of her body against him. She fits so perfectly in his arms, it’s as if she was made for him and him alone.

“Nah,” he says as he steps back to let her put the jacket on properly. He takes his shoes back and then reaches in the pockets of his jacket for hers, holding the small shoes on his long fingers. She slides her arms in the sleeves, which are much too long, but she doesn’t mind. The jacket is warm and smells of him. She loves the way he smells. A hint of the cologne she bought him for his birthday a couple years ago, laundry soap, and the scent that is just unmistakably Mulder. She takes a deep breath and looks up at him.

He is staring at her so intensely, she feels her heart stop. He lays his shoes across his palm, holding both their shoes in one hand. He traces his fingers down her cheek, then holds her neck as he leans down to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her eyes, the tip of her nose. At last he kisses her lips, softly and sweetly.

She has leaned into him, gripping his shirt, her hands barely visible under his big jacket. His fingers rub her neck, dig into her hair. She opens her mouth and his tongue slides in, caressing hers. She slides her arms around his neck and stands on her tiptoes, crashing into his body. He wraps the arm holding their shoes around her waist, and pulls her pelvis to his.

She gasps into his mouth as she feels his arousal for the second time since arriving at the beach.

Someone wolf whistles as someone else shouts “OWWWW!” causing them to break apart. Both of them are out of breath as they turn to find the owners of the voices.

Approaching them is a group of teenagers. A gaggle of boys and girls walking in two sets. The girls are giggling, at them and at the boys who apparently had done the yelling. Scully turns back to Mulder and puts her head on his chest, mumbling “this is so embarrassing.”

Mulder doesn’t feel embarrassed, not in the slightest. It took so long for them to get to this point, he’d kiss her in front of Skinner if she allowed it. He is completely crazy about her. He grins like a fool at the childish outcry from the boys, but goddamn, he gets it.

He remembers that hormonal adolescent feeling, acting braver than you are, trying to impress a girl. Remembers it? Ha! He feels it every day. Trying to impress Scully, to get her attention. How many times has he acted as much a fool as these boys have done tonight? Making innuendos, asking if his boyish agility is turning her on, showing her a strip of condoms and saying “ouch.” He has behaved just like the boys did tonight.

Christ, she makes him feel like a teenager-hot and excited and acting like a fool, trying to get the prettiest girl to notice him. He grins and yells back to the boys, “Thanks!” as Scully whips her head up and looks at him with wide eyes.

The kids laugh again, but one of the boys bravely calls back, “She’s hot!” Scully closes her eyes and begins to turn around and tell them off, when Mulder chuckles. She turns back to him and looks at him incredulously. He is beaming.

“See Scully,” he says as he adjusts their shoes again and pulls her to him with an arm around her waist. “I knew it was remotely plausible that someone might think you’re hot.” He grins at her, his eyes alight.

She looks up in his eyes and thinks of the man he was the last time he said that to her. Young, disheveled around the edges, still finding himself. He’s grown, changed, become more cautious, more concerned for her wellbeing than his own. And yet here he is, laughing at teenagers whistling at them and calling her hot. She shakes her head and smiles. He may be an adult, but he’ll always hold onto some adolescent tendencies.

He kisses her again, quickly, before she can pull away from him. He steps back from her and turns to follow the group of kids, back to the stairs, toward the pier. He wants to go use that credit card again and he sees a ferris wheel on the pier. Hopefully it will stop at the top and they can make out like teenagers. First though, she has a story to finish.

“So?” he asks, reaching for her hand again, walking closer to the water. This is their last chance to do so; they are leaving tomorrow afternoon. As he feels the cold water splash him again, he looks at her expectantly. “Scully? So, who was Mrs. O’Malley?”

She looks up at him, confused. Then it hits her, she had been in the middle of a story before his kiss had left her reeling.

Scully laughs and then sighs. “She lived a few houses from us when we were on the base. She had eight kids, Mulder, eight, and she was pregnant with her ninth.” Mulder gives a low whistle and shakes his head. “They were all relatively close in age too. She had two sets of twins and they were little hellions. We played with the older kids, but they weren’t always nice. The parents had some crazy fights, woke the neighborhood. He was gone a lot and she was home with the kids. People didn’t have nannies and sitters, especially in base housing. So, it was pretty much just her and the kids.”

Mulder stops walking and drops her hand. He bends down to pick something up and Scully looks toward the group of teenagers. They stopped walking a little ways ahead of them and are now congregated close by. The boys are pushing at each other and making loud crude sounds. The girls are talking close to one another, twirling their hair and making eyes at the boys. What different creatures we are, she thinks. What odd mating rituals we go through to prove our worthiness to one another.

She is sure there is at least one love triangle in the mix of twelve. A girl that is too shy, a boy too overzealous, two girls in “love” with one of the boys, and a boy not ready for any of this so he reverts to childish antics. The same players for all eternity, yet every generation thinks they have it all figured out.

She smiles as she watches them, remembering many nights out, just like the one they are experiencing. She was a cross between too shy and simply inexperienced. She wanted to try, but wanted to be sure she could get it right.

As she watches them now, she can imagine Mulder at that age. Tall, lanky, most likely awkward, but wanting to play it off. Oh.. she spots a kid who could be Mulder’s younger self. He is cocky to the boys, he has some swagger, he’s acting out a bit, but she sees his eyes land repeatedly on one girl in particular. The girl doesn’t seem to notice, she’s watching the other girls. Learning their social cues. God, that could be her. She smiles. Yep, same players, different generation.

“So, exactly how does the youngish woman in the shoe factor into your car trip?” Mulder asks as he stands back up, putting something in his pocket.

Scully smiles at his nickname for Mrs. O’Malley, it definitely suited her. “A week before we left on our trip, they had a doozy of a fight. He got new station orders and they would be leaving right away. Usually time was given to find housing and placements for spouses. But there were special circumstances and they had to leave right away. It wasn’t his fault, he got his orders, he had to go. I can understand her frustration and her anger, though. Eight kids Mulder. With another on the way? Yeah, that’s bound to set anyone off.”

She shook her head and looked at the kids again. The boys were still acting up, but now were wrestling in the sand. Mulder glanced over too as he heard the girls shriek when the sand flew at them. He grinned and looked back at Scully. She rolled her eyes at him, but she smiled.

“So, a crowd had gathered outside their house as their fight reached a new decibel in volume. The kids had fled into the front yard and they were watching with scared interest. Their parents were always fighting, but not like that, it must have been scary. The whole fight culminated when she threw open the upstairs window and started throwing his clothes out the window. He was yelling at her to knock it off, that she was embarrassing him. She called him a son of a bitch and to never tell her what to do again. Her kids, down on the grass, heard her and began chanting “Son of a bitch, son of a bitch!” and running around the yard. I had never heard anyone say that before, and it shook me. My father put his hand on my shoulder and it startled me. I had no idea he was even home. He told us we should go back inside now, that this was not our business and we didn’t need to gawk at our neighbors. We didn’t talk about it, but the words stuck with me. When I yelled them at Bill, I just thought they were hurtful and mean words, not a swear. My father must have realized that was what happened and found it amusing. When he sat with me on that curb, he had laughed at what I said, but also talked to me about saying those words. But Mulder,” she said turning and looking at him with a watery smile. “What I remember about that trip is not the beaches we visited or the campgrounds where we stayed. What I hold so dear in my memories is that before my father talked to me that day, he had taken two Cokes out of the cooler in the back of the car. We weren’t allowed sodas when we were younger, but my father loved them. This was his stash of drinks and I got to have a whole can of it to myself. I had been so worried about his disappointment in me, but on that hot day, on a hot cement curb, my father laughed and shared something he loved with me.”

She has tears in her eyes at the memory of her father. How he had looked when he handed her that cold can of Coke and tipped his can to hers. The coolness of the can as they sat there together, not speaking, just sitting and enjoying the soda. He never got after her for pulling Bill’s hair or punching him. He knew Bill had started it by punching Charlie. His smile to her seemed to say he was proud of her for holding her own with her big brother.

Mulder smiles at Scully, as she sniffs away her tears. He is happy she has good memories of her father. Happy that she is secure in his love and pride of her. Mulder didn’t have the same happy family memories.. but that’s not a thought for now, he thinks with a shake of his head. Right now, her story has filled him with happiness and contentment.

He pulls her to him and holds her tight. “I’m glad for your memories, Scully,” he said into her hair, in that low voice that gives her the shivers. “Glad you grew up with brothers who challenged you to stand up for yourself. Glad you had a father who recognized that as a strength and not something to quash out of you. Glad you had a sister who tried to find truths and paths beyond your own beliefs, even if you didn’t agree. Glad you had a mother who cared for you and let you follow your path and didn’t dissuade you. All of that, all those factors, they made you who you are.”

He pulls back and holds her face in his hand, tipping her chin to look in his eyes. She has tears on her cheeks, but he knows these aren’t like the ones in the restaurant. She is smiling, her eyes shining. He strokes her cheek and kisses her lightly. He rests his forehead on hers.

“I don’t want to sound like a selfish asshole here Scully, but I think your past prepared you for me. For the whirlwind of the partnership we’ve had. For the challenges we’ve faced. For the times your beliefs in science and faith have been tested but you never faltered. For the people, especially men, who have thought of and treated you as less than. For the bosses who thought you would turn tail and run when you were partnered with me. You didn’t. You stayed. You have fought beside me and for me. Your presence in my life represented everything they wanted to try and destroy, but they never wagered on you being their downfall, and my uplifter. You were exactly what I needed. You saved me, Scully. A thousand times over.” He raises his head and looks into her blue eyes that pull at him like a magnet. “Thank you Scully. Thank you for saving me and being who I needed even when I didn’t know it myself.”

She breaks down as she wraps her arms tightly around his waist and hides her face in his chest. She doesn’t know how to respond to his beautiful words. He doesn’t say them looking for a declaration back. She rubs her face across his chest, as much to take a moment as to get rid of her tears. She pulls back and puts her hands on his face, bringing his lips to hers. She kisses him softly as she runs her nails across his neck, drawing him in.

She tries to put a promise in her kiss. A promise that she will always be there to uplift him, to fight for him, and be on his side. She wraps her arms around his neck, breaking from the kiss, and holding him close. She puts her mouth against his ear and whispers “Thank you, Mulder” before kissing his cheek, pulling back and smiling at him.

They stand there smiling at each other until they both hear the kids shrieking again. She shakes her head and sighs while Mulder laughs and looks down at his feet. Then above the noise, a girl calls to one of the boys, “I thought you said we were going to the arcade? Going to play some games?”

Mulder’s head snaps up. His eyes are wide and his mouth drops open. “An arcade, Scully?” He raises his eyebrows and smiles.

She smiles, shakes her head again, but turns to start walking toward the stairs and the possibility of an arcade. “Who knows Mulder,” she says with laughter in her voice. “Maybe there is some kind of first person shooter game, so you have the chance to get your ya-yas out.”

He laughs as he starts to follow her.

“Oh but Mulder,” she says, stopping and turning around. She looks at him with a twinkle in her eyes, as she places a hand on his chest. “If a Miss Jade Blue Afterglow shows up, I may feel the need to blast the crap out of something.” They both grin and she turns to keep walking.

He grabs her elbow and stops her. He steps in front of her, meeting her eyes. “She can’t hold a candle to you, Scully. Never could.” He reaches for her hand, locks their fingers, and squeezes. She gives him a radiant smile and he nods.

He turns toward the group of teenagers who are starting to walk away. “Hey!” He calls out to them. “Did one of you say something about an arcade?”

[bowieandqueen11]

Person That I Love / Klaus Hargreeves Imagine

Request: Hi! Could you please do a one shot where y/n is super close with Klaus and they both have feelings for each other but y/n is in a relationship and they don’t admit their feelings to each other until y/n finds out they’ve been cheated on 

It’s been a while since I wrote for Klaus so thank you for sending in! <3

‘Guten Morgen, liebchen‘, Klaus says, his hand clasping against yours as he tugs you down the hallway, his light giggles filling the other silent halls of the Hargreeves Mansion as you trip over his shoes, rushing off to the next adventure. The slow ‘one, two, three’ of Five begins to echo around the house, filling your young ears with delight and anticipation.  

Your skin tingled where he touched you and your heart beat erratically in your chest so hard that you thought it might fly out, feeling as if you had swallowed a whizzing firework and it hand landed straight in the bottomless pit of your gut. He trots along effortlessly, stifling his laughter with his free hand as you two pass down the oaken hallway, his thick navy socks slipping unevenly down his thighs and his light brown curls bounce around his forehead. You have to resist the urge to reach up and stroke them back, desperately wanting to know how it would feel for their softness to flow in between your fingertips, but he pulls you out of your reverie by clasping your fingers even tighter against his own, his fingers turning white with the effort.

He throws himself against the wall before veering a sharp right around the corner, nearly running face first into the velvet door of an ancient cupboard which his fingers wrap around the doorknob of, lugging the two of you into the inky darkness. His shoulders shift uncomfortably against the back edge, his blazer scratching against his elbow as his nose bumps against your own as you shuffle against him.

‘You know, a little warning next time would be nice.’

‘Now now, best friend of mine, where would be the fun in that?’

You wince a little at his words as he continues, ‘now is this as much fun as the time I made you help me use that chocolate pudding to-’

‘Klaus shush!’

‘Hey, you halt den Mund!’

‘No, shut up, I hear Five!’ 

Klaus’ eyes widen in shock, his green eyes sparkling like broken glass as he clamps a warm hand over your mouth, pulling you tighter against his chest and laughing with a grimace as your head bumps against his. As you stand there, frozen in place, and feeling as if time itself had slowed down, you didn’t realise how his heart rate had picked up a notch at the intimacy of your chest pressed flush against his. Your hands fumble by his waist, your lips twitching into a frown as you bump into the side of the cabinet again, trying to stand up properly. You don’t notice the slight hitch in Klaus’ throat as your hands land splayed onto his hips, your fingers digging into his skin and scrunching up the coarse navy material of his shorts as you use it to steady yourself. His eyes glance down at yours, wishing he could fumble his fingers past the blunt in his pocket to find his lighter, not properly being able to see the blush that rises up your face like hot lava as he knocks his elbow away from the wall and uses it to lever himself up, wrapping it around your waist. His thumb starts to stroke tender but nonsense patterns into the small of your back, his eyes trying to search for yours in the darkness as your breathing races hard and shallow to meet his, a slight electricity in the air that neither of you could put a finger on, but neither of you were upset was there.

‘You two need a room?’, Five asks with a light smirk, the two of you whipping your heads around, eyebrows raised in shock to see a Five standing there with a huge cheeky grin on his face, his hand on the auburn doorknob.

‘Shut up, Five!’, both you and Klaus shout in unison, gulping lightly as you step out of the closet, Klaus tripping over a few trinkets that fall out around his feet.

‘God, it feels so weird being back here’, you start, a small whine leaving your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut, begging yourself not to cry in front of the man who had owned your heart since you were ten years old. ‘But I didn’t know where else to go. It makes it so much more of a hassle having to ring the doorbell now rather than just climb in through your window.’

Klaus laughs lightly, a pained laugh as his eyes never leaves yours, and the little gold specks that swirl in his eyes look at you with something you can’t put your finger on. A pained laugh it was, but one that sounded as soft as petals floating in a spring breeze to your ears, one that made your heart settle like a ship entering clear waters after a stormy night.

‘I mean, you could still climb through my window if you’d like the challenge, but seeing as you hit your head when off the window pane when you were only fifteen.... It’s always open for you, you know.’

Silence gnawed at your insides, churning its way inside your guts and sending hot flicks of fire up your constricting throat. Silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground, like a gaping void. It was poisonous and cruel in its nothingness, eerily unnatural as Klaus sat in front of you on the oaken table, his flowing black skirt tickling against your toes. You try to ignore his piercing gaze as his hands fiddle with yours, your hand cold and trembling in his lap, his heart aching as he gazes at your cloudy eyes, distant and far away.

‘I’m sorry I never came to visit when you were in rehab-’

‘Oh y/n, y/n, sweet y/n, please never feel sorry for anything-’

‘No Klaus. I have to say this. I’ve been sorry for a lot of things in my life. Meeting my scumbag ex, not visiting you, stealing Five’s coffee that one time we were thirteen, god I still have nightmares about that.’ The genuine delight on Klaus’ face as he leans back, clapping his hands together like a little child makes a giddy and dopey grin brighten your own.

Your pupils became dilated and there was a slight tremor in your hands as you took his own, your thumb dancing over the black tattoos that littered his skin like an old friend. His face was one of comfort, and warmth, and home, not wanting to rush this moment, or hell, ever have it end as he leans closer to you, distracting you from your thoughts by pressing a soft kiss against your lips, his stubble scratching against your chin and making you giggle slightly against his mouth. You lean into it desperately, your skin breaking into goosebumps as his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his fingers cold as they stroke against the dips and curves he had spent years memorising, a golden smile on his face as he spent his childhood watching you, dreaming every night and spending every second of every day wishing he could just reach out. He was craving this, craving you, and as he pulled away slowly, placing his forehead against yours, he whispers lightly ‘and I’m sorry for not having done that earlier.’

[bendywackyadventures]

The Ink Demonth Day 24

I was glad I got to do this for Crossover! So I had this idea of doing this crossover story of BATIM where Dipper, Mabel, Varian and Hilda are somehow sent to Joey Drew Studios and try to escape. I never wrote this idea as a story as I was nervous how people would feel of a crossover. Now with Day 24 being crossover I could write a small part to this. If you like it and want more I might come up with a few more stories for it. I don’t know? 

Well enjoy!

They didn’t know how they got here and why?

They didn’t know how they would escape?

They didn’t even know what was going on around here? All they remembered was a door opened it and then they stumbled into what appeared to be an abandoned studio. However, this abandoned studio turned out to be not so abandoned after all. It was filled with monsters, a demon wanting to kill them, and a deformed angel that will give them their freedom if they could help her with some eensy, weensy favors for her first.

This group of misfits as what the angel and the prophet call them was trapped in this inky maze and want to escape and get home back to their worlds. So who are these misfits lurking in Joey Drew Studios. Well one was an alchemist, the other was a girl fun for adventure, and their leaders were twins who went through stuff like this before.

They were on an elevator heading down bellow to level 14 to collect inky hearts for the angel. The ride down was much slower then the last floors making the wolf behind them shaking in fear. The young alchemist put his hand on the wolf’s arm to keep him calm.

“Its alright, Boris. You’ll be fine.” He said. The wolf gave a smile till the elevator started to slow down showing a room filled with ink. The elevator opened and the smell of ink hit them hard, the ink was all over the room. The group looked around as the female twin got up and saw the first inky heart on a fallen Striker.

“Well that was easy!” She touched the inky heart, but regretted it because of how slimy it was. “Eww. Varian you take it!” She yelled throwing the inky heart to the alchemist who was named Varian. Varian screamed throwing the inky heart like a hot potato before giving it to the girl’s twin brother.

“Dipper!” Varian yelled. The boy screamed and caught it as the ink dripped through his fingers.

Suddenly a screech was heard as a light started to run. The misfits looked through the balcony and out of the hall as a humanoid figure with a projection for a head ran out before walking to the other side of the hall.

“What is that?” Dipper asked shocked.

To answer his question, Alice spoke through the speakers hushing them. “Quiet.” She whispered. “There he is, the Projectionist. Skulking in the darkness. You be sure to stay out of his light, if you don’t want trouble. Just bring me back the pieces I need.” She explained.

“Yeah thanks.” Dipper replied. “Okay let’s all walk slowly downstairs without making a peep.” He whispered. The group slowly tiptoed down the stairs hoping not to slip or any noise to attract the Projectionist. Once they made it down ink started to soak their shoes and socks. The group gulped and kept on walking towards the ink, which was harder to do then in the other areas.

Mabel kept on walking till she saw a box with a pair of headphones and an audiotape she walked slowly hoping there was no traps or anything till she accidently pressing the audiotape due to her trying to stay quiet. The tape played and the recognized a familiar voice playing. It was the same man they heard back in the Music Department.

Norman Polk:

Now I’m not lookin' for trouble. It’s just the nature of us projectionists to seek out the dark places. You see, I’ve learned the ins and outs of this here studio. I know how to avoid being bothered by the likes of this... company. "That projectionist", they always say, "creeping around, he’s just lookin’ for trouble." Well trouble or not, I sees everything. They don’t even know when I’m watchin’. Even when I’m right behind ‘em.

Footsteps ran towards the tape and the Projectionist roared looking around the inky room. Nothing was there; everything was where it was before still the tape shouldn’t have played on its own. The Projectionist knew someone was here, but where? The monster turned and continued walking through the inky abyss.

The misfits hid upstairs hoping the Projectionist wouldn’t see them and so far so good. “That was a close one.” Hilda, who was the other young girl sighed.

“Very close.” Dipper added. “Lets just get the inky hearts and were done.”  Dipper commanded giving the group a nod. The group went to the other hallway away from the Projectionist to find the inky hearts.

The hallway was dark and other projections were there showing nothing. The misfits knew this was a trap to get them to believe the real Projectionist was on their trail. They looked through the ground and on the projections, but due to all the ink the hearts camouflage through the ink.

“Found one!” Mabel yelled. She grabbed the inky heart and gave it to Dipper. “See that was easy.” She beamed. Hilda, Dipper and Varian froze hearing footsteps running towards them.

“Uh Mabel?” Dipper asked pointing at the light coming towards them. Mabel was about to ask till they turned to see the Projectionist staring down on them breathing heavily.

Varian gulped. “No one make any movements.” He whispered, but there was a tremble in his voice. The misfits stared at the Projectionist with the later doing the same thing. It felt like an hour just staring till the monster was irritated and let out a loud screech. The group screamed and ran off before the Projectionist tried to punch them. The  ink made it hard for them to run as the Projectionist inky boots made it was easy for him.

In the corner of Dipper’s eye he saw there was an Little Miracle Station. “Let’s hide in there!” He yelled. Quickly, Dipper ran ahead of the group to get the Miracle Station open as the four struggled to get in. Dipper quickly shut the door, making the Projection tame again. The monster didn’t react to the kids hiding and just continued his walk in the inky Level 14.

“He’s gone.” Hilda whispered.

“Quick, open the door.” Varian added whispering as well.

Dipper shushed them. “Not yet. Give it a minute.” He whispered. After a minute Dipper slowly opened the door and the group fell in the inky puddle. “Okay let’s find the hearts before that…thing comes back!” Dipper yelled. The group agreed and split apart looking for the inky hearts. Even though splitting up was a bad idea since this Projectionist was able to hear the hearts they figured if they split and collected a heart at different times the Projectionist would be confused and would be running around in circles.

The plan worked as Dipper and Hilda found an inky heart and Varian found another one giving them three and only two left. The Projectionist screeched, but the three hid as the monster looked around confused where the inky hearts being taken. The monster screeched hearing another heart being taken, but came to where the dead Striker was and saw no one in sight. The monster kept on walking looking for the misfits.

Dipper was relieved his sister was alright and the trio went to look for her. They found Mabel, and now only have to find one more heart. “Just one more and were done!” Mabel cheered.

“There it is!” Varian pointed out seeing the heart. He went over to grab it and gave it to the group completing their final task.

“Tell me.” Alice’s voice startled the kids. “were they still withering in your hands?” She asked. Dipper was about to respond, but got cut out, “Bring them to me now!” She snapped. “I don’t like to wait.”

Dipper glared and the group was ready to run back to the elevator, ready to head up and be free. Or so they think, the Projectionist jumped right in front of them screeching loudly. The kids screamed and ran for it going the other way as the monster chased them. The kids escaped on the other side of the hall and headed towards the stairs to the elevator. The Projectionist was on their tail dashing as quick as possible to escape. They made it to the stairs and started to slam the buttons to get up. The Projectionist made it up and was about to catch them, but the elevator closed and started to head back up leaving the monster to screech in defeat.

The group sighed in relief, glad they escaped from the Projectionist. They hoped that was the last they’ve seen of the Projectionist.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAVS prt 11 start. Start it Lance's POV

Waking in a cold sweat, Lance groaned in disgust at soaked sheets beneath him. Every morning had been the same since Allura had left him behind. His dreams a never ending world of darkness. No matter how much he called, no matter how far he ran, all that waited for him was the inky blackness of the astral plane. Scrubbing at his tired eyes, he sat up to see Allura perched on the end of his bed. She never left him alone "Good Morning, Lance" "Nope. Not doing this" Frowning at him, Allura rose to trail after him when Lance climbed out of bed. Since her death, he'd felt broken and lost. His body no longer felt the way it used to. A constant itch beneath his skin that he couldn't scratch no matter how hard he tried. The marks on his cheeks an ever present reminder of the woman he'd loved, and the woman who'd left him behind. He knew her sacrifice was necessary, but she wasn't the one left behind to wonder every single day if things could have been different. When she'd died, he'd lost it. He'd planted field after field of juniper berries, foolishly praying she'd see his work and somehow come back to him. She never did "You can't ignore me, Lance" No. He couldn't ignore her. Her constant lingering presence was there, always living on the edge of his peripheral vision, despite the feeling that he had that maybe he needed to move on "I can and I am. You're in my head" "Lance" "You're dead Allura. You made it pretty clear what I meant to you. You're in my head. You know what you meant to me. I'm just a boy from Cuba and you... you were the princess of a whole planet... I should have known from the moment you said yes, that something was wrong" Hanging her head, Lance didn't know why he was bothering fighting with himself so early in the morning. When Allura had first appeared to him, he'd been excited. He'd thought maybe part of her had still lingered in the blue marks she'd gifted him when they'd parted. It hadn't been until three months after her passing that "Allura's gift" had revealed itself as the curse it was. Falling in, he'd realised this wasn't some usual illness. His scent had changed, his family constantly laughing and joking over the lack of personal hygiene he must have been forced to endure, given that he stank like he hadn't showered in a month. Embarrassed over such remarks, he'd showered three times a day, only for his family to remark he still stank. Aside from the change in his scent, a constant pool of desire seemed to have welled in his body. No matter how many times he jerked himself off, the feeling never passed. Fingers barely made a difference, his body crying out for something he couldn't understand as he locked himself away in embarrassment. The only way he could describe it was as if he was in "heat". He'd seen it dozens of times on the family farm. Bloodied discharge from their pet dog, yowling from the cats. The never ending need to be bred. Between his legs was soaking wet with some kind of fluid, serving to mortify him further as he his beneath his blankets. But what was worse, was through all of this all he wanted was to see Keith for reasons he couldn't understand. It wasn't like he didn't like Keith. Coming back from riding around on the back of a cosmic whale for two years had mellowed him into nearly an entirely different person. His happiness and confidence only served to remind Lance how chickenshit he was, and to remind him that Keith would never look at someone like him. Despite all his flirting, and self proclaimed title as a "ladies man", he'd long since realised he swung both ways. He was simply too scared to let anyone else see it, especially the team. It was awkward enough as it was. Nothing he ever did as a Paladin had been good enough. When Kuron had taken Shiro's place, he'd seriously believed the man hated him. Aside from the verbal taunting, the constant comparison to Keith, and the outright disregard of his ideas, each time they trained together had seemed to be an excuse for Shiro to hurt him. Naturally, it'd all been his fault. His fault he couldn't escape the choke hold. His fault he'd fallen when Shiro had kicked his legs out from under him with enough force that it felt like his knee had broken. He trained harder, but no one noticed. No one noticed as he improved on the training levels. No one noticed when his anxiety left him skipping meals. No one noticed when he wasn't in the room. Pidge was off with Hunk all the time. Allura was with Lotor. Coran was off... being Coran. Lance had no one, and at the time, no idea why Keith had stopped taking his calls. Sighing to himself, Lance opened his bedside drawer to fish out the small white bottle of painkillers that kept him functional. Between the nightmares, and general feeling something was wrong with him, painkillers were the only thing making things manageable. Red didn't like how much he was taking, his lion trying to take as much pain as he could, but there bond had never been as strong as the one he'd held with Allura. Lance had been honestly surprised that Red hadn't dumped his arse after they'd returned without Allura. "Lance! Mijo! Breakfast!" "Coming Mami!" Quiznak. His mother would know the moment she saw him that he'd had another restless night. She'd picked up the pieces of his broken heart the best she could, but none of his family really understood. None of them believed what they'd been through as Paladins. None of them had known how to treat his nightmares, and none of them knew he'd died. It's taken ph-months to feel normal again. He was on Earth. It didn't matter than aliens from every sector of space lived on the planet now, he needed to get his brain back to Earth time. He needed to remember that his time in space was over. Snatching up a random shirt, Lance swapped it for the sweaty one he was wearing. With so many people in the house, it'd be another day without hot water for his shower... an unappealing thought given he'd felt constantly cold since Allura left. Just another thing wrong with this body of his. Crowding into the kitchen, Lance jumped when Luis dropped his hand in his shoulder. Reacting without thinking, Lance swept his older brother's foot as his hand grabbed his wrist, only stopping when the fact it was Luis kicked in "Whoa! Someone's jumpy this morning" Snorting into her bowl of cereal Rachel waved her spoon in their direction "He's jumpy every morning" He loved Rachel. They'd been so close before he'd been shot into space in the Blue lion. Yet coming back to Earth it felt as if there was this invisible wall between him and everyone else. Smacking his sister on the back of the head lightly, his mother smiled warmly "Leave your brother alone. Mijo, you look unwelll" Rachel rolled her eyes at him, Lance ignoring her in favour of forcing a smile to his lips "I'm fine, mami" "You'd let us know if you weren't, wouldn't you? You should talk to that Coran of yours. It's not normal to be falling ill like you do" "Falling ill" was her polite way of referring his scent changed and becoming horny as hell over nothing "Hear that Lance, she thinks something's wrong with you" Smacking her upside the head again, Rachel let out an angry cry "Mum! I'm trying to eat!" "Leave your brother alone. He has a big day coming up" He did? "I don't see why he's going all the way out to Altea to remember the girl who chose death over putting up with his stinky socks" "Rachel!" Lance barely contained his flinch. It wasn't like he hadn't berated himself in a similar manner to Rachel... repeatedly... "Ugh. Fine. You love Lance more than the rest of us, we know "holier than though, Lance", can do no wrong" Gathering up her bowl, Rachel walked from the kitchen leaving his mother watching him as he slid into the free seat at the kitchen bench "Mami, its fine" "It's not fine. Especially not with Allura's anniversary just around the corner. Don't you worry, mijo. I'll talk to her" Oooh. Right. Allura day. For the last six months, Lance had been to Altea almost fortnightly. The constant back and forth becoming annoyingly normal. Especially when every thing there some linked back to something that was in tribute to Allura. He couldn't escape her. Their house sat in a fields of juniper bushes that he hated with a passion. Even seeing his old team barely sparked a fire of interest in his blood. They had their weekly calls. Keith would usually call him in the dead of night for no real reason separately, but those calls had started to taper. Feeling his mother and brother staring, Lance hated knowing what they thinking. He knew they both worried about him. He'd overheard his family more than once whispering about their concerns over his mental health. Should they force him into counselling? Would pills help? Maybe they should think about contacting Hunk? Or would Shiro be better? And why didn't he want to go to space again? What was going to happen to the giant Red lion if Lance didn't want to go back to space? Did he really help save the universe? Was Lance even their son? That was his favourite one. Coming back with glowing blue marks he couldn't explain, someone had mentioned to his family along the line that Shiro had been a clone... He loved his family dearly, but Earth just wasn't his home anymore. No one surfed anymore. Malls and shops were now filled with all kinds of space tech as more and more aliens called Earth home. The places he'd loved so dearly had been wiped out by the Galra. Varadero beach was still a no go zone as pieces of contaminated Galra debris was fished from the water. His dreams of returning to find Earth untouched had been ruined. Hunk's parents forced to work as slaves. His own family thinking he was dead for years, thanks to Voltron magically disappearing for three years and not knowing about it "It's alright. Rachel is just mad because I won't let her use my face mask cream. Where's Papi?" "Already out milking the cows" Where he was supposed to be. Kalternecker had assimilated back to life on Earth seamlessly "I'll head out then" "Not without breakfast you won't. I won't have my boy being hungry" Kissing the top of his head, his mother then went about busying herself with serving him pancakes for breakfast. Her fussing never seemed to dim, not with each passing day since he'd returned. Lance was really in no rush to return to space, but he wasn't blind. His presence was causing all kinds of friction within their family. His nieces and nephews had seen him at an all time low, both crying when they hadn't been able to calm Uncle Lance from a panic attack caused by a car backfiring. His brother had put him to bed more than once when he'd come home then passed out on the sofa from trying to find a way to rid of himself of Allura at the bottom of a bottle. Nothing he did worked, and nothing could take away the lingering festering ache that his lack of belonging brought. It was time to find somewhere new, or even somewhere old. Somewhere he wouldn't keep hurting the people he loved the most. * Allura Day came and passed. Seeing the team again had brought the memories rushing back. The more it hurt, the more he smiled. Keith looked so damn happy, and Lance's poor bi-heart couldn't take it. Keith had Axca by his side. He was the face of the new humanitarian works being carried out by Daibazaal, skipping Earth at his earliest convenience by the feel of it all. His friend had taken him out drinking to ease the pain, yet when Lance had woken the following morning, he found he couldn't recall the previous night at all. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. All he had was Keith looking adorable, half naked and dead to the world. His soft puffy lips parts as he let out small snores, that seemed almost magical in the soft light of the morning. Terrified he'd crossed a line, he'd fled. For years he'd loved both Keith and Allura. The harder he fell for his broody mulleted friend, the more he threw himself into flirting with everyone else. Keith had never been his rival, it'd all been born out his anxieties of never being recognised for himself. In the Garrison, he'd always been compared to the "amazing Keith", who made everything seem so natural as he rose through the ranks. The more he'd tried, the more he'd failed, and hence the more he'd been compared to Keith. He'd failed at absolutely everything at life, and now he barely had a life left. Loosing Red had kicked in the day after Allura day. His nightmares like shattered glass raining over his body without the warm reassurance of Red there to hold him together as he woke in his sweaty bed. When they'd left, he'd felt a moment of pride. Pride that Voltron had laid the path for peace. A peace that didn't need Voltron to uphold. But without Red there, and having watched how happy his friends were without him, he began to wonder what came next. Slowly his self medicating increased, as did his parents worried looks. He needed to leave who he was behind. He needed to leave his friends behind. He was longing for days they could never return to, nor did the others wish to. When the job on Erathus came through his communicator, Lance jumped at it. As part of the diplomatic duties they'd all had to fulfil, each of their individual skills had been highlighted. Speaking with the representatives that had contacted him, the job was a simple body guard mission for a travelling diplomat. The brunette couldn't deny his ego wasn't tickled as his sharpshooting skills were praised highly. Though, at that stage, he would have taken any excuse to get off Earth. Even to its "sister" planet Erathus. Agreeing to the offer, Lance was genuinely excited as he headed down to dinner. Rachel setting the table as his mother placed down a large tray of bread "Mijo? Did something good happen? Maybe with that gorgeous black haired friend of yours?" Huffing at his mother, Lance crossed his arms "Keith is busy. No. I was just offered a job" His mother's eyes widened "A job?! I didn't know you were looking" "It's protecting a diplomat" "Because you protected the last one so well" Stupid Rachel. Well. He wasn't about to let her ruin his mood "He has a tour and needs added security. I'll be heading out to Erathus tomorrow" "Tomorrow?! So soon!" "Mami, I can't stay home forever. It's time" "I get Lance's room!" Gazing at him with searching eyes, Lance nodded at his mother as he tried to mentally reassure her "Lance gets Lance's room" "You said I could have Ronnie's now she's out on the Atlas all the time, but Ronnie said no. I'm older than him!" "And Lance needs his own space" "He's going to space" "I need space! All he's going to do is flirt nonstop. Keith had the right idea running off with Axca before Lance got to her. Lady killer Lance doesn't need his own room" Ouch. Ok. That hurt. It was nearly as good as when she told him "he was literally a lady killer because Allura never came back". They used to rag on each other all the time, but Rachel seemed to have no filter when it came to think he wanted to forget. As the baby of the family, every single mistake seemed to be open season for everyone. Constantly paraded before his eyes as failed to measure up to his brother's and sisters. Why couldn't they simply be happy he finally had a job? A job that meant they didn't have to watch over him every moment of every day "Rachel. Why must you always fight with your brother?" "Mami, its fine" "It's not fine" "See, Lance says it's fine" "You can have my room, too. I don't know how long I'll be off world this time" "You don't know?" Shaking his head at his mother, Lance sat so there was a seat between him and where Rachel stood "No. It'll depend on how Erathus works out. If I do a good job, it's possible they'll hire me permanently" "Mijo... are you sure? It sounds dangerous" "Mami, it won't be any more dangerous than staying here and helping Papi with the farm. We could use the money, and I could... I could use some time off world" "I just worry for you so much" "I know you do, mami. But Earth isn't how it used to be. I can call. And Ronnie is out on the Atlas. I won't be all alone out there" "Fine. Don't think I won't send her after you if you don't keep in contact" "It might be a little hard to begin with. I mean with hours, but I promise I'll message" His mother gave a thin, tight lipped smile "Alright, Mijo. If you're really sure" "I am, mami. They practically begged me for my sharpshooter skills" Piping up, Rachel stumbled and ruined the effects of her own biting words "They probably begged you to shut up. Seriously, my little brother up there protecting a diplomat. They should be making sure he doesn't shoot them himself" Closing his eyes and opening them, Lance took a deep breath then exhaled "Can't you be happy for me, Rachel? I'm leaving" "I know" "Then why are you acting like this?!" Taking the tea towel off her shoulder, he mother raised it threateningly "That's enough. No more. I don't want to hear it. Tonight is Lance's last night on Earth for a while, we must send him off with good memories" They were good memories. A kind of bubbly happiness he'd forgotten had welled up at the idea of being free from the constant pressure of trying to be perfect for them all. Buzzing from the wine he'd shared over the table, Lance smiled as he kicked off his shoes, looking over to see Allura standing near the door "Don't give me that look" "Lance, you shouldn't mix alcohol with pain medication" "And you shouldn't haunt people" "I'm not haunting you" Half hanging off the bed, he picked up his nearest shoe and threw it through the fake Allura "You're not real. Ergo. A ghost!" It wasn't funny in the slightest, still, Lance found himself giggling. When he'd dated Allura, he'd never dreamt of throwing a shoe at her "Now shoooo!" Trying to sound spooky, Lance slipped off the bed with a thud "Hello floor" Nuzzling into the cold wood beneath him, he was still like that when Rachel walked in "What are you doing!?" "Hey, Rach. I'm chillin' on the floor. It's nice and cool" "You're so weird" "Mhmm. And you've been a bitch since I came back" "Only because you've been an arsewipe" "Nope" "Seriously, do you know how worried we were for you?" "Mhmm" "Then why haven't you even been making an effort to get over Allura?" "Allura's a ghost. How do you get over a ghost? They're all see through and you can't hold them, let alone get over them" "Lance..." His warm buzz was turning to nausea as he laid on his stomach "Damn it, Rachel" "You and Allura were never going to work out. Why are you still holding onto her?" "I'm not!" "You said..." "I'm not holding onto her! Your "lady killer brother" killed her!" "Lance... I was joking" "That's all I am to you guys! A joke! You wanted to leave me at the kids table. You told Allura all these embarrassing stories about me. She didn't love me! Ok, does that make you happy?!" "Lance, I didn't mean it like that..." Curling up on his side, Lance wrapped his arms around himself the best he could "I was gone for years... all I wanted to do was come home Rachel... Allura was so beautiful" "I can't believe you got drunk again. Let's get you into bed" "I'm fine" "Lance..." "I'm fine, Rachel!" Walking over to him, Rachel kicked his side hard enough to draw a grunt "You sleep there then. Don't forget to pack all your shit up. If you leave it here, I'm going to toss it" "Sure. Sure. Whatever"