#it’s stupid just thinking if the void had stars

[glitchedcosmos]

Star gayzing

[littlefreya]

Neptune's Snare

Summary: She came to take revenge on the loathsome man who murdered her fiance, only to become his captive.

Read Chapter One

Pairing: AU!Pirate August Walker x Virgin OFC (for now 😏)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sexual themes, dark themes mentioned, historical inaccuracies, kidnapping, captivity, graphic descriptions of sex, intimidation, slow burn, sexual tension, foul language.

A/N: I was unsure whether I should do part 2, but @deandoesthingstome (💖) motivated me to do it, so I truely hope you will like it. Many thanks to @agniavateira, for beta'ing. I am no longer using my old tag list, but I will tag those who specifically asked to be tagged for this story via my new Writing Update Blog @littlefreyaslibrary.

Thanks for reading, and please reblog with a comment 🖤

Chapter Two

Hours had passed since the Captain left—hours of futile attempts to escape the cruelty of the heavy iron binds. By now, the ship was deep into the ocean, miles away from any harbour or piece of land. The notion that she’d been abducted by the most ruthless murderer known to authorities had only just begun to sink. 

As hot tears stung at her cheeks, Lizette couldn’t help but chuckle at the stupidity that led her to this fate.

‘Did you really think that a foolish girl could succeed where great men had failed?’ 

If Lizette had dared be honest, she would admit she never thought that plan through, not that it mattered much anymore. Soon enough, she would be yet another shiny trinket in Blackbeard’s gaudy collection.

Exhausted from a fierce yet futile battle, she leaned her head back against the plush, gold-paneled wall. Her weary gaze drifted through the open window, where the dark skies and black seas merged into a desolate void. No light shone through tonight; the darkness has devoured the stars and the moon. Lizette felt as if she was drowning in it too, sinking into a thick, tar-like liquid. With each breath, the collar around her throat grew heavier, the iron pressing into her skin and dragging her deeper and deeper until everything faded to black.

When she blinked again, it was still night but the cabin was lit in deep shades of honey and amber. Her heart skipped—once for the iron still hanging from her neck and twice as her bleary eyes caught sight of a shadow by the edge of the big table.  

It appeared that her host had returned. 

Boots flung across the food-abundant table, the Captain sat back in his royal velvet chair. One hand cradled a silver chalice whilst the other toyed with the edge of his thick whiskers. Silver trays of food, wine, and books were splayed before him, surrounded by dozens of fat, wax-dripping candles. The flickering flame guttered upon his eyes, painting them bright red while he observed the girl intently. 

The curiosity was mutual, at least to some extent. As loathsome as the pirate was, Lizette could not help but scrutinise. Never in her life did she see a man so crude and yet so regal at the same time, He looked like a washed-out king, holding himself to a higher status amongst the scum aboard his ship. Surrounding himself with fine art, books and scientific obscurities, one would assume that this low-life man was educated, or at least aspired to be. His appearance, too, was of some sort of false elegance,  with his moustache carefully groomed and his hair neatly combed save for an errant curl that fell upon his tanned forehead. However, the white cotton shirt that hung partially unbuttoned and loose from his shoulders exposed him for what he truly was as it revealed a myriad of tattoos, scars, and coarse hair. 

‘Nothing but a filthy scoundrel.’

“At last, sleeping beauty is awake.” 

Lizette kept her tongue knotted. The blazes on her stare answered on her behalf. 

August scoffed at the silent response. ‘Precious little thing,’ Had only she known how much he enjoyed obstinate women. The only thing that was better than bending a spitfire to his will was getting a nun to kneel before his cock.

A slight twitch tugged at his cheek; his smirk widening at the fond memory.  

‘Ah, Mary… you sure pray hard.’

Letting go of his whiskers and the chalice in his grasp, the Captain reached for a loaf of bread and split it in half. Steam rose and coiled to the air.  The scrumptious scent of the freshly baked goods quickly filled the room and wafted over Lizette in a tempting invitation. Absentminded, she suckled her bottom lip, almost able to taste the sweetness on her tongue. 

The pirate held out one piece of the loaf, an unmistakably provoking grin lighting his face. “Would you dine with me, pet?”

Weakness unfurled through her, reminding Lizette that it must have been hours, if not an entire day, since she last ate. Her empty belly flipped and gurgled so loudly that the pirate could hear it even from where he sat. Joy immediately cascaded about his glance; the impish grin between his cheeks further stretched. 

To his delightful surprise, the girl was a lot more stubborn than she appeared. Instead of begging, she offered a spiteful glare and turned her face away. 

“I’d rather starve!” 

“Suit yourself.” The Captain shrugged and bit on one of the pieces. Hums and moans sputtered from his mouth, all exaggerated to taunt his brazen prisoner. As he finished chewing, he sucked on each of his inked fingers. 

“Got a name, pet?”

“What matter is that to you?” The girl spat.

August shrugged again and returned to the chalice, dragging it on the table's surface in circular motions. A deep-red whirlpool briefly formed in his drink. He stared at it indifferently as he retorted, “Matters not, pet. But since you’ll be spending some time here in my quarters, I will require a moniker to approach you by. Question is, would you rather I choose a name for you myself? It won’t be a nice one. I can promise you that.” 

Keeping her eyes averted, the girl folded her knees and hugged them, a deep sigh sinking from her. She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the horrendous name he would choose.

“My name is Lizette.” 

A touch of dark delight kissed his face—as if he had heard the enchanting hymn of a siren. Thoughtful, he stopped stirring his drink to the sound of her name, licked his lips, lifted the chalice and pressed it to his lips. “Ah, yes, you are definitely a Lizzy.” 

“It’s Lizette!” she vehemently corrected.  

“Oh!” The pirate abruptly twirled his free hand in the air, his brows lifting in a sardonically submissive gesture. “Forgiveness! Mercy, milady!” That had earned him the attention he was hoping to receive, as finally, Lizette snapped to glare at him. 

The pure ire on her face did nothing but feed his amusement. 

With a slanted grin and his thumb brushing his whiskers, he eyed her back. It’s been a while since a girl piqued his fascination, and this one was indeed something else. Fear seeped from her like dewy nectar from a ripe fruit. The sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and the throbbing at the crook of her neck gave away her true emotions. Yet, she exuded the unyielding fury of a harpy, the shackles around her throat barely deterring her brazen spirit.. 

‘Bold little thing. As ferocious as the ship’s cat…’ August thought and then frowned, ‘Where is that ungodly creature, anyway? Haven’t seen it in a while.’ 

“Lady Lizette…” the correct moniker rolled smoothly on his tongue in an inherently sinister sweetness. “Are you always such a rude guest to your hosts?”

“Guest?!” Lizette seized the chain that held her collar to the wall and lifted it in front of him—a deep frown decorating her weary face.  

“I am not a guest! I am a prisoner!”

“Ah! Ah!” The pirate lifted his inked index finger in an unbearably pretentious manner. "It was you who came aboard my ship willingly, and let us not forget—uninvited.” 

Lizette felt a chill in her chest, the same chill she always sensed when getting an answer wrong in her Latin lessons. He was right, and there was more to it. Pirate or not, doesn't every man deserve respect in his own home? 

That notion made her cheeks hot. 

“And if I may…�� the pirate drawled huskily and shifted into his seat. Lizette’s eyes followed his movement with the wariness of a skittish cat. Initially bemused, she realised his hand had snaked below the table and was now fumbling with his waistband. 

A deep, pulsating pang bloomed in her core as the primordial anxiety every maiden is doomed to suffer from awoke within her. Alarmed, she shook her head and blurted hoarsely, “Wait!” 

The pirate paid her no mind; either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Then, his hand sprang back sharply with a pistol in his grip—the same one he had confiscated from her merely a few hours before. 

“Did you not attempt to murder me in my own home?” 

With those words, he slammed the pistol on the table, the dull thud booming through the cabin wall and causing Lizette to jump with a start.

Sinking back to his red regal chair, August crossed his fingers together and pressed his lips together with the contempt of an authority figure. The many golden trinkets around his fingers chimed as they collided. 

“Answer me, Pet.” 

Lizette regarded the pistol carefully. The golden floral embellishments upon the handle sparked with the candle's light.  For a fleeting moment, she wondered how fast she needed to be to grab the pistol and shoot him dead in his rotten heart. Instead, she simply nodded, much as she could with the heavy collar around her neck. The spots where the sharp edges grazed her flesh burnt as sweat dripped over the bruised skin.

“Dumb as your plan was, I do appreciate the gesture, las. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder me, but it’s definitely the first time it was a beautiful young lady. Was all of this because of a boy?” He challenged, crooking one eyebrow. 

This time, Lizette did not hesitate to answer. 

“You robbed me of my future!” She corrected, and though she tried to maintain a fierce demeanour, the quiver in her voice gave away the rageful grief. 

Sympathy, sadly, was not in August’s books, especially not whilst being distracted by the way her breasts pressed against the confines of the corset with every fervorous breath. A small, almost inaudible groan left his lips. He wondered if she, indeed, was a virgin. Did he deny her of her wedding night? Were these lovely tits ever in the hands of a man before? 

Surely, he would find out. One way or another. 

With a glare still fixed on her cleavage, he grazed his dimpled chin and simply shrugged. 

“Pirate.” 

Lizette hissed in response. Defiant, she snapped her arms across her chest to hide her cleavage. 

‘Pig.’

“So I robbed you of your future,” August continued, mimicking quotation marks with his long, inked fingers. “And thus, you thought you should rob me of mine?” 

“And what future would that be? Murdering and whoring?” she muttered hatefully.  

The pirate swatted a hand over his chest, giving her a fake, exaggerated pout. “Now that pains me, love.” 

Lizette could sense the blood seeth beneath her skin. She was used to men belittling her, but never did she experience such sheer mockery and humiliation. Trembling, she yelled back, “Good! I wish you nothing but pain!”

“And so she continues to insult me in my own home.” August clicked his tongue and shook his head with sardonic disappointment. “You highborn ladies sure lack respect. ‘Funny thing is, no matter how uppity women like you act, they all want the same thing…” his voice slurred and deepened, coaxing a baffled look from the maiden who abruptly forgot her wrath and ate the bait. 

“And what would that be?” 

The pirate stood and calmly paced to the fore of the table, where he leaned against the edge to peer down at his prisoner. Lizette remained guarded. he was fairly far away yet close enough for his shadow to fall upon her face and for his manhood to be situated at the level of her mouth. She struggled to avoid staring at it directly, which only made that wretched smug smile light his face again.

“What you ladies truly want is to be violated by none other but us ‘lowlife scoundrels’,” August nibbled his bottom lip, a dry chuckle escaping him as more fond memories came to mind. “Truly, the lots of you are bored by the castrated virility of the poised gentlemen. All you fantasise about is to be fucked dirty like a whore by a brute who has no sense of propriety.” 

The pirate held his fist before him and mimicked a slow pumping motion. Although Lizette did not quite understand it, his words alone were enough to leave her gravely unsettled. 

“You are an animal,” she snarled, not realising that her nails were biting into her forearms as she clutched herself so protectively. 

But that merely fueled him.    

“Tell me, Pet, did your boy satisfy those dark desires before he left a delicious bonny lass like yourself all alone? Did he split open and plundered your sweet little cunt, ass, and mouth, or did he leave you wet and miserable?”

Heat crawled at Lizette’s cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure whether it was from outrage or shame. Never in her life had she even considered the possibilities he had suggested, and now those horrifying images poisoned her mind.  

Amused by her obvious mortification, the pirate tilted his head impishly. “No? Not even a finger or a tongue?”

“Stop it!” She implored, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her plea, he clicked his tongue. “Aw, sweet, tender flower. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He left you all alone and uncharted—that lonesome seal, begging to be invaded. Well, milady, you didn’t have to threaten me with a pistol in that case. All you had to do was ask.” 

The pirate reached for his bulge and squeezed it, much to Lizette’s dismay.

”Trust me, one night with me, and you’d forget you ever loved him.”

That was enough to send Lizette over the edge. Not thinking twice, she jerked to her feet, the chains around her rattling along a furious onslaught that sputtered from her mouth. 

“Love?! What do you know about love? You are a monster! All you do is kill and rape! You are incapable of love, and I’d be damned if anyone could ever love you!” 

All the candles in the cabin flickered with a sudden gust of wind as the pirate suddenly lunged forward. He moved so fast, too fast. Lizette hadn’t even had the chance to sway from his touch, and already he was upon her. Crude fingers dug deep into the hollows of her cheek, forcing her to face his terrorising stare. 

“You think this is a game? You think you know anything about me, little girl? About what I’ve done!?” 

It was not a question to be answered, and even so, Lizette couldn’t bring herself to speak; she was suffocating, drowning on the surface. All around her, the air stood dense with the scent of iron, wine, and musky sweat, whilst the weight of his body crushed as it clung to her. 

Closer, deeper. Layers upon layers of silk and wool separated their skin from one another, and still, she sensed the curve and firmness of his robust figure. The woven map of muscles that adorned his torso and the flex each muscle made as he tensed were evident 

But none of this came close to what she saw as he forced her to look into his eyesa wrathful maelstrom pregnant with sinister urges beyond her darkest fears. It felt as if it was trying to draw her into a deep sense of anger, and grief submerged her.

Dread began to spill into her veins. He was going to kill her.

Lizette sucked in a deep shuddering breath. She was not going to join her Edward. Not tonight.

“Let go of me!” She squealed and began to punch his shoulders repeatedly. It felt like hitting iron, every blow more painful than the other, yet she refused to stop. 

Indeed, she was just like that sea monster of a cat.

Stoic as an icy sea breeze, the pirate tilted his head at the girl. Despite her desperate efforts, her battle did nothing but vex him. Quirking one eyebrow, he released his grip from her jaw and swiftly reached for her hands. Lizette did her best to evade, squirming erratically, but to no avail. With a swift single hand, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her head with a booming thud.

The girl gasped out with surrender, strands of her hair blowing back and forth upon her face as she heaved and panted exhaustingly. With his hand around her wrists and his body slightly bent to meet her height, he stood  closer to her than any other man had before. So close that she could taste the wine and sea salt on his breath and study every freckle and every scar that marked his skin. He was nothing like her Edward, she thought; he was coarse and terrifying, and despite it all, she found him tragically beautiful. 

She hated him for that. 

“Listen to me now and listen carefully,” he finally spoke, tightening his grip around her wrists.

Liaette lifted her chin disdainfully; it took every ounce of self-restraint not to spit at his murderous, smug face. 

“You’ve mistook my hospitality and playfulness for kindness, but let’s get this straight; I am not a good man. Upset me, and I will pluck that little flower between your thighs without blinking and then throw you to my crew once I have my fill.” 

His words brought a stark shiver down her spine, yet it wasn’t just fear this time but something far more primordial. Between her trembling thighs, she sensed dewy wetness. A desperate gnawing need she had never known before. Trying to ease and brush it off, she squirmed and ground her thighs. 

August’s brow rose with realisation, an immediate knowing grin spilling upon his malicious face. He leaned closer, his lips and whiskers brushing against her ear as he spoke. 

“Seems like there won’t be much resistance from you, isn’t that so, pet? Soon, you’ll beg me to fuck y…”

His words were cut as warm saliva splattered on his cheek. 

He shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep, exasperated grunt and then moved an inch away to fish a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Lizette watched proudly as he wiped his face. 

The pirate, however, was not amused. Throwing away the handkerchief, he offered her a deadly frown. And then he leaned in, his mouth drawing voraciously closer to hers as if meaning to devour her.

“I warned you…”

“Captain.”

A low, sonorous call followed from the door, drawing both August and Lizette to turn their heads toward the uninvited guest. 

Lizette blinked twice. The man in question was almost the spitting image of August, though his hair was wild with earthy curls and his beard fully grown, pointy, and tended with wax. Indifferent to the scene before him, he drew a pipe from his pockets and lit it with the flame of a candle that stood on a shelf near the door.  

August regarded him with slight respect, yet not without annoyance:." What is it? I am busy.”

“I can see that,” the other pirate puffed out, grey lines of smoke following through his nostrils, “you are needed at the brig.”

“About?”

“Flint might finally speak.”

Eyes ablaze with sudden intrigue, August straightened to his fall height and drew a step back from the girl yet kept his grip around her wrists. 

“I assume your methods worked, brother?” He crooked one eyebrow at the other pirate curiously. 

‘Brother, of course,’ Lizette nearly chuckled. The men must have been twins, although she could tell the other sibling had far more grey in his untamed mane. 

“My methods always work.” He answered with dry arrogance. “Finish her off later. This is more important.”

August lingered, his fingers brushing over his moustache as he contemplated what to do with his sweet little prisoner. The possibilities were endless, yet the more interesting ones would take some time, and with the trouble she gave him, he definitely wanted to give her what she deserved. 

A deep, exasperated sigh left his lips. “A moment, Gus,” he requested, finally unhanding the girl. 

The man, now known as Gus, bowed his head and threw Lizette a quick glance before disappearing into the darkness behind the door.

“It seems like I have some business to attend to, love. Shall we continue our little fun later?” August teased, slight annoyance still lingering at the tone of his voice.

Lizette did not answer. Rubbing her aching wrists, she watched him cautiously while he searched within his pockets.  She wondered what new cruel method of torment he would inflict to her now. 

To her surprise, it was a small silver key.

He lifted it to her face and offered her a razor-sharp  stare." The water is close to freezing; sharks and eels are swimming within them, and every man upon my deck is probably plotting to use you as fuckhole since the moment you stepped onboard. I trust you won’t try anything stupid in my absence.”

“Like what?” Despite her physical and mental exhaustion, she dared to speak back, “Seduce one of your crew members to fornicate with me so he would betray and murder you?” 

Her weariness must have brought out the worst in her because she would have never thought of such an inappropriate, vile thing. Then she realised it was  him who, in less than a few hours, corrupted her soul. 

August paused and contemplated for a moment as if this was an actual possibility he did not consider. However, he brushed it off with a burst of taunting laughter while proceeding to unlock the collar around her neck. “I wouldn’t  recommend it, love. They all come with so many exotic afflictions on their cock s that no doctor has even heard of.” 

As the iron was removed from her little neck, the girl rested her hands around it, massaging the cuts and bruises that formed beneath. It ached even worse as the chill air of the night pecked at the raw flesh. 

The pirate waltzed toward the table, reclaiming the pistol in an obviously provoking manner. He sheathed it back at the front of his waistband and paced toward the door. 

“I won’t be long, love,” he promised, and with that, he left and locked the door behind him.

Lizette listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps, counting them one by one until she could no longer hear him. And then, she began to search around the cabin for anything, anything that can be used as a weapon. 

‘I will not be a pirate’s whore.’  She vowed to herself while absentmindedly grazing a palm over her cheeks where August had touched her. 

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: i want to thank @lfdybadgirlsdiw again, bc she sent in a small request that mentioned 'former lovers that keep going back to each other, even if they are seeing other people' which then sparked this whole story into existence 🖤 i also want to sincerely apologise to all the girls that have reached out and taught me that none of us lead unique lives (which in this case is terrible, but also, really comforting) thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy this last part, and i'd love to hear your thoughts!

Wordcount: 7.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The world felt muted. Dull, and empty. Deeply hollow, and completely void of colour.

There was only so much shit a person could take before enough was enough, and finally, after accepting the bare minimum from Joe for far too long, you decided you no longer wanted it.

The sky hung heavy, and the beginnings of what would eventually feel like an endless winter promised to keep the mood low and bleak for the rest of the season. There was an under-skin discomfort only the passing of time was going to be able to shed.

You broke up with Joe.

It fucking sucked. There was confusion, and deep hurt. Anger. Defeat.

And yet, you felt weirdly proud of yourself.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.” Emily had told you time and time again. Finally, you’d listened. You knew she was going to be so proud, which gave a small sense of relief.

Everything else felt bleak, though. Like time had stopped on the moment of impact. Hands of the clock frozen in time, forever showing the point at which it truly landed for Joe.

Joe hadn’t felt like this for a long time. Didn’t know if he had ever felt like this before, if he was honest. There was a difficulty in processing the shock, in accepting there was even a shock to begin with, but he knew you were right. It was why he couldn’t stop saying it.

“Don’t feel bad, you’re right. You’re right.”

It felt wrong to be right, and you didn’t want to be right ever again if this is what it’d be like.

The little sliver of pride inside of you wasn’t getting the attention it deserved in the moment, but that was okay. You’d get to it later. And maybe, one day, Joe would too.

“Will you,” Joe broke the silence, voice hoarse and throat in pain. He cleared it, which didn’t help much, and hopefully finished, “Will you stay the night?”

You’d been sat in the quiet dark for quite a while, just listening to each other breathe. It started with Joe perched on the very edge of his sofa, leg shaking as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying.

You’d sat down next to him then, and he’d immediately pulled you close, hands gripping and trying their best to hold onto whatever there was for him to hold onto still.

Just was a shame there wasn’t much left for him to grasp.

“I don’t think I should.”

You wanted to.

Badly.

But you genuinely didn’t think that would be a good idea.

You felt how Joe shifted a little, arms moving to wrap you up differently from how they had been. He was unsure of how to hold you, but tried his best to find a way that made you want to stay.

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t…”

If you weren’t absolutely determined, the soft brokenness of Joe’s voice would’ve made you give in instantly.

“But will you?” Joe tried again.

“Joe…”

“I know, I know, please, don’t…” Joe faltered. There were a lot of things Joe didn’t want you to do. Please don’t say it. Please don’t repeat yourself.

Please don’t leave.

There was a stillness that had taken over the room - the world - when Joe realised that you weren’t joking. A stillness where even the wind outside hesitated to stir. You weren’t saying shit just to get a reaction out of him. You weren’t trying to get him to say words you wanted him to say. You’d been serious from the second you’d walked into Joe’s flat, and Joe felt stupid how he had just… immediately dismissed you. How he hadn’t even really listened as you spoke to him.

It had been a few days since you’d seen each other, and you’d secretly been collecting and saving bravery. You’d avoided Joe for a few days whilst you kept busy, storing all the courage you could find in a secret spot inside of your body, waiting for it to be enough to drive you into just fucking saying it already.

Joe hadn’t questioned the stupid excuses you’d come up with to not see him a couple of nights in a row. Hadn’t questioned it at all, didn’t seem to really care about it either, which only added to your valour. To the ‘he doesn’t even give a shit’ narrative that you needed to believe with your full heart, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have decided to spontaneously text him, “on my way over” before flying out the door.

If you could stop your hands from shaking, that’d be great, but you were going to do this. You were going to ride this wave of determination, without or with a shaking body.

When you stepped into Joe’s flat, sick with nerves and heavy tension, Joe was hunched over a messy open drawer of a side cupboard.

“Have you seen my earphones? Wired ones?” he rummaged through with both hands.

No hi. No hello. No I’ve not seen you in days, come here, let me kiss you silly.

Have you seen my earphones.

The real important stuff.

“My wireless ones, the left bud has stopped charging itself…”

And you knew exactly where Joe’s wired earphones were.

For a second, you debated giving in. Debated using this as your out. Debated smiling, rolling your eyes all fondly, being the helpful girl Joe needed in this moment. It was tempting to forcibly forget about the one sentence you’d repeated inside of your mind over and over and over again since you’d walked out your door.

Fingers rubbed over the hems of your sleeves as you stood in the doorway still, and you felt where you’d rubbed literal holes into the fabric. 

“Pay a fucking fortune for nice ones and still, it’s the same bullshit, nice or not, it’s…” Joe finally turned his head to look at you when you remained silent. He watched you for a second before he stood up straight.

“Hey… you okay?” he frowned, hands fiddling with whatever junk he’d found instead of what he was looking for.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m very happy anymore…”

There.

The words were out.

You’d said them, and even though you’d expected the world to maybe crack open and for everything to immediately go to absolute shit... nothing happened.

But you’d said the words, and the tiniest littlest speck of gratification popped up inside of your chest.

You had to actively remember how to breathe, but if you’d leave right now, at least you had said those words.

“All right,” Joe frowned a little, and cast his eyes back down to whatever his hands were doing. “What needs changing then? You can turn the heating up, if you want.”

Joe’s casual dismissal felt sharp as a blade, severing any hope of fixing this. Of saving it. It was completely mismatched to how tense you felt.

“No, I’m not…” you felt your knees shake as Joe continued rummaging. Suddenly, you were way more nervous to say those exact same words once again. “I’m not happy. Anymore.” You had to swallow straight after, mouth dry, tongue thick.

“All right,” Joe made an annoyed face at a random electrical wire he found, and continued, “So what needs changing then?”

His slight annoyance fed everything bad inside. Joe was unknowingly coaxing you into the exact right headspace for what needed doing.

“This.”

Joe still wasn’t looking at you.

“This what?”

Part of you wanted to show your frustration. The anger. Wanted to clench your fists and exhale roughly through flared nostrils to show him, to make him see. You wish you wanted to raise your voice and fight. But the unrelenting defeat of the moment rooted itself deeper inside of your body. The lack of care coming from Joe, the attention he wasn’t giving you, the dismissal of what you’d just told him, because his wired earphones were obviously so much more important than you were... it all combined into nothing more than a simple shrug.

You remained calm, protectively flat, and just… shrugged.

“This.”

You repeated yourself once more, and when Joe didn’t even seem to properly hear you, you looked at the open door that lead to the hallway which had his bedroom at the end of it.

You knew where Joe’s wired earphones were.

What followed were slow and measured footsteps that carried you over into Joe’s bedroom where you found the wired earphones in one of his bedside tables before you slowly made your way back over to him.

With a soft hand, you reached for one of his and held it in yours, palm up, to place the earphones into.

“Oh! Where did you find–”

“I think I need to stop thinking that things are going to ever be different…”

You looked Joe in the eye, and it was like he only then noticed what he was looking at. Like the earphones being found closed a chapter, and now there was attention for you and, oh, you didn’t look very happy.

“It’s never going to be different… is it?”

You looked very sad, actually.

Sort of drained of life.

Really tired.

“Hey, are you all right?” Joe discarded his earphones to the side and grabbed hold of one of your elbows, pulling you a little closer.

“Things aren’t going to ever be different, are they?”

You saw how Joe copied the knit of your eyebrows, face going from a little confused to very suddenly filled with deep worry.

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“Like, with us. This.” You stepped back, just slightly, creating distance.

“Are you… are you being serious right now?” And Joe stepped forward, moving right along with you to close that distance again.

“I think...” you sighed, eyes closed but back straight and chin up. Strong. “I think I need a change.”

“Baby… a change like what? What are you talking about?”

One of Joe’s hands cupped your cheek, thumb pushing underneath your jaw, taking the weight of your whole head as he tipped your head just right for eye-contact.

“Joe, I’m not… this isn’t what I want.”

“Me?”

No.

“Us.”

“Oh…”

Joe’s eyes moved between yours, searching for the slightest little bit of softness you still had for him.

He found it easily.

“I’m sorry.”

But he hadn’t expected the compassion there to be sympathy and pity for the situation you were placing Joe into.

At first, there’d been a surge of angry confusion. Of Joe stepping back and jokingly accusing you of being daft. Of telling you that your heart had frozen over because he probably hadn’t turned the heating up high enough. He asked if you’d eaten. If maybe you’d been drinking. Anything to make sense of what was going on, of why you’d walked into his flat on a random evening to tell him things he didn’t want to hear.

Then, there’d been yelling. Hurried large steps got paced around his living room, his arms flying about in unrestrained wild gestures. “You keep referring to past mistakes! You always say you forgive and forget, but you’re not forgetting shit!”, “Have you been hanging out– did you just come straight over from Emily? Has she been planting shit into your brain that you– you can’t actually be fucking serious right now!”, “God, this is so fucking annoying! You’re being annoying!”, “Are you sure this is what you want to do? The worst. Just the fucking worst!”. Joe’s voice went up as he screamed, cracking when he got too passionate, and you wished that had been new information to you.

Eventually, there’d been a weird composed faux acceptance that felt like a manipulative tranquility that Joe adapted to simply show you that you didn’t actually want what you were asking for. A childish, ‘Fine, I’ll give you what you want, see how it sucks?!’ just to prove to you that you were wrong.

When you didn’t budge, and it all finally really landed, everything changed.

Joe turned soft.

Went from frantic movements to suddenly sighing the deepest sigh he’d ever sighed to slowly making his way over to you, hesitating slightly when moving in to hug you, but then going for a full both-arm-tight-wrap-up when you didn’t flinch away.

After about a minute of tightly embracing, you heard Joe sniff close to your ear, and you realised he was crying.

“Joe, I’m sorry, I–”

“No, no.” Joe pulled back, used his sleeve to quickly wipe at his face before going, “No, look at me. Look. You’re right. I’m the one- no, look. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t– you’re right, you’re…” Joe moved both his hands into his hair, a flash of panic, and had to take a few steps as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re not annoying.”

You saw how his jaw clenched. How he rapidly blinked to keep further tears at bay.

“I don’t know why…” Joe started, sitting down on the edge of his sofa as he rubbed a hand across his face. “It just… it never even occurred to me that you had the option to… to go anywhere. But you’re right.”

You didn’t care about being right. It didn’t feel nice to be right about something so devastating.

Looking at Joe, broken boy unsure of where to steer his thoughts and his emotions, you knew this wasn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t what you’d envisioned for the both of you. But, to be fair, almost nothing about what you’d become together had come about because you’d envisioned it that way.

You moved to sit down next to Joe and got immediately taken a hold of.

“Will you stay the night?”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Yea. No… you’re right. You probably shouldn’t... but, will you?”

“Joe…” you couldn’t tell him you would. Couldn’t reply with the ‘I will’ he wanted from you.

“I know, I know, please... don’t…”

If you weren’t going to stay the night, at least Joe would have this. Long quiet minutes, sat on his sofa together. Touching. Staring into nothingness. The longer he could keep you there, the better.

He found new ways to hug.

Different ways to hold.

Arms moved, swiped, squeezed and felt, mapping your every inch in a desperate bid to remember.

Joe took hold of the back of your neck in the exact way he knew you liked, thumb pressing into the dip at the base of your skull, rubbing small circles there.

And you gave him that.

Gave him this moment, frozen in time, just before you’d eventually walk out without plans of ever returning.

“You do know,” Joe started off, voice barely there in a whisper, words pressed into the skin just behind your ear. “You know that I really do love you, don’t you?”

And the world shattered.

The first real and sincere I love you that you’d ever gotten from him.

That wasn’t meant to hurt like it did.

“You know that right?”

All you could do was give a small nod that Joe felt with his face as you fought with all of your being to not burst into tears.

“I love you.”

The cruelest goodbye present you hadn’t asked for, thrusted into your lap at the worst possible time, and you had no other choice than to just simply accept it.

“Yea... love you, too.”

You can see him in the reflection of the window that the treadmills are aimed at, leisurely strolling into your line of sight. Towel over his shoulder, wearing his grey hoodie, wired earphones already in his ears, and eyes on his phone as he seems to sort through a playlist.

It’s been a day.

One single day.

One day since you’d woken up on his sofa.

One day since you’d said yes to a morning coffee that you probably shouldn’t have said yes to.

One day since you’d called the guy in your flat and had to explain why you’d left him in your bed on his own in the middle of the night.

One day since Joe sat across the table from you, coffee in hand, and listened to you stutter through vague excuses.

One day since you’d groaned at yourself for being so fucking stupid, and asked Joe, “What the fuck are we doing...”

One day since he’d shrugged and regretfully told you he wished he had an answer to that question.

To all of your questions, for that matter.

Joe showing up to your gym isn’t coincidental. It simply can’t be. It makes no sense for Joe to go to the gym that’s right around the corner from your flat.

There’s also no way he hasn’t seen you.

There’s not a chance he doesn’t know you’re here.

This is what Joe does, what he did just a short while ago, and he goes about it in almost the exact same way.

His slow pace gives him away.

The fact that he stops just as he has passed you, giving the free treadmill next to yours a quick glance as if he’s only just decided, yea I can do a bit of cardio here, why not, gives him away.

The moment his fucking awful purple pumas touch the machine next to you, you stop looking at him in the reflection. Eyes straight ahead. You keep them firmly trained on yourself instead, and keep a steady pace.

Yea. You hate the gym.

But you’re here to work out, and work out only.

Not to socialise.

Not to potentially run into someone.

Not to prove to someone, to anyone, that you’re a person that goes to the gym now.

No.

You’re there to work out. Guilt has been slowly eating at you until the anxiety of it all, the extreme criticism aimed at yourself, became too much and physical exercise seemed like the only healthy way out.

The only healthy way through.

You’re working out to feel better about yourself, about the choices that you’ve made, and you fucking hate every single second of it. But, you’re only about halfway through what you’d set out to do, and the plan is to fucking finish it. To do the full routine, no ifs ands or buts.

From your peripheral vision, you can see how Joe turns the machine on and how he throws the screen of yours an obvious glance.

Then, he sets the speed to just a little faster than yours.

Idiot.

For a little while it’s easy to ignore him. Makes sense, since you’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. You could look right through him if you wanted to, face blank, eyes all hollow. Sometimes that was just what he deserved, and you remember how it always felt shockingly good to push his buttons by simply pretending he wasn’t there.

You’re an expert in driving this man insane.

But driving him insane isn’t the end goal here – instead it’s trying to hold yourself together, to harden yourself just enough, to not let him drive you insane.

So you ignore him.

Focus on your breathing. The whirring of the treadmill. The miles you’ve already run. How may more you have to go. Your own heartrate. The position of your feet.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Breathe in, in.

Breathe out, out.

God, you fucking hate running, but there’s something that itches you about the fact that Joe put the speed of his treadmill a half mile per hour faster than yours.

And it’s not a fair race – which is what this fucking is now: a race – because he’s just wandered in and you’ve been going for a while already.

But maybe that’s actually good.

This guy’s not warmed up. Just got on the treadmill and started bolting.

Idiot.

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breathing to pick up. For it to become audible to you, and you know he’s not going to be able to keep this up much longer. 

Just when you think Joe’s going to reach over and lower the speed of his treadmill, you decide to double down on this inevitable win and press the plus button twice.

Twice.

And fuck, you immediately regret it. The burn in your legs is merciless. An unforgiving persistent ache, yet the burn in your lungs is worse.

In, in. Out, out. In, in. Out, out.

Some of the sweat that’s dripping down your face gets stopped by your eyebrows, yet some also gets past and goes straight into your eyes, but fuck off, you’re winning.

You can do this.

You can pretend you just wanted to run extra fast for a minute. Maybe two.

Four minutes.

You manage four minutes before your start getting scared your legs are going to turn into actual jelly. For fear of tripping over your own feet and launching yourself backwards across the gym floor, you have to slow it down.

The second you do, Joe does as well.

It feels like your lungs have forgotten how to absorb oxygen, but you’re walking, and it’s fine. You did slow down your treadmill before Joe did, but you ran faster than him and, all together, ran for much longer, so it’s a win.

You’ve won.

You’ll die on this hill– you won and Joe lost and he is a loser.

There’s another moment where you can see Joe glance over, and even though you’re both at a walking pace, he still goes to adjust his speed so it’s higher than yours. Then, he removes his earphones.

Time to acknowledge his presence.

“You don’t go to this gym.” You manage to say before Joe gets a chance to get a word in.

Shit, you’re panting.

“I don’t?” But so is Joe. “Weird place for me to be then.”

You give him a look.

“Why are you here?”

Joe pulls a face he always pulls when he’s about to make a joke. It’s a stern face that’s hiding a smile so well, it just looks like he’s a frowning asshole.

“Hmm. Why... am I here?” he repeats seriously, pensive, like the answer escapes him. Then he looks around and uses an arm to showcase the gym he’s in, like it’s obvious he’s there to work out. It makes you feel like he’s making fun of you, which immediately stirs up animosity inside you.

“Well,” you start collecting your things. Towel, water bottle, phone. “Good luck. Get swole, or whatever.”

And you’re off.

“I’ll see you for a coffee, after!” Joe calls after you, and when you turn your head, you see him smirk as he wipes his towel across his forehead.

“No thanks!” you make yourself sound as polite and upbeat as you can whilst turning him down.

Joe watches you walk away, past some of the rowing machines, and he sees how other guys glance a look at you.

He doesn’t blame them.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing here, just that he wants to be near you. If that means going over to yours unannounced just to see you cross the street and enter the gym, rushing back home to get his own kit and making his way back over to get a guest pass, and then super casually accidentally ending up on a treadmill next to you, well, then... that’s what he’ll do.

Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing.

What you’re doing.

Why he’s been excited every time he’s seen you over the past couple of months. Why he’s been sad every time you parted ways again.

He doesn’t know why you keep coming back after you ended it all, but what he does know is that it must mean that it’s not over.

Not fully.

There’s a door there, still open enough for him to squeeze through, and yesterday, he realised he would actually rather hurt himself whilst struggling to get through your door, than pick any of the other doors that girls are holding wide open for him.

Joe watches you make your way over to the weight machines and you decide to pretend Joe’s not really there. Decide to pretend that there’s not something dangerously delightful about seeing Joe all sweaty and out of breath.

You get on with your work out routine.

Do the leg press for a bit. Some leg curls. Some extensions.

Nothing for the arms.

You have no upper body strength, and Joe’s watching. You’re very much doing your best to pretend he’s not there, but, you still find yourself secretly checking if you’re being watched.

And you are.

You ignore the furious blush on your cheeks and tell yourself it’s just because your exercising. The heat you feel in your face is just there because you’re moving. S’got nothing to do with Joe, who’s in your peripheral vision the whole time.

He’s strategically moving across the gym floor, standing in front of mirrors that reflect the best views of you, and yea, sure, he’s holding weights in both his hands, but he’s not really doing much, is he? He’ll curl an arm up every couple of seconds, but there’s barely any effort there.

Which makes sense.

Joe’s busy watching.

He’s watching you work out as discretely as he can.

He knows you’re aware of it too. Knows you’re following his whereabouts. Sees you check over your shoulder a little more often than seems normal to check your surroundings. Knows you’re having the absolute worst time because you hate physical exercise like this, but he watches as you power through.

Watches as you seem to finish up.

Watches you leave for the changing rooms, and he quickly does the same. Drops the weights he was still holding right where he’s standing and rushes to get his things because he wants to be ready and waiting by the door when you walk out.

You’re faster than expected.

Joe’s only just left the men’s changing rooms, zipping up his jacket, when he sees you emerge from the women’s.

You see him too.

Of course you do.

But you look right past him as you leave the building, and Joe has to scramble to get the door before it smacks him in the face as he follows you out.

“That was a quick shower.” Joe muses, following your tail.

“I shower at home.” You simply answer, looking for traffic both ways.

“Yea? Can’t tempt you into getting a quick coffee together somewhere?”

Joe dashes after you as you cross the street and comes to walk next to you.

“I’ve got coffee at home.” You dismiss him, but Joe hasn’t given up half his morning for you to suddenly use your sound, responsible mind. Not after yesterday.

“Oh, great. Even better.”

For whatever reason, even after all the interactions you’ve had with Joe post break-up, this feels like the first time it means something. Maybe it’s because it’s been a literal single day since you woke up next to him on his sofa, or maybe it’s because it was a little difficult to look at yourself in the mirror after.

You stop walking abruptly and it takes Joe two whole steps to realise you’re no longer next to him.

“What are you...” you falter, brow furrowed as you look at him.

“Doing?” Joe finishes for you, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m doing what we do– what we have been doing.”

He says it so plainly, like there’s not a million things wrong with that. Like he hadn’t invited you over to stay the night at his flat when there was a whole other person in his bed, likely wondering why the fuck she woke up on her own, just like the guy you’d left in yours.

You’re terrible people, and what Joe is meant to do, is self-loathe in his own time until the feeling has faded enough for a new bout of dumb decisions. You know, like you’re doing.

“You can’t just–...”

“Can’t what?”

Your eyes fall to Joe’s stupid trainers, his faded ugly purple pumas, and you hate how you like that he wore them.

This is never going to be over, is it?

You know with every fibre of your being that you shouldn’t.

But, fuck.

You want to.

You really, really want to.

“Don’t you feel bad?” you ask, hoping that at least Joe will confirm that you’re not overreacting.

You should feel bad.

The both of you.

There’s the slightest moment of introspection from Joe that you see across his face before he smiles at your rosy cheeks and goes, “I do. But not... not about this. What does it matter if I want to go and have a drink with you? Hmm? Who cares about that?”

Well.

Probably that girl that slammed the door of his flat yesterday. And, you also kind of hope that he cares, but it’s difficult to sort through and articulate your thoughts and feelings about that in the moment.

“Do you feel bad?” Joe asks, a hand reaching over to touch you on the arm.

“I feel terrible...” you admit on a heavy exhale. You also feel sweaty and sticky and gross.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yea, well... you should be. Because it’s your fault,” you show the slightest of smiles and fall back into step. “And because your shoes are ugly.”

Joe watches you walk away for a bit, trying to wrap his head around it. Around you. Finds that he was right before: he just wants to be near you, still.

He just wants to be near you always, actually.

He’s lucky you’ve got the same issue.

It’s why you let Joe into your flat.

Why the first thing you do when you get in is make Joe a coffee since he was so adamant about having some.

When he sees that you’re not making yourself a cup, he goes and does it for you. Makes you the perfect cup of coffee, exactly how you like it, and you have to really hide how giddy that makes you feel. Can’t give away how that means something to you. So instead, you make him laugh when, in lieu of sugar, you slide a salt shaker across the table, just because you think Joe needs to know that he’s welcome here, but that he’s not really... welcome here.

“You’re so annoying, my God.” Joe shakes his head, fondness practically dripping from the words as he smiles. He’ll make you a million more cups of coffee if it means you’ll make him laugh like that.

In turn, you laugh at jokes Joe makes about you going for your shower, telling you that you must be exhausted and he’ll gladly help out and hold you up. You know, no big deal, even though he remembers that your shower is small and barely fits two people in.

“We’ll just have to stand really close together.” you quip, joining the bit.

“It will be so awkward for me, but I’ll self-sacrfice, not a problem.”

You laugh together, and Joe drinks the coffee you made for him, and you drink the coffee that he made for you. There’s a moment of silence before you semi-seriously say, “I’m really not meant to have you over.”

It’s complicated. It’s fine, but it’s not.

“Yea... you probably shouldn’t. You’re right.” Joe flirts. “You’re right.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting though...” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. “We’re not to be trusted, I don’t think...”

Joe eyes you for a short moment, then leans forward a little and carefully says, “You’re allowed to set your expectations aside every once in a while, you know... we can just enjoy our time. Nothing wrong with that.”

You can’t help but smile, because the sentiment is sweet, but unfortunately, it doesn’t really work like that. Before you know it, you’ll be back right where you were before, kicking yourself over placing yourself back in that same crappy situation.

A grimacing discontented nose-scrunch does all the talking for you.

“All right,” Joe says on the back-end of a sigh, slapping both legs as he gets up, already heading towards the door. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

You put an arm out and get a handful of his sleeve before he gets even close to leaving, and Joe turns his head to grin at you like you’d played directly into his trap.

Which, you probably just had done.

Had been doing.

“Oh?” Joe startles playfully. “Am I wanted, then?”

The handful of shirt gets pulled into your direction until Joe’s standing really close, and you have to tip your head back all the way to look up at him.

“Do you want to hear me say that I want you?” you challenge his neediness as one of his hands finds your cheek. You know exactly that’s what he wants to hear.

“Is that hard for you?” he challenges your obduracy right back, thumb softly rubbing the skin under your eye, knowing full well how hard of a time you have with sharing your feelings in the moment.

It’ll never be lost on you how there’s so little you can hide from one another. It’s comforting in the most perilous of ways.

It helps that Joe is very upfront about his wants. He’s in your living room for a reason, which makes it a little easier to admit to a truth you can no longer deny.

You wouldn’t have invited him over if you didn’t want him here.

Obviously.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside in the long-term, but in the short-term, temptation and comfort always seem to win all too easily. Hence the handfull of fabric you’re still holding.

That doesn’t meant that Joe deserves the satisfaction of hearing you say that, though.

“No.” you smile, eyes casting downwards. “But… do you want to know what is hard for me?”

Without any hesitation, you let your hand find the bulge in his jeans, and Joe flinches at the contact, his other hand immediately around your wrist to control your next move, grip tight, like he’s using it to not lose his balance.

“Don’t.”

With his eyes shut, he exhales a slow breath.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up in the same way his had done earlier. “Am I wrong, then?”

Joe has to bite back a smile, and there’s a moment where you’re just staring each other down, your hand touching growing parts of Joe, and his hand keeping it right in place. It’s hard for him to look away from your eyes and the sparkle they look at him with.

It’s a big ask to set expectations aside... when you haven’t really got any to begin with.

Joe’s voice comes out a little gruff when he says, “How about that shower?” all lowly, giving a slight nod up in question as he bites into his bottom lip.

The only way out seems through.

But, just before you give in all over again, something pipes up in your mind that turns you solemn. Something Joe said the night before.

“You um...” you swallow thickly and slowly remove your hand from Joe’s jeans. “You said we weren’t the best, before...”

This dance between heartfelt earnestness and teasing banter is becoming a little confusing, but, to be fair, everything about you and Joe is confusing.

Joe’s hand on your cheek is warm, and you let the words you’d just said linger. Let them speak for themselves. You haven’t asked Joe a question that needs an answer, but you wait for him to figure out what you mean all by himself.

Why should you go have a shower with Joe if he doesn’t think you’re good together? If things can’t be better than before?

“Before...” Joe repeats and then slowly lowers himself next to your chair and leans on a knee so he’s more at eye-level with you. He’s choked with tenderness for you, especially when you look like this, not unlike what you looked like when you barged into his flat a night ago. “Before, yea. But that was–...”

Then.

This is now.

Joe’s hand is still on your face, his steady touch unmoving, but now his fingers curl under your jaw and around your ear, and it burns your skin. You want to allow yourself to enjoy the gentle touch, but you can’t. Shouldn’t. Your wants are too risky.

Anxiety swells and you can feel how your fingers are searching out a bit of fabric to run along, but you’re not wearing long sleeves. It’s why your next question comes out all choppy.

“Will it b-be different?”

Your question implies a whole lot. Implies a want for something new. For something better. Something different. And, perhaps most terrifyingly, it implies a want for something together.

You think if Joe is going to be completely honest with you, he should tell you no. However, logically, you also understand there’s a current heavy throbbing in his underwear that might influence things slightly.

Still.

You want to hear his answer.

Want to know what he’s really doing here.

What his expectations are.

Joe can’t predict the future. But you desperately want him to.

“It can be.”

Instant disappointment.

In Joe, and within yourself.

It can be.

It’s the most non-committal answer Joe could’ve given. It’s guarded. Evasive. Without clear indication or attitude of feeling.

You hate it.

But then you watch as he slowly grabs hold of one of your hands and guides it to the sleeve hem of the hoodie he is wearing where your fingers immediately find home and rub to their hearts content. It’s embarrassing how your shoulders instantly relax.

Joe clears his throat, cradling your face in both of his hands now, and adds, “It should be.” which he makes sound like a promise.

It should be.

It should be because you are both older and wiser and have learnt lessons and have grown. It should be because you are new people, with old habits but with new intentions.

It should be because you really want it to be.

It should be because Joe is really going to try.

That’s all you want.

All you need.

It should be makes you whine and drop your head fully into Joe’s hold.

It should be has you accept Joe’s lips that press firmly against yours.

It should be allows you to be picked up and lead over to your bathroom where you both undress at lightning speed.

It should be has you under the stream before the water’s even fully warmed up, standing really close together, and not just because the shower’s small.

Emily’s absolutely going to kill you.

But she’s allowed.

She can murder both you and Joe together, and you’ll continue doing what you’re doing right now in whatever the afterlife even is until the end of time itself.

Time can stop, for all you care.

Joe touches you in the shower until your legs can quite literally no longer carry you, and then Joe touches you in your bed until every single cell of your body is violently shaking in pure delight.

It should be different.

It will be different.

And different starts right fucking now.

“I love you.”

Joe pants the words heavily into your skin. Into your neck, your collarbone, your shoulder. Wants them to settle there and never leave. He seals them in with kisses, and repeats mumbling praise that he hopes will cling onto you for a while as well.

You’re convinced he’s just saying things because it feels right in the moment. Because he wants to prove to you that he’s right.

You lay together, bodies on top of each other, and it takes longer than feels normal to come back down from what you’ve just done. Joe holds you in place on top of him, both his hands wrapped around your arms, and when you try to move, when you try to let yourself slide off and fall onto the mattress next to him, he only further strengthens his grip.

“I love you.” He then says more clearly, and he sounds like he’s admitting it to himself just as much as he is to you. Like it’s something that he needs to hear himself articulate more than it’s something that you might need to hear.

It’s unbelievable that he’s here, right now.

He fully thought you’d be done with him by now, yet, here you are, wanting more of him. Different. Yes. But more all the same.

“Love you, love you, love you.” Joe punctuates with kisses.

Joe finds that he’s still as full of emotion for you as he was when you were still together, but there’s a huge difference in voicing it. In saying things aloud for other people to hear.

For you to hear.

“Yea,” you smile, tickled by the tone of Joe’s repeated confession, convinced you’ve pulled the words straight from his dick. “Yea you do.”

There’s no way Joe is thinking with his brain right now.

A soft scoff comes from him before he tries his best to sound like a schoolteacher as he demands, “Say it back.”

You huff a laugh to that, still feeling a little floaty and too far gone for a coherent response. All you can think about is how Joe’s still inside of you, and how he is keeping you there.

Then one of his hands lets you go, but is quickly followed by a well-aimed poke to your side that has you squirming. Joe remembers all your vulnerable spots, knows exactly where they are, fucking dick.

“Say it back! Say, I love you too, Joe.”

In your giggling, you manage to sit up a little and glare down at Joe, but you’re smiling, which completely ruins the effect, and it turns him a little soft inside. You then lean back down a little and give him a peck by his ear which serves to shut Joe up.

He decides it’s enough of an answer, close enough to an I love you said in return. He knows you do, anyway.

In your next move, you snuggle into him, cheek rubbing into his skin, and, fuck, Joe’s done for.

“Yea… yea, you love me too.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, giggles stuck in the back of your throat that you try your best to contain, ones that Joe lets out easily.

“Too bad you’re so annoying.”

“Yea.” You squeeze Joe tighter and let your teeth scrape the skin of his chest. “I’m the worst.”

There’s no phone buzzing on the bedroom floor.

There’s no other people hiding in a different room in your flat.

No... Jessicas, or whatever. No Jaspers.

You’re in the centre of your bed together, no sides picked or chosen, and the temperature inside reflects neither icy Antarctica nor the Amazon rainforest.

It should be different.

Better.

It already is.

Are you risking making the same mistakes all over again? Yes. Are you willing to still go ahead and give this a try? Also yes.

“Will you stay?” Joe quietly asks, silently and warily bringing up how vulnerable he felt when you broke it all off months ago.

You move your head to look him in the eye for a second.

“I should.” you whisper back, reassuring you in same way Joe had reassured you.

“Will you stay?” you repeat Joe’s question, but know what he’s going to say before he even opens his mouth.

One of his hands snakes around to hold you by the back of your neck.

“I will.”

the end

---

The Taglisted

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@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

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@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

@mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles

@notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @pinchofhoney, @prettiestboyreid

@readergf, @royale1803, @skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac

@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, apologies!

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 4

Masterpost Ao3

“Cassiopeia,” Danny murmurs, his eyes never leaving the glimmering void above him. “Though epsilon looks dimmer than it usually is. I wonder if it still has a ring...” Around him, the world is shadowed, the distant lights of cities visible on the horizon but not bright enough to truly disrupt his view of the night sky. It had been a bit nerve-wracking leaving the town, but he’d been making an effort to lay low for the last week, and had seen nothing to indicate anyone was coming to search for him. The idea of visiting the firefighters still makes his skin itch, but a little trip to stargaze had started seeming like a reasonable risk to take, and with the calm expanse of void above him, Danny can feel something deep inside of him settle. The buzz of fear that’s been around since before he even got here evaporates, as he counts the stars and constellations. They’re not all the same, Cygnus seems to be mostly missing, and a few of the individual stars Danny remembers seem to be gone, but for the most part, it’s the same. Certainly more familiar than anything else has been so far. The technology here is all far more advanced than anything Danny’s seen before, which is ironic considering the portal.

It’s funny, really that he can be this far away from home (a literally incalculable distance), and the stars are still generally the same. Even the ones that are new are still stars; still the same burning masses fueled by fusion and gravity, and feeding the universe at large with new material. They're still millions of light-years away, and yet they’ve been there for so long, streaming their light into a void, where it can eventually reach this very spot where Danny’s currently standing. All his problems seem so small in the face of the great expanse of space.

“Amazing!” Danny exclaims, letting himself just laugh with delight. Maybe he’s alone here, but has he ever felt this free before? Nobody to drag him away, or force him into fights, or yell at him about the chores he hasn’t done yet. Hell, if he really wanted to, he just take off, go hang out in space, maybe fly until he finds one of those alien planets that he’d seen mentioned on Wikipedia. Sure, it would probably take a stupid amount of time to get there, but he could , if he wanted.

Behind him, there’s a rush of air, and the sound of a person taking a breath, and Danny tears his gaze away from the stars, flipping himself into a fighting stance as he runs through the list of heroes he’d read about, trying to remember which of them could fly. As he turns, his eyes lock on to another boy, though, that looks to be close to Danny’s own age.

“Woah, dude.” The boy says, holding his hands up and floating a few feet backwards. “I’m not here to fight?”

“Then why are you here?” Danny asks. He is just a kid, so like, maybe , it’s safe, but also the symbol on the kids chest is the same one Superman was wearing, so he could just be a recruit or something.

“I dunno, man, I just heard you talking and got curious? Not exactly many people around that can just hang out in the sky, you know. I can leave if you want.” The other  boy’s expression seems sincere. Mostly he looks startled and a bit uncertain, and deeply unlike the weird, heroic, confident posture that Superman seemed to have in every picture. This guy looks like he’s trying to look confident, sure, but not like he actually is .

“You’re not Superman, but you’re wearing his logo.” Danny says. Dropping his stance, but not letting himself fully relax. Just because it’s not a fight, doesn’t mean he’s safe, after all.

“Yeah, uh, I’m Superboy.”

“Superboy,” Danny echoes. “I read something about sidekicks? Is that-” Danny cuts himself off when the other boy winces.

“No, I’m not his sidekick. More like he’s helping to train me. We’ve got the same powers, so... Yeah.”

“Huh. Training sounds... Nice? What’s that like?” Honestly, training sounds downright miraculous. Danny hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the destruction caused by the train crash, and how everyone in Amity had always complained about the damage caused by ghost fights. He hasn’t forgotten how much he’d gotten himself hurt in those early days either, not that anyone else had ever noticed that bit.

“Yeah, I guess it’s nice. I take it you don’t have a mentor, then?”

“I’m not a hero.”

“No? I thought- I mean, you look a lot like the description of the guy who helped with the train crash over in Concord.” Superboy frowns, glancing off in the direction of Danny’s hometown.

“I mean, yeah that was me but I’m not. I don’t wanna fight anyone.”

“Oh, yeah that’s totally fair.” Superboy immediately responds with a laugh. “Honestly most of what we do isn’t actually fighting people, so y’know. You don’t have to be a fighter to be a hero.”

“Oh.” That kinda makes sense. After all, Danny had done a lot of fighting back home, and nobody had called him a hero there.

“Yeah, it’s like. There’s a lot of stuff about emergency response and civilian rescue and stuff. Hell, from what I understand half of what the Bats do is just, like detective work. That’s a lot of what my training’s for, actually. I’m pretty good at destroying stuff, I guess, but Supes says I need better control, before I can be trusted to handle relief stuff, because I might accidentally hurt people with my strength or something.”

“That’s. Cool, I guess?” Danny risks a glance up at the stars. No attack comes with Danny’s split attention, though after a moment, Superboy slowly floats over to his side.

“What are you looking at?”

“The stars.”

“Just, like, in general?” Superboy asks. He sounds dubious, and Danny can feel him glancing between him and the sky every couple seconds.

“What, have you never gone stargazing before?” 

Superboy doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Danny glances over. The false confidence has completely evaporated from the other boy’s expression, and instead he just looks unsure.

“I’ve never really had the opportunity before.” Superboy finally murmurs, quieter than any of their conversation so far.

“Well, I guess you’re in luck!” Danny says, offering his new companion a smile. “Because I’m something of an expert in it!” And Danny begins to point to the different constellations, and tell Superboy as much as he can about all the stars and planets above them.

“You really are an expert, huh?” Superboy eventually says, in the middle of Danny’s tangent about why Pluto isn’t considered a planet anymore. That had been one of his most interesting discoveries in his Wikipedia explorations. He’d been kind of surprised at first when it hadn’t shown up on the list of planets, but he’d specifically searched for it, he’d learned about it’s reclassification, along with all the reasoning behind it. He’d been a little sad at first, but the realization that it came alongside the implication about a whole number of other bodies orbiting their sun had been exciting in it’s own way.

“Yeah,” Danny responds with a laugh. “I, uh, really like space. I actually wanted to be an astronaut as a kid.”

“But you don’t want to be one now?”

“I mean,” Danny hums. “It’d be nice, but I don’t think it’s really a plausible goal anymore. It- the way I got my powers came with some... complications. And anyway I kind of don’t legally exist anymore, so it’s. I can’t even go to space camp, let alone go to actual space.”

“Is that, uh, why you don’t have a normal heart beat? I didn’t wanna ask and be rude, but like, you sound kinda like a really large bee.”

“Yeah, that’s, um. I mean I’ve never been called a bee before, but yeah.”

“Wild. But like, if it’s meta stuff, then aren’t they legally not allowed to discriminate against you for it? They’re not just gonna be like ‘oh you don’t have a heartbeat guess you can’t go to space.’”

“I mean, there was, like, a meta scholarship on the website, but...”

“You’re worried about revealing your identity.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, that’s fixable. I mean, I didn’t have an identity to even reveal until this year, so the Justice League can definitely-”

“I don’t want them to know about me,” Danny interrupts.

“Oh.” Superboy says. “Well, what about just, like one person? Because Robin could definitely make you a whole new identity all by himself, and I know he has no qualms about keeping shit secret from everyone else.”

“Robin.” Danny thinks he remembers that name being referenced in relation to Batman. Something about a boy wonder. “Is he our age?”

“Yeah.” Superboy looks excited. “I could introduce you sometime if you want?”

“I dunno.” Even one Justice League associate knowing about him is concerning, and if Superboy knows about the thing with the train, then probably the adult members do too.

“Well, you don’t have to decide now! I have super hearing so if you call my name I’m almost guaranteed to hear it!”

“You can just hear me anytime?” Danny asks.

“Oh, uh. I mean technically yes? But generally it’s like effort to just tune into one person from a distance. But I listen for anybody calling for me, in case they need help or whatever, so I’m always kind of listening for that.”

“I’’ll keep that in mind, I guess.”

“Right. Uh, do you wanna tell me more about the planets?”

[1980shorrorfilm]

sour times

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

btw to the requests in my inbox; i see u. i hear u. 🙏

pairing…jackson!abby x gn!reader x ellie

in which…you confront your not-so-great relationship with abby after she had stolen your best friend from you.

before you read…angst *sigh.* brief sexual content (for the plot!! no smut) you’re kinda mean here but i forgive you. 🫶

“do you like her?” “i don’t…i don’t know…i think so.”

her perfect blonde braid taunts you. you believe this is what hell is, following the lead of abigail anderson while the biting wind howls around you, snowflakes hitting your tender skin. 

the landscape is a winter wonderland, but you can’t seem to enjoy it in this state. perhaps if you were in the comfort of your bedroom, hot chocolate in your hand, and ellie williams by your side, you’d be in heaven. but that’s not even achievable these days. her time is spent with abby, the two in the woman’s garage, doing whatever when you’re not around, and you never are. 

it’s torturous to be the third. you had ellie first, your first real friend in the small town. you weren’t hers, cat had that blessing. but regardless, it appeared no one could even crack the bond you two had. and then she came along.

strolling into jackson like a puppy with eyes that resembled a stormy sea, her long hair adorned in a neat fishtail braid. she was sweet, but not in the naive way. she stood her ground when challenged, she showed her strength when needed, and she proved just how valuable she was to your community.

she also had a face you could admire for days, like some goddess one would worship many lifetimes ago. tan freckles scatter across her nose like lilies in a field, compared to ellie’s that are like stars in a busy midnight sky. they make their way down to her chest, sprinkled on her shoulders, and dancing over her biceps— her fucking biceps. god. abby was just fucking perfect. it aggravates you.

maybe that’s why ellie took a liking to her so rapidly. you get it— you hate it. and last night, you couldn’t help but ask your friend about their relationship, asking the auburn-haired woman if it was a crush. such a silly word, you had thought as it left your mouth. ellie even laughed quietly at it, avoiding an answer. then, you had asked again, ‘do you like her?’ 

and ellie had answered after hesitation, ‘i think so.’

i think so. jealousy coursed through your veins at the simple and uncertain answer; but you cannot pinpoint why, exactly. you never thought you liked ellie in that way. there was no doubt she was attractive, ellie happens to own that word, but your friendship was simply that. 

a friendship. no delving into romantic territory besides some lingering touches and a bit too deep all-nighters. there was nothing that made you yearn for her, when you already had her in such proximity to you, at your very fingertips. abby did a good job fucking that up, though. 

so you sat there, like a void was sucking you up at her answer. the idea of them…being a thing…sent chills down your spine. a nightmare possibly becoming a reality, if the feelings are mutual. and that scares you even more, abby finding herself enamored by ellie. somehow spending even more time with her than she already does. spending nights and mornings in her bed. it was all wrong. 

something that has yet to happen, already terrorizing you. it just can’t happen.

abby slows down her horse to walk beside you rather than in front of you, “you’re quiet…something wrong?”

you meet her eyes, legitimate concern within them. you were never the most talkative with her, but abby isn’t stupid and the tension in the air is almost as painful as the harsh weather you’re enduring. she wonders if she’s the cause of it. 

did she forget to wish you a good morning at the stables, something she did every single patrol? give you the wrong impression when she stared at you, utterly captivated by you? make you feel weak when she pulled an infected off of you, hands wandering your body making sure you were okay?

you answer her bluntly, “no.”

she tries again, “you can tell me if i did something…”

“you didn’t,” you insist, and surprisingly, it’s only a half lie. it’s the conversation with ellie that’s hanging over you like a dark cloud, and abby happens to be the focal point of it. 

abby seems to accept your response, for now, and tears her eyes off you. the wind has managed to pick up, and the horses are growing slower as they trudge through the snow. 

“that house up there,” abby motions with her head, a red house amongst the beige ones that surround it, “let’s hold up there.”

a stubborn part of you wants to tell her that she can wait there, and you will continue home. but you’re not a moron, and you don’t exactly feel like dying today, as much as ellie tempted you with the morbid idea. you’re freezing and crave shelter, even if that means being stuck another hour or so with abby. 

you follow abby to the home, waiting on your horse as she hops off hers, lifting the garage door for you to enter. when you do, there’s immediate relief in your body, abby behind you whispering sweet words to her horse, stroking the golden fur as she does so. it’s, unfortunately, cute. you keep your smile to yourself, patting your own horse when you get off her, then reaching for your gun before entering the home. 

“wait.” you pause and look back at abby, who walks in front of you, taking the lead yet again. an innocent yet condescending action that irks you deeply, watching the woman quietly slip past the wooden door, scanning the area for any sort of threat. 

you’re not as quiet when you follow behind her, stepping on some wrapper that crackles beneath your shoe, abby eyeing you like you spit on her. you brush it off, “i’ll check upstairs.”

“i’ll go with you.” “jesus— i don’t want you to.”

your sharp tongue takes her back, but there’s no anger in her eyes, it’s that same concern from moments ago. it makes you feel bad, but instead of apologizing, you leave her there, going upstairs like you said you would.

the old stairs creak with each quick step that you take, you forget the purpose of you coming up here. you just wanted to get away from her. that’s the reason why you’re immediately against a wall, snarling in your ear from a rotten corpse trying to bite it off. 

you resist, holding it at an arm's length away with one hand, the other reaching in your pocket for your pocket knife. your hands are cold and shaky, dropping it the moment you pull it out, when the splatter of blood meets your face. the thing is dead, falling before you, eyes meeting hers.

“a-are you—” “i’m fine,” you say coldly, bumping your shoulder with hers when you take a step forward and continue on. abby is really fucking confused, remaining frozen in the hall, staring at the dead infected at her feet. her eyes trail to your pocket knife, then back to you. 

you push open bedroom doors as you pass them, hardly searching them for any more infected. you assume if they wanted to, they’d attack you right then and there, and maybe if you’re lucky, a blonde knight in shining armor will save you. she had an annoying habit of doing so. 

“hey,” abby jogs toward you, trapping you in a doorway, “dropped this.”

the metal glimmers in her hands, and you’re quick to take your beauty of a weapon from her. oddly, you’re protective of the inanimate object, a thoughtful gift from ellie herself. the handle is a dulled shade of your favorite color, and the blade is a bit rusted, but that doesn’t bother you. “thanks,” you mumble, waiting for her to move. she doesn’t.

“wanna tell me why you’re acting like this?” “like what?”

“like that.” “what’s that?”

abby blinks at you, and you remain unfazed. you can tell her calm demeanor is deteriorating before you, patience running thin. “what did i do to you?” she asks, “since i showed up in jackson…it’s like you hate me.”

ouch. the words sting you more than her, and you cannot blame her for believing in such a thing. what have you done to show her otherwise?

held back smiles when she made kind remarks, generous gestures, and stupid jokes? left her out of conversations, not daring to spare eye contact when it was you, her, and ellie, sitting together? made weak small talk that made her feel like nothing but an acquaintance in town, when she just wanted more? 

you sigh, “i don’t…hate you.”

“you make that really hard to believe,” abby replies, crossing her arms. this close, you examine how the tip of her nose and cheeks are a hue of red from the bitter weather. it almost matches her lips…her lips. you’re watching her lips. you catch yourself, and whatever this is, pushing her away. you swallow the dusty air, fast steps taking you right back downstairs. 

of course, abby is on your trail. “you know we’re stuck here, right?” 

like a flip had been switched, you’re once again snappy with her, “no shit.”

“you confuse me, you know that?”

you pretend to ignore her words, focusing on the fireplace in the living room. there are enough logs to last as you wait out the blizzard, so you tug your backpack off and drop it on the distressed coffee table. you search for your matches, that are always in the first pocket in your bag, but they’re not there. 

you’re trying to remember when you took them out, or if they fucking ran away on their own. it doesn’t matter— abby is already ahead of you, and an orange glow suddenly illuminated the dim room. you turn your head, seeing the obnoxious sly grin on her face. “you’re welcome.”

you don’t thank her. you sit on the worn-out floral sofa a few feet away, eyes boring into the flames that are quick to warm you. “do you want a blanket?” abby offers, which you shake your head at. “you hungry?” again, you respond a ‘no,’ with your head. 

the problem with abby is that she’s genuine. she cares about you even if you have not shown the same worry toward her. and maybe that speaks for you more than abby. 

you don’t notice her reaching in her bag, pulling out some crumpled up gauze, until she sits beside you and reaches for your face. you move away when you feel her touch, furrowing your brows at her. “wanna be stubborn and keep that blood on your pretty face?”

your cool cheeks heat up, hardened appearance softening just slightly, then allowing her to wipe the nasty fluid off. she’s soft as she does so, taking her time, and the opportunity to adore your features at such close proximity. you’d probably give her a scowl if you realized so.

“is it her?”

“what?” “ellie. did she piss you off?”

abby is too observant for your own good. there’s only one…two people in jackson that can invoke such strong emotions from you, even if you hide them poorly. “no…”

“you kinda suck at this lying thing,” abby calls you out, large hand on your cheek, turning it so she can clean up any remaining blood on the other side of your face. “if she did, i could kick her ass.”

the somewhat joke leaves you with a puzzled expression. and then you laugh. “yeah, okay,” your tone is nothing but sarcastic, “like you’d ever take my side over hers.”

“what do you mean?” 

you bite your lip, tearing your eyes off her and into the burning wood. it’s not a loaded question, but it’s a loaded answer. to explain to her that ellie is her priority, as abby is hers, and you’re just there. someone that was kicked to the curb, left for envy to grow on you like poison ivy. 

you keep it short, “you guys are close.”

“well, yeah, we’re friends.” for now, you think, a humorless chuckle quietly escaping your lips. abby catches it, opens her mouth, and immediately shuts it. she finally lets go of your face, tossing the crimson coated gauze on the floor, her pupils still trained on you. the loss of her touch almost bothers you. then she speaks again.

“do you…do you think i like her or something? because we aren’t…anything.”

seconds pass in silence as you debate the question dancing on your tongue, curious if it’s overstepping but more intrigued about the answer. even if it will hurt to hear, you simply need to know. “do you want to be?”

“no, of course not.”

guilt ruins through your veins at the relief that settles in your body, knowing poor ellie would frown at the unrequited feelings. but there’s something else that gives you hope…why the fuck do you have hope? you gulp, “okay.”

“do you like her?” “what?!” “is that what this is about?”

“no— no it’s not, it’s not that.” “then what is it?”

you, honestly, cannot give her a proper response. this isn’t about some stupid nonexistent crush on your friend, yet that would make the most sense for whatever these feelings of resentment are. 

you’re quiet as you try to think of something, and it doesn’t help that her blue-grey eyes are zoning into you, as if she’s trying to peel the complicated layers off of you. she’s trying to understand, she really is, and it painfully makes your heart swell. you truly do get ellie. 

your façade of disinterest is chipping away like the paint on these very walls, her gaze on you making you want to break— to give in —and the moment your eyes fall to her pink lips, you do exactly that. 

you close the space between you two, nearly crawling on the couch and in her lap when you gently grab the sides of her face, kissing her before you even realize that you’re kissing her. it was an urge you couldn’t simply couldn’t resist. and abby welcomes it.

she moves in sync, pushing her lips against yours deeper, surprised when you pull away. the moment hits you at once; you and abby. abby and you. it has your eyes widened and lips parted, searching for something to say. sorry? no…that doesn’t feel right. you’re not sorry. and abby doesn’t want you to apologize, she needs you to keep going.

as if you both read the others mind, you lean into each other, connecting your lips once more.

you think of ellie, what she had told you with such vulnerability, and then you think of abby. abby, who had a intense desire to taste you, and was making that evidently clear. the aftermath of whatever this is, will be dealt with when that time comes.

you swallow the guilt when your tongue mixes with hers, abby tugging you on top of her, gripping your shirt like her life depends on it. her eagerness sends shivers down your spine, more intense than the horrid weather outside ever could to you. 

it feels too good to stop, she feels too good. abby is unbuttoning her jacket, while you’re tugging yours off, the kiss suddenly messy as you’re both failing to multitask. you giggle against her lips when you both manage to do so, her callous hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you closer. if that were possible.

you deepen the kiss, your hands slipping beneath the knit long sleeve shirt she wears. you explore the abs you’ve only ever seen through tight shirts that had you in a daze, not that you would’ve ever admit that to her, though. she attempts to say your name against your lips, her voice weak and breathy.

you pull away and tilt her chin up with your fingers, trailing your lips down her jaw, to the side of her neck. the world outside vanishes as abby loses herself in the sensation of your lips on her neck, sweet kisses that shift to gentle bites.

it’s the tender spots that you suck, that earn hushed whimpers from her. and you make sure to do it over, over, and over again. like a damn vampire, sinking your teeth into her, and marking your territory, when she’s not even yours.

and then you stop, noticing the room was dark. the fire had gone out. “we should— uh,” you climb off of her, the woman catching the breath she seemed to hold still the entire time. 

“yeah…” she agrees, chest rising, licking her lips. 

the wind has calmed down by now, a tolerable ride home that’s extremely quiet, besides the occasional gust of wind. except it’s not awkward the way it was hours prior. you’re exchanging short glances at the other, small smiles when your eyes would meet. 

you make it back to jackson safely, both of you dropping off the horses at the stables, making small talk as you walk home. you’re not talking about what just happened inside that red house, both of you are too shy to bring it up, to ask if that meant anything to the other. 

it truthfully drifts from your mind as abby is explaining a childhood story, until your eyes fall on her. ellie, heading in your direction, toward you two. 

it’s when she gets closer, that her pupils fall to abby’s neck; the pale skin decorated with purple marks, caused by you. she had been so worried about you two, and now, she feels dumb. and hurt.

especially when you just give her a tight-lipped smile, knowing exactly what you have done. and more importantly, that you wanted her to see it.

[raichett]

joel commits a hit and run

During the Watchers' debriefing after the end of Wild Life, Grian gets himself an unexpected - though certainly not unwelcome - ride home.

Content warnings: intentional vehicular violence against non-human entities who are not hurt by said violence, vaguely referenced character death, memory alteration, and being non-consensually trapped and made to play death games. This is unrepentantly crack.

AO3 version.

-

JOEL COMMITS A HIT AND RUN

The empty space between is desolate, as always. The others aren’t here, thankfully, too busy being other people in kinder places than this, even if they do remember. Only their own victory, of course, their one game, unlike Grian who is unfortunate enough to remember them all, and unfortunate enough to be held here and made to participate beyond the role of a player.

It’s possible he deserves this misfortune, of course. They have such power, see, and he is only one Watcher trying to stem the tide of many, all of whom are so eager to take delight in their newest game series. If he can’t stop them then maybe he can help lessen the damage, have a voice in the planning process, take part as recompense. Harm reduction, that’s what it’s called.

They’re talking, and he’s waiting, only half-listening to the post-mortem, the debriefing, as they chatter about likes and dislikes, review the experimental factors, reflect upon the latest game like they’ve just walked out of the cinema or the theatre, buzzing with glee. It’s offensive, this almost innocence, this lack of comprehension of the pain they’re causing, too caught up in the storyline, and the character arcs, and the symbolism. Sun, stars, moon, all the rest. Fuck them, absolutely fuck them.

Grian doesn’t speak. He’s just – too tired. He nearly won again, but not quite, and he doesn’t really begrudge Joel the win, his friend had worked too hard for it – but he had hoped that if there started to be double wins, then maybe they would start getting bored, their attention drifting away. A game is only a game if people agree to play, otherwise it’s just tugging people about and laughing when they stumble, when they fall, when they collide into the arbitrary rules and get tangled there, strung up to be laughed at.

There’s a sound, then, like cave noise, and for a moment Grian thinks it’s just a glitch, some piece of the Universe snagging and then setting itself to rights, but the Watchers’ chattering stumbles, grinds to a halt, and –

It’s low, rumbling, but getting louder. Getting closer. It’s not cave noise.

There are no doors in this place, but there is a type of barrier, some invisible division between the Void outside and this little space carved here. Grian watches, frozen, heart rabbiting in his chest, as – as a car smashes through it. He knows that stupid fucking car.

The car vrooms, revving its engine as it smashes into the meeting circle and runs over one Watcher, two Watchers, swinging around to shove to the nebulous ground a third and a fourth as it screeches to a stop right next to Grian. Watchers are damn hardy, they’ll be fine, but it puts Grian in mind of bowling pins and that’s just – it’s – it’s so insane, it’s ludicrous, and a laugh bubbles up in Grian’s chest just at the absurdity of it, the incongruity that makes everyone too stunned to react.

The window rolls down. “Hey, Grian,” says Joel, grinning.

“Joel!” Grian replies, loud and shocked, but somehow not surprised – who else’s car would it be? – which feels like the only thing he can say.

“Heard you needed a ride home,” Joel says, bright and vicious, his eyes still red. “Come on, this place is cramping my style. We gotta get back to Hermitcraft.” He turns his words now to the surrounding Watchers. “Sorry, folks! Me and Grian got things to do, places to see, honey shops to buy and sell at, all that good stuff. Later, losers, hah!”

The passenger door opens on the back, behind the driver’s seat, and Grian scrambles for it, diving in and slamming it shut behind him, barely getting his feet out of the way in time. There’ll be repercussions later, he’s sure, but right now? Right now, they drive out – nearly running over two more Watchers, but they get out of the way in time – and Grian hasn’t got a seatbelt on, doesn’t know how Joel got here, or why he knew to come, where to go, but that doesn’t matter: it feels good to do something to get one over on the Watchers, and Grian understands the power and importance of small victories.

“I can’t believe you ran them over,” Grian says, and at his own words he starts to laugh.

“They’re so cringe, Grian,” Joel answers, also barking out a laugh, as the car rockets into the Void like a comet. “What losers. Stupid idiots. Now come on, us winners gotta stick together.”

“Even Scott?” Grian prods, though his heart feels like someone just dunked it into a warm bath, liquid comfort melting in his chest. Us. Joel recognises an us.

“Ughh!” Joel bemoans. “Maybe not Scott. He can sleep on the sofa, maybe, or whatever. Dunno if there’s a winner’s sofa, but – yeah, something like that. Something like that.”

“You’re so generous,” Grian says, his smile irrepressible.

“I am a king of humbleness,” Joel assures him. “You have never met anyone as humble and generous and handsome as me.”

The laughter that punches out of both of them echoes inside the car like music. Outside the windscreen, a trail of stars leads the way back home.

[mediumgayitalian]

fic rec friday 16

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

best friend, baby by @ghosttotheparty*

“You— You make me feel so… good,” he finishes lamely, his head void of any words that could describe it, because how can Will describe the peace he finds in Nico’s presence, or the way he feels like he can finally breathe whenever Nico looks into his eyes? “You’re my favourite person,” he breathes. “My best friend.”

hooooooo boy the intimacy tag was NOT joking. i was gagged. yall tell me all the time how high u value will angst and like....this one DEVASTATED me for him??? like do yall ever think about how the first dialogue we hear from will in nico's perspective is self-loathing. yall ever think about how nico has always known him hating himself. well this author did. "i know you hate yourself but just because you hate yourself doesnt mean everyone else does too" hey what if we FOUGHT. also im going back in to all my FRFs to star my FAVE FAVE FAVE fics bc this is one of them LET ME TELL YOU.

2. just a dumb game by @ghosttotheparty

Nico di Angelo is not a party person. But Will Solace is going to be there. So.

they are SO FUCKING GAY and SO FUCKING IN LOVE and SO FUCKING STUPID. god i love them so fucking bad like they are inherently down bad obsessed with each other and this is how they should be. this is the way of the world.

3. even in the silver light by @ghosttotheparty

Nico is back. Will is still smitten.

first of all. latino and nb will. thank you. second of all. i am (obviously) obsessed with this author bc they KILLLLLL w burning intimacy. like you have no idea they write them like there is a twice burning fire only alive within them it's CRAZZZYYY. i also fckn LOVE that this is like. okay so the author says its plotless and it is kind of 45k of plotless, yes, but idk theres something to be said of love as a plot?? of learning and loving each other as a storyline.

4. splash by @ghosttotheparty

Annabeth is reading her favourite book. Someone walks directly into her.

yeah okay i think this is another one author week. sue me. this fic made me GRIN okay. it was so fucking cute and sweet and soft and autistic annabeth my beloved!! my love and light!! they are so in love in every universe fr and i fckn LOVE them dude i am OBSESSED. when this author writes people together it's as if you can hear them click.

5. isnt she lovely by @ghosttotheparty

Their eyes always meet in the halls. Her eyes are grey and shiny, and they make Percy think of stormy skies and marble sculptures. (She could be a marble sculpture, in the entrance of a museum, surrounded by scholars and artists and mesmerised passersby. Fucking beautiful in a way that only art ever is.) - - - Percy has had a crush on Annabeth since eighth grade. (He doesn’t know she likes him too.)

percy hitting the ground when annabeth kisses him 😭😭 HES SO REAL. i just recced this fic on instagram and i am here reccing it again bc it is EXCELLENT. i rly rly love to see pjotv percabeth in fic like i DO. theyre so fucking cute. and i LOVE how this author writes autistic annabeth!! it is so important to me!!! and this one is so CUTE like percy had such a huge crush on him.....like not just he liked her he had a CRUSH on her. god. i am melting.

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

[kumkaniudaku]

Requesting sadness 15: “I can’t do this anymore.” w/ Terry Richmond but it could be an unrequited love story that maybe was reciprocated idk

@pocketsizedpanther put NFL!Terry in my mind and this is what came up.

Silence. Unusual, unbearable silence. The kind of silence that hung in the air thick like humidity in Georgia, choking the life out of every living being in its vicinity. 

Silver forks scratched porcelain plates while two lovers sat across from each other trying to salvage a romantic dinner gone awry before it could ever start. Terry sensed the discomfort when he flew into town with no welcoming hug at the end of the tarmac. She left no text, no call, not even an insight into her whereabouts via Instagram stories. Only an empty space where her pretty red BMV usually sat awaiting his return. 

She hadn’t been in the stands lately either. From the cloudless skies of Los Angeles to the bitter chill of Philadelphia, she was a mainstay on the sidelines, wearing his last name on her back like a badge of honor. But tickets had gone unclaimed here and there. Not enough to raise alarms, but enough for him to bring it up as they dug into the night’s dinner. 

“If you wasn’t trynna be in the cold, that’s cool too. It’s just…you know. I wanted you to be there to see us win the conference. It’s kind of a big deal. First time in like six seasons or something like that. I don’t know. I just got here.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’d rather make sure you’re good than get tight over a game. Football isn’t more important than you. You straight?” He shoveled a forkful of branzino into his mouth, looking across the table for a response that she never provided. “Tia, what’s up? You feeling alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Did I forget something?” 

“No.” 

“Somebody DM you something crazy? Fans bothering you again? Let me know something.” 

Her distant stare slowly drifted to his face with tears welling in her waterline. “I-Terrence, I can’t do this anymore?” 

“Do what? What you mean?” He knew. He’d seen the text messages and how she rushed out of the room to answer phone calls. The rumor mills and blind item reports never missed a beat. Atlanta wasn’t a city for secrets. But, he prayed that they’d been mistaken. Taking a sip of his water, he took a deep breath and repeated himself. “What can’t you do anymore? Sneak around like I can’t see you? Lie? Cheat? What is it, Tia?” 

Each question came out louder than the one before, making Tia wince in her seat. 

She knew he’d never put his hands on her. Terry was too sweet for that. So sweet that it made life boring. Being a kept trophy wife wasn’t her speed, but she allowed him to woo her in the VIP section of a club in Las Vegas and drag her back to a slow life full of WAG meetings and nosey neighbors. The thrill of being All Star tight end Terrence Richmond’s girlfriend lost its luster the moment engagement rings and wedding dresses became the topic of every conversation. 

One-night stands turned into sneaking around during long road trips until feelings and another life threw a wrench in what was supposed to be a quick fling with someone far too stupid to be a long-term beau. She’d fucked up. 

“It’s not you,” she choked out, trying to offer him some solace. “He was around when you weren’t and I-”

“Bro, don’t explain that shit to me! You don’t think I’m lonely sometimes? That I don’t meet women ready to fill a void if I snap my fingers? C’mon, Tia. This me you talkin’ to right now! Stop playing in my face!” 

He was fuming and fighting to keep his emotions at bay as he paced across the lavish dining room. 

Tia drew in a deep breath to calm the tears forcing a painful lump into her throat. “I’m sorry, Terry. I know I messed up. I embarrassed you and I’m so fucking sorry for that.” 

“Did you fuck him?” Dread attacked their bellies simultaneously. Seconds passed so slowly that he looked over at the wall clock to make sure time wasn’t standing still. Her silence became confirmation. 

She swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m pregnant. Yesterday makes eight weeks. Terry...”

“The Houston game, wasn’t it. When you said you got sick halfway through and had to leave early. You lied in front of my mama and got pregnant while she was worried about you. You fuckin’ sick in the head, Tia, what the fuck!”

Any explanation Tia intended to offer became lost in a swirl of profanity and angry shouting. Betrayed was the prevailing sentiment. All of his hopes for a family smiling back at him before pre-game intros were dashed, leaving him grieving in real-time. He blamed himself for believing that she was ready for something serious and ignoring the warnings. Now, all he had to show for his blind optimism was a broken heart. 

Tia watched Terry dissolve into a near rage with tears ruining her foundation as they poured without ceasing. All of the trust, all of the love they’d built in two years together was washed away by her selfishness. 

“You gotta go,” he finally managed to grit through clenched teeth. “Get the fuck out. Nah, fuck it. I’ll go. You stay until I can get some shit figured out, but you can’t stay here past the weekend.”

“Terrence! I don’t have anywhere to go!” 

“That’s not my fuckin’ problem! Call your sister or that nigga or some shit, I don’t care. All I’ve ever done is take care of you. If you think you can keep makin’ a fool outta me, you got the wrong motherfucka. This shit is over. Forreal this time!”

“But, I can’t -” 

“What the fuck are you fighting for, Tia? You made your decision. Deal with that shit!”

Sobbing and pleas to rethink his decision hit the condo’s walls like bricks, likely fueling a noise complaint that would be slapped on the door come morning. Tia listened to Terry rifle through drawers and closets on the hunt for enough to get him through a few nights at the Four Seasons. 

He just needed to blow off some steam. They’d been in this place before, angry and screaming at the top of their lungs behind her indiscretions, only to come back together and push the pain of the past to the far recesses of their mind. But, as he stomped his way out of the front door and into the night without so much as a second look, the future became more clear. 

He was gone. For good this time.

[opluffys]

Taken For a Ride-

this was meant to be shorter but i kinda ran with it lol. posted first to my archive, pls let me know if there are any errors or if it copied weird. pls enjoy!!!! :)

tags- jealousy, multiple orgasms, creampie, rough sex, hand jobs, vaginal sex, possessive sex/behaviour, size kink, praising, forced voyeurism, threats of violence, fem reader.

4.3k words.

-Ghost x Reader-

-nsfw/smut-

Ghost's eyes were heavy on you, on your timid figure that shied away from another man's unwanted touch. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles blanching as his stare trailed to the man's hand attached to your shoulder, blouse wrinkling due to his harshness. Ghost's leg was rapidly moving up and down, not a nervous tick, more of an angered one.

Say something.

Hell, you didn't even need to say a single phrase, just flash your hand at your oppressor. Flash that huge glittering rock on your finger and no doubt he'd shy away.

But, you didn't do any of that.

Instead, Ghost watched as you sidestepped your coworker, knees wobbling as you tried to walk away atop your stiletto heels. You quickly regained your balance, but you found yourself against the man's chest, hands at your side as he 'helped' you stand straight.

Ghost knew, though. He knew that it had been just a sorry fucking excuse to lay a single hand on you. To feel how soft you were, to see if you'd melt into his touch, but to his exultation, you recoiled away. As if the hottest flame licked at your smooth skin, burning you and leaving the ugliest of scars.

But, that touch was enough for the man. He got to feel your waist, he got to feel the flesh of your ass in that stupid fucking miniskirt that you complained to Ghost about over and over again. No, this man had gotten to feel you. Something that wasn't his, would never be his.

As nice as you were, you shrugged it off, waving him away. Ghost's stare never strayed away from you, and his grasp on the wheel loosened ever so slightly at seeing your eyes shine towards him. Your steps were giddy, walking happily to his ridiculously large vehicle and climbing in.

You looked tired, yet exuberance radiated from you. Your makeup still in pristine condition as you sighed, leaning back into the leather seat. "Hellish day, did I make you wait too long?"

You always were one to worry about others, you did make him wait too long, but you didn't need to know that. Didn't need another thing to worry about.

He only hummed lowly in response, his gaze now shifting over to the scum that had been your coworker. He climbed into his own car, smaller but just as expensive. He quickly pulled out of the large parking lot, and at this point, Ghost wasn't thinking straight, his hands shifting gears and on the steering wheel.

You hadn't noticed that Ghost was on your coworkers trail. Instead, you'd been watching out of the passenger window, blinking slowly in awe of the raw beauty that was the night sky. The glow of the stars always looked dull in comparison to you, the shine of your eyes looking like the most luxurious item.

Though, after about five minutes on an unfamiliar road, you then questioned him, about why the two of you weren't on the regular way home.

"Shortcut."

You then didn't ask anymore questions, just relaxing in your seat and watching Ghost drive.

•

To say that you were furious, a true understatement. For he knew that your true anger was resulted in silence, the argumentative status of your marriage at times reflecting this.

"What are we doing here," You started, jaw tensed at watching your coworker get out of his car and walk into his lavish looking townhome.

"Out." He left no room for a discussion. Zero room to attempt and calm him down, to reassure him and tell him it was nothing, you were plenty aware of what he'd been angered about.

You followed after Ghost, anger turning to pure distress and worry. The click of your heels echoed emptily into the void of the night. You quickly caught up to him, despite his ridiculously long legs making quick strides, leaving you to scramble behind his hulking figure.

Not a knock at his doorstep, but Ghost's fist struck at the mahogany of the door, his sleeve rolling up to reveal the dark ink that covered his veined arms. You worried your lip, looking up at him with the sweetest expression, for this scumbag, or your husband? He'd hold this against you later, no doubt about it.

"Simon, please." The crimson of your lipstick following your lips every word as your long lashes batted up at him. The way you so nicely, so cutely asked nearly made him listen to you, to turn back on his heel and drag you home with him. But the sadistic thing inside of him was telling him to stand his ground.

The two of you stood at your colleagues doorstep, awaiting for him to open up. And when he did, you couldn't hide the distressed look on your face.

His eyes lingered on your own for a moment too long, a moment in which you didn't notice, but Ghost did. He would notice for you, he would fight your battles for you, he'd do anything for you.

Ghost's stare on your coworker was harsh, and your colleague looked at him, head craning to just meet his gaze. Fear riddled his body, looking into the face of death himself.

"Come on then, love."

Your coworker clearly flinched at hearing Ghost's booming voice, eyes flickering over to you in confusion.

You stilled, unable to find your words. You were unaware of what you were supposed to say, anyway. Ghost will help you, though. That's what good husbands do, help out their little wives.

"You want her?"

You were utterly shocked at Ghost's succinct question, sounding more like a command to the shaking man.

"Excuse me?" His voice was frail, pathetic and meek sounding.

Ghost walked forward, while you followed directly behind him, cornering your colleague right in his own home. Something only Ghost was capable of, evidently.

You instinctively shut and locked the door behind you, joining Ghost at his side, unapologetic eyes meeting your coworkers harrowed ones.

"You want to fuck her? My wife?"

"What?! No, o-of course not!" His words were unconvincing to the two of you, looking powerless in a corner as he began to slide down the wall, tears in his eyes. He probably thought that Ghost was going to kill him. And oh, how he had wanted to. He'd shackle his huge hand around his thin neck and squeeze, not like how he'd squeeze you- lightly and hearing you moan and watching you writhe underneath him. He'd do it slowly, at a torturous pace while he witnessed the life drain out of him, a miasma of death surrounding your coworker while Ghost would pound into you. Proving and showing that you're his.

Ghost briefly left the room, just leaving you and your petrified coworker in the living quarters.

"What the fuck was that?" He asked, approaching with shaking steps. You had been well informed that Ghost had carried a jealous streak within him, and as ashamed and twisted as you were to admit such a thing, you somewhat enjoyed it.

You didn't even notice Ghost back next to you, grabbing your colleague by his collar, dragging him, as well as a heavy dining chair up the stairs. You were on his trail like a lost little kitten, the sound of your heels on the wooden steps deafening.

The two, rather, three of you went into the master bedroom, Ghost set the chair down and forced your coworker to sit. He grabbed a rope from whoever the hell knows where, and bound your colleague down to it. He began to shout and yell, telling Ghost to untie him, begging you to do something about it, to help him. You thought he was a man tortured from the way he'd been screaming.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth."

Immediately, his cries ceased, sitting still on the wooden chair, his tied hands stopping their attempts of escape. Your thighs squeezed against one another at his display of power, his rough tone instilling unadulterated trepidation into this man.

"You want her," Ghost slipped the small scarf from your neck, tying it around his eyes. It seemed as your perfumed and floral scent eased your coworkers edged nerves, as he relaxed under his confines slightly. Ghost noticed this, and it drove him absolutely fucking insane. "so I'll show you that you can't have her."

Ghost led you over to the neatly made bed, soft duvet covers underneath your short and revealing uniform. You kicked off your heels, hearing them clack loudly once they landed on the ground. You felt Ghost's gloved hand at your side, lifting your pencil skirt to peel off your already soaked panties. He brought you atop his lap, clearly able to feel his hard length through his jeans.

He lifted the bottom of his balaclava to expose his lips and his strong jaw, covered with stubble. He hungrily kissed you, red smearing over his own lips as teeth clacked and tongues meshed against one another. You didn't bother hiding the sweet moan that left your lips, swallowed by the man in front of you.

The two of you separated, a string of saliva still bonding you together. You leaned upwards and bit his bottom lip, planting a quick kiss against him as you continued to gyrate your hips against his erection.

"You'll never get to feel her lips against yours."

You heard the audible whine that left your coworker, being left in a room with his eyesight being temporarily taken, his hearing had been heightened. All he was able to hear was the wet smacking of lips against one another, and it was so clear to him, he could almost see the two of you together, kissing at one another desperately.

Your dainty fingers moved to toy with his belt, suckling at his neck as you slid it away from the hoops of his jeans. He leaned over to your shorter stature, lips at the shell of your ear, having you shiver against him.

"Impatient, are we?" He whispered, voice hoarse and low, such a teasing tone only for you to hear.

"So are you." You teased back, grabbing his impressive bulge through his boxers, before hurriedly taking his length out and into your hand. Hot and heavy, you stroked his thick cock, having him buck his hips against your hand while he groaned lowly.

You felt his hands begin to roam your body, following the ins and outs of your supple curves. He began to squeeze the flesh of your ass through that short skirt, hearing you whine lowly in response. He was just teasing you as you teased him. Slowly touching you as you were slowly pumping his length, thumb swiping across his engorged tip, smearing precum all over his large cock. He grunted deeply in your ear, slapping your ass harshly, your sharp moan egging him on.

"I want it, want it so bad," You broke first, feeling his hands wander at the meat of your thigh, his grip so harsh that he tore a hole in your stockings. You'd 'yell' at him later, knowing that he'd buy you a better pair.

"Go ahead and take it then."

Once you got the go ahead, you lifted your hips and lowered yourself onto his cock, splitting your pussy open due to the sheer size of him. The stretch of him inside was so good, borderline painful, but it had you bouncing atop him with fervor. Your whimpers and moans filled the room, Ghost's low grunts joining in as he felt your warm and wet heat snugly around his cock, squeezing him just perfectly.

"You'll never get to feel her tight little pussy."

The agonising scream that left your coworker had you reeling, pausing your ministrations. You attempted to turn around and see him, but Ghost took ahold of your zygoma, forcing you to turn back at him. His eyes were rough on you, look at me, only me.

Ghost then began to easily slide you atop him, slightly annoyed with your halting movements. His covered hands attached to the fat of your hip, manoeuvring you over his dick again and again, hearing you moan against his clothed pectoral muscles.

Your drooling pussy pulled his cock inside your gummy walls in desperation, his veiny cock dragging against your heat deliciously. Your mind was cloudy, filled with thoughts that were solely Ghost. Your only thoughts were just him him him.

Ghost grunted, whispering a praise out to you, hand clasping against your rear, squeezing the fat that remained there. You whined quietly, thighs beginning to burn as you rode him. He was just so fucking big, you had to lift yourself so high to get him balls-deep inside of you.

"Tired, 'm so tired, baby." You babbled nonsensically, throwing your arms over his neck, sinking down onto his cock before sitting still. The two of you feeling your essence drip down his cock and onto the both of your spread thighs.

"Got you dumb already?" His hands kneaded your cheeks now, easing the sting of his earlier slaps.

"Please, please. Need it so bad, need you to ruin me." You plead, bringing him lower to you to sloppily kiss one another. You felt his cock twitch deep inside of you, his head kissing your cervix as he stayed buried inside of you, enjoying the torturous hug of your heat.

"Can't say no to you, can I, sweet girl?" He hummed, thumb at your kiss-swollen lips. You eagerly took his covered digit into your mouth, the taste of smooth leather taking over your senses. "My good girl," He growled, having you respond with a muffled whimper due to his meaty thumb in your mouth.

"You'll never hear her beg for you."

You heard a sniffle come from behind you, and, he's crying, fuck. You began to feel sympathy eat at you, but another feeling was within you, one that you had been unaware of. Your husband, being the keen man he was, didn't miss the way you squeezed him tightly, and he wondered if you'd been enjoying this more than he was.

Ghost flipped you onto the bed, ass in the air while your head was buried in the mattress. This time, he had you facing your bound coworker, tears streaming down his face, your scarf beyond ruined. You felt so dreadful, as if you'd committed the most heinous crime. This man was just handsy with you, grabbing at your hips and ass, and Ghost just so happened to see once.

Now, he had an unfeasible debt to pay.

You felt Ghost's presence behind you. His heavy hand spreading your thighs further as you sunk down lower onto the king sized mattress. His engorged tip pressed at your slit, collecting more of your slick before pushing into you slowly. His fat cock slowly invaded your insides inch by inch, gummy walls having a vice grip on him, squeezing him just so fucking tight- just how he liked it.

"Tell me, pet," He grunted, accented voice heavy with lecherous intent, "did you like it when he touched you?" Ghost took your chin in his gloved hand, tilting your gaze to make contact with your colleague, whimpering pathetically as he sat still, shackled in his own home.

"No! No, just you Ghost, just you! Fuck, you feel so good, so deep inside," You stopped making sense long ago, brain turning to putty just due to your husbands touches and words. Yet, you still recalled to not say his real name in front of anyone else. "Such a smart and pretty girl you are." He praised, his honeyed words stroking your ego. You were pleasing him, too. You drove him mad, too. You made him come to such a length as this- to shackle your coworker just for touching you.

"Gonna give you what you want now, love."

You whimpered out to him, backing your hips against his stilled cock, throbbing steadily inside your warm walls. He chuckled at your desperation, hands attaching themselves to your hips.

His pace was wild, his hips slamming against your backside and watching your soft body recoil in response to his movements. Just in and out and in and out, your body moving accordingly to his rough thrusts. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head, feeling his dick brush and drag against every sweet spot hidden within you. Only places that he had been aware of, your shorter and daintier fingers being unable to please you like he could.

Hell, he knew your own body better than you would ever. Ghost had been the most talented and brilliant musician, able to tweak and tune your body in return to hear you sing beautifully for him. Though, the best song that you played were whenever he plucked at your heartstrings, playing them as the most complex harp.

"You'll never touch her again."

A hard thrust from him behind you, knocking the air from your lungs. Your heart thrumming wildly in your thoracic, your own tears staining the duvet as he was buried so deep inside of you.

"You'll never feel how her hands are on you, so loving and careful."

His grip on your hips tightened possessively, hips continuing to slam into your wet heat haphazardly, yet with unknown precision. You cried out to him, whimpering the same 'Ghost, Ghost, Ghost,' again and again, every thrust frying your brain beyond repair.

"You'll never know her little signs, showing that she's so fuckin' close."

You whimpered against the quilted covers, drool leaving your painted lips (what remained of the lipstick, anyway), your back arching already more than it had been. You weren't the most flexible, but Ghost was able to bend you in any position he'd wanted, with minimal complaints from you.

Your etched shut eyes suddenly popped open, the loudest, most scandalous moan leaving your swollen lips, feeling Ghost's cock press tightly against your womb. You couldn't hold back anymore, toes curling, back arching, chest heaving as you finished onto his dick, a muted scream coming from you as you slumped forward and into the bed.

"You'll never get her to do, that, for you."

He leaned down to you, "You did so fuckin' good for me, love. So good." He kissed your cheek tenderly, before you turned to him and engaged in a sloppy and open mouthed kiss, all while he had shallowly thrusted into your cunt.

The two of you continued to steal each other's breath away. Swallowing one another's moans and groans as the messy kiss marched on, despite your needs of oxygen.

Your overstimulated nerves cried every single time Ghost stuffed you full of his fat cock, crying deeper and deeper into the mattress. Despite this, you had known his signs, too. From the way his chest rumbled lowly with a quiet growl, to his throbbing and twitching cock nestled deep within your sweet heat. But, the largest sign of his was how he would draw the crudest of circles onto your swollen clit, trying to bring you over the edge with him one last time.

"You'll never feel her, never get her," He doubled over you, groaning loudly as he felt your velvety pussy snugly squeeze him at his words. You felt another orgasm pull at you, your clothed chest moving back and forth against the textured duvet- providing some friction against your stiffened nipples.

"Ghost," You whimpered, fluttering your long lashes closed as you felt your entire body convulse and twitch lightly. For your second orgasm had washed over you like the most pleasant tidal wave, sneaking up on you like the most elite assassin.

"You'll never get her," Ghost repeated, his pace animalistic and so rough, losing your steady rhythm of breath with every single thrust, "never get her, because she's mine."

You moaned out to him, sounding like you were trying to say something, but ultimately lost on the two of you. He had fucked you stupid, unable to form or speak coherently after just a few strokes of his dick inside of your tight heat.

"Isn't that right, pet?"

"Yours, 'm yours, Ghost." You mumbled, your body mimicking jelly as you were completely unable to move, just the back and forth motions of Ghost fucking into you roughly.

"Good answer," He hummed, sounding proud of your submission. Though, the ring on your finger should be enough of a testament to such a thing.

You felt his hands squeeze your sides harder, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy as his fat tip continued to push right up against your womb. You couldn't handle another, no, you just couldn't.

It seems as Ghost would spare you for tonight. As you felt him drape himself over your collapsed body, grunting deeply before you felt himself spill his seed within your abused hole with a low curse. You felt so utterly full of him, his cum filling you to the absolute brim that it began pouring out of you.

Ghost hissed quietly, pulling out of your tightening cunt, almost like you didn't want him to stop. His eyes were then attached to your pussy, oozing his seed as you'd lost the only thing that kept it within you. He 'tsked', feigning disappointment before his thick and gloved fingers fucked his cum back inside of you, your puffy lips shining with his as well as your own release.

As you slowly regained your previously lost senses, you then heard the loud cries of your coworker. Sobbing and howling wildly, meek pleas to 'stop' or to 'let me go', to angered yells of 'fuck you' or 'you both are sick'. You didn't even notice that you had tuned him out completely, focused on just Ghost.

You felt Ghost's covered fingers take hold of your chin, tilting your head upwards to view your coworker. "His words deceive him," He laughed, and you gasped in horror.

He was hard.

Not only that, but his hips bucked up against his sweats, attempting to get any feeling of delicious friction while being bound to his chair.

"Was probably thinkin' of you," His voice was back in your ear, kissing your jaw before leaving a mark that would bloom into a rich and pretty violet in the morning.

"Need to get my message across,." He kissed your cheek, a quick and kind thing that had your heart palpitating like crazy. "Wait in the car for me, sweetheart." He slid the heavy keys into your palm, watching as you tiredly nodded, you had been utterly exhausted, so you didn't want to question him or his motives.

You took shaky steps towards the door, ditching your stiletto heels as you knew Ghost would get them for you. You just wanted to curl up into his car and nap while he did, whatever, it was that he was doing. Nothing good, you knew, but you couldn't find it in yourself to attempt and stop him. Besides, you heavily doubted that you were capable of getting your words through to him, he was headstrong, already set with his actions long ago.

Your knees wobbled as you walked like a newborn fawn towards Ghost's car, struggling to get into the passenger seat as you locked yourself in.

Sighing at the slight throbbing discomfort you felt in the midst of your legs, you had been alone with your thoughts. And just now and then, reality had begun to set in.

He did this for you.

He couldn't have proved his point in any other way, but Ghost had done it in the way that he had known. His way in which he'd been accustomed to, as well as knowing his method would be gifted with positive results at the end of the day.

He had your heart in his clutches, and although you didn't always understand his intentions nor his motives, you wouldn't have it any other way.

•

You stirred in your sleep, awakening and mumbling something lowly as you felt a radiating warmth next to you. You were in your shared bedroom now, in the tight hold of Ghost while he slept soundly.

You smiled, nuzzling yourself deeper into his hold of possession. But, in the corner of your eye, you noticed something. A neatly folded square of cloth, and you squinted, hiding your gasp of surprise at seeing that it had been your scarf. That same piece of silk that was secured to your coworkers face, obstructing his vision while Ghost fucked you right in front of him. Robbing his sight, and cursing him with the ability to hear the two of you.

You'd talk to him about it in the morning.

•

When you had awoken from your comfortable drowse, you groaned in annoyance when you had seen that Ghost was long gone. His side of the bed had ran cold, but you couldn't think of such a thing for too long, as you had work to attend to.

•

Your workday marched on uneventfully, but you couldn't help but notice the absence of a particular individual. Of course, you had just thought that he was avoiding you like the worst illness out there, but he wasn't here at all.

Your thoughts were plagued, negative things brewing in your head and running wildly. Was he out spreading rumours about you? Or was he going to get you fired? You felt the feeling of anxiety eat at you, opening your phone to contact your husband, in hopes of him being able to ease your edged nature. Just as he's done a near thousand times before, holding you in his strong arms while he would fix any and all problems that you had.

But, your scrolling had quickly halted when you noted how he'd already texted you hours ago. A single sentence that had ended up both calming you, and hardening your buzzed nerves even more.

'Don't worry about that fucker anymore.'

[nana-mania]

“IN THE WAKE OF STARS” he realized he's at wrong, but at what cost?

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : michael kaiser

࿐*ೃ fandom : blue lock

࿐*ೃ extra : gn! reader, angst

࿐*ೃ trigger warning : toxic relationship, major angst

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ YOU never imagined that love could feel like this — like standing at the edge of a cliff, heart in your throat, staring into a void of unspoken words and lost time. Yet, here you are, watching him — Michael — the man you’ve loved for two years, the man who made you feel like you weren’t even real anymore.

“You’re always so clingy,” he spits the words like they’re a chore to say. "It’s pathetic."

It wasn’t always like this. You remember the early days, when his smile lit up rooms and his laughter was like music you could dance to. Michael, with his blond hair tousled perfectly, his sharp eyes full of ambition, was intoxicating. He had a fire in him, a drive to be better, to be more than everyone else.

You admired him for that, at first. Maybe you even envied him a little. But the closer you got to him, the more you realized how fragile that confidence was, how much of it was a performance for the world. And as that fragile arrogance grew, so did his cruelty.

Michael would stand in front of the mirror, tracing the blue rose tattoo on his neck, a symbol he claimed was for achieving the impossible. You would stand in the doorway, trying to remind him that he didn’t need to be impossible for you. You just wanted him to be there. To be present.

But he wasn’t. Not for you.

“You should’ve known what you were getting into,” he said once, during one of those long nights where you barely spoke, and when you did, it was only to wound each other. “I’m not like anyone else. I’m going to be the best. And you? You’re just… here.”

Just here. That was all you’d become to him — an afterthought. An accessory to his rise, nothing more. Your heart twisted every time he looked at you like that, like you were nothing. But still, you stayed. You thought if you could just be patient, if you could love him enough, he’d eventually see you again. The way he did in the beginning.

But Michael’s world didn’t have space for anyone else. He was the star of his own life, and everyone else, including you, was just a background actor. And yet, you stayed.

Until the night it all fell apart.

“Are you cheating on me?” His voice was cold, devoid of any warmth or trust. The accusation hit you like a punch to the stomach.

“What?” Your voice cracked, disbelief flooding your chest. “Michael, I would never—”

“Don’t lie to me.” He leaned in, his blue eyes hard, piercing, a storm of jealousy and superiority brewing in their depths. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been talking to Alexis. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Tears stung your eyes. You had only talked to Alexis because he was one of the few people who actually saw you, who noticed how small and invisible you had become in Michael’s shadow.

“I’m not cheating on you, Michael,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But maybe if you paid more attention to me, you wouldn’t feel so threatened by someone who actually listens.”

For a moment, his expression faltered. Just for a second, you saw something human flicker in his eyes — doubt, fear, something close to regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same arrogance.

“If you can’t be loyal, then leave,” he said, stepping back, his tone dismissive. “I don’t need you.”

That was it. That was the moment you broke.

Something inside you shattered, something that had been holding you together all this time. You weren’t angry anymore; you were just empty. Hollow. His words no longer had the power to hurt you because you had nothing left to feel.

So you left.

You packed your things that night, your hands shaking but your heart numb. Michael didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t say a word. And you didn’t look back.

Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself drifting closer to Alexis. He was kind, gentle, and in the quiet moments you spent together, you remembered what it felt like to be seen. To be heard.

Michael noticed. Of course he did.

At first, he didn’t care. Why should he? He was Michael Kaiser, the man who couldn’t be touched by anyone. But then he saw you laughing with Alexis. He saw the way your eyes lit up, the way you smiled — a smile he hadn’t seen in months, if not longer.

And suddenly, it hit him. The loneliness. The emptiness. The realization that the person he had taken for granted, the one who had always been there, was now smiling for someone else.

One evening, he showed up at your door.

"Y/n." His voice was softer than you remembered, quieter. “We need to talk.”

You stared at him, the man who had once been your whole world, standing there like a ghost of the past. You didn’t want to let him in. But some part of you, that old part that still remembered the good times, hesitated.

So you let him in.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, pacing the room like a caged animal. “About us. About… me.”

You stayed silent, arms crossed over your chest. You couldn’t trust your voice, couldn’t trust yourself not to break down if you spoke.

“I was wrong,” he said finally, stopping to look at you. There was something in his eyes now that you hadn’t seen before — vulnerability. “I pushed you away. I got so caught up in trying to be… something, I didn’t see what I was doing to you.”

“Kaiser,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too late.”

He flinched as though your words had physically hit him. “No. It’s not. We can fix this. I can fix this. I’ll do better, I swear.”

You shook your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “You don’t understand. I loved you, Michael. I gave you everything I had, and it still wasn’t enough for you.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I know, and I’m sorry. I was— I was so focused on surpassing everyone, I didn’t realize I was leaving you behind.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold yourself together. “Do you even hear yourself? You still think this is about you. It’s always been about you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He stood there, frozen, as the truth settled in.

“You can’t fix this,” you said, your voice breaking. “I’m broken, Kaiser. Because of you.”

He stepped forward, desperate now, his arrogance gone, replaced by something raw and desperate. “Please, Y/n. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

But it was too late. The cracks he had put in you had run too deep. The love you once had for him was gone, buried beneath the weight of his indifference, his cruelty. You had nothing left to give.

“I can’t,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Michael stood there, watching you cry, watching the last remnants of your relationship crumble before his eyes. And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t the star. He was just another person who had lost the one thing that mattered.

You turned away from him, your heart shattered but resolute. This was the end.

And as he walked out of your life, you couldn’t help but wonder if he finally understood what it felt like to be left behind.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this short scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡

[chvoswxtch]

checkmate

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that frank was gone, you were left alone to your own devices. could you protect yourself if trouble came knocking at your door?

warnings: swearing, lots of angst, brief mention of bomb violence, mentions of gun violence, blood, & death

word count: 4k

a/n: buckle up, sluts (i love y'all sm). shit is about to get real. ;) but don't just take my word for it. grab a snack, a drink, & get comfy. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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9:29 pm. 

The catastrophic events of today didn’t feel like they had happened just this morning. They didn’t even feel real at all. They seemed more like glimpses of a purgatory from an alternate dimension that somehow had been implanted into your head. How had your world become so goddamn unrecognizable in less than twelve hours?

Life as you knew it had unraveled right before your eyes in one fell swoop like a cruel magician’s trick. For the first time in months, you were terrified to leave your house again, and there was a gaping pit of loneliness carved out in your stomach.

Because Frank was gone, and he was probably never coming back.

Saline seared along your waterline as your last interaction with him replayed behind your glossy eyes on a loop. He had looked so detached, the usual warmth of his brown eyes snuffed out with a layer of black ice, face completely void of any emotion like a blank canvas.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

He didn’t say anything.

Every comet that flashed across his lips at one of your stupid little jokes. Every tiny gesture that brought him closer into your orbit. Every universe you discovered when he revealed more and more coveted constellations of himself to you. The asteroid he threw with his fists at the bar that night. The rockets he was always ready to launch on your behalf. The way all the planets had aligned just right when he glided with you around the dancefloor made of the stars.

All those intimate moments you carried around in your heart like a locket meant nothing to him.

You had only ever been a job to Frank, and that epiphany broke something inside you that you didn’t think could ever be fixed.

Sitting at your dining table staring off into the void of silence, it felt like you were wandering aimlessly through an abandoned forest in your mind. When was the last time you had felt so…lost? It was difficult to navigate a path when your whole world had been flipped upside down, right as you were ascending to the peak above the clouds. 

Ellison had politely demanded you take a few days off, or work from home, until there was a plan of what to do next regarding your safety. He didn’t know the details of why your security detail had been pulled, but the absence of Frank’s shadow was unmistakable. It was a glaring vacancy not even the darkness could hide. Coupled with the intense gloom of dejection lingering on your face and the desolation melting from your eyes, it wasn’t a hard mystery for him to solve.

Covering your face with your palms, you suddenly felt like a little girl again, hiding under the blankets and covering your eyes to hide from the villainous shadows that lurked in the corners of your room. You remember thinking that if you couldn’t see the phantoms, they couldn’t see you, and then they couldn’t hurt you. 

That logic made sense in your head at the time. Before you learned that monsters are real, and they don’t go away when you hide behind your hands. 

The sharp sound of clamorous repetitive knocking against your front door echoed through the quiet and caused you to jump with a noise of surprise. Glancing over at the clock on your microwave, your brows knit together in confusion as you read the glowing digital numbers. 

10:31 pm.

A second round of impatient knocks had you slowly rising from your chair, tip-toeing around the corner towards your front door as noiselessly as you could, not wanting to alert anyone on the other side of your presence. Leaning up to peek through the peephole, the perplexity weaved between your brows only grew seeing two officers standing outside your door. 

Despite the advice from your gut, curiosity got the better of you, and you unlocked the two locks in place, twisting the knob on the door to pull it open slowly. 

“Can I help you?”

The first officer straightened up when you opened the door, placing his weathered hands on his belt as he eyed you up and down in a way that had discomfort blooming in your lower stomach. 

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

Glancing between the icy gray eyes of the first officer and the sharp aquamarine of the second, your grip on the door knob tightened slightly.

“I am. Who are you?”

The second officer folded his arms over his chest, peering right over your head like he was searching behind you for something, or someone. 

“I’m Officer Walker, this is Officer Cavella. You uh, home alone?”

Something in your gut was setting off all the warning bells and alarms in your brain. The way Officer Walker tilted his head to the side with an ominous twinkle in his eyes, and the slight mocking tone you detected in his voice made you feel like he knew that answer already. Beside him, his partner was still attempting to scope out your place over your shoulders. An eerie feeling crept up your spine, and you pulled the door slightly shut, only leaving it open enough for your frame to fit through as you attempted to keep your voice calm and unaffected.

“I’m sorry, what’s this about?”

Officer Cavella chuckled lightly as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, taking a bold step forward and gesturing towards you with his hand, a large Cheshire grin on his thin lips.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’re here to keep you safe. Just gonna take a look around for any trouble. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you, now would we?”

The pet name he used made your skin crawl, and you detected that same artificial sympathy that had come from his predecessor. You felt like a lamb staring down two wolves with their fangs bared in sinister smiles.

“I…think there’s been some confusion. I already have protection-”

“Had protection. After that bomb fiasco yesterday, you’re not under Anvil’s wing anymore. Right?”

Officer Walker lifted his thick brows in question, a saccharine smirk on his lips, once again daring you to challenge the answers he already seemed to have.

How did he know that? Hadn’t Billy told you Homeland was keeping the details under wraps? That the attack was reported as an accident?

An icy sense of unease caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin. There was only one way either of them would know about the bombing yesterday, and it had your heart thrashing against your ribcage furiously.

“Mr. Russo arranged alternate protection for me already.”

“They running late or something?”

Officer Cavella quipped, cocking his head to the side in an imitation of concern. But the wild look in his piercing eyes gave away his real candor. He took another daring step forward, breaching the boundary of your personal space, and bared his teeth in a crooked grin.

“Tell you what, why don’t you let us take a look around while you wait for them to show up. We can keep you company. Wouldn’t be right to leave a scared girl all by herself-”

“I’m not scared.”

The harsh edge to your voice had the pleased smirks dropping from both their faces, and you could visibly see their patience running thin. Pursing your lips, you attempted to rain in your hazardous temper before it could spark a situation you couldn’t handle alone. Clearing your throat, you brushed a piece of your hair out of your face with your finger as you focused on keeping your voice at a civil decibel.

“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. I don’t need either of you. Have a good night.”

A thick boot wedged itself between the frame and the door, preventing you from shutting it, and your eyes widened slightly when Officer Cavella braced his palm against the door, exerting a show of strength in forcing it back, and you along with it.

“Sorry princess, but we got orders.”

Your lips parted slightly in surprise at the intrepid intrusion, but his words piqued your interest, and your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared up at him.

“Orders from who?”

Officer Walker took a step forward and placed his arm in front of his partner to halt his movements, flashing him a warning glance before flipping a charming smile onto his lips when he turned his attention back to you.

“You know, this will really go a lot smoother if you just cooperate and do what you’re told.”

That one sentence nearly paralyzed you with dread that spread throughout your entire nervous system, threatening to shut it down completely. A sobering thought flickered in your head that if you didn’t play this smart, these men might kill you, or worse. Glancing between them frantically, your mind fought through the cortisol pumping furiously through your bloodstream, and you quickly started to formulate a plan.

Both of these men were far larger than you, and you didn’t know any self defense. They were without a doubt faster than you, and even if you made a run for it with a headstart somehow, they would catch you. You couldn’t fight, and you couldn’t run, which only left you one option.

Do your job. 

Treat this like any other investigation. 

Play your role, get your answers.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you forcefully swallowed your inner combative nature, slipping into a more appeasing version of yourself as you looked between them with a tired smile.

“Can we…start over? Today has been so hectic…and with everything going on, I’m just super on edge. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to take that out on either of you. I apologize. I…appreciate you looking out for me. Please, come in. Can I get either of you some coffee?”

The tension that had been lingering heavily in the space like a suffocating layer of smoke seemed to slowly disappear as the two men exchanged a glance in a secret language you couldn’t understand, turning to face you with their previous artificial smiles plastered on their thin lips.

“Coffee would be great.” 

Officer Cavella had a sickly sweet tone to his voice, and the pleasure in his eyes from your submission turned your blood into molten lava, but you fought to keep your composure, reminding yourself that your life was potentially on the line. 

On the way to the kitchen, you elusively swiped your phone and hid it behind your coffee machine, subtly pressing record on the voice memo app that was on your home screen. Once their coffees were done brewing and the machine was no longer making noise, you cleared your throat and began your interrogation.

“So, you guys must be pretty relieved huh?”

Officer Walker perked up at your words, the hand that was lifting the coffee mug to his mouth pausing in midair. He glanced at his partner curiously before looking back at you from his spot at your dining table.

“About what?”

You feigned confusion as you glanced between them with a light smile on your lips. 

“The evidence that Homeland found? Mr. Russo said they found something in the bomb fragments. It’s a really good thing Mr. Price had already checked out of his hotel room. He got lucky.”

“Looks like that pretty boy doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Wasn’t Price’s hotel room that got blown up. It was one of his escort vehicles.”

For someone that was completely giving himself away, Officer Cavella looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to indirectly insult your intelligence, but he didn’t realize that by trying to prove his superiority to you, he was feeding you everything you needed to confirm your suspicions.

Conveying an expression of mock horror on your face, you braced one of your hands on the counter, placing the other dramatically over your mouth.

“I…I must have misheard him then. I-Oh my God, that’s…terrifying. I couldn’t imagine…knowing I was in danger like that.”

You pretended to shudder, leaning your back against the counter as you shook your head slowly and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Well, despite how it happened, I’m just glad they were able to pull those fingerprints from the fragments.”

“What?”

Officer Walker’s face was twisted up in puzzlement, but there was a specific emotion pooling in his eyes that caught your attention; fear.

“Yeah, I mean…they’re partials, but Mr. Russo said Homeland was pushing them through every database for a match. Didn’t they tell you that?”

Officer Cavella leaned over the dining table as he stared at you in almost a glare, his teeth bared more in a subtle snarl than a smile.

“Didn’t who tell us that?”

“Homeland. They sent you, right?”

Cocking your head to the side slightly, you attempted to feign innocence and perplexity.

“Russo sent us.”

Furrowing your brows slightly, you looked over at Officer Walker and let out a soft laugh with a shake of your head.

“He doesn’t have that authority. He only hires private contractors.”

“He put in a special request with our Captain.”

Officer Walker seemed to speak almost through gritted teeth, a light layer of warning laced through his quick reply to your incessant interrogation, but his patience was far more intact that his partner’s. 

Officer Cavella was the one you could get to break, and you knew just how to get him to shatter.

Aim for his ego. 

Letting out a soft hum in acknowledgment that you allowed to linger for a moment, you turned your attention to Officer Cavella, meeting his predatory gaze with an expression of indifference tied with a smile. 

“You know, it actually makes sense that Homeland didn’t tell you. They don’t usually share information with anyone that doesn’t have the security clearance. I guess you boys aren’t high enough up the ladder.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that your playful jest struck a nerve exactly as you had intended. The skin on his knuckles turned stark white from gripping so tightly onto the ceramic mug, and his jaw was clenched so hard, you thought he might crack his own mandible. 

“I guarantee you we have more clearance than some gossip magazine writer.”

“Newspaper, actually. And investigative journalism, not gossip. You’d be surprised at the kind of clearance I have.”

Although you knew it wasn’t wise to inch closer towards a firecracker that was dangerously close to exploding, you were too fucking close to a lead that could expose these assholes; the first one that had been discovered in months. You couldn’t shy away now. 

The fractures in Officer Cavella’s resolve were already starting to spread like an intricate labyrinth cracking through glass. You just needed to apply a little more pressure to get him to implode into guilty fragments. 

Waving your hand dismissively in his direction, you glanced around your kitchen with a content sigh before facing him with an arrogant smile.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who really sent you. They’ll have those full prints in just a few hours, and this whole thing will be over. Those cowards will finally go down, and I can’t fucking wait to cover the trial.”

There was an extra bite to your tone as you emphasized the word coward, and both of them instantly sat up straighter with squared shoulders. The neutral expression of innocence was still coveting your features like a mask, but the edges were steadily beginning to rip. 

All at once there was a quick shift in the room and an unspoken aura of understanding between the three of you was swiftly forming over all of your heads like a raincloud. They suddenly seemed to sober up to the motion that you were playing them like pawns.

“There won’t be any prints.”

Officer Cavella seemed to be vibrating with anger, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Officer Walker reach to his hip to place his hand over his gun. There was a very real chance that you were about to die, but it didn’t matter. 

Because you would fucking win in the end.

You just needed one of them to make that last, foolish move across the chess board.

One final move to win the game.

“Why not?”

There was no reason to bother hiding behind a facade now. That mask of innocence had been ripped wide open, and even though your hands trembled with fear, your jaw was set in defiance. Your voice was firm and accusatory, daring him to prove his “superior” intelligence to you again. It was incredibly ironic he was being outsmarted by being so fucking stupid.

As you stared Officer Cavella down in a glaring challenge, you waited for that spark to reach the edge of his temper.

And the explosion was glorious.

“Because we don’t use our bare hands you stupid bitch. You think we’re that dumb, we wouldn’t use gloves?”

Checkmate.

Officer Walker slammed his fist down on the dining table in complete frustration towards his partner.

“God damnit Cavella, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Cavella rose from his chair so fast that he knocked it backwards, glaring between you and his partner as he pointed an angry finger towards you.

“You think I’m gonna let this whore talk to me like I’m fucking stupid-”

Walker stood to his full height quickly, shoving his own chair back as he got in his partner’s face and jabbed his finger into his chest. 

“You are fucking stupid! You just sold us out because you can’t control your goddamn temper!”

Cavella shoved his hand away in frustration as he scoffed, gesturing towards you again.

“Whatever, we’re gonna kill the bitch anyway-”

“No. He wants her alive. If we bring her back with one scr-”

“Who?”

Both of them turned to face you as your voice rose in volume to cut above their bickering. There wasn’t a single cell in your body that wasn’t infected with anger, and you were struggling to contain your own rage.

“Who wants me alive? Who’s the fucking pussy behind the curtain leading the rest of you around?”

Cavella swiftly pulled the gun from the holster on his hip as he took a step towards you, cocking the hammer with his thumb while snarling at you.

“Keep running that fucking mouth of yours and you won’t get to solve that mystery, Nancy Drew.”

As you went to retaliate, you noticed a shadow flash past the window in your kitchen, and your brows knit together in confusion. You were too pissed off to even be afraid as you glanced between Cavella and Walker.

“Who’s outside?”

Walker instantly stilled his advance at your words, his grip tightening on the handle of his gun that was still tucked into his holster while looking over at you in skepticism.

“What?”

“I just saw someone outside. Is that your fearless fucking leader? You gonna show your face like a man?! Or hide in the dark like a fucking p-“

Walker tugged you backwards roughly by your arm when you went to storm towards the window, clamping his hand tightly over your mouth to cut off your furious yells. His icy gray eyes were wide with apprehension as he hissed.

“Shut up. No one is with us.”

Glancing over at his partner, he silently motioned with his head towards him to go investigate. Cavella slowly began to approach the window with his gun in his hands, loosely aimed at whatever target he was about to discover. 

All of a sudden the sound of shattering glass pierced the silence, and your eyes widened seeing a metal canister rolling against the tiled floor of your kitchen. It exploded into a thick fog of ivory smoke that steadily began to fill the small space. Cavella began firing blindly through the gaping hole in your window, and you took the opportunity to run while Walker was distracted and yelling at his partner. 

You could hear Walker’s heavy footsteps pounding on the floor behind you, yelling your name, and you screamed when a bullet whizzed by your head and punched through the drywall in front of you. 

The second you reached your bathroom, you attempted to slam the door shut, but Walker caught the spine of your door and wedged it open with his hand. Turning around, you forced all your body weight back against it, struggling against his dominant strength. Glancing around in a frenzy, you reached your foot out towards the counter of the sink in front of you, and with a surge of adrenaline, you let out a feral scream as you shoved both of your feet forward against the sink to give you momentum against the door. A satisfying crunch sounded in your ears as Walker howled in pain and retracted his broken hand, causing the door to finally slam shut behind you. You swiftly twisted the lock into place on the door before backing away.

The sound of bullets raining down in rapid succession had you covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut as you attempted to breathe. Your lungs burned from running as fast as you ever had in your life, and with anxiety overflowing in your bloodstream, you were on the brink of hyperventilation. 

“Who the fuck are y-”

Bang bang.

The echo of two bullets cracking through a skull you could only assume belonged to Walker had your breath hitching in your throat. Muffled through the sound of your own labored breathing, you could hear his body drop to the floor just a few feet away from the door with a heavy thud. Your eyes went wide with terror as the thundering roar of heavy footsteps began to slowly strike closer and closer outside the door.

No. 

This isn’t how this ends.

This is not it.

Eyes frantically darting around your bathroom for something to use as a weapon, they landed on the horrified reflection of your own face. There was a small cut above your eyebrow from where a shard of glass had nicked you that was actively bleeding. Your pupils were completely blown wide open with hysteria, and your waterline was shimmering with unshed tears. You hadn’t seen yourself look this small and broken since you were a child.

Without thinking, you smashed your fist against the glass, sending hazardous shards falling into pieces in the sink like shiny raindrops. Grabbing the biggest one, you didn’t even flinch when it sliced deeply into the meat of your palm, and you only sent the jagged edge further into your skin as you clamped your fingers around it tightly, slicing them in the process. Your brain barely registered the warm, wet feeling of blood starting to cascade from the wounds on your hand, dripping onto the floor below you steadily like a leaky faucet.

Staring at the door in front of you in complete terror, you held the makeshift weapon out in front of yourself. The way the lights above you caught the reflection of the glass everytime it shook in your hand caused spheres of white to dance along the bathroom walls, as if there were a mirrorball on the ceiling.

As soon as the threatening shadow appeared right underneath the door, you willed the last shard of strength in your body to take over.

“Stay the fuck back! I have a gun, and I swear to God I will shoot you!”

Panic trembled in your voice almost as much as it did in your hands. On the other side of the door you heard a faint rustling noise, and then there was a gentle tapping of knuckles quietly knocking against the wood, accompanied by a voice you would recognize anywhere.

“Sweetheart?”

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary

[moonlitstoriess]

The Hidden Legacy- A Ruhn Danaan x Rhysands sister series

Chapter 2: Whispers of a Broken Future

Summary: Rhysand’s sister, Seraphis, long thought dead, was taken by the Asteri/Valgs, her memories erased and turned into a ruthless killer loyal to their cause. After Bryce kills the Asteri, Seraphis seeks vengeance on her and everyone else involved. As she hunts them down, Rhysand and the Inner Circle discover the shocking truth: she’s alive, and now their enemy.

See masterlist

Obscura: A state of being hidden, unknown, or mysterious. A shadow over reality, obscuring what is true or real.

"Do you ever wonder who you really are, Seraphis?"

Rigelus' voice was a low murmur, almost soft as he circled around her, hands clasped behind his back. They stood in one of the private chambers of the Asteri's citadel, far from the cold, calculating halls she had grown used to. This place felt different. Smaller, more personal, with darkened windows that let in the faintest light from the distant stars.

Seraphis didn't answer. Her jaw clenched as she stared at the ground, resisting the pull of his voice, that hypnotic charm that he always used to get inside her head.

"You were nothing when we found you," he continued, coming to stand in front of her, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. "You didn't know your purpose. But we...we gave you one we made you into something extraordinary."

Her fists tightened at her sides. Every word felt like a knife, but it cut deeper because she believed him. Without the Asteri, she would have been lost--just another face forgotten in the endless void.

Rigelus stepped closer, so close she could feel his presence, warm and overwhelming, like the sun burning too bright. "You've always been special, Seraphis. More than any of the others. I see that in you. But you need to embrace what you are, fully."

"And what am I?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper, sharp with the weight of all her buried fears.

He smiled then, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of someone who knew he owned you, that you were his to mold, to control. "You are ours. Always."

The words hit her like a blow, but even worse was the fact that part of her wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe she belonged somewhere, even if it was in the darkness of their control.

"You can fight and run from it all you want," Rigelus whispered, his lips inches from her ear. "But the truth is, I will always catch you, my butterfly. Because without me, you are nothing."

The flash of that memory left Seraphis shaking as she stood in front of the window, staring out into the chaotic streets of Lunathion. Her whole life's purpose, was to serve the Asteri and their interests. They trained her differently than the others.

Hell, they didn't even bother with the others.

She was the first and the only being to ever get insight into the six legendary Asteris. To learn from them, to be with them, to be under their protection, their presence. She was special because they always told her so.

Austrus had even once told her that maybe someday in the future, she could be sitting just a foot below, on the second dais, as their first in command.

Well, that was never going to happen because they are all dead now.

How couldn't the others see it? See that the Asteri were always sharing greatness insetad of terror? Stupid mortals, so self-centered, such cowardly beings, always running away, easily scared.

But Bryce was't like them. Oh, no.

That little brat thought she could put on some brave pants and fight the Asteri. What a fool, what an idiot.

She didn't even stop to think that maybe just killing the Asteri doesn't mean the end of the story. That maybe, they had a plan B, C, D, all the way to Z in their hands.

Her lips twitched up in a smirk. And Seraphis was in all of those plans.

The smirk remained on her lips as she turned away from the window, her mind churning with the possibilities. She had been created for this exact moment, for the aftermath. The Asteri had always known that one day their reign might falter, and they had placed all their bets on her.

Seraphis moved to the bed, her fingers lightly brushing over the rough fabric of the blanket. She had no time to waste on sentiment. The game had changed, but the rules were still hers to follow. The Asteri had imbued her with every secret, every contingency, every weapon. And now it was time for her to step out from their shadow and finish what they had started.

Seraphis stared at the window from her seat on the bed, the hum of the city below barely registering in her head as her thoughts spun. It was a delicate balance--one that would take careful planning and precision. She couldn't afford to rush in blindly, not when the stakes were this high.

Her eyes narrowed as she considered her options. The easiest route would be to create small, targeted disruptions across the city—nothing large enough to draw attention from the wrong forces but enough to spark curiosity. Bryce and her crew would eventually notice, especially if the incidents had a familiar touch. She smirked at the thought. It wouldn’t take long before they came sniffing around, trying to understand what was happening. And by then, it would be too late.

She would start small. Plant seeds of unrest in the lower districts, where crime already simmered beneath the surface. A few well-placed provocations, and soon, the city’s order would begin to fray. Nothing too obvious—just enough to make the tension in Lunathion palpable. And then, when the cracks began to widen, she’d start to build the real trap. The kind that would lure Bryce and her friends into the open.

But that was only part of it. Seraphis needed to study them, learn their weaknesses, observe how they moved. It was crucial to find any cracks in their group, and she knew there had to be some. It was only a matter of time.

Her eyes moved away from the window, gazing right towards the wall. The beginnings of her plan were solid, but the details needed to be refined. The hunt for Bryce, her mate and her brother would take time, but she was patient. They would come to her when the city began to unravel.

A twisted smile tugged at her lips. Yes, she would tear their world apart piece by piece, just as Bryce had done to hers.

But first, she needed to light the match.

Seraphis moved toward the table, pulling out a map of the city she had acquired earlier. Spreading it across the table, she traced the streets with her fingers, marking down potential areas where she could plant her seeds of chaos. The slums. The docks. The underground markets.

She wouldn’t need to get her hands too dirty—there were always desperate souls willing to cause havoc for the right price. And she had more than enough resources to pay for what she needed.

Tonight, she would start small. She would test the waters, see how quickly the city reacted. And from there, she would expand her operations. The goal was to draw them out, after all. And when they came? Seraphis would be waiting.

Her lips twitched into a cold, calculating smile. It was time to remind Midgard that the Asteri’s legacy wasn’t dead. It lived on in her.

The pieces of her plan were slowly falling into place. And soon, so would Bryce.

Seraphis sat back in the stiff chair, her gaze sweeping over the map again, committing every detail to memory. She knew the city well enough from her previous reconnaissance-it's layout, it's strengths, it's weak points. The underground market was her first target.

And although it's name sounded similar to the underworld or the Meat market over which the Viper Queen ruled, they could not be more different. The underground is even darker than the Meat market, the lowest point one could ever reach. Whatever you wouldn't find in the underworld, you will most likely find in the underground.

It was a place where both criminals and so-called heroes found themselves entangled, and it would make the perfect starting point for the chaos that she intended to unleash.

With a few well-placed disruptions, the tension between the gangs and the enforcers would rise, and soon enough, word would reach Bryce’s ears. Seraphis didn’t care about the outcome of that petty conflict. The market’s collapse was merely a tool, a prelude to the greater plan.

But that was for later. First, she needed to move unnoticed, blend into the shadows of the city. Despite her plans to sow chaos, her own movements had to remain undetected. For now, anyway.

She rose from the chair and crossed to the small bag she’d brought with her, opening it to reveal a neatly folded, simple cloak—nothing like the regal attire she had once worn in the Asteri’s court. This was meant for blending in, not standing out. She pulled the fabric over her shoulders and tightened the clasp at her neck. Then, she grabbed a few essential tools from her pack—daggers, a gun, lockpicks, and some cash—just enough for tonight’s mission.

As she turned to leave, her gaze flicked to the reflection in the small, dingy mirror hanging above the dresser. The female staring back at her was not the same one she had once been. The cold detachment in her eyes, the calculating glint in her expression—it was all forged from the years under the Asteri’s influence. They had trained her, molded her into a weapon, and now, she would use that power to strike down those who had wronged her.

But something in the pit of her stomach tightened as she looked at her own face, and for a brief moment, she wondered what she would have been without them. Without the manipulation, the teachings, the control.

No. She couldn’t think like that. That path led to doubt, and doubt had no place in her mission.

Seraphis exhaled slowly, forcing the unwelcome thoughts away. There was no room for weakness. Not now, not ever.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up and quietly exited the motel room, blending into the late-night crowds that still lingered on the streets. The city’s pulse was alive around her—bright lights, roaring voices, the distant sound of music and laughter from the nearby bars. But all of it felt muted to her, as though it belonged to a world she no longer had any part in.

The underground market was a good distance away, but Seraphis was in no rush. The night stretched long, and the quieter the streets became, the easier it would be to move through unnoticed.

As she made her way through the alleyways and narrow streets, she began to mentally run through the next phases of her plan. After the initial chaos at the market, she would need to set up a few more “incidents” in other key areas of the city. The slums, in particular, were a breeding ground for unrest. And she would use that unrest to her advantage, stirring the pot just enough to bring everything boiling to the surface.

But all of it—every step she took—would be meaningless if she didn’t ultimately bring Bryce and her allies into the fray. Bryce needed to see the consequences of her actions. She needed to understand that killing the Asteri hadn’t ended their reach, that Seraphis still carried their legacy. And Seraphis would make sure that Bryce knew exactly who had come for her in the end.

Seraphis’ steps slowed as she approached the market district. This was where the first domino would fall. It would be subtle at first—just enough to stir the waters—but it would be enough to start the chain reaction. She smirked beneath the hood of her cloak, her fingers itching to put the plan into motion.

The hunt had begun.

The deeper she went into the market district, the fewer lights illuminated the way. The shadows grew thicker, darker, more welcoming. She preferred it that way. She had always been more comfortable in the darkness--where she could disappear, where no one could track her.

The underground market came into view soon enough, it's entrance tucked between two crumbling buildings in one of the older parts of Lunathion. It wasn't marked, but she knew the signs- the faint hum of activity, the subtle symbols carved into the stone by those who frequented this place. Only those who were meant to be here would find it.

Seraphis pulled her hood lower, her face obscured, and made her way to the door. A lone guard stood by, eyeing her warily, but he made no move to stop her. He wasn't paid to care about who came or went--only to keep the peace inside. That worked to her advantage.

She slipped past him and into the market below.

The underground market was a labrynth of dimly lit corridors, filled with stalls and vendors selling everything from the rarest magical artifacts to specific body parts of powerful beings. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and incense, and the low murmur of voices echoed off the stone walls. It was a place of deals and danger, where money and power changed hands in secret.

And tonight, Seraphis would be the one pulling the strings.

She wandered through the stalls, her eyes scanning the wares, but she wasn't here to buy. No, her interest lay in the individuals--the ones who operated in the shadows, the ones who could help spread the chaos needed. It didn't take long to spot them. They were always the same type--the smugglers, the mercenaries, the power-hungry who would do anything for the right price.

Seraphis approached a small group huddled near the back of the market. Three males. One wolf, one fae, one human. Perfect.

They were rough looking, armed with blades and distrustful eyes. She could feel their wariness as she neared, but they made no move to stop her.

"You look like the kind of men who know how to find things," she said, her voice low, carrying just enough authority to get their attention.

The wolf, a tall male with a scar running down his cheek, gave her a once-over before nodding. "Depends on what you're looking for."

"I'm not looking for anything." She pulled the black cloth from her bag, and slowly unwrapped one of the relics, revealing a small, intricate object glowing faintly with power. The men's eyes widened at the sight. "But I am offering something. This--and more--if you're willing to do a little work for me."

The men exchanged glances, greed already shining in their eyes. The scarred one stepped forward. "What kind of work?"

"Simple," Seraphis said, her voice cold and calculating. "Spread the word. Tell your buyers that something big is coming. A power shift. A chance to get in on something...greater."

She let the words hang in the air, giving them time to bite. The men leaned in closer, intrigued. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Someone who know's whats coming," she replied. "And if you're smart, you'll play your part when the time comes."

The male's eyes flicked to the relic in her hand, then back to her. "And if we do?"

"You'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams," she said smoothly, knowing full well that these idiots would sell their souls for even a taste of the power she offered. "But cross me, and you'll be the first to burn when this city falls."

The three seemed to mull it over for a moment, then the scarred one nodded slowly. "We'll spread the word. But we want more than just promises."

Seraphis smiled darkly and handed him the relic. "Consider this a down payment."

She turned on her heel and disappeared back into the maze of stalls, her work here done. The seed of chaos has been planted, and it wouldn't take long for it to spread.

Seraphis slipped out of the market and into the cool night air, her heart steady, her mind clear. It was only the beginning. Soon, the streets would burn, and Bryce would have no choice but to come out of hiding.

And when she did, Seraphis would be waiting.

She pulled the hood of her cloak tighter around her face and melted back into the shadows. Tonight had gone according to plan, but there was still so much work to be done. This was only the first step, the first move in a much larger game.

A game that Seraphis intended to win.

She moved with cold precision, her mind racing through the intricacies of her plan. She didn't care who showed up first--whether it was Bryce, one of her friends, or even her allies. All that mattered was drawing them out, making them feel the chaos she was about to unleash.

The rebellion tearing through the city was the perfect distraction, but she had her own plans to accelerate the destruction. She thrived in the shadows, using the panic to slip unnoticed through the darkened streets toward the heart of the city’s market district.

The bustling square, still relatively untouched by the unrest, was a chaotic web of people moving in and out of crowded shops and vendor stalls. Seraphis stood in the shadows, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

She closed her eyes and summoned her power. Time slowed to a crawl around her as she focused on the flow of energy coursing through the city. She was no master of fire or chaos in the traditional sense, but time… time was her weapon.

Seraphis sent out tendrils of her power, threading them through the crowded square. She began to bend time, subtly at first, slowing the movements of some citizens while speeding up others. A cart that had been rolling steadily down the street suddenly sped up, crashing into a vendor’s stall, spilling supplies everywhere. The vendor, moving too slowly to react, was sent tumbling into a nearby food cart, which quickly tipped over, sparking a small fire as the flames caught onto the cloth covering.

More and more, she manipulated time, sending carts crashing, people stumbling, and machinery malfunctioning. The disruption quickly spread, triggering accidents that led to more destruction—an explosion from a nearby gas lamp, a toppled building as workers moved too fast, outpacing the scaffolding’s stability.

The market district, once vibrant and alive, descended into chaos. Flames licked the edges of buildings as accidents caused by Seraphis’s manipulation spiraled out of control.

Satisfied with the mayhem, she turned her attention to the old power grid hidden in the lower alleyways. Outdated and vulnerable, just like everything else in Lunathion. She reached it swiftly, manipulating time once again to accelerate the aging process of the already fragile system.

The generator cracked, groaned, and then burst into sparks as its components wore down in seconds, unable to withstand the rapid decay. With a final pulse of her power, Seraphis watched as the entire market district was plunged into darkness. The screams that followed filled the air, rising above the crackling fires and collapsing stalls.

People ran in every direction, unable to comprehend the sudden destruction around them. Panic spread, fueled by the darkness, by the confusion Seraphis had meticulously engineered.

She stood in the shadows, watching as chaos unfolded in the streets below. The flames danced in the distance, illuminating the night in a harsh, flickering glow. She felt the familiar pulse of time bend around her, the echoes of the city rippling as if the fabric of reality itself shuddered in response to her presence.

She had done it--set the stage. The tiniest adjustment, a mere shift in the sequence of events, was all it had taken. She smiled, satisfied.

But as she stood there, a thought came to her. This wasn't just about creating chaos. It was about leaving her mark, reminding them--Bryce, and anyone who dared to be as stupid as Bryce--that there were forces at play they couldn't understand.

Seraphis turned away from the window and glanced around the room of one of the closed shops she was watching this chaos unfurl from, her eyes landing on a broken clock in the corner, it's hands twitching erratically. A smirk played at her lips. That would be her mark. Every time she struck, time would ripple around her, warping and twisting the surroundings in subtle but unmistakable ways. Clocks would break, moments would repeat, and objects would age or freeze in time.

She pulled her hood up over her head, the shadow of her cloak swallowing her figure as she made her way out of the room. The streets were in disarray, and the fire had already drawn people out of their homes. She slipped past them with ease, unnoticed as she moved through the growing crowds.

In the chaos, she allowed her powers to work their magic, creating slight distortions in the area--small enough to be overlooked by most, but clear enough for those who were paying attention. It wouldn't be long before one of Bryce's minions noticed. Someone would realize the pattern and start to piece together what was happening.

As the chaos continued to swell around her, she vanished into the night, leaving behind the broken clocks.

********

Seraphis woke early, her mind still buzzing from the previous night's chaos. The dawn light filtering through the thin curtains of her room, casting long shadows on the walls. She dressed and got ready quickly, her thoughts already on the next steps in her plan.

She headed out to a small cafe nearby, it's warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the morning air. As she sat down with a simple breakfast of coffee and bread, the cafe buzzed with the latest gossip. The patrons, their faces tired but animated, spoke in hushed, urgent tones.

"....can you believe it? The whole street's still smoldering. They're saying it was some kind of coordinated attack."

"The 33rd Legion have been working non-stop. It's a mess out there."

"So many dead too, I heard Hunt Athalar on the news, saying how whoever was behind this, will pay dearly for what they have caused."

Seraphis barely managed to stop herself from laughing at that.

The damage was clearly intensive, just as she had planned. Her actions had created the right kind of chaos to draw out Bryce or anyone from her group out. Seems like today is her mate who decided to show himself first. How fantastic.

As she sipped her coffee, her eyes wandered out the window, scanning the busy street. The city was still reeling from the night’s events, and the atmosphere was charged with a mix of fear and urgency. Her plan had succeeded, but she knew she had to remain cautious.

In the midst of the commotion, she spotted Ruhn Danaan and his auxiliary approaching. He was in conversation with his team, but his commanding presence was unmistakable. Seraphis’ heart quickened; she needed to be careful.

She subtly moved from her seat, preparing to leave. But as she slipped out the door, her eyes caught Ruhn’s gaze, just for a fleeting moment. Panic surged through her. This shouldn’t happen, she thought, trying to slip away unnoticed.

Ruhn’s eyes narrowed as he spotted her. He gestured sharply to his auxiliary, and they began to follow her. The café’s patrons were oblivious to the unfolding chase, focused on their own concerns.

Seraphis moved quickly through the streets, her pace quickening as she realized she couldn’t outrun them. Ruhn and his team closed in, their footsteps echoing behind her. She darted into an alley, hoping to lose them in the labyrinth of narrow passages.

But Ruhn was fast. He managed to catch a glimpse of her just as she turned a corner. He shouted for his team to keep up, and they surged forward. Seraphis could feel the pressure mounting; she had to act fast.

As she neared a side street, Ruhn reached out, grabbing her by the arm for a brief moment. The instant his hand touched her, Seraphis felt an electric jolt, an unfamiliar and unsettling sensation that made her pause. Her heart raced, and she felt a strange, almost instinctual pull towards him, but she quickly wrenched her arm free, her senses overloaded.

“Stop!” Ruhn called out, his voice a mixture of authority and urgency. His touch was firm, but she managed to twist away and disappear into the shadows before he could get a full grasp on her.

In her haste, she left behind a small, distinctive object—a silver pendant she always kept hidden. Ruhn noticed it lying on the ground and picked it up, his eyes narrowing as he examined it. The pendant bore intricate designs that seemed out of place in the city’s everyday life.

Seraphis vanished into the maze of streets, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. She glanced back only once, seeing Ruhn still searching for her, his gaze scanning the alleys. She knew he would not find her now.

As the sun climbed higher, the city continued its recovery, unaware of the brief encounter that had occurred. Seraphis took a deep breath and moved forward, her thoughts already turning to the next phase of her plan.

She had managed to escape, but the pendant left behind might pose a problem. It was a small slip, but one that could have significant consequences.

And Seraphis had no idea how to get it back.

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[in-daddy-price-we-trust]

All I Wanted - Part 3

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: so uh.. not dead.. I kinda forgot about thos between school and life so apologies for not posting.. for two months.. anyways, enjoy the chapter <3

You POV

Soap continued to ramble on about this and that, with Gaz occasionally butting in when necessary, as the pair showcased the base to you and how they weren't staying much longer. Something about how they had better chances finding this Nombre person in Mexico, where they were originally.

Gaz brought up the other members when they entered the shooting range, just past the training room. Apparently the barracks were deeper into the facility, (how much you believe that you aren't entirely sure). He pointed to two figures standing next to eachother, conversing with adoration in their eyes, "That's Alejandro-" you followed his finger to the taller of the two, "-And that's Rudy, they're a package deal if you get what I mean," To ensure his comment came across perfectly, Gaz shot you a wink.

With a clap on the back, Soap pushed you towards the two lovebirds. It was Alejandro who noticed you first, "Ah, here she is! Hola, niña, estas muy pequeño!" Rudy looked at the man fiercely before elbowing him in the ribs, "Qué? I was just pointing out the obvious mi vida!" A long sigh left Rudy at Alejandro's incompetence.

"So sorry about him, Ale can be, stupid occasionally," Rudy's smile was warm and inviting. Alejandro scowled at Rudy before giving a sympathetic grin towards you, a nod of the head as an apology.

"Do you want to show us how well you can shoot?" Soap gestured to the gun poking out of the duffle bag, a cheeky look in his eyes.

You moved too quickly for them to register, the eye piercing pink with hello kitty, kirby and cat stickers moulded into the metal of the rifle. A sparkly purple keychain dangling from it, blue stars twinkling alongside. The hold was confident, strong and firm, an aim to please familiar to the hardened soldiers.

Gaz gave a soft chuckle at the obvious excitement, pointing in the direction of the shooting range. Lines of plywood separating lanes with hip level metallic benches. Long pathways with human shaped targets, most paper but a few were made of a harder substance such as cardboard. Some of these were hidden behind more bits of scrap wood.

Practically skipping over and setting up the perfect first shot. And that's what it was; well maybe to some it could have been better but instantly the gun continued to fire again at a different target, and then another and another. Bullet casings falling past your face at each reload.

To be honest, you could have gone the whole day, it was when a hand on your shoulder pulled you away from the rhythmic sound of metal hitting the cold concrete. The action made you jerk, a startled yelp following as you whipped your head to the side, staring up at Skully. A very audible gulp was heard throughout the now silent room.

For a while nothing happened. A staring contest happening between the two of you before he spoke up, "..Sorry.." his voice was rough and deep, the words so softly spoken you were sure you misheard the behemoth of a man. "Good shot kiddo, but think about breathing. You're gonna make yourself pass out if you hold ya' breath for that long, hmm?" His eyes were an endless void of darkness, the coffee and gold colours swirling into a beautiful helix of patterns. The words soaked into your brain as you came to the conclusion.

"Yes Sir!" The smile plastered on your face was one of pure adoration, the twinkle in your eyes matching that on the glitter sparkling on the rifle, still clasped in your almost too small hands.

-

The shooting lasted a while. Each man giving tips and tricks to you, letting you improve on your gunmanship. Eventually, the sun slowly lowered in the sky, and the canteen opened for dinner. A selection of grimy looking slop, greens, beans and a lukewarm soup.

They gave recommendations of what to have and what to avoid (mostly the slop). The soup was better than you thought. Leek and potato. Though, there weren't any potatoes in it, just soft clumps of leek with other veggies thrown in to pad it out.

Tables weren't assigned in the mess hall, but it seemed each group had claimed a table. You bit your lip, standing in the middle, tray in hand. A whistle caught your attention, Gaz calling you over to their table.

You set the tray down next to Ghost before Price walked in, marching over to table 141. He gave you a warm smile as he saw you eating. "Glad to see ya eating, dolly," in return, you gleamed up at him, a spoonful of soup making its way down your throat.

At least half an hour passed, the group chattering and giggling at the stories and jokes that were passed around, before a yawn interrupted the fun. It was Soap who noticed - "Aye lass, ya tir'd?" a meek nod a was All it took before he started to rise, being stopped by the Captain.

"I've got her Johnny. Cmon dolly, I'll show ya you're room," A hum was all that followed.

The walk was comfortable, going back through the winding halls and plain walls. Price stopped abruptly at one of the doors, Knockin on the solid wood. "Here ya are. I put ya next to me, hope you don't mind, you get a bigger room- and~" He drew out the ending as he opened the door, "-an ensuite bathroom!"

You giggled at the man, going in and exploring the room a bit. "Does that mean I have to listen to your snoring, sir?" It was said cheekily, the smirk evident on your face and the chuckle on his lips.

"Aye, so better invest in some ear plugs!"

Giggles erupted from you, turning to face him. Braces were on show with how wide your grin was. "Thank you.." was all that was said. And a nod was all that was needed, Price turned leaving the room with a click of the door.

You faceplanted onto the bed, soft duvet covers wrapping around you like a burrito as sleep quickly overcame you. Soft snores left you as the moon rises high into the sky.

-

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[underhousearrestblog]

Self-Sabotage | Neymar Jr.

(summary) when things get tough with your boyfriend, you do the only thing you know – run, and Neymar is not having it

(warnings) toxic-a$$ behavior... from you, luv... history of emotional abuse and neglect (not between the main couple), insecurities about relationship

(pairings) Neymar Jr x reader

(genre) angst, fluff

(reminder) Y/N – your name

(word count) 3.6k

(also) didn’t proof-read but I’m pretty sure I used the term ‘girlfriend’ and she/ her pronouns somewhere there...

HAPPY READING!

You stared at the article in front of you. After the initial shock of seeing the headline and the attached photo, now all you felt was void. Staring numbly at the gossip page, you felt tears rush to your eyes.

Famous Brazilian soccer star Neymar Jr.’s girlfriend cheating?

The attached photos showed you with a friend of yours hugging in quite an intimate manner in front of a hotel. There were already a few hundred comments on the article – some of them ripping you to shreds, some feeling sorry for the soccer star, some hoping it’s not what it looks like.

You had stopped reading comments a long time ago, not really caring for other people’s opinions. Still, it hurt how many people were hoping for your relationship to end.

None of the pictures showed any kisses or otherwise compromising actions but it didn’t take much for your boyfriend’s fans to take something half-baked and run with it. From the vague article and pictures, it could be a date you’re on and it might as well be just running into someone on the way out.

Two pings went off, indicating two new text messages. First was from the friend who informed you about the article.

I’m so sorry, luv.

You wanted to both cry and laugh.

The second was from Neymar. All it said was:

On my way home.

Whenever he texted you that, it usually took him about twenty minutes to get home. You had twenty minutes to get away.

Your thought process might be stupid. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t cheat. You shouldn’t run. However, your past experiences showed that people, when having even a gram of doubt, could become aggressive. Blame you for things you didn’t do. Say really ugly things. Of course, you wouldn’t describe Neymar with those behaviors but did you really know him? Had only dated for six months... He had probably just seen his partner on the front page of a gossip magazine for alleged cheating... Were you really sure he would believe you?

Once the logical part of your brain kicked in, there was no turning it off. The scepticism and anxiety, your usual companions, were creating scenarios in your head, despite you trying to hope for the better.

He’ll probably will ask me to leave – that was the best case scenario, you thought, stuffing some of the stuff you kept at his place into a bag, I should probably let him cool off anyway before I suggest talking.

You had seen situations like these far too many times – some of your friends blowing up in suspicion that their spouses had cheated, your parents frequently accusing each other, reading horrible news headlines of people getting violent, thinking their partner had cheated.

You knew that running away just added to the possibility of you coming off as guilty – that will be something you’ll have to be okay with. Did you think Neymar would become violent? Not really. However, him looking at you with suspicion and accusation would hurt just as much.

Most of your shit had to stay at the house, you would have to come collect it later. If your boyfriend hadn’t thrown it out himself already. So you packed only the essentials or things that would be hard to replace, in case Neymar actually threw them out. Some clothes, electronics, toothbrush, makeup, vallet and keys.

Keys...

Should you leave his key behind? In that case you should probably write a note or something. But what could you say? I saw an article lying about me cheating, so I went to clear my head, here’s the key, I will be back for the rest of my shit...

Probably should keep it for now... Could use it to come by for your stuff unnoticed.

Once everything necessary was packed, you went to leave and - ever the unlucky timing – the moment you opened the front door from inside, you ran right into Neymar. His fingers were picking out the right key to open the door and, while his gaze was casted down, you had just the right time either consciously or on accident to drop your bag behind the door.

Once he lifted his eyes, they quite literally lit up and he grinned, as he took you in. Disheveled hair, a wild look in your eyes and out of breath – to him you looked like a wet dream, at the same time you tried to steady your breathing enough to not literally pant.

- Hey, sweetheart, - you made no move to move aside. – I texted. Practice ended sooner than expected.

When you still made no move to let him in, he looked you over in more careful fashion, looking for something that’s wrong. You were in a hurry to leave, so, of course, hadn’t thought of the possibility that you could run into your boyfriend.

I shouldn’t have wasted time packing, you mentally berated yourself, but he clearly hasn’t seen the article yet, so what’s the harm of talking for a few minutes?

You forced a smile that, hopefully but unlikely, looked genuine. While moving aside to let Neymar in, you opened the front door with more force than necessary intentionally, sending the bag under the small table by the front door.

While he took the cap and boots off, you closed the door and leaned against it. He fidgeted with shoelaces and you fidgeted with excuses. He talked about something one of his teammates had announced at the practice, but you were only half-listening. Before he went into the kitchen, Neymar turned to you and with an amused smile said:

- Are you coming or leaving?

- I, - you stammered out, - I was actually... I wanted to go to the store.

Every word out of your mouth felt like lead, like a lie. You tried to focus on his eyebrows so you didn’t have to look him into eyes while lying.

- We need milk, - you tried to sound chill, - milk and some other stuff.

You hoped to every god out there that you sounded less panicked to Neymar than you did in your own ears.

Apparently, you did a better job than you thought ‘cause after a small moment of him just staring at you like he’s seen you for the first time, he shrugged and carelessly threw out:

- I’ll take a shower and we can go, - and turned to go into the kitchen. – We’ll take my car. Gimme fifteen minutes.

You blew out a breath you subconsciously had started to hold. He’s going to take a shower. Yeah. It was fine. You’ll sneak out while he’s in the shower. And you’ll leave him a note. He deserved that much.

You carefully walked into the room your boyfriend was and watched him take a bottle of water from the fridge. Were you the only one who felt electricity all around this room? You could’ve bet there was static in the kitchen. But Neymar seemed oblivious.

Watching him made you feel bittersweet nostalgia-kind of feeling. Was this the last time you would see him? Last time you see him loving you? Liking you? There’s no way he would like you after he reads that article. And there was no way he would believe you after he does. You were sure of it.

- Is everything alright, love? – you boyfrend asked, after you hadn’t blinked for a full minute. – Are you sick?

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Mostly cry.

Instead, your lips stretched into a genuine smile. Your eyes – traitors – watered against all your strength. Something between crying and laughing bubbled out of you, as you took few short steps towards Neymar and hugged him tightly. He exhaled out of surprise but didn’t even take a second before he hugged you with the arm that wasn’t holding the bottle.

His eyebrows furrowed, as he disregarded you with worry. You had never been an overly clingy or affectionate person and, against his own wishes, he had let you take all the space you needed.

After a half of minute of comfortably silent hugging and him rubbing your back, you stepped back.

- Now you’re worrying me, princess, - he chuckled, as he released you. – Did someone die?

Just our relationship.

Now it was your turn to chuckle.

- You have something against my hugs?, - you tried and failed to joke, quickly turning around, so he can’t read your eyes. – I thought you wanted more PDA...

You heard him laugh, as he put the bottle back into the fridge.

- Well, don’t stop on my account, sweetheart. Just let me take a shower so we both aren’t sweaty, and go nuts on hugging me...

You gulped down your tears and stepped into the hall. Just few more minutes. Just few more and you’re free.

Free.

What a joke.

Free to not see hurt in his eyes, as he reads about the media accusing you.

Few minutes was too much time...

- Hey, - you turned back and ran into Neymar yet again, as he was exiting the kitchen. – How about I go alone, huh? It’s just a short trip to the store. You should relax.

Something similar to amusement danced in his eyes, as he put his hands on your upper arms to steady you.

- Are you trying to get rid of me?

You opened your mouth to fix the mistake.

- Honestly, I’m hurt, - he put his left hand over his heart, faining offense. – I thought that being in a relationship would mean fun trips to get milk at 3 in the afternoon...

Him pretending to get hurt with such a serious expression on his face twisted the knife lodged in your already bleeding heart. You swallowed hard and broke the eye contact.

He took your face in his palms and turned it back against him.

- I don’t know what’s going on with you today but we’ll fix it, okay? – he sounded so sure and you wanted to throw those words back in his face. – Just ten minutes, okay?

You didn’t want to lie more so you just nodded and stepped back. He looked at you for a moment and turned towards the guest bedroom.

- Aren’t you going to go up to our room? – you questioned.

- Nah, the water pressure’s better here, - he said, entering the room.

That could cause some bumps in the road. Your room was upstairs, and him taking the shower upstairs would give you enough time to open the garage. In Neymar’s fancy house, the garage could be only opened from inside, from the basement. Apparently, to minimize the possibility of robberies. The garage door opening can be heard on the first floor.

Though he was taking a shower so... There could be possiblity he wouldn’t be able to hear it.

His car was still out front and he had said you were taking his car. On the other hand, even if he would hear the garage door open, you could just lie, again, and say you wanted to take yours.

The moment you heard the water start, you took your bag from the hall, keys and threw open the basement door. Once you had unlocked your car, you put the bag inside and went to open the garage door.

Piece of shit high-security system, you swore, as you took your phone to look up the code.

Neymar had tried to teach you the method of automatically opening the garage from an app on your phone but you never bothered and had to go down to the basement every time to open the door manually. It took you about a minute to put in the key code and unlock the door.

Once you did, you went to pull the door up by the lever, just to do exactly that and, while your eyes were adjusting to the natural light, to once again run into someone’s chest. Someone who stood right outside the garage door, was towering over you and smelled exactly like your boyfriend.

- Shit, - you muttered, as you took him in.

The same hoodie, the same sweatpants, the same – very dry and sweaty – hair.

- What the-

- fuck? – there was no sign of amusement in Neymar’s eyes.

Or suspicion. Or anger, for that matter. What there was – tons of – was disappointment, and somehow that was worse.

- I think we should take my car, - you tried to lie your way out one last time.

He inhaled and very slowly, very patiently exhaled, as if trying to gather all the patience in the world.

You calmly took a few steps back but the backs of your legs touched the front of the car. For every step you took back, Neymar took one forward and ended up crowding you against your car.

He looked at you with immense disappointment and hurt. Closing his eyes for a short period of time, he breathed in one more time and opened them again. This time, there was only anger.

- So you weren’t going to leave me, right? You were just going to drive the car out front and wait for me, weren’t you, Y/N? – he challenged you, his fingers combing through the hair on your scalp before he roughly pulled them to make you look up at him.

You physically couldn’t open your mouth to make another lie. No more.

- Your things missing from the hall was just me being tired and seeing stuff, right? The bag you kicked under the table was for shopping, no doubt. And you, - the intense look in his eyes, as he pushed you back a bit more so you’d have to sit down on the hood of the car, was terrifying, - you hugging me as if one of us was going to die tomorrow, that was my imagination too, wasn’t it?

Once you gathered enough courage to open your mouth, you threw out the most wrong words you could:

- I was gonna leave a note.

Against his better judgement, Neymar laughed. A humorless, dry laugh but still. He rested his forehead against yours, as he slowly drew circles on your scalp with his fingers.

- You were gonna, - he laughed some more, as if the thought alone appeared ridiculous to him, - you were gonna leave me a note? Pray tell – what could you possibly write to justify all this?

You flinched.

So he knew... He knew about the cheating rumors. And he asked for justification. So that meant he believed them? The paparazzi. The media.

- I would’ve apologized for leaving without notice, - you said in a small voice, pulling his hands away from your body. – But I didn’t want for you to break up with me in person.

Neymar’s eyes danced all around your face, searching for something with solid focus.

- It’s easier that way.

The short confusion was overpowered by anger and despair once again.

- Easier for who? – he took a step back and brushed through his hair with fingers. – For you? You didn’t want to break up with me in person, like an adult, so you decided to what? It would be less of a bother to just leave?

You won’t cry, you won’t cry, you repeated in your head, trying to keep up a stable demeanor.

- Do you think it’s easy for me? On top of everything else, you and your entire fanbase are thinking I cheated when I didn’t! – you raised your voice and it, of course, immediately cracked. – I go see one friend and I’m the bad guy! You think that is easy for me?

Neymar blinked. He looked you over once more with wide eyes before slowly stalking towards you.

- You were leaving... – he started, lifted his eyes up, inhaled and turned back to you. – Why do you think you were leaving?

You snorted and stood up from the hood. What did he want – for you to admit that you did cheat when you didn’t?

- I’m so fucking done, - you muttered and turned to get to the driver’s seat.

Next thing you knew – an arm around your waist lifted your feet from the ground and you were put back on the car’s hood. You huffed, now angry and irritated, and started to get down again, before two arms caged you in.

You had no choice but to look into Neymar’s eyes, as he leaned over you to the point where you had fallen on your back if you hadn’t put your hands on the car to support yourself.

- You lift your ass up one more time and I swear to god, I’ll bring down those cuffs we use in the bedroom, cuff both of us together and you’ll have no choice but to talk to me, - he said, completely serious.

That’s a bluff.

- You know better than anyone that I only allow those to stay on, - challenge in your eyes turned both of you on, - those are too loose for me. I could always take them off with no key.

You could. That part was true. The false entrapment was both a turn-on and a relief for you.

The lack of surprise in Neymar’s eyes said everything you needed to know.

He always knew.

Of course.

- You don’t want to play with me right now, - he said in a husky voice. – I’m frustrated enough I will tie both of us together with a shoe lace if I have to.

The stare-off lasted for just a few seconds that felt longer than they were. You broke the eye contact first and blew out an exhausted breath. Then you looked up at him, defeated and calm.

- I didn’t cheat.

His eyebrows shot up. He looked so surprised that, for a second, you questioned whether he had even seen the article.

- Cheat? What a-

- Someone took a photo of me and Eddie, and they released an article about me possibly cheating, - you explained. – But I need you to know now and always – I didn’t cheat.

He looked at you as if you had just punched him in the face out of nowhere.

As if you had grown another head.

As if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

This was it, right? What more was there for you to say?

- I can show you the article, - you offered, quietly.

- I saw the article, - he stood frozen still. – Two days ago.

Both of you stood still for a moment. Like bewildered wax figures. Not saying a word. Not even breathing.

- Did you not? – Neymar almost whispered. – Did you not see it?

You shook your head, regained your voice and added:

- Only about thirty minutes ago.

- So when you said you didn’t want for me to break up with you, - he rubbed his temples, trying to fit everything together. – You thought I wanted to break with you over... – he waited for you to finish.

- Over me cheating...

- Over your cheating rumors?

You nodded.

Wait-

If he didn’t know why you were actually leaving-

- Why did you think I was leaving? – you asked.

He looked down before looking back at you, fidgeting his fingers at the same time.

- I thought you were breaking up, - he explained. – with me.

You laughed. Genuinely. All this crazy day, and this was the funniest thing you’ve heard thus far. Hearing you laugh, even for a stupid reason like that, made Neymar smile.

All the emotions you suppressed today made you burst out in laughter. Your boyfriend thought you would want to break up with him!

- What was I supposed to be thinking? – he started to explain, frustrated but with the same kind, usual, familiar amusement in his eyes. – I see a gossip article about my girlfriend and one of her friends. I assume she’s seen it too. And everything’s alright for two days straight so I don’t think about it. Then I come back home, she’s packed everything up, hugs me as if I’m dying and is almost crying on the spot, - he smiled down at you. – What am I supposed to be thinking?

- That she has her reasons? – you hug him for real this time. – And, hopefully, that she would never cheat, - you add, burrowed in his hoodie.

He pulls back and takes your face into his hands to make you look up.

- That’s why I didn’t bring the stupid article up, sweetheart, - he says. – No point in talking about it if I never, not for a second, entertained the thought.

He hugged you back and inhaled the smell of your shampoo in your hair, calming and comforting.

- I will, however, be getting tighter handcuffs, - he kisses the top of your head. – And I wasn’t joking about cuffing both of us together if you ever refuse to talk shit out, princess. I don’t know what house you grew up in but in this one we don’t run away.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

One more chance

James regrets losing you after a drunken fight. Years later, he finishes a song for her and hopes for a second chance....

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The stage lights blinded me, the deafening roar of the crowd fading into a distant echo. I stood at the edge of the stage, the world at my feet, but all I could think about was her—the one I lost because of my own stupidity. The crowd cheered, their excitement palpable, but none of it could fill the void she left behind.I had everything I could’ve ever wanted, and yet I threw away the one thing that mattered the most.

Even now, years later, I replay that night in my head—the night I ruined everything. It was supposed to be just another show, another late-night celebration, but when I came home drunk and bitter, it all fell apart.She was my anchor, the one person who stood by me through all the ups and downs. No matter how far my career took me, she believed in me. She’d sit at every rehearsal, every small gig, smiling as though I was already a star. And when I made it big, she was the first one to say, “I knew you would.” Her faith in me was unshakeable, and yet I took it all for granted.

It all started so innocently. Late-night talks in the studio, her curled up on the old, worn-out couch, encouraging me as I played around with melodies. She’d hum along, laughing whenever I’d mess up, telling me that I’d get it right the next time. Her voice was like a lifeline, always pulling me back when I was lost.

I remembered the way she’d kiss me on the forehead before every show, whispering, "You’ve got this." The memory of her smile as she cheered me on from the front row still lingered like a ghost in my mind. She was my everything—my biggest fan, my muse, my best friend, my lover.

But that night, everything changed. I’d stayed out late, celebrating with the guys, the alcohol making my thoughts foggy and my temper quick. When I finally stumbled through the door, there she was, waiting for me. I could see the hurt in her eyes, but I ignored it.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice shaky but gentle. “You said you’d be home after the show.”I could’ve told her the truth, that I was out blowing off steam. But instead, the anger bubbled up inside me, and before I could stop myself, I snapped.

"God, do you ever stop? Maybe if you didn’t bother me too much it would be better”The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them, but the damage was done. Her face crumpled, the pain evident in her eyes as she took a step back. “What James? I’m just trying to be there for you, but it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

I wanted to take it all back, to hold her and tell her I didn’t mean it, but my pride wouldn’t let me. “I don’t need you to be there for me. I can handle this on my own.”She stood there for a moment, silent, her tears catching the dim light of our apartment. Then, with a voice that was barely audible, she whispered, “If that’s what you really want, I’ll go.”

And I said the words that haunt me to this day. “Yeah, maybe you should.”She left that night, and I didn’t chase after her. I told myself I was better off without her, that I didn’t need anyone. But as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, I realized how wrong I was. She was gone, and with her, the best part of me had vanished too.

No matter how many concerts I played, no matter how many fans screamed my name, it was never enough. Because every night when the noise died down and I was alone in my dressing room, the only thing I could think about was her. How she used to sit beside me, humming along to the songs I wrote. How she’d light up when I played a melody she loved.

How I told her to go away—and she did.

I never finished the song I was writing for her. I couldn't. Every time I picked up the guitar, her memory would flood my mind, and the guilt would be too much to bear. The unfinished lyrics sat on my desk, collecting dust, just like the life we could have had together.

Years passed, and every now and then, I’d see something that would remind me of her—a song on the radio, a couple holding hands, a laugh that sounded like hers—and the regret would tighten around my chest like a vice. I missed her in ways I couldn’t even explain, and no amount of success could drown out the pain of knowing I drove her away.

One night, as I sat in the quiet of my apartment, I picked up my guitar again. The unfinished song stared back at me, a reminder of all that I had lost. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to feel everything I had buried. The regret, the guilt, the love I still carried for her.

I finished the song that night, pouring every ounce of my heart into the melody, the lyrics a confession of all the mistakes I had made. I knew that this was the only way I could say what I needed to say.

The next morning, I did something I hadn’t done in years. I called her. The phone rang once, twice, and then I heard her voice—a voice I had convinced myself I would never hear again.

“Hello?”

My heart pounded in my chest. “Hey, it’s me.”

There was a pause. I could almost feel the hesitation on the other end of the line. “What do you want?”

“I... I wrote something for you. I know it’s been a long time, but I’m playing a show tonight, and I really want you to be there. There’s a song I need you to hear.”

Another long pause. I waited, holding my breath. Then, she finally spoke, her voice softer now. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” I said, my voice cracking. “I need you to hear this.”

She didn’t respond right away, but after what felt like an eternity, she said, “Okay. I’ll come.”

The night of the concert, I scanned the crowd anxiously. And then, there she was—standing at the back, her arms folded across her chest, her expression unreadable. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest.

Before I started the song, I stepped up to the microphone and took a deep breath. The crowd hushed, waiting.“I want to dedicate this next song to a very special person,” I said, my voice faltering slightly. “Someone I should’ve never let go. This song is for her.”

The moment I said those words, I could see her from the stage. Her expression softened, her eyes wide with surprise. I strummed the first chords, and the entire room seemed to disappear, leaving only me, her, and the song that had been left unfinished for so long.

As I played, the memories of our time together flooded back—the laughter, the long nights spent talking, the quiet moments where everything seemed perfect. I poured every ounce of regret, love, and longing into the music, my voice cracking with emotion as I sang the words I had written for her all those years ago.

When I finished, I looked up, my vision blurred with unshed tears. The crowd erupted in applause, but all I could see was her, standing at the back of the room, tears streaming down her face.

I wiped my eyes, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over. She was crying too, her hand trembling as she wiped her own tears away.

After the show, I found her backstage. The air between us was heavy with unspoken words.“I finished it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “The song... it’s for you. It always was.”She looked at me for a long moment, her expression softening. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “For everything. For pushing you away, for saying all those things I didn’t mean. I’ve regretted it every day since.”

She let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. “I missed you,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were.”

“I don’t want to go back,” I said, stepping closer. “I want to start over. Please. Just one more chance.”She hesitated, then finally, slowly, nodded. “Alright, I'll give you one more chance.”

I reached for her hand, and when she didn’t pull away, hope surged through me. I wasn’t sure what the future held for us, but for the first time in years, I felt like I had another chance.

[naisilla]

The Emperor's New Muse Part .12

Odyssey Kayn x Reader

content: BARE WITNESS TO COSMIC EMPEROR KAYN

There was nothing you could do, you were forced by your own morbid curiosity to watch on as Kayn vanished into the portal. The air falls silent and you wait on baited breath for something to happen.

"We should try to get out of here," Yasuo murmurs as he slowly reaches for the steering.

"I don't think we can." Jinx says pointing out of the window. Outside were thousands of Demaxian ships, all of them training their weapons on you. Great, they're still following the delusional ordinals' orders.

No one dared to move, everyone was still in this tense standoff.

"What should we do?" you whisper to Yasuo.

"I don't know we're stuck with no options" Yasuo whispers back.

"Can't we just blow them all up?" Jinx whines.

"Are you kidding me? We don't have a fraction of the firepower needed to take care of all of them." You shoot back. Jinx groans in disappointment.

There were simply no choices. You were trapped with no way to escape. Any slight movement would attract the Demaxian firepower, and you wouldn't survive the attack. Fighting your way out was not an option either, there was no way the three of you could take down an entire army.

You were stuck in a stalemate, an uncertain waiting game. There was nothing you could do but wait and hope that either the Demaxians would change their mind or something unexpected would happen.

Just how long would this take exactly? surely after a while the Demaxian military would start to question to volidity of their Ordinals orders. Kayn had thrown himself into the ora gate, how big of a red flag for insanity could you get with him? They should be discussing how to run their stupid empire now that two rulers had bit the dust.

"Uh guys I think something is happening" Jinx whispers her elbow nudging your side, bringing your attention to the ora gate, to what Jinx was gesturing towards. Something was indeed happening, something you didn't expect and couldn't quite comprehend.

The inky blackness within its center began to pulse and glow, and you could swear you could see something moving around. It was like looking at an underwater screen, something was constantly shifting and wriggling underneath a dark layer of liquid.

Something was emerging from it and your jaw dropped. "No fucking way."

There was no doubt about it. Kayn had survived whatever unimaginable horror lurked beyond the ora gate. Something was different about him though, he had changed.

His shaved and braided hair had grown out in beautiful whispy tresses, and his skin now had a porcelain completion. A dark dye travels up his arms and swirls around his chest that was now bare with his robes only draped around his lower half. His blue eyes pierced the gaze of everyone around him and with a grand voice he speaks.

"Behold! My subjects! I have returned from the ora gate! I have conquered the dark star! I am, the cosmic Emperor!"

Kayn floats before the entrance of the ora gate with his arms extended in a godly pose.

"Worship me! Bow before your new emperor!" His commanding voice booms through space.

"Holy shit this man is mad!" Jinx exclaims, her hands are gripped into tight fists.

You pay no mind to her comment still slackjawed at the sight. Your attention was focused on the new scythe resting in the Emperor's hand. It no longer had a chunky neon blade or a center of pulsing ora essence. Kayn's scythe was now much more sleek, curved and lightweight with a blue and gold blade. But the ora within its center no longer pulsed with sentience it was vacant and void of life, Rhaast was no more.

How did he defeat Rhaast? What happened within the ora gate? A part of you was relieved that Rhaast had been defeated but that only meant you were stuck with the lesser of two evils.

Your ship begins to move and you whip your head to find Jinx who had taken over the control panel now piloting it towards Kayn. "JINX NO!"

It was too late for you to rush in and intervene, Yasuo looked just as stunned as you as Jinx charged your ship toward the Emperor with its firearms engaged. You duck and flatten yourself to the floor as the thousands of Demaxian ships fire upon you. Your ship miraculously dodges every plasma blast that flies toward you in tight formation.

Yasuo gets to his feet and tries to rip Jinx away from the wheel but in a fit of hysterical strength, she shoves him off. Her lips twisted in a scornful expression, her bare teeth grinding together. Her eyes were wild and trembling as fat tears threatened to spill down her face, her throat was tearing itself with distressed cries of agony. She was dead set on rushing this ship and running through Kayn with it. "YOU BASTARD!" she shrieks. "YOU WILL FUCKING PAY!!"

Kayn stares ahead at you, illuminated by the ships headlights as you rapidly approach him, yet he remains calm and unmoving with a content look present on his face.

You watch as the ship completely rushes through him who remains untouched as he phases through like a ghost. "Still falling for the same tricks Jinx?" Kayn asks with an arrogant tone.

Seething Jinx maneuvers the ship around and opens fire on the Cosmic Emperor who only seems amused as every blast passes through him. Kayn lets out a dark chuckle and appears in your ship standing right before Jinx. She doesn't hesitate and throws everything she has at him, her pistol bullets ricochet across the control panel forcing you and Yasuo to duck and take cover.

Jinx unleashes all of her arsenal, mindlessly emptying her ammunition at Kayn. The emperor remains unaffected no matter what form of attack Jinx hysterically swaps between. She throws her empty pistol at Kayn's head and swaps for her minigun. The control system of the ship and everything else inside gets destroyed as lights flash and alarms blare.

Kayn moves forward with every attack thrown at him phasing through, Kayn is invincible and unstoppable and slowly he's backing Jinx into a corner.

Jinx remains fierce until eventually, her gun clicks onto an empty chamber. Her eyes waver for a moment as she realizes she is completely powerless against Kayn, you can tell that she's about to try something stupid again but with how calm Kayn is you know that the moment she does he will kill her.

"Kayn STOP!" You throw yourself between them with your arms widespread effectively shielding Jinx from Kayn who doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised. His blue eyes only stare into yours where you get lost in the emptiness that sits at the back of his gaze.

"As Cosmic Emperor, you should feel honored to die by my hand." You can hear Yasuo get up but Kayn is quick to make the samurai freeze. "I wouldn't make another move if I were you Captain, unless you want to watch me kill what remains of your crew through inhumane torture." Kayn turns his head back to you and tilts it with a curious hum.

"The one who continues to defy me, despite how futile it is you continue to challenge me. You're either extremely brave or unimaginably foolish." He slowly leans forward, narrowing his eye's slightly as he studies you.

"I want to make you suffer for getting in my way. It is SO tempting to just kill you, but I have better plans for you."

The eerie tension is cut by Yasuo screaming as he rushes towards Kayn who has his his back turned to him. Kayn stares into your eyes not breaking contact for a moment as he shoots out an arm that grabs Yasuo by the throat.

A tired chuckle slips past the Emperor's lips. "Just how many times must I prove my point. THAT YOU ARE POWERLESS AGAINST ME!?" Kayn effortlessly tosses Yasuo aside, sending him flying across the entire cockpit and crashing into the opposite wall.

Yasuo hits the wall with a sickening splat, the force of the impact sends the air rushing out of his lungs as he lays there helplessly on the ground.

The sheer power and strength of Kayn was astounding, he effortlessly tossed aside one of the strongest warriors in the empire with a single motion of his hand.

Kayn continued to calmly look at you, unfazed by anything around him, he was completely untouchable.

His eyes remained locked on yours.

"I think I've been a very gracious man." Kayn reaches for his scythe and places its blade on your neck. "Bow."

You stare back defiantly which visibly strikes a chord for the emperor. "I think you failed to hear me." His scythe is then repositioned behind you, now aimed at Jinx. "I said BOW".

"Don't do it" Jinx mumbles, her fists trembling in fear and anger. "I'd rather die than give this bastard any satisfact- AGHH!" Jinx screams as Kayn swiftly slices through her left shoulder chopping her entire arm off and falls to the ground with a dull thud. Her robotic arm flies to cover the fresh stump as blood begins to spurt.

You let out a cry of horror, your body moves faster than your mind with the instinct to protect her again but your body is held in place by the scythe blade. Jinx's hot blood dripped onto your clavicle.

"On. Your. Knees."

Jinx's whimpers and strained sobs of pain make your knees weak and reluctantly you lower yourself to bow before him. Your body felt hot as you burned with rage that was forced down by the threat of losing Jinx.

From the corner of your vision you could see Jinx's amputated arm, Yasuo was still out cold slumped against the wall. You felt relieved to see his chest rising and falling.

"I'm going to give you a choice" Kayn says in a smooth voice. "What will it be?"...

Your eyes fly open as your heart rate peaks. Your skin shivers under a cold sweat and your hands tremble. Another nightmare, no, a memory of the past.

So much has changed since Kayn opened the Ora gate, your bionic arms now remind you of that. Ora augmentations, a once forbidden practice now made legal to individuals who work in the highest ranks of the Demaxian Empire.

Biohacking your body with modifications was the only way you could make yourself stronger. With Kayn ruling the universe you needed to be in top shape if there was any hope of you standing against him one day.

The Empire has thrived since Kayn's coronation. Now that the entire universe was under his rule there were no other nations or factions to war against.

You haven't heard from Yasuo or Jinx, they managed to escape together and have been on the run ever since. They're somewhere out there, hiding amongst the population undercover or isolated on a barren planet. Whenever you lead a patrol across the planet systems you always kept your eye out for them.

But the two have remained elusive and you hoped that was a good thing.

You had proven Kayn right that you would make an excellent addition to his Locus Armada. Being such a determined fighter helped you climb the ranks after being properly trained. Of course, it was the rage against your Emperor and the plan to one day grow powerful enough to kill him that was your driving force.

Since you were forced to serve in the Locus Armada every aspect of your life was heavily controlled. All hours of the day were made into a schedule which you were to strictly follow.

Every hour of the day was divided into "shifts" where you had to eat, sleep, and train. There was no free time to relax, even showering and skincare were timed and monitored.

Your food was now served and eaten at specific times, each meal was a portion of calculated fats, sugars, carbs and nutrients. Sure every meal was prepared by top quality chefs but you missed the cheap take out from dive bars you and the morning star would pig out on.

Every day was full of endless hours of vigorous training. You were given a personalized exercise regime that you had to complete and as the months went by the goals only got more difficult.

At least now you were a much stronger and skilled fighter compared to the old you. Perhaps your incredible and fast adaptation was the reason why you became an Ordinal yourself so quickly, but a part of you knew that it was because Kayn wanted to keep a closer personal eye on you.

A pale hand snakes around your waist drawing your attention back to the man in your bed. Kayn may have looked to be peacefully asleep but you knew damn well that he was just as alert as you were.

It had started with subtle touches whenever you two were close, you often found his hand slipping to touch your arm or shoulder during conferences. As a high ranking Ordinal let alone the only female Ordinal you forced yourself to bear through it all and act unbothered.

But as the months passed the Emperor only escalated the sexual molestations. You were spending more time reporting directly to Kayn and staying back after meetings everytime Kayn made a move you would always be professional and discreetly turn him down. As if you would ever reciprocate to that bastard.

However, despite your determination to stay reluctant to Kayn's advances eventually the emperor would snap and force you to obey him. To Kayn you were his trophy, the living example of how he became the Cosmic Emperor. You were the only person who continuously got in his way of opening the Ora Gates. Even though he had succeeded you still proved yourself to be an enemy that outsmarted him and always got away somehow.

And now here you were at his mercy, powerless to turn his advances down now that he had you locked in your suite. A new development to your little situationship if you want to call it that.

The emperor had made a habbit of visiting your quarters every night. Ever since you agreed to become enrolled in his royal military you knew every aspect of your being was at his mercy.

It was either that or die.

Hence the new chapter of this "situationship" where your mornings started and ended with sleeping with the Emperor. Eventually, he would let down his guard and that would be the moment you'd put an end to his reign.

As Kayn lay on the bed, his eyes closed as you got up for another identical say of Ordinal duties his mind went back to the series of events leading up till now.

He was well aware that you were plotting to betray him, how could you not after everything he had done? He was very impressed with how patient you have been. To anyone else you were seen as one of Kayn's most loyal Ordinals, someone who worked harder than the rest.

But Kayn knew better, all of this was just an intricate facade. You couldn't fool him, but he'll indulge in this little game of yours.

What bothered Kayn was that you continued to remain stubborn to him. Yes you were his trophy and he enjoyed tormenting you but he expected by now you wouldn't be so spiteful towards him.

Every night when Kayn had you pinned under him or on your knees with your hair in his fist you always glared at him with a burning hatred. No matter how many times he defiled or humiliated you, you remained unbroken.

Why did this irk him? Why was he so bothered by this? He had won so why did it feel like he was still fighting to prove something? Like nothing had changed since the days of the Morningstar.

Kayn didn't want to admit it but he craved for you to feel something else, anything else. He was tired of having you remain indifferent, how dare you continue to deny him the cosmic emperor. You should feel lucky, and grateful even that someone as grand as him would give you such attention.

He knew he was a desirable man, he walked around the palace so freely without a shirt, showing off the toned physique he gained from the countless battles and endless training. He wore only the most expensive and extravagant fashion and took good care of himself. How were you not falling over yourself and begging him to fuck you instead of him needing to force himself onto you every night.

No this wasn't over Kayn wanted you to want him.

And Kayn gets what he wants.

...I know I took forever. Thanks for coming back anyways!