#nose ring: gone but never forgotten

[oneforthemunny]

surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.

my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.

contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.

“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?” 

“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?” 

“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight. 

“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?” 

Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday. 

It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.” 

“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone. 

“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-” 

“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.” 

You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged. 

“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake? 

“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe. 

“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added. 

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday. 

You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends. 

“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily. 

“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully. 

“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.” 

“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.” 

Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled. 

A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.” 

“Heather, Mel will be pissed-” 

“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.” 

“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-” 

“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped. 

“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you. 

You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest. 

Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart. 

Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate. 

It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day. 

Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open. 

“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room. 

You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room. 

“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air. 

“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?” 

“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-” 

“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught. 

“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise. 

“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-” 

“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?” 

“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it. 

“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him. 

“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters. 

You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade. 

Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged. 

Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.” 

Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…” 

Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked. 

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?” 

Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.” 

“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway. 

“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours. 

“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.” 

Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart. 

“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-” 

“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat. 

Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking. 

“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes. 

Eddie paused. “You are?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”  

Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered. 

A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.” 

Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?” 

“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.” 

“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.” 

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.” 

“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions. 

“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.” 

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.” 

Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head. 

“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully. 

Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else. 

“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own. 

“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout. 

“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.” 

Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat. 

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out. 

“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?” 

Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you. 

He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning. 

His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever. 

He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life. 

Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it. 

[the-thing-inside-your-closet]

Ghosted

Jazz had been pacing back and forth in her apartment, managing to stop herself from ripping out her hair through sheer willpower. He was meant to have arrived nearly four hours ago and he still wasn’t answering his phone.

“It’s fine,” she told herself, “maybe his phone battery is just dead. Or it could be broken? His brothers can be rowdy.”

Jazz took a deep breath through the mouth, and out through the nose. She smoothed put the wrinkles in her clothes as best she could before sitting herself down on the edge of the couch. And just as she sat down her phone buzzed to life in her hand.

Quicker than her dad could say ‘GHOST’ Jazz whipped out her phone and answered.

“Hello? Where are you? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve be-”

“Woah! Jazz! Slow down!” Danny’s voice suddenly came through the speaker. “Uh, I’m at home and I don’t know why you’d be worried. I haven’t done anything worthy of your concern. Revelry.” He added that last part quietly.

Jazz sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “Sorry Danny, I thought you were-” she sighed again, “doesn’t matter. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Are you alright Jazz?”

“I’m okay. Just…” she slumped back in her seat, playing with a lose threat on the arm rest before she continued, “got stood up.” She admitted. They told each other everything, Jazz and Danny did. They didn’t keep secrets from one another anymore, which was why she felt so comfortable sharing the troubles in her live life with him.

Jazz and Danny had become so close during their teen years when Danny was still figuring everything out with himself. And Jazz? Jazz had tired to be there for him as best she could. Somewhere between helping Danny and studying and taking care of the house when their parents were too absorbed in their work, Jazz had completely forgotten about herself. What else was there besides school, and Danny? Jazz hadn’t allowed herself to go in dates, not after the incident with Johnny and the chaos with the GIW. She couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her brother’s secret. Couldn’t risk whoever it was she was seeing. Couldn’t risk herself.

And when Jazz had first moved to Gotham it had been Danny who had encouraged her to make actual friends, friend who weren’t her teachers. He had even encouraged her to try dating. Put herself out there and find Mr Right. She’d been sceptical at first, but after a while she’d relented. Because she couldn’t keep putting her own wants last.

And she wanted a partner. Someone who would care for her just as she would care for them. So she’d done it. She’d gone out on dates and met new people.

And then she met him.

He was handsome, charming, and witty. Jazz wouldn’t describe herself as the swooning type, but when she had looked into his eyes she had felt her knees buckle. And they evidentially had buckled, sending her tumbling forward. But he’d caught her and laughed out, “Falling for me already I see?”

After that, they’d just clicked. They’d gone out several times already, and Jazz had thought they’d always had a good time. But recently he’d been cancelling their dates, usually with an excuse about work or family commitments. At first she’d brushed it off, she understood that people’s lives could be hectic and unpredictable. But he’d been cancelling so often now, and a few times he wouldn’t answer his phone. But never for this long. Not without ringing her back to let her know he was alright.

Jazz had almost forgotten about Danny on the other end of the phone until he’s said, “Ghosted? In October? How festive.” That had gotten a chocked laugh from Jazz who was shaking her head with a feeling of fond amusement. Trust Danny to make a joke like that.

[salaimoi]

𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 — 𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒔𝒚𝒑𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔] after his wife’s death, you became toji fushiguro’s only reliant shoulder. however, unbeknownst to you, your deceased friend’s ex-husband had ulterior motives in mind when he began to pursue you.

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆] angst

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒘𝒄] 2.k

[˚୨୧⋆. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔] yellow is reader’s pov, blue is toji’s pov. it might sound repetitive and rushed bc i just wanted to get this out of my drafts. i know billie’s song came out like ages ago so it wouldn’t make sense to release this any later than it already is

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart. I wasn't there, but I know.

toji always reassured you a million times; he wasn’t heartbroken over his split with his ex-wife, not in the slightest. he rarely opened up about his past, let alone his previous relationships. and yet, deep down, you knew he hadn’t properly processed their rupture.

the most he ever disclosed to you was the fact that there was nothing left to salvage in his old relationship — so he moved on, and so did she. 

but was that the entire truth? 

you noticed the prolonged glances he would take when opening his wallet. the empty look behind his eyes when he stared down at his naked ring finger. even the faint sniffling at night that he tried convincing you were nothing more than allergies. but you knew he was silently mourning her. 

her – the real love of his life.

She was my girl. I showed her the world, but fell out of love and we both let go. ⋆࿐

i made it my life goal to tend to her happiness. the only reason for my very existence was to see that she had everything she could ever want. hell, that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

i never kept anything from her — except my line of work. i couldn’t bring myself to tell her the man she fell in love with was a deadbeat mercenary who bathed in the blood of others for a living. as much as i tried to protect her from that side of my life, she eventually went digging her nose where it wasn’t needed. 

the aftermath of her discovering the truth about my hidden agenda came at the price of our relationship. 

she couldn’t withstand the constant pain of being by my side any longer, to turn in bed only to see a bastard by her side. she wholeheartedly believed that the man that now stood before her was no longer the one she fell in love with. 

somehow i didn’t blame her.

She was cryin’ on my shoulder. All I could do was hold her.

i still remember it so vividly — how her body trembled against mine like a leaf. tears coursed down her cheeks as she clung to me like a lifeline, seeking comfort in the midst of her anguish. as selfish as it may sound, the weight of her sorrow became almost too much to bear. 

i couldn't offer excuses or apologies; these were empty gestures that wouldn't alleviate the agony she felt at that moment. instead, i stood there, silently holding her, offering my presence as the only comfort.

the guilt washed over me in waves as i cradled her, feeling her heart shatter a little more with each sob. i knew i was the cause of her pain, yet i couldn’t tell her the whole truth. all i could do was hold her, wishing i could undo the past.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Only made us closer until July.

the moment he began pursuing you when enough time had gone by, it immediately felt wrong. he was your friend’s ex-husband, after all. toji had never looked at you twice before, and now, he suddenly had lustful eyes for you? 

you eventually conceded because you wanted to be there for him, giving him the benefit of the doubt that he had no ulterior motives. but one way or another, every conversation at dinner circled back to her. 

“oh she loved mashed potatoes.” 

“fun fact, she had a strawberry allergy.” 

“did you know this brand of vanilla ice cream was her favorite?”

and as much as it pained you, you became a reliant ear for him — someone who would listen to all the little details he swore he had forgotten the day she divorced him. even if every bone in your body wanted to run in the opposite direction, far, far away from him, you stayed. 

maybe all he needs is time, you told yourself.

right?

Now I know that you love me. You don't need to remind me. I should put it all behind me, shouldn't I? ⋆࿐

your affection always remained a constant in my turbulent world, like a gentle rain that falls softly even amidst the storm. but the longer the internal storm went on, the more ravenous the regret and guilt raged on. i found myself unable to fully comprehend the depth of your love for me, but deep down, i knew that your love was unwavering. 

i knew that in order to truly move on, i had to let go of the past and embrace the present; you represented that fresh start i so urgently needed. but the thought of her still lingered, a constant reminder of what once was but should no longer be. it was as if i was being consumed by my own memories, unable to break free. as if a part of me still longed for the past. 

the weight of my conflicting emotions burdened my every waking moment, leading me to push you away with no explanation. feelings for the both of you coexisted, and i couldn't fully commit to one without betraying the other. every time i looked at you, guilt would wash over me for putting you through this hell.

 likewise, every time i looked at her picture, i felt like a traitor for ever moving on as soon as i did.

But I see her in the back of my mind all the time. Just like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign. ⋆࿐

beneath the mask of indifference, i was plagued by shame. it was hard to accept that the girl who once consumed my thoughts was no longer part of my life, and looking at you, i realized that your love knew no bounds; that wasn’t enough for me. 

i hadn’t stopped loving her. 

it felt like a fever that never broke. an unrelenting heat that burned deep inside me, reminding me of the girl who dwelled in the back of my mind all those years ago.

every word about my past, every little detail about my ex, felt like a confession at church – a church where my sins would be revealed to the world. 

talking about my past wouldn’t magically absolve me of my past, now would it? redemption was never an option for me, and i wasn’t asking for it. instead of trying to cleanse myself of my history, i decided to leave it all behind like a forgotten box in an attic. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Well, good things don't last, and life moves so fast. I'd never ask who was better 'cause she couldn't be more different from me.

he told you to let it go — to let it die like she did that fateful day. it was no use keeping her memory alive, he said, but if that was the case, why did he take her last name months later? 

not to mention they spent years together — even conceived a child together; a child he named after her, but that detail never seemed to make its way to you. 

everyone told you to stop comparing yourself, but how could you not? she was everything you weren’t even after death: soft spoken, graceful, gentle, patient, loving. 

you didn’t dare ask such a redundant question so you didn’t voice it, but your continuous comparison to her was eating you alive; toji noticed it. you hadn’t slept with him in almost a month, internally afraid he’ll blurt out her name instead of yours.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 And I know that you love me. you don't need to remind me.

he went out of his way to send more ‘i love u’ messages than before; they seemed forced, just like your relationship. 

she had previously informed you of things that found their way to the most profound recesses of your mind. you didn’t flinch at the time, because you were mesmerized that he did such things for her, but it affected you later on. 

you learned bitter truths that made you doubt his love for you. and when you finally realized he didn’t do any of the things she spoke of, it dawned on you; toji didn’t love you. 

not like he loved her. 

𓂃 ོ𓂃 You say no one knows you so well but every time you touch me, I just wonder how she felt.

you’d stay up late at night countless times wondering what toji’s affectionate touch actually felt like. it was something only she ever knew, and you’d do anything to get a semblance of that feeling. 

but it was obvious no one knows the real him — not like she did.

despite everything, you decided to give this relationship one last try by booking a hotel for the both of you. everything inside you screamed that it was a horrible idea, but you did it anyway.

𓂃 ོ𓂃 Valentine's Day, cryin’ in the hotel. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, so I kept it to myself.

and he finally did it. he mistakenly blurted out her name on the most romantic day of the year. 

“i-i’m sorry.” toji rushed to apologize, grabbing a hold of your arm so you wouldn’t walk out the door.

“I wonder, do you see HER in the back of your mind, in my eyes!?” was the only thing you could force yourself to reply in that moment, breaking away from his grip in the process.  

“i do,” toji dejectedly admits with a hint of sorrow behind his voice. or was it indignity?

he pauses, absentmindedly digging his nails into the tender flesh of his balled up fist as he grapples with his conscience. all along, he knew the day to finally hold himself accountable would come, but he didn’t think it would’ve been like this. 

his mind involuntarily wandered, and in the depths of your gaze, he saw glimpses of his deceased wife — a ghost that lingered in the back of his subconscious even after all this time.  

memories of her flood his mind, and for a brief moment, the both of you merge into one — his past and present colliding into one. the familiar shade of your irises, the identical shine behind them, the bright glimmer of light behind them when you smiled — all of it brought a pang of bittersweet nostalgia to him. 

silence overtook the room like a storm, and with it, your heart. so he does see a reflection of his dead wife when he stares into your eyes — the eyes he promised captivated him to no bounds. 

“was all of it a lie, then?” 

“no.” 

“how was it not a lie, toji?”

“it wasn’t a lie, doll-“ 

“don’t call me that.” you interrupt him with words almost sharp enough to cut him, a slight tremble behind your voice. 

tears immediately welled up in the delicate corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. his expression softened at the sight; however, his reluctance to approach you remained. he knew he was the reason behind your hurt, just like he was the cause of hers all that time ago. history does indeed repeat itself, doesn’t it? 

he wished he could find the words that would help ease your pain — the exhaustion and heartache you felt. to take it all away with a mere sentence, that would be quite incredible. but that’s not how life works.

“okay.” he finally whispered, inhaling a deep breath in a mix of defeat and remorse before continuing. “i promise none of it was a lie; i meant every word. i really meant it when i said i adored your eyes…” 

he dry swallows a couple of times, as if doing so would suppress the sorrow lodged in his throat. his eyes darted around the room, as to not meet your own out of the unbearable guilt that simply refused to be consumed. 

the hesitation behind his subtle actions was a telltale that there was a ‘but’ hidden underneath the surface-level flattery. and with an equal amount of incertitude and delay behind your own words, alongside with a hoarse voice, you brace yourself for the moment he finally admits this so-called love of yours was nothing but an illusion.

“but?” 

“…but they’re not her eyes.” 

part 2 here.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Peaches and Cream

Pre-War!Cooper Howard x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Smut, NSFW, Oral (f! Receiving), reader's got some thick thighs and little bit of hair down there, overuse of pet names. (You can't tell me this man wouldn't call you a pet name at every available opportunity)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Remember that line in MK 11 where Kano goes "Aren't you a peach? I could eat a peach for hours."? I just got some body wash that smells exactly like those peach ring candies and this happened upon me like a bolt of Zeus hit me whilst in the shower today

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

Being on the rebound after the messy divorce with Barb wasn't on Cooper's priority lists. Dating one of the animal trainers from one of his movies sets was certainly never an avenue he thought he'd pursue.

But when his horse got loose on set and she ignored him in favor of you? Oh, you got his attention all right... One thing led to another, and boy did the tabloids have a field day when pictures of the two of you kissing made it into circulation.

You were used to tabloids and reporters, working on movie sets. And now, dating America's favorite heart-throb cowboy? Oh, you bet your ass if you weren't used to it before you sure were, now.

You had fallen into a comfortable routine, often staying over at his place. To say Barb was prickly about how quickly he seemed to move on was... nice. She did however like how good you were with Janey, so that eased her annoyance with you some. So, she got used to seeing you around when Cooper would pick Janey up or when she dropped her off.

Today was one of those days, Cooper had run out to see his agent about something when Barb showed up to take Janey back again. You said stiff goodbyes and gave Janey a big hug, and once they were off, hopped in for a quick shower.

Your skin was still damp and your hair was still wrapped up in a towel when he got back, looking tired and annoyed.

Cooper kicked his shoes off by the front door, Roosevelt letting our short barks of excitement as his owner patted his head, before scampering back off to lay in his bed and gnaw his beef bone in content.

You just finished pouring a glass of sweet tea when Cooper's calloused hands circled your waist from behind, briefly giving your soft belly a squeeze before his fingers bunched in your dress as he kissed your neck. "Missed ya." He murmured.

"You were gone maybe, twenty minutes." You giggled, reaching up to brush his cheek with your hand as you slipped your drink, the ice cubes clinking loudly on the glass.

"Long enough. Didn't even get to kiss my baby goodbye when she got strapped into her Mama's car." He snorted, pressing his nose against your skin, breathing in the scent of the soaps you'd used.

"Damn, you smell good. Like a fuckin' peach."

"Oh?" You smirked as his hands began to roam, reaching down the front of your dress to grip the fat of your thighs in his palms, kneading softly. You bit your lip when he hummed an affirmation, his teeth grazing your skin on your shoulder.

"Mhhm... Good 'nuff to fuckin' eat." He drawled, his tone as thick and sweet as molasses; the timbre of his voice crawling through your pores.

"If you're hungry I can make dinner." You reply breathlessly, trying to interject your sense of humor.

"Nah, darlin'." Cooper growled, yaking you by the dress so you were flush tight against him; able to feel the growing outline of his cock as it filled out the crotch of his pants, "Not the kinda snack I want."

His breath hot on your ear, goosebumps on your skin; you barely had enough time to set your glass of tea down on the counter before he began tugging you to his bedroom; the towel on your head being unraveled and forgotten in the hall along the way.

The moment his door was kicked shut he turned you around and his mouth found yours like a homing missile--all teeth and tongue; dancing, twining, tugging and messy--knocking the air from your lungs as his hands blindly unbuttoned the top of your dress, groaning when the soft expanse of your bare breasts greeted his hands.

"No bra, darlin'?" Cooper rasped, pulling back from your mouth to grin.

"'s more comfortable." You barely mutter out before his lips are on you again, kissing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, knocking you back while he stayed standing.

His eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle as he gave you that signature smirk of his coupled with the quirk of his brow. "Oh, you won't catch me complainin' babydoll... Not at all."

You huff and reach down, undoing the clasp to his belt, hastily trying to slide it free of the loops of his pants, but his hand stops you and you pout up at him impatiently.

"Easy now, baby." He said in a low and heavy tone, his accent emphasizing "baby" and making a shiver creep down to your toes.

He lifted his other hand to tug the buttons on his shirt free, plucking each one until his button-up was open more, revealing the white undershirt beneath.

"Now..." He growled softly as he began to sink to his knees, "Told ya I wanted a snack, darlin'... Now I'm gonna get one. Just lay back and relax."

Your heart sputtered a beat as Cooper pulled your thighs apart and just tugged your panties to the side; not even bothering to remove them before giving your damp folds an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue along the length of your slit and drawing a shaky moan from you.

His hand trailed softly over your skin, brushing over the short mess of curls before using his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back; giving the sensitive nub a nip before chuckling.

"You're awful jumpy t'day, baby." He said, kissing that sweet little pearl a couple of times, stroking it with his fingers as you huff out a whine.

"Your fault..." You groaned, daring to look down at him.

Your eyes locked and he gives you a short wink, lowering his mouth again, this time dragging his tongue up your folds slowly before moving back down again as his thumb rolls your clit in opposite tune of his mouth.

Your head dropped back onto the bed and your voice seized in your throat, one hand bunching in the sheets while the other goes to grip at his immaculately slicked-back hair, tugging the strands free as you feel his tongue curl inside of you.

Cooper was good with his mouth; both on-screen and in the bedroom, this was never a debate.

His tongue was so skilled it had your legs all but jelly one night when he parked it at the local lookout; he'd lifted the cupholder separating your seats and tugged your hips over to him, leaning across the divider to eat you out right there in the front seat of his car. You barely had enough time to grasp that it was really happening before he ripped those sweet, sweet sounds he loved so much from you.

God, were you thankful that nobody had caught you two that night; "Cooper Howard caught in compromising position at Lover's Lane" you could just imagine the press salivating at that headline if they'd caught you.

You were happy he kept his antics on set confined to his trailer... but you had a feeling somebody walking by could probably hear what went on in there.

"Oh, fuck--Cooper!" You mewled, arching your back when he slid his long fingers inside of you, his lips wrapping firmly around your clit like a vacuum, writing obscene love-notes with his tongue, drawing more and more of your beautiful voice from inside of you.

Your toes curled and your hand tugged at his hair, making him groan and his eyes roll; his voice vibrating against you in a way that had you practically sobbing.

"Jus'--fuh--fuck." You moaned breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest, your toes curling so hard you could feel your calves beginning to cramp.

"B-baby I'm--" You hiccuped; "'m gonna... gonna..."

All your words did was spur him on further, encouraging him to flatten his tongue in one long, slow drag until he could flick your clit again, his face and hand already soaked with your mess; his eyes dark and hungry like a wolf about to eat his lamb.

"That's it baby, c'mon, give it t' me." Cooper muttered against you before stroking your clit once again with his fingers, plunging his tongue and fingers inside of you in an alternating rhythm that had your brain feeling like it was turning to liquid sludge inside your skull as your climax hit you as if it were a runaway freight train.

Both of your hands gripped his hair tight, your thighs squeezing around his head, the flesh molding around his head wonderfully as he drank down your release, his hands going around your thighs to reach up and squeeze your belly while you rutted against his mouth; your voice babbling the sexiest things he could ever hope to hear from you.

When your orgasm finally died down and your legs dropped to hang over the edge of the bed, Cooper pulled back and grinned up at you, his face slick and shiny with your juices, his hair an absolute mess.

Fuck, he looked so good like that.

"You good, darlin'?" He asked you, his hands spreading over the squishy pouch of your tummy, his fingers tracing the stretch marks that lightly etched your skin.

"I... Y... yeah. Just need a breather." You pant, your eyelids heavy as you blinked up drunkenly at the ceiling.

"Good. He hummed, leaning down to kiss your throbbing clit, grinning at how your breathing stuttered and your body twitched as he did.

"Cause I can eat a peach for hours, babydoll."

[the-kr8tor]

Solo Mission

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 15k

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple mission goes awry. Your choices have consequences.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, Body horror, CW injury, TW violence. Space exploration AU, Set in the future, Established relationships, space scavenger! Hobie and reader, horror elements.

A/N: Heavily inspired by the alien franchise and oats studio's zygote short film.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

You float weightlessly in the vastness of space like an untethered satellite. Space, all encompassing, dark and foreboding land of stars and galaxies.

You dance in the windless place, swimming amidst the rocky asteroids, and gaseous gas that parts for you like seafoam on the shores of your old home. The sounds of twinkling wind chimes clink sweetly. Your eyes shine as you continue to fly, Saturn's rings wave by, Pluto's speck whizzes past you. Your fingers rake through the dust of ancient cosmos. A burnt smell of metal and steel enters your lungs, and as you look up to see the source, A blackhole appears, it sings an empty song.

And then suddenly, there's nothing but emptiness where the sun used to be. Your screams are taken from your throat as tendrils of darkness envelope your weightless being, stretching, and tugging and pulling at your body until you're nothing but a part of its ancient mass.

Gone and forgotten.

“Fuck!” You wake up in your cot, head almost hitting the top bunk that has been empty since you've claimed the cabin for your own. Heaving, hand on your chest, you feel arms snake around your middle, and his nose nudging your side. “Sorry, nightmare.”

Hobie inhales, looking up at you through half lidded eyes. “What's it about this time?” His voice is gravelly from sleep, palm softly pressing on your stomach to lay you back down.

“A blackhole this time.” You whisper as you lay down on the soft pillow. The cot barely fits the two of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way. “It swallowed me, I think.”

He hums, chin placed on your shoulder, one eye closed from sleepiness. “It was a metaphor for capitalism.”

Smiling, you wipe at the crust gathering in the corner of his eyes. “You're so good at interpreting dreams.”

“I should have made it a career instead of bein’ a scavenger.” He pulls you towards him so you don't fall over the edge of the cot. His hand is warmer than the summers back on earth.

“Well, if you did go into that industry you wouldn't have met me, captain.” You snuggle closer, “also, I think you wouldn't earn much.” Your hand finds penchants on the back of his neck, fingers kneading softly.

Chuckling, he pecks your cheek before closing his eyes, completely relaxing in your gentle touch. “You never know, we might've met because you wanted me to decipher your dreams.”

“Go back to dreaming, you sap.” you giggle, “We might have a long day today, we need you bright and sharp, cap.”

“Don't have to tell me twice, doc.” He yawns, hugging you tightly. “You feel alright though? I can stay awake if you need someone to talk to, lovie.”

“I'm good, thank you, but holding me like this is already helping me.”

“Maybe I should've become a professional hugger then.” He mumbles as he drifts off to sleep. The soft whirring of the station lulls him to dream of better things, and the big space metal he calls home floats and rotates in place, almost like it's rocking the two of you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You inhale sharply at the familiar scent of the space station. It's metallic in nature, but the gentle smell of home trumps the acrid scent of steel.

Your eyes roam the grey room that you and Hobie have made your own. Various posters and pictures of your travels across the galaxy are taped to the walls, numerous tools, both medical and mechanical, lay about the room. But the thing that hasn't stopped you from staring at it is the large circular window sitting at the far wall just across from the bed. It's an eternal darkness out here, with no way to tell what time it is, or what day it is without a watch. It can make anyone go insane without proper training. It's like living underground, except you get to see the sky and everything above and below it.

Amidst the darkness of space there lies Mars, in all its crimson glory, stares back at you. The red planet drenches your room in its hue as the station floats and rotates, it bathes you in its magnificence. The planet is a large beautiful thing, and it makes you feel small in its primordial presence. It has you thinking that home is only a stone throw away— Earth, even though it's thousands of miles away from you. Thousands of miles away from the salty sea, miles away from the chirping birds, and sweet flowers. You miss home. But with Hobie in your arms, this is the closest to home.

A knock echoes in the room, the comms cackles to life, and a tired raspy voice speaks in a mechanical tone from the old comms. “Either one of you awake?”

You sigh, taking a peek at your sleeping captain. With a double tap in your ear, you turn on the communication on your end, “Someone better be dying, Yuri.” You whisper, making sure that Hobie doesn't stir awake as you rub your knuckles over his arm affectionately.

“This night shift is killing me but that's not why I'm here.” You hear her sneeze on the other side, and then a sniffle. “Sorry, but I think we found something.”

“What kind of something?”

“A big payday kind of something.”

—

The door hisses as you enter the kitchen of the space station. The sudden bright lights make you wince in your fatigued state, one eye open while your hand roams all over the wall next to you to dim the lights. Once you feel the knob of the light switch, you turn down the harshness of the white light.

“I've gone blind.” You blink rapidly, adjusting your sight to the now darker room.

“Will a pot of fresh coffee cure your blindness?” Yuri asks behind you. In her arm is a holopad where hundreds of flashing dots appear. It's gibberish to you, but to the ship's personal navigator, it comes natural to Yuri.

“Maybe? Is it the good stuff from AE-67?”

“What are we, the emperor?” She raises a brow, and you shake your head with a pout. “When we scrap this ship we're tailing, we can drink that shit every single day, babes.”

You walk towards the coffee pot, grabbing two mugs, knowing that Hobie is bound to wake up now that your warmth next to him is gone. “You said that last time. And we almost ended up space scrap ourselves.”

“Oh this one would be different because…” she turns her holo pad to face you, revealing an old government issued ship just floating in space. “I think we might've found the motherload.”

“That looks ancient.” You pinch at the screen, zooming in on the chipping markings. “And very much confidential. This is an army ship, Yuri—”

“At three fucking A.M. Yuri?! Really?” James walks inside the kitchen, fuming and very tired from how his eyebags sag underneath his blue eyes. Ned follows behind him, hair disheveled and still in his pajamas. “Where's the captain?”

“Sleeping, but I bet he's waking up from how loud you were screaming.” You toss a balled up napkin at him, hitting him right on his chest.

“Everyone shut the fuck up,” Ned yawns, hands placed on top of his ears. “I need my coffee stat.” He takes your cup instead of getting his own. Putting three scoops of sugar and four spoonfuls of creamer, which he stirs quickly before chugging it.

“We live with a barbarian.” You roll your eyes, getting a fresh cup. You meet with Yuri's eyes, she gestures towards the dining table, and sits the holodeck on top of it, which immediately activates the projector that shows a bigger, much clearer picture of the ship. “Damn.” Hands protectively over the two cups, you watch as Ned’s eyes widen at the sight.

James whistles lowly, “wait, I know that ship. I remember my dad reporting on it fifteen years ago.”

Yuri snorts, “so back when you were in diapers?”

“No—”

“Is that what I think it is?” Hobie appears in the doorway, bleary eyes blinking at the projection. He walks towards the table, hands swiping at the hologram to turn it around, and zooming in on what's left of the markings. “Fuckin' hell.” He curses under his breath.

You close the distance, sliding his cup next to him as you sip on your own. “What is it? You recognize it?”

“It's the ‘Herodotus.’ It's been missing for years. How the fuck—?” You remember that name, and how infamous it became over the years. It's a myth spread across the galaxy, where treasures could lie.

“I came across it on our radar. A more modern radar isn't designed to detect old ships like this, but ours is old as balls, so our old girl found it.” Yuri answers him, patting the table as if it's sentient. “Then I sent our little droid to take pictures of it. It's in the zeta quadrant in the Remus constellation. Not that far from where we are.” She looks over to a bewildered you. “I knew we had something.”

“Some people say they're carrying tons of credits to be transported to some planet in sector seven.” Ned enters a few codes in the panel on the table, and a second later, the news article about said ship pops up. A picture of the ship looking shiny and new is on top of the page. “Some say it exploded, or looted while en route.”

You read through the article. “There were no survivors.” Your hand instinctively wraps around Hobie's, making him squeeze you. “There were no escape pods recorded to have left the ship.”

“That they know of,” Hobie replies. “No one found the bloody ship, until now.”

“So what's the course of action, captain?” Yuri asks.

Hobie looks over to you. And your mind runs a thousand miles per second. “What if there was a disease that wiped them out instead? It happened before on Romulus five years ago, what if—” you sigh, knowing the crew's minds are made up. “The ship looks pristine, no sign of explosion or pirates looting outside.”

“Or we could find millions inside.” James adds. “If there's no credits on board— it's an army ship, the weapons alone could be worthwhile. Or hell, even the power core and the cryo pods.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this but, James is right.” Yuri sighs and James fist pumps the air victoriously. “This could be the one we're waiting for.”

You purse your lips, and Hobie looks at you through pensive eyes. “If the captain wants to go, I'll go.”

Hobie cups your cheek briefly with a smile before returning his attention towards his small crew. “We'll take precautions in case there's a virus,” Yuri, claps her hands with a grin while Ned and James share a look. “And we take anythin' valuable.”

“Crunching the numbers, I think we're looking at ten mill, each.” Ned smiles, clasping Hobie's shoulder. “So just like any job then?”

“Just like any job.”

“Let's go get rich then.” Yuri hoots and hollers down towards the cockpit to punch in the coordinates.

The crew leaves to prepare, but you can't help but ignore the gnawing worry in your stomach. Hobie notices while drinking his coffee. He turns his attention towards you, calloused hands rubbing along your arms comfortingly.

“You alright?”

“Mm-hmm, just worried. The usual.” You take his hand from your arm to kiss the back of it. “It's nothing.”

“You know I trust your gut, right? Remember that heist we had on earth?” You nod with a faint smile. “You said you had a bad feelin’ and it turns out it was a trap. If not for you tellin’ your concerns we would be talkin’ through our cells in blackwater right now.”

“Okay, I worry that something is wrong with it.” You glance at the projection of the ship. “Just— I have an eerie feeling about it.”

“Tell you what, just say the word and we don't do it.” Hobie cups your jaw, thumbs rubbing along your skin gently. “We go about our way through the bloody cosmos like usual.”

You inhale. “We do need the money though.”

He gives you a smile, lips meeting your forehead. “I know. We'll be set for life if we do this.” You hum, eyes closed. “No more space farin’, no more diggin’ through dead ships for scraps.”

“And we can go home.”

“And we can go back to earth, and buy that place you like.” He whispers the last part.

You chuckle as he kisses the tip of your nose. “With the reading nook, and large bathtub?”

“Big enough for the two of us. All that and more, love.” He smiles, and you feel reassured. Tilting his head, he kisses you properly this time.

—

You sit just behind Yuri in the control room, you're tucked in safely with the seatbelts that's properly secured. Hobie sits at the front, navigating through the asteroid belt expertly. His hand flexes over the controls as the ship goes to a cruising speed once the decommissioned ship appears in sight.

Behind the large circular ship lays a red planet with its storms brewing just above the surface with yellow lightning that sparks and illuminates the dark space for a brief time.

“No wonder no one found this ship.” James mumbles in his seat.

“Until now.” Yuri smirks at him, eyebrow raised in a teasing manner which James scoffs at.

“Is that?” You narrow your eyes at the broken down droid floating aimlessly, it's barely a dot in the radar. The mechanical eyes are dim, wings broken in half next to it, and its tail is sparking from its broken down state.

“Damn it!” Yuri curses, eyes flicking towards Ned, who's groaning in anguish.

“No, Terry 2.0!” Ned thumps his head on the seat headrest. “He was my favourite!”

“I see something behind the ship!” James exclaims as he activates the ship's radar, your screen lights up like a Christmas tree in the shape of another ship.

“Wankers.” Hobie guides the ship carefully, rounding the corner to stare down at the rival emerald coloured ship. With a few clicks on the panel, he calls up whoever is left on the ship.

“I swear those martians are always right on our tail.” Yuri shakes her head with an angry look on her face.

The call rings and rings, yet no one answers. “Fuck it, let's dock on the other side. I bet we'll come across those arseholes.” With an annoyed grunt, Hobie moves the ship on the other side to dock.

Everything happens by the book. Hobie lines up the ship perfectly along the docking clasps while Riri makes sure that the crimson spider is nicely locked on the military ship. And once everything is in place, you make sure that Hobie has his double lined suit on and everyone else that's coming on board the decommissioned ship. It's not needed most of the time, but with your worry of unknown disease that could be on board, it's a necessity.

“Yuri, you stay ‘ere in case things shit the fan.” Hobie instructs Yuri and she slumps down just as she's about to put on her boots.

“Come on, cap! I wanted to give those dicks a piece of my mind!”

“Sorry, James stayed last time.”

James smirks under his helmet, forgetting that it's completely see through.

“Oh fuck off, James.” Yuri kicks his shin, causing the smug blond to hold his leg and jump in place. He winces, the sound echoing through the comms.

“Ow! I just smiled!”

“Alright, enough of that. We have a job to do.” Ned says before you could. You give him a thankful nod. The other two doesn't seem to get the message, their arguing echoes throughout the ship.

Your suit hugs you in its silicon material, helmet fitting snugly and smelling faintly of jasmine. You can bet that Yuri used it before on a routine space walk. Tapping on the controls right on your wrist, you make sure the oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are alright. Sighing, Hobie sidles up to you, hand grabbing onto the med kid on your belt, pulling you closer to him.

“Just say the word, love.”

“I'm starting to think you're the one who's more worried than me.”

“It's my job to worry.” He smiles, “and it's part of the deal in lovin’ you.” He whispers the last sentence, making sure the other three are still arguing right behind you.

“You make it sound like I blackmailed you into loving me.”

“Nah, I walked right into it with open arms.” Hobie winks, sending your heart into a marathon.

You hold onto his wrist, wishing that you could feel his warmth under the suit. Smiling, you draw circles around his wrist. “Now that we're here, I actually feel good about it now.”

He chuckles, “you're a bad liar, love. I have to teach you how to lie better.”

You feign annoyance with a click of your tongue, smile betraying you. “Damn it, you saw right through me—”

“Fine!” Yuri's angry voice pops the bubble of affection around you and Hobie. She gives James the middle finger. “When you come back, your room will be filled with fucking jelly!”

“I hope an alien abducts you while you're alone here!”

“Moron, aliens aren't real!”

“Enough.” One word from Hobie and they both quiet down. (The ghost of his smile betrays him though) But their glares don't subside. “We have to move quickly or the Martians will get the loot before we can.”

“Aye, aye, cap.” Yuri says with a roll of her eyes, clearly annoyed at the situation. “Get me something good, babes.” She says to you as she moves out of the room and back into the cockpit. She opens the airlock, waving goodbye through the glass window.

Alarms blare, a high pitched sound declaring that the air lock has been opened. Red light illuminates the room as the air hisses and squeaks from the pressure change. Hobie holds onto your hand, squeezing three times when the giant door opens and reveals the state of the old ship.

“It's dark.” James says through the comms, voice a bit muffled by the system. “There goes looting the power supply.”

“Maybe the emergency system shut it off after whatever happened to them.” Ned steps inside first, opening his flashlight perched on his shoulder. “Besides, basic shit like doors and gravity would still work without it.”

The unmistakable click of a gun's safety goes off in James’ hand as he takes the rear end of the line right behind you. Your hand reluctantly lets go of Hobie, fingers stopping once you feel the familiar indents of your pistol right on your hip. Hobie's back is in front of you, no doubt holding on to his own gun just like Ned and James.

The doors close right behind you, and the crimson spider’s light is snuffed out, plunging the crew in darkness. Your hand shakes as you click your torch open. The air is stale and stagnant, with dust particles flying about. The ship is a mess inside, full of broken down metal, and scraps of papers strewn about. But still no sign of life.

The visitor's desk that should've greeted you on the way in sits empty. The booth is cracked, and the inside looks like a hurricane ran through it. Your hand unclips the holster, thumb practically glued on the gun. You have a bad feeling about all of this despite what you just told Hobie.

The comms cackle to life in your ears. “Everyone alive in there?” Yuri's voice echoes, and you hear her munching on her breakfast.

“Good on our end.” Ned answers, walking at a reasonable pace. “Are you seriously eating right now—!” He hits something with his foot, and whatever it was, it lights up the hallway, bathing it in blue light. “What the fuck!”

“Calm down.” Hobie clasps his shoulder as Ned moves to the side, giving you the perfect view of a droid on its last life.

“What happened?!” Yuri yells.

“It's just a service droid.” You sigh, answering her question. “We're good, Yuri.”

“You're a fucking scaredy cat, Ned.” James chortles behind you. Ned rolls his eyes, flipping the bird at James.

Hobie crouches down, turning the droid’s head to the side to see its cracked screen. It still smiles as sparks fly from its joints. “Ned, can you splice its memory?”

“Child's play.” He says, still clutching his chest. “It might take some time but I can do it remotely once I've connected to its head.”

“Good, thanks, mate.” Hobie stands up, letting Ned do his work. He looks at you, wordlessly asking if you're alright with just a nod.

You send a wink at him despite your anxiety crawling up your neck.

“And…I'm in. We can go.” Ned groans as he stands up, Hobie gives him a helping hand which the man takes.

“How long?” You ask, looking over Ned’s shoulder.

“Fifteen minutes, give or take.”

“I'll take the lead this time.” Hobie says, gesturing for Ned to move behind him and in front of you. You don't like how Hobie went further down the line, but you sucked it up as it's part of the job you signed up for.

The crew continues to stalk the hallways, guns raised, and with your heart rate quickening with every step. The place has become more disheveled with every move you take, tables turned over, consoles broken into pieces, shards of glass littered across the floor and broken wires sparking on the walls. And there has been no sign of the other crew, or other life forms amidst the destruction.

“Where are they?” You ask, swallowing thickly at the broken down dining area you passed. Good thing you have helmets on or the smell would've been rancid with the leftovers you saw still on the table.

James scoffs behind you. “Fuck them, Y/N, why are you so worried? It's a big ass ship, odds are we don't see them.”

“If they're going where we're going, we're bound to walk into them.” You raise a brow, looking over your shoulder. “Besides, we should've seen a sign from them by now.” Peeking at your small console on your arm with the map of the ship, you surmise your group has already reached the middle of it, which means you should've heard the other group talking or even their footsteps echoing by now. It has been silent ever since you stepped foot inside.

You pat your pistol on your hip, the hair on your nape rises with your anxiety boiling inside you. Maybe it's better if you do see them, it would mean the place is safe from any contaminants or other dangerous obstacles bound to happen when you're exploring a decommissioned ship.

The group walks in silence with each of their heavy footsteps echoing around the winding hallway. On your right sits numerous rooms where the crew would've slept in. On your left are large windows that showcase the vast space just outside of the ship. You're used to the view, but you always loved looking at the dark with its numerous stars and planets dotting the view. You always wonder if someone out there was gazing at the same view as you, and you always have an answer to it, and that's Hobie.

You meet with his eyes just as when he looks away from the window to you. He smiles beneath his helmet, winking casually, reassuring that he's right there with you. You grin at him, pursing your lips and mocking a silent kiss that makes him chuckle before shaking his head and taking his attention back towards the front.

“Heads up.” Yuri's voice cackles on the intercom. “Cryo room inbound.”

Hobie stops when he sees the big letters on his right. The large double doors are tightly sealed with the panels on its left still blinking and softly beeping amidst the darkened room. A number is painted on the doors, and a few symbols indicating the rooms importance and what lies inside.

“Do you want to check it out, Hobie?” Ned asks, lifting his head briefly from his console to look at the doors. “The pods could still be intact, we can sell them if they are.” His console beeps, and he presses a few buttons on it. “We got time anyway, decryption is at seventeen percent.”

“And there could be people inside.” You add, “it is protocol to get inside a pod if all else fails in the ship.”

“Imagine if they were,” James mutters. “they've been sleeping and waiting in there for fifteen or so years. Fucking creepy.”

“Probably,” Hobie says while lining up his torchlight at the dinging control panels. Your heart thumps with trepidation from their words. “Ned, could you?”

“Sure thing.” Ned walks towards the panel to connect his console with it. “Good thing we saw that droid, now I've got access to most of the ship.”

“Everyone say ‘thank you, dead robot.’” James chimes.

“Thank you, dead robot!” Yuri laughs in the coms, “we'll be sure to remember its memory once we get our own mansions.”

“Cryo pods are worth half a mil each in the market nowadays.” You say while you wait for Ned to open the doors. Hobie sidles up next to you, leaning against you casually. “And with how vintage this is, it could fetch us a handsome prize from the right collector.”

He turns his head towards you, bumping his helmet against yours gently. “You're brilliant.”

You show him your console that is showing how much a cryo pod is in the online blackmarket. “I was reading off of it.”

Hobie chuckles, moving away to pat your shoulder. “Should've said so, love.” You giggle at his reaction. “You're still gettin’ reception from ‘ere?”

“It's a bit choppy now, but yeah.”

“It's because of my genius with the net expander—” Ned pats himself on the back, literally. “There, it's open.” With a chiming sound and a hiss of compacted air, the cryo room opens to you.

Hobie and James go inside first with their weapons drawn, their steps calculated, and eyes watchful at the blue lined walls. You follow closely with Ned by your side, he shifts his head around the expansive room. Unlike the hallways, the room is pristine. With its walls and floors clean as if it's the first time someone has stepped foot inside. In the center sits a dozen or so cryo pods. Its cylindrical shape and glass lid sparkles from your flashlights.

Once Hobie and James cleared the room, you peek inside one of the pods, finding it empty. “Ah shit.” You look inside each pod to make sure, only seeing its white padded walls instead of what you expected. “It's all empty.” You sigh, hands placed on your hips.

“Thank fuck.” James takes a peek at one of them with a relieved sigh. “I would be freaked out if there was someone in one of these.”

Ned raises a teasing brow, “weren't you born in one?”

“Fuck off.” James flips him the bird.

Hobie smiles at the interaction while punching in a few buttons at the control panel in the center. You walk closer to him, hand placed on his waist while looking at the display.

“It says that it's in optimal condition.” You say while reading the rest of the information. “Even the cryo fuel has never been used.”

“I can read y’know.” He tilts his head at you, glancing briefly while he presses a few more buttons.

“Ha ha.” You squeeze his side, if not for the suit he would've felt it better. And yet he still yelps, as if it hurt him.

With a chuckle, he calls Yuri. “Ready the ship at dock number three, I'm sending the pods to you.”

“Fuck yeah!” Yuri's happy cheers ring in your coms. James even claps in place but when Ned doesn't show his excitement, he nudges him, and Ned scoffs at him in return before turning his attention back towards his screen, probably monitoring the decryption.

“Right, stand aside, I don't want you lot getting pulled in.” Hobie pulls you back by your belt, you stagger backwards, earning a yelp from you. When you stare daggers at him he just grins playfully. “What? I was jus' lookin' out for you is all.”

“Thank you, Hobie.” You say sarcastically, head bopping to the side while the floor around the cryo pods open with a mechanical hiss.

“You're welcome, love.” He pats your behind, chuckling as the pods descend from the floors downwards to the docking bay. You pat his flat ass in retaliation, which James makes a face at the two of you. “You got it from ‘ere, Yuri?”

“Got it, cap.” You can hear some clicking and whirring on the other side of the call. “Anddd… It's in! We're rich!”

While the others celebrate with high fives and fist pumps, a trilling sound from outside the room takes your attention. You walk towards the door, peeking over the doorway, eyes roaming around the dark with your flashlight following your line of sight.

You turn your head to the right. Nothing, just an open shutter with another dark hallway.

You turn to your left, nothing but dust flitting about.

A hand suddenly grasps your shoulder, and you jump from the shock of it. “Jus’ me, love.” Hobie rubs his gloved thumb over your shoulder blade, amused eyes turning into concern when he notices your anxious self. “You alright?”

“Y–yeah, I thought I heard something.”

He gives you a tight smile, pulling you towards him for a quick hug. “It's an old ship, it creaks and groans.”

You inhale sharply, “yeah, I know. I'm just jumpy.” Placing your hand on his cheek, the helmet stops you from fully feeling his warmth against your skin. “We can go now, right?”

“You kidding?” James appears from behind, grinning from ear to ear. “We gotta get the power source now, doc. Go big or go home, right?”

“I'd rather go home now actually, James.” You frown at him.

“Come on, there could still be valuable shit in here.” He pushes in between you and Hobie, going out of the room to spread his arms to his side. “You never know there could be that treasure we've heard about.”

“That's a load of shit.” You say, annoyed. “We got what we need, let's just go back to our ship instead of chasing some old wives tale.”

“We're not leaving until we see for ourselves that it is just some story.” James doesn't back down, “right, cap?”

You turn towards Hobie, clearly contemplating his choices. “How ‘bout we put it to a vote, like usual.”

“Come on, Hobie—” You start.

“I vote stay!” James cuts you off.

“Sorry, gorgeous, but I also vote yes. I have debts to pay, y’know.” Yuri adds to the conversation, you were hoping that she was on your side in this.

You shift towards Ned, who finds himself in the middle while he stares (or pretends to) at his screen. “What?”

“You need to vote, Ned.” You say, arms crossed atop your chest while leaning on the doorway.

“Vote yes to be a multi millionaire, Ned.” James teases you some more with a smirk playing on his lips.

“I found the ship map from the files I got from the droid.” Ned says, and James groans loudly. “And it says here that there's a hidden chamber deep inside the ship—”

“The treasure!” Both Yuri and James exclaim.

Hobie beckons Ned over, looking at the map on his console to see it for himself. You glance at it, and sure enough, there's a large chamber right in the center of the ship that wasn't in the original map placed around the ship walls.

Hobie turns towards you, and you already know what he's about to say. “Love—”

“Fine, majority wins.” you slink off outside without another word.

Hobie tries to reach for you but you're already walking away.

—

The group stays on course. With Hobie leading and with you in the back of the line, frowning and jaw clenched at the hallway ahead. At least the view outside is pretty. You glance at Hobie, finding that he's focused on what lies ahead.

With a huff, you open your screen to amuse yourself with some good old space invaders but you find that the net has stopped connecting with you being so far from the crimson spider. You could still play to spite the team, but you opt not to be such a child in the face of uncertainty. So you put the console to sleep, a flicker of Hobie's photo appearing before the screen turns to black.

You bite your lip when the group turns a corner towards the ship's cockpit. Again, the hallway is empty save for a few glass shards cracking under your boots. The air is as stale as before, and there hasn't been anyone you've come across through the short walk from the cryo room to the control room.

Hobie tries to open the door on the panel to the side, but it beeps in a high pitched tone, indicating that he can't access it.

“Ned,” he looks over his shoulder, only to find that Ned’s already by his side, console at the ready.

“I should send you all the authorization so you don't need me anymore to do this for you.”

“Aw, but we always need you, Neddy.” Yuri jokes in the coms, and you manage to let out a small chuckle.

Hobie hears you, turning to smile at you, which you slink away from, still annoyed and frustrated by him and his decision. His expression falters as the entire team hears a beeping sound from their screens to find that Ned has given you and the rest the access codes he got from the droid.

“There, in case we get separated, we can all open doors now.” Just as Ned says it, the cockpit doors open with a groan and a hiss. But it stops halfway, only opening enough for one person to pass through one at a time. “Damn it.” He tries to fix it by banging at the panel, but the doors only wheeze as sparks fly. “Note to self: don't do that.”

“It's fine, we can get inside anyway.” Hobie squeezes himself inside, you stop him immediately with your hand on his bicep. “Yeah, love?” He pauses in place right in between the double sliding doors.

You quickly scan the room, finding no one else inside or anything that would put him in danger. “Sorry, just checking.”

He pats your hand with a smile, reassuring you. “Thanks, love, I've got this, don't worry.”

“She always worries.” James utters under his breath. You snap your head at him, eyes narrowed. “What? I didn't say nothing.”

You hum, still staring daggers at him. “Watch your tone, James or I'll give you all those vaccines you keep avoiding, all at once.”

James surrenders while Ned goes inside the control room. “Jeez, sorry.” He gestures for you to squeeze yourself in next.

With a roll of your eyes, you move to shimmy yourself in, but that same trilling sound echoes from down the hallway towards you. It sends goosebumps to your arms, hair standing on the back of your neck.

“Did you hear that?” You ask James, who's standing next to you, waiting for his turn.

“No, it was probably the pipes. Old ship—”

“Yeah, I get it, this place is old.” With a quick push, you get yourself out of the doors.

The command center is as dark as the rest of the ship. The air seems to be more stagnant here than the rest with its lights flickering on and off, bulbs buzzing, threatening to pop. You scan the floors, finding it as disordered with broken glass, and scattered papers. But what gets your attention is the oozing dark matter still dripping from a table down to the floors. You briefly scan it with your device built in with your console, but after a few seconds of it trying to identify the substance, an error code pops up on the screen.

“What is it?” Ned sidles up next to you, eyes narrowed at the slimy material. “Goo?”

“I don't know, my console can't identify it.” You feel a sense of deja vu around it.

“Weird, it's probably on the fritz. I'll check it once we're back.” He nudges your arm. But when you could only stare at it, he shakes you lightly. “Y/N? You alright?”

A bright light seems to appear from inside the ooze, as if something is moving inside it. Something alive, ready to reach towards you with its dark tendrils.

“Hey.” Ned shakes you harder this time, managing to wake you up from your haze. “Do you feel dizzy?”

You inhale, craning your neck to look at him. “I'm fine, Ned. And that's my job.”

He chuckles, “not trying to take your job, doc.” Walking away, he looks over his shoulder, waiting for you to follow. “Come on then, before the captain worries.”

You take one last look at the substance before following Ned. It looks the same as before, maybe it was the trick of the light coming from the planet slowly rotating in the large window up front. It's a gaseous ball with its numerous storms laying waste to the entire planet. Its red lightning flaring, lighting up the cockpit with brief crimson. Hundreds of hurricanes' swirling clouds can be seen from where you are. It's magnificent, a terrifying force of nature. If this ship plummets down, there's no surviving it.

Tamping down your dark thoughts, you make your way towards Hobie, who's connecting his console with the main control panel. He glances at you, nodding briefly before returning his attention towards the blinking panels. His helmet reflects the storm in front, a dance of lightning and clouds circling around the glass of his helmet.

“Good thing the emergency power is keeping this place afloat.” James sighs, arms perched atop his rifle. “I really don't want to go down with this ship.”

“Stop it, James.” Hobie mutters, brows furrowed at his screen. He's still trying to keep your worries away even though he's busy. “It's not giving me any of the captain's logs.”

“You might need a higher clearance.” Ned connects himself to the controls, trying to override the clearance. “Wait— the decryption is done.” He unplugs to check the files, finding hundreds of audio files from a crew member named ‘Harry’.

The team shares a look, and you inhale deeply. As Ned pressed play on the last known recording, the crackling sound of the garbled audio echoes around the dark and silent room.

“Log 277, I've run out of food up here.” His voice is weak, as if he has been running a hundred miles before recording. “Serves me right for not stopping by the mess hall before shit hit the fan.” Something metallic can be heard in the audio, as if a gust of wind is blowing a tin roof away. “I can't— I can't do this anymore.” His sobs fade away for a second before he composes himself. “I've only got three days worth of water left— and I keep seeing that fucking face whenever I close my goddamn eyes!” He sharply inhales. “I–If you're hearing this recording that means I've successfully sent my logs to all the droids in the ship. I could at least warn you. And if you're still on the ship, run.” The recording cackles until it ends.

“What the fuck?” You whisper yell, palm gripping at your chest to ease your quick heartbeat.

Hobie reaches for you, hand placed on your nape, and his eyes swimming with fear. “We should get out of ‘ere.” You grip his hand, lips wobbling as you look at the side of his face.

“But—” James starts, eyes wide but clearly wanting to push through.

“We need to go, James.” You shake your head at him, steely eyes staring at him.

“Yuri—” Hobie calls for her.

“I heard, cap, I'm already docking the ship to the nearest exit.” She replies, tone serious.

“Let's go—” Ned gestures to leave, but a strained cough from somewhere freezes the group in place.

You flick your eyes at everyone, finding each of their faces morph into a terrified expression.

“P–please…” The mysterious voice pleads. “Behind…the controls.”

As terrified as you are right now, you can't help but try to save them, whoever they are.

Sliding away from Hobie's side despite his protests, you go around the panels to find the stranger. You gasp at his slumped state, his helmet is shattered to bits, lungs desperately trying to intake air, and his eyes— they're nothing but bloody sockets in his head.

Hobie follows you, immediately freezing when he sees what you're looking at with your wide eyes. “Fuck.”

Ned and James watch on with similar horror etched on their faces while Yuri’s gasps can be heard while she sees the stranger from your camera connected to the ship.

You slowly kneel down, trembling hands trying to open your med pack from your belt. Hobie's hand tries to keep you in place, protecting you from the man. The velcro from your pack rips as you open it, and the man raises a bruised hand to stop you.

“Not worth trying.” He wheezes. “I'm a dead man.”

Hobie narrows his eyes at the familiar patch on the man's suit, he sports a similar logo as the martians who got on the ship before you. “Are you with the—?”

“Commander Andy Landers at your service.” He salutes weakly, chuckling which was quickly replaced by a pained cough. “Who are you fuckers?” He points at his nonexistent eyes. “I'm not wearing my glasses right now.”

“Hobie Brown…” he kneels beside you, hand never leaving your shoulder. “You’re with my team. What happened ‘ere?”

Andy licks his cracked lips, hands flexing into fists as a wave of pain washes over him. “You need to get out of here.”

You try to patch up his eyes with a cloth of bandage but he stops you by suddenly grabbing your wrists in a bruising grip. “L–let go.”

“Don't look at it, or else it will know where you are.” He squeezes you tighter, his eye sockets dripping with fresh blood like a tear. Hobie comes to your side, trying to pry Andy away from you. “You can't kill it, but you can take your eyes away before it gets you!”

You desperately pull your hands away, Hobie manages to yank you off, and you immediately crawl away from Andy and towards Hobie. Hobie embraces your side, fingers gripping onto your suit, shielding you from the strange and eerie man.

The former commander gasps, as if his breath is being sucked right out of his lungs. His head is held up high, chest heaving and gasping for air. Bloodied tears flow down on his cheeks, leaving trails of crimson on his battered flesh. As fast as it came, he falls back into place, sockets seeming to stare right at you.

“It’s coming for you, doc.”

Your vision turns hazy with a kaleidoscope of light, but before you could blink it away, you're yanked up to your feet with Hobie dragging you out of there.

“We need to help him.” Just as you said the words, alarms blare out in the cockpit. Red lights suddenly illuminate the room, and a blue fog creeps from below the vents to the floor. The ship has activated its waste protocol, which means it has detected a foreign and dangerous object within the room.

“There's no helping him!” Hobie runs, while Ned manages to squeeze himself through the doors before it suddenly shuts closed. Hobie and James hit the steel doors harshly from their speed. And you run into Hobie's back right after. “Fuck!” He punches the doors, it doesn't even dent it. “Ned!”

“Already on it!” Ned's frantic muffled voice can be heard on the other side.

“That's it! I'm coming in!” Yuri screams into the coms as you hear her running footsteps in the background.

“No, Yuri, stay on the bloody ship!”

While Hobie and James try to pry open the door with their bare hands, a sound akin to crawling coming from the vents gets your attention. It seems to get closer amidst the blaring alarms.

“Take me, oh magnificent one!” Andy shouts from his place, and now you see fingers gripping the metal vents from below the floors, then another, then another as if three pairs of hands are trying to open it.

“Hobie.” You stagger back, hands grasping at Hobie's suit.

“‘m tryin', love!”

With the rattling of metal, the vent hatch disappears from beyond, sucked inside. The fingers reach out until a bloodied arm appears, then another, and another until you see dozens of fingers attached to three mangled and melded arms. A grotesque being of unfathomable nature.

“Hobie!” You shake him, and he finally looks back to see the creature rear its ugly head from under the vents— Heads, there's dozens of heads stuck together on its thick bloodied neck that oozes dark tendrils. Faces all morphed together into agonized expressions. Their voices are warbled, screaming in different tones and jumbled up words of suffering. “Ned, we need this opened now!”

You stand and watch as the being crawls out of the dark as sirens ring in your ears and ruby lights flicker in and out of place with the kaleidoscope haze in your vision. Its skin bends into a mass of flesh, a rat king of sorts, limbs tangled together, strewn together by a black substance ebbing out of its pores.

“Water!” The creature gargles out the words from deep within its throat. “Help!”

“Oh god.” You walk backwards into the wall, seeing the creature wobble towards the commander behind the control panels. Panting in place, you see James aim at it. “Don't!” You yell at him, arm outstretched. “You'll get its attention. Andy's giving us time.”

“I'm here!” Yuri's muffled voice from behind the door gives you hope. “Ned, tell me what to do!”

Their conversation falls from your ears as the mangled mess of flesh and muscle gets to the commander. It rises up to its full height, revealing you more of its hands and feet on its belly, all melted into place to create a wall of bloody and beaten flesh. A rainbow light flashes in your vision as it devours the man. Blood gushes out on the floor while it tears into him. He doesn't scream or plead for mercy, he stays in place, accepting his fate.

“Y/N!” Hobie's voice takes your attention away from the gore filled sight. “You go first!” He pushes you towards the crack in the door that Ned and Yuri managed to open. You can see their faces freeze in fear as they see the creature feed.

“What about you?!” You grab his arms, pulling him towards you.

“I'll be right behind you, love, I promise, yeah?” He pushes you further out while Ned and Yuri help pull you outside.

You hit the floor in a grunt, back aching that you push down to help Hobie get out. Standing up, you take out your pistol, aiming behind him while you cover Hobie as he scrambles out.

“Hurry!” Yuri yells, “James, you're next!”

Hobie manages to get out just as the creature's delighted hums of pleasure stop. You pull him closer to you for an embrace, he hugs back, face hidden on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck!” James' rifle buzzes and then goes off, and you immediately move away to help him. He shoots at the alien, bullets getting absorbed by its wall of flesh whenever he hits his mark.

“Forget it and just get out!” Yuri sticks her hand out to pull him out. She manages to grab hold of his belt, pulling him out into the barely opened door.

A spray of bullets rain inside while you join Yuri in pulling James out. “James! You need to go!”

Ned panics on the panel as it beeps an error sound, warning of the doors closing. “Fuck! Hobie—!”

Hobie stops from pulling James to help Ned. “Shit, it needs a fingerprint!” He presses his own thumb on the scanner to no avail. He realizes what happens next. “Pull him out now—!”

The unmistakable click of the empty rifle rings like a death knell. James' body is only a quarter from getting through as the creature grabs him with its multiple hands, pulling him away from your grasp, lifting him up while it opens its bloodied maw. He's face to face with rows upon rows of mismatched teeth, a dozen tongues lolling out and flicking the same dark substance on his helmet.

“Yuri!” James screams while you try to push yourself back into the room to grab his legs but Hobie yanks you away from the doors. Giving time for Yuri to replace you.

“Yuri, no! Get away!” Hobie yells as he holds you in place with his arms around you.

“James!” Yuri continues to push herself inside, prompting Ned to dive for her and pull her away but Yuri fights. “I've got his foot—!” As she says it, James' screams are cut abruptly. His blood dripping down on the floors, raining down on Yuri. “No!” Ned manages to pull her back enough but her arm is still taking hold of his limp leg. “I've got him—!”

Bang!

The doors suddenly shut on Yuri's arm, and her screams of sorrow are replaced with agonizing pain. The sound of muscle and bone being ripped apart from its sockets would haunt your dreams.

“Yuri! Oh god!” You crawl towards her while her shoulder sprays blood on your suit, “I've got you— oh fuck!” Your eyes fill with tears as your hand shakes around the bandage you're desperately trying to wrap around her wound. “Hobie!” With your cry, Hobie jumps to help, eyes wide with shock. “We need to stop the bleeding!”

He takes more bandages from your kit, pushing the cloth inside as she wails in pain. Ned cradles her in place, hand placed over her eyes as he shields her away from the sight.

The cockpit doors bang with every cry she lets out. You glance at it briefly, heart buzzing to the beat of the brute's knocking.

Once you've gotten your entire supply of bandages around her, Hobie inhales deeply. “We need to get back on board.” You and Ned nod while Yuri's sobs quiets down dangerously. “Help me get her up.” He sniffs as he stands up, “love, can you manage to cover us?”

You swallow down your fear. “Y-yeah, I think so.” He hands you the gun while he puts his arm under Yuri. She yelps, sobbing while she continues to bleed out. “She needs a lot of blood, Hobie.” You say while you put the gun strap over your shoulder.

“We'll get her some, don't worry.” The banging gets louder, “we might need to run. Yuri, which dock—”

“James…” She says in between sobs.

“I know, I know.” Ned calms her down with his hand wiping away at her blood soaked helmet. “We'll get him once you're alright, okay? For now, which dock, Yuri?”

“T–thirteen, near medical.” She gasps out before her head lays on Hobie's chest.

The three of you look at your right, opposite of the way you came from. “Alright, no time to lose.” He fixes his hold on Yuri, earning a staggered exhale from her. “Hold on for us, Yuri.”

Ned guides you all throughout the hallway while you can hear the banging echoing from behind. You take the rear, gun at the ready even though you aren't.

“Just a few more minutes, Yuri!” Ned yells from up front, numerous boots clanging against the metal floors.

You keep running despite your lungs heaving out. Checking your weapon's ammo, you glance at the floor to find the rest of commander Andy's team laying on the ground with numerous parts of their bodies missing.

“Fuck! This is fucked!” Ned screams but he keeps running.

The team turns a corner, that's when the lights flicker into the same shade as the bloody floors. The identical alarms ring from the cockpit, filling the entire hallway with blue fog. Your vision fills with a rainbow of light briefly.

It's here.

“Keep running!” You yell as you hear its heavy footfalls behind you. Hobie spares you a worried glance, “I'm fine, Hobie, keep going!”

You can see dock thirteen in the distance.

There's a new set of footsteps running in the halls.

“Who the fuck is that?!” Ned shouts, pointing ahead of him where a couple of strangers are running towards the dock. “Oi, no!”

They get there before you, sporting a similar suit like yours. But they don't wait for you as they open the dock hatch.

“Wait!” You point the gun at them as a warning. “Please!”

They look like they're arguing, but once they see the creature stalking right behind you, they don't stop to wait. With a frantic hand they shut the hatch close without your team making it inside your ship.

“Motherfucker!” Hobie yells, body hitting the glass hatch from his running momentum. Ned tries to open the doors with the panel to the side, but it beeps, error code reflecting on his helmet. “Open the fucking door!”

You look behind you, seeing the mass of flesh running towards you sloppily, body hitting the sides of the hallway as it gasps a gravelly voice.

“Yuri!” It says in James' voice, and you immediately aim, rifle powering up for a second before you shoot at its legs.

It staggers back as you hit its enormous knee caps in a shatter of bone and blood. You keep shooting, its skin tearing off from the bullets.

“I'm sorry!” The people on the other side say as they get into the ship, leaving you all behind. You can hear Hobie's console warning you of your shared ship undocking.

“Fuckers!” Ned punches the glass as it cracks under his fist.

“We need to go!” Hobie shouts above the rain of gunfire. He yells your name, and you immediately feel someone's hand grip the belt of your suit to pull you away.

Twisting around, you follow your team out of the hallway as you hear the deep rumble of the organism’s footsteps. Without looking back, you hear the shatter of glass and your ship's alarm systems kicking in. It got in, but the airlock already went back in place with a hiss, reminding you that the two strangers have left you all to die in this dying piece of scrap metal with an unknown creature.

—

Ned locks the med bay doors behind him while you and Hobie pause for a second to gawp at the mess of skin and muscle on the operating table.

“What the fuck is that?” Hobie waits for you to answer.

The body is barely recognizable as a human being. Its skeletal structure is all over the place with its seven legs curled to its side in a fetal position, with ten arms embracing its legs. The bones are in deep crimson, as if the shade was painted on. The muscles look like it's melting away from its bones, dripping flesh into the metal table.

“I don't fucking know.” You say while Ned closes the shutters to the windows. “Put Yuri down over there, I'll find where they keep the blood.” Pointing at an empty metal table, you set off to find some blood, or at least a transfusion kit. You remember Ned is an O negative, meaning he can give to Yuri.

Shuffling quickly around the room while Hobie sets Yuri down, you fling numerous cabinets open in hopes to find something, anything to help her instead of just bandages.

Hobie calls for you, his tone soft and sullen. “Love,” he cries out for you again. “Love.”

With one last cabinet to open, you finally find bags upon bags of blood stored inside. “I found it!” You smile, grabbing an armful of blood bags. Turning around, your smile falters when you see Ned sobbing while holding Yuri's hand. Hobie shakes his head, eyes filled with tears. A tear falls down your cheeks, you refuse to let it be. “I found the blood, Hobie, help me with—” you step forward, Hobie quickly embraces you, “she needs them!” muffling your cries as he holds you against his chest while bags of blood fall on your feet.

He cradles you in place as your legs give out from under you. “‘m sorry, love.” Leaning on the cabinets, he lets you hide yourself in his neck, letting your cries reverberate through him as he puts his head atop your shoulder, arms around your body and cradling you back and forth.

—

You've said your goodbyes to Yuri and James, but the shock still hasn't worn off from your bodies. The team, or what's left of you, sit on the cold floors, helmets off for now, backs leaning against the cabinets as the three of you stare off into space wordlessly.

“I'm gonna miss their arguing.” Ned cuts off the heavy silence. “I'm already missing Yuri's coffee, and James' parfait.”

“Or you could just be hungry, mate.” Hobie jokes, hand reaching on top of Ned’s head. Wiggling him gently while Ned smiles softly.

“I'll miss James' hugs, and the way Yuri haggles the prices on the black market.” You smile faintly, avoiding looking at her body covered by a fire blanket. “I remember when she managed to get the price of fuel down to only three hundred credits when it was supposed to be six hundred.”

“Remember when we had to pull her away from a bar fight?” Hobie turns to you, head placed on your shoulder with lips briefly kissing you. He wishes that the suit wasn't there. “While we were tryin’ to not get her arrested, James jumped in to join the fight. We ended up stayin’ a night in jail.” He chuckles, and you soon follow after with your gentle laughter.

Ned joins in, laughing that quickly turns into sniffles. “Yeah, I'll m–miss them.”

You slither your hand behind Hobie to pat Ned’s shoulder. “They were the best.”

“The pods.” Hobie suddenly says, perking up from your shoulder.

“Mate, this is no time to worry about the shit we stole.”

“Not that pod. The escape pods, every ship has ‘em. If we get the power goin' we can get out of ‘ere.”

Ned checks his console for the ship's map. “Says here that there are escape pods left in the ship.” He pinches his fingers, zooming in on the map. “And there's also some sort of executive panic room in case of an uprising inside the ship.” He hisses, “but we both need admin clearance and the power back on to open them.”

“Then let's find someone to open it for us. And open the lights back on.” Hobie thumps his head against the cabinet. “Fuckin' easy, eh?”

You chuckle, nuzzling your face on his bicep, “we need a miracle to pull it off.”

He bumps his head atop yours. “That's quitter talk, lovie.” A gentle smile appears on your lips, eyes glinting under the flashlights. “But I know that look, you've got a plan, don't you?”

“A half of a plan.” You pat his cheek affectionately before standing up. “We're surrounded by medical supplies, and that includes anesthesia. Lots of them.” Walking towards a glass cabinet filled with green vials, you open the door quietly, plucking a single vial from its place. “We may not be able to kill it with what we have, but we can paralyze it to give us enough time to chop off one of its hands.”

Ned's eyes widen in realization. “To get admin access.” He stands up, joining your side. “I saw its gigantic hand too, there’s dozens of fingers on there, one is bound to be from someone who has the credentials.”

“That plan is bonkers enough that it might work.” Hobie joins in with a groan, stretching his neck from side to side. “We’ll load up the rifle with your concoction, and one of you chops it off.” He glances at you with a look of admiration. “Good on you, love.” His hand cups your elbow, squeezing once before letting go.

“We just need to turn on the power then we'll head off to— wait, the escape pods or the panic room?” Ned asks the two of you, fingers flying to his console, pulling up the ship's map, flicking away an image of the center of the ship where he previously wanted to go before everything happened. You'll never know what lies there. “According to the map, they're near each other.”

“The panic room could give us enough time to wait it out for a ship to come along and rescue us, and maybe wait until the beast starves and dies. From what I've heard of rooms like this…” Hobie points at the dotted line on the screen where the room lays. “They have enough supplies to last the blood sucking executives two years inside the room.”

“And the pods could grant us a quick escape, but ships as old as this one are wonky at best. There's a chance that the built in autopilot won't even work.” You add.

“But a chance that it could.” Ned sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We've got enough time to figure it out later, for now we need to get ready, make sure that we don't fuck up our one chance.” He closes his eyes, breath stuck in his throat. “For them.”

You glance at Yuri's body, Hobie follows your gaze, immediately reaching for your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “For them.”

—

Everything has been set in place, you've mixed at least three magazines worth of ammo with paralyzing agents that could bring down two elephants with one bullet. Or kill an adult human with just a graze from it. Good thing Hobie didn't pinch pennies to buy an old shitty gun but instead he got one that could be loaded with different cartridges. The bright green substance sloshes from side to side as you carefully load it in the remaining rifle and your pistol.

Hobie has armed himself with an ax he took from the fire emergency kit on the wall. He weighs it in his hands, eyes darting towards you and Ned.

“Change of plans, I'll do the cuttin’”

“I thought that was my job?” You ask, chest tightening with worry.

“I don't want either of you gettin' that close to it.” He places it on his belt, securing it with velcro. His suit is now matted with dried blood, you try not to think about it.

You close the distance towards him while Ned wordlessly shakes his head from the corner of your eyes. “At least take this with you, I know that there's no arguing with you, captain.” Handing him your pistol, you don't wait for him to take it, knowing that he will refuse it. Instead you place it on his holster after taking his own pistol to replace the bullets with the paralyzing serum. “This one is for Ned, I'll take the rifle.”

“Love—”

“You can't do everything all at once, Hobie.” You grab his helmet from the counter, placing on his head gently as you turn it until it's secured in place. Tapping the glass, you smile at him sweetly. “Let us help you, okay? We're a team, remember?” You glance at Ned.

“Hey, don't look at me, I'm all in favour of not getting close to it.” He shrugs, chuckling softly.

Hobie grasps your chin carefully with his gloved hand, corner of his lips curling into a tender smile. His eyes hide all his fears, an image of you laying in your pool of blood with Ned's body right next to yours.. “I remember, I just don't want to lose any more of my team.” He should've listened to you and left before everything turned to shit.

“You won't.” You say, palm placed over his heart, wishing the suit wasn't there to feel his heartbeat. “We're not planning on leaving you all alone, Hobie.”

“Hear, hear.” Ned clasps his hands together impatiently. “Can we load up my pistol before you two start snogging right in front of me? We don't have HR remember?”

Hobie chuckles, punching Ned's shoulder lightly. “After this you can send your complains to HR all you want.” He says as he points towards the trash can in the corner.

Your giggles softly echo above their banter while you load Ned's gun. You could only hope everything goes to plan. You don't want to lose either of them. They're what remains of your family and Yuri and James' memory. You want them back but you have to save the ones you still can no matter how much your heart aches for the ones who were lost.

—

The three of you walk silently through the halls, passing by dismembered bodies, coagulated blood sticking to the floors, and the beast's waste laying amongst the dead. You didn't know them, but you no one deserves such a fate.

The hallways are still drenched in darkness, this time it's filled with bodies with limbs all over. You try not to move your flashlight towards the dead in respect for them. Your heart thrums in your ears as Ned leads the way this time towards the power supply room. Hobie walks behind you, ax at the ready, eyes trained to watch out for any sudden movements.

You inhale sharply, trying to even out your staggered breathing which Hobie immediately notices. With a warm hand, he rubs his palm on your back, silently easing you.

Without a word, you reach for his hand atop your shoulder, patting it a few times and placing it over your helmet in a ‘kiss’. Hobie squeezes back before returning his hand to the heavy ax.

You finally make it to the front of the supply room. Its large double steel doors loom over you, the warning signs plastered right next to it take your attention. Highlighting all of your nerves even more.

Ned opens the door, using the same access codes he nicked from the droid just a few hours ago. To think that in a little over three hours your team was still complete, the crimson spider still had its crew and you still had your entire family with you. You should've fought harder to get back on the ship after taking the cryo pods. If you held your ground, told them about your gut instinct telling you to leave. Hell even threw a tantrum just for them to agree with you, the entire team would've been on the ship on your way back home to buy the life you've always wanted. Not stalking the halls of a dead space ship with a killer alien out for your blood.

At least Hobie and Ned are with you. You think you wouldn't have survived this long without them.

With a mechanical hiss, the doors open ever so slowly. The first thing you see under your flashlight is the water inside that sloshes with every creak and groan of the ship.

“What the fuck?” Hobie beats you to it, shining his torch all over the flooded room. The water laps gently at the small staircase further leading down to the room, as far as you can see, the entire place is filled with dark near stagnant water. It rises to the half of the iron coils connected together, good thing the power's off or else it could electrocute you.

Ned raises his light towards the ceiling, seeing a huge hole from it with water leaking down. “Fuck, that's coming from the quarters.”

“That's toilet water.” You grimace, glad that you have your helmet on so you can't smell the nasty water.

Hobie roams his light towards the middle, finding the large console with a lever that was similar to an older ship's power supply that you and Hobie were flying in before you two upgraded to the crimson spider. The bright blue fuel inside the cannisters shimmers in the light, still full as if someone just refueled the ship. The power core looks to be unscathed, James would've been thrilled.

“There.” Hobie sighs, “we need to trudge the water.” He curses under his breath, “I remember this type of supply has the initial surge of power before levelin’ out. We need a rope to tie it around the lever and pull once we're out of the water. Or we'll turn into fish and chips.”

“I fucking hate this, god.” Ned groans but is already coming down the slippery stairs. “Watch your step.”

Hobie lets you go first, ax in hand and takes one last look around before following you. The doors close behind him as the heavy water parts before you. It's cold over your suit, a kind of biting cold that shivers through your spine. Not even the thermal lining in your suit keeps it out.

Hobie sees your uncomfortable posture as you go further into the water until it reaches up to your waist. “Just a few minutes, love, this is nothin' compared to winters back home.”

“Y–yeah,” you shiver. “but this time there's no hot cocoa waiting at the end.”

“We get out of here and I'll drown you in hot cocoa.” Ned tinkers with his console. “Damn it, my screen’s wet.”

“Not a good way to say that you'll drown me while we're wading through waist deep water, Ned—”

The sound of an audio recording suddenly cackles to life, and Harry's voice echoes around the quiet room. “Log 15, I've figured out what attracts it.” He huffs in the recording, and there's some shuffling in the background. But you feel a sudden tugging at your leg, looking down and shining your light on it, you find that one of the metal coils has snagged into your suit. With every pull, it rips into the suit even more. Hobie helps you with his hand pulling at your leg to the opposite side, but with your impatience and nerves, you pull too hard, causing the sharp metal to scratch your skin, leaving a rip on your leg as you bleed into the water.

“Fuck.” You clench your teeth, holding onto Hobie for support from the sudden rush of cold water entering your suit and the ache from the wound.

“We just need to get you out of the water—”

“Blood.” Harry from the recording continues, “fresh ones. I don't know why but it seems to like it. Maybe because it's warm, but I'm no scientist. So if you're bleeding, put a cork in it immediately, if not, run for your life.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, meeting your eyes with Hobie's wide ones. “Hobie—!”

The sudden trilling sound filters through the hallway outside, and its guttural shriek sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck! Go!” He gestures for you and Ned to run in the water, there's no going back where you came from since you're already a quarter away from the lever. You just need to push through.

The water makes waves as you move as fast as you can. Ned gets to the lever first, leaving you and Hobie to wade through it.

Ned points at another exit just to the side of the room with another staircase leading up to it. “Go! I'll tie the rope!”

“Ned, we ain't leavin’ you!” Hobie gets to his side, hands shaking at his oldest friend's shoulder.

“Go! The thing is following Y/N, not me!”

“But—!” You start.

“Just fucking go, captain!” His sad eyes flick over to you. “I can manage myself.”

The doors where you came from bursts open, metal shutters flying down into the freezing water with a splash. “Water!” It roars in its many voices.

“Fuck!” Ned pushes you and Hobie towards the other exit, body shimmying behind the console, hiding himself from view while the creature trudges the waters.

Hobie grabs you by the armpits, half carrying you towards the door while the water splashes all around you.

Body drenched, you two make it towards the door, opening it manually with a strong push. You step out onto the dry floor with Hobie right next to you. Once you turn around to face the being, you take your rifle from your back to aim directly at it. Hobie's hands grip the ax tight as he sees it ignore Ned and heading right towards your form with its large gangly form of stolen limbs.

“Now, love!” He yells as you don't waste time by shooting at it. The rifle didn't take a second to power up completely, once the gun beeps, your ammo hits its chest.

The sound of gunfire reverberates around you, muzzle flash painting the whole room in flashing light.

It staggers forwards, groaning and warbling but it still continues to grasp at you desperately. Hobie readies his ax, raising it above his head while you reload another round of the paralyzing serum. Ned sees a long arm snaking towards your foot, and as you see it headed for you, you snap your eyes towards Ned, who's smiling kindly at you. Mouthing words that you can't quite decipher while his hand is placed around the lever before pulling it down.

“No!” The sudden bright sparks burns your eyes, staggering you backwards as it blinds you for a moment. The beast wails, but you can't hear Ned anymore. Then you see it, the same rainbow of light flitting across your vision. It floats into a circle until it speeds up, as fast as it came, it flickers into a steady circle of light. Blinking it away with tears trapped in your eyes, you find Hobie clutching his eyes right next to you, one hand trying to find you. Meeting him halfway, you squeeze his hand and he falls limp. “I'm okay, Hobie. Are you—?”

“Ned!” He cries out, legs tucked underneath him as he slouches on the floor in a fetal position. “Fuck!” Banging on the floor, he inches his hands towards the fallen ax above him.

“Hobie.” You cry for him, hands tugging at his suit as he stands up. You refuse to look at Ned's floating body in the water. “I'll do it, please sit back down.” You're still trying to blink away the light.

He clenches his jaw, eyes brimming with fire. “no, I'll do it.” Walking towards the long arm that was reaching out to you, it has stopped right at the top of the stairs where it's dry. Looking at Ned as he raises the weapon, he chops it off with a furious yell.

Blood gushes out of it like a fountain of gore, splashing Hobie in streaks of rubies. The hand cuts without much resistance. He drags the large hand that is the size of your torso, the skin is burnt and almost charred as welts pop on its skin, he drops it to the side as he falls on his knees, catching him before he gets hurt. You gather him on your lap for a moment, fingers digging to your side but not for a second longer as the creature seizes up, slowly waking up.

Hobie moves away, eyes turned towards the hand. “We need to move.” You stand up first, reaching out for a helping hand. He looks up at you with tears clinging onto his lashes. “Love?” He asks as he takes your hand.

“Y–yeah?” You sniff away the tears.

“We should've left.”

“We can leave now, Hobie.” Lifting him up, you place your helmet upon his own. Closing your eyes for a second before pulling away. “C’mon, let's go home.”

—

You two make your way out wordlessly. The rifle in your hands weighs heavier, the wound on your leg has stopped bleeding, but the ache persists. Hobie walks next to you with the bloody ax swinging on his hip. The large hand he's carrying makes him smaller under the now whirring lights of the ship.

Ned did it, he opened the power back on the entire ship. You can now open the previous restricted doors. Add that with the hand, there's probably at least one finger in there that has the admin clearance to open either the escape pods or the panic room.

“Love.” Hobie's boots squeak as he stops. You follow his line of sight with your tired eyes. “Where to?”

You have found yourself at a crossroads, a fork in the road with two converging hallways leading to different outcomes. Which one will it be? Your choice determines your fate and Hobie's.

The creature roars behind you. Calling you by your name.

The Escape Pods.

The Panic Room.

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A/N: please consider reblogging if you liked this! ❤️❤️❤️

[sirenpearldust]

Winter

Pair: Azriel x reader (platonic)

Word count: 997

Warnings: Angst, death, funeral

It snowed.

The streets were empty as the young man wandered aimlessly through the night, his breath visible in the frosty air. 

He had no destination, no purpose - just the need to escape, to lose himself in the stillness of the empty streets.

His nose was red and running, a casualty of the biting chill.

He pulled his jacket tighter against the cold that seeped into his bones.

Above, the city sky was void of stars, the only light coming from the faintly flickering street lamps, their glow weak and on the verge of dying. 

He remembered how she used to complain about them back in their school days, saying they were useless when she walked home. 

Years had passed, but the city still hadn’t changed their lightbulbs. He smiled sadly, memories of her still hurt him.

Maybe it was just meant to be.

Maybe Azriel was destined to endure nightmare after nightmare, trapped in a relentless cycle of darkness.

He had forgotten about her and now she was gone.

• •

He hadn’t checked on her in a while, too caught up in his own world.

She had always warned him, told him it was a possibility - but he never thought it would come to this.

The last time they shared a coffee, she had confessed it quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of the cup. She was lonely, she said, and needed him, her closest friend.

Both had relied on each other, their friendship kept them alive through the chaos of school and home. 

But after graduation, their paths crossed less and less, month by month, until the phone stopped ringing altogether.

Until he got too busy, and she kept waiting, for a text, for a call, for something. 

But it never came.

The day they met up, she told him how sad it made her that he never reached out first.

She thanked him and they started reminiscing about old times, sharing how their lives had changed.

He told her about the girl he was interested in.

She listened, nodding, though her eyes seemed to drift somewhere far away.

She told him how living with her parents was draining, how their abusive they still were and how numb she felt. 

Nothing about her life had really changed. 

She felt guilty for burdening him with it, but the words slipped out anyway.

He talked about his own life, how everything was going so well for him.

She was happy for him and smiled brightly.

For a moment, Azriel forgot everything else around him, as he watched her face brighten up.

It made him feel like a young boy and all warm again.

She looked cute as she drank her tea.

But what he didn’t notice were her eyes, empty, lifeless - dead. 

The sparkle that used to draw people in, was gone.

• •

Two days went by, she waited.

The phone pinged, he remembered.

She smiled, he held his promise and everything felt fine again.

She called him and he answered.

They talked for three hours.

He missed talking to her, how easy everything felt.

She missed feeling so alive, how free she felt.

It was the last conversation they would share.

• •

She wrote and called him.

He didn’t answer.

She cried, lying broken in her bed, as the tears rolled down the side of her face. 

He had promised he would be there this time and help her.

Days turned into weeks and the distance between them stretched further.

• •

It snowed the day she called.

He picked up the phone, smiling softly as he watched the snowflakes fall.

It was her younger sister.

He checked his phone display.

The profile picture stared right back at him, it was her number.

He asked her confused why she was using her sister‘s phone.

Silence followed, until a sob broke through the quiet.

“She died,“ her sister whispered.

He chuckled, thinking it was a joke, asking her if they weren’t to old for pranks.

But her sobs wouldn’t stop, each one raw and desperate, as the reality for him slowly settled in for him.

She was gone.

His phone lit up with notifications, one after another.

Texts from friends, all sharing the same news.

He was one of the few that had gotten a call.

• •

The funeral was held two days later.

Her family insisted she be buried in her home country, her final wish.

She was buried in a cemetery near the mountains, where the snow laid like a blanket over the graves all winter. In the spring, however, life broke through, as the flowers grew beautifully around the graves.

One letter was left behind and read aloud at the funeral.

It was all too heavy for him, to hear how unloved and unneeded she felt.

She no longer wanted to be a burden. 

She apologised, asking for forgiveness from God and from those she had left behind.

• •

The way to the hotel afterwards felt endless, the weight of the day still pressing down on him.

Her family had returned to their home they had kept here, the place where she had spent every summer, the place she had once talked about bringing him.

He lay down on the bed, the room cold and silent, the snow falling outside.

He couldn’t sleep, every time he closed his eyes he saw her.

He would never see her again in this life.

He couldn’t help but feel at fault, he should have never broken his promise.

He read their texts over and over again, went through every conversation they had, replayed every moment together. He missed her more and more, with every second.

Loving her was easy. 

Why did he distance himself?

He should have listened better. She had told him years ago that death was inevitable, especially for her.

She had known she would die young, a truth she had accepted long before. 

Wether by her own hand or God’s grace and now he was left with the crushing reality.

Main Taglist: @bubybubsters @fieldofdaisiies

[gingernut1314]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Buggy the clown annoys you. More than annoys you. It's been that way ever since you were both little and as a bounty hunter, it made all the sense in the world to dislike him. When you are captured by the Marines for crimes you had been trying to outrun for years, you find him locked up right alongside you and just as annoying as ever. But when the chance for escape presents itself, it comes with strings attached. Strings that test the very natural order between the hunter and the hunted--an order Buggy seems to have no regard for.

Topics: angst, smut (p in v), canon typical violence, enemies to lovers

Word Count: 5.3K

Commissioned by: @katelynwithpaint (Thank you for commissioning me, it was so much fun to write! ❤️ ❤️)

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You were thrown into the dank brig of a marine vessel, the force of the action enough to send you falling to the ground, your bound hands barking in pain as you tried to keep yourself upright. 

The two marines who had been commanded to bring you down here spat filthy insults your way. Insults you should have brushed off and forgotten about, but you have never been good at taking such things. Had always let them get under your skin--get you angry and upset. 

Snapping your head around, teeth bared in a nasty snarl, you watched the door slam shut behind you.

“You fucking spoon-fed idiots!” You hissed up at the two marines who had been ready to leave before you had spoken. “You know nothing of--” The taller one slammed his fist against the bars of your prison, causing a loud bang to ring through the metal walls. 

You hardly flinched. Hardly bat an eye. You’d dealt with some of the most terrifying big bads the East Blue had to offer. Big bads who thrived off chaos and ate babies for breakfast. These two goody-two-shoes marines would never in their wildest dreams live up to those creatures. Never utterly terrify you. 

“We know everything about you. We know of your failed run as a bounty hunter. We know you killed a respected and loved member of our community--you are a criminal. Nothing but a no-good pirate.” He shot down at you in an air of superiority. Like you were nothing but the dirt under his shoes. 

A criminal. A no-good pirate. Those few words were worse than any insult one could possibly conjure and spit at you. Worse than physically getting slapped in the face. 

You were by no means a good person, but a criminal--you were far from being a criminal. Not in the same sense as those you’d hunted down. Those who had done true evil in this world. Who had hurt innocent people--children. 

Criminals like their respected and loved community members. A, now-dead, marine commodore. A commodore who had gone too far in life without getting punished for his crimes. 

Crimes you punished him for. 

A crackling laugh filled the air before you could spit any sort of slights their way. A laugh that started off low, like a chuckling at oneself, but gradually grew into a wicked, bellowing thing. 

It was a laugh you were all too familiar with. One you had first heard as a fresh, new bounty hunter following your former master on her journey to take down Silvers Rayleigh, fearsome first mate of the soon-to-be King of the Pirates. 

Your master had been killed not long into the fight, but you had been too busy fighting off a red-nosed boy around your age to notice. You two had beaten the absolute shit out of each other, and would have continued till only one of you left victorious, but Rayleigh had stepped in, stopping you two before that could happen. He had spared you, despite your hot-headed vows of revenge.

You had thought all too much about that red-nosed boy as you continued across the East Blue. Thought about how he had been just as passionate and confident in his mentor’s skills--in his own skills--as you were. How he had been just as reckless and rash as you.

It wasn’t for another five years before you saw him again, still sailing around with your master’s killer, though you had given up on that revenge long before then. 

You had at this point in time found three other like-minded bounty hunters whom you joined up with. Hunters who had been tracking down a pirate unrelated to the boy you had battled with, though who just so happened to be celebrating some sort of victory on the same island. 

You two almost went head to head once more, had it not been for his calm and collected red-headed friend. A friend who had scared the shit out of you, despite his cool nature, so your fight ended swiftly and you left. 

More years passed and the more you ran into the clown. Each time you two found some way to fight--whether it be physical or verbal. A few times that red-headed friend was with him to help break it up, and other times you both were thrown out of whatever bar you had been in. 

You ran into him once more in some backwater bar, sitting alone and nursing a large pint of beer. He smirked your way when he spotted you and, to your surprise, bought you a drink. A drink you took reluctantly, waiting for the moment you would have to defend yourself against him. But instead, he merely talked to you. Told you how his captain had dissolved his crew, leaving him adrift. 

And there was hurt in his eyes. A sense of abandonment that had you carefully telling him of what had been happening in your own shit-filled life. Of a marine whose name you had just recently crossed off your list. How you had finally gotten him after years--gotten revenge for the lives he had taken from you in your youth. 

He’d laughed in something kin to understanding, insisting on buying you another drink to which you declined and went on your way. 

The last time you came across that laugh, you had just been left for dead by your so-called comrades--friends. Left to be found by the very marines you had crossed when you stumbled into a seemingly deserted town. A town you quickly found was overrun with freakish pirates. Freakish pirates who had managed to kidnap you in your weakened state and drag you into an equally freakish circus tent. 

The boy had grown up, just as you had. Had grown up to be captain of this band of freaks. One who had chained the poor people of that town up and used them for his own, sick entertainment. 

But when you saw him, that laugh sounding in your ears, you were reminded of just how much you thought of it. How many of your dreams had been haunted by it’s ring. Of how you, for whatever reason, held a sick sense of respect for him. And his eyes--they were all too bright looking upon you. All too seeing. 

After dramatically introducing you to his crew and captives, he had you dragged off into a back room where you were once more surprised when his freaks cleaned your wounds and gave you some water to drink. 

It was all very strange. It went against the very natural order of the world. The order between the hunter and the hunted. 

It had freaked you out all so much, you escaped before you had to face that haunting laugh and its owner. 

But here it was again, spilling from the red-painted lips of Buggy the clown, captain of the Buggy pirates, locked away in this all too wet marine brig pulling haunting ghosts from your past into the forefront of your mind. 

You kept your eyes trained on the two marines before you, watching them like a hawk. Watching for a slip-up. Something--anything that would help you in this situation. Something that would keep your eyes off the crazed clown and his grating laugh.

“If she’s a pirate, then that would make me one you shithead.” His gruff voice joked. The two marines shared a look between them. One that almost looked to have uneasy undertones to it. 

“You have no right interfering in marine business.” The second shot towards the cell just next to yours, only resulting in more insane laughter filling the air. The first marine just shook his head in growing annoyance. 

“Come on. He’s all locked up. That big-nosed freak can’t do a thing.” The laughter cut off sharply. 

“What did you just as say?” Buggy asked, his tone becoming all that much more serious. That more threatening--dangerous. The Marines bore shit-eating grins, obviously finding his growing pissed-off nature amusing. 

“You know, I never liked clowns. Freaky little fuckers.” The first said as they began heading for the exit once more. 

“This freaky little fucker is going to cut your nose off and force you to eat it when I get out of here.” This only seemed to tickle the marines further and they left without so much as another word. 

The brig was dead as a tomb for a moment you used to look about the confines of your cell, trying to find any weaknesses or things to make a makeshift weapon with so that you could escape sooner rather than later. Buggy gave an exasperated huffing sigh as your eyes locked onto something in the corner, just by the horrible-looking toilet. 

“Yeesh. Some people just don’t know how to have fun.” You all but ignored him, messing with the bit of scrap metal that had been idioticly left unfixed. “Whatcha got there, peach?” He said, using the nickname he had given you after you threw a peach you had mistaken for a rock at him when you had seen him that second time. He had used it ever since then and it’s continued to annoy you.

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, finally yanking the bit of metal from its last hold on the base of the toilet. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

“That’s no fun.” 

“Since when have you ever thought of me and fun at the same time?” You huffed, working on trying to unlock the cuffs that had been slapped around your wrists. It took you a minute to even get the bit of metal into the small keyhole, and with your hands locked together as they were, you hardly saw yourself free any time soon. 

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you’re plenty fun. I think you do a fantastically fun job playing pirate bounty hunter.” You again ignored him. Tried not to even hear his all-too-chipper voice as you continued to work. “Playing pirate bounty hunter when you can’t even sail a ship. I think it shows your commitment to the part.” 

You finally snapped around to shoot a daggered glare Buggy’s way, whose usual red-painted lips were pulled up in a wide smile. He knelt before the bars separating the two cells, gloved hands clasped together before him. His clown-styled makeup was smudged in a way that told you he must have been here for a few days. You also noted the absence of his hat, which bore his insignia in the center, leaving him in his red and white striped bandana. 

You couldn’t help the small part of you that wished he was wearing it--the small part that thought it suited him all too well. A small part of you that you shoved down deep. 

Seeing him again after god knows how long was always--staggering. It brought back up such ugly feelings of hatred and utter sadness you’d felt after your master's death. Brought back up how surprised you’d been when he offered you a drink. Brought back up that equally as ugly feeling of respect and misplaced understanding. 

Buggy was an actor--a performer. Of course he would play the part he needed to get you to let your guard down--to not beat him into a pulp. 

It was all so aggravating. 

“It’s not some part.” Buggy rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion that only made your frustration coil tighter in your chest. “And I can sail a ship.” Buggy let out a sharp mocking laugh. 

“I seem to remember my freaks telling me of the struggle you had trying to leave that small island I found you on.” 

“I had lost a lot of blood.” You said as if you needed to give him any sort of explanation. As if you needed to keep talking to him. Turning away from this intense green-blue gaze, you went back to work on the cuffs. 

“You know, I was rather upset you left without saying goodbye,” Buggy said in fake hurt. “You didn’t even get to see my grand finale.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” You said in equally mocking tones. 

“I accept your--”

“Fuck off, Buggy. I should have beat your ass while I had the chance. I should have killed you and freed those poor people you terrorized.” Buggy pulled a smirk to his lips. 

“Beat my ass? I seem to remember it was me who kicked your ass last time.” A scoffing huff spilled from your lips. 

“We were ten years old--” 

“Ten in a half.” Buggy quickly corrected like it truly mattered. You shot him a look that said as much. 

“It doesn’t matter. I had no skill back then. No discipline. I would kill you now without ever batting an eye.” That smirk never once left Buggy’s lips, his eyes shining in utter amusement. Eyes that had your gut doing annoying and tiresome little twists. 

“And collect what bounty? Our cheery new friends seem to think you’re nothing but a “no-good pirate” now.” Despite that shot of anger that flared in your chest, you pulled on your own smirking smile. 

“It wouldn’t be for any bounty. It would be for my own amusement.” 

“Peach, if you're trying to flirt with me, it's working.” He all but purred your way. You rolled your eyes and truly went back to unlocking your cuffs. 

No more distractions. No more annoying banter with that clown pirate who grated on your nerves like no other. You couldn’t get caught. Not yet. Not before you got revenge for yourself. Revenge against those who had turned the world against you. “Peach--”

“You truly are horrible.” You snapped, unable to ignore the obvious rise Buggy was trying and successfully getting out of you.

“When I escape and free you,” Buggy started, only for you to cut him off with a scoff.

“You’re delusional.” Buggy rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“When I escape and free you, you’ll have to repay me.” 

“You aren’t freeing me. I can do that just fine on my own.” You snapped.

“Oh, I think I will.” You shot him a glare hoping he would shut up. He, of course, did no such thing. “And after I get us off this ship, I’m thinking you’ll be so overrun with emotion you’ll do something sweet for me.” You shook your head, shoving the bit of metal this way and that within the keyhole. 

“I don’t find your games amusing. I actually find them quite boring.” 

“Now you’re just being mean.” The sudden sound of rusting metal squeaking open pulled your attention away from your work and back onto Buggy. Your jaw all but fell open upon seeing Buggy sauntering out of his cell, his hand popping back onto his wrist, a ring of keys laying there. 

You had watched those Marines. Hadn’t missed a single twitch or breath, so how had you missed Buggy grabbing those keys from around the holder's waist? How had you missed a flying, dismembered hand?

“How--” You watched him unlock your cell door in utter disbelief. Watched as he took the few steps across the way so he was standing in front of you. Watched with a fluttering, tingling belly as he knelt before you, that all too charming smile on his lips. You covered your strange feelings with that of familiar annoyance for him. 

“Peach, I’m gonna let you out, but,” He said, sing-songingly elongating the last word. “I want you on my crew.” That was the last thing you thought you would hear from his lips. It was enough of a shock to squash any and all irritation you held in your chest for the clown.

You two had no like for the other. Every time you saw each other, it was either a fight or a backward attempt to mock and tease the other. You were the hunter and he was the hunted. Why would he ever want you to be near him in such a way? 

You laughed in his face. Laughed wholeheartedly in your unbelieving at his words. Laughed so hard it shook your shoulders. 

“You’re full of it. I despise pirates. I kill your kind for a living.” You snapped at him once you’re laughter subsided. 

“Past living.” You’re disbelief quickly turns back into that of anger. “And you’re perfect.” His words caught you off guard once more. Had you all but freezing up, unable to conquer up your anger.

Perfect. No one had ever uttered such a thing to you. 

It was…strange. You and him--it was all too strange. 

“I collect outcasts, those thrown away by society. Those hurt and betrayed and left to die, bleeding out on some hopeless island.” You felt your eyes suddenly prick in the remainder of your inner wounds. Wounds created by those you had thought were your friends--family. Those who you had loved more than you had ever loved anything in this world. 

Buggy saw all of this with those intent green-blue eyes. He saw this and he understood, despite your many differences. Because he had experienced it too. Had been hurt and left to rot by those he had cared about. 

“My freaks--my crew--don’t turn their backs as easily. I don’t turn my back that easily.” 

An actor--a performer. That’s all he was--all he ever would be…but damn if he wasn’t speaking to your soul. Wasn’t utterly pulling you into those green-blue eyes and that charming smile of his. 

“I--” You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. You should tell him to fuck off. That you would rather stay here and let the Marines drag you off to some prison to be forgotten in. But…but you didn’t say that. Your traitorous heart didn’t let you. “I am no pirate.” You all but whispered. It was a confession rather than a biting hiss.

Buggy smiled, his gloved hand coming up to grab hold of your chin in a grip that was just tight enough to keep you from looking away from him. It was all too much. It felt all too--too right, having the roles switched. Being the frightened sparrow and he the smiling chester cat, ready to snap your neck between his sharp, smiling jaws. 

“Oh, I know.” He whispered back as if it was a secret. “But I think you’ll like it. I think your cage door needs to be unlocked so you can fly free.” Before you could even open your mouth to try and pull together a rambling stream of words, the marine ship shook violently, the sound of cannon fire echoing down into the brig. That wickedly charming smile pulled onto Buggy’s lips. “Right on time.” He pulled his hand from your chin, the absence of his warmth leaving you annoyingly wishing for it back--wishing for more. 

What a strange, strange predicament you were in. What strange, strange emotions. It was all too confusing. Too much.

Buggy dangled the keys in front of your face as the ship was attacked once more. “How about you think on it while I take care of this, peach.” He said, dropping the keys into your lap before standing to his full, towering height. “Though, don’t strain that pretty little head of yours too much.” And with that Buggy left the cold, dank brig. 

You wasted no more time than you had, quickly unlocking the cuffs, which had been rubbing painfully against your skin, and heading in the direction Buggy had disappeared in. 

The next few moments went by in a flash. You getting to the deck and finding Buggy’s freaks had boarded and were mowing down marine after marine, leaving no survivors in their wake. Buggy laughing insanely as he fulfilled the threat he had shot their captor's way. You finding where they had stored your weapons, as well as Buggy’s hat. You killing anyone who got in your way as you found yourself heading for the edge of the ship--found your body had a mind of its own as you jumped, landing on the deck of the circus-themed ship Buggy commanded. 

This was your best and only escape route, you told yourself as you rushed around the ship, trying to find a place you could keep away from the rest of the world so you wouldn’t be found out. That place ended up being the large tent near the back of the ship, washed in shadow and thankfully empty. 

You passed the time by looking around the large area, finding it was very similar to that of the tent Buggy had set up on land all those years ago. 

Finding a pair of stairs, you winded up them, finding a singular chair sitting in the center of the raised platform. A throne, you realized. Buggy’s throne. You traced your fingers over the designs engraved in the wooden seat before sitting down, finding it would be the best place to wait out the fighting and think about your strange predicament. 

“That's my seat.” Buggy’s gruffing voice sounded in your ear a little less than an hour later. It didn’t startle you, his sudden appearance. You had marked his footfalls when he thought he had been sneaking into the tent to do just that. 

“Take it. It’s uncomfortable.” You murmured, pulling yourself from the throne which was, despite your words, rather comfortable. Buggy was much closer than you had originally thought, so close you had to tilt your head up just the slightest bit to look into those green-blue eyes of his. Eyes that never once moved away from your face as he flopped down on his throne, legs spread in some show of dominance. 

“So, tell me peach, what is your answer?” You moved your eyes away from Buggy’s intense stare, looking over his hat which you had taken with you off that marine ship. 

“Why free me?” You questioned, glancing back towards the pirate, whose eyes never seemed to have lifted from your form. 

“Because I’ve been looking for someone to fill the role of knife thrower in my performance. You are good with a blade.” It was a lie. You could tell it was a lie. And it ate at you despite your utter dislike for this pirate. You took a step closer, those green-blue eyes watching your movements. 

“That I am…but tell me something; what makes a pirate buy a drink for a bounty hunter?” You took another, calculated step that the clown marked. He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Why not? Getting you drunk seemed like a fun idea at the time.” He cracked a mischievous smile. “Still does.” You gave a small nod, pausing just before him. “You’re dancing around my question, peach. Maybe that's what I should make you.” 

You leaned forward the slightest bit, his knees brushing against your legs, being as close to him as you were. 

“You let me out of my chains. You dressed my wounds when you could have let me bleed out, and for those things, I owe you my life.” Buggy gave a small nod of his own.

“I feel a but coming.” 

“But I can’t be free yet. Not when those who betrayed me are still breathing.” That smile of his stayed in place, but a seriousness you had never seen before filtered into his eyes. A seriousness that spoke of understanding. Of respect. 

Strange--this was all so strange, things between you and him. Between hunter and the hunted. 

“And then?” He questioned. You moved ever closer, you’re legs fitting between his in a strange sort of puzzle. Buggy watched and allowed you to gently tug his hat back onto his head, his breath tickling your lips.

You thought of the way his hand on your chin felt. How it had all but drove you crazy. How you had wished, no matter how absurd, to have it back there--to have more. 

“Tell me why you saved me.” You spoke softly so that Buggy and Buggy alone could hear. “Why do you want me on your crew? Why, when you should have killed me--when you’ve wanted to kill me ever since we were young?” Buggy’s eyes fluttered down to your lips as they moved. A small action that had that buzzing in your body stirring alive once more. 

“I think you know.” He spoke just as softly in that gruffing voice of his. A voice that had been bouncing around in your brain for longer than you liked to admit. 

“I don’t think I do.” Buggy’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit like he was annoyed at your comment. An annoyance you wanted to drag out of him. You knew he didn’t want to admit it. Knew that he probably had never had to explain himself before. “Because I am still under the impression that I am the hunter ready to collect that sizable bounty on your head.” 

“You think my bounty is sizable?” He smirked, continuing to dance around the topic. 

“Enough to get me a ship that floats and an expensive bottle of wine.” You said in an attempt to get under his skin. You saw that flash of irritation in his eyes that made your own smirk pull to your lips. 

“A ship you couldn’t even sail?” He teased, moving closer so that his lips were mere inches away from your own.

Your mind raced to wonder what they might feel like fitted against yours. How it might feel to have his hands running over your skin--to feel his skin. 

It was all too strange, the things he was able to pull from you. Such strange feelings. 

“You annoy me.” You jabbed his way, your eyes fluttered every so often to those red-painted lips of his. 

If you kissed him, would your lips come away just as red?

“You’re eyes annoy me, your laugh, your voice.” Buggy looked as if he was trying to figure out if your words were supposed to be meant as an insult or some backwards complaint. You wondered this as well. 

“And it annoys me that you understand. Say you understand.” You found yourself saying in a biting manner. The pirate looked over your face, seeming unsure of what to do next. Unsure of what to say even when you had just spelled it out for him. 

His hand reached out and took hold of your chin in his solid grip. A grip that sent your stomach fluttering uncontrollably. “I understand.” Was all he said before he was pulling your lips flush against his own. 

You hardly had control of yourself as you kissed him back in a frenzy, all sense of self-control and reason flying out the window. A kiss fueled by your strange, strange feelings for this clown. Feelings a mix of dislike, annoyance, understanding, and respect. Feelings you’d been harboring deep within yourself for a long, long time. 

His kiss burned through you, had your hands grabbing at his jacket and all but ripping it from his body, feeling over his strong, exposed arms. His skin was warm and felt so nice against your own. Skin you wished to feel covering your whole body. 

Buggy hands moved along your body, pulling you closer. His touch sent your skin on fire. A fire that hat engulfed your entire being, demanding to be satisfied. 

Your hands moved downward, over his equally strong chest and abdomen until they found the edge of his pants, your fingers fumbling to undo his buttons. Buggy mimicked your actions, finding and unfastening the buttons there. 

You pulled away from Buggy long enough to hasten along the process of shoving your pants over and off your legs. A process you had hardly finished before Buggy was grabbing you up once more, claiming your lips in a hot, needy kiss. A kiss that felt more like a fight for dominance. A fight the two of you never could seem to truly finish. 

Buggy’s hands took fist fulls of your ass, guiding you up and onto the throne with him, your knees straddling either side of him. Reaching down between the two of you, your hand disappeared into Buggy’s pants, taking hold of is hardened cock and giving it a few good, teasing pumps. He gave a throaty groan that had that heat shoot through your core, making your pussy throb in just as much need as the rest of your body. 

As quickly as you could, you pulled his cock free from the confines of his pants, hardly waiting before you were descending downward, a sweet little moan spilling from your lips. 

Fuck it was good. It felt so good being connected this way. In a way that was slowly filling that yawning need within you. A need you had been holding at bay for a long time. 

“F-fuck, peach.” Buggy moaned into your mouth, his hands moving to hold onto your hips in a near steel-like grip. A grip that guided you further down so that you were fully seated on top of him. “So fucking good.” 

You moaned your own pleasure as you began to move up and down, slowly at first so that you might feel every last inch he had to offer. A pace that gradually quickened, finding that need within you all but commanding you to do so. Grabbing hold of one of Buggy’s hands, you guided his gloved fingers to find that small bundle of nerves that all but begged for his attention. Silently told him just how you liked it to be touched and, surprisingly, he was a quick learner. 

It was good. Almost too good. Never would you have imagined this happening--you fucking this vastly annoying clown. The very clown you’d fought for years. But then again, this was just another sort of fight. A fight for dominance and submission. A fight you much rather preferred over that of brute force and stabbing words. 

Buggy’s lips left yours only to latch onto the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting in a way that drove you crazy. That sent you quickly spiraling closer and closer over the edge. 

“Oh god--Buggy, I’m--I’m…” His fingers kept circling your clit, bringing you all that much closer to your finish. 

“Come for me, peach. F-fuck--you’re such a sweet little thing.” You moved your face so that you could press your lips against his once more, moan after moan vibrating through your throat. 

So much--too much. It was all so good you’re legs began to turn to jelly. Began to give out under your own weight. Buggy seemed to understand this and pulled away from your clit only so he could grab you up in his strong arms. Arms that held you up as he fuck into you mercilessly.

You spiraled up and up and up until your pussy was clutching around his cock and pure bliss was shooting through you. Buggy’s name flew from your lips as you held onto him for dear life. The pirate gave a few last, grunting thrusts before he was spilling into you. 

Buggy buried his face in your chest, his chest heaving up and down just as your own, both of you fighting to take in the thick air around you. 

The tent was filled with nothing but the sound of your mixing breaths for a long moment. A moment you took the time to run your hands over any and all exposed skin Buggy had to offer. Warm skin that brought you such strange, strange comfort. 

“And then?” Buggy asked, taking you by surprise. It was the same question he had asked you only moments ago. A question of what you would do after you had avenged yourself. You pressed your cheek against the side of his head, your lips brushing over his right ear. 

“Then I will return,” You breathed, feeling Buggy’s body go just that much more still against yours. “And I will be free.”

[luimagines]

Congrats on your 2 year anniversary! As for a request, I really liked your dragon warriors post, could you do one about dragon time? Thanks you!

YES AND YES I WILL I WILL!!!!

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You screamed and cowered in fear as the monsters closed in on you. You had ran away form the group when they were ambushed, not wanting to be caught up on the crossfire.

You regret your decision now.

You curl up into a ball and cover your head as they approach you.

You would have thought things like this would have only been in fairytales- but you were wrong. It's not like you wanted your life to end here though. Why hadn't you gone in a different direction!?

Suddenly, a thunderous roar shakes the very branches from the trees around you- one even falls over you, blocking your view of the no doubt monstrously huge dragon that crushes the monsters underneath its feet as it lands on them. The branch blocks a lot of the view you had but it's not as if you wish to see what was about to happen.

You look away, not wanting to see the carnage the dragon decimates onto those that wanted to harm you.

It doesn't last long.

Time calls for your name, a growl on his lips as he rushes for you, tearing the tree branch off of you with a single arm.

You look up and gasp- seeing him in his half dragon form. There's monster blood on his pants and sleeves but you elect to ignore it. His eyes are sharp and his fangs are bared in a snarl.

He drops to his knees and put his hands on your shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

You shudder. His voice sounds deeper in this form. You had forgotten about that. "I'm... I'm alright... thank you."

The faint smell of pine and musk wafts up to your nose before it's tinted with a stale after scent. It's... a bit off putting. But calming. Time seems to relax a little more, his tail swinging behind him. "Good.... Good... I was worried when you screamed."

"Sorry." You reply out of habit. "I panicked."

Time helps you stand very quickly wrapping his tail around you before you could get very far. "The monsters aren't fully disposed of yet. Stay close."

And stay close you will. It's not like you're strong enough to fight against the pure muscle of his tail to begin with.

Without warning, he picks you up and hoists you onto his back, settling you between his wings before he starts flying. You flinch, holding on tightly for dear life. "Time! A little warning!!"

"Sorry, my dear." He holds you close regardless. "I didn't want to take any chances."

You make the mistake of looking down as he speaks. Not only are you higher than you would have thought- but you see a multitude of monsters swarm the very clearing that Time took off from.

You hug Time tighter and wait until he lands.

He puts you down gently and kisses your forehead. "I'll be back. Stay here, stay low, stay quiet. This'll be over soon."

He growls again, and shifts into his full form in front of you. You'll never get over just how huge he really is- not will ever imagine what it would be like to have those club-like branches sticking out of his back and tail. He looks as if he would have been a woodland creature had his scales been less akin to marble.

He is breathtaking- but terrifying to be next to.

You gulp and sink to the ground, letting the tall grass hide you from the opposing forces against your group.

There are many sounds of monstrous battle - as the boys fight in their dragon forms as well- you know that the monsters don't stand a chance against them. They scream and wail and rage on- with their respective magics ringing through the air around you.

It's thundering in your ribcage- you can't ignore the way you gasp for breath despite your lack of physical activity.

You better start believing in fairytales.

You're in one.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (III)

Chapter 3 : ‘I miss him in the wheeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide’

Hi, everyone!!! Here is another chapter! Break up is rough, angst is everywhere!

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3954

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied   Who told me time would ease me of my pain!   I miss him in the weeping of the rain;   I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side,   And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane;   But last year’s bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.   There are a hundred places where I fear   To go,—so with his memory they brim.   And entering with relief some quiet place   Where never fell his foot or shone his face   I say, “There is no memory of him here!”   And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Collected poems, 1938

You woke up in an empty bed.

Your alarm rang, it was time to get up and go to work. There was no one else on the other side of the mattress, nobody else’s warmth beneath the sheets. There was still Frank’s scent everywhere though, but no item left on his bedside table. You got up, took a shower where his shampoo and bodywash had disappeared, his toothbrush and razor missing by the sink. None of his clothes were left, and the thought suddenly struck you that he couldn’t have packed all of his things in the hour he stayed the previous night. Where had he left anyway? He must have planned everything…

You were so overwhelmed with emotion that you weren’t even sure what you were feeling, in the end. Hurt, anger, loss, shock, denial… God, you couldn’t believe that this was truly happening…

You looked down at your left hand, and your engagement ring was still there, on your finger, where it belonged. None of this was real, it was a mistake, a dream, a prank even… but it couldn’t be real.

How could Frank be gone? And if he was… what on earth was this story of his about a woman he had just met, a woman he barely knew? He was ready to throw away the past six years for a stranger? Was that truly all you meant to him?

This was a mistake, clearly. Frank was making a mistake. Perhaps he was stressed with his job, maybe he was freaking out because of the wedding. Whatever it was, he would realise soon that he was acting on an impulse, out of all logic, and he would come back to his senses. He ought to…

… he ought to, because how could you live without him? You had forgotten how to do it.

Andrew sent a text to Samantha, as he did every morning. He was late, as per usual. He almost tripped on Elwood, while the dog was stretching in the middle of the hallway, rushing as he did to get his coat. He checked in his pockets.

Phone, yes.

Keys, yes.

Wallet, yes.

Glasses were upon his nose, he had his bag thrown over his shoulder with his laptop, a water bottle, a thermos and…

He rolled his eyes, cursed under his breath.

An empty thermos. That’s what he had forgotten to do this morning, prepare himself some coffee or tea. Never mind, Andrew would prepare something at work, he didn’t have the time.

Anyway, the list…

An empty thermos, the article he had brought from work last night, the book of poetry he was currently studying…

He pressed ‘send’ on the screen of his smartphone, spotting a spelling mistake before he could close the app, but he didn’t have time to correct it.

Good morning, love. Hopng for a good day for you. Are you planning on dropping by tonight?

… A notebook, a couple of pencils, a hair tie. Wait, did he have a hair tie? Yes, around his wrist, of course, bloody idiot…

He petted Elwood’s head, told him to be a good boy, and hurried outside.

During his drive, he thought about Samantha, wondered if her meetings had gone well the previous day. She hadn’t sent him a text to tell him she was safely home, but upon receiving no news and no answer to his calls, he had called her friend Jess, who had told him she was indeed home, safe and sound. She was probably just drunk and had gone to bed, forgetting to text him. As long as she was safe, Andrew didn’t really mind, but he had been worried about her. He made a mental note to remind her to text him the next time she went out.

He heaved a sigh, turning up the volume of the music, letting Duke Ellington and John Coltrane fill up the space around him. A sentimental mood started playing, he felt all his muscles relax as the saxophone sang.

His mind wandered with the airy notes, jumping from Sam, to work, to you. He was happy to see you today, to ask about your work at lunchtime. You would probably have thought about your classes during the evening, would have a lot of things to discuss over a salad or a sandwich at noon. He smiled at the thought as he parked his car at Trinity.

He checked the time on his watch before leaving his car. He was late, although he had no meeting nor class to give. But he had hoped to be in his office by nine o’clock, and it was almost nine thirty. Where did these thirty minutes go? God, he really was a terrible time-keeper…

He hurried through the university grounds, left empty by the summer, students enjoying a well-deserved rest. There was still a little bit of dew wetting the grass, making it shine with pearly specs of light. The sky was a mix of blue and cotton-white, as if it pondered for now on whether to give Dublin a sunny day or a rainy one. Andrew paid little attention to those details, hurrying towards his work, his head already busy with all he had to do. He stopped by the cafeteria before heading to his office to prepare himself some coffee, filling up his thermos. He took a sip of the too-warm beverage as he exited the room, walked down a corridor, burning his tongue a little in the process. He cursed under his breath at the feeling.

He heaved a sigh, hurried towards the staircase and climbed all the way up to your shared office, a smile back on his lips as he thought of seeing you. Maybe this day had not started in the best way, but you would greet him in just a moment with your usual enthusiasm, and it would make him feel happy again. He hurried down the corridor leading to the wooden door that sported both of your names, engraved in copper.

When he opened the door, you were there, indeed. You were focused on your computer screen, didn’t seem to notice that Andrew had come in. He smiled at you anyway.

“Morning, Y/N,” he greeted you with warmth, making you finally look up at him.

“Oh… morning, Andrew,” you gave him a polite smile, right before focusing on your screen again.

The gesture was tight-lipped, professional. He frowned at the sight, blinked a couple of times before finally putting his thermos down on his desk and his bag on the ground by the side of his desk.

“You’re alright this morning?” he asked, trying to hide that his question was genuine behind a neutral tone.

“Sure. You?”

“Yeah, yeah… all grand.”

You didn’t look up, merely stared at your screen. He noticed that your eyes were red, that you seemed tired. He wondered if anything wrong had happened for you to act so cold. But then again, you were colleagues, had been for less than a week. Perhaps you were always like that. Now that the excitement of the first days was over, maybe you were just falling back into your normal character, turning professional rather than friendly. And it was alright, of course. You were colleagues. As long as you would both get along fine together, you didn’t need to be anything more.

Still, Andrew couldn’t refrain the feeling of disappointment that washed over him.

You remained quiet for the rest of the morning, and so did he. He was focused on his work, you were struggling to keep your eyes away from your phone, glancing regularly at the device propped on your desk, right by your side.

When it was finally time for lunch, Colm came knocking on the door of your office, without waiting for an invitation to come in.

“Well, hello, busy bees! Time to eat! I’m starved!” he proclaimed, making Andrew chuckle as he got up.

You didn’t move from your seat, merely granted Colm another one of your polite smiles.

“Erm… you’re eating with us, Y/N?” Andrew offered, putting on his jacket.

“Thanks for offering! But I’m really not hungry today.”

“You’re sick?” Colm asked, crossing his arms before his chest. “I know it’s your first week, but if you’re sick you can just go home. No need to act all brave and tough just to gain points towards… nobody, really.”

“No, no… it’s not that at all. I’m not sick, just… not hungry.”

“As you wish…” Colm shrugged, turning towards Andrew, who didn’t seem convinced by your explanation at all.

“Come on, Treebeard! I’m starving!”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Andrew asked you, ignoring Colm for a moment.

But you nodded, the same neutral smile on your lips. You seemed sad, upset even.

“Sure, I’m alright.”

Andrew nodded, giving up. He was a mere colleague to you, after all. He wasn’t your friend, surely something was wrong but it was perfectly normal for you not to want to discuss it with him. Still, he forced himself to walk out of the room, guilt tugging at his heart.

Andrew ended up eating with several colleagues, and he had a nice time. He checked his phone, but Sam had not replied to his text yet. He started making assumptions, worrying about her all over again. He admonished himself for being such a worrier, for not being able to let go. She had had too much to drink, she was probably dealing with a hangover, nothing more, nothing to worry about… Besides, how hypocritical of him it would be to get angry because she wasn’t answering right away, when he was terrible at managing texts and emails himself. He too often forgot about a text he had left on read, being busy when he received it, only to remember to reply days later. He didn’t do that for Sam, though…

He walked back up the stairs with Colm and Ronan, who worked at the IT department and turned left instead of right to go back to his own office. A nice guy, commented Colm, they ought to hang out with him more often. Besides, it was always a good idea to have someone good with computers close by. The remark made Andrew chuckle, while he let Colm reach his own office. Andrew was alone again as he opened the wooden door of your shared working space.

He was quiet as the door slid open, and you weren’t. Over the noise of your own conversation you were having over the phone, you didn’t notice as Andrew was walking in, closing the door behind him. You were facing the window behind your desk.

“Frank… you can’t be serious about this.”

Frank. Andrew recognised the name. He was your partner. Perhaps the two of you had a row…

He was taking off his jacket already, but stopped before he would finish his movement. Perhaps he should just tiptoe out of the office. You didn’t seem to have noticed him, and this was clearly a personal conversation that he had no business hearing.

“What do you mean you’ve taken your decision?! Have you taken a minute to actually think?! We’ve spent six years together! Yes! No! Yes, you’re right, I’m not accepting your ‘decision’, because it makes no fucking sense! Look… just… let’s meet up tomorrow, and discuss things, okay? Are you chickening out because of the wedding?”

Andrew silently slid his jacket back on his shoulders, pulled his hair from under the collar, and slowly walked back towards the door.

“Frank, this is ridiculous… it makes no sense…”

Your voice broke, Andrew ached at the pain it was revealing.

“No, I don’t want to!”

Andrew had almost reached the door when the tiles under his feet cracked, and you spun around in a jolt. He gave you an apologetic smile, but remained frozen under your stare.

“Frank, I’ve got to go, babe. Just… please, think about what you’re doing, okay? And we need to discuss this properly, face to face.”

Your face fell, he saw that you were about to cry, before you pulled your phone away from your ear, stared at the screen with a blank stare.

“Y/N? You’re alright?” Andrew asked, staring at you, at how distressed you looked.

You blinked up at him, put your phone down on your desk. And then you shook your head, covered your mouth with your hand, and started crying. Or sobbing, rather. Andrew stared for a second with round eyes, not knowing what to do.

His first reaction was to hold you, and so he took a couple of steps towards you, but then he remembered that you were colleagues, that you barely knew each other, that it would be inappropriate for him to touch you in any way. So, he stopped abruptly, stared at you some more.

“Y/N?”

You stared at each other for a moment, while your sobbing got worse, and Andrew was thinking of what he should do. But then, you were the one to circle your desk, and basically let yourself fall into his arms. He caught you easily, held you in a tight hug.

“Hey… what’s going on? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” he asked, making his voice even softer than it usually was, rubbing soothingly your back.

You were shaking in his arms, holding on his jacket like your life depended on it.

“Frank is breaking…up… up with me,” you explained, your cries making you stutter, choking on your breathing.

Andrew clenched his jaw, held you a little tighter.

“God… I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s just… out of nowhere… we’re engaged! He says… he says he’s met someone else… but he… he doesn’t know her! They met… like… just a few weeks ago… who does that?!”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know…”

“What am I going to do now?”

He let you cry for a few more minutes, supporting your weight as your legs seemed too weak to fully carry you, rubbing soothing circles into your back, your head buried in his chest.

“Why don’t you go home, Y/N? Huh? You should go home, get some rest.”

But you shook your head, suddenly breaking free from his embrace.

“No, no… I need to work…”

“You’re not going to get anything done, anyway. It’s alright. Just… go home. Go home, and rest. You’ll come back on Monday morning, once you’ve sorted this out.”

You blinked up at him, dried your cheeks on your sleeves.

“I’m sorry…”

“There’s no need to apologise. Just go home, get some rest. You’re upset, being here will do nothing to make you feel better. We don’t have classes yet, you can work at home if you want to.”

You nodded, but sat back at your computer all the same.

“I’ll leave early.”

“Alright.”

“It’s… It’s better if I don’t think about this, anyway.”

“I understand…”

“I… I’m sorry I hugged you like that…”

“No need to apologise. It’s fine. You’re upset, it’s okay.”

“I… I’m sorry if I’m a little off today…”

“Y/N… I reckon that it’s normal for you to ‘be off’ today. I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, in fact… I was about to walk out again, like… erm… but you heard me before I could…”

“You could have knocked.”

“It’s my office.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“Yeah, right… it’s okay…”

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

But you shook your head.

“It’s better if I focus on something else. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to be bothered with my personal life.”

He nodded, not saying anything else while he took off his jacket, threw it on the back of his chair and sat down behind his desk.

When he looked up at you, you were still crying, although you were doing so in silence, drying your eyes and cheeks quickly, in an attempt to hide it.

Andrew wanted to hold you again, until you would stop crying for real.

Elwood wasn’t supposed to climb on the couch, but Andrew had such a soft spot for his dog that this rule had been neglected for a long time. Instead, he let his dog lie by his side on the sofa while he watched tv, a beer in his hand, Elwood’s head lying on his laps in search for infinite scratches. And Andrew was happy to comply and offer all the petting his dog desired.

Stallone was suffering of post-traumatic stress on screen, hiding near a village after coming back from war with nothing, but Andrew wasn’t really paying attention to Rambo’s pain. Instead, he let his mind wander off to other places, to worries and lists of things to do. He thought of you, hoped that you would be fine, that you would sort things out with the man you loved. He thought about the article he needed to read the next day, the poems he wanted to select and discuss in his class about Yeats. He thought about the notebook that sat in his office at home, that had remained closed for the past few months, how he couldn’t find any reason to write these days, how he missed being able to produce poetry. It used to quieten his busy head for a while, he grieved for the easy cure, the temporary emotional relief creating provided for him. But then again, things were a little off with Sam these days. He could feel her drifting away sometimes, didn’t feel that they were as close as they used to. They would overcome it, of course, they always did. But what worried him most was that he didn’t know the reason behind it. Especially the past few weeks. She didn’t seem to make much efforts to be with him, to show interest in him. He wasn’t sure if it came from outside, may it be work or family, or if it came from inside their relationship. Perhaps he wasn’t paying enough attention, perhaps he had said something without realising it could be hurtful to her…

Anyway, they were drifting apart, and Andrew couldn’t write. He hadn’t written a single poem in two months, the longest time he had spent not writing at all since his teenage years. He felt kind of lost without that routine, the anchor it provided.

Sam had not answered to his texts today, he was worried. He knew she was alright, he had asked her friend again this afternoon, and Sam had been to work as per usual. It wasn’t like her to simply ghost him, though, that was new.

He would have been lying had he pretended that it didn’t make him angry. He didn’t reckon that he was being too much, crossing boundaries or anything of the kind by asking her to reply, when he just wanted to make sure she was alright. He clenched his jaw at the thought, tried not to let anger win, but he couldn’t help it. She was always complaining about his lack of communication skills, but she was pulling stunts like this? Andrew was far from perfect in that area, he knew it, he tried to make efforts about it, but he had never ghosted her for an entire day.

There was something wrong, and Andrew dreaded to find out what it could be.

Andrew jumped when he heard a knock on the door. Elwood felt his sudden rush of fear, barked in response.

“Shh, it’s alright, boy,” Andrew petted Elwood’s head before standing and walking to the door.

His eyes grew round in surprise as he found Sam on his doorstep.

“Babe? What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight…”

“I… I wanted to see you.”

His heart grew warm at her words, but he was still angry because of her silence. He let her in anyway.

“You’re alright? You didn’t answer me at all since yesterday morning,” Andrew said, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry… I was just… busy…”

“What’s wrong? You seem upset?”

“Long day…”

She walked to the kitchen, paid no mind to Elwood as he watched her pass by, sniffed at her jeans, before heading back towards Andrew. The dog followed him around as he walked to the kitchen as well.

Andrew internally debated whether he should start a fight or not, about her silence, about the unanswered texts, about the fact that he was worried sick…

“How was your day, Andy?”

A simple question, Andrew was surprised to be stunned by it. It was a perfectly normal question, one he asked her every day, one she used to ask him. But then, he realised he was surprised because she had stopped asking about his day years ago…

“Erm… fine,” he answered, blinking at her, pushing his resentment to the side for a moment.

He looked at her fidgeting with his kettle, with a mug she had taken from the cabinet above her head. She seemed nervous, distressed even. Perhaps she was summoning up the courage to talk about whatever was bothering her. So, Andrew answered, instead of arguing.

“I… My day was fine. Got a lot of work done, ate with Colm and Ronan, which was nice. I’ve started narrowing down my list of poems I want to talk about for this new class about Yeats I’ll be teaching this year, made some historical research for it too. I’m worried about Y/N, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… her fiancé broke up with her last night. She’s devastated.”

He saw how Sam tensed at his words, turned her head slightly in his direction.

“Really?”

“Hmm… they had been together for several years, were engaged and everything. She was upset, like… really upset. I hope they can fix things, she seems to love him a lot. And apparently, it was very sudden too. Which only made things worse. She truly didn’t see it coming. God, can you imagine? Your long-time partner just… dropping a bomb on you like that? Without any warning? She didn’t want to talk about it, I don’t know exactly what happened, but… something so unexpected like that….”

He saw Sam struggling to swallow, saw the fear and the hesitation in her eyes, even though she wasn’t looking at him. He walked over to her, folded his long arms around waist, pressing her back to his chest, kissed her head.

“Anyway, how are you? Are you okay, baby? Why didn’t you tell me you were home last night, I was worried sick…”

“I’m sorry, I just… I’m a little off today.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What happened?”

She hesitated, but then she shook her head, and he could tell that she was changing her answer, that she was hiding something from him.

“Just…” she stopped, stared at the empty mug in front of her. “Do you think that could happen to us?”

“What?”

“What happened to your colleague… do you think that could happen to us?”

Andrew’s heart started pounding, but he didn’t show it. He didn’t show the panic rising in his chest at the thought, he merely tightened protectively his hold on her instead.

“Of course, not. We’ve always been through every issue we’ve had, every row, every hard time. We’ll be fine, babe. We’re always fine.”

She didn’t relax per say, but Sam heaved a sigh, shook her head, turned in his arms to hug Andrew tight.

“You’re right. That’s silly…”

“Babe, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

But she shook her head, closing her eyes as she buried her face in his t-shirt.

“Nothing. Nothing important. I’m sorry I was so off today.”

“I love you, Sam.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but seemed to change her mind right before speaking. “I know, Andy. I know.”

[softsan]

˚ 🥀⊹ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄. (𝐩𝐭.𝟒)

✉️ ・ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬: | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

✉️ ・ ── 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 | 𝐲/𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

✉️ ・ ── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Mafia AU, Angst, Kingpin!Taeyong, Queenpin!Y/N, Fem!Reader, Childhood friends, Betrayal, Enemies to lovers, Eventual Smut. ✉️ ・ ── 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:  You were the only surviving heir of the old-time Mafia kingpin that had ruled the four territories. You were long thought to be dead, living the normal life you had always wanted...Until you run into a Taeyong, a formidable ghost from your past. You are then thrown back into the Mafia underbelly, reuniting with enemies you had hoped had forgotten you. Will you run away? Will you stand beside Taeyong, kingpin of the North, and be his queen? Or will you take your rightful revenge.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Possessive Themes, Future Explicit Sexual Content, Murder, Kidnapping, Strangulation, Torture, Weapons, Graphic Violence, Heavy Angst, Explicit Language, Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Drugs, Betrayal, Morally Grey Characters.

✉️ ・ ── 𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Past.

A dream. This must all be a dream.

An older man sporting a beard took a seat beside your hospital bed. His forehead was creased, his knuckles white from holding onto the chair’s arms too tightly.

You let out a sudden gasp, your eyes bursting open. Your pupils beaded around the room in an attempt to establish your surroundings.

Where am I? Your cracked lips, slightly parting.

“Don’t try to speak,” The bearded man stood up immediately, “You're okay,” He reached for your bruised hand to offer you some comfort.  

You flinched, your face twisting with fright.

The bearded man hastily retracted his hand, the creases on his forehead increasing, “Please don’t be startled. We won’t hurt you.” He pointed to himself, and the young girl seated across from you, “I promise.”

You didn’t believe in promises. Not anymore. Nonetheless, you studied the young girl who was sitting cross-legged. She appeared to be a couple of years younger than you. She was softly humming, preoccupied with what looked like a miniature electrical motor. She had disassembled the metal parts and was bending and shaping the wires with a pair of eyebrow tweezers. The lack of attention she heeded towards you, made you feel a little better.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, honey,” The bearded man told his daughter, noting your interest.

“Yebin,” She mumbled, sparing you a short glance.

“We were the ones that found you,” The bearded man continued, “We were the ones to bring you to the hospital," He gave a short pause, "Do you remember?”

You didn’t. You tried to shake your head from side to side, however, you were prevented by a searing pain that ran down your neck.

The barbed wire. Your weak wrist lifted your trembling hand, to the base of your neck. It was wrapped in bandages and supported by a brace.

“This isn’t a dream,” Your voice came out dry and coarse.

The man’s eyes lowered, and his brow knitted together.

“No this isn’t a dream, dear.” He eventually replied.

Your home. Your family.

Your eyes began to water, you closed them to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks.

Everything you had ever loved was now gone. 

Present.

His arm loosely rested over yours. He slept soundlessly beside you, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. You banished the urge to stroke down his nose.

His features were sharper, his cheekbones more pronounced than you remembered.

Taeyong’s phone vibrated from his shirt pocket. He grumbled, vexed to be awoken from his peaceful slumber. He yawned, slowly opening his eyes.

Your eyes locked onto his, his gaze softening at the sight of you.  

He bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. He never imagined he would one day wake up to such a cherished sight.

“Your phone is ringing.” You finally commented, breaking the silence.

Taeyong sighed, digging for his phone, and placing it against his ear.

You watched his expression change. Something had gone very wrong.

“I’ll be there.” He gritted through his teeth.

Never in a million years would he foresee something like this occurring. He hung up the phone, gently untangling his limbs from yours.

“I have to go.” He said regrettably.

You had watched how Taeyong’s face had darkened, you were almost compelled to ask him what had happened. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long to find out.  

“There’s an incident on the grounds, an intruder…” He mumbled, sitting upright, “I should be back soon.” He looked for his shoes.

What he had left out was that the intruder had been shot and was now bleeding out. Mark was now at the scene trying to calm a hysterical Haechan who had tried to shield the intruder from the firing guards.

He’s leaving? Your mind was spinning, it would be the first time in days since he’d left you alone. If you had any chance at an escape, it had to be now.

“Can I take a shower?” You quickly pipped, noticing how he had picked up the restraints he’d previously used to tie you up.

Taeyong paused, a hint of suspicion behind his gaze.

“Please,” You sat up, “I’ll just use your bathroom.” You pointed to the connecting ensuite.

“You won’t try anything stupid?”

“I won’t.” You battered your eyelashes.

“There are guards just outside your door.” He warned, “I’ve also installed bars on the windows and barricaded the balcony.”

You didn’t respond.  

He finally nodded, “There are some towels in the cupboard. I’ll be only gone for a little bit.”

He hesitantly left you, his face trained on you as he closed the door behind him.

You let out a sigh of relief, hopping off the bed immediately.

You cast around Taeyong’s room, double-checking the windows. Alas, Taeyong was right, he had indeed blocked off any possible exit. You began foraging on shelves and looking through drawers. You were searching for anything that could aid you, something that could at least offer you some kind of leverage.

You entered Taeyong's bathroom. It was spotless, from the polished marble tiles to the neatly organized toiletries. If you could perhaps get your hands on a weapon? Could you possibly get Taeyong in a vulnerable position and negotiate your freedom?

In desperation, your eyes circled the mirror. You inwardly groaned, disliking the idea that came to mind.

Nonetheless, you decided to follow through. You turned on the knob for the shower. Steam gushed into the air, as water droplets sprayed onto your arms. You hoped the running water would drown out the sound of what you planned to do next.  

You reached for a relatively full bottle of shampoo and a hand towel, wrapping the towel around your knuckles.

As hard as you can. You demanded yourself, smashing the shampoo bottle in the bottom corner of the bathroom’s mirror. Your hand protested, a striking hot jolt running down your wrists. Your hands were still in bad shape from your last failed getaway.

After some hard jabs, a crack lacerated up the mirror’s surface. You continued until you were able to snap off a jagged piece.

“I’ve done it.” You commented in disbelief, “I’ve actually done it.”

You looked back at the cracked mirror. A pair of dreadful eyes leering from behind you. Your blood ran cold.  

“Y/N” The stranger almost sang your name.

Past.

“What’s this old thing?” Johnny twirled around a raggedy handbook.

Johnny let out a squawk. Taeyong had not so graciously pushed Johnny off his stool, snatching back his book.

Johnny scrambled back to his feet, exchanging bewildered looks with their retrieval specialist Jaehyun.

“What’s inside?”

“None of your business.” Taeyong dusted the cover, carefully tucking it inside his suit jacket.

“Now I’m even more curious,” Johnny whined. “Let us have a look!”

Taeyong waved a hand to dismiss them both.

“Let’s go, he’s clearly not in the mood,” Jaehyun clapped his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, directing a protesting Johnny towards the door.  

Taeyong waited for the both of them to be out of sight before carefully bringing out the handbook again.

Y/N. Sadness reflected in his eyes as he traced where you had etched your name. This raggedy handbook had once belonged to you. You had used it almost as a scrapbook during the last summer of your life.

He flipped the first page, his lips curving into a crestfallen smile. It was all he had left of you. The years after your passing had been long and tiresome. He could feel the only good memories he possessed begin to fade with time and he feared he’d one day come to forget you.  

On the first page was a polaroid of you with a stray cat. One that had snuck over the back wall and into the gardens. You held the cat with a childlike delight as it nestled closer to your chest. You had named it Tyong—after him.

The next page was cut-outs from magazines, a bucket list of things you wanted to do, and places you wanted to go. He chuckled at the roughly cut image of a famous beach. You had always wanted to see that sea and sand. You had even made him promise that he’d one day take you to one and the two of you would build a sandcastle together.

Taeyong halted on the third page. His lip quivered.

It contained three polaroids of you and him.

The first one was of you poking his cheeks and encouraging him to smile for the camera. The second one was of his half-attempt at a smile, while you laughed at the awkwardness of his expression. The last one was of you and him, your arm around his shoulder and a grin on your face that reached your eyes.  

He brushed his finger over the final photograph of you.

He’d never admit how much he missed you.

Your smile.

Your laugh.

Everything about you...

There just wasn’t anyone else in this world that could be compared to you in his eyes.

Present.

“It’s really you.” The stranger grasped onto your arm. You tried to shake him off, but his birdlike grip only tightened, his fingernails digging into your skin.

“Who are you?” You desperately squirmed.

You felt the mirror burrow into your palm. You winced as the bandages began to stain red.

“You can call me Nait Sabes.” He crudely smirked, “I’m here to help you.”

“Help?” You questioned his absurdity, you didn’t believe it for a second.

The unfamiliar man was dressed in a wrinkled guard’s uniform. He sported a black, leather holster and set of keys which jangled when he moved.

Regardless of the uniform, he certainly wasn’t a guard. You had subtly observed Taeyong’s other guards over time. They were obedient. They were silent figures that lurked in the background. The man before you, however, projected prowess. He stood with confidence, one which was vain and self-assured.

“The precious daughter of the kingpin of the old, the true heir to the four territories.” You disliked the sing-song way he spoke.

“For a dead princess you’re not quite dead, are you?”

You caught the sadist glint behind his stare.

“You must be terribly disappointed,” You were surprised by your own boldness.

“Oh no,” The man tilted his head, smiling, “Things have finally gotten interesting.” He cruelly twisted your hand.

You held back a cry. The shade of mirror embedded deeper into your bandages.

“I see we want to escape.” He nudged his chin towards your hand, “But running from someone like Taeyong, now that would end horribly for you.”

“Let me go.” You helplessly ground your teeth.

“You know, you only really have two options.” His smile grew, exposing his yellow teeth. “Taeyong has hundreds of men at his disposal, do you really think he couldn’t overpower you?”

“What do you suggest then?” You barely managed to murmur.

“Forgive him for all he’s done and live happily ever after,” He gleamed, softening the hold on your hands “Well, at least for a while…”

“A while?”

He laughed, “He’ll grow tired of you and discard you like the rest.”

You lowered your gaze.

“Or you could make your late father proud.” He sang, “You could take your revenge. You can steal all of his riches and obtain all of his power. You could even break his heart as he did yours.”

You shook Nait’s hand off again, this time he let you go.

“I don’t want revenge,” You stated earnestly, “I just want my past to be my past.”

“Naïve, little Y/N.” Nait shook his head, “There’s no letting go of one's past.” He echoed. 

Taeyong hurriedly jogged up the staircase, taking the first left towards his bedroom at the end of the hall. An anxiousness was bubbling, a sickening sensation swirling in his stomach something must have gone horribly wrong. 

I shouldn’t have left her here alone. 

As he approached, he noticed the mutilated bodies of two guards. Their limbs were crushed by the blow of bullets, their wounds leaking a stream of scarlet over the Persian rug. One of the guards had been stripped of his uniform, and his holstered weapon was also stolen. Taeyong’s eyes bulged, sprinting. He furiously punched in the keycode from his bedroom, slamming open the door. 

His head moved frantically, side to side. You were nowhere to be seen. He went deeper noticing the bathroom door closed halfway. The color drained from his face, his chest pounding harder. 

He pushed back the door to be greeted by a scene of red. Blood stained the porcelain tiles, blood painted the basin, and splattered upward towards the cracked mirror.  You lay in the fetal position, your chest heaving for breath. 

Taeyong fell to the ground, scooping you up into his arms. Your skin was cold and clammy to the touch. Blood had mattered your hair, and the lesion from your temple continued to bleed profusely. 

“Y/N?” He called. “Y/N?” He cried, his voice breaking, his body rocking you back and forth.

His shaking hand reached for a towel, pressing it against your wound. He tried to apply pressure, but the towel quickly soaked up the gushing blood. His head rested by yours, whispering reassuring words against your chin. 

You’re going to be all right Y/N. You're going to be all right.

"Stay with me Y/N." He helplessly pled.

NETWORKS: -​

MONI’S NOTE: Here comes part 4 hehe from here on there will be more and more changes from my previous story. I hope you enjoy this new part. Please remember to reblog, like, & comment!

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie, @tyongluvs, @blackswann-53098, @straykidsftnct, @justineasian, @jaehyunpeachyy, @advent-entertainment, @traint0tokyo, @saint-atlas

© softsan - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[withonly-sweetheart]

random ambulance leon x reader puff

hehe inspired from my irl experience, read abt it here!

There’s always been a faint, musty smell to Goodwill that you didn’t quite hate, but didn’t quite love either. It’s a neutral, blank scent, emanating from the books that you scan on the bookshelves.

An old lady hobbles towards you, tilting her head in confusion as you pick out yet another romance novel. Safe to say, you’re a sucker for cheesy love stories.

The girl that’s been hovering around you for some time now finally approaches you, tilting her gold-rimmed sunglasses to the point of her sharp nose as she looks you up and down.

“You look nice,” she comments vaguely.

“Thanks,” you reply. “So do you.”

She eyes the stack of books nestled in your arms against your chest, and strikes up a conversation about them. Surprisingly, despite her initial appearance, she shares your appreciation for novels and gives you good recommendations.

You’re just mustering up the strength to ask for her number, to continue your conversation long after you’re gone from the store when her phone rings.

She mumbles into the phone, a few quick words, before rolling her eyes and stuffing it back into her neon purse. You raise an eyebrow but say nothing, wanting to respect her privacy.

“My dad had another heart attack,” she drones, as if this is a normal occurrence, as tedious as the simple task of drinking water. “Nothing serious.”

“What the fuck?” You stare at her with wide eyes, only eliciting a shrug from her.

“The ambulance is outside,” she says. “Wanna go check on him?”

Still half paralyzed from the shock, you nod, letting her link your arms together as she tugs you into the searing afternoon sun. One hand stays protectively curled around your precious books as the other rubs her palm soothingly.

You realize you still don’t know this girl’s name. But before you can ask, you notice a guy, a few inches taller than you, back facing you standing near the back of the ambulance, conversing with a short, pudgy woman with tears streaming down her face.

“Go ask him what happened,” your friend, at least you assume, urges you, snatching your books from you and nudging you forward.

“Why don’t you?” you retort.

“I don’t want to seem weird,” she replies simply.

You don’t understand that logic, but without questioning it, you approach the guy, realizing that he’s much taller than you had first expected. He seems to be consoling the teary-eyed woman, who looks similar to the girl behind you. Must be her mother.

“What happened?” you ask, waiting for him to finish. The guy straightens at the sound of your voice, and when he turns, you lose the ability to speak.

He’s striking, especially with his face dappled in the shadows, highlighted by the flashing red and blue that dances across his face. His voice is lower than the bar holding you back from jumping on him the moment he speaks.

“The man’s going into cardiac arrest,” he explains. “We’re prepping to take him to the hospital.”

“How fun,” you say absentmindedly, letting the words flow from your dumbass mouth freely. You don’t catch the meaning of your words.

His face turns stony, serious, all business. “Actually, it’s not very fun.”

Your girl seems to have forgotten about her initial fear and comes to stand beside you, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Wait, could I hop in? That’s my dad.”

“I was going to say that I wouldn’t assume that you’re his daughter,” he says, tilting his head towards you before nodding solemnly. Your friend casts you a knowing look before waving, never to be seen again, at least not by your eyes. 

Your books have returned to their original place, where they belong, and the guy keeps casting longing looks at them, so you offer to let him see them.

The way he perks up at the idea is so heartwarming, nearly as sweet as his soft chastises of your opinions, of what he thinks each book will offer. His eyes seem to sparkle, like pools of ice slowly melting as he warms up to you.

Eventually, you’re both sweating like dogs under the summer sun, however unrelenting in August. Your father’s calls reach your ears, asking you to grab some of the heavier bags from your shopping spree.

“Well,” you say, fumbling through your tongue, which seems to have twisted itself into a bow and is currently presenting itself as a present to this gorgeous hunk of a man. “That’s me. Bye.”

“See you around,” he says simply, raising a hand to wave. 

You feel the urge to clarify, “Oh, well, I’m not from around here.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward in a smug smile. “Well, if you ever need a hero to save the day, you know who to call.”

His words shouldn’t send butterflies swarming against the walls of your stomach, dainty little legs pressing, pricking, drawing blood that rises to flush your cheeks. You hope you can dismiss it as the heat.

He grabs a small card from his front pocket, tucking it between two fingers and holding it out to you. You grab it, duck your head, and rush away.

Later, at home, when you’re back in your hometown, you sink into your couch, about to throw off your jacket. You feel the card, sharply pointed at your arm, and take it out. You study the number before dragging your eyes to the name printed in bold.

Leon Scott Kennedy.

taglist (? if i started that would ppl be interested?) : @leonskittenbunny @rigorwhoring

[snowflakeanimelover]

Relationship: John Wick x Female Reader

Fandom: John Wick

Warnings: Reader’s point of view, fear, panic, kidnapping, non-con drug use, John doesn’t know what he’s doing, conflicted thoughts, fluff?, reader needs some comfort, drug after effects, sedation

Note: I didn’t get very much feedback, I appreciate those of you who do enjoy this short series. Not entirely sure if I’ll finish it, depending on how much feedback I get. Comments and reblogs give me motivation :D

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Chapter 1 | …

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Never Again |2|

As the fog of sleep began to lift, the woman felt the soft sheets beneath her, their coolness contrasting with the warmth of her skin. Her eyelids felt heavy, almost glued shut, but gradually, she managed to pry them open. Light filtered into the room, a soft glow that danced around the edges of her vision. Everything seems hazy, like she was viewing the world through a thin veil.

It took her a moment to gather her thoughts, but they scattered like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. Where was she? Her heart raced as she pushed herself up on one elbow, the motion causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her. She closed her eyes again for a moment, focusing on the familiar scent of the sheets – clean linen mixed with a hint of floral detergent. It was comforting, grounding her in this disorienting moment.

Memories flickered in and out, like scenes from a movie she couldn’t quite recall. There was a sense of worry threaded through her confusion. Has she been sick? Was this a hospital? She doesn't remember ever feeling sick when she had gone to bed after a long day of work. The sterile scent mixed with the clean aroma of her surroundings felt odd yet safe. She glanced around the room, noticing the pale walls and large windows covering one wall to her left. Moonlight filtered into the room from the windows, showing its pristine night routine. It appeared quiet and serene, miles away from the storm in her mind.

The haze within her head was enough to confuse her, quieting the alarms in the back of her mind. To the point where her gaze landed on something at the end of the bed she laid on. A figure. Tall, dark, and relaxed. It didn’t move as she squinted her eyes a little, hoping the blurriness of her vision would finally go away so she can see in the dark room.

It didn’t take long for the fogginess in her body to deteriorate, slowly but surely. Her vision slowly comes clear as she studies the figure sitting on something, facing her.

A man.

Alarms finally ring loud enough in her mind for her to realize this wasn’t normal. Her breath hitches as her body moves in alert. She pushes herself back with a gasp, struggling to sit up fully, but her body is sluggish—tired. A cold hard wall is pressed against her back, as far as she could move away as fast as she could, although she had completely forgotten she was in a bed. Not my bed, she realizes.

Panicked pants leave her lips as adrenaline pierces in her veins. All she could see was a man sitting at the end of the bed, relaxed in his seat as he stared at her. His gaze was intense, full of firm passion and sternness.

The woman couldn’t speak as silence envelops the room. She had so many questions. Where am I? Why am I here? Who is he? What happened? Was I kidnapped? The questions seem to get worse the more they pile up, and it was only starting to freak her out even more. She could feel her eyes and nose burn as tears tried to build up. Frightened and emotional, she tries her best to keep herself calm in such a situation. You can’t do anything if you freak out, she remembers her father telling her once, advice from a military veteran.

The longer the man before her doesn't speak, the more worried she gets. Is he going to hurt me? Or do something far worse? Did he do anything to me in my sleep? That last question rings in her ears as she quickly looks down at herself, seeing she’s in the same pajamas she wore when she went to bed. There were no markings, or at least from what she could see in the dark. Her body didn’t feel like it was in pain or invaded, just sluggish and tired.

”I didn’t touch you.” The sound of his soft yet deep voice made her jump. He was so quiet, she wasn’t expecting him to speak. Her head jerks up quickly to look back up at him, making sure he hadn’t moved. Luckily, he didn’t. “Like that, anyway,” he adds quietly, his body moving as if he was uncomfortable, nervous—gaze breaking away from her as he looked down, shifting in his seat.

For some reason she believed him. However, that doesn’t mean anything. She’s still scared, worried, and unable to process what the hell is going on. For a split second, she could feel confidence growing inside her as the first question pops in her mind. Her lips part to ask, but she doesn’t. No words come out, confidence leaving her system as if it had just been pushed away by some invisible force.

”How are you feeling?” He asks, shifting in his seat once more. It definitely looked as if he was nervous, awkward maybe. As if he has never done this before.

The woman doesn’t answer, though, as defiance takes over the little confidence she had. Why would he ask such a question? Who is he to act as if he cares, when he clearly kidnapped her? Was this some kind of joke? Maybe her friends thought this would be funny, recreating a scene in one of her favorite books. That thought almost made her laugh, but this felt way too real for it to be a prank.

The sight of him moving brings her back to reality. His dark form stands up, a bit of the moonlight allowing her a bit more clear sight on what he looks like. Long dark hair framed his long face, reaching just to the bottom up his neck. Beard as black as night covering almost the whole bottom of his face. It has grown in a certain way that was unique, crawling up just to the underside of his cheekbones. The beard was neatly trimmed.

Her gaze roams over his slim build. Formal attire covered his body, a mix of black and grays under the moonlight from the slacks, button-down shirt, and vest he wore. This man was good looking, she had to admit. But when he started to move, her body jolted in fear.

Seeing her reaction to his movements, he suddenly freezes. His dark gaze looked her over for a moment, before he slowly moved again. To her relief, though, he was moving away from her, not towards her. His feet thump against the hard tiled floor, shuffling over to the door. He pauses once more, back turned towards her for a long moment.

The woman had an assumption that he wanted to say something, but he didn't. She doesn’t relax until he opens the door, steps out of the room, and closes the door once more. A heavy click is heard soon after, and she feels her heart drop.

He locked the door.

[doc42]

"The dragon is too far away to save you."

The fandom misunderstands the sad, wistful tragedy of Jon Connington chasing the dream of placing Rhaegar's son upon the Iron Throne when it considers only ever that its end must be to have big bad woman who is Rhaegar reborn fly down and burn him and the lad.

Seventeen years had come and gone since the Battle of the Bells, yet the sound of bells ringing still tied a knot in his guts. Others might claim that the realm was lost when Prince Rhaegar fell to Robert's warhammer on the Trident, but the Battle of the Trident would never have been fought if the griffin had only slain the stag there in Stoney Sept. The bells tolled for all of us that day. For Aerys and his queen, for Elia of Dorne and her little daughter, for every true man and honest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And for my silver prince. "The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys," Lemore was saying.

King Stannis is Jon Connington's kin from the "slayer of lies" sequence of visions from the House of the Undying and his foreshadowing for choosing to burn a kid to save the realm is he literally talks of burning a kid to save the realm:

"I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning . . . burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" "Everything," said Davos, softly.

Jon Connington's foreshadowing with the backstory of the Battle of the Bells is equally straightforward: he's thinking he's willing to burn down a town if it means getting rid of the Usurper's line. Because he missed his chance getting rid of Robert Baratheon in Stoney Sept, so he won't miss it again.

Others might claim that the realm was lost when Prince Rhaegar fell to Robert's warhammer on the Trident, but the Battle of the Trident would never have been fought if the griffin had only slain the stag there in Stoney Sept.

For years afterward, Jon Connington told himself that he was not to blame, that he had done all that any man could do. His soldiers searched every hole and hovel, he offered pardons and rewards, he took hostages and hung them in crow cages and swore that they would have neither food nor drink until Robert was delivered to him. All to no avail. “Tywin Lannister himself could have done no more,” he had insisted one night to Blackheart, during his first year of exile. “There is where you’re wrong,” Myles Toyne had replied. “Lord Tywin would not have bothered with a search. He would have burned that town and every living creature in it.

The road ahead was full of perils, he knew, but what of it? All men must die. All he asked was time. He had waited so long, surely the gods would grant him a few more years, enough time to see the boy he’d called a son seated on the Iron Throne. To reclaim his lands, his name, his honor. To still the bells that rang so loudly in his dreams whenever he closed his eyes to sleep.

Death, he knew, but slow. I still have time. A year. Two years. Five. Some stone men live for ten. Time enough to cross the sea, to see Griffin’s Roost again. To end the Usurper’s line for good and all, and put Rhaegar’s son upon the Iron Throne.

Connington cares much and more about how he's going to be remembered. This is the reason he tried to face Robert honorably in single combat and this is why he promises doom to Lord Varys:

The shame of the lie still stuck in his craw, but Varys had insisted it was necessary. “We want no songs about the gallant exile,” the eunuch had tittered, in that mincing voice of his. “Those who die heroic deaths are long remembered, thieves and drunks and cravens soon forgotten.”

Death had robbed him of his ears, his nose, and all his warmth. The smile remained, transformed into a glittering golden grin. All the skulls were grinning, even Bittersteel’s on the tall pike in the center. What does he have to grin about? He died defeated and alone, a broken man in an alien land. On his deathbed, Ser Aegor Rivers had famously commanded his men to boil the flesh from his skull, dip it in gold, and carry it before them when they crossed the sea to retake Westeros. His successors had followed his example. Jon Connington might have been one of those successors if his exile had gone otherwise. He had spent five years with the company, rising from the ranks to a place of honor at Toyne’s right hand. Had he stayed, it might well have been him the men turned to after Myles died, instead of Harry Strickland. But Griff did not regret the path he’d chosen. When I return to Westeros, it will not be as a skull atop a pole.

A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd . . . mother of dragons, slayer of lies . . .

What does a eunuch know of a man’s honor? Griff had gone along with the Spider’s scheme for the boy’s sake, but that did not mean he liked it any better. Let me live long enough to see the boy sit the Iron Throne, and Varys will pay for that slight and so much more. Then we’ll see who’s soon forgotten.

Because Varys the Spider dared to decide how Jon Connington must be remembered. But now Lord Jon Connington is ready to be remembered as a butcher if he must:

Men and boys, babes at the breast, noble knights and holy septons, pigs and whores, rats and rebels, he would have burned them all. When the fires guttered out and only ash and cinders remained, he would have sent his men in to find the bones of Robert Baratheon. Later, when Stark and Tully turned up with their host, he would have offered pardons to the both of them, and they would have accepted and turned for home with their tails between their legs.” He was not wrong, Jon Connington reflected, leaning on the battlements of his forebears. I wanted the glory of slaying Robert in single combat, and I did not want the name of butcher. So Robert escaped me and cut down Rhaegar on the Trident. “I failed the father,” he said, “but I will not fail the son.”

The tragedy isn't that their choice to go to Westeros alone have turned Daenerys against them as the second dance of the dragons, the Blacks versus the Greens reborn and the final Blackfyre rebellion. The tragedy is they were so close. History does not repeat itself exactly.

Despite what the fandom says about Quaithe of the Shadow prompting Daenerys to go against the mummer's dragon with prophecy, Daenerys literally forgets all about the kid and confuses the mummer's dragon with herself, which is the most funny and charming thing you could find her thinking in the spot in the narrative the fandom designated as "Daenerys is up in arms ready to go to war with the mummer's dragon." But she thinks to herself she might have married Aegon VI had he lived just as these guys choose to stop chasing the dragon's tail and decide to go to Westeros alone.

There would have been a sixth, but the Usurper's dogs had murdered her brother's son when he was still a babe at the breast. If he had lived, I might have married him. Aegon would have been closer to my age than Viserys. Dany had only been conceived when Aegon and his sister were murdered.

That's the tragedy, the road not taken. They were so close. She would have come to them in Volantis had they waited.

"As you say." Tyrion grinned. "If I were Volantene, and free, and had the blood, you'd have my vote for triarch, my lady." "I am no lady," the widow replied, "just Vogarro's whore. You want to be gone from here before the tigers come. Should you reach your queen, give her a message from the slaves of Old Volantis." She touched the faded scar upon her wrinkled cheek, where her tears had been cut away. "Tell her we are waiting. Tell her to come soon."

Farther on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.

Smiling, he seized his dragon, flew it across the board. "I hope Your Grace will pardon me. Your king is trapped. Death in four." The prince stared at the playing board. "My dragon—" "—is too far away to save you. You should have moved her to the center of the battle." "But you said—" "I lied. Trust no one. And keep your dragon close."

What Tyrion says with the cyvasse game is Aegon is going to lose if he does not move Daenerys to "the center of the battle."

King's Landing is called "the center" by GRRM himself when describing the designs of his world:

Well, of course, the two outlying ones — the things going on north of the Wall, and then there is Targaryen on the other continent with her dragons — are of course the ice and fire of the title, “A Song of Ice and Fire.” The central stuff — the stuff that’s happening in the middle, in King’s Landing, the capital of the seven kingdoms — is much more based on historical events, historical fiction.

Aegon is moving to King's Landing without the dragon piece.

“The demon road is death. We will lose half the company to desertion if we attempt that march, and bury half of those who remain beside the road. It grieves me to say it, but Magister Illyrio and his friends may have been unwise to put so much hope on this child queen.” No, thought Griff, but they were most unwise to put their hopes on you. And then Prince Aegon spoke. “Then put your hopes on me,” he said. “Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar’s sister, but I am Rhaegar’s son. I am the only dragon that you need.” Griff put a black-gloved hand upon Prince Aegon’s shoulder. “Spoken boldly,” he said, “but think what you are saying.” “I have,” the lad insisted. “Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros.”

Note how Griff here puts his black-gloved hand upon his purported son's shoulder just as Prince Aegon chooses the most unwise course of action. This is an omen of doom.

"Your death is with us now, my lord. Give me your hand." "My hand. What do you know of my hand?"

Jon Connington signs his letter to Dorne as "Hand of the True King", and Death spreads through his hand. His hand, and greyscale spreading through it, the very reason that made him accept this course, because time's running out for him to reclaim the dream. He is trying to reach the star he once failed to grasp, his green light, but what he brings to Westeros is death.

“Pirates and adventurers, we heard at first,” said Valena. “Then it was supposed to be the Golden Company. Now it’s said to be Jon Connington, the Mad King’s Hand, come back from the grave to reclaim his birthright. Whoever it is, Griffin’s Roost has fallen to them. Rain House, Crow’s Nest, Mistwood, even Greenstone on its island. All taken.”

And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world, I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long way to this blue lawn, and his dream must have seemed so close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic rolled on under the night. Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms further… And one fine morning— So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

Prince Aegon Targaryen was not near as biddable as the boy Young Griff had been, however. The better part of an hour had passed before he finally turned up in the solar, with Duck at his side. “Lord Connington,” he said, “I like your castle.” “Your father’s lands are beautiful,” he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy’s. “As do I, Your Grace. Please, be seated. Ser Rolly, we’ll have no further need of you for now.”

The foreshadowing of their defeat due to the dragon being too far away to save them is no different than the foreshadowing of King Stannis' defeat to Renly's ghost at Blackwater, doom equally straightforward and for a very precisely written reason:

Melisandre saw another day in her flames as well. A morrow where Renly rode out of the south in his green armor to smash my host beneath the walls of King's Landing. Had I met my brother there, it might have been me who died in place of him.

It is binding. King Stannis is indeed defeated by Lord Renly riding out of the south in his green armor to smash his host beneath the walls of King's Landing, or so it seemed.

They plunged through Stannis like a lance through a pumpkin, every man of them howling like some demon in steel. And do you know who led the vanguard? Do you? Do you? Do you?” “Robb?” It was too much to be hoped, but… “It was Lord Renly! Lord Renly in his green armor, with the fires shimmering off his golden antlers! Lord Renly with his tall spear in his hand! They say he killed Ser Guyard Morrigen himself in single combat, and a dozen other great knights as well. It was Renly, it was Renly, it was Renly! Oh! the banners, darling Sansa! Oh! to be a knight!”

Aegon's defeat shall be because he did not keep his dragon close, leaving Daenerys behind him in Essos, the girl thinking she might have married Aegon VI had he lived. Of course, Stannis did not die at Blackwater, so while the boy king may be doomed, the fake Rhaegar's son that he is, the young dragon, Jon Connington ironically despite his greyscale may still live long enough to meet the true Rhaegar reborn of the tale, his silver prince shining from afar.

Alone in the tent, as the gold and scarlet rays of the setting sun shone through the open flap, Jon Connington shrugged off his wolfskin cloak, slipped his mail shirt off over his head, settled on a camp stool, and peeled the glove from his right hand. The nail on his middle finger had turned as black as jet, he saw, and the grey had crept up almost to the first knuckle. The tip of his ring finger had begun to darken too, and when he touched it with the point of his dagger, he felt nothing. Death, he knew, but slow. I still have time. A year. Two years. Five. Some stone men live for ten. Time enough to cross the sea, to see Griffin's Roost again. To end the Usurper's line for good and all, and put Rhaegar's son upon the Iron Throne. Then Lord Jon Connington could die content.

She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door. "… the dragon …" And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. "The last dragon," Ser Jorah's voice whispered faintly. "The last, the last." Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Knight Bus

Words: 981

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

Sirius had sent his owl, Queenie, to James before he’d left, asking him to get in touch with Remus and telling him that he hoped that the Potters’ offer of a place to stay still stood.

As he slowly dragged his trunk onto the pavement, he looked up at the place he used to consider home. Regulus was watching, expressionless, from Sirius’ bedroom window. He hoped with every fibre of his being that Reg would realise how toxic their family was sooner rather than later. He told him that he could owl him, or if they were at school, talk to him, anytime.

He didn’t want to leave him. Even if he was a massive twat. Most fourteen-year-olds were twats, he reasoned, he definitely was, but he wished Regulus could just overcome the twattishness for an afternoon and come with him. Get away.

He’d be long gone by the time Walburga and Orion noticed he was missing, and although they would know where he’d gone, he knew that once he got to the Potters’, he’d be safe.

He stuck out his wand and a large purple bus popped out of nowhere, making Sirius jump.

“Alright?” The conductor said with a half smile, “Need a hand?”

“Please.” They managed to get his trunk onto the bus and under a bed frame. "Thank you." He said, realising that he'd barely contributed. He felt so shaky.

“No worries, kid. Where you off to?” He looked down at Sirius, now perched on the edge of the bed.

“Uh, Potter Manor, on The Lizard, please.” The man nodded and exchanged a ticket for Sirius’ money. “Been in a fight?”

Sirius had completely forgotten how awful he must look. To start with he hadn’t eaten in almost five days and had only slept in small intervals during that time. The final blow had been Bellatrix announcing that Sirius was gay over lunch (which he wasn’t allowed to eat, but forced to sit through anyway) and Sirius simply not having the energy to deny it anymore.

He’d healed two broken ribs himself but forgot about his face. He pressed a hand to his nose and was alarmed when the blood looked fresh. He hoped it wouldn’t worry James and his parents too much. Honestly, his face didn’t hurt anywhere near as much as his muscles did. It was always the same after she Crucio-ed him, the pain would linger for days. But she'd never get to do it again.

“Something like that,” Sirius said quietly. “You should see the other guy.”

The conductor huffed out a laugh and headed back to the front of the bus.

Sirius pulled a book out of his bag. Remus had lent him The Hobbit last term and he’d picked up a copy of The Lord of the Rings last week and he was hooked.

Before he knew it, the bus swerved into the lane outside Potter Manor. The front door flew open and to his surprise, Remus, not James, was the one rushing toward him. He helped him get his trunk off the bus, then threw his arms around Sirius making him wince slightly, his ribs were still bruised. He clung to Remus, burying his face in the curve of his neck, suddenly concerned that he might cry. A short while after the bus clattered away, Remus stepped back and got a good look at Sirius.

“Holy shit,” he said under his breath. His brows tilted inwards and his mouth dropped open. He looked devastated.

“I’m fine.” Sirius desperately wanted to believe it. “It’s just a few cuts and bruises. I'm mostly ok.”

Remus wiped at Sirius’ still sticky nose with his sleeve, frowning. “You look like shit. You’re not fine.” He placed a hand on either side of Sirius’ face and tilted it gently, assessing the damage. Sirius tried his hardest not to lean into the touch and was fairly unsuccessful. “What did they do to you?”

“Remus, please, don’t.” Sirius shook his head. “Look, I’m out now. For good. I’ll be seventeen in November, so I never have to go back.” He paused, “I’ll tell you and Prongs everything later, I promise. I’m just so fucking exhausted.”

“Sirius.” Remus’ eyes bored into him before softening, He ghosted his thumb across Sirius’ bruised, prominent cheekbone. “Let’s get you inside before he has a coronary. I left them making your bed up.”

He took one end of Sirius’ trunk and between them, mostly thanks to Remus, they carried it to the door. Before they entered, he set it down, looking at Remus.

“I really appreciate you being here.” He pressed his lips together as Remus waited for him to continue. “I know I fucked everything up so badly last term. I’m still more sorry than I can put into words. I just— I didn’t ask James to tell you to manipulate you or anything. I didn't expect you to come, I just thought that a part of you would maybe want to know I was safe.”

Remus' face was unreadable for a moment until he sighed, “What you did was so thoughtless and reckless.” Sirius nodded sadly, “But there was no way that I would ever not be by your side for this.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think it means that I’m ready to forgive you.” He said quietly. “You were so fucking vague in your letter, and I know that was probably self-preservation, but the thought of them hurting you made my blood boil and I had to physically stop myself from showing up there. I came straight here.” His cheeks were pink, “I’m saying… that I think I understand how you snapped and told Snape in a moment of rage, or whatever.”

“Oh.” Was all that Sirius could manage.

“I’m so glad to see you, Padfoot.” Remus’ eyes flicked up and met his. “I’m so glad you’re mostly ok."

[ateez-himari]

[240225] Happy Anniversary

...

Then I'd be sure to tell you That you're my entire reason for living

Amongst the late night liveliness two figures made their way through the city's calmer streets, the young woman's hand resting safely inside her boyfriend's with their fingers intertwined into a nearly unbreakable hold neither wished to escape. The subtle glimmer of a silver chain catching street lights under her long coat made the man's lips curl up into a bright smile, the excitement radiating from his girlfriend pulling a few chuckles from his chest.

'Do you want a bite ?' Himari asked suddenly, holding a warm crepe in front of his face. 'I mean...I can always eat it by myse-'

A startled squeak left her mouth as the rapper's teeth sunk into the sweet treat's last piece without warning, only to turn into soft giggles when she noticed the whipped cream perched atop his nose which she quickly cleaned up with a kiss. Without giving her frame a chance to pull away one of his hands grasped his girlfriend's waist whilst the other gently cupped her flushed cheek, letting his eyes lose themselves in her own before slowly slotting their lips together.

'It tastes better on your lips.' He noted as they pulled away, running his thumb across her skin. 'I think you should kiss me this time, you know...to see if it alters the taste.'

The vocalist playfully rolled her eyes in mock annoyance only to wrap her arms around Mingi's neck, heels raising from the ground as her smiling mouth found her boyfriend's once more, tongue teasingly licking a few crumbs away from his lips. The suddenness of this bold action made his ringed hands tighten their hold on her waist, causing more of the sweet amused sounds he so adored to echo in the vocalist's throat.

It was in moments like these that the past was suddenly forgotten, that the days where neither had life left behind their eyes no longer felt like a terrifying threat that loomed over their weakest moments. It was then that they were reminded of how they found a reason to smile within each other, a reason for their pupils to shine with an innocent curiosity about the world once more.

'Happy anniversary, Mingi.' She whispered, face buried in the crook of the man's neck. 'Thank you for bringing color back into the world.'

Feeling water drip onto his bare skin despite the lack of rain he carefully pushed the young woman away until he could get a clear look at her, a sincere smile showing the faintest hint of her teeth slowly turning into a pout almost overshadowing the tears staining her cheeks. Instead of taking the handkerchief handed by his girlfriend as a not so subtle hint that she wished him to wipe any trace of sadness away, his soft lips pressed repeatedly against the damp skin.

'Don't cry angel, we can be happy now okay ?' He scolded gently, forehead coming to rest against her own. 'The worst part is over with, long gone...we'll never have to go through that again. We can start living like we should have long ago, without drowning ourselves in long grueling hours this time.'

There are certain people the universe had created to fit perfectly with another and it liked to play cruel tricks on them; breaking them apart so that their hearts could heal in the shape of the other's missing pieces. It was terrifying at first, feeling something so dark overtaking their very being as they watched helplessly yet when they finally stood hand in hand, the shadows were no longer frightening as they knew that next to them was a sun that could cast them all away.

[astermath]

bae i’m not sure if u were asking 4 reqs with the prompt list but if u are !!! i’d love to see ur take on

— “not that i’m happy you’re sunburnt, but i am enjoying getting to be the one helping you put aloe vera on.”

with baby peter <3 i’m picturing his nose a little pink mmmm

— @inkluvs (ivy)

absolutely I was ajdkdk ty for sending one in bae <3 I love writing for peter sm, he’s so easy to fall back on yk?

pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 0.4K

normal sized font below!

send me some heatwave prompts! <3

Peter hisses when your fingers make contact with his back. Although the aloe vera is supposed to be soothing, according to you, he’s not exactly enjoying it at first.

The two of you had gone out to the beach the day before, on a little much needed vacation. Your boyfriend, eager as ever to go into the ocean, had forgotten that yes, you do need to reapply sunscreen after you go into the water.

Needless to say the day after, most of his body was burned bad enough for him to resemble a lobster. Sadly for him, “lobster-man” doesn’t have the same ring to it, so he’ll have to cope with you helping him out for now.

“Will you sit still please? I need to work it into your skin baby.” You scolded him. You knew it was uncomfortable, but unless he wanted his skin to start peeling this was the best you could do for him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just— very cold.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t know you had to reapply sunscreen.”

“I live in Queens baby, I never go to the beach. Besides, I wear a full body suit half the time, don’t need sunscreen when I’m covered head to toe.”

You were finally done with his back and shoulders, so you moved on to his front. His face was relatively spared from burning, which you were happy about. There was just a slight bit of redness on his cheeks and nose. It almost looked like a permanent blush.

You took his face in your hands, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips as a reward for sitting still. “Not that I’m happy that you’re sunburnt baby, but,” you put some of the liquid onto your fingers and gently applied it to his cheeks, “I am enjoying this though.”

“What, helping me put valo era on?”

“Aloe vera.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And yes, I am.” You smiled. “As much as I feel bad for you looking like a tomato, I’ll take any excuse I get for touching you.” You gave him a sweet, quick peck on the nose. “You’re all done baby.”

“Oh, but— what about my chest?”

You grinned. “I think you can manage to do that yourself, no? Besides, I thought you weren’t enjoying it.”

“No, well, I think you just— know how to do it better, you know?” He put on his most convincing smile. “Please?”

“You know I can never say no to you.” You took the cap off the tube again and squirted some of the gel onto your hand again.