#let alone the possibility of physical violence in some cases

[itsstrange]

Karl Urban/Reader

Reader and Karl are friends. Like each but dont say. Live about 6 houses away from each other with her shitty ex in-between. Reader goes to ex house walks in on him cheating. (You decide what) Runs out and winds up at Karl's house. But not home at the moment. He comes home to find reader sitting on his porch.

He takes care of her. Maybe confess attraction to each other other . Fluff and smut and sweetness if all possible

**idea came from something that happen to a friend of mine . They had someone always there.

A/N: Another Request Delivered. I actually debated on writing this one because I wasn’t sure how other people would view me as. But just wanted to leave this out in the open, in case your friend is not comfortable or not happy with a story being written in regards to her past experiences and would like to be taken down I would gladly do so, not many people would want others to know what they’ve been through. So Again, feel free to lmk and I’ll right away take it down! ❤️

ANOTHER NOTE: Everything that has been written is NOT what actually happened in the real events, all of it was created by me! I did Not write anything that was related to the situation! In fact I have no idea what exactly happened, but I will again remove this story if the requester’s friend is not comfortable with it. Sincerely, ItsStrange ❤️

Treat You Better

Fandom: The Boys

Relationship: Karl Urban x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: (Yess-ish?) Toxic Relationship, Mention of Verbal Abuse, Arguments, a Little Bit of Physical Violence, Hurt Reader, Protective Karl, Confessions, Smut, Kissing, (You Know The Smut Tags)

Like in Mendes words: “I know I can Treat You Better, Better Than He Can,”

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Enjoy! 🔥

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“Need another?” Russel’s deep voice startles you from where you’re focused was on your bandaged hand, fingers gently prodding at loose strands of strings,

Your bloodshot red eyes meet his light brown orbs, concern and a hint of anger we’re hidden behind, but no words of said feeling we’re displayed at you. Even if that’s all he wanted to do, let you know how he feels of the certain situation that you are currently in, let you know you are better off, that you deserve better and should have just dumped the fucker from the beginning, but he didn’t. Because from the years that he’s known you, he knows expressing his own feelings and opinions on the subject would not help, yes maybe the you deserve better would be appropriate to let you know, but the rest of what he has banging in his throat is not appropriate. Nor is it a humane thing to say, at least not right now.

Hell, the things he wanted to do to that son of a bitch for hurting you yet again were not humane. Just from your expression alone when you came strolling in his bar let him know something had happened, but when you finally told him everything as he bandaged your bloody hand, pure rage was igniting inside of him. Especially at the condition of your hand, it hand bruises already forming, split knuckles with dried blood smeared throughout your skin. If it wasn’t from the explanation you had told him he would have thought you had just came back from a brawl.

So from what you had told him, you were just coming back from the studio, your first album after two years of taking a mental break was finally coming out which you couldn’t be more excited. Everything you’ve been through, all the losses you’ve had the last couple years, the struggles you were going through were being put into your new album, and you couldn’t wait to share it to the world, to let your fans know it’s okay to feel low because at some point you find that strength to rise up once again.

Yet, despite of your excitement about your upcoming project, there was always that dark cloud hovering in the back of your mind, reminding you of reality, of what waits at home for you. The first couple of months that you had given him a second chance were great, they were amazing, perfect even, but it was the last two months we’re everything started to fall back into old habits. The constant arguments of the smallest things, the jealousy between you two was stronger than before, the cruel words that were exchanged on a daily bases were just insane. You two were not working, again, and you weren’t happy, but for some reason you just couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t call it, you couldn’t decide if you should end it or give it more time to see if he’d fucking change some how. But he never did.

And it was tonight that proved to you he will never change.

It had been a long day at the studio. All your frustrations and stress were put into the studio, into your music that you hadn’t realize it was nearing one in the morning. Not only did you also realize you were completely drained, both physically and mentally, but you also noticed it was passed your limit to keep the room, so after saving everything, packing everything up, you bid your farewells to your team before following Tim, your bodyguard, to the suv to drive you home. You honestly didn’t want to go home, knowing what waited for you, pure disappointment and a pointless awaiting argument. Just the thought of him waiting in the entrance of your shared home, probably drunk off his ass made a headache form. You wouldn’t doubt it, he had been blowing up your phone since you left that morning in hopes to stay away from him. And Lordy did that bring ridiculous accusations from the idiot. Claiming he knew why you left the house so early on a Sunday morning just like you have been the last couple of months, which you couldn’t help let a scoff out before ignoring the rest of his stupidity messages.

You could have easily told Tim to take you to a hotel, but you honestly didn’t want to rise suspicions from him, nobody knew of your on again off again struggles with your toxic boyfriend, not even your own family, because you knew what they’d say. So, to prevent any words that you don’t want to hear you hid your toxicity relationship from them and only displayed a fake happy couple for family gatherings or public appearances. Because you honestly don’t think you’ll be able to deal with all the prying questions from people left and right. So hidden it stays.

After hours of driving in comfortable, peaceful silence, something you knew you wouldn’t have for the remainder of the night, you finally arrive at your house. Thanking Tim and relieving him for the night to catch some sleep as well, you slowly make your way towards the black wooden door. You noticed how all the lights have been turned off, which is a rare thing to see when the lowlife is home alone and drunk. It was even more rare when everything seemed quiet as soon as you stepped inside, maybe he left to drink with his moron friends, you remember thinking to yourself as you shut the door. But the silence that engulfed the entire home was soon cut short with a muffled moan coming from upstairs. You remembered the way your body froze at the sound, both at the fact that it was not a pained moan nor was it a man’s moan, no that sounded way too pitched to be a man’s moan.

The event played clearly in your head. Heart hammering in your chest, hands trembling from the rage that was quickly rising in your veins as you slowly walked up the stairs, feeling the way your hairs from your arms rise when the muffled grunts and moans sounded much clearer as you stood on the second floor. Breath picking up its pace as the rage only seems to grow when you made your way to the white door that was slightly ajar. You believe you’ll always remember the way your veins boiled with rage at the sight in front of you.

The familiar tattooed back facing your direction was clearly oblivious to your presence by the door as the asshole was too busy making the female underneath him cry out of pure pleasure. Your hands shook by your sides, slowly forming into a tight fist, however, it wasn’t until Bryan, that piece of shit had leaned his head back that caught his attention to the mirror, recognizing who you were he immediately turned to look at you but was sent falling back against the bed, crushing the girl. Pain traveled up your wrist, but you didn’t care, not with the rage blinding you, the moment he went back against the cushion you finally let your bottled up emotions on the man. Sending blow after blow, some connected with his face while others missed just passed his head.

‘Y/n stop!’ You remember him pleading to you but was cut off with another strong blow to his jaw, that literally sends him off the bed and onto the ground with a groan,

The moment he touched the wooden floor, you bolted out the room without another word. Not even when he pathetically calls after you, scrambling on his feet gathering whatever clothing he can get as he tries to reach you, but just as he steps outside the door you were already in your car driving away.

Hot tears slid down your face, both from hurt and rage, all you saw was red. The things that you wanted to do, the pain you wanted to inflict on him, your mind raced as you blindly drove down the street.

It wasn’t until you had reached a red light where you realized the one person you truly wanted to cry to was not an option right now, Bryan knew that’s where you’d run off to, so in order for that not to happen you knew you needed to be somewhere far away where he wouldn’t be able to find you.

Which leads you back here, sitting at Russel’s bar, with a possible broken hand. Your old man’s best friend, or as you like tell everyone to know, your uncle Russ, was your second choice to hide away for a couple minutes, maybe an hour or two. You honestly don’t know how long it has been but from the empty glasses of shots in front of you, you know it’s been at least passed an hour.

“Kid?”

Russel speaks out again, grabbing your attention once again. Your (E/c) eyes meet with his own, brows tightly knitted as he observes you with that familiar dad stare. Shit.. what did he ask me again? Oh right..

“Yeah.. I’ll take one for the road,”

The older man eyes you for a second, watching the way your mind wonders once again as you look down at your empty glass, but goes ahead and reaches for the Jameson bottle that you’ve adopted since you arrived at his bar.

“Where you headin?” Russel asks as he pours another pour for you, hoping you weren’t going back to that nightmare of a man,

Cradling the glass in between your hands, numbs playing with the rim of it, you think of his words. You knew where you were going, but didn’t know if it was safe to go, considering his house was only a few blocks down from your shared home with that son of bitch. Then again, it has been an hour or so since you’ve left and the constant messages you’ve received from him only shows he has no idea where you are. Thank god you never introduced him to your families bar, a decision you had made a while back after your first breakup, he knew where your mother lived, knew where your siblings lived, knew where your close friends lived, so you knew you had to have one spot to hide away from him, and Russel’s bar was the place.

Russel never took it to heart on why you never brought him over, in fact he rather not have him anywhere near his bar, he never did like him from the start, which you never took it personal because you couldn’t blame him. Jesus.. you knew why Russel never accepted him and yet you still decided to be with that piece of shit, and for what? You don’t even know why and that alone brings a soft snort from you, catching the bar owners attention.

“You should wait up, let the Jameson cool down,” Russel claims, picking up the shots in front of you and placing them in the basket to wash later,

Your eyes lift from your now empty glass, which… you apparently had drank, and look at the man who takes the glass from your hands before replacing it with a large glass of water.

“Drink and sober up,” He demands, knowing you weren’t exactly on the right mental state to be driving with alcohol in your system,

Even if he knew you were able to hold your alcohol pretty well, he still didn’t want to risk your life, neither one of your family members would ever forgive him if he’d ever let anything happen to you under his watch.

After chugging the large glass of water, eating some salted cashews and watching a rerun of some football game for a good 30 minutes or so, you begin to climb off your stool. Just as you reach in your pocket for some change you feel a cashew hitting you directly on your forehead causing you to flinch.

“That better be you fishing out your car keys and not money,” He points at you with a long finger,

“Russ-,” You try but was cut off,

“Don’t Russ me. Go. Go to your mom’s and rest up kiddo, and when mornin comes, you better give her the whole story so she can personally kick his ass,” You roll your eyes with a short chuckle as you steal another cashew from the bowl to throw it at him,

“Alright, G’night Uncle Russ,”

“Night kiddo, get there safely,” He pleads as he walks around the bar to give you a tight hug before walking you out the building,

You wave at him before making your way to your car, where you sit in the drivers side for five minutes, debating whether you should just drive to mothers home instead of his, it was pretty late nearing three in the morning, but if you were being completely honest you didn’t need anyone else other than him right now. It was him you needed, his soothing words, his warmth, his comfort, him.

You just hoped he wouldn’t be too upset with you for dragging your problems to him so late at night.

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As you rounded the familiar street, you turned off your headlights just in case Bryan was still awake, despite him staying six houses down, knowing him he’d still know it’d be you pulling into the street. So after turning the lights off, you pull into his driveway where you notice his 2018 black Hellcat sitting there, indicating he’s either home or he took the Mustang for the night. Your thoughts are answered when you went to knock on his door only to receive no answer after the fifth knock.

So with an exhausted sigh, you go ahead and sit on his front steps. At this point you should have just went to your mothers house, at least there you had keys where you can easily walk in instead of waiting on the front steps like a loser. Which speaking of, the longer you sat on the steps and each yawn that escaped from you only pulled on your exhaustion even more. Making you realize just how tired you were, both physically and mentally, all you wanted was sleep. Sleep until the night vanished, until you weren’t in this moment, sleep until you wake up feeling happy for yourself again instead of feeling such pain and frustration. It’s all you wanted at the moment.

However, before you can actually allow yourself to fall asleep on his steps like a total loser, you hear the familiar roar of an engine driving down the street, then bright headlights blinding you for a second before coming to a stop right next to your rs7. Lowering your head down to rub away the spots from your vision, you hear the engine shutting off right before hearing the drivers door opening and closing.

Than that beautiful deep rich accent filling your ears.

“(Y/n)?” He calls out your name, causing you to look up at him, a small smile tugging on your lip as you bring down your face again, slightly avoiding his gaze for now,

“Where are the boys?” You ask, starting small talk as you pick on dead skin on your thumb,

“With their mum. Just came back from the pub,” He responds as he slowly walks closer towards you, what you didn’t see was the way his brows were tightly knitted together as he observed your hunched frame on his steps,

They only knit tighter and his worry only grew when you respond with a small nod, along with a whispered ‘nice’ as you continue to look down at your lap, avoiding him. However, just as he’s within reach he notices the dried tear stains on your cheeks, but what really makes his blood boil was the way your right hand was bandaged up, starting from your wrist to your knuckles. Clenching his jaw, he crouches in front of you, getting a slightly better view of your face. Although, as you continued to avoid his gaze, he softly places a finger underneath your chin before gently lifting your face, where your red eyes finally meet with angry hazel orbs.

“Where is he?” Is all he says, hazel eyes never parting from yours,

Dropping your gaze from his, you slowly shake your head as best you can in his grip, “I don’t know,”

Of course you’d lie. And of course he knew because without another word he grips his keys in his hand before rising and darting back towards his driveway.

“Karl stop,” You call out to him, slowly walking after him,

“Gonna kill that cunt,” You hear him snarl over his shoulder, but before he can reach his lawn your small hand wrapping around his forearm stops him from going further,

“Stop,” You tell him, hand still holding onto his arm with a loose grip,

“That fuckin’ cunt crossed it,” He claims, voice laced with sharp venom, hazel eyes shining with rage instead of his warm, welcoming orbs,

“I know. But he’s not worth getting in trouble for,” Your own eyes held a firm look as you gazed up at his angered orbs, then, with an exhausted sigh you close your eyes, “Can we just..,” Another sigh, “Can we please just go inside,”

Karl’s anger and frown slowly fades away as he reads the exhaustion on your face. Just how long were you sitting out here for? Why didn’t you give him a call? He asks himself, but rather than prying you with such questions he simply nods at you before letting you lead him up the stairs. After fishing out his keys, opening the door he lets you walk in first before following right behind. Once shutting and locking the door, he makes his way to the living room, where you quietly stood by the entrance. Just lost in thought or possibly replaying the nights event.

“Here, sit down,” He offers, gently walking you to the couch, “I’ll make coffee,”

You let out a soft chuckle as you sit down, eyes looking up at him, “It’s nearly four in the morning Karl,”

It was then you realized his form and outfit of the night. Hair slightly tousled, grey t-shirt, green leather jacket on top, faded jeans with some brown boots on his feet. He looked absolutely handsome, just like any other day.

A small smile tugs on his lips at the realization, “Tea then,” and with that he makes his way towards the kitchen,

Leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, fingers playing with dead skin on your thumbs while your mind drifts once again, thinking about it, about him, about how much time you’ve wasted on him. How much energy you’ve physically and mentally drained from yourself by simply being with him. Then realizing just how stupid you were for even considering on giving that piece of shit another chance, realizing just how much of a fucking joke you made yourself look. You sat there blaming yourself for all the shit you decided to go through, for having faith that he would change, for believing he’d actually love you and care for you.

But now look at you. Back to square one. You wouldn’t have been in this situation again if you hadn’t given him another chance. You wouldn’t be feeling like a fucking joke if you hadn’t given him the okay a few months ago, nor would you be sitting in Karl’s couch with dried tears and smeared makeup if you’d just told him no.

‘No you can’t come back, no this wouldn’t work, no we just aren’t meant for each other, no you are a fucking waste of time.’ If only those were the words you had told him, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Again.

After about four to five minutes of brewing the tea, pouring a good amount into two mugs, and putting one spoon of honey into your navy mug (which of course he knows it’s the only way you’ll drink tea). He finally makes his way back to the living room, where he finds you sitting with your feet up on the couch, arms hugging your legs towards your chest, with your cheek resting on your knees. However, the sound of your soft sniffles has him reaching the couch in two long strides. Placing both mugs on the coffee table he settles right next to you before hugging your hunched frame, which you immediately hide your face in the crook of his neck.

The tears that rapidly slid down your cheeks weren’t from heartbreak, it was from anger, embarrassment, shame, and disappointment. Not from him, but from yourself. You were angry at the fact that he cheated on you again, angry at that fact that you trusted him again, angry at the fact that you were so stupid in giving him another chance. Embarrassed at the fact that he made you look like a fool again, embarrassed that the whole world will once again know he cheated on you, embarrassed that you are going through this shit again. Every emotion flowed through you, consumed you that all you can do is just let it out through rapid tears. Your hands gripping tightly onto Karl’s shirt as you try burying your face deeper into his neck, as if that’ll shield you from the total embarrassment that you are facing at the moment.

“I’m so fucking.. stupid!” You sob against his skin, hands clutching tighter onto his shirt,

Karl is quick to shush you with a shake of his head. Tightening his hold on you as he lets one hand sooth your back, awhile slightly rocking you both on the couch.

“Shh.. no you’re not,” He mumbles on the crown of your head,

“I n-never should’ve..-,” The words get stuck in your throat as another angered sob leaves your lips, “God.. I should’ve fucking known!”

“Shh,” He continues to soothe you, body slightly rocking you, hugging you tighter and closer towards his chest, “Just let it out love. Everything you feel right now, just let it out. I’m right ‘ere,”

And you do. You let the hot, angry tears slip down your cheeks, let the bottled up emotions fall past your lips, your broken, frustrated, angered sobs filling the quietness of his living room.

It wasn’t long when the tears had stopped falling down your cheeks, when you’ve calmed down and simply just laid your head on his chest as he laid back against the cushion. Hand cradling and gently massaging your head, soothing you and comforting you. Yet, his fingers come to a halt at your sudden words.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, fingers playing with his grey shirt, feeling guilty for burdening him with your situation, “M’sorry for.. bringing my shit to you,”

His brows knit together as he glances down at your head, “Don’t be,”

“I am,” You argue back, voice slightly quivering and breaking due to the crying session not that long ago, “If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here. Bothering you.”

Karl stood quiet, weighing his words that he wants to tell you. That he’s been wanting to tell you, ever since your first breakup, he wanted to let you know but was never given the chance. Then before he knew it, it was too late, he had lost the opportunity to let you know but now, now he won’t let it slip. He was scared before, fearing it would ruin things between you two, he’d lose you for what he reveal to you and he couldn’t have that. He still doesn’t want that, but you have to know. No matter what happens, he just has to let you know.

“You’re right,” You hear him say, feeling the way your heart slightly shatters at his agreement, but before you can even begin to pull away from his hold his voice stops you from doing so, “You shouldn’t be going through this. You shouldn’t be runnin’ from home, shouldn’t be crying at my steps at the three in the mornin’… fuckin hell (Y/n)..,”

He curses with a frustrated wince as he slightly forces you to sit, forcing you to stare into his eyes as he continues, “You deserve more. You deserve the whole fuckin world, every happiness there is. You deserve to be treated like you should be treated. A goddamn queen,” His hazel orbs bore into yours, not once parting, not even with his next words,

He hesitates for a second, but pushing the fear down he finally says, “Any guy would be lucky to have you.. and believe me when I tell you… I’ll do anything to see you smile. I’d give everything to bring you nothing but happiness and love. I’ll Treat You Better. Because that’s what you deserve,”

You stare at him in shock, tears slowly building as you take in his words. Never in a million years did you think this man, your closest friend, a talented well-known actor who gets to travel the world for his work, gets to meet and have dinners with other well known actors and actresses—who by the way are some of your all time favorite people— would ever make such a deep confrontation to you. Who would share the same feelings you have been desperately trying to stow away for multiple reasons, fearing if you ever gave into said feelings you’d lose him forever, so you went ahead and kept those feelings to yourself and try to distract yourself by putting so much effort in trying to fix a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be mixed nor was it meant for you.

As tears slowly slide down your cheeks, you feel a warm hand resting on the side of your cheek, then a soft thumb gently brushing away a tear. Hazel eyes locking with your own, not once parting away.

“Let me love you like you deserve to be loved,” He whispers, thumb still wiping away fresh tears,

No words were said, just a simple nod from you was all he needed to finally let his lips latch onto yours. The kiss was soft but firm as you both poured your hidden emotions into it. Fresh new tears slid down your cheeks as you kissed him, relief is what they were. Relieved that you finally gave in to those feelings, relieved that he too shared those feelings and that alone caused the tears to come out as you cherished his warm lips.

The kiss soon picked up its pace when he gently prods your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, which you gladly accepted. The moment his tongue sweeps with your own, it has you melting against him like no other, has you forgetting about everything around you, forgetting about that asshole, the pain on your hand, everything. All your focus was on him and only him. The way his mouth collides perfectly with your own, the way his hands gently run along your hips, legs, towards your lower back before maneuvering you onto his lap.

“This okay?” He asks in between kisses, hands respectfully waiting on your hips,

“Yes, please,” You find yourself begging him, but he doesn’t tease you about it, nor does he laugh at your neediness because hell, he too was desperate for you,

Without another word he dives back to your lips, letting them collide much rougher and firmer. Letting your tongues battle with each other before allowing him to take control. A moan and a groan can be heard between you two when you slightly rock your hips on his lap, making you feel just how much he wants you at the moment. Yet, it was another firm rock of your hips that has him rising from the couch, strong arms holding you against him as he makes his way towards his bedroom. Once there he quickly walks towards his bed where he gently lays your frame against the cushion. He hovers over you, lips still connected with each other as he teases back with a thrust of his own hips, causing a small gasp to leave your lips when you feel the way his hardened member presses against your covered core.

He didn’t tease for long considering he’s waited for this very moment for as long as he can remember. Not wasting another second he slowly begins rising your shirt up your body and off your frame, tossing it to the side of the bed he lets his warm lips press feathery kisses along your skin, causing goosebumps to travel throughout your body with every kiss he placed on new piece of skin. You then feel the way his hand slips beneath you before feeling your bra loosen around your chest, then feeling the way he slowly removes it from you. Large hands cover your breast, emitting a low moan when he grips and massages them before allowing his mouth to wrap around one of your already hardened buds. A gasp once again escapes from you at the sensitive feeling.

Yet it soon fades when he averts his mouth from your breast to your lips, pecking them once, twice before letting you remove his own grey shirt from his frame. Your hands land gently against his toned chest, then letting them travel down his torso, watching the way his toned stomach flexes at your nails ghostly scraping against his skin. Your fingers land on his belt where they begin to undo it from its place. Once unbuckled, button and fly open, your eyes are locked on his when you slowly reach inside his pants, watching the way his lips turn to a firm line as a deep heavy sigh slips through his nose at your touch. Feeling the way his harden member slightly twitches when your rubs become firmer.

However, what emitted a broken grunt from the man hovering above you was when you let your fingers slip past his dark briefs to grip onto his thick heated shaft. A shuddered sigh escapes past his lips at the first tug you make, hazel eyes slightly disappearing behind those eyelids as he tries to keep his gaze on you with every stroke you give him. After the fourth tug he bends down to plant a kiss on your lips before pulling away from you to let his own hands undo your jeans. Once your shoes had been removed, your jeans were next, following your navy underwear, leaving you completely bare to him. You hear the way he sucks in a deep breath through his nose as he observes your naked frame, hands gently rubbing up and down your beautiful thighs.

“Ātaahua,” Karl whispers huskily under his breath, hazel eyes scanning your naked frame before locking them with your own,

Heat rises up your cheeks at the familiar word, yet before you can even decided on hiding from him he quickly bends down to peck your lips before rising once again to remove the remainder of his clothing. Now that his jeans and briefs were off him, leaving him bare to you, your eyes grow wide as you scan the rest of him.

Yeah you felt him a few seconds ago, knew he was thick from touch alone, but now, seeing it up close and personal you didn’t think he’d be that thick and.. big.

His member stood proudly in between his legs, pre-cum leaking beautifully and deliciously from his cherry tip. Veins visible underneath his shaft, looking like a fucking master piece and definitely causing your mouth to go dry from the sight alone.

“See something you like love?” He

responds above you, voice lower than usual, smirk proud on his lips as he stares down at you,

Speechless is what you we’re. No words were able to form nor spill out your mouth, so instead you glance up to meet his eyes, which were laced with lust as he towered over you. Even under the moon light shining brightly through his window, you can see just how much he craved you.

His smirk slowly fades away as he begins lowering himself where he latches his lips on yours once again. A soft moan vibrating through your lips as you feel the tip of his cock rubbing beautifully against your core, then a loud gasp filling the air between you two at the sudden feeling of firm fingers rubbing circles against that bundle of nerves. Causing your back to slightly rise off the bed with parted lips, which Karl immediately dives his warm tongue into your mouth, freely exploring your warmth.

“You are perfect,” He whispers against your lips, fingers still moving between your legs, collecting your wetness and spreading it along your mound before letting two fingers push past your folds,

Earning yet again another gasp and a moan from you. The feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your heated core has your eyes closing shut, breath picking its pace and grip on his shoulders tightening with every thrust of his hand. The moment he adds his thumb into the mix, it’s like a hurricane begins building at the pit of your stomach, your breath hitches in your throat when he speeds up his movements, your nails dig into his skin when the coil nears its end.

Once snapped, he didn’t even hesitate in pushing his aching member inside of you, nor did he warn you as he begins moving his hips into you. The feeling of his thickness stretching your walls with each pull he’d make only electrified your orgasm, nearly knocking the air from your lungs from how strong it had hit you.

“Fuck,” Karl groans at the sight of you; eyes tightly shut, mouth wide open with breathless moans slipping past those raw lips of yours, completely melting under his hold,

Something he hoped to see one day. And here you are, all for him and only him.

Once he had eased up with the slow thrust of his hips, letting you calm down and catch a breather for a few seconds, you signal him to keep going with a small nod which he complies with a much firmer thrust, earning a breathless gasp from you again.

“Aroha ahau ki a koe,” You hear him whisper breathlessly in your ear over and over with each thrust he sends you,

Causing the same tears of joy, relief, and love to slip down your cheeks from the amount of emotions your were feeling at the moment. The feeling of your second orgasm approaching quicker than you thought, the way those words repeated in your ear every so often, reminding you and showing you just how much he meant his feelings towards you. Showed you just how much he’s longed for you, with everything combining into one the emotions become too much that you couldn’t help the tears to slip out.

One hand gripping onto the back of his dark locks, you gently but firmly tug on his hair, just enough to slot your lips with his. Allowing them to mold into one once again. Breathless pants were shared between you too as you both neared your peak, which didn’t take long. With one slight maneuver from Karl, the new position gave him the opportunity to plumage his member deliciously against that spot, causing you to once again melt under his hold. Nails digging painfully but beautifully against his skin, leaving red marks along his broad back as he continues with his thrusts.

“Aroha ana ahau ki a koe,” Was all you needed to whisper back for Karl to reach the end of the line,

With a loud, choked groan, he slams his hips into you one last time before feeling his own orgasm overpowering him. Sending him in a blissful state. Strong arms shook before him as they prevented him from crushing you, breath coming out in quick choked puffs through his nose as he rode it off, grunts rumbling in his throat every so often until he’s calm down.

Slowly and gently, he guides himself out of you, earning a faint whimper to vibrate in your throat at the empty feeling then a chilled feeling to rush through your entire body when you feel the way his seed drips down your raw core.

After a second or two of gathering your breath and coming down from your high, you open your eyes only to see his own closed shut. Hands still plastered on the bed on either side of your head to keep him upright you watch him as he takes in deep steady breaths through his nose before exhaling. A short smile tugs on your lips as you watch him, observing the way his hair slightly falls down his face, sweat glistening beautifully against his skin, making him look absolute stunning. Even under the dim light.

With no words, you let your left hand reach up, letting your fingers run through his dark beard until they reach his slightly damped locks. The gentle massages that your fingers apply against his scalp has those hazel eyes of his to finally be on display. They held sweet love in them the longer they lingered on yours, then watch as a small smile tugs at the corner of his lip before letting one hand cradle your cheek, thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

Still smiling down at you with hazel orbs locked with your own he whispers, “Toku ao,”

Your brows slightly furrow at the unknown word, but a smile still tugged on the corner of your lips, “I don’t know that one,”

A faint chuckle fans your face. Hazel eyes not once leaving yours as he speaks once again, which not only widens your smile but also has your heart erupting from pure warmth and happiness with his next words.

“You’re my world,” Those beautiful hazel eyes of his that crinkle at the sides stare at you with so much love and light,

Bending down he closes the gap between you two, placing two long pecks on your lips before maneuvering himself to lay on his side where you are quick to cuddle right next to him. Your head on his chest, arm across his abdomen with one leg draped over his. You both stood awake for another ten minutes or so just talking about anything and everything, from sharing when exactly you both had realized one’s feelings to how was work to random topics really before finally falling asleep.

The way Karl would gently draw invisible shapes on your shoulder blades had you drifting away in matter of seconds, and the way your steady breathing would invade his ears Karl followed soon after. Leaving you both in a peaceful sleep while still holding onto each other.

Not once letting go, even when you both had moved during your sleep, neither one had slipped up. Karl knew this because around somewhere in the afternoon, his eyelids slowly open, the back of your head being his view. Hair surprisingly looking nicely combed and beautiful even through the night it had been through.

The thought of going back to sleep to get some more rest laid heavily behind his eyelids, but just as sleep would overtake him again the sound of banging on the door has him lifting his head from the pillows. Brows tightly furrowed as he wondered who can possibly be knocking at his door. Another rough bang against his door has him averting his eyes to your still sleeping frame, completely unaware of the intruding noise, showing him just how exhausted you must’ve been.

So with slow and careful moments he’s untangling himself from your hold before slowly climbing out of bed. Grabbing his briefs from the floor and slipping on some black sweats he quietly makes his way towards the door, where someone was determined in knocking down his door with those brutal knocks.

The moment he swings the door open and realizes who’s behind it, his face instantly changes from annoyance to anger. Standing outside his home with a dark grimace on their face was your ex. From what Karl can tell he hadn’t slept all night.

“Where is she?” He demands, hands quickly forming into fists at his sides,

“The fuckin’ nerve you’ve got comin’ here,” Karl snarls back, one hand gripping onto the door handle as the rage slowly boils in his veins,

“Where is she Urban?” The man tries again, taking a step forward as if to intimidate him, but what he didn’t know was with each step he took was only getting him closer to his own grave,

Karl scoffs, removing his hand from the doorknob to face him directly, “Not at your house that’s for sure,”

It was at that moment he’d realized where exactly you’d be. After taking in his appearance; no shirt, just sweats, hair completely a mess, all signs were clearly visible.

“You piece of shit,” He goes again taking another step but Karl took one step forward, stopping him in his tracks as he over towers him,

Hazel eyes looking directly at those slightly frightened blues of his.

“You never deserved her mate,” Karl claims, eyes turning firmer as he continues with, “Now how ‘bout you leg it, before I make you swallow your own fuckin’ teeth,”

The threat made a cold shiver run down Bryan’s back. He still displayed a firm look, hands balled into fists at his sides, but both men knew it was all a cover. Bryan truly didn’t know Karl and but he knew at that moment, this man would risk his entire career for you. Which not only frightened him but also worried him on the lengths he was willing to go for you.

So, with a weak attempt of displaying a tough look, he holds his glare until he turns around to walk away from the man’s front lawn. Karl watches him walk back to his car then watches him burn rubber like total asshole before finally walking back inside, realizing just how much rage was riding in his veins. His hands shook from the amount of anger he had and from the tight grip he kept to prevent him from lashing out, but with a deep inhale though his nose he makes his way back to his room.

Where you remained asleep.

Slowly and carefully to not wake you up, he climbs back into bed. The moment he settles on his side, you turn in your sleep, facing him directly, his grey sheets slightly slipping off your shoulder, revealing that beautiful skin of yours, revealing your gorgeous face.

Just by looking at you did it subside the anger he had. The effect that you had on him. It was also at that moment he realized just how madly in love he was with you, how he’ll do anything for you, protect you, love you, give you anything and everything in the world just to have that beautiful smile of yours on your face at all times. He promised himself and you, that last night will be the last night you cry in front of him, it will be the last time someone hurts you, he promised you he’ll always be there, your very own shinning armor protecting and guarding you till his very last breath.

He knew he wanted you in his life for the rest of his life, but he didn’t know he meant it the other way until the words softly slipped from his mouth, a part of him freaked at the sudden realization, but the more he thought about it the more he realizes just how truthful and right the words felt in his chest. He repeated it again in his head then as he brought his warm hazel eyes to your sleeping form, he lets them fall again as a promise.

“Ka marena ahau ki a koe,”

I’m going to marry you.

—————

-Went overboard with this one so… hope y’all liked it!

-Also if it feels rushed towards the end I sincerely apologize I was desperate to just finish this one and give it to y’all already.

-Another thing, I definitely do not speak Māori. So if anyone speaks it out there I deeply apologize if it’s not the right wording 😬😬

- Another, @butchers-girl hope it came out the way you requested, Ik you were constantly asking me how it was going and I appreciated it and I’m sorry I had you waiting this long but.. was definitely taking my time with this one to make it better. So again. Hope you liked this one and can’t wait to publish the rest of your requests! 🫶❤️❤️

- Lastly, MERRY CHRISTMAS PEEPS. LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. ✨❤️

-Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For More Updates!!

————

Word Bank:

Ātaahua: Beautiful.

Aroha ahau ki a koe: I love you.

Aroha ana ahau ki a koe: I love you too.

Toku ao: My World.

Ka marena ahau ki a koe: I’m going to marry you.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Yandere Robb Stark trying to get your attention Includes:

He'd wait for the right moment to claim his soon-to-be darling. He'd make sure to be extra observant and keep his plans hidden, but he'd also drop hints to you to let you know he's got his eye on you. He'd try to get close to you, earn your trust, and make you think he's only after friendship. But deep down, he'd be plotting his every move to make you his.

He feels the best way to get your attention is to be overly possessive and obsessive. Starting by following you around, secretly monitoring your activities, and always being in the vicinity. Makes sure to also shower you with compliments to make you feel important, but also use guilt and manipulation to keep you around and under his control. He'll also use subtle threats or even physical violence if necessary to maintain control over you. Lastly, feels it's important to isolate you from friends and family to prevent any outside interference.

He would also go to great lengths to protect his darling from any perceived threats. He would use his power and influence to eliminate or prevent anyone who stands in the way of his darling and him, whether it’s a rival love interest or a family member that he sees as a threat. He would also use technology such as tracking devices and hidden cameras to monitor your activities and be sure that you are always safe and protected. In short, as a yandere, he would use any means necessary to ensure that his darling is his and his alone.

As a yandere, he would work to get his darling’s attention by playing mind games and using psychological manipulation. He would use his knowledge and understanding of your personality to find ways to make you feel special and would use subtle hints and gestures to let you know that you are being watched. He'll keep you busy and around him so that you would not be distracted and so that he could be your only source of comfort and understanding. All of this would be done in the hope of making you dependent on him and only him.

He would also be jealous and possessive of you and would actively try to prevent you from forming relationships with others. He would do everything possible to keep the attention and affection of his sweetheart for himself and would not tolerate any rival or interference in his plans. In some cases, as part of his tactics, he would resort to drastic measures, such as harming or even murdering anyone who stood in the way of you and him being together. Ultimately, his aim as a yandere is to isolate you from the rest of the world and to make you reliant solely on him.

He would also make sure to pay close attention to his darling’s interests and hobbies and would find ways to incorporate you into his plans. For example, if you were really into music, he could pretend to be interested in the same bands or artists, and then use that as an excuse to spend more time with you. He would also use the things that he knows about you to create romantic gestures that are tailored specifically to you. For example, if he knew that you love roses, he would give you a bunch of rose petals as a sign of his affection.

Additionally, as a yandere, he might try to sabotage any potential romantic ties that you have with other people. This could involve spreading rumors and lies about rivals or playing up his own strengths and advantages to you in order to make him seem more appealing than the competition. He might also try to create an illusion of danger or vulnerability, making you think that you need his protection and support. Essentially, he would do anything to make you feel like you need him, and only him, in your life.

He would also likely suffer from obsessions, fixations, and even psychosis. He would be so consumed by his love and adoration for his darling that he would be unaware of or disregard any negative consequences of his behavior. It is possible that he would start seeing himself as the only one who understands and appreciates his beloved, and he might even start to believe that you are meant to be together and that your love is fate or destiny. This could lead to delusions and paranoia, where he sees anyone else who tries to get close to his special person as a threat that must be eliminated.

He might also behave in a controlling and manipulative manner towards you. He would try to dictate your activities and decisions and would not allow you to make choices for yourself, believing that he knows what is best for you. He might use guilt, threats, and manipulation techniques to get his way and would keep a close eye on your activities and movements. He would also try to ensure that his darling remains dependent on him and does not try to gain independence or control over your own life.

He would approach the situation in a roundabout and manipulative manner. He would first observe his crush for a while to understand your interests and preferences and then try to find an opportunity to interact with you. He might engineer a situation in which you would meet by "chance" or arrange some reason for being in the same place. Once he had gathered enough information about you, he would try to manipulate circumstances to create a situation where he could spend time alone with you and get to know you better. He might also try to create a sense of tension and chemistry between you both.

He might ask you out in a way that is both subtle and yet also makes it clear that he is interested in you. He might try something like leaving a note with cryptic writing or giving you a gift that has a hidden meaning. He might also try to engineer situations in which you and him are alone together to create an intimate setting. He'll want to start more conversations and try to get to know you better in the hope that you will fall in love with him and want to be with him.

If you were to say no to him, he might feel upset and frustrated as a yandere. He would probably try to convince you that you should say yes and might use various emotional manipulation tactics to try to get you to change your mind. If you still refuse, he might become angry and jealous and would try to find ways to punish you or force you to change your answer. In some cases, as part of his yandere tendencies, he might even resort to violent behavior in order to get his way.

If you did agree to go on a date with him as a yandere, he would want to plan something special and unique. He would take into account your interests and preferences and would choose an activity or location that you would find exciting and surprising. For example, if his darling loved music, he might arrange for a private concert or live music session. If his darling loved nature, he might plan a romantic picnic in a beautiful natural location. The goal of the date would be to show you that you are special and that he cares about you deeply.

Once on a date with you, he would want the date to be the perfect opportunity to show you how much he cares about you. He would shower you with attention and affection and would try to make you feel special and important. Of course, as a yandere, he would also be jealous and suspicious of anyone who came near his darling and would try to keep you away from other potential rivals. He might even try to monopolize your time and attention and would be quick to point out if you gave someone else the slightest bit of attention or admiration.

He'll also try to find out more about his darling during the date. He would want to know your deepest secrets, your thoughts and feelings, and your desires. He would use this knowledge to learn more about you and how you think, which he could then use to manipulate and control you in the future. He might also try to steer the conversation towards topics that he knows you're passionate about and would ask leading questions to get you to reveal more about yourself.

He would also try to manipulate and control you on the date and would not want to give you any opportunity to make your own decisions or go your own way. He would try to make you feel dependent on him and would try to make you think that you need him in order to be happy. He would also try to control the date itself, deciding where to go and what to do. He'll want to manipulate the date so that you end up agreeing to his proposal without even realizing it.

[sapphiphilic]

“Not moving on is worse.”

In the context of season two, I struggle to reconcile the intersection of sincerity and comedy, and the idea of what pains and traumas we are meant to understand at the deeper level of what trauma is with those that serve only the purpose of comedic timing. This isn’t limited to one character, but rather to the season as a whole.

Season one highlighted childhood trauma and the ability to move on from that, becoming the best adult version of oneself possible. We see this evident in Ed, Stede, and Jim specifically as we are allowed to explore their pasts and their traumas — and we can presume that no one on the crew of the Revenge is without trauma (Fang’s dog, anyone?) of some kind that they carry with them. Stede handles his traumas and how to process them through running away and avoiding the issue until he no longer can. Ed does something similar, though he is able to craft a facade to use as a shield and a weapon, even if he never delivers a killing blow himself. Jim dedicates their life to revenge.

We witness all of these characters allow the defining characteristic of love to be allowing themselves to be saved and valued for who they are — not for what they can offer.

When season two opens, we as an audience see Ed at, arguably, his worst (I say arguably because we didn’t see Blackbeard in his prime, so… do with that what you will, I suppose). We see how this affects beloved and treasured characters, as well as new characters that we have yet to fall in love with. We see Fang fall apart not once but twice within the first two episodes alone. In episode two, we see Ed — a much beloved and adored character who we know intimately — lash out when confronted for his behavior. He lashes out at his crew and physically mutilates his closest confidant for daring to question him. “But that’s piracy!” And you’re right! But don’t we watch the first episode of season one highlight how much Stede Bonnet wants to change piracy? Isn’t this show supposed to be about found family, and getting better, and finding healing? In which case, we’re watching Ed behave abusively in the wake of his mental struggles as he once again attempts to hide behind the same facade that has protected him in the past. Ed suffers this breakdown in response to not one but two perceived rejections from the two people he would claim to be the most important in his life, and in a classic mental illness fashion, he barricades himself off and settles into the persona that is everything he doesn’t want to be.

His crew fears him. They’ve been kidnapped and essentially held hostage under the man they believe to have murdered their crew — their friends — and are watching him continue to devolve. Enter Izzy Hands and Jim Jimenez. Izzy is well aware of his hand in Ed’s state. “Well, he instigated it!” He did. He wanted back a version of Blackbeard who he saw as safe territory: a necessary evil for the continued survival and safety of the crew, ship, and Ed and Izzy themselves. And then he watched Edward “Only Ever Killed One Person Personally” Teach fulfill the legend he’s always been known as, and watched him become someone who couldn’t care less about life or death or anything in between. Ed surpassed and buried the version of Blackbeard that Izzy wanted to return, and he was force-fed the consequences of this with an unavoidable cruelty. “Well, he deserved what he got! Violence was always on the table, because it’s piracy!” But once again, we’re operating under the assumption that the big themes of this show are healing from trauma and being worthy of being loved even if we’ve done bad things. 

While we’re on that topic, though, let’s explore that. Ed’s childhood trauma comes from his abusive father. He carries the weight of that abuse with him well into adulthood, as well as the weight of what he had to do to survive it. What he had to do to save his mother. This season sees him abusing those around him. Despite this, despite his erratic behavior and the mistreatment of his crew, he is still loved (by crew and fandom both, if I may add). He is still loved by Stede, despite the trail of blood he leaves in his wake. Stede is still longing to find him, despite knowing what he’s done and what he’s now capable of, and this continues to reiterate that idea of you deserve to be loved even when you’ve done wrong.

And then, Stede finds him.

We as an audience witness Ed make the choice to stay alive. We watch the thought process, we see that he chooses to fight for that love that comes alongside being saved. Being wanted. Being seen for who you are and loved because of it. And up to here, I’m on board. I’m excited to see what’s next and how Ed will reconcile for what he’s done and the harm he’s caused at the hands of his mental illness — because the truth is, we harm people when we aren’t adequately being responsible for our mental illness. This is a real-world thing. We lash out when we’re hurt, or when we’re rejected, or when we’re struggling. When we’re suffering, we often can’t see past ourselves to see whether or not we’re also causing others to suffer. This does not make us bad people — and it didn’t make Ed one. And then the “apology” came and went. The only member of the crew Ed really sits and ever has a drawn out conversation with about anything is Fang, and even this is somewhat shallow. Fang absolves him and moves on. We don’t get to see whether or not Ed ponders this conversation long-term or whether or not he battles with himself over how to move on. 

We’re left with a traumatized crew who semi-accepted a half-hearted apology and a beloved character who hasn’t actually been held accountable at all. “But he apologized and wore the bell and fixed that door latch!” Yes, and? He physically mutilated his first mate, instructed him to be killed, traumatized an entire crew — and this all takes a backseat to his relationship with Stede. And what a stunning scene between the two of them in the moonlight, where Ed finds it in him to ask to take things slow. Where he recognizes his needs and vocalizes them. I left this episode feeling so hopeful, because half-baked apology aside, Ed is actively learning to vocalize his thoughts and ask for what he needs when he recognizes in himself that something is going to be harmful to him. We had a kiss, we had Ed asking for help when he needed it, we had a proposal, we had “not moving on is worse,” and even knowing only three episodes remained, I left feeling like we had been so perfectly set up to see how things were only going to keep improving. 

In the first episodes of the season, we see murderous raids and mutilated first mates and two suicide attempts (though I suppose one was more of a mass murder-suicide attempt?) and these are all thrown together. In episode six, Stede deescalates a raid from a bloodbath of his own crew and sends another crew on their way with the lessons and values that he has been pursuing since the first episode of the first season. He then, in a parallel to the French ship of season one, causes a man’s death. This is highlighted as a turning point, something that can’t be ever moved on from. (“There’s no coming back from that.”) But what about the other traumatic events of the season that are treated as jokes? Izzy’s drinking, day in and day out, bottle after bottle after bottle — coping with the reality of his life and the way it’s been altered beyond recognition. The mop he used as a makeshift leg snapping, forcing him to pull himself away from the crew with his own hands. Lucius’s mention of being sexually assaulted and Stede’s look of disgust, the way he literally runs away from the conversation. Lucius never gets to air out his traumas, not really, not with someone who listens and tells him he’s safe and allows him to talk things through. Even Pete gets ill instead of being able to offer support.

I struggle to reconcile what is and isn’t comedy in this season, or what violence is meant to be taken for what it is. The Ed and Izzy breakdowns in episodes one and two sat far too close to my chest for me to look past them into comedy — and the suicidality of both men was glossed over and moved on from so quickly, never explored. Did Izzy’s “I wanna go” in the final episode mean he never moved on? That some part of him was still lying in that room with a gun to his head? You don’t become non-suicidal in a matter of days — is there still something lingering in the back of Ed’s mind? There was never a conversation about it, and there was never anything between the two of them that could allow me comfort in knowing that they had reached some sort of understanding. This season pulled domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicidal tendencies straight from my own traumas and never held anyone accountable for any of them. There was no healing. There was no real talking it through. “Well, it’s not a rom-com, so—” Except it continues to be presented as one. Shortcomings of storylines of characters that seem to have been cast aside or mischaracterized this season aside, I cannot for the life of me reconcile how a show about kindness and moving on and being loved amidst all of your flaws could have a season so wrought with traumas and yet never discuss them. Never explore them in a way that allows me to move on. I love this show and there were so many good things about this season; I love these characters, and yet I feel so disconnected from it for the first time in over a year. Not moving on is worse, sure, but moving on without accountability leaves wounds unable to heal. How do you move on from that?

[lokilaufeysonslove]

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝!𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝!𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // your parents were never kind and sweet type of people, but in your sixth year things got out of hand. To put a cherry on top, a certain platinum blond haired Slytherin Prince decided to be Sherlock Holmes and found out your secrets, ones nobody is supposed to know.

// Warnings // mentions of violence, both physical and verbal violence, abusive parents, bullying, hate towards reader, ignorance, name calling (shame, disgrace, disappointment, waste of time), reader has a backstory.

// Author's Note // please pay attention to warnings! This is enemies to lovers. Also, I have mentioned once that reader is 16, but for the sake of this plot, since every sixth year is 16. Also, I added a last name for the reader, but not the name, since it would be an OC in that case. I needed a pureblood last name. This is a part three, please read part one and two first! / divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @talesfromthecrypts

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 in progress

It was a rainy morning. Every drop of rain felt like salty tears that would roll down one’s face until it would fall to the ground; every roar of thunder sounded like screams of a person who was in pain; every crack of lightning looked like horrible scars that eventually fade away, but always stay in your head.

Sun was nowhere in sight. Instead of warm, comforting and welcoming giant lit ball, clouds covered the sky, clouds that once were fluffy and white like snow, now cold, grey, empty, putting everyone in a grumpy mood. It was as if nature knew about the nearing dark times.

As much as you would love to stay in bed, stare at the ceiling and think about nothing, you had class to attend, and skipping classes wasn’t very smart choice. You rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Your roommates were still asleep, so you tiptoed around, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

Walking into the bathroom, mirror was the first thing you saw, hanging above the sink. You looked at your reflection and sighed deeply. Memories of last night flooded your mind and suddenly you felt nauseous. You leaned on the sink for support, your hands gripping either side of it and your head hanging lowly. You wanted to forget everything, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t get them out of your head, as if someone put it on replay. You shut your eyes and just stood there for a few seconds. A single tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. You didn’t bother wiping it away though. You watched in the mirror as it neared your chin and then fell on the floor. You sniffled quietly and turned on the cold water, splashing some on your face in order to clear your mind.

When you were finished there, you stepped out of the bathroom door and back inside your sleeping area. To your luck, your roommates were still asleep. You quickly changed into your robes and silently opened the door, praying it wouldn’t make a cracking noise. You sneaked down the stairs and headed out of Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty early in the morning, Great Hall was mostly empty, only very few students were sitting here and there.

Sighing, you walked towards your house table and sat down quietly. The breakfast was laying in front of you, its delicious smell making it impossible for you to not look at it, but you didn’t have an appetite. Your appetite depended on your mood and right now you were in a terrible mood. Not that it was unexpected, anyway. After all, what sane person would be in a good mood if what happened to you yesterday, happened to them?! You were scared. What if he would tell someone, let alone everyone?! No live being on Earth was supposed to know about your horrible secret.

Draco was not the best person. Not for you, at least. The guy decided to be your sworn enemy on the day you met and has successfully been one since then. He was always cold towards you, embarrassing you mercilessly in front of the whole school. He would always bring you down or make fun of you, insult you and even cast some unpleasant spells on you. He was always so loud and annoying, making his presence known every time he would enter the room. That’s why you were confused when you noticed major changes in the Slytherin Prince.

What confused you even more was that yesterday, when he was angry, you saw something else in his eyes, something you had never seen before. Was it fear? Did he fear that you would actually die? Not that he would lose you or anything. He couldn’t lose what he never had; or was it- no, it couldn’t be. He is Draco Lucius Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! He hates you, silly! You scolded yourself and shook yourself out of your stupid thoughts. But you were still curious. You wanted to know how he felt. What did he think of you, of your parents. What was he doing now?

As if on cue, the said platinum blond haired boy appeared in the hallway. Entering the Great Hall, he immediately looked at you, but you were already looking at your plate of food, picking on your now-cold egg with the silver fork, pretending to be eating. He sighed quietly, the sound coming out almost inaudible. Even when he was already sitting at the Slytherin table, you could feel his intense stare burning your face. And the fact that your front was facing him didn’t help at all, quite the opposite actually; you couldn’t look up, because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to avoid making eye contact with him, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Draco, on the other hand, wanted you to look up, he wanted you to look at him. Why, he didn’t know either. Maybe he just wanted to see the look in your eyes, he wanted to know how you would look at him. Would it be disgust? Or hate? Maybe annoyance. Perhaps fatigue. But what if it was exhaustion, loneliness? What if you just needed help? He scoffed at himself; why would you ask help from him? Why would you even consider that he would help you?

He was so deep in thoughts, he didn’t even notice when did Zabini and Goyle walk in, followed by the Golden trio shortly after. All of them were equally confused. Scene was confusing, indeed; the Slytherin Prince was staring at his rival Gryffindor, his eyes begging for you to look up, but you were avoiding him on purpose. The two Slytherins didn’t understand why was he staring at you, but the trio didn’t understand why was he staring at you.

When he realized that he was caught, he quickly looked away from you and down his breakfast. Taking fork in his hand, he cleared his throat and started eating. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Hermione approached you. Hermione sat right next to you, Harry and Ron directly across from the two of you. Hermione smiled brightly at you, trying not to show how curious she was about you and Draco. “Good morning, Y/n! How are you?”

You also smiled at her, although with force, you hoped they wouldn’t notice, "I'm fine. What time is it?" You sneakily changed the subject, "I don’t want to be late for class."

Harry understood your intent but said nothing, “Don't worry, you won't be late. We have Potions too." Hermione tried to sneak in, “Well, Malfoy was looking at you a bit strangely. Did something happen?” Yes, something happened, very bad thing happened, you thought to yourself, but then you faked a scoff, “Not that I know of. I mean, he’s Malfoy.” His last name came out of your mouth sharply, as if it were a venomous thing, not someone’s last name.

Hermione nodded her head, seemingly buying it. One thing about you; you were an excellent actress. Standing up, you looked down at the three Gryffindors. As much as you didn’t want to be with anyone else right now, you couldn’t shrug them off now when you had the same class, “Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go to Potions.” They all nodded their heads and followed you.

On the way to the dungeons you were practically following behind the three like a lost puppy, but you didn’t seem to care, you didn’t even pay attention to their dialogues, you didn’t know what they were saying, maybe they were talking to you, maybe they weren’t, who knows.

You finally got to the classroom and sat down at one desk in the side of your house, Hermione sat next to you, as expected, with Harry and Ron sitting behind you. Snape was nowhere in sight. Of course, you scoffed to yourself, the bastard had to barge in for special effect and then start being a total bitch, not that he ever stopped anyway. And now he would start throwing random ass insults at every Gryffindor, which were not necessary at all. But, of course, he had to attack you first, because you were a filthy blood traitor. You rolled your eyes at the thought and looked down at your unopened book.

“Psst, Potter, Potter!” Malfoy. Of-fucking-course! Snape was not there, so he just had to seize the moment, “Saw you talking to that lunatic last night, like her or something?” Parkinson snorted at that, Zabini smirked and Goyle started laughing. Harry glared at him, rolled his eyes and mumbled a “Shut up Malfoy”.

Ron furrowed his brows and leaned towards him “Who did he mean by that?” Harry looked at his best friend and shook his head “Dumbledore sent me to Professor Trelawney yesterday evening, to tell her something”. Ron nodded his head and just as he was about to say something, the doors of Snape’s chambers bursted open and in walked the said man himself. You shook your head at his dramatic antics; barging in with his cloak floating, swinging his greasy hair back. You rolled your eyes, at this point, god knows how many times you have rolled your eyes that day.

“Students, we have a very important lesson today,” he started, with his monotonous voice, looked around the class, making the pause even more dramatic, and then “Dueling.”

There were groans from Gryffindors and excited noises from Slytherins. Pansy and Goyle had that sickening smiles across their faces, the kind of smile that makes you want to throw up.

Snape wasted no time and started naming people “Mister Weasley and Mister Zabini”.

Ron grunted silently, but stood up nonetheless. The two students climbed on the dueling podium, positioned and waited for professor to give them a sign to start. As soon as they got a nod of approval from Snape, Zabini shot a disarming spell towards Ron, which he blocked with 'Protego'. Then Ron threw a 'Locomotor Mortis' which glued Zabini’s legs together, but before he could fall, he shouted 'Rictusempra' which caused Ron to laugh uncontrollably.

“Enough.” Snape ended their duel and looked around the class. Ron and Zabini nodded at each other, by force of course, and sat back down at their desks.

“Miss Parkinson.” Snape announced next, “who wants to compete with Miss Parkinson?” But it was not a question for students to answer, “Miss Granger.”

Hermione stood up, a little nervous, and walked up to the girl. Snape nodded and they started dueling. Hermione shot 'Tarantalegra' towards Pansy, which made her start dancing. Pansy, shouted 'Expelliarmus' which successfully disarmed Hermione.

Suddenly, Snape raised his hand, stopping both of them in their tracks.

“Sit down.” He said with his cold voice. The two girls sat down and looked at Snape, "What you are doing is the bare minimum. You're not doing enough. I need the best you can do.” Snape made a little pause before speaking up again, "Now, do any of you want to come forward?”

Goyle’s hand immediately shot up. Snape glanced at him, "Okay,” he hummed to himself before announcing, "Mister Goyle."

Goyle stood up and walked in the middle of the classroom, climbing up the podium and facing the class.

"Who wants to compete with Mister Goyle?”

Silence.

Snape glanced at the Gryffindors sitting in front of him, and scoffed “Nobody?” he asked, rather amused than disappointed.

“Miss.. Armand.” You looked at him with a disgust stretched across your face. Pairing was very unfair.

Goyle was one of the very few dangerous, merciless students. He was very good at Dark Arts and dueling. He was large and muscular compared to you. It was even funny, seeing you and him fight against each other, since he was practically towering over you.

Snape gave the two of you a sign to start, but you didn't start immediately like others did. You observed each other for a few seconds.

Goyle shot non-verbal disarming spell towards you, but you blocked his spell with non-verbal shielding charm almost immediately. Goyle was always fighting sneaky fight, he would not say anything out loud. He would do anything and everything to appear more 'impressive'.

He shot 'Stupefy' towards you, but you easily blocked it with 'Ennervate'. You never attacked first. For the first few moments of dueling, you would only defend yourself and make it seem like you were not strong enough, and when your opponent would run out of spells or get even tiny bit tired, you would attack with your full force.

Goyle sent another 'Stupefy' towards you, but you did a backflip and successfully avoided the spell. You, then shot a non-verbal curse which momentarily blinded Goyle.

It was a curse that very few people knew of, almost a secret, that you found in one of the dark books your parents’ kept in their library. A curse that temporarily blinds the opponent and causes a white, blinding light to fill the victim's vision, rendering them sightless for a short period of time, causing confusion and disorientation in its targets.

You used his distraction for your advantage and moved behind him. When he was able to see again, you waited for him to turn around, and when he did, you shot a 'Flipendo' that knocked him backwards.

One more thing about you, you would never attack from behind.

When he gained his strength and stood back up, he shot a non-verbal 'Expelliarmus' which somehow disarmed you. The whole class gasped and Goyle smirked in victory, but little did he know that you let him disarm yourself on purpose. Gregory aimed his wand at you, but before he could even think of a spell, you sent a non-verbal, wandless 'Funnuculus' which made his skin boil. He dropped his wand in agony and you immediately summoned it by a simple 'Accio', holding it to his throat.

"Do you surrender?” You asked, digging his wand in his throat deeper.

Goyle gulped before squealing out a yes. You removed his wand from his throat and returned it to him.

The whole class was shocked. Even Snape. You looked at him, nodded to Goyle and went back to your seat.

“The lesson is over.” Snape announced suddenly. He looked as if lightning just struck him.

As soon as you heard his words, you stood up and marched to the exit.

Draco, on the other hand, was frozen, he couldn’t move. Never in the hundred years would he have imagined you were this strong. For some unknown reason, he wanted to run after you and ask if you were okay.

He didn’t know what was happening to him, but suddenly he cared for you. In reality, he actually liked you since the very beginning, but he didn’t know it himself. Not yet at least.

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.”  His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.” 

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket.  “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left. 

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years. 

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch. 

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back,  and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed. 

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside. 

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.  

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down. 

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back. 

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled. 

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.   

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard. 

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped. 

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street.  But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse  after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical. 

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .” 

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin. 

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue.  They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again. 

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled.  She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight. 

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her. 

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications. 

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.  

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. “Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical. 

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use. 

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch. 

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper. 

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup. 

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy. 

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

[moibakadesu]

I have been rotating one of Haruka's lines from the earphone collab in my brain for a while now, because it stood out to me as very important.

And that would be the line in which he apologizes to Amane in a very distressed and tearful voice.

So, Yamanaka had mentioned that these lines are important to canon or "critical to uncover the secrets of the prisoners", which is also why I think they made sure that they are not hidden behind a paywall, you can read up on all of them on the website of the collab.

And I think this line gives us hints for things to come in t3.

//cw for the topics of suicide and Milgram-typical violence

Alright, so let's assume that the restrictions of the guilty prisoners don't work the way we imagine. For context, I always assumed that they are not physically bound (after all they still have to eat, use the bathroom etc), but it's more of a emotional barrier that keeps them from inflicting violence or defending themselves. But we never got a confirmation on that, this is just what I combined by observation, but it might as well just be that they consider the longer straps (and in some cases sleeves) as restriction, which is ... well, that is not something that is stopping someone with the intent to kill, that is for sure.

So I would say we are all terribly aware about Haruka's threat of suicide. But I think his plan might have changed a bit, he had a long time to ruminate about it after all. And he clearly does not want to die (AKAA even has the lyrics "I don't want to die" translated as "Don't wipe me out", but we are all aware how scuffed the translation for that song is). His conversation with Kotoko on her birthday already made me rise an eyebrow. My first assumption was that he is planning a murder-suicide with Muu, in a way to safe her both from being scared in Milgram and from being alone when he is gone.

But what if he came up with a third option? An option that would show he is serious without destroying the time with his mother. (I still think Muu won't want to hang out with him anymore in t3, but that is beside the question here.) Our blue boy once stated that "he can kill anything that is smaller and weaker than him", and who fits that description the most in the prison and also has a bit of an overlap with his presumed victim? Amane.

An important detail is, that Amane is a prisoner that Haruka had no interaction with whatsoever. He does mention her, in his t1 VD explaining that he is not good with children of her age and in the t2 VD that he apparently does not have problems with her anymore. Still, he seemed to (understandably) always keep his distance from her.

So why of all things does he get a line in this collab addressing her directly? It doesn't feel like a "sorry I'm not interacting with you" kinda line, it's very pained, you can feel the tears in his voice there.

And this lead me to think that Haruka will attempt to attack Amane, which ... oh boy, it will be all kinds of messy. We know Amane is armed, even with the overwhelming strength disadvantage she could easily stab him with her scissors in a death-struggle. Not to mention the conflicts that will bring among the prisoners (I don't even want to think about how that could sour how Fuuta thinks about Haruka tremendously).

And it would be a very interesting turn story wise, instead of going the way too obvious and telegraphed path of Haruka attempting to kill himself and Amane planning an attack on Shidou etc.

It would also be a very mean and ironic way to repeat Haruka's misery (I am crying), getting abandoned by Es/us and very possible his second mother Muu and trying to change things by taking the life of a young girl.

[deceitfuldevil]

World’s Greatest Archer

Kate Bishop X Reader

Summary: Your part time job as an archery instructor, one of the many jobs you had to keep you afloat, just so happened to allow you to come across a pretty new face. After inviting her to a class of yours, she invites you to dinner the following night. What’s the worst that could happen?

Warnings: afab reader, mentions of exercise, suggestive physical contact, blatant ogling, canon level violence, kissing, allusions to smut, swearing?

Word Count: 1.5K

You lived a life of many dreams, that’s why you were living alone in New York City. That’s why you were simultaneously trying to make your childhood broadway dreams come true, going to school to get a degree and consequently a real job if need be, and working a few part time jobs to keep the lights on and your refrigerator stocked occasionally.

Regardless, one of your jobs you looked on more favorably was your part time gig as an archery instructor. Archery was another one of your passions growing up, and getting to practice it to this day was so fun. Also, the gym where you teach includes a membership with your employment. So you got to stay in shape too, and even sometimes, meet a new face.

You had just sat down at a machine that had been empty for a while to do some chest presses. Feeling particularly hot after the previous machine you had just used, you looked around to see the gym sparsely occupied and decided to take off your oversized modesty workout shirt. Leaving you in just some skin tight biker shorts and your sports bra that may have been a size too small for you, but it was in your favorite color!

Purple.

Someone else noticed your spilling breasts out of your tight purple sports bra, but you never noticed her. She stood quietly, having made her way back to the machine you were currently at about 30 seconds ago upon realizing she forgot her water bottle there. When she sees you, she quickly thanks lesbain jesus for this opportunity she’s been presented with. Her eyes traveled from your chest to your arms, caught on the subtle way your bicep flexes when you lift the bars. As your arms come down completely and she realizes this is her chance, she makes her move.

“Hi, sorry. I left my water bottle at this machine earlier on accident, it’s right behind you.”

A woman your age said as she appeared before you, wearing a cute purple and pink fitted jacket with a zipper brought down just far enough for you to-

“Oh, let me grab that for you!” you say immediately as you process her words. Leaning back with your left arm as you grab the water bottle. Not meaning to, you stretch your chest out and forward as you reach. It’s only for a moment, but it’s a moment she catches and indulges in. Then just as quick, you pulled forward and extended your arm with her water bottle in hand.

“Here you go. . .” you paused, intrigued to learn this beautiful woman’s name.

“Kate, Kate Bishop. . . where’d you get that bruise on your arm?” Kate said with a bit of a tone, was someone hurting you?

“Oh yeah, I got to teach an archery class of mine what happens when you don’t wear an arm guard.” you said simply and the pretty woman looked so confused, some people weren’t too familiar with the sport so you figured that was her case based on her reaction.

“You’re uh, you’re an archery teacher?” her mouth was running dry.

“I mean, I’m an instructor here. Just part time. But you should come to one of my classes! If you want, or whatever.” you spoke softly, getting shy at the end, but Kate was quick for a rebuttal.

“I’d love to!” Kate agrees instantly.

“Great! I actually have a beginners class in about 15 minutes. Would you come?” you offered eagerly.

Of course Kate agrees, she wants to spend more time with you as soon as possible.

No matter the fact that she had to feign ignorance about everything. But that was just it, the more she didn’t understand, the more confused she got; the more attention she got from you. Maybe you caught on when Kate was asking you for a lot of physical help, like what position to stand in, how far apart her legs should be, how high she should bring her arms.

Not that you weren’t basking in it, getting to run your hands all over her body to guide her was tantalizing. Small, intimate questions shared throughout the class as you repeatedly checked in on Kate. Getting to know each other a little better, might as well anyways since she’s pressing into you as you stand behind her to align her form with your body. If others weren’t in this class today, the lesson plan would’ve looked very different.

Just like that, class was over; and the tension was cut. But only for a moment, until Kate came back up to you after racking her bow. “Y’know, I think I might need some kind of verbal discussion to get a better handle of this sport, think we could do dinner tomorrow night? My place?”

Damn, she’s good; and bold. You smirked at her “I thought you’d never ask.”

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

She’s totally done this before, it’s got to be a bit or something. You thought to yourself as you looked at the beauty in front of you. A beautiful woman, and a beautiful charcuterie board. Kate claimed she’s never made one before, and just grabbed the works from the grocery store like two hours before you arrived. Did I mention she bought a delicious bottle of red wine as well?

You two enjoyed a lovely dinner (yes, a charcuterie board counts as dinner.) and as you watched Kate take in her last bite in somehow in a very elegant, attractive way. She noticed you lingering stare and bit her lip playfully in response. “See something you like?” Kate teased, but before you could form a response there was a loud crash at her balcony window and she was in front of you in a second. “Stay behind me.” she whispered in a soft yet firm tone.

Kate took a few steps forward, reaching under her dining room table first removing a small model of a compound bow followed by a leather quiver of arrows. Latching the quiver to a belt on her hips, and knocking an arrow as she continued to tiptoe to her balcony to find the source of the crash. When she rounded the corner and saw two ‘old friends’ (if you can even call them that) from the tracksuit mafia, Kate immediately told you to go run and hide underneath the kitchen table.

Running as quickly as you could, you slipped underneath the table with ease, shaking slightly behind the chairs that surrounded the table and simultaneously kept you covered. But also gave you a perfect window to see how Kate was doing. You did not expect to look up and find Kate forcefully kicking one man back and then perfectly shooting the other one in the thigh. Fighting them both with such skill and such ease. You were amazed, entranced, absolutely enamored.

Kate rids the intruders of her apartment and then immediately drops everything and comes back to you, getting you out from under the table and bringing you to her bedroom. She inspects you all over looking you up and down a hundred times “Are you okay? Please tell me you’re not hurt.”

Maybe it was watching her fight, maybe it was the classy meats and cheeses, but something was making all of Kate’s words unintelligible soft melodies as you just looked up at her dreamily and wiped a bit of blood from her lip. Kate stopped fretting over you and froze upon your touch, her eyes flicking between your own and your lips. It’s a moment and not much more except this time Kate seizes the moment and her lips are on yours.

It’s a relieving feeling, a ‘this is how it should be’ kind of feeling when you kiss. Her soft pink pouted lips perfectly slotted over yours, the faint taste of brie and malbec on her tongue as she gently swipes at your lips, asking for entrance. Easily, you part your lips and kiss Kate with a certain wholeness that felt so right. It’s quick, your breathing is getting heavy, her hands are at your knees, traveling higher, and higher, and then-

“Wait a second.” you said pulling away abruptly. Kate immediately pulled back as well to listen to your concerns.

“You were absolutely clueless at my beginner’s archery class last night, and tonight I find out you’re The World’s Greatest Archer?!”

Kate’s cheeks went pink “Yeah. . . and? What about it?” she said in a small voice, all shy trying to play it down.

“Aaaaaaand, you lied to me?? Used me even!” you said with a touch of dramatic spunk, not actually minding if she took your class just to get close to you. At this point Kate got a sinister smirk on her face.

“Oh honey. . .” Kate trailed off, pushing you back onto her bed and climbing on top of you “I’m gonna use you alright, in fact I’m gonna use you just right.”

—

A/N

(SPOILERS FOR ‘The Marvels’ AHEAD)

Well when I walked into the movie theater to watch ‘the marvels’ the last thing I expected to see was a Kate Bishop cameo, or to develop a thing for her character. But here I am!! About time I wrote fic about a female marvel character considering I’m a queer ass bitch who won’t date men irl 🤩🤩 anyways Kate is definitely one of my new characters I’m totally in love with so if you want to see more fics about her send me a request!! G-d knows I need to get back to writing more often…

[karahalloway]

Devil May Care

Fandom: Heaven’s Secret (Book 1: Season 1)

Pairing: Lucifer x F!OC (Devon Hart)

Series: Oh, So Devilish

Chapter summary: Devon sneaks off to track down a lead on her death... But she's not alone.

Word count: 5,100

Warnings: M (swearing, angst, suicidal thoughts, aggro, toxic behaviour, references to death, physical violence)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: So. This is not what I was supposed to be working on. At all. Not only is this not Intentions, but it’s not even TRR… or Choices, for that matter. However, a couple of weeks ago, @angelasscribbles convinced me to take the plunge with a Romance Club choices game called Heaven’s Secret and I became instantly hooked… especially on Lucifer’s character. I have a type; can’t you tell? 😆

A/N2: This first part of what turned into a two-parter (it just got too long, so I had to split it) focuses on the events that take place at the end of HS S1E5 and the second part focuses on the start of S1E6. Because while I love the character of Lucifer, I felt like that his characterisation missed the mark a bit (especially considering that he is the literal Son of Satan) so, I decided to make… adjustments 😏

A/N3: I appreciate that this is not what most people on my tag list signed up to read, but I have tagged my Permas anyway, in case anyone wants to indulge me. However, in the (highly likely) event that I end up writing more for this fandom, moving forward, I will only tag people who specifically request to be tagged. So if you want in on Part 2, let your preferences be known, or forever hold your peace.

A/N4: By way of context for people who decide to read, but are not familiar with canon for this story, here is some background (which I have also tried to incorporate as much as possible into the fic itself): MC (default name, Vicky Walker, but for various reasons, I decided to create an OC instead) is killed in a car crash. However, instead of ‘simply’ dying, she is offered the choice to become an immortal and join the Angels & Demons Academy (located in Heaven) and train to become either an angel or a demon (your choices in the game actually affect your path — prior to choosing an eventual side, you are referred to as an ‘Unclaimed’). As part of her training, MC is sent down to Earth to complete assignments that require her to influence humans into making various choices… however, MC is also secretly trying to investigate the circumstances of her (highly suspicious) death. Also, for the purposes of this universe, Lucifer is the demon son of Satan and Lilith (not a fallen angel as per Biblical canon). Dino, Sammy and Fencio are true-born angels (don’t ask about the names), Mimi and Adi are true-born demons. Both angels and demons (and Unclaimed) are anthropomorphic and have wings; however, when they go down to Earth, they disguise themselves in human form. Hope that helps! 🤗

Devil May Care

“Ah, there you are…”

Jerking my gaze away from Dino, I spot Sammy’s human form standing a few feet away.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly wiping the remnants of the wetness from my face. “I… I just needed a minute.”

Sammy nods in understanding. “If it’s any consolation, the fact that you care is a good thing. It shows you still have your humanity. No death should be treated lightly, yet most demons… and a fair number of angels have lost sight of that. But it’s a strength. Don’t let Adi or Mimi tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks, Sammy…” I say with a sniffle, forcing myself to stand.

“Any time,” he acknowledges with a lop-sided smirk. “But we should get going.”

“Yes. It is time to return,” confirms Dino, coming to stand beside me.

As if on cue, the air begins to thicken around us, and a familiar crackle of energy raises the hairs on my arms. Glancing up, I see the very fabric of the night sky stretch and strain as an otherworldly wind whips the now-familiar bridge between the dimensions into shape.

Dino steps into the centre of the maelstrom first, lifting into the air as the vortex sucks him back to the ethereal realm. 

“See you on the other side,” Sammy winks as he leaps after the other angel.

With a heavy exhale, I shove my hands into the pockets of my biker jacket, and force myself to move towards the epicentre of the storm.

Finding myself back on Earth in the wake of my death hadn’t been easy the first time, and it sure as hell hasn’t gotten any easier the second time either. Because even though everyone at the Academy keeps reminding me that my mortal life is well and truly over, and there is no going back, for whatever inexplicable reason I can’t seem to accept my new-found providence.

And coming back here — to the human realm — just feels like a massive kick in the gut each and every time… Like a kid being taunted with everything they can’t have from the other side of a toy store window. A cruel reminder of what that was wrenched away from me. My friends… My family… Even myself.

The undeniable force of the vortex tugs at my clothes, trying to lift me skywards, but I find myself fighting it.

Maybe because my death had been thrust upon me with such shocking suddenness… giving me no time to prepare, much less come to terms with it before I fell into the world of angels and demons. Maybe because the grief I saw etched into my father’s face has woven itself into the threads of my soul as well, reinforcing the harshness of the truth that we got cheated out of what could have been left of our precious, irretrievable time together. Or maybe it’s because I know that my killer is still out there, living it up despite the crime he committed against me, free from punishment, free from the scythe of justice.

The tip of my finger brushes against the folded letter buried in my pocket.

Since picking it up outside of my house a few days ago — though, to be fair, I have no idea how time converted between Earth and the angelic realm, so for all I know, it could’ve been years since my last visit – I’ve carried the piece of paper with me everywhere. In part because I don’t want anyone finding it and wondering how I managed to get my hands on it in the first place… As given that we aren’t supposed to interact with mortals outside of our given assignments, I am not particularly interested in the chewing out that is no doubt in store for me if someone decides to rat on me. But also, in part because I cannot let what happened to me go… and desperately crave answers.

Digging my heels in on the edge of the swirling whirlpool of energy, I pull the letter out…

…but as if by fate, the square of paper is ripped from my grasp by a particularly vicious gust of wind.

“No…!” I gasp, throwing myself heedlessly after my only lead.

The letter zooms around the circumference of the vortex — like a hapless butterfly riding the edge of a tornado — and begins to track upwards, ever further from my reach…

But just as it’s on the verge of vanishing into the void, it is suddenly snatched out of the air with inhuman speed and precision.

I stumble to stop, mouth agape and arm outstretched like some drunken ballerina as I lay eyes on the dark form on the other side of the vortex.

Crap…

Of all the possible ways this screw-up could’ve gone, this is — hands down — the worst.

As even in human skin… without the horned wings gathered around him like a dark halo, or the pulsing, ethereal tattoos that seem to constantly shift along the visible surface of his skin… there is no mistaking the raw power emanating from the being standing across from me.

Lucifer cocks a lazy brow in my direction as he holds the note up. “Lost something, have we?” 

His eyes meets mine, and in spite of the distance separating us, I feel the full heat of the fire that burns in his demonic gaze scorch into me like the blade of a hot knife.

And despite drawing upon every ounce of my willpower to prevent it from happening, I feel an incriminating blush rise up my cheeks.

A slow smile curves at his lips. “I thought so…”

“Give it back!” I snap, my momentary embarrassment morphing instantly into anger… even though I know in the back of my mind this is exactly the reaction he is probably looking to goad me into.

Because I am angry. Angry at myself for being stupid enough to arm someone like Lucifer with such potent ammunition to use against me. Angry with him for the fact that he managed to sneak up on me like this in the first place.

But most of all, my heart is still bleeding for that little girl who died a senseless death mere minutes ago… and the knowledge that I had been complicit in it. 

And I cannot keep a latch on the tidal wave of red rising over me. Nor do I really want to. 

I have already cried a river on the bench with Dino — commiserating not just for the fate of the girl, but for the fucked up situation I now find myself in as well — and I have no tears left. Just raw, frothing rage at the inherent unjustness of the world, at the flippant and uncaring attitude of my fellow immortals who see humans as mere pawns on their eternal chess board, and my own powerlessness in the face of forces and rules that I don’t yet fully understand, but which I’m being steered to blindly conform to anyway.

And the arrogant demon standing in front of me is just as good a scapegoat for my ire as any.

“Or what?” he taunts, sliding his thumb slowly across the paper… taunting me shamelessly with the missive he now holds in his hand.

Something inside of me snaps and I launch myself at him with a wordless yell.

But the vortex has apparently had enough of being kept on hold by my indecision, and before I’ve made it two steps, I find myself being sucked up to go careening through time and space like a discombobulated pinball.

“Damn it!” I cuss as I’m tugged through the shimmering funnel against my will.

I had one chance to make some much-needed progress on figuring out who killed me and why, and I’ve managed to blow it.

And who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to try again? Or even if I’ll be able to try again…

As knowing Lucifer — the literal Spawn of Satan — he’ll end up throwing me under the bus the moment we get back to the Academy… just for perverse kicks.

“Asshole…” I gripe under my breath as I feel the speed of the vortex slow, indicating that my unplanned trip is about to come to an end.

But as my feet touch down once more, it is not back at the Academy where I find myself. Instead, I’m standing outside of a building that looks very much like a police station… in my hometown.

“Huh…”

Dino had mentioned previously that destinations in the vortex are set by one’s intentions.

Since I had been so focused on the letter — which my father had received from the lead detective assigned to my case — the vortex must’ve thought this is where I had wanted to go.

And I’m not about to look an unexpected gift horse in the mouth.

Knowing that I didn’t have a lot of time before my classmates — and Fencio! — notice my absence back in the angelic realm, I hurry across the street.

Taking the steps two at a time, I shove myself through the revolving door and step into the station. Luckily, I have the contents of the letter memorised, given that I no longer have it in my possession, so I’m hoping that I’ll be able to blag my way through this with some semblance of grace.

The receptionist manning the counter looks up at my arrival. “Can I help you?”

“Erm… Yes,” I confirm, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear as I step forward. “I’m looking for DC Lawton. He was heading up the Hart case…?”

I cross my fingers behind my back, hoping against hope that it’s only been mere weeks and not decades since my death, and the police are still investigating.

The receptionist takes a moment to consult her computer. “Yes. He should still be in.”

A relieved breath bursts out of me. Another break!

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Not exactly…” I admit. “But… I do have some information relating to the case that he needs to hear.”

The woman behind the desk studies me for a long moment, no doubt wondering what a petite Korean girl wearing pink pigtails and spiked leather could possibly have to contribute to a homicide investigation… given that that is the mortal skin I am currently masquerading around in.

But she nevertheless seems to take me at my word. “Down the hall, second door on the left.”

“Thank you!” I blurt, already turning away.

Speedwalking past the desk and down the corridor, I locate the correct door and push down on the handle without knocking.

The lone man occupying the room barely glances up from his stack of papers at the sound of my arrival. “Yeah?”

“DC Lawton?” I ask, stepping into the room.

“That’s what it says on the name plaque,” he grunts, indicating the front of his desk.

“Great!” I exclaim, moving up to him. “I…”

I trail off, realising that I haven’t actually planned out what I was going to say when I got here. As I can’t exactly reveal that I am the dead victim from one of his case files, come to demand answers about the circumstances of the car crash that killed her.

The detective raises his head, waiting for a response..

I take a deep breath. “I hear you’re the lead investigator on the Hart case.”

He nods. “That’s right. And you are?”

“An interested party,” I admit. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

His brows furrow, no doubt in response to the same train of thought that chugged down the tracks of the receptionist’s mind earlier. “What kind of interested party?”

Shit…

I’m not sure exactly how I had expected this conversation to go, but it definitely wasn’t like this. 

But then I remember that I’m not a mere human anymore…

And I’m not willing to leave empty-handed.

Ditching any rational approach, I scrunch my face up in pretend grief as I flop dramatically into the chair at the side of the detective’s desk. “I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want anyone to know… especially my parents… but I can’t keep it in anymore and I need to tell someone!”

DC Lawton startles slightly at my unexpected and borderline theatrical flip of composure. “Keep what in anymore?”

I slap an aggrieved hand onto his. “That Devon and I were in a relationship!”

The detective’s eyes widen in shock, and I use his momentary surprise to lock my gaze with his, just like we practiced back at the Academy.

The physical contact, combined with the suddenly unrestricted access to the window of his soul, allows me to breach the energetic wall encasing his body, and dive right into the hidden recesses of his mind.

Yes! It worked!

But I force myself to curtail my celebration, knowing that I need to focus all my attention on maintaining the delicate connection with the man sitting in front of me.

“You must help me, Detective,” I urge, tightening my hold on his hand.

DC Lawton looks somewhat dazed — like he’s been whacked over the back of the head — but at the sound of my voice, his pupils dilate eagerly. “How can I help?”

“The girl in the Hart case that you’re investigating… she was run off the road. Do you know by who?”

“No,” he intones, his voice slightly groggy. “The vehicle was a rental. A black minivan. I haven’t had a chance to talk to the rental company yet…”

“Which rental company?” I press.

“Global Drive,” he says. “The license plate is NYK 357.”

“Can you write that all down for me?”

He lifts his pen up with a nod to scribble onto a Post-It. “Your hand is so warm…”

“Thanks,” I say, snatching the note from him and breaking off the contact in the process.

He blinks up at me rapidly. “Any time…?”

Jumping up from the chair, I turn to dash out of the room…

…and nearly trip over my own feet when I come face to face with the glowering form leaning against the door jamb.

“What th—?”

Lucifer’s lips curl back to reveal teeth. “I should have you racked in the Pits.”

An involuntary shiver runs down my spine at his words. Not because of the sinister nature of the threat — I’ve been to Hell, and it certainly is no picnic! — but because I can see from the tight set of his jaw that he is actively considering carrying it out.

I force myself to meet his burning gaze head-on. “Well, unfortunately for you, I didn’t end up in Hell when I died. So, you don’t get to make that call.”

“No,” he growls back. “But your flagrant disregard for the rules makes you a liability, and I refuse to take the fall for you.”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before you decided to follow me,” I hit back, bumping him with my shoulder as I shove past him on my way out of the room.

His hand shoots out to latch around my arm with a vice-like grip, and suddenly I find myself nose-to-nose with him.

“I didn’t follow you,” he hisses into my face, his coal-black irises alight with the very fires of Hell. “The vortex brought me here because you can’t keep hold of your own fucking trash.”

“It’s not trash!” I spit back. “It’s—“

“Was it worth it?”

The question — and the sudden change in his tone — catches me off guard. 

I blink in confusion, wondering if I maybe misheard him. But while his piercing gaze is still locked onto me with the same degree of ferociousness as a moment ago, behind the raging inferno of irritation glimmers a genuine spark of curiosity.

“Maybe,” I concede tightly, trying to get a read on him.

As demons, I’ve learnt, are inherent wildcards. Unpredictable at the best of times, and downright diabolical at the worst. Which means their whims and whiles can change at the drop of a hat, and it is dangerous to get caught in a compromising position with them.

Which — unfortunately — is exactly where I have managed to find myself with Lucifer. Trapped in a corner, with him holding all the trumps. So, I don’t want to admit any more than I strictly have to.

He rakes his hot gaze over me one more time — as if trying to catch me out in a lie — before pulling back slightly.

“Hmm… Not a complete waste of wings then…”

I wrench my arm from his grasp. “Fuck you.”

I swear I hear a snort of amusement escape him as I stomp away… But I resist the urge to sucker punch him. He is not worth it, and I have better things to do with my limited time on Earth anyway.

Glancing down at the Post-It in my hand, I can see that DC Lawton has been kind enough to scrawl down the address of the rental centre… and that it is only a few blocks away.

Which is a blessing, given that I don’t have any money on me with which to hail a cab or jump on a bus, and our lessons at the Academy have yet to cover how to magically hotwire a car. 

So, walking it is. At least the physical exertion will give me a chance to blow off some steam.

Shoving the note into my pocket, I push through the revolving doors of the station, and back out onto the street. Pausing for a second to get my bearings – it’s been a while since I last frequented this part of town, having spent the preceding four years of my mortal life off at college – I quickly rake through my mental map of the neighbourhood before setting off to the right.

Except, I don’t even make it to the end of the block before I feel a tell-tale prick in the back of my neck. Glancing over my shoulder, my stomach drops as I catch sight of Lucifer a few yards behind me.

Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pace, hoping that it’s merely an unfortunate coincidence that he happens to be going in the same direction as me.

But it seems that I am in no such luck, as he’s still tailing me two blocks later, like an annoying black fly that I cannot seem to shake, no matter how hard I try.

With the result that by the time I get to the next crosswalk, my cool has evaporated completely, and instead of crossing the road in front of me, I end up rounding on him like a rabid pitbull.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

My outburst seems to catch him off-guard. But whatever jump I may have managed to get on him is fleeting at best, and in the next instant, he’s up in my face again, teeth bared and hackles raised. “Watch your tongue, Unclaimed. Before I rip it out of your mouth.”

“Oh, the truth hurts, does it?” I snip up at him.

“You don’t know the meaning of pain,” he grits, his hand snapping around the base of my throat.

My eyes narrow. “I know more than you think.”

“No. You don’t.” The flames in his eyes lick over me contemptuously. “And your arrogance will get you killed. Permanently.”

“Bet you’d love to be the one to do it, too,” I goad with a humourless smile. 

I know I’m playing with hellfire. But I don’t care. I didn’t ask for this life, and I’m still not convinced I want it. So, if Lucifer is willing to put me out of my misery, then so be it. Being who he is, I’m sure he has the means… and I’ve just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.

The Prince of Darkness stares at me for what feels like an age, his hand wrapped around my throat, face a mere breath from mine, his gaze simmering as if trying to read my very soul.

“Unlike you, angel, I’m not that stupid,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. His hand drops from my neck as he steps abruptly past me.

“Then why are you still here?” I demand, whirling around after him.

He stops a few feet away, shoulders tense. But when he looks back at me, rather than anger or annoyance, it’s that devilish grin playing at his lips again. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the show.”

“Eugh!” I grit, throwing my hands up in the air as I plow past him.

Conceited, egotistical, patronising bastard! Why can’t he fall back into the Seventh Circle of Hell, where he fucking—

I’m so incessed that I end up storming right by the rental centre… and have to retrace my steps from the other end of the block to correct my mistake.

So, by the time I arrive back at the correct entranceway, my mood is even more foul than when I left the police station.

“Save it,” I spit as I reach the still-smirking form of Lucifer, leaning against the metal fence post of the lot.

His brow arches. “Did you hear me—?”

I flip him off in no uncertain terms as I stride past without a backwards glance.

He wants to stick around? Fine. But that doesn’t mean I need to be nice to him. Hell will have to freeze over first.

Arriving at the first row of parked cars, I pull the Post-It out from my pocket and begin scanning the plates, looking for the black van.

“Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything in particular?”

Looking up, I see a suited man with a combover and a name tag looking at me expectantly. The rental rep, by the looks of him.

“Yes, actually,” I affirm. “I’m looking for a black minivan.”

“You have come to the right place,” he tells me with an eager smile as he starts to lead me to the other side of the lot. “Global Drive stocks the largest selection of rental vans available for hire in the area, and we’re happy to accommodate both long- and short-term requirements. Are you moving, by any chance?”

“Huh?” I’d been too busy trying to match the van plates to the number on the Post-It that I totally missed the question.

The rep’s smile falters slightly. “Since your interest is in a minivan, am I correct to assume that y—?”

“No.”

Both mine and the rep’s gaze snap around to land on the hulking presence of Lucifer, who has managed to slither up behind us without either of us noticing.

“We’re not planning on renting it,” he adds, with what I can only deduce is his interpretation of an angelic smile.

My stomach drops. Oh, no…

The rep frowns. “Then why—?”

“Because this lovely young lady is of the belief that she may have left a rather intimate item in one of your vans following a recent excursion of ours. And she’s desperate to retrieve it.”

“Oh, well of course!" agrees the rep. “We pride ourselves on—"

“It’s lacy… And expensive…” Lucifer clarifies with a sly look. “And probably lodged between the—”

“The point is!” I interject loudly, my cheeks burning with mortification despite the fact that the entire story is a shameless lie. “We would like to take a look in the van. The plate number was NYK 357.”

The demeanour of the rep suddenly shifts. “Umm… Are you certain?”

“Yes,” I say, laying a hand on his arm to try and sway him like I did the detective. “Very—”

The rep snatches his arm away. “I’m going to need to see some ID. I cannot allow access to the vehicles without verifying that—”

I reach towards him again. “Surely that’s not necessary… We just want to take a quick peek, and—”

“He’s going to bolt…” breathes Lucifer in my ear.

I flick my head away irately. “Shut—”

But the rep has already turned tail and fled.

“Damn it!” I grit.

“Told you,” Lucifer smirks down at me.

I give him an annoyed shove. “He only did that because of you! If you hadn’t stuck your nose in it, I would’ve—”

“I did nothing,” he counters tersely, the coals of his eyes flaring in warning. “Your attempt to influence him was doomed from the start. But you were too obstinate to notice.”

“Obstinate!” I cry. “You were breathing in my ear!”

“And did you like it?” he purrs, suddenly all up in my space again as he flips the tables on me with diabolical speed.

“No,” I snort, turning pointedly away. 

Asshole…

He deliberately sabotaged my attempt to establish a connection with the rental rep. Whether for his own perverse enjoyment — like the Devil temping Eve in the Garden — or whether for some more sinister reason, it doesn’t matter. The end result is the same. And I have no clue how I’m going to be able to salvage this rapidly snowballing clusterfuck, given that I am already working on borrowed time.

But I know I have to try. I’ve somehow managed to make it this far, in spite of the successive obstacles Lucifer’s thrown in my way, and I refuse to give that bastard the satisfaction of believing that I’m going to let him win whatever one-sided game he’s playing.

“He is gay.”

I stumble to a stop. “Say what?”

Lucifer is standing in front of me, blocking the way to the door of the rental centre. “The rental rep. He is gay. That is why your feeble attempts to influence him didn’t work.”

“Yeah… Right…” I snap, trying to push past him. I’m not falling for whatever kind of trick this is supposed to be.

He grabs my arm. “Check that attitude before I check it for you, Unclaimed. Because you’re not going to like my methods…”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I hit back. “Because based on what I’ve seen of your ‘methods’, they are mediocre at best.”

His eyes flash in fury. “You’ve seen nothing, angel…”

“I’m not an angel,” I deride, wrenching my arm from his grasp.

He scoffs. “Well, you’re certainly no demon. The way you’re floundering around like—”

I catch sight of something through the window. “Oh, no…”

Lucifer jerks his gaze over his shoulder…

…and before I can blink, he’s vanished into the rental centre, the glass door flapping wildly in his wake.

Catching the handle on the out-swing, I dash after him as fast as my stiletto boots can carry me… and an involuntary gasp escapes me as I lay eyes on the scene in front of me.

The rental rep is pressed up against the wall, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground as Lucifer holds him suspended with the hand locked around his neck. The phone that I’d spotted the rep frantically trying to dial a moment ago lies shattered on the floor.

“Please…” begs the man, clawing desperately at the fingers that are squashing his trachea. “I—“

“Shut up,” growls Lucifer, shoving the rep higher. “You have exactly two seconds to tell us everything we need to know before I rip your throat out. And if you even think about lying… Well, you don’t even want to go there…”

The rep blanches visibly. “Anything! I’ll… I’ll tell you anything! Please, just—“

“Ask him,” Lucifer barks without even a glance in my direction.

I take a shaky step forward. “We… We’re looking for the driver who rented the black van. License plate—”

“I… I know…” croaks the rep, his face starting to redden from the lack of oxygen. “I worked the shift and… and remember him. He never bought the van back…”

My throat tightens painfully. Because he rammed me off the road…

“Who was he?” demands Lucifer.

“Not… local,” the man rasps, struggling for breath. “Gave a hotel as an address… Hotel… Hotel Aphrodite. And his name… His name sounded strange… almost French. But he didn’t speak—”

“To Hell with all that,” comes the short-tempered command. “Give us the fucking name.”

“Am-Amidi Laurent!”

Lucifer drops the rep like a sack of trash. “You got that?”

“Yeah…” I confirm tightly, watching the man wheeze on the floor.

“Good,” he grits. “Let’s go.”

Without giving me a say in the matter, he grabs my wrist to haul me out the door.

I stumble after him like a witless marionette, trying to process what I just witnessed.

Lucifer… Willing to kill… For me…?

The concept simply does not compute.

“Happy now?”

The sound of Lucifer’s voice wrenches me from the whirlpool of my thoughts…

…and looking up, I find that we’re back out on the street, just around the corner from the rental centre.

“I…” I glance back in the direction of Global Drive with a lump in my throat. “Why did you do that?”

“To save time,” he replies dispassionately. “And get the truth out of him.”

“Yeah… But…” A shiver courses through me at the ease with which he’d immobilised the rep… The ease with which he’d threatened him. “Why?”

Lucifer lets out an exasperated exhale. “Hell’s bells, you Unclaimed are dense sometimes… Because that’s what you wanted.”

I gape at him, stupefied. This must be some kind of fever dream…

“Don’t I get a thank you?”

The simplicity of his question knocks me off kilter completely.

My eyes lift to his almost on their own volition, and I find him gazing down at me silently, intently… like a cat waiting to see in which direction the mouse will jump.

Except there is no malice or mockery in his gaze. Just plain old curiosity once again.

And because my tongue has become stuck in my throat, and after everything that’s just happened, my mind is a non-functioning mess, I do the stupidest thing imaginable…

…and reach up to kiss him on the cheek.

He stiffens — probably just as shocked by what’s happening as I would be if I could think coherently right now. But for whatever reason, he doesn’t laugh or pull away. He simply stands, still as a statue, hardly even drawing breath.

I have no idea how long we stay there, frozen in time with my lips pressed against his jaw — the heat of his skin burning me even through the dampener of his mortal guise — before we finally break apart.

I turn quickly away, face flushed and heart hammering, not being able to bring myself to look him in the eye for fear of what I might find there.

Oh, Christ… What the hell did I just do?

The story continues in Devil You Know

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[awkward-tension-art]

Puppet on a String Chp.6 (Fives x Reader)

Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

Tup

cw: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, angst, swearing, Death, violence, Medical abuse, Medical talk, seizures and neurological symptoms, Surgery, Brain surgery, self-blame, Nala Se being cruel, Fives crying is its own warning

Tag list (TYYYYY): @spicydonut25 @amazonian-bae @notgonnaedit @tentakelspektakel

You returned to Tup’s side. After your realization that Nala Se possibly had a hand in the deaths of your colleagues, you didn’t want to leave him alone. You told your lover your theory and he kissed your head in worry before you left. 

“Maybe whatever is causing his aggression is psychological,” Nala Se’s voice sent irritation through your blood as soon as you walked in, “It seems to be an isolated case.”

You were on guard now. Even with Shaak Ti, you couldn’t be certain of your safety on Kamino. 

“General Shaak Ti, Doctor Nala Se.” You bowed your head to them, “I’m sorry for my outburst and my behavior. Tup is a dear friend, and I’m worried for him.”

The togruta approached and put a hand on your shoulder, “Your emotions are understandable. I worry for him as well, but we must maintain a level head.”

“I understand, and again, I’m sorry.” You hoped by apologizing, you’ll be able to remain close to Tup. You didn’t trust Nala Se, and right now, you weren’t certain if you trusted Shaak Ti.

He needs me. You thought to yourself.

As soon as you straighten up, the life support machine beeped rapidly. Its screen flashed red as Tup seized again. His body thrashed and convulsed, eyes rolling back with another seizure. Without thinking, you got to his side, “Please let me help him.” you begged.

“I need an answer now.” the General stepped up next to you. She looked at Nala Se, gaze steady, “This isn't just a physical manifestation of psychosis. There is a cause and you must have missed something.”

“It's the anomaly in his brain!” You informed her yet again, “an atomic-level scan, phase 5, will confirm it, if you won’t accept the results from the umbaran scanner!”

“That is unnecessary.” Nala Se stared at you. Despite her voice being flat and cold, she held so much contempt for your very existence, “The phase 1 and 2 scans we did are sufficient. He's too weak for a phase 5 atomic-level scan.”

“He can handle it. I know Tup. he’s strong!” You pleaded, “Please, let me confirm what I saw earlier.” you squeezed his hand in your own. 

“The only way to discover what has happened to this clone is to terminate him and do a full-scale autopsy on the molecular level.” The Kaminoan met your emotion with basic apathy. 

“We must be cautious,” The Jedi controlled the room again with her words, “I do not believe this is a simple mental condition caused by possible Separatist brainwashing, there has been something done to Tup to cause this, that is wreaking havoc on his body and mind.”

“I do not agree. This is a virus of some kind,” Nala Se faced Shaak Ti again, trying to gain control, “I am in charge of this examination, and I will decide what is best for my patient.”

He’s my patient, you nearly snapped. 

You didn’t need to open your mouth, as the togruta woman next to you argued, “Actually, since the Republic and the Jedi commissioned the clones, it is our responsibility to oversee their care.”

That seemed to trigger something in the head scientist. She had a small twitch to her finger. The one giveaway that she was irritated, “Every clone and their genetic makeup is property of the Kaminoan government.” Nala Se was practically seething behind her flat voice, “Now, as a client of ours, I will respect your wishes, but as to the fate of this clone, I will speak to our Prime Minister, Lama Su.”

The General didn’t seem pleased with her tone, “And I will advise the Jedi Council on the atomic brain scan and see how they would like to proceed.” When she faced you, her words were much more patient, “As for you, please do whatever you need to keep Tup alive.”

You nodded, “Yes, General.”

“That is unneeded.” Nala Se argued again, “The medical droids-”

“When Tup was awake, he was much calmer when the Doctor took over his care.” Shaak Ti was steady in her command, “For the health of the patient, I believe it’s best for them to care for Tup until we have a plan.”

The Kaminoan seemed to hate such a compromise, “Do not touch his brain. We will need it intact for the autopsy.”

“Yes, Nala Se…” you mumbled, looking down at Tup. He had gone still again. 

Life support. Just maintain life support. You thought, petting his hair again. 

Once Shaak Ti and Nala Se walked out of the surgical suite, you returned to Fives. 

“How is he?” He jumped up from the examination table, “Is he alright?” 

“He’s deteriorating. At this point, if something isn’t done soon, there will be irreparable damage done to his brain.” You sighed, shaking your head. 

Your lover let out a disappointed breath and sat back down to put his face in his hands, “What do we do?” he asked, staring at the blacked-out window, “Nala Se isn’t above murder if it comes down to it.”

You sat down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. One wrong move could get you, Fives and Tup killed. Or worse, get you and Tup killed and Fives reconditioned. 

No. You had to play your cards right. 

Except…you had an ace up your sleeve. 

“General Shaak Ti told me to do whatever I need to save Tup.” You straightened, getting to your feet, “Come on.” You grabbed Fives’ hand and rushed back to the room where they held him.

Luckily, no one was in the room still. Tup was still limp on the table, heart monitor beeping steadily. 

“Hang on, Tup.” You whispered, getting to the console on the other side of the room. Your fingers were rapidly typing, commanding the program to prepare the phase 5 scanner. 

“You're going ahead with the scan!” Fives smiled, “What can I do?” 

The scanner lowered down from the ceiling and booted up, “Get Tup inside the machine.” you commanded the ARC trooper. 

He nodded, “Yes, sir.” without another word he grabbed the hovering surgical table and pushed it carefully under the phase 5 scanner. It hummed to life and its lights blinked a few times before kicking on fully.  

Tup was stable enough through the process. You were correct that he was strong enough to handle the atomic scan. Your eyes were on the screen attached to the scanner taking in the data. 

“Almost done.” you informed Fives. He looked antsy as you waited. 

The screen lit up like fireworks. It blared an alarm and multiple areas of Tup's brain were highlighted as compromised. And lit up in red, was the exact same area where you scanned the anomaly.

Tumor, right where the anomaly was located.

The seizures. The neuron failure. The confusion.  aggression. and complete failure of his internal systems…All because of this tumor you had seen months ago. This tumor that your colleagues died for knowing about. The tumor you…hadn’t looked more into, even after seeing the scans.

And this tumor was in every single clone.

This was in Fives.

Tup’s life support beeped again. His seizures were picking up rapidly. There wasn’t any time. 

“Mesh’la?” Your lover’s eyes widened, getting to his best friends side, “Mesh’la what did you find?”

“Tumor.” you answered, pulling Tup from the scanner, “Necrotic tumor.” Your hands were on him, opening the restraints and getting him in the recovery position.

“Is that even possible!?” He asked, helping to hold the sick trooper steady. 

You swallowed, waiting for the seizure to pass. Once he was still, you had to think of a plan, “I need to do a biopsy.” Your words mumbled, “I need to get that tumor out. But we don't have time.”

Fives perked up, “I have an idea.” Without another word he dashed from the surgical room. After a few moments he returned, followed by a floating surgical assistant droid, “Mesh’la, this is AZ-3.”

“Hello, AZ-3.” you nodded, “This patient needs our help.” You trusted Fives, wholeheartedly, but what could the droid do?

“Can you hack into the medical center's mainframe?” The ARC trooper asked the little droid. 

AZ-3 nodded, “I do possess that ability, yes.”

You looked confused, but didn’t say anything as you put a mask over your mouth and nose. Your steps danced through the surgical room, gathering the tools you needed. 

Laser scalpel. Bone saw. Cauterizer. Surgical scope. Suction. Curette.

“All right. You need to hack into the mainframe and trigger an intruder alert. That’ll buy the Doctor enough time to begin surgery.”

Clever. You smirked, proceeding to the nearest sink to scrub your hands. Tup required surgery, and you followed all sterile protocols you possibly could. You slipped gloves on and, regrettably, without a gown, stepped to his side. 

You tried not to think about how much antibiotic solution he’d need after this. Just as you had a razor in your fingers, an alarm shrieked through the entire compound.

Intruder alert. Intruder alert. All nonessential personnel report to a safe room for lockdown.

“Ha! Good work, AZ!” Fives pat the robot. 

The razor buzzed in your hands and you shaved away a spot of Tup’s curly hair, “Sorry, Tup.” you whispered, putting the small gadget down and picking up a scalpel. “AZ-3, please bring me the datapad with the tumor’s location.”

The little robot did as told, “Doctor, I am programmed to assist in surgery.” He chimed.

“I know, AZ-3.” you responded, cutting through a part of Tup’s skull, “But I want visual confirmation of the tumor. If the margins aren’t clean, please take over.” 

“Yes, Doctor.” 

Fives tried to lean over your shoulder to watch, but you hissed, “Don’t look Fives, this is your friend.” 

“He’s your friend too.” 

“Hold his hand for me.” You responded, keeping your eyes down. As you worked to get to the tumor, you did your best to repair any damage. However, with horror, it hit you that you were too late, “Oh no no no….” you whispered, trying to remain calm, “The tumor’s necrosis has infiltrated healthy brain.” 

“Can you remove it?” your lover asked, pacing back and forth. 

“Removal of the necrotic brain tissue will also mean removing healthy brain tissue,” AZ-3 explained to the anxious clone, “Which, depending on the severity of the removal, will mean killing CT-5385.”

The intruder alarm cut off, and the ‘all clear’ ding echoed around Kamino.

You didn’t look up, “I have visual confirmation of the Tumor.” your brow furrowed, focused, “AZ-3, I need you to take over. I can’t get clean margins.”

The little robot followed his programming and hovered to your spot, “Yes, Doctor.” Once he had the tools in hand, you stepped back, allowing him to work on Tup. “I will now remove the tumor.” 

AZ-3 had the necrotic tumor removed and encased in bio-glass before you could even blink. Once the droid was out of the way, you returned to Tup’s side and picked up the cauterizer.

“Good, now with the tumor removed we can focus on healing-!” your words were cut off by the door to the room sliding open. 

“What have you done!?” Nala Se demanded, with several guards and Shaak Ti behind her. 

Fives answered before you could, “We've saved my friend's life!”

The Jedi stepped forward, “Doctor, I will get an explanation.”

“I did what I thought was right to save Tup,” You responded, putting down the surgical tool and ripping your gloves off, “and all due respect, General, but I was right from the very beginning. Look!” Your hands lifted the small glass rectangle that housed the tumor, “It was this! A tumor that turned necrotic! And it's in every clone!” 

Nala Se swiped it quickly, “Give me that!” She turned away, taking the chip out of your reach before you could grab it, “You have no proof!” 

Your ARC trooper lover stepped forward and grabbed the tumor, “You can’t be trusted!” He was on guard and ready to fight the Kaminoan.

Luckily, before any violence could occur, Shaak Ti put a stop to it, “Stand down, trooper,” She commanded, approaching Nala Se and plucking the chip from her fingers. 

“That's the proof General!” You begged her to understand, to finally listen, “That tumor, it was on the scans that I showed you originally.” Behind you, AZ-3 rapidly bandaged Tup’s surgical wound.

The Kaminoan scientist huffed, “Those scans were unreliable and-.”

Your rage was directed at Nala Se, “You are a filthy, unethical liar!” you seethed, opening your mouth to spit some vile insults when you were stopped by a small, tired voice.

“Free…” Tup’s weak whisper shut the entire room down, “The mission…free…”

“Tup!” Fives turned and grabbed his hand, kneeling down, “Tup, I’m here…” 

“I’m free…the mission…” He wheezed. 

Tears blurred your vision. You had been too late. Those words…You’ve held terminal clones’ hands while they whispered something similar. They always spoke of a never ending mission before slipping away forever.

Tup was dying.

“What is he saying?” Shaak Ti whispered, putting a hand on your back.

Your lover looked distraught, “Brother…What mission?” He asked, tenderly holding the back of the sick trooper's head. 

“You... you know the one….” Tup whispered, “The... the mission, the one in our dreams…”

You looked at the life support machine and silently walked over to preemptively mute it. An alarm would only make things worse once his heart stopped…and it would. It was only a matter of time.

Your throat was tight and you returned to the Jedi’s side, covering your eyes with your arm to weep silently. 

Someone, another clone, put a hand to your shaking shoulders.

“Oh, brother…” Tup whispered, voice weak and trembling. Fives grabbed the dying soldier's hand, “This is the end…forget the mission…” His body went slack, and he breathed his last, “I’m free…”

The loyal clone trooper slipped away.

“No…no!” The ARC trooper burst out, tears slipping down his cheeks, “I thought we saved him!” His voice cracked with emotion as he fell to soft crying. 

You moved and knelt by his side, wrapping your arms around your lover. Frankly, you didn’t care who saw such a tender, vulnerable moment. right now, he needed you. He needed your love and affection.

You held Fives as he wept over the loss of his brother. In your grief and mourning, you felt anger. At Shaak Ti’s inaction. At Nala Se’s cruelty. At your inability. 

Tup was gone.

Because of them. Because of you.

[cocogrrrl]

Hiya again! I was wondering if you could write a fic of a gn!s/o and Kenny (teenagers) at a public park, and then some people start insulting and possibly physically hurting the reader, then they look over, kennys gone, and mysterion is kicking the people's asses. I thought it was a cute concept :)

-📌🎀

help arrived

while on a morning walk with kenny, you accidentally find yourself alone and in imminent trouble. luckily for you, mysterion comes to save the day.

mysterion!kenny mccormick x gn!reader cws: descriptions of violence, slight predatory language used wc: 1191

“You think you can help me out this weekend? I really need help picking out a gift for Karen. I have a bunch of different options, but none that I think she’ll like.” Your boyfriend, Kenny, sighed.

Your hand was intertwined with his, and you squeezed his twice to comfort him. “Hmm, I’m not sure I exactly know what she’d like, but I’ll try.” You hummed.

“Thanks,” he smiled, giving you a swift kiss on the head as you two continued your regular stroll in the park—idly minding the sounds of children playing, leaves rattlings, and footsteps on the dirt path.

There were a group of people roughly around your age who you were trying to pass through. They were spread everywhere across the field. You weren’t quite sure what they were there for, but you didn’t pay mind to it. It wasn’t your business anyway.

What was your business was getting through the crowd of people, which proved difficult. Your hand tightly clasped Kenny’s so that you wouldn’t lose him out of your grasp and sight. You felt yourself bump against someone. Your arm’s side hit the person a lot stronger than you initially realized. Despite it, though, you quickly mumbled out a quick sorry before you continued.

“What was that for?” The gravelly and angered voice yelled out. You turn to see who it was—the person you crashed into just now. 

“It was an accident—I’m sorry-” You stammered out quickly, nervousness rising inside of you. The person honestly towered over your height, and it didn’t help that they seemed rather strong.

“Sorry? I’m sure you meant it! No person would just push someone like that by accident.” The guy argued, taking footsteps closer to you as a crowd slowly started to build around you. “I’m sure you wanted to hurt me.”

“I didn’t! I was just trying to make my way across here with my boyfriend and—”

“What boyfriend?” The person, and even the crowd watching you, started to laugh uproariously. You were confused, but as soon as you turned to see where Kenny was, he was gone.

You were sent in a panic now. A bunch of people seemed to be thinking you were delusional when really it wasn’t the case. So many eyes on you, and you couldn’t help yourself here—not unless you wanted things to worsen by a probable tenfold.

“You’re so funny. Let’s have more fun,” The guy laughed, grabbing you by the color as you suddenly felt your legs lift from the air.

Agh, why did you even decide to pass by this place? Sure, you didn’t know that there were people just waiting to pick on someone, but you could’ve just taken a better route. Where was Kenny as well? Maybe he went ahead and hadn’t realized that you were missing yet. I mean, you wouldn’t be shocked if you didn’t realize you lost Kenny’s hand, even if you clung onto it for dear life earlier.

Why are you, of all people, chosen to be picked on today? What events, circumstances, and god would let you be in this situation? Whatever the case was before all this, you knew only one thing now: you were about to be fucking grilled by these people, weren’t you? The grip on your collar only got tighter, even digging into your skin.

You couldn’t fight back, no way. You could only accept your fate in a situation like this. You sucked in a breath, preparing yourself to meet with the guy’s fist or something.

It never came though.

Instead, you felt your body drop to the grassy floor as you opened your eyes to see the man being pulled onto the ground, losing his grip on your completely.

As soon as your body hit the floor, you quickly shuffled back onto your feet as fast as you could. Your legs hurt because of the sudden impact, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. What you saw was a lot more surprising, though.

Your boyfriend Kenny, er, the town-respected vigilante Mysterion, was on top of the person who picked on you earlier, beating him into the ground. He didn’t control the fight, though, seeing how the guy was fighting back triumphantly, blowing punches underneath him.

You stood there, taking a few steps back from the scene. The crowd around you now had eyes on Mysterion, all attention away from you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you know how stupid you look in your costume?” The person choked out, kicking him from under and sending Mysterion grabbing his side as they now flipped him—taking the upper hand now. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”

Kenny knew better than to reply, though. He stayed quiet as much as possible, despite how much the person tried provoking him to say some nasty things about them as well. He elbowed the person’s chin, sending them flying for a split second before they hit the ground.

Expectedly to you, though, Mysterion got the final punch, delivering a blow to the cheek. Steadying himself back on his feet, he let a huff out as he wiped off some blood spilling out of his mouth. “I’m sure it was an accident. I know a person as wonderful as YN would never dare hurt anyone.”

Right after that, he lit up a set of fireworks and threw it on the ground, swiftly sweeping you off your feet and carrying you away, bridal style, to an empty space. He laid you back onto the ground in the quiet area, looking at you worriedly as if you were the one who was hurt right now—not him.

“Are you okay?” He sighed, pulling down his cloak and mask.

“I should be asking you that,” You laughed, getting on your knees to meet eye-to-eye with him. “You look like hell.”

“Only for you.” Kenny smiled.

“Thanks, Ken.” You said, burying your face in the crook of your neck. The adrenaline of the situation started to wear off, and soon enough, you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. ”I’m sorry I got lost back there.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, pulling your head back up to look at him. “It’s not your fault, yeah? What matters most right now is that we’re both alright.”

“Well, you aren’t!” You cried out, pointing to the bruises all over his face. “You just got beaten up.”

“YN, if you were the one to get jumped earlier, I’m sure you’d look a hundred times worse than I do right now. I would never forgive myself if that happened.” He pouted, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Just… I’m alright, and I’m sure these wounds will go away in no time.” He gave you a reassuring smile.

You exchanged a grin with him, bringing a hand to caress the one holding you right now. “Okay. Thank you, pretty.” You mumbled against his cheek before giving him a brief peck there.

His face flushed at the action, though you couldn’t see it since you had buried your face in the crook of his neck once more after. “Always, honey.” 

[yanderes-galore]

Ooooh I'd love to see a yandere alphabet for Skinner M.D, if it's not too much trouble :>

Of course! I'd love to write for him again :)

Using This Concept As Reference

Yandere Alphabet - Skinner M.D

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Paranoia, Slight sadism, Death/Murder, Removal of organs and limbs, Blood, Canon typical violence, Kidnapping, Isolation, Drugging, Unhealthy power dynamic, Forced relationship implied.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Skinner is a huge softy in nature. He is capable of doing some sinister stuff due to being in the medical field, yet he is just so nice to you. He often loves to chat with you or treat you when you're injured.

Skinner is just so concerned with your health. He's trustworthy since he's treated you many time before. As a result, you don't really pick up on any weird behavior from him.

It all happens behind a closed curtain, completely away from your prying eyes.

I'd say Skinner is moderate in intensity.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Skinner is naturally gets messy due to his job. He doesn't outright murder but he is responsible for everyone's healthcare in the S.Q. As a result, the injured are at his mercy.

If he had someone on his table that got you hurt in the field, what's stopping him from not treating him? Just an oath? Maybe he won't revive them, or maybe he'll remove a limb or an organ before cloning them. They'll feel every second of it.

Surely that would be a good enough lesson for them?

If you're going to be out of Skinner's sight... you need to be protected!

It doesn't appear your hirelings are very good at their job....

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Skinner would never mock you! He adores you too much for that. No, you'd have your own private room in the medical wing where he can watch over you.

It's where you'll be the most safe in his opinion!

He'll take care of you, give you frequent health checks, and give you all the physical affection you could ever want! What more could you possibly want? There's no need to leave him all alone in the medical wing, right?

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Skinner tries to respect your boundaries, but if he feels it is for your own safety then he'll be a bit more forceful.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Skinner can be quite vulnerable. I feel he is very open with you and often tells you what he wants and what his intentions are. He doesn't seem like he'd lie to you often and just wants you safe.

Unfortunately he just lets his fears of you getting hurt cloud his judgement. So, yes, Skinner would be very vulnerable.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Disappointed and confused. If you tried to fight Skinner he'd be confused and try to resolve the issue calmly. he doesn't want to scare you! He just wants to take care of you!

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No and No!

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Honestly? Him drugging and kidnapping you. He is mostly very nice and gentle with you. That and any gore is done away from your eyes. Maybe if you caught him harming one of your hirelings, but for the most part the initial abduction is the worst of it.

That is, unless, you keep trying to escape.

In that case I can see Skinner doing some amputation, which would be worse than the kidnapping, yet he tries really hard to avoid that.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Skinner's goal is simple, he just wants to keep you safe. It's part of his job as a G03LM unit. This is because that unit is usually used as servants. To him, keeping you safe is like something natural deep down within him.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Skinner can get jealous, yet he's mostly just disappointed with those around you. He silently copes until they end up on his table... then he can vent his frustrations. He's okay with just being your doctor, but he wishes he could be something more with you.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Very affectionate, gentle, and awfully loving. Skinner looks forward to seeing you every day when you walk by for a chat. Even when you're on his table he is rather gentle when touching you.

Skinner seems like he could never hurt a soul when he deals with you. However, we both know that is not the case.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Skinner doesn't do much courting. He rarely leaves the medical wing and only gets to chat with you when you come to him. However he does show he cares in anyway he can.

His approaches are usually medical related but he enjoys regular conversation too. He comes off as nice and friendly until you get hurt too often.

Then he decides he must keep you safe himself if no one else will.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not entirely, only when he's particularly upset at someone.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Isolation and restraints for the most part. Yet when those don't work? Drugging and amputation is the more extreme form of punishment for him.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He tries not to take many unless he has to.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He'd have a really hard time moving on from any of that.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Yes but probably not.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His overprotective nature of being a G03LM and a doctor.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Skinner does his best to comfort you, he doesn't mean to hurt you! He just wants to keep you from being hurt.... He'll end up suffocating you with affection if you're upset.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Yes, he's more docile than most.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Giving into his protective nature and trying to take care of yourself more. It eases him a little.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

He tries not to.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He isn't a worship yandere but would try to do anything he can to not lose you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A moderate amount of time, maybe half a year?

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Unintentionally.

[pascaloverx]

As It Was (S2)

Chapter Thirteen

previous chapter next chapter

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

The day of my wedding with Bucky arrived faster than I had anticipated. The reality is that James Buchanan Barnes is both the only one not involved in the wedding and the groom. I simply couldn't get that stubborn head to change his mind. Okay, I didn't even try to get him to change his mind. Every new day in your life is another terrifying day in your head, not knowing if Killian or Steve will show up and end you or someone you love. So, this fake wedding is my last chance to end this nightmare. If Barnes doesn't see it that way, too bad for him.

"You look magnificent in that dress, Melisa. I'm sure Barnes would be the luckiest man in the universe if you two were really getting married. But my best friend is as much of an idiot as he is handsome, you know." Sam says, entering the bride's room that was specially prepared for me to get ready. To be poetic, I rented the hall where they killed my father and almost killed me. Here, they have a special wedding banquet hall. And it's a place I already know.

"Thank you, Sam, for the compliment and for being here. I can't believe this day has finally come, and that I may have spent money and time on something that will go wrong." I say breathlessly, thinking about the possibility of setting up an obvious trap and not being able to capture the criminals.

"Actually, that's exactly what I came to talk to you about. Yelena was talking to some of her contacts, and it seems Steve was seen around here yesterday. Dave is checking nearby cameras to confirm. But don't get discouraged just yet. This whole team is here to support you, even though it may seem dangerous. We won't let any of them hurt you." Sam says, hugging me gently. I'm relieved to know they're here with me. Whatever happens, we'll face it together.

"This time I'm prepared too. So, let's put the plan into action. The guests should already be in their places, waiting for the groom to arrive. The music for the bride's entrance will play in a few minutes. I'll walk in with Wanda as if everything is fine, and you guys put on a show pretending that Bucky is missing. I'll create a scene, cancel the wedding, and ask everyone to leave. It'll be the perfect moment for them to attack me. The rest is up to you guys." This plan was designed with every detail in mind. There are more cameras in this building than there were before; Dave is taking care of surveillance, Sam and Yelena are handling defense in case of a surprise attack, and Wanda will be nearby in case I need help if something goes wrong. Everything is carefully planned.

"Then I'll go there in case you need anything; remember, you have an earpiece. Just say 'red' in any way possible, and we'll come to your rescue. Good luck, bride." Sam touches my arm lightly and leaves, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I look at myself in the mirror, analyzing the wedding dress I'm repurposing. It's the same one from my first wedding, just adjusted. I thought this time a veil would be more of a hindrance than a help, and a long train would be an obstacle.I hear a noise behind me, almost like a step, and automatically grab the gun hidden on the vanity where I did my makeup. I point the gun at whoever is behind me not even five seconds after hearing the noise. Of course, I could have died because five seconds is a good amount of time for someone to kill another person. If I hadn't been distracted, I would have noticed someone entering this bridal room and known it was my ex-husband, the idiot.

"Great attack plan, but I suggest aiming the gun at the head next time. It would also be good not to get distracted, but your reflex was quick. By the way, you look beautiful. I like the changes to the dress." James Barnes says, smiling shamelessly at me. I'm torn between anger and surprise. What does he want here?

"Barnes, I don't remember inviting you in or asking you to be here in general. Before you ruin my plan, go away, and take that smug smile with you." I say, trying to sound serious. I lower the gun and turn around, ignoring the fact that Bucky hasn't budged despite my request for him to leave.

"Funny. I don't recall proposing to you or accepting one from you. Yet, everyone in this building came to see you and me getting married. I hope you liked the outfit of your future husband. I'm wearing the suit you gave me on our first anniversary." He looks handsome, but I don't want to give in. I wanted him by my side, and he abandoned me. Now that I made a plan without him, he shows up here. Son of a...

"Barnes, save my time. What do you want?" I don't have much patience on a regular day, let alone when I'm about to be bait to capture not one but two dangerous men.

"I want to marry you. I want to be by your side while you do the stupidest thing ever seen in the world, and most importantly, I want to apologize for being an idiot. I realized too late that loving you means accepting your plans that will undoubtedly cause unimaginable havoc." He speaks, getting closer and closer to me. Then he holds my waist firmly, looks into my eyes, and kisses me. It's a kiss full of passion and at the same time, longing. Truth be told, I missed him, and well... he certainly missed me too.

"I can offer you a second honeymoon filled with reconciliation sex, what do you say?" Barnes says in a playful tone, and I lightly smack his arm.

"Try not to ruin the plan. Figure out a way to leave me alone during the ceremony. They won't show up with you around, and I need to be the bait. Are we clear?" I know he won't like it, but whatever he wants. He's been married to me before; he should know that when I have something in mind, I do it my way. The problem is, he's the same way.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll let you do what you want without getting in your way," he says, giving me another light kiss. I smile, knowing he probably isn't entirely serious.

"Do you promise?" I ask in the middle of the kiss, my forehead resting against his. My god, how I love this man.

"No. Now get ready because I'm going to my groom's spot to wait for my beautiful bride." He gives me a peck on the lips and leaves before I can react. I then prepare to go to the hall to fake getting married.

"Nice pathetic plan, Melisa. Beautiful. You just forgot that I was a partner with all of you while you played the united little group. I smelled a setup since I knew you were going to marry Barnes again. Who in their right mind makes the same mistake more than once?" Steve speaks behind me as I head towards the hall where the guests are waiting. I smile because I did get what I wanted.

"You, you arrogant jerk." I turn around, plunging a sharp and likely lethal knife into his chest. Poor guy, he had no idea this time I would be prepared for him. The loud thud of him hitting the ground was startling. His look of desperation mixed with the anguish of pain, simply cinematic.

"Let me guess, you thought you would come here, and I would be frightened. You'd kidnap me, and I would cry in desperation. Then, it would be a remake of the last time we were together, but this time I wouldn't survive. That way, you and Killian would go unpunished. My question is, did you underestimate me so much that you didn't even bring a weapon to threaten me?" I say, watching him writhing in pain. Poor Steve, caught off guard. 

"If you think this is all, you're totally..." He tries to continue speaking, but I yank the knife out of his chest, and he's too busy feeling his blood leave his body to insult me. Oops...

"Dave, I think you can hear me. Ask Sam to come deal with Steve, near the bride's room. I'll continue with the plan." I compose myself, somewhat perplexed by what just happened, but the show must go on.

"Dave can't talk right now, but I'll pass the message to Sam. After all, Melisa... you were waiting for me, weren't you?" I get nervous hearing Killian's voice on the earpiece. Damn.

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Fifteen

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!

I cannot believe we are 15 chapters into this!!

Please do let me know if you are still enjoying/reading this fic <3 I'm loving writing this version of them, and hope you are all enjoying the journey!

-x-

Words: 2.4k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along. Please note that more warnings have been added.

Read on Ao3, or below the cut

November 2008 

He’s woken up by a kick to his shin. 

It startles him, shocking him awake as opens his eyes to an unfamiliar room. He looks at the alarm clock on the nightstand, the numbers bright against his tired eyes. 

3:32 am 

He’s kicked again and he turns to look at his girlfriend. She’s twisted in the cheap hotel bedsheets, her face screwed up as she fights off something in her sleep. She whimpers and his chest gets tight, the sound familiar to him, something that haunted his own nightmares. 

It had been months since Colorado. Months since he’d had to listen to her being beaten and do nothing about it. They’d barely been together for a few weeks at the time, their relationship still something just between them. The second they were alone after she got out of the compound he’d held her tightly, accidentally pressing on injuries he’d later map out. Permanent memories he knew he’d never be able to shake. Each mark on her skin something he blamed on nobody but himself. 

Her physical injuries had faded months ago. The bruises gone. Her ribs and broken skin healed. The memories were another thing altogether. 

She still had nightmares often. They were usually brought on by being somewhere new, a frequent side effect of their work, and it wasn’t unusual for her to wake him up on their first night away on a case. 

He sits up to wait it out, knowing from experience that touching her would make it worse. His attempts to comfort her would become part of the nightmare, his gentle touch twisted by her subconscious. Her mind turning it into Cyrus’s violence. 

It only takes a couple of minutes, but it feels like an age before she sits up sharply, heaving in a breath that sounds like it barely fills her lungs. 

“Em, sweetheart,” he says quietly, not wanting to startle her. She turns to look at him, her eyes wide, searching for him desperately. 

“Aaron?” 

“It’s me,” he assures her, reaching out and placing his hand on her shoulder, grateful when she doesn’t flinch, “I’m right here,” he gently squeezes her skin, “I’ve got you.” 

She nods absentmindedly before fiercely wiping at her cheeks, disposing of tears that she was furious at herself for. She leans into him, pressing her face into his neck, and he holds her tightly. He kisses the top of her head, holding her impossibly closer as he feels her hot tears against his skin. Her fear burning his skin as his guilt rises back up. Bitter sorrow on his tongue that he hadn’t been able to save her from this. 

“Cyrus?” He asks, and she nods against him. She shifts closer so she’s in his lap, needing to be as close to him as possible. 

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” she says before she pulls back just enough to look at him, her eyes shining, “I didn’t mean to.” 

“Sweetheart you have nothing to apologise for,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Want to try to go back to sleep?” 

She shakes her head, “Not yet,” she replies, holding him a little tighter, she looks over to the television on the wall, “Maybe we can watch some TV?” 

Aaron nods, reaching for the remote and switching it on, “I think it’s a bit late to watch that crap you usually like.” 

“Firstly, the Real Housewives isn’t crap,” she replies, squeezing him a little tighter, “Secondly, it’s on Oxygen from midnight to 5 am.”

He chuckles and switches to the channel she’s not so subtly asked for, placing the remote back down as the show he wouldn’t even know existed without her. 

She falls asleep in his lap, something he cannot understand given the yelling on the show on the tv, and he stays up until the sun rises, holding her against him. 

___

“Can we keep him, Emmy?” 

Emily crouches down next to Jack, and she scratches the kitten in his arms behind the ears. She smiles as the kitten purrs, settling deeper into the little boy’s arms, the black fur standing out against Jack’s red coat. 

They’d been in the park all afternoon. Aaron was meant to join them but had been called to work by Strauss, even though it was a Saturday, for what was supposedly an urgent review. It felt strange to think she would have once felt awkward spending time with Jack alone, that she felt unsure of her place in his life. 

Now it felt natural. As if loving him and Aaron had always been a part of her. 

They were about to leave the park, Jack’s energy fading fast, when she first saw what she initially thought was a toy dropped by another child by a bench. As she got closer she realised it was moving. Jack had run towards it, overtaking her and picking it up before she could even figure out that it was a kitten and that she hadn’t just let him pick up a rat. 

“He might already have a family, honey,” she says, leaning down to crouch next to him. She fights her smile as Jack pouts. She stands up and leans down to pick up Jack, the kitten between them both, “Why don’t we take him to the vet, see if he belongs to anyone and go from there?” 

“How would the vet know?” Jack asks as she walks back towards the car. He was constantly curious these days, wanting answers to questions all the time. 

“They put tiny little chips in pets so if they get lost they can be found,” she explains, looking down at the kitten to check he was ok, smiling when she sees he is fast asleep, and she briefly thinks about how much trouble she’ll be in with her fiancee if he comes home to find out they now had a cat. 

“Chips like potato chips?” 

She laughs and shakes her head, expertly digging her car key out of her pocket and unlocking the car with Jack still in her arms, “No, sweet boy. Like a little computer chip,” she places him in his car seat and fastens him in. She scratches the top of the kitten's head, feeling her heart swell in her chest as he purrs, and then she looks back at Jack, “Be gentle with him, ok?” 

Jack nods and, very carefully, holds the kitten in his lap as she closes his door and gets in the car herself. She looks at him in the rearview mirror and has to bite her lip to stop her cheeks from aching from her smile at the sight of the two of them, already the best of friends. 

She was in so much trouble with Aaron if the kitten didn’t have a chip. 

___

She calls Aaron from the vet. 

Jack was distracted by the kitten and the veterinary nurse as she walks away enough for the little boy not to hear her. Aaron is confused at first, worried something is wrong, until she explains what happened. That they found a cat, and he would have to go to the shelter if they didn’t take him in. 

She can practically hear the wheels in his head turning, and she can picture the expression on his face, how he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose. She sells it as something Jack wanted, but Aaron knows as well as she does that she’s already fallen in love with the tiny kitten. Aaron agrees, won over by the tale of woe she had spun, and he says he’ll come home via the pet store with some supplies. 

As soon as they get back to the apartment Jack settles the kitten onto the couch, showing the same gentle care he had displayed since he first held him. She feels slightly ridiculous when it makes her think of what he’d be like with a younger sibling, something that had almost constantly been on her mind since they’d agreed she’d stop taking her birth control a few weeks ago. 

“How about ‘Daddy?’” 

Emily clears her throat to stop herself from laughing, smiling fondly at Jack as the kitten sleeps on the couch next to them. Ever since she’d told him that they could keep the kitten, Jack had been reeling off ideas for names, each more ridiculous than the last. 

“We can’t call him Daddy, Jack.” 

“Why not?” 

She reaches over and scratches at the cat's fur, “Because that’s Daddy’s name.” 

“Daddy’s name is Aaron,” Jack replies, frowning at her. 

“You’re right,” she says, running her hand through his hair, “But I still think we should go with something else.” 

Jack sighs and furrows his brow further as he thinks about it again. The look on his face reminds her of Aaron when he’s working, a tiny crease in between his eyebrows. She wonders if it’s something any children they have will do too, if she’ll get to see all these traits she loved of his on a child they shared together. 

“Dinosaur?” 

She laughs, “Better than Daddy,” she says, tugging Jack into her side, “But why don’t we go for something a little different? Like…Sergio?” 

Jack’s eyes go wide, excitement shining in them as he looks back between her and the cat, “Sergio!” 

“It suits him, huh?” She asks, kissing the top of the little boy's head. 

“You’re good at naming things, Emmy.” 

She chuckles, and any response is cut off by the door opening, and she looks up to see Aaron walking in, his arms full of bags from the pet store. She unsuccessfully hides a laugh as one of the bags falls to the floor, shocking Sergio awake. The cat runs across the apartment quickly, the flash of black fur the first Aaron has ever seen of their new pet. Aaron raises an eyebrow at her, and she smiles. 

She was definitely in trouble. ___

“I can’t believe I went to work for an afternoon and I came back to us having a pet.” 

Emily smiles, burying her face against his chest before she tilts her head up to look at him. He holds her closer to him, keeping her warm and safe in their bed. She curls further into his side and he runs his hand up and down her back. Sergio was asleep on Aaron’s chest, curled up in a ball, very content with his new home. 

“Come on,” she says, reaching up to scratch at Sergio’s head, “Look at that face. What was I supposed to do?” 

Aaron hums and kisses the top of her head, “You definitely owe me.” 

“And I will pay you back in sexual favours soon honey,” she says with a yawn as she settles back down against him, “But another night, I’m exhausted after chasing your son around all day.” 

He chuckles and continues to rub circles on her back, a surefire way of making her fall asleep quickly. 

“Just imagine how much more exhausting it will be when there are two of them.”

She hides a smile in his t-shirt. Hope coloured everything in their lives at the moment, and she found herself more excited for the future than she had been in a long time. 

“Worth it,” she mumbles, her body getting slightly heavier against him. 

“How did you come up with the name Sergio anyway?” He asks, looking at the kitten still sleeping on his chest. “Did Jack suggest it?” 

“Nope, it was all me,” she says, “If it was up to Jack he’d be called Daddy.” 

Aaron laughs, “What?” 

She hums, getting sleepier by the second, “He wanted to call him Daddy,” she mutters, “But I suggested Sergio. I think it’s a good name.” 

He doesn’t miss the edge to her voice, how, despite her obvious tiredness, she seems defensive. As if she worries his query is nothing short of making fun of her, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. It was yet another way they were similar, a memory of him suggesting it as a name for Jack hitting him in an instant. A moment that felt like it was from a different life.

In some ways, he supposes, it was. 

“It’s a great name, sweetheart,” he assures her, before he kisses the top of her head again, “Now go to sleep.” 

___

She never understood why some cases hurt more than others. Why some of the things she saw immediately crawled under her skin and took root, seeds of horror burrowing in deep. She finds herself unable to tear her eyes away from the cards and flowers on the front porch of the Downey’s home. Condolences mixed in amongst small tokens of affection and teddy bears.

“Prentiss?” 

She turns and sees Aaron looking at her, his eyebrows creased together, concern splashed across his face. 

“Sorry,” she says, stepping towards him and making her way towards the backyard by his side.

“It’s ok,” he replies, his hands twitching to reach out for her, “Cases with kids are hard.” 

“Yeah,” she replies, briefly looking over to where the family had been buried, before she follows him to where the rest of the team were standing. 

“What have we got?” Aaron asks, turning his attention to Derek. 

“The mom and the boys were shot, they were carried out and she was dragged. The little girl, Lucy, she was drowned.” 

“Changing the MO is strange,” Aaron says, turning to look at the gravesite briefly, “Was there anything missing?”

“The mother’s wedding ring,” Emily says, “Just like with the Willliams family.” 

Aaron’s phone rings and he checks the screen, seeing Penelope’s name flashing on it, and he answers.

“Garcia-”

“Virginia Supermax prison has been in touch to inform us that an inmate has informed them that he has details about these cases,” she says, speaking before he can even greet her properly, her words tumbling out of her like she couldn’t control them, “Apparently he has a fan website and someone posted about the murders in the forum and he’s seen it. He wants to…offer his insight.”

“That means we have a leak,” Derek sighs, shaking his head. Aaron looks up at JJ, his face stern.

“JJ-”

“Already on it,” she says, walking towards the local cops, her shoulders tense. 

“Who is the prisoner, Garcia?” Emily asks, drawing everyone’s attention back to the call. There’s a beat of silence, Penelope’s hesitance clear even over the phone. 

“Garcia-”

“It’s Karl Arnold.” 

-x-

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[booksdaydream]

The Blind Rider - Prologue

*SPOILERS FOR HOGWARTS LEGACY GAME*

Characters: Everyone. Like, literally. MC – Magnus Agathe and You, of course.

Summary: Magnus was the new 5th year, with incredible ancient magic and the role of a hero to fulfill. He faced hardships and made friends, sacrificing his own well-being. And you will be the new 6th year, reborn in a dragon riding family, the Draggunnars.

Warnings: A bit of angst, a bit of fluff; mentions of violence (duel, end battle, blood); mentions of death (Ranrok, Solomon); rewriting the end of the game.

Word count: 2,4K+

A/N: Heya, I’m somewhat back. This is the prologue to the long fic I’m writing. I’m quite deep into it already but wanted to have some of your opinions before I continue. Sooo… I have used the game MC as another OC -Magnus Agathe- as you guys can see in this prologue. He’s an important character, but not the main one (since the pairing remains as OMINISXYOU). I had two questions, but decided to just ignore it and go with it. Hope you guys like it. I'll be posting the actual thing on AO3, because it's going to be pretty long. So here's a link to it.

AO3: booksdaydream

The Blind Rider

________________

The end of the year was the hardest part for Magnus Myles Agathe since he had come to Hogwarts in his 5th year. Not being the new student: he was fortunate enough to find friends that welcomed him with open arms. Not having to figure out his unimaginable ancient magic: his brilliant mentor, Professor Fig, had traversed his journey with him. Nor having to carry the pain of his friends’ sorrows: he learnt he was never truly alone in any step of the way. Except perhaps the end of the year. To survive it all by his own sacrifice was certainly painful.

He knew that day under the school, fighting Ranrok, had changed him forever. If not for his doubts, for his physical changes. Was silencing voices clamouring for change the correct path? He wasn’t sure defeating Ranrok was the right thing to do, but alas it had become a surviving situation. As the magic repository Isidora Morganach created with the emotions of her students and the keepers were protecting had burst. Ranrok’s search for ultimate power to free his kind had targeted that mass of energy. And it was Magnus’ job to contain it, having passed every trial the keepers presented him with.

Alongside the last-minute help from the professors, no goblin was able to interfere, and he defeated Ranrok corrupted by the ancient magic. He had turned into an impressive creature, massive and powerful. But Magnus fought bravely and won, but could that be considered something good? Yet he had no time to think, only focusing on the danger the repository was. The unruly power had dispersed upon Ranrok manipulation. Then, he had a choice. He could absorb it, accept its magic, and become stronger. Possibly corrupted such as Ranrok became. Or return it to its previous state and restrain it. Not without sacrifice as it’d require a great amount of determination.

Magnus couldn’t see himself following a similar path as Isidora nor Ranrok. He believed both had honourable intentions. In her case, trying to spare her loved ones from pain and misery, while he tried to achieve freedom for his equals. But both followed the wrong manner in which to attain them. The ancient magic without rules perverting their noble purposes. Magnus, instead, decided to contain it. Let it remain as it was, away from him. But he was only a 5th year. With limited magic knowledge and control. So, Professor Fig needed to help him. Or at least, he thought so.

With his wand raised, a unicorn hair core and cedar wood with 12cm and swishy flexibility, Magnus casted a purplish spell to return the repository to its original shape and position. Professor Fig stood next to him, following his stance. His spell was whitish, devoid of ancient magic and thus weaker. They both moaned and writhed in pain, their magic being drained as the repository was contained. Slowly diminishing and taking a roundish form as it moved through the air back to the spot it previously rested in. Professor Fig’s hand faltered, a heavy breath escaping his chapped lips in a tired sigh, and Magnus could see sideways his mentor’s light fading. And he didn’t think twice. With a rather brute shove, he stopped Professor Fig’s spell as he fell to the ground. He wouldn’t allow his precious mentor to fade away. Magnus focused on his wand and his magic, putting all his energy on the repository.

And suddenly, everything stopped. As if time had rendered still. The repository was in place and roundish once again. His wand did not cast any light upon it anymore. Magnus feel to the ground, in pain and breathing heavily. His muscles hurt as if he had run a marathon, but something inside him ached even more. He wasn’t sure what. Professor Fig quickly came to his side, his eyes focused on the boy. Magnus could barely remember, but the elder took his shoulders and held him in place as if that was the only support keeping him up as Magnus knelt down. Professor Fig whispered breathlessly, “Well done, well done.” Tired himself with the effort of controlling that enormous magical repository. Then, everything went dark.

--

When Magnus woke up, he was in the Hospital Wing. Poppy Sweeting sat next to him in an apparently uncomfortable chair, right next to his thin bed. She snored quietly, her head hanging low, but her hand held his laying by his body. The rebellion was over, the battle was over, the repository was safe. Magnus had barely opened his eyes and he closed them again.

--

It took Magnus a couple of hours to realize he wasn’t fine. Madam Blainey couldn’t tell. Nor could Professor Weasley nor Professor Fig. He thanked Merlin that Sweeting and Amit Thakkar, who kept him entertained at Magnus’ bedside with his long amusing explanations of nightly terrifying trips to observe the stars, also didn’t notice. But he could feel in his core the unsteadiness, the rumbling magic he had just spent a year learning about pulsating and shuffling inside himself. Just as if he had an upset stomach, but a little bit higher on his chest. That feeling of churning. But using his ancient magic seemed to be fine. Until it wasn’t.

While helping his friend Sebastian Sallow in his quest to cure his sister Anne, he found a relic that awoke inferi everywhere. Magnus tried to stop him as he had gone far enough thinking he could control them and control Anne’s curse with such dangerous object. But that encounter became serious as his uncle Solomon Sallow joined them, destroying the relic. And the duel that followed was not pretty. At first, it seemed standard practice for Magnus. He had fought poachers, ashwinders and other kinds of adults. His magic worked fine and seemed to alarm the older gentlemen, as Magnus destroyed inferi after inferi. Time or another casting a spell towards Solomon himself, who would protect against it with uncertainty.

However, his ancient magic failed him suddenly. As Magnus casted lightening on a group of three inferi, Solomon sent a basic cast his way which he was able to defend with a simple protego. But, when he turned to Solomon and casted a levitating spell to throw him around as he had done plenty of times before, the magic ricocheted and he was launched backwards, hitting the stony wall. He moaned in pain feeling the impact spread from his spine throughout his back. The churning feeling on his chest made him sick, more present at that moment than ever before, but he couldn’t stop fighting as more inferi seemed to continue appearing.

Magnus stood slowly, a foot on the ground after the other and scowling at the pain shooting down from his spine to his toes. Certainly, he’d have some bruises to remember that night. The fight carried on, but his magic did not fail him again. Of course, he did use it more carefully and with less frequency, which seemed to have been a good idea at the time. But did not solve the problem as he continued with unstable ancient magic for a long time after that. Yet, during the fight Sebastian lost his mind in his madness and casted an Unforgivable on his own uncle, “Avada Kedavra.” And just like that Solomon Sallow was lifeless on the catacomb floor and Anne Sallow had apparated into the room.

She condemned Sebastian’s search for her cure on the dark arts and destroyed his source, a book. Then, she disappeared with Solomon’s body. For a second, Sebastian couldn’t understand where everything went wrong, where had he failed and when had his judgement become so cloudy. But he seemed to conclude he had crossed a line he shouldn’t have, driven mad by the corruption of the dark arts. From then on, Sebastian and Magnus returned to Hogwarts devastated in their own misery. Sebastian having lost both his uncle and his sister. Magnus unsure if he had lost his ancient magic.

Unexpectedly, upon meeting the third member of their friend group, Ominis Gaunt, Sebastian took a serious tone and announced he was turning himself in. He had also concluded, upon contemplating, that he should never ever, ever, allow such a thing to happen again and, for that, he’d willingly have his friends bring him to justice. Hearing that alarmed Ominis. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to let him go, as he already felt guilty for not managing to stop Sebastian on walking down this path, the path of the dark arts, as well as for keeping a secret from him. His sister’s location.

Anne buried her uncle alone and went to live with Mr. Ndiaye and his twin daughters until she had found a better place to stay, letting only Ominis know her whereabouts and making him promise not to share her location with Sebastian as she wasn’t ready to see him yet. In truth, she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to see him again. Anne told Ominis she wanted Sebastian to face the consequences for his actions but could not see another family member suffer. So, she left.

Ominis was utterly devastated with the situation. Not wanting to lose his friend, but thinking he had no choice but to turn Sebastian in for his actions. Yet that would destroy Sebastian as well as destroy Ominis too. So, he asked Magnus for his input. He thought Sebastian still had hope, yet if they sent him to Azkaban then they’d lose him forever. As Azkaban would consume all goodness that remained in Sebastian. So together, they decided to keep his secret.

Sebastian was incredibly touched by his friends understanding and forgiveness, he cried for what seemed like hours on both Ominis’ and Magnus’ arms on their special hidden place, the Undercroft. He couldn’t muster the correct words to show his gratitude as he knew they were both risking their reputation and future for guarding that secret of his. But they didn’t mind. It was their friend they were supporting, and their friend they were protecting.

“I’m indebted to you. Forever. This sort of kindness is… something I’ll never be able to fully repay. But I will try, every day, for the rest of my life.”

Sebastian said weakly, in a whispered shaky breath amongst emotional tears, Magnus offered him soft pats of comfort and Ominis’ could only muster some quiet tears. Sebastian shared his pain, his thoughts, his guilt, and his gratitude.

“I don’t believe I deserve your forgiveness, but I’ll never forget how good you're to me. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it.”

He continued and it didn’t matter how much Magnus and Ominis quietly protested, Sebastian seemed settled in doing better. He held on tightly onto his friends as if to remind himself their forgiveness was real, that this was actually happening and he wasn’t fantasizing their compassion.

“I won’t use the dark arts anymore if I can help it. You were right, Ominis. You were always right; it makes me feel empty and I didn’t realize I was making the sort of choices no one should ever make. So… I’ll make sure I never have to do them again.”

Sebastian finished with strength to his voice, although it still sounded muffled by his tears, because he wanted to make sure they knew he meant every word. He promised he’d never forget what they’d done for him. He promised he’d never do anything like this again. He promised if he’d ever felt like going somewhere like that again, he’d reach out for them. And he apologized for worrying them.

Lastly, he tried not think about Anne. He had decided he’d never use the dark arts again, not even to save her. But he knew she had told Ominis, and only him, about her location and that stung. It truly hurt him, deeply. Yet, he also knew it didn’t hurt as much as the pain she must’ve been on. Solomon was a terrible parenting figure, but he was someone she could rely on. If Sebastian had to sacrifice everything he shared with Anne for her to get the life she deserved, he would do it. Although he hoped it wouldn't be that extreme, and he dreamed she would find in herself a way to forgive him. Even if very slowly.

Taking part in that moment made Magnus consider if he’d ever go that far for anyone, or for himself. If he’d risk everything or cross a line to save something that he believed could be lost. Perhaps the stability of his own magic that had been risked by him saving Professor Fig, the entirely opposite situation as Sebastian had been in. Magnus wondered if his regret would reach one tenth of Sebastian’s, even if he believed to have done the right thing.

--

And at the official end of the year, Magnus arrived at the Great Hall for the final feast with his bravest Gryffindor friend, Natsai Onai, that had previously sacrificed herself and taken an Unforgivable for him. They approached the Gryffindor table observing all the other students in a festive mood and watched as their house won the House Cup for that year.

He noticed Poppy Sweeting clap with a smile from Hufflepuff table; Everett Clopton, the troublemaker, and Amit Thakkar wave excitedly at him from the Ravenclaw table while Duncan Hobhouse, the one scared of puffskeins, seemed upset; Sebastian Sallow, Ominis Gaunt and Imelda Reyes, the toughest quidditch player he’d never play against, cheer from the Slytherin table. And celebrated with Natsai, Garreth Weasley, the potions master-to-be, Cressida Blume, one who loved flying books, Lucan Brattleby, the Crossed Wands secret club organiser, and Leander Prewett, the other Gryffindor, at the Gryffindor table.

While Professor Black, the Headmaster, gave his closing speech, you were on the Hebridean Islands returning from another successful raid. Confidently riding your beautiful dragon through the night sky, the cold salty wind hitting your face and your long braided black hair flying wildly. The poacher’s camp was suspiciously close to the coast on the mainland and the tools they carried were definitely for the hunting of dragons, so your family and you had to interfere. Your brilliant yellow eyes scanned your two companions riding their own dragons as one of them carried a heavy humanlike bag, dripping blood slowly. You were still young and mostly took care of backup, so you could only observe the others and support them from above. You were good, talented and had absolutely no idea a letter had just arrived at your home with an invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Again.

–––––––––––––

*No reproduction of this text allowed without credit*

[cannibalcreepers]

(cause Tumblr is a bitch and wont let me answer, I’m posting the answer here instead)   Sorry for the long wait for this, but hopefully you still crave the Brain UwU hehehhe We'll do a fun drabble, though I made it at the viewpoint of the reader >83c Enjoy ------

He was always such an insufferable prick, rude beyond words and drove you to such anger at times you were close to just smothering his annoyingly smug face when the rest of the clan were asleep at night but with how quick Pluto was to arrive to this shitty man's defense, it wasn't worth the risk.

So you just took the usual verbal abuse and waited for your time to strike, usually you muttered under your breath a response but never said it with you chest in case he decided to just sick Pluto or worse, Lizard onto you, and that was a man you didn't want to get in a physical altercation with.

But there was situation where you got Big Brain alone, away from his walkie talkies and  earshot of the other clan members, the first time you were made to wash him in the bathtub you were supervised by Big Mama, scrutinized by both about how gentle you had to be and when to really scrub into his back, it was frustrating to say the least. Though now, as months had past, you were trusted enough to handle him alone, even Brain felt comfortable enough to have you lift and handle his body, even more comfortable enough to take a cheeky grab at your ass, waist or chest.

The first time he grabbed at your chest you almost dropped the man, wishing you had with how he mocked you and did his wheezy laugh, but now when he reached to grab a fist full of cheek you pinch him back in the shoulder and the deathly quietness made your chest tighten as you pulled him into the warm water but you had to stay brave.

It was the first defiance you had shown and  the man didn't know what to do, all he did was simply stare at you in silence, though silence was a welcome compared to his salty remarks. But like always, silence never lasted when Brain was around and he started to grumble about your washing abilities, snapping about your weak arms and how you could dig in better, calling you pathetic and even a worm!

That was it, you were at your wit ends at these criticisms so you snapped back "Worm? Only worm is you with your flabby, hairless body, covered in so much slime no wonder I need to bathe you two times a day"

Usually you didn't like to attack someone's looks, but he truly was almost a hairless thing, the only strands was the frail, strands of long hair on his head and crotch, which you knew not to look at unless you wanted awkward, perverted comments.

The snap got him again to go quiet, but this time he was glowering at you, his hands turning into curled fists as the realization he was starting to lose his intimidation over you and oh boy you were not going to stop now.

"On top of that! You pale cretin, I'm washing  you fine enough! Or I could just scrub you until you skin peels off? Would you rather be washed nicely or shall I find some barb wire and rip all the flesh from your clammy ass body?"

Oh if his big head could explode, it probably would with being berated, even if that berating was rather weak, you were being a bit nice compared to how he would consistently call you a fucking idiot or just plain pathetic.

You could see he was seething, possibly plotting your death as he couldn't exactly do anything at the time with being trapped in the large tub and at your mercy, but him not snapping back was something you didn't expect, usually he would just retort with an insult but instead he was just glared and hunched up.

It only became obvious why he was just taking the verbal abuse when you noticed the man was hiding a stiffy, god him being turned on by you berating him was a bit of a shock to you.

What a dirty perverted man, was your go to thought, but truthfully no one had ever really stood up to Big Brain, sure he's been threatened with violence in his life but never just verbal attacks that were non-threatening and he was getting turned on by it.

Now that it was obvious, Big Brain couldn't let himself be ashamed, he had to take hold of the situation again, to grab what he can and with a slimy smirk, he snatched your wrist roughly and wheezed in what you assumed was an attempt to be a "sexy" tone, any other time you'd gag, but the lonely part of your brain was going to fall for this man's weak ass wooing.

"Since you want to get mouthy with me, may as well use it while it's still flapping about" He wheezed, your cheeks turning red as he yanked at your arm to pull you against the rim of the bathtub, forcing  you to be closer to him. It was just his rudeness that was making him seem repulsive, but compared to any other member of the clan he was the cleanest and you were least likely to receive any bodily harm from having relations with him.

It wasn't the first time you thought about it and it wouldn't surprise you if he thought of you many times sexually as well, but you didn't want to just give up control and do what this man just wanted,

When he let your arm go you reached down into the water, ignoring Big Brains staring and smug smirk at thinking he was winning, only to bypass his body and pull the plug of the water, hearing his wheezing disappointed sigh as he was fully expect you were just going to pull him out. To his surprise though, as the soapy water was disappearing, you has removed your clothing quickly, kicking of the underwear with the pants and top to step into the tub and straddle the man's naked body.

It was easy in this position to not accidently harm him, especially when it came to his head that was being supported by a bunch of coach foam and towels, and it gave you more the power as you towered over him, which he hadn't quite realized just yet, much to distracted at your bare body already greedily smoothing his hands along your skin, his wheezing becoming heavier from the excitement, which ended shortly as he had to collect himself, not wanting you to feel like you had to upper hand, sneering as he squeezed your chest a bit roughly.

"You think I want your scabby ass sitting on my body? That i’d desire you at all?" He was attempting to be cruel, pinching and grabbing at your body roughly to prove some point that he didn't like you but with how he couldn't stop staring, it wasn't as convincing and you just responded with a huff of amusement and leaned down to press your lips against his own.

It definitely shut him up, he had leaned back so far he was sporting double chins but how he wanted it, wanted you to never stop despite his mind screaming at how you didn't want him, that you were just using him, but he wanted this moment and bit back his tongue as you moved yourself over his hardened prick, his body tensing as it pressed up against you, watching as you reached down to give it a few gentle strokes and slowly sank onto it, enveloping it completely with your warmth. He let out a grunt, trying so hard not to make noises and show it was affecting him but this being his first sexual encounter he was having a difficult time masking his reaction.

You on the other hand, were lavishing in being able to mold this cruel man so easily and with just fucking him? Had you known it was this easy you would have done so earlier, but you couldn’t get too over your head and ruin a good time, for now you just rode him gently, spoiling yourself with the pleasure. To be honest with yourself, he was pretty well endowed, you had unfortunately seen some of the other clan men’s dicks and though some were monstrous or average, others were laughably small that explained that man’s behaviour.

For Big Brain thought, he was rather average, if not just a little shorter but it was a pleasurable fit, a size that slid in without any pain on your end, feeling the slight stretching that made your body shiver, he was the size you didn’t want to exchange, so it was no surprise, with him never being with another, that he was such a sour, salty, sad man.

He was indeed inexperienced, only ever having his hand as a partner, but he had seen magazines and read books when it came to sex and tried to show he had some knowledge, thrusting his hips up as much as he physically could, clamping his hands on your hips and latching his mouth over a nipple to bite and lick, it was sloppy but still your body ached for the attention and even though his grip was tight and teeth biting stung, he was trying to be gentle and not yank or pull at your arms and legs.

He was drowning himself in the heat of your body though, groaning at how your felt so hot and tight around his cock, it sliding up and down feeling the ridges and shape of your insides, definitely better than his soapy fingers any day and though he had been cruel to you in the past, he thought to himself he was going to ease back on it a bit just to get more of your body and lips against his own, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop.

Even if you could go on for a bit longer, Brain was not lasting any longer as the pleasure was rising in his body for to long and had to release itself, that being the release inside you as he clamped his teeth while cuming deep, pressing you close against his wet body as he filled your insides with more heat, it was definitely a feeling you wouldn’t forget for a good while and crave again, a man as sour as he was shouldn’t be able to make your body feel like it was floating, what was you were wanting more but knew it was not fair to push Brain’s body anymore than it already was. You kept yourself propped up by using the sides of the bathtub, easing your breathing and waiting for Brain to calm as well. There were no words exchanged as you didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing out Brain’s worse after such a pleasurable time.

Eventually you would need to get off him and get him out of the tub, not wanting either Pluto or Big Mama to check up on why you two were taking so long, but a grossly devious look in Big Brains expression showed he wasn’t quite done with you yet for the day and you knew you had just opened a door to some wild times with this man.

[caffeineandsociety]

But also, we need to demystify sex. Fully.

As in, this doesn't end at validating people who choose not to see sex as a special thing to save for marriage. It doesn't end at validating queerness. It doesn't end at supporting sex workers, or destigmatizing nudity, or at Free The Nipple.

It also means that we need to defang sexual violence.

We need to look at the unique harms of sexual violence, above any other violence, as a social construct - something that largely only exists because of how many people believe in it.

The only physical thing that's unique about sexual violence, that is never true about any other form of violence, is that SOME forms of it, between SOME people, can result in pregnancy. That's it, and that's only some cases - and there are other forms of violence that have their own unique harms that only they can do in some cases, too. Slipping someone an allergen is the only way you can cause anaphylaxis, and there are people out there who see that as "just a prank"!

"But it can spread disease!" So can spitting in someone's food. So can any fight where bodily fluids are touched.

"But those parts are sensitive and easy to hurt!" So is nearly any part of your body that someone will go for in a fight. So are your eyes, your ears, your throat.

"But it's psychological, there's so much weight placed on sex that it's ABOUT degradation!" Well, yeah, that's part of the social construct, now isn't it? Yet even so, it's not even the only act of violence that's about the psychological degradation factor. What about "you MADE me hit you"? What about violence under blackmail? What about "making an example" of someone for a minor transgression? What about slipping someone laxatives so they soil themselves in public, or hitting someone as hard as you can with a uniquely "silly" or "gross" weapon? What about disfigurement with no sexual component whatsoever? Hell, what about a swirlie?

This doesn't mean that we need to pretend that sexuality in violence is not a compounding factor that is EXTREMELY likely to make the victim feel more degraded by the attack than if they'd "just" been hit, and it doesn't mean that we can pretend that extra feeling is not part of the motive for many perpetrators.

What we need to be doing is working to make that feeling less potent. Stop buying into the idea, even in subtle ways, that sexual violence is uniquely dirty and corrupting - including the idea that the mental scars of sexual assault are INHERENTLY going to be worse than the physical scars from an attack that broke a bone, let alone from a knife attack, or that being A Survivor INHERENTLY fundamentally changes who you are as a person in a way you can never recover from. If we do that, in fact, suddenly sex as a degrading factor within violence becomes a lot less powerful.

It also means we have to stop demonizing attraction - even if it results in masturbation. Someone jacking off to your photo, video, or voice is not a psychic attack. It is not sexual assault. It does not harm you. Proof? Someone could be doing it right now and you'd never know if they didn't tell you later - and look at you! Nothing is happening to you! You're just sitting there reading a tumblr post, albeit possibly uncomfortable at your own mental image of something that...probably isn't even actually happening if you're not a sex worker or adjacent.

Can it be sexual harassment if they ARE intentionally making it known? Fuck yes it can, because again, the fact that we place so much value on sex and lack thereof does serve as a motive for some major assholery - but hey, guess what, being able to respond to that with a resounding "so what?" really helps defang that, now doesn't it?

Is it fair for it to feel really awkward and uncomfortable if you discover that someone did that? Of course, because just knowing that there was no even arguable harm done that wasn't the result of a social construct we should be trying to DEconstruct doesn't undo the emotional impact of a lifetime of immersion in a culture that treats those constructs as being an immutable law of nature - but it's a critical point where one needs to remember that discomfort is not harm in order to reduce the power that awkwardness holds over themselves and the world at large.

Really, it's like the gender binary - we have to be willing to acknowledge that people's deeply held belief in it is strong enough to have a material impact on the world, and support the people harmed by it accordingly...but not let that acknowledgment turn into a tacit agreement with the idea that it's just the way things are and that's just a fact of nature.

Sex is not magical. It can be used to do harm, yes. It can become a weapon, yes. So can fists. So can words. So can a fork. So can fire. So can a plastic bag. So can a pillow. So can a toothbrush or a TV remote or a live animal if you're feeling really creative. What makes sex stand out above all those?

Social constructs, that's what, and little to nothing more.