#scrambled to make what they had fit to the new focus of the game

[batnatscatt]

Eau D’bedroom Dancing

PJHazel: 2.8k

Tags: fair bit of swearing, implied nsfw, autistic Hazel because I say so, they/them Hazel also because I say so, PJ-typical fuckery

Their rings dig into their chin, the feeling somewhat uncomfortable but not enough so to keep them from dozing. Their hand rests under their chin, keeping their head propped up as they drift in and out of the lesson. Another train of nameless meatheads had kept them awake all night, with their hooting and hollering and banging-of-their-mom, something that was getting less and less unusual. It had to have been the third night this week, if their math is right, and its literally only Wednesday. They were already fucking exhausted- add the sound of Mr. G droning away in the background and you have a pretty potent sedative, apparently. They’d feel bad if they could feel anything other than tired; they actually liked Mr. G a fair bit, even found him to be a kind of comforting presence- a fact which almost definitely isn’t helping them stay on this side of consciousness.

“Heads up Callahan.” Fingers wrapping around their wrist are the only other warning they get before their arm is unceremoniously yanked out from under them. Their head connects with the desk with a dull thud, sharp pain blooming in their cheek where vinyl meets a two-week old bruise, probably giving it a new lease on life. The plastic thwack wakes them well enough, scrambling to right themselves and turning to look at the culprit, levelling her with a wounded expression.

“What the fuck, PJ?” Their words come out quiet but pointed, hissed at her in an attempt to not further disturb the class, especially after their face had already done so.

“What? You were like, drifting off or whatever,” There’s a saccharine smile on PJ’s face, hamming up an artist’s impression of something that almost looks like concern or helpfulness, fighting off a grin as she shrugs. “Didn’t want you to miss anything important.”

Her explanation could almost pass for convincing if it wasn’t for how obviously uninterested in the lesson she was, turning back to her handout in order to return to her task: diligently dotting every ‘o’ on the page in order to make boobs. PJ could give less of a fuck about whatever Mr. G was saying, she simply enjoyed toying with them whenever she could, as she always had- that much Hazel understood perfectly.

“Anyway,” she draws out the word as her fingers drum on the desk, seemingly too captivated by her efforts to titty up the page to bother looking at Hazel. “Janitor’s next period?”

That, they understood less. It’s still a relatively new development to their dynamic, one that had left them more than a little confused since the night of the game. Within the space of thirty minutes, they’d made their way all over the map emotions-wise when it came to PJ: annoyance and apathy turning into forgiveness, and forgiveness turning into surprise as PJ pulled them into whatever the fuck that kiss was.

It’s not like they were opposed to it or anything, honestly it was kind of the opposite; it just wasn’t what they had expected from PJ, not by a long shot. For years they’d taken shit from her, they’d accepted that that was their place in the pecking order of whatever small gaggle of dykes they’d managed to muster in their fuck-ass town. And honestly, they were content to stay right there, so long as it meant that they weren’t an outlier. Taking shit from PJ was just another part of their every day, as reliable and consistent as how the sun rises or birds tweet, or any number of other metaphors that fit the bill. Her teasing and borderline negging was something they had their head wrapped around pretty well, but this? The way she’d rip into them in public, only to jump their bones the moment the two of them had any privacy? That, Hazel still needs to do some adjusting to, apparently.

Everything comes back into focus with the sound of a metallic thunk, the thudding of a shoe against their chair leg bringing them back from whatever miniature spiral they’d managed to fall into. The look on PJ’s face is difficult to place as she stares at Hazel, her brow pinched in a puzzled expression as she looks at them expectantly.

“What?” The confusion is evident in Hazel’s voice as they ask, almost losing track of the initial question in their attempts to unpick the bizarre dynamic the two of them seem to have fallen into recently.

“Fucking hell- got your brains knocked out your ears or some shit?” The concerned crease of PJ’s brow is closer to a scowl than anything else now, rolling her eyes at them before speaking slowly and deliberately, sounding out each word. “You- me- closet, yeah?”

Their mouth feels very dry suddenly, the mental picture from her suggestion and memory of the small noise that leaves her when their fingers thread through her hair flooring them, the combination of factors teaming up to effectively sap all the moisture from their mouth. A small nod is all they can offer in return to her question, floundering internally for any other reasonable response.

“Great, yeah- Fucking A.” She huffs out a sigh that Hazel takes as exasperation as she speaks, returning her gaze to the mostly ignored handout in front of her before continuing quietly. “See you then, I guess.”

With that, Hazel is left to their own devices for the rest of the short lesson as PJ finally seems to make an attempt at working through the sheets in front of her, the lack of conversation leaving their mind the freedom to turn the concept over in their head. Whatever PJ actually feels towards them is a mystery, for sure- but they could be content with this, right? ———-

The next period finds them making their way towards the now-mostly-defunct library, the lack of books in the place translating into an equally low amount of foot traffic through the corridor it inhabits. They walk the length of the hallway quickly, their fingers picking at the stitching of the bag slung over their shoulder in nervous preoccupation as they scan the walls for the right door, slowing to a stop as they find themselves outside.

They knock on the door lightly, hardly managing two taps before they have to step back to avoid the door swinging open, a hand darting out to grab them by the front of their shirt and yanking them roughly into the dingy, cramped space. The darkness in the cupboard throws them for a second, blinking rapidly in an attempt to let their eyes adjust to the low lighting as they open their mouth to greet PJ.

“Hey-“

The sentence dies before they have any chance to actually speak, cut off effectively by the insistent press of PJ’s lips against theirs, slightly less clumsy than the first time as she mumbles a muffled ‘shut the fuck up’ against their lips. Hazel responds in kind, letting the rucksack drop off their shoulder as they kiss her back, the bag making a solid thud against the floor as they bring their hands up to tangle in the taller girl’s hair. The action elicits a soft gasp from PJ that makes their cheeks flush red, the sound not so different from the first time they’d heard it, or every time since. They drink the noise in eagerly, even if the way she kisses them softens it somewhat.

Hazel could get lost in this, honestly. They’d thought that every time, almost worried that the press of her fingers against their back might undo them, the touch insistent even through the layers of fabric. They move with PJ as she pulls them with her, letting the girl guide them so that she’s leant against the wall of the closet. They’ve never had any problem with letting PJ take the reigns in their little trysts, more than happy to follow her lead and apparently incapable of denying her of what she wants.

Time moves strangely slowly as she pulls them against her, thick like molasses while she seems determined to meld the two of them together. Hazel groans quietly at the feeling, the contact making their head swim as they pull away to catch their breath for a second. The absence seems to irk the girl, an impatient noise leaving her as she seems almost affronted by the lack of contact, the sound leading to Hazel having to stifle a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” PJ whines the words, her head thudding against the wall as she tilts it back in frustration. She looks back at them, huffing impatiently before asking “Don’t you like, have a job to do or something?”

The annoyed tone in her voice makes them feel almost smug, relishing the heady feeling of how obviously frustrated she sounds. They’d take this form of annoyance over her usual any day, preferring it greatly to the general disdain that PJ seems to hold towards them in most contexts. Even so, they find it almost fun to irritate her in this context, cocking their head in feigned ignorance as they speak.

“Not sure- what should I be doing?” They find it hard not to grin as they speak, the corners of their lips twitching with the barely suppressed motion.

The question draws another long-suffering groan of annoyance from PJ, clearly fed up with their shit as she grabs the hand sat on her waist and guides it to the front of her pants. Whatever cockiness that seemed to have possessed Hazel all but leaves them in the moment, their ears almost ringing as she looks at them expectantly.

“Well?”

Words seem to evade them in the moment, instead moving quietly to undo the button there before grabbing the suspenders that hold up her corduroys, the motion bringing a confused look to the girl’s face.

“They get in the way a bit,” The explanation comes out almost distractedly, pulling the elastic slightly as if to illustrate their point. “Like, if you want your pants off, I mean.”

The look she gives them in response makes them almost sheepish, staring at them as if they’d grown an extra head as they wait for her to speak, or move, or do anything at this point.

“Why the fuck would you take them off?” She sounds somewhere between confused and exasperated as she speaks, promptly using her hands to mime exactly what she’d had in mind, the correction making Hazel’s face flush from a mix of interest and embarrassment.

“Oh- yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” They nod as they speak, eager to move on from their blunder as they lean back into her space, pressing a kiss to the skin of her neck in an attempt to gloss over the past thirty-or-so seconds.

Her hands come back up to rest against their back, her fingers bunching in the fabric of their shirt as they kiss her, moving their hands back to where she’d initially placed them. The soft noises that leave her make them think they might’ve gotten away with it, that illusion being thoroughly broken by the sound of her chuckling slightly.

“The fuck were you thinking, anyway?” The grin on her face is almost audible as she speaks. “Gonna go all bush-diver on me or something?”

“I mean- sure, if you’d want me to- I think we’ve got time.” Their shoulders shrug as they speak, somewhere between attempted nonchalance and genuine confidence in the statement.

Their response prompts a surprised expression to pass over PJ’s face, eyebrows raised as she seems to visibly turn the words over in her head. The lack of response makes Hazel sweat nervously, their brain moving a mile a minute as they run through the exchange in their head, doing their best to ascertain where exactly they’d managed to fuck up.

“Shit, Haze- I mean, fuck, why not.” She seems to almost be at a loss for words, her response stilted as she struggles to form a sentence.

It’s almost bizarre to Hazel, the lack of any smart comeback throwing them off almost as much as the unexpected nickname. They can’t think of any other time they’d heard her call them that, but they feel pretty certain in the moment that there’s not much they won’t do to hear it again.

A grin lights up their features at her response, their hands coming back up to rest against her waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric as they double check.

“You sure? ‘Cause it’s okay if not- I’m good with whatever.” The words stumble over each other as they speak, nerves and eagerness mingling and thoroughly fucking their grasp on the English language.

“No- get your filthy mitts off me you little freak.” The genuinely surprised and horrified expression on Hazel’s face gives her pause, sighing as she seems to remember how aggressively earnest they tend to be. “Jesus fucking Christ- I’m just fucking with you, you’re all good, I swear. Go for it.”

“Right- fuck, okay. Wasn’t sure for a sec there-” Their shoulders sag in relief, whatever concerns they’d had easing as they catch on to PJ’s piss-poor attempt at a joke. Any further speech is killed in its cradle as she pulls them back in for another kiss, effectively shutting them both up before either of them can dig themselves into a deeper hole.

Their lips part at the pass of PJ’s tongue, opening in order to deepen the kiss as her fingers creep under the hem of their shirt, the brush of her nails against the skin of their waist making them shiver. The kiss continues in the cramped environment of the broom closet, with Hazel silently thankful that PJ seems to have learnt not to use as much tongue; even if she does seem hell-bent of mapping the inside of their mouth in great detail, it’s nowhere near the full-frontal assault she’d launched on their face during their first kiss.

The kiss breaks as they move to trail their lips towards her neck, their fingers coming up to tangle in her hair as their lips trace her jawline, pulling the strands out of the way in order to clear their path. Their lips connect with her neck, tongue and teeth moving against the smooth skin as they fight the urge to bite, the idea of leaving a mark unbelievably tempting. As much as they know she’d rip their head off for it, the mental image is rather appealing in the moment, the idea of having to deal with PJ’s usual heckling far more palatable with the visual reminder of the way she sounds under their touch.

Any further ruminations are cut short by the buzzing of a phone, the insistent thrumming making PJ groan in annoyance as they reach for their pocket, motioning for Hazel to stop while they pull it out.

“Fuck- Josie.” She holds up the screen to Hazel as she speaks, turning it to answer the call. “What’s up? This better be good-“

She cuts herself off suddenly, her eyebrows rising quickly in response to whatever Josie has to say, her words too quiet for them to be able to make any out from where they stand in front of PJ.

“What- How the fuck? Right- Yeah, I’ll be there.” She speaks quickly, rushing to hang up the phone with a bemused look on her face, the expression prompting their own eyebrow to quirk in confusion.

“What’d Josie want?”

“Sylvie got her head stuck in Tucker’s cage?” She nods in response to the shocked look on Hazel’s face, their eyebrows lost somewhere behind their fringe as the statement visibly floors them. “Yeah- I’m not sure how either, honestly.”

They let out a long breath, sighing through their nose as they try to process the information, snapping out of their reverie at the sound of PJ’s irritated sigh as she moves push off of the wall she’d been leant against.

“Rain check?”

“Sure- of course,” They nod quickly at her question, moving in order to give her space as she rebuttons her pants and does what she can to make herself presentable. “I’ve got a free house later, if you wanna come by, maybe?”

“Yeah- why not, I should be free.” She shrugs as she speaks, shouldering her bag as she moves to grab the closet door, pushing past Hazel in the enclosed space as she rushes to leave and shouting over her shoulder. “See you later, bush ranger.”

She’s out of the door before they have a chance to reply, leaving them in the dark to ponder her strange PJ-specific brand of nicknaming as they bend over to grab their rucksack. Nearly everything about the past hour had effectively thrown them for a loop, something that’s starting to seem like a reoccurring theme in their encounters if their previous ones are anything to go by.

They leave the closet quietly, doing their best to ignore the weird feeling that PJ’s sudden departure had left in the pit of their stomach as they move through the corridors, deciding to spend the rest of their free period on the bleachers. Whatever fuck had just happened, or nearly happened, Hazel wasn’t exactly sure of- it’s near impossible to tell where exactly they stand with her these days.

[isthepame]

Review Ch. 280: "The Wall of The Talented".

The Talent Dilemma

The chapter picks up right where we left off: Loki, with his superhuman speed, intercepts the ‘Kaiser Impact’ and prevents Michael from scoring the winning goal for Bastard München. Isagi watches in amazement as the French player, who reacted only when the shot was made from quite a distance, managed to get there just in time to clear it.

Next, players from both teams scramble to take control of the ball, including Isagi himself. Yoichi begins to question: “What is a genius?” He’s always thought of a genius as someone incredible, but that definition no longer seems sufficient, especially when he looks at players like Loki. As he tries to regain possession, now held by PXG, he wonders: “Is a genius someone who surpasses all expectations with an unimaginable playing style?”

Isagi reflects that a genius is someone who breaks barriers, creates something innovative, and elevates the game to a level never seen before. As he himself has noted, Rin is a genius who fits these criteria, something he proved from his debut, like when he scored an Olympic goal in his first match.

Seeking answers, Isagi approaches Noel Noa, who barely looks at him to respond. Noa reminds him that he asked for a winning theory, something Isagi has yet to deliver. Therefore, Noa concludes he doesn’t see anything remarkable in him.

Isagi soon realises that geniuses don’t act logically; they captivate others with their natural way of being and become the centre of the football world. He acknowledges that he isn’t one of those geniuses and is far from it.

He’s aware that his strength lies in his ability to adapt, but that title of ‘genius of adaptability’ isn’t really his, as it doesn’t fit the standard of genius. He understands he’s simply a talented learner, someone who can adapt to geniuses and play at their level, but without actually being one.

The word ‘adapt’ means to adjust something to another. In this case, Isagi adapts his skills to those of the geniuses but never becomes one of them; he just adjusts his pieces to fit those exceptional players.

The match between Bastard München and PXG continues, and Igarashi again fakes a foul, causing Rin to fall into the trap. It’s a risky move by Bastard, as there’s a chance Igarashi’s simulation won’t be convincing. Hiori himself acknowledges that Rin is a monster and that only with that tactic were they able to stop him. Rin’s expression shows his frustration at Igarashi’s repeated fouls. As a Japanese player, his mindset makes him despise such tricks since he’s used to fair play. However, in the story, Igarashi has had to resort to these tactics to survive in Blue Lock.

Isagi keeps seeing himself as someone who can only enhance his talent and wonders if it’s possible to compete against geniuses using only his brain, eyes, and logic. Persistence has been his tool for developing his skills, like his direct shot, but all that effort doesn’t seem enough in the world of geniuses.

Geniuses possess both physical and philosophical abilities beyond the ordinary, incomprehensible drives that come naturally. Under these conditions, Isagi understands that he can neither compete with nor survive among the geniuses.

This clash with reality makes him accept that with his current abilities, he can’t win, can’t catch up to Rin, let alone become the best in the world.

The chapter ends with Ego watching Isagi and mentioning the ‘wall of the talented,’ but not as an impassable barrier—rather, as a step Isagi must use to find a new path.

In conclusion, this chapter marks a turning point in Isagi’s development. The confrontation with the reality that he’s not a genius but a ‘talented learner’ reshapes his focus. Isagi starts seeing the gap between himself and figures like Rin or Loki, not as a sentence, but as a new challenge. This realisation is harsh and almost heartbreaking, but necessary for Isagi to redefine his limits and seek his own path beyond what’s known. Ego’s look at the end isn’t judgemental, but an invitation: it’s not enough to be a spectator of genius; Isagi must turn his adaptability into an art that can stand on its own. The ‘wall of the talented’ ceases to be a barrier and becomes another test, a step toward a greater purpose. Now, the real challenge is to see if Isagi can turn his persistence and logic into more than just a survival mechanism, and if he has the courage to create a playing style so unique and disruptive that it propels him to a level comparable to the geniuses he so admires.

by @isthepame / isthepame

[prophecytoad]

Game Jam Post-Mortem -- The Making of Zoolich

Earlier this year as a part of Brackey’s Game Jam, myself and a few of my talented friends took on the task of creating a game in a week. Now, you might be thinking, “That’s not a lot of time!” and you’d be right! But there in lays the fun. These game jams are about inspiring new ideas, pushing your skillset, and honing your abilities, and the time pressure makes it easier to really analyse yourself and where your skillset could improve. With that in mind, this post will about what I specifically managed to achieve, and what I could’ve done better. If you would like to try it out here is the link: https://prophecytoad.itch.io/zoolich 

What went right

I put a monster amount of energy into this game jam. Being the most available team member with the most rounded skillset (I do design, programming, and art), I filled a lot of shoes.

I started off the game jam by ideating with my team on how we wanted to tackle the theme, which was “The end is a new beginning”. We decided pretty quickly that we didn’t want to do any version of a rougelike because that seemed like the obvious choice, and would be a lot of work to achieve in a week. We eventually decided we would take a light narrative approach where our main character was what remained of a powerful lich. The player’s task as the lich would be to solve puzzles to get back to their original and ultra-powerful lich body. The problem though, is that whenever the lich dies (by colliding with an enemy) they would become the form of the creature that killed them and inherit their abilities. So our justification then would be that when the lich “died” (the end) they would get a new form (new beginning). We were very happy with this and set off to work.

I began this jam by whipping up some design documentation for my team members to work with. Necessary art assets, game objects and behaviours, interactions, level designs, etc. As fast as I could I laid the groundwork for my team members and organised tasks by priority so that even if we missed the deadline, we would have all of the core pieces in place for the submission.

Over the entire week, I helped with concept art, gameplay programming, UI programming, level implementation, and sound curation and implementation. I was BUSY. But at the end of the jam when we submitted, I was proud of what my team and I had created.

To sum up what I am most happy with about this jam, was that I showed to myself that I had learned enough about game development over the last two years that I could make any small game that I could think of, and that should focus on more complicated games to learn more skills (Looking at you Lumayn).

What I could’ve done better

I’m not perfect (unfortunately). Due to my intense scrambling to fill so many shoes, I inevitably make some mistakes, which we found out after submission because we didn’t have much time towards the end for testing. Sometime in the final hours before submission, I changed some physics values while bugfixing. The problem here, is that I was so focused on fixing the bug so I could move on to the next task that I didn’t realise I had broken the interactions with obstacles, and now the player could just walk through them. The most annoying part is that the fix would take seconds, but you are not allowed to make any updates to the submission after the jam is over until the jam results were in otherwise you could be disqualified. What I learned from this, is that no matter how pressured for time I am, I should make sure to properly thinking through what I’m about to do so that I don’t create any more problems.

Canvas scaling sucks, either that or I’m terrible at it… It’s probably just me. I’ve never really sat down and worked out canvas scaling so that the UI can fit multiple resolutions. I understand the concept of it, but UI tends to be something I implement later as I’m not a graphic designer (shout out to all the talented graphic designers out there). With some experimenting I can get it to work, but I should have a better understanding of it so that I can implement it quicker. Before the next jam, I’d like to fill this skill gap once and for all and become a titan of UI implementation.

In Conclusion

I think my team and I did an incredible job in such a short amount of time. I think the current skills gaps I have can be easily fixed, and I look forward to pushing myself towards new skills in future!

 This time on Frog TV: The Purple Harlequinn Toad!

Photo retrieved from https://frogoftheweek.wordpress.com/2016/04/10/fotw3/ 

[knockyasocksoff2022]

Chapter Four: Jump

Junichirou Tanizaki's perspective

Ozaki-san presses the screen and it disappears back into the wall again, the face of the blond convict vanishing with it. 

-

When we leave the room the door shuts silently behind us, but the clicking of the lock echoes down the corridor. I follow Ozaki-san and Nakahara-san back into the lift. It drops fast. I can hear air whistling past us and I crouch instinctively. Nakahara-san laughs. Ozaki-san hits him again. Ah, he must have used his ability to speed up the lift’s descent. I laugh too.

We’re a few floors down according to the lift’s digital screen, and when I step out it takes me a second to fully realise just how big the space is. It must be at least three floors made into one big open gym area. There are training apparatuses everywhere, far beyond anything the agency could ever dream of affording. Climbing equipment from floor to ceiling, suspended in air and even mounted on the walls. The floor is covered in sparring mats and there are shelves of training weapons on every wall. They have a moving target simulator, for crying out loud. I mean I figured the mafia had money but not like this. There’s someone using the simulator, but all I can see is a blur of black hair and the silver glint of a blade.

“Yo! Welcome to the Training Room.” I have to look up to find the source of the voice. 

Tachihara is sitting on one of the highest climbing bars, looking down with a light, but still slightly sceptical expression. There’s something guarded in his eyes, he’s afraid of me. Is that a good thing?

To his credit his voice shows no trace of fear, of course it doesn’t. “I’m Tachihara, the leader of this Battalion. If you can make it all the way up here I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

I turn back to Ozaki-san and Nakahara-san, they just stand there with neutral expressions, waiting to see what I’ll do.

I take a breath, taking in the space, inhaling the scent of it. Tachihara must be at least 12 metres up, is he crazy? There’s a large climbing wall, suspended from the ceiling. No, too easy. I see a stack of mats and a few bars lower than the one Tachihara sits on. 

I should use Light Snow so they can’t see how badly I’ll fail but that would defeat the point. I get a running start, pushing as hard as I can off the floor, launching myself into the air. 

Too far. 

I can tell I’m going to miss my mark, that sinking feeling that fill your entire stomach when you miss a step on the stairs and your foot is falling through the air and you just know you’re gonna end up on your butt. But I shove the panic down, praying it doesn’t show on my face, and use the momentum to propel myself onto a hanging platform and do what I hope is a graceful roll. The platform sways unsteadily under my feet. I don’t think, I just jump. 

By a miracle I manage to grab onto a low bar and swing myself up. Pausing for a breath, I survey my new surroundings. The ground is smaller now and doesn’t draw my focus, my eyes are on the climbing wall. It’s suspended a few metres beside me, right across from Tachihara. A jump like that is definitely out of my skill zone. When did I get so ambitious?

My gaze flickers to the Battalion leader. He looks at the climbing wall and then to me, arching an eyebrow. It’s darker than the rest of hair, is he not a natural ginger?

I force my thoughts back to the present. Heat rises. It’s warmer up here. 

Before I’m even thinking I’m standing, jumping, swinging from the bottom of the highest bar onto the wall. It shakes and suddenly the foot holds are moving under me shifting and retracting and popping up again, like that carnival game where you have to hit the mole. I start to scramble for the top of the wall but the way Tachihara is looking at me, like he knew this would happen, I’m sure he did, just makes me more determined. 

As I feel the footholds under me start to pull away I jump again, letting my weight take me to the bar. The air racing past me feels good. I don’t want to stop, but I can feel myself tiring, the energy seeping out of me. I use the last of my strength to swing up and suddenly the world is small. I can see the entire training room. I’m at the top.

I look around for Tachihara and find him standing casually on top of the wall, perfectly steady whereas I struggle to stand on the swinging bars. His expression is cocky, the fear must have worn off then. “Huh? Not bad for a detective.”

Suddenly the bars are still, I’m grateful but the suddenness of it sends me stumbling forwards. I’m going to fall. Then there’s hands around my waist, and I’m safe again.

“Whoa there, a fall from this height would hurt like hell.” 

I nod, slouching down, still breathing hard and hug the wire that the bars hang from for support. The same hands are on my back, now, forcing me to stand straight. 

“Your form could be better, and you need more confidence, but I’ll admit I didn’t expect you to get up here. Ballsy move with the wall too, I think you’ll fit right in.”

His hands are still on me, making minute corrections to my posture, and as he does I swear it seems like the ground under me is becoming more stable, or maybe I am.

I didn’t flinch when he touched me, maybe it was because I was too afraid of falling. Maybe? I think this is one of those things I don’t let myself think about.

But still, I can’t help noticing how his touch is different from Naomi’s. Her hands are cold, always, her touch fluid and probing, pushing further, sliding over my skin, going places it shouldn’t. Tachihara’s hands are warm and solid, and they stay in one place, on top of my clothing, until he picks them up again.

He must be satisfied because he lets me go, shoving his hands back in his pockets. He’s looking at me, waiting for something. 

Now that I’m paying attention, I notice he’s guided me into a low crouch, still against the wire, but able to support myself more now.

“Thank you. I thought I was awful.”

He makes a face, “You weren’t. Trust me, I don’t like giving out compliments.” 

I don’t know what kind of person that makes him.

“Besides there’s no place for diffidence in the mafia.”

I look down at Tachihara’s feet, not the floor. He wears worn trainers with ratty laces that swing as he swings his legs.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone. Over there,” he points to the ground and I realise everyone is looking at me. “is Gin. They're a stealth and speed assassin. They don’t talk much, kinda creepy, but nice when you get to know them. That grandpa is Hirotsu, the blonde is Higuchi and, you know, Akutagawa. I heard you gave them a run for their money.” He chuckles again. There’s much more laughing in the mafia than I thought there’d be.

“Tanizaki-kun!”Nakahara-san calls my name, and I realise belatedly that I never introduced myself to Tachihara, but it’s too late now. They probably gave him my file anyway, however they got it. “Introductions are over, your first mission begins now.”

I feel my breathing quicken, the ground seems farther and closer at the same time. Thankfully before I have to ask, Tachihara jumps. I follow his path down the ground, trying to exactly copy his movements.

I can’t thank him because Nakahara-san is already leading me out the door.

(meets Akutagawa. gets message from Dazai saying bosses are okay and the hideout address)

(A/N: pushing my Tachihara does Parkour agenda. Also HC that Tachihara is very tactile, whereas Junichirou isn’t as much because most of his experiences with physical contact are with Naomi, which he doesn't enjoy that much.)

A sample of my Junichirou Tanizaki Port Mafia AU

Chapter One: Bloodthrist

Junichirou's Perspective:

My heart beats violently in my chest, from running up all those stairs and from what I'm about to do. I am afraid of course, of the potential retaliation, what this could mean for the agency in the aftermath, for my sister. But for the battle to end, this is our only option. In this fight someone will have to lose their life. This is necessary, I will do what is necessary, to save the Agency, and my sister. Let this life put an end to it all.

Just as I plunge the blade down there's a flash of light and it's cut in half before it reaches its target. There's a hand around my wrist that feels almost solid but not quite.

"Forgive me, child, if this man dies, the mafia will return to the form I detested so." It's a woman's voice, and its presence fills the whole room.

I turn.

The woman herself matches her voice, commanding, brown eyes with a sharp gaze, held on me. Feeling useless I consider dropping the knife. I consider it, but I don't. Instead I tightly grip the end with the handle and make myself disappear.

"Visible or not, your bloodthirst is clear to me. I hesitate to wound one of Kyouka's colleagues but . . ." I swear I hear her sigh, and then there's a whooshing sound, the room is filled with knives. Only one blade but it moves so fast I won't possibly make it out alive. And she knows it, I can tell.

"There's no use hiding, Tanizaki-san. I can still hit you, and don't bother with the window, unless Dazai's suicide obession has rubbed off on you, that is." She just stands by her boss's bed, not bothering to ferret me out, like she knows she's won.

Anger burns hot in my chest turning the room red, but it's useless. I can't touch her. I'm useless.

"You'll still be useful to us without all your fingers, and I think you would prefer I found you, not my Demon. Wouldn't you agree?" She has a determined expression, it turns tired when I don't respond, "I can feel your bloodthirst from here, this is surely getting boring for the both of us. Reveal yourself."

She takes me by the scruff of my shirt neck like I’m some lost kitten and I wonder why she doesn’t restrain me more, but I guess with her gift she assumes I would be too afraid to run. She’s right.

"Good. Now, let's talk business."

(A/N: This is very experimental, I really just want to see if people like it. If you did enjoy this pls like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know. I am writting a second chapter but I'm kind of unsure where the story will go after this. Also I'm still deciding whether or not to include Tachizaki, I know they're a popular rare-pair, should I? If I include Tachizaki I'm thinking of calling it: What does the Tripartite Scheme have to do with Midwinter Snow. Is that a good name or too cringey?)

[after-witch]

Title: Quality Time [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader] [It’s My Party Part 3]

Title: Quality Time [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader] [It’s My Party Part 3]

Synopsis: You’re fiddling with the frayed edge of a blanket, made even flimsier by the incessant picking of your nails, when the thoughts simply bubble past your lips, forcing their way into existance.  “I miss it.”

Word Count: 1036

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, eating disorder, stockholm syndrome 

You’re fiddling with the frayed edge of a blanket, made even flimsier by the incessant picking of your nails, when the thoughts simply bubble past your lips, forcing their way into existence.

“I miss it.”

Tomura doesn’t look up from his Switch, his face eerily illuminated by a myriad of bright colors in the dimness of the room.

“Miss what?”

It’s a strange sight. Before all this, the thought of seeing a violent villain crouching over a video game screen, snapping pictures of Pokemon and grumbling when he can’t get the perfect shot, would have surely broken your brain. Yet it’s all you’ve seen for the past 2 days, as he binge-plays the newest release.

On one hand, his obsession with the game meant he was easing off on you--at least for the time being. For a little while, no forceful demands to sit in his lap, no awkward moments where he stares at you (literally, staring, eyes wide open) until you fall into a fitful sleep. Too busy with his game, too busy showing off his favorite shots--including one of a Pokemon’s round little butt. Charming.

Yet you couldn’t deny that the lack of his overbearing presence freed up your mind for other things. Other thoughts. Like the idea that you were getting a bit too full lately, weren’t you? A bit too complacent? With your captor, with yourself.

You were being so “good” for him, and didn’t that mean you liked all this obsessive attention? You ate with him and let him hold you and made awkward small talk and attempts at playful jabs while you played video games. And you haven’t thrown up in months--haven’t even fought him about throwing up in months. You sometimes argued about taking more bites when he insisted you eat everything up, but that was hardly the same.

Normally, your captor hovered over you while you ate; waiting for you to finish your last bites (or argue, if you insisted on not eating much) before keeping you put until he decided you weren’t going to rush to the bathroom (or garbage, or stray plastic bag) and vomit. You haven’t done it in a while.

Because he hasn’t let you, but also because the urge had been abating; maybe out of some primal survival instinct, some base way for your body to shout out “we’re in danger! Keep all your fuel!” Or maybe because your current stressors have pushed aside the thoughts that led you to endless takeout boxes and clogged plumbing. Or maybe because having someone care about you enough to kidnap you and make you stop hurting yourself was sickly thrilling.

And yet… and yet.

He didn’t sit with you after dinner last night. He didn’t even say anything when you barely touched your rice, picking at the few vegetables in the bowl and leaving most of the meat behind. And now this morning, he’s been too busy with the game to notice that you haven’t eaten anything on your breakfast tray.

“Well?” His voice is reedier, bordering on annoyed. You think he’s on a new level right now. He gets testier when you interrupt new gameplay.

You look down at the tray on your plate and focus on the way the steam from the microwaved eggs has collected on the underside of the plastic wrap you haven’t removed, only for water to dribble down in little streams. The apple he found looks bit old, but edible enough if you ate around the mealy part; it sits, dark and round, and as whole as it was when he gave it to you.

You stare at the steam, at the lukewarm eggs still wrapped in plastic, at the redness of the apple. You scrape your knuckles against the underside of the tray, feeling the ghost of scabs on them.

“I miss throwing up.”

His eyes finally leave the screen to dart down at your plate, quick and anxious. His lips are pursed tight when he sets the Switch down--you glance and realize he didn’t even bother to pause, and a sick feeling of combined flattery with anxiety thrumms through you.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says, before unceremoniously pulling the plastic wrap from the microwaved bowl. The scrambled eggs inside look wet and sad. “Eat.”

It’s your turn to purse your lips.

“I’m full.”

He prods the dark, iffy apple with a finger. It rolls sadly on the plate. 

“You didn’t eat anything. You hardly ate last night, too.”

Your cheeks feel hot and you can’t stop the words before they come out of your mouth.

“Yeah? How would you know? You’ve been stuck on that stupid game for days. I could’ve thrown up for all you care.”

His mouth makes the strangest sound--he almost sputters--before fixing a serious gaze on your face. He looks as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t. Maybe it’s better that way. Instead, he stares at you for a beat longer and then picks up your chopsticks, pressing a large, slightly congealed looking piece of scrambled egg in between them.

You know what he’s going to do next before he even holds the bite up to your lips, and the urge to slap his hand away, to lash out at him, is strong and tempting.

He looks at you expectantly. The egg hovers in between the two of you, a fitting lukewarm reminder of your situation.

You open your mouth and accept the bite; you swallow and instinctively open your mouth again, ready for another piece.

“Good job,’ he says, almost breezy, before picking up another piece.

Your stomach curls sickly at the praise and you stamp down the voice in the back of your head that wants to point out how utterly fucked up you’re being.

A noise from the Switch distracts you, and you glance down at the screen to see that the level is over; he’ll have to do the entire thing again. But not until after he’s finished with your breakfast.

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Needs a New Uniform

You hate magic.

You hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic, you hate magic so so so much.

You especially hate magic when it’s being used by an off-his-rocker prince with a persecution complex the size of Shibuya to disintegrate you because you’re trying to stop him from being consumed by evil magic waste and turning this dumb boy’s school into a desert over a sports tournament.

Your left side throbs around the grit of the sand buried in it as you desperately scramble upwards. All around you the formerly stable bleachers are wavering, tonnes of metal and support slowly crumbling to dust from the ground up with every second that passes.

“Prefect! Are you okay?!” Deuce has begun taking a few steps towards the bleachers—

Turning his back on Kingscholar.

“DEUCE, GET DOWN!!” You scream.

One of Cater-senpai’s clones trips him up, only to scream in agony as the magic blast intended for Deuce disintegrates it instead.

You try not to retch as you heave yourself up onto the commentator’s box roof.

“Pay attention, dumbass!” You faintly hear Ace bark. “You can’t just forget about the crazy overblot! We’re in the middle of a battle here!!”

“But my minion’s stuck up there!” Grim wails back, “We gotta do something!”

Buchie-senpai says something you can’t hear in reply, because you’re too busy hollering, “Howl-san, MOVE!!”

Howl-san only narrowly dodges the incoming attack despite his speed. The sand slams into the already weakened bleachers, causing you to stumble as the roof shakes under you, tilting at an alarming angle.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Kingscholar mocks, creepy hollow voice clearly audible despite the distance. “Didn’t I tell you herbivores to be prepared?”

You fight the urge to flip him off with great difficulty.

This is so much worse than Rosehearts-senpai’s Overblot. The ligament in your right ankle still gives twinges that show it’s not fully healed yet, but at least you weren’t the only one roughed up in that battle, as the dorm head lashed out at everyone and everything in his rage.

Kingscholar is aiming for you specifically. Which means that this overblot can think enough to recognize threats beyond those flinging magic attacks at it.

And exploit the fact that the you’re weak and in danger to force the others to choose between saving you and taking him down.

Your teeth sink into your thumb. You don’t wanna die here, you refuse to die here, so what are your options??

Option one; focus on directing the battle and try to stick it out up here until Kingscholar is defeated.

A bad plan right off the bat, if the tremors underneath you are any indication.

If you try to hold out until the end of the fight, the sand will finish eating through the bleachers’ supports just like it’s eating into your thigh and hip right now. You will not survive the fall onto the jagged steel and rebar below.

The others might manage not to get distracted by your messy death, but if they haven’t finished off Kingscholar by then, they’ll be sitting ducks if they can’t agree on a strategy.

Ace and Grim are down there.

There’s no way they’re not dead if you bite the dust.

And all that’s on the very generous assumption that Kingscholar won’t just King’s Roar you right here and now. He’s certainly smirking like he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, the cocky bastard.

So option two; get the others to help you down ASAP, preferably while Kingscholar is distracted.

Marginally better than option one, but not by much. If they all come to help you, Kingscholar can just pick them off at his leisure, even if Cater-senpai uses his clones to try and confuse who’s who. While all of you are struggling to see in the sandstorm, the accuracy of the overblot’s attacks show that the storm isn’t affecting his eyesight one bit.

Plus, the more of your allies get on the bleachers, the higher the likelihood of the bleachers collapsing faster and crushing them and you with it.

Even if you try to have one or two of them split off from the group to help get you down while the others try to keep him occupied, Kingscholar can target you, the splinter group before they can get to you, or even wipe out the remainder of the attacking formation who won’t have the necessary magic to defend themselves from a head-on assault.

Divide and conquer. As expected of a might makes right fanatic.

Kingscholar-senpai, you decide, is one of the biggest bag of dicks you’ve ever laid eyes on. Even counting the ones you’re related to.

All that’s left is option three.

If you want a job done right, do it yourself.

“Eyes on the Overblot guys, nobody break formation no matter what you think you see or hear!” You wince as you strip your blazer off, feeling fresh blood soak into your side. It’s tattered around the edges where King’s Roar tore into you, but the body of the jacket seems whole enough at least. “I’ll be fine, so just focus on Kingscholar!”

You grit your teeth as you tie the sleeves together. “Buchie-senpai, I need you to use Laugh With Me to keep him still so Rosehearts-senpai can Off With His Head. Howl-san, Cater-senpai, Deuce, Grim, you need to hit him then with everything you’ve got! I’ll signal when by telling Ace what he needs to do! No more holding back, we need to end this, understood?!”

“Loud and clear!” Buchie-senpai calls back, brandishing his magic pen.

“You better not be planning anything too crazy Yuu-chan~” Cater-senpai calls up, his exhaustion evident through his usual bravado.

Kingscholar chuckles. “If this is something you think you can fight back against, just try to fight it! I’ll turn all of your meaningless efforts to sand!”

The sandstorm picks up in response to his words, the small grains burning your eyes and scraping across your skin.

“On my mark!” You yell, bracing yourself.

The roof shrieks in protest under you.

“Ace—“ You hold the ragged edges of your blazer tight in your hands. “Give me some wind!!”

You start running.

You jump.

You vaguely hear yelling below you, beyond the swoop of your stomach and the roar of the bleachers collapsing into rubble behind you. Your makeshift parachute feels like it’s on the verge of tearing itself out of your grip. You think you’re screaming.

Oh god, this was a mistake, this was a horrible, horrible mistake. You don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna die—

The wind picks up in your ears, but it’s not enough, you’re barely slowing down, why did you think this was a good idea, you saw it in a video game for the love of god, you’re going to die, you’re going to break your legs and die—

Small pricks of pain seize onto your hair, your shoulders, your back, and your uninjured leg. Several small and hard somethings start hitting you in the face repeatedly.

Huh. You thought bats were nocturnal. What are they doing here in the middle of the day?

Wait, before that, why are there even bats in a sandstorm in the first place?! And whey are they all latched onto you like you’re a piece of fruit they’re trying to carry off??

“Sebek, if you would~?”

You shriek as something clamps down hard around your injured thighs and waist, the wind half knocked out of you as a shoulder is driven into your stomach.

“Stop screaming, human!!” The loud green-haired Diasomnia member roars at you. “Be grateful Lilia-sama saw fit to sav—”

“Yes, yes, I’m very thankful, just hold on a sec!” You babble, twisting in his grip. The sandstorm’s weakened a lot, and while Kingscholar’s looking a lot worse for wear than he did before you leapt, he’s not down for the count just yet.

But you know exactly the combo to finish him off.

“Grim, Ace, Deuce!!” You yell. “Fire-tornado-cauldron him!!”

“Leave it to me, fnagh!” Grim crows as Ace shouts, “We have GOT to come up with a cooler name than that!!”

The overblot dodges out of the way of the aptly-named fire tornado, still smug if tired and badly scorched. However, as he races forward to counterattack, it becomes clear that he forgot about the third part of the combo you yelled.

“TAKE THIS!!” Deuce screams.

The look on Kingscholar-senpai’s face before the cauldron lands on him is something you’re gonna treasure for weeks.

“King...I’ll...be...” The lion prince staggers, and finally, finally collapses.

There’s a quiet moment as the sand storm slows to a gradual stop.

Kingscholar doesn’t get back up, the giant lion dissipating like a mirage and the grey and black leeching from him.

“It...it’s over.” You pant. “We...we beat him...!”

Rosehearts-senpai doesn’t lower his magic pen. Instead, he wheels around and points it at you with a thunderous “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!”

The heavy metal collar snaps shut around your neck. “ACK!”

“Prefect!”

The Diasomnia guy actually drops you at the sight of Rosehearts-senpai storming over, face redder than a strawberry tart and eyes burning with fury.

Please God, don’t make you have to deal with another Overblot after just beating an extremely painful one.

“YOU— YUU— YOU— WHAT WERE YOU THINKING, JUMPING OFF THE BLEACHERS LIKE THAT?!” He screeches. “THAT'S A FORTY FOOT DROP, AT LEAST!! YOU COULD'VE BROKEN EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY, OR, OR BEEN KILLED, ARE-ARE YOU INSANE?!”

“No, I just didn’t want to get impaled!” You bristle, gesturing at the rubble. “If I jumped, I at least had a small chance of surviving—”

“Sure, because that’s what you falling with that dumb torn jacket was!” Ace snarls, popping up over his dorm head’s shoulder. “It was everything I could do to even make you slow down some—‘give me some wind’ my ASS!”

“It certainly was interesting though.” The Diasomnia vice dorm head pipes up from behind you. “I was almost worried for a minute there that my bats wouldn’t be able to rescue you and you’d be a smear on the playing field.”

“Th-THAT'S RIGHT!! MAGICLESS HUMAN!! PROPERLY PAY YOUR RESPECTS TO THE GREAT LILIA SAMA FOR DEIGNING TO SAVE YOUR WORTHLESS LIFE!!” The green-haired Diasomnia guy screams in your ear.

“The hell d’ya think yer calling ‘worthless’, hah?!” Deuce growls, storming over to him.

“Yeah, don’t insult my minion, fgnah!!” Grim barrels into your good side, hissing at the Diasomnia guy from under your arm, conveniently turning you into a shield.

“WHY YOU LITTLE—!”

“WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED TO THE BLEACHERS??” The dumb bird headmaster’s shriek rises over the din. “OH HOW COULD SOMETHING SO TERRIBLE HAVE HAPPENED TO ME, THE MOST GRACIOUS OF HEADMASTERS?!”

You flop onto your back. The pain from where King’s Roar tore into your left side is returning full-force, now there’s no threat to divert your attention from it. The collar around your neck only adds to the pain with its weight, and all the yelling is giving you a headache.

You hate magic.

You hate magic so much.

[reincarnated70sbaby]

linger

listen before you read!

robert plant xfem!oc

warnings : drug use, swearing, trucklot of angst ;)

word count : 2.1k

an: was listening to ‘linger’ by the cranberries and I couldn’t pass up this angsty idea I got 😎 timeline is off but yolo ig...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sloane leaned down to the table to take an extra line for her pre-performance nerves. She felt a little more nervous today, this particular concert being one of the largest yet. She was the front woman of The CAPs, who were opening for Led Zeppelin for their summer of ‘69 tour. This was exactly the break the band needed, finally getting recognition for all their talent and hard work over the last two years.

She applied a little powder to her face, and patted on her classic red lipstick to her slightly chapped lips. Securing the clasps of her platform red heels, she shook her body in hopes of shaking away her anxious jitters. Once she had finished her body-shaking ritual, she walked out from the wings of the stage.

As she walked across to centre stage, wind blowing through the holes of her white crochet dress. The crowd cheered loudly as the band waved to them.

“How’s everyone doin’ today? It’s so hot today, my boobs are sweating off!” She greeted the crowd with her bubbly nature. Adjusting the mic stand to her height, she continued to address the huge crowd. “Today’s set list will have a slight adjustment to it, we’re starting off with a new song I wrote just last night. It’s a little softer than our other music, so just sit back- or should I say lean back on the person behind you - and relax. This is called ‘Linger’ "

While she was speaking to the crowd, a teenage roadie ran onto the stage and placed a stool, for Sloane to sit on, and disappeared again in a heartbeat. The crowd, didn’t even take notice of the young boy, entranced with the tawny blonde singer as usual.

Sloane sat down, crossed her legs and nodded toward Rory, to begin. Rory started picking a simple guitar melody on his trusty Gibson acoustic, the first guitar he ever picked up. Sloane swayed lightly to the rhythm, eyes on the horizon above the crowd. Soon after, Marshall joined in with quiet, but strong beat on drums. At the same time, Oscar added the baseline to the song.

Taking a deep breath, Sloane began the song.

If you, If you could return, Don’t let it burn, Don’t let it fade, I’m sure I’m not being rude, It’s just your attitude, It’s tearing me apart, It’s ruining every day

I swore, I swore I would be true, But honey so did you, So why were you holding her hand? Is that the way we stand? We’re you lying all the time? Was it just a game to you?

Sloane sang gently, her eyes closed with a pained look on her face. She thought back to the day before, when everything fell apart.

———

“Sloane, honey, please tell me what’s wrong! You’re being so closed off with me today!” Robert pleaded, grabbing her hand while she was walking away. Sloane yanked her hand away and walked towards an empty storeroom in the hotel corridor.

“Don’t get any ideas, we need to talk privately” Sloane commanded as she entered into the storeroom. It had barely enough space for both of them to fit, being crammed full with towels and bedsheets.

“Please, love, jus’ tell me what’s bothering you, I wanna make you happy”

“Oh fuck off Robert, you’re so fake and a liar. These past couple of months have all been a lie!”

“What’re talkin’ about? I have never lied to you once”

“Seriously? ‘I’ve never lied to you’? Are you actually for real right now? Do you know what I just found out Robert? You’re fucking married! And she’s coming here tonight! You didn’t think I would deserve to know that!” She yelled, ignoring her previous statement about keeping this private.

“I didn’t tell you because I was scared okay? I have never felt like this before with anyone else. All the groupies were just for sex, but when I met you I had fallen for you Slo, you make me a better person in every way”

“I don’t care how I make you feel, you’re still married! With kids! How would they feel if they found out their father was in a relationship with a woman other than their mother? I can’t believe you did this to me willingly, even after I told you what happened with my parents. That messed me up, seeing my father with another woman, and leaving my mother for her. Never seeing him again, choosing his new family over me and my siblings. That hurts me the most Robert, you knew my history and you ignored it!” Sloane cried out, tears falling freely on her face, running her dark eye makeup.

“I never meant to hurt you love, you mean so much to me. I just didn’t think- I never fuckin think, but I my feelings were so strong for you, I never thought about Maureen, I’m shamed to admit it” Robert plead, guilt weighing on his conscience. He reached out to wipe her tears away, but Sloane turned her head, the same pained look on her face.

“We’re done. I can’t stay with someone who could forget about their own wife and kids, and forget to tell their girlfriend that she’s actually a mistress. Goodbye” Sloane said, pushing her way out of the cramped closet, before running to the elevator at the end of the hall.

———

But I’m in so deep, You know I’m such a fool for you, You got me wrapped around your finger, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?

Sloane sang emotionally, a single tear escaped her tear duct. She took the break for guitar solo to take a couple deep breathes, and to calm her heightened emotions down.

Oh, I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, But I was wrong, I was wrong

If you, if you could get by, Trying not to lie, Things wouldn’t be so confused, And I wouldn’t feel so used, But you always knew, I just want to be with you

———

Sloane sat at the large round table, sipping her wine. The two bands had just completed all the concerts in France, and were having a celebratory dinner for the night. The lights were dim in the fancy restaurant, but Sloane could still see the heartbreaking sight of Maureen and Robert cozying up to eachother. She longed to be the one Robert was dedicated to, to be his Maureen, to be the one who sipped on his beer instead of her wine for a change, to rest her hand on his knee. She wished to be the one who would sleep with him in bed each night, without a worry of cheating or unfaithfulness. Her heart was also broken for Maureen, she was so inlove with Robert, as was he with her. She was also probably the greatest mother out there, being a single parent for a lot of the year.

Sloane switched her focus from the smitten couple, to Marshall and John Bonham's discussion on gongs, congas and all exotic drums.

Everything had been going so well, the concerts each night going to wonderfully, the bands got on great together. Even all the touring crew and management got on well with eachother. It was like one, big, slightly dysfunctional family.

Sloane wished she could vent to one of her bandmates about her case of ill fated love, but she knew if she told any of the CAP boys, tension would arise between the bands, and she simply couldn't bear to break the harmony.

“I’m sorry everyone, but I feel a bit ill and I think it would be best if I went to my room” Sloane announced, rising from her chair. She briefly locked eyes with Robert, before averting her eyes that threatened to fill with tears.

“Are you sure you’re okay Slo? I can come up and look after you if you feel faint or anything?” Rory asked genuinely, concerned for his little sister, he noticed she had been a little less bubbly than normal today.

“I’m fine Ror, I’ll think being on the go and travelling for the last couple of months has caught up with me. I’ll call you if I need you. Love you” she said, hugging him tightly.

“Love you, stay safe sis”

A chorus of goodbyes were heard as she left the table and walked out of the brassiere restaurant.

As soon as she entered her large room, she decided to clean up her stuff in order to distract herself. She folded all her clothes, tucked all her shoes into her suitcase, and cleaned up her makeup station on the vanity, placing the assortment of beauty products in the black makeup bag she owned.

After she was done cleaning, she ordered a couple bottles of wine, with some croissant from room service, taking advantage of the readily available French delicacies.

Lowering herself into the warm bubble bath she ran while waiting for her room service, her mind wandered to the whole situation, creating lyrics in her head. Luckily she brought her songbook, so there was no need to get out of the bath in search for it. She poured her heart out into the lyrics. After finishing the lyrics up, she soaked for a little longer, until she felt herself pruning and wrapped the fuzzy bath robe around herself.

She was about to turn off her bedside light to sleep, when she heard a light knock on the door. Her head scrambled, trying to figuring out who it was. Must be Rory checking up on me she thought. Opening the door, her heart skipped a beat at the visitor.

“Sloane let me-“

“Robert, please, I told you we were over”

“Will you let me speak, I need to talk to you”

Sloane stepped aside from the door, letting him in. She guided him to the seating area of the room, not wanting to risk being near the bed.

“Uh, d’want tea or something?” Sloane asked the blonde man, the air heavy with awkward tension.

“Yeah sure, love. That’d be great” Robert answered warmly.

“So, what do you want to say” Sloane asked, pushing his tea on front of him.

“Sloane, I’m sorry. I still do love you and I hate that I fucked everything up. I was just so infatuated- I still am, and I regret that I made you feel upset. I just want to say sorry”

“I- I still love you too Robert, it wasn’t just one sided, I really thought you were the one”

“Sloane, I don’t know what to say… If- if you ask me to, I will. I want you. I want to be yours.”

“Robert- I. I can’t do that. As much as I want to love you and be with you, I can’t be a homewrecker. I’ve seen the way you are with Maureen, you love her. I know in my gut that you’re better off with her. She loves you and deserves you 100%” Sloane’s face was wet with tears.

“Uh, okay. I’m sorry love, I really wish I didn’t fuck up our relationship. I really hope that one day we can be friends again, when you’re ready” Robert got up to leave, but was stopped when Sloane grabbed his hand.

“There’s a part of me that will always love you Robert. This was wonderful while it lasted” She spoke with a sad smile on her face.

Robert squeezed her hand in agreement, before exiting the room.

———

And I’m in so deep, You know I’m such a fool for you You got me wrapped around your finger, oh, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have to? Do you have to let it linger?

Oh I’m in so deep, You know I still have love for you, My love has wrapped me round your finger, oh, Do you have to let it linger? Do you have? Do you have to let it linger?

The CAPs finished their song, and Sloane stood up to thank the crowd.

“Robert, darling, there you are. Was that singer at the dinner last night?” Maureen asked warmly to her husband, joining him in the wings.

“Uh, yeah, but she left early because of travel sickness y’know the sort” Robert answered absentmindedly, his deep blue eyes trained on the lead singer, who was preparing for the next song in the band’s set list.

“I must have missed her. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? I love that song she just sang, great voice” Maureen mused, admiring Sloane’s confidence , akin to her husbands.

“Yeah, yeah she is. She’s a beautiful person, inside and out”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my first Robert fic!!! I’m more of a Jimmy girl, but I love the golden god too (Leo men <3)

as always, any criticism/ideas are welcome in my inbox or comments 🤍

tag list : @dreamersdrowse @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey ask me if you would like to be added!!

[zmalkarnar1]

Kuroo x Male Reader: Oblivious

Something I posted a little while back on my deviantart account. Figured I’d throw it here as I write a bit more. 

You watched as he stuffed his practice partners spike, sending the ball reeling back towards the gym floor. He landed with a cheer and a predatory smirk which gave his eyes a mischievous glint. On the other side of the net, Lev Haiba released a frustrated groan, as once again the Scheming Captain managed to shut him down. The predatory grin followed the rookie, reminding him that he was years away from being able to best the raven haired middle blocker. 

Was this really your Kuroo? Was this really your Tetsuro?  Well, he wasn't really yours, but you've known him longer than anyone here...

You were neighbors, born only days apart, and your mother and his father were close friends from their college days. And while he had his grandparents, both of you were being raised by single parents and you often found yourself in the care of his family, or him yours. Born only days apart, the two of you spent almost all of your time together. You can't remember a time you didn't know the raven haired male. But was this really him? 

"Come on Kuroo, let's go," you whined, pulling his arm and dragging him out of his house.

Kuroo just shook his head, dragging his feet across the ground as you pulled him.

“Please,” you begged, “I don’t want to go alone.”

You moved behind him and began pushing him towards the sidewalk, doing anything and everything to move to black haired eight year old.

You were shy too. You didn’t like new places, new people, lots of people. A lot of things scared you. But Kuroo. Kuroo was petrified of anything and anyone he didn’t know well. Literally froze up in class, at the park. He was so timid he made you look like the life of the party. 

“No…” he said, his voice soft, his tone begging you to leave him be.

“Please Tetsu,” you begged again, going to your knees, “I just want at least one of my friends at the field with me,”

“One of your friends? I’m your only friend,” he responded like a whip, a shy smirk on his face, hinting at what lies beneath his hardened shell. It was gone in a flash, and you only stared, stunned at the sudden crack from your oldest friend. Your only friend, as he so rudely pointed out. You smiled despite that. It was rare even you got to see that smirk, to hear that sharp wit he hid behind his walls.

“Tetsu, please. If you come….I’ll join the youth volleyball you keep asking me to. Please Tetsu,” you pleaded, making your best puppy dog eyes.

“...Promise?”

“Promise!” You yelled out in glee, dragging him to your soccer field. And true to your word, the next day you followed Tetsu, or more he pushed you into the volleyball gym and the two of you joined the youth league. And before you knew he was gone, moved away, out of your life forever. You passed the next years in near isolation. Sure you had a few friends in soccer, some acquaintances at junior high, but no one, no one who knew you so well as Kuroo. That is, until midway through your second year of high school, you and your mother packed up and moved to Nekoma, and there he was.

You smiled at the memory, but something irritated you deep down as you stared at the captain’s smirk, his teammates patting him on the back for his block. You clenched your fist, this sudden frustration seeping into your muscles as you narrow your eyes at the volleyball team. 

That smirk, that smile, is mine! I saw it first, and it is mine.

The thought flashed across your mind and vanished in a rush as you struggled to comprehend the emotions running through your body. Having no idea where the thought came from, a blush began to rise in your cheeks, and you shook your head vigorously. You returned to your book, hoping beyond hope that Tetsu hadn’t noticed. You glanced up and saw his smirk, this time aimed at you. You smiled, involuntarily. Something about his smile always drove you to excitement. Then he winked, and your cheeks heated again. He definitely noticed. Of course he did. Great. You just couldn’t wait for the sass he was going to fire your way later. 

Damn it! What is going on with me?

You stepped out of the gym into the fresh evening air, slapping your cheeks to focus yourself. You were just watching your friend’s practice. That was it.

Pull it together!

You were pacing back and forth, oblivious to everything but this electricity jolting through you, mixing with a rising frustration that made you just want to scream. You didn’t even notice the gym doors open and close behind you. 

“Liked what you saw,”

You jumped, Kuroo’s voice jolting you out of your trance. You didn’t need to see his grin. You could hear the smirk in his voice. Fantastic. Now he was going to make fun of how jumpy you were. Just fantastic.

“You’re choosing a great time to fall apart. In front of the entire team too,” Kuroo smiled predatorily at you. You didn’t notice, but his eyes looked over you. All of you.

“They all saw,” you muttered miserably

“Hard to miss your cheeks turning into tomatoes. So, did you like what you saw?”

You stared dumbly at him, mouth slightly agape, eyes open wide as Kuroo towered above you on the steps to the gym. He looked very much like a jungle cat. A jungle cat that was about to devour his prey once he was done playing with it. Was he flirting with you? No. No. This was the Scheming Captain. He was screwing with you. And you were staring right at him. Great. Just grand. Now he’ll think you’ve gone dumb. 

“You aren’t usually this slow, (nickname). Come on, did you like it?”

“Tetsu,” you growled, anger seeping into your voice. You didn’t mind his banter usually. At times it was actually endearing. But sometimes, you wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

Then you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anymore. A voice from deep inside you said, causing you to stumble again, your cheeks reddening once more. You clenched your fists and let out a quick yell. Oblivious to everything, you failed to notice that Kuroo took in every single detail. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, true concern replacing the confidence in his voice. He knew he might have pushed too far.

“I’m…I just need to get some rest,” you said, pushing past him to grab your stuff. “I’ll feel better tomorrow. See you later.”

Again, you failed to seem but he watched each step you took as you walked away, a knowing smile lightening his face. 

You walked home with Kenma. He must have snuck away from personal practice again. Usually when you didn’t have soccer you waited for him and Tetsu and the three of you went home together. Today, you just needed sleep, that was all. Kenma was engrossed in his game. That was fine. You didn’t want to talk anyways.

I’d just make a mess of it if I spoke anyways.

You were left to your thoughts, and by the time you neared home, you had finally calmed down. At least, until Kenma decided to open the floodgates. 

“So, when are you going to tell him?” Kenma blurted out, not looking up from his game.

“What?” you asked, confusion clear on your face.

Kenma stopped and looked up at you as if you were stupid.

“You like Tetsuro.”

It was the way he said it. Blunt, to the point, and matter of factly, that sent you stumbling over your own feet. He said it with a straight face too. And there went the walls again, the emotions breaking through and in a rush you felt the excitement, frustration, and confusion that had taken you almost an hour to wrestle under control. 

Thanks Kenma. Thanks a lot. 

“He’s my friend, of course I like him,” you say, trying to keep the blush off of your face.

Kenma looked at you with a blank face, like you were a moron trying to claim that the earth was flat. 

“I...no, I don’t like him, like him,” you stumble over your words, and Kenma just continues to stare at you, saying nothing.

“Really…” this time you weren’t even sure what you were saying. You just needed to say something to fill the awkward silence. And to make Kenma stop staring at you like that. But all he did was look at you with that deadpan stare, and your breath quickened and you waited for him to just nod his head and drop it.

“Wow.” Kenma muttered, “You’re so oblivious that not only do you completely miss his moves on you, but you don’t even realize how you stare at him with that damn goofy grin on your face,”

“I do not! Wait… his moves on me? No. That’s just Tetsu messing around,”

Kenma smacked his palm against his face, “Wow. You’re an idiot. You’re both so ignorant of each other's feelings. He’s stupid for you, and clearly you’re just plain stupid, so you’re perfect for each other. Tell him and get over this already. I’m sick of how awkward the two of you have been the past month.”

“We haven’t…” Kenma was already walking away and you were left with utter chaos in your mind and burning cheeks. You didn’t like, like Tetsu. Did you?

That night you heard pebbles knocking against your window. You knew it was him, checking to see if you were okay. But you weren’t ready for that. You pretended to be asleep, and eventually he turned in. All you could do was toss and turn, going in and out of a fitful sleep, Kenma’s words echoing through your mind. 

The three of you walked to school together in the morning, and an awkward silence rose between you. Well, you would have noticed if you weren’t falling asleep as you walked. Kuroo had asked if you were feeling any better. Too afraid to talk, you knew you’d say something stupid, you just shook your head and stared at the ground, hoping he wouldn’t see your slight blush. Small chance that. 

You broke off to your classes when you reached school, but of course, you and Tetsu just had to be in the same class. All you could do was stare at the back of his head. And then, of course, you had to scramble whenever he glanced back towards you. You knew you just made yourself look like an idiot. 

At lunch you joined in with the volleyball crowd. Not that you necessarily wanted to. It was a habit more than anything else. You sat at the periphery, back against a tree as they bantered and laughed at each other. You only half listened. You were lost in your own mind, enjoying the cool shade of the tree, staring up at the clouds about. Again, you were oblivious to Tetsu staring at you. 

“You’ve really changed, (nickname),” Kuroo said out of the blue.

You stared at him blankly, your eyes blinking. You had to stop doing that; you looked like a deer caught in headlights. Then you laughed. Loudly. And everyone turned to stare at you.

“I’ve changed?” You manage to mutter between breaths, holding your sides, “What about you…”

It was your first day at Nekoma High. You were furious; not only was it the middle of the year, but you had finally made a few friends on your school's soccer team before having to leave everything behind. You couldn’t blame your mother though. She couldn’t pass the opportunity by. It’s just, you’ve never made friends easily. You were always awkward and felt like an outcast. And just when you were finally feeling comfortable at your old school. You thought back on your elementary friend, and how everything felt so natural with him. It didn’t matter. He was long gone. 

As you reached the entrance to Nekoma, you were met by a short boy with brown hair. Really short. Shorter than you even. 

“Hey, I’m Yaku Morisuke. Are you (l/n, f/n)?”

You nodded.

“I’m in your class, and been asked to show you around. Come on,” he said, a friendly smile on his face.

“Thanks, Yaku-san,” you said, eyes to the ground, voice quiet.

You followed Yaku across the grounds of Nekoma High. Yaku spent the morning guiding you through the school. He talked constantly, but you just nodded numbly, and quietly thanked him after each stop. He even got you signed up in the soccer club once he pried out that you played. You weren’t going to join, but couldn’t find an easy way to say no, and allowed it to happen. By the time the lunch bell rang, you were ready to crawl in a corner by yourself and eat your lunch in peace and quiet, away from the eyes of the other students. Yaku was having none of it.

“You can join us for lunch (l/n). They’re a good bunch, if a little loud. Come on,”

You wanted to hide away alone, but couldn’t find a way to decline without seeming rude. Besides, he had a death grip on your arm, almost dragging you towards the volleyball club.

They were outside of the school, eating beneath a cluster of trees, casually tossing a volleyball back and forth. You took one look at them and stopped dead, stumbling to the ground as Yaku continued to pull you along. You stood back up. It couldn’t be. You had to be seeing things. But as you looked again, there he was, Tetsuro Kuroo.

He turned and saw you, and the volleyball fell to the grass below. You met his eyes, wide with shock, as were your own. Then you saw his smirk, just like when you were little, but full of confidence and charm.

“Tetsuro!” “(nickname)” You both yelled at the same time, your face lighting up with delight.

He covered the ground between you in three swift strides, picking you up and swinging you around in a tight embrace. It had been almost eight years.

“Tetsu...you’re...you’re huge,” you explain as he puts you down, unable to believe how much taller he was.

“And you’re a shrimp,” he says, his smirk growing. 

You pushed him away. Or at least, you tried to, but he was so solid. And full of confidence. You stepped back from him and glued your eyes to the ground when you realized the whole team was staring.

“This is (l/n, f/n)” Yaku said, “(l/n), this is the nekoma volleyball team. Although it seems as if you already know our rooster head over here.”

You smile at the nickname of Tetsu and give everyone a quick wave, but say nothing. Noticing your anxiety, Kuroo grabbed your arm and pulled you away.

“I’ll take him off your hands, shorty,” Kuroo called out to Yaku once you two were a safe distance away from the libero.

“(nickname), what are you doing here?” Kuroo asked when you found a secluded spot to eat.

“Well...Mom...Mom got a promotion and we had to move. We just got in the other day,”

“That’s great!” He smiled, “I’m glad you’re here. What, it’s been eight years? I’ll get you signed up for volleyball,”

“I...I don’t play volleyball anymore,” you say, a little afraid that you were disappointing him,

“Huh?” Tetsu looked confused, but it was gone in a moment, replaced by that wicked grin you saw on him before, “Oh, did you finally toughen up and join soccer?”

You nodded, “Yaku signed me up for the soccer club, but...I don’t think I’m going to go,” you said looking down, “It’s too much. But I’m relieved you’re here Tetsu. I thought I’d spend the year alone. Again.”

“Nonsense, you’re joining. You’ll feel better once you do something. Besides, you can’t be this shy for the rest of your high school career.” he said, putting his arm around you.

“Like you’re one to talk,” you mutter, blushing

“”What was that?”

“Nothing. Besides, I don’t have my cleats or shin guards with me.”

“Tomorrow then,” he said, oblivious to, or ignoring your pitiful look, “Anyways, what class are you in?”

You hand him your schedule. You were in the same class. At least you knew somebody.

“Great! I’ll take care of you from here on,” he said, brining you towards your shared class, “I’ll make you feel right at home here, just wait and see,”

You blushed, but it did feel good to have him with you. However, you couldn’t help but marvel; was this really your Tetsu?

And true to his word, Tetsu kept a close eye on you and a guiding hand nearby. Your friendship picked up right where it had been left, and Kuroo always made sure you were okay, even when you didn’t want him to. 

Like when you walked home and realized you were neighbors with him and Kenma. The next morning, before you left for school, he asked if you had your soccer gear. When you said no, he barged into your home, just like the old days, and grabbed you gear, ignoring the surprised look on your mother’s face.

“I’ll hold on to these,” he said, smirking, keeping them out of your reach so you couldn’t hide them during the day.

And at day’s end, you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He dragged you (it seems you were going to have to get used to a lot of that), over to the soccer fields and announced that you were joining. And of course he had to take it a step further, claiming you were the best striker in the entire prefecture. Damn Kuroo. Everyday he ensured you made it to soccer before he wandered off to the volleyball gym. And he was right. You became accustomed to the team, and his volleyball crew, and, of course, got to experience the sharp side of Tetsu's silver tongue. But even then, deep down and hidden, you began to feel something more for Tetsu. Your eyes lit up when you saw him, your lips curled into a smile when he called your name. Small, subtle moments that slowly grew inside you. Little did you know how desperately he was waiting for you.

Your face heated up again as you realized the entire volleyball team was staring at you. You lowered your eyes and looked away, trying to control the red flash that was crawling across your face.

“I’m not the only one whose changed,” you said softly, looking at Kuroo from the corner of your eye.

“Will you come to practice again?” Tetsu asked.

You nodded, “Soccer is in break for now.” You had won the preliminaries and were waiting for the prefecture tournament to decide nationals. The team was taking a short break to recover after the long season, so you had nothing else to do.

“Cool,” Kurro said, and for once you noticed Tetsu’s sidelong glances at you throughout the rest of lunch. 

Damn you, Kenma, you thought as you looked away before you began blushing again. 

By the time you made it to the gym, the team was already well into practice. Tetsu gave you a big wave. Kenma just shook his head. You settled down in the corner of the gym, your book in your hands. But you found that today you couldn’t concentrate on the words. You’d muddle through the pages of the story, completely forgetting each and every word as your eyes returned to the volleyball team. Or, more accurately, to Tetsuro. You’d try to return to your book, but a paragraph later, your mind and eyes forced their way back to the Scheming Captain. You couldn’t shake what Kenma had said about the raven haired boy.

You put away the book. You weren’t getting anywhere anyways, and instead focused on the practice. Each time your eyes fell on your bed-headed friend you felt a jolt of energy, a shudder of electricity, a breath of life course through you, making your hair stand on its end. And when he’d catch you staring, he’d share his half-smile, half-smirk, as if he knew exactly the game you were playing. Somehow, as your whole body began to warm, you thought as if you were a mouse caught by this cunning black cat. 

And then he was back to his practice. To this team. His family. You’d watch with this sadness creeping into you. He was your best friend, but he had so many of his own. He didn’t need you too. As doubt touched your mind, you saw him flash his grin towards Lev, once again blocking his poorly struck spike, and all feelings of doubt and sadness fled from your mind as another feeling rushed through your veins. And no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake it. Each time he flashed his grin to his team, each time he looked at you and smiled, every time his predatory smirk was shared with another, a fire enveloped your blood. Your muscles tightened and your eyes narrowed, and finally you recognized it. Jealousy. You were jealous. 

That hunter’s smile, which you were the first to witness, to see through the cracks in his shell, that was your smile. And his team saw it everyday, all the time. They got this piece of your friend you didn’t really get to see. To feel. To experience. This competitive, strong, cunning young man before your eyes wasn’t yours, and you teemed with envy. You didn’t try to hide your blush as you watched Tetsu play. You couldn’t have if you tried. Maybe you did like Kuroo. 

You waited for them after practice this time. It was the weekend, and Tetsu, Kenma, and yourself had a long sleepover planned. You had the new Fifa game, Kenma a new JRPG, and Kuroo had a new horror movie he wanted to watch. However, of course Kenman just had to drop out. Great. Now you’d be alone with Tetsu. You promised in your head that the next time you could corner Kenma you were going to strangle him. He was doing this on purpose, the bastard. Which is how you ended up alone with Kuroo as he put the dvd into your T.V. You hated horror. Did he remember how you much you hated blood after all these years?

You were both sitting on your bed as the movie descended into darkness. You screamed and covered your eyes, feeling Kuroo’s hand on your shoulder, and then wrapped around your body to calm you down. You didn’t fight it, or the blush that began to grow on your face. It felt so natural. And it felt right when he pulled you closer, and you hid in his chest as the terror in the movie rose to its climax. And in the midst of the madness, with your trembling in Tetsu’s arms, he finally found the courage to speak to you.

“I love you.”

He didn’t. In the middle of a horror movie which had you trembling. He didn’t. But this was Tetsuro. He was a dork. Of course he did.

You didn’t respond, only looked up into his eyes. There was no predatory smirk this time. No, there was something more. You could see the genuine care, the love, in his eyes, the fear of your refusal, the gentleness that hid beneath the teasing and provocation. You could feel his vulnerability as he pulled you down onto your bed, laying you on your back as he straddled you between his legs. His beautiful eyes searched deep into your (e/c) eyes, and you felt all the confusion flee from your mind. Instead, a fire, a heat, a desire coursed through your veins and your entire body shook with anticipation as he moved his lips towards yours. It was soft. Ever so soft, but as he pulled away, you needed more. More. So much more. You grabbed onto his head, hands coursing through his messy black hair, and pulled him back down into a kiss that sent chills rushing through your body. And all the tension that had filled your mind and muscles broke free with each kiss he placed on your lips, your neck. And with each touch from his hands across your skin you felt all your fear fade away. When he finally pulled back, his teeth gently pulling at your skin, you saw in his eyes, and knew. You definitely liked Tetsuro Kuroo.

“I love you,” you breathed back.

And then you saw it. His relief. His care. His love. And you see the vulnerable, timid boy you once knew. A side of Kuroo no one else was allowed to see, to know, to touch. Only you. They could keep his smirk, his confidence. Because you had something more. Because you knew you had the real Kuroo; the boy who needed your reassurance, who needed your hands, who required the safety of your arms. No one else could see that. Tetsuro Kuroo was all yours. 

___________________________________________________________________________

Just an idea that has been pulsing through my mind. I haven't really written anything like this before, so I hope you like it. Sorry if Kuroo is a little OOC. Enjoy.

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

The Day The Music Died

Summary:

“This’ll be the day that I die,” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told.

Natasha never wanted to hear that song again.

Word Count: 3437

Also on Ao3 here

~~~

Natasha stares at the bandages wrapped tightly around Clint’s left wrist, eyes locked in on the red spots where extra blood had been soaked up by the gauze. Clint’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, softly drumming along to the song playing from the radio as he maneuvers the car around a bend in the old back road.

“I can feel you staring.” He says, snapping Natasha out of her trance. Clint takes his eyes off the road for a second to catch her gaze. “Nat, I’m fine. I promise.” It’s not going to change what happened, but he still tries. These types of missions were always hard on Natasha, and it’d only been made that much worse when one of the target’s bodyguards had managed to catch Clint’s forearm with a knife, dangerously close to critical veins. There had been a lot of blood and although Nat was easily able to stitch his skin back together, the close call had scared her - even if she refused to admit it out loud.

“I know you’re fine, idiot. It’s impossible to get rid of you.” She snorts and sends him a small smile. The radio cuts into a commercial, advertising their station and morning talk show before launching into another song.

A long, long time ago

I can still remember how that music

Used to make me smile

Natasha frowns at the song as an alarm bell begins to blare in the back of her head at the notes that drift out of the speakers. She furrows her eyebrows at it, a sinking feeling coming over her. Images from another time threaten to overtake her, and she’s too weak to stop them.

And I knew if I had my chance

That I could make those people dance

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

A blonde little girl, only five years old, prances around the front yard. She’s barefoot and wearing her pink sparkly sundress, hair pulled up into pigtails as she tries to catch a ladybug. Natasha watches from her perch among the tree branches. Mom Melina is kneeled on the ground as she works on the garden in front of the house, planting new flowers to replace the dead ones. She’s brought her portable stereo out, sitting it on the porch and playing at full volume. Natasha isn’t even aware of what song is playing until Yelena is running up to the porch, begging her to play it again. Mom Melina does. And then plays it again with an amused smile and quirked eyebrow when Yelena asks for a third time. Yelena cheers with joy as it starts again and rises to her tip toes as she begins to twirl and dance to the music.

Nobody knows what it is about the song that Yelena likes so much, but she loves it. She constantly asks for it, so much so that Melina loads it onto a cassette tape and keeps it in the car just for her. Natasha doesn’t quite understand what most of the lyrics are talking about, but she decides she doesn’t mind the song for Yelena. In a way, it fits- Yelena is the picture perfect little all american girl, apple pie personified.

Natasha’s frozen in her seat. She pleads with herself to move, to turn off the radio. She doesn’t want to hear this. She knows what verses are coming next, and her breathing catches in her throat as they start. These words hold no comfort for her anymore.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

And them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Her sister’s high-pitched voice singing the words, a beat behind as she moves her hands cheerfully, lost in the rhythm of the song. She’s buzzing with excitement- ready for her promised big adventure, too young and oblivious to notice their parent’s anxiety or her sister’s internal crisis happening in the seat next to her. Natasha can’t look at her sister, she doesn’t want her to see the panic she knows is written over her face. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked out the window, trying desperately to commit everything to memory. The red, white, and blue lights that light up the night, the football game where a band plays and people cheer, the abundance of restaurants where families are sat enjoying dinner. The normalness of it all makes her angry - how can all these people be so casual when her world is falling apart at the seams? Yelena begins to sing the verse about dying, and it takes everything within Natasha to not snap at her. She can’t bear to listen to her little sister singing about dying, so blissfully unaware of the possibility of the verse becoming true at any moment now. Natasha should say something to her, tell her to stop, tell her what was happening. But the lure of pretending one last time is too great for her to give away. She doesn’t say anything.

Did you write the book of love

A photo album, thick with pictures of them all sit on the shelf. It’s Natasha’s favorite thing in the house, and she often sneaks out of bed to stare at the photos. Realistically, she knows they’re all fake. But if she tries hard enough, thinks long enough, she swears she can recall the events. Thanksgiving had been fun; the food had been the best she’d ever tasted. Their summer vacation had been at the beach, and she swears she can feel the sun warming her face and the sand between her toes.

And do you have faith in God above

If the bible tells you so?

She and Clint had gone to a church once, as part of an undercover mission. She’d ended up having to walk out in the middle of the service. It had been too much. She could never believe in it, even if she wanted to. No loving God would ever create the horrors she had seen before her 13th birthday or give her a family purely to steal it all away so violently.

Can music save your mortal soul

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Natasha’s feet hit the ground, still en pointe, as she lands the perfect Grand Jete. She tosses her arms out in the landing pose and holds it for a second before excited clapping breaks her concentration. Yelena sits there, smiling wide as possible, clad in her own black leotard and pink tights. She’s in the younger classes, not as advanced as Natasha yet, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Yelena scrambles to her feet, crossing the floor to stand next to her sister.

“Teach me, teach me!”

It’s a complicated step, and Natasha knows she’s not ready for it just yet. She doesn’t want her to get hurt.

“I’ll teach you when you’re older, okay?” Yelena nods, and turns to the mirror, copying Natasha’s arm positions.

Natasha tries to force another breath into her lungs, but it’s harder now, her throat and chest constricted. She squeezes her eyes closed, trying to block out the flashbacks that continue to assault her.

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own

And moss grows fat on a rolling stone

But that’s not how it used to be.

Fifteen years. It had been fifteen goddamn years since Natasha had seen her sister for the last time. She refuses to let herself think of what might have happened to her. It pains her to think of her baby sister, who had once been so full of life, in such a horrid place.

Natasha wraps her arms around herself, arms holding each other tightly. She digs her fingernails into her skin, attempting to give herself something else to focus on and ground her. It doesn’t work.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the Levee was dry

Them good ol boys were drinking whiskey and rye

And signing this will be the day that I die

This’ll be the day that I die

Natasha doesn’t know how long they’ve been stuffed into this shipping container, crowded against a hundred other little girls. They’re all dirty, all starving, all terrified. The scent of sweat and urine threatens to suffocate them, the air hot and heavy.

She has tugged Yelena into her lap, arms protectively crossed over her torso to hold her close- hasn’t let go of her since the second they were put into here for fear of losing her amongst the other girls. She’s so tiny, and Natasha doesn’t trust any of the others.

Yelena stirs, a small whimper falling from her lips. Natasha tries to shush her gently, but it doesn’t work, and her sister keeps squirming. Her cries are starting to grow in volume, and one of the girls next to them sends them a dirty look.

“Yelena, Yelena. I’m here. You’re with me.” It’s the only words of comfort Natasha can offer her. She wishes she could tell her they were okay, that she was safe, that they were going to be fine. Instead, all she can do is assure her that her older sister had her. Yelena had stopped calling out for her mom a while ago, after her calls went unanswered and she finally realized no one was coming to rescue them. Natasha shifts them around, turning her back towards the others and away from prying eyes. Natasha turns Yelena on her lap, so that Yelena is facing her. “Yelena, look at me.”

Yelena shakes her head, so Natasha gently cups both sides of her face, titling her face up so that she has no choice. Yelena doesn’t resist, just locks her tear-filled eyes onto Natasha.

“I’m scared,” Yelena sobs through hitching breaths as her body trembles.

Natasha clutches her tighter and brings her closer, so close their noses are almost touching. “Don’t cry, Lena. Just sing with me.” Yelena frowns at her in confusion, and Natasha starts to sing under her breath, quietly, so that Yelena is forced to quite herself down and focus to hear the words.

She starts with the chorus, the part that Yelena knows and likes the best. “Bye, Bye, Miss American pie,” Natasha sings. The corner of Yelena’s lips quirks up in recognition. Nat pauses, prompting Yelena to sing the next line herself.

Her voice quivers, but she sings it anyways. “Drove my chevy to the levee…” Natasha nods in encouragement and joins her for the next verse. “But the levee was dry.” They sing the next few lines together. They near the last two lines of the chorus though, and this time, Natasha can’t allow her to sister to sing the last line. They hurt too much, they’re too real.

So she interrupts Yelena, skipping forward past the “Day that I die” line and jumping right into the next verse. Yelena doesn’t even question it, just follows her sister’s lead and allows herself to be completely absorbed in the whispered song.

Natasha sings almost the entire song to her sister, doing her best to remember as many lyrics as she could, and then starts over. She keeps singing, over and over again, until her voice starts to crack, and Yelena’s eyes are slipping closed in exhaustion.

“Tasha?” Clint calls, picking up the tension in his partner. She doesn’t respond, just stays frozen in her seat, locked in her own little world. “Hey,” He calls, a bit louder this time. He takes one hand off the wheel and places it on her shoulder gently. “Nat. What’s going on?” She’s shaking.

Instead of answering, Natasha claps her hands over her ears and leans forward, bending at the waist so she can rest her head atop her knees. She’s shaking her head, muttering something under her breath.

We all got up to dance

Oh, but we never got the chance

“Teach me, teach me!”

“…When you’re older.”

Natasha never got the chance to teach Yelena that ballet move. She wonders just how many other promises to her baby sister she’s broken.

“I’m going to pull over, Nat, okay?” A male’s voice comes from somewhere close by. His hand moves from her shoulder onto her back, to rub small circles on it.

Do you recall what was revealed

The day the music died?

She had never felt so stupid. Standing on that airway strip, holding a gun out in front of her, blocking Yelena. She had let her fall into the lie, childishly believe that maybe, just maybe Dad Alexei loved them like he said he did. As Alexei kneels before them, showing no sympathy to his daughters tears, she realizes that had never been the case.

The chorus starts again, and she feels bile rise in her stomach. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” Natasha remembers how she had stolen that gun from a solider, shoved her sister behind her and threatened to kill numerous grown men for touching her. How desperately she had clung to Yelena when they’d been ripped apart. She hadn’t been ready to give up her sister, not ready to say goodbye to the American dream lie they had built side by side. “Drove my Chevy to the Levee but the levee was dry” The memory of Yelena’s face during those few days had haunted Natasha’s dreams for years. It had frightened her- even more so than the men with oversized guns. She had never seen her sister, who laughed at everything and loved the world with everything in her, look so despondent. She had tried telling her jokes to pry some kind of smile out of her. It didn't work. “This’ll be the day that I die” Yelena had sung those exact words in the car that day, and no lies were told. That day, when dad Alexei handed them back to Russians soldiers, they had both died. Died only to be remade and ruthlessly forged into something new, nothing more than weapons of mass destruction and trained killers.

There’s cussing to her left that pulls her back halfway to the present. She’s in a car, and she’s covered in vomit that runs down her front and onto her chest and lap. Clint has a hand on her, and he’s telling her just a second, Nat.

“Clint?” She asks, still slightly confused. She can still feel the weight of a smaller body on top of her, feel the soft blonde curls against her chin.

“I’m here, Tasha. Hold on.”

Oh, and there we were all in one place

A generation lost in space

With no time to start again

Countless little girls standing in a straight line, blank expressions, awaiting their next commands. They’re all mirrors of each other, no identity left for any of them to cling onto. Natasha scans over each girl, searching for the blonde waves she knows so well. She can’t find her.

The song drags on as Clint navigates the car off the road, coming to stop. He jumps out and jogs around, flinging Natasha's door open. She doesn’t move, so he reaches in and unbuckles her before slipping his hands into her armpits and pulling her out of the car. She tumbles to the ground, falling onto her knees.

And as I watched him on the stage

My hands clenched in fists of rage

No angel born in hell

Could break that Satan’s spell

Natasha catches Dreykov’s eyes on them, and she tightens her hold on Yelena’s hand. Her sister makes a small noise - she’s going to have bruises with how tight Nat is holding her- but doesn’t pull her hand away. Natasha curls her free hand into a tight fist, ready to swing if need be.

Dreykov says something to the men with guns next to him and points a finger at them. The soldiers start moving forward, and Natasha backtracks, tries to back up but Yelena stumbles at the sudden change in direction.

I saw Satan laughing with delight

The day the music died

Natasha screams her sister's name, gripping onto her as tightly as she can. Soldiers have hands on them both, ripping them away from each other. Dreykov is standing several feet away, a tiny smile on his face. Yelena is shrieking, hands desperately trying to keep her grasp on Natasha with all the strength in her six-year-old frame.

They lose their grip on each other and are dragged apart. Yelena’s voice dies out as they carry away the only thing Natasha had left.

Bye Bye Miss American Pie -

“Turn it off!” Natasha pleads, before promptly vomiting even more onto the ground. Clint’s hands support her head, keeping her from falling. “Off, please. I can’t. Turn it--” Clint’s hands leave her for a second as he scrambles over her, reaching through the open passenger door and slamming the power button on the radio.

Natasha lets out a breath, thankful for the silence. With the song no longer playing, her head is beginning to clear, the painful images retreating somewhere she could lock them away again.

“All done?” Clint asks her. She spits out one last string of bile and nods her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as Clint helps her sit up and lean against his leg. He doesn’t rush her, just allows her to sit and try to regain control of her breathing as he combs his fingers through her hair.

When Natasha can finally think again, she frowns at herself in disgust. “Sorry,” She apologizes.

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” he tells her. Clint reaches over and opens the backdoor, grabbing his go bag and digging around until his fingers find one of his clean T-shirts. He yanks it out, closes the door. “Can I help you change, or do you want to do it yourself?”

He’s honestly not even sure if she could change herself right now, with how much she was still shaking, but he gives her the choice anyways. She shrugs her shoulders, her way of accepting help without actually having to accept. “Okay, arms up.” Natasha raises her arms, and Clint carefully tugs her shift off her by the collar, making sure the filthy outside never touched any of her skin. He crumples up the shirt into a ball and tucks it in a bag. He bunches up his shirt at the neck hole and slides it over her head before gently guiding her arms through. It takes a lot for his partner to get to this state, and his concern grows with every passing second that goes by and Natasha is still out of it. He fixes the shirt over her torso, making sure she’s completely covered and then sinks down to the ground, leaning his back against the wheel of the car. There’s a soft breeze in the air, the slight chill nipping at their skin a welcome distraction. “C’mere,” he says, and guides Natasha into his side. She tenses for a moment, but then lets her head drop onto his shoulder, allowing Clint to take her weight. He wraps an arm around her to hold her close.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha repeats, and this time Clint doesn’t say anything. He knows she’s not apologizing to him, but someone not in their presence. He doesn’t push it. She’ll tell him when she’s ready, on her own time. He has guesses though. Clint had an older brother, and he knows what a protective but burnt-out older sibling looks like. He’s seen the way her eyes linger on certain little girls in public before snapping back, caught the way she had once brushed her fingers over a fabric doll with pink hair on a store shelf, heard the way she is able to understand children’s speech without any effort. She’s never mentioned a younger sibling before, but sometimes in her sleep, she mumbles a girl’s name, her hands clenched in fists as if trying to hold on to her.

He presses a kiss to her temple, a silent promise. He won’t push her- He doesn’t need to know exactly what happened. He knows how to support her and how to take care of her when she needs it and for now, that’s enough.

Years later, Natasha will press her forehead to an adult Yelena’s, both panting from the fight, Yelena upside down and laying in the wreckage of the red room. Dreykov is finally dead, by Yelena’s hand. Yelena cracks a joke, and Natasha smiles. They’ll never again be those little girls they once were, but they’ve finally found each other.

[tra-sh]

Love’s Labors pt 2

Part two to my Ivar x reader series! Part three here!

@youbloodymadgenius @red-roses-are-gonna-shine @angelofmysmalldeath

"I cannot believe you would snoop like that," Judith scolds lightly, pacing around her chamber. You lift your head from your spot on her bed and scoff. "I was not snooping Judith, I was gathering useful information," You retort. "In fact, I saw the Northman's son." 

Judith's head snaps up at this, betraying her interest. "You saw Ivar?" Ivar. So that's his name. You didn't know much about their language, but you were sure his name fit him well. "Yes," you say as a knowing smirk graces your lips. Judith sent you a glare as she sat down at the small wooden vanity in the corner of the room. "I know that look. You know better," Judith warns quietly. Out of all the siblings, you were by far the most likely to stir trouble. It was the main reason your father preferred to parade Judith around and not you. He was ashamed to have such a troublesome girl. "Know better than to do what?" Your voice feigns innocence as you sit upright. Judith gives you an exasperated look as you scoot to the end of the bed. "You know exactly what I mean. You're plotting, and it always leads to trouble. Why can't you simply leave things be?" 

You flash your most dazzling smile at her before standing up and stretching your arms rather unceremoniously above your head. "Where would the fun be in that?" You lean over to kiss your sister affectionately on the cheek, before skipping from the room and heading to Alfred's study. You were determined to badger the poor boy into coughing up whatever information he'd learned about the Northmen yesterday and why they were here. 

You stop suddenly when you see guards perched outside Alfred's study and quickly duck behind the corner. Why were there two guards today? Usually, it was Ecbert and Judith being so heavily protected- unless... 

You peer around the stone wall and watch as the guards begin their march away to switch positions. You wait until they're further down the hall before making a mad dive for the door, throwing it open and scrambling inside before the other set of guards show up to assume their stances. You shut the door behind you and let out a small sigh of relief. You turn around to see Alfred and a very confused Ivar sitting at a table, seemingly in the middle of a chess match. You quickly collect yourself and straighten your posture, smiling at them. "What are you doing in here?" Alfred asks, a frown marring his features. You feign confusion and point to yourself as if to say, 'who, me?' 

"I merely wanted to see my dearest darling Alfred during his studies," you muse. Walking towards them, you can see Ivar raise a brow at you in amusement. You wonder, momentarily, if Ivar speaks Saxon like his father. Surely these two weren't just sitting here in silence? Alfred scoffs and looks back to the chessboard with a strong focus. "I know better than to believe anything that comes from your mouth," he mumbles. You raise a hand to your chest and gasp, stalking toward the table. "I'm wounded, Alfred, that you think I'd lie to you," you say with a defensive lilt. You glance down at the table and smirk. Alfred is losing. 

Ivar steals a glance at you from the corner of his eye, judging your mannerisms. You weren't like any of the Saxons he'd met thus far. You had a wild, almost chaotic way about you that intrigued him. You turn to meet his gaze and smile. "Hello," you greet warmly. Ivar merely stares at you with a blank face. 

Alfred looks between the two of you awkwardly and clears his throat, earning your attention. "I don't think he- you know- speaks..." Alfred trails off, unsure of how to phrase it. "Saxon?" You ask, looking back to Ivar. "It's terribly rude not to greet your guest, Alfred. No matter his language." Your eyes scan Ivar's face, looking for any hint of recognition. There was no way Ragnar was the only one who learned your language. Ivar looked far too intelligent to enter a kingdom he did not know the language of. 

Alfred's eyes dart between the two of you as if waiting for a break in the stalemate. You hold Ivar's gaze, unwavering. The room falls still as the two of you stare, each daring the other to back down first. Finally, Ivar scoffs and looks away. You give an unladylike bark of laughter and practically crow as you say, "I knew it!" 

Ivar looks back at you with a roll of his eyes. "So what if I do?" He seems almost annoyed that he'd been discovered, but you're quick to brush this off. "It means I'm right, which is very important," you coo gently. Ivar's eyes darken as he raises a brow. "Oh? Is that so?" You feel the hairs on your arm stand as a calloused hand brushes over your own. Your cheeks grow warm as he lifts your hand to his lips, placing a lazy kiss on the back of your hand. "I will keep this in mind," Ivar muses as he allows your hand to drop back to your side. You're frozen for a moment as if processing what just happened. You're quick to snap back and offer an innocent smile to the Viking. Alfred on the other hand looks between the two of you with a frown. "Well, now that we all speak the same language, I might inform you that we are betrothed," he grumbles. You feel something bubble in your chest as you glare at the brunette. Why did he have to spoil your fun? 

Ivar seems to mull this over as he turns his attention back to their chess game. "Are you not the queen's sister?" He inquires. "One of them," you reply, moving around the table and planting yourself on the arm of Ivar's chair. He steals a glance at you and grins as if finding a new amusement in flirting with a betrothed princess. "You are here often?" He wonders as he steals one of Alfred's rooks. You sigh and lean slightly into his shoulder. "Unfortunately so. We spend most of our summer here so our father can pretend he has a keen knowledge of foreign militia."

 Ivar lets out a genuine laugh at this and you smile in return. Something about his laugh stirs your stomach and you love the feeling. 

"A Saxon will know nothing of war," Ivar says in a hushed tone, as though only speaking to you. "Really? I think we know a great deal about starting them," you muse. You feel triumphant as another smile ghosts over the Viking's lips. "I guess I will agree with you," Ivar replies before capturing another of Alfred's pieces. You look up at Alfred who is now deathly focused on the game before him. Though he was fighting a losing battle, you will give him credit for determination. He holds a knight in his hand as he stares down Ivar's pieces. You doubt he's listening to your conversation.

 It's not long before the boys fall into an attentive silence, both sizing up the game and plotting their next move. You turn to look out the window and see that the sun is just beginning to set. You know the guards will be changing again soon, and if you didn't leave now you'd be explaining to your father why you were alone in a chamber with two boys instead of attending your studies with Judith. 

You stand from the chair, earning a look from both boys. "Are you leaving?" Alfred wonders, his brow furrowed. "I should leave before our fathers realize I've been shirking my duties," you say with an impish smile. Alfred rolls his eyes at your antics. "I can't cover for you forever, you know," he scolds. "Of course, cousin dearest, I would never take advantage of such kindness," you say with a dramatic flourish. "Until next time," you add, sparing a glance at Ivar. His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and you can't help the sneaking smile that finds its way onto your face. 

You turn your back to them and head for the door, trying your best to ignore your erratic heartbeat.

[eureka-its-zico]

Half Bitten Part 4

Prologue  Part 1   Part 2   Part 3

A/N: So no one really asked for a continuation of this. I just work on stuff when I’m stuck on other things and I love supernatural stuff. My only hope is that someone out there enjoys this just a little. As always, thank you for reading. Much Love, Jenn

Jimin X Reader (for now?)

Words: 8620

Genre: Vampire supernatural goodness

Warnings: some slight gore

The surge of fear that rushed through you left a sickeningly sweet taste of copper on your tongue. For that brief moment, as your eyes focused in and out on his figure, you wondered if maybe you’d bitten your tongue. A mixture of shock from the wound on your leg and the frigid air making your teeth begin to clatter unapologetically from the cold. That wasn’t even mentioning the blood loss from your wounded leg was starting to show itself: your eyes running over him in doubles when you knew damn well there was only one of him. The spyglass vision made it increasingly harder to focus, and the more you did focus on him the more you felt the absurdity at noting how attractive he was. 

From Jimin to Namjoon and now this guy, they all held on to that otherworldly energy. It demanded to be admired and touched: a dangerous game to hypnotize right before they stroked. A small part of you wondered if there was a convention? A secret meeting place to find the most attractive people on the planet and turn them into vampires. 

It was the worst, most ridiculous, time for your thoughts to shift to the absurdity of looks but it also felt equally absurd that you were running for your life. From vampires. You knew the fear that quickened your blood should’ve been enough to send your feet packing in the other direction. Yet, there you were woozy from blood loss and your limbs on fire from adrenaline. 

You were vaguely aware that your new dangerous stranger was edging his way towards you. Blood soaked eyes smiling to the soft hum of a song he’d originally hummed but was now breathing into the space between you. It was hauntingly beautiful and serene. The words took ages to reach you, but when they did your heart thundered wildly. A scared rabbit caught in the view of a viper. 

“Your scent is so pure. It tastes so rich. You’ll try to hide.  you’ll never get far. I love the chase. I’ll find you wherever you are.”

The words danced sickeningly sweet inside your head. The angelic sound of his voice almost enough to make you overlook the words. But your brain knew something wasn’t right, and it sent you turning on your heels and attempting to sprint away from him. 

You’d felt like a fool. You’d been so starry-eyed as you watched him he’d already begun to pace towards you. A delicate shift of his feet that practically left him dancing and a few feet closer to you than before. 

Your late response to turn tail and run; digging in and shifting you forward, hopefully, as far away from him as your injured legs could carry, felt too late. The sensation was so overwhelmingly it took everything in you not to scream. To yell into the void of the night for a help that would never come. The anxiety of not knowing when his attack would come ripped your stomach apart and your heart nesting snuggly in your throat. 

With every pounding of your feet into the asphalt the nerves in your injured leg sent electrical jolts of pain throughout your body. A screaming reminder that you were wounded prey, and the agony you felt now wouldn’t compare to the future he had in store.

You held on to a dim hope you’d had a chance of getting away, but with the first brush of a body moving past you, faster than your brain could register, you knew that hope was non-existent. You barely had time to register the second gust of movement, now to your right, and you weren’t able to stop the soft yelp that crawled free from your throat. 

His windchime-like laughter resonated around you as if he was impossibly close. Behind you. Beside you. All around you. The playful sound erupted and consumed you until it was the only sound you could hear. 

He kept toying with you, herding you, whichever way he saw fit. The progress you thought you were making to safety dissolved quickly at the realization he had you moving in circles. Your mind was now blaring warnings wrapped up in frantic thoughts that left you dizzy with panic.

He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t Jimin who was there to care for you. He was obviously one of Namjoon’s people. This mystery man who tormented you. 

RUN!

Your brain kept scrambling the words around. The flight of nerves urging you to keep moving not caring that you were attempting just that. The neon of the Chinese food restaurant that’s been on your right now seemed on your left. Had he completely made you do a one-eighty? 

There it was again - that clamoring of panic in your chest. It definitely wasn’t helpful, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to help save you. Just another thing to add to your growing shit show of a day. It didn’t matter if you were going to be able to get away. Realistically, you knew the chances of that happening were narrowing down slim to none. It didn’t stop your legs from tearing to your left back down the street, legs pumping, and started saying a prayer that you’d magically turn into The Flash. If vampires and witches were suddenly real it didn’t seem like too much of a stretch to become a superhero. 

Gosh, how you’d seemed to find a street with literally no one on it seemed horrifically convenient. 

“Silly rabbit,” his voice whispered down your spine and instantly caused a scream to catch in your throat like bile. 

Somehow, it seemed even the buildings were helping him play tricks on you. The acoustics of his voice bouncing around as an endless echo to disorient you from knowing which direction he would come from. That knowledge alone made a soft hiccup of a sob leave you. You weren’t even aware of the tears stinging against your eyes; your only focus on your escape and cursing your legs as they struggled to pick up the pace. You bite down on your lower lip to keep from letting one tear escape. You refused to give him the satisfaction.

“There’s no place you can run that I won’t find you.”

If you were feeling good about your odds, you would’ve told him to go fuck himself. The declaration is already solidly forming on your tongue and patiently waiting for you to send it off. Unfortunately, the odds were never in your favor.

You didn’t have to look back to know he was still giving chase. 

You struggled to stay focused. Your gaze landing on a liquor store - neon lights flashing with the grace of a motel vacancy sign - gave you a destination to strive for. The earlier choice of the Chinese restaurant now a thing of the past. He’d turned you around so much you weren’t sure if it was ever real. 

What you needed now was a home base that would possibly give a semblance of safety if only you could reach it. It felt damn possible. The feeling of the crazy bastard behind you somehow leaving you, but the anxiety of being chased still resided. 

You were mid-run, feet still lifted off the ground, when an arm snaked around your front and collided your back against a hard chest. A flutter of a moment passed, not long enough for his foreign touch to register, before your neck was exposed by a violent tug of your hair and sharp canines sinking down into the soft skin of your throat. 

That sob you’d held down ripped its way violently from your lips. Mixing together with a scream that shook through you and landed like an earthquake around you. His strong arms dominated you with ease, and continued to constrict across your body to keep your arms useless at your sides. 

The sensation was one that reminded you of your time in second grade. Mrs. Mann’s beloved python that sat motionless a majority of the time in the back corner of the class. You never seen it move until it was feeding time - never live bait - but even then you could still remember the abruptness and strength of the way it matched onto its food. The greedy way it swallowed its’ meal whole after its body made sure one last time the bunny was dead. 

This was what you remembered now as his arms continued to pull your body closer; impossibly closer. The hand that held your neck letting go to secure itself on your opposite shoulder. This man was your boa: squeezing his meal until he popped bones and killed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

The pressure was so great that it left your mouth hinged open. Your jaw unable to collapse, mostly due to your body howling for air. The flashing twenty-four hour liquor sign was a comical five feet away. The promised salvations hum of  low voltage electricity and spastic red glow turned into a blur. The tears you’d refused to shed now slid effortlessly down your cheeks. 

The only thing you could be aware of was that you weren’t breathing. Your mouth was still wide open, but your lungs refused to take in air. It didn’t matter that your body ached for it. It focused more on the sensation of a hungry mouth that sucked hungrily at your neck. The sharpened dog teeth that were sunk deep into the skin no longer ached. 

There was a moment you felt something hot slide down your neck and you wanted to yell. Your mind registering it as drool; not being able to comprehend it was your blood seeping between greedy mouthfuls as he drank. It was strange that after all this, your body was still aware of the placement of his hands. His arms still holding deathly tight, and yet you were placed securely up against his chest. 

If someone were to walk by all they would think was that you were just a young couple. Your boyfriend casually holding you from behind and laying kisses on your throat. They wouldn’t notice that the way his arms held yours it kept you from reaching out a pleading hand for help. At this point, you were so weak you weren’t even sure you’d have the strength to lift a finger, let alone a hand. 

The sting of his teeth that found their home in the hollow of your neck began to fade. Your mind was now only able to recognize the euphoric sensation that began to dance through every cell of your body. You no longer felt the need to fight him. Why would you when your body suddenly felt heavy and his arms so secure? 

In all the chaos of a few minutes the pain fueled down into an annoyance that went to the backdrop with the sensation of numbing pleasure. Whether it was blood loss, or defeat, your body began to relax against the undead stranger. A quiet urge to allow him to drink you down until you were nothing. You were sinking deeper against his strong chest; the euphoric feeling that coursed through you had now consumed you. 

You were vaguely aware that he was no longer holding you so tightly. An arm had found its way out of his hold and instead of fighting him off, it guided your hand up to his head. Your fingers now laced in his hair and holding on in pleasure. When your fingers dug and pulled against the hairs on his scalp, his arms moved to pull you closer but didn’t remove your hand. His mouth giving a -lord help you - playful bite that sent a thrill to the ends of your toes. 

And just like that, your lungs found air, and fuck - you moaned. 

A part of you hated the sound that escaped your mouth. That hatred growing stronger when you swore you could feel his lips curl into a smile. As fast as it all must have happened; it felt like an eternity. One you loathed and yet, were silently hoping would never end. You were so lost in the fuzziness of your thoughts, the sensation of him, that when you were flung violently from his arms the last bit of air you’d had left was knocked from them. The asphalt catching your body as it came to a painful multiple rolling stop. 

An eruption of a roar you knew came from the one who’d captured you: enraged at having his meal taken away was your only guess at how angry he truly sounded. You were too tired, too drained, to be afraid. The small part of you that was still capable of common sense knew you should’ve been terrified. To be terrified meant to flee but the amount of energy that would take was not something you had at that moment. 

You were barely able to muster enough of it to flip yourself onto your back. Your neck now alive with a bitterness at how rough he’d been. The feeling that was creeping back into your limbs made it inch by aching inch that it was not happy. A groan left your lips as you mustered another fit of strength to move yourself to your side. Your eyes landing on the one who’d rescued you. 

Jimin stood in the middle of you and the man. The other man who, even from this distance, plainly wore your blood smeared haphazardly around his mouth. A small amount decorating the hollow of his neck that he now wiped away in agitation. While he seemed particularly calm, annoyed, but calm Jimin seemed to reflect his opposite. 

Jimin’s body seemed consumed by a rage that reflected in the crease of his brow and the hard set of his shoulders. His jaw tight as he straightened out his body back to his full height. The other man before him appeared to be a few inches taller, but Jimin’s rage made him appear larger than what he was. 

“Jungkook!” Jimin’s voice rang out. The animosity in his voice radiated against your skin like a flame that threatened to eat you alive. “You dare taste her? Mark her?”

Jungkook didn’t give Jimin the satisfaction of answering him right away. Instead, you watched a coy smile spread on his blood-stained lips. His thumb dragging across the bottom and ended with it pressed inside his mouth. His tongue seductively working to clean up the mess you’d made. Jungkook didn’t let his thumb come back out until it was completely licked clean; his crimson eyes watching your face as he did it. The intensity of his gaze left an aching shiver on your skin and the heat on your cheeks enough to tell it wasn’t all completely out of fear. 

Jimin must have sensed it too. His gaze turning back to take you in at your current state, and finding your eyes glued to Jungkook’s position. The hurt Jimin showed wasn’t something that you could fully comprehend. You weren’t his to have. You belonged only to yourself. The person that he remembered, the woman he’d loved so many centuries ago, was not you. You were your own person. 

So why did the pain that rippled across his face make your heart ache? 

“You place an apple in front of Adam, Jimin and ask him not to take a bite.” He tsked him. The same finger he’d used to clean up your blood now teasing him in a tick tock motion. “You should remember: Adam always was a fool for the most delicious delights.” 

“She is not yours to have! You play me for stupid, Jungkook. I know that blood alone is not hers. Did you plan on making her drink from you?”

Your body became rigid as Jimin’s words embedded themselves into your chest. The fear that’d begun to reside came racing back and forced you to look at Jungkook closer now. You weren’t sure what it was that Jimin had seen that you did not. You feverishly scanned him until, there, the sleeve of his shirt that sat on his wrist was stuck to his skin. The blood there was still bright and fresh and only beginning to brown at its edges. 

It was the same side that held your head to him, neck exposed, earlier until he’d let it go. You’d thought Jungkook released you because he’d realized you were no longer going to put up a struggle and now the sickening feeling of knowing he’d meant to do something more ominous left you feeling nauseous. 

Jimin knew what he was trying to do. You knew from Jimin explaining about blood being a conduit that if you’d taken even a little of blood, Jungkook would’ve been able to find you. Wherever you were. No matter what. 

“I was only doing what MY King asked of me.”

“I could kill you for what you’ve done here.”

The playfulness that’d controlled Jungkook from the unfortunate moment you’d met him disappeared like smoke. His features hardened with a sinister look as he gave Jimin his entire focus. 

“You could try, old King, but you will fail.”

Jimin’s squared shoulders seemed eager to do just that until another voice joined the two men. 

“Now, now Jungkook. We don’t need an all-out fight on this beautiful night do we.”

You knew the owner of the voice long before Namjoon - the asshole himself - stepped out like magic beside Jungkook. A friendly hand resting on his shoulder until Namjoon moved to stand a few inches in front of him. But it wasn’t just Namjoon himself that appeared like magic from the curtains of the night. Two other figures joined at the edges of the men, making a symbol of an arrowhead, and one of these new introductions to this wildly fucked up play was holding the arm of your best friend. 

“Alice” 

At the sound of your voice it brought Namjoon’s full attention back to you. His brow creased in a momentary show of confusion at how cute you must have been looking: a bloodied heap in the middle of the road. He only needed to look to the man beside him on his left to understand your current state. Or perhaps he already knew. Jungkook’s earlier words of his orders swimming back to the surface of your recollection. 

Namjoon held you in his vision for breadth longer and moved his eyes over to the form of your friend. 

“You can still change her fate, Y/N. All you need to do is come with me.” 

Namjoon’s eyes held tightly to you: all of them seeming to watch your exhausted frame. Your mind struggled to comprehend what he meant and what it was exactly you’d have to do to change it. You’d barely been able to move up onto your knees. Your palms still needed on the asphalt of the road to keep you steady. Your whole body shuddered in exhaustion, but looking at Alice now, at what he had done was enough to make the exhaustion disappear and icy fury made your body rigid. 

“She won’t be going anywhere with you,” Jimin snarled. 

His comment snapped their attention back to him. You wanted to tell him yourself that you could make your own decisions. Not even he got to make them for you and yet, you couldn’t muster enough strength to care. Whatever you had left in you needed to be used to rescue Alice. Her lights still on with nobody home. 

“Jimin. I don’t think you’re in any place to be making threats, old friend.”

“It is more than just a threat.”

Namjoon took a step forward and splayed his arms out to indicate the men beside him. They were so caught up in their pissing contest. All you wanted was to know what you needed to do to get Alice back. All the way back and out of this trance he’d flung her in. 

“It took you long enough to come to your supposed “loves’” aid.” Namjoon’s words were filled with a sharp teasing; sharpened and dripping with sarcasm. “It took Jungkook using her as a snack for you to finally come running.”

“She enjoyed it.”

The heat in those three words were enough to send your cheeks heating with warmth and your eyes searching for the safety of the pavement. You wanted to shout your denial to Jungkook that he was wrong. Not a single part of you enjoyed what had transpired between the two of you, but that lie died long before it’d ever brushed your lips. 

Jimin must have realized it too, because now his earlier lividity returned. His eyes flickering with a murderous rage in Jungkook’s direction. 

“Hmm, maybe I should give her to Jungkook to finish what they’d started. What do you think, Jimin? Or I could always just give him Alice.”

Your head snapped back on Namjoon’s moving figure. His right hand resting under his chin as if he was stuck in a philosophical debate, and not the fate of an innocent woman. 

“You touch her and I’ll kill you.”

The coldness of your words stopped him short. Jimin, who’d been moving back towards you, didn’t take another step. You couldn’t believe it was you who’d spoken. Your own voice carrying a warning that was swept up in the air around you. Threatening something much darker than even you were able to understand. 

For a moment, you could tell you’d caught him off guard but Namjoon was quick on his feet. The hand that held his chin a second ago now moved to usher forward the man to his right. The one who was holding tight to Alice. 

“Oh, Y/N. Of course, I don’t want to do anything to your dear, sweet, and innocent little Alice. That’s why I’m giving you this choice.” 

The man whose face eerily held an angelic softness handed her off into Namjoon’s waiting embrace. Only taking a single step back; his dark almond eyes transfixed on you as if you were something dangerous, and not the other way around. His eyes speaking plainly: he wouldn’t let you do a damn thing to his King. 

“Stop giving her speeches of fairness. We both know you don’t have a fair bone in your body. All you know is how to do is take,” Jimin sneered. “I know even if she still says no you won’t stop hunting her until you have her.”

A flash of annoyance struck over Namjoon’s features like lightening and just as fast after it came, it was gone. His face smoothed back to its porcelain indifference. The only thing that showed his displeasure was the way his eyes were beginning to bleed crimson. 

“I would rather her to come willingly.” His reply was stated matter of factly. Namjoon’s eyes darting back to where you still sat on the floor and took a cautious step towards you. His hand on Alice’s arm forcing her to move with him. “But make no mistake, Y/N. I will have you. I will take you. One way or another.”

A scream echoed around you, and it took you a moment to realize it was coming from yourself. All the frustration. The guilt. Anger and grief that’d been building in the last twenty-four hours came out in a wave of exhaled air before you could stop it; before it could swallow you whole. 

“What will it take for any of you to get it through your thick stupid skulls! I am not a prize or some reincarnated lost love you two fought over because one was captain steal-your-girl. I’m literally no one! I’m just me.”

Namjoon released the grip he had on Alice’s arm and took another step toward you. His body language stating clearly he did not find Jimin’s presence between you in the least bit threatening. The pity that he showed you now, etched into the fine features of his face, only seemed to poke at the Amber’s of the animosity you felt towards him more. 

Why couldn’t any of them understand that you were not what they wanted you to be? You were yourself and always will be. And, at this point, you were more than happy to be your plain Jane ordinary self. 

He crouched down until he was leveled with your position on the pavement of the road. While he adjusted himself to your height you allowed yourself enough time to push up off your hands. Your butt now sitting on your calves and the pressure of the added weight sent the jagged pebbles deeper into your knees. As uncomfortable as it was you could deal. At least now you were looking him squarely in the eyes: no more cowering. 

“You really don’t understand, do you?”

“Namjoon.”

Jimin said his name as a warning. In return, Namjoon continued to ignore him. His brow furrowed tight at his attempt to intrude on his would-be heartfelt moment. 

“Your great-great-great grandmother is long dead. There is no bringing her back. Jimin and I have long accepted this. However.” Namjoon paused for a millisecond. Long enough to make your skin itch with the desire for him to hurry up and finish it. “The power that courses through your veins, Y/N it’s centuries old. Older than even she was. Your blood is what we are all after and the magic that flows in it.”

“I can’t even make a quarter disappear.”

Namjoon’s eyes sparked crimson to obsidian in a wild dance as he struggled to get his anger under control. While he didn’t seem to find your small joke funny you’d earned a snort of laughter from somewhere behind him. Even Jimin’s titled head wasn’t enough to hide the small smile that lifted his lips. 

“In time you will learn.”

“I don’t want to learn! What part of that aren’t you getting through your thick fucking skull.”

“That’s enough!” He roared. His face was fully changed now. All teeth and bleeding eyes with a power that shook the fabric of the night to its core. Namjoon’s change caused everyone around him to join in, until you were painfully aware you were the most human on of the group. “Either you come with us now or I rip your friends’ head open like a Pez dispenser.”

Your eyes zeroed in on him. The threat he made ruthless but one you knew deep down in your gut he’d meant. 

“I’d like to see you fuckin try.”

A mouth full of teeth smiled wickedly back at you. His feet obliging you by moving the few steps he’d taken away from Alice back to her side. Where she continued to stand patiently waiting like a zombie.  

There are moments in your life that don’t feel that important. These small decisions that you don’t realize put you on a deeper path to harder ones that you’ll have to make. Those small repercussions building themselves into a mountain of a moment.  

This is what it felt like now. All those decisions in your life you’d made suddenly seemed to expand like an endless sea of stars. So many of them that they couldn’t possibly be connected; and yet came together to create this constellation of your life.  

You watched Namjoon house the words you’d spoken in his mind. The way his face contorted into something that was worthy of pure nightmare fuel. The resolve of strength you’d had to tell him to basically go fuck himself was gone in that instant, because you were made painfully aware that the individuals before you were god-like. What could a helpless mortal do in the face of a god? 

Namjoon proved to you the answer to that was nothing. His speed moving him faster than you could process. You hadn’t even realized he’d moved at all until Jimin was simply in front of you; guarding you. He was now completely standing between Namjoon and yourself. Jimin’s hand catching Namjoon’s wrist; his fingertips milliseconds away from the tip of your nose. 

The two of them were locked in a battle of wills. The strength they commanded showing itself in the struggle of a dance of tug-a-war without any rope.  If Namjoon gained an inch Jimin was quick to take it back.  

“Move!” 

Without question you obeyed and were up on your feet immediately. Jimin didn’t give Namjoon another moment to force him back; his free hand shot out in a blur and connected with his chest. The sheer strength behind it sent him flying back almost a dozen feet before he gained back his footing. A snarl cutting through the air between them and Jungkook and the two other companions were at his side. 

Suddenly, you were painfully aware how outnumbered Jimin truly was.  

“Ugh – Jimin.” 

“Not now!” 

He waved you off as his eyes scanned in other bodies appearing from the shadows behind the four. Like a fool, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe some of these were on your side. By the way Jimin was staring at them, however, you knew that was most definitely not the case. 

“Where a little outnumbered here. Don’t you think!?” 

Was that your voice that cracked? No, no. You were perfectly calm. Super calm. 

Out of your peripherals you were able to catch a flash of movement. That flash was all you seen before teeth were inches from snapping in your face. A scream worked its way up your throat and was torn from your lips as foreign hands gripped your shoulders. You moved to block your face in a weak attempt just before those same hands disappeared.  

Jimin was behind him in seconds and ripped him off you. The two of them moved in a blinding speed of punches and blocking until Jimin’s hand exploded out the back of the other man’s back. Your hand flew to your mouth to stop a scream short; the gruesome mess left you feeling a bit lightheaded as you unwillingly noticed pieces of shirt and...other things dangling at the end of Jimin’s hand. 

It was a devastating wound. One that would’ve killed any normal man, but this wasn’t an ordinary man or a man at all. Jimin’s blow was only meant to wound, not kill, and this perfectly insane stranger was still trying to snap his way towards Jimin. His hands grabbed Jimin’s shoulder and used it to pull him forward. The movement made a sucking noise and made you question if the contents of your last meal were about to reappear like magic. 

Jimin knew the intentions of the other man and quickly drew his arm back. In the same breath, he followed it up with his palm slamming into your would-be attackers chest. The force of the blow sent him back like a limp ragdoll into Namjoon’s growing group.

“We need to get out of here!”

You couldn’t stop the panic dripping from your voice as you watched him narrowly escape another attack. This new body formed itself from the shadows and split free from its darkness with the flash of a blade. Jimin dodged each whirlwind of blows and strikes with an ease that you weren’t sure came from raw power or age. His attacker tried to switch up his attack by sending a flurry of double kicks towards Jimin’s abdomen. This must have been the opening Jimin had waited for. 

Jimin allowed him to land a kick to his side and when the man went to pull away Jimin locked his leg in place with his forearm. Jimin’s fist rushed in a speed of movement to land powerful blows into his exposed stomach and face. When the man tried to stab his blade into Jimin’s back, he easily grabbed his wrist and knocked the knife free from his hand. He was so focused on the knife that he wasn’t aware of the man coming from behind him. Your eyes danced back and forth, in decision on whether to speak or move weighing heavy on you. 

“Behind you!”

You decided on both. Your feet carried you forward as you shouted your warning to him. What you were going to do against a supernatural creature, you had no idea. You just knew you needed to do something. No matter how aware you were that you were incredibly useless in moments like this. Whatever happened when you finally reached him, you knew it was not going to end well for you. And that knowledge made your stomach turn until your body practically vibrated with anxiety.

The man with the blade was now on the floor under Jimin’s boot. Another came sprinting out of the darkness a mixture of snarling teeth and determination. Jimin used the man under him as a soccer ball and sent him flying into the other man. His body turning in a fluid one-eighty to to defend his back against another. 

You weren’t a hundred percent sure what overcame you. Why you felt the need to scream with what you figured was a war cry. The only thing that came out of it was now the singular attention that had been on Jimin now became equally shared between you. A man who’d been heading towards Jimin and the others derailed and was coming straight for you. Suddenly, that new found bravery dissipated and your fear sent the world around in slow motion. Your feet felt stuck in molasses; each step heavier than the last and a silent pleading for you to turn back. But you couldn’t turn back now. 

You braced yourself for whatever was about to happen. One minute, he was two feet from you, and the next he was screaming on the road. A man held on to the collar of his shirt and what was left of his upper body. The rest of him was laid out on the street in a mess of gore. 

The man who’d entered stage right held his own blade that looked more like a short sword. His arm slinging the blade back to whip off the blood onto the street. 

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

You spoke to no one. The words weight no more than a whisper and yet, to you, it felt like you’d been shouting. Crazy sword guy gave you the barest of glances before he was off. That blur of speed brought him to help clear the remaining men off of Jimin until the two of them were standing at each other’s backs. 

“Nice of you to finally make it, Hoseok.”

Hoseok, aka sword wielding-guy, had the grace to look embarrassed. Hoseok’s body bent at a stiff ninety-degrees towards Jimin who seemed too busy dusting off his coat to notice. 

“I apologize that Jin and I were not here sooner.”

Jimin waved him off. His eyes scanned the surrounding darkness and a part of you wondered what it was he saw there. You wanted to ask him, but the possibility of bad news kept you silent. 

“And where is Jin?”

“Waiting.”

What could he possibly be waiting for? You wanted to ask but in no way wanted anymore attention on yourself. A scream that demanded to be found sounded in the night around you. It circled around and asked to be followed. Your eyes locating the origin of the voice in a matter of seconds to Alice. No longer the vacant girl she’d been the last hour and more herself: the terrified edition. The terror in her eyes was enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. 

“V.” Namjoon motioned with a flick of his finger and the man obeyed.

V. He’d been the one who you thought looked Angelic. His eyes were bright, open, and reflected nothing but bad intentions. Pillow soft lips curled up into a sneer of a smile as he stepped forward. He dragged Alice with him pulling her with such force you were worried he would simply tear it from the socket out of boredom. The sounds Alice made to accompany his aggressive movements only solidified your assumption. 

For all the beauty their afterlife had given them, it did nothing to hide the monsters underneath. Even the devil was an angel once.

“Let’s speed thing up, shall we? Either you turn yourself over to me now, Y/N, or I’ll kill her.”

To prove his point, Namjoon reached out to take her from V. His large hand closing around her throat and lifting her up effortlessly. Her dangling feet struggled to kick him, flailing hands scratching at his arm, and to silence her Namjoon noticeably squeezed her tighter. 

“Stop it! Please!”

The words came out in a sob. Your body struggling to take a breath. A fear that if you did, if you moved at all, it would be all he needed to hurt her more. 

“If you want to stop this than I suggest you do as you’re told and get over here. Now.”

The previous cat and mouse coyness in Namjoon’s voice completely vanished. Every word he spoke sent a sliver of fear down your spine. You weren’t going to argue with him as the fight had left you the minute you’d heard her pleading. You moved to take a step forward and found your legs were refusing to move. The more you struggled against the sensation the heavier the feeling of sinking in quicksand became. 

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

The threat in Jimin’s voice was palpable. The anger that clutched his jaw made you want to instantly apologize for even considering leaving. Almost. Your own anger was bubbling to the surface finally and a hushed, “Fuck you,” rumbled free from your chest. 

“Why can’t I move?!”

“Because I’m not letting you.”

There was a split second where it crossed your mind that he had to be joking. You felt so sure it was a sick prank only to see no part of him was joking.

“What does that even mean? You aren’t letting me. I don’t need your permission.”

Jimin’s mouth opened but it was Namjoon’s voice that cut through.

“It means that this is pointless. You didn’t tell me he’d given her any of his blood.”

Why was he saying this towards Alice? Your brow furrowed as confusion began to roll through you in waves. There was no way your brain could comprehend what you were seeing. Namjoon’s arm no longer held her off of her feet. He’d set her down but kept a firm hold of her neck. And Alice. Your best friend. She no longer looked one bit terrified. Instead annoyance had taken residency all over her face. 

“Alice.”

You hated how little your voice sounded. How much it showcased the betrayal you felt. That annoyance that’d wrapped itself around her like a shroud only seemed to grow larger when she glanced in your direction.

“She never mentioned anything to me about him feeding any blood to her. Just that they’d had sex in a dream a few times.”

Heat washed over your face. A blend of anger and embarrassment with you not really knowing which one it was that colored your cheeks.

“Alice!”

Christ. Were you a broken record.

You might as well have been talking to the wind. Alice looked away from you and back at Namjoon. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Her eyes were strictly for him. A comical cartoon version with her eyes filled with hearts flashed in your head. And slowly, as you watched her continue to look at him like a lovesick puppy, a horrible realization began to spread. Your chest tight and ready for whatever heart break came next.

Months ago, Alice talked about meeting a guy at a bar. A night when you were supposed to join her, but lied about catching a stomach bug. She’d gone on and on about how he looked. She’d gone into even more detail about the way he’d fucked her. You’d thought he sounded like someone who just wanted a piece of ass. Hated him before you’d even met him. Now your mind was flooding with all the descriptions Alice had ever given.

It had been Namjoon she’d met that night in the bar. The night you’d ditched her.

Slowly, your eyes moved from her hopelessly devoted figure to the man who still held onto her neck. An unseen collar and his arm was the leash.

You never hated someone before. Not really. Sure, you’d said it nonchalantly in passing. Thought you’d understood exactly what it felt like in moments with people that you were sure the only emotion you’d felt was hatred. Looking at Namjoon now – you knew you were wrong.

This hatred was fire in your blood. It threatened to climb up your throat and release out from your mouth until all the air was spent from your lungs. Most of all, this hatred would only be sated by blood.

You hadn’t been aware that your body was moving until you felt a sharpness in your chest. Your hand moved up to clutch absentmindedly at your heart. Was it possible to feel your heart break and be this angry all at once?

“Y/N – stop!”

Jimin’s voice dripped with the command. A command you wanted to tell him to shove his commands up his ass, but your body listened nonetheless. You felt rooted to that very spot. You were too angry to make sense of this. It forced you to close your eyes and attempt to concentrate. No matter what you did you could not get yourself to move.

Jimin walked to where you stood. His body moved to stand in front of you and cut off what little you could see of Namjoon and Alice.

“Out of my way, Jimin!”

“No. You are too angry right now to see this is what he wants. It’s just another trick to get you where he wants you.”

“Well it’s working.”

“You need to try and calm yourself – “

“Fuck you,” you snarled. Your world was narrowing; wilting down to a tunnel vision that only housed enough room for two. “I’m done with being calm. I’m through with being scared.”

A snort of laughter brought your attention through the tunnel and landing on Alice. She was no longer held like a dog on a leash. She stood proudly behind Namjoon at his side. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes stating plainly: you’re a joke.

“What are you going to do, Y/N? All you’ve ever been since I’ve known you is weak. I don’t even know why they’d even fight over someone as pathetic as you.”

Her words stung. Why would she say that? Was he making her say things like this to you?

“Alice. I know this isn’t you.”

Alice shook her head and moved forward. Her arms falling at her side as she regarded you with the same disgust she’d show a piece of shit on her shoe.

“And what do you actually know about me, Y/N? You’ve always known what I wanted you to know.  The person I made you believe I was, is all just someone made up. Imaginary.”

“How can you say that to me? After all the things we’ve been through. The things we told each other. You can act as tough as you want in front of Namjoon, but you and I know the truth.”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But how else do you think they found out where we lived? Why did it feel like someone was following you at all your favorite spots? I told him, Y/N. I told them everything I knew about you.”

That fire that’d raged in your blood smoothed into ice. The shock of her words rocked you, and you knew that was exactly what she’d wanted. Alice was not who you thought she was. She’d made that abundantly clear. 

That girl didn’t exist. And all those times you’d come home terrified. Your heart crammed so deep in your throat you’d thought you were going to die from panic. All because you’d thought you were being followed. Alice joked and comforted you into believing it was just your mind playing tricks. When, in all actuality, it had been her doing the entire time.

Alice was a major key player in where you were standing. Surrounded by a pack of wolves.

You were vaguely aware of Jimin at your side. The faded sounds of his voice beside you eventually grew silent. His companion, Hoseok, somewhere off around you. The two of them faced Namjoon and his men. In between making sure they weren’t trying anything, he sent cautionary glances towards you. He must have been able to feel it; sense it.

The flame of your hatred, your betrayal, that had extinguished earlier was roaring back to life. The anger far surpassing what you felt capable of containing inside you. A dark part of you wanted to scorch the earth they stood on. 

Show them.

                                  Burn them.

The softness of the whisper tickled across your ear and raised the hairs on your arms. The sane part of you – what was left of it – knew something wasn’t right. You tried to play it off as just thoughts. The sinister feeling a part of you, a part that all humans had inside them when they were pushed too far. But it whispered again. This time gentler and promising: “Show them the price for a Witch's fury.”

“I don’t know how.”

Your words hung in the darkness of the night as you waited for a reply. The cautionary energy was pulsating now. All eyes wondering if you’d gone insane for talking to yourself. But they couldn’t hear them. The women who felt like friends; relatives.

“Whatever you hear – whatever they’re saying – you must fight them.”

Jimin was back inside your vision. His eyes searching yours to see if you were still with him. You were both present and not. Lost to voices that made you wonder if he could hear them too.

We can show you.

                         We can teach you.

Let

           Us

                         Innnnn…

Your eyes looked back over at Alice. The one person you’d held the closest in your life, second to your own mother. Flashbacks of every moment you’d shared together. From special drinks you’d created on girls’ nights while binge watching ‘The Great British Baking Show,’ and ‘Friends.’ The two of you, drunk, and believing you could easily make a three-tiered cake from scratch. The trips you’d taken. The help you’d given.

All of it had been a lie. A well-crafted play for her just to hand you over to the very monster she proudly stood beside. Looking at her now was enough for you to make your decision.

Jimin must have sensed it. His mouth framed in an unfinished shout that never got a chance to be heard. Silently, you let the sickly-sweet voice know you agreed and suddenly you weren’t the only one in your body.

It felt like dozens of women – yes, women – were housed inside you. Each of them held their own rage at a betrayal they’d suffered. Each deceit seeped into your bones like a cancer.

Jimin’s hand reached out to touch you; could feel the unspoken bound he’d made inside you make a weak attempt to soothe you. It was a warm sensation that moved from your core and up. A ghost of a hug that was only felt by its warmth. 

He was trying to drive whatever darkness you’d allowed in, but your wrath - your hatred - was too strong. It easily pushed back whatever weak attempt he’d tried to bring you back, and sent your hands out against his chest. The force of it sent him flying back; his feet struggling to stay grounded as his feet dragged on the asphalt.

“We are not your playthings.”

When you spoke, it wasn’t just your voice they heard. Your feet that had felt rooted were now moving forward. Your hands that had trembled were steady as they went to the wounds on your throat. The still pulsing wound in your leg. Each hand moved into the aching wounds to release fresh blood in your palms.

A voice inside the chaos came forward. An old oak among raging storms and housed itself there to teach you. All magic flowed through a balance in the universe. You could not give without it taking. This was how balance worked. A debt was owed when you used it for something dark, and this price you would pay with blood.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Alice no longer looked smug or amused. She looked terrified as she moved to stand closer to Namjoon.

“That parasite will not save you from me, girl.”

Your voice was dry and worn with age. You rode out her fear and moved to kneel in the road a mere feet from her. Your bloodied hands working symbols into the ground as you began to chant in a tongue you did not know.

All you knew was that the fire full of rage that sat deep in your belly would soon consume her. When the last of the words left your lips, a blue flame snacked along the blood you’d spread until it grew and grew; spreading wings to create a small lake of fire between you.

You rose to your feet and looked out among the faces of those that’d wish to harm you. 

                                            Harm us.

You watched as their bodies became tight with anxiety; some of Namjoon’s lackies fear seeped into the air like a sickness. Good. They should be. With an unholy shriek the fire that crept around them spread wide as your arms rose around your head. The only driving thought you had was that you wanted it to cleanse them.

The fire rushed first towards Namjoon and Alice. V and the other broody one you’d yet to learn of his name, quickly grabbed her and were gone. Namjoon offered you a brief look of irritation before he dodged out of the way. The sound of screams brought your attention to your left and watched as your flame licked up, up, and up until it consumed. The vampire with the fist-sized hole in his chest was now struggling to put himself out.

A smile that was not yours curled your lips and a sickening feeling of joy at watching him die made you suddenly grow ill. This wasn’t you. This hatred. This destruction. You didn’t want to be a murderer. The sickly voice that’d whispered reassuringly earlier was now hostile. It wanted to stay.

Your feet began to back peddle away from everyone as best you could. You had no idea where it was you were going, but anywhere that would be safer for them. You turned to start running again and held your hands over your ears as a scream shook across your skull. Only you could hear them and how they pressed hard inside your skull. The pressure overwhelmed you and made you believe at any minute your eyes would be pushed out. 

You’d only gotten a block when your body could no longer take the pain. Your feet caught on the edge of the sidewalk and you went crashing down. The screaming in your head had only grown louder and caused your vision to begin to blur. Maybe your head really was going to explode after all.

You turned your face to look up towards the moon and were greeted by the sight of Jungkook. His fist connecting with your cheek was the last thing you seen before everything went quiet and dark.  

[solarwonux]

Autumn Leaves 

campus crush!jeonghan x f!reader

w.c: 3.1k

warnings: language, angst, suggestive

note: don’t mind me I’m just starting to re-upload all my old works onto tumblr again. This time last year I uploaded this story so I thought it was very fitting to re-upload it again around the same time. I hope you enjoy let me know your thoughts. 

masterlist

The first time you ever laid eyes on Yoon Jeonghan, the leaves had just started to change color. The dull greens slowly fading away as the days went by being replaced by the bright hues of oranges and reds. The leaves that had managed to fall due to their dying cause left a lovely trail behind as you made your way to your first class of the day.

That’s when you saw him, right in between the law building and the library. There he was laying down underneath a tree full of autumn leaves. Paying no attention to the boy who was talking rather animatedly next to him. He was looking up at the sky covered in leaves, an arm tucked underneath his head. You watched as a single bright colored leaf fell upon his chest. How he picked it up and twirled it between his thumb and middle finger. How he nodded absentmindedly at what the boy next to him was saying. How he threw the leaf he was holding to the side and sat up on his forearms. How his eyes met yours for a brief second and you knew you were done for.

You scrambled around trying to pick a different point to focus your attention on. You told yourself to get moving, that your class was waiting and being late was never an option no matter what. Yet, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his perfect brown ones. When he smiled at you curiously before point towards the law building, almost as if he were telling you to get going before you were late. You didn’t know why you did it, but you nodded before turning and walking away. The single sound of his laughter ringing in your eyes as you approached your destination.

The rest of the day and so on your thoughts were invaded by him. The way the sunlight had hit his perfect features making him look ethereal. How his laughter had managed to heat up your checks as well as your heart. And for the remainder of the semester, you made sure to leave your dorm room extra early, every Monday and Wednesday. In hopes of catching the blonde boy that had managed to capture your heart. But the more the weather grew colder, the less hope you had in ever seeing him again.

And as the days bleed on you had started to forget about him slowly.

That was until the grueling snow had finally melted and the springtime began. The flowers had just started growing, making the campus look like a garden of tulips. The dead trees slowly gaining their leaves, blossoming into perfection as they regained their life once again.

You had promised to sit in on Jihoon’s soccer practice. “I’m going to make captain this year, I can feel it.” Your best friend exclaimed excitedly over the phone. You smiled and nodded while walking to the library.

“Ahh, I know you will, that’s why we’ll go out to celebrate afterward.” You suggested.

“Sounds like a plan, I’ll meet you by the locker rooms when practice is over.” He added before saying quick goodbye and hanging up.

That’s how you ended up sitting on the bleachers. Trying to keep your focus on Jihoon who was bursting with excitement ever since the coach had named him team captain. And you supposed that the universe had its ways of working against your favor. Because just as you started to shift your attention on something else that wasn’t him.

He was back, his hair color had changed from the unnatural platinum blonde you had first seen him into a soft brown. Back then you were sure he couldn’t have looked better. Until you saw the sun rays of the setting sun hitting him at just the right angle that made your heart want to burst from how hard it was beating.

In his sweating form, he looked beautiful, like a fallen angel that had made its way down to Earth. In order to capture the hearts of innocents as he had captured yours. You tried to shift your attention to your best friend or anyone else for that matter. Your attempts being deemed as unsuccessful.

For the remainder of Jihoon’s practice, you fought with yourself for acting like an idiot. For getting all giddy inside whenever you heard his voice shout an obscene amount of insults at his teammates jokingly. For letting your legs grow weak whenever his laughter found its way into your veins making you choke on air. Bottom line you were a nervous mess and you weren’t sure how you managed to survive the rest of the practice without fainting.

As you waited for Jihoon while sitting on a bench in front of the locker room. You tried to keep yourself distracted by checking all social media. Even platforms you hadn’t seen yourself checking since freshman year of high school. Literally, anything to keep your mind off of a sweaty breath-taking brunette boy who had come to own your heart without his knowledge.

“Hey, I hope you don’t mind the guys want to come along with us,” Jihoon said, breaking your train of thought. You looked up meeting your best friend’s eyes, while the rest of his teammates acted like fools behind him unaware of your presence.

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You answered before you could really process what he was asking you. You watched as Jihoon’s grinned widened as he hugged you tightly. Deep down you knew you were in for an overwhelming and anxiety-induced night. But for Jihoon you would go to the end of the Earth twice in order to make him happy.

Dinner was interesting, you ended up sitting in between Jeonghan and Mingyu, who you recognized as the boy that was with him the first time you saw him. And who seemed to dislike each other greatly. At least that’s what you had concluded by the end of the night. One minute they were talking and laughing with one another. When suddenly they’d start arguing about something stupid, with you stuck in the middle.

“Mingyu you’re not listening to me; Messi is not the greatest soccer player that has ever lived.” Jeonghan had practically spat in Mingyu’s direction. Mingyu scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Han honestly you’re entitled to your opinion but it’s obviously wrong,” Mingyu answered taking a spoonful from the rice in front of him. You could feel Jeonghan fuming next to you. His body heat lingering in the air making your nerves spiral out of control.

Needless to say, dinner was interesting.

Despite all the bickering going on between Jeonghan and Mingyu and you arguing with Jihoon to let you pay for your own mean. In which he ended up winning. Dinner had gone rather smoothly.

Now you stood waiting outside as the guys each bid each other a farewell. Which took an eternity because of the fact that they’d come up with excuses to continue talking to one another. It was cute though and you found yourself wishing you had a friendship bond as close as those boys had to one another. Of course, you had Jihoon, who had been with you through the toughest times of your life. But your bond with him wasn’t anything like the bond he had with the guys. In other words, in your eyes it was magical.

The way they cared for and supported one another. The way they stuck to one another through thick and thin. The way you had to physically pull them apart in order to get them to stop talking so they could go home. It was all fascinating and you felt yourself wishing your friends were anything like Jihoon’s. Sadly, they weren’t which made your longing grow deeper.

“Seokmin wants to show me a new game he bought, and the guys want to play it, is it okay if I don’t walk you home tonight?” Jihoon tapped your shoulder and smiled at you shyly.

“It’s fine campus isn’t far from here anyway.” You said nodding your head.

“You’re the best, I’ll see you later okay?” Jihoon asked rather than stating. You nodded your head and wrapped your arms around him giving him the tightest hug. Although the two of you had been friends since childhood, hugs still felt awkward between the two of you.

“Congratulations on making team captain Woozi.” You said pulling away and ruffling his hair causing him to groan angrily.

“Whatever loser, text me when you get home.” He said firmly before turning around and running back to his teammates that had started to argue on who gets to play the game first.

You shook your head smiling before turning around and heading towards campus.

“Wait.” You heard someone call out making you stop walking. You closed your eyes as your mind registered who the voice belonged to. “I’ll walk with you,” Jeonghan said when he was finally next to you.

You gripped the strap of your cross-body bag tightly. Of course, luck was never on your side, to begin with, and maybe the universe was working with you. But right now, it felt like it was working against you.

“Aren’t you going to Seokmin’s?” You asked keeping your focus ahead as you started walking again.

“Have an 8 am class tomorrow.” He shrugged and continued walking next to you. His gym bag strapped across his white shirt and his hands stuffed nonchalantly into his red joggers.

“oh.” Was all you managed to say as you tried your best not to let the tension growing between the two of you overpower your senses.

The two of you walked in silence. The only sound that was heard was your feet against the pavement and the over blaring sound of the car horns surrounding the two of you. Neither one of you threatened to speak or cut the tension that was bubbling up between the two of you as you got closer to campus. From your peripherals you caught him staring at you curiously. And the more the two of you walked the closer he had started to get to you. Soon you were breathing in his body scent and it was driving you crazy.

“Thanks for walking me, you didn’t have to.” You said as you stopped right in front of your dorm room. He leaned against the wall beside your door eyeing you closely as you look for your key in your bag.

“I wanted too.” He shrugged as you finally found it, inserting it in the lock and just before you could turn the doorknob a hand stopped you. You turned to face the curious boy that had patiently waited for you to get inside. His eyes pleading as if he were to ask you something and just before he could let the words out. His instinct took over and he kissed you deeply. Kissed you like you were the only person that mattered to him.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly bringing you in closer, finally cutting the tension that had grown between the two of you over the past four hours. He pinned you against your door as you responded to his feverish kiss. Feeling right at home as his hands trailed down your back in search of your doorknob.

The second he found it and opened the door he pushed you inside softly. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your lips as he walked you backward. “Don’t be.” You said breathlessly as you pulled away taking your hand in his and leading him into your bedroom.

The next morning when you woke up, you were alone. The ache between your legs reminding you of the sinful act you had committed the night before. Any traces of Jeonghan gone with him. The only thing that remained were the ghost touches of his fingertips against your fragile skin. That day you cried, cried for the loss of innocence. And cried because you felt betrayed. You don’t know what you were expecting as you let him touch you the way you wanted to be touched but it wasn’t the emptiness you were currently experiencing.

For the rest of the semester, you avoided going to Jihoon’s practices and games as if they were the plague. Every excuse in the worldwide book of excuses, you had used at least twice. Until one day his pleas and calls stopped coming. And you knew you had let a boy come in between the years of friendship Jihoon and you had under your belts.

You had spent weeks crying over your lost friendship. Whenever you reached out to him he would leave you on read or send your phone call to voicemail, you felt your heart shatter. You knew you had brought this upon yourself, you knew you were wasting your tears since this had been entirely your wrongdoing. But you couldn’t help but feel helpless and alone.

Then one Sunday morning after a night of spilling saddened tears for Jihoon and angry tears for Jeonghan. You had woken up feeling like the wave of sadness had finally passed. Summer was in full bloom which meant the scorching heat was back. But you felt okay and that’s all that mattered at least in that moment. You had somewhat returned to normal. You had stopped dreading getting out of bed every morning and your interest in your classes had been regained.

You spent that entire summer with your other friends. Your bond had grown closer as they watched you break before their very eyes’ months before. They were there for you bringing you the worst movies and all the ice cream you could ever ask for.

The peace had finally been restored in your life, only for it to be ruined one Friday night when Yoon Jeonghan showed up at your door before the start of the fall semester.

You had decided to have a night in. Your friends had tried to convince you to go out with them for drinks. But you hadn’t had a relaxing night to yourself in months. So, you decided to stay in with your Netflix account and a cheap bottle of wine you had bought on your way home from the corner store.

Just as you were about to sit down, you heard someone knocking on your apartment door. You looked up at the clock that sat on top of the tv, that had never worked once. But somehow you had developed this annoying habit of looking at it whenever you wondered what time it was. Groaning annoyed with yourself you set down your wine bottle and wine glass down on the coffee table. You made your way to your front door and looked through the peephole.

Your heart started to race as the ghost of that unforgettable night stood on the other side of the door looking like he had just finished running a marathon. You let out a tiny squeak as you leaned your back against the door. You closed your eyes contemplating whether you should open the door or not. But when the knocking came back and became more desperate than before. You knew you had to open the door because something in the back of your mind told you he wouldn’t stop until you did.

You unlocked your door and placed your hand on top of the doorknob. Inhaling deeply before you opened your front. Once your door was open, Jeonghan pushed past you and walked in leaving you dumbfounded as he pulled on the roots of his hair. You closed the door before turning to face him and watched as he paced back and forth almost as if he were arguing with himself.

“Please tell me you felt it too?” He asked looking at you with pleading eyes. His hands shaking slightly as he ran them desperately through his hair.

“W-What are you talking about?” You asked confused leaning your back against the door. He turned to face you and closed the distance he had created between the two of you. You held out your arm asking him to stop before he could get any closer.

“That night please tell me you felt it too?”

You stopped breathing upon hearing his question. Because whatever he was talking about, you had felt it. You had felt it that day when you first saw him underneath the autumn leaves. You had felt it when he first kissed you and pinned you against your front door. You had felt it when you pushed him down on to your bed and straddled his lap. You had felt it when he looked into your eyes deeply before asking you for permission to continue. When he had pinned you down underneath him and taken your clothes off. When your skin felt like it was on fire underneath his lips.

You had felt that wave of overwhelming emotions as he rutted into you with everything in his being. Like letting you go was the last thing he ever wanted to do. As he looked into your eyes with a passion you never once had seen in anyone else. That night, despite the suffering that had come afterward, was irreplaceable.

“Y-Yes.” You finally choked out, his pleading eyes softening as he let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, I left that morning, I’m sorry I never called, but you overwhelmed my senses. I couldn’t think clearly from that day on. And I’m the coward that got scared with everything I was feeling.” He confessed leaning his forehead against yours. “You’re a force to be reckoned with and I’ve been hating myself since that night for leaving you the way I did.” He finished closing his eyes as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in. And wrapped your arms around your neck leaning into his touch. “Yoon Jeonghan, do you have any idea what you’ve put my poor heart through these past few months?”

“Believe me, I made myself go through the same suffering. Jihoon literally had to slap me for being an idiot today after practice.” He said wrapping his arms around your waist lightly. “I’m sorry.” He finished smiling softly. The same smile you had fallen for months before.

You shook your head smiling before you shoved him lightly. “I don’t know why I can’t say no to you.” You said pecking his lips before he had any chance to react.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He asked curiously raising an eyebrow before leaning down and hovering his lips over yours.

“I haven’t decided yet.” You said before kissing him lightly.

The two of you holding onto one another tightly not knowing what the universe would have in store for the two of you.

[moonlighttfoxx]

The girl with the golden eyes: Chapter Two

Summary: Steve is still trying to figure out his feelings and trying to put those weird insticts under control. 

Warnings: smut, jealous Steve, Bucky

A/N: It’s a little bit more descriptive. 

After what seemed like a century with Hydra, taking a break was exactly what you needed. Natasha had come in the right moment to save you from Hydra, but mostly from yourself and all these relentless thoughts of devastating guilt. And you couldn’t thank her enough. You were tired of being Hydra’s pet, you were tired of helping them in their sick cause and most of all, you were tired of being Brock’s pet, his little precious trophy.

You were also thankful to your new teammates. You expected them to be a little harsh on you and frankly, you wouldn’t blame them. If you were in their shoes, you wouldn’t trust a person who used to play for the enemy’s team as well. But they were nothing but kind, sweet and gentle with you. They were doing their best to make you feel comfortable and a part of their team. Almost all of them at least.

It’s been a couple of weeks since your first encounter with them. Now you were an honorable member not only of their compound, but of their regular movie nights, game nights and their lives in general. It was so simple, so cozy, so friendly. You’ve never felt so relaxed and peaceful in your life. And getting to know each one of them was truly a blessing. They were all incredible in their own unique way. You’ve grown closer to them – to some more than to others, but that’s just human nature, isn’t it? You can’t click the same with everyone.

Besides Natasha, who you had so much in common with – your childhood, your interests, your personalities (she was as much of a strong independent girl, who wanted to have fun as much as you were), over the past days you grew incredibly close to Bucky. You knew the reason: both of you were unfortunate enough to have spent a part of your lives in Hydra’s grasp. That was the first thing that brought you closer. You found yourself able to share memories and fears with him that you thought you’d never open up about to anyone. Then the Hydra talk eventually turned into a movie talk, a book talk, intimate thoughts and sex preferences conversations and absolutely everything you could think of.

You knew what this looked like on the outside and you were sure that everyone thought there was something going on between the two of you. But that definitely wasn’t the case. As good as you two got along on almost every level, you knew Bucky wasn’t the type of person you saw yourself with, not for something serious at least. Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind having him as a stress release buddy if it ever came to that – pure physical act, ending with multiple orgasms instead of feelings. He’d be a perfect fit for that, you were sure. And boy, did you need multiple orgasms…

You smiled at the thought while doing your morning ritual after getting out of bed. It was an early morning, so you thought you might go and do some sort of breakfast. Not that you could really cook, but scrambled eggs were one of the few things you could make.

Wearing only a grey t – shirt, a few sizes too big, almost reaching your knees (it was Bucky’s after all, after escaping from Hydra, you didn’t have a lot of personal belongings, so he was kind enough to offer you a few of his shirts after you mentioned how much you enjoyed sleeping in baggy shirts) and a pair of pink bikinis that were neatly hidden underneath Bucky’s shirt, you made your way to the kitchen through the quiet hallways, ready to start making the breakfast.

Steve was walking down the hallway, sleepily rubbing his eyes, when his supersoldier sense of smell was attacked by the delicious scent of something being cooked. Something that made his stomach growl. He took a deep breath inhaling it. It was something fried, maybe eggs. It had to be eggs mixed with something sweet. That was weird. Eggs and something sweet? He took one more deep breath. Lilacs. Fuck. That meant only one thing: Y/N was there. Probably she was the one cooking the deliciously smelling meal. Maybe he should come back later? It was way too early to deal with all the weird reactions of his body. NO. His body didn’t control him. NO. He was in charge. Hiding and avoiding her would definitely not solve the issue. He took one more deep breath for a totally different reason this time and stepped into the kitchen.

His eyes immediately found her. She had her back to him mixing some ingredients in a bowl. It was clear that she hadn’t heard him. She was completely oblivious to his presence in the room. She had her usual sleeping attire – a baggy t-shirt and nothing else. Nothing he could see anyway. Oh how much he hated that attire! He hated everything about it. The way it hugged her thighs and especially the way her pointy nipples were poking through the fabric. He couldn’t see them yet, but he had no doubt they were there just like every other morning. What happened to the good old bra, huh? Didn’t she own any? How inappropriate was that – walking around in a house full of men with her perky breasts completely braless! It was so fucking infuriating! For him at least.

Still standing at the door, he saw her reaching up into one of the cabinets. She couldn’t really rely on her height, when it came to reaching… well anything. She was short indeed. She stood up on her tip toes, obviously hoping for a better access, but the only thing she really enabled was Steve’s eyes access to her butt. He was wondering what she was hiding underneath those stupid baggy t – shirts. Well, it was a perfectly round, small, seemingly tight bum, just waiting for him to put his hands over it, squeezing it, spanking it, painting it red. Oh, he was sure he could cover it with only one of his big hands. He felt a familiar tug in his boxers. Damn it! Not again.  

‘Do you need any help with that?’ he asked huskily. Y/N jumped a little, startled. She turned around, facing him. Yep. There they were – those nipples, poking through her shirt. That certainly didn’t help his pants situation.

‘No… well, actually, yes. Could you, please?’ she smiled, her cheeks getting a little redder. Was she blushing?

Steve walked over to her. She didn’t move contrary to his expectations, which didn’t give him any other option, but to position himself right in front of her. Her pointy nipples almost touching his t-shirt covered upper abdomen. She was looking up at his face with those big golden eyes. Jesus. That image was certainly going to hunt him through yet another cold shower. The only thing he was praying for right then was for her not to move any closer… or else she could feel him… she could feel just how hard he was for her.

‘Uhm…’ he cleared his throat. ‘What is it the thing you need again?’

She seemed flushed for some reason. That’s when he felt it or to be more précised that’s when he smelled it. Smelled her. Lilacs and something even sweeter. He couldn’t tell what that smell was. He didn’t care what it was, but he couldn’t mistake the pheromones filling in the air around him, accessible only for a superhuman like him. She was turned on. She was wet, he was sure of it. Was that for him? Was she wet for him?

‘Pepper’ she whispered at first, but then continued more confidently. ‘I need pepper. Someone put it on the top shelf’

He reached out, careful not to touch her, grabbed the needed ingredient and locked his blue eyes on hers once again.

‘There’ he breathed.

‘Thanks’ she answered taking it slowly from him, not breaking the eye contact.

‘Good Lord, what’s that heavenly smell?’ Bucky’s voice interrupted their unofficial staring contest. Y/N jumped a little once again and moved away from Steve, turning her back on him and continuing with her cooking.  Steve also moved a few steps back and looked at Bucky. He could see his nostrils flaring. The winter soldier was breathing in the wide mixture of smells in the kitchen. He was a fellow supersoldier after all. Steve could see the realization hitting Bucky’s face and his eyes darkening seconds after that. Oh yeah, he had smelled her. Bucky knew. Now there was another smell, filling in the air around Steve: the smell of Bucky’s desire. He smirked and moved closer to where Steve and Y/N were. Moving past Steve he positioned himself next to her on her right and gently traced his metal fingers along her upper arm. Then whispered in her ear: ‘What’s that heavenly smell, Y/N?’

Steve knew what smell his best friend was referring to this time and it had nothing to do with breakfast. He was well aware of it. For some reason Bucky’s thoughts, Bucky’s desire, Bucky’s body close to Y/N’s, his fingers moving up and down her arm aggravated Steve, it drove him wild. All he wanted to do is tear Bucky away from her. A low growl threatened to escape from his mouth as if he had lost all control over his body, his instincts taking over his brains. But fortunately Y/N’s giggle was the thing that brought his focus on her and that was all he needed to stop the uncontrollable growl from escaping right on time, enabling him to quickly regain his control.

‘Scrambled eggs. They’re almost ready. I’m making extra anyway, so both of you can have a bite’ she answered.

‘Mmm… I would love to have a bite, doll…’ Bucky whispered, smirking. ‘Wouldn’t you love to have a bite, Steve?’

Bucky locked his eyes on Steve’s, still smirking.

‘Yeah. You have no idea, Buck’ Steve answered coldly.          

[libradoodle1]

Ask game! Fluffy #8 "We should go look at stars!" Please! 🤗

Thanks for the request @moondancer71. A fluffy prompt deserves sweet teens Jon and Dany. Aren’t they just adorable?

#8 - “We should go look at stars”

Dany rolled over in bed, hugging the pillow tightly to her chest and squeezed her eyes shut to stave off the tears. She tried to focus on the music that was blasting through her headphones, but it was no use. It didn’t matter what tricks she tried to employ, none of them were able to drown out the terrible screaming coming from her parents room.

She should have known they wouldn’t be able to stop their constant bickering, even if it was her big day and they had both promised that morning over breakfast that they’d make it special for her.

But those vows didn’t matter any longer, hadn’t as soon as they both sat down and ordered drinks at her nameday dinner. Now, they were both well and drunk and the gloves were off. What else was new?

The ding of an incoming text caused her eyes to flutter open. She flipped her phone over and the corners of her mouth curved up automatically.

You back from dinner with your family?

It was from Jon, her next door neighbor and best friend.

Just listening to music in my room. You?

She watched the bubbles appear while he was typing and then his message came through.

We should go look at stars.

Biting her lip, she contemplated a moment. It was a school night and almost midnight so she probably shouldn’t. If her parents found out, they’d have a fit.

At the sound of a door slamming and a flurry of curses from her father, her eyes narrowed as she tossed the pillow aside. They didn’t care one bit that they had broken their promise to her, so why should she try so hard to please them?

Ok, let’s do it.

Dany jumped out of bed and quickly took off her ratty tshirt and shorts. Jon had seen her in them before, but lately she’d been wanting to look a bit more put together in front of him. She put on the gift her brother Rhae had given her, no doubt picked out by his wife.

It was a metallic purple and gold striped tank with spaghetti straps. The sweetheart neckline had a heart on the front and hugged close to her body. She paired it with skinny jeans and looked at herself in the mirror, pleased with the way the new top looked on her.

She wondered briefly if Jon would think it was too revealing so she grabbed her purple and yellow jacket and threw it on, zipping it all the way up.

Stepping out onto her balcony, she quietly dragged a chair over close to the roofline and stood on it. Within a minute, his head popped over the side and he grinned down at her.

“Ready to come up?” he asked as he reached for her hands.

Nodding her head, she lifted both arms overhead and he pulled her all the way up to join him. Taking a moment, they grinned at each other in the dark. 

They had been sneaking up on her roof for the last three years, ever since her brother Viserys moved out for school and she got his old room. Shortly after that time, Jon started climbing the tree between their houses so he could use it to come over to her side.

It began because they didn’t have cell phones and couldn’t talk after dark, but now, though they both had their own, they still liked to go up there. It was their secret and a special place, just for the two of them.

He held her hand to keep her steady as they moved to the spot he had already picked out, a blanket laid out to cushion them from the rough shingles and a little box beside it. He tried to ignore how soft and warm she was, how her fingers curled tightly to his. 

Tried not to focus on how perfect her hand felt clasped within his own.

As Jon pulled her along to where he had his stuff set out, she thought she felt a tremor of his fingers along hers, but dismissed it as wishful thinking. He was so self assured and confident; there wasn’t any need for him to be nervous. 

Unlike her, she was sure his heart wasn’t pounding away in his chest; certain he didn’t have problems breathing at her nearness the way she seemed to be at his.

They sat side by side and she took the time to unzip her jacket and shrug it off her shoulders. She snuck a glance at him and pretended not to notice the way his eyes widened slightly at the sight of her. Instead, she bit her lip to keep her pleased smile from giving her away.

From their height on the roof, the streetlamps didn’t really provide much lighting, but still, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of her. Dany was so pretty under the full moon with the stars shining brightly overhead, her silver blonde hair illuminating her lovely face.

“How was your celebration dinner?”

She gave a listless shrug of one shoulder, her lips turned down in a frown. “It was ok, I guess. Since Vis and Rhaenys couldn’t take time off from uni, it was just my parents, Rhae, Elia and Egg.”

Dany tried to smile, but he could see the sadness in her eyes. “Was it another bad fight?”

Letting out a sigh, she leaned into him and he wrapped his arm around her, tucking her closer to his side.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “They were doing so well, but then once they started drinking, I just knew it was going to end badly. My father accused my mother of cheating, then she called him crazy and that pretty much got us kicked out of the restaurant.”

She thought back to earlier and how humiliating it was with all the diners gawking at them while Rhae scrambled to take care of the check after her parents stormed out of the restaurant. 

“Elia wanted me to spend the night at their house after they dropped us off, but I didn’t want to,” she explained. “I just wanted to go to sleep and wait for this awful day to end.”

She lay her head on his shoulder and even though she was being truthful when she said she couldn’t wait for the day to be over, it was no longer the case. More than anything, she wanted this moment to linger.

“Dany, I’m so sorry you had an awful night.” 

It came as no shock that they ruined her day. Too many times he’d seen her eyes red rimmed in the morning on their drive to school. He always had to bite his tongue and put on a polite smile if one of her parents greeted him at the door when all he wanted to do was tell them off for the pain they caused her.

Jon reached between them and squeezed her hand gently before letting go. “I wish I could have made your nameday better.”

She lifted her face up, her eyes holding his steadily and his breath hitched for just a moment. Sometimes, when she looked at him, really looked at him, as she was doing now, he thought maybe she could see right through him. Maybe she knew his secret after all. 

A secret that was shaped just like her. One he held in the depths of his heart, too afraid to let out for fear that he would ruin everything between them.

“You already have, Jon.”

His beautiful face lit up in a smile and it made her smile in turn. He had no idea that just being with him like this, in their secret hideaway, was better than any gift she had been given. 

Up here, under the blanket of shining stars, there was nothing but silence. No screaming, cursing or crying. No empty promises that would go unfilled. No disappointed sighs over thick tension at the dinner table.

Up here, under the watchful eye of the moon, the only sounds were the giggles Jon always coaxed from her. His eyes spoke promises his lips never had to say, telling her she would always matter to him. And the only sighs ever heard were when they had to part from one another.

Shifting back from her, he opened the box sitting beside him. 

“Close your eyes,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” She tried to peek around his body, but he moved to intercept and block her view.

“No peeking,” he chastised. “Just close your eyes and you’ll find out soon enough.”

She pouted for just a split second, but did as he requested. His hands drew hers from her lap and brought them to hold out in front of her. She could feel the tingle of his touch and tried not to hold on to his fingers as he pulled away from her.

Something lightweight was placed into her palms and she perked her ears, trying to figure out what he was doing as she heard a couple of clicks, then a sizzle. She could smell smoke and behind her closed lids, she saw lights dancing.

“Ok, you can open your eyes now.”

She gasped in surprise at the sight that greeted her and was hit with a wave of embarrassment when her eyes suddenly teared up. 

“You got me a cake!”

Dany was blinking rapidly and in the flickering light from the sparkling candle, he could see her eyes were wet with tears. He hoped she wouldn’t cry because that wasn’t his intent at all.

“Well, not exactly,” he said sheepishly. “It’s just a cupcake, but I figure you might be caked out from dinner so this is just a little something extra.”

She didn’t say anything and just looked at him as she bit her lip, violet eyes extra large in the soft glow of light. “I didn’t want the day to end without letting you know how special you are.”

“Oh, Jon,” she sighed out. “Thank you so much.”

He had no idea, but his gesture truly meant more than she could ever say. The truth was, there wasn’t a nameday cake for her. Her parents' antics caused the dinner to be cut short and in the ensuing fallout, the restaurant staff completely forgot about bringing her cake out from the kitchen.

No one in her family even remembered it and not only did it feel petty to bring it up, but she didn’t exactly feel like celebrating with anyone after that.

“I would sing to you, but I think you’ve suffered enough for one night,” he teased.

She giggled at him and bumped her knee against his. “C’mon, you have a pretty voice.”

Shaking his head, he refused to budge. There was no way he’d sing to her, especially after she called his voice pretty. “Even though I won’t serenade you, you can still make a wish.”

Dany could see he wasn’t going to give in so she closed her eyes. She didn’t even have to think about it; she knew exactly what she wanted. Perhaps, since the heavens were bearing witness to this moment, they would finally grant her what she wished for most in this world.

Blinking her eyes open, she blew out the single flame and once again they were bathed in only the light from the dark sky above.

“Will you share the cupcake with me?” she asked.

At his nod, she unwrapped the paper lining and split the dessert into two halves before handing his piece to him. 

Jon watched as she poked her tongue out and licked at the top of the icing. Instantly, he felt flushed and he was grateful for the dark that hid his red face. Unlike the small ladylike nibbles she was taking, he took two bites and finished the whole thing while her eyes goggled at him.

After four more bites, she was almost done and turned to him. Holding out the small morsel, she gave him a shy smile. “Since you were so sweet to get me a cupcake, I want you to have the last piece.”

Before he could reach out to take it from her, she brought her hands up to his lips. Their eyes locked in the dark and his mouth opened automatically to receive her. 

He was warm against her fingertips and when he took the sweet from her, his teeth grazed her skin, just the tiniest bit. It sent a jolt of electricity through her and she quickly pulled her hand back, less he noticed how they shook.

Her fingers were smeared with icing and not giving it any thought, she brought them to her mouth and licked at the sugar, right over where his lips had just been a moment before. 

Watching as she lightly sucked on her finger, he was overcome with a need to finish what she started. Maybe it was the look on her face as her eyes stared into his, but a streak of boldness took over and he leaned over until their faces were inches apart. 

“I thought you said I’d get the last taste.”

Without hesitation, her fingers popped out from between her lips and he closed in until he was pressed against her skin. He lightly skimmed his mouth over the cream smeared tips, barely stroking them before her hand dropped away. 

With nothing to separate them, he moved in and finally, brushed his lips against hers.

Jon could taste the sweetness of her, but knew it had nothing to do with the icing. This was a moment he’d only dreamed about and he savored the flavor of Dany on his mouth. 

His arms came to wrap gently around her waist and she shifted into him. As they tentatively explored their secret yearnings for one another, she breathed in the scent of him, letting it wash over and wrap around her.

He was hot against her lips and their mouths danced, taking turns leading. Her body was humming from being held in his strong arms, a warmth flooding through her veins at his touch. This was where she wanted to stay forever, with their hearts beating furiously together as they held onto each other.

When they pulled apart, she fluttered her lids open to find him watching her, his eyes shining, a hopeful smile on his face .

“What do you want to do now?” he asked, his breathing slightly labored. “Do you want to head back inside?”

“No,” she said with a slight shake of her head before her own smile lit up her face. “I would like to look at stars.”

Grinning widely, he lay back on the blanket and opened his arm, patting one shoulder in invitation. She moved into his embrace and he closed in around her.

“Happy Nameday, Dany,” Jon whispered against her ear before placing a small kiss to her temple. 

She snuggled against him and smiled up at the stars in a silent bid of thanks. It was a happy nameday. It truly was.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Oh my god NSFW alphabet requests are back open. Can I ask about Commander Cody for those?

Requested by Anon: commander Cody NSFW alphabet?

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Slow kisses up and down your body, praising you with soft words while he cleans you up.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I’m going to go ahead and say he’s an ass man.  Can’t tell you why, I just feel it in my soul.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Let the man cum inside you.  He will do just about anything to feel your body clench around his cock and milk him dry. If you’re not keen on that, his next go you place is on your back and ass.  Either way, it’s almost like he’s marking you with his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

One of his more recurring fantasies is having a three way with you and General Kenobi.  He has no idea how to even approach Kenobi with something like that, and doesn’t dare give it voice.  But if he sees you and Kenobi talking and laughing together? It gets his mind turning.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not as prolific as you’d think.  He’s had a few one night stands, but genuinely prefers having an emotional connection with his sexual partner.  After the first few times, he decided he was content just to wait.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Genuine tie between you riding his face or him taking you from behind.

Having you sit on his face, lets him just get lost in your taste while giving you full control.  He can just focus on the view and bringing you so much pleasure he can feel your thighs shake with every stroke of his tongue.

On the other hand, having your on your hands and knees while he fucks you into the mattress is it’s own kind of thrill. He lets himself forget everything but the feel of you gripping his cock, using your body as he sees fit and filling you with so much cum it’s still dripping out of you in the morning.

My point is, the man is a switch.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It switches back and forth.  He can be surprisingly funny in bed, teasing you and making off color jokes.  But just as often it can feel like he’s trying to forget the outside work exist and it’s just you and him.  The man is a mystery at times.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well maintained, like the rest of his body; closely cut and clean at all times.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Whether he’s being funny, serious, submissive, or dominant, he is constantly aware of your body.  It’s just as much about making you feel good as making him feel good.  So, even if you’re fucking like animals, there’s always a sense that he’s going to take care of you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’ll use it as a stress reliever, but will try other methods before then.  He honestly gets a little embarrassed, like he’s a cadet again hoping not be be caught by one of his batch mates.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Daddy Kink, Competency Kink, Loves being called “Commander” and Light BDSM

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s not picky; barracks, your place, shower, bathroom at 79′s, it’s all the same to him. He just wants to be with you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Going back to the competency kink, if he sees you kicking any sort of ass, either on the battle field or just doing your job, it takes everything in him not to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to the closest empty room.

He also does get worked up after a battle.  Usually he can either work out or focus on reports to calm him down; but if he as the option to fuck out his adrenaline on you, he will.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Age Play. Daddy kink or not, he hates the idea of you pretending to be a literal child.  That’s just a step too far.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Tie between giving and receiving.  Like I said before, you could suffocate him with your pussy and he’d die a happy man. He loves being the one to make you feel that good, and that’s just with his tongue.

On the other hand, you on your knees with your hands tied behind your back looking up at him with tears in your eyes as he fucks your mouth is an image he can get off to again and again.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually on the faster side, but varies from rough to more playful. First round is always a scramble to pull clothes off and just find some release. Second round can be a bit more slow and methodical.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Usually down for a quickie. Mostly like to happen just after a battle and he just wants to let go of some of his pent up energy.  Or you haven’t seen each other for a while, and you go for a fast fuck in the bathroom before pulling each other in a cab to go home. Either way, a quickie is never just a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Cody is perfectly open to try new things so long as you talk about it before hand.  He might be considered and older clone but in some ways he’s still exploring his sexuality and is happy to know you’re willing to try things as well.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

All the clones have the stamina of Gods. Three rounds average a night and he can go for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

You’ve got a nice little collection at your apartment; vibrators, dildos, cock ring, strap ons, binders, the works.  There are some you’ve used more than others, but there are always choices.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not as good as a tease as he wants to be.  When he’s in a more dominant mode, he tries to string it out, denying you again and again.  But he usually cave, deciding to go into the opposite direction and overstimulate you until you cry.  Either way it’s the best kind of torture.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s surprisingly talkative.  It’s like the filter he usually keeps on in meetings or among his brothers gets switched off and he says anything and everything that comes to mind.  He only get louder the closer he gets to coming to the point where you’ve gotten a few noise complaints.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Absolute switch.  You cannot tell what mood he’s going to be in when he starts kissing you in that way, but that’s what makes it exciting.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand times: ALL CLONES HAVE BIG DICKS! The man had BDE and he has the anatomy to prove it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Solid 5. Certainly has a sex drive and can get stressed if he hasn’t been laid in a while, but knows how to keep it in control. Don’t let that fool you though. Just because he can go a while without sex, doesn’t mean he’s not going to go completely unhinged when he finally does. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to come down.  You’re usually long asleep by the time he lays his head on the pillow and finally drifts off.

[riahlynn101]

"When I'm Gone" (30).

Chapter Thirty (Last chapter)

Author's note: Thank you guys for reading <3

Also, for those that don't want to scroll back four-plus months to find the rest of the story: When I'm Gone - Chapter 1 - Riahlynn101 - Five Nights at Freddy's [Archive of Our Own]

--

After five surgeries, a combined sixty stitches, and some physical therapy, Elizabeth was released from the hospital. Vanessa, Samuel, and Gregory were the ones waiting to take her home. Or, she should say, take her to their home. She wouldn’t put it past her landlord to demand rent even though she’s been in no position to pay up. Not to mention none of them know where she lives, or at least she hopes they don’t. 

The drugs they gave her are still wearing off and are making her a bit paranoid. 

The car ride home is tense, filled with Gregory’s excited rambles about the new house they had built with some of the money from the settlement. Not that she can focus on anything beyond her daughter’s obvious discomfort. Vanessa is pointedly refusing to make eye contact, and is instead staring out the window, and making small talk with Gregory (when she can get a word in edgewise). 

The car pulls into the driveway, a shiny number fifty-seven plastered on the mailbox. Gregory squeals, bouncing in his seat.

“C’mon! C’mon!” 

Samuel gives her a knowing look. “Hey, kiddo…?’

Gregory pauses, still buckled in. “Yeah?”

“How about we give your mom a second, okay? I think she and Vanessa need to talk.”

Gregory hums, considering that. “Oh, okay. But,” he turns to his sister, “don’t take too long.”

Vanessa makes a sound more fitting for a frightened mouse than a grown woman. She looks at her brother for help. But it’s no use, because Gregory is already half-way out the car. He falls, somehow managing to land on his bottom. Shaking it off, he scrambles to his feet and up to the porch. Samuel sends one last apologetic look at them both before shutting the car door. 

They sit in silence for all of three seconds, before the image of her brother falling on his bottom gets to Vanessa. She laughs, trying to muffle the sound with her hand. 

Elizabeth makes an amused sound. “He is quite clumsy, isn’t he?”

Vanessa stops laughing, clearing her throat. “Not usually, no.” Which is a huge lie. God gave Gregory two left feet and no directions. “Must be an off-day.”

Elizabeth turns in her seat to see Vanessa. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

Vanessa blanches. What is she, a witch?

“Besides, if he's anything like your uncles, then that kid was doomed from the start.” She imitates the sound of an explosion. “Walking disasters they were.” 

“I hate you,” Vanessa says, hating how she was forced into this. “And I don’t like that you’re here. I know you, and I know you’ll leave again.” She leans forward in her seat, finally making eye contact with Elizabeth. “I don’t know what your end game is, or what you’re planning but rest assured I will hunt you for sport if you break Gregory’s heart. Poor kid’s been through enough,” she mutters the last part to herself, crossing her arms and averting her eyes. 

“Fair enough,” Elizabeth says. “And I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. For what it’s worth, Vanessa, I really am sorry.”

She scoffs, opening the car door. “Words mean nothing to me. Prove it.”

-x-x-x-

Elizabeth gives her daughter a five minute head start, just in case Vanessa wants to avoid her. Perhaps forcing Nessa to interact with her was a bad idea right from the get go. But eventually she pulls herself out of the car, holding her stomach. The stitches still hurt if she moves too much, so she has to move extra slow. 

Thankfully the driveway is a short walk to the porch. She leans against the railing, as she heads up the stairs. Gregory must hear her, because the second her foot lands on the top step, he’s rushing out the front door. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, linking his arm with hers. “Now,” he pulls away, helping her lean up against the wall closest to the door, “don’t be alarmed. But we might have gone a bit overboard.” He assists her in the final step-up into the house.

“What do you-”

“Surprise!” 

Elizabeth jumps, startled, but quickly gets over her shock upon seeing her guests (are they the guests? Or is she the guest? The world may never know). Across from her stands: GlamRock Freddy, GlamRock Chica, Monty, and Roxy, that weird sun-shaped animatronic that saved Gregory's life, a wide-array of S.T.A.F.F. bots (including a map bot, which Gregory is glaring angrily at), a small, adorable Freddy-esque animatronic similar in style to Funtime Freddy, and a bunch of caution signs-that are currently doing circles around her. Her family, Gregory, Vanessa, Evan, and Michael (and she supposes Sammy as well, to a degree), are there, hidden partially behind the hulking robots. Cassidy is there as well, looking happier than Elizabeth ever remembered her looking while they were kids. 

Flustered and a bit taken back, all she can manage to say is a soft-spoken, “thank you.”