#mark just shut down glazed over did not listen to anything she said

[karolinanovotneys]

yet another bananas night

[piecksz]

prove it | (m)

pairings: modern!jean kirstein x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, mirror sex, penetrative sex, saliva, fingering, finger sucking, handjob, slight mentions of breeding, explicit language

words: 3k+

summary: your jealousy sparks a bitter argument between you and jean, but he shows in more ways than one, that you’re the only person he’s infatuated with. 

a/n: as always, if you wanna fully immerse yourself in the smut hehe you can listen to the songs i looped incessantly while writing: girls need love too by summer walker and excitement by trippie redd and PARTYNEXTDOOR (you cannot tell me that jean wouldn’t listen to either he’s so sexy omg pls free me from my brainrot)

You gripped the fabric of your dress, hiking it up above your ankles to make sure the material didn’t get caught under the sharp heels of your shoes while you stormed into the house. Seething with outrage, you swung the front door shut behind you, savoring the few seconds of solitude you had before Jean trailed behind you clamorously.

“I already told you, and I’m telling you—again—I didn’t know she was going to be there!” Jean was insistent, his footfall demanding on your tail as he followed you into the kitchen. His fingers were carelessly twined in his hair, an overt demonstration of his stress.

You hastily tossed your purse onto the counter, paying no mind to the way it slid across the granite and almost toppled over its edge onto the floor. “Bullshit Jean. It was your fucking event, how did you not know she was gonna be there?” You spared him an irate glance, it was the first time you’d looked at him since the two of you left the venue.

The entire ride home, Jean had attempted to make conversation, asking you if you’d enjoyed yourself and trying to solicit your opinion on how he’d done coordinating his company’s milestone event. Following the successful closing of a large venture deal and the expansion of the corporation, his boss had entrusted him to organize a company soirée to celebrate, and if Jean’s event had managed to go off without a hitch, a possible promotion was in the cards for him. However, much to Jean’s confusion you were quiet in your responses, mainly giving one word answers and little praise.

After relentless prodding, you snapped, admitting you were irritated after seeing Jean talking to Mikasa, an old coworker and friend of his. You’d disappeared for only a moment to use the bathroom, but when you returned, the two were engrossed in what seemed like interesting chatter. Seeing the way Jean laughed after everything she said prompted the agitation in your lower stomach to boil up into your throat. Nothing was that funny.

“Maybe I overlooked her name on the guest list.” Jean’s fingers left his hair and wrapped around his tie, tugging to loosen it.

“Oh, you sure looked over her while you two were talking and laughing.” You stood on your toes to grab a mug from the cabinet before slamming its wooden door shut. “What was so funny? The fact that you used to fawn over her like an idiot?”

You shuffled back over to the sink, flipping the faucet and watching as the mug filled with water before bringing the cup to your lips to take a long drink. You sighed as the liquid quenched your dry throat, raw from yelling. You peered over the top of the mug at Jean, eyes following him as he made his way over to the selection of hard liquor against the kitchen wall.

“There you go. Name calling like a fucking child.” He poured himself a generous glass of booze, chuckling wryly and taking a sip.

You pulled the mug away from your mouth. “You—are so—,” you started, but your words disbanded into a loud and frustrated groan.

“I’m so what?” Jean swirled the auburn liquid around in his glass, pretending to look more interested in the way it moved than in the conversation you two were having.

“You don’t want me to finish that sentence, Jean. You really don’t.” You set your cup down loudly, so forcefully it might have shattered with just another ounce of force. “Stop acting like I’m overreacting. You know I’m not the jealous type, you fucking know that. I wouldn’t care, but you know you guys have history together.”

“Yeah, history means that it was in the past,” Jean retorted. “It was in the fucking past.”

You leaned forward on the counter, dipping your head low as if to question the validity of your boyfriend’s reply. “You’re telling me you’d be okay seeing me with an old flame?” You laughed humourlessly.  “You complained for ten minutes after a waiter called me sweetheart.”

Jean took another long sip, then exhaled. “Because he clearly couldn’t tell the difference between horny and hospitality. Now you’re blaming me because you couldn’t see that?”

You nodded sardonically, a disbelieving smile shadowing on your lips while you reached behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. “And how’s that any different from this?”

“Mikasa never liked me back, what’s the problem? Did you just pick a topic out of a hat to bitch about?” Jean downed the rest of his alcohol, and then returned the short glass to the display. He wiped at his lips with his thumb and started back toward the kitchen.

“Fuck you, Jean.”

He let out a low chuckle while he rounded the length of the counter, sauntering in long strides until he was behind you with his large hands planted on the curve of your hips. He dipped his head, letting his mouth ghost by your ear. “You know, you’re kind of hot when you’re mad.” His palms began roaming, first gliding across your stomach before moving to your backside and cupping your ass in the curve of his hand. “Especially in that dress. You look really fucking good, baby.”

You barely cracked a smile. “Yeah?”

Jean’s low voice rumbled against your back. “Hell yeah.”

You turned around to face him, gazing up at him from behind sultry lids. “Then how about…,” you started, teasing him by fiddling around with the loose buttons on his shirt. “You sleep dreaming about all the things you wish you could do to me tonight. Because you’re not getting any.” Your seductive expression fell, and you pushed him backwards so you could slide out of the space between his body and the counter.

As you retired into your bedroom, you heard Jean’s weary voice echo from outside. “You’re cold.”

“Good,” you responded back resoundingly. “Maybe Mikasa’s free.”

“Maybe she is!” he retaliated, and although he wasn’t in front of you, you could nearly see the way he rolled his eyes at your spiteful jab.

You rolled your eyes back. “Shitforbrains.”

You removed your earrings, throwing them onto the dresser with your necklace before slipping out of your heels and stepping out of your dress. You struggled to make haste, trying to get ready for bed as quickly as you could before Jean entered the bedroom and had a chance to say anything that would incite another feud. Lazy and clad in your undergarments, you hauled yourself into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror lethargically while you brushed your teeth and removed your makeup with halfhearted effort.

“Do I need to prove it to you?”

You removed the cold wipe from your lids, opening your eyes and watching as Jean wandered into the bathroom. He continued walking until he met you at the sink, and he wrapped his long arms around your frame again.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into him until the space between your bodies waned. You gave him an unamused glare through your reflection in the mirror, and resumed rubbing away at your persistent eyeliner.

“Should I mark up that pretty neck of yours?” Jean nestled his face into the curve of your neck, pressing messy, carnal kisses along the side of your throat until his lips met the dip underneath your jawline. He lightly brushed over it, knowing it was your sweet spot. Every time he wanted to turn you into a frenzy of moans, that spot was the easiest way he knew how.

“Or maybe I should have you carry our child.” His hands were hot against your stomach, the soft pad of his finger drawing a delicate circle around your navel. You were glad it didn’t tickle enough to make you laugh.

“You’re pissing me off,” you said, simply.

Jean released a husky groan that vibrated against the hollow of your throat. “You’re turning me on.” He hummed. “You feel that?”

You did. Against your ass, you could feel the prominence of Jean’s hardened cock through his pants, digging eagerly into your backside, and he did nothing but continue to fuel his lust by rubbing his erection against you.

“You’re the only one that can get me hard like this,” he strained, grunting at the discomfort in his briefs.

“Look how pretty you are.” Jean took your chin in his hand and prompted you to look at yourself in the mirror. He hovered over your shoulder and looked on, like he was only spectating. “Do you think anyone compares to you?”

His eyebrows creased while amber eyes fixated on your skeptical face. After a lack of response, he jerked your chin, forcing your attention back to yourself. “Answer me.”

“No,” you said quickly.

“Exactly. Good answer.” Jean’s thumb swept gently across your chin while he withdrew his hand.

Your timid eyes drifted over to him, observing as he slid two digits into his mouth, glazing them generously with saliva before lolling his tongue and pulling his fingers out. A thick string of spit lingered until his hand dipped and slid itself into your underwear.

You choked back a desperate cry once you felt Jean part your folds, using his wet fingers to pet the sensitive swell of your clit. Instinctively, you wrapped a sweaty, tremulous hand around his wrist, but it did nothing to quell his painfully tender ministrations.

“Jean,” you murmured. Your voice was breathy, just barely above a whisper while you gave in and rolled your hips against his hand. “Fuck, wait—Jean—”

“I love the way you say my name.” He placed his free hand on your breast. His fingers hooked onto the delicate fabric of your bra and tugged the material down, freeing your nipple. “Say it louder.”

“Jean,” you mewled loudly as he began flicking the hardening peak of your chest with a ginger touch. His movements were delicate and sensual, as though he wanted to kindle an impatient desire within you.

Jean’s fingers continued to rub slow, tortured circles into your clit and he eased into you every few seconds to make sure he was keeping his fingers slick. Once he heard your whimpers begin to ebb, he would stop and switch the direction of his motion, sending you into another flurry of moans and taking pleasure in the filthy-wet mess he was creating in your panties. “Louder.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes until the darkness of your eyelids melted into white heat. The familiar torrent of quivers shook your body, and the surface of your skin tingled with the onset of your orgasm. You dug your nails into Jean’s forearm, and in the haze of your high you forgot about all of your concerns.  

“Jean!” You cried his name again, your wail echoing off of the bathroom walls while you writhed against his hold. You moved restlessly, looking for absolutely anything to cling to in an attempt to steady yourself until your climax subsided.

After you came to and regained your soundness, you scrutinized yourself in the mirror through misty tears, chagrined at how easily you’d submitted to him. You were situated limply in Jean’s arms, bottom lip swollen from persistent biting in your best efforts to veil how good he was truly making you feel, but from the sickeningly-smug simper on his face it was obvious that now Jean knew his fingers were more fruitful than an apology. Which meant this episode surely wouldn’t be the last of its kind.

He slotted his fingers into his mouth for the last time, sucking the silken coat of your arousal off of them before releasing them with a quiet pop, then Jean’s other hand crept up your neck until his thumb drove itself to part your closed lips, just wide enough so he could stick his lubricous fingers inside.

“Mhm,” he encouraged, nodding at the way you meekly looked to him for direction.

Jean’s fingers were warm and sloppy in your mouth as you sucked and he watched you intently, undoubtedly wishing that his cock could receive the same treatment. He sighed heavily as you wreathed your hot tongue around his knuckles.

“Good girl,” he breathed, pulling his digits from your jaws before his urge to stick them down your throat and watched as you gagged through tears became insatiable.

Jean worked one hand against his belt, unbuckling it skillfully before impatiently forgoing his buttons and tugging on his zipper instead. His breathing grew labored while you watched from the mirror as he shuffled behind you, and you canted yourself to the side to provide yourself with a clear view of Jean’s cock in the surface’s reflection.

His thick length pulsated, convulsing even without contact, and every time it did so, a fresh stream of precum dribbled from the swollen, red crown of his tip. With a light hand, Jean tapped his cock against the side of your thigh, prompting you to take him in your palm, and when you obeyed, it elicited a lengthy groan from him.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

You weighed his hot and heavy cock in your hand before beginning to move slowly, flicking your wrist and evoking the jerking of Jean’s hips when you did. His head hung forward and loose strands of his neatly tucked hair billowed around his face while he watched as your hand worked against his throbbing heat.

Jean delivered another set of kisses to your neck, kissing along your jawline until he stopped at the corner of your mouth to take a brief second to acknowledge his own pleasure. “Shit,” he grunted, his fleshly pants now becoming uncontrollable. “Okay, that’s enough.”

You loosened your grip around Jean’s cock while he curled his fingers around the cloth of your thin underwear, pulling it down until he stopped midway past your thighs, then his large hand settled between your shoulder blades to bend you over.

His palm collided with the pert curve of your ass, delivering a mild spank, and then he ghosted his touch over the stinging pain, blithely enjoying the way you whimpered his name ever so quietly. Jean positioned himself at your dripping entrance, prodding the tight hole with his tip over and over again just to taunt you until you glowered uncomfortably at him through the mirror.

“Stop it,” you heaved, your longing now turning into an unbearable itch.

Normally, you knew Jean would have loved to tease you, disregarding your begging and instead working even harder to rouse you, but you could tell by the sweat that beaded around his hairline that he needed relief too. So Jean spared you, grip tightening on your hips, and he pushed himself into you with a husky and guttural moan that overwhelmed your delicate whines.

He wasted no time and began moving, gradually picking up his pace until he decided on a moderate speed, not too rough, but just forceful enough that your breasts jounced and your body lurched against the sink whenever he thrusted into you.

“I always tell you how good you feel, do you need to hear it again?” Jean murmured, watching as his cock disappeared inside you and whenever he pulled back to rock his hips forward again, it glistened with a new layer of your arousal. “Your pretty pussy always takes me so well.”

He leaned into you, wrapping an arm around your waist and placing his hand on your shoulder, holding you in place while he fucked himself into you, over and over again. You tugged at Jean from deep inside your well, tightening your walls around his cock and causing his jaw to go slack with bliss.

“The way you fucking milk me, I could cum right now.” His balls slapped ceaselessly against your skin, and the sound of two sweaty bodies married together saturated the thick sex-tainted air. You struggled to watch yourself in the mirror, mouth wide open and eyes bloodshot from your tiredness and tears. Jean’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear and sent a ripple of goosebumps down the expanse of your back.

“I wish I could take a picture of you right now and keep it for later.” He panted into your ear. “You’re the only thing I can think of when I jerk off, it would be nice to have a visual.” When you said nothing he smiled, tugging at the softness of your lobe with his teeth. “Maybe next time, yeah?”

You could only give a weak and disoriented nod, and when you felt Jean’s cock twitch inside you, coupled with the way his muscles tensed underneath his skin, you knew he was close. You wrapped your hands around the arm curved about your waist and nodded at him again, cueing that you wanted to feel his release inside you.

Jean arched an eyebrow, his thrusts becoming sloppier, but he made no efforts to slow his cadence. “Yeah, you’re gonna let me cum inside you?”

You nodded silently for a third time.

Jean delivered a few more generous jerks before the small of his back tightened and he came inside you, amply flooding your chafed walls with his hot seed until you overflowed, and the creamy, white liquid seeped past the girth of his cock and began dribbling down the inside of your thigh.

Jean pulled his now limp cock out, wiping his essence gently on your folds before pulling you into another doting embrace. His clinch was tight, warm cheeks pressed against each other while he looked at you in the mirror with complete and unadulterated adoration.

“I love you,” he affirmed before flipping you over in his arms to face him. He bent down to press a salty and clammy kiss to your mouth, his lips stalling for a few moments longer before he pulled away and then delivered another kiss to your forehead. “Alright, stupid?”

You bobbed your head briefly, now embarrassed at your earlier outburst. You sunk into Jean’s torso, head against his chest, and mumbled sheepishly. “I love you too.”

The two of you stood together, arms encircling each other until Jean carefully broke his caress and began tugging you in the direction of the shower.

“Come on baby.” He grinned. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[lupically]

#FFF8EA | XIAO. 

genre | fluff

word count | 2233

warning | mention of falling off a moutain​

note | i just have some ideas for xiao...

"the yaksha is fond of you."

madame ping was no stranger to you. the kind old lady roaming around yujing terrace, often seen admiring flowers or brewing a cup of hot tea, was someone you come across every afternoon after school when you head to the censor to make a wish to rex lapis.

the conversation you two have had always been brief, mainly because you were always in a hurry to get to work. she never minded your urgency, blissfully talking about how fast-paced and active young people these days are, and simply being happy that you even stopped to let her hand you some glazed lilies from time to time.

interestingly, though, she stopped giving you glazed lilies after a while and began handing you some pretty qingxin instead.

you never questioned it. it was just flowers. you could live without being gifted only one kind of them for the rest of your life. but after today's incident—after the burning down of your school located just outside the city, as well as what madame ping told you with hearty laughter laced in her voice, you were starting to think the switch to qingxin meant something.

"the yaksha is fond of you."

you tightened your hands around the weak strap of your school bag, made out of bamboo after lots of trials and errors, and you tilted your head with increasingly furrowing brows.

"pardon me, the what is fond of me?"

"the yaksha, my dear."

you stared at her. the corner of your lips was quirking up in confused twitches, and she could see that you were fiddling uncomfortably on your spot because you truly have no idea what she was talking about. it was not because of the history of the yaksha that might have made you feel jittery and out of place, you simply had no idea!

madame ping smiled even harder at your innocent oblivion then. how could you have such ample knowledge of rex lapis and the adepti, but nothing about the yaksha? especially the one with his mark, a jade green glow surrounding you like fireflies, all over your aura?

maybe that was why xiao chose you.

or, at least, it was one of the reasons why he liked you.

it was because you knew nothing of him. you never think about him, you never talk about him, and you would never suspect the string of random good luck and trails of safe travels that have been following you around.

while it must be tearing him down on the inside; the fact that he wasn't being able to approach the one person who made his good deeds a choice rather than an order. it must be plaguing his mind and patience every day.

but, even then, your surprising lack of information about his identity does save him the pressure of being chased down by you.

it saves him the problem of being even further attached to you. it was already pressing on his breaking point when he went out of his way to watch over you, leaving trails of his magic over your mortal soul to keep you safe when he was busy. any further interaction would be disastrous.

logically, he knew he would fall for you, so he was doing preventive measures. he has to keep his chest sealed so his heart wouldn't jump toward you involuntarily; he has to keep his chest sealed so you couldn't see all the mess inside.

"oh, sweet child," madame ping cooed as she walked toward you. she whispered to herself, "you're being protected by an adeptus and you don't even know."

she brought up a qingxin from her pocket, the petals slightly wrinkled from the confined space. she tucked it carefully in the pocket of your shirt before patting the bloomed flower, almost as if she was reminiscing.

"this is his flower," she said.

you hummed, looking down at it. "this is his favorite flower?"

"i'm not sure about his favorite flower, but this is his flower," she replied casually.

you pursed your lips together. well, at least now you knew the qingxin did have something to do with the... yaksha... or whatever.

"madame ping... may i ask–"

"you can find him at qingyun peak," she cut you off calmly. "during the lantern festival. he is always there during the festival. it was for the quiet, he said, that old man."

you shut your mouth, surprised that she knew what you wanted to ask. "uh... qingyun peak... is kind of... a big place..."

"you will find him if he wants to see you," she said. "you can speak his name–xiao. he might not show himself to you, but if you have something to say, he's likely there to listen."

qingyun peak. the lantern festival. the yaksha.

right.

that was how you found yourself bearing the freezing night cold with just a thin shirt and a ragged fabric wrapped and tied around your torso, your hands hurting from grabbing sharp edges and rough rocks, and your anxiety increasing with every jump that not only would the almond tofu in your bag fall, but you would as well.

as opposed to watching xinyan play for the lantern festival, being warm and cozy from the warm city lights and the tasty street food, and maybe even letting go of a lantern yourself after making a wish, you were here. you were alone, climbing mountains for a chance.

all for a random boy madame ping told you about! someone who was supposedly fond of you—if this xiao guy was so fond of you, he would have shown himself the first three times you called his name at the bottom of the mountain!

"fond of me–what a joke," you said through gritted teeth as you hoisted yourself up on a small ledge. "i'm going to kick his ass so hard when i find him."

you let yourself pant for a minute, regaining your stamina as you groggily accessed the higher peaks above you. your eyes squinted in dismay, but something inside you—the curiosity for the truth, as well as the longing for a friend, also the anger for playful revenge—urged you to keep going.

"he better eats the almond tofu i made," you muttered to yourself as you moved closer to the mountain. "i even picked some flowers... for him."

jump after jump, you were close to making it to the second ledge when suddenly, a slime jumped and appeared above you. it looked surprised, mirroring your expression, and as it prepared itself to attack you after seeing your hands move, it stopped when it saw you fumble about in the air before you began to fall further away from itself.

you had let yourself go. out of surprise, and an instinct to grab a weapon, your hands moved away from the edge and you fell.

your mind raced as the wind hit your face, your falling body heavy against the current that desperately tried to take you up from the ledge you just climbed up from. you would surely die from the impact if you drop. even without dropping down to the bottom, you would still suffer from a painful death.

was there something to do? how did this happen, you were doing fine! what should you do, what could you do? you were falling already—what was there to do now? anything, something?

"i–archons–" you heaved with the cold air, your lungs squeezing inside you with fear as tears began to drip out of your eyes.

anything? anybody?

xiao?

"you can speak his name. he might not show himself to you, but if you have something to say, he's likely there to listen."

"xi–" your voice broke for a millisecond when you could see the green grass approaching quickly. you squeezed your eyes shut, and your voice was louder than you have ever allowed it to be.

you called his name, loud and clear.

the first thing you felt was a lightning strike. you opened your eyes at the electric feeling to find a flash of green. it was bright, close and bright, in a way that was blinding. but then the tail broke into gentle fragments as a pair of arms circled your body to catch you from the fall.

one arm went around your waist, the other hand securely tightened itself around the back of your neck to keep it from breaking from the impact of his fast landing.

xiao growled under his breath when his feet struck the ground in a heavy blow. he pushed your head to his shoulder, shielding your face away from the soil that bounced upward as a result.

quietness ensued after a moment of calm. you took the moment to access the situation—you were fine. someone, likely xiao, saved you from the fall. you were fine.

he dropped onto the ground, sitting on the cold grass with your body pressed close to his, when he heard that you began to sob from the accident.

despite feeling awkward and unsure, he kept quiet and let you vent out the post-accident fear so you could slowly bring in the relief that you were still alive. but his quietness was unwelcomed when you suddenly curled your fist and hit him across the shoulder.

"screw you! why didn't you just answer me when i–when i was at the bottom of the moun–mountain! screw you!"

you blamed him and you hit his shoulder repeatedly. your weak fist was nothing compared to the pain he has endured in the past, but your cries cut through him like glass in the most seamless pattern when he realized he was part of the reason why you had to go through that traumatic experience.

if he had just jumped down from the peak when he heard you the first time, this would not have happened.

xiao looked at the empty spot before him. his golden eyes glowed with a softness that has long fallen into the abyss, forever gone and forever abandoned. but he brought it back out now because he cares about you, and he is, ultimately, attached to you, and he loves you.

"you're right," he said, holding you close to him. "i'm sorry."

ever since you discreetly left the almond tofu on the roof of the wangshu inn, your shy figure hunched over in an apologizing manner because you were told that you were giving food to an important, albeit weird, guest, and your blissfully ignorant words of encouragement as you told him to go out and explore the world, to give it a chance so he could find people he would like.

ever since then, he has loved you, in fragile and discreet ways, in unwavering and patient ways, in protective and caring ways.

"i love you, i'm sorry."

you stopped sobbing almost immediately, and he was afraid he might have said the wrong thing.

wasn't it what he was supposed to do? verr told him to speak his mind once. just be truthful with his feelings and nothing could go wrong. was he not supposed to show his affection blatantly, as he would his complaints and opinions?

"that... that is going a little too fast for me, xiao," you joked. "let's settle with appreciating each other for now."

he heard you laugh, causing the weight of his heart to drop, like finding lights in a fog, like seeing the lanterns in the night sky and realizing that there are more people alive with you than you think.

"thank you, for saving me," you said kindly then, your fist long stopped hitting him and was now patting his shoulder.

"always."

“but burning my school down is not the best approach for... whatever it was you were trying to help me with.”

xiao blinked in confusion, then realization hit him. he almost forgot about that! he was, shockingly, dwelling in the prideful fact that because he literally destroyed the building, you would be free of school for the day, and therefore not having to face all the hardships inside the walls he could not venture past. he thought it was the best thing to do, second to beating up everyone, which he politely opposed to.

“i am not sorry about that,” he muttered. “it was what i thought was best.”

he could feel you grin in his embrace. your laughter reverberated in the air, making his magic glow around you both. it was like nothing he has felt before. he wanted to stay like this—in this position where you were engulfed by him, where he could surround you with himself instead of the fireflies of green he has left behind, where he was with you in a way it was entire, in a way he could feel your beating heart against his own.

you are pressing onto his breaking point.

you are going to open him up, see him whole, and renovate his insides to your will. you are going to take his heart from his chest, breaking through his ribcage made feeble from his sheer affection for you, and claim it as your own. you are going to make him love, like sharp knives, like soft breaths, like tragic past, like warm blood, you are going to make him love.

you are pressing onto his breaking point.

and xiao lets you.

because you will be worth the tragedy, you will be worth everything.

[jaxxandcomet]

the only thing I don't want to burn - JJ Maybank x reader

in which a boy tells a girl that he is real and the things that haunt her, no matter how realistic, aren't.

word count : 2600

trigger warnings : blood, paranoia, self harm, burning ( as a form of self harm ), schizophrenia, love haha, swearing

requested : no but they are open!

this one's rough buttercups, but I love angst and this was a good thing to get out emotions on !

gif credit : @outerbankspov

You were never alone. You stood in lines in the school cafeteria and tried to ignore the voices circling around outside, both the real ones and the ones made up by your mind. You laid on the HMS Pogue and soaked up the sunlight and tried to shake the feeling of someone choking you or of someone plugging your ears.

Pill 1

This pill was light blue, but it reminded you nothing of the sky. You held it in your fingers, trying to hold enough water in your mouth so you could swallow it. You’d read the orange bottle it came in, the bottle that your doctor had prescribed, and told yourself it would work. That it had to work. But the people standing around you told you it wouldn’t. Just like how they told you to kill yourself or cut yourself or how they took your thoughts away from you.

You swallowed it and blinked at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t taken a shower in days - the last time you did spiders crawled up from the drains and screamed in your ears. You looked down at your arms and still saw the scratches you’d given yourself to get the spiders off of you - even though they were made up by your mind.

The figures behind you that you’d come to know well stared you down, still chirping. You could see their reflections in the mirror, tainted.

“Come on y/n.” The boy with the red hair told you. “This isn’t going to work. I will be with you forever. We love each other, don’t we?”

“Y/n, why would you ever think that you could get rid of us? We love you more then JJ or the Pogues ever could. Listen to us. We do everything for you!” The girl said. The Haunter’s always told you lies, and you always believed them.

You sat on the floor for the amount of time it said it would take the pill to kick in. You waited for their voices to go away, for their darkness to stop tainting your eyes, but they never did.

You got up and left your bathroom, the Haunter’s following you down the hallway to your bedroom. Your parents were gone, and your middle-class home was silent. It seemed to you as though they were always gone. It was only the Haunter’s that were ever really with you.

You didn’t turn on the light when you walked inside and shut the door to your room, and you prayed it would stop the Haunter’s from turning your vision. Of course, their whispers could never be silenced. You crawled into bed and screamed when you felt a warm lump at the end of it.

“Fuck, y/n! It’s just me! I’m not going to hurt you!” A voice told you, and for a second you believed it was one of the Haunter’s still trying to configure your mind. They would always be trying, you reminded yourself. At least at this rate.

“God dammit JJ, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You felt a hand on your foot, so warm that you were sure you were making it up. It was gone a second later. “You are freezing! Get under the blankets before you go hypothematic.”

“Before I get hypothermia, you mean.” You corrected, trying to focus on the texture of the blankets as you crawled under them. You felt JJ lay down a second later, right next to you, a mess of blankets separating your skin.

“Thematic, thermia. Potato, tomato. Same thing.” JJ said and you could smell weed and salt on his skin. The last thing you remembered smelling was your own blood.

You tried to laugh but only hollowness sounded.

“Are you okay? You seem weird.”

“Wow. Thanks. I’m a weird person.” The word almost choked you. You felt your mouth dry. You were weird. That’s why you could never tell him. He would leave, and hate you, and that would feel worse then waterever the Haunter’s said about him now.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you just seem not yourself.” He spoke quietly, and you closed your eyes and focused on keeping your hands on your stomach so as they wouldn’t try to plug your ears. The Haunter’s were shouting at each other at the foot of your bed.

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, JJ, just tired. I’m going to try and sleep. You can stay if you want.”

After the words slipped out of your throat, an encore of anger blasted from your feet. The Haunter’s screamed at you.

“No! What are you thinking! We are here, you do not need him. He is nothing compared to us. You love us and you know that he will never love you.” They told you. You tried your hardest not to believe them.

“You need your sleep. I’ll see you soon, Y/n. Goodnight.” He crawled over you and left via your window, which you quickly closed, preparing yourself for what the Haunter’s would tell you next.

They weren’t telling you, they were shrieking at you. “You love us! How could you ever replace us with him! You need to hurt yourself! What in the world were you thinking!”

You tried not to believe them. But this was the slipping point, and open air was soon under your feet. You got up, and walked to the living room, where you grabbed the lighter from above the fire. You sat back down at the edge of the bed, and lit the flame apon your wrists.

Pill 2

This pill was orange, and it felt heavy in your fingertips. The Chateau bathroom stood around you, and you popped the pill in your mouth before replacing your hands to where they lay on the bowl of the sink. You’d become an expert in the past four months of swallowing pills without water, and since you’d tried several other types of pills, you’d also become very good at reading the orange bottles. This pill had the strongest dosage, and was the one of the market that seemed to work best for severe cases of your ‘condition’. At least that was how your doctor put it, when she handed you the bottle with a smile.

It didn’t seem like just a condition to you or the Haunter’s, but they’d been ghosts for the past day, and on days where they went half-away, you tried to make the most of it.

You walked out of the bathroom and sat down on the porch with the rest of Pogues. Pope, who sat next to you on the couch, was drawing a route on a map for a day trip they were planning. Kiara offered you a beer and you shook your head.

“Come on, dude! I haven’t seen you drink anything in like four fucking months. Loosen up a little bit.” She said, taking a swig of her own beer.

“Don’t fucking pressure her like that Ki!” JJ said from his spot on the side of the railing.

“Says you!” John B shook his head as JJ pretended to punch him. Sarah, who was sitting next to JB, turned and ran her eyes over you.

“Are you okay, y/n?” She asked lightly, laying a hand on your jean covered leg. JJ turned his head quickly and nodded.

“I was just about to ask the same thing,” his eyes glazed over your body. You’d lost weight and replaced tighter clothes with baggier ones. His face paused when looking at your own, noticing the bags under your eyes.

“I didn’t sleep well last night. I hope I’m not too much of an eye soar.” Pope laughed at your remark.

“You will never be,” JJ looked away, holding up his blunt to his mouth.

You sat next to Pope and tried to look away from the Haunter’s, who were slowly getting louder in your ears and darker to your eyes. Before you knew, they were laughing and calling you names and pretending to shoot you with their guns and you couldn’t take it. You got up slowly and fumbled down the steps, a head rush pounding into your skull.

“Y/n? Y/n?” JJ got up quickly and ran down the steps behind you, seeing you drag yourself to the street so as you could walk home.

You turned around slowly and smiled lightly, trying to put away the Haunter’s remarks for you to shoot yourself. You gripped your sleeve tighter, praying he didn’t see the burn marks on your arms. They never healed for more than twelve hours.

“What’s up? I can walk you home if you want to go. You don’t look okay.” You could hear the worry laced into his voice.

“I’m good, JJ. Just got a little headache and want to go home and try to sleep. I’ll see you soon, okay. Don’t worry about me.” Before he could respond, you walked away and down the street.

Pill 3

This pill was red. It stuck to your tongue when you swallowed it, and you felt as though it may never hit your stomach. None of the pills ever helped. Some made the Haunter’s worse. None of them made them fade.

The sun beat down on your skin, and you pulled your long sleeve down over the scars on your wrists, and now arms. You could feel the sway of the HMS hunderneth you and the wind muffled the Haunter’s whispers, at least for a few minutes.

You didn’t pay attention to the conversation the rest of the Pogues were having, and focused only on how good the flame would feel when you got home. The Haunter’s were right that warmth helped.

That night, you sat on your downstairs porch huddled around the outside fireplace, surrounded by the Haunter’s. Their voices rang into your skull, and the only thing you could do to distract your mind from them was to pull up your sleeve and hold it over the open flame. Whenever you pulled your arm out of the glow, they would shout at you to put it back in. So you complied. It was the only thing that made them happy.

Your eyes lost themselves inside of the orange fluorescence, and you didn’t hear the twigs snap next to you or the gasp that sounded. The only thing you could feel was when someone pushed your chair backwards and you landed on the concrete.

“Shit! Oh my god. What in the fucking world were you doing,Y/n!” It took you a second to place JJ’s voice in your mind, and you tried to pull down your sleeve, but it was too late. You felt him pull you upright and drag the chair away from the fire pit.

“Your arm was on fire. It’s burned! Why were you holding your hand in the fucking fire!” With each word he said, your breathing quickened. This was normally the part you hated the most. The withdrawal from the flame. The Haunter’s shrieked in your ears and you could see them dancing in the light in front of you.

You peered down at your arm and screamed, and before you could do anything JJ had picked you up and pulled you through the French door’s of your house and onto your couch. You pushed yourself away from him, holding your hands up in front of your eyes, peering at them as though they weren’t your own.

“Y/n! I need to know what you were doing! I need to know if you are okay! Why aren’t you looking at me? Nothing’s over there. Stop! I need you to answer me!”

“JJ?” You asked faintly and glanced over at him for a second. A tear slipped down his cheek, and you could tell he wanted to touch you, but didn’t want to hurt you. “I need you to leave.” Your voice was quiet. You still could protect yourself. JJ didn’t have to know about the Haunter’s.

“I’m not going to leave you, Y/n. You were hurting yourself, and I need to know why. I need to know if this is related to why you’ve been acting weird. I need to know if you are okay.” He was sure in his tone and you understood that you wouldn’t be able to get yourself out of this. He’d seen your arm in the flame.

The Haunter’s had followed you both into the house and were trying to coax you back out of to the flame. Your eyes flickered between them and JJ, and they were all getting louder. You couldn’t hear your own breathing.

“SHUT UP! FUCKING PLEASE SHUT UP!” You screeched and your arms and legs shook. “Please. I don’t want to go out there again. I don’t want to hurt myself. Please stop trying to make me. Please. Please.” The tears glided down your cheeks as you shut your eyes. You trembled and kept repeating the word to yourself. “Please. Please. Please. I don’t want to hurt myself.”

When you stopped, the Haunter’s had quieted themselves and JJ was there and watching you.

“Y/n?” JJ took you in softly. “Please tell me what just happened.”

Still shaking hard, and glancing around to make sure the Haunter’s didn’t return, you opened your mouth. “I’m so sorry JJ. I can’t. I can’t.”

“I need to know why you were hurting yourself and what just happened. I want you to be okay, Y/n. I might be able to help.”

You let out a breath, quivering. “I see things, and I hear things. And they tell me bad things. They tell me to hurt myself, and to kill myself. They never leave me alone. They want me to die. They make me believe I want to die. The doctor calls it schizophrenia. I call it my own death sentence.” Your words slipped from your throat. JJ didn’t pull away, instead, he lay a hand on your thigh and ran a finger through your hair.

“Are they talking right now?” He whispered, and you nodded, tears creating a damp spot on your shirt. He nodded back, and held your fingertips against his own. “I need you to listen to only my voice, y/n. Focus on my voice. I know it's hard, but you have to.

“I’m so thankful you told me. I was so worried about you. I still am. But I can try to help you now. You aren’t alone anymore. You will always be importa-” JJ’s voice faded and you looked over away from his eyes at the Haunter’s, who were starting to reappear.

“I’m right here, Y/n. Look at me, I’m right here.” He touched the sides of your face and positioned your eyes so they stared into his own.

“You will always be important to me. I’m willing to fight with you. I love you so much, and you can’t let them tell you differently.”

“I don’t even know if you are real, JJ. I can’t tell anymore. I want to believe you, I promise. But it’s really hard.”

JJ lead your hands to his sides, where his hips met his body, and then to his stomach and abs, and to his shoulders, and around to the sides of his face. “I”m real. I’m right here, and I’m real. I know it's hard to believe me. I understand. But for me, you need to. I can’t lose the only thing that I don’t want to burn. I’m real. And I’m here for you.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

*busts in the door* ANTONI SUFFERING PROMPTS? may I offer any combo of 8: pour salt in my muse’s wound(s), 5: drug my muse, and/or 23: trip my muse for my favorite ashtray 😍

One Two Three Four Five

CW: Burns, salt in wound, cigarette smoking, internal and external dehumanization, pet whump, emeto mention

"Sssshhhh." His whimpers have gotten too loud again, and there's a hand in his hair, rough petting that feels more like another kind of violence, opening new wounds. It's Quiet One crouched in front of him, head tilted, eyes sparkling in the graying darkness as dawn comes closer and closer. "Hold still. There we go. Good boy."

A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine, the simple pure sense of doing what he is trained to do, made to do. Made for, what he wanted, to make up for whatever sins are buried deep inside his ruined memory.

"How do you know all this shit, anyway? Not just the movie. They didn't get into half this shit in the movie." Deep-Voice is back in the wrecked kitchen, going through cabinets with doors that hang off broken hinges.

The ashtray is in what was the living room, his hands tied behind him with his own t-shirt, ripped to long strips. He's sweating, even in the chilly empty room, sitting up but slumped over. They've tied one bit of his shirt around his neck with a little bow.

A droplet of sweat runs down his collarbone, dips over his chest, finds a new burn and the ashtray hisses, biting on his lower lip to kill the sound until he feels blood burst free of him again. How many times has he bitten his lip tonight?

Lookout sits over by the front door, miraculously still intact right down to its frosted glass panels. He keeps looking outside and then back, chain-smoking, one cigarette after another even after his face seems green around the edges. There are five from him, five new circles of pain for the ashtray to focus on.

Three with his eyes sparkling, two with a growing uncertainty. Then Lookout went and threw up outside in the bushes someone had once carefully landscaped along the front of the house. He had to be convinced to stop panicking over DNA, Quiet One had to lecture him on not listening to the fucking true crime podcasts any longer.

They're not gonna test your goddamn puke, asshole. Besides, does that look like somebody who's gonna call a fucking detective? Get back in here.

Now Lookout sits by the door, and the butts of the cigarettes he has already finished lay scattered around his shoes.

"My uncle," Quiet One says, using the ashtray's hair to lift his head again, looking over the glazed, empty obedience written alongside the suffering, worn openly on his face. "Works for WRU. They're not supposed to talk about it, sign like the world's most ironclad NDA, but he tells me stories sometimes."

"Ron?" That's Lookout, voice shaking. He looks like he wants to throw up again. The ashtray blinks at him, dazedly. How can he look sick when the ashtray is the one whose skin is burning for his crimes? "Ron works for-"

"Hey! What the fuck did I say about names?" Quiet One rolls his eyes. Deep Voice comes back in, shoes crunching on glass and rocks and bits of crumpled paper and everything else that's been dragged in here over time. He crouches next to Quiet One, holding out a thick cylindrical... something.

The ashtray's eyes can't focus enough to understand.

"Look what I found," Deep Voice says, softly.

Quiet One grins. "Oh, yeah. Do it, man."

Deep Voice flips open a little metal thing along the cylinder's lid, and the ashtray's eyebrows furrow, confused. His thoughts move slowly, fighting through deep water.

He realizes what it is just as Deep Voice tips the canister of salt and pours it over the new constellation they've made on his stomach, reaching out with his other hand to rub circles, pressing the grit deeply into the burns.

The ashtray's back arches, every muscle locked, choked sounds coming from a throat that won't open enough for a scream. Quiet One keeps a hand in his hair to hold him still, watching with bright avid eyes, glittering with fascination as he looks at the veins in the ashtray's neck standing out, the blood smeared along his chin from his lower lip.

"Jesus Christ," Quiet One says, softly. "You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?"

"What if he gets, like, infected from this?" Lookout asks, hands shaking so hard he drops the lighter when he tries to light up again. "And like. Dies?"

"What if he does?" Quiet One shrugs one shoulder. "Sucks to be him, then, I guess." His eyes move over the ashtray's face, watching with intensity as Deep Voice pours salt on another set of burns, listening to the ashtray's hitched sobs, watching the tears track through dirt down his cheeks. "Fuck, man. Those cheekbones. I can see why some old fucking perv wanted you."

It wasn't for his cheekbones. The ashtray would tell them if he could remember how to speak. It was for his crimes, it was because he had done something so terrible he would give anything to escape it. It was because he had to pay for what he'd done. It was because-

Abruptly, Quiet One lets go of his hair, letting his head fall back down, chin nearly to his chest. "Hey. Get over here with the lighter, man."

"Why?"

"I want to do one more. I'm tired, I want to go to bed. Come on."

The ashtray catches Lookout's soft oh thank god as he gets to his feet and shuffles over, dropping the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into Quiet One's waiting hands.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"What?"

"You smoked like the whole damn pack! This shit costs money, you fucking baby."

"Fuck off, I'll buy you more. Just. Finish it up, I want to go home, too." Lookout looks away, out the broken windows towards the street. "People're gonna be fucking waking up soon. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah. Asshole."

Quiet One turns back to him, using one finger to tip his chin up, almost gently. The ashtray looks back at him, blank but for the pain. It fills his body, the throb of each individual new mark joining the itching aches of the old. The oldest scars are so faint they hardly mar his skin, the newest are bright red burns, skin buckling and bubbling under heat it isn't made to withstand.

"Pozhaluysta," He whispers, lips barely moving. "Pozhaluysta, Mr. Davies, ostanovites'."

"Mmmn. That's Russian, isn't it? Sexy. One more, pet. Think you can handle one more burn for me? Take it quiet and we'll leave. Can you do that for me?"

The ashtray nods, frantically, in desperate need for it to end. He can go back to his room, with the bars on the windows, and sing himself to sleep. He can go back to his room.

"Good boy."

The ashtray stares at the little red circle of light as the cigarette is lit, the flickering flame. The click of the lighter as it shuts again, the smoke blown into his face. Familiar and wrong, this smoke is bitter and acrid and Mr. Davies always smelled sweet and almost herbal when he smoked, the deep clove smell in the ashtray's clothes, his hair, lingering on his skin.

They untie his hands from behind his back and the bow from his neck, Quiet One rubbing at the deep red marks left behind, thumb moving back and forth over the ashtray's Adam's apple, breathing softly. "Shit. God, I wish I had one of these for mine."

"Well, unless you discover a shitload of money, you'd just be stealing. Or... like, committing a bunch of fucking felonies."

"Yeah, yeah. If I clean up a bit I bet my uncle could get me in at WRU. I heard they have a handler there who fucking killed like four people before he got the job."

"Jesus Christ, dude, seriously?"

"Yeah. Peters or something. My uncle doesn't fuck with him. Nobody does. Said he's fucking gross but he gets Employee of the Month like all the time. I could be gross for money."

"Man, who wouldn't be gross for money."

"Ha, right? All right, let's finish this shit up." Quiet One sighs, looking back at the ashtray. "You were a good fucking time, man. Enjoyed the hell out of this. Here we go. Stay quiet for me now."

Quiet One presses the cigarette into the inside of the ashtray's wrist, right in the center of his barcode, the one place that Mr. Davies never touched.

The ashtray bites his lip until it bleeds, whining deep in his throat as new tears fall, but he doesn't scream. He's quiet.

He's good.

He can be good.

"There we go." A ruffle to his hair and Quiet One stands, Deep Voice following almost immediately. Quiet One relights his cigarette and walks to the door, where Lookout moves outside before them.

Quiet One is the last to leave, looking over his shoulder at the ashtray still sitting on the ground, slumped over, in the ruined house. He lifts up his cell phone, turns on flash, and takes a photo.

The ashtray flinches at a sudden blinding light he barely registers as what it is, and Quiet One and Deep Voice laugh.

Lookout is already out by the street, bouncing on his toes, looking back and forth like he expects sirens any second.

"Maybe we'll see you again sometime," Quiet One says, and then they leave, their voices and laughter fading along with the crunch of gravel under their shoes, until the only sound left is the ashtray's ragged, uneven breathing.

He doesn't know when he gets to his feet, or how. He pulls the sweatshirt back on and leaves the shreds of his t-shirt behind. The front door is open, and when he stumbles outside, the sky is pink along the edges of the horizon.

The ashtray moves down the sidewalk, and he doesn't know where he's going, or what he'll do when he gets there.

He ends up standing, swaying a little, next to a stop sign in a place that looks familiar but he doesn't know at all. The pre-dawn light has everything slightly eerie and unsettled in his mind, shapes crashing into each other, puzzle pieces that don't quite fit.

A hand touches his back and he spins around with a gasp, staring down in terror at a short elderly woman with dark brown skin and thick hair a blend of silvery white and black pulled no-nonsense at the nape of her neck.

She looks up at him, her own eyebrows knitted. "I said good morning. Did you hear-" She goes quiet, and her eyes move over his face with too much understanding.

She knows.

Everyone knows what he is. Everyone has always known. It was a mistake to believe he could be safe anywhere outside the four walls of Nat's home. It was a mistake to think he could build a life that might involve leaving here, living on his own.

Everyone will always know.

Antoni swallows, and shudders as it makes the fresh burn on his throat ache and throb in reminder. He struggles to move his mouth to speak. "M-... Miss Ruth. D-Dobroye utro."

He realizes only then that his sweatshirt is still unzipped, and she can see the line of scars, the new burns and old, and heat rushes to his cheeks underneath the dirt already caking them.

"Oh, honey. What happened to you?" Ruth's voice is low, and she looks to one side, and then the other. Then she sighs and steps back, gesturing. "Come on inside my house, sweetheart. Just me this week, no one else to bother us. Let me patch you up, your people are still sleeping no doubt."

His people.

He is safe with his people, inside the house. But he has never been safe when he leaves. It is too easy to read what he is in every inch of his skin.

"Spasibo," He whispers as he follows her up the steps.

[ismokechurros]

misunderstandings - ao3

When his mark first appeared, he hated it. He was five and didn't quite like that the first thing he would ever hear his soulmate say would be

"I'm sorry."

What did that mean? Would his soulmate hurt him? Would that be the very first thing they did? That can't bode well for a long term relationship. 

Besides that depressing thought, another issue he had with it was how common it was. People apologized every day, how was he supposed to find her?

His first mistake was thinking it was his kindergarten teacher, who apologized after he ran into her feet. It was hard to explain to his parents why he got sent to the principal's office on his first day of school, hugging a teacher's leg and professing your undying love for them isn't exactly a common offense. 

After that, he tried not to get too excited when he heard those words. And as time went by, he succeeded. Slowly, his head stopped shooting up everytime someone near him apologized, his heart rate stopped skyrocketing when a passerby said sorry, he grew to feel the general disdain and doubt most feel in accompaniment with apologies. 

Those two, meaningless words scrawled at the top of his right bicep were left ignored and he went on forgetting they existed for the better part of 17 years.

----------

She was five when her mark appeared, too, though that seemed to be a common age for the mark's development so she wasn't exactly surprised. What she was surprised by was the 

"You're okay."

now sprawled on the bottom right side of her neck. An odd place for an odd mark. 

In her five-year-old indignation, she resented the fact that her mark was telling her what she was. She could be not okay if she wanted to be, who was her soulmate to tell her that she wasn't! 

A stupid fight to pick, and one she dropped after about two minutes. That was how long it took before the girl next to Nancy screamed and then started crying. Apparently, Amy didn't like that the first words her soulmate would say to her would be asking for her starbucks order. 

Nancy decided it could be worse.

---------

Working at The Claw can't be that bad, Nancy thinks as she enters the restaurant for her first day at work. She needs to get her mind off of her mother's death and making a few bucks in the process couldn't hurt. Plus, it would help ease the financial burden of college- if she still stood a chance of getting in, that is. Her senior grades (and attendance rate) weren't exactly "Columbia Material", no matter how good her essay was. 

Walking from the door to the back room, Nancy makes sure to take into account everything she sees on the way. Two truckers eating greasy cheeseburgers at the counter; a woman drinking coffee alone at a table; a family celebrating their daughter's graduation in a booth. Another reminder of the life Nancy won't get to lead.

Reaching up, Nancy rubs the side of her neck where she knows, under several layers of foundation, there's a reminder that she's okay. Her soul mark has grown to be something of a saviour for her these past couple months. A reassurance everytime it seemed her demons were getting a little too close to snuffing out her light, her crutch at her most debilitating moments. Nancy thinks, whoever her soulmate is, they must be a decent person if they’re able to give her this much comfort.

“Drew! Your uniform’s in the back, I’m not paying you to stand there and look pretty! You did enough of that in high school!” 

Ah yes, George. No matter how many times Nancy tries to proclaim her innocence, George refuses to believe she didn’t play a part in spreading the rumors that ruined her life in high school. And honestly, maybe she was right. Nancy may not have spread any rumors, but she definitely didn’t stop them. Maybe she does deserve George’s wrath. Besides, what’s another person added to the list of “People Nancy Drew Has Failed”. George can go right under her mom. 

At this rate, she might need to put more foundation on her mark.

“Now, Drew!”

Eh, she’ll do it at lunch.

-----------

One month in and Nancy thinks she’s got the job down pat. She’s at least doing better than some people. 

Dishes clatter in the kitchen as pots hit the floor. 

“Oops! Sorry!”

Speak of the devil. Nancy goes to the kitchen to help Bess, because Bess has needed nothing but help since the day George gave her the job, but when she opens the door she's met with a peculiar scene.

Bess, the endearing clutz she is, is on the floor trying to pick up the pots but somehow making a bigger mess. Ace, on the other hand, is just staring.

Nancy hasn’t known Ace very long, hasn’t even talked to him directly, but from what she’s seen he’s at least helpful. He cleans up after himself, stays late to do inventory, cleans out the grease traps, all without complaining. Yet here he is, staring at Bess on the floor and doing nothing.

Nancy wants to call out, ask why he isn’t helping, or at the very least say excuse me on her way to help Bess collect the pans, but oddly enough she can’t find the words. She just stares at him with that confused look on her face. 

It seems she doesn’t need to say anything, though. As if the question on her face was spoken aloud, Ace snaps out of his reverie and bends to help Bess. He’s smiling at her a little too much, and Nancy can tell where this is heading before he even opens his mouth. She decides to make a clean exit before she’s forced to watch him try and fail to shoot his shot with her royal waitress Bess.

------

Nancy just needs a minute. She needs a second to breathe. Serving her high school friends and having to listen to their patronizing and pitying tones while she can hear them laughing the second she turns around is not what she signed up for.

To make matters worse, she’s about one more rub away from her mark making its presence known and she doesn’t need the added stares today. She doesn’t quite understand the taboo of revealing your soulmark to others, but today may not be the best day to tackle generations worth of unnecessary forced modesty.

She rushes through the back door, the mocking sounds of laughter cut off as the door swings shut behind her. Apparently god isn’t on her side, though, because the second the door shuts, the freezer opens and Bess exits carrying boxes stacked a good foot higher than her. Boxes that topple over as she tries to close the freezer behind her.

Normally, Nancy would help Bess out. God knows she’s gotten used to it, and Bess is a nice enough girl that Nancy doesn’t totally hate doing it. But right now, the noise from the boxes is too loud and sounds suspiciously like laughter and Nancy can’t really breathe so she doesn’t think getting near the cold, thin air of the freezer is gonna help her.

And so she ignores Bess’ apologies and pleading eyes and instead barges through the backdoor, hoping to get some much needed air in the alleyway behind The Claw. Instead, she faceplants into a cotton cladded wall.

“I’m sorry.” 

She maneuvers around the person she ran into, avoiding eye contact and desperate for some space. She reaches the wall across from the door and puts a hand on the cool brick hoping it’ll help ground her. Leaning forward against the wall, the other hand immediately goes to her neck.

“You’re okay.”

Suddenly, struggling to breathe is less of an issue than not breathing altogether. 

Nancy slowly turns and stares at the man who she is destined to spend the rest of her life with.

Ace slowly blinks back.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. Nancy can’t really respond, considering the fact that she can’t breathe.

“Woah, Nancy. You don’t look so hot.” Great, my soulmate thinks I’m ugly. Nancy urges herself to use her actual brain for a second instead of whatever it is she’s using now because obviously that one isn’t working.

Still, she says nothing. Ace takes the silence as an invitation to lean against the wall across from her. They continue to stare at each other; her like a deer in the headlights and him entirely too mellow for someone who just found their soulmate. Unless he didn’t.

That’s not a thought Nancy wants to have. But now that it’s out there, she can’t stop thinking about it. Does it work like that? Can the whole soulmate thing go unrequited? Some memory escapes the precipes of her mind, a brief chapter on soulmate history she had to read for class. It was her senior history class, so she didn’t really pay attention, but she does remember reading something in there about a rare percentage of the population that had one sided soul marks.  She also remembers thinking about how sad of a life they must lead.

And it's not like she's wrong about this, especially since Nancy’s heart feels like it’s about to explode and she instinctively knows the only thing that can calm her down is standing there, staring at her with glazed eyes.

“Want one?” Ace asks, materializing a blunt out of seemingly thin air. “They always help calm me down.” 

Now the glazed eyes make more sense. Nancy reaches for it without thinking, the brief touch of their fingertips as the weed changes hands works wonders for calming her down. She is finally thinking a little clearer, breathing a little easier. She stands taller and some of the tension escapes her body.

“See? Works wonders for the nerves.”

If he wants to attribute her abrupt demeanor shift to his weed, she won’t correct him. Instead, she thinks about how this is the first real time he has talked to her. She wishes it happened sooner, his voice reminds her of waves crashing on the shore and when he talks she thinks she’s found her happy place. She’s never hated herself more.

Taking a hit, she passes the blunt back to him and relishes in the little contact that brings about. How lame is it that she’s pining for a guy who is destined to be with someone else. 

“You seem more relaxed now, if you wanted to talk about anything, I’m here.”

She does. She wants to talk about how she feels more  at ease and safe with him, here in this alleyway, than anywhere else; how she hasn’t felt peace like this since her mom died; how he has a calming effect on her that she wishes she could use like a drug; how she’s scared it might become one.

But she can’t talk to him about that at all, because she knows that though her soul finds peace with his, his soul fits better with someone else's. She doesn’t want to guilt him into any half-assed relationship, figures it would be better to become his friend and get to experience the safety and comfort he exudes at a safe arms-length away.

Instead, she talks about the ways everything has gone wrong in the past year (she avoids bringing up how he could have been her first right thing in a while). He listens as he smokes through the whole blunt, his eyes getting heavier as she continues. She’s confident he won’t remember anything tomorrow, thankful she won’t have to explain her near-meltdown. But above all-else, she’s sad. She really is doomed to go through life alone, she doesn’t get anyone to help shoulder her pain. Maybe she doesn’t deserve it.

When she finishes her sob story, he thanks her for sharing it with him. She nods but doesn’t say anything, afraid of what she might reveal if she opens her mouth again.

“DREW!” An angry George calls from inside.

“That’s my cue.” She makes to leave but is stopped by an arm on her hand. She tries to ignore her heart screaming.

“Hey, I really liked talking to you. We haven’t really done that before.”

She nods, trying to make it seem like she just doesn’t want to talk and not like she physically can’t (not while he’s touching her).

He doesn’t let go, though. Instead, he stares at her with more consciousness in his eyes than she thought he would be capable of by now. 

“You’re not alone. I don’t know why, but I feel like you need to hear that.” His voice is soft and quiet and warm, low tide at sunrise.

Nancy’s eyes widen (though her heart warms) and he let’s go. She heads inside without another word, hand rubbing her neck on the way in.

Nancy decides to invest in neck ties.

[xpeachesncream]

Hey dearest. You surprised me with another drabble from my fave PERFECTLY WRONG again 😍😭 If I may, I would like to request something,like a back story or whatever. I just wanted to know more about the Tae's exgf who made him the f*xkboy that he is now. What if they meet again, then what would be y/n's reaction like she would be jealous or a little insecure, yet Taehyung reassures her SHE REALLY IS THE ONE for him 😍😍😍

perfectly wrong | drabble [4]: parties are meant to be fun, except when taehyung’s ex shows up at the same party.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, jealousy, insecurities, alcohol consumption, party scene, flashback scene towards middle of drabble, hints of infidelity, angst, implied smut, just an emotional rollercoaster pretty much

That voice always used to trigger Taehyung. He knows it so well. That's why when you, him and your friends are at Jimin's house for a party, he tries to shy away from the bigger crowd and keep you trapped in the corners of the room with him.

"Babe, I wanna get another drink." You say as you fiddle around on his lap while he hugs you tightly. He looks past your frame to see the familiar face looking over the rim of her cup, already knowing she was plotting on the perfect opportunity to make her way over.

"Here, I'll go get you one. What do you want?"

"Surprise me?" Your eyes are glazed, Taehyung already knowing you're pretty tipsy at this point. He lightly taps your hips in order for you to get up so he can tend to your needs in peace. No issues, no drama, no nothing.

"The fuck is she doing here, Jimin?" Taehyung asks him through gritted teeth as he pours half of the vodka into your cup, with a dab of cranberry juice.

"How do I know? I never invited her. It's just a small ass world, you both know too many of the same people." Tae groans under his breath. Honestly, don't get him wrong, he was completely over his past. He just hated coming face to face with it cause he really wanted to leave it where it belonged - in the past. Away from him as far as possible, especially since he's done so well trying his best to grow up from all the immature shit he had been doing and going through. "I'm sorry dude, I can't ask her to leave, that's shady."

"I'm not asking you to do anything."

"Look, I'm sure she won't do anything or say anything to--"

"Hey, mind if I grab a drink?" Tae and Jimin turn, only to come face to face with Hana, Taehyung's ex-girlfriend. The girl that broke his heart repeatedly. The girl who he allowed to walk all over him. The girl who made him the fuckboy he was.

"Hana, hey. Sure, go for it." Jimin gives her a tight lipped smile before shooting a look at Taehyung and walking off.

"Excuse me-" Tae tries to shimmy his way out of the crowded room, only for her to block his way. "Hana, please move." He sighed.

"That's no way to say hi to an old friend." He shrugged.

"We aren't friends."

"Ouch."

"Look, I'm not doing this. Please just move so I can be out of your way."

"Is that your girlfriend?" She nods over to you at the couch, talking to Jungkook and Hoseok. "She's really fucking pretty. I didn't think you'd be in a relationship after all the shit I've heard about you."

"Mind your business, yeah? I don't keep tabs on you, so I appreciate it if you did the same." Hana doesn't move from her position, causing Taehyung to sigh heavily once more before swiping his hand down his face. "Please move."

"Jeez, and I thought we could talk and catch up. See how things have been going." She placed a hand on his arm, causing him to move away from her touch.

"No, I'd rather not. I'm not gonna do this shit with you and start reminiscing on the past like shit never went down between us two, alright?" He said sternly, his jaw slightly clenching. Hana was always the one who could get him started. He could easily go from happy to incredibly angry in a matter of seconds. That toxic shit. She always knew how to do it with him and he was passed that. "We done here?" She doesn't respond, allowing him to brush past her and make his way back to you.

"Baby." You happily wrap your arms around his neck, which made Taehyung ease up and relax in your touch. "What took you so long?" You asked, a little tipsy.

"Too many people."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Oh." He looked around to see Hana finally minding her own business. "An old acquaintance." He shrugged.

"Ohhh, okay." You furrowed your eyebrows, but quickly brushed off how weird he had acted. You continued to party with your man and your friends, enjoying the music Dj Min Yoongi was playing on the turntables. You excused yourself for a quick minute to use the bathroom and freshen up, the heat from the crowded home slowly getting to you mixed with all the alcohol running through your veins.

"Did you know Hana and Taehyung dated for awhile? She's here, it's so awkward between them." You oveheard someone say behind you as you walked out of the restroom. "Apparently he was really, really into her and was totally different in their relationship, can you believe that? Like he actually treated her like a queen. It's so hard to see Taehyung doing that now after all the shit he's done. I don't know how his current gf doesn't question every move he makes." Your heart immediately drops. You're not sure if you're angry, jealous, or both due to the alcohol heightening all your feelings at once - but why in the fuck did he not tell you she was his ex? You knew it was the same girl he was talking to in the kitchen, you weren't dumb. Your gut just told you otherwise. You always listen to your fucking gut.

Suddenly, you don't wanna be at the party anymore. Your insecurities were getting to the best of you because of that one statement - Taehyung treated her like a queen. Not saying he didn't treat you well, but you couldn't help but think that Taehyung placed on her on the highest pedestal. Like all of a sudden, you couldn't compete. Like you were merely just another name in his book, another lover. You weren't Hana.

"Mm, come here." Taehyung says, slightly drunk at this point, trying to grab your wrist but you snatch it away from him.

"I'm going home." He furrows his eyebrows as he gets up from his seat next to Jungkook to come after you. Your friends are also appalled at the sudden flip of the switch, but they figured Taehyung would be able to work out whatever it was with you, so they don't budge although they still worry.

"Going home? By yourself? I don't think so." Taehyung says, gently pulling you back and turning you around to face him. "Talk to me, Y/N. What's going on with you?"

"Why didn't you tell me she was your ex?"

"Hana?"

"Sure, whatever the fuck her name is!" You almost yell.

"I didn't think it was important--"

"You didn't think it was important to tell me your ex-girlfriend was here at the same party as you? The same fucking girl you dated for years? Really smooth, Tae." You grab his jacket and swing it over your shoulders as you walk out, leaving Tae to powerwalk after you in his shirt and jeans. Honestly, you were hella mad! Because why would he pull that shit? Was he trying to hide it? You thought you both had done a good job of building your relationship and being completely open with each other. This shit ticked you off and pushed you over the edge. Why couldn't he just tell you?

"Y/N, can you just stop for a second?"

"Go the hell back inside, Taehyung. Leave me alone." He groans, slipping himself into the same Uber car you're getting in. "I said--"

"Quit it. I'm not going anywhere without you." He turns to the driver and nods for him to keep driving. The ride from Jimin's isn't too far, and as soon as you see the car pull up into your roundabout, you hop out of the car, leaving Taehyung to tip the driver extra in cash before running after you. You almost shut the door in his face, but he's able to make it in time to push it open with his arm. "Y/N! Can you just slow down?" You turn to look at him before you walk into your room and slam the door shut. "Fuck." He whines as he drops his things onto the kitchen counter before meeting you in the room. "Baby."

"I told you to leave me alone."

"And leave you like this? No." He gently shuts the door close and crouches in front of you as you sit on the edge of your bed, tears falling down your eyes. "Why are you crying, baby?" He asks, genuinely worried and concerned as to why your emotions were at an all-time high right now.

"Why didn't you just tell me? Were you trying to hide her from me?"

"No, I would never do that to you." He shakes his head as he gently wipes the tears from your face. "I would never do that to you, love." He repeats.

"Then why didn't you just tell me it was her?"

"I'm sorry. I fucked up on that part. I really just didn't think about it." He sighs. "Look, to be honest, I really hate revisiting that part of my life and I felt like I could just tuck it away without having to face it again, but I know it's not an excuse." He begins to talk to you a little more about his relationship with Hana.

[start flashback]

Taehyung slammed his fist against his wall, before he sat on his bed and dug his head into his hands.

"Hana, just tell me the truth. Please. I think I've given you everything, the least you could do is give me that."

"I'm not even doing anything, Taehyung. You're fucking crazy. I just told you I haven't felt like myself lately and you straight up accused me of cheating on you."

"Are you serious?" He stood up. "You've barely spent any time with me during these past weeks. You always blow me off with some stupid ass excuse. And every time you're with me, you're always on your phone. I know you've been getting closer to Mark, too. I'm not dumb, Hana. How can you expect me not to accuse you of that?" Taehyung is on the verge of tears, every part of him close to crumbling thinking of the worst. She didn't care like she used to, and he continued to give her everything. All of him. And she just didn't care.

"You're ridiculous. That's your problem--" He runs his hands through his hair.

"Fuck, stop beating around the bush! Just tell me the fucking truth!"

"You want the truth?" She yelled back. "Fine, yes. I'm fucking over this relationship Taehyung. I'm fucking done. I'm seeing him and it's honestly amazing because I'm way happier than I've been lately. There, are you happy?" She said in his face. He didn't know how to respond because he truly expected her to have some kind of sympathy. Empathize with how he was feeling. How vulnerable he was being. But she didn't. She just continued to push the knife in like it didn't hold any weight to her.

"Hana." He says, his bottom lip trembling as he shakes his head. "W-why couldn't you just--"

"Fuck, Taehyung. This relationship had been over for awhile, how could you not see that?" No. Because he loved her, more than anything. He gave her everything. He gave her the world and he wanted to keep doing that.

"N-no. I thought we were fine, I-I," He paused as the tears came down faster. "I gave you every bit of me. I was patient with you, I let you use me as your punching bag on days you weren't happy, I-I brought you places, I surprised you with the things you liked, I-I took care of you. I fucking chased after you every single fucking argument even though it wasn't my fault. I fixed us even when you should've been the one fixing us. I kept my word every single time even though you always went back on yours. I fucking did it all for you!" He yelled as he paced around the room. "How long have you been seeing him?"

"Does that--"

"How long?"

"A little over a month." And it makes sense. Hana had been so disconnected from the relationship for that period of time. She was always on her phone. She didn't want to see him as much. She didn't touched him the same way she used to. They never made love the same way, she was always too tired. She would fall asleep and leave early in the morning.

"How could you?"

“How could I? You didn’t even realize our relationship was falling apart!”

“Bullshit, don’t turn this shit on me! I’m not dealing with this anymore.” He shook his head. “Get your shit and leave.”

[end flashback ]

"Tae." You say softly as he sits next to you and brings you onto his lap.

"It was the one relationship that fucked me up. That did it for me. That made me believe relationships weren't really worth it. All this energy wasn't worth it. It hurt so bad to know she was cheating on me and I honestly thought I wouldn't be the same since. I continued to give and give even when I felt like I couldn't. I suddenly thought that if people you cared about could just use you like that, why would I care?" You stayed quiet, the anger and jealousy in you slowly subsiding the more he talked about his relationship with her. "When I finally got over it, I told myself I'd never revisit that and let myself feel that hurt again. I would remind myself not to feel insecure or worthless over the shit she did to me. It took a really, really long time, which is why I've kept it tucked away in the past, where it should be." He brushes the hair out of your face before wiping the remaining tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but honestly, it was just a defense mechanism for me. I-I really have no interest in ever rekindling that or even being friends with her."

"I'm sorry." You say softly. "I left the bathroom and I overheard people talking about how you used to treat her like a queen and that you were so different with her. And people were even questioning how I'm sticking around and not questioning your every move. I felt like I couldn't compete with her, like I would never be Hana."

"You won't, because you're so much better than that." He says almost at a whisper. "Y/N, I don't ever want you to compare yourself to someone from my past like that. Don’t listen to the stupid shit people have to say because all that matters is me and you. There's a reason why they're in the past and why you're here with me now. I love every single thing about you, and I wouldn't have it any other way. " He caresses your thigh as he holds you closely to his body. "I love your laugh, and your smile." He smiles at you. "I love how annoyingly cute you are when you catch an attitude with me. I love how you can stand your ground. I love how creative you are. I love how you take good care of me and I love that you show me how much I mean to you. You never hesitate to put me or your friends before yourself, and that's something I really do value. You make everything worth it and you don't even have to try. I don't wanna be anywhere that isn't with you."

"I'm sorry." You repeat. You instantly felt bad letting your emotions get to the best of you, but you couldn't help it. This was someone that once meant a lot to Taehyung and you couldn't help but feel insecure, or like you would never measure up to that. You just wanted to be the best for him so that he saw no one else but you. That he wanted a life with you and nobody else.

"Don't be. I understand where you're coming from, and I'm sorry you felt that way. But I promise you, there is no way anything or anyone else could compare to you. You push me to become better every day and I want to do this for you. Only you."

"I love you."

"I love you too." He chuckles before placing a kiss on your lips. "Feeling better? Want a massage? A bath? Hot chocolate? Cake? What can I get you?" You laugh.

"You're a suck up."

"Sure, call it what you want, but I just want my baby happy."

"I'm gonna take a shower and lay my ass in bed." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"You mean we're gonna take a shower and lay our asses in bed." He quickly follows you to the bathroom, causing you to squeal when he shuts the door and plants kisses all over your neck from behind.

[flowesona]

Voluntary Victim - Yandere! Yoongi x reader

Warning: Sexual content

Finding a victim was like shooting fish in a barrel. Dozens of young men and women surrounded her, each adorned with accessories bought with daddy’s money and high to the heavens on whatever substance they could find.

The boy who had his arm around their waist at that moment seemed a bit more refined than the others - he was worth a million dollars, sure, but he at least seemed to be a bit more modest.

They stopped trying to spy the drunken boy they’d just seen sneak off into the restroom and turned to focus the gentleman by their side.

“Hi! My friends call me Angel.” They shouted over the thumping bass, watching in amusement as the young man’s eyebrows furrowed in trying to hear what they were saying.

“That name suits you. I’m Yoongi.” He replied simply. “Do you want a drink?”

“Of course.” (Y/N) gave him a cheeky smile and took his hand within their own to lead him towards the bar.

“What will you be having?” He called out over the music once they had arrived.

“Surprise me.” Was all they said. A simple tactic really - made them think they cared about his opinion, that they would do as they pleased.

He nodded and as soon as he made eye contact with one of the bar staff they abandoned the gaggle of people trying to flag them down and listened intently as he leaned over to talk into their ear.

That was how they knew they had struck gold. The bartender didn’t even hesitate in making their drinks right away, and the lack of payment screamed that he was on some kind of guest list.

Once he had passed one of the glasses over to (Y/N), the glint in his eye said that their night was going according to plan.

“Are you here often?” He raised his voice slightly, and (Y/N) shook their head in response.

“First time. Maybe you can show me around?”

“What?” He leaned in closer, his body pressing deliciously close to theirs. “I can’t hear you.”

“I’ve never been here before. Are you a regular?”

He shook his head, though they weren't sure if it was because of the question or because of their uncomfortable conditions.

“Should we find somewhere a bit quieter?” (Y/N) nodded, and with their cocktail in one hand and his warm hand clasping their other Yoongi led them through one of the staff only doors - receiving affirming nods from the staff along the way - and into a more secluded lounge.

There were LED lights lining the walls lighting the room up into a rich royal blue, and there were leather sofas and coffee tables dotted around.

“Normally this is where we hold member’s parties. But tonight, Father said I could have it to myself, and whichever guests I please.”

Yoongi hummed, leading them gently to one of the sofas and placing his drink down on the table so that both his hands were now free. (Y/N) took a sip for courage before following suit.

“What do you do for a living then?” They asked, her fingertips subtly rubbing circles into his thigh.

“I’m training to take over my father’s business.” He answered simply. “What about you, Angel?”

“I’m studying English.” (Y/N) purred, leaning in slightly. “But I don’t have any plans for the future, unlike you.”

“Pretty young things like you don’t need a plan when there’s men like me to take care of you.”

“Maybe so. Or maybe I could take care of you.” Yoongi smirked at their comment, leaning forward to grab his drink.

“I’m sure you can, baby.”

They continued to caress his thigh as he drank.

“You know, you seem so well spoken, Angel. There’s more to your pretty little head than most the vermin out there.” (Y/N) wanted to vomit, but they kept up their saccharine smile.

“Really?” It was time to make their move. “I know how else I can prove to you how much better I am than those other whores, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, intrigued, as they pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips.

Their fingers found the buttons on his neatly pressed shirt and slowly started to pop them open.

“Can I ask you something…?” They whispered, their fingertips tracing over the smooth skin of his exposed chest and appreciating how he just barely shuddered under her touch.

Yoongi nodded, imploring them to go on.

“I’ve always wanted to be more… adventurous. But none of the guys I’ve fucked have ever wanted to try anything with me. But I know you’re far better than them, right?”

There was some unknown emotion glazing over Yoongi’s eyes - intrigue, maybe mixed with some jealousy?

“Will you let me…” They dug into their wallet, and pulled out a pair of steel handcuffs. “put these on you?”

He visibly gulped, but (Y/N) could tell by the flush covering his cheeks that they had him hook, line and sinker.

“Please, gorgeous. Make this night special for me?” They purred. Finally, he gave them an apprehensive nod and they sat up with a happy smirk.

Their fingers ran up and down the smooth pale skin of his arm, before they gently pulled on his shirt and pushed him to the ground, right next to the coffee table.

Yoongi’s eyes were shining as “Angel” sat on his lap, looking at them like they were a gift granted by heaven. His breathing only got heavier as they pressed their chest to his, taking his wrists and securing them behind the leg on the coffee table. When they were done, they pressed a kiss to Yoongi’s neck and he felt his face burn up as if he was eight years old.

However, rather than attempting to make any more advances as he was hoping, his companion’s focus changed entirely.

“Your watch is very nice.”Their fingers danced along his wrist, fiddling with the expensive leather. “How much did it cost you?”

“That doesn’t matter.” He huffed. “Chicken feed, darling. Please…?”

(Y/N) just continued to inspect it and ignore his subtle whines for attention.

“I could get a pretty penny for this, couldn’t I?” Yoongi felt his heart drop as he felt them unclasp it and hold it up to the light. “Cartier, one of a kind. Mind if I keep it?”

“Whatever, please just-”

“What else do you have on you?” Tucking the watch into their wallet, they finally made eye contact with him again.

Yoongi didn’t reply, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

“Did you bring your wallet?”

He shook his head, but they stuck their hand into his jacket pocket and found the thick wad of leather tucked away. With an impressed whistle they flicked through the cash whilst tipping his credit cards onto the floor.

“You… you can have it all. It doesn’t matter.” Yoongi rattled the chains again, desperately trying to get free.

“Thank you.” They smiled, shoving the wallet into their pocket. “Where’s your phone?”

“My back pocket.” The young man hissed. “Please, if you just want my money baby-”

“Shut it.” (Y/N) shot back as they retrieved his top model phone and chucked out the SIM card. “If you start making a fuss I’ll shut you up myself.”

He blushed. Clearly, he was some kind of fucked up to be aroused by this.

“I think I might- wait, what is this?” A smile settled on (Y/N)’s face as they unclasped the chain from his neck and admired how it shone in the LED lights.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I think it’s time I take my leave. The night’s still young.”

They pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek.

“Thank you for the great time.”

“No, don’t go. Please, you can have my shit, just come back here!” Yoongi whined as she walked away with a spring in their step, shutting the door behind them to cut off his cries from the outside world as they escaped the stuffy nightclub and out into the cool midnight air.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Most people who’d been seduced, tied up and robbed would be humiliated, but not Yoongi. Rather, the only thing he held against his angel was that they’d left him. His wallet could be easily refilled, his jewellery and phone could be replaced, but ‘Angel’ was one of a kind and he wanted to have them.

He’d eventually managed to escape his bondage, tipping over the coffee table and sliding his hands out. Although he had to find one of the employees to help him out of the handcuffs, the embarrassment didn’t set in. Instead, he sought out one of the bouncers and pulled them to the side to ask if they’d seen someone called Angel. After nearly ten minutes of describing their ethereal appearance the bouncer was able to recall their existence, but unable to give Yoongi any more information.

But from that day forward, they had a stranglehold on his mind. His thoughts were overridden with fantasies of what could have happened if ‘Angel’ had stayed - them gripping his throat with those silky fingers, marking his neck with their teeth, unbuttoning his pants and taking him into their mouth…

They were addictive. He found himself trying his hardest to seek them out again - he knew she wouldn’t return to his father’s nightclub, so he explored every other one in the city. He’d scoured the CCTV cameras in the club and managed to find a (somewhat blurry) still, which he’d enhanced and printed out. Not only did he keep a copy to himself -  tucked away in his work diary so that he could see them every day - but he circulated it to all of the clubs he could reach, asking them to call him if they ever saw his angel for a handsome reward.

But months passed with no news, and rather than recovering Yoongi’s obsession only got worse. He spent hours futilely searching for the name they’d given him on the internet with no reward, but he couldn’t stop.

“Can I pay with cash, please?” Yoongi had been half-asleep, the night before having sapped him of all energy that could only be perked up with coffee, when he heard that voice. That unforgettable voice. The one that haunted his dreams every night and the one he’d been craving to hear.

“Of course. Could I have a name for your order?”

“(Y/N).” Yoongi’s heart sunk. Had he gotten his hopes up over the wrong person? Had he been so deluded in his desire for his angel that he’d started to hallucinate about them?

But when (Y/N) stepped to the side to wait for their coffee, he finally saw their profile and he knew they were the one who had captured his heart. That was why it had been impossible to find them, because they’d given him a fake name!

His heart was beating a thousand beats a second as he watched them take the coffee from the barista and flash the worker a smile whilst sliding them a tip. God, how he hoped he would soon be the recipient of one of those dazzling expressions.

All thoughts of caffeine were wiped out as he had now found his real drug, abandoning the queue to quietly follow them out of the cafe at a safe distance.

‘They haven’t changed at all. I guess you can’t improve on perfection.’

Yoongi admired them as she walked. They still had glowing skin, the most perfect body in his eyes, and an unmatched energy that drew him in.

It was tricky blended into the background, especially when the crowds thinned out and he was following them into a smaller neighbourhood. His heart was thudding, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be caught or not. He didn’t know what was driving him to follow them and why he hadn’t already spoken up.

(Y/N) wasn’t stupid. They stopped in place to get out their phone and observed how the hooded man also stopped a few metres away.

“Stop following me or I’ll call the police.” They called out.

Yoongi took a few steps forward.

“What will they do? Give me a slap on the wrist for being a naughty boy?”

Their brow furrowed. Did they recognise his voice? God, he hoped that was the case. He was ready to get down on his knees and beg for their love.

“Whatever. Just leave me alone, freak.” They hissed, unlocking their phone to call their friend, so he could get them the hell out of there.

Starting to panic, he rushed forward and wrenched their phone out of their hands, throwing it to the ground and digging his heel into the screen for good measure. For a second, there was silence only permeated by Yoongi’s heavy breathing.

“Someone-!”

Their plea for help was cut off by his hand pressed against their mouth.

“Can we continue this conversation elsewhere? My hotel room, perhaps?”

The blush on this psycho’s cheeks as his hands grasped theirs sickened (Y/N) to no end. Did he think this was a normal way to hit on someone, by breaking their phone and kidnapping them?

“I’m not going anywhere-”

“I’ll call the chauffeur. Don’t worry, he won’t be long.”

(Y/N) was still trying to pry his fingers from their own, but they were like iron.

“Who the fuck are you?” They hissed.

“You don’t remember me?” His eyes were filled with hurt, and the hand clutching his phone was trembling as he held it to his ear, clearly following through on his words.

“Yoongi. You introduced yourself to me as Angel, I bought you a drink and we went into the private lounge for a chat?”

‘Shit.’

It clicked, (Y/N) knew exactly who he was. They’d made so much selling his one-of-a-kind Cartier watch that they’d been able to move cities and settle into a new profession entirely.

Most rich kids were ashamed when (Y/N) got the best of them, and few chased after them for revenge. But Yoongi had a different kind of fire in his eyes.

“Look, you can have all the money I have leftover you want? I swear, we can replace everything I took-”

“Oh no, it’s all yours, baby. I want you to have that, and so much more too.” Yoongi was way too calm, his smile way too sincere. He was absolutely off his rocker. “Anything you need to take from me, it’s yours. But I want something in return, you understand?”

(Y/N) felt a shiver go down their spine when a sleek black car, with tinted windows, drew up.

“Come on. You still have a lot to prove to me, right?”

[catrasredemption-moved]

Oh, maybe Catra confusing what's real and what isn't sometimes and not believing that this is real, because she thinks prime is still inside her head, messing with it and creating fake realities?

There were triggers.

It took them awhile to pick out the pattern, unfortunately. And the time in the interim did nothing to endear the princesses to Catra.

Netossa took the blame the first time, when she patted Catra’s head during the celebration party and Catra froze for a moment before whirling and lashing out. She missed, thankfully, her gaze distance and glazed over. She shook it off fast enough, stuttering an apology, but Netossa was easy going enough to apologize for surprising her.

Mermista was less accepting the second time it happened.

No one was really sure of the series of events - Mermista had found Catra and Melog in the hall, and Melog managed to knock Mermista out of the way before Catra struck. They’d pinned Catra down until reality reasserted itself, leaving her pale and shaken. There had been a rather pointed and cruel comment about Adora keeping her pet under control. And Bow had been forced to hold Adora back, lest she accidentally start a war with Salineas.

“What happened?” she asked Catra later, in the safety of their bedroom. Catra hadn’t had much to say in her own defense.

“I don’t know.” She was curled up against the wall, face hidden in her knees. Melog was encircled around her, shielding her from the world. “I felt... I felt like I wasn’t here, like... like this was a dream or something? I don’t know.”

Adora knelt in front of her, keeping her distance, hands up. “It’s okay. You didn’t sleep well last night, right? Maybe you’re just tired.”

She relaxed slightly, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. I guess. Maybe.”

The third time drove the point home that something was really wrong.

“Entrapta, are you sure you’re not going to break the table?” Glimmer asked tiredly, watching Entrapta rewire the war room table to connect it to one of her own machines.

“Absolutely! Ninety-nine-point-nine percent!”

“That’s not-”

“Here we go!”

The pink table flickered for a moment before turning a shade of lime green which lit up the walls in an eerie aura. Catra, who had been resting her head in her arms on the table, immediately shot up, wide-eyed.

“Sorry,” Entrapta said cheerfully. “This is from a hard drive Hordak helped extract from Horde Prime’s ship, it should give us a general idea of where to start with dismantling the rest of his empire and freeing the planets he’s taken over...”

Blood rushed through Catra’s ears, drowning out all external sound.

Little sister...

No. NononononononononononononoNO it couldn’t be, it couldn’t, he was dead-

Did you really think anyone would come for you? You said it yourself - your precious Adora doesn’t care about you. Your life is worthless. You don’t matter to anyone except me.

“No!”

Everyone jumped as Catra screamed, the noise almost immediately followed by her chair falling over as she staggered away from the table. Her back hit the wall and she dropped to her knees, entire body folding in on itself, eyes closed, hands against the back of her neck.

“Catra?” Adora stood, but was immediately blocked by Melog. Even the alien cat was keeping their distance, as if they knew Catra wasn’t in the right stand of mind.

She was back on the ship, listening to the sound of footsteps on metal floors, mechanical sounds whirring overhead, her hair slicked back against her scalp, the chip in the back of her neck-

It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real-

What’s not real? Horde Prime taunted her. Me? Or your friends?

“Entrapta, turn it off,” Glimmer snapped. The princess immediately listened, glipping off the switch and turning the room back to its regular color. Adora tried again to approach, but Melog growled, keeping her back.

“What’s wrong with her?” Frosta piped up from behind, almost sounding worried. Even Mermista couldn’t keep the shaken concern out of her expression. This wasn’t anything any of them had expected.

“I don’t...”

Catra had fallen asleep in Adora’s lap. Adora had panicked when she felt her (former?) friend’s grip loosen, but of course she was exhausted. The last few days must have been hell.

Bow and Glimmer set up a room for her, and Adora insisted on carrying her, refusing to let her go until she absolutely had to.

There was no warning before Catra woke, right as Adora was setting her down. Her eyes shot open, pupils immediately shrinking to pinpricks; Adora barely missed being clawed before Catra vaulted off the bed, hitting the floor with a painful thud.

“Catra-!”

“Shut up!” Her voice was surprisingly strong. She curled in on herself, hands clasped over the back of her neck. “What do you want?” The question baffled Adora into silence. “She’s not coming back, I already told you, she won’t, she wouldn’t, she...”

Catra drifted off into a dry sob. Adora tensed, teeth clenching together as realization set in.

Oh.

Adora straightened up, hands held out in surrender. “It’s okay,” she told Melog gently. They made a noise, ears falling against their skull, mane flaring purple. “I get it. Let me talk to her, please.”

Melog considered her for a moment before backing up and settling beside Catra. Adora took a few steps forward and knelt, still giving Catra space. She was whispering to herself, too soft to be fully heard, her claws digging into her neck almost enough to draw blood.

“Hey.” She kept her voice soft, noting the shudder that went through Catra’s body. “Catra, look at me.” She shook her head. “Please?” Another head shake. “This is real, I promise. It’s not a trick.”

“She wouldn’t come back for me.” The broken defeat in Catra’s voice was like a knife in Adora’s heart. She ignored it, forcing her laugh.

“And somehow I’m the dummy here.” Catra’s ears flicked slightly. “Do you really think Horde Prime would just fake his own death to trick you? We both know he’s way too egotistical for that.”

Catra choked out a little laughed, although her body didn’t relax. Adora took a chance, reaching out to rest a hand on Catra’s knee. It didn’t immediately spark an attack, which she took as a good sign.

“He’s not real.”

She’s not real.

“You’re here. You’re safe.”

She would never come back for you.

“I love you.”

She’s lying.

Catra shook, letting out a small sob. “Stop...”

Adora’s fingers tightened on her knee. “Focus on me, Catra. I’m here. I’m real. It’s okay.”

Melog’s pulsing mane slowly faded back to blue as Catra retracted her claws. Adora held her breath, waiting. “How do I know you’re real?” she finally whispered.

“Because I kicked Horde Prime’s ass and I’d do it again if I had a chance?”

One hand slowly slid down to rest over Adora’s. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

Catra unfurled a bit, allowing Adora to drag her into her arms and hug her tight.

They weren’t flashbacks, exactly - more like hallucinations. That was how the healer in Mystacor tried to explain it when Catra talked to her (after nearly three days of Glimmer trying to convince her that it would be good to talk to someone who understood mental trauma in a way that could help). They were things that hadn’t happened, but that Catra was afraid would happen - that she would wake up back on that ship, that Adora had never come to save her, that she was still Horde Prime’s willing little sister.

Melog helped as an active buffer; a third party who hadn’t been present at any point in Catra’s life before Prime, and something her mind couldn’t really make up. Adora learned a few ways to help Catra ground herself. The problem was that anything could be a possible trigger, and the only way they could learn what set Catra was off was by waiting. They figured out color and touch pretty quickly, but there were other things, like certain words or phrases that would put Catra right back on the ship like she had never left it.

“Maybe you should’ve just left me there,” she muttered dejectedly into her pillow one night. Adora immediately abandoned the map she was working on to sit with Catra, gently brushing her hair back.

“The fact that you thought I really would leave you there is a bit insulting, you know,” she joked.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend your hero complex.” There was no heat in the words. “What good am I if I can’t even keep reality straight?”

“You can’t judge yourself based on something that you have no control over.” Adora’s fingers paused over the back of her neck, inches from the scar left by the chip (now surrounded by several fresher, lighter scars from various flashbacks or hallucinations).

“Doesn’t make me any less dangerous.”

“The only person you’re a danger to is yourself.” Adora lightly traced one of the newer scars. Catra shivered slightly. “If I tell you I love you and it’s worth it, can you at least believe that I believe that?”

“Of course I believe you believe that. You have a bleeding heart.”

Rude, but fair. Adora lied beside her, pulling her into a hug. “Then believe that I can make my own choices and I don’t need you to protect me from you.”

Catra was still for a long moment before she leaned into the hug, relaxing. “Remember those stupid drawings we did on your bunk?”

“Our marks, you mean?”

“Yeah, something to remember us by when we were ruling the place as adults.” Catra smiled into her shoulder. “Which one was red and which was blue, again?”

“Uh, I was red, obviously.”

“Why obviously? Red isn’t exactly your color, princess.”

It was one of their small ways of grounding Catra. A lot of their memories had conflicting details despite being shared - even things as tiny as which of Octavia’s eyes Catra had scratched out (Adora swore it was the left eye, Catra would die thinking it was the right eye). Horde Prime’s illusions had never been detailed enough to think of Adora’s memories being different - Adora would have just agreed with anything Catra said. Possibly the most unrealistic thing of all.

“You don’t even know what red is.”

"Oh yeah? Did you hit your head hard enough to fix being colorblind at some point?”

“Are you asking me about brain damage? Seriously?”

They never did get around to figuring out who was what color, but it didn’t really matter - Catra had accomplished what she had wanted to do.

This was reality. No matter how much her brain tried to tell her otherwise.

[ciggylungz]

Worship me- Chapter.1

Worship me- Chapter 1.

word count- 3.3k

Summary: Harry is the typical bad boy in town, and Y/n is an innocent Catholic school girl, with a few skeletons in her closet

Warnings: mentions of abusive family, arranged marriage, some major angst and triggering themes

(this in no way is meant to be offensive, I grew up catholic and in a very bad household it was very toxic and detrimental to my health mentally and physically and I endured a lot of harm from the hands of the catholic church. But please remember that is only my experience and I support anyone with whatever religion they chose to practice, and please keep in mind this is fiction and meant to be taken as such. Xoxo H)

__

 The sun was just reaching it’s full peak as Y/n finished putting on her school uniform, she always hated how early she had to get up for school and it didn’t help her parents forced her to get up at 4:30 each morning to pray and read the page of the bible her father had picked out for the day. So, by 6:30 she was already knuckling at her eyes while buckling her black Mary Janes and rushing out the door with an empty stomach since her mother always said ‘fasting in the morning showed devotion to god’ which she truly didn’t understand. She didn’t understand a lot of the things her parents pushed on her and her siblings, some of it even scared her but she knew better than to open her mouth about it, she knew all she’d get in return is a tongue lashing and her faced shoved into a bible while she got spanked by her father. She found herself growing more and more scared as she grew older, her home seemed to get more hostile as the days went by but to her it was normal, it’s all she ever knew so she never questioned the things her parents groomed her for.

She tried not to drag her feet on the sidewalk while she made her way towards her school, she knew it would scoff her school shoes and her mother got very angry the last time she came home with scarred leather on the toes. Y/n truly felt exhausted today, she felt sad, tired, a bit overwhelmed and very hungry since she wasn’t allowed any food after 6 in the evening and then she had to withhold breakfast from herself in honor of god. She was really starting to feel the negative affects of some of these practices, her body getting thinner, her energy dropping quickly and the shivers and headaches were constant. Yet she kept her mouth shut, because ‘That’s what nice girls do’, and y/n didn’t want to be bad she wanted to be praised, she wanted to be adored and loved. But no matter how submissive she is to her parents; she never seems to get any of what she needs. She even kept track in her diary of how many days it had been since someone told her they loved her, today marks day 128.

She could barely hear the chatter of her peers as she made her way through the corridor, her head was already beginning to pound in her temples and her exhaustion was like a weighted blanket draped over her. She didn’t realize she was walking straight into the wall until she felt a palm press against her forehead stopping her from smacking her head into it, her knees still knocked into the navy blue tiles that decorated the bottom half of the walls causing a small ‘umph’ to escape her lips as she shifted her sleepy eyes to the person attached to the hand. There she saw Harry, his left eyebrow was raised slightly in a questioned manner while he looked down at her.

Y/n knew Harry, they were friendly with each other and she really liked him. He was the only person who really payed her any mind, and while she knew he was a bit of a trouble maker he was always kind to her. They shared a science and English class together, their desks lined up next to each other in the cramped classrooms of her private school always making their knees knock together and elbows to push each other’s work off the desks by accident, something rather annoying but the pair got along well enough it never caused his notorious attitude to flare up.

“You okay? Walkin’ like a zombie today kid.” He popped his gum between his teeth loudly, making her eyes blink on reflex before she brought her palms up to rub them slightly. “I’m really tired…sorry I didn’t mean to bother you”. Harry had no idea why she was apologizing, but he noticed it’s something she did a lot. Even when there was nothing to be sorry for and it always made him feel a bit sad, it was odd to him since the usually group of friends he hung with was very much the rough and tumble, unapologetic type.

“What are ya’ talkin’ about? Didn’t bother me, was making sure you didn’t hurt yourself, love.” While Harry was not a soft or sweet kid typically, he was always gentle with the girl. He called her pet names a lot and tried to keep his usual rough tone out of his mouth while he spoke to her. She was a sweetheart and he truly appreciated how pure her aura and personality is and he never wanted to do anything to jeopardize that. It was rare for him to ever be around a positive person if he’s being honest.

She simply shrugged and nodded, a yawn escaping her mouth before she looked up at him with hooded eyes, his own narrowing a bit just having a gut feeling something was off. She looked frail almost, he’s never seen her look dull and he didn’t like it. He was used to her being warm and bubbly, so seeing her look so down made his jaw clench. “Hey, look at me Y/n. What’s wrong? Can tell somethings up, want to talk to m’ about it?” her eyes seemed to glaze over a bit at his proposition, she wanted to talk about it but she knew she couldn’t. Her parents had forced into her mind that if she opened her mouth and told people about her feelings or things that went on at home, that god would hate her and she was scared of that. She was too deep in their game to see her parents would be the ones under gods harsh gaze, not her.

So she fought against the thoughts begging to be verbalized and gently shook her head, “No no, it’s okay…we have mass in a few minutes. Wouldn’t have time to talk anyway…it’s alright.” She shot his idea down, which concerned him further but he let it be, listening intently as she spoke again. “C-could I have a hug?” she was shy, she knew her parents would be very angry if they found out she had been alone with a boy, let alone having any physical contact even as simple as a hug or a high five. She hated that rule, and right now she knew the chances of her getting in trouble so she took the chance. She could feel her nerves prick her palms as he waited for his response, yet she felt a bit relieved as he opened his arms and let her press herself into him. She noticed a sense of security warm her while his broad arms hugged her small figure, he stroked her back slightly frowning to himself when he could feel her spine against his thumbs. Only then did he notice how thin she seemed to become since he first met her when she was a freshman and he was a sophomore last year, the girl one year his junior seemed to be shrinking instead of growing which made him a bit alarmed but he knew it wasn’t a good time to pry. Even as calloused as he is emotionally, he still has the ability to read people and what they need so he decided to just give her the comfort she requested, keeping a protective palm resting on her back as he walked into the school’s chapel with her.

Harry loathed the Catholic school his mother forced him to attend, he wasn’t exactly a bible thumper like the nuns and teachers that were breathing down his neck 6 hours out of his day. He didn’t like how the priest looked at his female classmates, or how they used the idea of God to scare people into submission rather then painting him as a warm, forgiving figure that he really should be made out to be. The only reason Harry was still attending the hellish school was because it made his mother happy and feel like her son was safe, and staying out of trouble for at least a good chunk of the day. Harry loved his mother; he knew she wasn’t fond of the trouble maker reputation he seemed to make for himself as he grew into young adulthood. And so, he did her the solid of attending and giving her some peace of mind.

Harry made sure to go into the same pew as Y/n letting out a grunt as he leaned down to his knees on the small padded strip meant to help their knees not hurt as bad yet it did very little to create a barrio between his knee caps and the hard floor beneath.

He mumbled a snarky ‘I’m not the one usually on my knees’ to himself, getting a glare from one of the nuns walking down the aisle doing a head count for student attendance but he only flipped the bird to her when her back was turned. Y/n was struggling to keep her head from resting on the pew in front of her, she was truly struggling to stay awake at this point finding herself jolting a bit every few seconds as she started drifting off, only able to fully get her composure when the head priests voice boomed through the speakers in the chapel, making her flinch and assume her earlier position while he read out a few verses, instructing them to bow their heads and pray along with him. Harry of course mocked the priest while Y/n robotically followed along as much as she didn’t want to, she was too sad to think about the weight of the words from the sacred book and her knees were aching yet she was too afraid to not say it, the fear crawling up her spine when she thought about what her parents would do if they found out she didn’t recite the prayer with her peers.

__

 Somehow Y/n managed to make it through her four class periods, she admittedly had retained nothing she was taught that day and by this point it was 2 in the afternoon and her head was pounding so bad she thought her skull might crack and her brain would eject itself in protest to her lack of hydration and nutrients coming in. she was in agony, and Harry hadn’t left her alone all day because he could read her like a book. To be honest he was scared she might keel over and die from how unwell she looked, and so he caught up to her while she was walking out of the school snagging her elbow, eyes watching as she barely responded to his sudden grasp and shifting so he was facing her. “Hey, hey love let me drive you home. I’m not taking no for an answer you look like you’re going to pass out.”

Y/n was too tired to fight, so she allowed herself to be guided to his car and put into his passenger seat. She smiled slightly with droopy eyes when he buckled her seatbelt for her, softly closing her door walking around the car to get into his place behind the wheel.

A soft grumble emited from her stomach, catching both of their attention and causing her cheeks to blush slightly, “ ‘m sorry, I’m a bit hungry..” Harry nodded while fumbling with his keys, “when’s the last time you ate?” she hesitated for a beat before deciding to be honest, “Lunch yesterday…didn’t have dinner and my parents make me fast every morning so I haven’t eaten.” The boy snapped his heads towards her, eyes widening and heart starting to beat faster in worry “Wait, really? So you haven’t eaten in-“ he paused to do the math in his head, they eat lunch at 11am while at school so now at half past two it had been a really long fucking time. “- 26 hours? Oh god, Y/n that’s not good, that’s not healthy. Here I have some water and a few protein bars left over from practice yesterday.” He popped the glove box open to pull out his snacks, handing two bars to her and grabbing his water bottle from the cup holder to hand to her, cracking it open for her and holding it for her, tipping it against her sleepy lips, seeing as her hands were shaking just holding the cereal bars he didn’t want her to accidently slosh the water all over herself. “thank you” her voice was quiet, but he heard it letting her drink a few more sips before she started to slowly eat the bar, her eyes closed and head resting against the window as she chewed with all the energy she had left. “You not sleeping either?” Y/n shook her head “Not really, have to get up at 4 every morning…went to sleep at 1, so I only got 3 hours…I feel like I’m gonna pass out. I really don’t feel good Harry”

Before he even turned the car on, he was making a mad dash to hold a rouge plastic bag under her chin while she spewed up the food she’d just eaten. He guesses since she hasn’t eaten in so long, the snacks upset her sensitive stomach. Y/n whimpered when the stomach bile forced it’s way out of her mouth into the bag the burning waking her up a bit and causing her to choke on it a bit. Harry didn’t make fun of her like she thought, she fully expected him to kick her out of his car and she wouldn’t blame him. She felt horrible, and very embarrassed yet he kept one hand holding the bag and the other used to tip her forwards do he can rub and pat her back keeping her from aspirating the vomit giving her gentle comforting words while he fished a napkin out of the console to wipe her mouth for her. “It’s alright kid, get it out. Stomach is upset huh? You feel warm too, jeez Y/n I’m sorry you’re not feeling good. How about I stop and get you a ginger ale and take ya’ home so you can get some rest?” she nodded slowly letting a few tears spill over her waterline only to be dried by another tissue held in Harry’s hand. “It’s alright, don’t gotta cry you’ll be okay I promise.”

__

 Harry kept true to his word, getting her a soda and taking her home giving her his number so she could text him if she needed him. Y/n tucked the slip of paper in her sock before exiting the car, she didn’t want her parents to take it from her so she made sure to hide it. “Thank you, I’m sorry your car smells like puke now..” Harry chuckled a bit “It’s alright, it’s smelled worse before. Not exactly the cleanest car in town hon”

The banter was soon finished as he dropped her off, driving off leaving Y/n to go back in her home. Greeting her parents before telling them she wasn’t feeling well and heading upstairs to take a nap finishing the remainder of her soft drink as she tucked herself under her blankets letting herself drift off.

__

When she woke up, it was nearly 10pm and she still felt like she needed a year long slumber to recover, but she knew she didn’t have a chance since her mother had woken her up to do her nightly hour of praying. She was beginning to hate the night routine; it was painful and tiring and she felt vulnerable and small.

When her father noticed her sluggishness he took it as disrespect, not having a care as he yanked his daughter by her underarm to stand bringing her downstairs harshly tossing her onto the couch. He gave no regard to her tears as he screamed at the girl, telling her horrible things and forcing her to hold her knuckles out for him to crack a ruler down on. She had bitten into her cheeks so harshly trying to stop the sobs that she could taste the blood in her mouth, but she didn’t dare speak as she took her punishment. She didn’t understand why he was giving her such a harsh treatment when she hadn’t done anything wrong but none the less she internalized it and made herself believe she deserved it.

“How many times do I have to tell you to sit up straight?! How many times do I have to beat it into you?! You think any man is going to want you when you’re such a sloppy disrespectful girl? You bring shame onto this family Y/n!”

Y/n didn’t miss the bile rising in her throat as her father used an arranged marriage- one she didn’t even want- to guilt her into submission. Her father believed in marrying his daughters off young, usually for a hefty payment. He’d done it to her two older sisters, Alexis when she was 15, and Cassidy when she was merely 13 years old. It wasn’t legal marriage by any means, but the girls didn’t know that. The men her dad basically sold his children to were predators but of course Y/n was made to believe it was normal for her dad to marrying her off to a man 20 years older than her. ‘Gods plan’ he called it, but it was scary to her. she didn’t want it, it made her feel violently ill thinking about having to marry a older man who always made her very uncomfortable when her dad would bring her to meet them. The way they looked at her gave her chills, the requests they made regarding her purity, the services she’d provide them with, it made her feel so objectified she sometimes wished to not wake up some mornings so she didn’t have to feel like she’s one day closer to her fate of being a predators indentured servant, used as a pawn and play thing.

The one time she had hinted she didn’t want to be married off, her mother denied her food for 3 days and made her take cold baths to ‘cleanse her’ of her ‘greedy wants’. Y/n truly felt terrified, she was shaking in front of her father while her brain was going into fight of flight. Her feet raced up the steps when her father dismissed her, and as she locked her bedroom door she remembered the slip of paper in her sock.

She knew the risks of reaching out to Harry, her parents knew of the boy. Everyone in town did, hard to forget a street brawling, angsty teenage boy who has been caught more than once by neighbors shit faced drunk or smoking weed with his friends and of course it caused floods of gossip through the rather conservative community yet she decided the risk was worth it if it gave her a sliver of hope to escape the nightmare she felt she was in.

Her fingers gripped her phone tightly as she typed in his number, writing him a text

‘Harry, it’s Y/n are you awake?”

His response was quick, maybe 30 seconds after she’d sent hers

‘yea, what’s up? You alright? Feeling better?’

A fresh wave of tears were building in her eyes, shaky fingers typing out her next message

‘no, Harry please help me. I’m scared please.’

[leda-x]

Ladybug has five minutes left with Chat Noir, and she isn't ready to give them up.

Ladybug woke in the cooking section of a library with the word “chance” tumbling from her lips. It was the ancient atrium of a newly modernized building. Like always, she was crouched down behind a bookshelf with Chat Noir at her side.

Far, far above her head, thin marble columns rose upwards, curving into graceful arches to meet in the middle. Early morning light shone through the enormous circular skylight positioned at the center of the atrium’s domed ceiling. It illuminated little specks of golden dust that had been disturbed by them seconds before. The room was empty, sound hushed.

Meeting her gaze, Chat tapped the screen on his baton and the numbers 04:58 began to flash. 04:57… 04:56... He reached down, flipping through a cookbook at his side, stopping at a random page. “Lobster tails meunière,” he read aloud to mark the attempt, green gaze flicking back up for her lead.

There were 2,000 recipes in The Escoffier Cookbook and Guide to the Fine Art of Cookery. That one was new. Ladybug took it as a good omen.

There was nothing but seriousness in Chat’s face right now. Seriousness and a rosy glow of determination and confidence.

Ladybug’s fingers drifted off her bracelet to cradle Chat’s cheek. Her gloved thumb followed the line along the bottom edge of his mask, right at the exposed part of his cheek. She watched the depth and vibrancy in his eyes. Could see a ring of eyelashes through the colored glass. Could feel the heat from his skin. He had a freckle on his upper lip. Not for the first time Ladybug realized her partner was beautiful. The first few times she had stopped to really notice she had cried. An ache started in her throat and grew until her entire chest was sore, until she was breathless with grief.

A blush colored his cheeks and his neck. She watched, with some fascination, the steady beat of his heart through the vein in his neck. It was throbbing quick. He was searching her face for answers now, lip pursing into worry.  “Uh oh… It’s that bad?” Chat joked.

She wasn’t ready. It wasn’t the right time around. Ladybug got up from her crouch and held out her hand.

Chat took it without question and allowed her to lead them both out of the atrium into a modernized foyer, then into an elevator. She pressed floor four. 

“What’s the plan?” he asked as the elevator doors shut. Ladybug could detect a thread of nervousness behind his grin. He was probably wondering why they were going up when the akuma was last spotted below.

Such faith. It cracked her heart a little further every time. Ladybug squeezed his hand, watching the elevator numbers tick so she didn’t have to look him in the eye as she admitted, “No plan.”

The doors opened to an art gallery absent of people.

She let go of Chat’s hand, even though she never really wanted to, and began walking through the exhibit. She could hear the soft sound of his footsteps following her. Extremely large images of sand flicked by in succession. Ladybug didn’t stop to marvel at them.

Chat always did. “Whoah,” he said and she glanced back, catching him craning his neck. “This isn’t a photo. Someone drew this.”

Ladybug used up a few of her seconds to watch her partner, feeling a wash of fondness as Chat placed his hands on his hips and tilted forward, nose scrunched, face inches from the canvas. “LB how long do you think this took to make?”

Years, Ladybug thought. Aloud, she said, “This way.”

Chat let out a low whistle as they passed by a total of ten drawings. Each one looked alike. There were slight variations, however, upon closer inspection. It was the variations in Chat Noir that Ladybug kept discovering that made it impossible for her to stop doing this. They had been here over a thousand times before. Each time was a little different, but always ended the same.

They wound a corner and ended up in a smaller room. Ladybug headed towards the back where a replica of the interior of an old-style french house had been built. There was a bed and a little TV where you could learn all about Château de Blois.

It was the best place she had found for this. She had tried a lot of places. She had already dragged Chat around the entire city of Paris looking for a solution. Not that this Chat Noir remembered any of that.

She gestured at the bed, ignoring the documentary that was playing softly behind her, “I have a lot to tell you and no time to do it. How are we, by the way?”

Chat Noir obeyed, sitting on the bed, cat ears perked straight up, eyes bright now and curious. His knee bounced with pent-up energy. He glanced at his baton. “Three minutes, forty-seven seconds. Why? What’s going to happen?”

“I need you to pretend that everything I’m about to say is true,” Ladybug began.

Chat Noir gave her a funny look like, ‘why wouldn't I?’

Ladybug couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. She crouched down in front of him, placing a palm atop each bouncing knee. “You are going to die in three minutes,” Ladybug said.

Chat froze.

“Your heart. It stops. An arrhythmia,” Ladybug continued, keeping her eyes locked with his, making sure he was following along. They never had time to go over it again. “We’ve been here a lot. Anything you are about to say I’ve tried.” She had tried every hospital, every ER, every doctor; had tried Lucky charm-ing a solution countless times. 

Chat’s eyebrows drew together. His eyes were still present in the room with her, though. They hadn’t glazed off or flicked away in fear. “What?” he breathed. He searched her for a long moment for the joke. 

Ladybug knew better than to so much as flinch or blink right now while he was looking for a way out. Chat’s denial came in different severities every time, but it was never helped by her saying or doing anything until he did first.

A stormy look passed across his face as he took that in. “So... I’m dead and there’s nothing anyone can do about it?” he summarized, grinning.

Ladybug nodded, relaxing a touch. In her experience him grinning was usually the best outcome, even though it did seem a bit deranged. She took her hands from his knees, giving him a bit of space despite every bone in her body aching to hold him close. Even though she had held him so many times, it was always new for him. Too much of her affection too fast could scare him off.

“Wait. What about the cure?” he asked.

“You know Ladybug can’t bring people back to life.”

Chat leaned back a touch. A clawed palm drew up to rest over his heart, expression a bit dazed. Ladybug watched as her partner’s brain spun, processing. Then he glanced back at her, eyes startled. “How… How many times have we done this?”

“Many,” Ladybug admitted. “Each time is a little different. Sometimes you don’t believe me. Sometimes you call your dad. Sometimes you call Nino. Sometimes we just sit together.”

“Nino?” Chat caught.

“I know you are Adrien Agreste,” Ladybug said and then waited to see how he would react.

Sometimes this revelation hit hardest. It was more real, more believable. Often the fact that she knew his name at all was taken as proof she was telling the truth about everything else. That realization typically followed with denial. Sometimes terror.

Ladybug watched closely as Chat’s chest heaved in panic.

A humming noise suddenly kicked off. It was only after it stopped that Ladybug realized the air conditioning had been on. The change shocked Chat back out of whatever place he had gone. “Do I know you?” he whispered.

“Do you want to?”

Suddenly he recoiled, gaze suspicious. “You’re not Ladybug,” he stated, as if the thought had just dawned on him. “This isn’t real.”

Ladybug’s heart sank.

He was standing now, stumbling backwards. His shoulder hit one of the wood beams of the replica, causing him to twist.

With a sigh she reached down and twisted the bracelet back into position.

. .

Ladybug woke again in the cooking section of the library.

Chat tapped the screen on his baton and flipped through the cookbook. “Eggs benedict,” he read aloud.

Ladybug was still reeling from last time. They had almost parted ways on terms she could (maybe) accept. But no— Chat had to get paranoid. Not for the first time she cursed all the replicas of herself that her partner had faced. Maybe if he hadn’t been tricked previously they would have a better chance at this.

“Ladybug?” Chat’s voice broke her out of her thoughts, worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you wake up in the morning?” Ladybug asked, eyes locked down at the book in his hands. At the long pause she got out of her crouch and into a cross-legged position, chancing a look at his face. Sometimes his living face in all it’s animated glory really hurt to look at when seconds before it had been dead.

Chat was staring at her in uncertainty. After a beat he mirrored her, settling down at her side and putting down the book. “That’s a weird question. Why? Something to do with the akuma?”

“Yes,” Ladybug lied. “I need to know.” She needed a break. Even though she never grew physically tired, emotionally she was exhausted. She used up rounds getting to know him better, plucking up the courage to try again to say goodbye again.

He had a grin on his face now. “Usually because of my alarm clock.”

 . .

She was back in the library.

“Grammont pullet,” said Chat Noir, to her right. He set down the cookbook and tapped his baton.

Ladybug laughed. She laughed and then she cried. She wasn’t sure when she stopped doing the first and started doing the second. They sort of happened together, just like all of these second chances and all of these subtle striations.

Chat’s hands hovered beside her arms like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to comfort her. His ears flattened, green eyes distraught. However, when Ladybug leaned in his arms looped around her in an easy embrace, chin resting atop her head.

Eventually emotions passed and Ladybug went quiet, listening to the sound of Chat’s heartbeat and the rumble of his voice as he asked, “What’s the joke?”

“You started the timer after you read the recipe this time,” Ladybug said.

Chat’s grip shifted. He fell silent, as if weighing something, before he admitted, “I don’t get it.”

Ladybug reached up and patted his back. She hadn’t expected him to.

. .

This time around was coq-au-vin.

They had made it to the elevator. This time, Ladybug pressed ‘Floor 4’ right as Chat pressed ‘Basement’. The elevator suddenly had a choice, and it chose to go down, and instead of twisting the bracelet to start over, Ladybug decided to take out some of her own anger on the akuma.

The fight was over before it barely begun.

The umbrella Ladybug tossed to Chat skidded across the floor. Chat stumbled. Ladybug reached down and spun the bracelet before she had a chance to watch him fall.

. .

The last recipe was profiteroles. And it was only the last one, because Chat— like always— surprised her. Ladybug supposed it was only a matter of when, not if. She could only do this so many times before Chat turned it back around on her.

He was glaring at her now, green eyes bright and vivid, unobstructed by goggles. Ladybug internally cursed whenever Chat decided to transform back because it meant there was no more baton— no more timer— and she always felt a bit lost within these three minutes without it.

“How many times have you put yourself through this?” he was asking her, again, since she couldn’t give him a straight answer. Suddenly, and swiftly, he got up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and took two steps forward into her personal space before Ladybug had a chance to stumble back. “How many?” he repeated.

“I-I don’t know!” Ladybug answered truthfully, suddenly flustered beyond belief. This was the first time Adrien Agreste had had the audacity to step this close to her, to get this mad at her.

“Marinette,” Adrien realized, sounding a bit punched in the gut. “You’re Marinette. This whole time...”

Not trusting herself to speak, Marinette nodded, eyes wide. The amount of times they had both come to know each other’s identities were slim. Rarely did it ever get this far. From this point on was uncharted territory for Ladybug. This Chat Noir suddenly became very real, no longer this strange version of himself that repeated the same phrases and did the same things over and over. No, all the sudden this profiteroles version of Chat was wholly unique.

“If I die in three minutes—” he began.

“Any second now, actually,” Marinette corrected.

“—you’ll do what, exactly?” he finished.

Marinette knew how bad it sounded, but she said it anyway, “I’ll go back to when you’re not dead.”

Adrien’s eyes flicked to the Miraculous around her wrist for a second, brows scrunching. “And then what?”

Ladybug only had to meet his eyes for a brief second to answer that question.

Suddenly Chat had a strong grip on her arm, yanking it towards him.

It took Ladybug a full three seconds to realize what he was trying to do. “Chat. Stop. Chat, stop,” she hissed, veins icy, mouth dry. If he took the bracelet it was over. She twisted and ripped her arm out of his grip, stumbling back and away. A quick glance down confirmed the bracelet was still there and still activated. She kept it pressed tightly to her polka dotted chest, holding it with her other hand.

Adrien was shaking his head, bits of blond hair falling in and out of his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this,” he said, a little out of breath.

Marinette wondered if his heart had stopped and her fingers rested down upon the bracelet, but after a few seconds passed and he remained standing she let them drift away.

If Adrien noticed, he didn’t mention it. “Other people need you,” he accused. “Paris needs you.”

“Paris can figure it out,” she hissed.

Chat blinked, surprised. His face slowly morphed, surprise bleeding into understanding. “It’s ok, Bug. It will be ok.”

Her throat clenched and it felt like he had cleaved her entire body into two pieces straight down the middle. How? How would it ever be ok? When she thought of her future now she only saw darkness. There was nothing left.

“I know I can’t keep doing this,” she gasped, the words ripping out of her. “I know other people love me, need me. But you’re not the one that has to walk out of here alone." The word 'alone' made her own heart swell ten times too big until it felt like it would burst. She hoped it would. That would be a whole lot easier. She had wished a whole lot of things recently that would have appalled her younger self. “I’m not ready.”

“When will you be?” Adrien asked softly.

A hot surge of anger raced through her and she felt the insane urge to shove him or hurt him or do something because how dare he ask her that. How dare he! How dare he die in the first place! Ladybug was tempted to twist the bracelet just to get away from this Chat and go back to an earlier version who was still malleable and innocent. Just erase this attempt all together from his memory so she would never have to answer.

All she had to do was twist it. But then he’d be right. And if she didn’t twist it, he’d still be right. Because… he was right, regardless. And no matter how many times she could make him forget it, she would never forget it.

Adrien wobbled, taking a few quick steps back until he was slumping back on the bed, face pale. Time’s up.

Her anger evaporated and she was there, tugging him close into her chest, because this was the closest to Chat she had ever gotten in all her attempts. The crown of his head tucked underneath her chin, gloved fingers running through his hair, as she felt all the movement and life drain out of him. It was like this every time. Quick, quiet, sneaky. As quick as a switch. One minute the lights were on, the next they were off.

She had no idea how much time she had before her five minutes were up. If she had to guess it was down to seconds. Her fingers detangled out of blond hair and dragged along her side, along her arm, until they met her wrist and bumped against the bracelet. 

Was she? When would she be? Ready, that is.

[hawks-is-kinda-chicken-little]

Voicemail

Hawks X Reader

Summary: Commitment is sometimes scary, especially when Keigo already has so much on his plate. So instead of communicating that to his lover, he grows distant.

-part 1-

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

—————————————————-

One moment Keigo was flying through cloud nine and the next he was falling faster than ever.

(Y/n) was the first one to break his walls. See the broken man through the believable facade portrayed by the media. She loved him, the real him, not the picture perfect model on the tv young boys and girls dream about and idolize. All his flaws and scars never repealed her for even a moment, she loved him unconditionally. She was the first to do so, the first to show him that he didn’t have to be perfect.

Keigo remembers when she shattered those barriers. Oh, how he cried. It was only a week until their one year anniversary. But, this was the first time (y/n) had seen him all battered and beaten from a fight earlier. No feathers on his back, nasty gashes on his face and arms, Hawks might as well have been fresh out of a human sized shredder. Really, he should have gone to the hospital, but he figured he could just handle the damage himself. He remembers being frozen in place when his eyes landed on her after just walking into their shared apartment. She should have been asleep already, yet there she was standing in the dim lighted hallway with the worry shining in those doe eyes of hers. Her cheeks were puffy and her eyes were red as if she had been crying moments ago. Quickly, she scurried over to him scanning over his torn form. From there gently but quickly guided him to the bathroom where they kept the medical supplies.

He was sitting on a stool near the bathroom sink as (y/n) sat right next to him with her legs folded on the floor. The silence was deafening, no questions were asked. Hawks quietly watched her shaking hands delicately wrap one of the bandages around his wounded arm. Making sure the fabric was not to tight, but not too lose that it would come undone. Sighing, he reached the hand she previously wrapped and cupped her cheek, rubbing his ever so gently under her eye, causing her to stop her actions and place her hand upon his own, closings her eyes. She lowered her head as her shoulders started shaking ever so slightly with every sniffle and hiccup that came from her. Hawks used his other hand guide her face towards his wiping away freshly dropping tear that cascaded down her puffy red cheeks. It was only a couple for minutes before she broke the silence.

“I saw it on the news,” Her bottoms lip quivered more as she spoke.

“What did you see, my love?”

“Them hurt you,” She sobbed “It was all over the news, you were- you were thrown through the building and pummbled into the ground, the- then the power shut off and I did know if- I didn’t know-”

The poor thing couldn’t even finish the sentence, she was now curled over her knees sobbing into her hands in attempt to muffle her cries. Hawks was in shock, he knew she cared and worried for him, but apparently underestimated the extent at which it went. Never in his life has someone genuinely cried on his behalf, not even his so-called parents. This was the moment he broke down. This was the moment he knew she truly loved him and he truly loved her.

Shifting so that Keigo was now on the ground with her, he pulled her to his lap, rocking them both from side to side, as he burying his face in her hair. In this moment both of their hearts beat for each other and nothing could change that. He hadn’t even realized his own tears that were falling until she pulled back just alittle to stare into his eyes and wipe them away. There was nothing but love and care in those glazed over her eyes.

Hawks remembers sitting on the tile of the bathroom floor the rest of the night in eachothers embrace. No one in the rest of the world mattered, it was only them, both vulnerable to each other’s love.

She meant so much to him, she was like the feathers on his back, freeing and always there to lift him up. Everyone at the agency loved her, she was motherly to the interns and alway there to vent if someone needed to talk. She was a true blessing to all those around her. Time went on and there love only grew stronger.

Lately something had seemed off with Keigo, he was acting cold and distant, and not even he could pinpoint why. Maybe it was the stress of all the hero work piling up. Being the number Two Hero came with a lot of responsibility and a lot more work which he had to keep on top of. Keigo had been staying at the office later doing paperwork into the early hours of the morning for the past three days. And when he did return home (y/n) was always draped over the arm of the couch in her night time attire asleep. It was obvious that she was trying to wait up for him, but always seemed to fail. Shaking his head with a small smile at her silliness, he picked her up and brought her to bed. It wasn’t long before he joined her, but Hawks was always gone before she would wake up.

She would leave him encouraging texts and voicemails throughout the day, to which he never replied to. It seemed like they hadn’t even really had a real conversation in a couple of months. Every time she would try and reach out to her, he’d blow her off, avoiding any sort of confrontation. Keigo already has so much going through his head with all this league of villains stuff, the last thing he needs is another person giving him problems.

Today marked the 3 year anniversary of their relationship. It was a quiet day at the agency, so (y/n) came to visit. Of course a bunch of the women pulled her into the break area to gossip. They were all talking and giggling when he was walking by. Hawks stopped to listen at the door when one giggling in particular reached his ears making him smile. The ladies wanted juicy details about Hawks and his lover’s relationship. He couldn’t stop the smile creeping up his face hearing her stutter out haste responses obviously embarrassed by their questions.

A couple more questions were thrown around and he put his hand on the door getting ready to barge in and save his poor baby like the hero he was. Hawks was half way through the door when one of the ladies asked about marriage making him halt. All eyes were on him, but his eyes were on (y/n)’s as his smile slowly fell. He shifted his gaze to the ground as he backed out the door, the sound of a chair being pulled back followed by the hurried steps of his lover close behind him. Her hand reached out and grasped the hand in an attempt to make him stop, which was successful and he turned to look at her, his face void of emotion.

“They were only joking, you know,” She said, hoping to lighten the mood, but there was some sort of panic or desperation hidden in her voice, Hawks could hear it.

He didn’t say anything, he only stared at her with a straight face. By the grace of whatever higher ups there were, his work phone went off signaling an emergency.

She squeezed his hand “I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but know that I love you and I will listen if there anything you want to talk about when you come back, we can skip our dinner reservations and just chill at home if you want.”

“I can’t talk about this right now, ill see you at home,” He muttered, ripping his hand from her hold.

Keigo turned around, walking away from her, but not miss the shocked and pained look that spread over her face. As he walked towards his office, the employee’s mouths hung open in shock. With shame and guilt beginning to set in, Keigo quickened his pace to his destination, slamming the door behind him as he arrived. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as his hands tugged at the untamed locks on his head. Pulling himself together, Keigo grabbed his gear and headed to the destination at which he was needed.

The mission was a breeze, but he didn’t return to the office, instead he opted to clear his mind soaring through the night time clouds. He flew out of the city bounds and landed on a tree that stood miles away, facing the glowing outline of the city. Hawks sat on one of the sturdier branches leaning against the thick core it sprouted from and closing his heavy eyes.

What was his issue? What had changed to make him act so harsh? God, (y/n) probably hates him now. Can’t say he would blame her though, he’s been nothing but a jerk to her these past couple of days. Damn, he was such an asshole at the office. Ignoring her, snapping at her, pushing her away when she had done nothing wrong.

But that’s not what she thought. These past days all she could do was pick her own mind over and over again. This has been going on for an entire month, nothing has been resolved, it only seems to be getting worse. She tried staying up and waiting till he got home to talk to him, but he was always home so late. (Y/n) tried calling, but that never got anywhere. It was alway go straight to voicemail. The same old:

“Heyyyyy, sorry I can’t answer at this moment. If its urgent or you have chicken that you can eat/ just want to give me chicken call my bussiness number at (***)***-****. Talk to ya later.”

She would alway leave a sweet and encouraging voicemail, sometime she would ask when he would be home, or if he maybe wanted to meet her for food or something.

So now here she sits at 1am, holding the tiny wrapped box she was going to give him for their anniversary while tears streamed down her face. Stuffed inside is a pregnancy test, they always joked about kids before this issue started. She found out about two weeks ago, deciding to wait to give it to him today, or yesterday, since she could never really get a hold of him lately.

She can’t do this much longer though, it was really starting to get to her, maybe it was the hormones talking, but it hurts nonetheless. No matter how she twisted it in her head she couldn’t understand where they went wrong. Setting the present on the counter, she walked to their shared bed room so she could grab a couple of necessities for the night. As of right now she was planning on crashing at a friends house who was already informed of (y/n)’s current predicament. Rumi Usagiyama always knew how to cheer her up.

After stuffing the duffle bag, (y/n) wrote a little note and left it at the edge of the night stand before grabbing the car keys and heading out the door. Making sure to turn off all the lights and lock the door on her way.

Unfortunately, in her rush she left the small box neatly wrapped bright colors and a golden bow resting forgotten on the counter.

It was hours till Keigo finally got the courage to head home to her for the night, or morning, as it was past 1 am. It felt cold inside, it felt empty. Keigo didn’t like it. Normally (y/n) kept the kitchen light on as she would always try and wait up for him when he came home.

The further he walked in the more he panicked, (y/n) wasn't passed out on the couch. Uneasiness settled deep in his gut as he started searching the apartment in a frenzy. Heading towards their bedroom, he froze at the door frame seeing, it was empty, she wasn’t there.

He started yelling out her name, desperate for some sort of response while he searched every room. Keigo checked his phone, nothing. He called her, no response. Maybe, she was somewhere outside. Yeah, (y/n) loved going on early morning walks.

While rushing back towards the front door, a shiny gold sparkle caught his eye. It stood out of place in the dark kitchen. The glittery glow illuminated from golden ribbons wrapped around a package all connecting to form a bow on the top.

Cautiously walking over to the counter he picked it up, immediately eyeing a tag that had flopped to the side. Two fingers grasped it, flipping it from one side to the other. On the opposite side was written ‘To: Keigo’ in the beautiful handwriting that could only belong to (y/n).

His heart sunk as guilt started eating away at him. Pulling the ends of the ribbons, he slowly unwrapped it, taking the lid off the small box. At first he was confused, inside was just a bunch of tissue paper and some kinda plastic stick. When Keigo saw the 2 bright red stripes going down one side, it clicked. It was a pregnancy test. A positive pregnancy test.

Keigo’s mind went blank as the world around him froze. Tears started racing down his now damp cheeks. God what has he done. After placing the stick back in the box and then shoving it in his coat pocket Keigo bolted to the closest window, phone in hand attempting to call her phone.

All calls went to voicemail. There was no sign of her anywhere. Keigo could feel his wings shake in panic and desperation. Two hours had gone by and there was nothing.

Where was his (y/n), where was his angel? The woman who put up with all his shit throughout the years. The woman who loved him unconditionally, even when she saw how truly broken of a man he was. The woman who worried for him, cared for him, healed him, knew him. The real him. The woman who was carrying their baby, the woman- the one he pushed away. The one who he ignored and made cry. The one he hurt.

He needed to find her, try to mend all his mistakes. Hell, beg on his knees for her to forgive him. Ask how he could make it up to her. Let him show her that he can be a better man for not only her, but their baby. Oh, god they were going to have a baby. Just the thought of the little chick, made his heart cry out of joy and love.

There was so much he had to say to her. So much time he wanted to make up for. He wanted, no, needed to hold her, encase her and their little chick away from the world in a cocoon of red feathers. But, first he had to find them.

Landing on the barren street he began searching on foot, choosing to call up a few other heros in hope that they had either seen her or would help search for her. No one had seen her, not even Rumi, her best friend, had heard from or seen her the whole day. The few heros that were awake in the early morning, including Endeavor and of course Rumi, went out to start looking for her.

Another hour went by and there was no news, at this point Rumi was using her phone to try and call her. As Rumi was calling, Keigo faintly heard the familiar tone of (y/n) ringtone.

It was faint, but if he followed its sound, it kept getting louder and louder, and almost seemed to be more distorted from its original sweet tone. He followed it right to the entrance of an alley. The ringing stopped signalling the reject of the call. Leading into the dark shadowy ally was a smeared red looking substance that glistened in the moonlight.

Rumi caught up to him, eyes following his gaze to the ground. She watched as her friend shakingly pulled his own phone from his pocket, calling (y/n). A lump formed in her throat as the ringtone of her best friend went off a couple feet before them as a light illuminated from the receiving device.

Neither of them could move as Endeavor came from behind them, witnessing the whole thing. Endeavor used his fire to create a light source, giving them a better view.

Before the heros was a blood splattered ground, all over the brick walls and objects on the ground. But there was not a source of where that blood might have come from. The reminisce of a duffle bag lay abandoned on the side next to a dumpster. It’s contents were scattered all around, ripped clothes and other items which blood splattered all over.

There was only one person who all there’s items belonged to. They all knew it. Especially Keigo.

He took a couple steps in stopping right before a bright screen in the center of it all. The device displayed warped images of the two of them on the shattered glass of the screen. Keigo could make out both of their faces, he was holding her on a bridge. Arms wrapped around each other, him kissing her blush covered cheek as she sweetly giggled.

Keigo fell to his knees in front of it. Rumi started wailing, yelling to (y/n) that this was not a joke, demanding she come out. Endeavor stepped to the side calling for backup and a forensic team.

Curling over his knees, Keigo started sobbing hysterically. His wings slumped to the ground shaking with every sob that racked through his body.

The phone kept ringing, as if it was mocking him. Ringing. Ringing. And ringing. Over and over again. Until it went on, until it stopped and caused his phone to go to voicemail. Her angelic voice came from his speake

“Sorry if I couldn’t answer right away, make sure to leave a message and i- hey! Keigo stop, no, Keig-,” “She obviously busy, if it is urgent call a hero or something,” “Keigo for God sake, give me my phone” “Leave a message or call later, i really don't care which,” “You dorky chicken leg, give it back!”

Then it cut out, ending the voice over. Her voice faded out, leaving his broken cries the only thing to be heard.

Keigo never moved, he sat there hurled over in the middle of the alleyway, wings splayed out over the ground.

Endeavor had to drag Keigo to his feet and haul him out of the way so that the investigators could get to work. He made Keigo sit on a bench by the front of the building next to the alley. A bunch of heros were trying to console Rumi through her mentally breakdown, as she cursed the world, threatening the worst to those who took her family.

Keigo stared back towards the ally littered with a team of investigators through blurry eyes. He felt his world come to an end. No damage he could or had taken amounted to his current pain. It squeezed at his chest and restricted his airways. He couldn’t control his muscles, everything ached from head to toe.

The one person who kept him from falling was stolen. Not even the wings on his back can keep him from falling into the cruel hell hole that is society.

Reaching into the coat pocket his coat pocket he pulled out the box, holding it in his lap. Tears once again spilling down his face. She was pregnant. They were going to have a baby. Someone took away his babies.

She always called Keigo her hero. She promised him that nothing would ever change that.

(Y/n) could be alive somewhere, the investigators came over and informed that there is no sign of a body, but a blood trail that leads to tire marks through one of the connecting alleyways.

Keigo is going to find her. He’s going to bring his babies home. Shower his angel in all the love she deserves. He’s going to fix everything.

Hands clutched the box in a tight grip as razor eyes narrowed at the alley. Keigo could feel his feathers sharpening from his state of anger. There was going to be Hell to pay. Blood to shed. Bones to break. May God have mercy on those who took (y/n), because Keigo will have none to give.

—————————————————————————

Edit: I’m not sure if I should just leave it there or make a part 2 so let me know what all y’all think.

[urlocalbunny]

.ruined orgasm - ethan.

hi, babes! My posting rate went DOWN, i’m aware, but lots of things happened and the national exams are nearing my asscheeks, so please understand that i’m overwhelmed so the requests are stopped in time lmao

1.675 words, enjoy!

Ethan was moody, and everybody knew that much. Always slamming doors, yelling, frowning, laughing at people evilly, sometimes, even... Hissing? But Eloise still put up with a lot to make their relationship work.

And in the end, it did make a difference. Ethan would tell her where he went and with who, how his day was, sometimes he'd even get her food instead of sending Beliath to learn more about her favorite things! Even if she told him that he didn't need to justify himself because they were dating, he tried to show her he could be more than just a moody young vampire. He wanted to show her he could be reliable when it counted.

That's why Eloise had the stupid idea of trying to be reliable too and got herself sitting on his bed, listening to him talking trash about everything possible with his head laying on her lap.

"And he's such a dumbass. Did you see his hair this morning? He looks like a mop. Aaron takes care of him, and he doesn't learn anything, probably burnt all his brain cells trying to find out how much is two plus two. Ah, speaking of Aaron, can you believe he ditched Leandra again? That tomato head is fucking crazy! I mean, there isn't any competition anymore because you're way hotter and you're my girlfriend, can't he do something?-"

"You're acting like a 72-year-old grandpa who likes a gossip." She deadpanned, watching his face contort into a disgusted frown.

"What the fuck? You're so mean! Pet my head." She sighed, patting his head.

"What's happening to you? You're talking too fast."

"I need to vent!" He exclaimed.

"Oh, god. Look, let's calm down. You have to sit down." She patted the bed near her. Ethan was very fast, but she never saw him using his powers inside his room like that. He sat down anyway, but then he fidgeted. "Sit down." She said softly and straddled him harmlessly. He blushed.

"What are you doing?" He asked suspiciously.

"I'm just chilling with you. I'm not going to hurt you."

Sometimes, talking to Ethan was like trying to aid a hurt animal. He was in pain, scared, angry. That made him have very wary reactions. She was the first girlfriend he took seriously, after all. He wasn't the type to stay too much in one place.

"You're... Um- close." He mumbled, a little uncomfortable.

"It's okay then. We can sit side by side again. I'm sorry for pushing. I didn't realize I was too quick." She smiled, beginning to scoot over, but he held her by the waist.

"N-no. Stay like this. You're warm." He hid his red face in the crook of her neck, smelling the perfume Beliath bought for her on her birthday. Fitting.

"You're cold." She said, squealing lightly. "It's not overwhelming, though. You're chilly. I like it." His head felt very heavy. Her treatment of him was too much to handle.

"Are you alright?" She asked, quirking one cute and now messy eyebrow. He huffed, looking at her hesitantly before cupping her face on his hands and kissing her softly.

Her tiny smile on the kiss pushed Ethan further. His heart hammered like crazy. He couldn't help but squeeze her waist, making her open her mouth to moan softly. His tongue slid in slowly, licking hers tentatively, tenderly. She returned the caress, scratching the hair on the nape of his neck as a treat for his boldness. His kisses got eager and full of little appreciation noises as his hands groped her thighs roughly. Her hands got rid of his coat. Eloise tried to spare him a glance to see if she needed to stop, but he urged her back with an annoying whine, tasting her tongue again. The feeling was as if they kissed for the first time again. He wished he could stop, but her lips were so good. He wanted her to keep going even if he didn't know where.

"Eloise, I want to fuck you so bad." He whispered, pulling her hips against him. She matched his movements, combining with wandering hands, to keep him calm until the situation escalated. Her eyes took in his glazed over stare, his panting, and his now swollen red lips. A small white hair stripe ran from his belly button and lower, hiding on his pants.

"Kick off your shoes," she panted, pulling his shirt off. He did as she asked, kicking them off and pulling his socks with his feet. The sight of his flushed neck made her suck in a breath and lean in, kissing his skin eagerly. His hands found themselves on her thighs again, this time creating little red marks under his fingertips.

"You don't have to be shy, love." She whispered, making him scoff.

"You think I'm some virgin you can control?" His hands slid to her ass, squeezing it. The friction his zipper gave made her clench around nothing, whimpering louder than usual. His composure fell, a shy yet pleading stare taking place. Her fingertips ran along with his nipples, eliciting a violent shudder. His back arched nicely against her hand. Her hands worked slowly, appreciating him while his own hands kneaded her ass slowly. His stare fell on her breasts, the way the dress strap hung down still engrained on his mind. He kissed her neck, daring.

"You're so lovely." His whisper woke her up from a deep daze, her hands squeezing his waist ever so slightly.

"You're beautiful." Her answer was almost immediate. He was taken aback by such warmth. No one-night stand ever did him like this. That was already intimate. He was told he's beautiful before. Not like this. Not by her.

Pushing him on the bed and standing up to allow him to raise his hips, Eloise pulled his pants and trousers down. He blushed.

"You look pent up." She sighed, running a hand through the tip. His cock twitched.

"Why am I naked, and you're fully dressed?!"

"That, honey, is called dominance." She gripped the hem of her dress, pulling it up and planting a knee between his own, revealing her thong. He had imagined, and he'd definitely seen and felt her before, but that laid beyond his expectations. The adoration he felt broke the last of the boundaries he had. His shoulders relaxed. Raising his arms above his head and laying them on the bed, he thought that maybe surrendering once wasn't so bad.

"Open your legs for me, honey." He obeyed. Placing herself between them, she kissed him intensely. He couldn't help but pinch one of her nipples, earning a high-pitched moan from her... And his nipple pinched in return. "My, my, you look so clever taking advantage of our positions, don't you?" His hand dropped by his sides, back arching against her hand. She began to slide her nail against his stomach, gripping his cock with her hand and jerking him carefully.

His eyes fluttered shut, a peaceful expression dancing on his face as he whined lowly and pushed his hips in sync with her hand. She gripped harder, coating him on his precum. Her hand worked up and down, sometimes he felt her other hand cup his balls, and she occasionally sucked on his nipple, appreciating his body, but Ethan wasn't going to last.

"Eloise, please. I'm close. So close, I'll be so good to you, so, so good, just p-please-"

"Oops!" Her hand shot up just as Ethan was about to cum. His hips jerked upwards as he moaned helplessly and loudly, sobs erupting from his throat as he thrashed around, orgasm now ruined. The pain mixed with the full pleasure that could've been something else. Betrayal danced behind his eyes, his back arched and his hips thrusting up against nothing, tears dripping from his cheeks.

"Eloise!" He sobbed pathetically, reaching for her hand. "Elo-" he coughed.

"Shhhh, it's okay, you're still so hard." She cooed, running a hand on his stomach to soothe him.

"You ruined it- why?" He was shocked, making her chuckle.

"I couldn't resist, honey. Here, let me fix it."

"How are you going to fix- ahn-" he shut up quickly when her entrance engulfed his tip, swallowing him and bringing him into her soaked heat.

"Like this." She struggled to say, holding herself against his shuddering form and waiting for him to adjust to her. Ethan kept panting, but soon enough, he came around, starting to grind up frantically until he was balls deep within her, earning some approving moans from her. She coaxed him into turning them around, making Ethan cradle her head on his arms and thrust desperately, looking for release no matter what. His cock twitched, the sensitive tip rubbing against the sweet spot that had Eloise seeing stars. The girl arched her back, nearing her end when Ethan lifted one of her legs and held it, bruising the skin and creating a new angle.

"That's it. You're doing amazing." He moaned at that compliment, snapping his hips in a low mantra of "Eloise, I wanna cum," and the groans when she pulled on his hair.

Ethan started growling incoherent stuff, tears streaming down his cheeks. His face and neck were red, and he held a breath. Eloise keened, gripping on his arm as her walls spasmed around him. Her back arched, legs trembled. His head was spinning, white dots all over the place.

"Eloise, I-" he didn't have time to explain, a long whine taking place followed by a gasp as he came inside, hips still snapping, then stilling comfortably.

"Are you okay?" She asked, caressing his back. He looked at her with his bloodshot eyes.

"That was amazing." He panted, resting his head against her chest. "Can I dom next time?"

"Of course, baby." She said softly. Ethan smirked when Eloise gasped, and the slap he gave on her leg made a loud sound in the room.

"Ah, ah. The baby is you. Get on all fours. Now. You're paying for not giving me what I wanted.

[em0avacado]

The Beehive bookstore - Angel Reyes x OC (part one)

A/N : Hey! I know I kinda dipped for a little bit but, the holidays were jam packed and I hope you all had a good one. I’m gonna try to make a little series, I don’t have the whole thing planned out yet but I wanted to get to writing and posting anyways. So. here we are. Side note. Thank you for all the positivity i’ve gotten from y’all, your’re all fuckin’ great.

word count : 2.1K

trigger warnings : gun violence, mentions of blood, cursing? i think that’s it tho.

tag list :

@mayans-sauce

“What do you think of cocaine?” the question ran ridiculously loud in Eldrids ears, one that raised both concern and curiosity. Shutting the book with nimble fingers trailing over the inked pages, she furrowed together her dark brows as her gaze shifted to one of the other employees at the book store she managed.

It was a cute little shop, shelves lined every wall, even made little path ways between genres, easily explorable. A quaint shop tucked away in the nooks and crannies of Santo Padre. Easily accessible, if you knew where to look. An empty cart that was usually used to haul the new arrivals into place, but all that was done. There had been one customer in the last few hours, so it was really only Eldrid and one other employee, Asher. There wasn’t anything to do, so her nose was buried deep in another world.

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her brows furrowed so deep it left faint marks in her forehead. Pushing her glasses up further the bridge of her nose, she set her book down in front of her, on the smoothly finished wooden counter where the cash register sat on.

Ashers eyes blew wide, scrambling quickly and putting his hands out in front of him. “woah, I meant - not like. I’m not asking if you want any or know where to get any.” he said, defensively. His hands kept up in the same stance. “I just meant that, well, what if our shop is a front for something... bigger?” he suggested, raising both brows. Eldrid shook her head at that, Asher always had some sort of conspiracy theory going, always believed aliens would take over one day, perhaps robots, thinks the world is gonna end up like some sort of real life version of the movie ‘Wall-E’. Some of the things this kid would come up wiyh were very out of the ordinary. He hadn’t been working at the shop for too long, a few months tops, he had gotten into college during those months but kept up his work there. A lot of the time he was able to study during his shift, and was paid the hours he was there. A sweet kid, looked rougher around the edges than he really was.

“I think that maybe you should get back to your studies.” she said with a soft laugh, watching as Asher, once again, protested, but shook his head instead. He set his notebook down.

“No, no. Listen, Eldrid. Look at it this way, in the nineteen eighties, about. The Orejuela brothers would run legitimate businesses, small, unexpected ones, as a front and to launder money they made while they ran drugs for the big bucks” he rambled on, earning another shake of the head from his manager. “c’mon you’ve never heard of the Cali Cartel? You have to have heard of them. The biggest, and one of the longest running cartels in the history of cartels!” he spoke with passion, an undeniable one, and he looked at her with his big green eyes, his hands out stretched.

Eldrid was about to respond, of course she knew what he was talking about, but she was interrupted, by him, and further utters of conspiracy. “How do you think we’re still paid, very well, hourly and over time, we get bonuses all the time, and there’s hardly anyone ever in here!”

She snapped her wandering gaze over at Asher again, having drifted to surveillance the shop shortly when the front door jingle, signalling someone entering. “not another word about it, Asher. Study.” she demanded, before turning her attention away from a quietly muttering punk at one of her tables.

“Good evening Mr. Reyes.” she hummed a soft greeting, seeing the grey haired man walk into the shop, followed by his youngest son, the only, of which, she’d met. Despite him only coming in as of recently, she knew him well, theyd chatter as he looked for books, she knew he preferred older pieces of literature and she’d started occasionally setting ones she believed they’d both enjoy, to the side. “and Mr. Reyes.” greeting him in the same polite manner as she did the older gentleman. Their town was small, and she heard whispers on the street, more so from people who took the shop as a quiet place to gossip. She knew Ezekiel had come out of prison not too long ago, yet he seemed fairly well put together.

The soft, kind smile never left the woman’s face.

“Hello, Eldrid. good to see you again, sorry for dropping in so late, Ez wanted to tag along again today.” the older one of the two apologized as she dove down, setting a stack of books on the counter before waving them both over.

“no need to apologize, we’re still open for another...” she trailed off to check the watch that sat on her wrist, it’s leather bands hugging it well. “half an hour so do as you please, these are a few of the newest editions that caught my eye, i figured you’d both enjoy these so have a look.” she spoke, watching as both men began to look through the pile, talking amongst themselves while she busied herself with other things.

“Hey, Eldrid.” Ezekiel started, several books tucked beneath his arm. “do you think that, if I come back Monday, this one would still be around?” he asked, his index finger stuck to a book that sat on the counter.

Raising her brows only to furrow them, Eldrid looked at the man incredulously, but nodding her head. “considering we aren’t open weekends, and are about to close, on a Friday, yes. i believe so.” she informed him, a hint of sarcasm lacing her tone.

“perfect, so I’ll take these, and be back Monday.” he said, and she nodded, ringing both through and wishing them farewell before she started, alongside Asher, closing up shop for the weekend. With her bag strapped to her shoulders, she locked the back doors, and the front ones, as both left the building. Going home for the weekend.

Weekends aren’t usually a huge deal for Eldrid, the shop had become like a second home to her, and never felt a lot like work in the first place. When she was in her little apartment, it was all about self care, and laying back with her dog laying on the corner of the bed as she did whatever she wanted during her time away from work. She wasn’t big on going out, nor did she have all too many friends, she knew one would expect more from a woman in her mid twenties to be more active with going out, but she preferred to protect herself and her peace. The next Monday morning, bright and early, El strolled down the street that led to her cozy little book shop. There shouldn’t be too much restocking, she wasn’t expecting any arrivals this weekend, so unless the boss was in during those two days, there wouldn’t be too much to do. Unlocking the front, and letting herself in, Eldrid headed to the back to start a pot of coffee for when Asher, or whichever employee that was to help her today, came in within the next half an hour.

She was in the midst of setting her bag into the shelf when several loud crashes interrupted the silence, dropping the the floor when she head guns starting to penetrate the front windows, glass shattering as bullets littered every corner of the front of her shop. She hadn’t realized that she had gasped, and held her breath, panting, she cradled her hands around her head, staying pinned to the ground until there was nothing but silence. Her ears rang loud, as sobs racked her chest, heaving, her panic set in heavily. She didn’t dare move until quite a bit later, when she carefully stood to her feet with tear stained cheeks. Shaking, Eldrid grabbed her phone and called her boss.

After three rings, the man on the other end picked up with a casual “Hello?”

“Mr. Galindo, it’s Eldrid Orejuela. Y-“ she was bound to continue but he interrupted her with a gleeful “Good Morning” and “How are things at the shop?”

“that’s actually what I was - I was calling you about. I just got in, and while I was making coffee.. uh.. There was shooting, and the windows are broken. I’m- I’m so sorry the windows are broken I don’t know what happened.” she stuttered a few of her words, being still shaken up. She was met with silence, then Miguel spoke up.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“no.”

“good. Have you called the police?”

“No. Did you want me to?”

“Please do so. I’ll be there shortly.”

After that, Eldrid hung up the phone to Mr. Galindo, and called the authorities, right after she hung up with them, filling them in, she dared to head into the front room. It was destroyed, bullets littered every shelf, lodged in many books, shards of glass laid in every corner. She placed a hand over her mouth, looking around, in complete shock. Her attention shot towards the door when the bell jingles, tears glazed over her eyes moments earlier. She didn’t recognize the man, but he wore the same vest that Ezekiel wore, though, he was taller, had more facial hair. He looked to her,she could’ve sworn that she saw a hint of concern in his eyes, but who wouldn’t.

“Um, I’m sorry, but we aren’t currently serving customers, there’s been... A minor set back.” she nodded, wiping her cheeks, and trying to sound professional despite the last few minutes.

“Clearly.” he spoke, in a ‘duh’ tone of voice. “are you alright? I saw vans speeding off while on my way in, figured I’d check if anyone was hurt.” he said.

“Thank you.” she said, feeling strangely drawn to him, the man was, a sight for sore eyes to say the least, his hands looked strong, his shirt hugging his biceps perfectly and the concern on his face.. Adorable, if he could be labeled as such. Eldrid tugged her cardigan tighter to her body, crossing her arms over her stomach. “I’ll be fine. Police is on their way.” she nodded.

Quickly approaching, the man caught her as her head felt heavy, then suddenly very light. On her way down, she had fallen into his arms, instead of on the shards on the ground. “maybe you should sit, did you get hit?” he asked, settling her on one of the chairs.

“no.” she muttered, rubbing her forehead, hissing at the pain that struck suddenly, very strongly. Pulling her hand back, she saw it had an all too familiar copper liquid staining her fingers. “I must’ve hit my head, when - when i was in the back I dove for cover and-“ she muttered, looking up at him when she heard the sound of police sirens echoing, hurting her throbbing head further. Seconds later, Miguel and Nestor walked past the threshold of the door quickly, looking for Eldrid.

“Eldrid!” Called out Nestor, someone who had been a friend to her for years, he alone, was the reason she had the job she adored, he’d set her up for it, suggesting the young woman to Miguel for the shop. He rushed to her side, kneeling in front of her carefully, he caressed her cheek, cradling her face in his hand. “are you okay? you’re bleeding.” he pointed oht, glancing up to the other man, his impression soured but returned to that same glance of worry when it shifted back to Eldrid.

“Paramedics are in the front, you’re getting checked out before anything else.” Miguel said, giving a nod to Nestor to take her out front. His eyes fixated on the man that had just had his hands on their Eldrid. She felt the tension, but couldn’t put her finger on it, with her head throbbing.

After a few minutes of getting poked and prodded, both with questions and medical supplies, she saw the man from a few minutes prior walk away from the scene.

“See ya around, Ellie.” he said as he walked passed her, she didn’t reply with much but a weak wave of her hand. Everything felt like a dream, it’d happened so fast, but also so slow. Nothing felt real. Did she really meet a man who saved her from further head injuries, and not get his name? Or did she imagine that? was her head really that out of place? Couldn’t be. Would she ever see this man again? Why was he there so early?

“It’s Eldrid!” She called after him, being met with only a chuckle.

[mythicamagic]

19 for spots to kiss?

19: a kiss on the side of the neck.

This is a continuation of prompt 29 which you can find here: link

Rated too hawt for tumblr bc smut so again, it’s under the read more line. 

Kagome eyed him with confusion. Since when had the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru deigned to proposition her with anything? She'd had scattered conversations with him since returning from her era but they weren't exactly 'friends.'

Still, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't intrigued.

"I'm listening."

His lips twitched. "Clearly you are dissatisfied with your first sexual experience. I, therefore, extend the offer to bed you."

Kagome choked on her own spit. "E-excuse me?!"

"You are excused."

"No, I mean- why would you ever offer me that?"

He looked rather magnanimous, sipping his saké with relaxed features. "No reason. I desire company tonight. If you are not averse to it, then accept."

He said it so simply. As if he extended such offers every day. Maybe he did. He had the looks and status to do so.

Sesshoumaru's mouth turned down. "This one does not offer such things easily."

Kagome jolted, wondering if he was a mind reader. "O-of course not," she took a moment to steady herself, considering. "But don't you hate humans? I mean, I know you don't hate all of us, since you care about Rin and Kohaku. This is another thing entirely though."

Sesshoumaru inspected perfect nails boredly. "By no means will I ever revere humans as a whole. However, 'hate' is a strong word. Putting that aside, my business is not with the human race tonight, it is with you," his attention slid back to her. "And past interaction between us hints to me that we would be...compatible in the bedroom."

Kagome felt faint. Like those swooning women in period piece movies. Except she wasn't swooning from any crush, more like her corset was too tight.

"Oh really?" she said thinly. "What tipped you off? The arrow I sent to your face?"

"Partly."

"HUH?"

His brow rose as he gave an indulgent chuckle, "power calls to power. You were a brat- but so was this one, to an extent. I desire strength, beauty and will. Are these not qualities you possess?"

Heat bloomed upon her cheeks and Kagome reeled. She couldn't believe she was seriously considering it. Inuyasha would be hurt if he found out. Kagome frowned and curled her hands resting upon her knees into fists. 'It's not as though he has any say in this.'

There was one thing still bothering her though. "If I agree to this, would it happen just once?"

Golden eyes visibly darkened as a foreign expression tightened his jaw, muscles becoming tense. Kagome almost thought she'd angered him before a velvety tone revealed his true emotion; "this agreement may happen as many times as we wish. Over a period of time. Weeks, months if need be."

He was hungry. She realised. Into it. Into her? "S-slow down! We don't even know if we'll enjoy it enough to do it again yet!" she squeaked. "Besides...a secret fling, no strings attached…" Kagome had never thought she'd be the type. "Using you for pleasure, is that really fair to you?" she murmured.

Sesshoumaru let out a noise of frustration, and she found her vision swallowed by silver as her back hit plush furs, sinking into their cloud-like softness as he bent close. His body had never been so near. She could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"Must you be so vexing?" dark tones purred, a nose grazing hers. "This arrangement is mutually beneficial. We both take. Moreover-" claws skimmed Kagome's waist- her damp sweater clinging to her frame. She shivered violently, heart stuttering. "I am a demon. There is no danger of wounding me emotionally- for I am beyond your reach. So be selfish. Greedy. Be every ugly thing you have repressed, miko- for it can exist here without repercussions. That is what it means to indulge baser urges."

Inexplicably, tears pricked Kagome's eyes again. It was the strangest thing anyone had ever said to her. But wonderfully attractive. She wanted it. She wanted to massage her wounded ego with wicked lips and all the licentious attention he could offer.

Carefully, as though raising a tentative hand to a wild animal, Kagome lifted her palm. Touching his striped cheek and feeling its warm smoothness, the contours of his handsome face- she exhaled in a rush, acknowledging the true weight of the action. "So it's...it's just casual?"

Pale, long lashes slid half shut. Sesshoumaru leaned a little closer but ultimately waited for her to make the first move. "Just casual."

Kagome nodded slowly and brought another hand to his shoulder, feeling the muscle there, before hesitantly pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

She felt him swallow against her lips. Those claws at her waist bit in through the thick material. Lifting her head- Kagome accepted his heated kiss, falling deeper into the mass of endless furs.

They were not gentle nor sweet that first time. Rather, there had been an endless blur of fangs scraping, sinking into flesh- nails dragging and lips colliding in desperate fervour.

Kagome's legs locked around his waist, back arched and chest bared when she surfaced a moment from their lust ridden haze to note the bizarreness of watching Sesshoumaru lick and suckle at her nipple. She tangled shaking hands in sublime hair and rocked her hips needily against his.

"Do it now- don't mess around," she grit out, soaked from a few ministrations of his fingers. Kagome never thought the day would come when she'd dismiss foreplay. But the demon tortuously undid her, cruelly denying her by coaxing desire higher and higher- her thighs were hitched up over broad shoulders as a sinuous tongue lapped and roved and played inside her.

Kagome choked and sobbed her rapture, trembling beneath him as she came against his mouth.

Blue eyes flashed then and the miko yanked her legs away, squirming and righting herself. Sesshoumaru blinked- before he was shoved back. Kagome stood with him, placing a hand on his chest.

"You said I could be selfish," she grit out, red-faced. "Why didn't you just take me as I asked?"

His lips- covered in a faint sheen of her juices- curved up at the edges. He licked them slowly, slit pupils dilated. "This one also said our symbiotic relationship would benefit me as well. I am also allowed to be selfish."

Growling, Kagome grabbed his shoulders for leverage, dragging him down to her mouth and kissing him hard. She bit his bottom lip and sucked, tasting herself lewdly. Sesshoumaru shuddered and panted, cock straining against her.

The miko pushed herself up on her tiptoes and wrapped both legs around his waist, forcing him to stagger back just as the carriage lurched mid-air from a harsh gust of wind. This resulted in them careening back- Sesshoumaru landing against the shutter that burst open, letting cool night air swamp their rutting bodies. Hands scrambled and pushed clothing aside- the demon sinking inside her with some difficulty despite how slick she'd been rendered.

Twin groans were stifled in each other's necks. Kagome had never once been so overcome with lust that she disregarded everything- didn't pause to shut away the chilly draft, didn't wait to ask permission to begin- her hips greedily moved of their own accord. She sank herself down on him and let out a keening noise, mouth falling open.

"C-call my name," she blushed, gritting her teeth. "Please say my name."

His hands locked beneath her thighs to keep her in place, back against the partially open shutter. Sesshoumaru hissed and snarled, his own hips undulating with hers.

Cruel lips pressed against the hollow of her throat. "Kagome," he breathed and kept on repeating it like a mantra.

Something wounded and fragile unfurled within her heart.

It wasn't like how it had been with her ex. In fact, Kagome wagered the powerful thrusts and erotic graze of sharp teeth had ruined human men for her forever. Only demons would likely satisfy her now unless she wanted a life of paltry blunt canines and smooth nails with no dark aura to latch onto. His youki practically drowned her, seeping down her throat and causing her to choke and push out holy powers.

Hands scarred with marks from archery slid over his chest, leaving trails of steam. Sesshoumaru groaned- gaze flashing red, and their harsh, frantic movements combined with lusty cries reached a crescendo. He pushed her down to the floor and slammed inside her to the hilt. Kagome threw her head back, screaming.

The rest was mildly difficult to remember. She was fairly certain, however, that golden eyes had been surprisingly gentle when he'd caught her glazed blue gaze once more. It was only later, when he dropped her off at the edge of Inuyasha Forest, that Kagome pointed out his missing earring.

Sesshoumaru had hummed, removing his remaining pale one and handing it over to her.

Kagome understood what it meant. An agreement, a promise that this was theirs; and theirs alone.

[standbi-ghost]

Burning Bridges

Part 4 of the Dying for Dummies series: 1  2  3

Words: 1,564

TW:  detailed gore, implied underaged drinking (though could be replaced with gasoline since it’s not explicitly stated), technically suicide and major character death (is it major character death if he’s already dead-ish and continues to die-ish?)

AO3 as always

A seemingly invisible branch smacked him, like a slap to the face. He bit back a curse as he tenderly rubbed the injured spot. He shot a glare at the offending branch before walking off, shattered ego in hand.

It had been a long day for Dash.

To start off, it was a Tuesday; the worst day, in his humble opinion, of the week. A mockery of the seven-day week system. Mondays always went by quicker than anticipated, maybe because your mind was still laid out on Sunday’s bed and hadn’t fully woken up. Or maybe just because of the bad stigma surrounding the day. Up for debate. Wednesday offered the relief of being smack in the middle, a sign that you were halfway through the week. Plus, how could anyone hate the iconic “pink / hump day”? Thursday’s a reminder of what’s to come. Friday is just around the corner and Thursday was it’s biggest cheerleader, and who could deny a sexy cheerleader? Did he even have to explain the weekend crew? Friday, Saturday, and Sunday were the A-listers of the week, but with less criticism and more fun. But Tuesday? Tuesday laughed in the face of students. You’re awake, aware of what’s to come. Tuesday roundhouse kicked you in the gut and called you all kinds of slurs.

Tuesday also marked the date of his Physics exams so he may be a little biased. He could never wrap his head around the subject. Give him a poem to analyze, a historical event to write a report on, hell, even a sonnet to play, but ask him Newton’s laws and he’ll respond with a blank face. It wasn’t like he didn’t study either. He had weekly study sessions at Fentons’ house, and while Danny had been a huge help, that didn’t stop him from failing this exam.

Speaking of Danny.

Their relationship was slowly, but surely, getting better throughout the years. After being dragged to therapy by his family, he’d gathered up the balls to not only stop the tormenting of his fellow peers but formed a well-versed apology- his magnum opus, to Danny. The kid just waved his apology off, as if it were the least of his worries, water under the bridge, but that only served to fuel his need to get closer to him- no one waved off years of bullying that easily.

To say Dash worried for Danny was an understatement. While the bullying ceased at the end of Freshman year, the daily bruises Danny wore didn’t. There was a higher probability of winning the lottery than to catch the kid without some kind of injury.

And he was skinny. Deathly so. Malnourished more likely than not.

It could be neglect. Hopefully not abuse. Dash knew the Fentons were over-indulged in their work, gluttonous even. He really hoped that, amidst all of their work, they set aside time from their children. Ghosts were important, sure, but why have kids if you don’t look after them. And by the looks of Danny-

But Jazz was a different story. She seemed to be the mirror image of her brother, both siblings passionate and wise beyond their age, but that’s where the similarities seemed to end. Jazz was the perfect everything. Perfect student, perfect daughter, she was beautiful and graceful and seemed to light up the world around her. Where Danny was cold and distant, Jazz radiated warmth and greeted everyone with open arms. Where Danny was pale, gaunt, and sharp in his features, Jazz was vibrant, bright, and soft. Jazz was a compassionate canine; Danny a cornered cat.

That alone raised so many more questions. Did the Fentons favor Jazz? Did they feel that Danny hadn’t lived up to the legacy Jazz left behind? Did they hate Danny? It sure seemed like they did. What could Danny- sweet, dopey but kindhearted Danny- have done to garner such fierce hatred towards him? From his parents no less.

He pushed the thoughts away as he trudged past the park’s populated hiking trail into a more obscure one.

One of the activities he picked up from his therapy days was hiking (although hiking was a generous term to describe the early morning and nighttime walks he went on). It allowed him time away from all the drama at school, all his responsibilities. Out here, it was just him and the trees.

He knew these trees better than he knew the bottom of his bed. This coming from the kid who used to be afraid of the monsters in his closet and slept under his bed countless times. Take that as a metaphor if you’d like.

The trees were his family, the trees were his home, the trees listened to his rants and tears and joys all the same. This time venting his frustration over the taunting 50 he’d earned. And they were usually alone, just him and the trees, but Tuesday seemingly had it out for him. Among the trees was the boy inhabiting his thoughts- Danny.

He was dressed in his usual dark jeans and oversized NASA tee, a flannel draped loosely over his arms, threatening to fall at any sudden movement. Combat boots dug into the dirt beneath him with his weight pressed against a Rum Cherry tree, he was the blueprint for nerdy punks across Amity Park. Stealing glances at a notebook held tightly in one hand, he was taking swigs of water out of a pastel pink hydroflask. He looked- peaceful.

Feeling like a creep, Dash continued to watch as he let his notebook fall from his hands as he drunkenly fished in one of his flannel pockets. Horror washed over Dash’s senses as he watched Danny pull out a matchbook and strike one. Mischief lit up his eyes. Before he could take even a single breath, he watched Danny fill his mouth with what he was now convinced was definitely not water, before taking the flame to his lips.

In an instant, flames licked up his face and Dash ran on autopilot. He dug his own water bottle out of his backpack and spent no time rushing up to his burning friend, dousing him in liquid life. Conspicuousness be damned.

“Fuck”

Concern flooded Dash as he took in Danny’s appearance. His face was glazed, like the grease off a re-heated pizza slice. The pepperoni blisters only further drove their likeness. Singed hair wilted only to be pushed back up by a somehow conscious Danny, only to reveal a melting eyeball. Like a goblet of wine, it dripped lazily, hypnotizing Dash for only a moment before feeling a tug deep in his stomach. He was caught in a battle between wanting- no needing to throw up and rushing to help his friend.

He didn’t win.

“Shit, Dash, how long have you been here?” Danny gurgled out, words swishing in his mouth, meaning only salvaged by the sheer luck of Dash’s presence. If he hadn’t been there-

“Dash?!”

Maybe it was because it was his name and it was familiar, but he could’ve sworn his name spilled out in a much clearer light. He didn’t want to look up. He didn’t want to take the chance of throwing up again. Vile still stained his tongue as he asked,

“Are you okay?”

The question was stupid, obviously he wasn’t okay, but it still hung in the air for a few excruciating seconds. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and turned to Danny’s general area and opened his mouth to say something, anything to cut through the ugly tension between them. Danny cut first.

He had the nerve to ask, “Are you okay?” and Dash blanched. He didn’t know what to think of Danny. Was he selfless for asking, or just plain brain dead?

“Am I okay?” he drawled out.

“I mean you kind of just ruined my shoes with your puke, like, how am I s’pose to wash this out?” he said. This time he didn’t imagine it. His words were much easier to decipher. Not oozing with moist vowels and quivering consonants, but clear and coherent thoughts. And, was he teasing him about the throw-up? The same throw-up caused by his near-death experience?

“You set yourself on fire!? In the middle of the park no less! You could’ve died! You could’ve-“ mid-way through his little speech he dared to look up only for the words to die on his lips. Danny looked fine, generally at least. His face was now adorned with light scar tissue where previously dark burns marred his fair skin.

“Uh, that was kind of the point?”

At that, the tug at his stomach returned. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes at the very thought of witnessing Danny’s suicide attempt. It was much worse than he thought.

“Danny-“

“Wait no, that came out wrong.” Danny sighed and ran a shaky hand through his now unkempt, but otherwise fine, hair. “look Dash, you might wanna sit down for this one.” He gestured to the tree he had, just minutes ago, been resting on. He shakily took a seat on one of the tree’s massive jutting roots. Danny followed. In minutes, his view of the world shattered. Everything he thought he knew about ghosts was thrown out the window and he found himself back in school Freshman year, back at seeing a ghost for the first time.

He hated Tuesdays.