mrshammettswife

[bunni-v1]

OMGG you wrote the first years finding out reader was a girl so well! i love it :D could i maybe request the same thing but for thirds years? thank you so much and have a good day :)

Third Years Find out You’re a Girl?!?!? (NOT CLICKBAIT) 

TW: Rook and Lilia are creepy

Info: Trey, Cater, Rook, Lilia x Reader (platonic)

Tags: @kierancaz @danchann33 @arashrita

🍓Ahh, the third years… How I do love them. Please ignore my blatant favoritism in Rook… I just… I really <3 him. Truly, the third years are my absolute weakest character, but I hope I did them well. Remember, dorm leaders are on a separate post. Love you all, and enjoy <3

First Years

Ortho & Sebek

Second Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part. 

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

Trey

-Trey is a very good middle ground compared to everyone else in NRC.

-He doesn’t find out immediately like some people, but he finds out pretty soon into knowing you.

-Trey has siblings. Specifically, he has younger sisters he helped raise alongside his mother and father.

-He’s good at reading women thanks to his sisters. He knows many tells of discomfort, displeasure, dislike, etc.. 

-It’s different from how his brothers would show it, how others at NRC show it. 

-He can’t even explain it, he just knows the differences and it makes sense to him.

-With you, he notices the tells. Notices that you deepen your voice and you shy away from the more… intimidating and touchy guys on campus.

-He’s not one to assume, though!

-He’s attended three years at NRC in the same class as Vil.

-He understands that gender expression presents itself in tons of different ways. 

-You clearly prefer using he/him pronouns, Ace and Deuce use strictly male pronouns, so it’s not his place to say anything.

-Still… the way your eyes glitter when he praises you for doing well on your tarts reminds him a whole lot of his little sisters.

-It’s not till a bit later, shortly before Riddle explodes when he asks Cater that his suspicions are concerned.

-“Cater, don’t you think the new guy in ramshackle is a little…”

“Girl? Yeah, it’s kinda obvs.”

“Is it now…?”

-Cater pretty much lays out everything he noticed about you, and it matches up pretty well with what Trey was thinking.

-Still! Trey doesn’t want to force the idea that you’re a woman on you! 

-What if you are trans, non-binary, or anything else? To assume something like that is completely awful, and he’s better than that. 

-He’s not a troublemaker after all.

-So, during one of Heartslabyul’s tea parties, (much like many others at NRC), he pulls you aside just to get confirmation.

-“So, this might seem a little rude, but I want to make sure I’m respecting you.”

“…kay…”

“Are you a woman?”

“Didn’t Cater tell you already?”

-Oh. Okay. Cater was right. He shouldn’t have doubted him. Noted.

-You make him swear up and down that he won’t tell Ace or Deuce, and you move on from it like it's nothing. (You’re not sure you can trust Ace and Deuce to keep their mouths shut at this point).

-And, really, it should be nothing. Trey should just be able to move on and relax… but his brotherly instincts sort of act up around you.

-He’s not overbearing in any way, it isn’t a creepy thing that suffocates you… it’s just a notable increase in intake of Trey in your life.

-He invites you over to “try this new recipe he made” (an excuse to ensure you’re eating, because he’s confident Crowley isn’t providing you nearly enough nourishment).

-Sometimes he shows up at Ramshackle to pick up Ace and Deuce and ends up staying and helping you clean up after the disaster freshmen.

-Most importantly, he checks in on you and your well-being considerably more than he does anyone else.

-He has, in fact, called you little sis before as well. He was incredibly embarrassed by it and refused to acknowledge it happened.

-Cater does not let him forget that it happens, calling you “Trey’s honorary sister” every chance he gets.

-It’s not so bad though. Especially at the start, you really needed someone reliable like Trey to lean on when you needed help since Crowley would only do the bare minimum.

Cater

-Cater finds out pretty damn quick after meeting you.

-It's not the exact second he sees you, but very shortly after your first interactions… he gets it.

-As we know, Cater was sort of forced into being feminine and girly by his sisters — something he was completely uncomfortable with, but later forced himself to embrace.

-When he looks at you… how big your clothes are, how you artificially deepen your voice, how you’re clearly uncomfortable with both of those things… he sees a younger version of himself.

-Still… it's super not his place to bother you about something like that. 

-He hardly knows you, and as your upperclassman, he should be a role model and not worry about superficial stuff.

-M’kay! It is no big deal for Cay Cay, he can leave it all behind him with no issue! Totally doesn’t bother him at all!

-…He’s a big fat liar.

-It’s not his fault okay! He just… can’t get that look of discomfort out of his mind. 

-You looked so miserable :( You looked like how he used to look :(

-So, Cater, far more impulsive and honest than good old Trey, straight up asks you. (Privately, of course, he’s not a monster.)

-“Heyyyy, so, weird question… are you a girl? It’s totally cool if you’re not, I’m just curious.”

“…How did you know…”

-It kinda freaks you out a lot. You thought you were hiding it so well.

-Cater, sweetie that he is, assures you that he’s different from others. 

-He’s got special circumstances that allowed him to notice what was going on.

-Promises he won’t open his mouth…

-He tells Trey less than a week later.

-It’s not his fault! He was on your trail already, he was gonna figure out one way or another!

-Other than the Trey debacle, he’s really good at NOT gossiping about it, believe it or not.

-He’s your reliable senpai after all :D

-He is your first official ally!

-Completely supportive of what you’re trying to do here, and is more than willing to be a safe space when you just need to… be a woman sometimes.

-You spend a lot of time with him after he finds out.

-His dorm is always open for you, even if Riddle hates it, m’kay! You can always come to your old pal Cater for help.

-He really helps you on selling the whole “I’m a man” act. 

-He shows you easier ways to hide your chest so you don’t always have to swim in your clothes and helps you keep your hair styled in a way that either hides it or makes you look more masculine.

-He’s like the best big brother figure to have, honestly, and he remains one of your dearest friends through your whole stay at NRC.

-He’s someone to vent to, someone who gets what you’re going through just a little, and someone who’s really there for you all the time.

-Also very protective of your secret. 

-The only reason Ace and Deuce don’t know for so long is because Cater is working overtime to keep them off your trail.

-He tells you all about his escapades and keeping them in the dark too, he’s so proud of himself. (Please praise him, he needs it).

-Seriously though, he’s such a sweetheart and he’s always there for you if you need him.

Rook

-Ah beloved lover of beauty Rook!

-He is quite the oddball, isn’t he? Always off in his own world spewing flowery nonsense all in “the pursuit of beauty” as he calls it.

-Most people on campus just call him a freak and move on from it. 

-You’ve heard about him, of course. The stalker-hunter from Pomefiore makes the beastmen on campus tremble in fear (or annoyance, in Leona's case).

-You knew he existed, but seeing him was never really common. In fact… seeing anyone from Pomefiore was rare.

-You guessed such an elitist dorm probably wouldn’t want to mingle with someone like you.

-In Rook’s case, however, you couldn’t be more wrong.

-He was quite interested in you from the very second you’d interrupted the whole opening ceremony.

-You were… striking in his eyes. Not quite as beautiful as Vil, of course, but very eye-catching.

-While Vil insists you are a pest not worth Rook’s attention, he disagrees.

-Truly, he’s fascinated by you and your story.

-You from another world, who goes out of his way to hide such natural beauty with baggy clothes and messy hair… Ah! How his heart pounds in excitement, he must know more!

-So he does the only thing he knows how to…

-He goes on the hunt. For what? He’s not sure yet, but his hunches are rarely wrong.

-He follows you to classes, watches you get yourself into trouble and out of it, stalks you through the windows of ramshackle, and laments about his findings to (a very unimpressed) Vil.

-You can feel his piercing gaze on your back, but you never see him. It’s chilling honestly.

-It’s not until he decides to follow you to Sam’s later at night that he figures it out.

-You had purchased a large box of feminine supplies…

-He had gotten you, little trickster :)

-Now, since he had gotten his solution, he laid back on the whole… creeping on you in your dorm thing.

-He is a hunter, not a pervert.

-Leading up to the VDC, when you’ve decided to try out officially, you suddenly see a lot more of this mysteriously creepy Rook character.

-And, honestly, he was really nice! 

-Sure he said a lot of needlessly long and poetic sentences, but at the end of the day, he would always wave at you in the hallways or offer to help you learn the dance for auditions.

-This was all a ruse to be able to get closer to you and uncover your inner beauty.

-HE convinced Vil it was a good idea for you to be manager, and HE was the one who offered to ensure you “didn’t cause any trouble.”

-And Rook, good as he is at hiding secrets, pretty much lets you know that he knows. Constantly you find him… flirting? Complementing? You… saying how badly he would like to see you cleaned up and in more fitting clothes.

-Nothing he’s doing is romantic… you think… he’s just very clearly interested in you.

-So, of course, you have to ask him.

“Did you… figure out I’m a woman.”

“Perhaps…”

“You’re… not going to tell anyone, right?”

“Little trickster, I am the master of secrets.”

-Honestly? It’s not so bad having him and the others in Pomefiore know. 

-You really get to be yourself with Vil and Rook, so it's nice! Besides, you haven’t been prettied up in a really long time. You kinda missed it.

Lilia

-Ah, Lilia… beloved elderly man.

-He won’t lie and say that he isn’t incredibly curious about you too. Who wouldn’t be?

-A human from another reality with no magic, no concept of where they are, and no idea how to get you back.

-Very curious indeed.

-However, he has no reason to get himself involved in your business.

-You are a confident young lad, and clearly strong and capable. 

-In the few interactions he did have with you, you clearly had your head on your shoulders and well-founded confidence in your own abilities.

-The only thing truly odd about you was… your face.

-He isn’t one to talk, he’s thousands of years old and he’s got quite (unnaturally) large eyes and soft skin.

-You, however, aren’t fae. You aren’t anything more than a human.

-Excuse his close-mindedness for just a moment, but if he wasn’t mistaken you look quite… feminine.

-Small(er) stature, baggy clothes, clearly discomforted by “manly” activities that your friends drag you into.

-It wasn’t his place to question, of course. He understands that gender isn’t easy to define, and his thoughts are only ideas from his past creeping up on him.

-Still… it raises some questions in his mind.

-He knows where his responsibilities lay, so he brushes his thoughts under the rug and moves on from the thought.

-That is… until he notices Malleus’… interest in you.

-The prince’s visits to ramshackle only seemed to increase after you arrived.

-As Malleus’ caretaker (and out of morbid curiosity), he must investigate you further.

-That's how you start… seeing a lot of Lilia. Like, too much Lilia. How in the world is he always there, it’s creeping you out.

-He’ll talk to you, sometimes, but most of the time you can feel his beady little red eyes watching you.

-You don’t know what you did to him, but it’s really starting to freak you out.

-You’ve seen his fangs, does he want you for a blood bag or something.

-You, being strong as you are, decide to just confront him one day in the library.

-“Okay, what’s your problem. You went from acting like I don’t exist to constantly staring at me like I’m your next meal.”

“Please forgive me, that wasn’t my intention. I’m simply… curious about you, and I didn’t want to scare you off by approaching.”

“I don’t think your solution to that problem was any less scary.”

-You give him the benefit of the doubt, and you realize this guy talks like your grandpa or something. He’s so old, it’s almost funny.

-You decide to start spending some more time with him, and you realize he’s really fun to be around.

-Despite his seemingly old soul, he’s rebellious and feisty, and he has an endless treasure trove of stories to tell you.

-He becomes a comforting force in your life, so much so you begin to confide in him your stresses and worries.

-Inevitably, you end up telling him how hard it is to hide being a woman. How only so many people know, and how exhausting it is to pretend to be something you’re not.

-“Does Malleus know?”

“Malleus…?”

“The man you meet in front of your dorm at night.”

“Oh! Do you mean Hornton? No, I don’t know if he’s good at keeping secrets or not.”

“He is not.”

-Lilia is more than willing to be a force in your life that keeps you happy and healthy. 

-He is more providing and giving than Crowley is, constantly giving you little gifts and ensuring you have enough money to keep taking care of yourself.

-You insist that he doesn’t need to do any of that, but his fatherly instincts tell him otherwise.

[atoltia]

The Need to Indulge

You arrived with an injury again. Only this time, there's a certain snow-haired man waiting for you when you get home.

In which Sylus buys you groceries and tends to your wounds.

TW: injury, blood, some swearing Tags: hurt/comfort, danger is their love language

Sylus x fem!MC

-0-

You've grown accustomed to the pain.

Being broken over and over and over again, to heal and to mend, to spend days, weeks in the stark white of a hospital room enveloped by the all-surrounding scent of antiseptic just to get up and work the moment you were medically cleared - you were used to that life.

Eight years on the job and you've conditioned your body to suppress it, ignore it. You didn't need it, not when there were Wanderers causing harm to the people you've sworn to protect.

Even if that meant constantly coming home in the dead of night, exhausted, a dull thrum pulsing at the base of your skull as you staggered to your apartment.

Today was particularly bad.

You weren't even supposed to be involved. It was end of shift, and for once you were excited to be able to go home on time for the first time in months. Just get out the door, just get the hell out before you were pulled into another mission.

You managed to get to the train without a hitch, managed to sink into the bench without a blip. A smile tugged at your lips. Maybe tonight would be the right time to eat that tub of ice cream you got over a week ago, maybe you can even start that new show you promised Jenna that you'd watch over three months ago. Maybe you can finally get some decent fucking sleep.

But of course you weren't that lucky.

The cold wave of dread washed over you when your hunter's watch signaled, the incessant beeping heating up your blood so fast it alerted not just you but the people around you.

Alpha Team B requires assistance. All units nearby NH-Zone 7 please respond. Alpha Team B requires assistance. All units nearby NH-Zone 7 please respond. Alpha Team B requires immediate medical assistance.

You racked your brain as you hit the emergency switch on the cart you were on, the sharp wind snapping at your cloak when the window opened enough for you to leap out the moving train as you swore, leaving the Linkon City citizenry gawking. You jumped down from the track and into the busy street and bulled your way through the mass of bodies as you dove deep into your memory as to who the hell was Alpha Team B this week.

Skylar Morrison, age twenty-one. Edward Fleming, age twenty. Cormorant Kurr, age twenty. Rookies straight from the academy. Rookies that had just fucking graduated two months ago. If your memory was correct, there was no team assigned to patrol NH-Zone 7 today and tomorrow, seeing as the association was testing out the new surveillance technology that they've recently acquired.

You glanced up at the sky, ice in your veins as you watched the sunlight slowly fade. If they get stranded there while hurt the moment the light is gone, they'd be dead. If you didn't get to them soon, they'd be dead. From the fast chatter and reports from your watch, you were the closest hunter in the vicinity.

It took you a considerable amount of time to find them, even with the coordinates sent out by your watch every thirty seconds. You were already so deep into the forest that you'd know the medical unit would take a longer time to get there than those on foot. There were medical supplies on your person, as was required by protocol, but you were sure it wasn't enough for three people.

The rapid fire sound of gunshots made you quicken your pace, slowing when the tree line opened up to reveal the violence still occurring. Eyes scanned the scenario, clocking one hunter laying by a smatter of boulders. Bleeding, unmoving. One other hunter stayed by their side, one hand limp as the other barraged three winged Wanderers with bullets. The third one - Fleming, you were sure - was in close combat with another.

Shit.

You didn't have time to think, didn't have time to dwell on it. You unsheathed your sword and got to work.

-0-

It was already dark when you managed to get home.

You didn't track any blood on the floor this time, but only due to the fact that Jenna managed to drag you to the on-site medical unit and ordered your injuries to get cleaned and dressed even though you could do this your damned self once you've gone home and took a shower.

You just wanted the quiet, damn it, just to ease the ringing in your ear that stemmed from hearing your superior officer rip a new one into the three rookie hunters. You were grateful for it though, even if the kids had to take the brunt of it. You knew full well just how scathing Jenna tended to be when her hunters went out of their way to ignore association guidelines and nearly get themselves killed - as well as the fact that it gave you the window you needed to slip out and away before you got shipped to the hospital. You'll just take the hit of her wrath about ignoring protocol tomorrow, after you've passed out cold in the middle of your bed.

The door opened with the soft hum and beep of the fingerprint scanner as a sigh of relief puffed out from you chest. Finally within the confines of your home, finally within your sanctum, with the softness of your bed in reach. You'd take a shower first, of course. No matter how many times you come home half-dead and tired to the bone, cleanliness is a must.

With the shaking of your hands, the tremble of your breath, you slowly, gingerly, took your boots off. Arranged them neatly against the wall alongside your other footwear. The automatic light that you received more than a year ago was dark. Hm, you might have to replace it soon, or at least see if it's just the bulb. You were rather fond of that light, with its silly bird shape. It was something that Jenna got you as a joke for your birthday, before handing you her actual gift. Something to liven up the place, you remember her say. Neither of you expected that you would like it more than just a silly trinket -

Your hands stilled as your breath halted, your once relaxed eyes going into full alert as you reached back for the gun strapped to your thigh. The emptiness that usually met you was gone, the still air that you were accustomed to wasn't there.

This place has been your home for nearly a decade now and you knew it like the back of your hand and would be able to silently navigate it even with the absence of light. Silent as a cat, you kept your position low, legs ready to spring up, your body braced for any assault. Not a peep, not a single pin drop could be heard.

But you didn't dismiss it.

Listen to your gut, that's what you learned through years of experience, the instinct that you polished kept you alive, kept you whole. You weren't about to break that streak now.

Could it be a Wanderer? No. If it was, it would have attacked you by now. A person, then. A person stupid enough to break into the home of a highly trained hunter.

Not wanting to break the stillness, your exhaled. Focused.

When you first entered the academy, you were deemed to be someone that had to be constantly paired with another Evolver. Your evol was meant to be for support, they told you long ago. It would be most useful if you had another person with you.

But that won't do. That won't do at all. Not all hunters had the privilege of going into battle with a partner. You were not going to allow yourself to become a liability.

So you trained, thought of other ways to use your Resonance evol.

And in the darkness of your apartment, you focused your mind and exhaled. A wave, unseen by anyone but you, emerged from you. Reaching out, reaching forth into the shadows, trying to pinpoint any living creature in the room.

It pinged.

The warmth of it surprised you, the initial prickly sensation of the other person's evol slowly enveloped you with a slow, burning heat. A familiar heat that you were damned sure you've resonated with many times before.

You hissed, bracing yourself against the wall from your crouched position as you strapped the gun back in its holster.

"Sylus, what the fuck."

The low rumble from his laugh came from the living room, and even with the absence of light you could see the way his ruby eyes glinted at you with mirth.

It was an interesting display, one that he would be thinking about for a long time. Those eyes of yours that were drowning in exhaustion only moments ago was quick to fade as it flattened, emotionless and alert. The slow, practiced moves of your hands that reached for the weapon, the impressive use of your evol to sense where he was.

He knew you were competent at your job, and to see the evidence of it firsthand always gave him a burst of satisfaction.

Sylus lounged at your sofa, a glass in hand as he regarded you even in the darkness. You sighed and set your lights on ten percent, not needing the harshness of the overhead lights washing over the both of you. You continued your routine, pointedly ignoring the man as you stripped your body of the weapons you always carried and gently placed them on side table by the door just before you peeled your ripped jacket from your body to leave you just in your sleeveless tank, your hands automatically smoothing it out and hanging it on the hook as neatly as it could be.

It was odd, Sylus thought as he watched your body automatically move to keep your items in order, that he found this sort of sensual. The precision of it, the cold methodology of it - there was no deliberate sexuality to your movements, no conscious attempt to make yourself desirable in front of him. There was just a single-minded purpose in your brain right now and it was just to get it done.

It turned him on.

"You could make a show of that, kitten." There was a chuckle in his voice, making you take a glance. The warmth of the low light washed over his features like a blanket, the shadows perfectly highlighting the contours of his face.

He really is beautiful, you thought as you strode to where he sat, face impassive as you bent down, those bruised hands of yours gripping the backrest of the couch to cage him in. You didn't mind playing his games, didn't mind the teasing, the insinuations. The soft, lingering touches he sometimes used in an attempt to scramble your mind was not lost on you. The way he would slink so close to you, so much that you would be able to feel the emanating heat from his body wasn't at all unpleasant - it was nice, even.

You were so close, so close, humming when the the spice and musk of his cologne wafted through your nose. "You should have told me you were coming over," you murmured, mouth hovering over his. It pleased you to see the way his eyes dilated ever so slightly, his fingers that were comfortably resting on his lap twitching to touch, aching to feel you. "I would have made myself look more..." His eyes sharpened onto your lips, the desire evident as you moved them close, mere centimeters apart, about to do something forbidden. "...presentable."

Those large, strong arms whipped forward to grip your waist when you moved back, sharply pulling you in so you fell on his lap. "You're not getting away that easily." There was a groan in his voice, almost an octave lower, reaching, demanding, as those long fingers rubbed gentle circles on your hip.

"If I asked for a kiss," he matched your tone, the low murmuring of his voice a gentle vibration in the air around you as his eyes glinted. "Will you grant it?"

You searched his eyes, smiled. This was a dangerous game, a possibly fatal game. He was so... thrilling, so exciting. You've already sunk yourself lower into his games, played along of your own free will. If the Association knew of your connection to him, they'd have you hunted with no mercy.

But he was just so warm. And no matter how much his life differed from yours, no matter how much his past deeds was a dark smear compared to yours, you knew that he wasn't a liar. Not once, in all of the months you've... rendezvoused with him, has he ever harmed you except for the first few days of your meeting.

And was it so wrong to want someone like him? To have a man like him want you? To have his strong hands on you? To possess, to be possessed, to be coveted? It's been so long since you've been intimate with someone, been so long to have had someone want you and never in the way that he does.

He gave you moments of respite, whether it be here or in the N109 Zone. And that's what you wanted, right? You wanted time, you wanted rest, you just wanted to goddamn sleep.

You traced a finger down his cheek, rubbed under the hallow of his eye, smiled as you pushed away from him to stand.

And immediately felt the wave of exhaustion hit you.

He was behind you in a heartbeat in a shower of feathers, the energy of his evol radiating off of him in a steady thrum, that simple and pure strength of him held you up as you drifted away for a second. You blinked as your senses flooded back into you, huffed a breath when you noticed his hands gripping protectively at your waist. You smiled.

In a blink of an eye, you whirled in a speed that even he didn't account for. Even as your muscles screamed, you had your face upturned to his, the blade that was hidden in your belt nicking the skin of his neck.

He regarded you, amused, as his hands still palmed your hips. Sylus definitely understood your reputation wasn't just for show, even when he felt warm liquid drip from where your knife pointed at his throat.

"You're so gosh darn pretty," you murmured when he said nothing, your other hand carding through his snow-white hair, your other letting go of the blade, letting it fall on to the floor with a soft thud just so you could wipe the thin line of blood that dripped. He swayed you, his chest vibrating as he purred a soft tune as you tilted your face up, up, and pressed a soft kiss on the wound. "This one should do it."

You slithered away from his grasp, grinned as you ambled towards the bedroom, leaving him standing in the middle of your living room with a smirk on his face.

He watched you pitter patter around yet only the barest of sounds could be heard, and Sylus was sure it was because of his own training that he could even hear you. You were definitely interesting, quite unlike the people he's had dealings with before. And definitely more amusing that some common grunt.

Sylus strode past to follow only to stop when your phone beeped once, twice, three times, the screen lighting up to show a simple reminder: 10:00 PM Eat Food. He frowned as he picked up the phone, sighed when your calendar showed that reminder set to everyday.

He's been in your apartment for several hours already, so much so that he finished quite a bit of work and managed to get an afternoon nap while he waited for you. You stopped questioning how he got through your biometric lock, at this point you don't even care.

He did some snooping, of course he would. Sylus didn't rifle through any of your drawers nor any papers that laid in neat stacks on one of your bookshelves, but he did check the titles of your books, how you arranged your furniture, the things in your refrigerator and cupboards.

He was not at all impressed.

Multipacks of nutrition jelly and economy packs of energy bars dominated your fridge, neatly stacked at the far corner alongside bottles of water and energy drinks. There were fruit cups, at least, but still it didn't and couldn't justify the amount of artificial sustenance you were consuming for your daily intake of nutrients. Beside the fridge were bottles of vitamin supplements, one nearly empty.

It should be alright now as he ordered Luke and Kieran to get you supplies and groceries that could at the very least last you several months. Your cupboards that used to be devoid of anything but dust were now cleaned and filled with grains, rice, pasta, spices, and tinned food that cost more than half a month of your salary. Both dried and fresh fruit were now part of your inventory, as well as other non-perishables.

Eggs, bread, cured and fresh meats, vegetables - anything that you could possibly need for proper nourishment now packed your kitchen, barring any of your allergies that he was aware of. He was aware of your habits, watched you fumble through your apartment day in and day out through Mephisto's eyes and not a single day has past that he hadn't felt the need stop himself from just plucking you up from Linkon City and making you live with him instead.

With all the things he wanted to do with you at first, the amount of luxuries that he wanted to pile on top of you, right now the dominated desire that enveloped him was to make sure you were fed.

And that was a challenge already.

It wasn't that you wanted him to worry. It was just you didn't have the time. The energy you could use to cook could be used to cleaning your weapons and the sooner you could drag yourself to bed, the better.

But still, you didn't like the way he looked at you whenever you meet and you've spent another two days awake, didn't like the way he would hover when he felt like you weren't eating properly. Oh he stilled teased you, still provoked you, but beneath it all there was an underlying concern that you just didn't have the energy to push away.

The hot spray of water was a relief, as proved by the groan that left you when you felt the blood and grime wash away from your battered body. You looked down, hissed at the sight of the gash that ran from your hip to your stomach. It wasn't deep enough to be concerning, but you knew you had to get it cleaned and dressed quickly.

You washed, let the warmth of the water soak in your bones, before you stepped out and dried yourself off. As you thought, your left arm and half of your torso were already blooming with bruises. Well, you chuckled to yourself, at least your face was unscathed this time.

With a hum you put on your underwear and strode towards the medicine cabinet, listing off all the supplies you knew you would need.

"Fuck," you hissed. You ran out of bandages.

You closed your eyes, slowed your breathing as you thought of a possible solution to this. You could just go out and buy some, but the nearest convenience store didn't even sell the type of bandages that you needed. Not to mention that you could just aggravate it more and possibly get it infected.

But Sylus... Sylus was here. Maybe you could -

Hm. It was worth a shot.

You stood, firmly secured the towel over your chest as you peeked out the door, tilted your head to the side at the sight of him wearing your summer yellow apron with tiny embroidered flowers over his expensive shirt, his capable hands tossing what looked to be pasta on the pan. This was not something that you quite expected, but he looked so cute to your that you couldn't help but lean against the doorjamb as you were enthralled by this sudden act of domesticity from the leader of Onychinus.

And yet.

The stinging at your side made you inhale sharply before sighing. It needed to be dealt with now.

"Sylus." Your voice was soft, just above a whisper, but it was enough to make him turn. It amused you when he raised his brow, those sharp eyes of his wandering from your face, to your bare chest, to your legs.

"Sweetie," he said as he set the finished pasta aside. "If you're trying to lure me to bed, you're going to succeed."

Your laugh drew a smile out of him as he took a few steps towards you, his arms folded over his wide chest. "So?" There was curiosity in his eyes, just above the simmering heat. "Was there anything that you needed?"

You stayed by the door, your hair falling to the side of your face as you tilted your head once more. There's no beating around the bush with this man, so there's no point in playing coy. Especially since you might get yourself in an even worse position that could medically incapacitate you for a few days. Or worse, be medically incapacitated for a few days at the hospital.

So.

"Could you use your evol to stitch me up?"

There was an unreadableness to his face, one that you've seen only a few times before. He just stood there, still as a statue, the only change to his expression was the furrowing of his brow.

"Show me."

If you didn't spend a long time trying to decipher this man, you would have missed the slight hitch, the small change in inflection in his low voice at the command. You reached out, took his hand into yours, and pulled him into the bedroom.

Sylus didn't wander in here while you were gone, preferring to do so while in your presence. Your bedroom wasn't all that different to the rest of your apartment. A bit sparse, but not Spartan in decoration. Although the place leaned more towards function over aesthetics, there were little nick knacks that popped out in their tidy, little spaces. Small figurines dotted your bookshelf, soft plushies placed neatly on various tables and furniture. Pictures of you and what he assumed as your captain, Jenna, and a few of your colleagues rested on a table next to your bed.

He sat on the edge of your bed, his hands folded neatly over his lap, tapping as he watched you slide the towel off of your still damp body, your calloused yet gentle hands folding it with practiced ease and placing it next to you as you sat. You peered at him, muffled a laugh when you saw him shamelessly studying your nude torso.

"Like what you see?"

"Hm." His eyes were sharp as they regarded you, regarded the strength that showed in your physicality, the gorgeous swell of your chest, the stray water droplet that fell from your bruised shoulder down your arm. And zeroed in on that massive slash, still red and puffy, on your side.

"I didn't know we were already at that stage where you would show me your body without my prompting."

"Please," there was mock derision in your voice. "You've already seen my tits when we got linked. Don't tell me the incredibly intelligent leader of Onychinus already forgot what they looked like?" There was a grin on his mouth but the laughter didn't reach his eyes. You didn't like that one bit. "Sylus." You reached over, cupped his face. "I'm okay."

"It's going to hurt." His voice was so soft, so tender as he leaned into your touch. The gruff elegance that always seemed to exude from him was gone in this moment, wherein focused contemplation reigned instead.

"I know."

Your eyes locked for a moment, and then another, and another, before he yielded. Taking your hand on his cheek, he pulled you closer and rested your head on his shoulder. "If you need to bite something, just bite my shoulder."

"I don't think this is the time for your kinks, Sylus."

"Sweetheart, we all have to get our fun somehow."

You laughed as you leaned into his touched, the scent of his cologne sending comfort throughout your body. "Go ahead."

Those gentle fingers of his trailed your skin, heat following wherever it went. It wasn't so bad, it was almost like droplets of the hot water you used for your morning coffee, feathering over your bruises as if kissing away the wounds.

But the heat quickly turned into a sharp flame, searing, slowly searing into you as you felt you skin stretch, connect, stitch itself within itself before dissipating into particles of red ash.

You didn't see how much Sylus was monitoring your breathing, searching for any minute reaction that you could be doing to hide your pain from him. With a click of his tongue, he pulled you back, those beautiful carmine eyes of his burning into yours.

"Darling," there was a warning edge to his tone as the black and red ink of his evol swirled around you. "Talk to me."

But you weren't afraid, weren't at all in pain. You bumped your nose to his chin. Smiled. "Keep going."

You could see how much he wanted to stop, how much he wanted to just swaddle you in his arms. There was a tightness in your jaw, a twitch in your eye, your fingers clamping onto his thigh.

And still, you kissed his neck, to comfort him more than for your own benefit.

"Sweetie," his voice was rough as he massaged your leg. "Most people would be screaming."

"I'm not most people now, am I?"

"Now I'm not quite sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing." But he kept going.

It was quicker, much quicker once he's gauged your pain tolerance. Every single mark and injury that marred your skin scattered to ash, to nothingness. The stinging that annoyed you during your trek back from the forest was gone. Both of you sighed.

"Thanks, Sy."

"Don't ever ask me to do that again."

There was a petulance in his voice, a deep annoyance that was more than irritation, leaned more towards fear. Your lips met his in a quiet apology. "No promises."

He clicked his tongue as he shook his head at you, those wide shoulders shrugging in temporary defeat. "You will be the death of me."

"Oh yes," there was an innocence in your voice, one that was met with a snort. You pushed yourself from your seated position on the bed and sat on his lap, not minding the way your legs straddled over him. You cradled his face, massaged his scalped, stared deeply into his eyes. "If you are going to die," you whispered, your lips once again hovering over his luscious ones. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to give in. To give yourself to him. "It's because I've killed you slowly." Fingers traced his bottom lip, the curve of his chin. "Thoroughly." A kiss to his well-defined nose. "Because you are my quarry, as I am yours. Do you understand?"

Sylus' eyes shined like polished rubies and you swear you could hear the hammering of his heart even when his face gave away nothing.

He gripped the back of your neck, caressed the base of your skull as he cocked his head. Smirked wickedly. "I agree to those terms."

"Good." And before he could do anything else, because the bastard would definitely do something else, you maneuvered yourself out of his grasp and into the kitchen in one swift, playful move. "Food's getting cold."

Your laugh tinkled out when you moved away from his reach, winking at him when he just watched you saunter away.

Oh he'll accept the loss this time. Next time, however, he's not going to let you off that easily.

From the confines of your closet, he quickly grabbed one of your nightshirts and followed you out the door.

--

Check out my other Sylus fics here!

Also please send me ideas, I am running out lmao (｡•́︿•̀｡)

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Nightcrawler/GN!Reader - Part 1 - part 2 - Part 3

kdhbcjshbc I know I said I was gonna work on my Wolverine fic rn but I got sidetracked. This was originally going to be one long ass fic but since the first half ended up already over 4k works I decided to split it into two! It's basically a friends to lovers fic and I know the beginning is a bit of a jumpscare but they're both adults by the end of the fic I promise!! Edit: I totally forgot to add!! Another special thanks to @blue-devil-of-the-lord for their help with german translations!

Tws: Mentions of animal cruelty in the circus. The ringleader is an asshole. I might have made Kurt's brother a bit of an asshole too sorry. Kurt's backstory is going to be kinda a combination of all the shit I've read/know so please be patient lol. I'll go back and add more tags if I think of any.

    You were sixteen when you first met Kurt Wagner, although, he went by Kurt Szardos back then. You had never been to the circus before, and you hadn’t really paid to be there anyway. The show had already started when your father had taken you into the tent, sitting you down in an absent seat near the front. You didn’t want to get in trouble, but he had assured you it was fine. He had business to attend to, and told you that his future employer had given his blessing for you to sit and watch as your father handled business. After all, the two of you were a combo deal, and if you were to be working for the circus, you might as well know just what you were getting yourself into.

    The circus tent was loud with laughter and the sounds of an awed crowd. It was a little overwhelming, to be honest. There were simply too many voices, too many lights- and yet when you finally set aside your grievances to try and enjoy the show, you still struggled.

    The monkeys were annoyed with their handler, and every shout towards the crowd was an insult. The lion was young, and still afraid he wouldn’t make the jump through that vicious ring of fire- still healing from the burns he earned by brushing against the flames during the last performance. The doves from the magician act were a bonded pair, rejoicing the time and attention they were being given in the spotlight- and yet the male was already dreading their moments after the show and the dark, dirty cage they would kept in. The female was trying her best to cheer him up. Every animal was unafraid to keep their voice down, and you had never heard animals speak so loudly before. Part of you wonders if it was simply because they were so used to being ignored, they had grown used to letting their voice free- speaking from the heart and yet always being unheard.

    You didn’t like this part of the circus much- and although the tricks these animals did were beautiful and amazing, you couldn’t manage to enjoy it like all the others around you did. You were frowning while all others were smiling and laughing so joyously- perhaps that was what drew him to you in the first place. 

    “And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present-” All but one of the spotlights have started to circle around the tent, the ringmaster standing completely within the only lingering light. “Our Flying Fiend… the Daredevil Demon… The one and only, Nightcrawler!” Every moving spotlight lands on a single man standing on one of the high beams. He’s smiling so brightly that you can see it from where you stand feet below him. He’s… strange. Elf-like ears, yellow eyes, and blue skin. A pointed tail sways eagerly behind him, and he takes a deep bow in front of you. His yellow eyes peer open as he does so, and for a moment, you swear he looks straight at you. You’re not entirely sure if he was wearing a costume or not anymore. 

    The performance starts out with one hell of a beginning. Every flip and jump is an incredible act of athleticism- and you find your eyes following Nightcrawler throughout every trick. Two other acrobats join the fray, and yet he’s the only one who catches your eye. At one point, they bring out these long swings- ones that sweep right above the audience with every swoop. There’s one swing for every side of the audience- and the acrobats switch with a dramatic flare every few swings. 

    On the very last switch, Nightcrawler is the one who swings over your seats. 

    He’s much more handsome up close, you realize, blushing even where you are now. You swear with every swing, he’s looking at you. It makes your heart flutter a bit, and on the very last swing of the night, he takes out a rose, pretending to throw it to multiple groups of screaming fans, before he swings again with a dramatic flair. Unlike the other times, he’s holding onto the swing with his feet and tail. He’s so close to the audience without touching a single hair on anyone's head- and then he gets to you.

    You could have sworn that time had slowed, no matter how quickly it happened. The two of you finally lock eyes, and his hand stretches out. The rose falls into your lap, the air whooshing by your face as he’s gone just as quickly. You pick up the flower, a genuine smile finally on your face, and you find that all the other voices of excitement around you have finally drowned out.

    That was the first and last time you had watched the show at Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. After that, you and your father were behind the scenes instead of in the stands. 

    It had been about a week and a half since you and your father had been walking to the circus to work. He knew every path and every road like the back of his hand, insisting the two of you walk instead of drive to save money on gas, and he just so happened to know a few shortcuts through the woods. Usually, you were able to rely on him to guide you, but today you woke up late. Your father had already left without you- which you’re not entirely sure wasn’t intentional. He did leave a note for you, giving you instructions on how to get there on your own. 

    Needless to say, that didn’t actually work out too well. A thirty to forty-five-minute walk had quickly turned into an hour, and then an hour in a half. You were trying your absolute best to follow the instructions, but this was hardly a cohesive path in the middle of the woods. It wasn’t exactly easy.

    You’re beginning to give up at this point, stumbling through the brush as you try to find the general direction you think you’re supposed to be going. Your feet have started to ache and blister, and you find yourself beginning to lose hope.

    “Hello!” If the sound of the voice hadn’t scared the shit out of you, the strange man hanging upside down from the branches of a wild Crab apple tree certainly did. You shriek in terror, your feet slipping as you fall back on your butt. You hold your hands over your heart as the strange acrobat from the circus jumps down in a panic, holding his even stranger hands out in front of him.

    “Oh- Es tut mir Leid! I am so sorry! I had not meant to startle you!” He says frantically, kneeling down to help you up in a very gentlemanly manner. You’re wide-eyed as you look at him, letting him help you up without a fuss. Up close and in broad daylight like this, it was very clear that he certainly was… Blue, to say the least.

    “I-it’s okay.” You stutter. He smiles warmly at you, tail swaying excitedly behind him, and it simply confirms to you that he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find some words. He blinks at you as you do so, patiently (if not obliviously) waiting for you to speak.

    “You’re from the circus, aren’t you?” Is what you finally land on, still a little startled from before. The acrobat nods eagerly.

    “I am. I'm happy that you remember me! I’ve been told I leave a bit of an impression.” He jokes, and you find yourself smiling again. He was charming, for someone so strange. “The farrier is your father, right?” He asks, taking you by surprise. You didn’t think that anyone had taken the time to notice you, your father’s shadow in every sense of the word. It makes you feel a little funny, but surely he didn’t remember you from that first performance, right? Maybe he’s just very observant of those who come in and out of the circus stables. 

    “Well, yes.” You affirm, starting to anxiously fiddle with your fingers. “I didn’t really expect you to know who I was, to be honest.” He lets out a happy chuckle at that.

    “Of course, I know! A face like yours is hard to forget.” He chirps, sending you a wink. “But I must say, You’re a bit far from the circus, Meine Freundin.” You make a bit of a grimace at that, and he sends you a questioning smile.

    “Yes, well… To be frankly honest, I’m a bit lost.” You admit, eyes locked solely on the ground, taking the time to notice the various fruits that had fallen from the tree and gone bad. You can see the acrobat’s tail swaying in your peripheral vision, and still feel his eyes on you. It makes you blush a little from embarrassment, a little flustered that you had become so lost.

    “I’ll gladly show you the way, I was just about to go back myself.” Your head snaps up to look at him in bewilderment at that, before you realize just how lucky you are to have found him out here. He picks up a basket of crab apples that you hadn’t noticed before, and you offer to carry it for him as a thanks for guiding you back. He won’t let you no matter how hard you try, certainly the first gentleman you’ve met in quite a while. He tells you that your profuse thanks is more than enough for him.

    The two of you get to talking while you make the long walk back to the circus, and he tells you about his mother, Margali Szardos, and how she had asked him to wander over this way to pick the fruit from the crab apple tree for her. She was fairly adamant about him doing so, telling him that it was of great importance, but he didn’t quite understand why fruit could be such a pressing matter. He’s very funny, and you find yourself greatly enjoying his company. The two of you feel like close friends already, and you hadn’t even realized that you didn’t even know his real name until you’ve already arrived at the plethora of brightly colored circus tents.

    “I’m so sorry, I don’t believe I ever asked for your name.” You say, the awkwardness of the question not even registering with how happy you are to simply be in his company. He sends you another dazzling smile before he holds his hand, offering it for you to shake.

    “I’m Kurt.” He tells you. You introduce yourself as well, happy to have made a new friend today. You hear someone calling your name from not too far away, and spot your father waving his hand at you, calling you over.

    “I have to go, but thank you so much for your help!” You say, once again thanking him adamantly.

    “Walking with you was lovely. I hope to see you more often.” Kurt says, right before you go. You can’t help but blush a little, unable to keep yourself from smiling widely. You couldn’t help it! He was just so handsome in both looks and personality, the strangeness of his skin color and three-fingered hands being something you easily begin to care less and less about.

    “Likewise.” You agree, almost completely flustered. Your father calls for you again, and you quickly say your goodbyes before you rush off to him. You find yourself in a rather good mood for the rest of the day, despite your sore and blistered feet from the long journey here.

    Many months flew by very fast while you and your father worked for the circus, and you and Kurt had grown very close. He visited you when he could sneak away from practice and performances, and although you were more concerned about him staying out of trouble, you began to appreciate the company beyond the way a simple friend would, finding yourself blushing and flustered while around him.

    A fact that hadn’t changed throughout your time there was the treatment of many of the animals. All of them had a grievance or problem of some sort, and it broke your heart to have to stand by without the ability to help them. In the eyes of the circus, you were just the Ferrier’s assistant, nothing more. At first, you were, in the very least. Some of the animal trainers had noticed how good you were with the horses, and how even the most skittish of the equine animals would calm around you and let you handle them without any trouble. Things like that don’t go unnoticed, and soon enough many of the animal handlers had heard about your “gift” with the live attractions. Part of this was due to your Father’s constant bragging about your special skill with animals, although you were the only one who knew the truth about it all. After a while, the frustrated animal trainers began to ask you to assist them with the other animals as well, noting how it hadn’t taken very long before they were at ease around you. The size of cages and the attitudes of the trainers were something you couldn’t change very much, but even if you could only help out with a few things here and there, you were happy- and the animals were too.

    Today, you were doing your best to handle an absolute disaster. 

    Tonight’s animal show was a new set, with lots of loud noises and the pops of fireworks launching far, far above the tops of the tallest tent. With so many new lights and colors, they should have known something was bound to go wrong- and boy, did it. The smallest pony in the show was a stunning Blue Roan mare named Bubbles- and unlike many of the other mares in the show, she was very skittish. Her trainers mostly knew to be careful around her, but that consideration slipped under the radar when it came to all the new changes. Her show went by relatively seamless, with only a few issues here and there- but it was enough to put her on edge. When the fireworks finale went off as she was being led out of the main tent, it was just her last straw.

    I don’t like them. I don’t like the loud noises. Bubbles is pacing anxiously in the back of her tiny stable, still having trouble settling down. Every bump or noise from outside and even the neighboring stables sends her spiraling again. You’re standing at the gate, giving her a cautious amount of room to pace and worry so that she doesn’t feel trapped by you. 

    “I know, Bubbles, It’s okay.” You whisper. You’re so concerned for her, and angry with her trainers, too. It makes your blood boil to remember how one of them had gotten frustrated with her tonight, eventually giving up on settling her completely and thrusting her reins at you, telling you to “take this stupid thing somewhere else!”. The lack of patience and understanding makes you rage, but you know you can’t say a thing if you want to keep this opportunity to work with the animals.

    Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so scared. I’ll do better, I promise. Bubbles says again. The words almost bring tears to your eyes, hurting for her. You hate seeing her so scared.

“Hey, hey. Easy, I’m not mad at you, I promise. You’re safe with me, okay?” You tell her, starting to slowly approach her as her pacing begins to slow. She whinnies once, huffing as she tries her best to calm herself down. Eventually, she begins to settle, letting you get close enough to reassuringly pet her nose and flank. She leans into the comforting touches, finally beginning to relax after being high-strung for so long. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a minute, enjoying each other's company as you hear the sounds of the circus begin to dwindle and die.

     I’m sorry for all the trouble. Bubbles apologizes quietly.

    “You haven’t been any trouble, Bubbles, I promise.” You say soothingly. “Do you want to talk for a bit before I go?” She nods her head, and that’s all the answer you need.

    The two of you talk for a long, long while as you take off her tack and brush her down, pampering her as you ready her for bed. You talk about food, trainers, the new horseshoes she’s getting next week- anything at all. Even Kurt comes up in conversation, eventually.

    I like him. She says decisively. He sneaks me leftover apples. You can’t help but giggle at that, already having a hunch that he had been giving the horses treats while no one was looking. Not that you really mind, it was nice to know that they had someone other than you and your father looking out for them.

    “I agree. He’s very nice.” You say, smiling brightly. She noses you in response.

    I think he likes you, too. You instantly blush at her words, shaking your head at her with a flustered smile. You honestly doubted he saw you as much more of a friend, even if the two of you have had somewhat sensitive moments sometimes.

    “I really don't think-”

    “Guten Abend!” You can’t help but shriek at the greeting, knowing just who it was as you whip around in the stable, spotting Kurt leaning against the gate with a cheesy smile.

    “Kurt! You have got to stop scaring me like that!” You scold, throwing the dandy brush at him. He pretends to be wounded, holding a hand over the spot it hit him dramatically as he laughs.

    “I’m sorry. Seems I couldn’t help myself.” Kurt says, and you lightly slap his arm again for good measure when you can reach him, trying and failing to keep yourself from smiling at his antics.

    “You could have startled Bubbles. It took forever for me to get her settled after the show today!” You scold him again, smile not letting up for a second. Kurt smiles a little nervously at that before he looks behind you to see the completely unbothered Bubbles.

    He wouldn’t have- I saw him come in. She says. You wave her off discreetly. That’s not the point, Bubbles! But even without being able to understand her, Kurt seems to get the hint that she wasn’t even a tad bit bothered and jumps the gate with such ease you can’t help but be a little jealous of his athleticism. 

    “Then I’ll apologize to you too, Bubbles.” Kurt cooes, lavishing her forehead and muzzle with pets and kisses that she happily receives. You watch him with a smile, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You knew you were absolutely gone on him, this little crush of yours having developed into true and deep feelings of affection. But how could you not? Even watching him right now it’s clear to see the kindness and support he gives to every living thing regardless of status or species. That meant more to you than you think he might ever know.

    “How was it out there?” You ask eventually, leaning against the side of the stable.

    “So-so. The crowds have started to react less to our sets. Mother says that we’ll get better reactions if we change the performance a little.” Kurt shrugs, tail tucked tightly around his own waist- something you noticed he did every time he entered the stables so that he wouldn’t startle the horses with the snake-like limb. You frown, eyebrows furrowing at the news. You knew that they had been trying some new things for the animal shows, but the acrobatics had always been so incredible and immaculate. It’s strange to you that anyone would look on at that part of the show with a straight face.

    “And how does Ringmaster Getmann feel about that?” You ask. Bubbles huffs through her nose angrily at his name, and you join Kurt by her side, petting her shoulder. You can see that Kurt is frowning, not responding to your question as his eyes stay squarely on Bubbles. 

    “...Kurt?” You’re really worried for him now, knowing that the look on his face can only mean that nothing good will come of it.

    “It’s nothing for you to worry over.” Kurt responds after a minute. “He wants us to do riskier tricks, but Mother keeps telling him it’s not the best idea. He’s rather adamant about it though.” His voice is soft while he delivers the news, and it makes you wonder how on earth he’s not angry about the blatant disregard for both his and his adoptive siblings’ safety.

     I knew I had a good reason to hate that man! Bubbles speaks angrily as she flicks her tail, Kurt being the only reason she hadn’t bucked or stopped in frustration. Your worry begins to deepen as you think everything over.

    “I- You won’t get hurt, will you?” You ask, worry clearly spilling into your tone. “The animal injuries are already bad enough, but if he starts risking human lives-”

    “I’ll be fine, Schatz.” Kurt cuts you off, stepping away from Bubbles to take your hands in his own. The nickname had a tendency to make your heart flutter, but right now all you could feel was the anxiety of an impending disaster. “Please don’t worry for me.” He tells you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You’re breath catches at the act, and when you look at him there's a fond, reassuring look on his face. Still, it did not ease your worries in the slightest. Kurt takes a step closer to you, his hand cupping your face now instead.

    “I can’t help it. I worry because I care.” You whisper. Kurt smiles softly at you, leaning in to rest his forehead against your own. The two of you sit in silence for a minute, reveling in the fond moment. Still, your lips tingled with how close the two of you are, eyes darting down to the shape of his lips as you ran your tongue across your own. Kurt’s pretty eyes don’t let the action go unnoticed. He begins to lean in to close the gap between the two of you, and your eyes flutter closed as he does so.

    “Kurt.” The voice startles the two of you, separating immediately. It’s Stephan, Kurt’s adoptive brother. He’s not only startled you and Kurt, but Bubbles too. She spooks in the tiny stables, rearing up before you immediately turn to her, doing your best to calm her down once again. She’s breathing a little hard, but she’s not pacing again, which was much better than before, although you were certainly peeved to have backtracked already.

   “You know you’re not supposed to linger around the stables after the show,” Stephan says to Kurt, who only frowns. The two had begun to form a rather strained relationship as of late, but neither of you would have expected him to go out of his way to catch Kurt like this. You glance back at them as you finish settling Bubbles, staying silent as the two of them share a look. Kurt’s tail sways a bit, and you can see Stephan roll his eyes at Kurt before he nods his head to the door and begins to leave. Kurt sighs deeply before he turns to you with a remorseful look.

    “I’ll see you soon- promise,” Kurt says, taking your hands in his own and giving them a reassuring squeeze. You’re frowning, unable to help it at this point due to the moment being ruined. Kurt leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, and you smile a bit. He gives you another quiet goodbye before he jumps the gate again, and follows his brother out.

    You're left standing there with Bubbles, and despite Kurt’s promises, you have an uneasy feeling in your chest. You want to blame it on the disappointment of the night, but you can't help but wonder when you'd actually get to see him again.

[dollcherray]

✮⋆˙ FROM THE START ୨୧

Yandere Oliver x shy reader

tw: Uhh yanderes are their own warning, obsessive behavior, Bullying, OOC in some parts(?) sadism(?) suggestive if you squint, isolation, toxic relationship, guilt tripping, please remember that this is not a healthy way to love someone nor its hot so always seek help if u encounter a person like this. theres some english mistakes too, sincerest apologies

୨୧ Oliver is a little piece of shit, we all know that so right off the bat, it would be no small feat that he would make fun of you, you were really asking for it in his vision just by the way you acted, he probably already would be the meanest of them all, and with you being shy? just doubles it.

୨୧ You were probably a new student that just got into the school, you probably would hang out with Abbie, which just drawed his attention to you more and obviously, making him mentally draw this big red target in ur back, congrats, you're now another target of his bullying.

୨୧ By the time he's been teasing you, Oliver would start to develop a very strange feeling everytime he saw you, he didnt know what that feeling was but it was growing everytime he would catch you in his eye sight.

୨୧ When he realizes, he's already too obsessed with you and he honestly dont know how someone so popular and tough like him got so enthralled by someone so shy and pathetic like you, but the reasons were diverse, he just doesnt see it. (or refuses to see it)

୨୧ It was probably Zip who would make him aware about his "crush" by teasingly asking if he was in love when she catched him staring at you too much, of course, Zip didnt know the deep lovesickness her friend developed for the shy student they usually picked up on.

୨୧ from that moment on, Oliver would make your life hell, the bullying would get way worse, if you had any friends, they would suddenly cut ties with you out of the blue or avoid you in general.

୨୧ Oliver would definitely use that to make you feel bad and more fragilized, he likes instigating those bad feelings on you because of your reactions, maybe hes just a sadist.

୨୧ Oliver is mean, obsessive, possessive, over protective and manipulative, often using your shy nature to his advantage and entertainment, making you do things for him and etc...

୨୧ Oliver after some time would manipulate you into staying more with him and his little trio, saying that at least you wouldnt stay alone anymore and that made you really confused and a bit suspicious but you knew how cruel he is and knew better than questioning him, so you just tagged along, you thought that maybe it would get better from there. little did you know that it would actually get worse from there.

୨୧ Oliver would grow more desperate and possessive of his love the more time passes, he would often fantasize lots of things with him and you and when you notice it, he wouldnt even let you stay with the trio anymore, you could only stay with him.

୨୧ You didnt have any other friends other than him, even though you didnt really consider him a friend, and if you tried to get some new friends, he would make those new friends avoid you in the same or next day.

୨୧ If you try to ignore him or avoid him, he would just use the guilt tripping card, saying that you are being so bad with him for nothing and that he is only trying to help you even though you KNOW deep down that he is only lying, but you just cant help but feel bad.

୨୧ Oliver would probably be very touch starved, but wouldnt really show it to you, a simple touch on your arm, shoulder or anything like that, would already make him go crazy and possibly want more, but he keeps him smug and mean facade, he cant let you see such side from him. not now at least

୨୧ Like it or not, you are trapped with a narcissist that wont let you go so soon, you will have to deal with his smug nature until you two part ways.

୨୧ “im the only one who wants you in my presence.”

[unwishablestars]

Hi I’m not sure if you take this type of requests and if you don’t you can just ignore it. Could you do Cassidy, Hanzo, Genji, Lifewaever and Mauga (not sure if you writ for him) comforting their s/o after they got rescued from being kidnapped. Can you also add that the s/o was pregnant but had a miscarriage due to the kidnapping? If you don’t want to add the last bit that’s fine.

Thank you. 😊

I failed

Pair(s): Cassidy x Pregnant!Reader | Hanzo x Pregnant!Reader | Genji x Pregnant!Reader | Lifeweaver x Pregnant!Reader

Genre: Angst , Hurt/Comfort (little comfort ngl)

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Headcanons, Angst, Miscarriage, Multi-Character, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

TWs: Miscarriage, Kidnapping, Angst, Mildly-described violence

Summary: Cassidy/Hanzo/Genji/Lifeweaver's partner get kidnapped while pregnant leading to reader's miscarriage.

A/N: HIIIII ANONNNN!!! Thank you so much for your request!<3 I'm really sorry about the delay since life got in the way a bit :( And sorry I don't write for Mauga cuz idk how yet--- fresh hero ykyk</3 I hope you like this though!! Sorry for the delay again :(

Cassidy

Even before joining overwatch Cassidy was already a pretty wanted man due to him being part of the dead lock gang

And it never really changed when he joined overwatch

Though this time he wasn't a criminal but he was still in a dangerous field, but you always loved him because you've seen him in all the ways he loves you.

He was swooned when he met you.

One cheesy love story later, BOOM, you're preggers.

Whether you were a civilian or an agent, Cassidy WILL NOT let you get involved with his work while pregnant.

So he was absolutely distraught when he couldn't find you in you're shared home.

He walks through the door calling out for your name, ready to pamper you for the night, only to get no response.

Suddenly, he sees the signs of struggle. Knocked over furniture, thrown books, and just a general mess of your home

He is frantic.

Starts yelling your name, running around the house trying to look for you. "..Fuck..FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK"

After a few hours, they eventually locate you. They waste no time at all.

The plan was simple, (maybe even too simple), just get you out of there. Unharmed.

Cole, with worry and adrenaline as strong as ever, finds you tied to a chair. Crying, distraught, and bleeding.

Now you lay on the base's medic bay, face showing numbness as you learned the news of your baby.

Everyone had left after attempting to comfort you. All except for you lover.

He held your hand as he felt a familiar pain of loss, holding back tears, he just wanted to make sure you knew you weren't alone. And that he is so sorry.

"Darlin.. fuck.. I'm so sorry.. I was supposed to protect you. Our child.. it's my-- I'm so fucking sorry, love. Please.. please don't hate me."

Of course you didn't hate him. But too exhausted to speak, you brought his hand up to your cheek and weakly said "Just.. stay.."

"Darlin.. I will never leave your side."

Hanzo

Hanzo has been hiding in the shadows and constantly on the run for years. Alone. Until you, of course.

You offered to give him a place to stay after seeing him about to doze off sitting on a bench in the park

"No, it's fine. I'm just resting." He was literally about to pass out--

He had eventually opened up to you after much persistence and kindness, and grew incredibly fond of you.

To him, you brought him peace.

For a while, he tried to lessen contact with you as to avoid any conflicts with the people searching for him.

But he was conflicted when he found out you were pregnant. He did not want to leave your side but he also did not want to endanger you, especially in this state.

After some reassurance, he agreed to stay and take care of you.

He had hoped he would lay low enough that not only would he have to worry about your safety but also be able to be a present father to his child.

But when he came to your shared home and the door wide open, he fuckin lost it.

Frantically looking for you in your home, swearing all sorts in his home tongue didn't solve the issue.

He couldn't find you but he did find an envelope containing you're whereabouts.

They've been planning this for a while, how long were they watching him? Why did they only strike when you're health was so critical.

Hanzo was livid realizing this.

He headed to your location and found you tied to a chair, sac over your head, in a dimly lit warehouse

He knew it was a trap but ain't no way he would let anyone put a finger on you.

After being roughed up himself, (but ultimately beating the shit put of a of em) he took a look at you and saw the bruises, the scrapes

and the blood down there

he held you close, forever blaming himself for what happened

Genji

Genji and you met during your time in overwatch while they were in their prime

He was emo back then but you liked that,

And when he realized he liked you're unconditional admiration, he liked you too.

He didn't admit it of course, neither to himself nor to you but whatever.

Years later, Winston sends the recall.

And he was pleased to find out you had come back,

With a new mentality, a new acceptance of himself, and a more open acceptance of your love.

This time he made the first move, trying to act smooth like his pre-overwatch days, but his stuttering and nervousness gave it away though.

He was worried you'd remembered him as the angry and vengeful man he once was, but you saw who he was deep down

Which is the exact reason why he fell in love with you.

Eventually, after feeling a bit of morning sickness he urged you to go Mercy or Bap or anyone to help you get better.

Only for you to find out you're pregnant.

You stayed away from missions for a while as Genji requested, at most doing paperwork and helping a bit around the base.

But when the base was suddenly attacked, Genji pinned, yelling at you to stayed back.

You tuned out his pleads and gripped your weapon to help the father of your child.

And you did, but you were knocked out and taken away. He was too weak to reach you.

They immediately set out to rescue you, fully aware of your vulnerable state.

Though they had insisted for Genji to heal up first, through his broken visor, he shot them a glare that wouldn't stop him from saving his love.

After finding you in a cell, bruises all over in a weakened state, unconscious, he carried you back to the ship and held you close, eye getting watery.

You woke up in a hospital bed in the medbay, the first thing you notice being the ache your body feels, and the pain in your stomach.

Then, you notice your lover hold you close and tight.

Followed by the sorrowful looks of the doctors.

They left to give you two some space.

"I'm.. so sorry.. please.. forgive me.."

With tears in your eyes, you held each other close, never wanting to let go again.

Lifeweaver

You had worked alongside Lifeweaver in his development of biolight,

He loved having you at his side.

Soon he took you dates, brought you gifts and food, too show appreciation.

Not realizing he was indulging in his growing love for you.

After giving him some clarity of his feeling with a bold kiss, you two were inseparable, even more than before.

After you had missed you're period, you showed your lover the positive test and he way beyond joyful.

He always urged you to rest and didn't let you lift a finger. He didn't want you to be stressed or worried, he saw such beauty in you.

But those you wanted his biolight saw opportunity.

He was out buying food for you and his future baby but he came home to an open door, silence, thrown trinkets and portraits.

In his panic, he wondered whether or not he would need to contact his family. Or Satya. Or Baptiste. Anyone.

He received a video file on his desktop.

Asking for the acces to his biolight as well as the information to it's creation.

He was shaking, he wasn't strong enough to fight them on his own, he needed help. He needed you. Please come back to me.

He cannot wait any longer. He caved. Only for you. And for them.

He had sent all the information they needed. And as breathed heavily on his knees. He heard a vehicle arrive at his estate.

He hurried out, even almost tripping in the process, he needed to see you were okay, that you were both okay.

He saw you being lead to the front gate, and the abductors lackey walking back to their vehicle.

Giving him a face of no remorse.

As he held you in his arms once again, the look in your eyes had told him everything.

You two stayed there. Just feeling the comfort of what you two still had. Each other.

[dragonheart2497]

things twitter migrants may find useful that dont often get included in "how to tumblr" posts

1- queueing!

instead of feeling bad for spam-reblogging and clogging up other people's feeds, you can click the dropdown and add it to your queue instead!

you can edit how many times a day your queue posts, and between what hours. You can easily re-order or completely shuffle your queue as well!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG STUFF. Tumblr doesn't run on an algorithm!! YOU are responsible for putting cool stuff onto your followers feeds!

"but if i reblog too much people can't see my posts!" i have just the thing for you

2- personal tags

You can have different tags you use on your blog to help people navigate! for example, i use "dh rb art" when I reblog art and "dh rb" for most other reblogs- that's so that people can filter my reblogs out of their feeds if they dont wanna see that, and only want my original posts to show up.

On the other hand, my art is tagged "dh2497" so they can easily search my account for it!

If you open a person's blog and click the search button, a list of Featured Tags will show up. By default this is just the blogger's most used tags, but you can customize what shows up on yours in your blog settings

You can follow entire hashtags too! if you wanna see hermitcraft fanart without following every hermitcraft artist, follow the tag :D

3- Filtering

Tumblr actually hides things you don't wanna see, very nicely!

In your account settings, you can filter specific tags, and even specific words that show up in the post.

sometimes different bloggers warning tag differently (i do [trigger] tw or [content] cw) so you can try to input every variant, but if its something you really want to avoid just put it in the post content as well. Blocklists aren't really a tumblr thing, so if you wanna avoid an entire community you can block their tag as well

NEVER. CENSOR. YOUR WARNINGS. PLEASE. On twitter or tiktok or wherever, you may have to do that or else the algorithm suppresses it- THERES NO ALGORITHM HERE!!! if someone reblogs your post, it will show up for others, don't worry!!! you're just bypassing filters placed for people's safety, if you censor words.

Also! don't worry too much if a word you wanna filter is commonly used in unrelated contexts- tumblr doesn't remove it entirely, but rather adds a 'spoiler' so that you have to click on it to view it. So just in case it is what you want to avoid, you have time to prepare to see it.

4- effective tagging

[read more in detail here] Only the first 5 tags will show up for people who follow the hashtag. That makes them the most important! Then, the first 20 tags will make the post show up when searching that tag. The rest of them do not give your post any visibility.

I see a lot of people reblogging art with fanart tags- that can be useful for searching back the tag in the reblogger's blog specifically, but doesn't actually give the OP more visibility in that tag.

You'll learn what tags to use by checking the content you come across! most communities are "[word]blr", and most fanart goes "#[character/show] fanart". tumblr tags can have spaces!

Lastly, a few notes

you will only have 1 PRIMARY blog. this will appear when you like a post, comment on a post, or follow a blog. your sideblogs will not link back to your primary blog, but you cannot do those interactions as those sideblogs.

artists love receiving compliments when you reblog!! commenting does NOT boost the post. most people put their compliments in the TAGS of their reblog, so that it doesn't become a long post/thread, and if people reblog the reblog of your reblog you won't keep gettings notifications about it. The artist will still see and very much appreciate it

read up on tumblr etiquette, do not treat this place like twitter or you'll be disliked lol. there are some 'big blogs' but follower counts aren't public, popularity isn't a contest here. make friends, or just block/ignore people you don't get along with. no one cares about your petty arguments

if you noticed the lil cat in my screenshots, that's from a very useful browser extension called XKit!! it enables 1-click queue reblogs (automatically adding your tags), mass-post editing, and lots of other great tweaks vanilla tumblr doesn't have! and the cat is a silly cute thing you can enable in it as well

[daydreamsandcrashingwaves]

Keeping It Close To The Chest Pt 1

Edited 12/25/23 ~~ Here's Part Two ~~

Part Three Part Four

I devoured the Damian Wayne and Danny Fenton are Twins tags and had to make something of my own to add. This is my first fanfic I've decided to post. I'm much more familiar with the DP side of things but I gave it my best shot. Hope this brings joy anyway. If I decide to post this on A03 I will have it beta'd since I made this in like four parts and then wove them together so the flow may not always be there whoopps.. but for now I just wanted to share this with all you!

TW/CW: Medical experimentation and trauma, parental abuse/neglect, wound description, blood-ectoplasm and human, death (it's danny, he's the culprit lol will apply to Jason too if I add to this), body horror (to be safe), PTSD and flashbacks, childhood trauma and abuse, dehumanization

If I missed a tag/warning please let me know! I've never been an extensive tagger so i tried real hard to get everything, but I am human and could've missed something. Much love, stay safe.

~Ren

He had to keep moving. He could still hear their screams of rage ringing in his ears. Faster, he had to be faster. His blind panic had created an opportunity, a sliver of hope Danyal was determined to twist to his advantage. He was limping forward on uncertain legs. His vision swayed with the movement, and he fought to keep upright. His chest was on fire, Danny pressed his hands tightly to the wound there in a desperate attempt to keep his organs from spilling out like confetti. He kept his arms tucked close and rounded his shoulders to try and keep his torso still while he moved quickly through the empty streets of his once home. His chest was by far injured the worst, but he had paid no mind to the others. If he dared to stop, he would fully die.

Even in his human form, Danny just knows he's leaving a glowing blood trail behind him, the ectoplasm burning into the ground behind him. Whatever side of his transformation his body was currently showing it didn't matter, he was simultaneously both, always. The trail was evidence he transformed due to necessity, he became so durable after dying that it took a lot to hurt him. Danny risked a glance down and paled further. The green he spilled as Phantom mixed with red. A fucked up corrosive bread trail right to him. He was sure he truly was in deep shit. He just had to get to his go bag. Over time with his parent's inventions getting more dangerous the more Danny had to think about putting into motion The Great Escape.

Anything important he had always kept hidden, but Danny had taken everything out of his room once he had died the second time, and Danny was grateful for the convenience to be able to phase things into walls, floors, ceilings. It made his things pretty secure; no human could find it and any ghost that came through was too focused on their obsession or fighting him to go on a treasure hunt for his hidden things.

Danny's willful ignorance of his body as he stumbles farther from FentonWorks doesn’t stop the slight burn of his ectoplasm against the edges of his wounds and the tatters of his hazmat suit pulling on the scabbing blood or the smell. Ancients the smell. It’s rancid, he hasn’t been able to cycle it properly without his normal supply of fresh ectoplasm from the Zone. Only provided in small bursts when his parents wanted to see how his body healed with and without ectoplasm. He can feel the whispers of his terror, anger, grief that’s flowing through his blood.

He had been overconfident way back when he had threatened Vlad with exposing his secret. He had thought they'd love him despite having kept his halfa status from them, he hadn't been prepared for the distrust, the hatred, the way they moved farther and farther from thought out experiments to revenge. Danny knows Maddie and Jack still see him as the quiet, shaken child so desperate to be good, craving acceptance by the eccentric family that took him in when they look at him. If Danny had to guess they had been so blinded in their rage to even realized it was their machine, their failure that made him this way. Now they really did want him dead.

He’s whole somehow, despite their best effort, he just needs time. Ancients, He’s not exactly the monster they pictured, but He's not human... He’s whole.

The thought tastes bitter and Danny strangles it before it can expand. He must be focused. Taking a measured breath Danny turns down a familiar alley, he goes intangible with a slight twinge in his core, slipping into the bathroom of Nasty Burger. He’s done this so many times the familiar path brings comfort, reassurance. Like maybe things will start to turn for the better. Making his way over to the stall Danny debated whether it was worth climbing the toilet or floating up there. No, it was better to grit his teeth and bare it. There were only three containers of ectoplasm in his bag, he needed to preserve what strength he had. He would soon have no way to access the Zone for a refill.

Danny took one hand and placed it on the wall before careful stepping up. Lifting his leg had sent waves of pain across his nerves but with a grunt he leveraged himself up. His vision went black at the edges, he was dizzy, and bile clawed at the back of his throat. Danny took a few breaths, while he might not need to breathe, he’s been human longer than not, and well.. he’s only half ghost so the habit carried over to when he's Phantom. Danny was immensely grateful for his time in the League, the training was brutal, he still has nightmares about dying the first time but.. he did learn how to survive in situations that if he was truly a Fenton, would've killed him many times over. As Danny was Danyal Al Ghul Fenton, he always had back up plans. His Mother had been heavy handed with those lessons.

It was painful to think about Talia. She had been Grandfather’s favored child and the weight of his expectations of his grandsons was enforced by her. Lessons or punishment, very rarely praise was given to Danny by his Mother's hand. Each milestone was meticulously observed and reported back, doubly so for their failures. Tiny bodies with too big of weapons, green and blue eyes, a face mirroring his own but twisted in determination, competition. His older brother, his twin. They were inseparable, until they weren't.

Danny's core throbs in his chest, he wanted to shy away from the thought, yet the inconsolable part of him screams at the injustice of being the only one to escape their Grandfather. If only Danny could've proven himself, perhaps his brother would've had a chance to leave in his stead, but Danny knows just how much he was lacking in comparison to his brother, and it was their skill, or lack thereof in Danny's case, that sealed their fates. Danny was able to avoid Ra's overseeing eyes when they moved off the failure of a Spare and homed in on his true Heir. The grandson who took to their lessons like a duck in water. Deathly beautiful, Danny used to think as he watched his brother dance and fly through his training. Talia couldn't defy Ra's orders but if she just.. misplaced.. the Spare that was abandoned, well, no one has come for him yet.

Danny knows she loved him, somewhere hidden, deep inside his Grandfather's perfect pet assassin. She loved him enough to send him away when it became clear Ra’s saw no need in the Spare that was no longer needed, she had loved him when she had beaten him and left mortal wounds-their only chance to fool Grandfather, she loved him when she had given him his packed bag and left him outside that orphanage in Chicago with lazarus water raging in his veins, and she loved him when she told him to forget.

Forget about the League her and his brother, his family.

With brief tight squeeze to his small shoulder her she told him if he was in danger to find Bruce Wayne and then Talia Al Ghul was gone and Danyal-just Danyal now- was left truly on his own for the first time ever.

Danny was definitely in danger now; his situation was grave and despite everything the pun brought a small smile to his face. He couldn’t go back home to the Fenton's. He tries to forget how he froze in his surprise when he realized his parents didn’t take his reveal as Phantom as well as they had let on. They had smiled and stalled until they had found a way to contain him. By then it was too late, he had gotten too complacent in his run on a normal life.

Only after Ancients knows how long he had been resisting, pleading, screaming-I’m still Danny, it hurts mom please, I’m still me, Dad I’m alive- did Maddie find his core. Too tired to move it away from her gaze any longer and when her fingers brushed it the wave of mind-numbing terror exploded out of him. Something must've been on her gloves because his core burned. It ripped a wail from his throat while he writhed on the table. Ice responded like it never was taken from him by the anti-ghost restraints.

Danny could still distantly feel the ghostly ice that had trapped them in place and shattered his restraints under the pressure the frozen water bursting into existence. Even trapped in his ghost ice they were steadily working on getting out and would be on the hunt for him again soon. He wouldn't allow them to catch him again.

The mere idea they’d be on their way already spurred Danny back into action. Slipping his hand into the wall he grabbed the strap and pulled his bag out, careful to keep it weightless, and slid off the toilet and back down to the floor. He hasn't seen his dagger in months, it hurt too much to practice without Dami, his other half. Here it is though, innocently tied to his bag and his gaze traced it lovingly, before searching inside the biggest pocket for his first aid kit. He didn't have time for stiches, so he reaches for the butterfly bandages and starts to pull the skin together before securing it. It's really the first proper look he gets, it's... unsettling at the very least, horrifying, to see a wound reserved for autopsies on his chest.

The Y incision is inflamed and still bleeding so he carefully follows its path until he's done. Grabbing gauze, he starts to reinforce pad, wrapping a roll of bandages around to hold everything in place. Danny bites his lip and thinks for a moment, he will need stitches, he's been wounded enough in this half-life to know that. The likelihood for his work to stay in place while he flies is less than he'd like. Making a decision and with a mental shrug he takes an ectoshot from the smaller pocket and stabbed it into his thigh before pressing the depressor. Pure energy zapped through his system hard, angerly surges to settle in his chest. Feeling a bit better but more.. wired Danny takes a second to calm. Steeling himself he tries to nudge his core, it responds in a weak pulse.

Danny's body protests, he can feel his muscles shred and reform, his bones twist like taffy, his organs melt together before settling to form his ectobody. It's all over in a flash of bright light, yet the pain felt endless. Overwhelming in its intensity but gone just as quickly as it came leaving Danny sweaty and panting. Transforming injured was tricky, he had to carefully picture where the bandages were, so he didn't lose all his hard work.

Confusion settled as a fog, clinging to his thoughts, making them murky. His hands were covered in blood, his body hurt, and he couldn't quite remember why, there was a siren coming closer. Everything in him screamed to run, to escape, but his hunters were too close now, freed from his ice to kill him fully. On instinct Danny's nails grew to claws, ripping into space to create a portal. He was weak, always had been, but he was good at running, hiding away in the shadows. Ghost was once a name of his, a proud title, not just what he is now.

Just as the doors burst open in a teal and orange blur Danny dove into the swirling green and hoped Clockwork was watching so at least someone knew things had exploded here in Amity. He hasn't needed to be on his own like this since after Jazz first saw him and demanded that her parents bring Danny home with them. He misses her now as the path out of Nasty Burger closes behind him. Danny's falling, dropping towards the ground too fast for eyes to track but his impact had definitely shaken the room. With a pained whine and a flash Danny was back to being human again, his landing had pulled at whatever scab was able to form in the twentyish minutes it took him to drag himself away from the basement. Danny was going to be sick, the sticky cool liquid that had his clothes clinging to him, was going to be very alarming when he finally could give himself a proper once over. He could feel the new bruises as he tried to roll off the pallets he had crushed.

"Oh! Someone decided to drop by! " A man called out with glee as he sauntered in his direction. "Shall we see who our special guest is?" Danny could feel the rotten soul as he got closer. Too close. Forgoing moving Danny tensed in anticipation. He was hurt, yes, but he would go down fighting. He could do that much to make his brother proud, even if he never realized Danny lived to 15 not 5. Before he could uncurl to swing at the man there was the soft sound of fabric rustling and a blade being drawn. Curling tighter Danny hoped he had enough juice to go intangible.

"You will not reach your goal Joker; Do you not get sick of trying?" The voice was smooth, deeper than he remembered but it's been 10 years, it's understandable that puberty changed his brother's voice. Danny would recognize it anywhere. Danny jinxed himself, somehow. How he ended up in the same room as the brother he hadn't seen in a decade, Danny wasn't sure. He was terrified though. Where Damian was the League and their Grandfather wasn't far behind. Damian had carefully hidden away his care as a child but would shower Danny in it in the darkness of their room. After years apart and Grandfather's continued influence Danny was uncertain how much of Damian truly remained.

There was a burst of noise, of movement and a struggle then silence covered the room. Danny's hands were shaking. "Nightwing, first aid is required inside, bring the kit." His brother paused, "No, a civilian, a metahuman if his unusually colored blood is to be taken into account."

Danny could feel his brother's scrutiny, his gaze held weight as it scanned over his collapsed form, he tried to curl more but a hand brushing his shoulder had Danny screaming and scrambling away.

Damian's hands twitched at his side, an aborted motion to draw his sword. He seemed to pause then they flew up empty, placating- it didn't bring Danny any comfort.

An assassin's greatest tool was always their hands. Green eyes tracked him, narrowing at the way Danny was shrinking into the shadows. Dread swam down his spine to settle hard in his gut. Of all the ways to meet his brother again, it had to be when he was dying, for a third time. Danny reached blindly for whatever was next to him to pull himself up, his knees wobbled precariously but he would be standing for this. He had to be. Black spots were now in his vision, but he forced a smirk onto his face. Danny was sure he was a sight to see, torn clothes, skin riddled with bruises, green and red blood splattered all over like a kindergartener's messy painting of Christmas, limp dirty hair.

Danny knows Damian is assessing him, taking in what he can see in front of him to efficiently deal with it as they were trained to do. potential strengths and weaknesses. Behind both the domino mask and his calm exterior Damian is taking in a snapshot. Danny wonders what he sees, if his brother recognizes the boy he’s grown into, Danny’s core thrums wildly and he tries not to fidget. The slight frown that pulls at Damian’s mouth means he caught the aborted motion.

"Damn, green, yellow and red... You look like a traffic light!" He gets one giggle in before he chokes on it. Danny can't breathe. His brother had gone deathly still when Danny spoke. He could see the war of emotions fighting through his brother, suspicion was quickly doused with rage. "How dare she." The Arabic was an unexpected comfort, but Danny felt confusion at the words. He's severely out of practice, he thought he understood but doubt settled in. He wasn't sure.

Damian had always stood firm next to him in the League, calm, driven and decisive, the perfect heir for their Grandfather. He was always warm to Danny though, would allow traces of his true feelings to be visible when Damian would inevitably catch Danny sneaking out of his bed to stargaze. Danny would get scolded, every time. Grandfather would punish him harshly for such indulgences, he knew it. Attachments were weaknesses and Grandfather would not grow weakness in the League, in his heirs. Danny may be weak and the Spare but he was smart. He knows what the looks of distaste meant from his Grandfather. He knew how his failures would catch up to him and how Grandfather disapproved of his influence on Damian. Yet Danny kept going back, hiding in the shadows to gaze at the stars and wait for his brother to come find him.

Danny had braced for Damian to be mad when he realizes Danny didn’t truly die that day and has stayed away from his brother, but Danny couldn’t have expected this.

Pure hatred lights up in Damian’s eyes when he finally realizes what is in front of him. It's Danny’s undoing. Everything else that has happened seemed like a cakewalk compared to being rejected by the person who had always understood him most. Ghosts are the manifestation of their emotions. Frostbite had explained once how injuries can manifest in a ghost's form on their own. Emotional pain could make them unravel down to their cores, until even that disappeared.

For Danny, there was uncertainty, halfas were so rare that there wasn’t much off hand knowledge, but Danny has always known from the second he died. There was no separation between his human and ghost halves. He just was. What fancy wrapping he showed off hardly mattered. Things bleed so easily between them, Danny Fenton and Phantom.

"I'll kill her painfully for this, but you abomination it will be swift." Damian has balanced on his toes, ready for a quick burst of speed. His sword now clenched so tightly in his hands it almost shakes.

An abomination the words looped through Danny's mind. The wounded sob that came forth when he opened his mouth to reply was unexpected. Danny took halting steps back from his twin. The hitching breath brought his attention back to his chest. This wasn't how Danny had pictured this moment, all those years of stolen daydreams. His core felt wrong in his chest. He felt cold, cold and brittle but his chest was on fire-and wet. The surgical cut seeping like its minutes fresh, this was by far Danny’s worst idea, to believe to ever hope, his brother would ever keep a monster by his side Danny was a fool to hope even for a moment-hands hands reaching for him to bring him back, grabbing his arm-

“No! I don't know! No please” Danny gasps as he flails weakly “I’m sorry I’m sorry!”

Damian hesitates again, before his resolve firms, "Danyal-" His name cracks over his brother's tongue. Danny isn't aware enough to unpack the way his brother's face twists in heartbreak the longer he watches Danny bleed. A warm body comes up behind him, blocking him in, he’s crying now, a weakness that he never could smother. "No!" Danny avoids his gaze scrambling to grip onto whatever fabric is in his hands. Danny wants the moment to last but he knows what’s coming. Damian won’t protect him now. His older brother had been steadfast by his side in their childhood, but now… now maybe it was better he’s bleeding out.

Danny vaguely registered the man behind him cutting off his shirt, kit at the ready besides him. Pressure on his wound forces a long high whine from his throat. He wants to shove it away, his hand swatting at it but he missed, and it thuds uselessly on the ground. He doesn't have the energy to try again.

The shock of a hot hand against his face brings everything into abrupt focus. Danny flinches but can’t move, the body unyielding behind him. He sees the room is covered in his frost and ice. Batman and Red Robin are farther back, their feet trapped in the ghostly ice, they had things in hand to try and hack away at the ice trapping them in place.

“Danyal” The pain in his twin's voice has him turning in that direction; his brother was there. For how well they could read each other in childhood Danny had no clue what his brother was thinking now. His twice dead brother, back to only die again at his feet. “Are you destabilizing? Why were you sent here? What does Mother want?”

“What?” Danny can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, even if it hurts, it seems his ice kept his organs in place while he tumbled through his hastily made portal. He must've lost consciousness at some point though; his ice seems to have melted to leaving him fully exposed. “That bitch- She has nothing to do with this- wait. You think-” Danny laughs even harder until he can’t breathe and he’s hacking and spitting up more ectoplasm. He’s pulled more fully against the warm body behind him, his head lulls-oh it’s Nightwing, the blatant concern radiating from the man stings Danny’s eyes and a few tears scatter down his face.

“I’m not a clone Dami, I didn’t even know you weren’t with the League anymore." Danny's speech slurs more the harder he tries to piece sentences together, "I'm sorry I don't know how I ended up here.” Danny is growing quieter the longer he talks- can feel his life draining onto the floor and there’s panic in the air now, Batman had sprung up next to Damian's side. Seemed to say something to Damian before he retreated slightly. Batman was hovering ready to interfere but unsure in what actions needed to take place.

Damian is staring at him intently, looking to match his scars to the one's he remembers. He taps his fingers insistently on Danny's cheek and Danny doesn't fight looking back at him. The fingers linger against the scar hidden behind his hair next to his ear, traces the edges. Damian was the one to give it to him, a training error. He had looked at Danny similarly to how he was now. Fear, regret, panic. Words are being said, they blend together, warp, so Danny just hums in response. Everything is more distant now. Danny's own fear floating out of reach. He knows death intimately, he's not afraid to greet her a third time.

The words became frantic as he struggles to stay awake, and someone was talking again. “-ood to see you though- no tss okay no pain.. mma be cold soon-" Oh. That's Danny. The face he has ached to see for years fills his vision. The shade of green he could never replace. Danny was picked up and hustled out a door into the by Nightwing while a harsh discussion flew over his head. They were in some sort of vehicle now, the door shutting causes silence to blanket the group. His head is in Damian's lap, and it takes a second, but Danny realizes Damian is carting his fingers through his greasy hair. His other hand was holding Danny's, playing with his fingers like he did as children. Danny's vision fills with tears and spills down his face.

"Danyal? Can you hear me?" Damian calls his attention softly, his sweet, sweet brother tries to keep the concern out of his voice, off his face. Once he sees Danny focus on him a trembling smile makes its home on Damian's face. His domino mask is gone, Danny drinks in the unobscured view of his brother. "We'll be back to the Cave shortly, Alfred will attend to you, then you're going to tell me exactly how this happened so I can make sure it never does again." Danny can tell Damian is scared, the minute tremble in his petting only confirmed it. Danny let a smile tug at his lips too, "It's gonna be okay Dami" Danny slurred, he hears Damian insisting they were almost home.

Home with Damian. That was a fool's dream, just out of reach. Danny never indulged in the idea; he wouldn't put Dami in danger by reappearing. But- Danny was with him now, a twitch of his fingers against Damian's proves it. Danny went limp as the Batmobile skidded into the Cave, Damian was a silent statue watching Alfred take his brother away from him. Batman saddled up next to him- Damian should shower and change, whatever it was that changed his brother was making his skin itch- but he couldn't move. His baby brother was in there, dying, again.

"Damian, chum... what was all that?" Damian ignores his eyes itching as tears built, he clears his throat to report- reporting was vital with their nighttime activities, Father needed information to help Danny. He couldn't take his eyes of the little glowing red 'In Use' sign above the surgery door though.

Damian cuts a glance at the man next to him, more Bat than Father at the moment. "Once Danyal is stable, I will give you an explanation Father."

~~~~

I thought of a name, added it to the tags, I'll add a link to the next post if I write one, will tag future posts with 'Keeping It Close To The Chest' as well

much love

~Ren

[grievedeeply]

Hiiii! Do you take bg3 reqs? Cause I saw some and the tag in your latest post but no mention on the blog info!

If not feel free to ignore!

Could you please do Halsin, Gale and Astarion angsty hcs of them arguing with their s/o (like maybe she feels belitttled or ignored and yk classical “say something they don’t mean etc arguement”)? (With or without the aftermath and eventual yk comfort. However you’d like! Sorry if this is precise!

Thanks in any case! Have a lovely day!

i just added bg3 into my blog info bc of this LOL my bad. but yes i do take requests and i'm very happy to do this one for you! decided to expand on your original idea and make it arguing as a whole but your request is still included in the headcanons! thanks for sending it in and enjoy!

gn!reader/tav | tws: angst....

arguing headcanons with halsin, gale and astarion

halsin

halsin is not the arguing type of man. he hates arguing and he never ever wants to do it

still, he knows arguing happens. relationships always include some type of fight even if he never wants to deal with it

arguments with him almost always happen because of a misunderstanding on someones part. it's never because he wants to try to hurt you or vice versa, but because someone heard something the wrong way and it spiraled

but of course you don't realize that immediately and start arguing over whatever it was that was said

halsin is the type of person to distance himself for a little while to collect his thoughts

he never wants to say something he doesn't mean in an argument, but it has happened before.. and it took at least a week for the two of you to make up because you were obviously hurt by it

but he doesn't want it to happen again, so he'll take a little time for himself and come back to you with a cooler head

he doesn't think of himself as someone who gets mad easily, and he really isn't, but he'd rather be safe than sorry

normal arguments don't last for very long as you find you can't really stay mad at each other.. but he is usually the one to apologize first even if you started it

he hates it when you're mad at him. it's literally the worst feeling in the world to him and it's like a huge pit in his stomach

he will feel so bad if you ever tell him you feel ignored in an argument

he apologizes a lot and has to reassure you that you're the only person in his life that he loves in this way

he promises to be better at showing it. he takes an entirely different angle on everything he does from then on

always wants to make you feel loved and appreciated <3

gale

similarly to halsin, i think gale is someone to avoid arguments at all costs

he'll agree with a lot of things you say just to avoid arguments over stupid things that don't matter. you like this color for new curtains but he doesn't? he won't say a word. doesn't want to fight over something so small

even if you won't argue about it... he hasn't exactly had the best relationship track record, so he prefers to keep quiet on things like that anyways

when you do fight with him, it's usually because he said something he didn't mean and he immediately regrets it

but unlike halsin, he probably wouldn't walk away and take a few hours for himself and will instead apologize profusely without anything else

he hates fighting. he hates it and he wants it over with

he hates how it makes him feel when he knows you're upset with him and he wants that feeling to go away as soon as possible, so expect him to say he's sorry a million times

he hardly ever yells but he will when he gets mad enough. he immediately regrets it though

again... apologizes over and over

his apologies are all very genuine but he won't blame you if you don't forgive him right away

but you will have to tell him to leave you alone for a while

making up is always nice though. he'll make you dinner for a week afterwards (as if he doesn't do it anyways)

if you ever bring up feeling ignored or belittled in an argument he will go completely silent and apologize after you're done talking

he explains it was never his intent, but he realizes that he could've done better for you, and his apologies are all he can offer until he can prove his worth to you

overall very sweet and understanding about the entire thing too

astarion

i can see astarion hating arguing.. but that doesn't stop him from doing it, either

you hardly ever fight over anything serious but unlike gale he will complain if you pick something out that he doesn't like. he wants something he likes too. if he has to look at it, he wants it to suit his tastes

he's probably a sulker and doesn't apologize first unless he actually really feels bad about something

he likes seeing you say you're sorry. it makes him feel good to know you care enough about him to apologize for fighting over something that never really meant that much to anyone else

he wants some control over things. that's really all he wants

sometimes he will say things he doesn't mean, but he won't apologize immediately

the fight will get worse before it gets better

he isn't really the type of person to yell, but he does sometimes and he hates doing it but sometimes it feels like no one hears him unless he does

if you start a fight because you feel ignored or not good enough or something like that, it's a whole different story

he won't even really argue. he'll sit there and listen to everything you have to say even if you scream at him

definitely will hug you and reassure you that he loves you. he says he's sorry for ever making you feel that way, too

he hates fighting. but he will argue if he feels it's necessary... or when he's overwhelmed

sometimes things come out that he doesn't mean

[saey707]

*heavy breathing* pls, feed my thirst with a little heartsteel kayn pls I need him -I-I need to read some yandere heartsteel kayn *coughs* I can't breath I need him to be angry at me for his own feelings omg omg I need it I need the water

✿ Prompt: Kayn is a toxic boyfriend ✿

♡ champion focus: kayn ♡ tw: npd, yandere ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author's Note: Your request made me laugh so hard that I had to respond as soon as possible LOLOL ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა I'm always down for writing toxic yandere boys! So let's get into Kayn ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Enjoy!

Most days, you couldn't help but feel like you were trapped in a relationship with Kayn. Yes, you loved him, hell you even accepted him the way he was... But really, that was only because you feared what he could if you did try to speak up.

The warning signs were always there- People constantly reminding you... no, warning you that Kayn was toxic. But, you chose to ignore them. You wanted to believe there was some degree of good inside of Kayn. You wanted to love him like no one did before. You tried to convince yourself that you could even change him!

However, seeing Kayn in all his selfish, narcissistic colors made you realize far too late that you were stuck with him... and Kayn loved the power he had over you.

He loved having control over your shared relationship and felt like he could do as he pleased whenever he pleased. Time and time again Kayn would exercise unscrupulous control and influence over you. And you let him.

The control issues Kayn harbored at the beginning of your relationship were small. So much so, that you believed he was just obsessive-compulsive. He spoke devilish whispers that persuaded you to do things you would never do. He had you wrapped around his finger. He had you in his possession. His trap.

And as the devil's web unwound, it was only a matter of time before he was only just beginning to control every aspect of your life, from deciding what you wore out to events together to who you spoke to.

"I saw Aphelios looking at you the other day. You shouldn't trust him. You never know what the intentions of the quiet ones are..."

"I heard what Yone said to you the other day. You shouldn't listen to him... He has no idea how happy we are together!"

"I don't want you talking to Ezreal anymore!"

While the rest of the band felt it was wrong to enable Kayn, they kept quiet. They kept their distance when you all were alone. Because Kayn knew as much about them as he knew about you. And Kayn wasn't afraid to abuse the information he knew he sabotage all of them if they crossed him and his relationship.

The only sigh of relief you ever had was when the group performed interviews out of the country. Even though you could tag along, you chose not to. You made the excuse that you had work, and that saved you every time. Work was the only thing you had in your life that gave you some sense of control. Kayn couldn't take that away from you... yet, at least.

"Why aren't you texting me back? Are you listening to me?!" "Answer right now!!" "You're seriously going to put your phone on mute this long?! Who the hell do you think you are?!!" "Fine then. You did this to yourself. Keep that in mind." "LMAO" "When I get back you better hope that I'm fucking happy!!"

And he made sure to let the world know how frustrated he was.

"So Kayn, how is your relationship with your partner? You both are still together right?!" The interviewer happily questioned, your boyfriend playing the part, showing off that devilishly smug smile in front of his awestruck audience.

It made you feel sick to your stomach. It made you dread what he was about to say and what he could say.

"Oh, we are! Things between us are better than ever. We're both so happy..." His smile fell. "But..." He began to brood, looking off to the side for a moment. The audience ate up his vulnerability.

"They get so busy with work sometimes. I just wish they could respond to me sooner! Babe, if you're watching this, answer me!! Ahahaha!!" His smile returned, the others trying to hide their discomfort with joyful laughter.

"Well, I'm sure they'll be happy to see you when you get back Kayn. Don't be so discouraged!" The interviewer reassured him, Kayn rubbing the back of his neck, staring forward at the camera. Staring forward at you.

That was the telltale sign: That you were absolutely, most positively, fucked.

[martellspear]

it bothers us because you have delusions that martell princess who was raped but nobody except her family was bothered by it cause she was so irrelevant suddenly should matter more than Jon Targaryen's parents who according to canon 'he loved her she loved him' and their love brought about the birth of the prince who was promised

suck on it irrelevant ugly woman stans and you have the gall to compare princess viserra to her when viserra was million more beautiful than the dornish scum and her ill spawn could ever be

Jon WHO? LMAO. I wasn't going to post this - my moots & followers don’t deserve to read this shit -  but it made me laugh more than the others

Rhaegar chose Lyanna, I agree.... but it was to die. Do you think he wouldn't have taken here somewhere safer and with more people to ensure > her < safety during childbirth if he wanted to? Please.

He could've let Elia die in a third pregnancy and be free from her and marriage duties. The thing is that the moment he found out it might happen he went "no❤️".

Also, I'd be embarrassed to use the show as source. Especially if my pRoMisEd pRiNcE's end was that one.

'Ugly woman' and that's her:

"The crowning of the Stark girl, who was by all reports a wild and boyish young thing with none of the Princess Elia’s delicate beauty."

I can't believe you're so obsessed to the point of seeing posts I don't tag����. Go use that time to read the books, they're fun.

On a more serious note [tw: rape]:

You are disgusting. Do you know how hard someone has to try to be worse than some ASOIAF men?

‘In Casterly Rock, it was common knowledge that Gregor Clegane had killed Elia and her babe. They said he had raped the princess with her son’s blood and brains still on his hands.’

That’s what you are mocking. I don’t care that she’s a fictional character, what you and your rabble say about her is truly sickening, it’s heartbreaking that you get to vote.

Someone who’s not from her family and cares a lot about what happened is Ned. I’m sorry if his own sister’s death didn’t influence his non-Jon decisions but Elia’s did.

Thus, one of the reasons he gives Cersei the chance to escape is his memory of Elia and her children's bodies presented to Robert and his reaction, you can’t even deny how much it affected him.

‘Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage [...]’

A few other quotes: 

‘Tyrion watched the faces of the Lords Tyrell, Redwyne, and Rowan, wondering if any of the three would be bold enough to say, “But Lord Tywin, wasn’t it you who presented the bodies to Robert, all wrapped up in Lannister cloaks?” None of them did, but it was there on their faces all the same. Redwyne does not give a fig, he thought, but Rowan looks fit to gag.’

"Cersei is frightened of you, my lord … but she has other enemies she fears even more. [...] In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes.

‘Some nights, Ser Barristan wondered if he had not done that duty too well [...] m. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, everyone, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them.’

‘The Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children [...]’

I know you can’t relate but Elia was loved. It wouldn’t matter if ‘only her family’ cared, what happened to her was brutal and nothing changes it. You people just come off as rude, uneducated and ignorant. 

Fun fact: the name 'Elia' is mentioned 75 times throughout the series, 'Lyanna' 53 and 'Rhaegar', thanks to Dany, 258

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 21

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: I just want to start by thanking everyone for all the love on this story so far. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. This chapter is a little heavier (as is the story going forward, but I'll include potential triggers for each chapter as relevant), so please read the TW below and only read on if you feel comfortable doing so.

Potential Trigger Warnings: mentions of depression, suicidal thoughts, domestic violence

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The days blend together in a whirlwind of rehearsals, work, and studying. The excitement for the upcoming show is palpable, but underneath it all, a sense of exhaustion lingers. I push through each long day with determination. Then one night, I stumble home after a long day, late at night. I check my mail before going up to my apartment and find a large box with my name and address on it, on the floor infront of my mailbox. Knowing the date I can only imagine what it might be. Suddenly I’m wide awake. I rush up to my apartment and dump the box on the coffee table. Knowing it could only be one person, I send him a text.

Can I open it or should I wait until tomorrow?

I wait awhile but don’t get a response. I figure he’s either asleep or in the middle of filming. I force myself to leave the box and go for a shower. Feeling warmed up and relaxed, the package falls out of my mind as I collapse into bed and fall asleep.

As I drag myself out of bed the following morning and get dressed for my shift I remember the box. I check my phone and there’s still nothing. Knowing that it’s later in the day in Vancouver, I decide to try to call him while I finish getting ready. It goes straight to his voicemail and I start to get anxious. I doublecheck the sending address on the box and it has a Vancouver address with his name, so I know at least it hasn’t even come through his management, this was all him. This makes me a little more excited, but I can’t figure out why then he’d all of a sudden be ignoring me. I try to keep a level head and tell myself he’s just busy with work. I don’t have time to dwell on it anyway. Regardless, I can’t help but dread serving loved up couples their caffeine hits for the next few hours.

I force a smile and throw on my apron as I find my rhythm. Despite my initial anxiety, I find myself getting lost in the familiar routine, the busy atmosphere providing a temporary distraction from the unanswered questions swirling in my mind. I push through and then go to my classes as usual, while avoiding checking my phone to keep myself from spiralling further unreasonably. 

As I walk home alone from the theatre, through the streets filled with loved-up couples, I try to feel happy for them while I hope that maybe next year I’ll have someone to share it with. As I approach my building I see someone sitting on the ground infront of the glass doors with their head on their knees. My heart races a little as I worry it could be someone looking for a way to sneak into the complex; I’ve seen stranger things happen in the city, unfortunately. The scene also reminds me of the time I sat in that exact position when Tyler first kicked me out of the apartment. I can’t imagine someone going through those same emotions on Valentines of all days, but for my own safety and the safety of others in the building I hope it’s the latter.

As I get closer, I can tell it’s a young girl. I think about walking past, but then I think about the immense difference it would have made if someone stopped when I was in her position. I clasp my keys in my palm as I crouch down beside her. 

“Hey, are you alright?” I ask, but she just shakes her head. “I know Valentines Day can be rough. Do you at least have somewhere to go? It’s too cold to stay out here.” She shakes her head again as her whole body shakes as she lets out a small sob. “I obviously don’t know you or what happened, but I’ve sat where you’re sitting…If you want to talk about it or just be around someone and not talk about it…” She shakes her head again. “You should at least come into the lobby, out of the cold night air.” When she still refuses to move I shrug off my jacket and wrap it around her. I feel my phone vibrate in my bag, but ignore it. While she’s refusing to talk, I know from experience that she shouldn’t be alone.

I sit on the pavement beside her under the dim streetlights in silence. When I start to shiver involuntarily she offers my jacket back. “You should go inside and stay warm. Don’t stay out here because of me. I’m obviously not worth it.” 

Hearing words so similar to ones I’ve said myself breaks my heart. “Only if you’ll let me call you a ride or bring you in. You won’t believe me, but I’ve had those exact thoughts. I don’t think you should be alone tonight.” I know it must be extremely hard for her to trust a stranger but I hope I can at least get her somewhere safe and warm.

My phone vibrates again, this time with a call. I ignore it. I don’t want this girl to think anyone or anything is more important than her. 

After a while, when she realises I’m not going anywhere, she says, “There’s no one to call…I-I was stupid.”

“I’m sure you weren’t. I’m sure you are just young and optimistic and caught in terrible circumstances beyond your control. But you likely won’t believe me, because I know I wouldn’t have. I haven’t got much to offer, but I do have an apartment with a fireplace and a comfortable couch and bed, you can have whichever.”

“I don’t-”

“It’s no problem. I just want to get you off the street for the night and I don’t imagine you can afford a hotel in the city, not to make assumptions, I just know how expensive it can be out here.”

My phone starts to buzz again and she sinks back. “You should get that.”

“They can wait. It’s probably just my mom checking because she knows how hard Valentines can be for me.” I don’t want to push too hard but I know it’s only getting later and colder and neither of us are making the most of my jacket now. I stand up and swipe my keyfob over the scanner. “At least come into the lobby, I’m happy to stay down here with you or bring you a blanket. Just come out of the cold.”

She hesitantly nods and pushes herself off the cold concrete. I lead her into the lobby. “You can come up with me or I can bring you down a blanket. It’s up to you. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I just want you to be warm and safe. And know that you’re not alone.”

“She looks around the bare, unhomely lobby and quietly asks, “C-Can I come up with you?”

“Of course.” I press the button for the lift and step back. When we get in, I notice she doesn’t even have a bag with her, just a phone that appears to be flat. I lead her into my apartment and quickly turn the lights on and start the fireplace. “The bathroom’s through there,” I motion towards my room, “If you want to have a warm shower or wash your face. The bedroom’s also in there if you’d prefer, or the couch.” I do my best to make her feel comfortable as I kick off my shoes and put down my bag. I also toss the now wilted roses in the bin, after pocketing the card. 

“They from your boyfriend? Does that mean it gets better?” she asks.

“It’s complicated, but yes, it does get better. It may take a while, but this moment doesn’t define you. Your life is so much more than your worst nights.”

She hesitantly takes a seat on the couch to warm up by the fire and I pull over a stool. “Y-You said you sat were I sat…C-Can I ask what happened?”

I nod. “My boyfriend at the time cheated on me in this very apartment. I came home from work and caught him in our bed with some girl her met at a bar. Same way he met me, ironically. He was a few years older. There were plenty of red flags I ignored. But it hurt for a long time. I am just lucky to have a great friend that helped me pull through the worst of it and keep putting one foot in front of the other.”

“He cheated with you here? And you stayed?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? I had a job here and classes and a friend and dreams. All of which were more important than a guy I moved across the country with on a whim. He went back to our home state and left me the apartment…and all the bills. I thought about trying to leave, but the location was perfect and the rent was cheaper than other places. I did get a new bed though. I threw out the bedding and sold the frame; there was nothing wrong with it, just that I couldn’t get the image of her gripping the headboard while he took her from behind, out of my head.”

“I’m sorry…”

I shake my head and shrug. “He was a dick. I’m just glad I didn’t let it break me. I almost did, and those thoughts resurface now and again, but I’m stronger for it. I know that now. I only realized that recently, actually…It’s these experiences that will eventually help you realize your worth.”

“He-He still has all my stuff. He begged me to forgive him…He-He wouldn’t let me…” I look her over as she speaks and notice she’s still cold. I reach over and pull the blanket off the back of the couch and offer it to her. She wraps it around herself and cuddles it close to her chest. That’s when I notice light purple bruises on her wrists.

“Did he?” I nod at her wrists and she hides them under the blanket. But then she nods.

“You can stay here as long as you need. I have a friend that works as a security guard, I can ask him to come over and help get your stuff tomorrow…Or we can go out and get you whatever you need.”

“He only does it when he’s…I provoke him…It’s my fault.”

I shake my head, knowing those feelings all too well. “Yeah? What’d you do?”

She shakes her head back and throws off the blanket. “It was my fault. I should go back. He’ll be mad if I-”

“I can’t and won’t stop you if you want to go. But I wish you wouldn’t. Just take the night. Get some sleep and think it over.”

She hesitantly pulls the blanket back on as she starts to cry again. “I-I just…I just wanted to go out. It was my first Valentines Day in a relationship…And in the city…I j-just…I-I shouldn’t…I know…”

“Hey, Sweetie. It’s okay to want those things. And every girl deserves that. Your man should want to take you out and show you a good time; not just on Valentines, but every day. But most of all, he shouldn’t ever hurt you. You’re not his punching bag.”

“He didn’t…He just-” My phone vibrates noisily on the counter cutting her off. “C-can I use the bathroom?”

“Of course. Let me know if you want to borrow some clean clothes. I should have something that should fit.”

“I’m okay. Thanks.” She quietly gets up and goes into the bathroom. I listen for the shower to turn on before I get up and check my phone: 15 texts and 3 missed calls from Jensen. I sigh and call him back without opening the messages.

“Thank God, you’re alive at least!”

“Me? You ignored me first.”

“I was working.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“At one in the morning? I know you get on the subway around eleven thirty, you always text when you get home. I didn’t hear from you. Jared only just talked me out of calling the police for a wellness check.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…Something came up. I can’t talk about it right now. But I’m home and I’m safe. And I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He sighs. “Well, happy Valentines for yesterday, I guess…”

“Don’t be like that. I texted you last night and called you first thing this morning. You didn’t answer. We’re both busy. I had to accept that, so do you. And I really am busy at the moment. I will call you and explain when I can.”

“Someone more important, huh? Some guy from the show?”

I instantly tear up at his implication. “You know what? Screw you, Jensen. You know what I’ve been through and you really think I’d do that to you? Screw you.” I hang up before he can make any excuses and wipe my eyes hastily to appear strong for the girl who needs me. He instantly tries to call me back but I flick my phone to silent and plug it in to charge. I grab a change of clothes and knock lightly on the bathroom door. 

“Hey, it’s just me. I have some clothes here if you want them.” I wait a few seconds, but when I don’t get a response I put my hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry, I’m coming in. Call out if you don’t want me to.” I don’t get a response so I push the door open and for the first time I’m thankful that it doesn’t have a lock.

I notice her sitting on the floor with her back against the bathtub and her head between her knees. She shakes as she cries heavily. As I get closer, I notice one of my bottles of painkillers in her hand. I let out a relieved sigh when I see the cap is still on. I twist off the water in the shower and crouch down beside her. 

“He’s not worth it…None of them are. But you are. You can have a very bright future. Focus on your dreams, what you want. If you put in the hard work, you can make it happen. I know it’s hard to believe right now, but it’s true.” I hold out my hand and she hands over the bottle. 

“What if he-What if someone saw us? What if he knows? What if he-”

“Do you wanna go somewhere else? I can call my friend and we can go somewhere else. As I said, he’s a security guard, he can protect you.”

She nods. I stand up and go get my phone and bring it back. I flip down the toilet lid and sit on it as I call Nick. I know Stella will be asleep, but I’m just hoping he’s finishing a shift. It rings a few times before he answers.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, Nick. Can you come over?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I was just wondering if me and a…friend could come stay with you and Stella?”

“Jensen?”

I shake my head eventhough I know he can’t see me. “Nick, could you just come, please?”

“Sure. I’m on my way. Meet me downstairs?”

“Actually, could you come up? I’ll buzz you in.”

“Okay?”

“Thank you.”

He hangs up and I go back to sit with the girl. That’s when I realize I don’t even know her name. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” I try to break the tension a little to make her feel comfortable, “I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Anna.”

“Nice to meet you, Anna. My friend’s gonna come here and take us back to him and his wife’s place. They live over in Manhattan. They’re both really nice. Stella is the one I was telling you about that helped me when I was going through my worst. You’ll be safe there.”

“W-will you c-come?”

“Of course. I won’t leave you.”

“I’m sorry I wasted your water and went through your stuff.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. But I need you to tell me the truth, did you take any? I don’t mind, I’m just worried about you.”

She shakes her head. “I-I couldn’t…I couldn’t do it.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

She hangs her head again. “Todd’s gonna be so angry…”

I try my best to stifle a laugh, “Really? Todd? That’s his name?” She nods. “That’ll do it.” She looks up confused. “I’m sorry. It’s just in my experience, guy’s with T-names are the worse. The guy that cheated on me? Tyler…and also, Trent, before that.”

“Two guys?”

“What idiot falls for it twice, right? That’s why I want to help you now. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Don’t let it become a pattern. Let him be your one and only lesson. Realize your worth now.” I hear the buzzer from the intercom near the door. I stand up and hold my hand out. “My friend’s here, let’s go back out where it’s warmer.”

She slowly takes my hand and lets me pull her up and lead her back to the couch. I only leave her for a few seconds while I buzz Nick up and then let him in. Being already on edge he scans the apartment and instantly spots Anna. 

He leans close and lowly says, “There’s some frantic guy in the lobby. I don’t think you should go anywhere. I’ll stay here.”

I nod in understanding and introduce him and Anna. I gently explain the change of plans and urge her to take my bed. She argues, claiming that she should go down and check if it’s him and calm him down. But Nick and I dissuade her. In the end, she says she doesn’t want to be alone, so I lay down in my bed with her while Nick rests on the couch watching TV.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @stoneyggirl2 @hobby27, @n-o-p-e-never, @deansimpalababy,

@winchesterwild78, @kr804573, @chriszgirl92, @smoothdogsgirl

@speakinvain, @deans-baby-momma, @1967winchesterimpala, @ladysparkles78

[tojisangrylittlething]

supernova - megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

chapter four: the cursed womb must die

tw: canon typical violence, character "death", cussing

wc: 3.9k

a/n: AHHHHH i know it's been forever :( but please take this as a token of my gratitude. chapter four done and chapter five on the way :3

"if i had known it was going to rain like this i would have brought an umbrella." nobara grumbles, rubbing her arms to try and gain some warmth from her palms.

you chuckle under your breath, not wanting to interrupt ijichi speaking.

nobara, megumi, yourself, and your brother yuuji are all standing outside of a detention center, in the pouring rain. ijichi goes on about a curse inside and the evacuation process, but you're only half paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth.

"we'll be inside in no time," you say to her, an attempt to reassure your friend while also attempting to make the time pass. your comfy dorm bed and the latest episode of your favorite show calling your name.

nobara huffs and rolls her eyes, jabbing you with her elbow lightly, "easy for you to say, i don't understand how you're not freezing."

you shrug your shoulders with a shake of your head, "i don't know either, maybe you just have a skill issue."

nobara's face morphs into a scowl and turns to you fully, "hey!-"

you begin to laugh at her antics as someone clears their throat, interrupting the bickering between you and your new best friend.

you both face the sound, noticing the boys and ijichi looking at you with blank stares. immediately, you and nobara straighten up, placing your hands at your sides.

you smile reassuringly at ijichi, "sorry, what were you saying?"

ijichi sighs and looks at the rest of your party, continuing on, "as i was saying, do not fight under any circumstances. if you encounter a special-grade, your options are to either run or die."

you held a determined look on your face but you can't ignore the growing pit forming in your stomach. if it was this dangerous, why are they sending four first-year students? before you could sink into the possibilities any further, a voice filled with worry cuts you off.

"excuse me? where is tadashi?"

all eyes are drawn to a woman who stands behind a barricade of other jujutsu officials. she's waving her hand in the air and looks panicked.

you can hear all of them ordering her to stay back and to not come any closer, but she is a relentless woman. she happens to catch your line of sight as you look at her.

"please, my son, tadashi. is he all right?"

you can't help but feel sympathy for her, just a concerned mother looking for her son, wanting to ensure his safety.

you go to open your mouth but ijichi steps forward to handle the situation. the rest of you can't help but watch, hearts going out to the poor woman.

you can tell that the more ijichi talks to her, the less it does to ease her nerves. she begins to cry and collapses to the ground, weeping into her hands.

the sight is too much for you to witness and you turn your back toward the scene, closing your eyes and biting your lip, swallowing back any emotions that may come to the surface.

"we're gonna save them."

you turn to see your brother rolling up his sleeves, preparing to go into the detention center. he watches you intently and you nod back at him, not trusting your voice right now.

with that, all of you make your way into the building, unsure of what waits for you within.

---

you knew that by becoming a jujutsu sorcerer, you would have to see some things that no teenager should have to see.

however, finding a body that only has the waist up was not on the list.

the man is propped up against a wall, fear is etched permanently into his skin and he's still warm to the touch. megumi and nobara keep their distance while you and yuuji approach him, holding onto the hope that he's still alive somehow.

yuuji crouches down and pulls at his shirt, reading the name tag on his chest. you leaned over him from above, unable to tear your eyes away from what you're seeing.

okazaki tadashi

your brain flashes back to the mother outside, she said her son's name was tadashi right?

"let's take this body back."

"what?" megumi questions, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"that woman from outside, this her son." yuuji says flatly, gripping the material of tadashi's shirt tightly.

"but-" nobara starts, but it's you who cuts her off this time.

"his mother isn't going to accept if we just tell her he's dead, but we have no body."

megumi walks toward the two of you and yanks yuuji back by his collar, accidentally knocking yuuji into you in the process. you stumble backwards and catch yourself, glaring slightly at megumi.

"we have to find and verify two more. leave that body behind."

yuuji looks at megumi as if he lost his head, flailing his arms around, "are you crazy? we won't be able to come back for it!"

megumi feels his head beginning to ache, there's surely a vein throbbing on his forehead. "i didn't say to come back for it! i said to leave it behind! i have no intention of risking my own life to save someone i had no intention of saving in the first place!"

you can physically see yuuji's body deflate at megumi's words, body sagging in his grip and eyes downcast.

you clench your fist and walk toward the two of them, effectively shoving megumi away from your brother. he looks at you for a moment with shock, but it quickly reverts back to annoyance.

"no intention of saving him? what the fuck do you mean by that huh? are we just supposed to assume that any civilian ensnared by these incidents are dead? that no one can be saved?"

megumi lets the words spill out of his mouth like a raging fire, unable to fathom the stupidity he believes you're exuding, "jujutsu sorcerers are always given the information beforehand, okazaki tadashi? he hit a little girl on her way home from school while driving without a license, it was his second offense."

megumi then turns back to yuuji, a scowl somehow forming even deeper in his mouth, "i know you're stuck on saving lots of people and guiding them to proper deaths. but what are you going to do when someone you saved kills someone else in the future?"

yuuji pauses for a moment, taking in megumi's words. his brows crease as he opens his mouth, taking a step toward megumi, "then why did you bother saving me? or my sister? whatever the fuck is going on with us, i'd hate to see what we can do with no limits."

megumi closes his mouth and frowns, eyes burning into yuuji's.

"i think you should stop talking to my brother like that."

megumi and yuuji both turn to you, eyes growing wide with what they see.

you are once again engulfed in energy, all color in your eyes replaced with a harsh, white glow.

nobara finally pipes up, frantically walking toward you all while waving her hands, "cut it out! all of you! you're all idiots, think about the time and place before you-"

nobara is abruptly cut off by something pulling her into a ghostly hole in the floor.

the three of you watch on and quickly come back to reality, remembering why you were all on this mission in the first place.

your eyes dart around the room, trying to sense every single thing you could, bracing yourself for any possible attack.

"my dog, he should've sensed-" megumi's own gasp stops anything else from coming out of his mouth.

your eyes are drawn to him when he stops talking, he's looking straight ahead. his eyes are wide with fear and his mouth is agape, completely dismayed at what he's seeing.

you follow his line of sight and can't help the choked gasp you let out, your entire body grows cold.

the head of megumi's dog is sticking out from the wall, blood oozing out of its mouth and eyes void of any life.

as if he feels your gaze on him, he turns toward you, clearly in distress.

"we're running! we'll search for kugisaki la-"

megumi sees it then, the bipedal shadow standing behind you and yuuji.

this is not going to plan.

you see megumi staring past you, eyes fixated on something behind you. you look at him confused and slowly turn your head around, wondering what's oh so interesting back there.

you feel its presence before you spot it. you can't stop the wave of fear from washing over you, all anger from earlier vanishing.

there stands a curse, much bigger than any of you. large, beady eyes and a horrific grin plastered on its face.

you expect it to lunge at you or throw some sort of attack, but it just stares back at you. it is simply observing from where it stands.

time seemed to stop in this moment, nobody moving a muscle for what felt like an eternity.

it's yuuji who makes the first move, whipping out his cursed tool and turning to slash the curse.

what you expected to see was the curse's head going flying and its body collapsing into dust.

what you didn't expect to see was yuuji's arm go flying instead.

you feel his blood spray onto your clothes, which brings you out of the trance you were in, too shocked at what you were seeing to think clearly.

you look down and blink slowly, unable to stop thinking about how warm your brother's blood is on your skin. you bring your hands up to examine them, slowly turning them to inspect every single speck.

you look back up at him and your eyes are void of any emotion, brain unable to comprehend what happened just moments before.

you hear eerie giggling and you are harshly thrown back into reality upon hearing the sound, focus now drawn to it. you're violently reminded of the serious situation you've all landed yourselves in.

the curse is unphased, finding the situation amusing. it claps and giggles, the curse is enjoying this.

you face the curse and hop into a defensive stance, feeling a new wave of energy surge through you. your entire being shines with a white hue and you feel stronger. you want nothing more than to protect your brother and megumi, that's all that matters right now.

"hey sukuna! if i die, you die too right?"

wait a minute, he's not-

"if you don't want that, then help me out."

you keep your eyes on the curse but scream over your shoulder at yuuji, "what the hell are you thinking?"

a chill crawls up your spine, a hazy fog filling the room. the air is thick with dread, you can't help but gag as the vile scent fills your lungs.

"nope."

sukuna's one word held so much weight, one syllable creating a tidal wave across the room.

"even if the parts of me inside you die, there are eighteen other fragments of my soul."

"you will feel the grip of my hand."

"i will never let you go."

you hear a voice whisper from the depths of your brain, small flashes of light playing behind your eyes. you think you faintly see familiar black, cat-like nails and another hand placed over it.

you shake your head, willing the voice to go away. now is not the time, you have a job to do. you most uphold the duties of a jujutsu sorcerer and exorcise this curse.

you hear a menacing laugh and finally look back at yuuji, sukuna's eye on his cheek targeted at you. his grin only grows wider when he notices your attention is now focused on him.

"she speaks to you doesn't she?"

you can't help but feel nauseated at sukuna's words, your heart is pounding and you break out in a cold sweat. how would he know that?

"she has such a lovely voice, a shame i can't hear that witch sing anymore."

you grit your teeth in anger as you begin to realize that sukuna has something to do with what's happening to you. you don't know how but you know in your gut that he knows something, at the very least, he's involved. you take a step forward, ready to end sukuna then and there.

"itadori!"

you hear megumi shouting at you and you turn back to the curse, it has charged up an attack and is shooting it directly at you.

all of a sudden you are about 6 ft to the left of the spot you once were, like you appeared straight from the air. that spot now being taken over by the raw energy from the curse's attack, sending dirt and rocks everywhere.

"what the fuck." you mumble to yourself, confused at what just happened.

"did you just teleport?"

you look up and see megumi staring at you in alarm, smoke swirling everywhere.

"i think so." you look down at your hands and flip them back and forth, in awe of the newfound technique.

"fushiguro!"

you both turn to yuuji, who looks at you both with an intense look. sweat is pouring down his temple and his nose is scrunched up, yet his face is eerily calm.

"take my sister and kugisaki and get the hell out of here!"

"what? no, brother, i-"

yuuji cuts you off with a shake of his head, a resolved look on his features as he has decided what he has to do, "i'll keep this one busy until you're all out."

he turns to megumi, "as soon as you're out, give me some kind of signal. once you do, i'll switch with sukuna."

you and megumi both scream in protest, desperately moving toward yuuji, "you know you can't do that!" "are you out of your fucking mind?"

the two of you scream over each other while attempting to talk some sense into your brother, yuuji is barely able to make out what you both are saying. you and megumi are yelling so frantically and loudly, it makes his head hurt.

yuuji decides to cut you both off, fixing his sight back at the curse. "look at it, it's toying with us. i can at least buy you some time."

you immediately shake your head, shooting the idea down. "no way yuuji, i'm not leaving you here by yourself."

yuuji turns to you and smiles softly, "please, y/n."

you look at him and sigh, shaking your head once more. "i think i've shown that if anyone can handle sukuna, it's me. i'm not leaving you with him, i don't trust him."

yuuji turns to megumi pleadingly, hoping he'll be able to talk some sense into you. he knows that you and megumi have become more comfortable with each other since starting at jujutsu tech, maybe there's a chance you'll listen to him.

your gaze is now focused on megumi as well and he doesn't know what to do. he can see the anguish in your eyes, begging him to let you stay. his eyes dart back and forth, the decision being an impossible one to make.

"fushiguro, go find kugisaki. i'll stay and help my brother."

the smile you give him is soft but unsure, nobody knowing how this is going to play out.

he glances at yuuji once more, then back to you. he knows you well enough that when you're like this, it's best to agree with you than to fight. he nods his head at you and turns to leave, "be careful." megumi's figure grows smaller the further he goes.

you and yuuji face off with the curse, eyeing it up and down.

"if i lose control of sukuna, you need to leave sister. promise me that."

you turn to yuuji who looks at you pleadingly, needing you to say it back in this moment.

you let out a small smile and hold your pinky out to him, "i promise."

yuuji smiles back at you and links his pinky finger with yours, sealing the deal.

"so how should we-"

within the blink of an eye, you and yuuji are slammed into a wall with brute force. the impact forcing air to leave your lungs, making you feel winded. you can feel blood dribbling down your chin and pooling in your lap.

you look to your right and yuuji looks the same as you, he seems delirious from the contact.

as you look back up, the curse has now gotten closer and there's another attack aimed at the two of you.

noticing the incoming stike, you gathered energy in your hands and threw them up in front of you, hoping to create a shield from the attack. while it softened the blow, it still threw you and yuuji through the same stone wall you were viciously slammed into.

you both land on your backs, gasping for air and attempting to reorient yourselves. the curse moves so fast, it's hard for either of you to play defense.

you look toward the hole in the wall and see the curse stalking toward you now, the power it possesses being present in each step it takes.

you roll over onto your stomach and push yourself up onto your hands and knees. you begin to crawl toward yuuji, but you have to stop at the pain shooting down your spine.

you crumple to the floor and curl in on yourself, whimpers of pain escaping your lips.

you hear yuuji groaning from beside you and feel his hand on your back, "come on y/n, you got to get up."

you close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. you open yours eyes and grit your teeth together, forcing your aching limbs to move.

as you're trying to pick yourself up with yuuji's encouragement, you hear what sounds like a howl off in the distance.

is that megumi?

"what a thoroughly annoying brat."

you feel your heart jump straight to your throat and you're blood is rushing loudly through your ears. you know that sukuna has come out to play, so it's your time to go. you made a promise.

"you, however, are far more interesting."

you force yourself up onto your knees and turn toward yuuji, who is now sukuna. he looks down at you with a wolfish grin, enjoying being let out of his cage for once.

sukuna walks toward you slowly, he's patient and confident in his movements.

you close your eyes and begin to focus, trying to remember how you teleported earlier.

"she has gone quiet hasn't she?"

you hear sukuna's footsteps getting louder the closer he gets, you refuse to open your eyes. you are too intent on the task at hand, getting yourself out of here.

you begin speaking to her in your head, picturing the woman's face vividly in your mind. you beg her to help you out of here and to show you the way.

you feel the energy consume your body again and feel as if you're floating, which makes your eyes flutter open.

you are actually hovering in midair except now you are the one who looks down at sukuna, who smiles at your awakened form.

"there she is."

"ryomen sukuna, i promised i would follow you forever."

before he can say or do anything else, you disappear from sight.

---

megumi stands outside of the detention center. he just finished loading nobara up into the car and is now speaking to ijichi, who sits inside of the vehicle.

"and what about you fushiguro?" ijichi says, slightly worried for the teenager.

"i'm going to wait for the itadori twins to return." megumi says, he had a lot of time to think about what you and your brother said. he feels as if a new fire awakened inside of him, now starting to come to some realizations that he had never previously thought of before.

"i see. after i take kugisaki to the hospital, i'll return as quickly as possible." megumi nods at ijichi who then drives off into the night with nobara in the backseat.

megumi turns back toward the building, if the worst case happens then it's my responsibility to end it.

he sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets, beginning the journey of locating you and yuuji.

megumi is so lost in his thoughts of what he might have to do that he almost misses the burst of light appearing above him.

he looks up and watches someone emerge from the portal, they fall onto all fours in front of him. megumi takes in their appearance, recognizing the uniform and hair color.

"itadori." there's a small smile on megumi's face upon seeing you, the sight helping ease a bit of his anxiety.

however, the smile falls when you finally look up at him.

there are tears pooled in your waterline, soot and blood covering you from head to toe. you look distressed and your breathing is coming out in heavy pants.

"we need to call gojo-sensei."

megumi can't help but look at you confused for a moment, then it dawns on him. he was too relieved seeing you to forget one important missing link, yuuji.

"what happened?"

megumi moves toward you slowly, he can tell your adrenaline is still pumping so he doesn't want to startle you.

"a lot fucking happened." you say, unable to look at him as you stare off into the distance. megumi can see the memory playing behind your eyes in real time.

he kneels down next to you and grabs your hands softly, glancing over them and inspecting the injuries. the touch relaxes you slowly and you can feel all the tension leaving your body. you finally get your eyes to move and gaze over at the source. you can't recall a time where megumi was this gentle, except maybe with his shikigami.

you simply watch him assess each and every wound he could see as you tell him what happened after he left. the curse, sukuna, and what happened with you.

megumi sits back on his knees, he's satisfied that he noted all the damage done to you. he flits his gaze at you and sees you're already staring back at him. you look defeated and completely exhausted.

"do you have any idea who she is or how she knows sukuna?"

you look away from him this time and shake your head. you appear to be thinking and megumi can't help but think you look cute when you do, even covered in blood.

"there has to be a way to find out, right?"

megumi honestly doesn't know for sure, but he thinks he might know someone who might.

he sends you a small, reassuring smile "i'm sure gojo-sensei will know."

this seems to settle you a bit as you send megumi the faintest nod.

he stands from the ground and dusts off his knees, stretching slightly then looking down at you.

"come on let me help you up, ijichi should be back soon."

you nod your head once more and megumi moves to stand behind you, scooping you in his arms to help you stand.

you're a bit wobbly on your feet but megumi keeps a firm grip on you, not wanting you to fall over.

you mumble a thanks to him as you find your footing. he still keeps a loose grip on you and you find it very sweet, even in this state.

"now we just need yuuji to-"

"sorry, but he's not coming back."

megumi's breathing quickens as your body is overcome with alarm.

"don't be so frightened." sukuna says, leering over at the two of you with a sickening grin.

"i'm in a good mood right now. let's chat, shall we?"

sukuna turns and is now facing you both fully with his hands in his pockets, staring at the both of you.

tags: @kasumitenbaz @ay0nha

[blackholesun321]

New One Piece AU dropped focusing around Zoro and Mihawk! You shall be subjected to it.

TW: Long Ask

Okay, so basically, this au has a long title but I dubbed it Child of the Sword. It started off with Zoro being able to see the spirits of the swords since in One Piece, swords are sentient and are possessed in a way. Only Zoro can see these spirits and talks to them all the time. At first, he didn't realize others couldn't see them. My friend and I played around with this a lot, and now's it's developed into a whole thing.

When Kuina died, Zoro's anger and grief erupted and Zoro discovered he was the incarnation of the Ancient Weapon: Ares. Created by the war god Asura. The sensei makes Zoro swear to never use his power in public unless it was life or death. Zoro goes on to see Kuina's spirit tied to Wado Ichimonji. During the shells town arc, Morgan is extra cruel bc he is Morgan, and when Zoro is tied in the courtyard he has the swordsman whipped on the back, marring and littering Zoro's back with scars. Zoro's honor is in shambles when Luffy shows up and helps him. During Baratie, Zoro fights Mihawk and loses, ending up with the scar on his chest. After Zoro promises to never fail, he whipsers "Finally a worthy scar" and Mihawk overhears. Mihawk almost noted how Zoro always seemed to be looking at things that aren't there.

So naturally, the warlord decides to kidnap Zoro instead of Luffy (yes I am mashing up OPLA and the anime, fight me). The Straw hats go on the free Nami from Arlong then make plans to get Zoro back from Mihawk. Zoro is less than pleased to be kidnapped by the strongest swordsman. Mihawk brings Zoro with him to meet with Shanks about Luffy's bounty poster and Shanks convinces Mihawk to give Zoro back to the Straw Hats, but before that happens, Mihawk and Zoro end up talking about Zoro's special abilities. Mihawk comes to the realization of what Zoro is and keeps it to himself.

During the two year time skip, Zoro reunites with Mihawk (even though he never stopped talking with the warlord after being dropped off ((begrudgingly)) at lougetown). Mihawk trains Zoro in the way of the sword AND helps him to realize his full potential.

This is all I have for now, but I have ideas for Dressrosa and Wano. :D

FUCK YEAH ASKS AGAIN! I’ve been ignoring the rest of my wings au ask gotta go finish those up lol just kinda sitting in my drafts. Anyways.

Oh fuck yeah again! I love the guy can see spirits no one else can mixed with reincarnation trope my little Bleach nerd heart is swooning.

But yesss constantly talking to air and technically he doesn’t need to but the swords haven’t told him that because it’s funny. And he’s just this ball of angst plus weirdo probably crazy guy who talks to his swords— so he’d be even more ostracized then in canon yeah the mentality Ill are stigmatized and treated poorly in all universes. Expect he not mentally ill I mean if we don’t count the Kuina trauma ™️ probably which is what gives Ironjaw the gaul and to whip him as well as tie him up to suffer dehydration and probably heat stroke so fun.

Maybe Kuina tags along in the form of wado-ichumongi? Maybe he can talk to her sometimes? Idk I just want him to be constantly fighting and loosing to a preteen girl that lives in his sword, I think that would be funny.

Mihawk please! Mihawk that’s kidnapping! Mihawk you’ve kidnapped a child. Because of course he has and did because Zoro=interesting equals if I leave him alone he could die and with the looks of his crew probably will die. Ugh guess I have to steal him.

You know he shows up at that beach eyeliner on, lip gloss applied and cunting it up to shore and with Zoro trying to stab him every other step. Shanks is very worried and weirded out. But also laughs his ass off because of course this is how Mihawk acquires a kid. But also he’s like Mihawk seriously no bad we don’t kidnap… Whitebeards the exception not the rule!

[aftonsparv-bugzz]

:33 < velop ! this is a little info on the 4th person neopronoun flag, coined by ve !! ^_^

:33 < 4th person neopronouns are neopronouns to be used instead of we/us/our/ours (‼️it is important to note that the pronouns yall will use must be decided by both/all of you, as you will be using those pronouns together and yall may as well pick something nice and shared(or if the other person dosent mind and lets you decide, or other way around, thats fine too. as long as its agreed upon‼️))

:33 < this can be use by couples/people in relationships, friends and siblings/family

:33 < "but how do you use that ?? wouldnt that be over complicated for no reason ?" to that vi say, why NOT over complicate it ?? why NOT confuse people for the sake of it ?? its funny.

:33 < anyways, the flag above shows the flag for 4th person neopronouns !!

:33 < the flag colours meanings:

:33 < light green: masc identifying people who use 4th person neos

:33 < light blue: equal decision making and enjoying/embracing your 4th person neopronouns

:33 < light grey/teal: 2pp neopronoun inclusivity/representation

:33 < white: togetherness, unity and representation for all neopronoun users

:33 < purple: 1pp neopronoun inclusivity/representation and nonbinary/genderless identifying people who use 4th person pronouns !!

:33 < yellow: positivity and co operation between the people using these pronouns

:33 < pink: fem-identitying people who use 4th person neopronouns !!

:33 < here are some examples of pronouns yall can use: !!

non themed:

•vus/vee/vour

•xus/xee/xour

•aeus/aeem/aeour

•faeus/faeum/faeour

•perus/perum/perour

•huus/humum/huour

•zus/zee/zour

•rus/ree/rour

•thonus/thonee/thonour

•zaeus/zaee/zaeour

•cous/cowe/coour

and any other non themed you can think of !! remember, these are yalls pronouns and nobody can dictate you on how they should be like/what they should be. it dosent have to make sense to others. only you

themed pronouns !!

•voius/voiwe/voidour (void)

•spaceus/spacee/spaceour (space)

•(tw !!‼️‼️mention of g0re !! please dont read if you're sensitive to that !!) goreus/goree/goreours (gore)

•spirus/spirwee/spirour (spirals !)

•clownus/clownee/clownours (clowns)

:33 < and anything else you can think of !! (vi cant be asked to type up any more😭😭‼️) make up your own !! go crazy !! you dont have to use these, theyre just examples !!

:33 < a quick example on how to use these neopronouns for those who sre confused:

:33 < "me and my best friend went to the shop ! vee got some sweets !" (instead of "we" its "vee" !! ^_^)

:33 < "wanna come eat with spaceus ?" (instead of "us", its "spaceus !!")

:33 < if you are a neopronoun blog, please repost this to spread this !! /nf vi would really love all the help vi can get ^_^ (any type of blog can repost this though ^_^/nf)

B33 < tagging: @io-archival (dont know who else to tag) (feel free to ignore ^_^)

:33 < we dont gatekeep pronouns around here <3

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 20

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 20: Sympathies for Maegor the Cruel

AO3 - Masterlist

TW: Attempted Rape/groping

As a wavery voice echoed through the corridor, Daenera’s steps faltered, her curiosity piqued. She turned her head towards the half-cracked door, her brow furrowing with concern. There was a sense of urgency in the voice, a plea for help that couldn’t be ignored. 

“What about me?” A smooth male voice countered. “I can show you that position if it would please you. I am an excellent teacher.”

Daenera was filled with dread as she heard the man speak, and instinct pushed her forward, bursting in through the door to find Aegon cornering Jelissa, his presence dominating and intimidating. Jelissa’s eyes were widened in fear and panic, her trembling hands clutching her skirts tightly as if seeking solace within the fabric. 

A flicker of annoyance passed over Aegon’s face as Daenera burst into the room, disrupting his hold on Jelissa. His hand slid from the nape of her neck to her shoulder before finally releasing her. Jelissa seized the opportunity, scurrying away from her trapped position, seeking refuge near Daenera. 

In an futile attempt to maintain decorum and ease the tension, Jelissa swiftly curtsied before Daenera, her movements slightly awkward and clearly affected by what had just happened. Her doe-like eyes blinked up at Daenera, reddened. “Princess.” 

Daenera’s gaze swept over Jelissa, her concern evident. There was no clear evidence that anything bad had happened, save for the expression upon the young girl's face. 

“Has something happened?” Daenera inquired with an edge in her tone. 

Jelissa shook her quickly, her eyes downcast. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Turning her attention to Aegon, Daenera’s expression hardened, her voice taking on a steely resolve, leaving no room for argument. “Leave us.”

Jelissa made an effortless curtsey, and hurried out the room. 

Daenera fixed Aegon with a cold glare. “Do not touch my staff again, do you understand?”

Aegon’s nonchalant demeanor remained intact as he stared back at her, seemingly unfazed by her reprimand. His relaxed posture and casual attitude only served to further infuriate Daenera. 

“What if they wish to be touched?” Aegon retorted with a shrug, a twisted grin forming on his face. “It was a simple offer really. I offered to teach her the joy of that–” he pointed towards the tapestry depicting a man and a woman mid act, their bodies looked more like intertwined knots, than anything else. “–Position.”

Aegon, reeking of stale wine and sweat, casually draped an arm around Daenera’s neck, his touch invasive and unwelcome. His expression twisted into an upside-down frown as he shrugged, his demeanor oozing with a sense of careless entitlement. “I would be happy to extend that lesson to you, sweet niece.”

With a disgusted curl to her lip, Daenera squashed her palm against his face and forcefully pushed him away. He stumbled. “You could never get into that position.” 

 “Should we test it out?” Aegon continued.

She doubted he possessed the flexibility to bend in such a manner, even if he attempted it. He lacked the physical grace it took, and with his laziness he would give up far too soon due to the exertion. Not that it mattered. “I would rather get eaten by a dragon–”

“That can be arranged,” Aegon interrupted, a sleazy smile on his face. 

“Do not touch my staff again,” Daenera sneered, feeling the irritation bubble beneath her skin. 

Aegon chuckled, a mocking glint in his eye, as he responded with a snide, callous tone, “Oh, sweet niece, I’ll make no promises. You know how irresistible the can beEE –”

In a swift and fluid motion, Daenera reached out, grabbing Aegon by the ear and twisting it. He yelped, attempting to alleviate the pain by bending to the side, but her grip remained unyielding. She refused to let go, even as he grabbed her wrist in a feeble attempt to pry her off. 

“Ow! Ow!” Aegon protested, his discomfort evident. 

“Do not ever touch my staff again. Do I make myself clear?” Daenera reprimanded, dripping with the same indignation his mother so often displayed. 

Aegon glared at her, his lips pressed into a firm line. 

Daenera weighed the repercussions of completely twisting his ear off, knowing that causing harm to another prince would only exacerbate the grievances Alicent held against her family. The thought of a one-eyes prince and a one-eared prince brought a smile upon her lips, yet she restrained herself. 

“Do you understand?” Daenera bit out, pulling a little harder. 

“I understand,” Aegon forced out through gritted teeth, his resentment evident. 

“Good.” Daenera released her hold on him, allowing him to step away. 

Aegon immediately rubbed his burning red ear, his expression bitter. “You cannot just go around doing this. I am a prince.”

“Then act with the decorum of one,” Daenera retorted, her tone firm and unwavering. 

She swiftly excited the room, the sound of her heels clicking against the stone floor echoing through the hallways. Her hand clenched and unclenched, the itching irritation under her skin serving as a reminder of the altercation. Daenera resolved to check on Jelissa and instruct Joyce to keep an vigilant eye on any further indiscretions from Aegon, especially towards Jelissa and the other serving girls. If he was foolish enough to indulge his perverted and vile desires, she would gather that information for later use, as repulsive as it may be. 

This had been such a promising day, and Aegon had managed to ruin it.

The library within the Red Keep, though smaller compared to its grand counterparts, exuded a certain marvel.The resounding echoes of each step reverberated through the air, thanks to exquisite marble floors. Rows of bookshelves adorned the walls and floor, showcasing a vast collection of knowledge. While a few secluded nooks provide privacy for studying, it was the long table in the center of the room that served as a primary space for scholarly endeavors. 

The narrow windows that were embellished with colored glass, struggled to illuminate the room, prompting the illumination of numerous candlesticks and chandeliers to cast proper light.

An aged Maester, his back painfully hunched, approached Daenera with narrowed eyes. The deep lines etched on his weathered face betrayed his advanced age. Daenera proceeded with caution as she spoke, uncertain of how the old Maester would respond.

“I am seeking books on prophecy,” Daenera stated carefully, her tone measured. She observed the lines on the Maester’s forehead growing even more pronounced. Undeterred, she continued, “Do you have anything pertaining to Dragon Dreamers or Seers?”

The Maester mumbled, scratching his bearded jaw, his response hinting that such requests were a rarity, if not entirely unheard of. “What purpose does it serve for you?”

Annoyance tinged Daenera’s polite smile, causing it to stiffen. “Aegon the Conqueror was said to be a Dragon Dreamer, was he not? And before him, Daenys dreamt of the Doom. It seems only natural to take an interest in the subject.”

The Maester’s eyes narrowed further, and Daenera briefly wondered if he had completely closed them. Grumbling under his breath, the Maester rose from his chair, his movement accompanied by the creaking of his aging bones and the protesting wood. Taking a hold of a lantern, he began to shuffle down one of the narrow paths between the bookshelves, his feet dragging along the floor with exasperating slowness. 

“We do not know much about Dragon Dreamers; there have been so few of them,” The Maester muttered. “Children of the Forest had been said to have what they called greensight, what good it did them.”

Daenera followed behind, her footsteps lighter and more eager. She pondered the Maester’s words about the scarcity of knowledge regarding Dragon Dreamers, briefly entertaining the idea that perhaps the lack of information stemmed from labeling them as mad. 

The Maester’s voice barely rose above the sound of the swinging lantern as he spoke. “Prophecies, in my opinion, are nonsensical creations, devised by individuals who seek meaning to their dreams.”

“Would you deem Daenys’ dream about the Fall of Valyria as nonsensical?” Daenera challenged. 

“The depths of the mind remain vast and uncharted, yet to be studied thoroughly,” the Maester replied, coming to a halt in front of a bookshelf. The Maester began perusing the spines in search of the appropriate book.

Ser Harwin’s words echoed in the depths of Daenera’s mind; knowing the future is to tie a noose and hang oneself with it . Yet, the weight of the numerous prophecies she knew of compelled her to delve further into the subject. They could be ramblings of madness, a notion Daemon would surely entertain. But Daemon also acknowledged the presence of Dreamers within their bloodline. But was it Dragon Dreamers who gave you your prophecies? He would question. 

The Maester placed a book in Daenera’s hands, its leather binding displaying the title, ‘Fall of Valyria; A Dream.’

“I cannot guarantee how much you will glean from it, but it should provide some amusement if anything. It was written by one of the Maesters of the Citadel.” 

Daenera smiled politely. She would have preferred books not tainted by the bias of the Maesters, but she accepted what was available. Perhaps she could correspond with Daemon and explore his vast collection of books concerning Valyria and House Targaryen.

The Maester proceeded to guide her along a few more shelves, presenting her with additional volumes. The next book, with its almost illegible letters etched on a brownish-green cover, focused on the Children of the Forest and their reputed greensight.

Despite the Maester’s assistance, he remained dismissive and unhelpful, eager to distance himself from Daenera as soon as possible to return to his seat. Left in a dimly lit corner of the library, she clutched the stacks of books tightly in her arms and made her way to the well-illuminated center of the room so that she could follow the path along the long table. It was there that her faze fell upon a figure near the end, his moonlight-hued hair cascading down his back flawlessly. 

Daenera narrowed her eyes at Aemond, her gaze piercing as she observed him. Annoyance simmered in her chest, fueled by the memories of their dalliance. The bruises on her neck had faded, but were not entirely gone. The ghost of his touch seemed to linger, haunting her especially in the middle of the night. And even now, she could almost feel the warmth of his lips tracing the path of those bruises, the whisper of his breath against the delicate shell of her ear. 

A shiver went down her spine and she tightened the grip on her books. 

Shame should have overwhelmed her, urging her retreat into the shadows of the library, hiding the vulnerability he had exposed. But Daenera refused to succumb so easily. She despised the sensation of waiting, the anticipation of his next move making her skin crawl.

Daenera walked straight towards him and stopped before Aemond, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of provocation. “Is it not exhausting to study so meticulously, knowing it is futile?” 

Aemond looked up from his book, a smug expression playing upon his features.

“Not as exhausting as pretending to be a proper maiden, I would imagine,” Aemond countered, savoring the sight of her lips pursing and her eyes narrowing in response.

Daenera’s gaze shifted to the book that held Aemond’s attention. 

“What are you reading?” she inquired, her tone portraying a mixture of intrigue and skepticism.

“It is Maester Benifer’s account of Maegor the Cruel’s reign,” Aemond replied, his eye returning to the pages before him.

“Are you seeking inspiration on how to claim the throne, or are you simply hoping for a wave of sickness to claim the lives of those who stand before you?” Daenera’s question carried a touch of irony, seeking to puncture his facade. A flicker of amusement danced in Aemond's eyes. “If that’s the case, I'm afraid it’s unlikely to work.”

“I do not place my hope on illnesses and plagues,” Aemond replied, his tone laced with a subtle arrogance.

Daenera hummed. “Bloodshed then?” 

Aemond smiled in amusement. “One must learn from the past to prepare for the future. I study history to avoid repeating the same mistakes they made.”

Daenera met his words with skepticism. “The mistakes you could make will hardly leave a mark on history. You are not a king, nor do you wield enough influence.”

Aemond chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eye. “That is rather a narrow-minded view, sweet niece. Even a seemingly small choice made by a princess, let’s say, to surrender her maidenhead before marriage, may have far-reaching consequences beyond what one might initially perceive.”

Daenera’s expression turned incredulous, and she felt her cheeks turn red with anger and embarrassment. 

“History has shown us that even seemingly insignificant actions can ripple through the tapestry of time.” Aemond’s gaze was locked with hers, his tone filled with conviction.

Daenera’s voice dripped with dry sarcasm as she spoke, “It appears you’ve missed your true calling, Aemond.”

His brow lifted. “And what, pray tell, would that be?”

“To become a Maester,” Daenera replied, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It’s a shame, really.”

Aemond's expression betrayed a flicker of annoyance mixed with intrigue. “I’ve never found any allure in becoming a Maester. My true calling lies elsewhere.”

Daenera placed her books on the table, her hands resting on the worn wooden surface as she questioned Aemond. “And where might that be?”

“My purpose lies in being of service to my family, in fulfilling my duty. I am  prepared to take up the sword, to defend our House.” The smug expression lingered on Aemond’s face, his words hanging in the air. His answer was a mixture of truth and evasion, carefully crafted to be ambiguous. 

She was not surprised by his answer; after all, she knew where his loyalties truly lay. It was the same dance they had engaged in countless times. 

Daenera rolled her eyes and reached across the table, slamming her palm down on his book and sliding it to her side, her eyes leaving him to search over the specific page he was on. “Tyanna of the Tower. Are you interested in sorcery or simply the many wives of Maegor?”

“Maegor’s many marriages is a point of contention,” Aemond answered, reaching for his book with a slightly annoyed and exasperated expression upon his face as Daenera began to filter through the pages. “One could argue that he only went to such extremes in desperation to have an heir.”

“Yet, it was futile. Six wives and no heir to show for it. Maegor should have found fault in himself rather than his wives,” Daenera mused, moving the book further towards herself and away from Aemond. “Do you think he was cursed?” 

Leaning back in his chair, Aemond let out a contemplative sigh, his fingers continuing their rhythmic tapping against the table. “If there was a curse, it was one of his own making.”

“So you don’t think Tyanna of the Tower used blood magic to bring him back from the brink of death, and that might have cursed him.”

“I think if there was a curse, it was put upon him when he burned the Sept of Remembrance and went against the Faith,” Aemond answered, his tapping continuing. 

Daenera stopped flipping through the pages as she landed on the Battle Beneath the God’s Eye, and she looked back up at Aemond. “Why? Burning the Warrior’s Sons was the one good thing Maegor ever did.” 

“Is that so?” Aemond drawled, his head tilting to the side as he observed her. “He killed near a thousand–”

“Seven hundred,” Daenera corrected.

“ Seven hundred good men at prayer,” Aemond continued. 

“Men who took up arms against our House,” Daenera argued, a little taken aback at his perception of what had happened. “Men who rebelled against Aenys and would have overthrown us. Maegor quelled the rebellion and ensured that the Faith could not take up arms again. He restored our House's strength.  I thought even in this much, you would agree.”

Daenera found herself searching Aemond’s face for answers. She couldn’t be sure whether his staunch opposition stemmed from his inherited piety or simply his desire to challenge her. 

While Aemond had grown up under the influence of Alicent’s devout and pious nature, she knew him well enough to recognize that his concerns for the gods were not to the same extent as his mothers. 

“One could argue that the Faith Militant wouldn’t have rebelled had Maegor not decided to take up a second wife while he was already married,” Aemond pointed out, his lips curling as Daenera’s frown deepened. 

“The Faith Militant would have rebelled whether Maegor remained faithful to his wife or not. His second marriage was only the spark that lit the fire. The Faith has never given their full support for our House, and our supposedly ‘queer’ ways,” Daenera argued. “Had it not been Maegor’s marriage it would have been Aegon and Rhaena’s marriage.”

Aemond’s lips curled into an amused smile. “It seems you hold a grudge against the Faith.”

“I do not hold a grudge. I simply believe that Maegor dealt with the Faith Militant as they should have been dealt with from the start. Aenys’s weakness allowed them to gain more power.”

“You’re far more ruthless than you present yourself to be,” Aemond stated, his eyes meeting hers. “Aenys was a weak king, he was a pendulum that swung towards the opinion of whomever was closest at the time. Maegor was anything but weak. All he ever had, he had to take for himself.”

Daenera pursed her lips, her eyes catching the gleam in his eye. “Sounds like it is you who admire him.” 

“I admire his strength,” Aemond admitted, leaning forward to rest on his arms. “I admire the way he dealt with his enemies.”

“And the way he stole his nephew’s crown,” Daenera added. “Are you planning on mounting Vhagar and killing the ones next in line for the throne? If so, I would suggest making sure to leave no one alive to put their claim on the throne.”

Aemond let out a breath, his smile turning sharp as a blade. “Are you advising me?”

They stared at one another, the dare hanging in the air between them, palpable and clear as the rays of light cutting through the darkness of the library. 

“I do not believe the realm would benefit another cruel king,” Daenera answered. “You and your brother are sure to be.”

Aemond drew in a breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “Then it is a good thing we are not next in line.”

Aemond leaned forward, his long arm extending across the table, his fingers firmly gripping the book as he pulled it back towards him. The pages she had landed on unfolded before his eye, revealing an intricate ink drawing depicting the fearsome Balerion the Black Dread. In the illustration, the mighty dragon tore the wing off Quicksilver, sending both dragon and rider plummeting towards their deaths. It had been a quick battle, and an untimely end for Aegon the Uncrowned. 

“You know what I am studying, it is only fair that you should tell me what has captured your attention,” Aemond said, his eye flickering to her pile of books with curiosity. 

As he reached for a book, Daenera swatted his hand away like a mother chastising her child as he had reached for the cakes. “What I am reading is of no concern of yours.” 

“Ah, Princess Daenera,” Maester Orwyle greeted, coming up to the table with a book in hand, smiling genially at the both of them. “Have you come to join us for today's lesson?”

“No, thank you,” Daenera declined, picking up her books. “I am in no need to learn about Maegor and his cruelty.” 

“No need indeed,” Aemond commented in an underlying mocking tone. “She has extensive knowledge on the subject, although her trust in the Faith is a cause of concern.” 

Daenera’s eyes narrowed, displeasure evident as she found herself caught in the spotlight. Aemond was well aware of her indifference towards the Faith, and now he was using it against her. It wasn’t that she lacked care for the gods or doubted their existence. With gods, old and new, some forgotten and others supplanted, she acknowledged elements of truth in each of them. However, her true belief lay in dragons and blood. The gods had failed to shield their devoted followers from the merciless flames unleashed by Maegor, so why should she be concerned with their judgment of her mistrust of the Faith. 

“Do not question my faith in the gods,” Daenera bit back, feeling frustration and annoyance swirling within her chest. “I do not trust the men who claim to speak for them.”

Daenera nodded curtly to a bewildered and sheepish Maester Orwyle, before sending one last conscientious glare at Aemond, and then swiftly pivoted and walked away.  

Her footsteps carried her into the gardens, where she discovered Helaena seated beneath a blossoming cherry tree. Leaning against its trunk, she observed a tiny bug scurrying across her palm. 

Daenera approached and practically flung the books onto the ground before joining her, sprawling out on the grass with an exasperated huff. She rested her head in Helaena’s lap and squinted up at her. 

“Your brothers will drive me to madness,” she remarked.

“I assume the boulders have transformed into mountains,” Helaena mused, her gaze flickering down to Daenera’s scowling face. 

“I don’t know what that means, but all I know is that they’re exasperating,” Daenera complained, rubbing her face as if trying to erase the frustrations of the day. “I don’t understand how you can tolerate them. They’re awful.” 

Helaena chuckled at Daenera’s complaint, allowing the stag beetle to crawl from her hand onto the grass. Her hand then found its place in Daenera’s hair, letting the soft curls tickle her palm as she ran her fingers through it. “They’re not that terrible.”

“They are,” Daenera reaffirmed her stance. “I believe Aegon must have been dropped on his head as a child… And we know what happened to Aemond, he must have lost some of his brain along with the eye.”

“Aegon is a product of fear,” Helaena hummed, twirling a strand of Daenera’s hair around her finger. 

“And what about Aemond? What is he a product of?”

Helaena pursed her lips, her head tilting to the side as her eyes shifted to the swaying blades of grass in the gentle breeze. “He is what our mother needed him to be.”

“I don’t understand why he gets under my skin. He just… does. And it makes me want to strangle him. He is always there, staring with his one eye, always ready with snide comments. He delights in riling me up and humiliating me.”

“Aegon?” Helaena inquired, as if she hadn’t followed along with Daenera’s rambling. 

“Aemond.”

“The two of you are more similar than you realize. You and Aemond.”

“Oh, please,” Daenera scoffed dismissively, shaking her head in Helaena’s lap. “We’re nothing alike. I have both my eyes.” 

“Hmm… You’re both what your mothers need you to be. You both fiercely protect your family. You’re stubborn, hot-headed, and sometimes cruel.” Helaena’s voice carried an airy quality, akin to passing through the morning mist, ethereal and distant.

“I’m not cruel,” Daenera argued, feeling stung by Helaena’s perception of her. 

“You can be,” Helaena continued, oblivious to the hurt that flashed across Daenera’s face. “There’s cruelty within you. Like fire, it warms, but it also burns. Aemond is the same. If you manage to see beneath the facade, you will come to understand. Aemond longs for a connection that has always eluded him, a desire to be truly seen. He is lonely, I think. He doesn't know how to love or be loved.” 

“He wants to ruin me. He wants to destroy me and send me off to Dragonstone,” Daenera argued, unable to grasp what Helaena was trying to convey, to engrossed in her own irritation towards Aemond. 

Aemond was cruel, vindictive and calculated. His actions had repeatedly demonstrated these traits to Daenera. He had subjected her to humiliation, sought to ruin her prospects of marriage, and conspired to eliminate Aran Blackwood as a potential suitor. And despite all that, she had still sought him out. 

She had willingly surrendered herself to him. When he had offered her the wine, she had imbibed it without a trace of remorse for losing her maidenhead. The only remorse she harbored was the knowledge that he held power over her. He had all that he needed to ruin and destroy her. 

And yet, he was staying his hand. 

It was concerning, and only served to prolong anxiety that came with waiting for the sword to drop. She was sure it was not out of kindness he remained quiet. It was just to torment her further. 

“Do you think he gets under your skin because, deep down, you enjoy the bickering?” Helaena asked. 

“ No ,” Daenera answered immediately, the words spoken with disdain, as if the question had offended her. No… Maybe , she thought sourly. 

This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. All she wanted was to vent about her frustrations with her uncles. She didn’t want the raw truth to be revealed in such an uncanny manner. A truth she wasn’t prepared to face. She wasn’t prepared to acknowledge that he managed to draw out other feelings than annoyance. It terrified her. 

“Even the stars feel alone,” Helaena whispered, running her hands through Daenera’s hair without looking at her face. “And so does the flower that blooms during the night. Perhaps they will find solace in each other’s company, if they don't destroy each other first.” 

“You should write that down,” Daenera said. 

“Writing it down would make no more sense of it than not writing it down,” Helaena replied. 

Daenera thought of the Dragon Dreamers–Daenys, who foretold The Doom and bid her family leave Valyria, and Aegon the Conqueror, had a dream that made him decide to take the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps it wasn’t madness that clouded Helaena’s mind after all.

“You’ll soon marry,” Helaena said, changing the subject. 

Daenera groaned and rubbed her face once more, throwing a little tantrum at the thought. “Gods, I hope not.”

Why must marriage be her sole purpose? It was her duty, of course, one she would fulfill as necessary, but that did not mean she couldn’t complain about it. If she truly had a choice in the matter, she would remain an unmarried maiden for the rest of her life… When did maidens become crones, she briefly wondered. 

“ Once, twice, never thrice ,” Helaena murmured, beginning to braid Daenera’s hair. “ Once in ivory, to the sound of bells. Once in front of the fire, two becomes one. And once in grief, heart of black but forced in green. ” 

Absent-mindedly, she twirled the delicate gold ring on her finger, her gaze fixed on the interplay of the blue sky and the sun-dappled leaves of the cherry tree. A gentle breeze stirred the air, causing a cascade of pale blossoms to drift down like ethereal snow. 

“A witch once told me I shall marry twice,” Daenera blinked against the light flickering through the gaps between the leaves. “And she told me so much more…”

She felt Helaena study her face, and her eyes fluttered towards the pale haired girl. “Do you believe her?”

 “I was once told that knowing the future is akin to tying a noose and hanging oneself with it…”She took a deep breath, getting lost in her own thoughts. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, as if it would make the truth clear. “I don’t know.”

A tranquil silence settled between them, accompanied by the rustling of leaves and the harmonious melodies of birdsong. Faint voices carried on the wind, their words indistinct and distant. 

“Do you think you might be a Dragon Dreamer?” Daenera inquired, her voice hushed as she gazed up at the woman, studying the distant expression on her face. A fleeting frown crossed Helaena’s features, which always seemed to exude innocence and purity. Her eyes, pale blue, blinked down at the girl resting in her lap. 

“Daenys the Dreamer foresaw the Doom and Aegon dreamt that he would conquer the kingdoms of Westeros and forge them into one… Their dreams seem so clear and precise,” Helaena reflected, a sadness sneaking into her tone. “But mine are muddled, like a fragmented puzzle I cannot piece together.”

“Have any of your dreams ever come true?” Daenera reached up and gently took hold of Helaena’s hand, which had become still amidst the tangles of her curls. She brought it down to rest against her chest, hoping to provide some comfort or serve as an anchor to reality. 

“Some of them,” Helaena replied, her voice distant, as if she were a silhouette emerging from the mist. The frown deepened as she struggled to gather her thoughts. “They flicker like flames in the wind, and the shadows dance alongside them. I cannot make sense of them, and the fragments I do comprehend… I struggle to articulate in a way that others understand. And when they do come true, it is often not as I expected. More often than not, events unfold in ways I’ve never seen before.” 

Her distant gaze shifted to meet Daenera’s. “They all think I’m mad… and perhaps I am...”

“Helaena, your mind is not clouded by madness,” Daenera reassured her, sitting upright to face her directly. “Your dreams may be burdensome, but they do not equate to madness.”

“It often feels like madness,” Helaena whispered, her eyes misty. “Madness runs in our blood.”

“If any of us is touched by madness, it is your brother Aegon,” Daenera remarked, gently tucking a strand of Helaena’s pale hair behind her ear and adorning it with a delicate cherry blossom. As if pulled from the depths of a turbulent sea, Helaena returned to the present moment, a warm smile gracing her lips.

Daenera sighed loudly and laid back down in her lap. “If only I had been born with a cock between my legs, I would have married you.” 

Helaena let out a chuckle. 

**Cherry blossom: Gentleness and Kindness

[mollymauk-teafleak]

if I didn't love you, it would be fine

My lovely friend @minky-for-short sent me a prompt and then I wrote a whole Las Vegas human au but of course I forgot to include the actual words of the prompt! Please enjoy!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you like this!

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tw: sex work, drug use, sexual assault. It's Angel working for Valentino so you know what to expect

Angel Dust is one of the best known performers on the Strip, her shows are always sold out, her dressing room is full of flowers from so many high rolling admirers. But theres one rose in amongst them all, folded out of a paper betting slip, with a different name on it.

Anthony. Usual time and place? I’m all yours.

-----

An hour until curtain up and Angel Dust’s dressing room already looked like a florist’s front window. Nothing but desert, plastic and steel for miles around in any direction but this cramped little room burst with life. Temporary life, doomed to wither away in their ribbon and crepe paper cages, but beautiful life all the same. He’d been in this city long enough to appreciate anything pretty that came his way, sometimes only because it would be gone soon, turned to dust like everything else. 

That would come later. In that moment the dressing room was a riot of scent, bouquets of roses that opened like inviting lips, lilies exploding like fireworks, splayed as big as the span of his hand, carnations that seemed to fall in on themselves forever, spiral after spiral down into perfume. A small fortune of an oasis crowding out his make up and trinkets, each extravagant bouquet bearing the same tag, written in some florist’s swooping, elegant script, all so similar that the same person may as well have written them. Same for the men who’d sent them, each one some swaggering Strip hotshot, their intentions clear- they wanted him bound, wrapped and tagged just like the blooms themselves. Each one never imagined that his token of what he probably called affection with a straight face would be crammed in next to so many others. 

And each one identically ignored. 

The only one that mattered wasn’t living at all. It was folded from a betting slip, one that had been unusually lucky from what he could make out. It was crumpled from being in a back pocket, scentless apart from a familiar amber smell of cologne and whiskey, so similar it was hard to tell which scent was which. The tag on it was a messy scrawl that would make a florist faint, nearly illegible if he wasn’t so used to it, but it was clear that this particular flower wasn’t intended for Angel Dust at all. 

Anthony. Usual time and place? I’m all yours.

His heart skipped several beats, his fingers holding the paper rose like he was afraid someone would take it from him. As far as he was concerned, this was the only thing in the dressing room with any real life in it, life that would last. 

Angel glanced at the clock up on the wall, barely visible through the darkness outside of the artificial golden glow of the mirror lights. He had time, it wouldn’t feel like enough, but it never did. He checked his reflection in the mirror, trying to focus on himself past the miniature jungle, the polaroids tucked into the frame, the setlist he’d tacked up that was trying to remind him that he really should be doing his makeup, fixing his hair, holding himself ready until Valentino whistled and called him to heel before curtain up. 

That was trying to remind him what would happen if his boss knew what he was about to do. 

The young man he found in the mirror wasn’t much to look at. He was painfully skinny in a way that made people question his health, a question that would be answered by the red rim around his restless eyes with their too small pupils, the dark hollows underneath them and the raw edge around his nostrils. He was waxy under the scattering of freckles that looked like flecks of gold in the light, his hair a fluffy cloud of blonde so pale it verged on white, refusing to cooperate with any brush or comb or product. There was something angelic about him, though it was bruised and battered, a fallen angel. One of many that lined the streets in this city. 

He didn’t look like Angel Dust, darling of one of the raciest yet still somewhat tasteful clubs in Vegas, famous for her short skirts, her high heels, her sharp tongue and honeyed voice. He didn’t look like the prize of Valentino’s stable, one of his biggest ticket items once the curtain was closed and the music stopped and those who were in the know pressed money into his boss’ hand, wanting to temporarily possess the glittering creatures they’d seen on stage. He didn’t look like the one they’d send flowers to the next day, like they honestly believed what they’d had was something real, not something he was forced to do by the shadow of Valentino, always looming over him in his mind, the phantom hand always around his neck. 

But the paper rose arrived for Anthony. And that was who gazed back at him from the mirror, a small, hopeful smile growing on his face. 

Getting out was easy. Val never showed up for a show this early and every one of the harried crew buzzing about backstage either didn’t recognise him out of drag, let alone out of any make up whatsoever, or had been on the staff long enough to look the other way and let him go about his business, especially the other sex workers. They just let him pass with a slight nod or a quick smile, half into their own glamorous disguises, never denying another member of their sad little family a moment’s snatched happiness. Not that any knew where he was really going, probably assuming Angel was finding a quiet place for a quick bump or a smoke. Cherri would have known but she was already fired up and rolling, he caught glimpses of her in her backstage blacks, heard her barking orders and curses as she marshaled her little army of stage hands. Tonight was the debut of some new pyrotechnics she’d finally been allowed to try; he could hear the excitement in her voice as she hurled insults. 

He slipped out of a backdoor that no one ever used, a fire exit that some quirk of the cheap electrics meant didn’t actually trip its promised alarm. Angel took a deep lungful of the evening air, enjoying that brief heartbeat where it actually tasted fresh, before he noticed the stale sandy taste, the smell of gas and smog from the too many cars, the heat like the whole city was trapped in one big air conditioning system. But that first desperate gulp was heaven in his lungs, all the same. 

“Ain’t I seen your face on a billboard somewhere?”

Everything about Husker told you what he was, his voice was no exception. It was smoky, hazy, it practically came with its own counterpoint of rattling poker chips and clattering dice. It was a voice made for candlelit tables, green felt, last chances. It was a voice that could spirit the last of your coins from your pocket though they wouldn’t linger long in his own. The voice of a con artist, a huckster, a crook, exactly what most people would say Husk was. 

But Angel knew what he heard in his voice, he knew what he was. He was freedom. And hearing his voice turned a light on inside him, a joy better than any high he’d tasted before, worth the far more dangerous come down. 

“Don’t think so, baby,” he grinned into the dim alleyway, at the shape leaning against the wall by the door, illuminated only by the flashing lights on the street beyond and the cigarette in his fingers, “But y’know, I get that a lot.”

Husk stepped closer, stepped into the light, becoming that weather beaten face, that crooked smile, those warm eyes that Angel loved. 

“Yeah…” he reached out and touched the young man’s cheek lightly, “You’re much better looking than her anyhow…”

Angel snorted with disbelief, though not because Husk would look at him now, swallowed by a baggy, overwashed sweatshirt and leggings, not a smudge of product on his face, and say that. More that Husk would say it and Angel could actually believe it. 

But not even his demons could argue with the way Husk brought him close but always left the last few inches between their lips to Angel, letting it be his choice to kiss him, to taste heady second hand alcohol and pure desire on his tongue. And more than anything, as long as he was in Husk’s arms, feeling his heartbeat and all the miles it had done compared to Angel’s, that shadow of Valentino actually disappeared. The fear eased, the fingers on his throat relaxed and his body became his own again, free to do whatever it wanted. And what it wanted, needed, was Husk. 

Angel purred against his lips, gasping softly as he felt large, callused hands fist in his shirt, “Tastes like a lucky night, baby…”

“It is now,” Husk chuckled, his laugh as rough and raw as the rest of him, “But I held my own at the table. Enough for this…”

He bent and held up a brown paper bag stamped with the logo of Angel’s favorite bakery, the only place he’d ever found that made cannoli even remotely comparable to his nonna’s. 

Husk grinned as Angel gave a yelp of delight and tore into the bag, leaning against the rough brick wall, “Hardly a balanced meal but I know it’ll be a damn sight better than the nothing you’ll have eaten all day…”

Angel gave him what he hoped was his most disarming smile though a mouthful of sugar, “It’s been a busy day, I haven’t had time. But this will get me through the show!”

“And then you’ll have something for real when you get home?” he arched a bushy eyebrow, his smile becoming knowing as Angel set the now empty bag aside.

“I will,” Angel promised, really meaning it, he didn’t break his word with Husk, “Thank you, baby.”

That smile softened, the card sharp leaning close to brush powdered sugar from Angel’s cheek, his thumb lingering, “Well then, I can rest easy. Now, about that busy day…something you wanna talk about?”

The answer came swifty, reflexively, a jerk away from a hot stove and into Husk’s palm where he pressed a kiss, “No…not how I wanna spend our time together. God knows we don’t get enough of it.”

“Later then,” Husk spoke easily, like their later was something guaranteed, again proving that he was someone used to turning games of chance into a certainty, “For now…”

Not only did he sound like a no good, down on his luck card hound, he looked like one too. The light was dim but as Angel sank into his arms, he could see the familiar face that was his safe oasis in this desert. Deep lines in his dark skin that came from glowering but were used more for smiling since he’d met Angel, the scruff of a salt and pepper beard, similar white streaking his slicked back hair that turned Angel on in an animalistic way he didn’t really want to examine.

He’d pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and unbuttoned the top against the muggy evening heat, his bow tie lying unraveled around his collar like a silken snake. Like this, Angel had a perfect, unobstructed view of a broad, haired chest, the same wiry thicket dusting his thin arms corded with muscle, doing much but not enough to hide the scars from the many times the game hadn’t gone his way, from his youth in seedy, bare knuckle rings to last minute daring escapes when his luck found him just in time but not in time enough to keep him out of trouble in the first damn place. 

There were other signs of Husk’s dwindling luck. The beer gut, the shadows under his eyes, the wariness he held himself with. He didn’t hide who or what he was, in his voice, in his body, it was written on his skin. That kind of honesty made him more beautiful to Angel than anyone else he’d ever met in this town and all he could do was kiss him like he wanted him to fucking know it. 

He pushed the older man against the brick, done wasting their precious seconds on the world outside their alleyway. Husk grunted, responding in kind without hesitation, slipping a hand up his sweatshirt and following the curve of his spine to that place that always made Angel shudder. His tongue was gentle too, licking a streak of powdered sugar from the corner of his mouth before pressing him open in a low, throaty moan like even the air Angel exhaled was something precious. 

“You want it, baby?” he whispered against his lips before he gasped for air, the words taking priority over oxygen in his lungs. 

Angel trembled, like Husk’s arms were the only thing keeping him together and he’d shake apart otherwise. He found Husk’s hand and snuck it under the waistband of his leggings, letting his lover feel the heat and wet there, “You tell me, gorgeous…”

Angel used to think he knew what desire was but he’d been so wrong, all he’d had was people’s idea of it. He knew the Vegas version of desire, the kind made for pay, that you found under painted skies on the ceiling and in the shadow of fake, plaster monuments. The polished, perfect, choreographed kind that may as well have come in a plastic wrapped box, rolling right off a conveyor belt. 

With Husk, he learned what real desire was, how it felt to be truly, honestly needed. It was in the way Husk stumbled in his haste to pull Angel’s leggings down, the embarrassingly off key groan that was pulled from Angel’s lips as his fingers found their target. It was in the half moon indentations Angel’s desperate fingers left on Husk’s shoulders when he pressed a crooked finger inside him, thumb staying to roll lazy circles around his cock. It was in the way his leg slipped at first when he tried to hitch it up to Husk’s hip so he could go deeper, so desperate to take him into his body that he staggered. It was throaty gasps and broken moans, slick, organic noises and breath misting the air, snatched fragments of filth whimpered between sighs but left unresolved. 

Real desire had rough edges, it was hungry and needy and vulnerable. But Angel knew which one he’d take, every time. 

And he’d take it right fucking now. His whole body was thrumming in perfect sync with Husk’s fingers, three of them deep inside him now, working him so close to the edge that he was hanging on by his fingertips. 

“Gonna…fuck, oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” he choked out, voice drawn taut like piano wire. 

“It’s all yours,” Husk practically growled, running his teeth down the hard line of his neck, “Anything you want, tell me, tell me what you want…”

“Everything,” Angel’s voice broke as his release pulled him under, as the whole world became the fire raging through his body, the curve of Husk’s neck as he pressed his face there to muffle his cry. 

What was the harm in asking for the world when you knew you were only getting crumbs? He was only hurting himself and he was hardly a stranger to that. 

But Husk held him like it didn’t have to hurt at all, like he had everything to offer, not just a handful of hours stolen in an alleyway. He just gave what he could and made it feel like everything. 

Husk felt the desperation still wracking Angel’s body, not even pausing before he turned them, letting his lover cling desperately to the wall like the rest of the world was tilting on its axis, crowding him from behind, anchoring him. 

“Oh god, please fuck me,” he begged raggedly, before Husk could even ask, “I need you, I need you in me, baby…”

His answer was a throaty chuckle in his ear and the throb of the already rock hard erection now pressed flush against the small of his back, “How could I do anything else when you beg me like that? Sweeter than a goddamn songbird…”

Angel shuddered, feeling like exactly that, a bird caught in the paws of a cat. The chase had been breathless, thrilling, but now he wanted Husk’s teeth in his skin, he wanted to be taken apart piece by piece, claimed as prey. He might have hoped the rotten life he was currently living might have drawn a line through these particular desires, seeing as they drove him into Valentino’s golden cage in the first place. But there was something in Angel’s DNA that was clenching its hands and curling its toes in delight at having his cheek pressed to the cold wall of a grimy alley, at the rattle of Husk’s belt releasing, at the firm grip on his hips. 

He never had that with the men who bought the right to his body from Valentino, who could never own it in the first place. It might look the same, to someone watching from the outside but the difference was so vast, Angel could barely believe it. Those bought and paid for encounters were like a pill or tab dissolving into bitter acid on his tongue, a momentary, manufactured pleasure, not worth the fear. With them he was a moth trapped in a lantern, fluttering around the candle flame, knowing where the end lay, knowing it was a matter of time. Will this be the one that kills me? Should I care? 

It was never like that with Husk, it couldn’t be, he wouldn’t know how. The pleasure was real, honest, and above all, safe. That was the missing piece, the thing to fit inside the hollow place in his chest. He could have it rough, raw, he could scream into Husk’s palm as he finally, fucking finally, pressed between his lips and inside, where he belonged. And Angel could feel safe. 

Those men who bought Angel, he was theirs, for an hour, but they weren’t his, never. But bathed in neon light from the street just beyond, Husk’s hips pressed against his own, his heart thumping against his back, there was only one thing Angel could groan out through his gritted teeth.

“You’re mine…”

 “Yours,” Husk gasped, his voice swelling with naked desire, his well honed poker face fully cracked, “All yours, baby.”

There was something hesitant about the way he drew back, like the few inches of cool air between their skin was almost more than he could bear. But when he plunged back in, so deep that Angel felt himself lifted onto his tiptoes despite how he overtopped his lover, it more than made up for it. Husk fucked him hard with a kind of devotion, no doubt that the muffled cries he drew from Angel were as much a reward as the clench of hot, eager muscle around his cock. 

It was good, so good that words stopped meaning anything, the rest of the world stopped meaning anything. Angel could only gasp and moan and beg for more, pressing every sound into the palm of Husk’s hand like he’d be able to keep them and take them with him. He sank his teeth there too, leaving his mark, writing his name so everyone would know that the old con man did indeed have a heart and it belonged to him. 

Like he’d been waiting for permission, Husk growled against Angel’s shoulder where his sweatshirt had slipped down, licking salt from his burning skin before sucking a mark there. 

That flicked some switch deep in the pit of Angel’s belly, he was coming before he even knew what was happening, dragging Husk down with him. Stars burst behind his eyes as he howled, heat rushing into him like a tide that swept him off his feet, pulled him under, turned his universe into formless, aching pleasure. 

It was moments like this when Angel realized what he chased every time he snorted or shot up, that his addictions were him seeking a pale imitation of this sweet oblivion. A sense of uncoupling from the chains he wore around his wrists, from worrying about the difference between his body and his soul, from the constant fight to force the world to see him and accept him. Here, in this moment, he simply was. He existed, he owned every cell in his own body and it felt so fucking good. 

Of course the come down was so much harder with the real thing. 

The orgasm faded, leaving Angel weak and trembling, muscles twitching with sparks running across his veins, trying to catch up with the ones long gone. Brain foggy and thoughts hiding from him, his only answer was that familiar fear, the fear of dimly buzzing naked bulbs and motel rooms he didn’t recognise when he opened his eyes, dry mouths and burning eyes. 

But it was only for a moment. A moment was how long it took Husk to gather himself, catch his breath enough to wrap his arms around Angel, kissing softly over where he just sank his teeth. Angel turned and grasped onto his solid warmth, like a drowning man would cling to a rock in the storm heaving ocean. And Husk held just as fast. He pushed back Angel’s sweat dewed hair, knowing from experience that the repetitive motion would soothe him, letting him hold on as tight as he needed to until their racing hearts, pressed close together like they were looking for each other, slowed down in perfect synchrony. 

“Fuck,” Husk’s voice was ragged but he didn’t stop pressing kisses against the top of Angel’s head, “Don’t know how I keep up with you, baby.”

“Well don’t stop trying,” Angel felt enough like himself again to pull back, ready to face the inevitable with his classic crooked grin, the one from the billboard, “Thanks for coming by…I needed to see you tonight.”

“Because of your busy day?” Husk murmured, taking Angel’s hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, “The one you don’t wanna talk about?”

“Yeah. Something like that,” he sighed, brushing his thumb across Husk’s lips, “But you made it better, baby…”

“I’ll stay if you want me to? Watch the show?” 

Angel had to force himself to shake his head, only the fear of having his lover anywhere near Valentino enough to make it happen, “You don’t have to do that, I know you got games lined up…I’ll give you a private show sometime though? Sometime soon?”

Angel couldn’t pretend that he didn’t see the edge of disappointment in Husk’s smile, that it didn’t send a crack down his already battered heart. He hated that look, hated knowing he’d put it there. In that moment, he would have given anything to bury his face against Husk’s shoulder and hear his promise that he’d be right there in the audience, leaning against the club bar with an overproved, shitty whiskey, so Angel could sing all his songs to him and really mean them. And while he was at it, he may as well promise to walk him home, to hold him through his nightmares and make him breakfast in the morning. Hell, he may as well get down on one knee and propose.

Because none of it could happen. That dream was like Anthony’s paper rose back in his dressing room. It was beautiful but, next to the gorgeous, extravagant blooms all bearing Angel Dust’s name, the truth was clear. It wasn’t real. 

But Husk was a con man, the finest on the Strip and he could sell a story with the best of them, no matter how fake it was. The disappointment was gone like it had never been there, only a soft, loving smile. 

“I’ll look forward to it…best of luck, songbird,” he leaned in and kissed him, soft and sweet and heartbreaking, “It ain’t goodbye, it’s just see you later.”

“See you later,” Angel repeated, the words closer to a prayer than anything he’d ever said since his nonna died, though it was as hard to believe as all those prayers had been. 

Another reason he didn’t deserve Husk, he was the one to turn and walk away so Angel wouldn’t have to, giving him the luxury of following his silhouette out to the mouth of the alleyway, down to the moment the flashing lights and sound beyond swallowed him up. 

“I love you,” Angel murmured softly, so softly, like he was afraid to say it even with Husk well out of ear shot. 

But he needed to say it, to feel the weight of the words on his tongue and know they were true. A last gift to himself before he turned and pushed the fire door open, slipping back inside that dark, frantic world of choking hairspray and clicking heels and raised voices. Fortunately, everyone was too wrapped up in the time before the show, rapidly slipping through their fingers, outpacing the list of jobs they all had left to do, the way it always did. Though no one was as far behind as Angel now was. 

Not that he was new to that. Five minutes was plenty of time. He ducked and dodged through the thicker, more anxious backstage press, unnoticed apart from the moment he caught Cherri’s eye. But all she gave him was a gentle, sympathetic look. She’d learned a long time ago that Angel didn’t need to be reminded how dangerous the game he played with Husk was. He knew fine well, he just couldn’t care. He hoped his answering smile was enough to remind her of that. 

The moment his dressing room door closed, it slid off his face, exhaustion the only thing he had left. He sat heavily in his chair, blinking dizzily at his reflection. Anthony was back, looking like a man who’d only recently remembered he had a heart and had just sent away the man who held it. Angel said a gentle goodbye to him, picking up his heavy stage foundation, ready to unpack Angel Dust from her box, ready to let her sing and dance until he forgot everything. Five minutes and he wouldn’t have to feel the hurt for however long he was on that stage. 

As long as he pretended he didn’t know what would happen after. 

The paper rose was lying on the desk where he’d left it, he couldn’t stop himself from picking it up and holding it just for a moment. All the other flowers on his dressing table were already withering under the hot glare of the bulbs, their scent now overwhelming and sickly. But the paper rose still called him by his real name, it still made him think of the strong but gentle hands that had carefully formed it just for him. It still meant more than anything anyone else had ever given him. It was enough for him to face his reflection with a new kind of strength, a new smile.

The love he felt for Husk might be a paper promise. But it would last.