#many a suicide have been averted by me laughing at that and saying “that's so stupid now I can't do it”

[songsofwaterandnight]

I think the most extreme example of me taking advice from the Internet that actually helped was when I stopped joking about being ugly. Like it wasn't quick nor linear and I still have times where I don't feel the most attractive but years later and I don't feel ugly anymore. I look in the mirror and think good things about my appearance. I don't avoid it anymore. I couldn't do that at 15 and 18 and even 23. At 27 I still have a lot of internal struggles that cause me a lot of grief but feeling ugly just isn't one of them anymore and it's kind of magical.

And I haven't physically changed much since I committed to this but the way I think of my appearance has and, as shallow as this sounds, it's definitely been a stopgap on more than one occasion between me and darker places. Sometimes you just need one thing noticeablely going well for you.

If you haven't already then try it. And try it for a long time. Go about 2 years at least without calling yourself ugly, even as a joke. Don't let other people call you ugly either. Ignore and cut off people who do. For at least 2 years and see if it doesn't have an effect on how you think of yourself.

[watsittoyah]

The Devils Playpen

A Obsessive!QIMIR X BLACK!FEMALE OC STAR WARS SMUT FIC

NEXT

This is complete fiction, I do not own any characters of the star wars franchise however I own all characters of my own creation, as well as plot.

That being said, the themes will be dark, Qimir will have obsessive and possessive qualities. This story will be borderline grey morals, there will be trigger warnings in the beginning of every chapter that will be gruesome/sexual.

You’ve been warned little flower if you’d like to continue, please read forward, if not put this work of fiction down and go read the holy word…welcome to the Devils playpen…

Chapter 1) When The Predator Becomes Prey…

(Song: Obsession By Exo)

Warning: Mentions of suicide. Stalking, choking of non sexual nature. Oral sex, shibari, threats of r*pe, Light Saber play (don’t be dumb you know what that last tag means)

I walk past a woman with long and short locks but she brings no excitement to my inner beast.

How lucky she is.

I hiss internally as I walk inside of the apothecary. Once I’m inside I inhale deeply, letting the poison I desire call to my senses.

However I smell something else. Something sweet? Sticky? I let my eyes fall onto a man hunched over in a corner. I don’t bother with manners of averting my eyes.

My curiosity has a scratch and I want it itched.

“Hello?” I call out to him in a soft voice. The man appears to be sleeping and I walk closer but keep my distance. His scent still smells sticky and sweet. Like those man eating plants over on Plexart.

“Hello, sir? I’m here to buy some supplies.” I say as I stare at his sleeping form. I flick an empty bottle over and it shatters causing him to finally stir from his slumber.

“Oh, sorry.” He stretches and does a big yawn before he looks over at me. When our eyes meet, he runs his fingers through his mop like hair and gives me a lazy smile. “Oh, hello. And you are?” He asks as he stands fully.

I take note that we have a significant size difference. He looks to be 5’11 while I stand at 5’4.

“I’m here to buy supplies, unless you aren’t the owner of this shop.” I ask in a gentle yet bored tone. He clears his throat and nods. “I am, I am. So what can I get for you? Ah, pick your poison.” He jokes. I however don’t laugh or crack a smile.

“I just needs a few things on this list. Whatever you don’t have, I’m sure I can find on my travels.” I hand him a piece of paper and our fingers brush against each other. He feels cold to the touch.

Interesting…

“Hm, this is quite the list. Might I ask what are all of these for?” He asks as he looks at me.

No, he’s studying me. Which makes my inner beast stir.

“Just some tools on helping me hunt. Nothing major. I don’t mean to be rude but I do need to be on my way.”

“Right, I will get on this for you now.” He starts on my list and I decide to look around and figure out if I’m going to kill him or let him live since he brings a spark of something out of me.

“Can I ask you a question?” The man asks, which causes me to give an internal sigh. “What is your question sir?”

“Qimir, you can call me Qimir. Anyways my question for you is, what methods do you take to hunt your prey?” This question peaks my interest because the way he says prey I think he knows I hunt a different kind of species.

“There’s many ways to do that. Poisons, bare hands, even a simple isolation tactic. But the best method…is simply a mental attack. That works on any kind of prey.” I say with a hint of a smile on my lips. I look up and see Qimir staring at my lips.

I bite my plump bottom lip, which makes his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.

“Forgive me for prying, but the items on your list, they are interesting. Bunta Root? That grows-”

“In one specific place I know, but I figured this place would have it here..” I look away from him and glance out the window.

In a matter of days, I will be at her door and I’ll she can’t escape me. I can’t wait to see her eyes widen by surprise. She’ll think how did a beast like me, hunt her down to the very last of her days.

Will she beg for her life?

Will she plead that I do it quickly?

The possibilities will be endless when I finally get my hands on Zen.

Zen…

She was once a great ally to my people at least until she got them killed.

Genocide, her and those moral less Jedi committed genocide to my people and I need to make sure they pay. She’s the final one and I just know, she knows I’m coming for her. Especially when the word went around on how her partner’s body was discovered.

I’ll never forget how his eyes had ballooned in his skull after I cracked his head open. I can almost picture his head hitting the concrete over and over and over. His brain matter was all over my hands, staining my nails with his blood.

If I close my eyes tonight will his ghost haunt me?

Will his soul ask me why I took him from his lover so soon?

I blink and I’m no longer in that glorious gruesome memory.

I turn and Qimir is standing close to me, almost making me flinch. “Excuse you.” I snap at him. He looks me up and down and cocks his head to the side.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…you remind me of someone I once knew. The resemblance is just uncanny. You look…exactly like her.” He whispers softly as he takes in my entire appearance.

Instead of stepping back, his scent makes my stomach grumble which makes me flick my split tongue against my inner cheek.

“Trust me Qi, if you knew me…you wouldn’t be standing so close.” I say to him letting my split tongue slither past my full lips. I notice his eyes darken from my movement for a split second.

“Why is that? I find you quite the interesting creature.” He says as he reaches out to touch my coiled curl. I jerk my head back not from his attempt to touch me, but from his scent.

I want to split my jaw open and take a chunk out of him. His scent had changed somehow. He smells like spiced sweet fruit.

I see a smirk on his lips and I want to bite him. I want to bite his flesh and rip i-

“Excuse me?” We break eye contact and I see a woman, she looks exactly like the woman I had passed when I came in here but her hair…it’s short. And she smells… sour.

I grow bored with her and move away from Qimir. But as I move away he grabs my wrist. I look down at his hand and then at him. “Don’t go anywhere. I’d like to finish this.” He lets my hand go and he moved away from me swiftly.

I narrow my eyes at his back as he talks to the woman. As I glance at her with boredom I can smell that she’s anxious? Scared?

Oh, maybe I can have some fun with her after all.

As Qimir talks to her, which tells me something is going on, I run my hand along the counter and ‘accidentally’ bump into her, causing her things to clatter to the floor.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Miss. Do forgive me I am not myself.” We lock eyes and in that moment, she’s frozen in place. Her pupils dilate. I can hear her pulse quicken. “I..it’s okay.” She stutters as I hand her her things.

“You are so pretty.” I say as I take in her whole face. I see her blink a few times and I study her presence.

She’s nervous, hmm her body is smart to be nervous, but is her brain?

“Oh! I’m sorry, I give compliments before I even give my name. I’m Akasha. And you are?” I see the apple of her cheeks deepen in color after I compliment her.

“I’m-” She looks away from me and at Qimir but I clear my throat and she looks back at me, trapped in my spell. “I’m Osha.” She whispers with a small smile. “Such a pretty name. I don’t mean to over step, but would you like some company on your travels?” Before she answers me, Qimir clears his throat.

I cut my eyes at him and he’s staring at me, in a way that makes me want to challenge him. “I thought you wanted your things in a hurry, Akasha.” He says my name as if he’s accusing me of something .

“Suddenly I am in no rush, especially when it comes to making new friends.” I stand as well as Osha and I step towards her. Inhaling her fear.

Her scent is starting to ripen, oh I need to sink my teeth into her, before she spoils. Before she-

“Mae, if you don’t mind. I’m just handling this customer and then I can get back to you.”

Mae?

I look back at the woman and she looks down at her fingers, fidgeting with them.

“Okay, Qimir.” She says with hesitation in her voice. She looks at me and I wink at her. “So, pretty one, might I ask, what brings you to an apothecary?” I ask as I lean against the counter, looking her up and down.

I wonder how her teeth taste.

“I’m just here to thank Qimir for the item he gave me. It helped me greatly.” I listen to her pulse and it quickens.

Oh you little liar.

Now I’m excited to know why she’s lying so much.

“You’re welcome. I hope I can help anyway I can to help you please your Master.” Qimir says as I feel him behind me. I look back and he was leaning forward, playing with one of my curls.

How did I not notice him this close to me?

I flick my hair from his touch and he sniffs his finger tips.

Did he just sniff his fingers?

“Akasha, since you’re making friends, how about being my friend?” Qimir asks as he stares me deep into my eyes.

Hmmm…

“I like being friends with girls, Qimir. They’re are nice and sweet….” I look at his lips and I can imagine biting them.

“But with boys? I tend to be a bit too rough with them. And you?” I look him over his slim athletic build. “You look like you break easily.”

I see him lick his bottom lip and I swear I hear a slight groan in his throat. He then lowers his voice so only I can hear.

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Akasha. I tend to play rough with my things. Sometimes they break and sometimes they…turn to ash in my clutch.”

Excitement licks my veins as I inhale his scent.

Mmm it’s mixed with sweet, spice and arousal.

“Sounds like a threat, and a fun time. Maybe…” I lean in close to his ear, as he leans in to hear me. “…I can teach you how to play with your toys nicely by making you my new toy. Would you like that, Qi?” I flick my tongue against his ear and I hear a deep groan vibrate from his chest.

He’s about to answer me but Osha/Mae clears her throat and I feel both Qi and myself glare at her.

I look away and take a deep breath. “How about you talk to her and I’ll be back for my things. I have something to grab on that list that I know you don’t have here.” Before he can stop me I leave the shop and place my hood back upon my head.

••••

“I need Daroon moss for my special powder. Maybe if I’m lucky I can find some on the outer banks of this place.” I mutter as I continue to walk further into a crowd but my muscles tense as I feel I’m being followed.

Who would be stupid enough to follow me?

I decide to cut the chase short and duck further into the crowd.

They continue to follow me and that’s when I notice his scent.

The sweet spicy arousal.

I slip into an alleyway and I stand there counting as his scent get closer. That smell. If I were an addict, I would beg for a hit of that scent on a daily.

As soon as he is in arms reach I snatch him in close then push him to the ground. I then quickly take my boot and press it firmly against his throat.

“I don’t know about your other customers but I don’t like to be followed around stores or crowds.” I press down with a bit more pressure, just so he can answer me.

He winces in pain. “S….sorry. But I did…tell you I wanted…to finish this.” I go to step down harder but he grabs my ankle and twists, causing me to lose my footing.

He then pins me under him and I feel his full weight on top of me. “Get off of me.” I hiss. “Not until we finish this, conversation.”

“This conversation is over!“ I scream at him. He looks deep into my eyes and he gives me a wicked grin. “I’m sorry, but you seem to still think you have control of this situation. When clearly I’m the one on top. But I’ll be nice. The conversation will end after I tell you this…I’ve decided that I want you to be my new toy. And when I want something I take it.” I see a flash of something wild in his eyes as I feel his hands go for my throat.

His strength takes me by surprise as he starts cutting off my air supply. “Let…me…go!” I scream knowing it’ll cause at least someone to come find out why I’m screaming.

But…

No one comes.

Not even a curious onlooker.

He squeezes tighter and I try my best to fight him off. But it’s like an animal is wearing his skin and attacking me. I can feel him clearly aroused as he chokes me out on the ground.

Wait no, it can’t end this way.

I can’t die this way underneath this sick son of a bitch.

My vision starts to blacken around the corners. Qimir slowly starts to fog up into darkness, and just when I’m about to pass out, I hear him say these haunting words to me.

“You’re exactly what I’ve been looking for, Akasha, why would I ever let you go?”

•••••

I jerk awake and cough to clear my throat. I go to move except my body is tied up. But in a way that makes me look spread out like some attraction.

I glance around and see I’m somewhere unknown. And I’m completely naked. The panic starts to set in but it stops as soon as I smell his scent.

“QIMIR!” I scream his name as my eyes try to look for him. “I know you’re near! I can smell you! Show yourself!” I scream, in hopes that someone will hear me.

Someone did…

He did…

“I see you’re awake. Good.” Qimir says with a soft smile on his face. “What the fuck is going on! Where am I? Why and I here!” I shout at him, ignoring the cutting sensation from the ropes.

He pulls up a chair and sits down right in front of me. He stares at me as if I didn’t just ask him a barrage of questions. “You know you are a heavy sleeper. It was like I was dragging a dead body in here. Oh! This is my place by the way. It’s on a remote island so no one can disturb us.” He smiles big as if kidnapping me was something to be proud of.

“Why am I here?” I spat at him. Qimir looks at me as if I’m a piece of art to be gawked at. The way the ropes bite into my skin, I know they’ll leave marks and burns.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re here because I want you here.” He brushes his thumb against his bottom lip and continues to stare…study me. I begin to feel uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Why am I tied up like this? I’m not some prized piece of meat!” He leans forward and strokes his hand against the fatty flesh of my thigh. “Because you look pretty….You are a female Venus Fly. Rare even when your people were alive and thriving. What was the ratio? For every fifteen boys, only three girls would be born. And I do like to collect rare things. But you? You, Akasha not only are you rare but you’re deadly. I have great use for you.”

I give him a bewildered look. “You’re fucking craz-” He gets up knocking the chair over and he had his hand gripping my jaw. “Don’t call me that, I’m not crazy. I see we have to start some lessons on teaching you how to have manners and respect for others.”

“GET OFF OF ME YOU BASTARD!” I scream at him, but all he does is smile. “You know now you’re screaming and yelling but soon you’ll worship me like a God. And I’ll be sure to reward you.” He takes his other hand and he trails his three fingers down my bare flesh, slowly getting closer to my exposed pussy.

“Stop.” I say as I feel him near my pubic hairs. “Do you know how much restraint I had to have, tying you up like this? The temptation I had to open this pretty little thing and slide anything it in just to watch your reaction?” He parts my wet lips and I feel my clit spasm.

“You wanted to sodomize me? You’re no better than-“ He makes me eat my words when he slides his middle finger inside of me while he uses his other two fingers to rub my lips.

My body responds to his touch which makes me angry. “S…stop.” I stutter to him. He leans in close to my ear. “Your lips are telling me to stop but these sets of lips seem to be telling me another story. As a matter of fact, how about her and I get better acquainted.”

Qimir slides his finger out of me and my pussy misses the violation. I see him get on his knees for me and he looks up at me, as if I’m a deity of some sort and he’s is there to worship.

I watch him lean in close to inhale my sex and I want to shrink back from him but in my attempts the ropes dig deeper into my skin.

“You smell so sweet, I wonder if the taste is the same.” He leans in and I feel his tongue flicking across my clit.

I clamp my lips shut to keep from moaning but he makes it a challenge as he grips my roped hips and buries his face deep into my pussy.

My eyes roll back as I feel his tongue twirl and flick across my clit. He presses his tongue flat against my pussy and my body tries to rock to find more friction.

“Careful, one false move and you could cause more rope burn, Akasha. But you like a little pain and pleasure don’t you?” Qimir asks as he opens my lips wider and slides his tongue deep inside of me.

This time I let the moan slip out. I feel him smiling against my sex and I don’t care. I need a release. I need to use his face.

“P…please.” I moan out as I look down at him, eating me out. He shakes his head and now he’s only using the tip of his tongue. “If…you…want something…then…say…Master.” He says lazily twirling his tongue.

“Please Master.” I whine. “I need to come.” He gives a deep guttural chuckle. “Look at you, moaning like a bitch in heat. I won’t forgive you for calling me crazy. But I’m not that cruel of a master.” He gives a hard suck to my clit causing me to groan and then he gets up off of his knees.

I was breathing heavy as I watch him grab something from his table.

A light saber.

My body tenses from the memories in my past of how much damage something like that can cause.

He lights it and the hue is blood red. He brings it close to me and I fight the urge to flinch. The heat from the saber could melt even the finest hairs on a person or animals skin.

“Don’t worry, my little flower. I’ll never use this part on you…just this part.” He turns the saber off and flips it so the handle it near me.

“Tell me, will you let me be your master? Will you let me teach you how to be the perfect predator?” As he asks me, I feel him rub the handle of the saber against my swollen clit and I shudder as I stupidly nod.

I don’t say a word from the fear and in his eyes I can tell he knows I’m afraid of the saber. “Akasha…you had a lot to say earlier. Why aren’t you being so colorful with your words now?” He slides the handle in slowly causing my eyes to roll back but my body stiffens again.

“Does this scare you? Does this give you pleasure?” He strokes the handle against my entrance and I let a nod go. “Pl-”

“Ah, what do you say?”

“Master…please. Don’t do that.” I moan out as he slides the handle in slowly. “Don’t do what? Slide the handle of my saber inside of the needy plump pussy? You don’t want me to make you feel good?” He whispers against my ear as his hand finds my throat.

The fear I have gets clouded when starts to slowly fuck me with the saber. I feel the build up in my lower stomach as I moan.

“See? Your body likes to feel good. It likes when I do this, but imagine how it’s going to feel when I use the real thing. When my cock is penetrating deep into your walls.”

He goes faster and my moans become more lose my from lips. My thighs burn from the rope and from the tension I have in them.

You can hear the wet noises coming from my soaking wet slit and I don’t care. I want a release.

“You’re taking it so well, my little flower. I bet you want to come don’t you?” I nod quickly as he slows down the pace. I try to buck my hips but I can’t from my restricting position. He raises a brow at me then. “Yes! Yes I do Master. Please!” I beg and plead.

He loosens his grip on my throat and he fucks me harder with the saber making my climax about to hit the tipping point.

“I’m gonna come.” I breathe out as I feel the anticipated tingle. But he stops, he yanks the saber out and tosses it across the room and I give out a shriek of frustration.

“Now would a crazy person deny a creature such as yourself the pleasure of coming? Don’t answer that, you might tell me the wrong answer and piss me off-” He grabs me by my tangled curls and yanks my head back, causing the rope around my shoulders and shoulder blades to tighten.

“You belong to me now, Akasha. Your pleasure, your pain, your very existence is mine. And when I see fit to let you come, it will be on my cock, my mouth, or my fingers. Do you understand? You can speak.” He orders as he looks me in my eyes.

“Yes.” I say through clenched teeth. “Yes what?” He asks with a raised brow. “Yes master…”

“Good girl.” He lets me go and kisses my temple. “Get some rest, we have some training to do tomorrow.” He lets me go and simply walks away, leaving me strung up like some prize that’s been won.

The very second I get the chance, I’m going to kill Qimir. I should’ve known that his scent would lead me to the devils playpen…

[thefruitiestofbois]

The Worst of Us

Chapter 2

Naturally, I don’t think I’m a violent person. Well, I mean I’m not unnecessarily violent. If Joel needs something or someone taken care of then I do my job, but past that I’d say I’m a calm and non hostile person. Everyone I know would agree with that for the most part, except for Ellie fucking Williams. College would have been a snoozefest without her, but I don’t think she would agree with that statement cause I don’t think she likes me that much anymore. Once upon a time, Ellie would have moved a mountain for me if I asked and now she’s punching me in the face before even saying hello. I eye Joel and Ellie from the desk I’ve propped myself up against whilst holding an ice pack to my cheek. Neither of them are saying anything, Ellie practically shooting steam out of her ears and Joel still like a statue- a very stressed statue. He needs some collagen for those frown lines and maybe some hair dye. I clear my throat and look directly into Ellie’s rageful glare and break the silence,

“You know, usually I wait till the third or fourth date before I get this intimate with someone.” I place the ice pack down and gesture to my cheek, letting out a short chuckle as her lips press firmly into a thin line before she snaps back,

“Go fuck yourself.” I laugh once more in return, I love how easy she is to rile up. I mean I’m pretty sure I’m her arch nemesis from college so just breathing alone warrants a glare at the very least from Ellie. 

“Why? Are you hoping you’ll get to watch?” I ask, making sure to give her a smug smile. 

“Hey, both of you quit that. I don’t have time for this shit.” Joel interjects and I can tell he’s becoming increasingly antsy about what we discussed before Ellie gave me a warm welcome. “Who else knows about Owen?” I gesture to a very tense Ellie, and he assures me she can stay for this conversation. I go to ask her if she wants a massage but decide against potentially bruising my other cheek.

“Well, I mean everyone knows he’s dead by now and SPD think it’s a suicide but apparently Jerry Anderson has the finger pointed right at M&W.” 

“Why at us?” 

“He hinted in a police interview that M&W aren’t as pristine as they look. Maybe plastering the name of your secret organisation’s so-called leader on every company building wasn’t such a good idea for discretion.” Ellie averts her gaze and shuffles uncomfortably in her spot as Joel’s faces downwards to the desk to disguise the guilt that flashed across his face. 

“The company is Miller and Woodward, not Miller and Williams.” His voice rumbles low almost in embarrassment. I hum in acknowledgement, Ellie still shying away from both mine and Joel’s gaze and continue,

“Owen’s body was found by Jesse around 3am by the docks that you use for your off the books imports.” I might as well have told them that the world was ending given the way their eyes were popping out of their sockets. “Wait, how do you not know that? Did Tommy not tell you he called me?” I blurt out question after question and Joel seems to be stumped and he asks me what actually happened and I give him the best answer I can. 

“How do you know if you can actually trust whatever crap she’s spewing out that mouth?” Ellie finally contributes to the conversation she wasn’t even part of in the first place. “This mouth does many things but it definitely doesn’t lie.” I retort and she scoffs. Victory floods my chest as Joel orders her to knock it off so I smirk and resume bringing Joel up to speed on this immensely entertaining shitshow. In a nutshell, Jesse found Owen in one of the shipping containers with a gash decorating his neck and the guns he was expecting were nowhere to be found. Jesse called me and begged me to help him with a situation down at the docks, so I improvised and gave Owen a ride back to his apartment and staged it to look like a suicide. I tell Joel this and Ellie glares at me, asking “You carried a dead body up 17 flights of stairs without arousing any suspicion?”

“What? No, I used the staff elevator, I can’t carry that fat bastard up the stairs.” She laughs in disbelief and faces Joel, 

“Please tell me that you haven’t given this fucking amateur any assignments in the-”

“I’m not an idiot, I stole a uniform and wheeled him in a very large suitcase. I mean he almost didn’t fit but that’s beside the point- anyone who saw me would have just thought I was security. And I cleaned up properly so there’s no prints or any residue that can be tied to the docks.” I jab a finger at Ellie, “And fuck you for calling me an amateur.” All Ellie does is roll her eyes but Joel just nods at me and mumbles a thank you. The corners of my mouth rise slowly into a grin as an idea emerges in my head.

“Before I go, are you still having that gala?” Joel nods, “Instead of paying me like you usually do for my services, I want something else.” He considers it for a moment,

“Go on.” I tilt my shoulders back and my chin up towards Ellie.

“I’ll take care of Jerry Anderson for free and in exchange for my professional service this morning, I want an invite to the gala.” Joel agrees without hesitation but I narrow my eyes at Ellie, “I want her as my date.” 

“You are fucking unbelievable.” Ellie begins charging towards me, cheeks flushed and chest heaving until Joel steps between us. 

“Out of the goodness of my own heart, I’ll even get you Collins as a client.” Even though he’s facing Ellie I know he’s considering it as Ellie pleads with her eyes for Joel to think of something else as he utters something low enough for just Ellie to hear. Micah Collins has been on M&W’s wish list since they first established the headquarters in Seattle and I know he’s rejected every offer Joel has made for the past three years. He’s the one client on every firm’s wish list but with the right sort of encouragement, I know I could usher him to M&W. I know Joel wouldn’t ever force Ellie to do anything but I knew both of them would cave eventually. Micah was a vital prospect so they just needed time before Joel eventually persuades her. 

In all honesty, I would have taken care of Anderson free of charge and I would have pushed Micah to Joel’s firm either way because I owed Joel a lifelong debt. I have repaid him time and time again, even though he has never asked me to. I take any assignment he gives me and take care of any potential problems, like Owen, on my own. I tell them both to just think on it as I exit his office. The moment the door closes behind me, tears swell at the bottom of my eyes as the sound of police sirens echo all around me. I squeeze my eyes shut but it does nothing to stop the flashes of blue and red consuming me. Fragments of that night play on loop in my head and I lift my hand to my chest to try and steady my breathing. It rips my insides out every time I think about her and seeing her today, after so long, flooded me with guilt. I have spent years locking that night away in a box and shoving it into the furthest corners of my head. Seeing Ellie somehow shreds me into pieces and builds me back up at the same time. I give myself a minute to regain composure and I head out into the parking lot and straight into my car. My head leans against the headboard and I let out a loaded sigh while rubbing the top of my head. I straighten in my seat, I force the sight of a bloody arm spilling out of a toppled car further inside my mind and start the car up to drive to my next destination for the night: Abby Anderson’s house.

[rxscss]

spotted !! johnny kennedy boarding a commercial flight out of lax this evening and rumor has it, it’s a one way ticket.

tw: depression, suicidal ideation, drug & alcohol abuse

he had been dragging his feet, feeling like a walking corpse for weeks, a complete shadow and shell of the man he once was - the man that oozed confidence and had not a care in the world. but now? now everything seemed meaningless. the drugs weren’t getting him high enough, the alcohol wasn’t getting him drunk enough and even the sex wasn’t doing it for him. he simply felt empty - he felt nothing at all and everything at once simultaneously and he didn’t know how to deal with it, felt as though he was going absolutely insane. and when his usual tricks seemed to not be working anymore, he found himself at the door of someone he never thought he’d turn to in a time like ths - his mother.

the kennedy headquarters was a huge building in downtown los angeles - a giant glass building that housed hundreds of employees for all of his mother’s and his sister’s many business ventures - but none that were his own, a realization that was hitting him more and more with every step he took down the long, eerily minimalistic hallway towards the gigantic white doors that led to his mother’s office. he hesitates for a moment, before he realizes that this is his only hope. his mother may have been ruthless, but she loved, him right? she had gotten him out of so many of his own messes before, surely she’d be able to get him out of this one.

with a deep breath, hand reaches out to pull the door open, stepping into the room as he closes it behind him, eyes falling on the blonde behind her desk, frantically typing away at her computer. “mom?” johnny says quietly, causing kathy to lift her head and avert her attention towards him. “darling, it’s kathy, you know mom makes me feel like an old lady. come in, i was just reading up the contracts for your spinoff, we certainly can’t fit in all of your antics in one episode anymore, why not give you your own?” she beamed at him. “i told you i didn’t want to  do that.” johnny answered back, slowly making his way into the room as he sat down in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk as she laughed at him. “honey, you don’t even know what you want, trust me.” she said, pointing to the elaborate script sign that hung up above her desk that read ‘kathy knows best.’ and turned back to her computer.

he stayed quiet for what felt like hours, staring down at his shoes as all of his thoughts swirled in his mind, so many things, but nothing all at once, until he finally blurted out. “i’m depressed.” which caused kathy to jerk her head upwards once more, staring at him blankly. “i wake up every day wishing that i hadn’t, and i’ve tried drinking, i’ve tried drugs, i’ve tried fucking everything to make it stop and go away, but it’s not. and i don’t know what to do and i...i’m scared. i don’t want to be found in some fucking alleyway like some junkie and i don’t want to be a fucking loser but i don’t know how to stop. i look in the mirror and i hate myself because i’m not someone that matters and i just...i need help mom.” he admitted for the first time outloud. 

a cold, stoic, emotionless stare is what kathy serves him, slowly moving her glasses from her face as she leans slightly forward in her seat. “jonathan, rich people can’t be depressed. if you’re an addict, we can check you into a nice little rehabilitation center like your pretty friend, austen. you can stay there for a while, come out, have a little redemption arc episode, i can get you sponsorships with all of those silly little mental health apps and you’ll be good to go.” she said with a raise of her brow. “but don’t sit here and tell me you’re depressed. you have nothing to be depressed about, i’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted and more.” she said, taking a breath before she went to continue, but johnny wouldn’t let her.

“you haven’t given me shit.” he spat back. “you’ve given me nothing, you’ve used me as your little fucking pawn since the day i was born because i was the only one who wouldn’t fight you on it, you rewarded me for acting like an asshole and a shitty person and now i’m almost fucking thirty years old and what do i got to show for it? a criminal record? a slew of women who hate my guts? a shitty reputation? the only person who ever gained anything from any of that is you and you know it.” he spat back at her, causing kathy to stand from her seat and reach over the desk and smack him across the face, holding his chin in her hands. “listen up, jonathan. i never held a gun to your head, nor did i to your sisters. they all ventured off, did their own things, became their own people and when you never did i worked relentlessly to give you something that was yours, i allowed you to do whatever you goddamn want because you have no talents, you have no passion, you wouldn’t know drive if it kicked you in the ass. you’re lazy. and entitled and selfish, so i used that to make you matter. and you want to blame me? sit here and claim that you’re depressed? please jonathan, you have no one to blame for that but yourself. get your shit together, we start filming for season twenty one next week.”

he’s frozen in place as his mother slaps him, barely feeling the sting from it, but more so feeling her words, his cold gaze stuck on her as she grabs his chin and forces his gaze. and it’s her words that light a fire under him, that make him realize that it was his life, that he was going to show her, and the rest of the god damn world, he wouldn’t go down like this, even if he fell on his face a million times while trying. the sad, defeated expression leaves his face, jaw clenches as he grabs her wrist, pushing her hand off of him. “effective immediately, i’m off the show. for good. i will break any camera you try to put in my face.” he said through gritted teeth, only causing loud laughter from kathy. “oh you’re ‘off the show’?” she said, making air quotes. “i’m off the show. and i dont’ care about what fucking contracts you made me sign, go ahead and sue your own son, see what kind of publicity that gets you. you want to sue me for all that i’m worth? then keep my god damn money. i don’t need it and i don’t fucking want it. and i don’t want any part of this. i’m done with it and i’m done with you.” 

before he loses his nerve, he stands from the chair, feeling tears brimming in his eyes as he begins to storm out of her office, only hearing the heckling and laughter of kathy behind him. “sure, honey, i’ll see you in a week when you come to your senses.” she taunted, causing johnny to freeze in the doorframe for a moment before looking at her over his shoulder. “actually, i just came to my senses, for the first time in twenty eight fucking years.” he said, sticking up the middle finger at her as he stormed out of kennedy headquarters. 

after his meeting with his mother, he found himself in the mahogany office of his father’s golfclub. he and his father had never been close, but as soon as he made his way into the room, johnny had the breakdown that he had been holding back for far too long and like he was a little child, his father consoled him and held him in his arms. and for the first time, they had a moment. they sat and talked for hours, his father validating everything he was feeling, helping him come up with a course of action. after making a few phonecalls, he got johnny enrolled in a program at  the cours florent, the most prominent acting school in all of paris. he helped him pack up his things, drove him to the airport where he got him a one way ticket on a commercial flight out of hollywood and straight to paris and as he hugged his son goodbye, he left him with five words that johnny never thought he’d hear from his father.

“i’m proud of you, son.”

[implexedactions]

Penance is a virtue

Yandere!Enji Todoroki x Reader

Enji Todoroki is many things; kidnapper, lover, sadist, hero, villain, husband. He is many, many things. But he isn’t delusional.

Beta-Read by best person: @absolute-flaming-trash

Warning: Yandere content and themes, Angst, Heavy emotional themes, Suicide, Stockholm syndrome, Kidnapping.

---

You wake up, eyes dashing to the clock.

5:55 AM - SUNDAY

Okay, good, you hadn’t slept in. Enji always wanted you to wake him up. He got...mad if you didn’t. You turn over to him in bed, expecting to find him still sleeping.

Teal eyes stare back at you instead.

“Ah!”

His face takes on a sorrowful expression.

“Did I frighten you? Sorry. I could not sleep.”

Not leaving you time to respond, he pulls you into his chest, under the covers. He sighs in content, and you press into him, not wanting him to forget your devotion.

After some time, he pulls you up to his face, kissing your forehead gently.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“U-uh, what do you mean? Are you okay?”

Enji sighs, failing to meet your gaze.

“I never do compliment you that often...”

---

He carries you to the breakfast table, adorned with pancakes, your favourite.

“What’s going on Enj- I mean, dear. I’m meant to make you breakfast?”

He fails to answer you, instead sitting down with you on his knee. He takes a fork and puts some pancake on it.

“Eat.”

And so you do.

When you finish, he moves to wash up.

“W-what are you doing? You told me that was my job.”

Your memory wanders back to your first few months here, when you disobeyed his every command...and received due punishment for it.

“Are you going to punish me again?”

It escapes your lips before you can stop it. The thought of being punished again, like before, makes your veins cool with fear.  Your breathing increases and you move down on your knees onto the cold kitchen floor.

“P-please, I swear, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t-”

“Stop.”

He walks over, his thighs the same height as your head. You move to undo his belt, but a hand puts a stop to that.

“There is no punishment. I am just doing an acceptable act for my spouse.”

The words “but you never do that” get stopped in your throat. You instead swallow and try to weakly smile. Looking up at Enji from your position on the ground, sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, to contrast the unsettled expression on his face.

---

He places you on a stool while he washes up. You fiddle with your hands, nervous. This isn’t how Enji usually acts. He’s so...vulnerable. In all honesty, it’s scary.

“Do you like the sunrise, my sweet?”

You look out to the orange glow emanating from the windows.

“Do you want me to like it, my sweet?”

Enji simply sighs and continues washing up.

“I’m sorry you cannot enjoy it. One should always appreciate what they have...”

---

After breakfast, he walks silently to the study. You follow behind him perfectly, like he trained you to.

He walks into the study, sitting down at his writing desk, and you take your place in his lap. He pulls out pen and paper, and you avert your eyes. 

It isn’t for good spouses like you to read.

He spends the better half of 6 hours writing. You entertain yourself by tracing the pattern of the wallpaper. This evolves into focusing on Enji’s breathing, noticing how he breathes in more, not less when he becomes frustrated with something on the page. You eventually move on to thinking about all the things you miss from the outside world, like ice cream, and human connection. You finish out the last hour by thinking about how angry Enji would be if he knew such a perfect little spouse were thinking such nasty little things. 

Shuffling about, he motions for you to hop off his leg, and then stands and leaves the room without speaking to you. You get the feeling he’s coming back, though; he left the door open.

You’re worried. You’re scared beyond belief. This isn’t like him, this entire day is wrong. You’re hoping he’ll burst in and start yelling, the anticipation feels worse than any potential punishment. You consider that maybe this is the punishment and that you should perhaps just start apologising regardless. He didn’t take well to that before though.

This day has made little sense. Enji is acting so far out of his usual behaviour that it doesn’t just scare you because he might hurt you. It scares you because you don’t know what is even happening. It takes you back to the days you first came here—a blurry, hazy mess. You struggle to even remember it. You remember bits and pieces. Chains, fire, the cold, the scent of sex. Small things like that.

You turn your head to the papers on the desk, intrigued by what took up so much of his time. Before you can look away, you see what they are. Letters, addressed to countless people, your parents, Shoto, Rei, Hawks, various news stations.

You glance towards the open door...surely what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him right?

You pick up the letter to the Hawks. 

 Keigo, I write this letter to you as a mentor, and I presume a father figure. I know that in some capacity, you looked up to me. You were just a scared kid, and I helped. That said, if what I have done becomes public knowledge, do not defend me. I do not know how much you know of my dealings, but for the sake of your future, throw me to the dogs. Do not say that I was perfect, or that I did no wrong. When I turn and look at my darling, I see my mistakes for the damning judgments they are. You will be a fine no.1 hero, just let go of your predecessor. Please.

 That alleviated little concern. Undeterred, you move onto the letter to the media.

 To all the news channels and gossip rags that haunt this city like the festering ghouls you are, I detest you. You created division, turned heroics into a popularity contest, seeded doubt during a time where we needed hope, and fought so hard to bring us all to our knees. I know my story will vilify me, so I accept my place in the burning flames of hell. Just know that when you get down there, I will be waiting to enact justice.

 You are practically hyperventilating now. You grab the letter to your parents. You don’t know what these letters are, but they seem like-

The letter is snatched away from your hands. It appears you forgot to watch the door.

Turning around, tears in your eyes, fear in your veins, half-baked excuses running rampant in your mind. You expect to see vengeful Enji with a glint in his eye, telling you it is time for your punishment. Instead, you find an apathetic Enji, eyes soft and watery, stance broken and exhausted.

“I did not want you to see that. I am sorry that you did.”

Enough is enough, you want answers. Pushing against your instincts, you stammer out a question.

“W-What is going on? Why...why are you like this?”

He seems taken aback, eyes opening wide. This minor act of defiance, of speaking out when not spoken to, is enough to break you. Falling to your knees, you look away from him. Aghast that you even thought of defying his wishes.

“I’m sorry! Please, forgive me! I didn’t mean to question you like that! Or read the letters! Please! I didn’t- I don’t-”

A calloused hand grips your shoulder.

“Please. Stop.”

You look up to see Enji’s eyes, dull and watery again.

“Sorry.”

“Trust me, I am sorry too.”

---

The afternoon is spent on the couch, watching TV in Enji’s lap. He seems to notice your nervous disposition, as he slowly envelopes you in a hug the more the hours go by. Eventually, he gets up to make dinner by himself, much to your unvoiced dismay.

You simply stare as he makes it. Both of you silent. He occasionally looks over to you, as if to make sure you haven’t merely vanished into the ether. You feel like you might vanish into the ether, honestly.

You move to the dining table, and a couple of minutes later, he brings out dinner. Silent, he sits down beside you, but a hand stops you from eating.

“Tell me, do you remember when we first met?” he sounds...hopeful.

“Is...Is this a trap?” you ask cautiously. This entire day has put you on edge.

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I...I can’t remember it, really. Most of those months are...blank, I remember a few pieces of my first couple of months here. They’re admittedly not pleasant memories.”

“I see.”

“I mean, I appreciate that you did those...things you did to me! If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be any good at my job.”

He turns to you and raises an eyebrow.

“Your job?”

“Yeah, loving you, being your spouse.”

“Ah.”

Both of you go quiet. You wait on the signal to start eating. It doesn’t come.

“It was a gala event. You told me how much you hated them, and I laughed and agreed.”

“Ah. Gala’s sound so wonderful, don’t they though? Being outside, getting to dance, to listen to beautiful music.~”

You sway slightly thinking that you could have once been permitted to be a part of such a magical event.

“You may eat now.”

Enji’s command breaks you out of your daydream. He watches as you take your first bite, and follows in kind.

---

When you finish, he seems restless. He gets the plates and puts them in the sink. He then takes you to the living room. He fiddles with a speaker for a couple of seconds, before classical music emerges.

“You said you cannot remember our first meeting, and by extension our first dance. I was wondering, would you like to dance with me?”

Confused, but delighted, you join Enji in the embrace. Softly dancing around the living room, you try to imagine what it was like meeting Enji for the first time. He must’ve seemed so sweet, right? That’s how Enji would come off to a stranger, right?

You lose yourself in the moment, allowing yourself to imagine a life outside of these walls. You would’ve met Enji at the Gala. He would’ve laughed. He would’ve given you his number, the gentlemen that he was. He would’ve taken you to a fancy restaurant for your 1st date. You could’ve shown up at his agency while he was buried under paperwork once, and it would’ve made his day. You could’ve kissed him under the rain, snickering as you pulled away and saw droplets evaporate on contact with his blushing face. He would’ve proposed in a quiet place, with a brilliant ruby. You would’ve met Shoto, and figured out what his deal was. You would’ve grown old together.

But this life is just as beautiful, right?

Enji leans down during the dance and kisses you. Softly, unlike all those times before. It’s beautiful to you. And based on the silent tears running down his face, it’s beautiful to him too.

He pulls you down onto the couch, staring into your eyes as the soft music plays.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“What for?”

“For a lot of things. For kidnapping you. For...training you. For punishing you. For breaking you, beyond belief. For so many, many different things. You are not the person I fell in love with, you are hardly a person. I broke you, I gutted your personality until all that was left was a shell, echoing any command I gave it. You do not have a soul anymore.”

He pauses, seemingly debating over this next part, ignoring your shaky and scared reassurances.

“And I am also sorry for the poison in our food tonight.”

Your world shatters at that.

“The fatal effects should kick in soon enough. It will not be a nasty death. Even in death, I intend to remain dignified. Or at least, I wish to preserve your beauty.”

You cannot vocalise anything, your mind is failing you. From either the poison or situation, you are unclear.

“There is an antidote on the kitchen counter. If you can get there and drink it, you will live. And if you are feeling ever so generous, you may even give some to me.”

He turns and looks you in the eyes.

“My only command is that you do not get that antidote.”

“Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Disobey me, and save yourself. Or obey me, and die.”

He shrugs.

“I did say I was sorry.”

“I-I...why?”

“Like I said. You are a shell. If you get the antidote, maybe I have not entirely broken you, maybe you can still be saved from my conditioning. If you do not get the antidote, I get to make Dabi just that little bit happier.”

You try to get up and into the kitchen. You really try. Your arms try to push up. You try to move off the couch. But...that feeling of fire licking at your body...it’s paralysing.

You instead collapse back onto the couch, and Enji sighs.

“Can you hold me?”

“Sure, my sweet.”

His arms pull you into his body. You feel yourself getting more and more tired.

“I’m sorry...I couldn’t be...what you wanted...”

“I am sorry I could not be what you wanted either...”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Crimson Gods

Pairing: vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts, allusion to breeding.

Words: 2362.

Summary: Living in the world where most lands are governed by the Noble, ancient vampires who shed human blood simply for their own amusement, you try leading a quiet and secluded life along with your mother. Sadly, you aren’t prepared when a vampire comes to your town.

P.S. When I was younger, I really, really loved Vampire Hunter D. I watched the movie again yesterday, and here’s the result ahahah. 

______________

It was way past midnight, but you couldn't force yourself to sleep, tossing and turning in your comfy bed while thinking of your travel tomorrow. You were supposed to leave the town for the first time in years to visit your grandmother who lived in the Northern Frontier Sector, and now you dreamt of how you were going to embrace her, kiss her cheeks despite her scolding you for not behaving properly in public. You hadn't seen her in 7 years. After the incident, you had never even once left the town, and your grandmother could hardly travel so far due to her age. Of course, you kept exchanging letters, but how could a cold letter, though written with great respect, replace a live communication?

While you kept wondering how your encounter would go, all of a sudden it felt cold under your cozy cotton blanket, and you reluctantly got up to take a huge comforter out of your heavy wooden chest. Why was it freezing tonight even with the windows closed? You were just in the middle of September. To be honest, you hardly remembered the last time the weather was so bad as you wrapped a comforter around your trembling shoulders, thinking whether you have to take your winter nightgown instead of light muslin one you were wearing now.

Throwing a glance at your window, you saw the frosted panes and furrowed your brows, refusing to believe it. Dear Lord, you lived in the Western Frontier Sector, not far to the North! Was it really going to snow out of nowhere tonight? As you moved closer to look at an empty street, you realized that a huge cross on top of a building on the other side started crumpling with a disgusting sound as if it were made of paper, not pure silver to protect citizens from the creatures of the night. Several crosses on the buildings down the street had been destroyed, too. Quickly, you looked down only to find the flower beds withering within seconds despite your beautiful roses blooming just a couple of hours ago. Now they all turned black.

You stilled on the spot, unable to believe your eyes and covering your ears from that horrifying noise. You had only seen something like that once, and it was the time when most villagers had already been dead, turned into beasts without a soul who craved for blood as much as their masters did. That night you had lost your beloved father as you fled your house in a rush, just a little child back then, and, once you arrived in the town, had never even once left your new home.

The crumpled crosses, dead flowers and a sudden temperature drop could mean only one thing: a vampire had come to the town. It wasn't some upyr, oh no, it was one of the Nobles, maybe even an Elder if you were unlucky.

Dear Lord, what a Noble wanted in a peaceful town like this? There were neither treasures nor mechanisms of the ancient, nothing that could potentially interest a Noble. Except that they might be simply eager to shed human blood for their own amusement...

Before you screamed at the top of your voice to wake up everyone around, you heard the sound of a large mirror in your room breaking, and then felt somebody's strong grip on your throat despite no one being in front of you. The world turned black before you uttered a single word.

_______________

Moving a heavy crimson curtain a bit so you could look out the window, you gasped, watching the corn fields far beneath looking like neat pieces of cloth. The view was incredible! You had never seen anything like this before, though you certainly didn't remember travelling in such fine carriage ever before either. It was truly stunning, made of black steel, shining in the sunlight as if it only been made yesterday. Steven laughed when you said it out loud, explaining that this carriage had been more than a century old. Apparently, the Nobility's carriages were miraculous since you couldn't find even a single scratch on the surface.

"Be careful, sweetheart." The man behind your back said, gently bringing you closer to him and further from the window, curtain falling back and hiding the two of you from the outside world. "Night does not fall yet."

"Forgive me my curiosity. I have never seen anything as magnificent." You smiled sheepishly at the handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a long black cape with red lining.

He let out a low chuckle, taking your hand and kissing it briefly while you forgot how to breathe for a second, deeply embarrassing by such outpouring display of affection. You lead a rather quiet secluded life in the town, pretty much never being around men of your age: your mother was going to choose a respectable husband for you herself, so you never worried about it before. Now, however, you felt ashamed for being so close to a man despite loving him dearly. Oh, what would your mother say if she saw you now? Wouldn't she be worried? Would she approve of your marriage to a No-

You blinked as you stared at the handsome man's pale face, feeling all your worries fading away. As long as you stayed with the love of your life, nothing else mattered, right?

"If that is what you wish, we will travel by air a lot more right after I present you at Western Frontier Court, sweetheart." His deep, silky voice made you let out a nervous chuckle as you felt your cheeks growing hot. "My, aren't you adorable?"

"Please, Steven, stop it!" You furrowed your brows as he grinned at you, baring his sharp fangs you paid no attention to. "I cannot believe I am getting married to you so soon. It feels... strange. A little unsettling."

"And why is that?" There was some wariness to his voice.

"It's just... I have never imagined myself being married to anyone. Surely, I thought of having a family at some point, but it was so distant. I have never even pictured myself close to a man, let alone a High Lord like you." You admitted honestly, biting your lower lip and averting his gaze. "You have never been married before, too, have you? Aren't you frightened even the slightest bit?"

"A little." He answered too soon, yet you disregarded it as well. "But I have no doubts we will make a good couple, sweetheart. I will cherish you like no other man ever would."

Embarrassed to the point your face was on fire, you decided to drop it, not knowing how a nobleman like Steven Grant Rogers could have an audacity to say such things. He was completely shameless! You hoped he was going to be more reserved while presenting you at court; you pictured your grandmother fainting if she heard him speaking like now.

What was Western Frontier Court like? You had never been there, not than any human ever could: as far as you knew, not even all vampires could serve the Nobility living in the high castle surrounded by mountains. You heard its peaks were covered with snow all year round.

"Have the king ever visited your castle?" You suddenly asked, back to your curious self.

Steven's face became even paler. "He did on several occasions, but it was a long time ago way before I was even born. I have only seen him once, and I do not think I will ever forget this encounter."

"Oh, is he as frightening as the legends say?"

"You cannot describe it with words, sweetheart. But do not be worried, he had been asleep for more than a thousand years now, and he surely won't wake up just to attend some Noble's marriage." A faint smile twisted Steven's lips as he drop a soft kiss to your forehead. "Actually, please do not refer to him as a king. The Nobles call him the Great One."

"Oh, I see. Thank you." Nodding, you turned your face back to the window covered by a crimson curtain, biting your lip again. "Can I watch the sunset a little? I won't be long, I promise."

"As you wish, sweetheart. Please come back to me once you are done, it is going to be a long night."

Gesturing to the large black coffin laying in the middle of your carriage, the man brushed his cold soft lips against your cheek and got up from his seat, smiling at you watching him. You remembered being very unhappy once you learnt there was only one coffin: you had never thought you would lay close to your betrothed with your head on his chest before your marriage. How terribly bold it was of Steven to make you sleep so close to him! However, you were content he had never even once tried touching you inappropriately, always treating you with respect: he said he admired your purity and innocence while not many Noble women were bothered by them.

Once he got inside the coffin, you lifted the curtain again, squinted as rays of bright light pierced the darkness of the carriage. Oh, how incredibly beautiful was the sunset in front of you. You had seldom seen such lovely sight as this. Would you miss the sun once you reach the high castle? You surely would, you thought. Hopefully, your betrothed would keep his promise to travel with you, and when he fell asleep during the day, you would walk in daylight all by yourself.

As you kept staring at the bright sky coloured in orange and pink, all of a sudden you thought why did you have to live in the high castle with Steven while your home was far away from the white mountains, in a little human town where you spent the last several years. Oh, right, you were engaged to the Overseer of the Western Frontier Sector, the highest Noble guarding the lands where you were born and raised. He was a peerless warrior and a fierce leader, a vampire respected by other Nobles.

A vampire? Steven was a vampire? Why would you be engaged to a vampire, let alone the Noble? The Overseer of the lands you were born and raised, the one who had taken advantage of those poor humans living in the Western Frontier Sector and let other Nobles ravage your cities and villages, destroying everything on their way.

You were engaged to the vampire overlord, a ruthless, cold-blooded being who could wipe out every human in these lands if he desired so. No, he was not your betrothed, the man you promised to marry willingly. He was the one who kidnapped you from your own bed at night, casting some spell over you to make you forget who you were.

You clamped a hand around your mouth to stop the pathetic sounds you were making as you cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Dear Lord, why was the Overseeker doing it to you? What could he gain from this cruel game? Seemingly nothing, except for having some fun with a silly human girl. But that what the Nobles were doing once they got bored, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, you thought, happy you were given a chance to escape - even if it cost you your own life, it was still for the better.

"The Overseeker of the Southern Frontier Sector did, not that I expect you to know. Now, please, come back here. You had enough time watching the sunset."

You couldn't believe your eyes, watching him say it with such confidence. Was he willing to keep playing his twisted game even when his sweet facade fell?

"Why do you pretend as if my death matters to you? You will kill me soon anyway. Does it bring you so much pleasure to murder one more pathetic human?"

"I won't kill you, sweetheart. It has never been my intention."

There was something to his voice, some emotion you struggled to describe that made you feel bitter and regretful. Was it all truly going to end like this? You were so young, supposed to have your whole life ahead of you, now faced with a choice to either let a vampire consume you or jump out the carriage and fell to your death.

"Than what was it? I assume you have been living for more than thousands of years. Aren't you a little too old for playing these games still?" You chocked on a sob, barely containing your tears as you trembled in front of the Overseeker.

"I am not playing a game." He admitted tiredly, suddenly taking the black glove off his hand. "All I wish for is a loving wife who can bear my children and bring peace to my lands. I have been wandering human cities for a great while before I found you, strong enough to carry a dampiel after a few genetic enhancements. Please, do not struggle. I have not come to make you suffer eternal torment."

For a couple of seconds you stared at him with your mouth slightly open, unable to utter a single word. You had expected the vampire to say anything but this. Was it still a game? Now you hoped it was because even being drained till the last drop of blood was better than carrying a dampiel, a child of both vampire and human, feared and loathed greatly by both races. When you recovered, however, you quickly turned the door handle and pushed the door, willing to wait no longer.

But the door did not give to your pressure. To your horror, it stayed still as if it were a solid piece of steel.

Feeling the iron grip of the Overseeker's fingers on you shoulder, you yelped as he dragged you back to his coffin with force, closing the lid before you had a chance to escape. The next second his fingers were on your neck, suffocating you before you lost consciousness just like the night when Steven Grant Rogers kidnapped his human beloved.

______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @lovelydarkdaydream @ninefuckingoneone @jaysayey @megzdoodle​

[kuronanox]

I just wanted you to be happy-Nacht

(Author note: hello everyone I know I’ve been gone for awhile because I needed a break but I’m back and finals are around the corner so after that expect more stories!)

WARNING: Implied suicide

“Hey who's this hottie you've been sulking about?" Vanessa pokes her side as they sipped on red wine and ate some cheese and crackers. Swirling her wine glass she leaned on one elbow and sighed. Reminiscing the times her and Nacht had together.

"He's just a old fling, nothing much. You'd be surprised how important he is though." (Your Name) grinned tipsy and borderline drunk. Staring at the red wine she stop grinning and slowly knitted her brows.

"Doesn't seem like a fling to me girl." Vanessa smirks but doesn't budge on the topic any longer.

(Your Name) sat still leaning on her elbow and staring at the wine. The color was reminding her about blood and how it haunted her every night.

"To think I was the most important in your life."

"Why do you hide in the shadows Nacht?" She asks as they sat by the tree feeling the breeze.

"I don't always." He responds back with a smile on his face. The very one he always had with his eyes closed.

She knew he was dangerous, he would never hurt her but mentally she couldn't open him up as much as he said she helped him. Letting down his hair she brushed it between her fingers and hummed a song.

"(Your Name)?" Nacht says hesitantly as she tugged his hair for him to continue.

"Your the most important person to me." He continues acting out of character as she blushed and hugged him from behind.

After Vanessa and her downed four bottles of wine that night she was stumbling back to the room and refused help from Finral and Asta who insisted. She needed to be alone, after remembering memories of her love it was painful to not cry and scream.

Opening the door to her room she stumbled into bed and cried in her covers. It was pure torture she didn't know where Nacht was or his whereabouts.

"I hate him." She yells and chokes a sob once more. "I hate him so much."

Trying to regain her breathing (Your Name) made it to her desk and open the drawl to reveal the only picture she and Nacht had. He hated pictures but he had agreed that day to take one.

Placing the picture by her bed she laid down as the room started to spin and she blacked out with no more tears.

"Please can we take a photo!" She begs Nacht dragging his arm to a spot under a stall that had lights decorated for a festival they attended.

"Absolutely not. You know I don't like them." He softly tells her as she frowned and looked down to her feet in complete silence.

Nacht sighed and lifted her head and gave her a smile. "I suppose one doesn't hurt love."

Holding the only memories captured of them he wore the biggest smile he had in his entire life. To say he was the happiest that day was true. (Your Name) had planned a small date because he was feeling down. Even if he didn't tell her she could tell he was not feeling well.

Nacht hated the black bulls, he hated coming here but he always came to check up on (Your Name) every once in a while. Walking through the main room he saw the many liquor bottles that were opened and finished. "I dislike people who can't hold their liquor."

"But for her I couldn't."

Appearing into her room it was pitch black except for the small crack of the moon appearing between her blinds. She was faced face down on the bed still in her uniform. Nacht was always quiet when he visited her and that's why she never knew.

Flipping her gently he placed a pillow by her side and covered her body in a blanket and leaving her feet out because he knew that's how she preferred sleeping.

After he looked at the photo she had left out. With a sharp pain in his heart he sadly smiled at it as he brushed it gently with his hands. Nacht was complicated through out their relationship and (Your Name) tried so hard to keep it together only for him to throw it all away.

She sacrificed her own happiness so he could feel that emotion he missed out on part of his life.

"Are you leaving again?" She asks one night as he came into her room with a dark face. Today was different he didn't want to deal with anything but just run away from everything.

"Yes." He plainly answers turning his back to her as she sighs.

"What's wrong Nacht? You know you can talk to me."

With sheer anger he took her dagger and tried to slash himself to put himself out of misery of feeling guilty to haven to be the twin that lived and not his brother. 

"Nacht stop!" She screamed and reacted quickly enough for him to slash her arm instead. The blood trickled down her as she yelled in pain and stumbled back a bit in surprise.

"I-" he says as she falls to the floor and cries.

"I really try to be there for you, you know I would never judge you. I put away my happiness to make you happy. I know it's stupid but I care so much for you. I don't get to see you often so I try to make the best of each moments Nacht. So please nothing was your fault."

Dropping the dagger he fell on his knees and covered his eyes. His vision getting hazy from the blood on his hands and a mix of tears.

"Stop! Stop trying to act like you know me!" He says but regrets saying it to her. "I don't need your pity! That's why we are here right! Because we are broken, damaged and good for nothing losers!" He screamed at her as she holds her arms to stop the bleeding.

"Nacht don't-"

He looks down at the floor as they sat across from each other breathing heavily.

"I don't need you (Your Name) if I'm the cause of your pain I should just leave."

(Your Name) shakes her head and tries to touch him but he slapped her hand away and got up walking towards the door.

"It's best this way, we both won't be hurting no more."

Nacht swallowed his salvia a bit remembering that painful memory as he placed the photo back. Sitting on the side of her bed he watched her sleep peacefully. She had been crying and he could tell cause her eyes were puffy and still a bit red.

"I don't deserve someone like you."

Grabbing her hand he brushed around the scar on her arm and placed soft kisses on them and a final one on her forehead. "One day I hope you forgive me."

"Because it's people like you that I like."

Taking one last look at her sleeping Nacht left quietly in the night.

Waking up the next morning (Your Name) felt like shit. Her head was pounding and she felt wozy. Groaning she turned her head to see a glass of water and a couple of pills on the desk. "Oh bless whoever left it there." She says and happily takes the pill and drinks all the water.

As she swallowed all the water her eyes averted down to see a small piece of paper and a N written on it. Her eyes widen as the glass dropped and choked a bit.

"He's been watching me."

A feeling of anger came towards her as she stomped down to the main living room and looked around only to see the same chaos and no sign of him.

"What's gotten you angry?" Yami says blankly as he smoked his cigarette and she straighten herself and scoffs. "Um it's nothing."

Taking a seat she whispers to Yami. "You wouldn't have seen Nacht recently?" She slyly asks

Yami laughs and blew his smoke out. "I haven't seen that man in ages! Sorry kid. Your secret safe with me though."

Watching everyone's chaos so early in the morning only made her hangover worse as she walked back to her room.

"Just where are you Nacht." She whispers softly.

"I'm right here." He lovingly response back touching her shoulder with his hand. As much as she wanted to be surprised (Your Name) was already use to him popping out of nowhere.

"Why were you in my room last night? I thought you didn't care anymore?"

He sits next to her and places his hands in hers.

"The emotions we hold are very strong sometimes it makes us regret our actions." He speaks looking down at their intertwined hands.

"You tried to kill yourself, I was so scared and I felt helpless when I wanted to help."

Nacht doesn't say a word and pulls her into a hug.

"I've been working on myself since I left." He explains truthfully feeling guilty for leaving her in the dark and casting his darkness on her.

"I just wanted you to be happy."

"I know and for that I am grateful."

There was a moment of silence between the two as they knew things weren't going to be perfect and happy all the time. The life they lived and chosen made them on this path.

"I'm sorry." Nacht says to her feeling the pain of lost. One which he felt before and now he decided that someone was there for him and he would accept it because truthfully he never wanted to leave her.

"You never have to be sorry for the way you feel." She tells him as he clung to her tighter now.

"And this is why I love you so much." He smiles lovingly to her as she smiled back.

[ssamie]

ten. “greatest desire”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide, guns & cementaries

masterlist.      suicide freak!

"uh hi.. i know we don't really know each other that much.." atsushi started off. the boy had a nervous smile on his face as he stiffly waves at kenma, with tanizaki and naomi by his side 

"but have you seen y/n-san?" atsushi asked 

"y/n? why, what happened to her?" kenma asked worriedly 

atsushi, tanizaki and naomi were stood in front of nekoma's gym, trying to look for the girl, as per the president's wishes. "its been about a day since you guys went out to the arcade, right?" tanizaki chimed in "has she shown herself to you, or atleast texted any of you?" 

kenma frowned as he shook his head no. he looked back at the team who were trying to act like they weren't eavesdropping. 

"no.. i just assumed she was busy with work" kenma muttered 

"hmm, i tried to ask ranpo-san but he's too busy" naomi chimed in as she hugged tanizaki's arm to her chest 

"oya oya, sorry to barge in on the conversation-" kuroo interjected. the captain had a sly grin on his face as he walked towards the group. "but we just so happen to overhear something about our manager going missing?" kuroo mused 

"yes, sorry if we're intruding" atsushi bowed 

"but y/n-san went missing again, and the president ordered us to find her in under four hours" tanizaki sighed 

"or else we get our asses handed to us" atsushi shuddered 

kuroo and kenma gave each other a look and nodded along. "we'll try to look for her later" kuroo said "we'll let you guys know" 

"thank you so much!" atsushi exclaimed with a smile "would you mind calling the agency if you find her?" he said as he handed them a piece of paper with the agency's number 

"its really hard tracking her down" tanizaki says with a chuckle "when she chooses to disappear, it's like she never existed in the first place" 

"anyways, we'll be on our way" atsushi excused "we've troubled you long enough" 

"its no problem.." kenma muttered 

naomi waved them goodbye as they walked away. the duo waving back meekly as they watch their retreating figures disappear. 

"hey, you okay?" kuroo nudged his friend kenma nodded and looked down at his shoes "yeah.." 

"i think i'll go look for her now" kenma muttered "eh? kenma, we could just go later" kuroo said with a raised brow 

"im going. bye" kenma muttered, completely disregarding kuroo as he went straight out the door 

"where's he going?" yaku asked as he peeked his head out the gym doors "he's gonna look for y/n" kuroo answered 

"damn. what a simp" yamamoto sneered 

"wow. that's rich coming from you." 

"i swear to god.." kenma grumbled "if she ends up getting found in a ditch and i wasted all that time running around for nothing.." he scoffed 

he's been running around the streets of tokyo, passing through every street and alleyway to try and look for the girl. so far he hasn't seen a single trace of her, not even a single person who has managed to pass by her. 

"y/n.." kenma huffed out. he was currently by a riverbank, leaning against the metal railings of the bridge while he tried to catch his breath. 

"you called?" 

kenma jumped at the sudden emission of her oh-so-familiar voice, and turned around to face her "what the- y/n?! where did you come from?!" kenma shrieked out 

"also, where have you been?! atsushi-kun and a bunch of people from your job came to the school today looking for you" he said 

y/n chuckled and strode over to his side, jumping over the rails and sitting on the flat surface of the bars. "if i told you that the port mafia took me hostage and threatened to execute me, would you believe it?" she mused 

"no." 

"then i won't bother to say" she shrugged 

kenma eyed her warily. her port mafia story could actually be believable, now that he thought about it. given as, her bandages were loosened and torn, almost as if they broke off with too much movement. and along with the dried blood resting upon her cheeks and hands. 

"are you okay?" kenma asked worriedly 

even if it was believable, it could've been just her trying to kill herself yet again. not that it was any better

"of course" she smiled "though my body is a bit sore.. chuuya really doesn't hold back"

kenma froze and slowly turned his head towards her with a blank and emotionless look on his face. 

"chuuya doesn't what." kenma spat out "did you seriously disappear to hook up with that dog? that-that man child? that eyesore? that-" 

"what are you talking about?" she laughed

kenma huffed and propped his elbow on the cold metal, resting his chin on his hand as he pouted 

"you're really funny, kenma-kun" she mused 

"really? cause im not laughing." kenma grumbled "i ran around the whole city for you, only to find out you ran off with some guy" his honey hued orbs eyed her down, watching her chuckle softly as the golden rays of the sun illuminated the surroundings around her

"y/n.." he mumbled "why did you really disappear?" 

"i already told you" she replied with a sigh "the port mafia is truly a force to reckon with" 

"that's why you gotta stay safe, kenma-kun" she mused "you never know who and when they'll strike next" 

kenma sighed and nodded along. it was old news -- the port mafia, that is -- its been stirring up the whole city for the past few months. 

"ne, kenma-kun" she called out "if we do end up dying alongside each other, i suggest we drown ourselves in this river." she said 

she stared down at the flowing water, the golden colour of the setting sun reflecting off of it. "its clear and pretty, not much people are around.. its quite tranquil." she hummed

"i never really understood this.." kenma muttered "but why are you so intent on dying?" 

"and i never understood you, and so many others." she replied "tell me, kenma.." she turned to face him, her bandaged hands loosely gripping the railings, as her legs and feet dangle off the ledge. 

"do you really think there's any value in the act of living?" 

kenma didn't answer. instead he stared at her, and her clouded eyes, each orb holding an unforgivable amount of sin and deciet that he could only imagine. 

"well.. is there any value in the act of dying?" he asked back 

she blinked dumbfoundedly at him, fairly shocked at his question. 

"isn't there anything else you desire? life is kinda cool too yaknow?" kenma said in a sheepish tone 

she stared at him a few minutes longer before averting her gaze. she chuckled and closed her eyes as the cold wind breezed past. "man fears death, and at the same time, man is drawn to death" she said 

"its a singular event in one's life that no one may reverse" she hummed "and that is my greatest desire." 

kenma didn't know how to reply to that, so he didn't. he simply looked down up at the setting sun, letting silence wash upon them both. 

"hey kenma" she called out. kenma looked at her, curious and wary. "yes?" he asked 

"wanna hang with an old friend with me?" she suggested with a soft smile

"me? won't that be intrusive though? i don't really know them.." kenma muttered nervously

"it's fine. he'd probably be happy i even talk to people my age" she said with a chuckle. she jumped off the railings and landed on the ground with a grin. she stretched her aching arms over her head and patted kenma's back. 

"he's a lot like you" she mused "always saying life is worth living and all.." 

"okay then.." kenma agreed reluctantly "but if i sense that person doesn't like me one bit, im leaving." he groaned out

"im pretty sure that won't happen" she chuckled sheepishly 

"why are we in a cementary?" kenma grumbled 

"is this where you kill us both?" he scoffed playfully "i wouldn't be surprised if you already have a hole dug for us" 

she chuckled and shook her head "no, no" she mused "were just taking a small stroll" she cooed as she looked around the awfully empty surrounding  "ah! there it is" she perked up "it's been so long since i went here that i almost forgot my way around" 

kenma followed her as she skipped away, though he was quite confused, he didn't question her. 

"hurry, kenma" she called out as she watched him struggle to walk faster "i hate you" he grumbled back, which she chose to ignore 

she smiled softly as she stood infront of the oh-so-familiar grave. 

"geez." she mumbled "its been so long since we hung out, odasaku" 

"shame we couldn't meet at the usual place" she chuckled and sat down on the grassy ground. she leaned back on the gravestone, resting her back against it as she waited for kenma to arrive 

"y/n?" on cue, kenma chimed in. he was panting slightly, most likely from running and walking around for so long "what are you doing?" kenma raised a brow at her 

"kozume kenma-kun.." she called out

"yes?" he asnwered

"do you know whose grave this is?" she mused, pointing her thumb to the gravestone she was leaning on 

kenma eyed the name engraved on the stone and shook his head. "no..but it's someone dear to you, right?" 

"what makes you think that?" she hummed out in amusement 

"i've never seen you pay visit to a grave before" kenma muttered. the pudding head hesitantly sat down infront of her, bowing at the grave before settling down on the ground. 

"does it look like im visiting a grave to you?" she asked with curiosity 

"it does.. why?"

she smiled softly and leaned her head back, letting it fall and her eyes to land straight at the cloudy sky "well, i thought of it as hanging out with a friend but.." she trailed off 

"i guess that works too" she sighed out 

kenma frowned as he watched her close her eyes. her smile faltering as a wave of comforting silence washed upon them. "im sorry" kenma muttered "i shouldn't have said anything.." 

"its fine." she chuckled "its been years since he died." she smiled bitterly "i guess it's time someone snaps me out of my daydreams" 

kenma didn't respond. he simply toyed with the grass on the ground and the few flowers littered around. 

"yaknow, kenma" she said with a smile "you're the first person i brought here" 

"me? why?" kenma asked in surprise and confusion 

"because this friend of mine was a good man." she said "he told me to try and look for my reason to live."

"and i think i found it" she whispered as he looked into his eyes 

kenma blinked in shock as he basked in her awfully heartwarming words. 

"my reason to live is to die with you." 

"of course. its gonna be about suicide again." kenma sighed dejectedly.  "but y/n, if you think of me as your reason to live.. then i'll take it upon myself to keep you alive" kenma smiled at her, tucking his blond hair behind his ears as he kept his honey hued orbs trained on hers. 

"kenma.." she teared up 

she blinked repeatedly as she opened her mouth to speak. 

"i.. I DON'T WANT THAT! I WANNA DIE WITH YOU!" she whined loudly "i already had our suicide planned! i even suggested the whole river thing a while ago!" she exclaimed 

kenma deadpanned as he watched her ramble on and on about her ideal double suicide. "i really don't care." kenma groaned out "i don't want you to die." he whined "why do you keep trying to kill yourself" 

"just because, okay?!" 

"just for that, im gonna call your agency and hand you over" kenma sighed as he dialled the agency's number 

"traitor!" she shrieked "kunikida-kun will undoubtedly beat me up" kenma ignored her as he started speaking on the phone. 

"yes, she's with me.." he muttered "is she behaved?" he repeated the question as he sent her a pointed glare 

"no, not really" he scoffed 

"kenma, you're heartless!" she shrieked in horror 

"cmon. let's atleast pay respects to your friend before we leave" kenma said with a sigh "dont worry, kenma-kun! i already thought this through" she grinned. she then pulled out a bottle of sake and a book and placed it on the ground. 

"you brought him alcohol? seriously?" kenma furrowed his brows 

"hey, it's two of his favourite things, okay?" she defended with a laugh 

"do you know how ridiculous i looked while buying these things at the store?" she chuckled "they thought i was a madman or something!" 

"i would've too" kenma answered back 

"you're so mean to me, kenma" she pouted "anyways, we should go." she said as she dusted her pants and unravelled a thin layer of her torn bandages. 

"i can't wait to tell you about this suicide method i learned about." she beamed. she tugged on his arm and pulled him away as she continued to blabber on his ear "apparently this one does the job right away!" she exclaimed 

"can you believe it, kenma?" 

"wow. crazy." he replied dryly 

"yeah, and all we gotta do is shoot ourselves with these guns-" 

"no." 

"oh my, this almost feels like a welcome home party!" she cheered. she gave the detectives a close eyed smile while they simply stared back at her with a look of agitation and worry 

"where the hell were you?!" kunikida exclaimed angrily as he tapped his foot on the ground 

"the port mafia!" she answered back nonchalantly 

they all perked up in surprise from her claim. "huh?! the port mafia?!" 

"hai hai! but don't make a big deal about it!" she chuckled as she waved her hands dismissively 

"you could've died!" kunikida exclaimed  "now, now! i'd like to think of it as akutagawa-kun needing some attention that's all" she joked 

"jesus christ" kunikida sighed as he adjusted his glasses "that boy could kill you and you still won't take him seriously" 

"anyways, why is he here?" he asked as he pointed to kenma, who simply ignored him and avoided their eyes as he played on his phone 

"oh! he's the one who found me, so i thought it'd be right for me to repay him" she smiled brightly as she squeezed kenma to her chest, all while he unbotherdly continued on with his game

"i've thought of so many fun things we could do back in my dorm, hehehe~" she chuckled mischievously as kenma's face paled. she only gripped him tighter when he tried to scurry away. 

"i- i see.." kunikida stuttered out. he looked at them with wide eyes as she started squeezing him tighter while kenma tried to pry her off 

"y/n, you're strangling me!" kenma huffed out "i know!" she grinned 

"we'll leave you two alone then!" kenji said with his usual smile as he ushered the others away 

"they're worse than tanizaki-kun and naomi-san.." atsushi shuddered "that's because she's trying to kill him" tanizaki sweat dropped 

"and herself, as well" yosano sneered "go get your man!" she cheered as she sent y/n a sneaky wink 

"yosano-san! don't encourage her!"

[omori-brainrot]

The Only One Left

tws: suicide, emetophobia, self-harm, death, grief, alcohol mentions

After the worst neutral ending, Aubrey and Kel soon follow Mari, Basil, and Sunny. Hero is the only one left, and he’s struggling to live with that. But at least his college friends are there when he needs it most.

I’m so sorry but this barged into my brain and wouldn’t leave until it was written and posted.

When Hero goes back to school after the funeral, he hangs one of Kel’s old jerseys on the knob of his dorm-room closet. He needs something to remember his brother by, something to make him feel like he’s not alone. Of course, he’s not really alone. He’s still an underclassman, so he shares his room with Josh.

He’d gotten lucky with his roommate: they’d managed to reach the storybook ideal of not only getting along, but becoming friends. Still. He wished there was no one around to see him cry for hours over the jersey, to see him start favoring the snooze button over his morning classes, to see him sink deeper into himself until he was sure he’d never surface.

Josh had been good-natured about it, at least. He never pointed out the cutting classes when Hero despaired about his grades after the fact, and when Hero couldn’t bring himself to stop sobbing when Josh needed to study, he just put on headphones or went to the library without a single complaint or sign of annoyance.

Hero wonders if Josh knows how close he feels to dying too.

How everyday feels like tar is pulsing through his body, getting caught in his organs and weighing him down until it feels like he’ll never breathe again.

He tells himself that if he joined his old friends, he’d be inflicting the same pain he lived with everyday onto his college friends. That if he were gone, their lives would be shattered instead of his.

Get over yourself. They don’t care that much. They don’t even know you. You only met a year and a half ago. They were fine without you before then. And besides, you’re not the best company anyway. You weren’t there though to stop Mari from hanging herself. You couldn't see the signs. You weren’t there enough to stop Sunny and Basil from stabbing themselves the night before Sunny was supposed to get a new start. You should have reached out earlier. You weren’t there enough to keep Aubrey from getting into that stupid drunk accident. You knew she was drinking too much and too often in an attempt to make her world bearable, you should have done something. You couldn’t stop Kel from poisoning himself with all those chemicals in the bathroom. You knew how hard it was for him to open up about negative emotions without being prompted, and you knew he was so alone after everyone else left. You should have come back from college more often. Why would anyone still want to be friends with you? Why would anyone care if someone like you was gone?

When thinking about his new friends doesn’t work, he reminds himself of his parents. They’d already lost one child. They’d be devastated to lose another. He couldn’t do that to them.

It doesn’t matter. They’re disappointed in you anyway. They see your falling grades and talk about how you shouldn’t give up on your dreams just because of what happened to Kel. They don’t understand that your only dream now is to make this constant pain stop. Besides, what does it matter if this hurts them? They should have been there for Kel when you were gone. As soon as you think that, you feel terrible. Which only makes you want to hurt yourself more.

Still, something makes him want to keep trying for a little while longer. Whatever it takes.

Which is how he ends up sitting over the trash can, taking a flimsy plastic dining hall knife to his arms.

If he wants to hurt himself but doesn’t want to die, this is the best he can do. Besides, it’s a little past midnight after a Friday, so Josh is attending whatever gatherings a non-imploding person attends on a Friday night.

Hero supposes that he should feel worse that things have come to this. But with every sting he only feels relief, even when he presses hard enough for the knife to draw shallow lines of blood.

For once, he’s barely thinking about anything else. Even with the jersey casting a shadow at the corner of his eye. He could get used to this sense of mindless pain.

When the door swings open and the light flicks on at a much earlier time than expected, his first response is to flinch back. It’s a second too late when it occurs to him that she should be rolling his sleeves back down.

Josh runs over, gently grabbing his arms and keeping him from doing so. “Wait. Wait.” He inspects the wounds for a moment. Looking worried, yet relieved that the injuries aren’t serious, he locks eyes with Hero. “Are you okay?” Hero opens his mouth, searching for an answer, but Josh continues. “Wait, you don’t have to answer that. That was a dumb question. Of course you’re not.”

“Yeah.” Hero says under his breath. He averts his eyes to the side of Josh’s head. He should have been more careful. What kind of person gets caught their first time self-harming? No wonder he’s so useless.

“If you let me take the knife with me, I can get some wet paper towels from the bathroom to help you clean up.” Josh holds out his hand, eyebrows creased in concern but eyes wide with expectation. Hero hands the knife over, ignoring the pang of reluctance to stop.

Josh races out of the room, and Hero takes a moment to look at his own cuts. He’s surprised at how many there are. He’d stopped paying attention while he was doing it. However, none of them look very bad, with the worst only bleeding very lightly.

Josh comes back faster than Hero expected, and diligently gets to work pressing the paper towels to the bleeding cuts. Hero winces a little at the sting, but he doesn’t mind this. It reminds him of when he was a child and his mother would clean up his scrapes. He realizes with a jolt that he doesn’t want to go back to hurting himself tonight.

“I hope you don’t mind me prying, but does this have anything to do with what you were telling me a couple months ago?”

“About—” Hero swallows thickly. He can’t bring himself to clarify. Besides, what could Josh be referring to besides Kel’s death? “Yeah.” His voice comes out strained.

“I’m sorry.” They sit in silence for a moment. “Hey, would it make it better or worse if I got Michelle and Dennis? We could get ice cream and you could tell us about your brother. Dennis said that helped when his aunt died.”

He was sure he’d want to say no—heck, he couldn’t bring himself to go to his favorite classes easily. But ice cream sounded nice, and he’d never noticed it before, but he was aching for someone to talk to. There was only one issue.

“Isn’t it almost one a.m.?”

Josh waved a hand dismissively. “That’s no problem if you want to go. I know a great all-night diner.”

That’s how he ended up in a nearly empty Denny’s with a few casual friends.

“Of course he’d refer to Denny’s as ‘a great all-night diner’.” Michelle dips a fry in her chocolate milkshake. Hero smiles slightly at her, eating a spoonful of his hot fudge sundae. The coldness of the ice cream is soothing, and he feels just a little bit better.

“Yeah, Josh, did you think Hero’s never heard of Denny’s before?”

“Hey, you’re not one to criticize me here. We came here for ice cream and you got pancakes.” Josh’s voice is light with playful teasing.

“So? They’re dessert pancakes. And there’s a scoop of ice cream on them.” Dennis gestures to the scoop with a flourish. “What does that have to do with you treating Denny’s like some obscure local mystery, anyway?”

Hero laughs a little. It feels unfamiliar and distant, but at the same time, somehow… right. He’s glad to not be alone tonight. Josh smiles with him. His eyes are still tinged with worry, but he’d reassured Hero on the drive here that none of the others had been told about the self-harm.

“So, Josh said we’re here because you had something to get off your mind?” Michelle looks at him, her worry less intense but still noticeable, like the mechanical whirring of a fridge in the background.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, poking at his sundae. How could he even begin to say what was wrong? Hero figured he should just start with the part that had been hurting him the most in the past months. “I don’t know if you remember my brother’s funeral a while ago, but…”

“You miss him?” Her voice is soft, gentle.

He nods, tears burning in his eyes.

“What was he like?”

Hero takes a rattling breath. “He really liked basketball. He played it every day after school. I don’t think he was all that close with anyone on his team, but he liked playing it a lot.”

“Is the jersey on your closet his team jersey?” Josh glances at him.

He shakes his head. “No, he just bought that one at the store. Sports clothes were like his default uniform, whether he had practice or not.”

Dennis nods slightly. “I’ve known people like that. I think they just practice so much it’s not worth changing clothes.”

A small smile tugs at Hero’s lips. “Yep, that sounds like Kel. Always on the move.” He glances across the restaurant at another one of the late-night patrons, someone about his age drinking a cup of coffee. “Honestly, I bet part of it was all the caffeine .” Hero wrinkles his nose, a strange mixture of affection and loss nested in the hollowness of his chest. “He drank an unnatural amount of Orange Joe.”

“I didn’t know anyone actually drank that.” Michelle takes a long sip of her milkshake.

“Small base of loyal customers, I guess.” A memory drifts into Hero’s mind, and for once he doesn’t push it away. “I can’t believe he kept drinking it after that hot dog competition. He won, but he drank so much Orange Joe afterwards that he threw up before we left the fair. He always said it was worth it, though.”

Michelle shakes her head. “Siblings.”

For a moment, Hero is reminded of a dozen other conversations he’s had about Kel. He’d tell his grade school classmates about a recent squabble, or something funny Kel did, and that’s what they’d say.

Then the stark contrast of reality hits him. This isn’t a petty fight that will be resolved in a few hours, or a story where nothing serious is wrong. He’s up at one am having this conversation because Kel is gone, because Kel will never win another game, will never drink more unhealthy quantities of soda, will never even graduate high school. He’s here because Kel was found dead on the bathroom floor, next to an emptied bottle of cleaning fluid, and Hero hadn’t done enough to stop him.

He puts his spoon down and lays his head in his arms. Everything feels so heavy. “I should have been there.”

“It wasn’t your fault—” Josh starts, but Hero doesn’t let him finish.

“Yes, it was!” A few of the other late-night patrons glance at their table, and he realizes he said that much louder than he meant to. Taking a shuddering breath, he continues more quietly. “I should have been there. I could have taken more time off school, he was more important than a few stupid assignments. I…” he has to stop to take another uneven breath. His voice is shaky, and he’s not sure how much longer he can speak before he dissolves into sobs, so he talks faster. “I knew he was having a hard time, and I don’t think anyone else could tell because he just acted like he was fine. If I had been there…” He breaks. The crying he was holding back can’t be contained any longer. His shoulders shake and his throat burns. He doesn’t even care if the other people in the diner are staring. Through a blur of tears, he can see his friends looking at him with concern, waiting for him to get it all out.

When he catches his breath, he forces himself to keep talking. He feels like he has to get this out, no matter how much it hurts, no matter if he has to look away from his friends to bear to say it. “He killed himself. And I wasn’t there.”

Michelle is the first to speak. “I’m so sorry…”

Josh puts a hand over his. “That’s horrible… I’m sorry you have to live with that.” He pulls his hand back. “You must feel horribly guilty, but I really don’t think it was your fault.”

“You… don’t?” God, he imagines he looks so pathetic right now.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re just a person. There’s only so much you could have done. You clearly loved him a lot, and I’m sure that meant a lot to him.”

“But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t there enough.” Hero’s sure he sounds like a broken record, but it’s all he’s been able to think about in the months since Kel’s death.

“Dude, you can’t save everyone. You can’t hold yourself to that standard.” Dennis’s voice is gentle, encouraging.

Hero looks away again, fresh tears emerging. “If that was all it was, maybe I’d think you’re right. But it’s not the first time this has happened.” He picks up his spoon, smushing the unmelted parts of the ice cream as he speaks. “I looked it up and it’s called a suicide cluster, but everyone else in town just calls it a curse.” He wipes away the new tears. “It doesn’t matter what you call it, though. Everyone I’ve grown up with is gone.”

“Shit…” For once, Josh is at a loss for words.

Michelle shakes her head. “It’s still not your fault. The only person who’s life and mental health you’re personally responsible for is your own. The most any of us can do for anyone else is be there and hope that’s enough, but if it’s not, that’s not your fault.”

Josh seems to come back to himself. “Yeah, absolutely. I stand by what I said before, no matter how many people died, because the same logic applies each time.”

“Wow… thanks.” It hasn’t fully set in, and to be honest, he doesn’t fully believe it either, but hearing that someone else believes it makes him feel a little better. “I’m… I’m scared it will never stop. What if everyone I get close to just keeps dying?”

“I… don’t think that will happen.” Dennis shrugs. “I mean, no matter what your town says, you’re not cursed or anything. It won’t go on forever.”

“Yeah, I guess so. My brain just needs to catch up, I guess.”

“It will, eventually.”

Michelle tilts her head slightly to one side. “If you don’t mind me asking, who else did you lose? No pressure, don’t answer if it will make things worse.”

Hero shakes his head. “It’s fine, I came here to get things off my chest anyway.” He pauses for a moment. “Let’s see… first, there was my high school girlfriend. That was four years ago. Last summer, her younger brother and a boy we were friends with growing up died on the same night, and earlier this year, before what happened to Kel, another friend got into an accident.” He feels like he should be more emotional as he says it, but he just feels empty. Like he’ll never feel human again.

“That’s terrible… if you ever want to talk about any of them, I’d be glad to listen.”

“Thanks.” The missing emotion is already bubbling back up a bit, and he has to swallow back tears. “You know, I don’t think anyone’s really asked me about any of them before tonight.” He sighs. “I kind of wish they would, now. I really liked telling you guys about Kel.”

“He sounds like a great brother.”

Hero’s tears start falling again, but somehow it isn’t as bad as before. “Thanks, he was.”

[theharellan]

Who Am I in Your Arms?

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II Pairing: NB!Lavellan x Solas Prompt: Hair

In the aftermath of Wisdom's passing Solas takes the first steps towards moving on from its death, though this time he need not do it alone.

Trigger warning for suicidal ideation and depression / derealisation.

Read on AO3.

Light strains through the open window, highlighting the dust suspended in the air by the morning breeze. With each sigh of wind from the mountains’ peaks it rises anew, kept aloft in perpetuity each time it begins to sink to the bedroom floor. Solas watches from his back as the light that flows through open windows grows longer, reluctant to acknowledge the fast-approaching noon and all the duty that comes with it.

He does not truly know how long he lies there, looking idly up at the ceiling, neither dreaming nor truly awake. From a distance he recognises the sound of Mother Giselle calling to a Chantry Sister and sees the shadow of a passer-by darken the window momentarily, but these notes are brief and fleeting, skirting over his consciousness without room to take root. The doorknob turns, latch unhooking with a click, force of habit compelling him to look. His eyes meet Ian’s as the door swings ajar, and he suddenly wishes he had at least sat up before he’d entered. “You’re awake,” Ian says. Relief quiets the tension he held between his brow, a look too soft to be meant for him steals across his face as he settles beside him, the mattress sinking with a sigh beneath his weight. “I was afraid- I- I was—” As he fumbles with his words he struggles with removing a leather glove from his left hand, finding the thought only when the last finger was wrested from him. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good.” His bare hand leans upon Solas’ cheek, touch cool and calming against his face.

“What time is it?”

“You’re needed nowhere for the moment,” Ian answers the more honest question on his behalf. “I just needed— I wanted to see if you were alright.”

It is an answer Solas isn’t certain he can give neither one way nor the other. He is of sound body and sound mind, and for many those two alone would be enough to suffice. “Thank you,” Solas mutters, having little to offer but his gratitude and an affectionate peck to his palm. Perhaps sensing the answer Solas is reluctant to give, Ian’s smile pinches, straining with concern. Guilt twinges in his gut, and he averts his eyes, penitent. “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I did not mean to worry you again.”

A soft laugh sighs through Ian’s lips, though it sounds sad to his ears. “You don’t need to be sorry, Solas. Not unless it helps.” He recognises the refrain as one oft-repeated to Ian, spoken in his own voice when Ian’s troubles wind too tightly around his heart. To hear it said to assuage his sorrows stings, no matter how much he may need to hear it. The hand at his cheek guides his gaze up, his hollow stare feeling all the more empty when beheld in Ian’s kind eyes. They scan from left to right, reading the expression on his face as though he’d opened up a well-loved book. A thumb scarred by gardener’s shears draws a smooth line across his cheekbone.

Ian’s hand glides around the side of his head, meeting resistance as his fingers cup the back delicately. “Your hair…” he says with a laugh in his breath, a hint of wonder colours his tone leaves Solas humbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much of it before.” Fingertips idle along the nape of his neck, moving across the rough beginnings of an auburn hairline, but for Solas’ part his eyes remain transfixed upon Ian’s face. He memorises the way amusement works its way across his lips, until his teeth press down upon them, trying and failing to tamp down his growing grin. Hazel eyes fall suddenly to his and then away, pink shame heating his cheeks. “Sorry.”

Solas rises, detouring to brush his lips against Ian’s, which still bear the impression of his teeth. “You’ve no more to be sorry for than I,” he says, then as an afterthought grazes his hand over his head. A fine layer of hair has sprouted, coarse, like sharkskin against his palm. “And you are correct, it is long past time I shaved.”

“Oh, you— you’re… I thought-”

“That I intended to grow it out?” he finishes Ian’s thought, picking it up where he had dropped it. “No, and I suspect I won’t for some time.” He slides open the top drawer of his dresser and rifles through, not looking but feeling for his razor. Fingers brush against brittle dried herbs and crumpled notes too important to throw away yet irrelevant enough that he does not remember why they are here, rooting through the ephemera of his everyday life before they find what they seek.

“Typically my magic minimises the upkeep, but then…” He thinks back upon the last few weeks, how time bled together and one moment tripped into the next. Hardly a thimbleful of effort had been expended upon the simple day-to-days. “I suppose I have had other matters on my mind.”

Wisdom’s death still weighs heavily upon him. Though he had told the Inquisitor the powers which willed it into being still exist and there may again be a being who called itself Wisdom, it is a cold comfort. The moments they shared are now his alone to remember. In his grief he strains to recall every memory, summoning details of bygone ages, despair curling one cold finger around his heart as their edges begin to blur. Guilt bores into him as he tries to remember what face Wisdom wore the first time they met.

“Solas?” His hand must have lingered too long, his stillness speaking to a persistent pain he struggles to give voice, yet Ian hears it regardless. He releases the breath held captive in his lungs as Ian’s hand folds over his. Their scars align, matching together as alike rhymes in a poem might. “Would you like me to do it for you?” Solas doesn’t answer right away, mind too full of memories to fully feel the present, and in that silence Ian finds the time to doubt. “If you’d rather do it yourself…” he ventures. The hand over his squeezes affectionately, comfortingly.

“No,” he finds his voice. When he tears his sights away from their intertwined fingers, he discovers Ian’s gaze leveled with his own and offers him a thin smile. “No. I’d welcome the offer.”

Before he releases his grip on Solas, he pulls his knuckles to his lips, pressing them against the places where errant magic had marked him centuries ago. He feels the ghost of his affection as he pulls his hand back, thumb stroking the place where Ian kissed him to keep the memory alive upon his skin. “You should sit,” Ian says, motioning with his head towards the empty seat shoved in the corner of the room. It’s as near a command as Ian will ever give outside the Inquisition’s healing tents. “I can take care of everything.”

A simple sentiment, yet ambitious. His first instinct is to doubt, but not all the lessons from the past few weeks left bruises. Trust is a muscle that atrophies through disuse, stretching it again strains even on fairweather days, but he accommodates Ian’s command, sinking into the cushioned stool he works from on quiet evenings.

He watches in silence as Ian takes stock of his tools, hands touching each in succession until they are accounted for. As he pours water into a shallow dish Solas’ throat scratches, realising he had not had so much as a gulp of water since the night before. It is as refreshing on his head as it would be on his lips, however, spread by a wrung out towel across his scalp. Thin streams trickle down his neck and beneath his nightshirt, provoking shivers as they slide along the crevice of his spine.

“You’ve— there’s more here than I’m used to working with,” Ian says, hovering over the instruments at his disposal. “Do I use the oil before or after?”

“Before,” he answers, “I use the cream after.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ian nod then reach for a small vial with a glass stopper. He pours a pool no wider than the average silver crown into a cupped hand and spreads it carefully over the top of his head, working the oil into the skin of his scalp. A few deliberate strokes and his eyelids grow heavy, head tilting into the sensation. A small snort of amusement issues from Ian’s nose, but he says nothing. With fingers still slick with a thin coat of oil he rubs along his hairline, feathering coarse hair with his thumbs. It scratches pleasantly in his ears, and he muses to himself if he may be persuaded to keep it at this length, on the condition that it were afforded this attention every day.

It’s a disappointment, then, when his hands at last fall away, busying themselves with the soap. He scrapes a few shavings into a shallow bowl and tops it with water measured with his eyeballs, working with the confidence of someone who has done this before. “These steps are familiar to you,” he notes.

“The last thing any surgeon needs is to close a stray hair in an open wound,” he says, “or to let it cloud your view.”

“I suspected as much.” What faith Ian has in himself lies mostly in his duty, beyond the walls of the infirmary it is as unreliable as the wind, and about as difficult to catch.

“I haven’t… this is the first time I’ve shaved anyone’s head, though. It’s mostly legs, or arms, or beards— sometimes backs.” The thin layer of bubbles quickly stirs to a thick, soapy pillow which rises higher than the bowl it was concocted in. “I never knew how much hair humans had until the Blight.”

The conjured image of Blackwall’s scurrying naked through Skyhold comes to mind, the hair on his back as black as his beard, and he spares a small smile at the Warden’s expense.

He strokes the brush over his head, drawing small overlapping circles across the top of his skull. Foam snaps behind his ears, bubbles burst by the bristles as Ian passes over a second time, leaving no inch of stubble uncoated.

“I don’t… I- tell me if it hurts,” he says. Setting the brush aside, he reaches for the razor, examining the blade against the light for flaws before he’s satisfied, although he waits for an affirmative nod before he dares hold it against his scalp.

It glides smoothly beside his skin, flowing with the grain of his hair. The scraping sound is no less unpleasant as he recalls, but painless. Ian handles the blade with a surgeon’s precision. He watches him from the corner of a hand mirror laid on the desk, every so often his reflection vanishing to wash off the soap and hair built upon the razor’s edge. A look of concentration screws his expression, the boughs of Mythal’s blood bending across his brow. Not so serious as when he works, the faint impression of a smile turns the corners of his mouth. The same lips he ruminates upon the shape of in the pages of his journal, the same smile whose corners he dreamt of kissing. They click apart, and, recognising the beginning of a question upon them, something within Solas sits up straighter.

“How long have you kept it this way?”

Their eyes meet through their reflections. Ian pauses to allow Solas his answer, wiping away the excess of hair dirtying the blade in a discarded cloth. As a question it’s innocent enough, but pries at memories he’d sooner bury. Like too many answers, he’s forced to weigh his head against his heart before he speaks.

“Not as long as you might suspect.” Once it was as long as his memory, and in each thread laid a name, a lesson, a thought. With each tragedy he sheared it shorter, until at last he could bear it no more. “What time I spent on my hair I realised I’d prefer to spend elsewhere.” The lie does not come as easily as he would like, even if— as had all the ones which came before it— it lies rooted in truth. He feels it strain against the knife when he speaks, pressure mounting in his temple, as though daring him to continue with his deception. Ian is quick to retreat, murmuring a soft reminder not to speak when he’s cutting, though he can hardly hear it through the fog in his head.

His first waking breath in this world felt like a dagger between his ribs. He choked on reality itself as he stumbled from his dreams, hair dragging past his ankles, tangled with generations of birds’ nests and hollow around his ears. It should have echoed with the dirge of an empire, but instead there was nothing, and somehow that was worse. His first cut was clumsy, blood dripped down his temple and sank into the creases of his hands, but he persisted. Each time he cut himself upon the sharp edges of the world it felt like justice, even if in his heart he knew it could never be enough.

Ian wields it without malice. The same blade which a week ago might have carved a red necklace across his throat now glides harmlessly over his skin, guided by tender hands that could name all the world’s cruelty but acts with none.

He swallows, throat thick with sentiment he’d believed too numb to harm him. Every day affection like he has never known rises in him like a force of nature, blooming with all the strength of springtime. If some small part of him had ever laboured under the belief that indulging those feelings would abate them, it’s been proven the fool. He loves Ian more now than the day he felt love’s first stirrings behind his ribs, but it does not come by him gracefully.

Love sticks in his throat like his grief. Tears spring into his eyes, the image of Ian’s reflection in the mirror clouded by droplets suspended between his lashes. He holds his breath behind his teeth to keep himself steady, pressure building beneath his chest ‘til he has no choice but to release. The sour, sterile scent of soap coats his nostrils as he measures his breath, careful not to let it hitch. As he hears Ian pause to clean the blade, he turns his face to the corner of the room to disguise his expression in the moments their eyes might meet through the mirror.

Love spills onto his cheeks, hands balling the fabric of his trousers as the first drop splashes his knuckles. The blade’s touch is as soft as a kiss upon his skin, scraping off the shadows missed during their first pass over his skull, and then set aside.

Love sees his sorrow and pulls him back against his chest, narrow arms enveloping him in their embrace.

A high, shuddering inhale whistles through Solas’ nose and though he reaches for stillness, today he finds himself wanting. The world surges forth like the first snowmelt of spring in the wake of an overlong winter, and he can do nothing to curb its strength. He claps his hand against his mouth, too late to suffocate the sob that wracks his shoulders, too weak to stifle the guilt-ridden cry that chases it. Ugly tears stain his cheeks, wielded like weapons to pry undeserved sympathy from the hands of his beloved, despite the effort he’d put forth to quell them.

A kiss crowns his forehead, ignorant of the guilt his grief springs from. An apology hangs upon the tip of his tongue, begging to be voiced and denied its release, knowing in his heart any forgiveness granted will be unearned.

Perhaps Ian hears the intent in the strangled sound he makes, for he moves to assuage his worries. Another kiss adorns his brow as he kneels before him, occupying the space between his knees. With both hands he reaches up and cradles his face between his palms, tenderly swiping away the sorrow from his cheeks. Their eyes meet through the veil of his tears, Ian’s shining with their own sadness as they hold his gaze. When Wisdom was taken, he’d held him just as he does now, until Solas remembered how to coax the air back into his lungs. So much had changed since that morning, and yet so little. Ian looks at him with the same eyes and holds him with the same hands. It is a disquieting revelation, knowing his worth does not lessen the more he is known; all the rage and misery Ian witnessed in him these past few weeks hasn’t lessened the love in his eyes.

From that love a cruel hope springs, born in the part of him which dares entertain the truth. Dares to ask if Ian would show the same compassion to the elf who had woken a year and change ago and mistook the world for empty.

The thought twists in him like a knife, and his expression contorts. Whatever peace he’d found comes apart at the seams, eyes screwing shut as tears spring anew from their corners. He turns his cheek into Ian’s palm, shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs he denies himself. Fingertips bend, coaxing him closer, and he obliges, nesting himself in the crook of Ian’s neck. The scarf he buries his nose in smells like his pipe and he can still bask in the warmth of the sun upon the copper curls that whisper in his ear. The hands that cut the bitter memories from his skin hold him without abandon, squeezing as he begins to weep anew. Protracted sobs wrack his body until his lungs ache in his chest, but Ian’s grip never falters, never fails. In his arms he knows himself as never before.

The shadows in their room narrow as the midday sun passes over Skyhold and the dust in the air mingles with what little hair he’d had to his name, carried upwards by the slightest breeze beneath the doorframe. In the sweepings he sheds his grief and carries forward what remains: his duty, his regret, and his love.

[malfoymanortings]

somebody else PART 3

SUMMARY: Mae has been in love with Draco Malfoy since her first year at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy fell in love with Mae in their fourth year, and then promptly fell into Pansy’s bed instead. All the while, Mae clings to the hope that Draco will change. That is, until, Ron Weasley takes his chance.

PAIRINGS: toxic!Draco x OC, Ron x OC, Ginny x Luna

TRIGGERS: slight mention of suicidal thoughts.

im not going to lie... i kinda hurt myself wriitng this one. hope you all enjoy! there will be one more part after this, so let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Mae wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but she began to view Ron Weasley as more than a friend.

The two of them had begun spending time alone more frequently, either at their stone ledge overlooking the Black Lake, or in the Gryffindor common room. Mae felt very comfortable with Ron, something she hadn't truly felt with Draco. With Draco, she had always felt she wasn’t good enough, and of course, he never hesitated to tell her that himself.

Ron was… so different. In a very good way. He never made fun of her admittedly loud boisterous laugh, he never made a crude comment when her hair was wildly out of place, he never gave her a dirty look when she ate. He laughed at most of her jokes, he made her feel wanted. It was a rather new thing for Mae.

Ron and her sat in the common room now, a game of Wizard’s chess between the two. Ron successfully overtook Mae’s king, winning the game. He gave her that smile of his, the slightly crooked, half lifted smile showcasing a glimpse of his pretty white teeth. She felt something flutter in her stomach then, and she swallowed hard as she returned his grin.

“Checkmate.” declared Ron, beginning to put the game away. Mae grumbled good naturedly, rolling her eyes. 

“Next time, I get to pick the game, Ronald Weasley.”  responded Mae loftily, brushing her hair out of her face.

Ron laughed, his eyes moving up to meet hers. They both stilled for a moment, tension between the two. Mae could feel each heartbeat thump through her chest, and she glanced down at Ron’s full lips. She let herself wonder, for a moment, what it would be like to kiss him. She wondered if he felt the same thing, for he shifted in his seat and licked his lips.

“Ron beat you again, hm?” Ginny’s voice broke the silence, as she plopped down on the couch next to Mae. “Guess everyone has to be talented at something.”

“That sounds like an insult.” remarked Ron, breaking eye contact with Mae. 

“Very intuitive of you.”

Mae laughed at their banter, shaking her head. The look she had shared with Ron was not forgotten, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Ron would have kissed her had his sister not shown up.

She quickly squashed that thought. She didn’t want to get her heart broken again.

Harry burst into the common room then, heading straight for Ron. The three of them gasped as they realized Harry was soaking wet and dripping with blood.

“Where’ve you-? Why are you soaking -? Is that blood?” Ron stood, staring bewildered at Harry.

“I need your book,” Harry panted. “Your potions book. Quick… give it to me…”

“But what about the Half-Blood -?”

“I’ll explain later!”

Ron pulled into his bag and took his copy of their Potions book, handing it to Harry. Harry ran upstairs then, and before the three could speak about what he had done, he came barreling back downstairs with his schoolbag in hand.

Mae got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“What d’you think’s gotten into him?” Ginny questioned Ron, staring at the portrait hole Harry had disappeared from.

“Dunno..” Ron trailed off, staring the same.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry like that,” said Mae quietly, resting her chin in her hand. “Is his life always so dramatic?”

“Yes,” both Ron and Ginny answered simultaneously. 

“Alright then.” Mae widened her eyes slightly, slightly amused. 

“I’m going to meet Luna for dinner,” Ginny stood, twisting her long red hair back into a bun. “Are you lot going to skip?”

“Ron, skip dinner?” Mae laughed, shaking her head. She stood up then, holding out a hand to Ron. “Come on, then.”

Ron took her hand, and Mae couldn’t stop a small smile as his large one engulfed her small one. As he stood, she took note that he didn’t attempt to remove his hand from hers. Again, her stomach fluttered at the thought.

The three of them left the common room, heading down to the Great Hall. As they passed the girls bathroom, they could hear Moaning Myrtle wailing about something.

“Harry Potter has killed Draco Malfoy!” 

Mae stilled, her hand slipping out of Ron’s grasp. She felt as though her limbs were filled with ice, as Myrtle once again wailed the words.

“Draco Malfoy is dead at the hands of Harry Potter! Muder in the bathroom, murder in the bathroom!”

Ignoring Ron and Ginny, Mae ran into the bathroom, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

“Myrtle, where is Draco?” she asked wildly, staring at the ghost girl.

“Professor Snape sent him to Madam Pomfrey, although it’s too late!” wailed Myrtle, floating around the bathroom. “So much blood!”

Mae ran out of the bathroom, barely noticing Ron and Ginny calling out to her. Her blood pounded in her ears as she raced to the nurse, hoping beyond hope that Draco hadn’t really died. As she caught sight of him, she stopped.

He had been hurt, most definitely, his unbuttoned white undershirt now red with his blood. Madam Pomfrey was spreading dittany on his chest wounds, having already tended to his face. Mae felt her heart break as she waited for Madam Pomfrey to leave. Once she did, Mae walked over and took Draco’s hand.

He opened his eyes slowly, unfocused as they landed on her. “What are you doing here?”

“Myrtle said you died,” swallowing past the lump in her throat, Mae rubbed circles on his hand with her thumb. “I had to come see if you were alright.”

“Unfortunately, I am,” scoffed Draco, rolling his eyes. “Potter couldn’t be man enough to kill me.”

“Draco,” breathed Mae, her heart stilling as his words processed. “Why on earth would you want to die?”

Draco seemed uncomfortable now, as though he wished he hadn’t spoken those words. “I’m surprised you don’t want me dead. Aren’t you best friends with the pathetic trio now?”

“Just because I’m close with them, doesn’t mean I want you to die,” Mae stopped for a moment, thinking hard. “As much as I’ve wanted to hate you, I never could.”

“I’ve given you plenty reason to.” responded Draco quietly, averting his eyes.

“Yes,” nodded Mae, still holding his hand. “You have. But… through all of it, I loved you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you properly,” Draco shut his eyes, his voice quiet. “I never really deserved you.”

“Draco…” Mae trailed off, a lump growing in her throat. She didn’t know what to say.

“If it isn’t too much to ask,” Draco paused, forcing his eyes open. “Could you kiss me, one last time?”

Mae felt her heart breaking all over again as she nodded. If he weren't on what seemed to be his deathbed, she probably would have said no. But for the first time in months, she felt like he was the Draco she had fallen in love with. 

She bent down, pressing her lips against his cold ones. His hand reached up to grasp the back of her neck, fisting in her hair. His tongue parted her lips, exploring her mouth as he had done so many times before. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb grazing over her tears that had spilled out. She placed her hands on his cheeks, and she was surprised to find tears of his own. Perhaps they were hers that had fallen on his face, perhaps they were his from his injuries, or maybe, just maybe, he was crying over what they had lost.

Mae would never know.

She pulled away first, her heart aching once more. Draco opened his eyes, his expression unreadable.

“I think I’m in love with Ron,” whispered Mae, a tear slipping down her cheek. “He’s nice to me.. And I rather enjoy that.”

Draco shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Be happy with him, then.”

Mae nodded, and she stood from his bedside. They gave each other once last look, and Draco seemed, for the first time, apologetic. She turned then, and left the hospital wing. Ginny was standing outside, appearing to have been waiting for her. She was sympathetic, her arms crossed. 

“Ron would be better for you, you know,” said Ginny quietly, shaking her head slightly. “Draco will never be the man you want.”

“I know,” Mae nodded, feeling confused. “I don’t want Draco.”

Ginny stilled, raising an eyebrow. “Then why did you kiss him?”

“Because he asked…” trailed off Mae, looking down at her shoes, and back up at the ginger. “I needed the closure.”

Ginny scoffed. “Some closure. Ron saw you, you know.”

“He what?” Mae looked around, but didn’t see him. “Where is he?”

“Well,” Ginny let out a deep breath, shifting awkwardly. “He saw, and he got mad. Dunno where he went from there.”

“I just saw Ronald head back towards your common room,” the girls turned to see Luna walking towards them, barefoot. “He seemed quite upset.”

Mae felt panic rise in her chest. “Thanks, Luna.”

“No problem.” replied Luna, snaking an arm around Ginny’s waist. The redhead pressed a quick kiss to the blonde’s temple.

“I’m going to go explain to him.” Mae told the girls, who nodded. Mae left them then, hurrying to the common room. She didn’t want Ron to have the wrong impression. She had to tell him how she felt, that it was him she wanted, if he would have her.

Thankfully, Hermione was entering the common room just as Mae turned the corner.

“Hermione,” called Mae, rushing over to her. “Can I come see if Ron is in there?” 

“Sure.” Hermione nodded, pushing the portrait open. The girls stepped inside, and Mae felt her heart freeze in her chest as she caught sight of Ron.

Ron was wrapped up in Lavender Brown, the girl sitting on Ron’s lap as his hands twisted in her wavy blonde hair. They were snogging, heavily, and Mae’s still fragile heart broke into bits as she witnessed the scene. 

“Mae..” Hermione began, but Mae left before she could say a word. 

Tears burned her eyes as she fled through the castle, her chest aching as she replayed the scene over and over in her head. She spit out the password to her dorm, rushing up the stairs to her room. The room was quiet, empty, as most everyone was at dinner. Her appetite was gone.

Her chest ached and she lay on her side, facing the wall. Tears slipped out of her eyes as she stared, unseeing, the scene of Ron snogging Lavender replaying in her mind until she fell into an uneasy sleep.

taglist: @phantomsmalfoystyles @lidiyabest @justmimithings @xoxohollands @xmtd5 @glossydols @bisousmorningstar @dracoswifeyy @reaganwonders @big-galaxy-chaos (if i missed anyone, I do apologize! just let me know if i did)

Part one

Part two

Part four

[galaxywhump]

Never Alone

[Masterlist]

Timeline: set after Thorns

cw: discussion of death - murder and suicide, slavery whump, forced relationship, creepy/intimate and possessive whumper, noncon touching and kissing, swearing, alcohol, referenced alcohol abuse, gaslighting, begging, brainwashing, conditioning, hand gagging, creepy comfort, hopelessness, food mention.

~~~

On SV-240 even waking up has become a statement of I don’t want this, I don’t want to be here, I’m going to get out of here, a fight to keep the heart and mind free of the pleasant feelings of waking up well-rested. 

Above all, Wren dreads the day when he wakes up happy.

Today is, to his relief, far from that day.

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut when light explodes under his eyelids, and his ears ring from the slightest movement when he curls up further and hides his head between his shoulders.

“Sweetheart?”

“Fuuuck, leave me alone”, he mumbles, Daniel’s voice grating on his ears even more than usual.

“Hangover, huh?”

“Take a wild fucking guess.”

“Told you”, Daniel says in a playfully scolding manner, taking away all the weight of what had happened the day before.

“Please?”

He needs it. Just once he wants to ruin himself, drink until all he feels is the burn of alcohol and he wakes up the next day in the familiar pain of a hangover. Just once he wants to regain the worst part of himself.

So he begs.

“But we’ve taken such good care of your problem, sweetheart. Do you really want to ruin it now?”

“N-not ruin.” You never let me drink anyway, asshole, let alone too much. “Just this one time. Please, I… I need some more. Just tonight.”

“You’re going to regret it tomorrow”, and Wren’s first thought is torture, punishment for daring to ask for something that ridiculous, and he finds himself thinking that more alcohol would still be worth it.

“I know.”

And then, for once, Daniel agrees - unusual, Wren notes bitterly, given that the request wasn’t benefitting him in any way.

“Do you want to get up?”

“No.”

He just wants to stay here, sleep the day away like he would on Earth, alone - even though he knows that the last part is impossible. The first two alone would still be nice, though.

Daniel lays one hand on Wren’s shoulder, and this time he succeeds at opening his eyes to look at him, immediately paying the price of a sharp pain flashing through his head before giving way to dull throbbing.

“See, this is exactly what I wanted to avoid”, Daniel sighs, moving his hand up and down Wren’s arm. “Now you’re out for half a day at least.”

“It’s not like I had any plans anyway”, Wren mutters, averting his gaze.

“That doesn’t mean you should sabotage yourself like that, sweetheart.”

“What, are you playing my therapist now? Leave me alone.”

Daniel sighs again - it’s a heavy sigh that makes Wren’s blood boil, worried, as if Daniel cared about anything and anyone other than himself.

“I’ll bring you breakfast. And water. It should help a bit.”

Wren nods and follows Daniel with his gaze as he gets up from the bed and leaves the room; once he’s alone he fixes his gaze on the wall, trying to fight down thoughts that fill him with unease.

It’s more than he’s even gotten. On Earth he was always alone, left to deal with hangovers on his own. There was never anyone to take care of him, or even just call to check on him, to care.

He just wishes it was anyone but Daniel being kind to him, being by his side, kissing him, waking up before him and bringing him breakfast, saying the three words he’s not sure he even remembers ever hearing before.

He just wishes he had any point of reference. Anyone to have given him all the firsts.

Maybe that was the point, one of the factors that made his price so high. He was a blank canvas with insecurities and issues for Daniel to take advantage of. He had made himself that way, an easy target, not missed by anyone-

Stop. It doesn’t matter.

My name is Wren Rackham. I was kidnapped. I’ve been here for… over a year. I’m still fighting. I’m not broken.

And I’m never going to be.

Daniel comes back, carrying a tray - and Wren can’t help but wonder if it’s the exact same one he once was made to hold up - careful not to drop it, giving Wren a gentle smile that he doesn’t return.

Sitting up makes every muscle in his body protest - he hasn’t had a hangover that bad in years; he supposes that was to be expected after forcible quitting.

“There you go. Need anything else?”

“Yes, I need you to leave me alone.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows as he hands Wren the tray, and shakes his head.

“No need to be so rude, you know. But I’ll blame it on the hangover, and we can move on, alright?”

Wren glares at him briefly, and doesn’t comment further when Daniel sits down on the bed instead of leaving. Doesn’t matter. He’s through despairing every time his requests go unheard… or at least when those requests are this minor.

Being left alone isn’t minor. I’m just giving it up.

Doesn’t. Matter.

Once he’s done with eating, now taking his time drinking the water he was given, reveling in the feeling of no longer being completely parched, Daniel moves closer to him, and there’s touch, as always, a hand on his shoulder, the other brushing his hair away from his forehead, and it’s yet another thing Wren should be disgusted by but isn’t. It’s too frequent for him to care every single time. 

Brainwashing. It’s brainwashing. I should fight it.

“Feeling better, sweetheart?”

He gives a tentative nod in response, focusing on the thoughts, trying to rationalize with them.

I know it’s brainwashing. And as long as I know that… I should be okay. I’m fighting. And that’s what matters.

“I just want you to know that I’m always here”, Daniel says, and Wren shivers, hoping that that will be blamed on the hangover too. “Whenever you have a bad day, like today. I’m here to make it better.”

“You’re failing”, Wren mutters, and Daniel laughs, hiding his face in Wren’s neck, sending another shiver of disgust and fear radiating from the spot, which only gets stronger when Daniel wraps one arm around him, and, just like so many times before, he’s trapped by the casual contact. He flinches away from the touch, but the hold just gets tighter, keeping him in place with a silent threat even when Daniel laughs again.

“You’re hilarious, sweetheart.” 

A moment of silence, stillness, interrupted only by the clink of the glass as Wren sets it on the nightstand and crosses his arms, staring straight ahead. 

“But I’ve been thinking…”, Daniel starts again, amusement fading from his voice, and Wren uses a tiny opening to snark:

“Tragic.”

That doesn’t get a laugh. Daniel exhales into his neck before pulling back, to plant a brief kiss on Wren’s cheek.

“We have so many years together ahead of us”, he whispers, and Wren’s heart pounds with enough force to cause pain, “but… I’ve been thinking about the day when I can’t take care of you anymore. When I’m too old, too weak.”

He’s been thinking about that day too - the day when, if everything else had failed, if escape had proven impossible and all he can do is wait, he finally gains the upper hand.

It’s been at the back of his mind for a while now. Not plan B nor C, closer to plan Z, really, but it has been a small source of hope nonetheless, and - which he now realizes was a mistake - he believed that Daniel wasn’t thinking that far ahead.

“I’m trying not to think about it. What matters is the here and now.” Wren flinches under another kiss. “But I don’t want you to be on your own when I’m gone. I don’t want you to be left all alone on this planet, sweetheart.”

Wren closes his eyes and swallows heavily, his heart knocking against his ribs, its beating echoing in his hungover mind, his entire body frozen in horror and anticipation, it’s too much, too much, he wants to be alone today, he wants to be alone in all those years.

“So when that day comes”, the words finally come, one after another seeping into Wren’s ears, fueling his panic, and his breath hitches when Daniel’s fingers, feather-light, brush over his neck. “I’ll make it quick.”

The words click, the world stops, and Wren is falling.

“Painless”, Daniel continues, his every word careful, solemn. “And then, sweetheart, when you’re gone - and only when I’m sure you are - I’ll join you.”

“No.” Wren’s voice is choked, bordering on a sob, the word carrying all that’s tearing him apart, and Daniel pulls him closer, brushing through his hair with his fingers in a crude caricature of comfort.

“Shh. No need to be scared. It will take years before we’ll have to do it, so try not to worry about it, okay?”

“You’re- you’re fucking insane-”

Daniel covers Wren’s mouth with his hand, muffling his words which turn into a whimper, despair taking over the weak attempt at a snark.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know it’s unexpected, but you’ll get used to that thought eventually, I promise.”

And Wren closes his eyes and sobs, overwhelmed, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, I’m going to escape long before that, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t argue, can’t rationalize the two nightmarish thoughts.

That of spending decades upon decades more in this hell - and that of never, ever escaping it, bound to Daniel until death.

Having his life taken from him once again, this time in the most literal sense.

 Next

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @whole-and-apart-and-between @garbagewhump @slaintetowhump @whatwasmyprevioususername @moose-teeth @procrastinatingsab @insanitywishes @special-spicy-chicken @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @untilthepainstarts @lonesome--hunter @spookyboywhump @ohmywhump @renkocchi @whump-only @ihaventwritteninsolong @legallylibra @rose-whump @muddy-swamp-princess @one-stop-whump-shop @girlwithacoolcat @wildlywhumping @oliver-zophie-rose @mnmlover2002 @itallcomesdowntopain

[birdlungg]

Codename: Voodoo - Chapter 4

Harley had to drag Rick to the Mask the next day. It took a little convincing (it is a crime den after all) but a sly reminder of who they were meeting changed his mind (quicker than he wanted).

Rick was dressed in smart black pants and a white button down that Harley forced him to push the sleeves up on. He drew the line at having her slick his hair back, grumbling that it wasn’t a damn date.

Hartley wore a red and black striped cocktail dress underneath a sequined black crop top that said SUICIDE SKWAD in large red letters. She had gotten the shirts custom made for everyone on the squad some time back and wore it whenever she felt like pissing Rick off.

After a little flirting with the bouncer, Harley was able to get Rick into the club successfully. They sat at a booth facing the dance floor and waited patiently.

Well, Rick waited patiently. Harley kept going on and on about how great Voodoo was.

“Ya know, Voodoo and I fucked once and let me tell you, that girl knows how to use her tongue!”

Rick choked on his drink, slamming a fist on his chest trying to get air back to his lungs as Harley sat there grinning wickedly. He did NOT want to be thinking about that right now. He was having a hard time keeping himself calm as is. He also needed to figure out just who this Voodoo was.

ARGUS had no intel on her and Harley wasn’t too keen on giving any information about her other than she was “girlfriend material” and “perpetual single”.

Just as Rick decided he was gonna tune Harley out, Voodoo arrived.

Rick’s breath hitched as he saw her wading through the dancers near them. She wore a long sleeved black dress that stopped at her mid thigh and had a long slit down the front that accentuated her chest wonderfully. Her long dark hair was not in micro braids, with two twisted sections keeping her hair away from her face.

She looked like a dream.

“Voodoo!” Harley squealed as she got up from the booth. She gave the woman a large hug that she reciprocated, laughing when Harley grabbed two handfuls of her ass through her dress (to which Rick averted his eyes).

“I’m so happy to see you baby! It’s been too long.” Harley pulled away and pushed her toward the side of the booth that Rick sat in, sliding back in her original seat.

Audrey sat down smoothly and grinned at Rick.

“I’m Audrey, by the way. Formally Voodoo. It’s nice to actually meet you.” She extended her left hand to him to shake as he was on her right hand side.

Rick cleared his throat and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am. Now just what the fuck are you?” Rick’s words had taken on his slight southern twang.

Audrey nodded and crossed her legs under the table. “Bit of a long story. You can call me a witch of sorts. Dark magic is my game.” She grinned knowingly at Harley and then turned back to Rick. “I mainly work as a merc but do a little bit of everything, I suppose.

Rick hesitated for a moment, then drummed his fingertips on the tabletop.

“And uh… that little trick at the Gala?”

“One of my many talents. If I die I come back a few hours later, no exceptions. Actually, there’s a few things I haven’t tried.”

Harley pipes in from across the table. “She won’t let me cut her head off to see if we can reattach it!” She pouts as she says this, and Audrey laughs at her.

“Yeah well it hurts like a bitch!” She turns to look at Rick with a strange look in her eye. “I figured the ‘crazy civilian casualty’ would be the route with less questions since I got caught. Didn’t think I’d run into you so soon.” She smiles at him and Rick smiles back. They stare at each other for a moment, just taking each other in before Harley screeches at them.

“Wait a minute! Is Voodoo your mystery woman?! Oh, the squad is gonna love this!”

Rick turns red and starts stuttering out a reply as Harley cackles at him, almost falling out of her seat. Audrey laughs quietly and steals a drink from the glass in front of Harley, trying to cover her own smile for Rick’s sake.

After their first interaction, Rick didn’t hear the end of it for weeks. Everyone heard how the great Rick Flag lost his composure in front of a hot lady, even if said lady killed herself later that night (which they also brought into the teasing).

Harley slows her laughter as she wipes her eyes of the tears that had started during her fit. She looks between the two quickly and then stands up suddenly.

“I think I’m gonna go see what Rome’s up to. Don’t have too much fun without me!” She winks at them and then skips off into the dancing bodies.

Audrey and Rick sit there for a minute, before Audrey turns to him.

“I’m sure you have more questions. How about a deal: I’ll answer any questions you have if you promise not to turn me in to your boss. I am a wanted woman after all, and honestly, your boss kind of scares me.”

Rick laughs and runs a hand through his hair, before smirking and agreeing.

“Deal, but you have to start with how you met Harley.”

[topsytervy]

The Right Time ~ JJ Maybank

Blurb: JJ finds the right time to tell you how he feels in his own JJ way.

This is Part 2 of Not The Right Time so if you haven't read Part 1, you can read it here.

Word Count: 2,819

Warnings: mentions of drinking, cheating, a non-descriptive fight, teensy bit of blood, small nod towards suicidal thoughts at the end, cliche and cheesy writing, swearing, poorly proofread so probably spelling and grammar mistakes, I think that's it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since your breakup with Brett, JJ had been doing everything in his power to make sure you knew it had nothing to do with you and Brett just couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

It was hard for him to see you like that, all heart broken and sad, but at least he was able to see you. Kie, Pope, Sarah and John B had tried visiting multiple times during your post breakup hermit phase with little to no success.

A knock on the door sounded throughout the house as JJ finished preparing lunch for you two. 

"Hold on!" He hollered, finishing up your sandwich before heading over to the door.

He opened it to reveal the other four members of your group. 

"Hey." JJ greeted his friends.

"Can we see her today?" John B asked. 

"I can ask but her 'social battery's low'. Her words, not mine." JJ sighed. 

"It's just that it's hard for us to not see her, J." 

JJ looked at Sarah. " At least you don't have to see her completely shattered everyday and have to sit and watch her eat three times a day to make sure she actually does eat."

Pope looked past JJ and saw the sandwiches on the table. "Can I sit with her today?"

JJ looked at Pope before nodding and gesturing towards your sandwich. "That one right there."

Pope smiled before grabbing the sandwich and knocking on your door, hearing a faint come in afterwards.

You looked to see Pope entering, a small smile on his face. "Hey. Heard about your low battery and I figured you'd want to see someone who's not JJ but not the whole peanut gallery."

You smiled lightly as you sat up. "Thanks, Pope. I love JJ but he can be a bit...overbearing sometimes."

"And this is one of those times." Pope nodded.

You sighed as Pope gave you your sandwich.

"He's just concerned about you. We all are." 

"l know."

"How about I tell you about some books I've been reading?"

"I'd like that Pope." You smiled as you bit into your food.

It's not that JJ was bad at comforting or anything like that. In fact, ever since you were a kid, you always went to him for comfort when you were upset. It's just that JJ always seemed to want to rush your mourning period. 

JJ didn't like seeing you sad so the less time you spent crying and moping, the better for him.

"Morning, Y/N/N." JJ smiled lightly as he drew back your curtains.

"J, get out." You mumbled into your pillow.

"You gotta get up, sweetheart." JJ practically sang, walking over to your bed and grabbing the comforter.

Your grip immediately tightened. "Don't J." 

"I know it's only been a week but come on Y/N. Let in some sun. If not for you, do it for your children." He nodded towards your plants as he laid down next to you.

"I can't get up." You told him.

"Sure you can. You're a bad bitch who isn't going to let this break her. I'm not going to allow you to bury yourself in work and hole yourself up in your room forever just because some dumbass doesn't realize when he's got the greatest girl to ever walk the earth."

You stared at the blonde next to you. "JJ. I can't get up cause you're in here and I'm only in my underwear.

JJ rolled his eyes. "Y/N, all due respect, that's no excuse cause I've seen you naked many times before. the time you broke your ankle in the shower being the main one cause I had to help you in and out of the shower multiple times."

You blushed at his words before shoving him. "Just get out."

JJ did as you requested but not before tossing you some clothes.

So when a few months had passed and you seemed to be back to pre-breakup Y/N, JJ was happy to hear Kie mention a party.

Everyone looked at you and you shrugged. "Why the hell not?"

JJ, John B and Pope all exchanged smiles as Sarah and Kie pulled you up from your seat, saying something about making you so hot that the sun would quit and you'd have to take over the job of keeping the earth warm.

JJ watched as you left, sighing as he let his head fall against the back of the couch.

John B looked at his best friend. "Don't be a helicopter JJ tonight."

A look of confusion found its way onto JJ's face. "Helicopter JJ? What the fuck does that mean?"

Pope sighed. "It's like a helicopter parent except you. You tend to hover over Y/N/N at parties and get a bit...protective at times."

"I do that with Kie and Sarah too." JJ scoffed.

"Not really." The boys responded.

"You don't follow Kie's movements as much as Y/N's." Pope started.

"You certainly don't freak out as much when you lose Sarah or Kie but you almost had a panic attack when you lost Y/N that one time at the store and literally had someone page her." John B added.

"You hide some of Y/N/N's clothes when we're going out because you don't like the chance of her wearing something that could cause a guy to like her and cause you to lose your chance with her."

"I once saw you shield her eyes at prom when people started grinding on each other."

"Okay! So I'm a bit more protective of Y/N than the other two. Sue me." JJ cut the two off.

"Point is that this is her first party in months. Let her get a bit too drunk and make out with some hotshot Kook against a tree." 

"Hell, let her get some dick tonight." John B shrugged.

Pope and JJ looked at their curly haired friend before JJ shook his head.

"Fine but she's not getting dick from just anybody. I have to approve of him." JJ said as he stood up and left the room,

The two other boys sat in silence before Pope spoke.

"You know what? I count that as progress and when we make progress with JJ…"

"We have a beer." John B finished, getting up to go get each of them a can.

*****

You and the rest of the pogues made it to the party and found yourselves a home by the bonfire. Rafe, Topper and Kelce had stopped by to say that they were happy to see you again and Kelce was happy that his beer pong partner was back because Rafe and Topper just didn't compare to you. 

JJ stared at you, the fire illuminating your features as you laughed at something Kie had said, red cup in his hand that was half-empty. He brought the cup to his lips and finished his beer before turning to you.

"Refill, Y/N/N?"

You nodded before turning to the rest of the group. "JJ and I are making a refill trip. Who else needs one? Speak now or get it yourself." You announced as you stood up.

JJ smiled at your words before also getting up, ready to grab some cups. Pope and Sarah held out their cups while Kie and John B shook their heads.

You took the cups that needed a refill before you and JJ made your way through the crowd of people towards the keg. JJ cracked some jokes with some of the others around the keg and you rolled your eyes, a small smile on your face before you nudged him with your shoulder.

You two started refilling the cups you had before you were interrupted.

"Haven't see you at a party in awhile, Y/N." 

You and JJ turned your heads to see Brett standing there, two cups in his hand.

JJ rolled his eyes before looking at you, seeing you avert your gaze back to the keg.

"Why don't you go back to your whore over there Brett." JJ deadpanned. 

You smacked JJ's wrist. "Don't call her a whore, JJ. It's rude."

"I'm just stating my opinion."

"Oh so she does still talk. I was just confused when she didn't say hi to me when I greeted her." Brett said.

"Can you get the fuck away from us? She clearly doesn't want to have a conversation with you." JJ snapped. 

"I would love to know what you have to say, Y/N, or are you gonna let JJ over here keep talking for you." Brett aimed at you, ignoring the blonde who was getting more agitated by Brett's presence. 

"I have nothing to say to you." You shrugged, going to grab the cup. 

"We should talk." Brett went to grab you but JJ grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch her." 

"What are you gonna do about it, Maybank?"

"I've got two fists that have been itching to meet your face for months now and tonight might be their lucky night if you keep it up."

"JJ, lets just go." You whispered, placing a hand on his forearm.

JJ looked at you before grabbing his and Pope's cup before following you back to the group.

"Hey, JJ!" Brett called causing JJ to look back.

You gasped as a fist made contact with JJ's face. JJs hand immediately flew to his eye, gingerly touching his eyebrow. He pulled his fingers away to see blood and he chuckled before swinging his own fist.

It wasn't long before JJ had Brett on the ground, pissed beyond belief. Brett managed to get a few more punches in but JJ definitely got way more in by the time you managed to pull him off of Brett with Kelce's help.

"JJ! Calm down, man! He's not worth your time!" Kelce hollered, pinning his arms to his side. 

"JJ, look at me. It's done. It's over. You're good now." You told him.

Brett stood up with a scoff. "He could have fucking killed me." 

"I fucking should, you cheating son of a bitch!" JJ spat, Kelce's grip tightening on the blonde boy when JJ attempted to lunge forward.

"J, let's just go home. We've had our fun."  

JJ looked at you before relaxing causing Kelce to release his hold on him slowly. You grabbed JJ's hand and pulled him away from the small crowd that had formed around him and Brett.

You two said goodbye to your friends and walked back to JJ's truck, you climbing into the passenger seat and him into the drivers.

It was a quiet ride home, Twenty One Pilots playing softly through the speakers the entire time. JJ referred to them as his therapy band, often putting them on after a hard day at work or after a fight so it wasn't really a surprise that he had one of their CDs in. 

Once you got home and inside, JJ locked the door before turning towards his bedroom.

"Um, excuse me. Where are you going, JJ?" You asked, grabbing his wrist.

"Bed."

You shook your head. "We gotta clean you up. Bed can wait."

You tugged him into the bathroom and grabbed the first aid kit as you instructed JJ to sit on the toilet lid. He complied, bouncing his leg up and down as you put a little hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball.

"That's your first fight in a while." You commented, grabbing his chin lightly and forcing him to look at you.

He grunted in response as you started cleaning the few small cuts on his face. "The prick deserved it for what he did to you. You'd have to be fucking nuts to cheat on someone like you."

You felt my heart flutter at his words and I sighed. "I just hate seeing you like this, JJ. All scratched up." 

JJ chuckled as he shook his head lightly. "Oh, Y/N, sweetheart. This is nothing compared to the beat down Brett just got and what my dad used to dish out when I was living with him."

JJ saw your face drop at his words and your eyes begin to water.

"Hey, Y/N. It was just a small joke." He told you gently as he grabbed your hands with his. 

You shook your head and went to pull away from him but he just pulled you back, looking up at you as if he was a parent trying to comfort their child.

It weirdly looked like all those Super Nanny time out scenes where the kid looks down in shame as they apologize and the parent is dipping their head down to make eye contact with the kid. You know what I'm talking about?

"I don't like it when you do the whole 'my dad hit me harder thing', J, whenever you try to play off your pain and injuries." You mumbled, a tear slipping out.

JJ wiped away the single tear, mad at himself for upsetting you. "I'm sorry but maybe the waterworks are a bit much. Hmm?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that you shouldn't fight my battles for me. I was going to just walk away from him."

"I'm sorry, are we ignoring the fact that I was walking away? He threw the first punch and I made sure he would think twice before doing that again."

"I just don't like you getting hurt because of me." You sighed. 

"Hey, I'd rather get hurt than have you get hurt."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and his went around your waist. 

"I always liked your hugs better." You hummed.

JJ felt himself smile. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "You wanna know something, J?"

"Yeah."

"I always felt like you paid more attention to me than Brett. After a year of dating him, he still didn't know my favorite flowers or that I was allergic to bees. Those are the two simplest things to learn about your significant other. You know that I can't even stand the smell of fish sticks anymore or that I can't watch the Freaky Fred episode of Courage the Cowardly Dog or I'll have nightmares." 

"That's because I care about you a lot." JJ whispered, kissing your temple.

You ran a hand through JJs blonde locks and sighed. "I wish I dated you instead."

You froze. You could not believe that you had just told your best friend that. You also could not believe how easily those words left your mouth and how much truth there was to them. You did wish you dated JJ instead and not just because of how attractive he was. He always treated you way better than Brett and was more intune -and concerned- about how you were feeling.

JJ also froze, praying that he heard those words correctly and that it wasn't his mind playing a sick joke. He had been waiting for the right time for months and his gut had been telling him all day that today was the day but he fought the urge, afraid his gut was lying. But this...this must be the sign.

"Do you really mean that?" He asked, fighting a smile in case you meant a guy like him and not actually him.

You paused before nodding. "Yeah, I do."

You felt his arms tighten around you and his face bury itself in the crook of your neck.

"You remember all those months ago when you made a big deal about me liking someone and you asked me why I hadn't made a move yet and I told you it wasn't the right time?" JJ words were muffled by your skin.

"Mhmm."

He pulled away to look at you. "I think now's the right time." 

And then he pressed his lips against yours. You were quick to kiss back and it held the adoration you felt was missing long before you and Brett broke up.

You pulled away, placing a hand on his cheek which caused JJ to close his eyes and lean into your touch.

"Thank you for being in my life." You whispered, taking the forgotten cotton ball in your hand and pressing it to the scratch above his eyebrow.

JJ smiled. "No. Thank you for being in mine. You helped me through the toughest times and gave me a reason to stay."

"I wouldn't have objected to leaving the Outer Banks with you."

"I meant like stay here, like on Earth." He mumbled.

You stared at him before kissing his cheek. "Thank you for staying here with me."

JJ opened his eyes and grinned as some hair fell in front of his eyes. "As much as I love our little moment, can we move the cleaning process along cause I kind of want to climb into bed with you in my arms tonight."

You smiled, pushing his hair out of his face. "Sure thing, Jay-Bird. That sounds amazing."

~~~~~~~~

[elena-reina]

Worth It - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: (1/3) heyyy, can you do an imagine that draco comforts you for having depression for whatever reason and one day he saw you standing on the roof of hog warts almost leaping off the balcony but he catches you in time (you can create the ending) thank u if you do!! :)) - Anon

(2/3) Can you do a one shot where Draco knows about the readers eating disorder and he helps her overcome it? I hope that makes sense, I love your stories so much, please don't stop writing! - Anon

(3/3) Yay, you’re back! I was wondering if you could do a Draco Malfoy x reader where he finds her self harming? I get it if you aren’t comfortable - Anon

Warnings: Very triggering- read with caution please, depression- suicide related, anorexia, self-harm

A/N: PLEASE READ! These three all fall under the same category for me, so I just combined them. I just want to make it clear that I am not, in any way, romanticizing or making it seem as though I am pro self-harm whatsoever; I purely write whatever requests come in. To those that do, I know you’ve got a lot going on and there is a lot of emotions, trauma, and hurt; believe me I know a lot about it. But it gets better, I promise you. It always gets better. Incase you all haven’t heard it, I love you, I care about you, and I know you’re strong enough to make it through anything. If anyone needs to talk, my messages are always open and again don’t ever think you’re not enough or worth it because you all are golden. You were put on this earth for a reason :)

Just another day on top of another.

Yawning, you lightly scratched your head and stood in front of your mirror in your dorm room; nothing covered you besides your undergarments. Looking up and down your body completely still, you wouldn’t be able to tell there was anything wrong. You lifted your arm and looked at your wrist leading down your forearm; the markings covered the insides of your arms and varied in color, shape, and size. Some of them were old, obvious by how they shined and caught light at just the right angle. Some were bright red and bold, there was no denying it. Most were about a month old, looking like a cat scratched you and drew blood; which would be believeable considering you owned a cat- Pumpkin; some you could also blame on an accident. 

Well, what kind of accident?

Well, you didn’t have that answer. Not as if anyone were to ask anyways due to the fact that you kept them hidden in the first place.

You started at your feet, averting your eyes from your own reflection. Your feet were bony and thin, like the rest of your body. Raising your gaze, you winced at the emaciated figure that stared back at yourself. 

What had you let yourself become? 

To others, you looked sickly. 

Had you come to Hogwarts like this initially? No. It was harder to hide it at home, so your mind never crossed it other than maybe dark thoughts here and there.

Did you have a good life at home? Well, that’s subjective. You had a roof over your head, clothes on your back, and food in the fridge. All the necessary things to provide as a necessity to live.

But did you have genuine friends, loving parents, and a place to call home? No.

Your once plump and vibrant self, now looked thin to the bone. Once the soul becomes so thin, the body will inevitably follow in its footsteps like a wandering toddler, learning and adapting from the shadows within. Instead of a growing sense of ultimate self-love, self-worth, or self-positivity, the soul doesn’t have the strength to ascend upwards to health anymore. And so it is extremely hard to eat more, even when it is a simple bite at a time; drink more, with a tiny sip of water needed to survive; live more, the simple act of breathing eventually gets difficult from time to time; and ultimately hard to listen to that part of yourself that wants to stay alive and be loved.

Would you still go to the Grand Hall? Well of course, if there was one thing you hated more than yourself was unwanted attention. Part of you belives it’s your fault that you don’t have friends soley because of how introverted you are. And with the friends, well friend, that you do have just so happens to be the person most people don’t get along with; Draco Malfoy.

What’re the odds.

There definitely was more to it than just being “friends” with Draco, but neither of you fully acknowledged it. He knew about your eating disorder, and he tries his best to help you, encouraging you every step of the way- even when you blatantly push him away.

You never asked for help- Not that he cared if you did or didn’t anyway.

Turning away from the mirror, you slipped on your white button up shirt making sure to clip the button around your wrist, taking attention away for your skin. Sliding on your skirt, Y/H tie, and your Y/H robe, you were ready to head down for breakfast. 

Your hand rested on the cold metal door knob, as you stared at the small piece of silver metal on top of your dresser; whom you have a terrible relationship with. You bit your lip, hesitating. You knew you shouldn’t take it. You knew you shouldn’t have it on you because it will only ingite triggers. 

Fuck it.

You quickly walked over to your dresser and picked up the sharp piece to put in your pocket. Spinning on your heel, you headed on out of the room and to the Grand Hall.

You walked through the aisles, and immediately met with Draco’s eyes. He lit up and waved you over to your usual seat right beside him. He scooted over, patting the space next to him as you sat down. He grinned, happy to see you.

“G’morning, Y/N,” he said pulling you into a tight hug. He was always careful when touching you because he felt like he could snap you in half if he were to be too rough on you.

You smiled warmly, breathing in his calming smell. “Good morning, Draco.”

“Alright, I know we’ve been doing baby steps for the longest time, but I think you are just about ready,” he spoke.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What’re you talking about?”

He leaned over the table and placed food onto your plate, more than he’s put on the last times. Before it would just be pieces of fruit here and there, maybe a piece of sausage; but this time he put a waffle, more fruit, and two slices of bacon.

Your stomach gurgled for the food, desperate to be full off of something. But at the same time, you felt sick to your stomach.

“Draco, this is too much. I’m not even all that hungry. We had a big dinner the night before remember?”

“Nonesense, you literally only ate a handfull of rice and two small pieces of asparagus last night. Even my owl eats more than that,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

You stared at your plate, leaning back. Your tongue felt dry, despite your cup of water being right in front of you. Your throat felt as if someone thrust a handful of itching powder down and it was dying to be coughed out. If possible, you could sit in the chair for fifteen hours straight; you just weren’t in the mood to eat.

“Listen, you don’t have to eat it all, but please try for me.”

You nodded and picked up your fork, stabbing to the orange melon. Bringing it to your lips, you slowly chewed as your stomach was growling in pleasure being finally fed. 

Draco cheered you on with every bite, causing you to laugh. He wanted to distract you so that you focused less on what you’re eating and more on conversing with him so you weren’t as distracted with how much you were eating.

Eventually, you finished about half the waffle, all your fruit, and had no more bacon left. You were surprised at yourself when you looked back at your plate and then to him.

“I’m so proud of you! You ate more than I expected- not that I am complaining, I’m definitely not because I am really happy for you,” he quickly chuckled, “Maybe tomorrow we can put two waffles.” He nudged the side of your bony rib jokinly.

“Ha ha very funny,” you joked, rolling your eyes. 

After some time, you had to go to class. Sadly, you didn’t share many classes with Draco if at all. Walking into potions, you sat in your usual seat in the back of the room. As usual, there were always a few Slytherin’s that would pester you  solely because you were one of the few people in the school who was able to even share the same space as Draco; it was pure jealousy but you didn’t have a say in anything, or even how your friendship blossomed in the first place.

“Y/L/N,” Daphne sneered, leaning close to your face.

You really tried your best to focus on your Potions book but the group of girls that taunt you every single day just so happened to want to be extra annoying and sit around you. And when I say around you, I mean literally in front of you, next to you, on both sides, and even behind you. You lifted your head from your hand to looked at Daphne in front of you, considering she was right in your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but she beat you to it.

“I really don’t understand how us purebloods are forced to associate with people like you rotting mudbloods,” she giggled, making a disgusted expression as she said the last part. Her friends burst out into obnoxious laughter. 

You weren’t even a mudblood. You had friends who weren’t magical, but that only led people to paint you as a mudblood.

"Can’t say anything? Can’t stick up for yourself Y/L/N? My goodness, do you even speak or is that too hard for you?” Sarah on the side of you asks, awaiting your response, “I see the way you have Draco baby you. It’s pathetic really.”

They took your silence as an answer and continued but this time it was Heather behind you. "See, she doesn’t even deny it,” she snickered, "Just look at you. I don’t see what he sees in you. You look like, I don’t even know how to say it, a walking pole-”

“No, a broken twig!” Daphne interjected, laughing.

“Yes a broken twig!” Heather continued, slowly enunciating each word, “Nothing but a pathetic, filthy, mudblood who pretends to be sick just to get the attention from those who actually matter.” 

Each word felt like a stab in an open wound over and over again, being thrusted through your entire body. Tears welled up in your eyes as you blankly stared down at your Potions book, threatening to fall at any given moment. 

“What? Cat’s still got your tongue?” Alicia from the other side of you jerked, shoving on your roughly causing you to bump into Sarah. Sarah let out a disgusted groan and pushed you back off of her.

“Gross! Do not touch me!” she gagged, as Heather joined in and pushed you to the point that you fell out of your seat and roughly onto the floor with a loud smack.

“HEY! LEAVE HER ALONE!” someone in the classroom, whom you recognized as Justin Finch-Fletchley, spoke loudly finally witnessing what was happening.

Tears silently cascaded down your cheeks. He quickly jogged over to you as the mean girls dispersed to a different part of the classroom snickering together.

“Are you alright?” he asked concerned, extending his arm out towards you. You looked at his hand through blurry eyes and nodded, lightly grabbing onto him. He helped you to your feet. Grabbing onto your book, you turned and rushed out of the room and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

Keeping you head low, you sped walked, and crashed into someone that sent you flying to the floor. Choking over your tears, you didn’t bother to look at who it was and instead rushed to find your Potions book and hurry out of there.

“Y/N?” that familiar voice spoke.

Draco.

You still avoided eyecontact as you kept searching to your book only to find him holding onto it, to give to you. Standing up, you straightened out your skirt. Lightly grabbing it, you whispered a quiet thank you and tried to continue down the hallway. He stopped you grabbing onto your arm, alarmed.

“Woah, wait. What’s going on, what happened, what’s wrong?” he asked all at once as he watched the translucent tears glide down the sides of your face. You stood straight.

“Please, let me go,” you spoke softly, your voice slightly cracking.

“Was someone saying bullshit to you? Did someone hurt you? Because you know I’m always here for you and I’ll make sure they don’t say anything to or about you ever again.” He growls getting angrier by the second.

“I just really want to be left alone, Draco. I’m sorry,” you said snatching your arm back and sped walked down the hallway.

His scowl lightens, worrying for you. He slowly followed you. 

Initially you wanted to go to the bathroom, but changed your mind last minute. Turning a different corner, you kept going up more and more stairs until you inevitably reached the top of the Hogwarts building. Rushing to the edge, you dropped your book onto the floor and stood slightly leaning over the edge to get a good look at the bottom of the building with your hair flowing in the wind. It was a long way down that will ultimately end up in costing you your life. Trying to force yourself out of your thoughts, you looked in your pocket for that piece of metal, grateful that you grabbed it earlier. Frantically unbuttoning the shirt around your wrist, you felt numb as you choked over your tears silently.

“I’m not worth it,” you thought to yourself.

You stood on the brink of something you couldn't describe. The weight of everything seemed to press down on your shoulders and you struggled to take even a single step forward towards anything positive.

You felt worthless. 

A waste of space. A waste of air. A waste of life. 

It was too much. All of it. 

The tingle as the sharp metal glided against your skin provided a senseless, numb feeling. Every step cost you as the darkness in your mind grew darker and darker; the pain grew sharper and stronger; all of it seemed to only swell in strength and you began to wonder if things could ever get better.

You were tired of feeling things. Everyday felt like never ending dread. With an exception of Draco, nothing seemed worth it anymore. Hell, Draco will only end up forgetting about you in the end of it all.

You don’t play that much of a significant role in his life to matter to him in the long run.

Sometimes you wonder if someone ever notices that sad, broken look in your eyes that you see in the mirror that are masked with a smile and fake enthusiasm. 

If they see beauty where you see ugliness. 

You laugh, traveling up your arm going over old scars, a bitter, sarcastic laugh, at yourself. Nobody cares. No one notices. 

They never seem to, do they? You’ve fought for years, all for what.

The crimson liquid dripped down your arm, falling onto the stone floor. The wind pushed and howled against you as though to try and shove you back. Clumsily, you dropped your metal blade.

“No!” you shouted, dropping to your knees and it fell further and further, out of your sight. You choked over your sobs, feeling broken. Your arm stung and you looked at it through blurry tears.

“I can’t take this anymore,” you spoke aloud to yourself and shakily stood up. You inched closer and closed on the edge, as you looked up inhaling the fresh air. With one last breath, you closed your eyes, opened your arms, and took your last step forward and felt the pressure of the wind beat you on the way down. 

The blackness behind your eyes was perfect. It provided a visual silence that gave a respected admiration. With your eyes closed there was the simple sweetness of the longing of existing, of being, of breathing, and how those moments extended with such grace until you are met with the concluding dark abyss.

Prior while had Draco followed you, he could feel the dark and depressive energy emerging out of your presense. He knew you needed your space, but something was off. The higher and higher you went up the stairs, he had enough of following you and simply looked up. Only the worse things plagued his mind as he quickly rushed back down the stairs and sprinted through the halls to hurry and get outside. He had no seconds to waste, because he had a feeling you were going to try and jump.

He could’ve followed you all the way to the top, but if you had jumped he would’ve been to late. At least this way, he had a chance of catching you.

Ignoring the pain in his chest from running, he ran pushing anyone and everyone who got in his way. 

Darting outside, his eyes widened as he saw your body flying down the side of the building. With one last push of exertion, he caught you in his arms just in time. He fell forward into the floor, but was sure to cradle your head so you got the least amount of injury.

Breathing heavily up and down. You opened your eyes and met Draco’s silver, scared ones. You didn’t know what to think. You didn’t think he was going to be there. Your fresh wounds, began to soak up in his white shirt. Draco sees them, the sight of your new scars reveal themselves to him. He sees your arm, not that he’s surprised. Still being held in his arms protectively, he starts to cry. 

“Y/N,” he says your name like you had just broken his heart.

Your throat tightens and you feel yourself on the brink of tears as your eyes stung. You didn’t know what to say. You were broken.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say or do. “I’m sorry. I–”

He interrupts you. “Why...” he stammers gazing down at your arm, “How many times?” He rang a soft finger down your arm, wincing at every raw wound.

“I don’t know,” you mumbles. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he cried out, his tears dripping off his chin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t…I wasn’t there for you enough.”

You shake your head, “No, Draco, it wasn’t your fault–”

Draco looked down at you with confusion and anger before he smashed his desperate lips onto yours.

Suddenly, the anger, the self-hatred, the loathing, the rage left your body for a split moment. It diminished as soon as his lips pressed against yours in a long over-due, intense passion. It was as if he was taking all away all your pain and misery and threw it away.

You kissed him back with burning amount of fiery love he was kissing you with. Your lips worked hungrily against his as his hands snaked their way to your waist and pulled your shaking body closer to his to kiss you deeper.

Your cold hands grabbed his face and pulled it closer to yours, if that was even possible. His calming scent flowed through your nostils, making your eyes water under your closed eyes.

Too many emotions were going through your brain and you couldn’t handle it. Deep down,  you had always dreamt of being with Draco. Although, you wish that it could have happened under very different and happier circumstances. Nonetheless, you were grateful.

Pulling away, he gazed into your eyes. “Y/N, can you answer me why? Why didn’t you come and talk to me.”

You tried diverting your gaze, but he grabbed your chin with his hand lightly to keep his eyes locked with yours. “Please.”

“I can’t take it anymore. I hate myself and everything I stand for,” you began to cry, “I just... I just thought it would make it easier for everyone else if I were to end everything and erase myself from existence.”

“I would miss you and I don’t know what I would do without you. What if I had just offed myself and left you there to wonder where you went wrong.”

You broke down into sobs, burying your face into his neck as he embraced you in a tight hug.

You shook. “I... I know, but I’m nothing special. I’m just–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he snapped harshly. “You are so fucking perfect, it drives me insane. I love you so goddamn much, do you know that? Do you? I love you too much to let you keep doing this to yourself. You are worth it. You are loved. You are my everything. I want you to remember that feeling you had right now at the thought of me ending my life, because that’s what you’re doing to me whenever you cut me out of your life like I’m nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried lifting your head sniffing, “Draco, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear. I was just…I was just..” but you didn’t have any excuse, so you collapsed back into his warm embrace.

“I know,” he murmurs against your hair. “I know. I love you. I love you so much.”

[echoghost1]

Fool's Errand

Word Count: 2033 For: @five-rivers 

Summary:  It had been hours since Danny flew off to fight Pariah Dark and Vlad took it upon himself to see what was taking the boy so long.

You can read it on AO3 or down below the cut

Edit: I added a summary

Vlad had been flying for hours but he finally found what he had been searching for. There, sitting on the edge of one of the many floating isles, was his prize.

The boy below him perked up just as he had started his descent. Vlad did his best to quell the surge of jealousy of the boy’s near precognisant perception of other ghosts.

He landed with a grimace all the same.

“There you are, boy. Is there any reason you’ve made me search for you?”

“I didn’t make you do anything.” came his snarky reply.

Vlad crossed his arms and waited for the boy to get up.

He made no attempt to move.

“Do I seriously have to ask you to come with me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” Daniel bit his lip and averted his gaze, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I mean I can’t! Just what that means, Can not. Unable. It isn’t happening!”

Vlad rolled his eyes, “There’s no need to get hysterical, Daniel.”

The boy huffed in annoyance, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew what happened.”

“Then enlighten me.”

Daniel was quiet for a moment as he pondered his options. “You act like I’m just loitering or something. As if I wouldn’t leave on my own. Somehow the idea of me being stuck here hadn’t crossed your mind.” He chuckled to himself but his small grin was quickly replaced by solemn defeat.

"You know, the funny thing is, for so long I thought you knew everything there was to know about being a ghost. But all you know is how to use your powers in the human world. You don't know anything about the ghost world."

Vlad tried to refute that, but Daniel continued.

"You spent so much time trying to win me over, trying to get me to join you when there was a ghostly solution all along."

Vlad was confused, but also intrigued.

"The need for family doesn't go away when you become a ghost. The only problem is that ghosts can't have kids like humans, like the living can. They can adopt though."

"Adopt?"

"Yeah. I've been adopted."

Vlad was not at all thrilled to be given an explanation that only further confused him. He made sure to make it clear that he did not like what little he was told.

“Fine! You want the story? I’ll give you a story!” Daniel shouted in frustration as he got to his feet, “Once upon a time, there was a greedy blue vampire who thought taking things that weren’t his was a good idea.”

Vlad was irritated that he was now forced to listen to this fairy tale version of events, but he kept quiet. If this was the only way to get to the truth then he could handle these childish antics.

“Of course, it wasn’t, and he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Since he was a coward he ran away before anything could happen to him.”

“Hey!” Vlad was a lot of things, but he was not a coward. He just knew the wisdom of a strategic retreat. He made sure to say as much.

Daniel took a breath to regain what little composure he had before continuing, “Anyway, his problems followed him and the weight of the whole world fell to one boy. That boy took it upon himself to don a suit of armor that granted great power, but it was cursed. The wearer would have their life force slowly taken away the longer they wore it. The boy knew the risks but did it anyway. He donned the poisonous armor and went headfirst into the fray. He faced the enraged king alone. He wasn’t sure if he would be strong enough to win,” the boy’s voice hitched as he finished, “even with the armor.” He gently floated back down to the crag below them in silence. “His only hope was that even if he didn’t win, the king would lose first.”

The weight of his words finally settled and Vlad took the opportunity to land on the ground beside him. He hadn’t realized the boy came here thinking this was a suicide mission.

Which, on further reflection, was a logical conclusion to come to.

“I didn’t realize,” Vlad hesitated unsure how to articulate what he was feeling. “I didn’t think that this would happen.” he finished knowing it wasn’t enough.

“Because heaven forbid you have to deal with the consequence of your actions,” Daniel replied sarcastically.

Vlad couldn’t think of a retort and just let the words settle into his skin like a barb.

The pair was quiet for some time before Daniel spoke again, “It isn’t all bad I guess.”

“Oh?” He was curious about the boy’s view on the situation. Especially after how he recounted recent events.

“Well, he says that he won’t be running around trying to take over everything. Said he just wants to stabilize his area first and,” Daniel hesitated and looked away while rubbing the back of his neck, “and he says he wants to focus on me.” Daniel chuckled nervously, “Which is super weird right? Who would have guessed the best way to calm down a tyrannical ruler was to make him a dad.”

Vlad wasn’t sure anyone would have guessed that. Ever.

Now that he wasn’t stressed from his long flight, or agitated by Daniel’s behavior, he finally noticed that there were some subtle changes to the boy’s appearance.

He was still in his ghost form, which made sense given their current location, but it wasn’t exactly the same.

Daniel caught him staring and followed his gaze. “Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that.”

“You forgot?”

“I had a lot on my mind, alright? I was recently in a high-stakes battle for my life and then I wake up to find I’ve been ghost adopted! Sorry, my aesthetics weren’t higher on my list of things to be freaking out about!”

“I was merely asking,” Vlad commented with an insuppressible eye-roll.

“Whatever.” the teen waved him off, “I think it’s because I’m still wearing the armor.”

“You think you might be wearing the Ecto-Skeleton?”

“Well it’s not as bulky or obvious, but I still kind of feel that buzz like when I was wearing it. And you know,” He turned his hand around both to examine it and show it off, “my gloves are gauntlets now, so there’s that.”

The gloves did appear to be gauntlets. The fingers were covered in jointed plates instead of the previous fabric. His gloves weren’t the only thing that changed. His boots and belt, which before were just as white as his hair, were now more silver, they seemed to cast a slight metallic gleam from the light of their ghost forms. His boots were also sporting metallic shin guards with a neon green skull detailed onto the knee. The skull looked exactly like the one that adorned the ring of rage. It even had those menacing red eyes.

“I think I got the suit to match him.” he turned to look up at Vlad, “you know how he has the ring and the crown? I think I got the suit.”

“The suit became a ghostly artifact?” Vlad asked but maybe the boy was on to something. It could be possible for someone as powerful enough to call themselves ‘the king of all ghosts’ could make artifacts. Or perhaps it had to do with this adoption thing?

He still wasn’t entirely convinced if that was a thing. Because if it was, he surely would have found out about it before now.

“Should I give it a name?”

“What?”

“The suit? Should I give it a name? I mean, it only seems fair.”

“How about ‘the Armor of Light’?” a deep voice suggested from behind them.

The two turned in surprise but Daniel was the first to speak. “Oh! Hi dad!” 

Then he muttered more to himself, “I didn’t know you could sneak up on me like that.”

Pariah towered over them and laughed. Thankfully it wasn’t a cruel laugh. It was actually amused. “Don’t worry my child, I believe that is only because we are so close. It would be like detecting yourself, would it not?”

Daniel thought about it for a moment, “I suppose so.” he looked back up to his towering counterpart, “Still weird though.”

Vlad found it odd how relaxed the boy was with the king he had just recently tried to beat into submission. Maybe the adoption thing was real?

He did just call him ‘dad’, didn’t he.

“Come, let us go back to the Keep. It’s getting late and young ones such as yourself shouldn’t be so far unguarded.”

Daniel floated upward and sat on the right-hand shoulder of the king as if that was the most natural place for him to be, “How can you even tell time here? There’s no sun or moon. Just green swirly void.”

Pariah shook his head clearly very amused with the boy’s antics, “I can teach you later.”

“Wait there is a way? Do watches work here?”

“Some do, but not always in the way you would think.”

Daniel did not hide his confusion at that statement and Vlad didn’t blame him. It was weirdly cryptic. Perhaps he was referring to some time-keeping ghost or something?

As much as Vlad found watching the two interact interesting he wasn’t exactly pleased about being completely ignored. So he cleared his throat hoping to get some actual information out of the king.

The king turned to face him, “You’re still here?”

Vlad tried very hard to not be offended by that, “I was just about to go, your majesty, but I had a quick question.”

Pariah crossed his arms as he waited for Vlad to continue.

“The boy claims you have adopted him? Is that true?”

“Are you implying he’s a liar?”

“I-uh, no!” Vlad stammered as he tried to think of what to say next, “It’s just he likes to play pranks. To jest. I meant no disrespect.”

Daniel laughed at that. “He’s not wrong. I do enjoy a good joke.” his expression turned serious again, “But I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

Pariah placed a hand up to comfort the boy. If the king wasn’t so large or if Daniel wasn’t so small, the gesture would have looked like a hand on the knee, as it was, Pariah’s hand covered all of the boy’s lower half.

“This gives me an idea.” the king spoke before picking Daniel up from his perch and whispering something into his ear.

The boy’s face went from curious, to interested, to downright devilish.

Whatever was being discussed probably wasn’t going to spell good news for Vlad. He started to slowly float backward away from the conspiring royals.

The thought stopped him in his tracks. Daniel was royalty now. Vlad gently landed on the edge of the island again.

If he played his cards right, maybe he could get what he was after. It would probably take much longer than he had originally anticipated, but Vlad knew how to be patient. He knew how to play the long game.

Pariah turned back to face Vlad, “Ah good you didn’t slip away after all. I have a proposition for you.”

“That’s very generous of you, sire,” Vlad said making sure to show that he could play nice.

“It is. Considering the damage you have caused, you’re getting off fairly easily.”

Vlad audibly gulped at the thinly veiled threat. “Thank you. I am honored to receive this offering.”

“So, do you accept?” he said and the look in his eye implied that rejection of the offer was not something Vlad would enjoy.

“Of course!”

The second he uttered those two words Vlad regretted every single choice in his miserable life that led to this moment.

Daniel was ecstatic with his response as he floated playfully while he clapped with glee.

That most certainly meant he had made an egregious error.

“For the man foolish enough to try and overthrow me, what better role than to entertain me and my son as the royal court jester.”